~Where Words Strike Sharper Than Steel~
The quiet spot Kel had chosen at the edge of the hall granted distance but not invisibility.
Which was precisely the point.
He stood with a composed stillness, holding a glass of watered wine — not indulgence, but appearance. The nobles who noticed his quiet positioning assessed it quickly.
Not isolation.
Observation.
And so, the first wave approached.
First Group — Opportunists
Three nobles approached slowly — two men and one woman, dressed richly but not ostentatiously. Mid-level in hierarchy, but sharp enough to recognize potential.
They bowed lightly, with practiced-manner courtesy.
"Good evening, Young Master Kel," one man greeted. "It has been some time since we've had the honor of seeing you at an event."
Kel inclined his head slightly.
A noble's greeting — neither welcoming nor discouraging.
"It has indeed," Kel replied. "I trust your affairs have prospered since."
Polite. Elegant. Unassuming.
Indicating nothing.
The woman in the trio smiled subtly. "We were just discussing trade prospects influenced by the northern pass. Surely the House of Rosenfeld must have keen insight on such matters."
Testing knowledge.
Kel met her gaze without shifting posture.
"Trade along the pass depends primarily on winter route stability and bandit suppression," he said calmly. "Conditions that my father's expedition indirectly secured."
Their eyes widened slightly.
He credited the duke while positioning himself adjacent — aligning with house strength without claiming it.
Clever.
"And will Rosenfeld maintain military presence there?" asked another noble.
"A question for the future," Kel replied. "Depending on whether the cost of vigilance outweighs the risk of neglect."
He sipped his drink.
"I find that often, early prevention costs less than postponed intervention."
The woman's eyes narrowed with surprise — not at defiance, but foresight.
"Spoken like… someone observing beyond his years."
Kel didn't answer.
The group subtly exchanged glances — quietly impressed.
They bowed and excused themselves.
One group down.
They expected weakness.
Instead, they found calculation.
He remained silent…
…and the wolves began circling tighter.
Second Encounter — The Social Blade Test
A different group this time — younger nobles, dressed finely and slightly too confidently. Sons and daughters of high-ranking families.
One among them stepped forward — a boy around Kel's age, but with a healthy physique and arrogant poise. He raised his glass slightly.
"First heir of Rosenfeld," he spoke loudly enough for eyes to turn, "I didn't know you could stand for this long without collapsing."
A few soft laughs around. Someone whispered,
"Felix of Bournetta… always quick with words."
Kel looked at Felix.
Not red-faced.
Not offended.
Simply… quietly attentive.
Felix smirked. "Forgive me. I've heard much about your condition. Had I known you would appear, I would've brought a chair."
Laughter rose.
Not uproar — but enough to attempt public position dominance.
Kel lowered his glass.
His posture changed by a fraction — straightening slightly.
He spoke.
"Then I thank you for not doing so."
Felix blinked.
Kel continued, tone calm — almost conversational.
"Had you brought a chair tonight, it would imply expectation of my weakness."
He paused.
"And if I had required it, I would be validating your assumption."
He met Felix's eyes.
"But by standing, without such preparation—"
Kel turned slightly, voice still composed but now carrying the faintest edge.
"—I suggest it is wiser to observe a man's present stance than prepare for his past condition."
Silence.
A ripple — subtle, sharp.
A few nobles murmured.
He just turned the insult.
Felix opened his mouth.
Kel spoke again—before he could recover.
"And…" he added softly, "had you brought a chair and I remained standing, the misunderstanding would be yours alone."
His tone was not aggressive.
It was worse.
Reasonable.
Felix exhaled—a forced smile.
"Well spoken," he said, stepping back with a small bow.
A sign of acknowledging verbal checkmate.
Observers Take Note
At the balcony above, Prince Adrian watched, fingers steepled lightly before his lips.
"…He broke the provocation without escalating conflict."
Beside him, an advisor murmured, "He speaks beyond his station."
"No," Adrian replied softly.
"He speaks like someone who has nothing left to fear by being underestimated."
Final Ripple — A Different Kind of Approach
As Felix's group retreated — quietly acknowledging Kel's maneuver — a figure stepped forward.
A woman in deep grey silk, her posture refined. She held no drink. Her fan remained closed.
Lady Maelina Ravensong.
The intelligence duchess.
She approached alone.
Kel turned to her — slower this time, acknowledging her significance.
"Lady Ravensong."
"Young Master Rosenfeld." She inclined her head. "The hall seems more attentive than I recall from past gatherings."
A subtle remark.
Kel replied, "Air tends to shift when a window long sealed is opened."
She observed him carefully.
"…A wolf who doesn't bite."
"…Or one waiting to be provoked."
She smiled faintly.
"May the breeze remain interesting, then."
She passed by.
But not without a final whisper.
"Next time someone tries to test you…"
Kel remained still.
"…Remove the blade, not redirect it."
She left.
Kel's Thought as She Walked Away
She saw it.
She saw I avoided conflict.
And suggested I cut deeper.
Not yet.
When the time comes.
He returned to silence.
The hall returned to motion.
But now… whispers changed tone.
"He handled it… calmly."
"Not weak."
"More controlled than I expected."
"Perhaps… worth observing."
And somewhere above—
Prince Adrian smiled very slightly.
"The wolves," he murmured, "have noticed another wolf in the pack."