June 28th, morning, at the main gate of the Laval Mansion.
The weather today couldn’t be called hot; in fact, there was still a touch of the morning’s coolness in the air.
Yet Bernard Viscount had already wiped the sweat from his forehead several times.
Since last night, the whole mansion was filled with an extraordinary tension and bustle.
The members of Dawn’s Children had already left in an orderly fashion at midnight, evading all possible eyes and heading to the predetermined location to rendezvous with the Lily Guard PMC employees.
The servants of the Laval House had cleaned the mansion inside and out in advance, not leaving a speck of dust, and all stood in their places, ready and vigilant.
Ever since Allen had “turned over a new leaf,” the oppressive atmosphere he once imposed on the servants had vanished, replaced by a heartfelt kindness and care.
Most of the servants were born into humble backgrounds and had witnessed the rise and fall of the Laval House and the change in the Young Master.
They understood deeply how precious such grace was.
If not for the Young Master’s exceptional wisdom propping up the tottering family business, they would have long since become homeless and fallen into hardship again.
Thus, their gratitude toward Allen overflowed, and their love for him had even long surpassed that for old Chief Laval Bernard.
When they learned that the Young Master’s fiancée—the young lady of the Border Province Earl, who had just stunned the city at the Triumphal Procession—would soon be visiting, these honest and loyal people, in order to repay the Young Master’s endless kindness, all threw themselves into their work with full energy.
They rolled up their sleeves and worked with all their might, swearing to welcome the honored guest in the most perfect manner, and absolutely not allowing the Young Master to lose the slightest bit of face.
Seeing the servants working in a frenzy and his old man so nervous that he was sweating, Allen couldn’t help but complain, “Is it really necessary to be this nervous?”
“Son, you don’t understand!” Bernard Viscount lowered his voice, his face solemn.
“The powerful Count of the Borderlands, after just enjoying the honors bestowed by His Majesty at the Triumphal Procession, comes in person to visit a little Viscount family like ours the very next day! The pressure is enormous, you know.”
“I know, don’t I?” Allen looked unconcerned.
“I can see that the Count of the Borderlands is desperate to find a ‘shield’ for the Stern family. But why should we be afraid of him? He doesn’t even know that we’ve got the Church backing us! Father, today is our home ground—they’re the guests!”
“That’s true, but…” Bernard Viscount still looked awkward, instinctively straightening his expensive silk cravat.
“Our family, after all, is a ‘robed noble,’ born a head lower than those ‘sword-bearing nobles.’ Not to mention, they have Engraved Mark blood… And if your fiancée really is, as you say, favored by some evil god, what if a fight breaks out right then and there?”
“Relax, old man.” Allen waved his hand, his tone easy. “We’ve got Marianne and Anna here.”
He looked over at Marianne, standing beside him in a brand-new maid’s uniform, her expression solemn.
Marianne sensed his gaze, nodded slightly, and her eyes were calm as water.
He then glanced at Anna, who, disguised as an ordinary maid, stood not far off with a vacant, dazed look.
Anna noticed Allen’s gaze, tilted her head cutely, as if not fully grasping his hint.
But when Allen quietly waved his fist, making a “punching” gesture, Anna immediately understood, nodded vigorously, and signaled, “Leave it to me.”
Allen had long since prepared himself to tear off all pretenses.
The Count of the Borderlands, Friedrich, was not strong himself—his Engraved Mark blood was thin, and he had only inherited his title by marrying the highborn Lady of the Border Earl.
This was famous gossip in the capital’s noble circles; everyone knew he was “ruled by his wife.”
If Allen were to suddenly attack, he could wipe out Friedrich and his personal guards in an instant.
The only real trouble was Livia. But Marianne now possessed the Brand of Shadow and could launch a surprise attack.
Even if that failed, Anna—relying on her monstrous strength and the boxing techniques Allen had taught her—could confront Livia head-on.
Even with the power of the Engraved Mark, in the absence of armor or sword, Livia could not face both of them at once.
