In the eyes of commoners, the Dragonblood Festival was no different from any other holiday. People drank without restraint, cheered until hoarse, got blackout drunk—and the next day, dragged their hungover bodies back into the numb grind of wage-slave life.
But for nobles, the festival was entirely different, because of the banquet that followed.
How naïve did one have to be to think a banquet was just about inhaling desserts and hunting for a mate? For the truly powerful, a "banquet" wasn't simply eating, drinking, and rolling into bed—it was social currency.
At such a significant banquet—one attended by nearly every noble of any significance—countless deals, dirty arrangements, tacit understandings, and other intrigues were born every year, right there in the hall.
Especially this time. Provoked by House Sauss's disappearance, the power players of the Five Great Houses were determined to use "dragon hunting" to send a message to the Empress. In that effort, the youngest prince, Linen, was an ideal target.
Hence, Linen's latest dossier had already been placed on the desks of the heads of the Five Great Houses.
Genius Mage. Brilliant scholar. An outstanding diplomat-in-training who had "tamed" the Flame Rose princess. Top student and top bully.
Apart from complaints about his dragonblood purity, Linen Norton was practically flawless.
But everyone knew that was a red line—one you couldn't touch.
You could privately hold your opinions, sure. But openly mocking a prince's dragonblood purity at an event attended by half the capital's nobility—what were you implying? That the prince wasn't legitimate? Or that the Empress couldn't bear children?
That wasn't tugging a tiger's whiskers—it was publicly slapping a red dragon's face.
The kind of move that would get all nine branches of your clan praising your "uprightness" even as they were wiped out.
They wanted the royal family to lose face—but not too much face. With such a contradictory goal, the Five Great Houses' advisors flipped Linen's dossier back and forth dozens of times, until one nearly bald staffer finally had a flash of inspiration:
"Is Linen Norton… bad at social etiquette?"
It was like waking from a dream.
Re-examining the prince's past, the advisors realized that throughout his outrageous childhood phase and his so-called awakening after entering the Academy, there was no record of him studying etiquette—the most basic noble course.
His disdain for etiquette was clear, considering the Minister of Palace Affairs—once the Empress's right-hand man and responsible for princes' etiquette—Minister Traul had been personally dismissed by Her Majesty after offending Linen…
Truthfully, aside from newly risen upstarts, most old nobility considered "how to tie whale-bone skirt ribbons four ways" utterly beneath them. It was complicated, inhuman, and useless.
But etiquette was something you could disdain—so long as you still possessed it.
Linen, however, had almost none.
Just as the Five Great Houses thought they'd finally found a weak point, it turned out Linen had practically anticipated their move.
Prince Linen Norton knew next to nothing about etiquette—but had invited as his escort the person who excelled at it most:
Kaya Mistry.
As the obvious heir to House Mistry—a "traitor" House, in the eyes of the Five Great Houses—there wasn't one among them who hadn't cursed that girl. Yet even they had to admit her excellence and skill were undeniable.
In speech, bearing, fine behavioral details, even her very identity, Kaya was outstanding among the younger generation.
When Linen exchanged quiet words with her, Kaya could subtly remind him of etiquette without drawing attention. And she could personally handle the young nobles trying to "teach Linen a lesson."
Her presence turned everyone the Five Great Houses had arranged—intended to embarrass Linen—into mere stepping-stones highlighting the brilliance of these two young elites.
As the banquet progressed and Kaya continued to perform flawlessly, the Houses' options dwindled. In the secret Arcana message channel shared by the Five Great Houses' heads, someone finally cracked and panicked.
"Damn it—what did that traitor's daughter get? She's working so hard licking Linen Norton's boots!"
"I said back then—we should've wiped out House Mistry while they were weak! But no, you all had to worry about useless 'noble dignity'!"
"What's the point of saying that now? You really think the late Emperor was an idiot?"
"Gentlemen. Hear me out."
A gentle, deep voice ended the argument. The channel fell silent.
Because the speaker was Isaac Morris.
Whether the former Eight Great Houses or the current Five Great Houses, the head of House Morris was their unquestioned leader.
Even the idea of continuing House Sauss's failed plan—approaching Reinhardt Rossrian—had been boldly proposed by this very man.
And the results proved him right: each step he took had succeeded.
Reinhardt had refused to participate in "these boring noble games," dismissing them as "boring, no interest," but as long as they reached consensus on "dragon hunting," it was already tremendous progress.
Now, after Isaac—silent since the banquet started—finally spoke, the other heads instinctively listened.
Unlike his anxious counterparts, the head of House Morris remained calm, as though the game was firmly in his grasp.
"Don't put the cart before the horse. Our purpose is to lure His Highness into the 'Holy Trial.' House Mistry's betrayal isn't what we should discuss right now."
