"Is this supposed to be a jest, Lord Elion?" Lucien asked, looking slightly disgusted at the sight of Blanc.
He was not the only one present who thought the same, as Celine looked shocked to see the state the man who entered was in.
Neither were Fiamma and her son, however, they looked more curious and amused by this sudden change than disturbed.
"No, my Lord Lucien. Let me present to you my second son, Blanc of Blood Denegis, son of my wife Mera," Elion spoke, confirming his legitimacy.
Rude, thought Blanc, walking as nobly and as straight as he could, despite the limp and the disaster his clothes were in.
But it took him longer than expected to skin the lynx and get back in his current condition, so there was no helping it, for as soon as he saw the carriages in front of the mansion, he knew he didn't have time to either change or bathe.
"Once again, I apologize for my disturbing sight, but the gift I had in mind was more difficult to acquire than I thought it would, as you can see."
Lucien rose from his chair, walking straight towards Blanc, "And what is this gift you speak of so highly, if you do not mind me asking?"
"Not in the slightest, Lord Maroux. Before that, though, if you would forgive me, may I ask for the name of your daughter?"
Lady Celine of Blood Maroux was the first to approach him, now standing a few feet away from Blanc's eyes.
It pleased him to see that his mother had not exaggerated in her praise. She was his age, perhaps slightly older, yet her wheat-blonde hair and sapphire blue eyes drew his attention immediately. That, and the graceful beauty of her figure, made it hard for him not to stare, even as he directed his question to her father.
"Of course. Forgive me," Lord Lucien said with a polite smile, though clearly not amused by Blanc's question, "May I present my firstborn daughter, Celine of Blood Maroux."
"I'm honored, Lord Maroux, for indulging my selfish question," Blanc said, bowing deeply before turning to Celine. "Lady Celine, forgive my current state. Once I present you the gift, I shall take my leave to wash and dress properly, as a man who may soon have the honor of becoming your husband."
"Leave the flattery, Lord Blanc, and get to the point," Celine replied coolly, unimpressed by both his paradoxical attire and his speech.
"As my Lady wishes," Blanc answered, bowing slightly, hiding a faint grin beneath his composure.
As all this unfolded, the others watched with deep curiosity, or, in the case of Blood Denegis, with mounting worry.
Their son and brother, Blanc, stood before them like a hurricane, making even the gentle sipping of tea and wine cease.
All eyes were fixed on the sack slung over his shoulder, made from a rough cloth none of them remembered seeing on him before, wondering anxiously what he was about to reveal.
As he took it down from his shoulder and laid it at the feet of Lady Celine and Lord Lucien, he began unwrapping it, piece by piece.
Both Lucien's and Celine's eyes widened as they caught sight of the three objects hidden within the cloth.
The first was the pelt of a lynx. The back was a deep, earthy brown. The color of soil, bark, and all things that aged with dignity.
Black spots were scattered across it, countless, with each spot unique in shape and size. Wild stars thrown across a muddied sky.
And the belly was white as river foam under moonlight, so soft to touch it seemed barely real under the fingertips of Celine and Lucien, who were beyond captivated by its beauty as they dragged their fingers over it.
"This is wonderful, Blanc," said Lucien, returning to his feet, "Is this a gift that you, yourself, hunted?"
"Indeed it is, my Lord Maroux, I-"
"Call me Lucien, I would allow it," smiled Lucien, this time, the smile actually appearing real.
"Very well… uh, Lucien," Blanc began, uncertain if it was proper to address the Patriarch of a Crownbound Blood by his first name, but deciding to follow his request nonetheless. "The beast was put to rest less than four hours ago. Between then and now, I skinned it myself and returned, though I made a brief stop at a butcher to ensure the quality of the pelt and make minor adjustments. My work wasn't perfect as I skinned it immediately after harvesting its Raw Vita."
"Can you prove that?" Celine asked, back to her feet, watching Blanc intensely, her interest clearly rising.
After all, such gifts were more valued than jewelry ever could be. Everyone present had gold and the capabilities to buy whatever they wanted, but not everyone present would risk their lives hunting a beast to prove themselves to someone they had never met before.
