Section 57: The Banquet in Valencia (Part Two)

Upon entering Prime Minister Fahrenheit's private residence, they were promptly greeted by turbaned attendants dressed in white who stepped forward to guide them. From the very threshold, a crimson carpet stretched beneath their feet. This was not Fahrenheit's official residence; official residences were government-assigned quarters for the Prime Minister and cabinet ministers, which, by law, had to be vacated upon leaving office. Such a private residence, far more luxurious than an official estate, belonged to Fahrenheit himself. Before the Landian Revolution, he had originated from a wealthy merchant family, whose assets were confiscated by the Tianlun Dynasty during the revolution, and whose family members had perished. Following the successful revolution, his property was naturally restored to him, including this ancient castle.

However, Fahrenheit rarely resided here, generally living in the official residence in Valencia. He was a politician by nature, pouring all his energy into affairs of state, and aside from a few select hobbies, he cared little for worldly pleasures. Even the estate inherited after the revolution's victory went completely unattended by him. Fortunately, the younger brother of his second wife, Jack, and the former head butler were able to help: one managed the family business, extracting a set dividend each year, while the other managed real estate such as this castle.

The immensely high reputation Fahrenheit enjoyed within the country stemmed not only from his own achievements, but also from the incorruptibility he had maintained throughout his administration, which formed the bedrock of public support. Yet, it had to be said that this was largely thanks to his affluent background; he suffered no shortage of wealth. Moreover, most of the old aristocracy had been implicated and ruined by the revolution, while his young second wife, Denise, and her brother, Jack, were honest yet clever individuals. If there was any lingering regret, it was that his young wife had yet to bear Fahrenheit any children.

Guided by the attendants, the two walked along the corridor toward the main hall. It was brilliantly illuminated. Even along the corridor, recessed niches were carved into the walls every one and a half meters, housing "Ever-Still Wind" candles. Had Wu Wuwei seen these, he would have instantly recognized them, as they originated from the Far East. The entire pathway was linked by continuous rings of lamplight, bright as day.

The stone on the walls appeared dark, but upon a touch, it felt exceptionally smooth. Clearly, like the floor beneath their feet, it had been meticulously polished. This was Helen's first time visiting a castle as luxurious as a palace—a gathering place for the uppermost strata of humanity. Judging purely by exterior appearance, the subterranean imperial palace where the Siren race dwelt for generations was no less opulent than this, but it fell far short in details, featuring only slowly flowing seawater and chaotic, tangled seaweeds.

The guiding attendant felt a quiet, simmering curiosity toward the bizarre pair walking behind him. Although the two attended the ball adopting the most standard demeanor of a gentleman and lady, no matter how one looked at it, the man as dark as stone did not quite resemble this young lady's companion; he looked much more like a bodyguard. As for the stunning maiden, even an attendant accustomed to seeing noble ladies felt a strong urge to turn his head and take a closer look.

Naturally, the two individuals in question were oblivious to this strangeness. Although their linked arms conformed to etiquette, one arm was as rigid as rock, while the other hand felt as though it were grasping a vine.

Upon reaching the hall, melodious music was already playing, and people were dancing gracefully. When such an ill-matched couple appeared, most people paused for a moment before resuming their activities.

"Do you know how to dance?" Helen asked softly.

"No," Crow replied, pausing momentarily. He was a rare all-around master, proficient in the skills of numerous classes and capable of passing certification tests for almost any vocational tier, but the vast majority of those were professions related to combat and adventure.

"I don't either," Helen replied with a hint of disappointment, having originally hoped that Crow might teach her.

However, suitors quickly came forward to pay court. Dressed in immaculate formal attire, youthful gentlemen stepped up one after another to request a dance. According to etiquette, Crow, as Helen's partner, should traditionally have danced the first dance with her before she accepted invitations from others.

In truth, Helen desperately wanted to learn how to dance, but toward the invitations of unfamiliar men, she instinctively refused. Yet as the suitors grew increasingly numerous, Crow had to consider whether he should drag Helen into a chaotic, unchoreographed dance just to shake off these buzzing flies.

At that exact moment, several figures descended the spiral staircase from the second floor. The music abruptly ceased, and everyone broke into welcoming applause. The host, Fahrenheit, had finally made his appearance.

"Everyone, welcome. I am immensely delighted that you could all gather here to attend this banquet. Everything is prepared; the ball and the banquet are taking place simultaneously. Please feel free to dance to your heart's content, and should you feel hungry, do make your way to the dining hall," Fahrenheit said with a smile.

