The black carriage bearing the silver lion crest of Vayne cut through the winding paths toward the Southern Territory, the domain of Duke Varentis.
Inside the swaying cabin, Azura sat with her back straight, her eyes fixed on the golden wheat fields passing by the window.
Beside her, a small case containing the memory crystal and the secret documents remained under heavy guard.
”Your Grace,” Arthur’s voice called out from outside the carriage window.
“We will reach the main gate in ten minutes.
I have positioned ten of our best soldiers in the rear, disguised as additional servants per your command.”
”Good,” Azura replied curtly.
“Remember, Arthur.
We are not here to make friends today.
We are here to show them that the Vayne lion is not dead—it is merely shedding its skin.”
[Krrrkk…
Glitch…]
[System: Boss, social temperature detection ahead: Absolute Zero.
I detect at least thirty pairs of eyes with knives sharpened behind their tongues.
Oh, and a little extra info: Countess Elara Von Pris is there.
She just bought a gown for 5,000 gold coins specifically to belittle you.
Shall I draft a comeback or shall we use ‘Expose Scandal’ mode?]
Save the scandals for dessert, System.
I want to see how far these vultures dare to peck, Azura thought with a thin smirk.
Duke Varentis’s banquet hall was the polar opposite of Vayne Castle.
If Vayne was a rigid military fortress, this place felt like a magnificent, warm indoor garden.
Crystal chandeliers reflected light onto cream marble floors, and the scent of jasmine filled the air.
However, that warmth did not reach the circles of nobles whispering in groups in the center of the room.
As the hall doors swung open and “Marchioness Azura Vayne” was announced, all conversation ceased.
Azura stepped inside.
She did not wear the pastel-colored party dresses typically worn by noble widows to garner sympathy.
She wore a jet-black silk gown with a high collar that concealed the wound on her neck, adorned with a silver brooch shaped like a small dagger on her chest.
Her bluish-silver hair was swept up neatly, leaving a few strands to frame her pale yet sharp face.
”Look at that,” whispered a Countess in the corner.
“The daughter of that lowly Baron.
She looks like she just killed someone, not like she’s in mourning.”
”I heard she broke Lord Bastian’s fingers.
The woman is truly insane,” another chimed in.
Azura kept walking, ignoring the whispers as if they were nothing more than the buzzing of flies.
However, her path was blocked when a woman in a glaring red dress and a peacock feather fan stood directly in her way.
Countess Elara Von Pris.
”Ah, Marchioness Vayne,” Elara closed her fan, smiling with profound insincerity.
“We were all shocked you could make it.
Considering…
well, your very ‘recent’ status in these circles.
And of course, the news about the Meren family’s…
pitiful history.”
Elara looked around, seeking support from her audience.
“I was worried you’d be confused about which was the salad fork and which was the meat fork.
I imagine in your old home, you were more accustomed to eating with your hands on the cellar floor?”
Light ripples of laughter broke out around them.
Azura didn’t blink. Find the original chapter at g.com.
Instead, she took a step forward, closing the distance until Elara was forced to take a step back, intimidated by Azura’s cold aura.
”Countess Elara,” Azura’s voice was clear and lethal.
“Thank you for your concern.
Speaking of cellars, I just finished cleaning out my dungeon yesterday.
And guess what I found?
An old record of an illicit loan of 15,000 gold coins in your husband’s name from the Vayne territorial treasury.
It seems the interest alone would be enough to buy ten of the dresses you’re wearing now.”
Elara’s face, previously flushed with arrogance, suddenly turned as pale as parchment.
“W-what?
That is slander!
Don’t you dare speak such nonsense!”
”System, display transaction data,” Azura whispered internally.
[System: Displaying micro-hologram on Boss’s retina…
March 14th, loan signed by Count Pris.
Status: 2 years overdue.
Countess’s Lie Score: 98%.]
”If you don’t want me to read out your husband’s bank details in front of the Duke,” Azura leaned close to Elara’s ear, “I suggest you step aside and shut your mouth before I turn that expensive gown into a shroud for your reputation.”
