Gon's Harem System
Chapter 187: The Nobilities’ arrival

Chapter 187: The Nobilities’ arrival

It was the weight of unshakable confidence, the kind forged in battles won and courts mastered, laced with a quiet menace that promised swift retribution to any who crossed him.

His eyes, a piercing gray, swept the crowd with the precision of a hawk, missing nothing, and his presence seemed to hum with restrained power, like a storm held just at bay.

The crowd noticed him instantly.

Heads turned, conversations faltered, and a ripple of movement spread as nobles gravitated toward him, moths to a flame. "Duke Hanan!" one called, a portly count with a garish red doublet, bowing low. "A pleasure to see you, my lord," chimed a duchess, her voice syrupy as she adjusted her feathered hat.

They orbited him, offering greetings, their smiles tight with hope that he’d acknowledge them, a nod, a word, anything to bask in his reflected glory.

He moved through them with measured steps, his long strides eating up the ground, offering only the occasional tilt of his head or a murmured "Good morning" in a voice like gravel smoothed by wine.

His aura didn’t demand attention, it simply took it, bending the chaos of the arriving nobility into a pattern centered on him.

Beside him walked his wife, the Duchess of Hanan, a figure of quiet elegance.

She was shorter than her husband, her frame draped in a gown of muted sapphire that shimmered faintly in the light.

Her hair, a soft auburn, was pinned neatly beneath a silver circlet, and her expression was serene, content to let the Duke’s towering presence fill the space.

She offered polite smiles to those who greeted her, her voice a gentle murmur when she spoke, but her eyes, sharp and knowing, hinted at a mind that missed little.

She was the still water to his tempest, happy to let him draw the crowd while she observed from his shadow, a partnership honed over decades.

The Duke finally reached the palace doors, the heavy oak parting before him as guards snapped to attention.

Inside, the air shifted, cooler, laced with the scent of polished stone and burning beeswax from chandeliers overhead.

He strode through the vaulted hall, his cloak billowing slightly, until he reached the throne room where the king awaited.

The king was a stark contrast, a short man, his stature dwarfed by the ornate throne he sat upon.

His long hair, greying and thinning at the crown, hung past his shoulders, while a bushy beard, silvered with age and oddly lacking a mustache, framed his round face.

His robes were rich, crimson trimmed with gold, but they hung loose on his frame, giving him the air of a man shrinking into his own legend.

Yet his eyes twinkled with warmth as he rose, stepping forward with a broad smile.

"Duke Hanan!" the king boomed, his voice surprisingly robust for his size. "Welcome, my friend. It’s been too long."

He clasped the Duke’s hand, his grip firm despite the tremor in his fingers, and the Duke inclined his head respectfully.

"Your Majesty," he replied, his tone smooth and deep. "The honor is mine. The tournament promises a fine day."

The king chuckled, a sound like dry leaves rustling. "With you here, it’s bound to be memorable."

He turned to the cluster of nobles trailing behind, their footsteps echoing as they pressed forward to pay their respects. "And all of you, welcome! The palace is brighter for your presence."

His greetings were warm, if a touch theatrical, as he nodded to each, counts bowing, duchesses curtsying, all eager for a scrap of royal favor.

The Duchess of Hanan stood silently at her husband’s side, offering a graceful nod when the king acknowledged her with a kind, "And the lovely duchess, as always."

After the pleasantries, the king clapped his hands, the sound sharp in the cavernous room. "Come, come, to the arena! Seats are prepared for you all. Let’s not keep the fighters waiting."

He gestured toward a wide archway leading outside, where the distant roar of the gathering crowd already pulsed through the stone.

The nobles murmured their assent, turning to follow, but the Duke lingered a moment, exchanging a final word with the king, something low and private, their heads bent briefly together.

Then he straightened, his aura flaring anew as he led the procession out, his wife at his side, the others trailing like courtiers in his wake.

The arena awaited beyond the palace walls, its tiered stands rising against the morning sky, banners snapping in the breeze.

The Duke of Hanan moved toward his designated seat, a high perch with a clear view of the sands below, his every step radiating that same commanding energy.

The nobility settled around him, their chatter rising like a tide, but his presence remained the anchor, the unspoken center of the day’s unfolding drama.

The tournament was about to begin, and with it, the eyes of the realm would turn not just to the fighters, but to the man whose shadow stretched long over them all.

****

Lord Thane walked into the palace, his boots hitting the shiny stone floor.

All around him, people were talking and hanging out in groups, lords and ladies laughing, their voices bouncing off the tall ceilings.

Servants moved fast between them, carrying trays of wine and small snacks, while the sounds of clinking glasses and fancy clothes filled the air.

Thane’s blue eyes scanned the room, spotting the bright cloaks and sparkling jewelry.

A little annoyance bubbled up inside him, the same feeling he always got when too many people were around.

Their noise bugged him, and he wanted to turn around and head back to his quiet home.

But he shook it off, keeping his face calm.

He knew he had to act friendly if he wanted people to like him.

He took a slow breath and ran his fingers through his beard, its thick, dark hair tied into a few small ponytails that rested on his chest.

Touching it helped calm him down, a habit he leaned on when crowds got to him.

His fingers stayed there for a second, steadying him, and he let out a quiet sigh, knowing he had to push through.

He had to be the charming guy everyone liked, so he stood up straight, squared his shoulders, and walked in fully, his big frame moving through the crowd like a boat cutting through water.

As he stepped forward, someone spotted him and called out, loud and cheerful. "Lord Thane! Good to see you, you old grump!"

A red-faced baron waved from a group near the fireplace, grinning big.