Chapter 32: Prelude to the Celebration

Following behind Roderick was the guard that had accompanied him to the Imperial Capital for the celebration.

They wore the dark partial plate armor standard to the Eastern Frontier Legion. The armor was covered in scratches and marks of repair, looking as if they had just been pulled from the front lines yesterday. Their matching battle surcoats fluttered slightly in the cold winter wind, outlining their lean and powerful frames.

Every man carried a war blade engraved with “Sharpness” runes on his back, with combat daggers and grappling hooks hanging at his waist. More than half of them also carried small, sleekly designed ballistae on their shoulders.

Their armor bore no decorations, only the authentic scars left by weapons, which gleamed with a cold, hard light under the pale winter sun.

The group marched in perfect unison, as if measured by a ruler. The gazes beneath their visors held a calm and sharp intensity forged through blood and fire. They looked straight ahead, completely ignoring the two shimmering flying dragons held by the other two princes not far away.

Although there were only fifty of them, they exuded a reliable sense of “heaviness” as they moved, like a mobile wall of iron.

Like a stone cast into water, the appearance of this small guard caused a subtle shift in the square’s atmosphere.

The cheers and gasps of wonder for the dragons continued, but they were now mixed with a different, more fervent surge of sound—an instinctive worship of steel, discipline, and pure martial power.

Many people looked at Roderick and his guard with burning intensity.

“It’s His Highness the Third Prince! And the ‘Shield of the Firmament’!”

“Look at them… that’s what a real army looks like…”

The discussions spread like a rising tide.

On the high platform, First Prince Caesar frowned almost imperceptibly as he took his place, while Claudius on the other side seemed to have no reaction at all.

Pope Clement III’s gaze lingered on Roderick for a moment, his eyes devoid of either sorrow or joy.

Below the platform, the two flying dragons under the strict supervision of the Royal Dragon Tamers seemed to sense something. They shook their massive heads restlessly, their talons constantly stomping the ground.

Roderick seemed oblivious to the surging waves of sound and the various gazes surrounding him. His pace remained steady, and he did not even turn his eyes toward the area where the cheering was loudest. He simply strode forward calmly toward his designated spot.

Suddenly, for a brief moment, his brow furrowed slightly. His gaze shifted abruptly, darting like a lightning bolt toward a specific location in the distance of the square.

In that direction, Ignis, who was currently in the Abyssal Critical State, felt his pupils contract. Without a second thought, he severed all outward perception and compressed his presence as much as possible.

‘666, is this guy using a hack?’

‘Wait, no. So many people are looking at him, so why did he find me specifically?’

Though it was only a fleeting glimpse through layers of sightlines and a sea of people, Ignis was certain that just now, as the man was ascending the platform, there was a split second where he had detected his gaze.

In the moment the man turned his face, his silhouette overlapped with the image in Ignis’s memory.

It was Roderick.

It had to be him. There was no mistake. Whether it was his temperament or the shape of his face, he was almost a mirror image of that deeply impressed figure in the depths of his consciousness.

Ignis fell into deep thought as chaotic ideas flashed through his mind.

He remembered the day he had entered the basement and attempted to search for “Uncle Roderick” in Alicia’s memory fragments.

At that time, a sudden, sharp pain in his brain had prevented him from seeing Roderick’s face clearly.

Ignis had been in a hurry to move on to more shocking content and was distracted by the subsequent research notes, so he had not looked deeper into the cause.

Looking at it now… perhaps it was no coincidence.

Could it be because Roderick carried some kind of protective spell or artifact that could block the prying of others? Or was it a protective barrier formed by his own willpower?

Furthermore… Alicia had mentioned in her diary that Roderick once said, ‘Order should have the grace to tolerate chaos.’

However, the emotional aura radiating from the man before him was more indifferent and fierce. He did not look like the type of person who would say such a thing. Was that why Alicia lamented, ‘He has changed now’?

Whatever the reason, this man was someone worth paying close attention to.

***

On the other side of the square, Roderick had reached the end of the imperial path. He ascended the high platform with steady steps and sat down calmly beside his two luxuriously dressed elder brothers.

His “Shield of the Firmament” guard stood solemnly in their designated area below. The fifty figures stood like iron statues, exuding a chilling aura that warned others not to approach. They formed an invisible confrontation with the other elegantly dressed princes and nobles on the platform.

As in previous years, the Emperor still did not attend. The opening speech was once again delivered by the Regent, an old prince with white hair and a stern face.

He walked to the center of the platform and began a long, cliché-ridden speech, praising the glory of the Empire and the traditions of Winter Veil, and praying for the Empire’s peace and prosperity in the coming year.

The Regent’s elderly voice was amplified by magic and echoed over the square. Standing in the Academy’s formation, Villanelle found it incredibly boring. Drowsiness crept in along with the winter chill.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the speech ended. The horns sounded again, marking the start of the next phase.

The numbness brought on by the long opening ceremony was replaced by a new mix of anticipation and tension as the order to “change clothes” was given.

Under the guidance of their mentors, the students left the square’s viewing area one after another, heading toward the Morning Star Side Hall, which had been specially prepared for them in the wing of the Imperial Palace.

The scene inside the side hall was a stark contrast to the grim atmosphere of the square. The embedded heating runes on the walls were running at a steady power, and the air was thick with the scent of incense and new fabric.

In the girls’ changing room, massive floor-to-length mirrors were occupied in an instant.

The noble daughters shook out their bright silks and velvets, comparing the luster of their jewelry and exchanging excited comments about the ceremony—especially discussing the dragons and the “Shield of the Firmament” guard.

Villanelle walked quickly through the dense crowd and stopped in a slightly dim corner.

She pulled out her newly made dress from the cloth bag she carried. It was a twilight grey color, designed in the most basic style without any unnecessary decorations, save for simple dark patterns at the collar and cuffs.

Villanelle silently changed out of her Academy uniform and put on the dress.

The dress fit well, accurately tracing the girl’s thin and slender frame. Then, she carefully pinned up her shoulder-length silver hair, securing it with a few simple black hairpins. Finally, she put on the small amethyst ring left to her by her mother.

The entire process took only six or seven minutes.

Not far away, the noble girls were still chattering, dabbing foundation onto their faces in front of the mirrors.

Villanelle looked herself up and down in the mirror.

At the very least, she looked much more decent than she had last year, having precisely met all the requirements of the Court Dressing Protocol.

However, standing in this space filled with jewelry and vibrant colors, her overly plain dress was conspicuously out of place, like a drop of clear water falling into oil paint.

She could feel occasional gazes sweeping over her—some curious, some assessing, and some surprised.

This rarely seen Imperial Princess was dressed far too simply and plainly. In an atmosphere that favored luxury and ostentation, she looked like an outsider.

“Gather up! Everyone, move faster!” Margaret’s stern voice drowned out the noise in the side hall.

The crowd gathered once more. No longer clad in the identical student robes, they were now armed with gorgeous silks and exquisite makeup. They flowed like a stream out of the side hall, heading deeper into the Imperial Palace.

The sound of crowded, disorganized footsteps echoed in the empty corridors, mixed with the rustle of fabric and suppressed excitement.

Next, it was time to head to the Golden Oak Hall.