No way.
Eldrin stared at the ballroom from the edge of the corridor.
Eldrin lowered his eyes and continued working, Keep his head down, point people toward the right rooms.
He had been moving between the reception hall and the adjoining corridor for nearly an hour when a servant suddenly stumbled beside him.
A silver tray tilted dangerously in the man’s hands.
Several glasses began sliding toward the edge.
Eldrin reacted before he could think.
He stepped forward and caught the tray with one hand.
The glasses rattled.
For a second, everything went silent.
The servant stared at him.
Then at the tray.
Then back at him.
"That was..."
He exhaled.
"Thank you."
Eldrin handed the tray back, "No problem."
The servant hurried away.
After few moments....
"Hey."
Eldrin looked over his shoulder.
A boy stood a few steps away, he looked roughly Eldrin’s age, perhaps a little older, his clothes immediately told Eldrin that he wasn’t a servant.
The boy walked closer.
Before Eldrin could ask what he wanted.....
The boy suddenly punched himself.
"What the....."
The boy pointed at him, "Congratulations."
"What?"
"You just hit a noble." Boy replied.
"I did what?"
The boy rubbed his jaw as though he’d actually been struck.
"Now you’re in serious trouble."
Eldrin looked around.
The boy lowered his voice.
"A servant striking a noble during a Gala?"
He shook his head gravely, "That’s a hanging offence, isn’t it?"
Eldrin’s mouth opened.
"You punched yourself!"
"Doesn’t matter." Boy replied.
"What?"
The boy smiled, "If you want to survive, I’ve got a few conditions."
Eldrin stared at him as though he’d finally lost his mind.
"What conditions?"
"Block my attacks, Every one of them." The boy raised his fists.
"If you can block them, I’ll let you go."
"And if I can’t?" Eldrin asked.
The boy’s smile disappeared.
"You die."
Eldrin blinked.
What is wrong with this guy?
Then the boy moved.
A punch came straight toward his face.
Eldrin barely had time to react.
His arm came up.
Thud.
The impact travelled through his forearm.
The boy’s eyes lit up.
"Oh."
Another punch.
Eldrin stepped sideways and caught it against his palm.
Another.
He ducked.
Another came from the opposite side.
He raised his elbow and deflected it.
The boy kept attacking.
Fast.
Not wildly.
Each strike was deliberate.
Eldrin found himself moving almost without thinking.
Block.
Step.
Deflect.
Turn.
Again.
The boy’s grin grew wider.
"Good."
Another punch.
Eldrin caught the wrist.
The boy twisted free.
"Again."
Eldrin blocked.
Then another.
And another.
He could hear people beginning to notice.
Conversations nearby faded.
Someone laughed nervously.
A few guests turned toward them.
Eldrin noticed the crowd.
His concentration slipped.
The boy’s fist caught him lightly on the shoulder.
"Ouch!"
The boy immediately lowered his hand.
"Don’t lose your focus."
He grabbed Eldrin’s arm and helped him upright.
Eldrin stared at him.
"What exactly are you doing?"
The boy’s expression became strangely satisfied.
"That’s it."
He looked Eldrin over from head to toe, "Golden aura."
Eldrin frowned, "What?"
"I wasn’t mistaken."
The boy seemed almost excited.
Then he stepped back.
"Nothing to worry about. I just wanted to check something."
"Check what?" Eldrin asked.
But the boy was already walking away.
Eldrin stood there, completely confused.
Then a familiar voice cut through the surrounding noise.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Eldrin turned.
Ennessa was approaching quickly.
Her expression was sharp enough to make him straighten instinctively.
She looked at him.
Then at the retreating boy.
Then back at him.
"Why are you making a scene in the middle of the Gala?"
"It wasn’t me."
Ennessa raised an eyebrow.
"He punched me!"
"He punched you?"
"Yes!"
"Why?"
"I don’t know!"
Ennessa stared at him for a moment.
Eldrin lowered his head.
"I... I’m sorry."
