The banquet hall resounded with the parrot-like chatter of Wedon's nobility.
As soon as Riftan Calypse entered, silence descended upon the crowd.
The Lord of Anatol cut through the tension in the room, exuding authoritarian power.
Avid curiosity, fear, and admiration mingled on the noble women's faces as they stole furtive glances at his cold exterior.
Hiding their blushes behind fans, they whispered in each other's ears while the men held their breath, equally terrified and amazed.
When he first set foot on Drachium, these were the same aristocrats who had steadfastly opposed the uncultured beast approaching their territory.
Now the tables had turned, and those who had previously openly mocked him were forced to remain silent.
In just a few years, Riftan Calypse forged strong alliances with the southern nobles, emerging as a formidable force within Wedon.
He was now expanding his influence to the north and west.
The zeal with which he pursued the enterprise had frightened even the nobles of the east“his greatest adversaries“into throwing up their hands in surrender.
Younger lords approached him whenever he appeared, hoping to get the chance to talk to the legendary knight.
The more conservative nobles discreetly retreated to the margins.
Riftan himself was indifferent to their reactions.
He marched to the arched door at the end of the hall, not sparing a glance at the chattering crowd nor at those who stood waiting for a chance to flatter him.
He reached the door and addressed the attendant stationed outside.
“Inform His Majesty that I wish to request an audience with him.”
The attendant ran into the room.
He was granted permission to enter not long after, and entered with his maroon cape fluttering behind him.
Inside, King Reuben III was reclining in a velvet chair.
“You are late,” said the king with a crooked smile.
“Is this how you show you are above pleasing the crown?”
Riftan swept his eyes over the congratulatory gifts piled next to the king's seat and smiled sardonically.
“I believe your other vassals have paid homage to the honor of the crown well enough without me, Your Majesty.”
“That doesn’t mean you can neglect your duties,” King Reuben grumbled with a sour expression.
He tilted his chin at the chair in front of him, motioning for Riftan to sit.
As soon as Riftan complied, an attendant offered him a full chalice.
King Reuben promptly drained his drink first and continued like a disgruntled child, "Today is the last day of the celebrations.
I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up."
“I thought it would be better if I didn’t, Your Majesty.”
King Reuben raised an eyebrow at her apathetic response.
Looking into his goblet, Riftan added impassively, "I wished to avoid certain company as much as possible.
We could not let the celebration of your first grandchild be marred by bloodshed."
The king shook his head at the threat in Riftan's words.
“My God, are you still not satisfied after ripping out the duke’s fangs?”
Leaning back, the king let out a long sigh.
"I believe you have sufficiently crushed the man's spirit.
Your influence is now enough to pose a threat.
The Duke, on the other hand, is not what he used to be.
He is older, more domineering, and ill-tempered.
His health is also failing.
It makes the man look almost pitiful.
No doubt he would refuse to admit it, even at knifepoint, but he is terrified of you.
Although, I suppose that is not entirely surprising, considering how you have been putting pressure on him.
I am told that recently you presented him with a trunk full of severed heads.”
“They belonged to all the assassins he sent to kill me,” Riftan replied dryly.
“I just returned his feelings.”
“What you are doing is slowly terrorizing the man out of his sanity.” The king smiled crookedly again as he poured himself more wine.
“It would have been more merciful if I had allowed you to execute him two years ago.”Sparks seemed to ignite in Riftan's dull eyes at the king's sarcastic comment.
For Riftan, who harbored resentment against the royal family for preventing him from waging war against the duke, this was no light joke.
Holding his goblet to contain his anger, Riftan said menacingly, "I didn't know you held him so close to your heart, Your Majesty.
Hasn't Your Majesty spent the last decade resorting to all manner of schemes to put the Duke in his place?
Or using my wife, despite her serious injuries, as a weapon to wound his pride?
Why should Your Majesty show any sympathy for him now?"
King Reuben slammed his goblet on the table, the smile fading from his face.
"You intend to remind me of this for a long time, don't you?
Do you want me to kneel before you and beg for forgiveness?"
