A platinum blonde-haired man was lying face flat on a bed, dressed in a crumpled white dress shirt and grey suit pants. The bed was wide, easily fitting more than one person, and was within a spacious room that had light streaming through the glass windows. A light-grey suit jacket was lying wrinkled on the ground beside the bed, having been discarded, and a pair of socks and shoes were strewn across the carpet. Next to the bed on the bedside table was a small round bell that kept ringing. The man raised an arm to hit a small button next to the bell, and it stopped. He lay there for a few more minutes.
Then the bell began ringing again, and he groaned, haphazardly slapping a second button next to it, this one in front of a small round speaker. A woman’s voice sounded out from it.
“Young master,” she called.
The man groaned again. “What is it?” he grumbled into his pillow, not raising his head.
It seemed the woman was still able to hear him because a breathy sigh came through the speaker. “It’s 12:40, young master.”
The man exhaled loudly, resigning himself to his fate and rolled over with a grunt. He lay there, sprawled on the bed with his hands out on either side. He grimaced, blinking out the sleeping dust from his blue eyes. He grudgingly moved his hands to start clumsily untying a loose tie from around his neck, the tie having nearly come undone by itself.
“So?” he reluctantly spoke up.
The voice that came from the speaker was filled with disappointment equivalent to any a parent could muster.
“Young master, it’s 12:40 p.m. 20 minutes to one. You need to get up,” she said, sounding like they’d had this same conversation before.
“I bet you don’t tell Marellen to get up at noon,” he complained.
“Marellen lives on the other side of the estate. His assigned maid is different, so of course I don’t. I shouldn’t do for you either, but you ignore any other maid,” the voice stated flatly. “Besides, young master Efratel, Marellen still stays awake for half the day, unlike somebody, because he chooses to spend his time awake at night.”
“I thought he was banned from night experiments after that last fireball explosion,” Efratel retorted, feeling like the day was finally beginning if he was getting annoyed at his cousin.
“Yes, well, you know with that cousin of yours, he always tries to find a way around things, and then everyone just gives up and lets him get his own way when it becomes too much effort to stop him. Just like his father,” she replied dryly. “Now, get up.”
With another grunt, Efratel sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed, but not before complaining once more. “My ‘holiday’ is still in effect you know, it’s my time to spend however I please,” he said.
“Not when it involves the Counties it doesn’t. There’s an important envoy coming in an hour, apparently,” she stated, and then with a single ring of the bell, the voice cut out, returning the room to silence.
He sighed but began getting ready. Having a shower, dressing in his clothes, brushing his teeth, putting on his watch, repining the Commission badge on his second clean suit after spending a good twenty minutes searching for the hellish object under the bed, tying his tie, the normal drill.
It was a much more presentable Efratel who opened the door to his room, and he started to make his way down the corridors of his home. That was until a young maid carrying a big empty basket stopped him.
“Oh, young master Efratel, you have a… um…” She pointed to the back of his head.
Confused, he reached a hand up there and pulled away with a sock, which had been stuck to the back of his head. He frowned at it. “How did that get there?” Before the maid could say something, he turned and threw it into his room behind him. The sock hit the back wall of the room, as he was standing right outside the door.
The maid’s expression scrunched up slightly as she gestured to the basket in her arms. “I needed to collect it, young master.”
He looked between her, the basket, and then the sock in the room behind him. He grimaced and gave an apologetic shrug. “Same general vicinity?” he replied.
She sighed with a nod, heading into his room to collect his washing, and shutting the door behind her.
He felt a bit sympathetic. If it’s something to do with a County, it's always hectic as they make preparations to receive the envoy. Although… the head maid had said ‘Counties’? As he walked towards the dining hall of the estate’s main building, he could see maids and other servants scurrying about, shifting objects and decorations to ensure the receiving hall was in good condition.
While they were a Baron family, they were a Baron family from one of the 24 Major Kingdoms, and rather rich as members of the Commission, so there was lots of work to do. They had plenty of ornaments to move about. It seemed news about this envoy had arrived late. Still, it likely wouldn’t have anything to do with him, so he didn’t think further as he entered the dining hall to have a quick breakfast(?). And then his expression crumpled.
