When Blake and Ophelia reappeared in the inn hall, they instantly became the center of everyone's attention.
As for Blake, the scene of him drawing his sword earlier was still etched vividly in everyone's minds. The devastating power of his Soul Sword Light, coupled with the shattered floorboards and cracked walls that looked like they had been torn apart by a hurricane, left no one in doubt—no one dared to underestimate this slender young man who seemed barely twenty years old.
The gazes fixed on Ophelia, however, held a different kind of intensity. During the earlier commotion, many had already stolen glances at the girl who had hidden her face beneath a cloak, speculating about her identity and appearance. But now, with Ophelia standing there completely unobscured, the first thing that caught everyone's eye was not her stunning beauty, nor her graceful figure and smooth, fair skin—it was her hair.
Violet hair.
The mark of royal blood!
Throughout the entire Kingdom of Wester, there was no one who did not recognize this telltale sign. The founding emperor, Terez, had been born into a now-vanished border tribe where every member bore hair as vibrant and rich as violet petals. This unique hue was not just a color; under sunlight, it shimmered with a delicate, almost ethereal glow, like strands of starlight woven into silk. Tragically, Terez's tribe had been wiped out precisely because of this distinctive trait, leaving him the sole survivor. In the years that followed, Terez united the oppressed highland clans, fought valiantly to overthrow the corrupt and tyrannical regime of the time, and founded the Kingdom of Wester. Since that day, violet hair had become the eternal symbol and banner of the Wester royal family. Not only did the common people recognize it, but within the royal court itself, those members who did not inherit the violet hue were never held in the same regard as those who did.
Of course, there had been those who tried to dye their hair violet to pass themselves off as royals—but a fake could never compare to the genuine article. The color would always look flat and lifeless, lacking that unique, luminous quality. And now, Ophelia's beautiful violet locks shimmered softly in the sunlight streaming through the inn's windows, flowing like a river of purple crystal. It was the unmistakable, unadulterated mark of royal lineage!
The realization sent a ripple of shock through the crowd. They watched as the girl walked arm-in-arm with Blake down the stairs, her posture unyielding even under the weight of all those scrutinizing eyes. There was none of the shyness or fluster one might expect from a young woman suddenly thrust into the spotlight—only a quiet, dignified poise that bordered on regality. It was not the haughty posturing of a girl craving attention; it was something far more innate...
The noblemen present exchanged uneasy glances, their minds racing. Judging by the way the two stood together, it was clear that the young lady was not the one in charge. Which meant that the young swordsman was the true power here! Ophelia's bearing and demeanor screamed of a status far above the ordinary—and yet, a member of the royal family was willingly standing at this young man's side?
By the grace of the saints—just who *was* this young man?
Well done.
Blake noted the crowd's reactions with quiet satisfaction. Ophelia truly was a seasoned professional, having once been a princess. She clearly understood his intentions perfectly: now that he had revealed his strength as a High Swordsman, there was no point in hiding anymore. If they were going to be bold, they might as well go all the way. That was why Ophelia had dressed herself in such an elegant gown and let down her long, hidden hair. Even back at the castle, she rarely removed her cloak in front of others; apart from little Irene and Blake, almost no one had ever seen the color of her hair. After all, every citizen of Wester knew the royal family's distinguishing trait. Anyone except a child like Irene would immediately guess her identity upon seeing that violet hair.
With that thought, Blake said nothing more. He simply gave a gentle smile and made a slight gesture.
"Honored sir, how may I be of service to you?"
Seeing Blake's gesture, the innkeeper hesitated for a moment before stepping forward with a forced, overly enthusiastic smile. Inside, however, he was silently bemoaning his fate. He was truly stuck between a rock and a hard place—on one side was a court mage, and on the other was a royal noble. He dared not offend either! There was no way he would ever get compensation for the damage to his inn now. He could only pray that these two would not cause any more trouble, and that they would not tear his entire establishment down before leaving.
"Where is the most renowned restaurant in this city?" Blake asked, his tone polite but firm. "I had originally planned to dine here, but that unpleasant incident rather ruined my appetite... I wonder if you could recommend a suitable alternative?"
"Y-yes, of course! Right away, sir!"
Relief washed over the innkeeper at the question. He thought for a moment before replying eagerly, "The *Lily's Glow* in the southern district is the finest restaurant in town. If you wish, I can arrange a carriage for you two at once!"
Please, just take them away! By the saints, no more trouble!
"Excellent."
Blake said no more. He led Ophelia out of the inn, and they boarded the carriage the innkeeper had hastily prepared. The vehicle pulled away quickly, vanishing from sight. As soon as the carriage was gone, the hall erupted into chaos. The onlookers wasted no time in rushing off—matters were urgent, and they needed to report everything they had seen to their families and superiors immediately. No one knew who Blake and Ophelia really were, but one thing was certain: a High Swordsman and a member of the royal family were not forces to be taken lightly. Especially not here, in the heart of Zachary territory. For the sake of caution, they *had* to uncover the truth of their identities.
