"Your Highness, what kind of reckless decision is that? I absolutely can't accept it!"
With a flick of his hand, Head of House Bor slapped away Linen's outstretched hand. He glared fiercely at the boy in front of him. The young face—still tinged with traces of boyishness—wore an inscrutable smile, as if he genuinely believed himself to be mediating impartially. This only aggravated Segun's irritation further.
"What's the matter, Uncle Bor? Why so serious?"
Linen smiled.
"Are you dissatisfied with my arbitration?"
"Because Your Highness's ruling is blatantly unfair!"
Head of House Bor roared.
Of course he was unhappy—he was unhappy about everything!
"Is that so?"
Linen looked as if he'd just realized something.
"If that's really the case, then I owe you an apology, Uncle Bor. Please explain clearly—where exactly have I been unfair in the ruling about the fief?"
Segun's chest heaved with anger. Did that even need asking?
As the Empire had grown, the Eight Great Houses had essentially all completed their transformations. Only House Bor—due to possessing twice the reserved land—continued to rely heavily on market businesses and rental income from those territories.
For House Mistry, already transitioned to commerce, the existence of the Kelin District had long ceased to matter—except as a family humiliation.
But for House Bor, Linen's so-called "fair" judgment was sheer nonsense. He was effectively cutting off House Bor's lifeline!
Just as Segun began to voice his grievances, Linen raised a hand, interrupting him.
"Wait, Uncle Bor. I understand your House made great contributions to the development of Aimeira District and Kelin District, and the Empire acknowledges that. But what does it have to do with the territorial division we're discussing right now?"
Segun opened his mouth again, but Linen silenced him with the same gesture.
"Uncle Segun, if you're about to reiterate your House's contributions to Kelin District's development, there's no need. I've already stated we're discussing only the allocation of Kelin District itself. Miss Kaya—did I show favoritism toward your House?"
"Of course not, Your Highness. My House has gained no extra advantage from this ruling. Even though I'm your escort, I must admit—even the most impartial magistrate would acknowledge your noble integrity."
Kaya's eyes brimmed with satisfaction.
"In that case—"
Linen turned back to Head of House Bor, his gaze innocent.
"Uncle Segun, when you requested my arbitration, you personally agreed, didn't you? That as long as I didn't favor House Mistry, you'd follow my decision and uphold the outcome. Everyone present heard you."
Linen's eyes narrowed slightly. Both his tone and gaze sharpened.
"Or are you implying the one intending to break the oath between the dragonblood family and the Eight Great Houses… is you?"
Head of House Bor's face went pale. His lips trembled, yet he couldn't refute a single word.
The mediation contract between the dragonblood family and the Eight Great Houses wasn't mere empty words—it was a magical contract witnessed by the God of Contracts.
Breaking it would inevitably lead to punishment. That was precisely why House Mistry hadn't forcibly reclaimed the territory by force, despite failing to obtain a favorable ruling back then.
In an instant, Segun felt cold sweat drench his back.
Only now did he realize why Linen had spent so much time earlier—forcing him to first agree explicitly that he'd accept any unbiased ruling.
At this very moment, Segun could feel clearly—an invisible force had already fixed its gaze on him.
Clearly, the ancient contract had acknowledged Linen's ruling as fair. If Segun forced a breach, House Bor would undoubtedly suffer punishment from the God of Contracts.
And Segun didn't believe his four "allies" were close enough to stand with him against a god.
"B-but… but this reserved land was left by the First Emperor to the Eight Great Houses. If you take it back, aren't you afraid of the First Emperor's blame?"
Head of House Bor strained his mind, producing only this weak excuse.
"I see. Then there's nothing to be done."
Linen nodded.
"In that case, please have Head of House Bor produce the First Emperor's written order or proof transferring Kelin District to House Bor. If such documentation exists, my ruling can be reconsidered. Otherwise, Uncle Bor, please stop being unreasonable."
"Pfft!"