Marellen was there, dressed in a dress shirt and formal pants, not wearing his normal mage clothes as he sat at the table. But he was asleep, his head laying sideways on the table as he snored, half-eaten breakfast in front of him. His messy navy-blue hair was getting into his bowl of cereal, and his round glasses were dangling from several blue threads, having gotten tangled up in it.
One of the nearby maids in the room gingerly began to walk up to Efratel, and he gave her a wave to tell her he would sort this out. She slowly retreated back, and he pinched his nose bridge, contemplating what to do. Then he decided to go simple. He grabbed a metal spoon off the table and stormed up to the sleeping Marellen, and then, with a scowl on his face, Efratel rapped the hard utensil against the man’s skull.
Marellen awoke with a jerk, his hair dripping milk. “Huh? Wha? Is the calculation for the fire-earth elemental fusion already complete? I must’ve forgotten to turn on the light filtration…” he blinked his eyes blearily as he realised something was missing, rubbing his head where the spoon had hit him. “Where are my glasses?”
He winced, and with a very loud “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!” from the younger man, Efratel slowly pulled the pair out from Marellen’s left-hand side’s hair, trying to cause as much pain as possible to his irresponsible younger cousin. With a judgemental expression, he held them up for Marellen to see. The mage clumsily tried to grab them and Efratel shifted them so they dodged the man’s hand. They stared at each other for a moment.
“You fell asleep with your hair in your milk,” Efratel spat with disgust.
Marellen yawned, stretching. “Give me a break. I’ve been trying hard to recreate that fusion bomb Roa used with other elements and it’s left me exhausted.”
“I don’t care,” Efratel retorted. “If I have to get up to deal with pompous County messengers, then you have to get up to deal with pompous County messengers.”
“Don’t need to be mean about it,” Marellen said, finally retrieving the glasses from Efratel and putting them back on. “I did manage to come down here, after all.”
“Yet you fell asleep with your hair in your milk,” Efratel repeated.
“Ish fwine,” the mage replied, shovelling soggy cereal into his mouth. He swallowed. “I don’t care about my hair as much as you do.”
He flinched as Efratel’s eyes narrowed. “Someone seems to be a bit mouthy today. If you don’t care about your hair, would you like it sheared off?” he said, picking up a knife threateningly.
Marellen gazed at the knife contemplatively, before giving him a dismissive wave. “Meh. I burn my hair off all the time. It grows back within half an hour. If you can get rid of it for good, then I’d even thank you.” He pointed to the breakfast array on the long dining table. “Want some, or are you just going to stand there judging me all day?” he asked.
Efratel glowered at his cousin but sighed and drew a chair. Picking up a piece of buttered toast from one of the platters, apparently brought out for Marellen in the morning before he fell asleep, he gestured to a maid to come and fill a teacup with tea. The maid did so, pouring from the steaming pot she held, and retreated to the back of the room, where other maids stood to respond to the request of any member of the Vadel household. He sighed after a sip as the Rare-ranked blend’s magic entered his system, giving him an extra boost of energy.
Marellen lifted up his bowl and downed the rest of the milk, making Efratel scowl again.
“Marellen. At least try to make it seem like you’re a noble of some… fashion. We’re not starved for food here,” he complained.
Marellen paused, looking down at the bowl in his hands, and then shrugged. “I’m struggling to get out of the habit after having my eardrums blown by the millions of warnings those two mercenaries had about wasting food.”
“The food that contains the milk you got in your hair,” Efratel stated blandly.
Marellen didn’t react. “Yes, I got milk in my hair. Oh, the horror. Are we done now?”
Efratel crossed his arms to stare at Marellen, a piece of toast unceremoniously hanging out of his mouth. Marellen ignored him to push his dishes out of the way, grabbing a napkin from the table to start drying his damp navy-blue mess, the ends of it reaching just past his shoulders.
Seeing Marellen didn’t care, Efratel sighed and gestured to the open door of the dining room, servants busily moving up and down the corridor. “Any idea what’s that about?” he asked.
Marellen peeled off the stray bit of cereal that had stuck to his hair. “Something about an important meeting of some kind with an envoy from Headquarters? I’ve heard the order of the envoy's arrival was strange this time, not following the normal pattern of delivering news, which was why we didn’t hear about it until late.” He grinned as he turned Efratel. “I’ve heard Levin was furious this morning until he found out the delay was also partially because of his own people creating issues. Nobody’s seen him say a word since.”
