Chapter 71: Banquet
Raven reached the doors instantly, bowing as a tall young man stepped inside—his sharp gaze, regal attire, and unmistakable Spade bloodline.
"Welcome, Young Master Finnegan," Raven said warmly. "We are honored by your presence."
Finnegan stared at him like a blade ready to cut.
"And who," he asked coldly, "are you?"
Finnegan spared Raven only a cold glance before shoving past him.
Raven staggered a half-step—not from the force, but from the sheer audacity.
Finnegan didn't even look back. He walked straight toward the cluster of noble youths surrounding Collin Spade.
From across the hall, Leonard let out a low chuckle.
"Serves him right for trying to cozy up to Lady Daisy."
"But…" Theodore's voice turned uneasy. "If Finnegan isn't here for Thomas, then who—"
Adolf felt the same disquiet twisting in his gut.
Gunner's earlier words echoed in his mind.
Count might also come.
Leonard snorted. "Or perhaps they came to watch a sinking ship. Holmes thinks he can claw back into nobility with fancy art and roasted meat? He'll need more than window dressing."
Adolf didn't reply, but doubt gnawed at him.
If Thomas Holmes was truly the weak fool nobles mocked for years, then what exactly was this banquet?
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden hush rippling across the hall.
All chatter died.
A guard's voice echoed:
"Viscountess Rowena of House Stormwatch has arrived."
Adolf stiffened. "Rowena… is a Viscountess now?!"
Gasps spread. Even seasoned nobles straightened their backs.
Two guards pulled the doors wide, revealing a silver-haired woman in an elegant red gown, a bonnet shading her calm, regal expression. Her gaze swept the hall once—sharp, assessing—before she advanced.
Then came more announcements:
"Baron Gideon of Frostvale has arrived."
"Baroness Elara of Shadowfen has arrived."
"Viscount Thorean of Valeheart has arrived."
One after another, notable nobles arrived—far too many for a mere knight's banquet.
Something did not add up.
Adolf's unease deepened.
These weren't the type of nobles who paid attention to crumbling houses.
"Lord Reynard of House Helbourn has arrived."
"Sir Eamon of House Valtier has arrived."
Adolf took another glass of wine—but froze after the first sip.
This wine was old, rich, unmistakably imported.
The roasted pheasant gleamed with a golden crust, infused with herbs not commonly used in Giaris.
The servants' uniforms—embroidered, tailored, accented with discreet jewelry—belonged in royal estates, not failing knight households.
This level of preparation… more than 20,000 gold coins must have been poured in.
Adolf's chest tightened.
Holmes House is supposed to be collapsing. Why does this place feel like a noble's resurgence instead of a downfall?
Then—
Silence fell again.
Every noble in the hall turned toward the entrance.
The guard stepped forward, voice ringing with authority:
"Lord Andres of Spade House has arrived!"
A wave of reverence rolled through the hall.
A silver-armored young knight pushed the doors open, making way for a tall middle-aged man—broad-shouldered, composed, dressed in a black vest and top hat. His presence alone commanded respect.
Almost all nobles rushed forward to greet Count Andres.
Raven did not move.
He simply watched from a distance, face unreadable.
His patience with these nobles had long since frayed.
Count Andres greeted Viscountess Rowena and the others when yet another announcement broke the crowd's rhythm.
"Young Master Daley of Findlay House has arrived!"
For a heartbeat, the hall went silent.
"Findlay?" whispers rippled.
"House Findlay… is that?"
"One of the Twelve Ancient Houses?!"
Shock flashed across every face—even Finnegan, Collin, and Daisy paused.
Count Andres halted mid-greeting and spun toward the entrance.
A young man with snowy-white hair and calm bluish eyes stepped inside, carrying a wooden suitcase. His tailored velvet coat caught the chandelier's glow like starlight.
Every breath in the hall stilled.
Count Andres didn't waste a second. He strode toward Daley with almost urgent respect.
"It's an honor to meet you, Young Master Findlay," he said, extending his hand.
Daley bowed lightly. "Pleasure is mine, Lord Count."
"How is your father? He worried deeply when I met him at the Royal Banquet… said you'd lost motivation and isolated yourself."
"You know my father?" Daley blinked.
"We were comrades-in-arms during the Crimson Fort War." Andres smiled. "I'm surprised you came. Never has a mere Knight Household attracted a guest from the ancient families."
"You shouldn't call this house a 'mere Knight Household' anymore, Andres."
A silvery voice drifted across the hall.
Everyone turned.
The guard raised his voice:
"Anastasia of House Ravenshield has arrived!"
