The Banquet of the Young Duke

The evening sky was painted in shades of deep blue and orange as lavish carriages rolled into the Maxwell Estate one by one, carrying the noble representatives who had been forced to stay in the duchy.

Despite their lingering dissatisfaction with the Duke's decree, none dared openly defy the Maxwell Family.

Attending this banquet was both an obligation and an opportunity—especially now that Christopher Maxwell had been officially named heir.

The estate was decorated extravagantly, with golden chandeliers illuminating the massive banquet hall.

Servants in pristine uniforms stood at attention, ready to serve the finest delicacies.

Christopher Maxwell stood at the center, greeting his guests with a confident, charismatic demeanor.

As the banquet progressed, Christopher made his first move—approaching the Nexus Marquis Family, one of the four marquis households present.

Unlike the other three marquis families, which were deeply tied to his elder brothers through maternal relations, the Nexus Marquis Family had remained neutral in the Maxwell power struggle.

This made them the most valuable allies Christopher could hope to gain.

"Marquis Dorian,"

Christopher greeted the head of the family with a warm smile, lifting his glass.

"It's an honor to finally speak with you properly."

Marquis Dorian, a man in his early fifties, with sharp eyes and a calculating gaze, smiled faintly.

"The honor is mine, Young Duke. You have taken the first step toward a promising future."

Their conversation was filled with subtle political maneuvering—assurances, shared interests, and unspoken agreements.

Christopher knew he had no chance with the other three marquis families, but if he could solidify a relationship with Nexus Marquis Family, he would increase his influence considerably.

Next, Christopher turned his attention to the eight counts.

These noble families had previously supported Frederick and Leonard, but their loyalty was not absolute.

Christopher was well aware that they valued power and benefits over personal loyalty.

His approach was simple—displaying his potential as the new Duke and making it clear that aligning with him would be the best decision for their future prosperity.

Through polite discussions, shared drinks, and carefully chosen words, Christopher began pulling the counts into his orbit.

Unlike his elder brothers, who often neglected the baronies, Christopher made sure to show them respect.

He approached the representatives, offering kind words and ensuring they felt included in the evening's discussions.

Although they were at the bottom of the noble hierarchy, having their favor would ensure a stable foundation for his future rule.

As Christopher conversed with various nobles, his sharp eyes landed on a particular figure—a young girl with brilliant silver hair and striking silver eyes.

Despite being around fourteen or fifteen years old, she radiated a refined yet unapproachable aura.

He found himself momentarily astonished by her beauty, wondering just how stunning she would become as she grew older.

Curious, he turned to his attendant and whispered, "Who is that girl?"

The attendant bowed slightly before responding, "That is Silvia Cromwell, my lord. She is from Barony Cromwell, which is under our duchy's territory."

Christopher's gaze lingered on Silvia for a moment before he decided to approach her directly.

Striding forward with an air of confidence, Christopher ignored Strider completely and directed his words toward Silvia.

"Lady Silvia," he greeted smoothly. "I am honored to meet such a distinguished young lady from our territory."

Silvia, however, was far from impressed.

Though she maintained a polite poker face, she knew how dangerous the political games of the nobility could be.

Speaking carelessly could drag her entire barony into unnecessary conflict.

Thus, she kept her responses short and distant, subtly keeping a respectful distance from Christopher.

This did not go unnoticed by Christopher.

Despite his outward display of gentlemanly manners, he was inwardly annoyed by her coldness.

As the future Duke, he got accustomed to people trying to gain his favor.

Yet, Silvia seemed completely uninterested.

Nevertheless, Christopher masked his displeasure behind a charming smile, continuing to engage in small talk with the other nobles.

As the interaction between Christopher and Silvia played out, several nobles in the hall took notice and began whispering among themselves.

"Such ignorance," one noble murmured.

"She doesn't realize the opportunity she's letting slip away."

"She's just a child," another chuckled.

"She'll regret not trying to get close to the future Duke."

A few others had more sinister thoughts.

"If she won't willingly get close to him," one noble muttered darkly, "perhaps she could be… persuaded. A gift to the Young Duke, after all."

"Indeed," another agreed.

"An opportunity to secure favor with House Maxwell."

Unbeknownst to them, Strider heard everything.

With his 7th-layer Core Building Realm perception, their whispers were as clear as if they had spoken them directly to his face.

His chilling smile remained unchanged, but beneath the surface, his rage burned like an inferno.

Silvia was not just his sister—she was someone he had sworn to protect.

She is family.

For these lowly nobles to even entertain the thought of harming her…

They had just sealed their fates.

Without moving a muscle, Strider quietly marked each of the nobles who had spoken against Silvia.

Their faces, voices, and auras were etched into his memory.

They would never see another sunrise.

Soon, they would learn exactly what it meant to cross a specter.

As the banquet continued, Christopher carried on his diplomatic efforts, unaware of the dark fate awaiting several of his guests.

Silvia remained composed, but she subtly glanced toward Strider, who stood calmly beside her.

Despite his devilish smile, she could sense the shift in his aura.

Something had changed.

Silvia, noticing the almost imperceptible shift in Strider's mood, leaned in slightly and whispered, "Brother, what happened?"

Strider's expression remained calm, his usual smile still in place, but Silvia, as his sister, could feel the subtle undercurrent of anger beneath his composed demeanor.

"Nothing," Strider replied casually, taking a sip of his drink. Then, in a lower voice, he added, "Just some people with rotten mouths. I wonder if they realize it yet… or if they'll regret it when they see something they never wished to, even in their nightmares."

Silvia frowned, puzzled by his cryptic words.

"What do you mean?"

she asked, but Strider simply gave a small chuckle and turned away.

The banquet was nearing its end. Strider didn't bother staying any longer and started walking toward the exit.

Silvia watched him leave, noticing how his smile seemed just a little colder than before.