As time went by, the Dragonblood Festival arrived even before the finals.
On the day of the festival, the entire capital exploded into holiday-like joy. From early morning, people drank, performed rituals, and tied Zijinghua vines around their doorframes—an homage to Zijinghua's founding monarch, famed for heavy drinking and hearty laughter.
By noon, it was time for the modern monarch's procession.
Nine dragon-dance troupes—each hundreds strong, brimming with pent-up energy—charged down the capital's busiest main street, forming a single, surging wave. The dragons' long tails streamed behind them, winding endlessly onward.
Only afterward did the grand flower carriage carrying Empress Tivira Norton solemnly appear. As it moved along, it scattered droplets of holy water like dew, granting blessings to the crowd.
The cheers from the masses lined along both sides of the street surged into the sky. Even the most arrogant nobles lowered their heads and offered their salutes—after all, leading the procession was Reinhardt Rossrian, the Lion of the North, who placed his right hand over his heart and bowed slightly, demonstrating a textbook knightly salute.
No one objected.
Because that respect was not solely for the Empress—it included the nine previous monarchs of Zijinghua, each similarly bathed in dragonblood.
If one had to name anyone displeased during such a joyful festival, it would be the priests hidden in the capital's various churches—places already empty even on normal days.
"Good afternoon, Father Eris. Looks like you don't have visitors today either."
Outside the Church of Holy Light, a tall, thin priest sneered at the church across the street.
"Same goes for you. Your total believers this month didn't even reach twenty, right?"
The Moon priest—round as a barrel—returned a similarly sharp smile.
Then, the two priests who'd just traded insults simultaneously revealed bitter, helpless expressions.
Damn it. I'm trying to insult him, but I'm the one about to cry.
For priests who left the Holy Kingdom to spread divine grace abroad, being stationed in a powerful empire's capital was usually a dream posting.
Except in the Zijinghua Empire.
The reason wasn't because the Holy Kingdom was distant. It was simply that anyone with eyes could see this country already had a deeply-rooted faith.
And it wasn't in any deity of the heavenly realm.
It was in the Empress seated atop the royal carriage.
In a sense, Zijinghua was more frightening for priests than an active war zone—because for men dedicated to spreading divine revelation, nothing was more despairing than facing a formidable competitor who'd existed from the start. Worse still, they couldn't openly attack her or denounce her as a false god…
"Where's old man Anel? Haven't seen him all day."
Father Eris from the Moon Church glanced toward the tightly shut doors of the Earth Church.
"He couldn't beat 'em, so he joined 'em…"
The lanky priest from the Holy Light Church pointed into the distance. Indeed, an elderly priest with graying hair and beard was enthusiastically jostling through the crowd, catching droplets of the blessed holy water scattered by the Empress.
The fat priest and the thin priest exchanged glances, sighing.
Truthfully, the Zijinghua Empire had never intentionally suppressed church growth. It was simply that the Norton family's radiance was overwhelming, leaving no space for other divine blessings.
If priests were willing to sacrifice a little—first winning over a few minor but respected nobles—they might improve the situation from the ground up. Unfortunately, with the low status priests held in Zijinghua, no noble would waste time befriending them.
Thus, churches preaching in Zijinghua often found themselves trapped in a vicious cycle.
No believers meant no donations, no income, and no influence. Without income or influence, nobles wouldn't take them seriously. Without noble support, they couldn't possibly compete with the Empress for believers…
"I heard all the biggest figures in the capital will attend tonight's banquet after the Dragonblood Festival. If I could just sneak into that banquet—even without doing anything—it might boost our church's reputation."
Father Eris rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Don't get any funny ideas."
Father Clay, the tall priest, promptly threw cold water over his dream.
"Sneaking into some small party to mooch food and drink—fine, worst case you get beaten up and tossed out. But thinking about sneaking into the post-festival banquet? Got a death wish?"
"Sneaking in obviously isn't acceptable. But if invited, wouldn't that be different?"
A crisp, pleasant female voice spoke up. The two priests turned to find a blonde girl in a long blue dress, bowing lightly.
Yet for some reason, she seemed drenched in grievance.
"And you are…?"
The priests looked openly confused.
"I'm Prince Linen's messenger. I'm here to invite the two of you—and Mr. Anel from the Earth Church—to tonight's banquet, provided you're willing to do His Highness a small favor."