Hearing this, Kaya finally lost control and burst into laughter. Her beautiful eyes sparkled—brimming with exhilaration and the joy of revenge.
As she laughed, bright droplets shimmered at the corners of her eyes.
These were exactly the same words House Bor had used—back when House Mistry's ancestor had sought to reclaim their land.
Now, over a century later, the same words—delivered differently—were hurled back at House Bor's descendants by this young prince.
"Segun. Come back."
A steady voice suddenly echoed in Head of House Bor's mind. He stiffened, then realized it was the head of House Morris contacting him via the internal Arcana channel of the Five Great Houses.
Segun clenched his teeth.
"Morris, how am I supposed to 'come back'? Should I simply hand over Kelin District?"
"Quiet, Segun. Don't embarrass yourself any further. This prince is an expert at exploiting loopholes and rules. Continue to argue, and you'll only lose more face."
"You summoned me here—you're responsible!"
Segun snarled unwillingly, though he knew House Morris's head was right.
"Don't worry. Return first. Let me personally meet this prince."
The head of House Morris spoke calmly.
Hearing this assurance, Head of House Bor froze.
He'd assumed there would be more probing.
Morris… was already stepping in personally?
As the nominal leader of the Five Great Houses, the head of House Morris was one of their greatest—both cunning and powerful.
He even bore the title "the Capital's Great Fox," famed for his slyness. It was no exaggeration that the Five Great Houses' ability to oppose the Bloodstained Red Dragon rested largely upon this man's contributions, more than the other four heads combined.
Now, Linen's performance had piqued Morris's interest—he saw worthy prey and felt his hunter's instincts stirring.
If he kept sending others, they would merely add a few more strokes to the prince's "glorious record" tonight.
They had to admit: even after repeated study of his dossier, they'd still underestimated this prince.
Continuing like this would make getting His Highness to face the Holy Trial nearly impossible.
He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
Thus, the head of House Morris decided to face Linen himself.
Previously, Linen had merely been prey. Now, he had become an opponent.
He was stepping onto the field personally!
...
Watching Head of House Bor stagger away like a man stripped of his soul, Kaya suddenly stepped back, gathered her skirt, and offered Linen a textbook curtsy.
"Praise your fairness and righteousness, Your Highness. From today onward, House Mistry will be your blade and shield."
"No need for such formality, Miss Kaya. I simply upheld the ancient pact between House Norton and the Eight Great Houses. If it helps you, the honor is mine."
Linen gently helped Kaya up, speaking calmly.
"Your Highness…"
"Miss Kaya…"
Spotlight, flowing music, a handsome man and beautiful woman gazing into each other's eyes—a picturesque scene. Many nobles attending felt their hearts flutter.
Yet in the distance, someone grew increasingly unhappy.
Crack!
Hysteria crushed the wineglass in her hand.
"That bastard! And I was even worried about him!"
Hysteria seethed.
She should've been relieved Linen resolved the crisis—but seeing him look at that woman made irritation flare in her chest.
She didn't want to watch anymore!
"Elena, let's go back. Worrying about that jerk was completely unnecessary!"
But she froze—because Elena didn't respond. Elena's gaze was fixed, unblinking, on a man.
A refined-looking middle-aged noble.
Brown formalwear. A scholarly aura. A gold-rimmed monocle. No detectable Arcana fluctuations.
Yet Elena's keen instincts warned her of his danger.
No matter how hard she activated her mind-reading gift, she couldn't hear a single thought from him.
As if… he didn't exist—as if he were an empty void.
And now, after Head of House Bor retreated, that emptiness moved—confidently approaching Linen.
Linen noticed him too.
The Capital's Great Fox. Head of House Morris. Mosiati Morris.
"Good evening, Your Highness Prince Linen."
Mosiati offered a slight bow.
"Uncle Morris, are you here for Uncle Bor's matter?"
Ignoring pleasantries, Linen went directly to the point.
Mosiati smiled faintly.
