A suffocating silence wrapped around the entire Main Hall. The question from Duke Alistair Romario still hung in the air, cold and heavy.
I stared at the middle-aged man up on the stage. The man whom I was supposed to call 'Father'. However, as my eyes looked upon his stern face full of lines of power, I felt no anger. I felt no longing. All that existed inside my chest was absolute emptiness. To me, Duke Alistair was not a father, but a cold foreign ruler—a merchant who was measuring the utility value of an item he had once discarded.
"Answer me, Benedict," Duke Alistair repeated, his voice calm yet demanding submission. "Since when does a child hiding in the West Tower possess a look in his eyes like that?"
I took one step closer, not bowing my head in the slightest.
"The West Tower is cold, Your Grace," I answered with a flat voice, completely devoid of emotion. "In a place that low and cold, one learns two things: to decay into ruin, or to freeze until becoming hard enough so as not to be destroyed anymore."
That answer made several clan elders whisper to one another. Duke Alistair was not angry. On the contrary, the corner of his lips raised ever so slightly—a thin smile without warmth. In his eyes, I saw calculation at work. He did not care how much I had suffered in that tower. He only cared that this child considered trash turned out to possess useful thorns.
"Good," Duke Alistair said shortly. "At least that place did not entirely turn you into a useless figure."
"Thank you for your praise, Your Grace," I said coldly, returning his gaze without hesitation. The emptiness in my heart left me completely untouched by his sudden acknowledgment.
Beside the Duke, Duchess Eleanor clenched her hands beneath the banquet table. Her elegant, beautiful smile hardened. I could catch a flash of suspicion in her eyes. Eleanor knew exactly how her husband thought. If Duke Alistair began to consider me as having utility value, then the exclusive position of her beloved son, Raymond, could be threatened.
"Alistair, my dear..." Duchess Eleanor interrupted with a soft, fabricated voice, trying to melt the tension. "Perhaps Benedict was merely lucky tonight. The child is still very weak and appears unwell. Do not let this small incident of a clumsy knight disturb our banquet party."
"Mother is right!" Raymond blurted out suddenly. His face, reddened with anger, stepped forward approaching the edge of the stage. He pointed toward me with narrowing eyes. "Father, do not be deceived by his acting! Ben is merely trying to seek attention in front of the guests!"
Raymond stepped down from the stage, approaching me with wide strides. When the distance between us was only a few steps, he released his mana pressure. A surge of rough and chaotic heat aura radiated from Raymond's body, attempting to press down on my shoulders to force me to kneel before him.
"Kneel down and apologize for this mess, Ben!" Raymond whispered with heavy emphasis, his eyes bulging menacingly. "Do not dare to put on an act in front of Father!"
I stared at Raymond with a blank gaze. His intermediate-level mana pressure felt like a gentle breeze to the pure ice mana spinning inside my chest. Without knitting my brow in the slightest, I released a thin cold aura from within my Core, wrapping my own body like an invisible shield.
Thud!
Raymond's heat aura that struck my silent ice shield bounced back suddenly instead. Raymond staggered one step backward, his chest heaving up and down, his eyes widening in shock as his heat felt as though it had hit a wall of freezing steel.
"Y-you..." Raymond stammered in disbelief mixed with panic.
"Enough, Raymond."
Duke Alistair's voice boomed lightly, stopping Raymond's actions before he humiliated himself further. Duke Alistair looked at Raymond with a gaze full of disappointment, then looked back at me. That look was the gaze of a landlord seeing his new pawn successfully test his main pawn.
"Raymond, sit back in your chair. Do not humiliate the Romario name any further," Duke Alistair ordered without room for argument.
Raymond clenched his teeth tightly, glaring at me with deep hatred before finally turning around and returning to his table with jerky steps.
I gave a small formal bow—not as a son to a father, but as a formal subordinate to the ruler of the banquet.
"If this banquet is sufficient, Your Grace," I said with a tone of voice that remained stable and flat. "I request permission to withdraw back to the West Tower. My body still requires much rest."
Duke Alistair waved his hand randomly, granting permission. "Go. This banquet shall continue."
"Thank you, Your Grace."
I turned around without the slightest hesitation. My footsteps tapped rhythmically against the stone floor of the Main Hall. I could feel the fearful gazes of the knights, the hateful gazes of Raymond and Eleanor, as well as the cold calculating gaze of Duke Alistair that continued to pierce my back until I passed through the large doors of the hall.
As I stepped into the long, dark, and quiet corridor leading to the West Tower, the night air hit my face. I clenched my cold hands.