Chapter 258

Chapter 258

Another week passed, and the verdict for Qin Mengde and her accomplices was finally delivered. The accessories were stripped of their political rights, sentenced to fixed-term imprisonment, and their entire families were exiled to mid- to low-tier planets, with direct relatives barred from high-tier planets for a century.

Qin Mengde herself received a less severe sentence. However, due to her grave dereliction of duty—and given that this wasn't the Fourth Legion's first such incident—even the Emperor began to question if the legion's "feng shui" was truly cursed. With two consecutive legion commanders implicated in abusing public power for personal gain, the Emperor, after much deliberation, decided to simply remove the problem from sight. He swapped the functions of the Fourth and Tenth Legions: the Tenth Legion was recalled to the Milky Way to guard the capital planet, while the Fourth Legion was dispatched to the front lines to confront the continuously awakening king-class and Advanced Zerg.

With the year-end approaching, the handover of duties required time, so the full exchange was scheduled for after the New Year. This arrangement serendipitously aligned with Qin Mengde’s original intentions. She had long been disdainful of the Fourth Legion’s arrogant demeanor, stemming from their perceived backing by the Cavendish family, and had sought an opportunity to humble them. Being collectively banished to the frontier was, perhaps, the best possible outcome for her plan.

It was rumored that this entire maneuver was orchestrated by Commander Frigga. Such a strategic move suggested her initial intentions weren't solely focused on the Fourth Princess. Following Eve’s intervention, Alice’s guardianship was split: half remained with Frigga, and the other half was entrusted to Prince Philip for auxiliary supervision. From the outset, the Queen Bee had been one of their primary targets.

On the surface, the league incident appeared to be concluded. However, the astute residents of the capital planet, sifting through these brief announcements, keenly detected a growing cloud of suspicion. For instance, why did Prince Philip, who typically eschewed politics for art, suddenly meddle in the Cavendish family’s affairs? And why had the eldest princess, usually engrossed in research and academia, been frequently seen at the palace recently?

In these turbulent times, unease was pervasive. The only silver lining was the approaching year-end, bringing with it a flurry of balls. Social gatherings were always the most fertile ground for intelligence gathering; noblewomen concealed elegant smiles behind luxurious fans, their minds busily calculating how to extract the most crucial information for their families.

As per tradition, the frenzied social season would commence with the Winter Ball in early November, culminating in the royally hosted New Year’s Honor Ball. These two events would set the tone for the entire social season. Most established families would concentrate their networking activities during this period, while rising stars would host smaller gatherings after the New Year. The Winter Ball, in particular, was traditionally rotated among the four great families. After the Medici family hosted last year, it was now the Cavendish family’s turn.

“I heard Chris will also attend this year’s Winter Ball,” the eldest princess remarked, seated on a plush leather sofa, her hair elegantly pinned back with a gem-studded comb. She casually opened a gilded invitation while speaking to Eve, who was engrossed in assembling a toy with Lin Ling. “Frigga is truly audacious.”

The construction set, a gift from Lin Zhengfeng’s business trip, comprised over 130,000 pieces, destined to become an intricate Gothic cathedral nearly two meters tall. Lin Ling couldn’t reach the upper sections, so Eve was assisting her. Dizzied from searching for components, Eve didn’t immediately register Unica’s words. “What did you just say?”

Lin Ling giggled, thinking the question was directed at her. She rummaged through the component box and precisely located the thumb-sized wooden spire—the very piece that had eluded Eve for so long.

With a satisfying click, Eve pressed the spire into the side tower’s slot. “Thank you, thank you.”

“...” Unica changed tack. “Nothing, I was just wondering if you truly have no intention of returning to inherit the Medici family? Luo Lin hasn’t received any professional heir training; at most, she can only inherit her father’s ducal title. If the Medici family cannot maintain its absolute leadership in the cabinet, the loss would be truly significant.”

