Chapter 315: Headache

Vali was now deeply annoyed.

He had expected today to be just another dull, leisurely day—after all, in the Golden Feather Palace, there were few conflicts, few assassins waiting to be dealt with; most of the time, it was nothing but routine.

But he had never imagined so many noble heirs would gather here today to cause trouble.

Trouble itself was bad enough—but what made it worse was that his patrol unit had stumbled upon it.

If these had been ordinary people, he could have ordered his knights to subdue them immediately.

But these were the sons and daughters of the kingdom’s most powerful noble houses. Not only could he not restrain them—he had to speak to them with the utmost courtesy, lest he inadvertently offend one side and invite calamity.

“Lords and ladies, please calm down!”

Vali wiped sweat from his brow as he instructed his knights to help the others to their feet, while maintaining a placid expression.

“Gentlemen and ladies, this is the Golden Feather Palace. Private duels are forbidden. If you truly have grievances, you may sit down and speak them out. If words fail, we may even petition His Majesty to render judgment.”

“Sir Knight, you saw it yourself!”

Roning rose to his feet with the aid of a knight, speaking first, his voice thick with fury: “These men, relying on their superior strength, injured two of my attendants.”

As he spoke, he halted the knight’s attempt to lift David and Tom.

“Forgive me, but my attendants are severely wounded—they cannot stand. Let them remain lying.”

He turned to Vali again: “They also outnumbered us and launched a coordinated assault upon me. Had you not arrived in time, I would surely be dead—slain by their martial arts and magic!”

“You’re lying!”

The red-haired man from the Verra family, propped up by his companions, could no longer contain his rage. “Sir Vali, do not be deceived by his words! It was his attendants who provoked us first!”

His companions immediately joined in the outcry, and chaos erupted.

Roning shouted: “My knights are too injured to stand! Sir Vali, you must uphold justice for them! I won’t even ask for apologies—just five thousand gold coins each for their medical expenses. Not a single coin less!”

“Five thousand each? Are you trying to rob us?” someone roared.

Even the two women began accusing Roning of lacking noble decorum, calling him a thug.

Each side spoke their piece, utterly ignoring the other.

“Oh, by the way,” Roning added, “they slandered my family and conspired to kill me. On behalf of myself and the entire Ushan House, I demand fifty thousand gold coins in compensation for damage to our honor!”

The moment they heard the five-thousand-gold demand, the red-haired man and his companions had already been pushed to the brink—but now, with this sudden escalation to fifty thousand, their fury exploded beyond control.

They drew their swords, ready to strike again—had Vali not acted swiftly, a second clash would have erupted.

As they bickered, more nobles arrived, drawn by the noise.

Though they didn’t yet understand the details, the identities of the combatants told them this was no ordinary brawl—it was going to be spectacular.

Some, eager for entertainment, even sent servants to summon other nobles.

As the scene spiraled out of control, Vali’s brow grew slick with sweat. He had to separate these two factions—now.

“Your Grace, Lord Cross, Lord Faquindo, Lord Harrington, Lady Sally, Lady Milani—I am powerless to resolve this. I beg you, return to your quarters. I shall summon the royal physicians to treat your injuries. Meanwhile, I shall report this matter to His Majesty and await his judgment. Is that acceptable?”

Vali’s words seemed to have a calming effect—the shouting gradually subsided.

But their expressions differed.

Cross and his companions had merely intended to spread rumors about Roning. They never expected a fight, let alone to be dragged before the king.

The situation had spiraled far beyond their expectations.

Roning, by contrast, wore a relaxed expression.

“Sir Vali, I wholeheartedly endorse your suggestion! Please have my men taken to be treated, and inform His Majesty immediately. This attack upon me, this slander against the Ushan House—this cannot be swept under the rug!”

He glared venomously at Cross and his group.

“If this goes unpunished, will they be free to slander anyone they please? If even a Marquis House cannot defend its honor, then what of the Counts, Viscounts, and Barons throughout the kingdom? Will they dare even breathe loudly in their presence?”

Vali dared not say yes. He dared not say no. He sensed a trap hidden in Roning’s words. He could only wipe his cold sweat and mutter noncommittal grunts.

Roning had no desire to waste further energy on public bickering. He gestured to his knights to lift David and Tom, and began walking toward a nearby courtyard.

Let the quarrel resume when they met Bruno.

“What do we do?” Faquindo of Screaming Isle whispered low.

Cross Verra watched Roning’s retreating back, fists clenched—until the motion tugged at his chest wound, drawing a sharp hiss of pain.

“Go back. We’ll talk later.”

Though the factions dispersed, the onlookers did not leave.

Vali, with a gentle smile, urged everyone to disperse—until a noblewoman asked when he would report the matter to the king, and whether he would notify them when His Majesty made his decision. She wished to be present.

Vali, helpless, gave a vague promise, then quickly excused himself under the pretext of seeking an audience with the king, fleeing the maelstrom.

Only then did the crowd reluctantly drift away.

Soon, the conflict spread like a storm through the entire Golden Feather Palace.

Blanche, soaking in her bath, was reminiscing about the day’s pleasant moments—until the maid’s news froze the sweetness on her face.

How long had they been apart? And already, Roning had been beaten by a conspiracy.

Overcome by worry, Blanche abandoned all pretense of decorum and ordered her attendants to take her to Roning’s quarters at once.

Roning had no familiar faces here—Rice hadn’t even entered the palace—and Blanche’s arrival was perfect: she could introduce him to the identities of those involved.

But the moment she began, Roning felt as though all his enemies had arrived.

The eldest grandson of the Duke of Verra—the red-haired knight, Cross Verra;

The eldest grandson of the Earl of Screaming Isle, Faquindo Fleming;

The second son of the Grand Duke of Ferensburg, Harrington Gregor;

The eldest daughter of the same house, Milani Gregor;

The daughter of Count Jesu of Moonlight Valley, Sally Auduin.

“I heard Milani cousin is betrothed to Cross—likely to marry within the next two years,” Blanche continued.

“And Sally cousin is a mid-level mage. Uncle Jesu wants her to marry into the Fleming family, the famed magical lineage.”

So these three men and two women weren’t merely friends—they were bound by marriage alliances, some already sealed, others imminent.

As Blanche spoke, Roning frowned. (End of Chapter)