Novie smiled, drawing two invitations from her spatial ring under the suddenly fervent gazes of the two priests.
In truth, the girl was not nearly as composed as she appeared. Her gaze drifted repeatedly toward the single feature the two priests shared despite belonging to different churches.
At their waists, each carried a finely crafted pistol.
Judging from scorch marks on the grips and worn belts, these clearly weren't decorative toys nobles enjoyed showing off.
Exactly as Linen said.
Novie felt quietly startled. Even her resentment at being sent to deliver invitations instead of chosen as an escort had considerably eased.
But thinking about it still made Novie—usually obedient to a fault—slightly annoyed at Linen.
Jerk. Using "we're siblings" as an excuse not to pick me was one thing, but making me run errands on top of it?
What's next—making me push you around too?!
Shaking off those chaotic thoughts, Novie returned her gaze to the two priests, who awaited her explanation.
Priests who traveled on foot all the way from the distant Holy Kingdom to preach abroad didn't rely primarily on supportive divine arts or the holy books they carried.
...
After the Empress's royal procession ended, the festival's peak seemingly began to fade.
But for the people truly qualified to participate, it was just beginning.
On the outskirts of the capital, inside a magnificent castle owned by the Empress, countless luxurious carriages had already arrived early, bringing guests for the true celebration.
Everyone wore suitably polite smiles. They sipped wine elegantly in the banquet hall, chatting pleasantly with those around them.
Naturally, most of their discussions revolved around recent news.
Two individuals in particular became the hottest topics.
One was Reinhardt Rossrian, firmly holding court at the banquet's center, surrounded by the heads of the Five Great Houses. The other was the rising star—Prince Linen.
Whether due to his impressive performance in the Spring Cup or the "coincidence" of his participation in the Artificer's Exam, people couldn't stop talking about him.
In fact, Linen's buzz exceeded even that of the Duke of the North's unexpected visit.
After all, many Arcana Mages in the capital came from Eden Academy, and discussing an emerging prince was far less stressful than talking about a legendary knight.
More importantly, Linen hadn't arrived yet—so nobody worried about him overhearing.
A few young nobles from the Five Great Houses glanced toward the entrance. Not seeing Linen, their lips curled.
"Late for everything, no matter the occasion. If you didn't know better, you'd think Prince Linen was already the crown heir."
"Watch your mouth, Hyatt."
A young noble standing tall and upright, with an annoyingly styled little wave of hair, reprimanded his companion. Clearly, he had higher status among them.
"The ladies are watching. Mind your speech."
"What kind of person makes even young master Medel care—"
Hyatt muttered, instinctively following the other man's gaze. His heart jolted.
"That princess is here too!"
All the nobles—especially the young men—immediately sucked in their stomachs, squared their shoulders, and straightened their clothes, terrified of making a bad impression on the foreign princess from afar.
Indeed, the only foreign princess qualified to attend the Dragonblood Festival was Hysteria Baier.
At the banquet hall's entrance, Hysteria and Elena stood as if waiting for someone.
Tonight, both girls had deliberately dressed up. Elena's hair curled gently at the ends, while Hysteria wore her trademark red twin-drills.
They wore matching off-shoulder evening gowns—one red, one white. Beneath the slightly slit hems, pale legs flashed faintly, their delicate feet shining in strappy high heels.
The true difference lay in the chest area.
Elena's fabric arched proudly, revealing a hint of creamy skin. Meanwhile, Hysteria's chest, dressed in red lace, could only be described as… convincingly fake.
It had its own kind of charm.
Unfortunately, there was no "stealing glances" going on. That was just one of the classic three illusions—she's looking at me.
Hysteria had neither the interest nor the patience to glance at anyone. She'd merely heard a certain someone's name and instinctively looked over, and now Her Highness the princess was grinding her teeth.
"That bastard… If Her Majesty hadn't sent me an invitation, I wouldn't even have known he was coming tonight!"
Hysteria folded her arms, fuming. Elena smiled indulgently at her.
As a princess studying abroad, Hysteria naturally qualified for an invitation to the Dragonblood Festival banquet. Elena hadn't intended to attend, but she couldn't withstand Her Highness's persistent pestering, both soft and hard—so she came along.
Of course, Elena had her own small intentions too.
