The entire Capital felt alive, humming with a frantic, feverish energy.
As morning faded into afternoon, news of yesterday’s catastrophic incidents at the Royal Gala bled out into the city streets.
Wealthy commoners, guild masters, and affluent merchant princes soon discovered that House Artecus was hosting a grand assembly—and, surprisingly, that they too could secure entry.
It was not access to the true political inner sanctum, but rather a parallel gathering hosted in the grand outer pavilions and lower galleries.
There, wealthy merchants, neutral guilds, and minor nobles from high and mid-ranked families congregated.
It was a place designed specifically for those who sought no part in the treacherous games of the high court, coming instead to trade rumors, secure business ties, and feast on the spectacle.
Across the entire Kingdom, a unspoken momentum was building; it felt as though the whole nation was shifting on its axis.
By late afternoon, the manicured avenues surrounding the Artecus Capital Estate were choked with opulent carriages bearing the crests of the realm’s most influential houses.
News of the Grand Gala’s collapse had swept through the Capital like wildfire, and every faction desperate for survival or leverage had scrambled to secure an invitation to Lady Rosalina’s emergency assembly.
The division of the estate was absolute: while the merchants and non-aligned nobles mingled in the outer halls over wine and gossip, the inner wing housed the real, razor-sharp political stage.
Gilded iron gates swung open continuously as high-ranking barons, provincial marquises, and senior councilors filed into the manor’s courtyard.
The atmosphere was thick with palpable tension—less like a festive noble gathering and more like a war council convened on the eve of a global shift.
Inside the Imperial Drawing Room, heavy moon-silk drapes swept from the vaulted ceilings down to polished marble floors.
High-tier anti-divination warding arrays pulsed subtly along the perimeter walls, casting a soft emerald sheen over the gathered crowd.
Servant staff clad in pristine black uniforms glided through the hall, offering tray after tray of fine elven wine, yet few nobles touched their glasses.
Whispers rippled through the central hall like a gathering tide.
”Is it true?
Lady Rosalina achieved High Mage standing in secret?”
”Look at the High Council members…
they aren’t even taking inquiries!
They’re standing like personal guards!”
”What about Crown Prince Wilhem?
I heard the Royal Citadel was placed under full military lockdown after his mana backlash!”
”More importantly…
who is the man standing beside her?”
Up on the raised dais at the far end of the drawing room, Rosalina stood with flawless, sovereign poise.
Dressed in a floor-length dark emerald gown lined with shimmering gold runes, her vibrant green hair held in a pristine braided updo, she looked every bit the absolute ruler of House Artecus.
Beside her stood Barn, his tall frame clad in his signature shadow-black coat.
Leaning casually against a carved stone pillar, his dark eyes calmly swept over the sea of anxious aristocrats below.
Many among the crowd did not recognize him, having missed the Royal Gala the night before; though they had heard rumors of a mysterious master, they remained uncertain of his true identity.
“Half of these houses are my and House Nightbane’s allies, but they spent the last three years kissing Zanac’s and Prince Wilhem’s boots.
Now they’re terrified we’ll strip their trade contracts.”
”Fear makes people attentive,” Barn replied smoothly, taking a slow sip from a crystal flute.
“Let them sweat a little longer.
It sets the tone.”
Before Rosalina could respond, the heavy mahogany double doors at the main entrance swung wide open.
The lead herald cleared his throat, his voice echoing across the silenced chamber with singular gravity:
”Announcing His Grace, Duke Valerius Nightbane!
Accompanied by Lady Nyxara Nightbane!”
The entire drawing room went dead silent.
Nobles instinctively parted like the Red Sea, bowing their heads in rigid, anxious deference as the Shadow Sovereign of the South stepped into the hall.
Duke Valerius wore dark obsidian coat armor over his formal velvet tunic, his massive broadsword strapped to his hip, radiating an aura of raw military pressure that made the surrounding minor lords tremble.
Walking beside him was Lady Nyxara.
She was breathtaking in a gown of midnight-crimson silk, her dark hair falling in sleek waves, her cold violet eyes locked directly onto the dais ahead.
As Nyxara glided forward, Barn’s sharp vision picked up the faint, lingering thread of divine energy still humming around her right hand—the residual resonance from their brief touch at the Gala, now seamlessly integrating into her core.
’Oh, so she is putting on an act too,’ Barn and Rosalina both thought simultaneously, a shared understanding passing between them.
‘Yes, let them see what they can’t understand.’
Duke Valerius stopped at the base of the dais, bowing his head with genuine, heavy respect—a gesture that shocked every single onlooker in the room.
”Lady Rosalina,” Duke Valerius spoke, his deep baritone carrying across the quiet room.
“House Nightbane accepts your invitation.
The alliance between our houses begins tonight.”
Rosalina offered a graceful, highborn incline of her head.
“Welcome, Duke Valerius.
Lady Nyxara.
House Artecus welcomes our true allies.”
Nyxara stepped forward, her violet eyes shifting past Rosalina to lock directly onto Barn.
A subtle, breathtaking smile touched her lips—a silent acknowledgment between two entities who operated far beyond the fragile rules of this world.
”Lord Barn,” Nyxara murmured softly, her tone carrying a quiet, unmistakable warmth. New chapters come out on g.com first.
“It seems the stage is ours to command.”
Barn smirked, stepping down from the pillar.
“Indeed, Lady Nyxara.
Let us see how the Kingdom reacts when the script is rewritten.”
Descending into the grand hall, they joined the main gathering, immediately surrounded by figures desperate to curry favor and solidify connections with the new power bloc.
Barn, in particular, was quickly swarmed by noblewomen who cared little for politics, drawn entirely by his striking looks, unbothered presence, and mysterious aura.
Far away from the Capital’s glittering lights, hidden beneath layers of stone and shadow, lay a pitch-black chamber.
The room was utterly sealed, its perimeter lined with countless anti-divination talismans and complex defensive seals.
A single wooden table carved from dark timber sat at the center, surrounded by plain chairs, scattered ceramic pots, and a single jug.
Runic magic circles burned softly along the walls and vaulted ceiling, casting a dim, ambient glow that illuminated the space just enough while maintaining its concealment.
Around the table sat several figures shrouded entirely in featureless white robes, devoid of any symbols or crests, completely obscuring their faces and identities.
”So, a person with pure Divine Moon Energy has appeared,” a voice echoed within the room.
”Yes.
And she is the heir to one of the strongest Noble Families—Lady Nyxara Nightbane.”
”Does this mean we cannot proceed?”
”No.
It merely makes things…
difficult.”
”Then what is our course of action?”
”We will fast-forward our plan.
Soon, the entire kingdom will fall under our absolute control.”
”Ah…
so you mean that,” one of the figures murmured, reaching into his robe to draw out a glass vial filled with a swirling, viscous black liquid.
”Precisely,” another replied, pulling forth a smooth, dark pearl the size of a golf ball that emitted a faint, unsettling darkness.
”The end of the King’s rule is at hand.
Soon, all of humanity will stand united under a single banner against those damn beasts and Dungeon Monsters.”
”For Humanity,” the leader intoned.
”For Humanity,” they all echoed in unison.