As Riftan Calypse entered the banquet hall, all the parrot-like chattering of the people died down. Anatol’s lord exuded an overwhelmingly eerie aura of intimidation as he strode across the hall full of tension.
A mix of intense curiosity, fear, and admiration reflected on the faces of the ladies gazing discreetly at his face filled with indifference. The ladies covered their blushing faces with their fans, whispering things in each other’s ears while the men silently held their breaths in a mix of fear and astonishment.
The first time he set his foot in Drakium Castle, not one noble had the intention to accept a beast who dared to enter their territory. However, now is a different story. Those who have rejected him and even openly insulted him are placed in a situation where they must fend for themselves.
Riftan Calypse rose into one of the most powerful lords of Whedon in just a few years. He forged strong allegiances with the lords of the Southern continent and is currently expanding his influence spherically to the northern and western regions. The momentum of rise was so parabolic that even the eastern nobles who tried to interfere with it had long since surrendered.
The younger nobles were scrambling to strike a conversation with the legendary knight while the more conservative ones silently retreated to the hall’s corners.
Despite that, Riftan did not bat an eyelid to the people’s reactions. He strode straight to the end of the hall—towards the arched door without sparing a glance at the people who were looking curiously at him or eager to get a chance to talk to him. When he reached the door, he spoke in a dry tone to the servant who was guarding it.
“I have come here to see His Majesty. Announce my arrival.”
The servant immediately ran into the room to relay the announcement. After a moment, the permission to enter was granted and Riftan strode into the room, his reddish-brown cloak gracefully swaying behind him. Ruben the third, who was sitting leisurely on a velvet-lined chair greeted him with a crooked smile.
“You’re late. Is it because there’s no need for you to gain my favor anymore?”
Riftan’s lips cynically twisted as he glanced at the congratulatory gifts piled beside the king’s seat.
“I think the other vassals have established enough prestige for the royal family even if you exclude me…”
“That does not mean you have the right to slack off on your obligations.”
The king grumbled with a frown and motioned for Riftan to sit on the chair opposite his. As he sat down, a servant immediately came to give him a glass of wine. Ruben was first to take a sip from his cup then continued to speak like a troubled child.
“Today is the last day of celebration. I was half-resigned into thinking that you might not be attending.”
“I thought that it would be better for me not to attend.”
King Ruben raised an eyebrow at his cold reply. Riftan’s eyes were looking down at the glass of wine and continued his words in a calm manner.
“I wanted to avoid running into that man as much as possible. Since we are celebrating the Crown Prince’s birth, shouldn’t we avoid having any bloodshed?”
The king shook his head at Riftan’s violent words.
“Oh heavens. Isn’t knocking out all the Duke of Croix’s teeth enough?”
The king leaned deeper in his chair and sighed deeply.
“Haven’t you already intimidated him enough? Your influence now is more than enough to threaten the Duke of Croix. Looking on the other side, the duke’s momentum could not be compared to what it was before. He’s now older, more nervous, and paranoid. His health had declined by much as well to the extent that he appears miserable. Although the Duke won’t admit it even with a knife against his neck, he is terribly afraid of you. It’s not unreasonable for him to feel as such after all the threat you’ve said to him. Didn’t you recently send a box with human necks inside to the Duke of Croix?”