She'd overheard other noble girls in class say that Her Majesty allowed Linen to bring one female escort to the banquet.
But so far, no one from their class seemed invited.
Meaning… the spot at Linen's side might still be empty.
If she "just happened" to be here, would he invite her?
As for Hysteria—she didn't openly say anything, but between her dreamy giggles, smugness, occasional hands-on-hips poses, and all those rumors linking her with Linen, nearly everyone could guess her thoughts—and whom she was waiting for.
Initially, a few brave young nobles from the Five Great Houses approached to strike up conversation, but all they received was a single, curt dismissal:
"Get lost."
One thin-skinned man even snapped, loudly reprimanding her vulgarity at such an event, only to receive Her Highness's icy retort:
"Yeah. I've got no class."
After this spectacle, fewer men dared to approach.
Women, however, had someone step forward.
"Good evening, Elena."
A short-haired beauty greeted Elena.
"You're… Kaya Mistry?"
Elena recognized her: a classmate from the Trish artificer class, a member of the Golden Court, and a daughter of House Mistry—one of the Eight Great Houses leaning toward the Empress's faction.
Tonight, the noblewoman wore an evening dress highlighting her figure, yet her style remained slightly androgynous—cool and sharp.
"Just call me Kaya. Are you two waiting for His Highness the prince?"
Kaya asked with a smile.
"You could say that."
Elena replied, slightly embarrassed. Her impression of this classmate was quite favorable.
Hysteria initially wasn't pleased about this newcomer chatting them up, but Kaya had a natural charisma. Given the boredom of waiting, the three of them began to chat casually. Before long, Hysteria became the most animated of the group, enthusiastically inviting her two "dear sisters from different parents" to visit her palace sometime…
Without meaning to, Kaya ended up lumped into the "waiting for Linen" group. So when people saw the number of beauties waiting at the entrance for Linen grow from two to three—and each one a unique style...
A faint, sour jealousy drifted through the hall, particularly among the young noblemen…
Meanwhile, experienced playboys couldn't help but pity the Prince Linen they'd never met.
Putting aside Princess Hysteria—who clearly wasn't easy—the lady in white also seemed complicated. Every now and then, something sharp flashed through her eyes that felt even more dangerous than the princess herself.
Whichever one he chose, something seemed bound to go wrong.
Hopefully His Highness survives.
...
"Are you certain he'll come?"
At the center of the banquet hall, Reinhardt suddenly turned to the head of House Morris, one of the Five Great Houses.
The man's expression shifted. Only after cautiously checking his surroundings did he lean closer to Reinhardt.
"Rest assured, Your Grace. It's confirmed—aside from the First Prince, who isn't in the capital, every Norton family member will attend tonight's banquet."
He paused, then smiled cruelly.
"Besides, Linen Norton was specifically marked for death by the Tower of Chronomancy. How could I neglect thoroughly tracking his movements? He might be delayed, but he'll certainly come."
Reinhardt nodded silently. Afterward, he said nothing more, only further deepening the oppressive atmosphere.
...
Meanwhile, at the second-floor window of a room in the castle, Quinn Norton—wearing a silver off-shoulder evening dress—leaned casually against the frame, swirling red wine in her glass, her eyes playful.
"Linen… you won't chicken out at a time like this, will you?"
Smiling, she downed her wine in one gulp, flushing her cheeks attractively.
She was also slightly curious—which of those two girls had the better odds of becoming her number-one sister-in-law?
...
And amidst this atmosphere, a carriage bearing the Norton family crest slowly approached from the end of the road.
The Empress and Second Princess Quinn had never left the palace, and Princess Noraviel wouldn't use the Norton family crest on such an occasion.
Thus, the passenger's identity practically announced itself.
The carriage approached the castle entrance, smoothly coming to a stop under the coachman's impeccable handling—not a single jolt. The door opened, and Linen, formally dressed, stepped down at a calm, steady pace.
Finally—Linen had arrived. Who knew how many people inside silently released breaths they hadn't realized they'd been holding.
Only Hysteria's frustration chose that exact moment to explode.
"You bas—"
"So you're already here."
Linen's relieved tone made the girl shudder, her cheeks instantly flushed pink.
"W-what… what are you saying? Don't talk nonsense."
"Sorry, sorry."
Linen chuckled and shook his head.