Thalion and Rylak discussed the current situation and concluded that if they didn’t sabotage the competition, there was no way the mansion’s owners would allow him to stay.
In half an hour, the noble family’s dinner would begin—his first significant opportunity to make a good impression and eliminate the other servants. The competition consisted of Ornath, Nylok, Vesthi, and of course Lornak. The butlers, as always, had secure positions that Thalion couldn’t hope to attain.
"Rylak, make sure not to mess anything up during the dinner. Everything needs to be perfect." Tor'kel kept insisting while Thalion grabbed the first plate for the dinner.
Each servant carried four plates of food as they entered the grand dining hall. At its center stood a massive golden marble table, around which the noble family was seated. At the head of the table sat Patriarch Lord Xar’vath Y’Tharak, with his wife, Lady Sel’virah Y’Tharak, beside him, and their eldest son, Ka’reth, who would soon compete in the calling.
Alongside them sat two more sons and four daughters, though Thalion had already forgotten most of their names. The aura radiating from everyone in the room was so overwhelming that it made walking in a straight line difficult. They were likely middle- or high-E grade, with the patriarch possibly even stronger.
The first course was a soup made from the horns of a rare beast that lived in the mountains. As they served, the family discussed the princess’s extended visit with loud enthusiasm.
Suddenly, Lornak dropped his plate, spilling hot soup onto one of the daughters’ heads. She screamed, flailing as the scalding liquid dripped down her face.
"I am so sorry! This won’t happen again!" Lornak stammered in panic, frantically trying to clean her face.
"Tor’kel, deal with this servant," Xar’vath commanded with a dismissive wave, but his eyes were burning with anger.
As Tor’kel led the trembling Lornak out of the dining hall, Thalion seized the opportunity. He quickly approached the daughter, offering her a towel to help clean up, preserving at least a shred of her dignity.
Thalion then stood aside, waiting for a command from one of the nobles or for the first course to conclude.
"Can you believe it? The princess came here to see that self-proclaimed holy warrior from the slums," Xar’vath said with a mocking laugh.
"If she’s really that interested in a man, you might have a chance, brother," one of the daughters teased with a sly smile.
"There will be time for matters like that. We have over eight balls to attend before the calling begins, if the plan of the council works to keep the princess longer than needed," Xar’vath replied with authority.
Eight balls? The calling would take place much later than Thalion had initially thought.
"Of course, our ball will be the most important. Never before has a holy princess visited our house. Everything must be perfect. I paid a lot to ask the council to include us in the additional balls before the calling." Xar'vath continued, and the rest nodded in agreement.
The second course—meat with some kind of fragrant bread—was served. As they carried the plates, Ornath, walking two meters ahead of Thalion, suddenly stumbled and fell flat on his stomach, shattering the plates. He was immediately dismissed. With the approaching ball, they couldn’t afford servants who made such critical mistakes.
Thalion suppressed a smile. His blood manipulation had worked flawlessly. Earlier, he had subtly moved Lornak’s hand to cause his accident, and now he had ensured Ornath’s clumsy misstep. Rylak was laughing uproariously in Thalion’s mind.
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Two servants down, two more to go—and with four courses remaining, there was plenty of time to have some fun.
The noble family continued their conversation, this time discussing marriage prospects. The eldest daughter announced her intention to seduce a nobleman from House Dralithar, a family ranked higher in the hierarchy. A marriage between the two houses would greatly please Xar’vath and Lady Sel’virah.
Two courses later, Thalion struck again. This time, one of the servants slipped and hit her head on the edge of the table, knocking herself unconscious. Rylak’s laughter echoed in Thalion’s mind as he suggested creative ways to eliminate the final competitor.
The remaining servant—likely high-F grade in power—was unlucky. As she attempted to serve a chocolate cake to Lady Sel’virah, her hand "slipped," and the plate crashed into several golden glasses. She fainted on the spot, either from shock or from the oppressive aura of the enraged nobles.