Efratel snorted in amusement. “Oh, dear. His partial ownership of the city’s transport arrays has always made him puff up like a peacock, but now his own staff have gotten him into trouble. That’s a bit of karmic justice right there.” With a smile, he sipped his tea.
Marellen put down his napkin, his hair mostly dry. “I’ve also heard we’ve got a new Commission Head.”
Efratel spat out his tea. He grabbed a napkin to mop up the drink, staring at his cousin incredulously. “Now where in the realms did you hear that?” he asked.
Marellen blinked. “I overheard our fathers when I snuck past the head maid to do experiments last night.”
The blonde-haired man eyed him dubiously. “Just rumours?”
The navy-haired mage shrugged. “I didn’t really care, to be honest. I was trying to leave the central garden before the head maid caught me, so I didn’t stay to listen.”
Efratel sighed. “Of course. Well, we won’t find out the truth until it’s been officially revealed.” He looked at his cousin. “You’ve been even more enthusiastic about experiments than before. And that fusion spell you mentioned doesn’t sound like it's Fate or probability-related?” he asked curiously.
Marellen sighed, pushing his thick hair out of his eyes. “I think I need access to geomancy spells or astrology magic of some kind. I just haven’t been able to progress. And about the fusion spell….” He lowered his eyes. “I’ve been thinking I might need more combat power.”
Efratel blinked for a moment, confused, before realisation dawned. “Ah. Right. Strength. Important, yes,” he answered awkwardly.
They went silent for a moment, the crushing gravity of their situation having been brought to the forefront of their minds, and the relaxing normality of their day gone, both remembering the ticking timebomb called Alichanteu politics they had on their hands.
Then Efratel had a thought. He gave his cousin a slightly worried look. “Don’t let your father hear you’re practising combat magic.”
The navy-haired mage’s eyes widened as he realised the implications of Efratel’s words and hastily shook his head. “No. Never going to happen. No way. I’ll kill myself before he can do anything with the information.”
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Efratel shook his head wryly and checked his watch. “Well, anyway, how long do we have before we need to be there? 2:40, wasn’t it?” he asked, frowning slightly.
Marellen turned to him with a strange look on his face. “Wasn’t it 1:40? That’s what Madam Berna said.”
Efratel stared at him and then checked his watch. Then he looked up and stared at Marellen again. His face paled.
Marellen’s eyes widened in panic. “How long do we have?”
“20 minutes,” he replied gloomily like he was revealing they were sentenced to death. Which was practically true, if they didn’t get moving right then and there.
They scrambled to get up, Marellen grabbing his formal jacket beside him on the chair, and Efratel hurriedly pulling him up as they stood, accidentally knocking over a chair in the progress. He helped Marellen pull his jacket on, and then quickly spun him around by the shoulders and started pushing him towards the door.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” said the hurried mage, trying and failing to remove Efratel’s grip. “Why am I in front of you?”
“So I have a shield,” Efratel grumbled. He gave up and just started dragging the mage by the arm as they dashed down the corridors, hoping to get to the receiving hall before they had less than ten minutes left. The Baron had firmly instructed them from a young age to be at events twenty minutes earlier at all times, and they had already messed up. If they got there with fewer than ten minutes to spare…. they both shuddered, synchronised in their imaginations. They sped up as they got closer, becoming more and more panicky as they navigated the ten-minute run to the receiving hall.
“This is all your fault!” Efratel yelled as he nearly skidded past one of the turns. He yanked Marellen around before he too could run past it.
“Why is this my fault?!” he exclaimed, indignant. “I had just been calmly minding my own business when you had to come along and-”
“YOU WERE SLEEPING IN YOUR FOOD!” his older cousin shouted.
“And you have been sleeping in to well past 12 each day!” Marellen retorted, not giving in.
Efratel growled as he yanked his cousin around another corner. “The side branches are so going to give me grief about this,” he grumbled.
“At least they care what you do!” Marellen replied.
Efratel paused slightly to give the mage an incredulous look. “Think about what you just said, and then tell me if you really mean it.”
He opened his mouth and then shut it. “Uh, I’m fine with having them not care about me and my experiments, actually.”
Efratel scoffed as they turned another corner. “That’s what I thought.”
