Chapter 100: The Refinement of a Noble

  The estate of House Kelcrest was alive with movement. Servants flitted through the halls, arranging silken garments, preparing ceremonial armor, and ensuring every detail was accounted for in the lead-up to the grand social gathering. Yet, within one of the estate’s many polished chambers, an entirely different kind of preparation was taking place.

  "A noble must not only speak with grace but move with it."

  Darion’s voice carried across the grand chamber, where Marcus, Arixa, and Thalron stood before him. The marble floor shimmered beneath the candlelight, polished to perfection, while the faint notes of a traditional elven waltz echoed from enchanted instruments set in the corners of the room.

  Marcus and Arixa exchanged glances.

  "A good entrance is everything," Darion continued. "The social gathering is a battlefield in its own right, and you must be able to navigate it. A noble who cannot move with poise is a noble who is dismissed before they even speak."

  Arixa groaned, crossing her arms. “Dancing’s useless. I don’t need to prance around a ballroom to prove my strength.”

  Thalron smirked. "I've seen you fight, this is your opportunity to learn how to move your feet as well as you move your hammer."

  Marcus, however, was already in position, mirroring Darion’s stance.

  "You first, Marcus," Darion instructed, stepping forward in a precise rhythm, his movements refined and deliberate.

  Marcus watched carefully, then copied effortlessly, his footwork light and natural as he moved with the same calculated grace.

  Thalron blinked. "You're… actually good at this?"

  Marcus flashed a smirk, keeping his steps fluid. “A good boxer needs balance, coordination, and rhythm. This isn’t much different.”

  Arixa scoffed, arms still crossed. "Show-off."

  Marcus twirled expertly, shifting seamlessly into a secondary motion before grinning at Arixa. "Come on, your turn."

  She scowled but stepped up beside Thalron.

  The moment Thalron led the first step, Arixa accidentally stomped his foot, a loud thud echoing through the chamber.

  "By the gods, Arixa—!" Thalron barely held in a wince.

  "I’m half minotaur and centaur," she grumbled. "Grace isn’t exactly in my bloodline."

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  Marcus chuckled. "Try moving with the music instead of trying to crush your partner."

  Arixa gritted her teeth but begrudgingly followed the steps again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

  Hours later, Marcus and Arixa found themselves in one of the estate’s private dressing chambers, where rows of opulent elven attire awaited them.

  Marcus adjusted his coat, running a hand along the gold-thread embroidery woven into the deep navy fabric. The tailored noble attire felt foreign, yet it suited him well—a sharp contrast to his usual battle-worn armor and simple clothing.

  Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Arixa was actively fighting off Thalron, who was attempting to apply makeup to enhance her already striking features.

  "Stop squirming," Thalron muttered, holding a delicate brush. "I just have to perform a few color swatches to see witch one matches your skin tone."

  "If you even touch my face with that—"

  "Arixa." Thalron sighed. "It’s just a small enhancement. The nobles expect it."

  "They can expect to get their teeth knocked in," she snapped.

  Marcus, watching from the mirror, smirked. "You’d rather go into this without looking your best? We need to make a statement, remember?"

  Arixa groaned but reluctantly sat still just long enough for Thalron to finish.

  "There," Thalron stepped back, arms crossed. "Now you look like you belong in Nireen."

  Arixa muttered under her breath but didn’t argue further.

  With only a day left before the gathering, Marcus and Arixa stood in the training courtyard, facing off against Thalron, while Darion watched critically.

  "Your preparation must go beyond words and etiquette," Darion said. "You must be ready for anything. The "White Blade" is nearly twice your level, Thalron, and his mastery of Ki will push you to your limits."

  Marcus smirked, cracking his knuckles. "Let’s see if you can handle the both of us then."

  Arixa grinned, already shifting into a fighting stance.

  Thalron exhaled before raising his weapon. "Come, then."

  Arixa lunged first, her raw strength forcing Thalron to sidestep at the last second, dodging just as Marcus followed up with a rapid punch.

  The clash was intense, the courtyard filled with the sharp sound of metal, the thud of feet against stone, and the occasional grunt of exertion.

  Darion watched closely, nodding as Thalron adapted to the combined assault.

  "Better," he mused. "But not enough. The White Blade will not fight fair. Expect the unexpected."

  After nearly an hour of brutal sparring, Darion called it.

  "That will do. Rest while you can. Tomorrow, the true test begins."

  The evening of the gathering arrived.

  The House Kelcrest estate had been meticulously prepared. In the courtyard, opulent carriages lined up, their silver exteriors gleaming under the setting sun.

  Marcus adjusted his cuffs, his expression composed yet sharp. "Well, no turning back now."

  Thalron, clad in his refined noble attire, took a deep breath. "Indeed."

  Then, the chamber doors opened, and Arixa stepped forward.

  The room fell silent.

  She was stunning.

  Arixa, dressed in a deep crimson gown with gold-trimmed embroidery, was a striking figure. Her scarlet hair, usually wild, had been styled into intricate braids woven into a regal cascade. Her fierce red eyes, normally filled with battle-lust, now held a quiet intensity.

  For the first time, Marcus and Thalron were speechless.

  Arixa narrowed her eyes at Thalron’s lingering gaze. “You gonna keep staring or are we leaving?”

  Thalron, for once, was completely caught off guard.

  Marcus smirked, tilting his head. "Gotta admit, Arixa… you clean up real nice."

  Arixa scoffed before lightly punching Thalron in the gut, snapping him out of his trance. "Don’t get used to it."

  Thalron coughed, rubbing his side, but said nothing.

  Darion stepped forward, his expression serious. "This is it. Keep your composure, play the game well, and do not let them dictate your worth. This is your chance, Thalron."

  Marcus exhaled, glancing at the distant gates of Nireen. "Time to crash a party."

  And with that, they stepped into the carriage, ready to enter the lion’s den.