Grim turned to see Lord Terras approaching, flanked by two younger men who shared his features. Unlike their previous encounter in the city, Terras was now dressed in expensive finery that strained against his portly frame.
"Lord Terras," Rowan acknowledged with a cordial nod. "I trust you're well."
"Well enough," Terras replied, his gaze fixed on Grim. "Though surprised to see certain people invited to such a prestigious event. Standards must be slipping."
Several nearby nobles turned to watch the exchange, sensing potential drama.
"The imperial invitation seemed quite specific," Grim replied with forced politeness. "Though I understand your confusion. It must be rare for you to attend such high-level functions."
A few onlookers smothered laughter. Terras's face flushed.
"You've taught your son your manners, I see," Terras said to Rowan. "Though not how to respect his betters."
"My son respects those worthy of respect," Rowan replied evenly.
Terras stepped closer to Grim, lowering his voice. "Enjoy your moment in the sun, boy. Your family's return to favor is temporary at best. When the Empress tires of her charity project, you'll be back in exile where you belong."
"Lord Terras," a smooth voice interrupted. "Still picking fights with children? How courageous."
A tall, elegant woman in deep purple silks had joined their circle. Her hair was wavy, and it went down to her waist. Her hair was dressed with purple jewels that matched her outfit.
"Lady Renara," Terras said, his tone suddenly conciliatory. "Merely welcoming the Ambrose family back to society."
"How generous of you," Lady Renara replied with obvious sarcasm. "I'm sure they're overwhelmed by your warmth. Lord Ambrose, it's been far too long."
She offered her hand to Rowan, who bowed over it formally. "Lady Renara. You look well."
"As do you," she replied before turning her attention to Grim. "And this must be your son. I've heard interesting things about you, young lord."
Before Grim could respond, Terras cut in. "Don't waste your time, Renara. The boy barely spoke before the age of five. Developmentally delayed, from what I hear."
The watching crowd grew silent, shocked by the direct insult. Even with the imperial pin, such a comment came dangerously close to insulting the Empress's judgment.
Grim felt a surge of anger but remembered Rowan's warning. Instead of lashing out, he smiled coldly. "And yet here I am, Lord Terras, with an imperial invitation and the Empress's favor. What achievements have your sons managed recently?"
Terras's face darkened with rage. "You insolent little..."
"Careful," Rowan warned quietly. "Remember where you are."
Terras took a deep breath, visibly controlling himself. Then he smiled, the expression not reaching his eyes.
"You know what? I admire your confidence, boy. So much so that I'm willing to make a wager with you."
"A wager?" Grim asked, intrigued despite himself.
"Yes. Word is that Princess Liona rather likes you. I bet you can't secure the first dance with her tonight."
The onlookers murmured. The first dance at the Imperial Ball was traditionally reserved for the highest nobility, often pre-arranged weeks in advance.
"And if I do?" Grim asked.
"If you somehow manage it, which you won't," Terras said, "I'll give you ownership of one of my businesses. Your choice."
Grim raised an eyebrow. "And if I lose?"
Terras's smile widened unpleasantly. "Then you'll be my slave for the rest of your pathetic life."
Several gasps came from the crowd. Such terms were scandalous, especially in public.
"Lord Terras, surely you jest," Lady Renara said, her eyes wide.
"No, jest," Terras replied. "Well, boy? Do you have the spine to accept, or are you all talk?"
Grim felt Rowan's hand on his shoulder, a silent warning. But his pride had been pricked, and the weeks of training with D had left him with a newfound confidence.
"I accept," Grim said clearly. "One of your businesses against my... servitude."
"Grim," Rowan said quietly, but Grim ignored him.
"Excellent!" Terras laughed, clearly believing he'd trapped the boy. "We have witnesses aplenty. The wager is set."
As Terras and his sons walked away, looking smug, Rowan turned Grim to face him. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"
"Made a bet I intend to win," Grim replied.
"You've risked everything on your ability to charm a princess," Rowan said, his voice tight with anger. "The first dance is almost certainly already promised to someone of significant political importance."
Lady Renara, who had remained nearby, spoke up. "If I may, Lord Ambrose... your son's confidence might not be entirely misplaced. The princess has been rather vocal about her... preferences recently."
Before Rowan could respond, a servant approached. "Lord Ambrose, Her Imperial Majesty requests your presence. Something about the southern border situation."
Rowan sighed. "I must go. Grim, stay out of trouble. No more bets, no more antagonizing anyone. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Grim replied with false innocence.
After Rowan left, Lady Renara turned to Grim with an amused expression. "You've caused quite a stir, young lord. And on your first Imperial Ball, no less."
"I don't like bullies," Grim said simply.
"Few do," she agreed. "But challenging one of the wealthiest merchants in the empire was perhaps unwise. Terras has significant influence."
"Not enough to deny me a dance with the princess," Grim said confidently. Laughing to himself in his head because the dance was already promised to him.
Lady Renara studied him with newfound interest. "Your father was never so bold at your age. You remind me more of..." She trailed off, then smiled. "Well, that's a story for another time. Best of luck with your wager, Lord Ambrose. I suspect the evening will be most entertaining."
As she departed, Grim became aware of a strange sensation. It was like he was being watched. He scanned the reception hall, noticing how people were already whispering about his bet with Terras. But the feeling came from elsewhere. His eyes were drawn to the far corner of the hall, where an elderly man stood alone, observing the proceedings.
The man was tall and lean. His white hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and a thin scar ran down one side of his face. He wore simple but elegant clothing in dark green, with no house insignia visible.
When their eyes met across the room, the man didn't look away. Instead, he inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging Grim's notice before turning and disappearing through a side door.
[Someone's taken an interest in you,] the voice in Grim's head commented.
"Who is he?" Grim thought back.
[I don't know,] the voice replied,
[But, his mana signature is... familiar. Powerful, too. Six fully developed mana hearts]
"I should follow him," Grim thought.
[Perhaps later,] the voice suggested. [Right now, you have a wager to win. And more guests are arriving—including some who might be useful allies.]
Grim reluctantly turned away from where the man had disappeared. The voice was right. He needed to focus on securing that first dance with Liona. Everything else could wait.
As he moved through the growing crowd, Grim was unaware that the elderly man had reappeared on a balcony overlooking the reception hall, watching him with eyes that held both pride and concern.