Chapter 30: The So-called Nobles’ Banquet

There were no Sundays in the commonly used Bathfire Calendar of Phoenix. Every month of thirty days was simply divided into three ten-day periods, customarily called the first period… the second period… But no matter the day, it was all the same. You could work, or you could play. There was no clear distinction between workdays and rest days as Constantine remembered. Shops were certainly open every day, official business was conducted every day, and it was said that even His Majesty the Emperor had no special rest days when dealing with documents on his desk.

However, for the various nobles big and small found everywhere in Hayton City, their leisure time was undoubtedly much more plentiful than that of farmers. Yet in this era, there were not many things that could serve as entertainment.

In fact, among the various nations, the folk customs of Phoenix were considered fierce and bold. Nobles typically used foils as decorations, and besides the noble residential district in the southeast city which commoners could not enter freely, fully armed mercenaries were also a common sight on the streets. There was no shortage of ambitious and capable young nobles who would go to the military to request deployment to various wild frontier fronts, to expand territories, or even go northwest. Led by Griffin Knights, they would increase their experience and training in clashes with barbarians.

However, perhaps because Lefer III used up all the courage and martial prowess of his descendants on himself, the successive emperors of the Phoenix Dynasty still preferred hosting activities like balls and banquets. And as the saying from the Eastern Continent goes, “If the main beam of a house is slanted, the pillars cannot stand upright.” Therefore, most nobles who had no duties and lacked the courage to lead troops and fight on battlefields could only choose to spend most of their time amidst clinking cups and the swirling colors of ladies’ and young misses’ skirts.

With a crack of the coachman’s whip, the carriage bearing the Griffin shield emblem slowly came to a halt amidst the low whinnies of the four black steeds from the Western Frontier. Constantine’s gaze swept past the small crystal carriage window, noting that in front of the brightly lit mansion, quite a few elaborate carriages had already gathered… Oh, that kind of decoration, different from the ordinary, seemed to belong to the fashionable category in this era.

In fact, this mansion was not very far from the Duke’s Mansion. Nominally, it still belonged to the same district, separated by just over a dozen streets. But there seemed to be a certain obvious dividing line. Whether it was the cobblestone-paved streets, the mix of mansion and villa architectural styles on either side, or the wooden street lamp posts, all held a hint of common flavor mixed within noble arrogance.

And the building before them was undoubtedly a standard noble mansion. Aside from its scale, the combination of the pale blue outer walls and those window lattices with a simple, ancient charm suggested its history might not be shorter than the Governor’s Mansion. But it seemed the nobles living in this mansion were not satisfied with their ancestors’ design. They displayed their vigorous vitality through a renovated garden and outer walls painted with trendy paint.

As soon as the carriage stopped steadily, Consens jumped down impatiently, not even caring about the noble posture he usually strictly maintained, nor the coachman’s sidelong glance… Though the journey wasn’t long, that ever-smiling elder brother had already annoyed and somewhat frightened him.

Constantine touched his nose, elegantly stepped out of the carriage, following the teachings of the Old Steward from his memory. He certainly didn’t mind his younger brother’s rude actions—two youths who didn’t get along well, stuck together in a narrow carriage compartment, could spark something… that was the YY of fujoshi.

Moreover, over the past two days, he had noticed that he wasn’t really suited to appear somewhere at the same time as this younger brother—Constantine knew he wasn’t the type to attract attention at first sight, but he frustratingly found that being near Consens seemed to make this feeling even stronger. Since that was the case, why not have an extra presence clearing the way, which could also enhance his own grace?

Following behind a steward, they wound their way through the mansion for a while before entering the venue.

This Marquis’s mansion possessed a huge ballroom. The design of this hall clearly had considerable history, likely dating back at least to the reign of the tenth king of Phoenix. Architectural designs of that time did not emphasize natural light, so the ballroom was completely enclosed on all four sides, with not a single window in sight. Only one door each opened in the four directions of the hall. The doors were exquisitely carved, incredibly beautiful.

But now this great hall was completely decorated with trendy ornaments. Looking around, there were vibrant, crystal-clear decorations that the Duke’s Mansion did not favor, as well as gold leaf and lacquerware. The original simple, dignified antiquity was drowned in a shower of gold.

