Chapter 85: Poor Julius

“So you are the young artisan,” Marquis Aaron said in a deep, booming voice that echoed across the silent hall. “My daughter has done nothing but talk about your impossible skill for the past five days. Opening a three-hundred-year-old ancient lock in two minutes… I found it hard to believe until I saw my ancestor’s original crest seal with my own eyes.”

“It was simply a matter of understanding the metal’s acoustic frequency, My Lord,” I answered smoothly, my tone showing zero fear.

The Marquis let out a short, approving laugh. “Modest and confident. I like that in a craftsman. You have done my house a great service, Master Silvester. Tonight, you are an honored guest of the House of Felis.”

“Thank you, Lord Governor,” I said.

“Father!” a cold, arrogant voice suddenly interrupted from behind the Marquis.

Stepping out from the crowd was a tall, slender white cat beastman around eighteen years old.

He wore a pristine white imperial guard uniform decorated with gold braid, and a long silver rapier rested at his hip. His face looked remarkably like Colleen’s, but his blue eyes were cold, narrow, and filled with deep disdain as he glared down at me.

It was Lord Julius van Felis, Colleen’s older brother and the senior heir candidate.

“Father, surely you are not serious,” Julius said coldly, crossing his gloved hands over the hilt of his rapier. “Inviting a commoner human orphan and a dirty old rabbit to our family’s private High Council banquet?! It is an absolute embarrassment to our bloodline. The other noble houses are laughing at us.”

Tibbar winced slightly, stepping back behind my shoulder, but I remained completely still.

Colleen’s pink ears flopped back in rage as she glared at her older brother. “Shut up, Julius! Silvester did what fifty of your useless grand mages couldn’t do in fifty years! He opened the box! You are just mad because Father named me the official heir today!”

Julius’s jaw tightened, a dark flash of hatred crossing his eyes before he quickly masked it with a sneer.

“Opening a rusty old puzzle box requires nothing more than petty trickery,” Julius scoffed, looking down his nose at me. “He is just a street tinkerer playing with brass wire. He doesn’t belong in this ballroom, and he certainly doesn’t deserve our family’s crest.”

I looked at Julius, pulling down my loupe for a fraction of a second beneath the brim of my hat.

My Locksmith’s Eye instantly scanned his fine white uniform, his ceremonial rapier, and the glowing blue magic ring sitting on his right index finger.

“A fine rapier, Lord Julius,” I said calmly, breaking the tense silence.

Julius raised an eyebrow, a mocking smirk appearing on his lips. “What? You think you can evaluate royal steel, human kid?”

“The blade is star-silver alloy,” I observed in a clear voice that carried across the surrounding crowd. “Very sharp, very expensive. However, the internal tension spring inside your ceremonial scabbard lock is improperly aligned by two millimeters. If you attempt to draw that sword in a duel, the guard latch will jam against the top rim, leaving your weapon stuck halfway inside the sheath.”

Julius froze. His mocking smirk vanished instantly. “What utter nonsense! This scabbard was forged by the Chief Imperial Armorer!”

“Try drawing it,” I offered smoothly, pointing at his hip. “Draw it right now and prove me wrong.”

Julius’s face flushed red with humiliation. He reached down to his hip, grabbing the handle of his rapier to pull it out.

He pulled.

CLACK.

The blade stuck firmly inside the scabbard, refusing to budge even an inch. Julius pulled harder, his face turning bright red as he yanked on the handle with all his strength, but the locked latch held the sword completely jammed inside the sheath.

Several nearby nobles covered their mouths, muffled giggles breaking out across the ballroom floor.

Marquis Aaron looked at his son’s jammed sword, then looked back at me, a wide, amused grin spreading across his grey whiskers.

“Brilliant,” the Marquis chuckled loudly. “Sensational vision! You spotted a mechanical flaw in a second without even touching the weapon!”

Colleen burst into a fit of wild laughter, pointing her finger at her brother. “Ha! Look at the imperial knight! He can’t even pull his own sword out!”

Julius released the handle, his face burning with intense rage and embarrassment. He gave me a look of pure venom, turned on his heel, and stormed off into the crowd, his cape fluttering behind him.

“A sharp eye, Master Silvester,” Marquis Aaron said, patting my shoulder with a heavy hand. “Enjoy the banquet. The secret auction will begin in the glass gallery in thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” I said with a polite bow.

