A Few Days Later

Felisia and I have spent the past days training relentlessly and I've finally brought all my Skills at the level I wanted them. Now, there's two days before the Sky Hunt itself. And tonight, there's a banquet hosted by the Clearwater Family to welcome their extended family, which apparently is going to be spectating at the Sky Hunt, and several other nobles from surrounding regions.

The great hall glitters with cold fire and the faces of Clearwater's highborn.

Gold shines from every column and light bounces off the chandelier, but the warmth in the room is fake.

I enter at Felisia's side and we walk toward where her spot is supposed to be.

Every noble scion and merchant heir in the city sits at a white-clothed table.

The main table stretches through the heart of the banquet, loaded with food and flanked by banners showing every house in the Sky Hunt.

I see Felisia's sisters seated with Adrienne and her retinue, laughing over wine and roast.

Every contender has a spot waiting except for one.

Felisia stiffens when she notices the empty space.

She turns to the nearest servant and demands, "Where is Jacob's seat?"

The servant bows and glances toward Adrienne, who hides her smile behind a goblet.

Calantha leans in, murmuring something that sets the entire table snickering.

The servant says, "No seat has been arranged for Master Cloud. Only titled contenders and family are permitted."

Felisia's mouth hardens and she starts blistering with rage.

"He cleared the Crucible. He has more right to sit here than most."

Adrienne's voice rings out, smooth and unbothered, pitched so the whole table hears, "The rules are clear, Felisia. Nobility only. If every upstart adventurer could claim a place, what meaning would bloodlines hold?"

Laughter ripples along the table. The eyes of the crowd sweep over me as if I should feel shame, but I only stand taller.

"Felisia," I say, "go eat. This is a formality; don't worry about me. I'll stand with the rest of the commoners."

I remain at the hall's edge and chat with a merchant who does not have a noble title. He stands beside me, nursing his drink and shaking his head as he watches the main table. He lowers his voice and says, "Does this not bother you? They treat you like filth, same as they treat the rest of us."

I shrug.

"It would bother me if their respect meant anything. They all look like miserable bastards to me."

The merchant gives a sharp nod.

"Miserable, and proud of it. They'd stab each other for a scrap if the old families let them."

He glances at the main table and jerks his chin toward Veyl.

"What about the Elf? Is he really stronger than you?"

"For now," I say. "He's had a head start. That doesn't mean he'll keep it."

"They certainly suck up to him," the merchant says, raising an eyebrow.

"They fawn over him, but they do it because they're afraid, not because they like him."

The merchant laughs, but there's no warmth in it.

"You talk like you pity them."

"I do, a little. You get born lucky and never learn how to fight for what matters. Most of these nobles spend their whole lives terrified someone will take what they never earned. That's not living."

The merchant thinks about it, then nods.

"Well, I hope you ruin their night."

I grin.

"Wait until the Sky Hunt."

The other contenders glance at me and share quiet jokes.

Every now and then, someone mutters "miner" or "commoner," and a few braver snobs sneer that trash always floats to the surface eventually.

Felisia refuses to mingle, just glaring at her sisters while Sir Greyson stands behind her. Both him and the black knight are standing while Sir Renquell has been seated at Adrienne's right, with Veyl at her left. Sir Renquell also seats between Adrienne and her father.

Veyl might have the courage to offend a Mithril Rank Knight, but no one else in Clearwater is so foolish.

Calantha finally leans forward, lifting her glass with an empty smile.

"Don't cause a scene, little sister. You brought this on yourself, running around with a nameless boy. The whole city is laughing at you. Why not enjoy the night?"

Adrienne taps her knife against her plate.

"You should have chosen allies with pedigree, Felisia. We warned you. Loyalty to gutter rats only drags the family down."

Felisia stands her ground.

"I would rather stand with someone who earned his power than hide behind a title I never worked for."

Near Calantha, her cousin Lord Aulus sits with a smirk.

He is the most talented of their generation, and most people expect him to become her husband. His father holds a northern fief, and their house has more dueling champions than any other in Clearwater.

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Even Calantha, for all her pride, has never matched his skill, though she tries to match his ambition. Aulus barely glances at Felisia, focusing instead on quiet talk with her father.

A hush falls as the nobles weigh her words. Some smile in contempt. Others just look away, not wanting to get involved.

I do not move from my place at the edge of the hall.

Calantha meets my gaze and I stare back, cold as ash.

Moments later, she averts her eyes.

The nobles raise glasses and toast each other, pretending I do not exist. They save their real smiles for Veyl.

Nobles whisper that he is the "certain victor," a member of the Elven court, the one who will bring glory to Clearwater and Adrienne's reign.

Sir Greyson appears at my side.

He carries his plate and sets it down on a side table, motioning for me and Felisia to join him. He keeps his voice even.

"You did well in the Dungeon. They can't take that from you."

Felisia joins us, and a handful of lower nobles—young knights who saw what I did in the Crucible—nod as they pass. They offer quiet words, nothing loud enough for Adrienne to hear.

"Saw you clear that Mimic. Never seen the Guildmaster so red."

I nod, but I keep my eyes on the main table. Adrienne, seeing the attention, lifts her voice.

"It was all luck. Even the weakest Dungeons spit out rare drops for fools sometimes. Let's see if he survives a real contest."

Her friends laugh, not bothering to hide their contempt.

Felisia bristles, and I see the anger simmering in her hands. Calantha catches her glare, walks up to us, leans in, and says, "You'd better not embarrass us in the Hunt, Felisia. Make sure you won't shame the whole bloodline. Don't drag our name down just because you're desperate for allies."

Felisia looks ready to snap.

Her sister tilts her cup and spills wine across Felisia's sleeve.