"Uh, yes," Blanc replied, kneeling next to the pelt, "Here, you can see the wound that killed it, a swift stab in the neck with this knife."
His explanation was clear, easy to follow, indicating and proving he was telling the truth, by also showing the part of the pelt where the wound was, as well as the knife he killed it with, clearly dirty with blood.
"Thank you, but I meant the Mark of the Lynx. You said you have harvested its Raw Vita, so forgive me if I ask you to show me," Celine clarified, her eyes studying his face.
"Ah, not at all, my Lady. You can see it for yourself," Blanc said, lifting his forearm for all to see, where the outline of many spots covered his skin. "The beast wasn't the only one that got wounded. My clothes suffered too, and so did my arm. The wound the Lynx gave me was healed by the Mark when it appeared, and since the sleeve was ruined by its teeth, I wouldn't have been able to hide it anyway."
"Fascinating," Lucien muttered, studying the Mark on his forearm.
"This gift is yours to take, Lady Celine, even if we get engaged or not," Blanc muttered, raising the pelt towards her.
"I am honored by such a wonderful gift, Lord Blanc. I'll treasure it, whatever the outcome of tonight may be," Celine said, offering him a genuine, breathtaking smile.
A smile, one he lingered on for quite a long moment, dazed him until he remembered he had more to offer.
The second gift, though not as striking as the first, was two simple string necklaces, each adorned with a large fang at its end.
"And these," Blanc said, turning to her with a soft smile, "I prepared in case tonight goes well. The string is temporary; it can be replaced with something finer if you wish. But if we are to be engaged, I would like us both to wear one."
Celine watched him intently, searching for truths or perhaps hidden lies behind his eyes, questioning if the smile he wore was a trap. Yet she found nothing, not even the words to speak.
"Lord Elion," spoke Lucien.
"My Lord Lucien?" replied Elion, rising to his feet, his demeanor more confident after he witnessed what his son brought.
"You have quite the splendid son; I see no reason for refusing such a marriage," Lucien smiled, turning towards him.
"I am honored by your praise," Elion bowed.
"Lady Mera, Lady Auren, splendid work you did raising your son. A woman can only hope her son will be just the same," Fiamma smiled while caressing her son's hair, who had a slight look of annoyance while watching Blanc.
"Lady Fiamma, your praise alone made everything worth it," Mera said, bowing gracefully. Auren joined her a moment later, both women beaming with pride.
"Now I must ask you to forgive me, my Lords and Ladies, for a few minutes while I go and change my clothes into something more proper for the occasion," Blanc said, interrupting the praise-throwing competition happening at the table.
"Go, my son. You will find us here," Elion nodded with a smile.
With a light bow to the guests and a quick look around at his family, who either smiled back or nodded in agreement, Blanc took his leave from the main hall, happy with how everything went.
For better or worse, this is the best outcome I could get, thought Blanc, as he climbed the stairs.
The day made itself from one of the worst he's ever had to one of the best.
Considering everything that happened, the alliance with Blood Maroux was nothing but assured with this. Yet he couldn't get complacent.
The reason he ran away into the forest was still as real as the reason alliances had to be made. The Iron Line was coming, and he was still not as strong as he wished to be. Proof of that was the fact that he could not harvest True Vita yet.
If he were to try that now, he would die, consumed from the inside by the soul of the creature. He was not ready yet. His body was not ready yet.
No Bloodshard yet formed in his heart to be able to harvest True Vita. It will still take a lot of killing beasts to be able to form one. And even if he had one, there wasn't a creature holding True Vita for at least a few hundred miles from here.
And the High Monarch was dead, to be able to agree to his request to hunt one.
Many things were still missing. In him, and all around him. He cursed them all in his mind. Yet, he knew no amount of cursing could change that, nor postpone the arrival of four million soldiers at their doorstep.
So as he entered his room to grab better clothes for the occasion, the only thing he could hope for was that the alliance offered to them by Sera's marriage would also go well, even though he didn't like the boy his sister was to be engaged with for some reason.
"War is close, now… let's get engaged," he muttered, clothes in hand as he headed for the bath.