Chapter 819: Sycophants All Around
Back at the party, most of the nobles were having a genuinely wonderful time.
The evening had brought together faces that hadn’t seen each other in years.
The service was, by any measure, impeccable.
The festivities themselves were unlike anything they had ever witnessed.
And the food. Dear heavens, the food.
Even the most uptight nobles, who normally would only sip wine and nibble at bread to maintain their dignified appearances, found themselves piling their plates high with the sumptuous offerings.
"My dear, have you tried the roasted duck? It’s absolutely divine!"
"And these pastries! I’ve never tasted anything quite like them. The chef here must be a genius."
The party buzzed with genuine appreciation. It was, against all odds, a magnificent success.
But not everyone was having a wonderful time.
Scattered throughout the garden were a handful of guests who stood apart from the main crowd.
Some were lower nobles, their titles so minor that the higher nobility barely acknowledged their existence.
Others were merchants and businessmen, wealthy in their own right but considered beneath the notice of the blue-blooded aristocrats who dominated the party.
There were also those who simply didn’t want to associate with the nobles. Decent people who knew exactly what sort of games these aristocrats played, and wanted no part in them.
They kept to themselves, counting the minutes until they could politely make their exit.
One such man was a merchant named Aldric, a successful trader who had built his business from nothing.
He stood near the edge of the garden, watching the nobles with a mixture of contempt and weariness.
’I should have stayed home.’ He thought bitterly. ’This is no place for a man of honest work.’
He was about to make his excuses and leave when his gaze fell upon a solitary figure in the distance.
It was Cassius.
Aldric had heard all the rumors, of course.
The third young master of the Holyfield estate was supposedly the most depraved noble in the entire continent.
A man who stole women, broke families, and had absolutely no regard for anyone but himself.
Aldric had expected to see a bloated, dissipated figure, a man whose face bore the marks of his excesses.
What he saw instead made him pause.
Cassius was sitting alone at a table, a glass of wine in his hand. His posture was relaxed, his expression distant.
But there was something about his crimson eyes that made him feel an inexplicable shiver of fear.
It was as if those eyes could see right through him, could see every secret he’d ever tried to hide.
’That’s odd.’ Aldric thought, shaking off the feeling. ’He’s just a useless noble. A degenerate who hides behind his family’s name.’
’Why would I feel afraid of him?’
But the feeling persisted. And the more he watched Cassius, the more he realized that something was off.
The other nobles gave Cassius space, whispering about him in hushed tones but never daring to approach.
They mocked him in their conversations, but their eyes held a hint of fear that they couldn’t quite hide.
’They’re scared of him.’ Aldric realized. ’Even the ones who say the worst things about him, they’re terrified to actually confront him.’
But then something changed after he talked to a little maid.
Cassius’s expression shifted. The distant, gloomy look vanished, replaced by something warm and welcoming.
He straightened in his chair, his eyes brightening as he looked around the garden.
It was as if he had suddenly decided that he wanted to be approached.
And Aldric, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, felt a sudden urge to go and speak with him.
’What am I thinking?’ He chided himself. ’He’s a noble. A depraved, woman-stealing noble. He’ll probably just mock me and send me away.’
But his feet were already moving, carrying him toward Cassius’s table before he could stop himself.
—
The conversation that followed was completely unexpected.
"Good evening." Cassius said warmly as Aldric approached. "I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Cassius Vindictus Holyfield, the host of this little gathering."
Aldric blinked, caught off guard by the genuine friendliness in the young man’s voice.
"I—yes. I’m Aldric, a merchant from the eastern provinces."
"A merchant!" Cassius’s eyes lit up with interest. "Wonderful! I’ve always admired the merchant class. You travel to places I could only dream of, see things that I’ve only read about in books."
"Tell me, what’s the most interesting place you’ve ever visited?"
And just like that, they were talking.
Cassius asked about Aldric’s travels, his business, his family.
He listened with genuine interest, asking questions that showed he was actually paying attention.
He laughed at Aldric’s jokes and shared some of his own, stories that were so absurdly funny that
Aldric found himself laughing out loud, something he hadn’t done in years.
—
Soon, others began to drift over.
The stragglers, the outcasts, the ones who had been excluded from the main conversations saw Cassius talking to a merchant with obvious warmth and respect, and their curiosity overcame their fear.
One by one, they approached the table, and one by one, they were welcomed.