Moreover, as a Combat Nun of the Heretic Inquisition Squad, specifically trained to counter Engraved Mark users, Anna’s very presence would seriously weaken Livia’s mark.
This so-called “Feng Aotian” female protagonist’s combat ability was really not so terrifying before a well-prepared Allen.
“Daughter, huh…” Bernard Viscount murmured.
He still didn’t know that his adopted daughter Marianne already possessed a genuine Brand of Shadow, but as a former member of the Crimson Spiral Cult, he knew her strength was considerable, so his heart was somewhat at ease.
At this moment, a knight bearing the Stern family’s Engraved Mark banner—a blue field embroidered with a dazzling golden star, surrounded by smaller silver stars—rode up to the mansion’s main gate and announced in a loud voice:
“The esteemed Friedrich von Stern, Count of the Borderlands of Wallonia, Governor of the Border Province, Commander of the Guard Corps, Ministry of the Army, Guardian of the Kingdom’s Northern Borders, has arrived!”
This string of titles made the servants of the Laval House hold their breath even more.
As a shrewd “robed noble,” Bernard Viscount knew very well that in today’s betrothal process, the Laval House must compensate for the difference in status and title between the two sides through utmost luxury, impeccable etiquette, and a display of cultural refinement.
The entire welcoming ceremony had to strictly adhere to the Kingdom’s complex rules of etiquette—from the distance at which they greeted, the depth of their bows, the order in which they proceeded, to how they guided their guests.
Every detail had to show the difference in rank without appearing overly servile.
Even the content of the dialogue needed to be carefully crafted: to express a warm welcome while subtly acknowledging the other party’s higher status.
Allen, who detested the old system’s pointless rules, would surely fail at this.
Bernard Viscount was the true diplomatic lead today, so it was only natural he felt under immense pressure.
After all, ever since the Laval House’s reputation had been ruined by the old Allen, and the family had plunged into bankruptcy, it had been a very long time since they’d received such an eminent guest.
At last, the Count’s luxurious carriage, adorned with the family Engraved Mark and drawn by four fine horses, appeared at the far end of the drive.
The old butler immediately signaled the temporarily hired orchestra to strike up the welcoming march.
The carriage rolled to a steady stop. Bernard Viscount took a deep breath, stepped forward, and personally opened the carriage door for the Count of the Borderlands.
A middle-aged man stepped down, dressed in a deep blue velvet suit, exuding calm and poise.
His features were handsome, though a little weathered; in his eyes shone shrewdness and caution.
This was none other than Count Friedrich von Stern, Allen’s future “father-in-law.”
He tipped his hat to Bernard and offered a standard bow, neither too deferential nor lacking in respect.
Bernard Viscount returned the gesture with just the right degree of formality and recited the welcome he had prepared long in advance: “Honored Count of the Borderlands, your visit brings glory to my humble house. We are truly honored.”
Count Friedrich wore a perfectly measured smile and replied, “My joy is as great as yours, Viscount. Your warm reception has already made me feel at home.”
“I already feel at home” was a noble phrase loaded with double meaning, both praising the host’s hospitality and subtly acknowledging the engagement and the hope of becoming family.
Through the Count’s attitude, Bernard was certain the other party truly wished to seal the marriage.
In fact, the Laval House had arranged the highest standards of welcome for the Count, affording him every courtesy.
In this marriage, the Viscount’s house was not actually the weaker party.
On the contrary, Livia was a legitimized illegitimate child; the essence of this marriage was not a strong alliance, but rather the Count needing to use vast wealth and influence to make up for the defect in his daughter’s birth, buying the Viscount house’s acceptance of her bloodline.
No matter how pure Livia’s Engraved Mark blood, her illegitimate birth doomed her to discrimination and criticism among the upper nobility.