This kind of glittering decoration was found everywhere in this hall. Even places where gold leaf couldn’t be used were outlined with gold paint in slender lines, making those giant murals seem as if set in golden-framed borders. Hardwood sofas were arranged in a circle around the ballroom, but thick camel wool made them softer than the chemical products in the youth’s memory. Expensive crystal chandeliers cast light not inferior to sunlight and an atmosphere of long history throughout the room. And apart from the chandeliers, every other decoration and furnishing in the ballroom was the latest, most fashionable craftwork.

“His Lordship Constantine di Friedrich Connarivis has arrived!”

“His Lordship Consens de Friedrich Connarivis has arrived!”

Now, at least a hundred people had already gathered in this vast space. Although noble demeanor kept everyone fairly elegant and reserved, the voices still merged into a noisy torrent. However, when that steward sang out the two youths’ names in a voice akin to a dry howl, almost everyone turned their gaze to the entrance in the first moment. The noisy crowd fell silent for an instant, then merged into a slight buzzing of discussion.

Connalyvis… Although legend said that the Griffins of successive generations had never shown any form of favor towards the nobles of the capital, the simultaneous appearance of two sons at this not particularly special banquet was, in their view, undoubtedly enough to invite countless speculations. Even though they were just two children still far from adulthood.

Then, Constantine met the host of this banquet, Baoli… or was it Marquis Paul?

Actually, Constantine hadn’t looked carefully at the invitation, only knowing from the Old Steward’s mouth that this fellow seemed to be some official in charge of the Empire’s taxation and military logistics. But he almost immediately and surely identified the guy from among the several people walking over.

One could only say this fellow fit his title all too well. He stood about six feet two or three tall, with gray eyes, thick eyebrows, a large nose with visible veins, and a double chin almost connected to his chest, making the decorative stiff collar nearly unable to close. Not only was he very ugly, but his attire did nothing to lessen his ugliness: a rust-colored fine-wool coat was stretched round by a corrupt belly, paired with a checkered shirt. A green handkerchief even hung from his coat pocket. He truly deserved to be called a masterpiece.

But even more eye-catching were the dazzling jewels adorning his body—he wore different-shaped rings on every finger, and a necklace piled with diamonds and rubies hung from his neck. At his waist, he wore a decorative belt almost entirely encrusted with colorful small gemstones. There were many gemstones… very many, because his large belly was at least half as wide as his body. When he moved, it made one doubt if he could keep his balance.

Constantine touched his nose, somewhat unsure if this grandson’s head had something wrong—even he, a half-baked noble, knew that nobles did indeed admire splendor, but everything about them should remain within elegance. This guy’s attire, however one looked at it, was the style of a nouveau riche, usually enough to draw endless contempt from the old aristocracy.

“Thanks to the Three Gods of Light, your arrival truly makes this humble place radiant! It brings honor to my house!” Matching his physique, his voice was extremely loud. After finishing his sentence, he started laughing heartily as if he had seen something funny. It seemed he wanted people to easily notice his forthrightness.

“You are too kind…”

The second son of the Connarivis Family also furrowed his brows tightly… He stood relatively closer, so the breath bursting forth from this guy’s big mouth due to indigestion was really not something anyone could endure. And he tried to express his joy through actions like shaking hands or patting shoulders.

Of course, no matter how exalted their status, the youths’ age limited their interaction with this “hospitable” host. So, after taking the two youths for a round of meaningless pleasantries with a bunch of people, this eager host announced the beginning of the banquet.

The so-called banquet was completely just an excuse for the invitation.

The banquets of this world were not like the clinking glasses and toasting from the youth’s memory, but closer to singing and dancing peace—the theme was dancing, and all sorts of people used the excuse of dancing to draw closer to each other. This was an important part of noble socializing.

In the spacious hall, apart from the dance floor, there were chairs casually placed around the perimeter, and waiters passing by from time to time, ready to fulfill all the guests’ requests. The nominal main attraction, food and drink, was arranged in a buffet-style in a corner of the banquet hall. Everyone could have the steward or a waiter fetch what they wanted.

Although Constantine had some understanding of noble life, this was also his first time witnessing such a grand occasion. It wasn’t much different from the high-society gatherings described in various media from his memory, or perhaps this was the inevitable trend of development?… First, the host gave a speech and toasted, then the host led the dance, followed by a freer dining time… However, compared to those memories, the actual high-class and grandness of a real noble gathering was clearly more impressive.

