As night fell, the Earl of Milu's mansion was ablaze with lights. When Perro, holding the invitation, was ushered into the hall by his attendants, the birthday banquet for the Earl's third daughter, Aurélien, had just begun.
The guests at the banquet were all Nobles of distinguished lineage and renown from the Long Song Fortress. The Earl held this birthday celebration in high regard, as evidenced by the wool carpets adorning the hall and the black-tiled, gold-edged garments uniformly commissioned by his attendants. After all, Aurilian had just turned sixteen, reaching the age of marriageable age.
The strings began to play as attendants carried wine and cups through the crowd. In the hall, round tables were laden with steaming hot dishes. The protagonist, Aurelian, dressed like a canary, was surrounded by a group of sisters in a corner of the hall, their conversation lively and cheerful.
This is the most popular banquet style in the capital these days. The Western Frontier Banquet wasn't like this before, Pei Luo thought. Typically, guests would gather around a long wooden table, waiting for the chef to serve. The dishes served included large bowls of pork and whole chicken, buttered bread, double-fried eggs, and large bowls of lettuce leaves.
But for Pei Luo, who had also spent years in the capital, the birthday celebration was merely a superficial imitation.
For instance, the wine cups held by the attendants were all colored glassware, not the clear, transparent glass cups. Pouring wine into them would fail to highlight the wine's natural richness and color. The round table should be covered with white cloth, not leaving the greasy tabletop exposed. As for the cooked dishes, they still maintained the traditional Western-style appearance—large and coarse. Perro shook his head, insisting that the chef should at least slice the food into small pieces before serving.
By custom, he had already feasted at home before attending the banquet, so he would never cut into those large chunks of cooked meat. The guests at the banquet represented the honor of their respective families, and eating with glistening oil on their lips here would certainly tarnish their reputation. Pei Luo did not want to be treated as a laughingstock in the mouths of the young ladies from each household.
"Long time no see, buddy," someone suddenly grabbed his neck from behind. "You've been appointed as Lord's envoy again? How's the ore harvest in Border Town? You must've dug up a ton of ore, right?" The familiar voice was unmistakably Rhien Med, the elk family's second son—a fool obsessed with becoming a knight who couldn't even care less about his estate. "Well, good," Perro replied with reluctance about his Border Town ordeal. "Did you actually use your skills in Frost Ridge, or just kept shivering in Hermes 'tavern?" "Damn it," Rhien shoved Perro. "I've never heard a single good word from you. This time I didn't even go to New Holy City. The day before the border guards set out, I caught a cold and spent a whole week in bed." "Not bad," Rhien chuckled. "At least saved the guards some trouble." "This time you're wrong," Rhien suddenly chuckled. "If I hadn't spent a week in Frost Ridge, I'd probably be lying on the cold walls of Holy City forever." "What do you mean?" Perro raised an eyebrow.
"I heard it from others," the second son of the elk leaned in close and whispered. "The New Holy City nearly fell—evil beasts stormed into the inner city. If the Church hadn't sent their strongest warriors, even the Holy City Cathedral might have been lost. But the armies of the Four Kingdoms suffered heavy losses. Few have returned from Coldwind Ridge. In just a month, the city is full of widows. Those who never saved money..." He blinked and gestured with two fingers. "Two silver wolves would suffice. Hey, don't look at me like God. I haven't done anything." "Are you sure this is true? What about the border guards over there?" "Of course. I saw it with my own eyes. Lord fell ill the very day he received the news," Raine shrugged. "As for the guards... we can always recruit more. The North is desperately needing experienced warriors. If my family hadn't insisted on calling me back, I could've at least led a cavalry unit." This wasn't the real issue, Perro thought. The Coldwind Ridge border guards were primarily defending against the Church's Inquisition Army. Now that the Four Kingdoms' generals and warriors were all buried in Hermes, it all seemed like a conspiracy. If they had any plans, Graycastle North was now like a woman stripped bare. "What about the Inquisition Army? How many were lost?" "It won't be much better than the Four Nations' army. Just think about it—they're always the first to charge in, the fanatics. That said, if the Inquisition Army doesn't step up, the troops from other countries won't budge," he said with a sneer. "Those Knights are the same: they talk about honor all the time, but when it comes to fighting evil beasts, they always stay in the back." "Take this man before me," Perro smiled, perhaps overthinking it. But even if the Church wanted to attack the North, it had nothing to do with the Long Song Fortress. Let the new King deal with that headache.
"Unfortunately, no one has pledged allegiance to me yet—or rather, I haven't found anyone qualified," Rienton paused, glancing toward the doorway. "The Wolf Clan has arrived. I'll greet them first and come back for you later." "Go on, no need to come back." "By the way," he turned back after taking just a few steps, "did you notice the handkerchief in the invitation?" "You placed it?" "Well, I'll just give you a sock that's only good for two days," he said, shaking his finger. "It was cut by my sister herself. Though you're a bit older, if you're serious about it, I'll definitely support you both. Don't drag your feet, friend—you're already twenty-two." Perro shot him a glare, and the latter whistled and walked away with a smile.
Peiro took a cup of wine from the waiter's plate and wandered alone to the corner, surveying the bustling hall in silence. He noticed that while Aurelian and the sisters were chatting merrily, they would occasionally glance at him. During those brief moments of eye contact, he could see their eyes quickly avert and a faint blush appear on their cheeks.
Perro smiled politely. However, in his view, the other party was still just a young girl.
Suddenly, a heated discussion erupted from one side of the hall, drawing everyone's attention.
"What! He actually dared say that?" "Yes, that cowardly Kauris, who didn't even dare to make a sound, just slunk back like a coward." The loudest voice exclaimed, "It's a disgrace to the Fortress of Long Song!" Perro knew him—seemed to be Simon Eri, a branch of the Wolf Clan who had married a woman of considerable beauty. He had seen that woman before, and she was indeed exceptionally charming.
"Talk as if you have a solution," someone scoffed.
"I might not be able to handle this alone, but if I could draw the Duke's attention to this absurdity, I doubt Roland Wimbledon would dare act so recklessly!" The moment he heard the familiar name, Perro froze in surprise, then his curiosity surged.