"Isn’t that Baron Arno?"

  The flippant voice reached Arno’s ears. He lifted his foot mid-step, then set it back down. Twenty meters away, a man in his early twenties sauntered over. The young man’s face bore subtle makeup—blush failing to hide the purple tinge beneath, suggesting poor health. Dressed in a white short formal jacket resembling an Earth-style suit, his pink collar gave him an air of impropriety as he swayed closer, every step accompanied by a twist of the body, his left hand aimlessly raised as if dancing a waltz, exuding absurd comedy.

  Images churned in Arno’s mind, sharpening into focus. He nodded slightly. "Tria, as I live and breathe."

  Those who had never visited the Capital could not fathom how cheap nobility could seem, especially in the Golden Ring District, where nearly every pedestrian was a noble. As the empire’s political heart, it drew ambitious nobles by the droves, all hoping to gain proximity to its top rulers.

  Tria was among these "outsider" nobles. His father, a non-hereditary viscount, faced the same inevitable decline as most non-hereditary houses. Lose their noble status, and former rivals, oppressed subordinates, and even other nobles would descend like ravenous dogs to tear them apart. To preserve their legacy, such families sought desperate measures to revive their fortunes before extinction.

  Noble titles were conferred in three ways: first, through military merit. Whether quelling rebellions or leading campaigns, exceptional service often earned low-level titles like baron or viscount—though large-scale civil wars like those under Orlando II or V had produced grandees like Duke Joan of Arc and hereditary nobles. The second path was administrative excellence: proving political acumen in governing fiefs could lead to imperial appointments and noble rank.

  The third path was simpler: becoming a court favorite. Synonymous with "sycophant" or "flatterer," these individuals earned titles by amusing the emperor. Take Wade, the pretty-faced effeminate favorite of Pars; a countship would be no surprise for someone who kept the empress entertained.

  To prolong their lineage, declining noble families often passed titles to the youngest direct heir—grandfathers to grandsons or great-grandsons—buying decades to devise survival strategies. This created a class of heirs like Tria: sons or grandsons of nobles but with no inheritance rights. Tria’s father would never pass the title to him, no matter his affection—family survival outweighed paternal whim. For Tria, earning a title meant struggle; no other path existed.

  Such young men either despaired or doubled down. Tria belonged to the former, a dissolute playboy.

  Their defining trait: avoiding serious trouble, preying only on inferiors to shield their families from powerful enemies. As expendable non-heirs, they made convenient scapegoats for appeasing wrathful rivals.

  Tria halted five paces from Arno. Despite his raffish attire, he was no fool. He knew Arno, though a baron, was not a minor noble to be provoked. Their acquaintance, however tenuous, might yet prove useful.

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  "I didn’t know you’d returned. Was it yesterday? The day before?" Tria’s camaraderie was artful—not overly cloying, not stiffly insincere. "How long has it been? So long I’ve lost track. Come, let me treat you to dinner. There’s a new restaurant on Xiedun Avenue." He tilted his head, shoulders raised, hands open in a pleading gesture.

  Arno hesitated. His palace lunch had been interrupted by Pars’ focus on Pramisburg’s policies; the new empress clearly fretted over the treasury. Bold as she was—while the old emperor and chancellor hesitated, she planned immediate action—Pars’ strength might not suit an empire needing a conciliatory ruler.

  Orlando V’s civil war had created countless nobles, now dwindling under Orlando V and VI. Banding into factions, they sought to pressure the crown and preserve power. A hardline emperor now might spark another civil war—a cycle the Golden Nobles sought to break: war begets nobles, nobles beget decline, decline begets war.

  Perhaps hunger, perhaps curiosity, led Arno to accept. Tria’s delight was genuine: allying with a Golden Noble secured a family’s future. He swiftly summoned a decent carriage, gesturing Arno inside.

  As the carriage rolled, Arno scanned its modest interior.

  "I heard Pars keeps a paramour named Wade?" Arno tugged at his glove. "What’s his background?"

  For such gossip, Tria was the expert. Men like Tratt disdained such trivialities, but Tria, a Capital scoundrel, specialized in bedroom scandals.

  Tria did not disappoint. "Wade? I know of him. Just a peasant’s son, once a church acolyte. Rumor has it…" He hesitated, uneasy about spreading dangerous gossip about Pars’ favorite. One word from Wade could ruin him.

  Noting Tria’s reluctance, Arno yanked his gloves free, chin raised. "Speak. I’m interested."

  Tria held Arno’s gaze for seconds before continuing. "They say he was abused by his village priest for years as a child. It left him confused about his gender—thought he was a girl. When the priest was transferred and punished, Wade slowly readjusted."

  "The key figure in their meeting? Grace Shuena. I believe you know him."

  At the name, Tria fell silent, breath quickening. Grace Shuena, Imperial Marshal, commander of the empire’s armies, its invincible "iron fist." Men spoke of him in awed tones, recounting his victories in suppressing rebellions, repelling invasions, and conquering foreign lands.

  Never had his name been linked to scandal—until now.

  Arno stared, stunned. "You’re saying that effeminate Wade is involved with Grace? The bearded brute who sleeps with his eyes open, all hair and scowl?" As a Golden Noble clan leader, Arno feared no one, not even a marshal.

  Tria swallowed, forcing a dry laugh. "So the rumor goes. Just rumors, of course."

  "Fine—treat it as a story. Continue. I’m entertained."