Cassius treated each of them with the same genuine interest, the same warmth.
Before long, Cassius’s table had become the liveliest spot in the entire garden.
The laughter and conversation were genuine, unforced. The people gathered around him were relaxed and happy, enjoying themselves in a way they hadn’t thought possible at a noble party.
The other nobles in the garden watched the scene with barely concealed disdain.
They whispered among themselves, their voices carrying snippets of contempt.
"Look at them. The dregs of society, all clumped together."
"Of course the degenerate would keep company with merchants and scholars. Birds of a feather flock together!"
"Disgraceful! This is supposed to be a noble party, not a common tavern."
But the Cassius group paid them no mind. They were having too much fun. For the first time all night, they felt welcome. Included. Valued.
And then the atmosphere shattered.
Boom!
The garden door slammed open with a resounding crash, and a troop of guards marched in.
At their head strode a handsome young man with messy purple hair and cold eyes.
Darius Valheim had arrived!
The moment his identity became clear, a ripple of unease spread through the crowd.
"Is that—oh gods, it’s Darius Valheim! The third son!"
"What is he doing here? He wasn’t on the guest list."
"He doesn’t need to be on guest lists. He goes wherever he wants."
"Just don’t make eye contact. Don’t draw his attention. Maybe he’ll pass through."
The nobles who had been so disdainful moments before now wore expressions of barely concealed fear.
They knew the Valheim family reputation. They knew what happened to those who crossed them.
"Good evening, Lord Darius!" One noble called out, his voice fawning. "What a pleasure to see you here!"
"Lord Darius, you look magnificent as always." A noblewoman added, batting her eyelashes.
Darius ignored them all, his eyes scanning the crowd with an arrogant smirk.
He drank in the deference, the fear, the desperate attempts to curry favor.
He had come here to be worshipped, and that was exactly what he intended to receive.
"Well, well." He said, his voice carrying across the garden. "What a gathering of...mediocre nobility."
He laughed at his own joke, and a few sycophantic nobles joined in nervously.
"I’ve heard all about this party, and I simply had to see it for myself. I must say, I’m impressed."
"For a family as lowly as the Holyfields who don’t have any old blood in them, this is quite an achievement."
A few nobles who had been genuinely enjoying themselves had a look of severe displeasure on their faces. They were not fans of this man at all.
But none of them dared to speak.
Darius looked around, clearly enjoying the silence.
He was the center of attention, exactly where he wanted to be.
"Now then." He continued, his smile growing sharper. "Where is the esteemed young master of this household, Cassius?"
"I have some...business to discuss with him."
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"What’s this about?"
"Is he causing trouble?"
"Do they have some kind of feud?"
All eyes turned toward Cassius. The group that had been surrounding him melted away, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.
They retreated to a safe distance, their expressions a mixture of pity and fear.
Darius’s eyes found Cassius standing calmly, his expression unreadable. A slow, cruel smile spread across the Valheim heir’s face.
"So." Darius said, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of theatrical welcome. "You must be the young master of the Holyfield estate. Cassius, was it? Cassius Vindictus Holyfield."
He rolled the name around in his mouth as if tasting it.
"I’ve been wanting to meet you for quite some time. I am Darius Valheim, third son of the Valheim household."
He placed a hand on his chest and inclined his head in a mockery of a proper greeting.
"It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."
The garden held its breath. Protocol demanded that Cassius respond in kind.
He should introduce himself, offer some pleasantry, acknowledge the introduction with the grace expected of a noble host.
But Cassius did none of those things.
He took another sip of his wine. His crimson eyes, unblinking, remained fixed on Darius with an expression that was neither hostile nor welcoming.
It was simply...empty. As if Darius were an insect that had landed on his sleeve and wasn’t yet worth the effort of brushing away.
Darius’s smirk twitched, a dangerous flash of anger passing through his eyes as his posture stiffened.
Though his blood boiled at the blatant disrespect, he forced his lips back into a condescending smile, adjusting his velvet cloak.
"I suppose I shouldn’t be entirely surprised."
Darius sneered, his voice dripping with theatrical pity.
"In proper society, when a lord of my stature introduces himself, etiquette dictates that you offer your own name and titles in return. That is how civilized men operate."
