Chapter 23:
The Royal Consort
As he turned his head toward the sound, he saw a young man wearing a large white robe with a hood pulled over his head. The man’s eyes were a striking sky-blue, as clear as a cloudless sky.
His gentle gaze and firmly closed red lips held a kind of magnetic charm that drew people’s attention.
Unlike everyone else who was dressed impeccably in formal attire, the man wore a robe as white as snow. Though he looked more like a priest who should be standing before an altar rather than at a banquet, that thought only lingered for a moment.
A wealthy nobleman, who had been watching him as if hypnotized, suddenly shouted in surprise.
“D-Duke Gredrick?!”
The ballroom was instantly thrown into an uproar. Young noblemen who had been chatting at the foot of the stairs, as well as noble ladies who had been admiring each other’s dresses, all turned toward the commotion.
Looking slightly troubled, Illeon removed his hood. His distinct silver hair, tinged with a deep hue, and his striking features shimmered beneath the chandelier.
“!”
Gasps escaped from the crowd. Illeon was famously known for rarely appearing at imperial banquets.
On the rare occasions when he did, his face would grace the front pages of the newspapers for days.
Noble ladies’ eyes glinted sharply. Among the three dukes, Illeon was the most refined, intelligent, and handsome — making him wildly popular.
Realizing the opportunity, the young ladies rushed to him in droves, almost pushing the wealthy nobleman to the ground.
“Oh my!”
No one paid him any mind. The ladies surrounded Illeon in a glowing circle, eyes sparkling.
“Lord Illeon, I’m Tracia from the Marquisate of Nate. This is a handkerchief I embroidered myself… would you accept it?”
One of the ladies boldly held out her painstakingly embroidered gift. Illeon smiled softly and accepted the handkerchief.
“Lady Tracia. I shall treasure it.”
Her face, and even her neck, flushed bright red when Illeon said her name. But her happiness didn’t last long.
“Lord Illeon, me too!”
“Please look this way, Lord Illeon!”
“Lord Illeon!”
As Illeon appeared, the young noblemen were instantly ignored. But none dared complain.
Illeon stood at the pinnacle of power. Though he was not the emperor, he was essentially a symbol of Avalon itself.
The three dukes controlled the vast majority of Avalon’s territory. Excluding the capital where the imperial palace stood, nearly all lands were under the authority of the dukes.
And Illeon was still unmarried.
Everyone in the banquet hall was wracking their brains, desperate to say something that might catch his favor.
Just then, a loud voice rang out from the entrance.
“Damn it! It’s hot as hell in here!”
The man who burst in, cursing, had a massive and intimidating build.
His tanned, bronze skin left a strong impression. Unlike the gentle-looking Illeon, his dark-uniformed figure had sharp, fierce eyes.
It was Balt Portman, one of the three dukes.
At his arrival, people quickly stepped aside.
In stark contrast to the mild-mannered Illeon, Balt was infamous for his foul temper. His rough speech and threatening size made him someone people feared.
He was also one of only two Swordmasters in the entire empire.
It was a mystery to all how such a polar opposite could be so close to Illeon.
“Illeon, what the hell are you smiling about?”
Balt scratched the back of his head as he spoke.
He was likely the only man who would show up at the Crown Prince’s birthday banquet still wearing his sword. Even the royal guards didn’t dare stop him.
None of them could defeat Balt, even if they all came at him at once.
Only one man could match him: Dietrich.
Every time Balt came to the palace, he would try to provoke Dietrich, but the latter never so much as changed expression or drew his sword.
True to form, Balt looked around the hall as soon as he arrived, checking to see if Dietrich was present.
“Guess that bastard’s not here yet.”
At his coarse remark, Illeon lightly tapped Balt’s shoulder.
“Balt, please. At least today, try to show some decorum. This is His Highness’ birthday banquet.”
“Tch.”
Balt crossed his arms and scowled. His stormy gray eyes flashed beneath his furrowed brows.
Terrified of Balt, the noble ladies dared not approach Illeon again.
Watching the scene unfold from afar, Gabriel whispered into Heriel’s ear.
“Mother, the imperial court is quite the entertaining place, isn’t it?”
“Gabriel, everything is happening just as you said! I can’t believe we’re really at an imperial banquet.”
Gabriel only smiled in response.
The ballroom, with its gold-gilded ceiling and walls, the enormous glittering chandelier, the luxurious red carpet beneath their feet.
The gourmet food on the tables, the rich aroma of fine wine.