“Your Majesty, I only ask one thing,” Riftan said through gritted teeth.
"May you not intervene in my conflict with the duke.
I don't know if I will be able to stand by while the crown acts as mediator again."
“Is this a threat?”
“I’m begging.”
King Reuben's eyes flashed with fury for a moment before he sighed abruptly.
"You need not growl so menacingly.
I have no intention of coming between you and the Duke again.
I would also like to spare myself the trouble.
As long as you do not force me to take sides by threatening war or a trial, I will turn a blind eye to your dispute."
With that, he finished his wine and studied Riftan's impassive face.
"However, it would be a different matter if your animosity towards the Duke caused you to neglect your duties to the crown.
You are now the pre-eminent lord of the south.
Any lack of loyalty towards the royal family on your part will affect the other nobles, not to mention the knights who venerate Wigrew's reincarnation."
Riftan remained silent.
"From now on," continued King Reuben, "many will attach all sorts of meaning to your words and actions.
Your reluctant and late arrival at the celebration of my grandson's birth is cause for concern."
“Your Majesty… I have never made you wait before,” replied Riftan with a sardonic smile.
"Allow me to say, Your Majesty is being unduly harsh.
I do not wish to ever go against the crown.
If that is what concerns you, let me clarify now.
No matter my influence, I am forever your vassal, armed by your own hand.
Nothing will change that."
The king's golden eyes bore into Riftan's face as if searching for his true intentions.
After a moment of tense silence, he returned to his relaxed posture and let out a dry laugh.
"Then let the whole kingdom know this.
Go, show everyone that you are overjoyed at the birth of my grandson."
Riftan let the silence stretch again before offering a response.
“I will do my best.”
Not reassured by his less than sincere response, King Reuben raised an eyebrow before clicking his tongue and dismissing him with a gesture.
"Very well.
You may leave."
Riftan bowed and left towards the banquet hall, where the bustling activity instantly became more subdued.
Ignoring the furtive glances, he quickly passed through the arched doors at the far end, entering a circular hall adorned with an intricately patterned carpet.
Nobles dressed in silks and furs were grouped together in conversation.
Princess Agnes seemed to be leading the discussions in the middle of the group, but stopped when she spotted Riftan.
"Sir Riftan.
You have come," she said, her face lighting up.
“It’s been so long, Your Highness.”
Princess Agnes apologized and made her way gracefully to Riftan.
He observed the unfamiliar scene of the princess in a flowing dress before turning to the person accompanying her.
The young man had the same beautiful features as the princess, except for his golden eyes.
He looked back at Riftan with keen interest.
Introductions were not necessary.
Riftan bowed in respect.
“And even longer, Prince Elias.”
“Of course, Sir Riftan,” replied the prince, extending his hand in welcome.
"I was just a kid when we last saw each other.
Thank you for coming all this way."
"Please forgive me for not being here sooner.
I brought four warhorses from Lakazim as gifts.
I hope they are to your liking."“From Lakazim, you say?” Prince Elias said, a bright smile lighting up his features.
Riftan watched the crown prince's young and naive face with a peculiar expression.
The slender, pale-skinned Elias Reuben seemed too young and innocent to be a father.
“May I ask what race they are?” asked Prince Elijah excitedly.
"What about their coats?
I do not doubt their lineage if they were selected by you, Sir Riftan."
Princess Agnes shook her head in exasperation.
“You seem happier with the horses than with your firstborn.”
“Abel is adorable, of course,” the prince gushed as if he were proud of a puppy he had been given.
He then added with a smile, “But he’s too small for me to ride.”
“I don’t believe you.” The princess cast a reproachful look at her younger brother before turning to Riftan.
"Thank you for coming.
The baby is in that room.
Would you like to see him?"
Riftan nodded.
Although it was clear that the prince was dying to see the horses, he led the way to the baby, encouraged by his sister.
Thick curtains covered the entrance to the bedroom at the end of the hall.
The prince pushed them aside and entered.
The new mother, Rosetta, was lying on a long couch with her ladies-in-waiting.
