Chapter 125: Scolding
Because it stood at the junction of several trade routes and leaned against mountain ranges rich in certain special minerals, it had developed sowhat, though it was still far from being truly prosperous.
The local ruler was the hereditary Count of Rock Bay, who belonged to the faction of Marquis Lorraine, whose influence dominated the southwest.
That family had managed this place for more than three generations. It was known for being steady and pragmatic, governing Rock Bay City not exceptionally well, but in good enough order. It was an unremarkable yet well-rooted local power in the southwestern region.
Since the entrance to the Starfall Ruins lay deeper within the mountains of the Southwestern Province, in an area rarely touched by human traces, Rock Bay City had beco the last respectable place for all the exploration teams to gather, resupply, and rest before setting out.
The local Count had clearly received word in advance and was more than willing to use the opportunity to display his hospitality as host.
By the ti the carriages entered Rock Bay City in the evening dusk, scattered lights had already begun to glow along the streets.
Ryan lifted one corner of the curtain and looked outside. This second-tier city in the Empire’s southwest was even more… plain than he had expected. The stone-paved streets had clearly seen many years, and when carriage wheels rolled over them, they sent up faint, broken tremors.
Most of the buildings on either side were only two stories high, built of stone and wood. Their walls were weathered and mottled, though the window fras had been polished bright and clean. In the distance, the pointed outline of the Count’s estate stood steeped in dark golden twilight, like an old crest stranded in a sea of clouds.
There were not many pedestrians on the official road. Now and then, peddlers carrying shoulder poles hurried to close up their stalls. When they caught sight of this splendid convoy of carriages covered in different noble crests, they all instinctively pressed themselves to the walls to make way, their eyes full of reverence and curiosity toward guests from the Imperial Capital.
The carriage ca to a halt before a heavy wrought-iron gate.
Above the gate hung the crest of the Count of Rock Bay’s house—a shield marked with intersecting mountain and river patterns, its edges worn sowhat vague by wind and rain.
Ryan’s carriage followed the others from the academy as the servants of the Count’s estate guided them through the city. At last they stopped before a count’s manor that, though nowhere near as imposing as the great noble residences of the Imperial Capital, was still broad and solid enough.
A butler in proper formal attire had long since been waiting at the entrance, his manner respectful without losing its sense of asure.
“Honored talents of Saint Roland Magic Academy, you must be weary after the long journey. His Lordship the Count has prepared a modest banquet this evening to welco you and wash away the dust of travel. We humbly ask that you grace us with your presence.”
From the other carriages, Lillian, Rex, Randall, and Evans also stepped down one after another.
Lillian adjusted her skirt and regained the bearing of a noble young lady. Rex looked around curiously. Randall’s expression remained unchanged, as if he had expected all of this already. Evans still kept his head lowered, looking as though he had no interest in anything around him.
Ryan cast one last glance at his own ink-blue carriage, which still looked calm and distinctive even in the gathering night, then followed the servants’ guidance and stepped into the brilliantly lit count’s manor.
The noise and light of the banquet temporarily replaced the silence and contemplation of the journey.
Ryan was led to a small courtyard on the eastern side.
It was not large, but it had been arranged with exquisite taste. Several clusters of unknown purple flowers had been planted along both sides of the bluestone path, releasing a sharp, cool fragrance into the deepening night. There were three rooms in the main building, complete with a sitting room, bedroom, and bath.
The furnishings were simple, but the wood was fine southwestern camphor, giving off a faint refreshing scent. The bed was covered in white linen sheets washed spotless and folded into crisp edges. On the small table by the window there was even a plate of local candied fruit and a celadon cup already filled with chilled tea.
For a Count of a second-tier city, this was already a very thoughtful display of courtesy.
The young maid leading him stood under the veranda with her hands lowered and her tone soft yet clear.
“Sir, His Lordship the Count will hold a banquet tonight in the Main Hall at a quarter to nine to welco the honored guests who have traveled from afar. Nearly all those staying in the city tonight are distinguished people bound for the ruins. His Lordship said that since such a eting of fate is rare, it would be best to make the occasion lively, and he asks that all guests attend in full dress.”
Full dress.
Ryan’s gaze withdrew from the window and fell onto his dusty backpack.
“I understand,” he said.
The maid bowed and withdrew, her footsteps quickly fading at the end of the bluestone path.
Ryan closed the door.
Everything he unpacked from his bag was spread across the bed: three sets of academy uniforms, clean enough; two changes of ordinary clothes in dark gray and deep navy, made of durable fabric and cut simply for ease of movent; and a few undergarnts, a spare pair of boots, and a scarf. Children from the north always packed an extra scarf out of habit, even when autumn in the southwest was warr than in the Imperial Capital.
There was no formal wear.
This was not surprising in the least. He had never once thought of bringing anything like that.
Full dress. Distinguished guests gathering together. To him, it all sounded about as important as the dining hall changing its nu next week. If it existed, fine. If not, that was fine too.
It was not as though he intended to socialize with anyone, much less dance.
What was wrong with wearing his academy uniform?
An academy representative wearing the academy uniform was only natural.
As for standing out too much?
Ryan lifted one of the dark gray outfits from the bed and gave it a shake.
When had he ever cared about not fitting in?
He turned and walked toward the bath.
After sitting in the carriage all day, his back and waist felt stiff as timber, and his head was faintly heavy. He needed to wash his face first.
Just then, footsteps sounded beyond the courtyard wall.
Across the bluestone, across the clusters of purple flowers, across the evening sinking deeper and deeper, two voices rose and fell—one sharp and high, the other low and steady—like a sparrow arguing with an ox.
“Miss Lillian, I really think the clothes I’ve got are fine…”
“No, they are not! The elbows of that coat are worn pale. Are you planning to go et the Count and all those nobles dressed like that? Do you want them to think Saint Roland Magic Academy cannot even afford one respectable formal outfit for its representatives?”
“But I’m not going there to dance…”
“That is not the point! This is about dignity! The dignity of House Holden—though your family does not have much of that to begin with—but right now you are an academy representative! A representative!”
“Oh… Then what sort should I buy?”
“How would I know? It is not as if I have ever bought clothes for a boy before! …In any case, just co with and stop arguing!”
Even through the wall, Lillian’s voice carried the air of an indignant cat with bristling fur, her final syllables rising sharply.
Rex’s answers, on the other hand, were always that sa unhurried, honest tone, like a wall that could be scolded and battered without ever changing.
Ryan stood by the window, listening to the opening and shutting of the neighboring courtyard gate, to the footsteps receding into the distance, to Lillian still going on and on about how Rex “didn’t even know how to choose a cravat”…
The footsteps grew hurried, one heavy and one stumbling as though being dragged along.
The courtyard gate opened and closed, and soon the next courtyard fell silent again.
Ryan remained standing by the window, that dark gray coat still in his hand.
He had not deliberately tried to listen. But the sounds seed to have sprouted feet of their own, squeezing in through the cracks in the wall and filling the dusk to the brim.
And it was at precisely that mont, while he was hanging the outfit on a clothes rack, that the knock ca.
Ryan opened the door.
Ilis stood beneath the veranda.
She was still wearing the academy uniform for female students. The deep blue jacket hugged the line of her waist, the collar fastened with perfect precision, and the cuffs were so neatly pressed that not a single crease could be found.
The dusk gathered behind her, and the veranda lamp cast a thin wash of light across one side of her face. In that dim golden glow, her violet eyes looked like two windless pools of still water.
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