Free time was also performance time. Several famous poets and singers began showcasing their talents. And the important people appropriately displayed their generosity at this time.

Actually, all of this was arranged beforehand. In such a relatively pure-motive banquet held by a great noble, every activity was detailed in the invitation. The benefit of this was that the invited would know what they should and shouldn’t do at the banquet.

But this time usually brought a lot of gossip, because whenever people gathered in groups, many discordant voices arose. For example, some of the “opinions” inadvertently revealed by nobles that Constantine overheard—

“Are those two the young masters of the Connalyvis family? Why do they feel somewhat… not very similar?”

“That’s natural. The one with the poor complexion is… you know… that young master…”

“No wonder they look like strangers… But the Duke’s thoughts are truly hard to fathom… Think about it…”

…

“The so-called capital nobles don’t seem all that impressive… Though not shabby, this level is merely better than nothing… I was somewhat expecting them to pull off some tricks… I’ve heard some people with taste also invite circus performers or juggling clowns and such to join in this grand commotion…” Consens, watching the men and women twirling in the dance floor, spoke to Constantine—a rare occurrence. Even with poor relations, among this group of unfamiliar adults, the youthful heart unconsciously drew closer to kin.

Over ten minutes ago, the two children finally shook off those people who kept swarming over like flies drawn to blood, finding a bit of peace in this corner.

This part of the banquet hall belonged to the young people. Not far away, over a dozen young masters and misses of similar age were dancing a group dance. It was said this group dance had a long history, but Constantine noticed the dance itself was merely giving these young noble men and women a chance to get to know each other. Because the group dance required constantly changing partners, people could keep revolving around the dance floor. And after the dance ended, you could go find the young master or miss you fancied to connect, or of course, inquire about their background and age, etc.

“You’ll find out later that sometimes, these fellows are far more interesting than clowns…” Constantine lazily leaned against a chair in a corner of the room, observing those youngsters not much older than them clumsily flirting, and the middle-aged and elderly people chatting in twos and threes. From time to time, he picked up a few slices of finely carved roasted meat from the nearby dining table, tasting the red wine in his hand. Honestly, the chefs of this Plane also didn’t have particularly great skills. Among over a dozen dishes, only this roasted meat and a plate of beans could somewhat whet Constantine’s appetite—mainly because, in fact, not many people paid attention to the food. Their main purpose was to chat with each other and get to know people useful to them.

Besides food, the dining tables also held plates, knives, and forks. Clean bowls and spoons were always placed beside the soup. Like the food, the tableware was also taken as needed. Dirty plates were placed into a large wooden basin set aside, where someone would naturally take away the used plates, and someone would always put clean tableware back on the tables. The gilt-edged hardwood furniture, though not particularly comfortable, was noble and dignified, favored by nobles. And after adding soft velvet cushions and backrests, their comfort level was enough to rival the furniture in the youth’s memory.

Those wines truly could satisfy everyone. Although in his past life, he had no study of red wine, that true noble beverage, as the eldest son of the Duke, Walter’s training courses certainly included a part about various types of alcohol. Therefore, Constantine could still appraise the vintage of this southern red wine called Bernadet in his hand, approximately thirty years. In this less developed era, the alcohol content of fine red wine was completely incomparable to traditional distilled liquor. So for Constantine, it was rather a quite good leisure drink. In over ten minutes, at least half a liter of the wine had entered his stomach, the slight tipsy feeling almost making him close his eyes.

Obviously, not everyone had the interest to observe others’ lifestyles. After enduring a few more minutes of boring rest, Consens ultimately left the solitary Constantine and joined the dance of the youngsters.

“Your Lordship Constantine di Friedrich Connarivis? The Marquis sends this gift to you. It is said to be a fine wine of excellent aid to Spellcasters.”

Perhaps, in such a noisy environment, no earthly paradise existed. A neatly dressed steward approached carrying a silver tray, carefully placing a cup containing emerald-green liquor before Constantine.

