The Villain's Retirement-Chapter 36: Banquet (1)

The banquet hall was nothing short of extravagant.

On the high arched ceiling, hung crystal chandeliers, refracting white light into the whole hall. There round tables for each guest all lined in rows. On the side were long tables covered in white linen laden with different kinds of foods including meat, wine, fruits. There was even soft music from a corner ensemble, performed by performers wearing formal clothing, who held flutes, harps and other string instruments. At the far end, just before long stairs onto the second floor stood a raised dais, with prepared chairs for the duke and his household members. Above it hung eagle banners which were the animal sigil of the Jian Ducal House.

Naturally, the hall was packed with nobles especially since it was an open event. Thus, the early arrivals chatted among themselves as they awaited the start of the festivities.

Clusters of nobles stood scattered across the hall, wine glasses in hand, voices kept deliberately low yet animated.

"This is... excessive, isn’t it?" Viscount Ratsworth muttered, eyes roaming the chandeliers. "All this for the recognition of a mere baron?"

"A mere baron indeed," a lady beside him replied, fanning herself. "I attended a marquis wedding last year that looked no grander than this."

Another noble leaned closer. This noble was quite young and had a slimy smile on his face. Lowering his voice, he interjected, "Don’t you guys not understand?"

Viscount Ratsworth frowned. "What is it?"

The man hesitated, glancing around before speaking. "You really don’t? This is simply about His Grace’s younger brother."

A pause followed. Several glasses stopped mid-air.

"...The demonic possession," the lady whispered. "So it was true."

"I heard about the massacre," someone else added quietly. "of Lord Lewis’ entire territory. They say not even the servants were spared."

A chill crept into the group.

"They say His Grace personally ordered the suppression and even assembled a private unit to deal with it," another noble murmured. "In the end, he didn’t inform the Church at all."

Viscount Ratsworth swallowed. "So this banquet..."

The man let out a quiet laugh. "The official records claim Lord Lewis fell to demonic possession, and that the people of his territory either perished, fled, or succumbed as well. By the time the private force arrived, it was already too late." He tilted his glass. "Then, by a most convenient coincidence, our new baron appears and saves the survivors."

"...Is that really how it happened?" someone asked.

The man who had stirred the conversation smiled. Then he spoke again:

"Who can say?" he replied lightly, taking a sip.

"You must know something, spill it." Viscount Ratsworth pressed, leaning in. "Who exactly is this new baron? Is he truly capable of something like that or this is just a fake?"

"Hey Viscount, watch your words." The man then said, pretending to mean no such thing.

Just then, a lady smiled behind her fan, looking at Viscount Ratsworth. "Have you not seen him yet, my lord? That young man is quite striking."

Viscount Ratsworth’s brows started knitting.

After some time, across another table, similar whispers bloomed as the man appeared once again.

He was lowering his voice as he spoke, "In any case, whether this new baron truly possessed such capability remains a mystery. But by honoring the selfless warrior who slew the demons, His Grace steers the ship and maintains a cordial relationship with the Church."

Then in another table:

"Everyone seems to be talking about it. Aren’t they all a bit too fond of conspiracies?" a young man, , Lith, who looked no older than twenty said.

"Hah. Well, the Duke made it open on purpose." His father, an old Baron, Marcel, replied.

Lith then scoffed uneasily, "Still... making it this grand feels almost... celebratory."

Just then, as the mingling continued, the servant at the entrance called out again, this time with a much louder voice.

"Baron Salience has arrived!"

All eyes turned toward the entrance. Just as the Duke had planned.

Boom.

The doors swung open, and a handsome tall young man with slightly long jet black hair tied on his back stepped into the banquet hall.

A ripple passed through the crowd as he stepped inside, the glow of the chandeliers catching on dark fabric tailored to his frame. He moved with unhurried composure, posture straight, gaze steady.

He simply walked forward, composed and indifferent, as if the weight of countless gazes meant nothing more than passing scenery. He wasn’t scared or nervous. He wasn’t annoyed. He didn’t look particularly inviting but didn’t show displeasure. Just normal.

