The grand hall of House Veil shimmered beneath oceans of golden light.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling like suspended stars, illuminating polished marble floors where reflections of nobles and servants moved together in flowing patterns. Music drifted softly through the air from the orchestra positioned near the eastern balcony, their instruments weaving elegant melodies beneath the endless murmur of noble conversation.
The atmosphere had transformed completely after the arrival of the Third Duke.
What had begun as curiosity…
Had evolved into tension.
Because now every noble present understood something clearly.
Tonight was no ordinary feast.
Tonight was history.
The Three Southern Dukes sat beneath one roof.
A one-in-a-decade event.
And at the center of it all—
Stood House Veil.
The nobles seated throughout the hall continued whispering quietly among themselves, exchanging careful glances while pretending composure.
Lesser nobles adjusted posture constantly.
Merchant families measured reactions obsessively.
Even experienced aristocrats appeared more cautious than usual.
Because no one wanted to embarrass themselves before all three Dukes simultaneously.
At the center platform near the front of the hall—
Landon finally stepped forward.
And gradually—
The hall quieted.
His black formal attire reflected faint silver beneath the chandelier light while the silver insignia of House Veil rested sharply against his chest. Unlike older nobles who often carried artificial elegance, Landon's presence felt firm.
Earned.
Like a sword polished through battle rather than inheritance.
He stood tall before the gathered aristocracy.
Calm.
Composed.
Yet internally—
Even he could feel the weight of this moment.
Kel watched silently from near one of the side pillars.
The crowd no longer paid him excessive attention now. Most already recognized him vaguely as the talented potion maker connected to House Veil.
Which was perfect.
Noticeable.
But underestimated.
Sairen's voice echoed softly through the soul-link.
"…Your knight learned quickly."
Kel's eyes remained fixed on Landon.
"He adapted quickly."
Far away—
At Scarder Lake—
Sairen observed through his senses while silver mist drifted endlessly around her ancient form.
Below—
Landon finally began speaking.
"First…"
His voice carried smoothly through the hall.
Not overly loud.
But controlled enough that everyone listened naturally.
"…I would like to express my sincere gratitude."
He inclined his head respectfully toward the gathered nobles.
"And especially to the honored Dukes…"
His gaze shifted briefly toward the three ruling powers seated prominently near the front.
"…for accepting my invitation tonight."
The hall remained silent.
Listening carefully.
Duke Altair sat with composed stillness, one arm resting against his chair while his sharp eyes observed Landon carefully.
Duchess Seraphine appeared relaxed outwardly, elegantly holding a wine glass between pale fingers while faint amusement lingered behind her smile.
And Duke Kael Draven—
Remained unreadable entirely.
Like a beast resting silently within darkness.
Landon continued.
"House Veil is still young."
A faint pause.
"…Compared to the ancient houses gathered here tonight."
Several nobles exchanged subtle glances.
Because despite the humility of his words—
Everyone present knew House Veil's growth had become frighteningly rapid.
"But…"
Landon's gaze sharpened slightly.
"…the South continues changing."
The atmosphere shifted subtly.
"Trade."
"Mercenary activity."
"Territorial conflicts."
"Resource distribution."
His voice remained calm.
"All of these are becoming increasingly unstable."
Several merchant nobles nodded unconsciously.
Because it was true.
"And because of that…"
Landon placed one hand lightly against his chest.
"…I believe cooperation among Southern powers is becoming more important than ever."
A carefully neutral statement.
Safe politically.
Yet meaningful enough to justify the gathering.
Kel observed silently.
Satisfied.
Landon had learned how to speak like a noble properly now.
Not revealing intentions directly.
Only guiding thought.
Finally—
Landon raised his glass.
"So tonight…"
A faint smile appeared.
"…please enjoy yourselves."
The orchestra resumed softly behind him.
"And afterward…"
His eyes swept calmly across the hall.
"…we may discuss business."
Applause followed naturally.
Controlled.
Elegant.
But beneath it—
The true tension only deepened.
Because now everyone knew the real conversations would begin after the feast.
And just like that—
The party officially began.
Music rose gradually throughout the hall while servants moved elegantly between nobles carrying wine, delicacies, and crystal trays filled with expensive Southern cuisine.
