Sol-Regis Palace Grand Ballroom. 07:00 PM – The Peak of the Event.
The room was the definition of excessive luxury.
White marble floors polished to a mirror finish. Five giant crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, reflecting the light of thousands of candles. Hundreds of nobles filled the room in their... busy attire.
Neon colors, towering powdered wigs, skirts taking up two ters of space, and heavy gold jewelry. They looked like peacocks in mating season.
"Ladies and Gentlen!" the Protocol Officer shouted with his golden staff. "Welcoming the Heroes of the North... Duke Lucian Sudrath and Family!"
The main doors swung wide open.
The orchestral music slowed slightly.
All eyes turned to the door. They expected a barbarian family in musty bear furs.
But what entered was a group of Vogue Models lost in the Middle Ages.
The Black Parade.
Duke Lucian and Duchess Aurelia walked in front.
Lucian in a black Slim-Fit military suit without excessive dals, just a single silver Sudrath pin on his collar. Sharp. Clean. Dangerous.
Aurelia in a black Velvet rmaid Tail gown that hugged her curves, paired with long white gloves. No massive necklace, just simple teardrop diamond earrings.
Behind them...
Sir Rianor and Sir Roland were twins in modern black Tuxedos and bow ties. Their hair was styled neatly back (a subtle Pompadour).
And between them... Lady Rhea.
A Midnight Blue gown made of draped silk. The front was modest up to the neck, but the back was wide open (Backless), revealing trained skin and athletic back muscles. On the right side, a skirt slit rose to the upper thigh, revealing long legs sheathed in sheer stockings.
"Damn..." Roland whispered softly, his smile stiff. "Everyone is looking at us like we’re aliens. Their clothes are so tacky, I swear, like Ondel-ondel (giant puppets)."
"Smile, Lan," Rianor hissed beside him. "We are Trendsetters. Let them feel like they’re the ones wearing the wrong costus."
They descended the marble stairs with perfect synchronization.
Silence.
Then the whispers started buzzing like bees.
"That’s Sudrath? Why are their clothes so weird... but so good?"
"Look at Duchess Aurelia... she looks 10 years younger."
"Who is that girl in blue? That’s Rhea the Tomboy? Impossible!"
The Social Battlefield.
Upon reaching the dance floor, Aurelia imdiately executed her mission.
She didn’t approach anyone. She just stood near the drinks table, fanning herself gently.
The scent spread.
Rumina’s perfu blend: Jasmine & Sandalwood. An elegant fragrance, distinct from the Capital nobles’ stinging scent of roses and baby powder.
A curious Marchioness finally approached.
"Duchess Aurelia... your gown... is very unique. And what is this scent?"
Aurelia smiled warmly (Mode: Top Tier Socialite Mom).
"Oh, this? Just a little blend from our garden in the North. And this dress... it’s a concept called Minimalism. In the North, we believe a woman’s beauty shouldn’t be covered by piles of fabric."
Within 5 minutes, Aurelia was surrounded by official wives who were insecure about their own appearances and desperate to know Aurelia’s glowing secret.
Aurelia’s Mission: Success.
On the other side, Roland had already "vanished," swallowed by a crowd of giggling young noble daughters listening to his lethal flirting.
Roland’s Mission: Success.
Corner of the Room (Rianor’s Zone).
Rianor grabbed a glass of champagne, then retreated to a quiet corner behind a pillar. He hated crowds.
"The party is boring, isn’t it?"
A flat voice ca from his side.
Rianor turned.
A girl in a simple gray dress was leaning against the sa pillar. She wore round glasses.
Elara.
"Elara?" Rianor raised his glass slightly. "You were invited?"
"I’m representing the Academy. Forced to," Elara replied, her eyes sweeping the room with boredom. "Your father caused a stir at the trial this morning. Morvath looked like soone who swallowed a rotten lemon."
"That was the goal," Rianor sipped his drink. "By the way, my offer still stands. I need your brain."
"For what?"
"To make crazy things. Carriages without horses. Lights without fire. Weapons that can pierce Mithril."
Elara’s violet eyes sparkled slightly behind her glasses.
"Sounds illegal and dangerous."
"Very," Rianor replied.
"I’m in," Elara answered quickly. "Starting tomorrow, I’ll drop by your house. Have the coffee ready."
Rianor’s Mission: Success (Magic Engineer Acquired).
The Main Event: Rhea vs. Cedric.
The music changed to a Waltz.
From the crowd, a handso young man in an all-gold outfit and a small crown walked, parting the dance floor.
Crown Prince Cedric.