"Is there not a single competent servant? Is it too much to ask for someone to carry a plate?" Xar’vath bellowed, his fury shaking the windows.
"TOR’KEL! If this incompetence continues during the ball, I’ll have your head!" Xar’vath roared, his voice reverberating through the hall.
Remaining calm, Thalion cleaned the mess and served a new round of desserts.
"Tor’kel, I want this one to accompany us to the Dralithar ball tomorrow," Xar’vath announced, pointing at Thalion after the dessert was almost finished.
"As you wish, Master," Tor’kel replied with a deep bow. The poor fellow had a pale face and clearly feared for his life.
This had gone far better than Thalion had hoped. He hadn’t even needed to work too hard to eliminate the competition, and now he had a place at the ball tomorrow. The calling, it seemed, wouldn’t begin for some time yet through some sceeming by the city council.
After dinner, Tor’kel pulled him aside. "It must be destiny that you’ve come to us. From now on, you absolutely cannot make any mistakes," he said, his tone firm.
"Yes, I will follow your orders," Thalion replied with a slight nod and bowed.
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"Good. Tomorrow, you will remain by Nyssali’s side throughout the ball and fulfill all her wishes," Tor’kel instructed, sweat dripping down his face.
Before retiring for the night, Tor’kel gave Thalion an exhaustive rundown of how to behave around nobility. Thalion tried to remember it all: always bow after every sentence, never look them in the eyes, only speak when asked and so on.
Unfortunately, the man barely got any sleep, as he also had other pressing responsibilities to handle. Meanwhile, Thalion lay on one of the beds in the servants’ quarters, entering deep meditation to continue working on his soul.
The next day was consumed by cleaning—nearly the entire day. It was ironic: he had come here to become a holy warrior, yet he spent his time scrubbing floors and polishing surfaces. As evening approached and the sunlight dimmed, Tor’kel came by to hand him new clothing that marked him as a servant of the Y’Tharak house.
The outfit consisted of a short green kilt and a matching green shirt adorned with golden runes. Shoes were absent, so it was crucial for him to bathe thoroughly before they departed. It seemed to be a tradition among the nobles to wear minimal clothing and forego shoes entirely. Thalion couldn’t help but miss his old body, with its powerful, well-trained muscles, instead of the frail, skinny form he now inhabited.
He followed Tor’kel outside, where a carriage awaited, its noble occupants already inside and only the staff left to board. Several servants were seated inside the carriage. Thalion was directed to sit beside Tor’kel on the top of the carriage. The carriage was pulled by two massive golden butterflies, their mesmerizing wings etched with intricate runes that shimmered in the fading light.
It seemed only the poor traveled on foot in this city; the wealthy took to the skies. At Tor’kel’s command, the carriage lifted off. Despite overseeing many servants, Tor’kel had been demoted in the butler hierarchy after yesterday’s performance, leaving him paired with Thalion.
Thalion didn’t mind. He would do whatever was necessary to gather more information about the calling. From what he understood, noble heirs were required to fight beasts, and their performance would determine whether they were deemed worthy of traveling to the Holy Palace, where the training to become a holy knight began.
The sky was crowded with flying carriages, and they arrived at the Dralithar Mansion amidst a swarm of over twenty others. The mansion itself was an architectural marvel. The outer walls rose hundreds of meters high, covered in golden runes, and the gate was an imposing thirty meters tall.
Noble after noble exited their carriages, their opulence on full display. It was clear that over a thousand guests had been invited to this ball.
"Man, do you know how rich we could get by stealing a few jewels or items?" Rylak’s voice echoed in Thalion’s mind, thick with greed.
"If the opportunity arises and the item is worth it," Thalion replied, his eyes locking onto a nobleman in his thirties wielding a golden sword. Crystals adorned the hilt, and Thalion couldn’t help but imagine inspecting it more closely. Maybe he could learn some new helpful things in this new dimension after all.