The morning preparations felt more like a ritual of torture for Lucius. Butler Hahn Clayton—usually the epitome of efficiency—had transformed into a relentlessly meticulous overseer.
"Hahn, is it truly necessary for this attire to be this... restrictive?" Lucius tugged at the stiff collar of his shirt, feeling as though he were being strangled. In his past life as Wang Xu, he was accustomed to loose t-shirts and casual wear. Now, this slim-fit formal suit of the Loen nobility made him feel like he was trapped in a cage of fabric.
"This is the required formal attire for the son of a Baron, Master Lucius. Every fold and crease represents the dignity of the Sheffield family," Hahn replied in a flat but unyielding tone.
Lucius stared into the full-length mirror. Behind the suffocating clothes, he saw a fifteen-year-old youth with features far too exquisite for a man. His jawline was sharp, yet his skin possessed an unnatural smoothness—the subtle "pollution" of the Assassin characteristic flowing in his blood. There was a smoldering ambition in his eyes, a fire reminiscent of Anakin Skywalker—the gaze of someone who felt the world was far too small for his potential.
"Hahn," Lucius broke the silence, his voice notably colder. "In private, call me Lucius. I do not need a constant reminder of a title I have yet to officially inherit."
Hahn paused, his aging eyes meeting Lucius's reflection in the mirror. "Only when there are no outsiders, Master Lucius. In Backlund's political theater, misplaced familiarity is a crack that enemies will surely exploit."
Lucius merely snorted. He could feel his Instigator instincts (Sequence 8) stirring, wanting to provoke the old servant just to see a crack in his composure. However, he held back. He knew Hahn was not just a butler; as a believer in the Evernight Goddess, Hahn was likely a 'watcher' placed by the Church to monitor the 'problematic' lineage of the Sheffields.
As the carriage departed from the manor in Empress Borough, Lucius noticed an additional squadron of riders joining their procession.
"Hahn, why are there Punishers from the Church of Storms here? I thought you said you hired them?"
"Not quite, Master," Hahn corrected. "As a former high-ranking military officer and a devout believer of the Lord of Storms, the Military and the Church have sent an Honor Guard as a final tribute to your late father. This is not mere security; it is a political statement that the Sheffields still enjoy the Church's protection."
Lucius leaned back, staring out the window. Politics, always politics.
He made a mental note to "donate" 200 gold pounds to the Church in his own name later. In this world, goodwill had to be bought with gold if one wished for it to last.
...
Pritz Harbor
The atmosphere at the military port was heavy. The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and profound grief. Yet, there was something far more oppressive in the air. As Lucius stepped down from the carriage, he felt an immense spiritual pressure. In the distance, standing upon the dais of honor, was the figure of King George III.
Though they were far apart, the aura of a Black Emperor—or at least the overwhelming authority of the Ruler pathway—felt terrifyingly real. Lucius had to muster all his mental fortitude just to keep from bowing his head too low. One day, I will be the one standing up there, he thought.
In a corner of the reception hall, Lucius tried to distance himself from the whispering nobles. It was then that a young man with a friendly face approached him.
"It seems we share the same distaste for crowds," the youth greeted, extending a hand. "Glelynt."
Lucius shook it firmly, refusing to show any weakness. "Lucius Sheffield."
"Sheffield? The owner of the manor at No. 59 Empress Borough?" Glelynt seemed enthusiastic. "We're neighbors! Though I rarely see you at Viscount Hall's banquets."
"I prefer the... tranquility of home," Lucius replied curtly, projecting an air of mystery. He knew Glelynt was the key to Audrey Hall and the Tarot Club.
Glelynt then lowered his voice, his eyes sparkling with a dangerous curiosity. "Lucius, you're the son of a war hero. You must know something... about the 'extraordinary.' I mean, Beyonders."
Lucius didn't answer immediately. As an Instigator, he knew exactly how to bait someone's emotions. He sipped his drink slowly, gazing at Glelynt with a look that made the young Viscount feel as though he were being dissected.
"The world is not as safe as the history books suggest, Glelynt," Lucius whispered, his voice carrying a hint of both warning and temptation. "Becoming a Beyonder is not just about drinking a potion; it is a contract with madness. If you seek formulas in the black market, ensure you have at least 300 gold pounds and a mind prepared to shatter."
Glelynt was stunned. He hadn't expected such a sharp, knowledgeable response. "You... you've attended one? Those Gatherings?"
"I hear many things behind the closed doors of Sheffield Manor," Lucius lied perfectly. "If you are truly interested in the occult, do not look to the churches. They will only give you chains. Look to the private circles that never see the light of day."
Glelynt nodded eagerly, as if he had just found a new mentor. "I have a small group with my friends, including Audrey Hall. You should come sometime."
Then, Glelynt chuckled, offering a joke that should have been harmless. "But Lucius, with a face like yours, I'd bet that if you put on a dress, even Audrey would find herself outmatched."
Zing!
The air around them seemed to freeze. Lucius's pupils narrowed into thin vertical slits—the unmistakable mark of a predator from the Assassin pathway. For a fleeting second, Glelynt felt a surge of pure killing intent crawl up his spine. Lucius felt his pride as a "mighty man" insulted, while his Assassin characteristic responded to the provocation with cold bloodlust.
Lucius leaned in close to Glelynt's ear, his voice so low it was almost a hiss. "Glelynt, I am a Sheffield. We crush our enemies on the battlefield, not on the dance floor. Never repeat that joke, or you will learn why my family's lineage is so feared."
Glelynt swallowed hard, his face turning pale. He realized at that moment that the beautiful youth before him was no ordinary "shut-in." He was a fledgling monster.
"I... I apologize... I didn't mean..." Glelynt stammered.
Lucius straightened up, a thin smile returning to his face as if nothing had happened. "I forgive you. Now, tell me more about this Audrey Hall. I hear she has... interesting connections."