"Oh, how careless," Calantha says, her voice sugary and cold. "Maybe you'll have better luck in the hunt than at the table."

Felisia flushes, but I step between them, picking up a napkin and handing it to her before she can retaliate.

"It's not worth it," Sir Greyson says, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "They want you angry. Let them talk."

Calantha narrows her eyes at him and then at me.

The crowd laughs at that until I take my own cup of wine and, very openly, throw it right in Calantha's face.

"Oops, I tripped," I say, palming my forehead. "How clumsy of me. I miss the manners they teach nobles; I can't even hold a cup properly. I'm so, very sorry."

Calantha's face burns with anger. She turns to her cousin, Lord Aulus Virelli, who sits nearby with the air of someone who expects to be obeyed. He barely glances at me before speaking to her in a bored tone. "If you want, I'll handle the miner myself tomorrow. It's not worth letting him make a scene."

Calantha lifts her chin, proud but rattled. "I'd appreciate it. He doesn't know his place."

Roland, who's been hanging around the edge of their group hoping to catch Aulus's attention, puffs out his chest. "Allow me, Lord Aulus. For the honor of House Clearwater, I'll handle him in front of everyone. I'll make sure there's nothing left for the gossips to talk about."

Aulus doesn't bother to look at Roland, only nods once.

That's when Roland steps forward, forcing a path through the crowd, and calls out to me.

A young lord—tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in Adrienne's family colors—pushes through the crowd. Roland, whom Felisia immediately describes to my ear as "infamous for bullying weaker contestants and gloating about victories in public," locks eyes with me and smirks.

"He's level eighty, Jacob. Be careful."

"Sure," I smirk.

"Jacob Cloud," he calls, loud enough for everyone to hear, "I hear you cleared the Crucible. Impressive, if true. But you offend Lady Calantha with your crude manners. I shall teach you a lesson."

"Shall you, now?" I smile, taking another cup from a servant that stops beside me when I gesture him to.

"I doubt you did it without help, but perhaps you'd like to prove yourself? Let's see if you can stand against a real opponent, someone born to this work, not crawling up from the gutters—"

I throw this cup of wine in Roland's face, who inhales some of the wine and starts coughing and spitting in response, bending on his knees and trying to clear his airways from the fruity red wine.

"Oops," I say, palming my forehead again. "I really don't know how to drink wine. Coming from the gutters, we only drank rat's piss and rainwater. This is all very new to me, I'm so sorry, brother Roland. I offer you my most sincere apologies."

Roland looks at me with wide eyes, not registering how could I have so much guts to do something like that.

Now, the whole hall turns to watch. The lords and ladies lean forward, eager for a show.

Roland is flabbergasted.

"You did that on purpose!" he shouts, tremlbing and pointing a finger at me.

I gesture for the same servant who can barely hide his laugh as he passes me another cup of wine.

"On purpose?" I frown. "That is a grave accusation, brother Roland. I would never dare offend a noble such as you. It's just... I really am clumsy. Look, do you see this cup?"

I move the cup forward a little and cranes his neck, actually believing me.

I then throw it in his face again and, once again, he inhales the wine and starts choking.

"Like, see?!" I say, indignated. "It's hard to handle these fancy cups! I'm used to wooden utensils! Actually, most of the time I drank from my dirty, coal-ridden hands!"

Roland looks beside himself now, not believing the amount of guts I am putting on display.

"ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME, CLOUD?!" Roland roars.

"I wouldn't dare, milolrd," I say, rubbing the back of my head sheepishly. "I really don't know how to use the cups."

Before I can even say anything, I find the same servant putting another cup of wine in my hand.

This time, I bring it to my lips and take a small sip.

"Yikes, this is too refined for my palate, brother Roland. You're right, I come from the gutters. I really don't know any better."

This display seems to puzzle the noble young man so much he momentarily forgets I threw two cups of wine in his face.

"Cloud, I still have to teach you a lesson for insulting Lady Calantha!"

"Insulting?" I say, frowning. "I didn't say anything, though? Did I say that she's wrinkled despite her young age, perhaps? No, right? Did I say that she's been eating a few too many pastries considering her plumpness is already quite visible and not befitting a lady of her station?! I would never! Did I say that her hair is looking very sparse and that she might even go bald and become a creepy uncle?! I would deserve the gallows for such an offense!"

Everyone widens their eyes, even Lord Clearwater starts choking on his own drink.

A few people peer over Calantha's scalp to check if she's actually going bald and that makes the middle Clearwater sister lose her marbles.

"STOP LOOKING AT MY HEAD!" she shouts beside herself.

I lean back and nod.

"It's very rude to stare at her head when no one is insinuating she's going bald!"

Felisia starts laughing uncontrollably when she finally catches on what I've been doing. Sir Greyson coughs behind his armored hand and averts his gaze, trying not to bring offense himself.

Roland looks back at Calantha and frowns, ready to propose the duel again, but when he turns again, I splash the wine on his face for the third time.

"I'll accept the duel, brother Roland. I'm sure you have a lot to show me. Tomorrow at ten in front of the Clearwater estate? Actually, make it on the beach. I think it'll be a nice day out."

Before Roland can say anything I turn on my heels, snag one last cup of wine, and actually bring it with me outside.

Sir Roland shouts at my disappearing shadow as soon as he regains his bearings.

"Let's see if you'll kneel and beg for mercy once you face a true noble's blade!"

I don't reply, sipping the cup with a smirk.

As the banquet breaks up, I hear Adrienne's final barb—"Enjoy your last night, miner. The Hunt belongs to those who deserve it."

I say nothing. I save my words for the morning.

The night ends with the hall buzzing about the duel. Some sneer. Some pity. But all of them will watch.

Let them watch.

Tomorrow, I show them exactly what I've become.

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