After assisting Lady Alice to her seat, Charles returned to his own. Lady Alice was far from ordinary; not only was she a sixth-order high priest, but she also wielded significant influence through her connections with the church. She had one child with the Duke—a daughter named Fiona, three years Charles’s senior, currently studying at Violet College.
With her arrival, the hall began to fill with the Duke’s children, each taking their designated places. As expected, all but Charles’s exiled brother were present: the eldest brother, Lin West; the second brother, Will West; Freya West; Fiona West; Okogie West; Jenny West; and finally, Charles himself. The seven of them sat in age order to the Duke’s right, waiting for his arrival.
"Oh my, Sister Freya! I didn't expect you to have already advanced to a third-order storm attendant!" exclaimed Okogie, Charles’s fourth brother.
Freya lifted her head with a modest smile, her slender, white neck arched gracefully like a swan, and soon she and Okogie were deep in conversation.
Will, by contrast, was the least favored son, his only notable achievement being his career as a businessman. Having awakened only 5% of his blue blood, he lacked the magical potential necessary to unlock the West family’s extraordinary sequence. His low concentration of blue blood even sparked rumors that he wasn’t the Duke’s true son.
Charles’s other sisters, Fiona and Jenny, barely spoke to each other due to their rivalry over a monster blood infusion, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. Then there was Lin, the eldest and a battlefield veteran. His silent, brooding presence exuded an air of hardened resilience, marked by his simple leather military coat that set him apart from the rest of the nobility.
“Charles, your initiation day is coming up soon, isn’t it?” Jenny, seated next to him, leaned in and asked softly.
Jenny, with her tall frame, tanned skin, and striking black hair inherited from her mother, was both wild and alluring. Charles was surprised; they didn’t often talk.
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“Yes, almost time,” he replied.
Jenny nodded thoughtfully before leaning closer, whispering into his ear, “Has Jack reached out to you?”
Charles’s eyes narrowed slightly, but Jenny pressed a finger to her lips in a shushing motion and, with her other hand, traced a subtle pattern on his palm, signaling him to visit her room after the banquet.
“Jenny, what are you doing?” a voice interrupted, dripping with disdain. It was Leia, whose fierce gaze burned with possessiveness. She’d always treated Charles as her own and resented any perceived encroachment by others.
Jenny wasn’t intimidated. A mischievous spark lit her eyes as she responded, “Why, dear sister Leia, am I not allowed to speak with our brother?”
“You—!” Leia’s hand clenched, and her expression darkened with restrained fury. Already envious of Jenny’s 35% blue blood concentration—5% higher than her own—she was on the edge of snapping.
“Alright, Leia, Jenny, enough. Take your seats,” Lin interjected in a deep, magnetic voice that held an authority beyond challenge.
Leia, visibly irritated, sat back down, crossing her legs and adjusting the high slit of her long dress, sending Charles a glare that promised retribution later. Charles kept his gaze low, preferring to avoid the brewing sibling conflicts altogether.
Meanwhile, the older women of the family observed the younger generation’s squabbles with an air of detachment, immersed in their own lively conversations. Charles glanced over at his mother, who seemed to be in high spirits, chatting amiably.
The room quieted as the door swung open once more, and all stood to greet the Duke.
“Father!”
“Duke!”
The figure at the door was a tall, blond man, youthful in appearance. He wore a black round hat, long boots, and a tailored black coat identical in style to Charles’s own. His sharp, severe brows held a natural authority, tempered by a quiet strength. This was the Duke of Golden Eagle—Nolan West, head of the West family.
With a simple wave, the Duke signaled for everyone to be seated before taking his own place. His eyes, too, were a vivid blue, though in him they were like the deep ocean, vast and tumultuous beneath a serene surface. In every way, Charles bore the greatest resemblance to him—a fact that explained the animosity he faced from other family members, for no one wanted a competitor with the Duke’s unmistakable lineage.
Today, the Duke seemed unusually genial. After a cursory glance around the room, he nodded toward the old butler in the corner, who promptly closed the door.
Sliding on a pair of white gloves with gold-threaded embroidery, the Duke spoke, his voice calm yet commanding.
“Let’s eat—and talk as we do.”