The red carpet of the Starlit Theatre was filled with loud cheers, excitement, and high expectations. Prominent figures in Vreqiseon's high society and government mingled under the watchful eyes of journalists.

  An artistic display wasn't the only thing anticipated this evening, after all. The presence of government officials, aristocrats, and celebrities was a surefire formula for ensuring that tomorrow's headlines would be anything but flattering.

  The two masters of ceremony stood at the forefront, their voices booming over the lively chatter thanks to the *sonivox.

  A familiar figure to the crowd stepped into the spotlight—lanky yet brimming with energy. He stood tall, his brown hair neatly combed, and his expressive face beaming with warmth. His tailored black suit was decorated with chain embellishments. A long, flowing brow coat draped over his shoulders as he strode confidently, arms outstretched in a theatrical flourish. His smile was infectious, and his presence was commanding yet inviting. He was someone who could turn any gathering into a gleeful event.

  "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to an unforgettable evening here at Starlit Theatre! Tonight, we will witness the first-ever performance of the musical adaptation of Florian and Laurel, a timeless poem from the dawn of our empire. A tale of love that endured even the darkest of times! My name is Cluster Appleroot, and standing beside me is the rising star of this generation, the one and only Altair Tapas!"

  Behind Cluster was a young man fit and strongly handsome; his golden hair caught the light of the premiere in soft waves, and his sharp green eyes glistened with effortless charm. His green and gold coat fit him well. The intricate embroidery accentuated his regal posture. The high collar and layered sleeves of his outfit gave him an air of freshness while the split-tail design of his coat flared subtly with each movement. As Altair took a step forward, his charming smile effortlessly made his fangirls squeal. Waving at them left and right, what a celebrity. He was a performer in every sense, on and off stage. He carried himself with confidence like a man who knew he was a star.

  "The excitement in the air is palpable! We're not only joined by some of the most renowned figures in the entertainment industry but also some leaders of our empire. Their attendance shows just how important Florian and Laure is for not only Vreqiseon's culture and literature but in the very foundations of the empire itself."

  Cluster nodded, eyes scanning the bustling red carpet.

  "Indeed! And speaking of notable figures, our night is already off to a busy start! The journalists, artists, and reporters are all struggling to decide who to turn their attention to, and I understand! The red carpet is teeming with familiar faces!"

  Then, a carriage arrived, and the hosts prepared to announce the arrival of the next set of guests.

  Cluster gestured dramatically toward the approaching figures, "Coming to the scene is none other than the esteemed owner of the Naimas restaurant chain, Chef Gene Baker, and his son and heir, the ever-so-dashing Taraki Huckleberry Baker!"

  Walking down the red carpet with a charismatic smile, the broad shouldered chef was radiating an effortless charisma. His muscular frame was wrapped in an elegant black tailored suit, the structured fit only amplifying his powerful presence. A long, flowing green coat laced with golden accents added a gentle touch to his overwhelming aura. His green eyes sparkled with unrestrained warmth, making him approachable despite his formidable structure. This was a man who commanded a kitchen with the same authority that he carried in a room full of aristocrats.

  If his father was approachable and welcoming, Huckleberry was his exact opposite. The young man was a figure draped in dark asymmetry, exuding an almost lazy elegance. His lean but muscular build was cloaked in a black and deep green ensemble, silver chains glinting against the layered fabrics that gave him a presence many couldn't ignore. His green hair was tousled in deliberate disarray, and his framed yellow eyes that was half-lidded with disinterest. Yet, beneath his slouched posture was an undeniable magnetism, an air of someone who stood apart. Unmotivated yet unnaturally captivating. His fitted pants and high-necked shirt, accented with mesh and embroidery, gave a refined edge to his indifferent stance. A rouge in a place full of dignitaries.

  With practiced ease, Altair chimed in, "Naimas is one of many sponsors that the production has, but not only that, they're also responsible for catering this evening's event!"