"But then again, I am well aware of the...unique circumstances of your household." He sneered. "Your lord father has spent the last decade treating you like an unwanted stray, hasn’t he? I doubt he ever bothered to waste a copper piece hiring an etiquette tutor for a useless third son."
"Since you simply do not know any better, I shall be magnanimous and let it slide." He waved his hand dismissively, as if forgiving a stupid child.
The lower nobles felt a heavy pang of sympathy for Cassius.
The open, mocking disdain was a deliberate attempt to break the young master’s pride in front of the entire region.
Yet, despite their pity, no one dared to breathe a word.
Speaking out against a Valheim was tantamount to signing a family death warrant.
They pushed themselves even further away, leaving Cassius entirely isolated in the center of the lawn.
"Anyway. Let me get to the point."
Darius pushed his hair back with a casual flick of his wrist and continued, his voice shifting to something colder, more businesslike.
"The reason I’ve decided to grace this little party with my presence tonight is a small misunderstanding that occurred earlier, involving your household and mine."
He began to pace slowly, the knights behind him shifting to maintain their formation.
"On my way here, I happened to catch sight of a maid. An absolutely delightful little thing! Young, pretty, with this charming innocence about her."
His eyes glazed over slightly, his hands twitching at his sides as if he were already imagining what he would do to her.
"The kind of innocence that just makes you want to...ruin it. You understand, don’t you? Watching that light drain from their eyes, seeing them realize that all their hopes and dreams mean nothing—"
He stopped himself, chuckled, and waved a hand.
"Anyway. The point is, I decided I wanted her! She caught my eye, and I’m not in the habit of denying myself what I want."
Many of the nobles nodded along as if this were perfectly reasonable—of course Darius should take whatever maid he desired; that was simply how the world worked.
But among the lower nobles and the merchants, there were those who felt bile rising in their throats.
They kept their faces carefully blank, knowing that any show of disgust could mark them as targets.
Darius frowned, his expression darkening.
"But as I was in the process of acquiring this maid, another one interfered. A maid belonging to your household, Cassius."
"This brazen little wench actually stepped in front of me and threatened to oppose me! She said—and I’m quoting here—that I should consider carefully before acting against her, because she could make things very difficult for me."
He paused, letting the words hang in the air.
"A maid. Threatening me. Can you imagine?"
The higher nobles burst into laughter, loud and performative, eager to show their alignment.
"A maid? Threatening Young Master Darius?!" A count howled, slapping his knee. "How utterly absurd!"
"What could a servant possibly do? Does she think she’s a knight in disguise?" Another added, shaking his head.
"Truly, the Holyfield household has no discipline at all if their maids speak like that." A baroness sniffed. "Absolutely shameful. She should be whipped for such insolence!"
Even some of the lower nobles joined in the laughter, though theirs was strained, desperate, the laughter of people who knew they had to perform or risk becoming the next target.
Darius joined the laughter, feeding on the crowd’s approval.
"I thought so too. But then I realized something—the maid wasn’t wrong. She doesn’t belong to me. Neither does the orange-haired one."
"They belong to other households."
He turned to Lord Fulham, who was standing nervously nearby.
"Lord Fulham, the maid with the orange hair—she’s yours, correct?"
Lord Fulham jumped as if startled. "Y-Yes, my lord. She’s one of my maids."
"I want her."
The words were spoken with casual certainty, as if Darius was ordering a drink rather than claiming a human being.
Lord Fulham did not hesitate for even a fraction of a second.
His face split into an grin, and he began rubbing his hands together like a merchant who had just been offered an incredible deal.
"Of course, Young Master Darius! Of course! Take her, take her with my blessings! In fact, take any of my maids you see here today. If any of them catch your eye, they’re yours."
He gestured toward the servants behind him, who immediately went pale and began trembling.
"Whatever you want, whatever you desire, I am more than happy to provide. It would be my honor!"
The other nobles who had watched Lord Fulham strut around earlier, acting haughty and superior, now saw him for what he truly was: a sniveling coward who would sell out his own household at the first sign of pressure.
It was almost impressive how quickly his spine had dissolved.
Darius looked deeply satisfied.
"Now that’s a man who understands how the world works. I appreciate your cooperation, Lord Fulham. I’ll make sure to mention your name to my father later."
"He’s always pleased to hear about nobles who know their place."
Lord Fulham’s face lit up with naked greed.
The sacrifice of one insignificant maid was a small price to pay for a connection to the Valheim family.