“Sparti hasn’t announced her as the heir yet, has he?” Eve inquired.

Unica replied, “If you don’t return, and there’s still no news from Cecil, what other possibility could there be? Sparti is merely clinging to a lost cause.”

Who would have thought that among the four great families, the Medici, renowned for its strict upbringing, would be the first to face an heir crisis? Then again, given their cutthroat, "survival of the fittest" training model... a complete collapse wouldn't be entirely surprising.

Surely Sparti doesn't actually think I'm dead, does he?

“Forget it, let him worry for now,” Eve said coolly, currently having no time for Medici family affairs. “People need to confront awkward realities before they can discern their true choices.”

Working for Sparti while constantly nitpicking—what was he trying to achieve? Let him figure it out himself.

Unica sensed a deeper meaning in Eve’s words, but she had indeed harbored hopes of Eve inheriting the Medici family and then assisting her. Since Eve had explicitly stated her disinclination to return, Unica could only shrug and temporarily set aside her own subtle ambitions.

Unsurprisingly, Unica also received an invitation to the Cavendish family’s Winter Ball, scheduled for the upcoming Sunday. Unlike the Medici family’s proud emphasis on status, the Cavendish family, with its military background, was more open and generous in social interactions. Each invitation allowed the guest to bring an additional attendee.

As the principal of the First Empire Academy and the eldest son of a cabinet privy councilor, Lin Zhengfeng received his own invitation and didn’t need to use Unica’s guest slot. Lin Ling was too young for formal social activities, so she wasn’t a consideration. Without much deliberation, Unica decided to bring Eve.

“I’m not very experienced in social settings,” Eve said, delicately holding a champagne glass with two slender fingers. She offered polite smiles to passing guests while whispering to Unica, her tone tinged with weariness. “The amount of information gained from such large social events is hardly commensurate with the energy expended. I rarely engage in such unprofitable endeavors.”

This, however, was her first visit to the Cavendish residence.

Unlike the styles of the other three great families, the Cavendish residence exuded a uniquely splendid and dazzling charm. The nobility of the capital planet, rather than ostentatious displays of wealth, favored understated elegance and cultural depth. The Otto royal family, having led this vast empire through countless ages, had witnessed the accumulation of immense wealth, and the imperial understanding of riches had gradually shifted towards more subtle expressions. Against this backdrop of mainstream aesthetics, the Cavendish residence’s gold-leafed ceramic walls and ubiquitous silver and gold furnishings didn’t appear vulgar or nouveau riche; instead, they conveyed an impression of magnificent grandeur.

Even the waiters moving through the hall with trays stood ramrod straight, their faces adorned with confident, graceful smiles. Through their lightweight attire, Eve could discern the agile, well-defined musculature of these attendants.

She took a slow sip of rose champagne before whispering to Unica, “Those waiters are all retired military personnel, aren’t they?”

“Normal for the Cavendish style. Even their pets undergo training,” Unica said, accustomed to such sights. “That’s why some suspect that although Aunt, as a commander, isn’t allowed to have her own direct legion, she secretly maintains private forces—though there’s no concrete evidence.”

Thousands of natural crystals, intricately woven with silver threads, formed a colossal chandelier. High-intensity light sources refracted through the crystals, casting iridescent hues into every corner of the hall, making the wall murals appear even more vibrant and lifelike.

As if anticipating the Cavendish family’s style, most guests wore brightly colored formal attire. In this opulent setting, Eve’s black veiled hat and deep purple gown stood out starkly, like a black crow suddenly appearing among a flock of phoenixes—and this crow was accompanying Unica, a true noble of royal lineage.

Feeling somewhat annoyed by the myriad gazes, Eve gritted her teeth. As Frigga made her formal entrance, everyone—whether out of genuine deference to the host or with sycophantic intentions—converged towards the tall, red-clad figure. Seizing the opportunity, Eve stepped aside. “I don’t dance. I’ll go rest in the dining area for a while. Find me when you’re free.”