His face was handso, a typical fairytale prince, but his eyes were arrogant. He walked straight toward Lady Rhea, who was standing alone (because other guys were too scared to approach).
"Lady Rhea," Cedric greeted. His voice was loud, intentionally so everyone could hear. "You... changed. The last ti we t, you looked more like a stable boy than a woman."
The audience held their breath. A subtle insult.
Rhea looked at Cedric. She didn’t Curtsy. She just gave a small nod.
"And you haven’t changed at all, Your Highness. Still fond of wearing clothes brighter than street lamps."
GASP. So people covered their mouths in shock.
Cedric’s face went red for a second, but he forced a laugh.
"A sharp tongue. Let’s see if your feet can keep up with your tongue."
Cedric extended his hand.
"Would you care to dance, Lady Rhea? Consider it... a reunion of ex-fiancés."
It was a trap. If Rhea refused, she insulted the Prince. If she accepted, Cedric would surely try to humiliate her on the dance floor with difficult moves.
Rhea smirked crookedly.
"Certainly. But I lead."
Rhea grabbed Cedric’s hand before the prince realized it, pulling him to the center of the dance floor.
The music started.
Cedric tried to do a stiff classical waltz.
But Rhea didn’t follow.
Rhea’s mories (Fencing Athlete Modern Girl who likes Salsa) took over.
She turned the dance into a Tango.
Rhea moved aggressively. Her footsteps were sharp, cutting off Cedric’s movents. She spun her body, exposing her backless gown, making the n gulp.
"You... what are you doing! Follow the tempo!" Cedric whispered in panic, his feet nearly stepped on.
"The tempo is slow, Your Highness," Rhea whispered in Cedric’s ear, her tone mocking. "Just like your thinking when you broke off our engagent via letter."
Rhea spun Cedric forcibly. Spin.
Then she perford a Dip (dropping her body back while supported by her partner), her long leg lifting high, slicing the air.
"Look at , Cedric," Rhea hissed.
Cedric looked into Rhea’s eyes. Before, those eyes were full of adoration for him.
Now? Those eyes were cold, strong, and... terrifying.
"You threw away the ’Crude Woman from the North’. But now, this entire room is looking at , not you."
The music stopped with a final beat.
Rhea released her grip. Cedric stumbled slightly, panting, his hair ssy. Rhea stood tall, perfect, not a drop of sweat on her.
"Thank you for the dance, Your Highness," Rhea said loudly. "Your footwork needs improvent."
Rhea turned and walked away. A perfect Catwalk, leaving the Prince dazed in the middle of the dance floor.
Roland whistled softly from the sidelines. "Damn... Fatality."
The King’s Gaze.
On the second-floor VIP balcony, King Aethelgard IV watched everything while holding a wine glass.
Beside him, Morvath whispered, "Look, Your Majesty. They are disrespectful. They are dangerous."
The King smiled mysteriously.
"They are indeed dangerous, Morvath. A hungry lion is always dangerous."
The King stared at Duke Lucian standing calmly below.
"But sotis... we need a lion to eat the rats that have grown too fat in this palace."
The King turned to leave.
"Invite Duke Lucian to my study tomorrow morning. Without you, Morvath."
Morvath clenched his fist. His position was threatened.
The Carriage Ho – Midnight. Family Mode: ON.
As soon as the carriage doors closed and they were on their way ho, all their masks ca off.
"HUAAAA!" Rhea imdiately ripped off her high heels. "My feet are killing ! That Cedric stepped on my big toe twice!"
"But seriously, Teh, that was so cool!" Roland exclaid. "His face when you walked away... he looked dumbfounded like a sick chicken!"
"Mom is proud of you, Rhea," Aurelia smiled with satisfaction while massaging her daughter’s calves. "That’s called a Power Move. Tomorrow morning, every newspaper in the capital will be discussing your dress."
"How was the networking, Nor?" Lucian asked, loosening his tie.
"Got it," Rianor showed Elara’s business card. "Genius mage. She’s coming tomorrow. And I also got contacts for wheat rchants who want to buy our soap in bulk."
"Good," Lucian said. "But tomorrow, Dad is summoned by the King. Private eting."
Silence for a mont.
"The King is smart, Dad," Rianor analyzed. "He knows Morvath is corrupt, but he can’t move alone. He probably wants to make us the ’Knife’ to clean up Morvath."
"Does that an we’re going to be the King’s Hitn?" Roland asked.
"More or less," Lucian stared out the window, watching the lights of Sol-Regis. "But that’s okay. As long as the pay is right... and as long as our family is safe."
"We play the ga."
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