Elias and Benjamin followed the maid through the manor, passing several servants who stepped aside respectfully as they approached. The interior was considerably more extravagant than the exterior suggested, with polished stone floors, tall pillars, and ornate decorations lining the corridors.
They eventually reached a wide staircase and began ascending it.
The maid remained several steps ahead, leading them toward the upper floor without saying anything. Elias glanced around quietly as they climbed, taking note of the guards stationed along the corridor and the servants moving through the manor.
After a short while, they reached a large set of double doors.
The maid stopped in front of them and turned toward Elias.
"My lord, only you may enter the hall," she said respectfully. "Your servant will have to remain here."
Elias looked toward Benjamin and said calmly, "Stay here."
Benjamin nodded and smiled faintly.
"You need not worry about me, my lord. I will be fine."
Elias nodded before turning back toward the doors.
For a brief moment, he glanced at the maid.
Her expression remained respectful and composed, giving him no indication of what awaited him beyond the doors.
Elias reached out and pushed one of them open.
The moment he stepped inside, the voices filling the hall gradually reached his ear.
Elias’s gaze swept across the room.
Various low-ranking nobles stood alongside wealthy merchants and high-ranking officials, all dressed in refined clothing appropriate for the inauguration. Several knights and guards were positioned around the edges of the hall, while servants moved quietly between the guests.
At the far end of the hall stood a raised platform.
A throne had been placed upon it.
And sitting on that throne was the City Lord.
The man appeared to be in his forties, with dark curly hair containing a few strands of gray and white. His violet eyes carried faint amusement as he looked at everyone, while a relaxed smile rested on his face.
He wore a black light gambeson with dark green strips along the edges, paired with black pants. A sword rested horizontally across his lap, while a red silk sash crossed from his right shoulder and wrapped around his waist.
Elias stopped.
His expression gradually darkened as he stared at the man.
’...How is he here?’ Elias thought, frowning deeply.
The person sitting on the throne was someone he knew.
Berlic Draveon.
He was the third cousin of the Fifth Lady of the Crimson Ducal Clan, Sansa Draveon.
Sansa Draveon had become Sansa Crimson after marrying the Crimson Duke, but unlike the other wives of the Duke, she had come to despise Elias more than anyone else in the clan.
The reason was simple.
The Duke had revealed Elias’s existence only a few days after his official marriage to Sansa, nearly twenty years ago.
The revelation had caused a serious rift between the Duke and the Fifth Lady, damaging their relationship so badly that their first child wasn’t born until four years after their marriage.
For that reason, members of the Draveon Marchional Clan had never viewed Elias favorably.
And now one of them was sitting before him as the City Lord.
’This isn’t good,’ Elias thought, his gaze becoming colder.
He had been told that nobody would give him trouble after leaving the main estate.
The Head Lady had promised him that much.
But she had also left the internal affairs of the Crimson Ducal Clan in the hands of Syrion Crimson, the eldest son of the Crimson Duke.
Elias’s expression became somber.
’Did Syrion do this?’ he wondered.
The possibility immediately came to mind. But if Syrion had arranged for Berlic to become the City Lord, why?
Before he could think further, Berlic’s amused gaze settled directly on him.
A wide grin appeared on the City Lord’s face as he leaned slightly forward on his throne.
"You are finally here, my nephew," Berlic said loudly.
Slowly, everyone in the hall turned their heads toward Elias, their gazes moving over him from head to toe as murmurs spread throughout the room.
"That is him?"
"That crimson hair! It has to be him."
"So that is the Trash of the Crimson Ducal Clan?"
"I heard he has almost no talent for the sword."
"Isn’t he the one who was forced to marry the three cursed flowers?"
"Three women like that... I almost feel sorry for him," another guest whispered.
"I heard all three of them were once extraordinary talents. What a waste."
Elias continued walking without acknowledging the whispers, his expression remaining calm despite the mocking voices surrounding him.
Berlic watched him approach with an amused smile before raising one hand.
"Silence," he said.
The conversations immediately died down, leaving the hall quiet once again.
Berlic leaned back against his throne, the corners of his lips curling upward as he looked at Elias.
"Come, my nephew," he said.
The word nephew sounded strange to Elias.
He had never considered Berlic family, and considering the relationship between the Crimson and Draveon clans, the familiarity in Berlic’s voice felt particularly unnatural.
Still, Elias didn’t comment on it.
He continued walking toward the raised platform until he was only a few steps away from the stairs.
Berlic suddenly raised a hand toward him.
"Ah. Stop right there, my nephew," he said, his smile widening. "Not just anyone can step onto the platform."
Several guests immediately burst into laughter, a few covering their mouths with their hands or handkerchiefs.
Elias halted immediately, his expression twisted darkly, and his hands slowly clenched at his sides.
However, he had expected something like this to happen from the beginning, and if he had decided not to come even after the invitation, Berlic would have gained the justification for whatever scheme he wanted to play.
And Elias couldn’t let that happen. So the best course of action was to ignore the insults and find out what Berlic wanted from him.
He took a deep breath before he looked at Berlic for several seconds and asked calmly, "Why have you invited me, City Lord?"