The dining area was at the far end of the ballroom, diagonally opposite the glittering dance floor, offering a clear vantage point of the entire hall.

Unica glanced over and gave a subtle nod, her finger lightly tapping her beautiful yellow sapphire earring. Only up close could one discern the intricate alchemical ciphers engraved on its platinum setting. “Alright. Message me via communication device if needed.”

Eve swiftly slipped away. Once she was no longer beside the eldest princess, the gazes on her diminished significantly. When Unica, holding her champagne glass, reached Frigga’s side, the red-haired, golden-eyed imperial commander clinked glasses with her, a genuine smile—her first of the evening—gracing her lips. “Long time no see, Unica. Are you adapting well to the recent workload?”

“Aunt,” Unica said warmly. Despite the awkward relationship between Frigga and the Queen, the older generation’s conflicts clearly hadn’t extended to the younger ones. Unica and Frigga were quite close. “State affairs... it’s been a while since I’ve dealt with them. Thankfully, I’m slowly getting the hang of it, but I’ll still need your guidance, Aunt.”

“You are my niece; your standing with me is no different from Isabella’s. Even if you didn’t say so, I would still help you.”

Frigga patted her shoulder reassuringly before steering the conversation to a topic she had long wanted to address. “I heard you brought a new face tonight. Who is that?”

It was natural for her to be curious—Eve’s appearance alongside Unica was too coincidental. Frigga was eager to know what capabilities this newcomer possessed.

“A newly hired consultant,” Unica replied vaguely. “An alchemist, primarily responsible for security checks.”

Unexpected, yet entirely logical. Unica wasn't particularly fond of alchemists, but she was currently a target for many. Compared to having researchers constantly by her side, an experienced alchemist was clearly better equipped to ensure her and the princess's household’s safety.

Frigga’s eyes showed understanding. She sighed, saying, “Feel free to reach out if you need anything.”

Soon after, the Medici family arrived. Frigga clinked glasses with Unica once more, then exchanged her glass for a fresh one, two-thirds full, from a servant’s tray, and advanced with a faint smile to greet them.

Meanwhile, Eve, spearing a piece of fruit, quietly observed the banquet. The Luna Butterfly reduced her presence, making her blend into the background like a thin shadow clinging to the wall, utterly inconspicuous.

Qin Mengde was indeed present. After a perfunctory toast with Frigga, she joined the high-ranking officers. Due to the court’s lenient verdict, many in the military still believed her innocent, merely unlucky to be charged with dereliction of duty.

Beyond that, many other familiar faces were present. Anthony was there. Although the Emperor hadn't publicly stripped him of his Crown Prince title, everyone with eyes knew that the former Imperial Crown Prince was now a figurehead. Surprisingly, his expression seemed more relaxed than before, suggesting the league incident had affected him less than anticipated. Lin Zhengfeng was speaking with him; from a distance, they appeared to be enjoying their conversation.

The Medici family patriarch arrived with Luo Lin and someone Eve absolutely hadn't expected—not the recently injured Cecil, but Frank.

The cousins shared similar features, but Frank, being older and from a mercenary background, was taller and more robust than Cecil. His well-trained physique was encased in a perfectly tailored suit, and even with a stern expression, he appeared exceptionally handsome. A noblewoman, after a moment’s thought, unfurled her feather fan and approached him with a beaming smile. Luo Lin, as usual, maintained a detached expression, visibly distracted even while following her own father.

This peculiar family made Eve’s heart itch with curiosity; she yearned to sneak back to the Medici residence that very night to uncover what was truly happening within.

Additionally, Alice was absent.

Eve ate a piece of cake, unsurprised by this outcome.

After observing for a while and finding no other interesting individuals, she lost interest and turned her attention to the wall murals. While the Cavendish residence’s decor was extravagant, it certainly didn’t lack taste. Slender, robust classical figures in flowing robes laughed and conversed, feasted or rested, or rode strange creatures, wielding spears in combat.

