The Ivory Pavilion stands as a magnificent four-story estate, a hallmark of elegance and luxury. Its architecture blends pristine white (Sheth) marble with rich dark purple (Niv) marble, creating a visually striking contrast that exudes opulence. Visitors are greeted by a grand entrance flanked by the Pavilion Knights—elite guards trained to protect the precious beasts of the Garden of the Porcelain Lake and ensure the safety of all guests, including the Descendants.

The path to the pavilion is a spectacle itself, bordered by meticulously manicured gardens adorned with vibrant flowers and neatly trimmed hedges. Two imposing white marble pillars, adorned with intricate carvings, mark the entrance. Between these stands the Bushin Code of Conduct, a colossal plaque erected by Aesir de Vermont, the founder of the Vermont family.

Upon entering the pavilion, guests step into the grand reception hall on the first floor. This expansive area is designed to welcome visitors while showcasing the breathtaking surroundings. Large windows frame panoramic views of the serene landscape, including the nearby Porcelain Lake. Lavish seating areas provide a comfortable space for guests to relax and soak in the ambiance.

THE FLOORS OF THE IVORY PAVILION

Each floor of the pavilion serves a distinct purpose:

* First Floor (Bi-Jason Area): This entrance living area caters to those attending the Gathering. The space is warm and inviting, furnished with plush sofas and refined decor, fostering an atmosphere of socialization and camaraderie.

* Second Floor (Cadaverous Banquet Hall): A grand dining area, accessible to all residents and visitors, adorned with elegant furnishings and a massive white marble dining table. It offers a sophisticated setting for formal meals and gatherings.

* Third Floor (Branch Library - ): A serene retreat housing over seven thousand books, even though it’s only a branch of the Vermont Main Library. The library offers diverse genres and cozy seating, inviting intellectual pursuits and literary indulgence.

* Fourth Floor (Descendants’ Quarters): Reserved exclusively for Vermont family descendants, this floor serves as a private haven. Luxuriously furnished and exuding tranquility, the quarters are secured by Gate Guards, who are at the level of Expert-Sword Masters.

The pavilion is a masterpiece of refined living, with the white marbles symbolizing purity and the dark-purple marbles adding regal sophistication. Seven intricately carved Pillars stand throughout the estate, etched with an unknown language decipherable only by the Vermont Librarian, the Seven Heirs, and the family Patriarch.

As Jake approached the grand entrance, the Pavilion Knights stepped forward.

“Young Master, we are to escort you inside the pavilion to Master Jackson,” one of them stated.

Jake nodded. “Sure, let’s enter.”

The towering doors opened, revealing the bustling interior. The murmur of voices quieted briefly before erupting into hushed criticisms.

“Wasn’t he sick? Why is he here now?”

“The Curse of Vermont dares tread upon this sacred place!”

Jake remained unfazed as he ascended the steps toward the first floor. A young woman intercepted him, her tone a mix of mockery and faux politeness.

“Greetings, Young Master,” she said with a bow.

Jake returned the gesture. “Greetings, Young Miss.”

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Feigning innocence, she continued, “Pardon me, but I seldom recognize you. May I have your esteemed name, Young Master?”

The crowd erupted in laughter.

“Did you hear that? Oh, my lord!”

“‘Esteemed name’! Hahaha!”

Jake’s calm demeanor shattered the mockery with a single commanding voice.

“Haha-ha-ha-ha-ha. I am amazed by your skill in creating such an entertaining scene, young lady Abigail of the ‘esteemed’ Meliora family. Why not I recommend you to Madame Sierre Meliora as the Jester of the Damascus Kingdom Royal Court? Or perhaps one of the Second Prince’s three personal jesters?”

The room fell into stunned silence for three long minutes.

Abigail, visibly flustered, retorted, “You… Curse-born—”

“Jacob. Jacob Amor de Vermont, one of the Seven Heirs to the House of Vermont,” he declared, his voice sharp and unyielding. “I suggest you mind your manners when addressing members of the host family.”

“You dare—” Abigail began, stepping toward him.

A sudden, icy chill coursed through her as Jake’s glare froze her in place. His piercing eyes seemed to steal her very breath, warning of dire consequences should she act further.

A voice echoed from above.

“Enough, Jacob. Come quickly. I won’t wait long.”

Jake ascended the stairs, the guards moving in coordinated steps beside him.

In a corner of the first floor, whispers stirred.

“Did you hear that?”

“Was it magic?”

Meanwhile, a figure concealed near a pillar murmured to himself, “Sound transmission… interesting.”

At the Emericia, the meeting place of the Patriarchs.

A figure cloaked in shadow sat among the twelve seats of the Roundtable Hall, his voice resonating with a calm but heavy tone.

“In the last ten years, the Empire has expanded significantly, but its oppressive measures against us martial clans have grown even more blatant—disguised as tax collection and moral punishments.”

A scoffing voice cut through the room.

“That’s quite an intriguing complaint coming from you, Oldie.”

“...” The shadowed figure remained silent, unamused.

“When will you take things seriously, huh?” another voice quipped, laced with irritation.

“Well,” the cloaked man finally spoke again, his tone measured, “there’s also the matter of the Sino-Marquis law. It applies only to us.”

“I think we can all agree there may be a need to—”

“Rebel?” someone interrupted sharply, their voice heavy with skepticism.

“No, you senile bastard,” another retorted.

“Recompile, perhaps?”

“Reconcile,” corrected the cloaked figure, “but no. I’m suggesting negotiations—or a plea, if necessary.”

A ripple of discontent followed.

“Plead? You fool! We are the Twelve Grand Patriarchs, and you propose we grovel before the Empire?”

“Well, technically,” a more composed voice interjected, “our allegiance was pledged to the Kingdom of Damascus, not the Empire.”

“And you all know why,” added another, his tone somber.

“Their demands were absurd,” someone agreed, their voice filled with indignation. “Who in their right mind would gift their ancestral weapons and sacred training techniques?”

“Yes,” murmured a more reflective voice. “That proposal still haunts me. To think they would even suggest such a thing...”

“But,” said another, breaking the momentary silence, “we must act. Sitting idle isn’t an option. What say you, Duke Vermont?”

The Duke, seated with his hands steepled before him, finally spoke. His voice carried the weight of authority.

“Hmmm... I suggest we wait for the prince’s arrival tomorrow. Let us see what guidance he offers during the event. Until then, we should postpone our plans.”

A murmur of agreement spread across the hall.

“Is everyone in accord?”

“Yes,” came a unified response.

A single hand rose in the shadows.

“... Even you agree?” a voice asked, half-surprised, half-amused.

“Yes,” the figure confirmed. “Count me in.”

“Me as well,” added another.

“Then it’s settled,” the Duke declared. “This year’s Head Meeting of the Family Gathering is adjourned. We may reconvene after the event, if necessary.”

A heavy silence filled the room as the weight of their decisions hung in the air. The faint rustling of the wind broke the stillness, seeping through the tall windows. Outside, swallows soared high, their eyes fixed on the endless expanse of the sky.