The crowd broke into cheers, leaving Helen and Crow utterly astounded. According to the rigid protocols governing banquets and balls across the continent, simultaneous proceedings were unheard of. Strict etiquette dictated a dizzying sequence of courses: generally starting with an appetizer, followed by soup, then the main course, and finally dessert.

Naturally, someone eager to curry favor with Helen stepped forward. Listening from the side, Crow learned that nighttime banquets in Valencia served a dual purpose of socialization and subtle agendas. Usually, the host introduced newcomers into the social circle, or if any disputes existed that were unsuited for formal settings, participants would use the social atmosphere to test the waters over wine glasses and seek preliminary compromises. Fahrenheit rarely hosted banquets, but his gatherings were exceptionally unique because they shattered traditional conventions. The young man striving to impress Helen had attended a few times, noting that dining and dancing proceeded concurrently. While guests danced, Fahrenheit's chefs prepared an array of delicacies laid out in food boxes within the adjoining dining hall for guests to freely partake of. Once one had eaten their fill in the dining hall, they were entirely free to return to dancing, only to eat again whenever hunger struck.

Initially, a minority of attendees considered this model a violation of established etiquette, but Fahrenheit remained unbothered. While he was famously indifferent to worldly pleasures, one of his few refined hobbies was a discerning palate. Someone had christened this arrangement a buffet, though its origin remained obscure.

Although early discontent lingered among a few, Fahrenheit never intended to universally impose the format, reserving it solely for his personal hosting events. Yet, the younger generation quickly embraced the style. Traditional dining etiquette consumed excessive amounts of time, shrinking their recreation hours. By shedding those cumbersome rituals, they gained ample time and energy to swarm like flies around the women who caught their eye, raising the odds of securing a passionate night.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please. Today, I invited you here primarily to introduce two new friends. The first is..." Fahrenheit strode up to the bewildered Helen, smiling toward Crow. "May I borrow your dance partner?"

Crow nodded, and Fahrenheit led Helen to the center of the dance floor, offering an invitation gesture. "This is Princess Helen of the Fes Empire."

A hush fell over the crowd, slowly giving way to scattered applause. Ever since the Fes Empire's invasion of Herldasin and its subsequent mysterious withdrawal, persistent rumors had circulated that the Landian government had forged a secret pact with those oceanic beasts. Helen's appearance confirmed those whispers. Yet, none were more astonished than the young men who had just been rejected by Helen for a dance. Consisting of political rising stars and scions of the powerful elite, they were the exclusive few granted entry to this gala and ball. Not in their wildest dreams had they imagined that the Fes princess—whom they had perpetually dismissed as a marine beast—could be such an exquisite beauty.

"Mr. Fahrenheit, I do not know how to dance," Helen blushed deeply, speaking in a low murmur.

"No matter, I do." Fahrenheit took Helen's hand and swept into motion. At first, Helen appeared flustered, nearly stepping on Fahrenheit's feet, but his dance proficiency was remarkable, coupled with an exceptional talent for instruction. Whispering guidance, he skillfully masked Helen's clumsy footwork with his own fluid movements.

Half a song later, Helen had grown significantly calmer, matching his steps according to his instructions. Though mistakes still occurred frequently, the performance improved immensely, and Fahrenheit merely offered occasional corrections.

As the music ended, the hall erupted in thunderous applause. Fahrenheit released Helen's hand, and she walked toward Crow, her cheeks flushed with a rosy warmth that seemed ready to melt. She wore a strapless, floor-length evening gown, its white fabric interwoven with subtle silver undertones forming intricate floral patterns, dotted with tiny pearls. The back of the dress featured cascading layers of hollowed-out lace trailing three feet behind her, exuding supreme elegance and nobility. Her hair, styled in simple, straight black locks, cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall, perfectly complementing her white gown.

"Now, allow me to introduce our second new friend, who is—" Just as Fahrenheit was about to reveal the identity, someone abruptly interrupted him.

"Hey! Tell me, can I go drink now?"

Never had anyone behaved with such crassness in such a setting. For a moment, the crowd momentarily forgot the shock Helen had delivered, turning their gazes toward the source of the voice.

The speaker had descended the spiral staircase alongside Fahrenheit moments earlier, yet his stature was so diminutive, and Helen's earlier grand entrance had so thoroughly monopolized the attention of both men and women gazing with envy and jealousy, that virtually no one had noticed the short figure trailing behind Fahrenheit.

Crow quickly scanned the fellow. He stood barely taller than a toddler, yet his torso was exceptionally thick and robust; judging by the sheer girth of his arms, Crow estimated he could wield a massive battleaxe without the slightest strain. Most peculiarly, he sported a magnificent, voluminous beard that cascaded all the way down to his waist.

This—this was a dwarf! Crow concluded in astonishment.