Gunmage
Chapter 142: The Queen’s court

Chapter 142: Chapter 142: The Queen’s court

Down below, the 12-year-old son of a Duke was bringing over a glass of non-alcoholic fruit wine with utmost caution when his father caught him.

"What are you doing, Silas?"

"O-oh, I’m just bringing a drink for Lady Aveline."

"And why do you have to do that? Aren’t there servants around?"

Their eyes flitted to the maids and butlers moving through the ballroom, balancing silver trays.

"Yeah, but she wants it delivered personally..."

"What’s the holdup, Silas?"

Aveline asked as she approached, flanked by the other children from noble houses.

Lugh had been observing from afar. They called themselves her ’friends,’ but it looked more like they had willingly thrust themselves into servitude.

Sons and daughters of Counts, Barons, and Dukes—the tiebreaker being the Prince, who had arrived with his mother, the Second Royal Concubine.

They all followed Aveline around like baby chicks trailing a mother hen, struggling to outdo each other in her favor. She was content to rule over them like a tyrant.

Nobles glanced at the procession with displeasure, though only those whose children were part of it. The others watched with amusement, awe, or more often, apprehension.

Everyone in the thirteen-year-old age bracket was lorded over by Aveline, and there were no exceptions.

This held the potential for serious consequences in court once they all came of age. It didn’t help that the youngest of the Von Heim family was a known chess genius.

Some nobles, recognizing the danger, had tried to ’reform’ their children. But punishments and lectures always had the opposite effect.

Eventually, suspicions rose, had the Von Heims developed some strange, charming magic? If so, they had yet to prove it.

The issue today was just another symptom of that deeper problem.

"What’s the holdup?"

Aveline repeated, stepping forward, flanked by her faithful followers.

The Duke looked at her petite figure with ice in his eyes.

"What’s the meaning of this?"

Other nobles shook their heads. The moment a member of the older generation directly and physically interfered in a situation like this, he had already lost.

"What’s the meaning of what?"

Aveline asked, her face a picture of innocent confusion.

The Duke gritted his teeth but couldn’t act out. They were still in Von Heim Manor. Other members of her family were present. He had to show decorum.

His tone turned diplomatic.

"I heard you sent my son to get you a drink."

"I didn’t"

She replied curtly.

As if. He wasn’t about to let a child outwit him.

"I simply stated that I was thirsty"

Aveline said smoothly.

"As the gentleman your son is, he saw it fit to bring me a drink. There was no further input from my side."

The Duke turned his gaze to Silas. His expression softened. If she’d framed it as Silas being gentlemanly, then he had regained some face.

Whether it was true or not didn’t matter, as long as she said it, others would be forced to believe it. That was how politics worked.

He was about to walk away with the win—until his son opened his mouth.

"Yes, it’s true, Father. I won the contest, so I got to be the one to bring her a drink!"

He sounded genuinely happy.

The Duke’s face twisted into a scowl.

"Contest? There was a contest? And the reward for winning... was bringing her a drink?!"

Nearby noblemen and women who’d been paying attention let out restrained chuckles.

Aveline’s cult-like gathering was drawing more attention. Sensing the shift in mood, she chimed in.

"That’s enough. I’m not thirsty anymore. Let’s go."

"W-wait!"

Silas called out.

"Don’t mind my father. He doesn’t know what he’s saying!"

"Silas!"

His father snapped.

But Silas didn’t listen.

"Dad, stop! Don’t ruin this for me!"

The commotion drew more glances.

"Silas"

Aveline spoke. She didn’t yell, but her voice cut like a blade. Silas quieted. His fist was clenched, and he bit the inside of his lip. His body trembled slightly.

Aveline sighed and walked up to him. She reached out and gently patted his head.

"You don’t yell at your father. Understood?"

"Y-yes."

"Now apologize."

Her voice was soft. Silas mirrored her tone.

"I’m sorry, Father."

The Duke barely kept his jaw from dropping open.

Aveline turned and walked away, her retinue of noble children following, whispering behind her.

"It seems the influence of the Von Heim family is not waning anytime soon"

A nobleman muttered to his wife, stifling a curse.

"I agree"

She replied.

"But this... this might turn into something dangerous if left unchecked."

"What can we do?"

Meanwhile, as Aveline walked off, her mind was already replaying countless possibilities.

It seems Silas will be an unusable piece for the time being.

His father would likely prevent further contact, possibly even keep him locked away once he was eventually caught sneaking out.

But what they always failed to consider was that absence made the heart grow fonder.

If the isolation dragged on long enough, a few intercepted half-hearted letters and a single, vague one secretly delivered would solidify her hold on him.

By the time Silas came of age and gained independence, he would be even more loyal. More powerful.

She almost couldn’t resist smirking.

The son of a Duke... what a promising find.

Now, she had to focus on her other pieces. She turned to the others and smiled.

"Why don’t we play another game?"

Elsewhere in the ballroom, the Queen smiled.

"Excellent potential. I wonder how she’ll suit the next king?"

At the far side, Selaphiel chuckled as she glanced at Isolde, who was fending off her own cluster of overeager suitors.

"I wonder what she’s teaching these girls."

The music changed, picking up pace.

I guess it’s time for the dance,

Lugh thought. But his eyes stayed on Aveline. This was the first he was learning about her talent.

Just then, a man with a cane strode through the front door, past the announcer who was already on his third glass of wine.

His voice echoed.

"Is Lugh here?!"