As the Marquis walked away to greet other high delegates, Colleen stepped up beside me, her white tail wagging happily.

“That was amazing!” Colleen whispered, her green eyes shining with delight. “Julius looked like such an idiot! How did you know his sword was jammed?”

“I didn’t know,” I lied with a small, quiet grin. “I used a tiny pulse of my magic to lock his scabbard latch the moment he grabbed the handle.”

Colleen gasped, her pink nose twitching before she let out a delighted giggle. “You are evil, Silvester! A complete little demon!”

“I am a locksmith,” I corrected her. “I control what opens and what stays closed.”

I looked toward the far end of the ballroom, where two heavy iron doors guarded by four imperial mages led into the glass gallery.

Through the frosted glass, I could see covered display tables holding ancient artifacts recovered from subterranean ruins.

And sitting right in the center of the gallery floor, bound in heavy black iron chains and radiating a faint, dark pulse of black thread mana, was a massive, ancient iron book.

My chest tightened slightly.

The suit guy, the corrupted dragon, and this locked iron book. Everything was coming together in this palace.

“Tibbar,” I said softly, flicking my left wrist under my sleeve to feel the cold, reassuring star-iron of my Dragon Bracelet.

“Yes, little master?” Tibbar asked, currently holding three wooden skewers of honey-glazed carrots he had snatched from a passing waiter’s tray.

“Eat your carrots quickly,” I said, my eyes fixing on the iron doors. “The real show is about to begin.”

The air inside the Glass Gallery was markedly cooler than the main ballroom, carrying a crisp, metallic tang that smelled faintly of static electricity and aged parchment.

Thick crystal archways curved overhead, revealing the moonlit night sky above, while low-burning, violet-hued mana lamps cast long, velvet shadows across the white marble floor.

Unlike the bustling, festive atmosphere of the grand hall outside, the gallery was hushed, dominated by an air of intense, calculating ambition.

Only thirty people were permitted inside. They were the apex elite of Phoya. The wealthy guild grandmasters, high-ranking military commanders, regional trade barons, and a select few high beastman nobles whose family lines traced back to the founding of the city.

Tibbar walked tightly behind me, his long rabbit ears twitching at every clink of a wine glass. He had discreetly tucked his honey-glazed carrot skewers into his velvet inner coat pocket, holding his silver-tipped mahogany cane with both hands like a shield.

“Silvester,” Tibbar whispered nervously, his eyes darting toward two massive, armored lion guards standing by the gallery doors. “Those mages at the entrance… did you see the way their mana rings flashed when we walked through? They scanned us three times!”

“I saw,” I replied quietly, keeping my hands casually tucked in my coat pockets. “Dual-layer spell-weave detectors. Designed to detect concealed spell-scrolls, volatile alchemy potions, and unauthorized magic rings.”

“Did they detect your bracelet?” Tibbar asked, sweating slightly.

“No,” I murmured, a faint smile playing on my lips. “The Dragon Bracelet is forged from refined star-iron and inert silver. It carries zero external mana signature until I channel my mana core through it. To their detection items, it’s just a dense piece of decorative iron jewelry.”

“You two are whispering like conspirators,” Colleen’s voice chimed in as she trotted up beside us, her sapphire silk dress rustling smoothly against the marble floor.

She held a small crystal goblet of sparkling berry juice, her white tail swaying with high-born confidence. “Come on, Father reserved the central front-row velvet couch for us. You get to sit right next to the Lord Governor, human boy.”

“Then let’s go, Lady Colleen,” I said with a polite nod.

We walked down the central carpeted aisle toward the raised semi-circular seating area facing the auction stage.

As we took our seats, I felt a sharp, hostile gaze burning into the back of my neck. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Lord Julius was standing near the right balcony archway, surrounded by three young noble officers. His hand kept twitching near his hip where his ceremonial rapier remained stubbornly locked inside its scabbard, his face pale with lingering humiliation.

“Just ignore my brother,” Colleen said, hopping onto the velvet cushions beside me and resting her chin on her white gloved paws. “He’s just furious because Father publicly stripped him of his security oversight duties for the banquet after his sword jammed. Now Father put our family guards in charge of gallery security.”

Enjoying the journey? Don’t let the adventure stop here!