The tension in the Council of the Crimson Moon was thick enough to choke a gargoyle. General Draken—the scarred Lord whose face looked like a topographic map of a battlefield—was still glaring at Chen, his fingers gripping his silver fork with enough force to warp the metal into a pretzel.
"You call yourself a snack, Bronze?" Draken growled, his voice like grinding gravel. "I've seen Livestock with more dignity than you. Marquis, why do you keep this court jester? Is the Midwest truly so starved for entertainment that you must parade a delusional child?"
Marquis Malphas didn't flinch. He simply tilted his glass, watching the crimson swirl. "Dignity is a resource, Draken. But a 'Variable'... that is a rarity."
Chen, meanwhile, was busy inspecting a bowl of fruit on the table. He picked up a grape, tossed it into the air, and caught it in his mouth with a practiced, lazy flick of his head.
"It's not delusion, Mister Scar-Face," Chen said, muffled by the grape. He swallowed and flashed a grin. "It's called 'Optimal Mood Management.' If I'm going to be in a room full of people who want to turn me into a juice box, I might as well enjoy the appetizers."
A sudden, sharp sound cut through the heavy atmosphere. It wasn't a growl or a threat—it was a laugh.
It was a melodic, genuine sound, like the chiming of silver bells in a snowy forest. Every head at the table turned toward the far end, where a woman sat in a dress made of starlight and midnight-blue silk.
[Entity Identified: Lady Elara (Gold - Level 44)]
[Status: The Silent Duchess of the Northern Frost]
[Observation: She is finding your 'Mood Management' highly effective.]
Lady Elara was a premium beauty, even by Sanguine standards. Her skin was the color of fresh cream, and her eyes were a startling, icy sapphire. Unlike the other Lords who wore their cruelty like armor, she carried an air of quiet, chilling elegance.
"Oh, Malphas," she said, wiping a stray tear of mirth from her eye with a gloved finger. "Where on Earth did you find him? He's delightful. 'Optimal Mood Management'... I must remember that the next time the High Council babbles about blood quotas."
The Marquis raised an eyebrow. "He was an accidental find in a Dead Zone, Elara. An anomaly that shouldn't have survived."
Elara leaned forward, her sapphire eyes locking onto Chen. For a moment, Chen's Martial Awareness flared—he felt a cold, scanning energy wash over him, much sharper than the Marquis's heavy pressure. It was like being touched by an icicle.
"He's wasted here in the Midwest," Elara purred, her gaze returning to Malphas. "Your court is so... dusty. He needs a change of scenery. Malphas, name your price. I want him."
Kael, standing by the door, let out a choked sound. The idea of the "Lucky Bronze" being the subject of a bidding war between two Gold-rank entities was enough to make his head spin.
"He is not for sale," Malphas said smoothly, though his grip on his wine glass tightened.
"Then lend him to me," Elara insisted, her smile growing playful yet predatory. "Even for a single day. I'm hosting a gala in the North next week, and my guests are dreadfully boring. I'll trade you three Silver-rank blood-cores and a chest of pre-Apocalypse silk. Just for twenty-four hours of his company."
Chen snapped his fan open, fanning himself with exaggerated modesty. "Three blood-cores? Gosh, I'm feeling like a real bargain. Do I get a say in this, or am I being bundled with the dry cleaning?"
Draken slammed his fist on the table. "This is absurd! We are discussing the security of the Southern border, and you are bartering over a Bronze clown!"
Elara didn't even look at the General. She kept her eyes on Chen. "What do you say, little variable? Would you like to see the North? We have much better milk than this dusty Spire."
[Mission Notification: The Duchess's Invitation]
[Objective: Decide your fate.]
[Note: Lady Elara's interest is piqued. Your choice will influence the world's 'Narrative Favor'.]
Chen looked at the Marquis, then at the sapphire-eyed Duchess. He could feel the eyes of every Gold-rank lord in the room weighing him down.
"Well, Lady Sapphire," Chen said, his voice breezy. "I've always wanted to see the North. But I'm a very loyal 'Amusement Assistant.' If the Marquis lets me go, I expect a travel allowance. And a coat. A very fluffy one."
The Marquis's eyes flickered with a dangerous, golden light. The power struggle between the two Gold-rank entities was now centered entirely on a boy in a purple silk suit.