Eve had once heard that people in the Old Era were fond of adorning decorations with vibrant colors, but time had oxidized and stripped away those once brilliant hues, leaving behind what later generations perceived as elegant, pure artworks. Now, gazing at the richly colored murals within the Cavendish residence, this little piece of knowledge suddenly came to mind.

Though she still couldn't offer a sophisticated critique of the murals' craftsmanship or lines, their strong narrative content kept Eve thoroughly engrossed.

“All the murals in the Cavendish residence are themed around Old Era Norse mythology, and the murals in this banquet hall depict the feast of the gods,” a warm, low voice said, familiar enough to make Eve instinctively turn. But the speaker placed a hand on her shoulder, preventing her from looking at him, and instead directed her gaze back to the murals. “On the north wall, the one behind Commander Frigga, is the climax of the story: the god of lies appears, mocks the king of gods, and reveals his scheme caused the death of the king’s son, the god of light, inciting the gods’ wrath and indirectly leading to Ragnarok.”

Across the nearly hundred-meter-wide wall, a series of divine scenes unfolded: the cunning god of lies, the majestic and wrathful king of gods, the beautiful and stunned queen, and many other deities with varied expressions. The deceased god of light appeared as if still alive, and at the very end, the thunder god strode in, seizing the god of lies by his crimson cloak and dragging him away from the feast.

But the ruined feast, once disrupted, would not regain its initial joy simply by the departure of the culprit. Soon, the remaining gods also dispersed, their spirits dampened.

Eve shivered uncomfortably. The uninvited hands paused before slowly withdrawing from her shoulder. The moment they lifted, Eve swiftly retreated, putting several paces between herself and Lorca. She lifted her skirt slightly, curtsied, and in a low, steady voice, said, “Good evening, Master Oliver.”

“Good evening, miss.”

The young man’s long black hair, which fell past his shoulders, was tied back with a ribbon and draped over one shoulder. Coincidentally, he was dressed in a pure white formal suit, making him stand out in the crowd for a different reason—perhaps that was why he had also chosen to retreat to the corner by the wall.

Standing beside Eve, the two of them looked like light and shadow on opposite sides of a dividing line.

Though a smile lingered at the corners of his lips, Eve instinctively sensed little genuine warmth behind Lorca’s expression. Warily, she took two more steps back, and as expected, she saw his expression grow even colder.

Now even the feigned smile was gone.

She raised an eyebrow. Who had upset him? And she had to run into him when he was in such a mood.

“There’s no need to address me so formally—just call me Lorca. I only came over to get a full view to admire the delicate lines on the wall in this banquet hall,” Lorca turned his face away again, his gaze fixed intently on the wall. From Eve’s perspective, she could clearly see the elegant contours of his profile.

“Alright then, Lorca. Take your time admiring them. I’ll be going now,” Eve said dryly.

She had almost forgotten that this guy was an art lover. Eve twitched the corner of her mouth and was about to move to another spot, ceding this prime observation area to the art enthusiast, when Lorca’s seemingly casual remark came again.

“Though most of your face is hidden, judging by your posture and figure when walking, I don’t believe I’ve seen you on the capital planet before, miss,” he said lightly. “Might I have the honor of knowing your name?”

...Where did he pick up such slick, somewhat oily social banter after just a few days apart?

“No, actually, my name isn’t that important,” Eve firmly declined Lorca’s request, no matter how politely he had phrased it. “Please continue enjoying the paintings. I just remembered I have something to attend to. I’ll take my leave now.”

She was naturally slender and tall, standing out in a crowd like a crane among chickens. Even though she was in her previous life's body now, her basic physique hadn’t changed—it was still an exceptional figure that ordinary people could hardly match. In other words...

Eve frowned, suspecting that Lorca might have recognized her even without any distinctive markers.