Hate me, Miss Witch!

The youth standing before her was tall and slender, dressed in well-fitting and exquisite attire.

Beneath his jet-black tousled hair was a face that, while less sharply angled, possessed a softness and beauty reminiscent of the Elf Clan.

He stood there under the deep, dark night sky, with the grand hall that held the collective hustle and bustle of the entire Empire Capital behind him.

Enola gently placed her hand in Shiayar's palm and stepped down from the carriage, her heels clicking.

White-clad attendants pushed the great doors open.

Then, together, they entered the glittering, clamorous splendor.

...

"Not only the theocratic kingdom, even the Princes' Alliance and Knowledge City have sent delegations... The Borgia family's move this time is indeed significant."

"Who's to say otherwise? But in my opinion, it's still the theocratic kingdom that has made the most significant move; they've even sent a bishop to observe the ceremony."

"That's only to be expected. After all, it directly concerns the marriage of a Divinely Favored One... or rather, a future Saint. Even by the theocratic kingdom's standards, a Saint is a bona fide strategic asset."

Inside the Hall of Oaths, nobles in exquisite attire sat in small groups. Goblets clinked and lively chatter filled the air; it was a most vibrant scene.

For the old nobility aligned with the Borgia faction, this was undoubtedly a moment of triumph and pride.

So, the Royal Family—or rather, your Second Princess—just achieved victory on the border battlefield, wanted to make a move, and reinstated the Swordbearers. Then, in the blink of an eye, the leader of those Swordbearers was snatched away by our champion from the Borgia family! Tell me, isn't that infuriating for you?

As for those inwardly more inclined towards the Second Princess's camp, this was naturally hard to stomach.

The Borgia family's poaching was practically an act of blatant sabotage, a deeply personal affront!

However, those qualified to be invited by the Borgia family to this banquet, regardless of their identity and stance, were at the very least individuals with power and influence in the Empire Capital. They were all well-versed in such staged merrymaking.

No matter how much they might inwardly wish to tear the person opposite them to shreds, externally they all maintained amicable smiles, radiating friendliness.

In the highest part of the Hall of Oaths was a room, not particularly extravagant, yet solemn and quiet. Inside, a small table held two teacups.

A white-haired old man, looking much like a gardener, lifted the teapot and brewed two cups of tea using the 'phoenix-nodding-thrice' technique.

"This new trend, popularized from the Black Lily District, is quite to this old servant's taste," he said.

"Lacking the opulence and intensity of alcohol, it instead offers an initial bitterness that mellows into a rich, profound flavor."

"The creator of this beverage truly possesses refined taste."

Across the wooden table, Isadella lifted her teacup and took a light sip. "Lord Guderian, your judgment is commendable. Indeed, if he were not so exceptional, I would not have chosen him as my Swordbearer."

Today, the Second Princess was no longer in her original Black Vulture military uniform but had changed into a long palace gown.

Even so, the sharp, commanding aura about her remained undiminished, like a sheathed Silver sword, cold and stern.

"Indeed. If he were not so exceptional, I would not be willing to marry my Histanlia to him. The Borgia family's standards for choosing sons-in-law are quite stringent."

Guderian Borgia also smiled. "I hope Your Highness does not blame my daughter for stealing his affections."

"The Borgia family invites a wolf into its house; are they not afraid of suffering the consequences themselves?"

"It matters not... He is a clever man. If he were not, he could not have climbed to such heights by his own efforts alone. And a clever man naturally knows what choice to make."

"Lord Guderian, you are being impatient... Nothing is settled yet."

"This old servant is indeed somewhat impatient... After all, seeing the Empire on the verge of collapse, how can I, as a member of an oath-sworn family, not be anxious? Are we simply to watch as this once-greatest nation on the Western Continent declines in strength, eventually becoming an obscure minor nation, or perhaps be completely buried by the dust of history, much like the recently unearthed Ancient Dukedom Azure Garden?"

Guderian placed his teacup down and looked towards the hall below, where nobles were bustling about, busily exchanging toasts.

"Your Highness may not agree, but everything this old servant does is, in truth, for the sake of the Empire."

"Besides, is Princess Isadella not anxious as well?"

His aged eyes suddenly glinted with profound meaning. "Your Highness actually initiated the 7th Soul Pact two years ago."

"If your sole intention was to use the feedback from completing the 7th Soul Pact to become a Legendary Beastmaster, you could have done so at any time."

"To my knowledge, the Empire's breeding facility houses a Black Scales Drake of Emperor Rank. Its bloodline purity is close to that of a pure-blooded Black Dragon, and His Majesty specifically prepared it for you."

"Yet, you have not taken this final step. Over the past two years, aside from occasional appearances in the Empire Capital and on the battlefields, you have rarely been seen taking action—even though for a high-order Beastmaster, combat is the swiftest path to advancement."

Isadella continued to sip her tea with impeccable grace. "My father, the Emperor, has been unwell. As a Princess of the Empire, I have devoted much of my energy to state affairs. Consequently, my cultivation as a Beastmaster has naturally stagnated."

Guderian's gaze rested on the few emerald green tea leaves at the bottom of the teacup. "In the First Year of the Holy Calendar, 'Golden King' Rhine established the Dawn Church and initiated a new Era named after the dawn."