Fate's Forgotten Trickster

Chapter 11 (Part II): The Extra in the Noble World

A Reputation in Ruins

Noctis Umbrael had always understood the fickle nature of nobility. The aristocracy thrived on power, perception, and prestige—and once any of those were lost, they were difficult to reclaim.

His reintroduction to noble society had been a success in terms of information-gathering. He had measured his rivals, tested their perceptions, and planted seeds of doubt where necessary.

But one evening was not enough to restore a fallen name.

If anything, his reappearance had only stirred the waters.

Word of Noctis's return to noble society spread quickly, but instead of garnering admiration, it had only brought mockery and dismissal.

The House of Umbrael was once a name that carried weight—one that belonged to a bloodline with an untold history of power and mystery. But after generations of decline and the rumors of their supposed "cursed blood," his house was now an afterthought at best.

And at worst?

A relic of the past.

"Did you hear? The Umbrael heir actually showed up at the Luxorien gala."

"He carries the name, but does he carry any of the power?"

"I suppose there's some amusement in watching a noble from a fading house try to remain relevant."

The voices followed him wherever he went. He did not let them see how much they irritated him, but he memorized each face, each name.

They would not laugh forever.

Unlike the older nobles, who ruled with wealth and military power, the younger generation fought battles of reputation.

And right now, Noctis was outnumbered, out-positioned, and seen as weak.

Every noble heir had their own power and influence, shaped by their family's strengths.

Caelum Luxorien. Who is already respected as a future leader, his charisma and military prestige made him an obvious force.

Valen Aurelius. Though shaken from Noctis's maneuver at the gala, his family's hold over knowledge and academia gave him social leverage.

Aveline Valmont. The daughter of the wealthiest trading house, she controlled alliances through economic superiority.

Darius Revaris. Son of the shadows, his family dealt in assassination and information brokering. His influence was unseen, but deadly.

And then there was Noctis Umbrael.

No one knew where to place him.

To them, he was a noble in name only. No military strength, no financial backing, no allies.

If he wanted to reclaim any form of power, he needed to make his move without them realizing he was moving at all.

Days later, a formal invitation arrived at his estate.

A gathering of the young noble heirs.

Noctis read the letter with mild amusement. It was not a welcome. It was a test.

They wanted to see if he would attend and humiliate himself—or refuse and confirm his insignificance.

Noctis, of course, accepted.

The first sign of open hostility came a while later, when Noctis found himself surrounded by a small gathering of noble heirs in one of the estate gardens, an informal but clearly orchestrated confrontation.

Among them was Leonhardt Grimthorne, a minor noble with a major ego.

"Ah, the heir of Umbrael graces us with his presence," a voice called out.

Noctis turned to face Leonhardt Grimthorne.

The young noble smirked, arms crossed. "Tell me, Noctis. What is it like to be the last heir of a fallen house?"

The laughter that followed was light, but calculated. It was bait.

"I find it curious," Leonhardt mused, arms crossed, "that a house as faded as yours still insists on acting as if it belongs among us."

The gathered nobles smirked, some waiting to see how Noctis would react.

They wanted him to lose his composure.

But Noctis simply tilted his head. "And I find it amusing that you think your opinion matters in any capacity."

The amusement in Leonhardt's expression flickered. "Bold words, coming from someone whose family hasn't held influence for years."

"You misunderstand," Noctis said lightly. "I do not need to hold influence. I simply need to know who thinks they do."

The subtle challenge in his voice did not go unnoticed. The group around them stirred, sensing the tension.

Leonhardt's pride would not allow him to back down.

"You speak as if you understand the noble hierarchy," he sneered. "But let me remind you—your family is beneath mine."

Noctis sighed, as if dealing with a child. "Leonhardt, do you know what I find fascinating?"

The noble hesitated, narrowing his eyes. "What?"

Noctis leaned in slightly. "That your father borrowed an enormous sum of money from House Valmont last year… and still hasn't paid it back."

Silence fell.

Leonhardt went rigid. No one was supposed to know that.

"And yet, you mock my house's downfall while your own is drowning in debt?" Noctis let the words settle before delivering the finishing blow. "You should be careful, Leonhardt. House Valmont does not take kindly to those who fail to uphold their contracts."

Leonhardt paled.

Before he could respond, a soft laugh broke the tension.

Aveline Valmont.

"How interesting," she mused, stepping forward. "I had no idea the heir of Umbrael was so… well-informed."

Noctis turned to face her, careful. Aveline was different from Caelum or Valen—she did not rely on brute force or aristocratic pride. She was a merchant of influence.

"Knowledge is a form of currency," Noctis replied smoothly. "And I prefer to keep my accounts balanced."

Aveline studied him for a moment before smiling. "Perhaps we should discuss investments sometime, then."

Leonhardt, humiliated, had no choice but to storm away, his allies quickly dispersing with him.

Noctis had won.

And more importantly? The young aristocracy had taken notice.

As the gathering continued, Noctis felt another presence watching him. Silent, calculating.

Darius Revaris.

He rarely spoke. Rarely acted in public.

But tonight, he approached.

"You're quite different from what the rumors suggested," Darius murmured, standing beside him.

Noctis turned to him with a polite smile. "Rumors rarely tell the full truth, do they?"

"Indeed," Darius agreed. He took a slow sip of wine. "Most nobles only see what is on the surface."

Noctis felt the weight of his gaze. This was not mere curiosity. Darius was testing him.

"You see deeper than most," Noctis noted.

Darius chuckled. "I make it my profession to do so."

A thinly veiled threat.

But Noctis did not flinch. Instead, he matched his tone.

"Then I imagine we'll be seeing a great deal of each other, Darius."

A pause.

And then—a small smirk.

"Perhaps we will."

Despite his minor victory, Noctis knew his reputation had not yet recovered.

He was still seen as a remnant of a dying house.

But now? He was also a mystery.

Nobles whispered about him more often now—not with mockery, but with uncertainty.

Where had he learned so much?

Why had he reappeared now?

What was he planning?

Noctis let them wonder.

The more they questioned, the less they focused on understanding him.

And that was his greatest advantage.

Because soon, they would realize that the forgotten heir… was the one they should fear the most.

As the night ended, Noctis noted the subtle change in atmosphere.

He was still viewed as a fallen noble.

But now?

He was also an unknown quantity.

Whispers followed him as he left.

"He's more dangerous than I thought."

"House Umbrael was never known for political maneuvering… so where did he learn it?"

"If he's this sharp already, what is he planning?"

Noctis did not react.

Let them wonder.

Let them fear the unknown.

Because the moment they thought they understood him—was the moment he would win.