Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

The Alliance Congress had yet to officially convene. Tonight's reception, held in the Saint Andre Hall at the Empire Consulate, was merely one of a series of preliminary diplomatic events.

For the Alliance representatives and foreign envoys invited to the reception, the fact that the Oath Breaker Henry had appointed Prince Richard to replace Earl Naltzia on this southern diplomatic visit was no new revelation. However, tonight marked Richard's first attendance at a public social event since his arrival in Champagne.

All eyes among the attendees were firmly drawn to the young prince and his attendants. Every one of them harbored their own thoughts, silently observing the offspring of one of the most powerful men on the continent.

As for Richard of the Radiant Sun family, he gracefully accepted the attention cast upon him from all directions, as though he had been born and bred for this very moment.

Earl Varez—Imperial Ambassador to Varn and tonight's host—darted out from the crowd, striding toward the prince with determined steps.

The prince had not been on Earl Varez's guest list, as Richard had only arrived in Champagne this morning. According to the original schedule, Richard was meant to make his formal debut as the host of a reception specifically organized for him two days later.

Yet this did not stop Earl Varez from greeting the prince with utmost deference: "[Old Tongue] Your Highness."

"[Old Tongue] My Lord Earl," Richard acknowledged with a nod.

With an ingratiating bow, Earl Varez said warmly: "[Old Tongue] Your visit brings unparalleled honor to my humble dwelling. Please, forgive me—for tonight's gathering is far too modest, entirely unworthy of Your Excellency's esteemed stature…"

"[Old Tongue] Oh, come now, no need for such formalities." Richard smiled, patting the arm of the Earl, who was twenty years his senior. "[Old Tongue] I was merely passing by and decided to stop in for a moment."

Faced with the prince's mildly familiar gesture, the Earl's face brimmed with what could only be described as infinite pride and emotion. He wiped at his eyes furiously, unsure if there were tears, still slightly bowed as he asked with a trembling voice: "[Old Tongue] Your Highness, do you still remember my lady?"

With that, Earl Varez gestured toward the crowd. A stately and graceful noblewoman stepped forward, approaching the prince with an elegant curtsy as she greeted him softly: "[Old Tongue] Your Highness."

"[Old Tongue] Of course—how could I forget?" Richard maintained his elegant smile, lifting the Countess's hand and lowering his head slightly to kiss the back of her hand. "[Old Tongue] My Lady, it has been two years, and you are even more enchanting than before."

It was the eve of the Alliance Congress, and tonight's reception at the Empire Consulate was attended not only by representatives from the Various Republics but also by envoys from across the continent and beyond.

Using the introduction of Earl Varez's wife as the prelude, other Imperial guests began to step forward one after the other, presenting themselves to the prince in turn.

Among them were resident consuls and their spouses appointed by the Electors stationed in Champagne, envoys dispatched by local feoffed Dukes and Marquises to sit in on the Alliance Congress, as well as liaison officers from major guilds and trade associations of the Empire…

Meanwhile, representatives of the Alliance and emissaries hailing from farther lands—such as Saracen, Muro, and the Broken Lands—mostly remained reserved, observing quietly from their positions.

They were in no hurry. It was clear that only after the Imperial guests had concluded their ceremonial introductions would Earl Varez formally present Prince Richard to the other attendees.

During this process, the once-muted banquet hall gradually reverted to its previous liveliness—although the topic of conversation had inevitably shifted toward the prince.

The guests no longer spoke loudly and cheerfully; instead, they whispered in hushed voices about everything related to Prince Richard: his relationship with the Emperor, the origins of his attendants, even the lace detailing on his coat.

Thus, the hall became visibly split into two distinct atmospheres, east and west.

On the east side of the hall, where the Imperial subjects were concentrated, enthusiasm and eagerness reigned as the crowd inched closer to the prince, each person waiting their turn for an audience.

On the west side of the hall, where Alliance representatives had gathered, an elderly man in resplendent robes openly displayed his disdain and mockery. "Look there, the son of the Oath Breaker arrives, and instantly he has everyone wrapped around his finger. The crown truly holds power—what a weight it carries, even when it's not atop one's head."

Having said this, the robed elder turned toward the gaunt man in simple black attire standing beside him. "Don't you think so, Mr. Lionel?"

Chief Secretary of the Federated Provinces, [Johann Lionel], remained unperturbed as he replied, "It is not the crown that brings men to their knees, but power itself, Your Excellency."

Gianno de Bella, the First Consul of the Vineta Governor's Office, laughed heartily and raised his glass slightly in a gesture of acknowledgment toward the Secretary.

The reception hosted by Earl Varez was of considerable scale, but not so grand as to merit the attendance of the heads of state from both the Federated Provinces and Vineta.

Yet here they were—De Bella and Lionel, two of the Alliance's most powerful men and theoretically irreconcilable enemies—standing together, face to face, within the Saint Andre Hall, an Imperial stronghold. A sight as rare as it was surreal.

Only at such an occasion could the leaders of the Federated Provinces and Vineta converse freely, without the need for euphemism or guarded language, directly and without restraint.

Their entourages and aides formed a subtle yet impenetrable boundary, effectively isolating De Bella and Lionel from the other representatives. From a distance, the onlookers could see their faces but could not overhear their conversation.

"So, have you given it further thought?" Lionel inquired.

The Chief Secretary of the Federated Provinces, almost skeletal in appearance with sunken cheeks and bloodshot eyes that betrayed sleepless nights, gazed on with sharp, unwavering focus—and perhaps, a faint glimmer of madness—so intense it made one afraid to meet his gaze directly.