Elara trembled violently.
She couldn’t find the words to retaliate.
Turning tail, she vanished into the crowd, leaving the onlookers bewildered.
”Well, well…
life in the city sure is harsh, isn’t it?”
A heavy but casual male voice broke the tension.
Azura turned toward the source.
Near a table filled with traditional snacks—not royal delicacies—sat a man in very simple attire.
He wore only a white linen shirt without rank insignia, dark brown trousers, and comfortable-looking leather sandals.
The man was busy peeling peanuts while chatting with an old servant holding an empty tray.
”I told you, old man, organic fertilizer from goat droppings is much better for the roses out front.
Don’t keep using magic, the flowers lose their scent,” the man said with a chuckle.
Azura narrowed her eyes.
[System: Boss, be careful.
Energy Detection: Disaster Level.
That’s him.
Duke Varentis.]
Varentis glanced at Azura, then stood up slowly.
He did not offer a rigid noble salute.
Instead, he walked closer with his hands tucked into his pockets.
”Marchioness Vayne, right?” Varentis looked Azura up and down, not with lust, but with pure curiosity.
“Was the journey from Vayne smooth?
Many potholes on the road?
I told my people to patch them up, but you know how it is…
the money tends to ‘evaporate’ before it ever reaches the asphalt.”
Azura paused for a moment, her mind trying to process the personality of the man before her.
“The journey was smooth enough, Duke Varentis.
Though there were a few ‘holes’ that tried to hinder my carriage.”
”Hahaha!
Good, good!” Varentis laughed heartily, his voice echoing in the hall.
“Speaking of holes, it seems you just made a rather large one in Countess Elara’s mental state. New chapters come out on novelping.com first.
Poor thing, and she spent three hours on her makeup.”
”She was in my way.
I simply removed her,” Azura replied coldly.
Varentis suddenly stopped laughing.
He stepped closer, entering Azura’s personal space.
Suddenly, the aura around him shifted.
The previously warm air in the hall turned heavy, as if thousands of tons of pressure were bearing down on Azura’s shoulders.
This was the aura of an absolute ruler, far stronger than Caspian’s golden aura or Azura’s mafia pressure.
”You know, Marchioness,” Varentis whispered, his eyes that were once playful now flashing as sharp as a newly honed blade.
“I didn’t invite you here to watch you bicker with gossiping women.
I invited you because I wanted to know…
why has the old Vayne lion suddenly been replaced by a dragon wearing human skin?”
Azura held her breath, struggling to keep her legs from trembling under the weight of that aura.
“The world changes, Duke.
If we don’t evolve, we simply end up on someone else’s dinner plate.”
Varentis smiled again, and instantly, the crushing pressure vanished.
He returned to being the friendly, man-of-the-people noble.
He picked up a peeled peanut and offered it to Azura.
”Like peanuts?
These are from my own people’s harvest.
They taste more honest than that sour Church wine,” Varentis said casually.
Azura looked at the peanut, then at Varentis.
She took the peanut and ate it.
“The taste…
is not bad.”
”Of course it isn’t.
Something grown from the soil never lies—unlike letters kept in magic vaults, right?” Varentis winked.
Azura’s heart hammered against her ribs.
He knows.
He knows about the documents in the vault.
”Don’t be so tense, Marchioness.
I like people who are brave enough to keep big secrets,” Varentis turned, waving a hand toward a servant.
“Servant!
Bring bread, cheese, and hot soup to the main table!
I’m tired of dry cakes.
Marchioness Vayne will be joining me for a feast today.
We have much to discuss…
regarding the ‘vultures’ circling over our heads.”
Azura watched the Duke’s back.
This man was the most dangerous riddle she had ever encountered.
He was brilliant, immensely powerful, and utterly unpredictable.
[System: Boss, I just calculated the probabilities.
If you fight him now, your chance of winning is 0.01%.
But the good news is…
it doesn’t seem like he wants to kill you.
He wants to ‘play.’]
Then we shall play, System, Azura thought as she followed Varentis.
And I will make sure I’m the one holding the dice.