The atmosphere loosened slightly.
Conversations spread naturally.
Political alliances shifted subtly beneath smiles and laughter.
And among all of it—
Kel moved quietly through the crowd.
He no longer stood hidden beside pillars.
Now—
He entered the game directly.
Many nobles recognized him immediately.
Not by face.
But by title.
"Mister Heral."
A merchant noble greeted politely while adjusting the cuffs of his golden robe.
"I have heard quite impressive things regarding your potions."
Kel inclined his head modestly.
"You honor me."
The merchant studied him carefully.
Like many others tonight, he expected arrogance from someone possessing such valuable skill.
Instead—
He found calm composure.
Measured speech.
Quiet confidence.
Dangerous traits.
As Kel moved through the hall, more nobles gradually approached.
Some curious.
Some calculating.
Some openly greedy.
And each time—
Kel introduced himself simply.
"Heral."
A faint polite smile.
"A potion maker."
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Sairen's voice echoed softly with amusement.
"…You really enjoy pretending to be ordinary."
Kel accepted a glass of wine from a passing servant calmly.
"Ordinary people are underestimated."
Far away—
Sairen smiled faintly to herself.
Because unfortunately—
He was correct.
Eventually—
Kel approached the central noble section where the Dukes sat.
And the atmosphere nearby subtly shifted immediately.
Nobles moved aside instinctively.
Not because Kel carried visible authority.
But because they wanted to observe.
The famous potion maker.
Meeting the rulers of the South.
Duke Altair observed Kel carefully as he approached.
Sharp military eyes evaluating posture before words.
"Heral."
The Duke spoke calmly.
"So you are the man causing the South's recent noise."
Kel bowed respectfully.
"Your Grace overestimates me."
Altair's gaze narrowed faintly.
Because unlike many young talents—
This man showed no nervousness whatsoever before him.
Interesting.
"You made the recovery potions personally?"
"Yes."
Kel answered simply.
Altair studied him several seconds longer.
Then finally nodded once.
"Impressive work."
Simple praise.
Yet coming from Altair Valemont—
It carried enormous weight.
Nearby nobles immediately noticed.
And internally—
Many recalculated Heral's value upward once again.
Then—
Kel turned toward Duke Kael Draven.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Heavier.
Colder.
Kael observed him silently for several moments.
Gray eyes tired.
Ancient.
As though perpetually carrying grief beneath exhaustion.
"You smell like old mana."
The Duke suddenly spoke quietly.
Several nearby nobles looked confused immediately.
But Kel's eyes sharpened slightly.
Because that sentence—
Was not ordinary.
Sairen's voice echoed softly.
This time surprised.
"…He noticed?"
Kel answered internally.
"Partially."
Duke Kael continued staring silently before finally looking away again.
"…Interesting."
Nothing more.
Yet somehow—
That single interaction felt more dangerous than entire political conversations elsewhere.
And then—
Kel finally approached Duchess Seraphine.
The atmosphere around her differed entirely from the other Dukes.
Warm externally.
Deadly beneath.
She observed him with open curiosity the moment he arrived.
Her pale emerald dress shimmered beautifully beneath chandelier light while golden jewelry rested elegantly against her neck and wrists.
Beautiful.
Refined.
And absolutely terrifying.
"So."
Her voice flowed softly like velvet.
"You are Heral."
Kel bowed slightly.
"Yes, Your Grace."
Seraphine smiled faintly.
But unlike earlier formal smiles—
This one carried genuine interest now.
Because Kel matched something she personally liked.
Calm men.
Confident men.
Men who did not tremble before power.
And unfortunately for everyone involved—
Kel was all three.
"I expected someone older."
She admitted smoothly while studying him openly now.
Kel met her gaze calmly.
"Disappointment?"
A few nearby nobles nearly choked hearing that response.
Because casually teasing Duchess Seraphine required either courage…
Or insanity.
But instead of anger—
Seraphine laughed softly.
A real laugh this time.
Elegant.
Dangerous.
"No."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Quite the opposite."
And just like that—
The surrounding nobles understood immediately.
Duchess Seraphine Elthorn had taken personal interest in the mysterious potion maker named Heral.
Which meant—
The political storm surrounding House Veil had just become significantly more complicated.