—A calculation error was corrected in the early chapters of Part Two: the amount of time Lucian had been away from Altor was actually just over two months. Corrected now. = = My math teacher is crying.
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As a structure from the later period of the "Dawn War," Baron Habelo's castle interior similarly bore the distinctive features of that style—a vast and stately great hall, narrow windows set high in the walls, together creating a dark and mysterious atmosphere.
"The Baron awaits all esteemed guests in the small dining room on the second floor." Cailin extended her right hand, smiling as she pointed toward the staircase at the edge of the hall. "The ground-floor hall is mainly used for banquets and village courts."
Having spent half a year as the princess's advisor, Lucian was no stranger to all manner of occasions and etiquette. He nodded with a smile and followed behind Cailin's well-maintained figure as they made their way toward the stairs. Wiese also seemed accustomed to similar banquets, appearing calm and composed, while Betty gazed at the hall—large enough to host a ball for several hundred people—and quietly stuck out her tongue. Even her steady sister and brother-in-law couldn't help glancing around in awe.
At the top of the stairs stretched a long corridor, with candelabras on both sides already lit, illuminating the dim evening surroundings while casting a warm, amber glow across the portraits of successive Habelo barons hanging on the walls.
"That's the first Baron Habelo, ennobled for his service in the later stages of the Dawn War," Simon whispered to Lucian. "His bloodline was quite remarkable—they say he possessed the ability to petrify both himself and others."
Lucian paused slightly, studying the oil paintings on either side. "Was it a melee attack or a ranged one?"
The brief, professional question further convinced Simon that Lucian was a young nobleman who had received proper and rigorous knightly training. "Mr. Evans, the first Baron Habelo was active long before I was born. The Bards' stories describe all sorts of things."
Lucian gave a slight nod and asked no further questions, continuing to follow behind Cailin, who walked ahead as if she hadn't heard a word.
The Habelo barons depicted in the oil portraits looked strikingly lifelike. Walking among them created the unsettling illusion of being watched, inspiring an involuntary sense of dread.
After they had gone only a short distance, Cailin pushed open the large door on the left.
The pair of iron-red wooden doors slowly swung apart, revealing a dining room decorated with lavish gold accents and extravagant luxury.
At the far end stood a long dining table, already set with delicate white porcelain place settings, knives and forks, and candles. Several neatly dressed servants stood at attention against the walls. In the space beyond the table, a small indoor ensemble played melodious music, lending the entire banquet an air of elegance.
Soldiers guarded both sides of the entrance. They only confiscated the conspicuous weapons—longswords and the like—carried by Lucian's group, paying no attention to any concealed daggers.
An elderly man with black hair approached, surrounded by several attendants. He wore a brown robe popular during the Dawn War period, his complexion ruddy, his stride unhurried and vigorous. His weathered, sculptured face bore only a few faint wrinkles, giving no hint of his seventy-odd years.
"Welcome, my guests—your arrival fills this old dying man with renewed vigor." Baron Habelo's booming voice carried a warm welcome, his gray-white eyes clear and bright without the slightest cloudiness. The only adornment on his entire body was a single jade signet ring set with a green emerald on his right middle finger—simple yet dignified.
"Thank you for your invitation, Baron." Led by Lucian, everyone returned the greeting in unison.
Baron Habelo fixed his gaze intently on Lucian. "You must be Mr. Evans? Indeed—handsome and young, with no small amount of strength. Your arms and legs carry formidable power."
As he spoke, he carefully studied Lucian's arms, chest, thighs, and face, examining each one so thoroughly that Lucian felt a chill crawl over him. *Is this old man interested in men?*
Just as Lucian was about to speak up and put a stop to it, his sense of revulsion about to reach its limit, Baron Habelo finally turned away and greeted the others in turn—Wiese first, then Simon, and Joanna.
When he came to Betty, Habelo once again began his up-and-down appraisal, looking for all the world like a thoroughbred lecher, his gaze making Betty's beautiful eyes widen with fury on the verge of eruption.
Habelo seemed to realize his impropriety and chuckled. "Please forgive my rudeness. My body and spirit have been aging for so long now that whenever I see vibrant young people like Mr. Evans and Miss Betty, I can't help but remember my own days as an adventurer. Back then I too had hands and feet this strong and agile, skin this healthy and youthful. In a moment, let us raise a glass to youth!"
A perfectly reasonable explanation. Betty suppressed her anger, and Lucian abandoned his suspicion that Baron Habelo harbored a preference for men—though he still felt a vague, indefinable sense of unease, a subtle undercurrent of oppression.
Guided by Lady Cailin and the servants, Lucian and the others took their seats at the dining table.
"Baron, I notice your steward, Mr. Cook, is nowhere to be seen?" Lucian asked with a trace of puzzlement after laying his napkin across his lap.
Under normal circumstances, when a nobleman hosted guests, it was the steward who attended to such details, not the steward's wife. While it was hardly unusual for the steward's wife to help with arrangements when female guests were present, the steward's complete absence was a breach of courtesy. As a proper and well-mannered guest, one was obligated to inquire. Of course, Lucian's primary reason for asking was the subtle sense of unease that had taken root within him—he wanted to find whatever was wrong.
Baron Habelo's face, illuminated by the flickering candlelight before him, shifted with dark and unsettling hues. "Ah, Cook happens to be away on business and won't be back until tomorrow morning. If Mr. Evans and the rest of you would be gracious enough to let me host you for one more day, I expect you'll see him then."
With that, he pointed toward a stiff, formal elderly man who had just finished playing the piano and was walking over. "This is my music advisor, the renowned musician of Koser City, Mr. Mars."
Though this musician Mars appeared to be under sixty, the wrinkles on his face and the white hair on his head were noticeably more numerous than those of the seventy-something Baron Habelo.
After exchanging greetings, Mars couldn't help but complain. "Baron, this 'piano' you purchased simply can't compare to a harpsichord. The tone quality isn't nearly good enough..."
After nearly a year of spreading across the continent, the piano had become fashionable among wealthy households everywhere, and even a nobleman like Baron Habelo, living deep in the mountains, had not been immune to the trend.
Amid the string of complaints, Betty suddenly interjected. "Actually, Mr. Mars, you're not making proper use of the pedals."
She wasn't about to let someone criticize the instrument that Mr. Evans—Lucian—was skilled at playing.