  Cluster let out an exaggerated sigh, "Oh, you sweet child! There you go again, talking about food. You really have your priorities straight, don't you?"

  Altair chuckled, shrugging dramatically, "What can I say? I know what's important in life.

  Cluster then continued on making sure there was no dead air, "So folks, if you find yourself delighted by both the performance and the meal tonight, you know who to thank!"

  Altair's eyes gleamed as he gestured to Cluster toward the two approaching figures.

  "Arriving together, hand-in-hand, looking at each other with eyes filled with love—let's all welcome the mustelids of the west, Their Dauntlesiances, Viscount and Viscountess Fortsterling!"

  The couple walked together, posing for the artists and journalists to sketch and write, capturing the moment.

  Regality itself arrived on the red carpet in the form of the viscount. His sculpted frame was emphasized by the flowing red cloak embroidered in gold that he wore. It draped over him with the kind of effortless aura that came over a man who knew his worth. His raven-black hair was slicked back, revealing his piercing red eyes that cut through the crowd with a quiet dominance, a stark contrast to the animal their House was known for. A crisp white ruffled shirt peeked from beneath his cloak and fitted black pants and polished boots completed his refined yet imposing look. His attire heighed his air of sophistication. A man whose presence alone was enough to demand respect.

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  In his arms at his side was his wife, who was nothing short of breathtaking. Viscountess Fortsterling moved with the confidence of a woman who knew the power of her presence. Her curvaceous form was complimented by the floor-length red gown she wore, its golden embroidery catching the light like a flame dancing in the darkness. The structured bodice hugged her frame, sheer cape-like sleeves trailed behind her like a marvelous display. Her soft blonde curls framed her face, and those pink eyes held a captivating mix of warmth and mischief. Her husband's hands were at her waist, and she showed no discomfort at his clinginess, for though little known to others, the viscountess didn't fancy crowds and felt safe in her husband's arms when she couldn't avoid one. Where he was strikingly refined, she was dazzingly magnetic.

  They were an impossible duo to ignore.

  Cluster leaned towards Altair, "What do you say we make this more fun? Let's make a guess! Who do you think will come strut down the red carpet next?"

  Altair was caught off guard but smoothly jumped right back in, "Why don't we ask our esteemed sponsors instead? The Bakers!"

  Chef Gene and his son had just finished posing for the artists and journalists when they were ushered by the emcees.

  "A pleasant evening to you both, Chef Gene and Huckleberry!" Cluster greeted them warmly.

  "Likewise!" Chef Gene grinned. "You know my daughter is a big fan of both of you, especially Altair! Would you mind giving me your autograph so I can gift it to her?"

  Atair smiled, "That warms my heart. Of course! I'd be happy, too!"

  "HAHA! I also heard you're a fan of Naimas! Come by sometime—I'll treat you to a meal! On the house!"

  Altair's eyes shone with excitement, but he quickly regained his composure, "I'll hold you to that, Chef!"

  Cluster chuckled, "Now, Chef, as one of tonight's sponsors, you must be pleased to see the amount of attention the musical is getting."

  Chef Gene chuckled, "That's right. My late wife was very fond of the poem. She used to recite it from memory and Thyme cherishes it too because it reminds her of Saniata. Honestly I think my wife loves Sanny more than me."

  Cluster let out a sharp laugh, " Chef, are you saying you're in a love triangle with your late wife and your current wife?"

  "It's not a love triangle if I'm clearly the third wheel," Chef Gene crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Sometimes, it's blatantly obvious that I'm competing with Sanny for Thyme's affection—and I'm losing! Imagine! Being jealous of your late wife. That's where my life is now."

  "Wow... sucks to be single right now..." Altair sighed, "Hearing this public display of affection just makes me want to go and find my other half already. I can't wait to find her."

  Hearing this, his fangirls squealed louder. Swooning over him.

  Gene clapped a heavy hand over Altair's shoulder, laughing.

