The Prince in Question Is Not Stable

Chapter 73: The Banquet of Marcus Rile (3)

The Royal Palace of Celesties was slightly elevated above the rest of the capital. Enough to view the entirety of the Capital Lunar.

The outer walls were pale stones, polished smooth. The surface was matte, cut to reduce the glare under sunlight. The edges were sharp, and the towers were placed for overlapping lines of sight.

Lighting was handled by enclosed glass lamps fixed to the walls. And a thin veil of mana draped the whole castle to create a perfect environment, a climate just after the rain.

Marcus observed the flicker of the lamps that were placed in the open courtyard walls. They didn’t do much, except for a slight visual effect.

At the main gate, far ahead on the path beyond the entry gates of the castle, carriages were stopped in line on a wide stone platform.

Every carriage looked like it belonged to a noble, and countless fleets were being arranged as Marcus’s carriage moved forward without disturbance.

Spacing between carriages wasn’t equal. A delay somewhere, a slight advance somewhere

Marcus’s carriage crossed past the line; it didn’t stop where the others did.

The carriage came to a halt at the secondary platform, slightly removed from the main line. Marcus glanced out the window once and then back at Graves.

"You know what your task is, Graves," He said.

"Indeed, Count. I have memorised the names of every person who is gathered within this castle." Graves replied.

Graves opened the doors of the carriage, and Marcus stepped out without waiting for the footman.

The air was colder than outside the castle, faintly damp with the soft scent of rain-mud.

Marcus straightened his cuffs and adjusted his tie before walking forward.

There was no insignia of Rile County, no academic decoration, either in the castle or the Carriage. Marcus noted this first.

He walked towards the entrance, and the guards at the main doors registered him before he reached them. Graves followed Marcus in his own disguise.

The guards stomped their feet once and opened the massive golden doors of the Castle of Celesties.

"Entering Now." The Guards spoke in perfect Unison, attracting the attention of every single man and woman in the room.

"Professor of Lunar, the academic. Master of trade and strategies of Merchantry, Bearer of Wisdom and Strength alike."

"Honoured guest of the Crown this Night."

"Marcus Rile, Count of the Riles."

The announcement cut through every conversation simultaneously. Heads turned by each passing moment, some forgot their words mid-sentence, some set down their glasses of wine, but all looked in one direction.

Marcus stood at the entrance for a moment. He looked at the hall, how a royal banquet hall should be.

High ceilings with suspended glass lamps running on mana channels, long tables arranged to allow movement.

He stood at the entrance for three seconds.

In those three seconds, he located every significant figure in the room, mapped natural clusters of conversations, identified the two exits beyond the main doors, noted which tables had been visited, and which hadn’t, and registered the specific quality of noise. The pitch, the rhythm, of a gathering that had been running for approximately forty minutes before his arrival.

Cassian Celestie was standing near the far end of the hall. Blonde hair, red eyes, golden rimmed spectacles over a plain white royal suit.

Marcus scoffed and gestured at Graves. Graves then took out two pouches of gold coins and handed one to each guard, who announced his name.

"Tip for the work," Graves nodded, and the guards seemed happy for that.

Marcus crossed the room; he didn’t meet any nobles or even glance at one.

He just casually walked, listening to the soft grand piano melody being played at the back of the room.

By the time he arrived, the minor lord who had been talking to the Prince stepped away at Cassian’s gesture.

"Your highness," Marcus said.

Cassian looked at Marcus for a moment. He was waiting for Marcus to bow in greeting...but he didn’t.

"Count Rile," after some moments, Cassian spoke.

"I wasn’t sure you’d come," he said.

"Would be rude to miss your own party, Prince," Marcus replied.

"But, a banquet in one’s honour is a strange thing. It belongs to everyone except the person it’s named for." He added.

Cassian nodded and thought for a moment.

"You haven’t changed much, Count," Cassian said.

"Publicity. Doesn’t change the man behind it," Marcus replied.

"That is indeed true. Would you like to join me for a few drinks before we continue with the banquet?" Cassian asked, and before expecting an answer, he turned around, moving towards the back door of the halls.