Even the stunningly handsome dukes — everything was pleasing to the eye.
But what Gabriel truly desired lay elsewhere.
“Do you think Duke Calypso will attend today’s banquet?”
Heriel responded while fanning herself with a fan made of peacock feathers.
“He’s the captain of the Imperial Knights, isn’t he? He’ll be here.”
With a hopeful look, Gabriel kept glancing at the entrance. Then, a few people recognized her as someone from Celia’s family.
A noblewoman in a violet dress gave Gabriel a once-over. From head to toe, Gabriel was adorned with extravagant luxury items.
Each accessory was beautiful on its own, but the overall effect was too gaudy.
The lady gave a smile and greeted her.
“I didn’t expect anyone from House Brillion to attend the banquet. A pleasure. I’m Hera of the Marquessate of Erterra.”
“Good evening, Marchioness Hera. I’m Gabriel from the Viscountcy of Brillion.”
Gabriel greeted her with a polite curtsy. Hera flicked her fan with a knowing expression.
“Lady Gabriel, I must say, it’s such a shame about your sister getting involved in the emperor’s assassination plot.”
Her words were coated in barbs. Gabriel smirked inwardly at the woman trying to pick a fight with her.
“Thank you for your concern. My sister is quite the troublemaker, so as her older sister, I worry constantly. But thankfully, she was proven innocent and allowed to attend the imperial banquet.”
“Oh, but… isn’t she not here today?”
Gabriel’s smile vanished.
How annoying. No matter where she went, people only wanted to talk about Celia. Men and women alike.
It had always been that way. Since childhood, Celia had been too beautiful — and it was never Gabriel they looked at, always her.
Celia, Celia. That damned Celia.
“She should’ve just died, suffocated in that lecherous emperor’s bed.”
Hiding her malice, Gabriel put on a fake smile.
“Who knows. I’m not sure.”
“Oh? But you’re family. How could you not know?”
Heriel interjected smoothly.
“Marchioness, ever since Celia entered the palace, we’ve had no contact. I know her well. No doubt she’s staying away to avoid bringing more shame to us after the whole assassination mess. So thoughtful, so considerate…”
Gabriel nodded emphatically at her mother’s words. Hera seemed to lose interest and wandered off.
Watching her retreating figure, Heriel muttered quietly.
“This place is a battlefield without swords. What did we even do to deserve that?”
“That’s high society for you. We’re just lowly viscounts with far too much wealth. Of course they don’t like us.”
“Ugh, ridiculous. All because of that damned Celia. That little bitch is ruining our family.”
Gabriel glanced around nervously, worried someone might’ve heard Heriel’s curses. Fortunately, everyone’s attention remained fixed on Illeon and Balt.
Leaning in, Gabriel whispered.
“Mother, we must play our cards right today. If we use Celia well, we can move from the provinces into the heart of the palace for good.”
“Don’t worry, dear.”
As the two plotted in hushed voices, a loud announcement came from the entrance.
“Presenting the rising sun of Avalon, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince!”
The crowd stirred. Unlike the deceased emperor, the crown prince had a decent reputation. Hopeful eyes turned toward him, filled with anticipation for a new reign.
“…Huh?”
Someone let out a bewildered sound.
Because the crown prince was entering the hall escorting a woman.
Eyes shifted from his red formal attire to the woman at his side.
Her elegantly styled silver hair glittered under the chandelier.
Her flawless pale skin, rose-red lips, and emerald eyes reminiscent of summer forests.
Wearing a white mermaid dress, Celia looked like a bride ready for her wedding.
Everyone in the hall held their breath, staring at her. Some with envy, others with awe. Many men fell in love on the spot.
Her walk, her posture — not a single flaw could be found.
Even the crown prince, who resembled his once-celebrated beautiful mother, paled in comparison next to Celia’s radiance.
Holding a wine glass, Illeon watched her as though studying a work of art.
Beauty was common — but those who possessed an aura that magnetically drew others in were rare.
Crown Prince Jeremy proudly escorted Celia to the stage, a satisfied smile on his face.
Noticing how others couldn’t take their eyes off her, he gave a casual shrug and addressed the crowd.
“Thank you all for attending my birthday banquet. Tonight, set aside all worries and eat and drink to your heart’s content!”
Jeremy’s grin never faded. He raised his glass high and shouted:
“But before we toast, I have something to say.”
With his free hand, he placed it on Celia’s shoulder — and uttered the words that left the crowd in shock.
“Allow me to introduce my royal consort. You all know her — Celia Brillion.”
