Party Started

As Elion approached the towering gates of the Blackthorn mansion, a wave of tension washed over him. The high stone walls, draped in ivy, loomed ominously, casting long shadows in the dimming twilight. The turrets stretched toward the misty sky, their sharp silhouettes adding to the mansion's gothic grandeur. Elion took a deep breath, steadying himself.

A stern-looking butler stood at the gate, his suit impeccable, his posture commanding. He eyed Elion with a cool, practiced gaze, the kind that could easily sift through pretenses. "Invitation, please," the butler requested, his tone firm yet polite.

Elion straightened, his heart pounding in his chest. He needed to exude confidence, despite his youth. "I am here on behalf of Her Highness, Princess Seraphina," he declared smoothly. "I bring her personal regards for Master Dorian Blackthorn's recent achievements."

The butler's expression didn't change, though his gaze flickered with curiosity as he extended a hand. Elion quickly reached into his pocket, retrieving the royal badge Princess Seraphina had entrusted to him. The intricately crafted emblem gleamed subtly in the fading light, a mark of undeniable authority.

"Will this suffice?" Elion asked.

The butler's eyes lingered on the badge for a moment before recognition softened his rigid stance. He dipped his head slightly, a gesture of respect. "Quite sufficient, young sir," the butler replied, his tone now deferential. "You may proceed. Welcome to the Blackthorn estate."

As the heavy gates creaked open, Elion strode past, his heart still racing but with a growing sense of triumph. 'I made it inside', he thought, his focus sharpening. The mission had only just begun, and there was no turning back now.

Elion entered the grand hall of the Blackthorn mansion, his eyes widening as he took in the opulent surroundings. The room was a striking blend of dark elegance and gothic splendor, with crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the sea of well-dressed guests.

The polished marble floors gleamed underfoot, reflecting the soft light, and the intricate stonework along the walls only added to the aristocratic atmosphere.

As he scanned the room, Elion quickly noticed that nearly everyone in attendance was dressed in the finest attire—tailored suits, flowing gowns, and lavish jewelry. 

The soft hum of conversation filled the air, interspersed with the occasional clink of glasses. Most of the attendees were undoubtedly nobles or people of high status, their poise and confidence making it obvious that this gathering was no ordinary affair.

But what struck Elion most was the unmistakable presence of vampires. 'Around 80% of the guests, by his estimation, had the telltale signs—sharp red eyes that glinted with a predatory gleam, and an air of controlled power. 

He watched as they held delicate, crystal goblets filled with blood, swirling the liquid as though it were a fine wine. Their movements were graceful, and elegant, even as they drank from the cups. 

Conversations flowed smoothly as if the act of sipping blood was as casual and refined as enjoying a vintage at a high-society banquet.

Elion couldn't help but feel a slight chill run down his spine. 'They look so… normal.' 

For beings capable of immense destruction, they blended so seamlessly into this sophisticated world. He tried not to stare, but the sight of vampires drinking blood so casually was still jarring.

He overheard snippets of conversation—talks of political alliances, territorial disputes, and the occasional mention of the demon threat on the borders. But beneath the polite tones, there was a certain tension in the air, an undercurrent that Elion couldn't quite place.

[Quite the crowd.]

Elion smirked. 'Yeah.' He adjusted his posture and moved deeper into the hall, blending in with the crowd as best as he could.

With a quick glance, Elion noticed that the hall wasn't just filled with vampires—there were all kinds of races mingling among the guests. 

Elves, dwarves, and ogres dressed in surprisingly formal attire. Each group had its own unique presence, adding to the eclectic yet elegant atmosphere of the gathering.

But what really caught his eye was a long table brimming with an array of mouthwatering treats. Golden pastries, savory meats, exotic fruits—delicacies from across the continent. 

His stomach growled at the sight of it all, and for a brief moment, he was tempted to pile a plate high and indulge. 

Elion sighed inwardly, knowing that stuffing himself would shatter the noble image he needed to maintain if he had any hope of approaching the Blackthorn family. 

