Chapter 462: Chapter -462
She paused, her finger pointing directly and unapologetically at Heena. "...the new heiress of the Marquisate, showed us something good? Something truly entertaining for the court?"
A quiet rustle of murmurs broke out among the tables. The traditional noblewomen smirked behind their fans, fully expecting the "wild frontier girl" to embarrass herself, while the generals’ faces darkened at the blatant attempt to treat a Marcuset heir like a mere court performer.
The Emperor tilted his head slightly. The heavy ruby crown caught the light as he stared at his daughter. It was entirely obvious he knew exactly what petty, political trap the Second Princess was trying to spring, but he chose not to stop it. Instead, his piercing gaze shifted slowly across the room, landing squarely on Heena.
"So," the Emperor spoke, his tone laced with heavy curiosity. "What do you say to that, Lady Seera?"
Heena didn’t flinch. A soft, deceptively sweet smile graced her lips as she smoothly stood up from the vanguard table, her bloody-red and black robes falling around her with impeccable, lethal grace. She offered the throne a flawless, effortless bow.
"Why ever not, Your Majesty?" Heena replied, her pitch-lowered, clear voice cutting beautifully through the massive hall. She lifted her head, her phoenix eyes flashing with a terrifyingly confident light. "If this is what pleases the throne, this subject shall gladly provide it."
But as the Second Princess smirked, preparing to sit back down after setting her trap, Heena’s voice sliced through the air like a honed blade.
"But..."
The single syllable echoed, and the entire hall collectively held its breath. ’’What kind of move is this?’’ the nobles thought, stunned by the sheer audacity of an interruption.
Heena turned her sharp phoenix eyes directly onto the Second Princess. "Your Highness, I believe you have made a severe mistake in your wording."
The Princess’s face contorted, a flash of utter hatred rippling through her delicate mask at being publicly corrected by a subject.
Heena remained completely unbothered, her posture straight and radiating dominant, military pride. "I am neither a ’newly revealed’ heiress, nor am I a ’newly brought back’ one. I am the only granddaughter of the Marcuset family. From the very day I was born, my grandfather made it explicitly clear to the entire empire that I am the sole, rightful heir to the Marcuset legacy. To suggest otherwise implies I was recently adopted or fished out of obscurity."
She let out a soft, melodious, yet frosty chuckle. "I have merely been away finishing my advanced studies for the past three years. But being away for education does not mean I vanished from existence, only to be ’brought back’ right now. Therefore, I would highly appreciate it if Your Highness would refrain from using such misleading phrasing."
The Second Princess’s fists clenched so tightly beneath her silk sleeves that her knuckles turned white. Her chest heaved, and she desperately wanted to stand up and scream, ’How dare you!’
But she didn’t dare utter a single syllable.
Because right beside her, the Emperor was looking down at her with a gaze as cold as ice.
"That is true," the Emperor spoke, his deep voice carrying a heavy, undisputed weight. He turned his eyes toward Heena, a soft, genuinely amused smile playing on his lips. "What Lady Seera said is completely true."
Then, his gaze snapped back to his daughter, his expression flattening into one of profound disappointment. "And you... learn to use proper wording when you speak to the vanguard of this empire. Lady Seera was named the official Marcuset heir the exact day she was born—and it was done so with my explicit, personal imperial permission."
Hearing that, the entire hall plunged into a terrified silence. The Emperor hadn’t just defended Heena; he had publicly reminded everyone that her status was backed by the highest authority in the land, leaving the Second Princess utterly humiliated.
The Second Princess bit her lip, her face burning with public shame as she lowered her head entirely, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. "I apologize, Your Majesty," she muttered through a tight throat.
Heena casually shook her head, turning a beautifully serene smile back toward the throne. "Think nothing of it, Your Highness. A loyal subject merely wanted to ensure the court records remain perfectly accurate."
With that smooth dismissal, she locked her sharp phoenix eyes onto the Emperor. "Your Majesty, since the Princess has requested some entertainment, I would like to present something entirely different tonight."
The Emperor raised an eyebrow, a slight frown of curiosity creasing his forehead. "Oh? You are not going to perform the traditional Marcuset sword dance?"
Heena shook her head, her deep bloody-red and black robes shifting gracefully. "No, Your Majesty. This time, it is not a sword dance. The traditional forms have been seen by this court for generations, and I would hate to bore the throne. Instead, I wish to demonstrate something completely new—a unique discipline I mastered while I was away on my studies."
A ripple of quiet, confused whispering broke out among the noble tables. The elders exchanged bewildered glances. High society had spent the last three years whispering that the Marcuset granddaughter was a wild, unrefined frontier girl—but since the legendary Marquis himself had just declared she was away on advanced studies, no one dared to openly contradict it.
The Emperor’s intrigued smile widened. "Oh, really? Now I am thoroughly curious. Show us."
Heena offered a deep, flawless bow. "I would be honored, Your Majesty. However, for this specific presentation, I require a few specific items. I must humbly request the throne’s assistance to gather them."
The Emperor broke into a hearty, booming laugh, thoroughly charmed by her confident theatricality. "Haha! Come now, what is a little assistance between us? Tell me what you need, and it shall be granted."
Instead of calling out to the room, Heena turned and subtly gestured to the Head Imperial Steward standing near the vanguard table. The high-ranking servant quickly walked up to her, bowing respectfully. Heena leaned in slightly, whispering a precise, unusual list of items directly into his ear.
The Head Steward’s eyes widened in brief surprise, but he quickly recovered, a respectful, deeply intrigued smile replacing his professional mask. He bowed deeply to her. "Understood, Lady Seera. The palace archives and kitchens possess exactly what you describe. Let me have them brought out to you immediately... would seven be enough?"
Heena’s lips curved into a sharp, knowing smirk. "Yes. Seven will be perfectly sufficient."
A few moments later, the massive doors of the Grand Mirror Hall groaned open. Nearly twenty palace servants strained against their own weight as they hauled seven enormous drums onto the center of the banquet floor.
They were monstrous instruments, unlike anything the delicate nobility had ever laid eyes on.
Each drum rested at a steep angle against a heavy wooden frame, their broad, bone-white drumheads facing outward like seven silent moons. Bound in thick, scarred leather cords, their massive wooden bodies looked less like musical instruments and more like brutal siege weapons designed to shatter city walls.
A wave of bewildered murmurs swept through the hall.
A few of the older scholars and generals recognized them. Decades ago, these ’Nagara’ drums had been presented to the Imperial Family as a diplomatic tribute from a fierce, distant kingdom beyond the borderlands.
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