“They still complain about me though!” Marellen yelled.
“We all complain about you! Stop talking and keep moving!” Efratel yelled back, dragging him by the arm still. “I invoke my rights as an older cousin by three years to tell you to hurry up!”
“You traded those away in that bet with the salamander five years ago!” Marellen refuted, struggling to keep the same speed.
“You still remember that?” Efratel replied, surprised, as he dashed past a corridor full of paintings. “Well, it doesn’t matter right now!”
“Yeah, but- oh look, here it is,” Marellen said, digging his heels in.
Efratel slowed before the double doors of the receiving room. They stopped, panting for breath, and then shared a look. “Back entrance?” Efratel asked.
Marellen nodded firmly. “Back entrance.”
They quickly took a smaller corridor and found a small single door. Very, veeery gently, Efratel opened the door, and they crept into the back of the large hall filled with the entire Vadel household, from the side families, to the elders, and to the in-laws. The two young men sneaked across the back wall of the auditorium, trying to remain out of sight. They flinched when a loud authoritative voice boomed out among the crowd.
“Where’s my blighted son? There are eight minutes until it begins,” the man said. The man had brown hair but brilliant blue eyes the same shade as Efratel’s. He had greying sideburns, looking like someone in their early 40s. He had a grumpy look on his face as he surveyed the area.
Efratel and Marellen shared a wide-eyed glance as they realised they had under ten minutes left, according to what Efratel’s father, the Baron had just said. They made hasty hand gestures to each other, trying to work out if they should sit at the very back, escape, or try to slip into their seats when nobody was watching. The problem was… both Efratel’s and Marellen’s seats were right at the very front, next to their fathers, who were sitting together.
Another voice spoke up, this one from a man to the Baron’s left. He was sitting relaxedly in his chair with a leg up, one ankle resting against a knee, and laughing heartily. The hair on either side of his face was shaved, except for the very top, and was the same navy shade of hair as Marellen. A thick scar cut across the man’s right temple, and he had tanned skin, darker than Marellen’s never-seen-the-light, vampire-esque white. He wore a scarlet red and gold military outfit, and a tall staff rested by his side. Marellen’s father was clearly a battlemage. He chuckled loudly.
“Calm down Hector! The boys are fine. They’ll turn up eventually. I doubt they’ve gotten into trouble. Why, they might be in this very hall!” he exclaimed with a toothy grin, spreading his scarred arms out wide.
Efratel and Marellen exchanged wary and slightly awkward looks. If the battlemage with high stats said that… he definitely knew they were there. They were so screwed.
‘Hector’ scowled. “If they are, I’ll give them the worst hiding they’ve seen since they were twelve years old. Now is not the time to be playing games with me.”
“Psh,” the other man said, giving a dismissive wave. “I’ve played worse tricks as a kid. Remember the time with the drake egg and the one with that demon beast? Marellen must’ve been raised too perfectly by me, he’s so obedient and hardly gets up to the type of things we used to-”
“Your ‘perfectly raised’ kid blows up my garden walls for fun, Silas. Don’t try to pretend he’s not one of your breed, there is nothing about your boy that does not reek of your penchant for indiscriminate chaos and-”
The two men began bickering, Silas bragging about his untoward adventures with Hector when they were younger, and Hector arguing with him over the technicalities of childraising. Efratel and Marellen made eye contact and slowly began to inch their way back to the room’s exit. A new voice spoke up, sounding slimy and mocking.
“Sounds like this heir of yours is rather subpar. He even dared to ignore the head of the household. Maybe should we rethink our decision to entrust our future to someone like that,” interrupted a man, sitting in the central area just like Hector and Silas. He had straight, dark-green hair and eyes, and was stroking a long goatee with a greasy smile on his face.
Silas stared at him like he was a rather interesting insect climbing up his leg, while Hector raised a bushy eyebrow at the man. “I’m not sure what you mean by saying this, Levin. Efratel is still my son, regardless of his failures. What, do you believe I would just hand over the heirship to one of your foul slime-spawn? Not after today’s fiasco.”
Levin’s smile stiffened and there were a few chuckles in the audience, many feeling amusement at Levin’s situation. Marellen was shaking, trying to hide in his laughter, while Efratel had to let out a light cough to cover up his choked laughs. One boy in the seats near them angrily turned his head once he heard the muffled noises to see who was mocking Levin, and narrowed his eyes when he noticed Marellen and Efratel sneaking across the wall behind him.