A silver-haired woman in a flowing blue gown entered gracefully, her every step echoing nobility. She smiled politely as the hall held its breath.
Daley bowed immediately. "Lady Anastasia—it has been a while."
"I didn't expect to see you here." Anastasia nodded, then turned to Count Andres.
He greeted her with both hands over his chest. "It is an honor, My Lady."
"Pleasure is mine, Count," she replied.
Then she shifted her attention back to Daley.
"Strange… That brat rarely likes talented people. Why would he befriend someone who 'failed' at the academy?"
She released a burst of spirit power—light but probing.
Her eyes widened.
Radiant Wizard…?
"Daley Findlay," she murmured, stunned. "You supposedly failed to construct your third spell model and were expelled. So why do you have the spirit power of a Radiant Wizard?"
Count Andres felt his jaw drop.
"Young Master Daley is… a Radiant Wizard?!"
"What frightening talent. If the world discovers this—" She paused. "Is this your father's doing?"
Daley chuckled. "I suppose I can't hide it from an Expert Wizard. And no—my father doesn't know."
Before she could pry further—
"You shouldn't invade a person's privacy, My Lady," Raven said coolly, stepping toward them.
Anastasia froze—then smiled faintly.
"Well, well. Mr. Holmes. I expected you to hold a grudge after that incident. Never thought you'd invite me."
"It has been a long time." Raven waved a hand dismissively. "It wasn't your doing. I let go of that matter years ago."
Daley smiled warmly. "Good to see you again, Mr. Holmes."
Raven nodded. "Likewise. You've grown… stronger than before."
Daley's smile widened. He opened the suitcase and pulled out a golden bracelet.
"I've been tight on money since leaving my house, but I managed to get this for you."
Raven raised a brow. "Daley…"
"It's called the Guardian Bracelet—"
"It's a set item," Anastasia cut in.
Raven blinked. "Set item?"
She nodded. "A rare-rank Rune Set created by the Sterlinghart Family. Wizards from the Alliance and Union often collaborate on these. A set usually includes rings, amulets, bracelets, boots, armor, weapons, and helms. When a Walker equips an entire set, they can stand against magical beasts of equal rank."
Raven accepted the bracelet with both hands, sincerity softening his gaze.
"Thank you, Daley."
Daley smiled quietly.
And the entire hall watched as the "ruined heir"—Thomas Holmes—stood flanked by an Ancient Household scion and a Ravenshield.
For the first time…
No one dared laugh.
The cluster of nobles edged closer, drawn in by curiosity or greed—Raven couldn't tell which. He raised his wrist, letting the translucent screen flicker before his eyes.
[Name: Guardian's Bracelet
Rank: Rare
Abilities:
• 15% Physical Resistance
• Rank-2 Wind Shield — Cooldown: 1 hr
• Rank-3 Fatal Miss — Cooldown: 1 day]
Wind Shield is useful… and Fatal Miss? Even better. Raven hid the small grin threatening to tug at his lips and slipped the bracelet onto his wrist.
Anastasia exhaled softly, as though Raven had backed her into a difficult corner. "Now I look stingy," she murmured, reaching into her spatial ring. She drew out a polished wooden box, warm reddish grain catching the candlelight.
"This isn't as grand as the Guardian's Bracelet," she admitted, "but its value shouldn't fall short."
Raven lifted the lid. The world sharpened.
Inside, nestled in velvet, a single vial glowed faintly blue—alive, almost pulsing.
His monocle shimmered as he focused.
"…Hoo." The breath escaped him, unbidden.
An Ability Potion.
The murmurs around them swelled as the realization spread. Ability potions weren't luxury items—they were destiny changers.
Eight types of potions. The classifications rolled through his mind like instinct.
Attribute. Booster. Recovery. Special. Combat. Transformation. Ability. Affinity.
This one… this one was the seventh.
Hawk Eye Potion — Permanently grants the Rank-2 ability 'Eye of the Hawk'.
A Marksman would kill for it. Raven wasn't a Marksman—but Raven wasn't foolish either.
This is worth more than fifty thousand gold…
He bowed. "My Lady… thank you."
Across from them, Count Andres's expression twisted—first surprise, then calculation, and finally a spark of something Raven hadn't expected.
Hope.
He thinks the Oracle is talking about me…
"It seems I'm being left behind," Andres said, half joking, half nervous. From his spatial ring, he pulled a sheathed sword—long, narrow, and unmistakably Elven steel.
He offered it with both hands.
[Name: Knight's Sword
Rank: Uncommon
Abilities:
Moonlit Execution — Unleashes a higher-rank Sword Aura for 3 seconds. Severe mental drain.]