Very clever. Very direct. No wasted words. He enjoyed duels like this.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"I see."
Linen nodded, reached into his pocket, withdrew a white glove, and tossed it onto the floor at Mosiati's feet.
"Then it can only be a duel before the throne."
Morris: ?
Wasn't this a bit too direct?
Why wasn't this unfolding as he'd imagined?!
"Your Highness Prince Linen—"
Mosiati frowned and was about to speak, but Linen cut him off, dropping a statement outrageous enough to leave jaws hanging.
"The format will be the Holy Trial."
"Holy Trial?!"
The moment those words left his lips, everyone in the hall—including Elena—changed expression.
Mosiati, however, smiled and instantly adjusted his tone.
"…Brilliant."
Still too impatient, Your Highness.
The prey had fallen into the trap after all.
"But the Holy Trial requires Her Majesty's approval. Please wait a moment, Your Highness."
Before Mosiati finished speaking, the doors at the far end of the banquet hall burst open with force.
A figure radiating majesty and nobility slowly stepped inside.
"Her Majesty has arrived~"
In the shadows behind the door, Quinn leaned against the frame and chuckled softly.
...
Several minutes earlier, upstairs.
Moonlight slipped through the window lattice, scattering a pattern of silvery dots like droplets across the empty room.
Quinn sat leaning against the windowsill. In the moonlight, the curves of her figure appeared even more delicate. She played with a strand of silver hair, utterly enchanted—as if she were listening to a delightful opera.
Putting Linen at the center of tonight's banquet had been the right choice after all. Not every dreary social event following the Dragonblood Festival could be this entertaining.
Suddenly, sharpness flashed in Quinn's eyes. She turned toward the tall figure standing beneath portraits of past monarchs.
"Your Majesty. The Shadow Knights have reported back."
Empress Tivira Norton—the only empress of the Zijinghua Empire since its founding—had come to this room after making her brief appearance at the banquet's opening and had not left since.
Portraits of the nine previous dragonblood emperors—some imposing, others dignified—lined the walls, each enthroned and facing the Empress from afar. They seemed to judge the only woman who could stand alongside them… or perhaps to urge her toward some decision.
"Speak."
After hearing Quinn's initial report, the Empress uttered a single word, cold and flat.
"The Shadow Knights monitoring the residence where the Duke of the North's personal guard is staying have sent regular reports. Currently, the Duke's guards have shown no unusual movements."
That alone was odd enough. The banquet was already more than halfway through, yet that old lion Reinhardt hadn't made a single move. He seemed so composed, as if he'd truly come just to attend a banquet and check on his worthless son while he was here.
But the next report was so explosive it almost made Reinhardt's abnormal calmness feel insignificant by comparison.
"While the heads of the Five Great Houses were absent, the Shadow Knights secretly searched their hidden strongholds. From those locations, we retrieved numerous ritual implements used exclusively by Arcana Mages of the Tower of Chronomancy. We can now confirm that the heads of the Five Great Houses have long maintained contact with the Tower, but…"
Quinn's expression became troubled. The Empress slowly turned her head.
"Those who resisted were mostly recorded officially as members of the Five Great Houses—fanatically loyal assets. We didn't find a single Arcana Mage from the Tower."
The Empress nodded slightly.
No wonder Quinn looked so grave.
Weaving Arcana was like lighting stars in a boundless sky—different methods of "lighting" created vastly different galaxies in an observer's eyes.
Arcana Mages of many nations had distinctive ritual styles. As the continent's strongest Arcana organization, the Tower of Chronomancy was no exception.
Only with the correct rituals could those implements function properly. Otherwise, they were just useless junk.
If the Five Great Houses possessed those incredibly expensive tools, they certainly hadn't bought them as mere collectibles.
So where were the ritual casters?
Where were the Tower's Arcana Mages hiding?
And what exactly were these risky preparations intended for?
The answer seemed obvious.