Marellen and Efratel froze. The teenage boy with dark green eyes smirked and turned back around. He stood up with a hand held high so the Baron and Silas could see him in the back row of the auditorium. “Excuse me.” When he had gotten them and everyone else’s attention, he bowed slightly and gestured to the panicking young men behind him.
“Sirs,” he began loudly, a polite smile on his face. “I believe I have found the heir and his cousin.”
Hector and Silas turned their eyes to the frozen Marellen and Efratel, barely lit up in the dim area behind the tiers of seats. There was a tense moment of silence. The Baron’s eyes narrowed, while Silas just leaned back with his arms crossed, amused.
“Boys. Get down here,” Hector growled. Silas turned his head and covered his mouth to hide the widening smile on his face.
Marellen and Efratel shared one last grim look before they both slumped and slowly began walking down the aisle staircase, many eyes watching them move. The two young men glared at the teenage boy as they walked past, taking note of his very special eye colour. This grudge would not be forgotten.
They sheepishly took their seats at the front row next to their fathers, Silas giving his son a pitying, sympathetic pat on the shoulder, while the Baron leaned to the side to whisper into his son’s ear.
“If you think for one moment that I am going to forget this, then you’d be dead wrong,” he hissed.
Efratel sighed and gave a nod. “Yes sir,” he replied glumly, getting ready to wait for the messenger. But not before he cupped a hand around his mouth to speak into his father’s ear. “Marellen was sleeping in his breakfast cereal,” he whispered, making sure that if he died, his cousin would be going down with him.
The Baron gazed at his son, and turned his head to look at the navy-haired mage next to Silas for a moment, before turning his gaze back to his son, a bemused expression on his face. Then he let out a long sigh. “I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore,” he grumbled.
Efratel leaned near his father again to say something more. “And what is this about a new Commission Head?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.
The Baron’s blue eyes widened and he twisted his head again to look at his son, who gestured with his head to his younger cousin. His father slowly raised a finger to wordlessly point at Marellen for more confirmation, and Efratel nodded. Hector gained a stormy look and pinched his nose bridge, gripping the armrest of his chair. “That damned brat,” he growled. He sighed. “I never should’ve let Silas marry into the Barony. That whole family gives me more grief than even Levin’s lot does, and that’s saying something,” he muttered.
“Aunt Stefanie included,” Efratel added.
“My sister is the cause for this whole lot,” the Baron replied. He patted Efratel’s shoulder to tell him to stay quiet as a guard marched up to the centre of the tiered auditorium and turned to face Hector. The Baron nodded, and then stood up from the chair and walked to the front of the room, turning to face the rest of the auditorium, hands behind his back.
“From here on after, the doors to the receiving hall shall be locked. If there is somebody yet to arrive, then they must wait until the message and the following discussion is over before they receive the news.”
There was a low mumble of assent throughout the room, making Hector nod to the guard nearby. He walked off and there were several loud clicks as the rooms were locked.
“Now then,” he began. “As most are probably aware, the envoy will not remain here for long, on account of his need to go reveal his message to the other nobility. We are gathered like this for the discussion afterwards to ensure we do not take up his time.” Most in the audience gave him understanding nods, so he continued, “Please do not interrupt the envoy until after his message unless it is an emergency of the like as an individual dying. If you want to leave or do not have a reason to take part in the discussion, then you may do so after the envoy has revealed his message. Any members of the Commission, members of the military at Captain rank or higher, and those who have or will have a major role in the operations of the Barony must stay.”
Efratel sighed. As a member of the Commission and an heir, he had no choice but to be present for the endless petty politics and verbal insults thrown about during the discussion. That included Levin’s group and their vain attempts at gaining power within the Barony. Marellen technically didn’t have to stay, but Silas would likely force him to just so his son would need to suffer like him. As an ex-member of the military, Silas also had no choice but to stay, especially as one of the Baron’s main backers, and was a fact he was distinctly unhappy about, at all times. Politics was what the storm mage readily complained about the most, whether it be military or nobility.
