CHAPTER 71: THE GRAND BALL

*** Royal Capital - The Grand Boulevard ***

The capital was far more extravagant than Justinian had imagined.

Even in his modern sensibilities, the sheer architecture felt absurd, marble streets, gold-plated lamps, and towers that gleamed as if competing with the sun.

Even his marching elite army wasn’t anything surprising; it was commonplace considering almost every guard in the capital was of the highest quality, a detail the novel had always commented on.

Carriages filled the wide roads, nobles leaning out to flaunt their newest silks, while servants scurried between decorated pavilions that lined the main route. Everything screamed excess.

So this was the seat of the kingdom, and the stage where the real game began.

Justinian leaned against the carriage window, eyes following the enormous banners fluttering overhead. The royal crest, a golden crown atop twin spears, adorned every building.

"It’s just as the book said," he muttered to himself. "A paradise built on... I don’t know, to be honest."

His driver glanced back in confusion but wisely chose not to comment.

*** Royal Palace - Grand Hall ***

Even before he stepped inside, Justinian could hear the chatter of a hundred nobles mixing with the hum of the orchestra. The ball hadn’t even officially started, yet half the nobility in the kingdom was already present, gossiping and scheming under chandeliers that could bankrupt a small town.

He entered with practiced calm, his crimson coat gleaming under the torchlight. The guards at the entrance straightened immediately; his arrival wasn’t unnoticed.

Whispers began.

"That’s the Duke of Snowkeep..."

"The one who rebuilt his duchy in weeks?"

"He’s quite a looker."

Justinian smiled politely, the kind that was neither warm nor cold, the kind that revealed nothing.

’So far, so good,’ he thought, letting the system quietly run in the back of his mind.

’I need to make sure I make a name for myself here.’

Justinian remembered the ominous quest that was given to him; misfortune wasn’t something he was particularly fond of.

"My lord! You have arrived!"

Augustus was with a group of nobles until he left them to meet Justinian. He was wearing everything synonymous with the word golden.

At this point, everyone already knew about the strange vassalization deal the two nations had, one that made everyone think of them as a threat.

’They must be planning something...’

’Who would make a deal like that?’

"The royal family is still preparing; you should get acquainted with the rest for a while."

Augustus gave a kind bow before leaving Justinian to his own devices, deciding to test him again, sure he was skilled at ruling a duchy, but what about navigating royal politics?

The two required completely different skillsets.

Left alone amid the murmurs and perfume, Justinian scanned the room. Every movement here carried weight, a glance could start a rumor, a smile could forge an alliance.

And for all his modern knowledge, no textbook had ever taught him how to survive a ballroom full of predators dressed in silk.

Either that or a ballroom full of idiots, he still wasn’t sure which.

"Duke Thirell of Snowkeep, correct?"

A soft voice pulled him from his thoughts.

He turned to find a woman dressed in midnight-blue, her mask feathered and her smile delicate, too delicate.

She curtsied gracefully. "Marquess Elira of Grenvel. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man whose name has replaced every court whisper."

"Then I should apologize," Justinian replied smoothly. "I seem to have made your gatherings rather dull."

Elira laughed lightly. "On the contrary. You’ve made them terrifying. Half the court believes you’re some kind of prophet blessed by the gods themselves."

’Half right,’ he thought, though his expression never changed.

"And what does the other half believe?"

"That you’re a usurper waiting for an excuse," she answered, her tone playful but her eyes sharp. "I’m curious which one is true."

Before Justinian could respond, a deep voice interrupted.

"Neither. He’s a survivor, and perhaps the most dangerous kind."

A tall man approached, his white cloak trimmed with wolf fur. His gaze was steady, assessing.

"Duke Valen of Northreach," Elira introduced, almost amused. "Our kingdom’s ever-watchful hound."

"Charmed," Justinian greeted, shaking his hand firmly.

Valen smiled thinly. "Likewise. I’ve read your reports. Efficient. Brutal, even. The rebellion’s end was... elegant in its own way."

"War rarely is."

"That’s what makes your victory impressive. You turned chaos into order, and order into progress."

The two characters were mentioned briefly by the novel, mostly as side characters who aided Julius in the final arcs. They were also skilled and dangerous, but at least they weren’t comically evil.

Something he couldn’t say to others in the same room, some he even recognized by how they were described.

Justinian met his gaze. There was no hostility, only recognition, predator meeting predator.

"Careful, Duke Valen," Elira teased, swirling her wine. "You sound like you’re recruiting him."

Valen’s smirk widened. "Who says I’m not? After he just vassalized the Archduke himself!? Who isn’t after an alliance with him?"

"You say that, but other than us, no one is really approaching him." Elira glanced around, a finger on her chin as he wondered curiously.

"Nobody would risk having a target painted on their back by talking to the current hotshot, but I could barely give a damn."

Valen had the resources to back up his arrogance and confidence; he was another frontier duke just like Justinian, one capable of destroying all of his neighboring vassals if they were to pester him.

He earned his nickname as the Hound of the North.

"So how did you do it, how did you convince that hard-headed Archduke to be your vassal?"

Valen said while he sipped his glass, swirling its contents as he moved his head along with the music that surrounded the entire grand hall.

Justinian thought for a minute before he responded. He couldn’t exactly tell the absurd truth, nor tell a lie, even if he was skilled at lying; his skill didn’t matter when a hundred other people could likely be better than him.

"It’s a secret, can’t really share my greatest card now, can I?"

He laughed, trying to sound natural.

"He’s right, you know?"

Elira at the side nodded, in complete agreement with Justinian.

"I’m curious as well, but you don’t see me asking for it."

The two bickered like old friends, and they were; their families always held playdates for the two of them when they were both young. Even after they grew up and lost contact, it seemed they still kept the connection.

’Yep... definitely going well.’