"I advise Your Majesty to return to the imperial palace immediately. I'll issue a secret order—the Red Dragon Legion will quickly surround this location. Not one of those scum will escape!"
Quinn spoke with unprecedented solemnity. It was the best option available.
The royal castle outside the capital was no longer safe. Who knew how many Tower assassins lurked beneath its gilded halls?
It was common knowledge that the Tower of Chronomancy never accepted losses lightly. After Zijinghua suffered repeated setbacks—and especially after Sorgana killed a Ring of Withering candidate—the Tower had fallen silent.
Quinn never believed they'd simply retreated, but she'd also never imagined that after just a few "minor" clashes, they'd already be preparing an assassination attempt on an emperor!
A chill of fear flickered in Quinn's eyes.
They'd almost succeeded.
She wasn't sure of their exact arrangements, but if they'd convinced even the Five Great Houses—who barely maintained a fragile peace with Her Majesty—to join in, it had to be unimaginably dangerous.
"Your Majesty!"
Seeing the Empress unmoving, Quinn urgently warned her again.
This time, Her Majesty finally moved.
But not as Quinn expected. The Empress merely shook her head calmly.
"No."
"Why, Your Majesty? The situation is critical. This isn't the moment to worry about appearances."
Quinn clenched her teeth.
"No, Quinn. I understand what you mean—but you don't yet understand what I mean."
"You intend to use the Red Dragon Legion and the Shadow Knights to strike back."
The Empress's voice was steady.
Quinn froze, then nodded.
That was exactly her intention.
The Empire's elite Red Dragon Legion was stationed near the capital. Combined with the Shadow Knights already embedded here, they could certainly exact a heavy price from their enemies.
"But your thinking is too simple."
The Empress shook her head again.
"The Red Dragon Legion is indeed under my direct control and won't be compromised by other factions. But a legion's movements are easily monitored. The moment it stirs, those vermin will receive word immediately. We won't make it in time."
Quinn clenched her teeth silently.
Her Majesty was right.
The Red Dragon Legion's raw power might match the strength of powerful Arcana Mages, but their mobility couldn't compare to mages skilled in countless deceptive tricks.
Especially the Tower of Chronomancy, famed for collecting all forbidden arts—long before the legion arrived, they'd have ten thousand ways to escape.
"So we must make them unwilling to flee."
"We must ensure they choose to fight—even if it risks their lives."
The Empress's tone remained calm, but Quinn's eyes widened.
"Your Majesty, you mean…?!"
"Yes."
The Empress nodded.
"As long as they're certain I'm still here, those rats won't willingly flee. Once I appear in the hall, no matter the risk, they'll try again."
"So why should we allow only those vermin to hunt us?"
"It's time. The balance of offense and defense must shift."
"Not a single rat appearing tonight is allowed to escape."
"And besides…"
An almost imperceptible curve touched the Empress's lips. A faint flicker of satisfaction danced deep within her eyes.
"Even that old lion Reinhardt knows to personally support his worthless son at Eden Academy. How can I allow my own son to be provoked repeatedly, as though he doesn't have a guardian at all?"
"Come. To the banquet hall."
With that, the Empress turned gracefully, her skirt swaying. The red dragon concealed in shadows finally stepped into the moonlight, silently striding toward the banquet hall.
Behind her, Quinn stood dumbstruck.
This was madness—completely reckless.
Downstairs, her son was boldly challenging the head of the noble alliance to a Holy Trial duel.
Upstairs, his mother was plotting to use herself as bait to hook a massive, world-shaking fish.
Just the thought of it made Quinn—feel wildly thrilled.
Quinn pressed her thighs together, barely suppressing the excited flush rising in her face.
Pretending to be civilized, playing the rational advisor—so boring.
She was sick of all these pointless rules!
If they were chasing excitement, they should go all the way!
Linen… your loving guardian is here~~
---
T/N: okay for the readers here should we use capitalize Dragonblood? and add on to that fact change family to House also? so it's Dragonblood House? or Dragonblooded House?
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