'I'm surrounded by some of the most delicious food I've ever seen, and I can't even eat my fill,' he thought with frustration. 

[Welcome to the world of etiquette, kid. Nobles don't feast—they nibble.] 

Valen chimed in with a teasing tone.

'Nibble? More like starve,' Elion thought, rolling his eyes as he forced himself to grab a small, elegant portion—just enough to appear polite without giving in to his real appetite.

'Such delicious food, and I can't feast on it. Nobles and their ridiculous rules,' Elion muttered under his breath, forcing his gluttony into submission as he readied himself to navigate the crowd. Just as he was about to move, a soft, melodic voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh, such a young human child. I don't believe I've ever seen you before. We have so few humans in positions of power. Where are you from?"

Elion turned and found himself looking up at a vampire woman of striking beauty. She had long, silvery hair that cascaded down her back like a shimmering waterfall, framing her sharp, angular features. 

Her eyes were a piercing shade of red that marked her high vampire heritage. She wore a gown of deep forest green, embroidered with golden leaves, the fabric hugging her tall, slender frame with elegance.

Elion recalled his two days of etiquette lessons with Valen, carefully composing his response. With a respectful bow, he spoke with the politeness expected of nobility.

"The pleasure is mine, my lady. My name is Elion, a humble servant of Her Majesty, Princess Seraphina. I'm here to deliver her regards to Master Dorian."

The vampire woman's lips curled into a slight, amused smile as she tilted her head, her piercing red eyes never leaving him. "Oh, Seraphina has such an adorable human servant? How delightful. I hadn't heard of this before," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "The pleasure is mine. You may call me Veronica."

Elion maintained a polite smile, aware that Veronica's keen gaze was evaluating him. She took a small sip from her glass that was filled with blood, her posture elegant and relaxed.

"So, Elion," she began, her voice smooth, "how does a young human like yourself come to be in the service of a princess as renowned as Seraphina?"

Elion mentally sifted through the responses he had rehearsed. "I was fortunate enough to catch Her Highness's attention during my time in a small dungeon that she explored. I've been assisting her with various tasks since then," he said, keeping his tone humble.

Veronica's eyebrows arched slightly. "How interesting. It must be quite the experience, serving a royal. And how do you find Varzinhein?"

"It certainly has its own charm," Elion replied smoothly. "The city is beautiful, and its people are… remarkable."

Her smile widened, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Remarkable indeed. You seem quite composed for someone so young. Tell me, are you enjoying the festivities? It's not often we see someone like you mingling among nobles and... other distinguished guests."

"Thank you, my lady," Elion said with a respectful nod. "It's an honor to be here. However, if you'll excuse me, I must attend to a few matters before I present Her Highness's regards to Dorian."

Veronica tilted her head, her smile never faltering. "Of course, I wouldn't dream of keeping you from your duties. Do take care, little servant of Seraphina."

Elion bowed slightly before turning away, feeling her gaze linger on him as he slipped through the crowd.

'Valen, do you think that lady saw through me?' Elion asked, keeping his tone casual in his mind.

[Who knows? At least she doesn't seem like the type to make trouble for you right now. That's good enough for the moment.]

Elion nodded subtly, but a knot of doubt remained in his chest. 'Well, that's true, but…'

Before he could finish, a foul stench hit his senses, cutting his thoughts short. He turned to his right, eyes narrowing as they landed on the source of the smell. A middle-aged dwarf stood in conversation with an elegant elf lady.

The moment Elion heard that voice, recognition struck like lightning. 'Jonathan,' he thought, the name rolling through his mind with cold certainty. It was one of the men he overheard plotting the demon conspiracy three days ago.

'What a small world,' Elion mused bitterly. 'It seems corruption here runs deep, even among nobles, or at least those with enough influence to stand in these halls.'

[It seems that the demon's hands have infiltrated deep in Alastor. What do you think they offered him in return for betraying his own world?]

Elion's jaw clenched. 'Whatever it is, it's enough to make him risk everything, and I'll make sure he regrets it.'