A few more rules were discussed, until finally, Hector finished up. He gestured to the nearby guard, who unlocked a door. A young man was revealed behind it, carrying a strange white box in his arms. He was dressed in the blue formal wear of the Alichanteu, and a small emblem of three overlapping gold coins was embroidered on his chest. The Baron nodded to him, so he nervously walked forward to stand in front of the room. The Baron took up a post beside him as the man placed the white box on the ground. The man straightened up, coughed, and addressed the room.
“The Four Counties have an important announcement to make. The message will be broadcasted for you all, so you may see the exact wording of the command for yourselves.”
There was a soft rustle of murmurs as discussions about the implications of the Four Counties issuing a command occurred throughout the room. The man sent a glance to Hector, who stepped forward and clapped once, and the room fell silent again. He stepped back and nodded to the young man again. The young man took a breath and bent down to unlatch the box, and a shimmering, large, white Faction Notification screen appeared before them all as the man slowly read the announcement.
[This Faction Announcement has been issued with the Total Faction Authority of the Aurelian Commission.] It began.
There was silence as the man paused, and then startled gasped as some people realised the implications of that statement. Marellen and Efratel leaned back in their chairs to share a look. Silas frowned and rubbed his chin, looking pensive. The envoy continued.
[The Commission’s Four Counties of Alichanteu of Blue, Chavaret of Red, Evisenhardt of Silver and Ravimoux of Black have collectively agreed to send this message.
The Aurelian Commission has a new Commission Head.]
The envoy paused as the room’s noise rose into an uproar, people hastily discussing the statement. The noise level didn’t die down even after a few minutes, so the Baron frowned and clapped his hands again. “Quiet!” he ordered. The room fell silent. “Please do not interrupt the envoy again,” he told them.
[On October 18th until October 25th, the Commission Headquarters will host a ball to welcome the arrival of our new Faction Head. The new plans for the Commission will likewise be revealed during this time period.]
The envoy paused as the noise increased again, but it didn’t reach unacceptable levels, so he continued reading out the message as it unfurled in sync with his words.
[The rules for this event are as follows:
To enter the event venue, an invitation is required. This will be supplied by the envoy to each Titled Noble to view privately, along with a letter of the details.
Each Titled Noble will gain two additional lesser invitations to give to two other individuals. Direct Commission or Commission-affiliated forces only can use the invitation.
Titled Nobles do not have the right to refuse the future plans of the Commission. They are only attending the venue to meet the Faction Head and be informed of the planned timeline.]
He took a breath and continued.
[Any member of the Commission Manager ranked and higher also gains an invitation to attend the event. No additional invitations will be given to them.
Commission members gain permission to stay at the Headquarters for the duration of the event and for a month afterwards.
From November 7th to November 21st, the Commission Head will hold a competition for young members of Commission and Commission-affiliated forces under 30 years of age. Details entailing the event will be addressed in the private letter delivered to the individuals containing their Commission member exclusive invitation.]
Efratel felt his eyebrows raise, and turned to see what expression Marellen had. Marellen… wasn’t even looking at the Faction Notification, just holding his chin in his hand while staring at the ground. Efratel wasn’t sure if he was thinking about the notification or not. He sighed and returned to watching the envoy announce the rest.
[This completes the Faction Announcement. Thank you for your future attendance, and may you see future horizons.]
There was silence as the notification disappeared, and the envoy bent forward to close the box. He hesitantly looked around the room. “That’s all. Are there any questions?”
Instantly, the room exploded with noise, and the envoy became flustered as he panicked, wondering which question to address out of the multitude of raised hands and questions shouted at him. The Baron sighed, and stepped forward, clapping a third time.
“Silence!” he shouted. He frowned around the room, daring anyone to speak again. They did not. He turned to the envoy.
“I have a question of my own. Who is our Faction Head?” he asked.
The envoy blinked and awkwardly scratched his head. “I um… had to sign a contract to not reveal that yet. The Counties don’t want anyone contacting them ahead of time.”
Hector narrowed his eyes but nodded, and sternly looked around the room. “No more questions related to that. Are there any others?” he asked them all.
Several people held up their hands. The Baron nodded to one man, so he spoke. “Only two extra attendees, no matter what?”
The envoy nodded. “Yes. The extra invitations are linked to the main invitation for verification’s sake, and only those who are affiliated or part of the Faction are capable of activating it. This is because the Empire’s banquet will occur in December, so this is to be a strictly internal debut. There are plans for a larger scale event to occur next year for an external debut.”
