Lord blessed by the elves

Chapter 137 Let’s wait and see

Baron Marcus's face visibly darkened.

He had a long-standing feud with Reyes, and now, hearing that his rival had not only been granted a baronship but also had such an outstanding son, his displeasure quickly intensified.

Haynes took in his reaction, a barely perceptible glint of malice flashing in his eyes. He took a half-step closer, his voice even lower:
“I heard that Viscount Martin even intends to appoint him as the East City Defense Officer... That’s a powerful position. Once he gets it, he and his son will have a much more secure foothold in Campino.”

This sentence was like the last straw.

Baron Marcus let out a heavy snort, and his gaze toward Kruze transformed from disdain to undisguised fear and gloom.

"East City Defense Officer? Just because of that kid wearing that weird contraption and who hasn't even grown his hair yet?" He spoke with sarcasm, but his clenched fist betrayed his inner turmoil. "A newly promoted baron, and he actually thinks they're the Lion Family? He's far too arrogant."

Hayes said nothing more, simply standing quietly to the side, like a shadow.

The seeds have been planted.

The gloom on Marcus's face lasted only a moment before fading away quickly, like a thin mist blown away by the wind.

He's a cunning old fox who's been navigating the elite circles for years; he wouldn't be easily used as a pawn.
The wolf-hair knight Haynes's scheme to use someone else to do his dirty work was as transparent as crystal to him.

He truly wished Reyes dead, but the reality was that, given Reyes' current status as a baron and his formidable strength, a direct confrontation would be tantamount to throwing an egg against a rock.

However, if he could lose his promising son, it would be a relief to vent his anger.

The key is how to achieve the goal while ensuring that all the blame is precisely directed at the restless Haynes, rather than inviting trouble and making "Baron Wheat Ear" the target of Reyes's raging lion.

He knew all too well how reckless Reyes could be when he went berserk; it was a scene he absolutely did not want to face.

Thinking this, a mixture of contempt and righteousness appeared on Marcus's face. He deliberately raised his voice slightly, enough for the nearby nobles who were talking in hushed tones to hear clearly:
“Sir Haynes, watch your words.” He slowly adjusted his cuffs, his tone laced with cold sarcasm. “Baron Reyes is now one of us. Even if there were some disagreements in the past, those are between us. To target a young man under the age of eighteen? That is an insult to our honor and dignity as knights.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Haynes's face, which was gradually contorting with rage, before delivering the final blow without hesitation:
"Truly... I despise associating with a coward like you. You can't even solve your own problems, all you think about is using such despicable means to get revenge on someone else's son. You're a complete waste."

Having said that, Baron Marcus didn't look at Hayes again, as if staying even a moment longer would tarnish him. With his chest puffed out and a perfectly measured air of "righteous indignation," he turned and merged into the small circle of nobles exchanging pleasantries not far away.

Haynes stood frozen in place, his face turning from red to green, and finally to a steely gray.

He stared intently at Marcus's departing figure, his chest heaving violently, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and his nails almost dug into his palms.

A surge of rage, a desire to destroy everything, rushed to his head. If it weren't for the solemnity of the ceremony and the many eyes watching, he would have unhesitatingly slammed the white glove down on that fat, hypocritical face!
He took a few deep breaths before barely suppressing the urge to explode: "Marcus... fine, very good... we'll see!"

The solemn curtain had barely fallen on the awarding ceremony when another grand feast was held inside the Golden Dragon Castle.

As night slowly blanketed Campino like velvet, the castle hall remained brightly lit and bustling with activity. This was one of the few important forms of entertainment for the nobles after sunset, a time when power and desire flowed silently amidst the clinking of glasses.

The long table was covered with snow-white linen, and silver candlesticks illuminated a dazzling array of delicacies. The roasted suckling pig glistened with oil, and meat pies drizzled with rich sauce emitted an enticing aroma. Various seasonal fruits and exquisite pastries were piled up like towers.

The servants, dressed in uniform, carried silver cups filled with amber-colored ale and deep red wine, moving silently among the guests.

On the other side of the hall, a spotless dance floor had already been cleared out.

Several noble ladies and young socialites were dancing gracefully to soft music, their skirts adorned with pearls and lace blooming as they twirled, like flowers quietly blossoming in the night.

Their laughter, the rustling of their dresses, and the crisp sound of their heels tapping the ground intertwined to create a lively nocturne.

The most eye-catching focus tonight is not the graceful figures on the dance floor.

Mrs. Monica was sitting gracefully in front of the brand-new harpsichord, which had been handcrafted by the master luthier, Bedley.

Her slender fingers danced gracefully across the black and white keys, producing a series of clear and layered notes that flowed like a stream, echoing in the spacious hall and temporarily drowning out the surrounding noise.

Many male nobles and knights gathered around the music stand, listening with rapt attention.

They stood leaning against pillars, or held wine glasses, listening intently, their faces showing expressions as if they were immersed in the highest enjoyment of art.

If you observe carefully, you will find that beneath the surface of intoxication, there is an undercurrent of activity.

Many of the gazes directed at Mrs. Monica were a mixture of admiration and greed, with desire far outweighing any understanding of the music.

What gleamed in their eyes was covetousness for her astonishing wealth and unique charm, and a desire for the White Eagle Viscountry, which controlled the key magical potion resources.

To them, the beautiful music sounded more like the pleasant echo of clinking gold coins, or the alluring call of the ladder of power.

If it weren't for the invisible barrier formed by her status as the countess's sister and the prestige she had accumulated, there would probably have been people who couldn't contain themselves and would have already stepped forward to disturb this elegant moment.

As the last note still lingered beneath the gilded dome, Mrs. Monica gracefully rose and curtsied slightly in return to those around her.

As she moved, a glimpse of snow-white skin inadvertently slipped out from the neckline of her dress, instantly capturing countless gazes filled with a mixture of greed and admiration.

She paid no heed to the stares, a playful smile playing on her lips, her voice carrying clearly through the quiet hall:

"Ladies and gentlemen, today at the City Hall, I had the privilege of hearing a piece of music I've never heard before. The melody is so beautiful that I'm still captivated by it." She paused slightly, her gaze seemingly drifting in a certain direction. "Coincidentally, the young man who composed that piece is also here. On such a fine occasion, why not invite him up so we can all enjoy this wonderful music together?"

(End of this chapter)