"Besides—His Highness chose that young miss from House Mistry as his helper. Isn't that exactly handing us leverage?"
He paused.
"Isn't that right, Head of House Bor?"
Head of House Bor, called out directly, nodded with excitement.
He hadn't joined the earlier argument, but the topic of House Mistry—that traitor House—signaled his moment had come.
"Then let's act for everyone's sake. Use House Mistry's 'traitor' label and rip that scar open again."
House Morris's head gave the order casually.
"I'll follow your will entirely."
The head of House Bor smiled.
No matter what heights a traitor reached—what they deserved was humiliation.
Then he approached Linen, deliberately requesting a "judgment" from the prince.
Kaya seemed to guess what was coming. Usually elegant and composed, she showed the wary tension of a female cat facing a predator as this man neared.
Yet the instant Linen took her hand, an inexplicable reassurance enveloped her.
Linen gave her a look and nodded slightly.
Kaya smiled faintly and stopped resisting. Since she'd decided to become His Highness's blade, she would follow His Highness's lead in everything.
She was even slightly excited to see how Linen would handle House Bor's provocation.
But what she hadn't expected was that, faced with his "request for help," Linen would respond with the extremely rude—
"Get lost."
It wasn't noble.
It wasn't polite.
Yet—the moment she heard it, she laughed, genuinely delighted.
Head of House Bor's expression darkened. He didn't explode, just sneered.
"What does Your Highness mean by that? Do you deny the contract between the First Emperor and the Eight Pillar Houses?"
That contract was the agreement signed at the founding of the Zijinghua Empire between the Eight Great Houses and the first Norton Emperor.
At first, the Eight Houses didn't trust one another, only cooperating—begrudgingly—due to the first Emperor's charisma, and friction between them never ceased.
To resolve this, the first dragonblood Emperor signed a mediation contract with the Eight Great Houses:
When conflicts among them couldn't be resolved, a bloodline heir of House Norton would mediate.
But as Norton rule solidified and relations among the Eight Houses shifted from mutual dislike to united opposition against royal power, the mediation contract became rarely mentioned.
Even so, it remained a contract signed by the first Emperor. If Linen refused mediation, he would inevitably leave room for gossip.
Just then, Linen shook his head softly.
"Respected Uncle Bor, my apologies. Perhaps my words were unclear and offended you."
"I simply doubt your attitude would respect my mediation. If it's just superficial, it's pointless. Unnecessary."
"I will honor the contract and mediate impartially. But you—will you absolutely abide by the outcome?"
So, he was waiting for me here?
Head of House Bor inwardly scoffed.
A dispute even past Emperors and the current Empress couldn't mediate—you'll resolve it perfectly?
Segun replied briskly, "If Your Highness mediates impartially according to the contract, I will naturally abide by it."
"Very well. State your issue, Uncle Bor."
Linen nodded in satisfaction.
Segun's eyes flickered with doubt.
Did this guy… just smile?
But at this point, retreat was impossible. Head of House Bor paused, then began describing a conflict that was already common knowledge throughout the capital—a dispute spanning generations.
If traced to its root, the first Norton Emperor was to blame.
He was excessively martial. His civil governance could be summed up as "burning books and burying scholars." During Zijinghua's early administration, the Eight Great Houses contributed immensely.
To repay them, the first Emperor tacitly allowed the Houses to divide the capital among themselves, each governing a region—provided they paid taxes and fees promptly to House Norton each year.
Later, as subsequent Norton Emperors improved their civil administration, they gradually reclaimed those regions but still permitted each House to retain a small fief.
Of course, such a division could never exist in writing.
And therein lay the feud between House Mistry and House Bor.
Even in the capital's early development, not every House was assigned prosperous territory. House Mistry was among the unlucky—its allotted region was challenging to manage, severely lacking both manpower and resources.
Just then, they received a timely request for help.
The neighboring House Bor wanted to lease House Mistry's reserved land and promised to pay adequate rent each year. For House Mistry, burdened by that worthless fief, it was a perfect arrangement.
Under House Bor's development, House Mistry's land flourished rapidly. As the Zijinghua Empire prospered, the capital's value soared—and the seed of conflict took root.
Once House Mistry grew strong enough to govern its land independently, it no longer wanted to lease it out. It offered compensation and sought to reclaim its territory.
But when the head of House Mistry visited House Bor sincerely to discuss the matter, he received a polite yet firm—refusal.
Who could prove it was House Mistry's reserved territory?
Hadn't House Bor developed it since the nation's founding?
Who could prove it was House Mistry's reserved territory?
The first Emperor could—certainly. Then please present his written decree or any other proof.