The man nodded, satisfied with the answer. Efratel’s eyes narrowed as he noticed some of Levin’s supporters exchange whispered words. Hector pointed to another person, this time a woman.
“Are we allowed to know what the Faction Head’s event is?”
“Yes,” the envoy replied. “The specifics will be revealed at the actual event, and there are some others for the young members themselves to tell you if they wish, but there are some details I can tell you. The theme of the event will be about introducing new ideas, plans, propositions, or inventions that are useful to the Commission,” he told them. “I don’t know how it will function, but several representatives besides the Commission Head will judge competitors over three rounds. The first round will be split into two separate events, as one will include commoners,” he continued, hushed whispers forming at that information, “But the final prize will be the Commission Head implementing the winner’s plan, concept, business idea or invention into the Faction with their authority, and that individual will be placed in charge of the plan.”
Quite a few of the older members of the audience widened their eyes and began talking to their younger family members. Efratel rubbed his chin. He didn’t think he had anything to contribute, and Marellen’s experiments with probability hadn’t made enough progress that the Commission would be interested when they could likely just ask the Astrologers or the Citadel.
The Baron reluctantly pointed to Levin, eyes narrowed at him. Levin gave a cunning smile. “What orders were the invitations delivered in?” he asked.
The envoy blinked. “Oh, right. Yes, the delivery order was different this time.” He pulled out a slip of paper out of a pocket. “Here. As a general rule, nobility within the same rank were visited in alphabetical order for fairness’ sake.”
Efratel smirked as Levin’s facial expression distorted. He was likely looking for some way to shirk the blame of the late delivery onto another noble family within the city, or on the Commission itself. He wondered what made the four Counties or the Commission Head choose this new order though.
The envoy continued explaining. “Entering the venue still follows tradition, so there’s no change there. The four Counties were visited first, and then the Viscounts, then Barons, and Baronets of the Aeternus plane, all in alphabetical order. Then it was the Major Kingdom nobility, and then the Minor Kingdom nobility, in order of noble rank and alphabetical order too. Staff members of the Commission were also visited in alphabetical order within the same rank, or in the case of being part of a noble family, delivered at the same time.” He looked up from the paper. “Anything else?”
There were a few more miscellaneous questions, and then the envoy left after handing two envelopes to Hector, one in black and gold, and the other white and gold. Efratel sighed, incapable of zoning out anymore, because the politics had now started. Levin instantly spoke up as the Baron handed him the white envelope, his name written in curly gold font on the front, and marked with the seal of Evisenhardt and another violet wax seal.
“Considering the Baron’s heir has his own invitation, there are two spare ones now, aren’t there? We need to discuss this. Now, I am firmly of the opinion that Silas’s son should not go to the event, because-”
“Just shut it, Levin,” Silas retorted. “He wasn’t going anyway. Right, son?” he asked Marellen.
Marellen shot Efratel a glance and shook his head. “No way. I’ll stay home.”
Efratel grimaced slightly, nodding. It was a terrible idea for him to go there if Archmage Merkenia had a chance of appearing. He was thankful Silas had managed to curb any possible chance of that. The Baron’s supporters might’ve pushed for it to ensure close ties between them both would continue, especially with the talent Marellen had shown.
Efratel didn’t notice the narrowed eyes Silas had as he observed their interaction.
Levin’s face brightened up. “Then-”
“But that’s not to say I won’t go. I’m currently retired from the Main Army Battalion, for all that I wear this,” Silas continued with a smirk, gesturing to his outfit. “And as someone with the Vadel last name, I am a direct member of Commission nobility. What do you think, Hector?” he asked Hector.
Hector looked surprised Silas offered to go, and frankly, Efratel was too. The Baron nodded, slightly nonplussed. “I am accepting. Who disagrees?”
Levin scowled but didn’t speak up. There was a mumble of assent throughout the room, nobody daring to fight with the battlemage. The Baron nodded. “Then, that’s decided. Now, moving on to the next attendee….”
Efratel sighed as the arguing ramped up. He touched the envelope in his suit pocket. Hopefully, it wouldn’t have any unexpected surprises. He didn’t need more stress after that trip.