It was probably around four or five in the afternoon.
Since the urgent summons that had called all four great dukes to the palace, I had remained in my room—doing nothing but staring out the window.
I don't know why my thoughts were so scattered. I couldn't focus on any single subject for long.
Perhaps because so many questions had piled up inside me.
Yes—I always present myself as flawless. All the dukes do.
Everyone tries to appear perfect. I've simply been following that same old pattern of behaviour.
During that confrontation with the Ming delegation, I barely managed to keep up the facade. The pressure had been immense—not just from the King, but from the other three great dukes as well.
But now all I had to do was attend a banquet.
It shouldn't be difficult.
I was still lost in these thoughts, trying to calm myself—something I had been doing for hours—when a single sheet of paper suddenly stuck itself to the windowpane.
I murmured under my breath,
"The wind must have carried it all the way here…"
I turned away and walked toward the door.
Truthfully, I just wanted to walk. Spending so many hours cooped up in my room made me feel like an old man.
Yet sometimes that same solitude—hours of silence—brought me more peace than the endless repetition of noise ever could.
Being a duke isn't always terrible. You can pass by everyone, and they must bow their heads.
I wandered slowly through the corridors until I found myself back in the main hall on the ground floor.
I turned to climb the stairs again and return to my room—when I caught sight of Frederick at the top of the staircase, speaking quietly to Charlotte Vale as he walked in the other direction.
Fortunately, he didn't notice me. Otherwise he would have bombarded me with a hundred reminders about tomorrow's schedule.
But now that I knew both the Head Butler and the Housekeeper were on the second floor, I decided to avoid their questions by exploring the ground floor instead.
I had never properly toured the manor. I always followed the same fixed path: entrance → second floor → third floor → straight to my room.
A little wandering to become more familiar with the place couldn't hurt.
I roamed so long that I eventually noticed the view outside again. The sky was turning deep red and orange.
That meant the royal banquet—and night itself—wasn't far away.
At least during my wandering I had discovered several rooms: the dining hall, the ballroom, various reception salons, and many others.
But the real Elias had no one.
No brothers. No mother. No father.
Elias's father—Henry Montagu—had died years ago. His mother had died giving birth to him. He had no siblings.
So the grand dining halls and reception rooms in Montagu Manor were either covered in dust or draped in white sheets to keep the furniture from gathering it.
Of course… that was something the original Elias didn't have.
The original Elias wasn't quite so orphaned.
Fortunately, Elias had a sister.
She was currently studying at Oxford.
Even in the past year, I had never met her.
I snapped back to myself.
Why was I talking to myself again?
I drew a deep breath and headed toward my room.
The moment I stepped into the main hall on the ground floor, I heard the voices of various servants searching for me.
Suddenly I spotted Frederick at the top of the stairs.
If I entered the hall now, he would bombard me with reminders.
But I had to return to my room eventually to prepare for the banquet.
So—with calm, deliberate steps—I entered the main hall on the ground floor.
The moment Frederick saw me he hurried down.
He opened his mouth to speak—but before he could say anything, I cut in.
"Yes, yes… I know. I know. No need to repeat it."
He lowered his head and drew a deep breath.
Servants appeared from the second floor and from the main entrance—clearly having failed to find me.
When they saw me standing in the hall, they froze in surprise.
I gave Frederick a small smile and walked past him toward the stairs.
As I climbed, the servants bowed and stepped aside to let me pass.
Halfway up toward the third floor, I spotted William standing against the wall, inspecting his pipe.
Since he hadn't noticed me yet, I approached quietly and looked at his hands.
He wasn't doing anything unusual—just cleaning the pipe.
Taking advantage of the moment, I slapped the back of his head—hard.
He jumped, turned in fright, opened his mouth to protest—then saw me, bowed quickly, and said,
"My lord… what was that for?!"
I smiled.
"Why are you secretly cleaning your pipe…?"
But William gave a short smile and answered quietly,
"This is a different pipe… Don't you see the colour? This part is noticeably browner than my others!"
I was slowly beginning to suspect whether William was actually my chief advisor… or a pipe connoisseur.
But I had grown used to it.
With a faint smile and a casual wave, I walked past him.
At last—after wandering the entire manor—I climbed to the third floor and returned to my room.
