Chapter 1561: Chapter 1561

After notifying the Windsor family's servants, Miss Windsor, dressed as elegantly as Hathaway and Briny, soon emerged from the villa. Jenkins stepped out of the carriage to greet her. Turning back to face the house, he narrowed his eyes and easily spotted the man standing at a second-floor window, gazing down at them.

Though he'd never seen a photograph of the man, Jenkins was certain it was Duke Windsor—one of the few remaining dukes of this era to possess both land and the right to maintain a private army. He was one of the true top-tier nobles in the Kingdom of Fidektri, occupying a position an ordinary person could never hope to reach, not even after three lifetimes of struggle.

After confirming Miss Windsor was safely in the carriage, Jenkins glanced up at the figure on the second floor and tipped his hat in a gesture of respect. The Duke, realizing he'd been spotted, stepped back from the window. He had likely given a nod in return, but the distance was too great for Jenkins to be certain.

"Is Duke Windsor not attending this evening's banquet?"

Back inside the carriage, the atmosphere was a little awkward, but that was to be expected. Jenkins casually hung his black silk top hat on a hook and scooped his cat back into his lap.

"Father will be attending. He will travel there on his own in a little while."

Miss Windsor replied, her voice lacking the dashing confidence she'd projected in her hunting attire the previous day.

Hathaway and Briny were still quiet. Hathaway tilted her head to gaze out the window, feigning a sudden interest in the Bel Diran nightscape. Briny, meanwhile, was focused on the cat in Jenkins's lap. The cat wasn't lying down but sat primly, staring back at Briny with wide eyes, seemingly admiring the beauty of her emerald irises.

"I heard you were attacked yesterday. You weren't injured, were you?"

"I'm fine. I just ran into a strange man. A magician, I suppose. He managed to conjure flames out of thin air."

Miss Windsor recounted her encounter with the Gear Artisans' Association cultist as if it were some amusing anecdote she'd heard about a stranger. Hathaway's brow furrowed; she understood at once that Miss Windsor had run into an Enchanter.

Her gaze instinctively shifted to Jenkins, certain he had something to do with it.

"Later, someone saved me," Miss Windsor continued. "But the police who arrived afterward said my rescuer seemed to be connected to Miss Fabry's gang."

At this, the corner of Hathaway's mouth quirked into a faint smile. Under the gaslight, the delicate lines of her lips, accented by lipstick of a shade Jenkins couldn't quite place, softened, making the color seem all the more alluring.

"The body of my attacker was eventually taken away by the police. I heard it will be handed over to the Church for investigation."

Miss Windsor knew what he was getting at. Jenkins nodded. With this development, the Gear Artisans' Association would be completely unable to orchestrate any new schemes in Bel Diran for the foreseeable future.

Although Cold Spring Palace was on the outskirts of the city, all the surrounding streets were now fitted with gaslights. As dusk deepened, a series of elegant lampposts ignited one by one, stretching from the distance toward them, each flaring to life with a soft pop. They cast a quiet glow, guiding the carriages on their way.

By the time Jenkins's party of four arrived, the grounds outside the palace complex were already crowded with carriages. He knew few people in the capital, so as he disembarked, he didn't have to concern himself with exchanging pleasantries.

The three young ladies, on the other hand, knew quite a few people—or more accurately, nearly everyone knew Miss Windsor. Yet, the moment anyone recognized Jenkins, they refrained from stopping the group to chat. His very presence cast a peculiar tension over the palace entrance. People feigned indifference while stealing furtive glances his way; some men tipped their hats in a gesture of respect, while others muttered quietly to their companions.

"Let's go straight inside."

He turned and suggested to his companions. The ladies nodded demurely. Hathaway and Briny then quickly stepped forward to flank him, one on his left and the other on his right.

Miss Windsor, well aware of her role for the evening, followed silently behind the trio. It was Briny who eventually took pity, slowing her pace to fall half a step behind Jenkins and casually striking up a conversation with Miss Windsor about jewelry and accessories.

A great number of guests had been invited, so Cold Spring Palace had opened its courtyards, its gardens, and the largest palace building near the entrance to serve as the event's venue.

Men and women milled about in their finest attire, and the lavishly decorated gardens made it feel as if the season had fast-forwarded to the height of summer. The ceremony for bestowing honors and titles was scheduled for eight o'clock, leaving over an hour for guests to socialize and enjoy themselves as they would at any ordinary gala.

The ladies knew Jenkins had business to attend to, so after they entered the courtyard, the trio went off to find some acquaintances their own age to chat with. Jenkins straightened his tie, then, with his cat in his arms, made his way toward the red-carpeted palace steps.

The guards at the entrance, clad in gleaming new armor, had clearly been expecting him. They bowed respectfully before opening the doors to let him pass. As the great doors swung shut behind him, the lively chatter from the courtyard and gardens was completely sealed away. The most update n0vels are published on novel-fire.net

"The soundproofing is excellent."

He thought, starting up the spiral staircase that swept from the first floor to the second. It was utterly silent inside, and each of his footsteps produced a startling echo in the vast space.

This building was the venue for the evening's ceremony of honors and investiture. It was not yet open to guests, but the servants had already prepared the hall. The second floor was a reception area typically used for visiting foreign envoys. Waiting for Jenkins there now, on a balcony, were Queen Isabella and a pale, somewhat gaunt man.

The man looked to be in his late thirties, with eyes sunken deep in their sockets, as though he were plagued by severe insomnia.

The pair had been conversing before Jenkins arrived, and their conversation didn't cease when he stepped onto the balcony. From their exchange, he quickly deduced the man's identity. This was the foreigner rumored to be first in line to the Fidektri Kingdom's throne.

Queen Isabella addressed him as Horas Luther. Mr. Luther's maternal grandmother had been a princess of the royal Middleton family—a rather unpopular one, at that. In a way, however, this had been a stroke of luck. The late Lady Middleton's marriage had been free from her family's interference; she met Mr. Luther's grandfather at a diplomatic reception and chose the fortunate man to be her husband.

Her marriage forty years ago had scarcely been major news, and she had gradually lost touch with the royal family over time. When she passed away, the Middletons hadn't even sent a significant representative to her funeral—after all, by that point, there were few male heirs left bearing the family name. It was only when the monarchy faced a succession crisis that they remembered the descendants of the princess who had married abroad. Had it not been for the emergence of the Williams family, Horas Luther would have been, by blood, the most qualified person to inherit the throne.