Even Anastasia blinked. "You're giving that? Andres, since when were you this generous?"
Gasps rippled through the hall. His own sons wore expressions that danced between disbelief and horror.
Count Andres never gave gifts. Not to strangers. Not to Knights. Only to people who mattered—Viscounts and Barons.
Yet here he was, offering one to a young man he'd once mocked.
Finnegan's eyes narrowed. He studied Raven under a new light.
Andres smiled lightly, trying to hide the tension in his jaw. "A small token, Mr. Holmes. If the Houses of Ravenshield and Findlay see something in you, I'd be a fool not to."
Whispers swirled like wildfire.
Thomas Holmes… who exactly is he?
Raven thanked him and turned back to the assembly.
Anastasia tilted her head. "Come to think of it… you never explained why you invited us."
Daley folded his arms, equally curious.
Andres's brows lifted, realization cracking through his calm. "Wait… don't tell me—"
Raven cleared his throat. A servant stepped forward, placing a wine glass in his hand. He raised it, letting the room settle.
"Thank you all for coming to the Holmes Mansion," he began.
The chatter died.
"At first, I believed a quiet life after losing everything would be enough." His fingers tightened around the glass. "But then I was kidnapped. And while I struggled to survive, everyone in my mansion was killed."
Several nobles flinched, eyes shifting away.
"No one cared when I disappeared for six months. Not one of you." His tone didn't accuse—but the truth landed heavier than steel. "I realized then—if I don't become strong, I can't protect anyone."
The hall held its breath.
"And so," Raven said, voice steady, "I've decided to reclaim the Azmar Territory."
Shock detonated across the room.
Azmar.
The land nobles refused to touch. Monster-infested. Resource-drained. Abandoned.
"Impossible…" someone whispered.
Andres leaned forward, frowning deeply. "The Empire calls Azmar non-habitable. Rocky soil, clay soil… the land is unfit for farming. Dangerous. The Holmes family only survived through hunting and trade."
[What a convenient lie.] Zera's voice drifted through his mind. [You've seen the red earth. And the quartz mountain. And the gold traces.]
Raven sipped his wine. "I heard some people still live there. Merchants… archaeologists." His gaze sharpened. "How does an archaeological team survive in a 'non-habitable' place for decades?"
Silence.
He'd struck the heart of the lie.
The nobles exchanged tense looks, unable—or unwilling—to answer.
Count Andres's eyes tightened. He had said too much already, and every extra word risked peeling back the curtain on his involvement. He forced a calm smile as he steered the conversation away.
"How did you learn such details, Mr. Holmes?" His tone carried a veneer of concern, but the tremor beneath it betrayed him. "If an archaeological team is hiding there, the law will deal with them. According to Imperial law, the Azmar Territory is still yours. None but a member of the Holmes Family may claim it. As the rightful lord, you hold full authority to reclaim it."
He paused, gauging the room.
"And once reclaimed, you will have the right to establish an official Knight Squad under your command." His smile grew a shade too wide. "I can even support you. The 3rd Spade Squad is available—coincidentally, its captain, Finnegan, is present."
Every noble stiffened.
"I could appoint him to lead your expedition. Help you eliminate the… obstacles."
The hall seemed to freeze. A few nobles turned toward Finnegan, who stood rigid, jaw clenched, eyes unreadable.
Raven didn't miss the flicker in Andres's gaze, nor Finnegan's briefly widened eyes.
Behind the polished courtesy, a trap lay wide open.
The Count's private army numbered fifty thousand. His Spade Squads were elite—Radiant Walkers, handpicked and trained. Lending one wasn't generosity.
It was conquest dressed as kindness.
If Raven accepted, it wouldn't be he who reclaimed Azmar. It would be Finnegan. Finnegan would return a hero, sung by bards, praised by nobles. Raven would be dragged behind him like an afterthought.
And I would become a forgotten footnote in my own victory.
He bowed respectfully. "Your offer honors me, My Lord. But Azmar is my burden. My heart won't rest unless I reclaim it myself."
A ripple spread through the hall—shock, admiration, irritation.
"And afterward," Raven continued, meeting every eye, "I will need your support to rebuild it. Azmar can become a prosperous city—with the backing of Spade Council members."
Anastasia laughed, bright and unrestrained. "That's how a young lord should speak," she declared, patting his shoulder.
Count Andres's smile stiffened. "If that is your decision, Mr. Holmes. My offer remains open."
Raven nodded politely and turned to the watching nobles. "Once I reclaim the town, I'll visit each estate. We can discuss trade, resources, and development. If we work together, Azmar will flourish."