Not only would the Count of the Borderlands pay an enormous dowry—previously agreed to be as high as a hundred thousand livre—but also the marriage contract would include, in the clearest and most indisputable legal language:
The Count’s daughter Livia von Stern, as well as any offspring she might have with the Viscount’s son Allen de Laval, would forever, completely, and utterly renounce any claim or right of inheritance to the Stern Count’s title, honors, and main hereditary estate.
In other words, once Livia and Allen were married, she would be effectively severed from the main succession line of the Stern family.
In such a situation, Livia—whose birth was in question—had to present herself as flawless: well-bred, elegant in speech, pious in faith, gentle in character.
She had to prove to the Laval House: “Though my birth may have flaws, I myself am a lady beyond reproach, fully worthy of the Viscount family.”
As expected, when Livia descended from the carriage after the Count, all eyes were instantly drawn to her.
Today, she wore an elegant lake-blue silk gown, custom-tailored by the finest seamstress to accentuate her slender waist and upright bearing.
Her platinum hair was meticulously styled, revealing her slender, white neck, a few locks draped gently over her ears, softening her usual icy aura.
Her expression was serene and gentle, her sapphire eyes slightly downcast, her lips curved in a subtle, decorous smile—perfectly matching the image of a noble lady about to be betrothed.
“Viscount, thank you for your gracious welcome.” Her voice was clear and pleasant, her tone measured to perfection.
Today’s Livia was utterly different from the proud, distant knight maiden of the Triumphal Parade—softer now, playing the fiancée to perfection.
Allen looked at her, clearly suppressing her true nature, and couldn’t help but think: Livia, your sacrifice is a bit much… Do you really want to keep this engagement that badly? There’s something off here…
“Miss Stern, you are indeed as everyone praises—a truly charming lady.” Bernard Viscount followed the script with a polite compliment.
At this, Allen hurriedly stepped forward as well.
With his gaze lowered, posture correct, he offered a perfect, deep bow: “Count of the Borderlands, welcome to our home. I have prepared a small token as a gesture of goodwill.”
He presented the meticulously adapted, hand-copied volume of Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales.
This gift would be considered extremely precious and novel in this world—apart from the members of Dawn’s Children and Mr. François, the Count of the Borderlands was the first outsider to see these stories.
“Mr. de Laval, I am most pleased to accept your gift. Thank you for your thoughtfulness.” Friedrich accepted the book, his tone gentle.
“I am glad it pleases you.” Allen maintained a proper smile.
“This way, sir.” The old butler stepped up at the right moment, guiding everyone into the Laval Mansion.
Friedrich, though offered precedence, seemed to have developed a keen interest in Allen.
Bernard Viscount, who should have been walking alongside him, was instead subtly replaced by Allen at the Count’s own suggestion.
On the way to the parlor, Friedrich engaged Allen in a lively discussion about military topics.
To his surprise, Allen’s understanding of military affairs was far deeper and broader than he could have imagined!
From the current flaws in the Kingdom’s military system, to new tactical concepts, more efficient flag-signal systems, a clearer rank structure, and optimization of supply lines… Allen spoke with eloquence; his ideas were fresh and highly feasible.
Friedrich had truly believed Allen to be a notorious, idle wastrel, but after this conversation, the more he spoke with Allen, the more he liked him, and the more their conversation flowed!
He was supposed to maintain a stance of dignified yet limited warmth—evaluating his prospective son-in-law as he would a horse or a promising officer.
Yet Allen’s insights had him utterly captivated, and the relationship between the two quickly grew close; from that of a powerful grand noble and a young minor noble, from future father-in-law and son-in-law, they had become nearly like brothers!
This obviously over-familiar behavior, breaking all norms of etiquette, made Friedrich’s personal guards walking behind them look rather embarrassed and exchange glances.
Bernard Viscount, left in the cold, wanted to chat with Livia to ease the awkwardness, but he truly didn’t know what to say to a soon-to-be daughter-in-law who might be “favored by an evil god.”
Especially when looking at her flawless profile, Bernard felt a complicated mix of emotions in his heart: What a fine girl… How did it come to this… Sigh, what a pity!