The newcomer was the Third Prince, Roderick.
Villanelle’s heart skipped a beat. She swallowed the fruit in her mouth and instinctively tried to stand.
“Sit, Villanelle.” Roderick raised a hand, signaling for her to stay seated. His tone carried the authority of someone long accustomed to a high position, yet it wasn’t overbearing. “No need to be so formal.”
Villanelle could only sit back down stiffly. She tried her best to ignore the surprised looks from those around her and focused on her conversation with Roderick.
“What is it, Brother?”
“Just a normal chat between siblings. Don’t be nervous.” Roderick offered a faint smile. He looked over her dress with an unreadable expression, his tone suggesting a casual evaluation. “The dress fits well.”
Villanelle didn’t know how to respond, so she simply nodded.
Roderick reached into the inner pocket of his military uniform and pulled out a small object wrapped simply in blue cloth. He set it on the table near her hand, his movement as natural as putting down a wine glass.
“A little trinket from the Eastern March. It was seized while clearing an Orc camp — a Shaman’s Wolf Fang used for rituals. Don’t worry, it has already been treated.”
Villanelle looked at the cloth bundle but didn’t touch it. She only politely thanked him.
Roderick leaned forward slightly so she could hear him more clearly, while also blocking the prying eyes of the other guests. “You can carry it with you. The Runes on it can keep you clear-headed at critical moments. It’s much more useful than other treasures.”
After a pause, Roderick lowered his voice even further, but every word reached Villanelle’s ears with exceptional clarity.
“Ellie’s daughter shouldn’t be buried in a place like this. The Eternal City values power and status, but the Eastern March values character and ability. If needed, the gates of the Eastern March will always be open to you.”
Villanelle’s pupils constricted.
Ellie… that was her mother’s name. It was a name she hadn’t heard from anyone else in many years.
‘So, is this an attempt to recruit me?’
After the initial shock, Villanelle calmed down quickly. Her brain rapidly processed the information provided by her third brother.
‘But what does a mediocre mage who is only Tier 3 have that is worth recruiting?’
‘Could it be…’
In an instant, the image of a pair of molten-gold eyes flashed through her mind.
‘Is it related to the little fellow? Does he think I have some strange Dragon Training skill, or has he noticed the little fellow’s uniqueness?’
Villanelle looked up and met Roderick’s gray eyes. There was no scrutiny or pity in those pupils, only a calm that made it impossible to tell what he was actually thinking.
“Well, I won’t disturb you any longer. Continue to enjoy the banquet.”
Without waiting for Villanelle to speak, Roderick stood up straight. He gave her a slight nod and strode toward several generals chatting in the distance. His movements were natural, as if he had just been having a normal conversation with his sister.
Villanelle sat dazed, staring at the cloth bundle for several seconds. Finally, she reached out, took the bundle, and carefully opened it.
A Shaman’s Wolf Fang covered in eerie Runes lay quietly in the center of the blue cloth. It gave off a cold, hard luster under the hall’s Magitool Lighting.
Villanelle studied the wolf fang, but her mind was elsewhere.
The Third Prince’s meaning was clear: if she ever needed to, she could go to the Eastern March to seek refuge with him. However, that certainly wasn’t for now; it was for some distant, uncertain future.
‘It’s still far off. I haven’t even finished my studies yet. I shouldn’t think about it so much,’ a voice in her heart whispered in protest.
Her current task was indeed to finish her studies first, but… what about after that? What should she do, and where should she go?
As her thoughts drifted, Villanelle suddenly realized a fact she had long forgotten: her current situation was far from safe.
Recently, Ignis’s presence and companionship, along with the new friends she had made, had given her the feeling that everything was improving. Her once-bland life finally felt like it had things worth cherishing.
The string that had been pulled tight for years had slowly begun to relax in this atmosphere, sinking into the depths of her heart.
But today, Roderick had forced everything she had once feared back to the surface, exposing it once more without any cover.
The targeting by Dragon Cliff was the first murder attempt. Who knew if there would be a second or a third? When she faced it again, would she be able to turn danger into safety?
Villanelle let out a soft sigh. She laid the cloth on the table and gripped the Shaman’s Wolf Fang in her palm.
The cold sensation persisted like a piece of ice that wouldn’t melt, reminding her of the reality of the conversation she just had.
She looked up again and turned her gaze toward the center of the hall.
Roderick had returned to his circle and was listening to a general speak, his expression having returned to its usual coldness.
The First Prince, Caesar, was laughing and chatting with the Minister of Finance not far away. He seemed completely oblivious to the brief disturbance here, and the other nobles were also immersed in their own socializing.
Everything was normal.
It was as if the invitation that had caused such an upheaval in her heart was nothing more than a negligible ripple on the water’s surface to the rest of the hall.
Villanelle suddenly felt a deeper chill.
It wasn’t fear, but loneliness.
The life-and-death stakes she was anxious about, the future she was lost in, and the recruitment she was wary of were all too insignificant at the core of the Empire’s banquet.
Everyone was moving in their own orbit, calculating interests and power. No one truly cared about her in the corner, except for that brother from the Eastern March whose motives were unclear.
Villanelle slowly tightened her grip on the wolf fang.
This wasn’t just a gift; it was a coordinate — a coordinate from outside her current orbit.
The unpleasantly familiar scent of perfume wafted over, interrupting her thoughts.
“Oh, Villanelle, are you here all alone?”
Julia had a sweet smile on her face. She was followed by two female companions who looked ready for a show. It seemed they had just finished talking with other young nobles and happened to pass by her table.
“The Third Prince was just talking to you? That’s quite rare.” Her gaze fell on the Shaman’s Wolf Fang in Villanelle’s hand before she glanced at Roderick’s retreating figure. A hint of curiosity flashed in her eyes.
“Just a greeting,” Villanelle said, meeting Julia’s gaze calmly.
“Is that so?” Julia drawled, clearly not believing her. “The Third Prince has been stationed in the Eastern March for so long that his aura is truly terrifying. I wouldn’t dare speak to him. The First Prince is much gentler. By the way, your outfit is very… unique. The color is quite… dignified.”
The two companions covered their mouths and let out low giggles.
After a few brief exchanges, Julia and the two others glided away. Villanelle stared at them, hallucinating the animal combination of a golden-haired hyena and two lackeys.
She knew that it wouldn’t be long before the news of Roderick speaking to her privately at the banquet would spread. This wouldn’t bring any practical benefits; it would only draw more unwanted attention to her.
Looking at the delicious food spread out on the table before her, Villanelle suddenly lost her appetite.
‘So much drama, and so many vixens.’