"Lord Rashet."
Dorian's voice was deep, his gaze lingered on Marquis Ezekias Rashet. He spared only a brief, courteous glance at the Third Prince, who left quietly before the atmosphere could turn awkward.
In the Tenusa Empire, between a grand duke and an uncrowned prince, there was no contest. The duke reigned supreme, especially when the prince in question was born of a concubine mother with lowly blood. Duke Varyn's status didn't just outrank the Third Prince. It crushed him.
Nyasia felt a sudden shift in the air. In fact, this was the first time she had watched Dorian engage in political scheming, without constantly pestering her about marriage or cracking some tasteless joke.
'Was he killing the prince's momentum earlier?' she thought.
"Your Highness, thank you for being a good friend to Levon," Ezekias said. "I know you're very busy, so it's an honor that you've graced our clan's anniversary."
"You're far busier, I'm sure," Dorian said with a faint, lazy smile. "Still, you run a large clan so well. I can only hope to mirror your leadership."
Nyasia's eyes twitched, remembering his words earlier, saying her father was weak. 'Is he mocking Father?'
Ezekias glanced at her.
"You've met my daughter before? Back when you were just fifteen. Sia's ten. You were visiting the manor."
Dorian's eyes shifted to her, not a hint of recognition on them. Just a bored look, a faint arch of his brow, and a simple, "I see." Then, he turned to the marquis again. "Just call me if you need a few investors for your steam-powered mills."
The marquis smiled, thankful. Then the duke excused himself, telling the marquis he would look for Levon—without a second glance at anyone else.
Nyasia watched his tall figure walking away. She almost believed that empty look—the one that didn't recognize her, as if they were nothing more than strangers who had barely crossed paths.
She shook her head faintly. 'Sia, what are you doing? He may not kill Levon in this lifetime, but he'll always be a monster.'
Even at the Rashets' banquet, it was just a mere playground for him to reach his goals. And some of them she didn't even know.
...
FENRIR OSHEN had heard the whispers once again and stared sharply at Duke Varyn as if he wanted to gouge his eyes out. Ever since that man arrived, his night was ruined. Lady Kissell no longer wanted to talk to him. It was clear that Duke Varyn had told her something—to avoid him.
"I think it's very clear right now that Lady Kissell's father will be called on any day from the Varyn Duchy," a man said behind Fenrir.
"The duke's really great. With that kind of beauty... I'm sure the Kissells would be grateful to have such a son-in-law," another man said.
Suddenly, the men were shocked to see Fenrir rise abruptly, looking at the duke. A friend of his tried to stop him. "Fenny, you're drunk! Don't be stupid."
But his friend's words only boiled the pent-up heaviness inside him.
"You think I'm a fool? I'm a swordsman champion, fool!"
Fenrir strode toward the duke's table, and for a moment no one noticed him until Kyle Ingris.
"Oshen? I—" he said, smelling a strong odor of liquor coming from Fenrir.
But Fenrir didn't wait for Kyle to finish and spoke harshly. "I challenge Duke Varyn to a duel tonight. Just for a little show. This is the Rashets' two-hundredth anniversary. Let us not disappoint them."
"Hey—"
But Kyle stopped when Dorian waved him off. Then Dorian tilted his head, looking with calm amusement in his dark eyes at Fenrir.
Fenrir sniffed.
"I assume your silence means yes?"
"You assume a lot," Dorian said, the amusement flickering in his eyes had turned a blade. "What do I get out of this? A good show isn't free. And I don't come cheap."
"You'll give up on Lady Kissell," Fenrir said firmly. "If you win, I'll give up on her."
Levon rolled his eyes. He didn't know if he wanted to cry or laugh at this man's stupidity.
"Are you even capable of a duel, Oshen?" Levon said, frowning. "You're obviously drunk, and you're insulting Lady Kissell as if you have the right to wager her."
"If I win," Dorian said, ignoring Levon's noble remarks. "I take sixty percent of your family's fortune. Those are my terms."
Levon cursed under his breath.
It was clear. Dorian had taken this opportunity to weaken the First Prince's faction—starting with Oshen family. The late empress's family. 'If I'm right, Dorian has already found the seal. Is it possible that it's been in the Oshen family—all along?'
Fenrir's gaze was burning.
'How dare!' he thought bitterly. 'That arrogance's going to ruin you.'
"Fine! Let's duel!"
*