The knights on those doors tapped the hilt of their swords once, sending a mild resonance across the castle, and the doors opened up on their own.

"Very well," Marcus said to himself and followed. He gestured for Graves to stay in the halls.

.

.

.

The doors behind them closed with the soft sound of a click.

The private chamber was of decent size considering the hall outside. A round table, four chairs, a decanter already breathing on the sideboard.

Someone had prepared it in advance.

Cassian moved to the sideboard and poured himself, then paused with the second glass in hand.

A question without words.

Marcus nodded once.

Cassian poured and brought both glasses to the table, setting one in front of the chair across from his own. He sat with the ease of a man in his natural habitat.

"Your assistant?" Cassian observed.

"He has things to do, as do you," Marcus replied.

Cassian smiled at that and took a small sip.

"The Krell situation resolved itself rather cleanly." He said.

"Duke Mordrak’s reputation took the damage, Nicholas’s house is gone, and the rebellion that was being seeded so carefully was delayed. Perhaps permanently."

"Perhaps," Marcus said.

"I’m not sure," he said across Cassian.

"As for Nicholas, his wife and kids are alive and well cared for under the Court officials’ surveillance and the academy," Marcus replied.

"But I have to agree, you moved very precisely in a situation that had very few precise angles," Cassian commented.

Marcus nodded slowly and took a sip.

"Crescenda," Cassian spoke again. "I read every report twice." He paused.

"The official bulletin, Amavelle Records, Academy notice, the silver current...all of it."

Marcus said nothing.

"A marquis-ranked demon," Cassian continued, "Contained by a county professor, and a court official whose profile has empty dashes, but I also understand bureaucratic language tends toward understatement,"

"Which is why I find the gap worth examining, and this time, your achievements weren’t mere rumours," he said.

The decanter on the sideboard caught the lamp light that flickered for a moment.

"I’ve been the first prince of this kingdom for long enough to know what accurate reports look like, and I’ve been in this position long enough to know what the rumours look like,"

"Tell me, Marcus. Is it you who is shaping the narrative, or are these just...unavoidable circumstances?" Cassian asked.

"I had no choice but to ensure the survival of my students," Marcus replied.

Cassian scoffed at that.

"That is either the most honest thing you’ve said to me or the most carefully constructed sentence I’ve heard this year," he said.

Silence settled between them that was...uncomfortable for Cassian. Despite being a Prince, having several high-ranking knights protecting him, and a man who supports his own faction sitting in front of him.

He felt a kind of silent threat in his eyes. The kind that said that even if Marcus decides to kill him, there’s nothing he would be able to do about it.

"You don’t have to feel agitated, Prince," Marcus smiled.

"Just tell me what you need from me instead of beating around the bush. I prefer men who speak the truth; I hate those who speak in schemes."

"There’s more to being a Prince than just creative schemes," he said.

Marcus now had an idea, a complete idea of who the Prince really was. He was designed to be a character who was warm on the outside and scheming on the inside.

That is the reason all wives are commoners, and all of them are beautiful enough for nobles to desire them. According to him, he married commoners to show that it’s not the status he’s after, it’s the person he cares for, but all that is fucking bullshit.

Since Marcus had doubts about the personalities of characters, he encountered every character in this world, and his suspicions were cleared.

The man in front of him wasn’t maintaining his position of crown Prince just because he’s a goody two-shoes; instead, he’s a vulture that keeps his prey under his clutches and in his view all the time.

He’s the exaggerated version of the character model in the game. He’s more refined, more observant and more cautious.

"I guess that is indeed the case," Cassian murmured.

"For now, I don’t desire anything from you, Marcus." He said.

"You’ll get all the help you need, and all the support from the crown, as for now...the banquet," Cassian said.

"There are people in that room who came specifically to see you." He said.

"I know."

"Some of them are people I trust. Some of them are not."

"I know that too."

Cassian glanced at his wine, gulped it, and placed the empty glass on the table.

"Let’s not keep them waiting," he said.