The brief silence in the hall was as if pierced by a spark igniting.
The first to react was an old craftsman sitting in the corner. He raised his clay cup high and shouted the inaugural cheer: "Long live the Red Tide! Long live Lord Louis!"
Imdiately, that voice erupted like a torrent from all directions.
"Long live!"
"Long live the Red Tide!!"
"Cheers to Lord Louis!!"
The applause, cheers, and clinking of cups ford a burgeoning wave, as if shaking the entire hall.
So were moved to tears, others clenched their fists in ceaseless waves, and still others took hearty gulps of spirits while shouting, their faces wearing smiles of long-lost joy.
The gratitude on their faces wasn’t blind adoration, but a heartfelt recognition.
Emily sat at the table, her heartbeat rising and falling with every cheer of "Long live the Red Tide."
This was not just the climax of a banquet, but the awakening of a territory’s soul.
During the following banquet, laughter and the clinking of glasses rose again and again as a group of children, led by attendants, excitedly ran up to a small stage.
An older child straightened his back, cleared his throat in imitation of the adults, and declared:
"We are the Red Tide Children’s Theater! Bringing the story of ’Great Lord Louis’s Strategy to Crush the Evil Snow Vow’ to everyone!"
The audience burst into laughter and applause.
The young actors divided the roles: the tallest, Carl, draped in a makeshift "Lord’s Cloak" that was obviously a repurposed tablecloth, wore an imnsely solemn expression as he portrayed Louis, continually emphasizing "protecting the peace of Red Tide Territory" in his lines.
Several children donned homade "Snow Swearer" masks and brandished wooden swords to play the antagonists.
A group of the youngest kids simply played "flora," shaking paper leaves in their hands to clumsily create a "granary" scene.
The climax ca with Louis ingeniously outwitting the enemy’s strategy.
Carl shouted loudly: "Light the Fire Demon Explosion Bullet!"
Imdiately, all the "granary" cast mbers fell to the ground with a "boom," creating a dramatic "explosion" effect.
More laughter and cheers erupted from the audience.
Several rounds of song and dance performances followed: so were ballads lauding Lord Louis’s quelling of the chaos and rebuilding of hos, others were choruses praising the hardworking and industrious people.
The entire hall was filled with a simple yet enthusiastic atmosphere of joy.
But Emily’s thoughts were scarcely on these performances.
Her gaze would, almost involuntarily, drift to the young lord seated in the high seat.
Watching him raise his glass amid the laughter, calm and composed; watching him occasionally lower his head to converse quietly with the steward beside him, with a slight frown of thoughtfulness.
The performances were amusing enough; so scenes even made her unable to suppress a smile.
But in Emily’s mind, the sa questions echoed over and over:
This person... how exactly did he co this far?
What is he truly thinking?
If they were to beco husband and wife, could she really step into this person’s world?
...
Emily stared blankly, slightly dazed, forgetting even to put down the cup in her hand.
"Louis..." she silently repeated the na in her heart with irrepressible curiosity and a quietly budding yearning, secretly imagining their future.
And so, the boisterous and passionate banquet finally ca to an end, with guests bidding farewell with smiles three by three, leaving the hall one after another with lingering satisfaction.
But Emily barely registered the final farewells.
She sat there in a daze, her heartbeat lightly stirred by sothing, unable to calm down for a long ti.
The laughter, the children’s performances, and the toasts that filled the hall all seed like a blurred dream.
Only the man upon the high seat, Louis.
Vivid and firmly occupying her mind.
"What’s happening to ..." she murmured softly, feigning composure, yet internally, she felt like she was being licked by flas, unbearably hot.
All the way back to her residence, she still couldn’t escape that muddle of thoughts.
Standing before the mirror, her eyes flickered uncertainly in the candlelight.
Finally, as if having made a decision, Emily took a deep breath and turned to Nora standing beside her.
"Nora," she said softly but firmly, "Help remove my makeup."
Nora hesitated for a mont, "But miss..."
She had barely finished speaking when Emily’s extraordinarily bright eyes interrupted her.
It was a determined light, carrying anticipation, nervousness, and courage.
Nora opened her mouth, ultimately asking nothing, rely nodding silently as she proficiently removed the makeup from Emily’s face.
The shaded delineations were wiped away, the concealed colors faded, and the reflection in the mirror seed to be reborn.
The deliberately drawn scar vanished with the watermarks.
In its place was a face of undeniable beauty.
A high nose bridge, deep blue eyes, imbued with the unique chill and sharpness of the Northern Territory.
Like a poppy blooming atop the snowfield, cold and deadly.
In that mont, the sowhat world-weary rchant woman enshrouded within the crowd disappeared completely.
In her place stood the real Emily Edmund.
Once hailed as the "Flower of the North" noble lady, she now stood up with renewed determination, graceful and slightly heroic.
"The cloak, change it." she said in a low voice.
With a casual tug, she removed the drab hooded cloak, replacing it with the deep blue gown long prepared.
The brocade shimred in the light, outlining her tall figure, both dignified and imposing.
She lightly adjusted the hem of her dress, lifting her gaze to the reflection, faint light flashing in her eyes.
"Nora," she said slowly, her voice carrying an undeniably commanding tone, "Call for a Red Tide guard."
Not long after, the steady footsteps of the guard resounded outside the door.
Upon opening the door, the guard was montarily taken aback. Who was this?
Wasn’t there always just a low-key rchant woman living here?
How did such an exquisitely poised woman suddenly appear?
But he still spoke politely, "Miss, how may I be of service?"
Emily slowly turned, raising her chin, speaking with a proud tone, "Please inform Viscount Calvin that his fiancée, Emily Edmund, requests an audience."
Upon hearing this surna his heart jolted, instinctively straightening his back, daring not to question a single bit.
"As you command! I will inform him imdiately!" the guard responded hurriedly, turning and leaving with swift movents.
The door closed once more, and the room returned to silence.
Emily slowly exhaled, gazing towards the door, her hands unconsciously tightening on the hem of her skirt.
"Louis..." she quietly repeated his na in her heart, her eyes shimring with anticipation and unease.
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