That answer enraged the head of House Mistry. He requested mediation from the other Houses. But when they all sided with House Bor—he finally realized he'd invited a wolf into his home, but too late.
Furious, the head of House Mistry invoked the contract, demanding fair adjudication from the Norton royal family.
But no matter who examined it, this dispute was a hot potato too complex to resolve with the word "fair."
In reason and sentiment, it was indeed House Mistry's land.
But House Bor had driven all its development, managed all its construction, and most residents only recognized "the masters of House Bor."
In the end—who should own the territory?
Had the adjudicator back then been a decisive, iron-willed Emperor, perhaps no matter the outcome, the matter could have ended cleanly.
Unfortunately, the Emperor at the time was Linen's grandfather—the famously passive late Emperor.
He offered no solution satisfactory to either side. The matter stalled. House Mistry's head died from rage, marking the turning point when House Mistry shifted toward commercial endeavors.
This incident became an eternal humiliation for House Mistry.
Later, when Linen's mother—the Bloodstained Red Dragon—ascended the throne…
Even with her iron hand, she couldn't easily resolve such a historical mess, tangled too deeply to unravel logically. She could only compensate House Mistry in other ways.
Having pledged loyalty to Her Majesty, House Mistry was considerate enough not to press further. Besides, their focus had shifted commercially; the land mattered less.
Yet humiliation remained humiliation.
Being fooled, mocked, betrayed—with their head literally enraged to death—wasn't something easily smoothed over.
Especially when that scar was being ripped open again, face-to-face, by their mortal enemy, described mockingly like some joke.
As Head of House Bor recounted the story, Kaya pressed her lips together tightly, fists clenched.
Almost instinctively, she glanced at Linen.
It seemed unlikely… yet somehow, she believed the prince before her might resolve the problem even two Emperors couldn't handle properly—and do it with genuine fairness.
"Well then, Your Highness Prince Linen?"
The Head of House Bor sneered.
"People from House Mistry still cause trouble in our reserved territory often. Since Miss Kaya is here tonight, please—give both sides a fair judgment."
Linen nodded.
"Your account is clear, Uncle Bor. I've already reached a decision. But first, I have a question. If you can answer clearly, perhaps this problem can also be solved effortlessly."
"Then we're counting on Your Highness. Please speak freely."
Head of House Bor didn't believe it for a second. If the Bloodstained Red Dragon couldn't solve this mess, how could Linen?
He had come deliberately to embarrass Linen.
If Linen favored Kaya too openly, the Five Great Houses would have public opinion to exploit. But if Linen favored House Bor, then Kaya—supposedly risking her life at his side—would reconsider whether this man was worth following.
As for fairness?
Bullshit.
This wasn't children splitting cake down the middle; neither side would accept muddy compromises.
It was a vicious trap.
Yet Linen remained calm, and began a story.
"Once upon a time, someone found a fruit tree in a hidden place only he knew."
"The tree was small but would eventually bear fruit. The discoverer had a friend who wanted fruit, so he brought him to see it."
"The friend was grateful because, without him, he'd never have found the tree."
"Afterward, the friend took constant care of the tree. And one day, it bore fruit."
Linen turned to Head of House Bor.
"So please tell me, Uncle Bor—how should the fruit be divided?"
Head of House Bor snorted.
"If the friend has been caring for it all along, then the fruit should all belong to him."
Kaya immediately objected.
"No. Without the discoverer, the friend never would've known of the tree. How can he take everything?"
Still irreconcilable.
The metaphor was obvious enough, making everyone even less certain what Linen intended.
Linen, however, smiled as though expecting this response.
"You're both wrong."
"Because you've overlooked something."
"The sky brings rain, the earth nurtures life—but a fruit tree doesn't appear from thin air."
"What exactly do you mean, Your Highness?"
Head of House Bor frowned, unsure what nonsense Linen was spouting.
"I mean—"
Linen paused.
"From the very start, the fruit tree belonged neither to the discoverer nor to the caretaker."
"It belonged, from the beginning, to the orchard owner who planted it."
"The same is true of a fief."
"Since you two can't stop fighting, and neither will accept a division—"
Head of House Bor grew increasingly confused, while Kaya seemed to grasp something. Her eyes sparkled faintly, a smile at her lips.
Linen spread his hands, his lips curling into a helpless smile.
"Then as the orchard owner, I honestly don't understand what you're fighting over—since the land never belonged to either of you. But to stop your endless quarrels and prevent further wasted effort…"
"Please return this so-called fief—to the state."
"Nobody gets to play with it anymore."
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T/N: OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG LETSD GOO also South Family has been changed to House Sauss because it fits better with the House thing because if i didnt change it it'd be House South or South House :sob:
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