Magic Era New Calendar, October 26th, 1791, seed like an ordinary day.
The Sussex sun remained as stingy as ever, unwilling to reveal itself.
A gloomy mist urged people to retire early.
As night fell, the Imperial Capital swiftly hid beneath the pitch-black night.
Yet, where there’s darkness, there’s light.
The main banquet hall of Sheffield Palace was brightly lit, as if it were dayti.
The darkness outside was irrelevant to this place.
As night descended, carriages drove into Sheffield Palace, joining this grand feast.
In this hierarchically stratified world, even the manner of entering the castle highlighted the differences in status.
mbers of the Imperial Family first entered the Sheffield Palace back garden, then took the Imperial Palace’s carriage through the back entrance into the banquet hall.
Officials, nobles, and invited guests from various fields entered the Imperial Palace through the front gate, then, organized by identity and status, entered from lowest to highest in order.
Everyone’s entry order was ticulously planned.
If a Duke were to enter the banquet scene before a Count, it would be a severe organizational error, even deed a deliberate offense.
Thankfully, the Imperial Palace steward was seasoned and knowledgeable. He had managed countless high-end banquets with rely two to three hundred attendees without making errors.
Roland was different from them.
He was neither a mber of the Imperial Family nor an ordinary guest, so he did not enter through the front or back door but through the side.
Not many were permitted to enter Sheffield Palace through the side door, yet Count Sif was indeed one of them.
Riding in her carriage, Roland naturally had a smooth entry.
The palace guards respectfully opened the gate for him.
They didn’t know Roland, but rely respected Count Sif.
Roland lifted the curtain of the carriage window, looked out briefly, and sighed softly, "What a pity."
"What a pity?" Nervous enough for sweat to bead on her fingertips, Lisa dared not look outside, fearing the guards might mistake her for a thief, causing her a shaky unease.
Listening to Lisa’s slight tremble in her voice, Roland casually leaned closer, whispering in her ear:
"I’ve read many novels; at monts like this, the plot should feature gate guards looking down on the protagonist, blocking him with boasts, only to be proven wrong badly."
Though still nervous, Roland’s jest brought a "pfft" of laughter out of Lisa.
"Nonsense, who would be so foolish? Those working at Sheffield Palace are highly selected, and their discernnt is excellent. Moreover, who would employ an arrogant fool to guard the gate?"
Roland chuckled, holding Lisa’s hand in reverse, and softly said, "No longer nervous?"
"Nervous? Utter nonsense! When was I ever nervous?"
"Your left eyelash trembles conspicuously." Roland did not turn around, rely speaking blandly.
"Alright, I admit I am sowhat nervous. Do you have a way to control it?" Lisa bit her lip, abandoning stubborn denial.
Roland applied slight pressure, placing his other hand over her soft palm.
Instantly comprehending, Lisa realized Roland was nervous too, as his palms were sweating.
Of course, he wouldn’t tell Lisa that his nervousness stemd not from the salon itself, but potential accidents during it.
Alina’s note had clear handwriting but vague content.
"Dear author, rember, more people prefer tragedy."
Damn riddler, what does this an?
This sentence could have nurous interpretations.
Firstly, the literal aning, which can be imdiately dismissed. Alina wouldn’t be that bored.
Deeming it not a literal aning, it surely implies a hint.
Do people prefer tragedy?
Tonight’s banquet attendees mostly live fortunate lives; during leisure, they likely enjoy reading tragedies and similar stories.
Alina was an astrologer, enjoying playing the riddler.
But she wouldn’t be bored enough to send intelligence personnel sneaking into his house to leave this note.
Although the handwriting differed, the spelling error peculiar to Jin Yuan people exposed the identity.
With such elaborate effort, undoubtedly important intel was ant to be conveyed.
Yet, sadly, useful information was scarce; rely implying soone intended to target him.
Without this note, he wouldn’t have felt nervous.
He decided to have a good chat with Alina after the banquet, at least understanding her ciphering style to avoid being perplexed by another note in the future.
One way or another, this banquet was destined to be unsettling.
This was his only certain knowledge.
Uncertain of the forthcoming event, Roland was not inclined to ponder extensively.
Holding hands with Lisa, feeling the mutual dampness, eased their tension considerably.
Though nervous, Roland didn’t panic.
After all, this was a literary salon hosted by Empress; even if soone seeks trouble, it would be a verbal challenge.
Pulling out a pistol for a duel at the royal feast was surely impossible.
With her slightly trembling hand held by Roland, Lisa’s nervousness also eased significantly.
Suddenly rembering Teacher Margaret’s advice, "If clueless about what to do, do nothing. Doing nothing is never wrong."
She made up her mind.
Finding a corner to timidly blossom would suffice.
Or simply focusing on various delicacies.
Sussex’s cuisine was known as dark cooking, yet Sheffield Palace’s court dishes were unparalleled.
The top-tier employnt option for Jin Yuan chefs was Sussex’s high society.
Nothing surpassed the palace in upper-class status; hence, here were the world’s finest Jin Yuan chefs.
Lisa resolved to occupy her mouth with food to avoid talking excessively, causing blunders.
Count Sif’s carriage entered the palace backyard via the side door; guards promptly greeted them to guide them to temporarily wait in the back garden.
Roland was tonight’s protagonist, naturally he shouldn’t appear too early.
Waiting was dull, so Roland opted to disembark for so air.
Lisa, dressed in an evening gown, wasn’t conveniently suited to alight and accompany him.
Shortly after Roland stepped out, another carriage gradually rolled in.
Curiously observing, Roland recognized the Jinquehua family emblem.
Hoping to avoid encountering people from the Jinquehua family in such settings, however, before retreating into the carriage, a hand waved toward him from that carriage’s window.
Politely responding to an invitation was unavoidable; Roland straightforwardly hopped onto the Jinquehua family’s carriage.
Before greetings comnced, the passenger inside had already removed his hat, slightly bowing towards him.
"Mr. Roland, although you are our newspaper’s long-term author, this is our first eting. Allow to introduce myself, Rupert, currently the president of The Sun."
"So, Count Princeton, my apologies."
eting within a carriage spared them tedious etiquette.
Roland briefly bowed conveying his greeting.
Feeling a slight chill, was eting within a carriage Rupert’s intention? eting in such a confined space naturally fosters closer interaction.
"Relax, my friend, I hold no ill will."
Rupert remarked with a smile, "You are Count Sif’s friend, tonight you will beco Captain of the Imperial Knight Order, naturally a mber of the Imperial Faction, we are allies."
Roland subtly squinted, pondering a response.
Observing Roland’s cautious deanor, Rupert calmly teased, "You should have seen The Sun’s content; to acquire such comprehensive firsthand information, I naturally possess a robust intelligence network."
"As you know, an incompetent intelligence network surpassing the Military Intelligence Bureau doesn’t exist in Sussex; knowing so insider news isn’t surprising."
Roland eased up, smiling, "I just find the term Imperial Faction sowhat odd, considering the Imperial Knight Order exists solely for the Empress."
"Do you inwardly reject this label?"
Rupert faintly snorted, his voice turning cold, "The Sussex Empire’s Imperial Authority reigns supre, yet now the Imperial Faction hesitates to boldly declare their identity, how lantable."
Reviews
All reviews (0)