She looked at them as they entered, her eyes dull.
Dressed elegantly in a pink dress, her silvery blonde hair tied into a bun, the crowned princess looked nothing short of regal.
“Rosetta, Sir Riftan has come to congratulate us on the birth of our son,” the prince announced excitedly as he approached his wife.
Rosetta's gaze fell on Riftan, a question behind her turquoise eyes.
His face hardened.
She opened her mouth as if to say something before apparently changing her mind and looking back at her husband.
"Please keep your voice down.
The baby just fell asleep."
Rosetta accepted the baby from one of her ladies-in-waiting.
The prince shrugged, clearly unaffected by his wife's icy tone.
He turned to Riftan with a mischievous smile.
"Abel's a little devil when he's awake, you know.
You should listen to his lungs.
I'm sure he'll grow up to be a tyrant."
The prince bowed to his son.
In contrast to his light tone, the prince's eyes as he watched the sleeping baby brimmed with affection.
A sigh of relief escaped Agnes' lips.
In the years they had been apart, his younger brother had grown into a cunning man comparable to their father.
As he had become accustomed to hiding his true intentions behind a comical mask, she was worried that he might treat his own son in the same way.
She was relieved to see that was not the case.
He seems to have become quite attached to Rosetta as well.
Contrary to rumors that the crown prince did not get along with his wife, the couple appeared to be on friendly terms.
Agnes smiled as she watched them.
They looked as beautiful as the couples you see in paintings.
Turning around, she noticed Riftan standing near the door, his expression grim.
She was about to invite him to take a closer look at her nephew when her breath caught in her throat.
Although he kept his distance, the agony on his face was evident, as if there was a dagger stuck in his heart.
Surprised by his palpable pain, Agnes touched his arm.
“Riftan, are you okay?”
He flinched and pulled his hand away, immediately drawing all eyes in the room to them.
Agnes directed a reassuring smile at the observers and spoke to Riftan in a gentle voice.
"You look tired, Sir Riftan.
You must be exhausted from your long journey.
Please get some rest today."
Riftan lowered his eyes, hiding his emotions, and nodded slowly.
"It's late.
Excuse me, Your Highnesses."
As if sensing the strange change in the air, the crown prince didn't say a word.
He waved Riftan away.
Riftan bowed perfunctorily to the royals before quickly turning and leaving the room.
Agnes ran after him.
“Are you really okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be, Your Highness?” he replied coldly, keeping his gaze straight ahead.The princess pursed her lips at his icy attitude.
They walked in silence until they reached a secluded hallway, where Agnes tried again to start a conversation.
"It appears that the Mage Tower has been communicating with the church recently.
It's impossible to know what they are arguing about, but I suspect they are exchanging information about the recent resurgence of monsters."
Riftan froze.
Agnes studied his impassive face before adding cautiously, "Once the Tower of Mages opens correspondence with the church, regulations within the Tower will also be relaxed.
When that happens, the novices should be able to communicate freely with the outside world.
If you wish, I can take a letter to Maximil“"
“Don’t interfere in my business,” Riftan growled, turning to face her.
Agnes instinctively took a step back.
Fixing her with an icy gaze, Riftan spat out the words one by one through clenched teeth.
"Your intrusion is not welcome.
I will not tolerate any interference in my marriage again."
Hearing his voice break at the end, Agnes gritted her teeth.
Riftan turned on his heel and walked down the hall, leaving her sighing at his obstinacy.
After Maximilian Calypse left for the Wizards' Tower, Riftan had focused all his attention on consolidating his power, going to surprising lengths to win over the southern nobles.
Not hesitating to employ cunning political maneuvers, threats or impose economic pressure on his targets, he had managed to bring the western nobles to his side as well.
The frightening determination with which he achieved all this had caused quite an uproar within the walls of Drachium.
Agnes bit her lip.
She knew that sending Maximilian to the Wizards' Tower to avoid trial would inevitably earn her resentment.
What she hadn't anticipated was how long his resentment towards her would persist.
The princess glanced at Riftan's retreating figure one last time before halfheartedly walking away.