She opened her mouth to continue scolding him.
Then stopped.
Her eyes moved over him.
She had seen what happened.
And she hadn’t expected that.
He blocked all of those?
For someone who spent his days carrying books and cleaning shelves, Eldrin had moved far too naturally.
Ennessa’s expression changed for only a moment.
Then she quickly concealed it..
"You intend to explain why a noble boy was testing you in the middle of my family’s Gala."
Eldrin had no answer.
.....
A herald stepped forward.
His voice carried effortlessly through the enormous chamber.
"Honored guests, nobles, commanders, and representatives of the great houses of Maria."
He paused.
"Tonight, House Korrandis opens its doors to celebrate victory, prosperity, and the continued strength of our kingdom."
A murmur of approval passed through the crowd.
"The presence of so many distinguished guests is an honor to this household."
The herald turned toward the entrance.
"Please welcome His Majesty, King of Maria."
Everyone straightened.
Eldrin instinctively lowered his head.
The doors opened.
The royal family entered beneath a procession of guards.
The King came first, followed by members of the royal household and several attendants.
Eldrin barely noticed them.
His attention had already fixed on one person.
The boy from earlier.
The same boy who had punched himself, threatened to have Eldrin hanged, and then spent several minutes attacking him for reasons Eldrin still didn’t understand.
He’s royalty?
Eldrin’s stomach dropped.
Of course he is.
For once, his instincts had been completely correct.
I really should have kept my head down.
He lowered his gaze immediately.
.
1 Hour earlier.
[Prince Horace Corathen]
Kings.
Dukes.
Counts.
Titles.
Promises.
Everyone in the room was important according to someone.
Horace had something far more interesting to occupy himself with.
He looked across the ballroom.
The world changed.
Colors appeared around people, most servants carried faint shades of blue, some were darker, some brighter.
A few barely showed any color at all.
Horace watched them with quiet interest.
His ability had returned to the Corathen bloodline with him, no one had seen it in generations.
The Appraisal of Worth.
It did not tell him how strong someone was.
That was the part people often misunderstood.
It showed him the value of what a person was doing.
A servant carrying a heavy tray might shine with a strong blue if he was exceptionally capable at his work.
A master swordsman standing politely at a banquet could appear almost worthless.
The ability judged the action.
Not the person.
That distinction made it incredibly useful.
And incredibly dangerous.
Horace had learned to pay attention to the changes.
A servant who appeared mediocre while carrying wine might suddenly become brilliant when someone attacked.
A man who looked like an ordinary guest might reveal something entirely different when his attention shifted toward a target.
It was especially useful for finding people who didn’t belong.
Assassins were difficult to identify by appearance.
Their work was what betrayed them.
A man pretending to be a servant might be terrible at carrying plates.
Yet if his worth suddenly changed when he moved toward someone with a concealed blade...
Horace would know.
He continued walking through the ballroom, casually observing.
Blue.
Blue.
Red.
A little deeper.
Nothing particularly interesting.
Then...
A servant carrying a tray stumbled.
Horace’s eyes narrowed.
Another servant nearby reacted instantly.
He caught the falling tray before a single glass touched the floor.
For a fraction of a second...
The color surrounding the boy changed.
Horace stopped walking.
Yellow.
A deep, radiant yellow that appeared around him for the briefest moment.
Then it vanished.
The boy returned to an ordinary shade.
Horace stared.
His heart beat a little faster.
What was that?
He had seen that color before.
Very few times.
And never around someone so young.
Horace glanced toward the servant again.
The boy had already returned to his work as though nothing had happened.
Interesting, Very interesting.
Horace changed direction, One of his attendants noticed.
"Your Highness?"
"Wait here." Horace walked toward the servant.
He wanted to be certain.
Perhaps the ability had misjudged him.
It happened rarely, but Horace wasn’t arrogant enough to believe his gift was infallible.
He approached the boy.
Their eyes met.
Horace smiled slightly.
"Hey."