At least now I knew the ground floor well.
Once inside, I put on my usual navy long coat, sat behind the desk, and rested my head on the table.
I wanted to wait—when suddenly something occurred to me.
I murmured under my breath,
"Why… has the voice saying 'deception' stopped coming?"
I blinked rapidly and stood up.
I drew a deep breath and glanced at the clock.
I stared in shock.
19:30—half past seven.
I hadn't even noticed the time passing.
When I had looked out from the ground floor earlier, the sky was still red and orange.
When had night fallen?
I exhaled deeply and muttered,
"As always… I lose track of time…"
I walked to the door and descended the stairs.
Together with William, I headed toward Buckingham Palace—for the royal banquet scheduled to begin at eight.
Half an hour later…
I had been seated at a four-person table in the banquet hall for quite some time.
This table was clearly reserved for the four great dukes.
The banquet hadn't officially started yet when the Dukes of Oxford and Edinburgh arrived—together with Geoffrey.
They took their seats around the table.
As always, we exchanged brief, silent glances—as though it were an unspoken custom.
Perhaps because the four great dukes were perpetually engaged in quiet rivalry.
Nothing particularly interesting happened—except for the arrival of the Ming delegation and the beginning of the banquet, accompanied by soft music and the gentle notes of a piano.
For most of the evening, the four of us simply ate oranges or apples from silver platters.
Yes—it was a royal banquet.
But it was also boring.
The best way to relieve boredom was to eat fruit.
Occasionally one of the other three dukes would raise an interesting topic, and we would discuss it for a while.
But my mind kept returning to my earlier conversation with Sebastian—before the banquet began.
When I had first entered the hall, the hair on the back of my neck had stood on end. A faint shiver ran through me.
I didn't know why.
Sebastian—stationed nearby as one of the Night Keepers guarding the event—had noticed.
He approached and spoke quietly.
He said he didn't know where the feeling came from—but earlier, when one of the nobles entered, his lantern had nearly gone out.
I was still lost in those thoughts when they announced that dinner was served.
It was around ten o'clock.
Everyone rose from their seats—even the four of us.
Truthfully, I was hungry—but I lingered a moment because I still hadn't finished the cup of tea that had been placed in front of me.
When I finally turned to follow the others toward the dining hall, I suddenly noticed an aristocrat standing beside his table.
Blood was dripping from his hand.
He hadn't moved.
I started toward him—when Sebastian's voice came from behind me.
"Stop."
I froze.
I looked at the man again.
Blood continued to drip slowly from his hand—drop by drop—onto the floor.
I was about to take another step—toward the dining hall this time—when Sebastian whispered again.
"Any sudden movement from you… will make things far worse than staying still. So do not move!!"
I turned slightly toward him.
His lantern was glowing with intense violet arcs. Sebastian had already reached behind his back—slowly drawing his strange spear.
What was happening?
Why was this happening?
And why was Sebastian being so cautious?
Sebastian spoke again—very quietly.
"Back up slowly… The other Night Keepers are coming. Just try not to move too quickly…"
I retreated slowly and silently.
It took a moment—but eventually I stood beside Sebastian.
I whispered,
"What's happening…?"
Sebastian answered just as quietly.
"He is… most likely turning into a Bloody Worshiper."
I had no idea what a Bloody Worshiper was.
Nothing in the books I had read had mentioned them.
But the extreme caution in Sebastian's behaviour told me clearly:
Whatever a Bloody Worshiper was… it was not good.
───────────────────────────
A man stood before the transparent orb containing The Legend of Idris, arms fully outstretched.
He was murmuring something.
How had he entered the corridor of the Celestial Conclave?
How had no one seen him?
Perhaps someone had seen him?
After finishing his chant, the man stepped closer to the orb.
Something new appeared inside the transparent sphere—written by The Legend of Idris itself.
The man read the words aloud in a whisper.
"Variable path…"
He stared at the orb again.
More words appeared.
He repeated them.
"For… my freedom!!"
A faint, strange smile touched his lips.
He stepped back slightly, bowed his head—then vanished like wind.
The vast corridor of the Celestial Conclave was once again empty of any living thing—except for a faint sound.
The Legend of Idris was writing again.
In another language:
"anāku andurāram ušēṣi"