Seeing this, the nobles in the hall were momentarily impressed and some even straightened unconsciously while adjusting their smiles.

They have heard he was but a mere traveler just recently who also happened to be skilled in the sword and magic: a swordmage. But noble gatherings were different and was hardly a place for characters who are usually inclined in those professions. Yet the new baron couldn’t look more fitting and proper, appearance-wise.

"So... the rumors weren’t exaggerated."

"That face—are you sure he was a traveler and not a prince from a foreign territory?"

"A swordmage, they say. And that young?"

"Fuck, now this is really unfair." A man said, watching all the star-struck ladies behind him.

The moment they stepped inside, conversations dipped then came footsteps—

"Oh—Lord Salience!"

The first to approach was a nobleman who had been scoffing moments ago. He now wore a warm, welcoming smile as he approached, wine glass raised. "What an honor to finally meet you."

Another appeared:

"Good evening, my Lord. I am Baron Trellin."

Then another.

"I have to admit your presence is extraordinary."

Then more.

"Strength like yours is invaluable in these uncertain times."

"If you ever need help managing your territory, please know the House of Danis is here."

Expressionless, Ard simply nodded. He didn’t even have to time to reply to each one. When too many people had come to him, he had shut off his hearing, so their words were going in from ear to ear.

Expressionless, he just nodded again, "I see."

Hearing his response, a man laughed lightly, as if Ard had said something charming. "So modest!"

Just then, Zayn was being pushed side by side, while gripping Ard’s sleeve when another lady crouched slightly to meet his eye.

This boy had blue eyes, combed blonde hair, and striking facial features as well. If not for the attractive male guest of the night he was with, he would have drawn plenty of attention himself.

"And who might this be?" she cooed.

Letting go of his grip, Zayn straightened proudly. "I’m Zayn!"

"How adorable," she said warmly, already signaling to her companions.

When she had called her friends, a blonde young man with a manly frame stepped in between the nobles and Ard and Zayn emanating some form of pressure with his mana, looking at everyone, making them stop. "Enough."

The single word cut through the chatter like steel.

This man was naturally Gary Von Oriones, the seventh son of another ducal house. His face right then even scared one of the male nobles so badly that he fell down onto the ground.

"You’ll get your chances to talk with them later," he said coolly.

"Let’s go," Gary said quietly, turning toward Ard and Zayn. "I’ll take you to your seats."

They had only taken a few steps when a voice cut in, sharp and disdainful.

"Well now," Viscount Ratsworth said, emerging from the crowd with several nobles in tow. His gaze swept over Gary from head to toe, lips curling. "How cool of you~"

Gary stopped.

"A disowned son," the Viscount continued, chin lifting slightly, "should know when to keep his mouth shut."

A hush spread around them. Gary slowly turned back. For a heartbeat, his eyes met Ratsworth’s—cold, unwavering. Then, unexpectedly, Gary smiled.

It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t polite. But a smile nonetheless.

"What will you do?" Viscount Ratsworth scoffed as he challenged him, emboldened by the nobles behind him. "Fight me? Oh, you can’t even do that. You’re weak after all."

There was silence as Ratsworth was grinning. Then Gary exhaled softly, as if tired. "Honestly," he muttered, almost to himself.

"Go on," Ratsworth pressed. Then when Gary didn’t open his mouth further, the Viscount spoke again proudly. "If Lord Salience truly has something to say, then let him speak for himself."

All eyes shifted. They agreed with the Viscount. But when Ratsworth turned to Ard, Ard did not even turn around and was not looking at the Viscount. He didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

Instead, he asked calmly, "Where should we sit?"

For a moment, the hall seemed to freeze.

Then Gary’s smile widened—this one genuine.

"Right this way, my lord," he said, turning on his heel.

Without another glance, Gary led Ard and Zayn forward, their footsteps fading into the din of the banquet. Behind them, Viscount Ratsworth stood rigid, face darkening, hands clenched around his glass as murmurs rose once more.