"I must say, my Lord—you have truly put the Byrd family in a most dreadful position this time," Ophelia said with a faint smile as they arrived at the recommended restaurant.
By then, the commotion back at the inn was already a distant memory. The innkeeper had certainly had good taste—the *Lily's Glow* was clearly a favorite haunt of nobles and dignitaries, its interior decorated with lavish elegance. The restaurant owner had obviously received word of their arrival in advance; he personally greeted them at the door and escorted them to the most exclusive private suite on the top floor. Once all the servants had bowed and retreated, closing the door behind them, Ophelia finally let go of the regal poise she had maintained all day, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she spoke.
After all, even royalty grew tired of putting on an act.
"One good turn deserves another," Blake replied, raising his wine glass with an amused glint in his eye. "If the Byrd family insists on prying into my affairs, then I shall give them plenty to investigate... though just what they will find is not for me to say."
Both of them knew exactly what would happen next. Blake's little spectacle would ensure that the local nobles would be scrambling to dig up information about him. Their journey had not been particularly secretive; it would take little effort to trace their path back to the Twilight Forest. Among the nobility, information was constantly exchanged and traded like currency. If they dug deeper, the "truth" about Blake's identity would soon come to light.
But this so-called truth was precisely what no other noble would believe. A High Swordsman—*fooled* by the Byrd family? Given a cursed territory like the Twilight Forest as a mere handout? Preposterous! Even if they were to suspend their disbelief for a moment, there was another factor that made this story completely untenable: this High Swordsman was not alone. He had a member of the royal family by his side. The Byrds were a powerful noble house, yes—but their influence lay in the regions, not in the royal capital. Would they really dare to risk the wrath of the royal family by pulling such a stunt?
In the end, there would be only one conclusion that the other nobles could draw: the Byrd family had staged this entire farce for some ulterior motive, and their true intentions were shrouded in mystery.
The Byrd family would be left utterly speechless, that much was certain. In the days to come, they would be bombarded with endless probes and inquiries from every other noble house in the kingdom. After all, the Twilight Forest was located firmly within the Byrds' sphere of influence. Blake held his title and lands as a noble—there was no way this could have happened without the Byrds' involvement. No matter how vehemently they denied any connection to Blake, no one would believe them. As a result, not only would they be unable to scheme against the Twilight Forest, but they would also be forced to curry favor with Blake instead. A High Swordsman of his caliber would have been ignored if he had remained obscure. But now, with his power and status laid bare, he was a prize beyond measure. If the Byrds dared to turn him away, other noble houses would be falling over themselves to win his allegiance. The Byrds were not fools—they would never hand such a valuable ally to their enemies on a silver platter.
But all things came with a price. While Blake stood to gain a great deal from this bold move, it also carried significant risks.
His status as a High Swordsman was the lesser concern. While High Swordsmen were rare, they were not unheard of. Ophelia, however, was a different matter entirely. Royal blood was a weighty and dangerous thing. Take Ophelia herself, for example—born to a maid, she would have had no place in the royal family whatsoever. But the moment she had displayed her violet hair, her fate had been turned upside down. It was a testament to just how seriously the Wester royal family took their bloodline. Now, suddenly, a previously unknown royal had appeared out of nowhere. How would the royal court react?
Would they acknowledge her? To casually recognize a long-lost royal would mean adding another contender to the inevitable succession struggle. Would the other members of the royal family be foolish enough to allow that? If it were not for the late king's direct order to protect her, Ophelia would have died long ago.
Would they disavow her? That was far more likely. But Ophelia's royal heritage was undeniable—her violet hair was proof enough for anyone with eyes to see. Even if the royal court refused to recognize her, the damage would already be done. What would happen next?
Either way, Blake had successfully avoided a direct confrontation with the Byrd family—but a clash with the Wester royal family now seemed inevitable.
Ophelia frowned slightly at the thought. This was precisely why she had hidden her face for so long. If word of her identity had gotten out earlier, it would have been disastrous for Blake's fledgling territory. The Byrd family was merely a powerful noble house—opposing them was manageable. The royal family, however, represented the entire kingdom. With Blake's current strength, it was neither wise nor possible to stand against a nation.
And yet, Blake had chosen to do exactly that.
From what she knew of him, Ophelia was certain that Blake had not acted impulsively. He must have weighed the risks and rewards carefully long before this. The court mage's sudden attack had been an unforeseen accident, but even without it, she suspected Blake would have found another opportunity to make this grand entrance sooner or later.
"You need not worry about the royal family," Blake said, as if reading her thoughts. He set down his wine glass, his gaze steady and reassuring. "I would not have pushed you into the spotlight if I were not already prepared for the consequences. All you need to do is follow my lead. I trust that will not be too difficult for you."
"I will follow your orders without hesitation, my Lord," Ophelia replied, her cheeks flushing slightly at being so easily read. She lowered her eyes, her voice soft but resolute.
"Good."
Blake smiled at the sight of her flustered expression. He raised his wine glass once more, this time in a toast.
"Then let us put these tedious matters aside for tonight. We have found such a lovely place—should we not take this chance to relax and enjoy ourselves?"