5. Nobility
"But isn't the Academia break until the end of February?"
During a late breakfast, as she scooped up the soft milk pudding served for dessert with her spoon, Olivier tilted her head curiously. Her brother Olens had left for Leon late, around the time the spring breeze began to rustle, but Evril and Shaylin had to depart due to their schedules, even though it had barely been long since the new year began. This sparked her curiosity.
Sitting beside her, Shaylin sipped her strong Lapsang tea, its smoky aroma rising intensely, and smiled brightly as she spoke.
"Winter is a very busy season for Leisha's young nobles. First, there's the imperial hunt that lasts anywhere from a week to a full month. Around mid-January, the Templton Empire's Founding Festival takes place. A delegation is sent from Ashtown in the spirit of friendship. To solidify ties with the Templton Empire for generations to come, not only the princes but also the most core figures among the central nobles are appointed to the delegation. As you know, the Founding Festival is the grandest event of the year in the Templton Empire."
"That's right. It spans over ten days, with the imperial ball and the debutante ball—a magnificent affair."
Olivier nodded in agreement.
Shaylin slowly set her teacup down on the table and glanced at Evril, who was exchanging looks with Olens at the head of the table, before speaking.
"If Lord Kingston, who has a fiancée, attends such a grand foreign festival featuring an imperial ball and debutante ball alone, what rumors do you think would spread through the social circles of both empires?"
Evril, who had been gazing intently at Olens, reflexively turned her eyes toward Shaylin the moment the words "Lord Kingston" left her lips.
Shaylin, a smile playing on her mouth, continued while locking eyes with Olens across from her, who was staring back just as intently.
"Lady Loren must attend the Templton Founding Festival mid-month as Lord Kingston's fiancée. That's why we have to board the express ship to Leisha this afternoon and leave Eliyum port. Oh, I'm even considering tagging along with my brother, Lord Pratt. It's such a grand festival—pure curiosity to see it once."
"Fascinating."
Olens, meeting Shaylin's gaze, spoke in a soft voice. In response, she narrowed her eyes and stared at him.
In Shaylin's view, this man was clearly smitten with Evril. Yet, despite her subtly dropping Lord Kingston's name with a touch of twisted schadenfreude—that secret pleasure from watching others' misfortune—toward her outwardly perfect best friend Evril in terms of looks, family, and even her fiancé, he remained utterly calm? Had she misread him?
Olens's demeanor was insultingly nonchalant toward her petty curiosity, even exuding a dismissive arrogance bordering on contempt.
Shaylin lifted her teacup again, savoring the musty aroma. In Leisha's social scene, thick with relentless suitors, endless rumors, and glittering gossip, she was a veteran. To her, the man sitting across with his serene expression seemed the type to harbor deep jealousy.
The first impression when she entered the Belpharos baron's drawing room and saw Olens was... well, the sharpness unique to a young nobleman whose pride had crumbled, leaving only a defensive semblance of self-esteem to shield inner wounds. His polite gaze held a cold glint. That razor edge seemed poised to wound not just himself but those around him recklessly.
Yet, contrary to expectations, Olens smiled softly and behaved with refined elegance. Inside, a scarred pride clawed at him; outside, the polished demeanor of nobility. Such types were surprisingly rare in the high nobility's jaded social world, where one learned to cynically accept their lot from childhood. Shaylin had grown deeply intrigued, especially since Evril beside her had lit up like a lioness scenting fresh blood. She had quietly observed.
And sure enough, sparks flew between them soon after.
In Shaylin's eyes, men like this—armored in courteous manners to hide inner fragility—had psyches as delicate and brittle as glass beads. Separated from a lover, they spiraled into fantasies: What if something happened? What if she forgot them or fell for another? These delusions ballooned into baseless certainty of betrayal, leaving them bedridden in agony. Reunited, the clouds parted, shame over their jealousy mingled with joy.
But Evril had a fiancé from the start—a known fact. Was her love different from other men's? Shaylin eyed Olens over her teacup with keen interest.
"I've never cared for Leon's festive Founding Festival mood and always spent winter break quietly at home. But hearing Lady Pratt, I wonder why I've overlooked such a grand event right on my doorstep all these years."
As expected—her read on people, famed in social circles as the queen of insight, proved spot-on. Shaylin's lips curved naturally in self-satisfaction.
Olens smiled softly and addressed Evril, who was furrowing her brow.
"So, we'll meet again in Leon during this Founding Festival, Lady Loren."
Evril's face paled, her brow furrowed openly.
Olens, eyes fixed on Shaylin, continued.
"I'm heading back to Exangciras today, packing immediately, and departing for Leon."
Shaylin gave a slight nod of her chin.
"Indeed, you must hurry. Subtract the travel time by ship, and there's scarcely any left before the festival."
Evril, her face ashen, glared at Shaylin with flashing eyes. She lowered her gaze to her teacup and sipped quietly.
*
"It was delightful. Come visit Leisha sometime, Miss Olivier. I guarantee it'll be a joyous time."
Shaylin hugged Olivier regretfully. Olivier felt the same, loath to part from Shaylin, whose interests aligned so well and who was always fun.
Evril had already boarded the white carriage early. Shaylin climbed in, waving out the window.
The carriage carrying Shaylin and Evril departed through the main gate. Olivier boarded the waiting black carriage at the entrance.
Olens sat by the carriage window with an impassive expression, flipping open a book to read.
Olivier stole a glance at her brother's face from across. To others, his look seemed calm, but she knew it signaled deep displeasure—no need to provoke him unnecessarily.
"Emily, could you hand me the embroidery frame?"
As the carriage left the Loren residence, exiting Eliyum and rumbling along barren dirt roads toward Exangciras, Olivier silently worked her needlepoint the whole way.
Olens said nothing, eyes on his book, but the pages hadn't turned in hours.
Emily sat by the door, feeling the frigid atmosphere inside with her whole body, gazing out at the passing scenery.
In the distance, amid the dark, desolate plains, the faint lights of tiny Exangciras flickered.
As the carriage neared the village, the surroundings brightened. Olivier set down her frame and stared into the dark window, her expression dreamy as she recalled the past weeks in Eliyum.
Entering the village, the overseer's tower loomed starkly in the darkened streets. It was time to return to the quiet routine of rural mining life.
Author's Note
Thank you for reading. And thanks for the coupons + donations!! ^^