“Oh?” Constantine was taken aback, then found the host in his sight, laughing towards him across the crowd… One had to admit this move by the guy was beyond his expectation. Leaving aside whether this wine truly had benefits for Spellcasters as claimed, this guy’s method of catering to preferences was undoubtedly used very skillfully—it wasn’t a substantial gift, but undoubtedly, anything related to Spellcasters was of considerable value.

That green liquor wasn’t much. In fact, probably only a small sip’s worth. But in the transparent crystal cup, it was crystalline and clear like a beautiful gemstone… or perhaps, like a living Soul?

Hesitating for a moment, the youth picked up the cup and took a small sip. Constantine frowned. This wine clearly wasn’t the non-distilled liquor he imagined. That crystalline liquid went down with a fiery heat, even reminding him of the Erguotou he often drank with university classmates in his past life during drinking contests. An incredible heat flowed down his esophagus, then spread throughout his body. Somewhat tired of the bland taste of wine, the youth nostalgically downed it in one gulp, then followed it with a few slices of meat.

But the next moment, something wonderful happened… He felt his whole body become soft as if in a common drunken state, but… his mind became unusually clear. Every sensory signal in his brain was amplified. Whether vision or hearing, for a time, they became more accurate, more effective. This gave him a strange sense of pleasure for a moment.

“Damn! This isn’t a drug, is it?” The youth frowned. Such a dangerous word suddenly popped into his head.

He had heard similar rumors. The development of drugs on this Plane was much earlier than on Earth. The influence of similar huge profits was almost the same. However, due to the intervention of Divine Power, the danger from such things was much less than on Earth… At least among the abilities of Clerics, there was one specifically for drug rehabilitation.

But thinking of the troubles involved, Constantine still somewhat regretted his recent rashness.

He somewhat dejectedly put down the cup, trying to divert his attention. But the next moment, his sharpened vision suddenly caught an interesting presence.

This person seemed to be an ordinary noble. His formal wear used good quality materials. Some parts, like the bow tie and inner lining, even used silk imported from the East. The well-tailored cotton underwent special treatment, with distinct lines that were hard to alter, very suitable for enhancing body shape. Only… in Constantine’s view, this outfit clearly had no taste. The excessively ornate decoration made it somewhat resemble a Christmas tree. That sense of splendor misplaced actually made the materials perfectly fit the meaning of ‘nouveau riche’…

However, the owner of these clothes was surprisingly suitable for this attire.

Of course, this wasn’t the usual meaning of nouveau riche—in all fairness, this guy’s looks were far from ugly. Over six feet tall, a square face not handsome but very imposing, paired with a large aquiline nose, plus two long, straight eyebrows, fully displaying that kind of tough demeanor. But his overly muscular inverted triangle physique was clearly completely unsuitable for formal wear—his bulging muscles all over seemed ready to burst the pitifully ornate suit at any moment. The beard on his chin was carefully trimmed, but that excessive grooming instead made the bluish, dazzling skin appear even stranger. And those triangular eyes emitting a fierce light made everyone who brushed past him frown.

He seemed to be earnestly searching for some opportunity. But clearly, nobles who considered themselves refined would never let themselves get entangled with this guy. Thus, within a few feet around his body, an empty circle formed, as if the air there contained some potent poison. No matter how hard he tried, he remained forever outside the crowd, milling about without any chance to speak.

Finally, he could only slowly stroll to a spot by the table, heavily plopping his butt down to vent his anger on the exquisite hardwood chair. He muttered something under his breath—judging by the lip movements, it certainly wasn’t speech conforming to banquet etiquette…

After that, this guy seemed to finally find some way to vent—casually grabbing a black pottery wine jar, he snapped off the slender neck part with a crack, then began pouring it into his mouth as if a long whale sucking in water. The lace and silk scarf at his collar were instantly stained with that wine’s unique crimson, making the formal wear feel even more bizarre.

Constantine, sitting opposite him, watched this fine red wine always meant for slow savoring being treated by the other like ale, couldn’t help but feel somewhat amused. In this Plane, the stratification among Humans was so complex and strict. Crossing the dozens of levels in between wasn’t an easy matter. In this era, nouveau riche were often crushed of all hope by the saying “wealth doesn’t last three generations,” while new nobles tirelessly busied themselves, exhausted in the whirlpool of the unspoken rule that “a noble needs five generations to cultivate.”

But how did this guy luckily cross over those mountain-like obstacles to come into this hall?