  "You'll find her, don't you worry! Who knows? She might even be here tonight!"

  Cluster grinned and teased the young man, "Well, Altair, you heard the chef! So keep your eyes peeled and your heart open! Now! Let's go back to our little guessing game! Chef, who do you think we'll be seeing next?"

  But before Chef Gene could answer and Altair's fangirls could settle down, another carriage rolled in—one that sent a ripple which would eventually cause a tidal wave in the blink of an eye.

  Cluster's eyes widened, "Ladies and gentlemen! Direct your attention to the next guests arriving! This is not just any carriage. One of the top five most powerful families in Vreqiseon will be making their entrance! It's the ducal family of the Serebro ducy, the House of Niege!"

  Gasps filled the air.

  The House of Niege?

  They'd been invited, of course, but they hadn't sent a formal RSVP. Most people just assumed they weren't going to attend hence the wave of intrigue through the crowd.

  "What a surprise! Chef! Since you have some connections to the House of Niege, who do you think among them has decided to attend and make this premiere more dazzling than it already is?" Asked Cluster.

  Gene, baffled, quickly turned to Cluster and hummed in thought, "I personally invited the Duke a few months ago, but he had to decline due to urgent matters in Serebro. And from what's buzzing around these days, I hear that they're busy tackling something important here in the capital. So, maybe it's the Duchess since she's fond of the arts."

  Cluster turned to the crowd looking at them, "What a bold prediction. Am I right? My guess is that it's the Young Miss attending the show with her friends as its common these days for young people to hang out with their friends in events like this. I'm speaking from experience as my daughter would rather attend tonight's premiere with her friends rather than her old man..."

  Altair patted his shoulder in sympathy.

  "Looks like it's hard to raise a daughter."

  "Tell me about it..." Cluster muttered.

  "My guess is that it's the first young master and his wife! They've recently returned from their honeymoon, maybe they chose to attend tonight's premiere to make their first appearance as a couple!" Said Altair.

  Huckleberry who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke, his voice as flat and uninterested as ever.

  "My bet's on the second young master."

  Altair raised a brow, "And your reasoning?"

  "None, just a hunch."

  "Bold choice of words, son. What are you betting?"

  "... I wasn't actually betting, Dad..."

  "Oh come on! Let's make this more interesting!" Said Chef Gene. "One of the three of us is right then you need to participate in the Founding Week's swordsmanship competition!"

  "What?" Huckleberry said.

  "You heard it here folks! If one of us is right, you'll get to see Genius Swordsman Taraki Huckleberry Baker in the next Founding Week's swordsmanship competition!" Altair said excitedly.

  "Wait... I didn't agree to this at all."

  The unmotivated, lazy, and unnaturally talented young man was caught off guard by his father's sudden bet. One look at Chef Gene's face and it was painfully obvious to him that this was his father's way of roping him into the competition despite personally not wanting to, deeming it a hassle and such a drag.

  "... Fine," Huckleberry said and turned to the doors of the carriage.

  Tension in the air thickened as the doors opened.

  The moment the passengers stepped out, gasps filled the theatre. People were shocked seeing who it was that arrived.

  Them?

  Hand in hand?

  In matching outfits?

  The crowd erupted in hushed whispers, journalists, artists, and reporters scrambling to get the moment.

  Cluster, the professional emcee, was so stunned that he froze. Even with all his years of experience, he wasn't prepared for this.

  Altair was the first to get his senses back and continued the show.

  "A-And it seems Huckleberry's hunch was correct!" He announced. "Arriving together is a pair no one expected to see... It's the second Young Master of Niege and the second Young Miss of Oryx!"

  Huckleberry exhaled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His expression as indifferent as usual.

  "Dang," He muttered under his breath after whistling, low enough that only he could hear, "That is one heck of a way to get high society talking, chief."

  ACE IN THE HOLE GLOSSARY FOR THE CHAPTER

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