Chapter 432 - 431. Time To Make A Move (1)
By morning, I had slipped into my usual attire—a dark shirt with the top two buttons open layered with a soft silver-lined coat that caught the sunlight as I moved and black trousers. The manor was quiet, still laced with the sleepiness of dawn, though the faint clatter of porcelain and hushed chatter from the staff hinted at the day beginning in earnest. Lyall, ever composed, trailed behind me like a silent shadow, his presence unobtrusive yet unmistakably alert.
"Is everyone already there?" I asked, my voice calm.
"Apart from Count Zachary Erkens, Baron Sebastian Oberon, and Prince Davian, everyone else is gathered," Lyall replied smoothly, his hands clasped behind his back as we turned a corner. I hummed thoughtfully, unsurprised.
"Zach and Lord Oberon did get quite drunk last night. Did you have some hangover soup prepared for them?" I asked, glancing sideways at him.
"The chef has prepared it for everyone, Master," he answered dutifully, and a small smile tugged at my lips.
The polished doors to the dining hall swung open as we approached, and the warmth of the hearth inside greeted me. The faint scent of freshly baked bread and stewed herbs hung in the air. At once, a flutter of movement caught my eye—Nox, my avian companion, soared across the hall with a soft hoot, landing deftly on my shoulder. I reached up and adjusted my hair so he could settle comfortably, his talons resting gently against the leather padding I always wore beneath my collar for him.
The conversations momentarily paused as I entered. Heads turned, and a chorus of respectful greetings filled the room, each one dipped with varying degrees of reverence and camaraderie. I nodded in acknowledgment and moved with effortless poise to the head of the long oak table.
"I trust you all enjoyed last night’s celebration," I said, my tone casual yet measured—just as the doors behind me creaked open once again.
Zach stumbled in, one hand gripping the side of his head like it might split in two, while Lord Devil followed behind, slightly pale and moving with the sluggish grace of a man regretting every sip he took the night before.
"Good morning, Master," they both murmured in unison, voices hoarse and eyes bleary. The sight was enough to stir amusement in my chest.
"I’m never drinking again," Zach groaned as he collapsed into his seat, slumping like a sack of flour.