The polite, stilted conversation with Lord Nusayel continued for a few more moments, a dance of formalities that masked the chasm of unspoken tragedy beneath.
Princess Aurelia offered a few grateful words about the journey, and the Lord inquired once more after her comfort, his gaze occasionally flicking to his daughter, who remained a silent, sorrowful shadow at his side.
Their exchange was soon interrupted as the announcer’s voice boomed out again and again, heralding the arrival of the rest of the royal progeny one after another, with few pauses in between.
"Her Royal Highness, Princess Josephina, the First Princess!"
"His Royal Highness, Prince Norvus, the Second Prince!"
"Her Royal Highness, Princess Clara, the Third Princess!"
"His Royal Highness, Prince Neron, the Fourth Prince!"
When they made their entrance, there was always a parade of power and privilege.
Vance kept his vigil, his trained eyes scanning each royal sibling as they acknowledged the crowd.
His focus wasn’t on their elaborate attire or practiced smiles, but on the subtle tells that might reveal their true intentions: the direction of their gazes, the tension in their postures, any sign that might betray guilt or hostility.
Josephina, the First Princess, swept into view with regal poise, her golden hair elaborately styled and her emerald gown shimmering with precious stones. As her eyes moved across the assembled nobility, they briefly landed on Princess Aurelia’s location.
For just a split second, so brief that most would have missed it, her composed expression cracked, revealing what looked like genuine surprise. But she recovered instantly, her mask of serene authority sliding back into place with practiced ease.
’...Hm. Could it be she knows something? Or...’ He didn’t know about her that much, nor did she show her real self easily, which made it hard to gauge her intentions.
As for the Second Prince, Norvus, he maintained his characteristic air of bored superiority throughout his entrance, barely glancing at anyone in particular. His attention seemed more focused on the wine being served than on any political maneuvering.
’...Either he’s really nervous or he’s just thirsty.’ Nael thought, recalling his two-faced personality. He was a coward inside but liked to appear arrogant and confident on the outside. And he further backed it up using those rotten drinks.
Princess Clara, the Third Princess, made her entrance with theatrical flair, but her scanning of the crowd appeared more perfunctory than calculated. She offered polite acknowledgments without any particular focus on Aurelia.
’...I’m even surprised she’s here, considering she hates this kind of stuff.’ She only focused on getting stronger and smarter after all. She was even studying to get into the Imperial Academy in the Empire.
Prince Neron, the Fourth Prince, however, was different. His gaze lingered deliberately in their direction, studying Princess Aurelia with an intensity that made Vance’s hand instinctively drift closer to his sword hilt. There was something calculating in that look, something that spoke of plans already in motion.
’He’s openly hostile to the princess again.’ Well, he was always like that. He didn’t acknowledge her at all, but also expressed his displeasure about her existence whenever he could. That’s why... He was also out of the question.
’So... The only one remaining is...’
As if reading his thoughts, the announcer’s voice rang out, carrying a weight and formality that exceeded all the previous introductions.
"His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Bane, Heir to the Throne of Orlan!"
The entire courtyard seemed to hold its breath as the crown prince made his entrance, and Vance felt every muscle in his body coil with tension.
The response was immediate and overwhelming. Nobles surged forward with enthusiastic greetings, their voices rising in a chorus of admiration and deference.
"Your Highness!" "How wonderful to see you!" "You look magnificent as always!" "..."
Prince Bane wore a sunny smile that seemed to light up the entire courtyard.
Coupled with his undeniably handsome face—sharp jawline, warm brown eyes, and perfectly styled chestnut hair—he charmed nearly everyone present.
He moved through the crowd with effortless grace, offering personal greetings, remembering names, and asking after family members with what appeared to be genuine interest.
He was everything a crown prince should be, and more.
’...’ Vance observed him carefully, his mind churning. Prince Bane should be the prime suspect behind the princess’s assassination attempt. After all, he had heard it suggested that way initially.
But after Sir Lumin’s words that night at the barony, about whether it was really a coincidence, he had extended his list of suspects while still keeping his guard especially high against the crown prince.
Because Prince Bane was indeed the perfect man many could dream of. He was kind, handsome, strong, smart, socially adept, and the list could go on and on. But if there was one thing genuinely odd about him, it was obviously— Google seaʀᴄh novelFirｅ.net
"Oh, my prince! I missed you so much!"
"Your Highness, why haven’t you come to see me lately?"
"Prince Bane, you look absolutely dashing tonight!"
Multiple female voices called out from all different sides of the courtyard, each trying to capture the crown prince’s attention with varying degrees of subtlety.
’...he’s a playboy.’ Vance finished his thought, the observation leaving a sour taste.
It was the one flaw in the prince’s otherwise impeccable facade, the one aspect of his character that felt entirely too performative.
But was it a ’genuine’ vice? Or was it another perfectly crafted layer of his disguise, designed to make him seem more relatable, more ’human’, and thus less suspicious?
Meanwhile, the crown prince continued his progress through the party. He handled the adoration with a master’s touch, offering a kind word to each admirer without ever allowing himself to be truly cornered by any of them.
"Lady Beatrice, your beauty outshines the lanterns tonight," he said to one, his tone warm and genuine.
"Miss Laura, I shall certainly try to find a moment for that dance," he promised another, his smile making it feel like a sacred vow, even though everyone knew his dance card was a myth.
He was the picture of benevolent patience, a prince tolerating the fawning of his subjects with good grace. But the "love-struck fools," as Vance bitterly categorized them, were relentless. Their voices rose in a competing chorus of affection and entitlement.
Then, a particularly shrill voice cut through the others. "Oh, enough! All of you, step back! He’s my man! We’re getting married soon!"
A young woman with fiery red hair pushed her way to the front of the group, looping her arm possessively through Prince Bane’s. She glared daggers at the other women. "He’s already promised to me! Our engagement will be announced today! Isn’t that right, my darling?"
Prince Bane’s smile remained perfectly in place, a masterpiece of diplomatic grace, though the faintest tightening around his eyes suggested a well-concealed strain. "Now, now, my Lady," he said, his voice a gentle chide that somehow still sounded affectionate. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’ll give everyone the wrong idea."
Vance, watching the spectacle, was momentarily left speechless by the sheer audacity and delusion. Then his eyes landed on the woman’s face, and recognition dawned.
’Carmine von Viremont.’
Their classmate from the Royal Academy. The daughter of one of the Shield Families. And, apparently, the latest and most publicly delusional ’victim’ of the crown prince’s sunny attentions.
’...I knew she was stupid,’ Vance thought grimly, watching as the other noble ladies began to turn on Carmine with barely concealed hostility, ’but... definitely not to this degree...’