Chapter 57: Count Cecilion’s Ring

I leaned my back against the cold marble pillar, taking a moment to breathe and swallow the rest of the strawberry tart.

The ballroom was alive with music, laughter, and the constant chatter of the kingdom’s elite.

Velvet robes trailed across polished marble floorboards, crystal glasses clinked in endless toasts, and the scent of expensive floral perfume hung heavy in the warm air.

It looked like a grand display of peace and prosperity on the surface, but I knew better than to trust appearances in a room filled with politicians, ambitious merchants, and greedy nobles.

I focused my intent and channeled a thin stream of golden mana toward my vision.

Locksmith’s Eye.

The grand ballroom transformed under my vision.

The bright chandeliers turned into brilliant clusters of glowing yellow mana, radiating light magic across the high ceiling.

Magical barriers around the room glowed with steady blue threads, weaving intricate defensive patterns over the windows and exits to protect the guests from external threats.

The nobles themselves carried varying degrees of mana, some weak, some moderately strong, flickering like small candles in the crowded space.

I slowly scanned the crowd, looking for anything out of place.

Most of the nobles were normal. They drank red wine, laughed at fake jokes, and discussed land taxes, completely oblivious to the complex magic holding the room together.

"The tax rate on the western grain route is getting ridiculous," a stout baron in a green velvet vest complained to his companion, gesturing with his half-empty goblet. "If the Duke increases the toll at the river crossing again, my trade caravans will barely make a decent profit this season."

"Count yourself lucky that your grain even reaches the crossing," another noble replied, swirling his dark wine glass with a heavy sigh. "At least your caravans made it through the mountain pass intact. My estate lost three full supply wagons to those strange subterranean monster attacks near the border last month."

"A shame, truly a shame," the first baron chuckled insincerely, taking a slow sip. "Perhaps you should hire more capable mercenary guards next time instead of cutting corners on your escort budget."

"It has nothing to do with my budget," the second noble retorted in a hushed, angry voice. "Those beasts did not act like normal wilderness monsters. They ignored our torches, breached our iron barricades, and fought until every single one of them was slaughtered. Normal wild beasts retreat when they are injured."

"Wild animals are unpredictable, my friend," the stout baron dismissed him with a casual wave of his hand. "You are simply letting your financial losses make you paranoid."

I listened to their chatter with mild interest, noting how the rumors of strange monster behavior were already spreading among the lower nobility.

As my eyes continued to sweep across the eastern wing of the ballroom, I saw the Lerwicks happily talking to others near the wine tables.

Lord Lerwick was holding a heavy silver wine goblet, laughing loudly with a group of young knights and minor lords while his wife showed off her extravagant diamond necklace to a circle of attentive noblewomen.

"Lord Lerwick, your recent investment in the southern timber trade was quite impressive," a young knight in polished dress armor remarked, bowing his head slightly. "Everyone at court is talking about how quickly you secured the harvesting rights."

"It was nothing, really," Lord Lerwick bragged with a smug grin stretching across his face, puffing out his chest. "When one has true foresight, profit naturally follows. My family always knows where to place our gold, unlike those foolish merchants who hesitate at every minor risk."

"And the timber quality?" another minor lord asked curiously. "I heard the southern forests are difficult to harvest due to the dense terrain."

"Difficult for amateur loggers, perhaps," Lady Lerwick chimed in, holding her feather fan close to her mouth and snickering softly. "My husband hired the finest crews from the capital. We expect to double our returns before the winter festival even begins."

"Ah, Lady Lerwick, your necklace is simply exquisite as well," a noblewoman complimented, leaning in to examine the glowing gems. "Is that white gold?"

"Custom made from the capital’s finest jeweler," Lady Lerwick boasted, adjusting her posture so the candlelight caught the gems. "Only the best for House Lerwick."

I turned my gaze away from them immediately. I just ignored them because they would ruin my mood if I kept watching them act so pompous in their little circle of sycophants.

They were obnoxious, arrogant, and thoroughly uninteresting to my current goal.

I shifted my focus toward the western edge of the ballroom, where the crowd was thinner and the light from the chandeliers fell slightly dimmer.

Then, my gaze landed on a man standing near the balcony doors.

He was a tall noble with slicked-back gray hair, wearing a dark purple coat embroidered with fine silver thread.

According to the gossip I had overheard from the servants earlier, he was Count Cecilion, a prominent noble who funded several mining expeditions in the Southern and Western territories.

Two lower-ranking barons were standing beside him, hanging on his every word as if he held the keys to their financial futures.

"Count Cecilion, is it true that your mines in the western hills found a new vein of iron ore?" one baron asked eagerly, leaning closer so his words would not be overheard by passing servants.

"We are still evaluating the depth of the main shaft," Count Cecilion replied smoothly, his voice low, calm, and cultured. "However, early reports from my chief prospector indicate exceptional metal density. It could be worth tens of thousands of gold coins if the vein runs deep."

"Incredible news," the second baron chimed in, his eyes widening with greed. "If you ever need additional private investors for the extraction process or equipment transport, my house would be deeply honored to contribute to the venture."

"I shall keep that in mind, my good friends," Count Cecilion said, giving them a polished, practiced smile that did not quite reach his cold eyes. "Safety and discretion are paramount for an operation of this scale. We cannot afford any unwanted attention from rival mining guilds until the land claims are fully finalized."

"Of course, of course," the first baron agreed quickly, nodding like a desperate child. "Discretion is always our top priority."

"We would never dream of speaking about your private affairs to others," the second baron added hastily.

While they were engrossed in their conversation about gold and iron, my Locksmith’s Eye locked onto something far more dangerous.

Wrapped around Count Cecilion’s right ring finger was a heavy platinum signet ring.

And radiating from that ring were faint, squirming strands of pitch-black mana.

It wasn’t a massive concentration like the Ice Spirit’s corruption back in the frozen dimension, but it was unmistakably the exact same frequency.

The black threads slithered around the platinum band like tiny worms, pulsing in a slow rhythm that suppressed the surrounding atmospheric mana. The ring acted as a hidden transmitter or a key token, storing dark energy behind a disguise of expensive jewelry.

Count Cecilion raised his hand to adjust his silk collar, and the black threads flickered under my vision, reacting to his movement.

"Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me," Count Cecilion said softly, adjusting his silk cuffs and stepping back from the two barons. "The room is getting somewhat warm, and I require a brief breath of fresh air to clear my head."

"Of course, my Lord," both barons said in unison, bowing politely as he turned toward the balcony.

"Please do not let us keep you," the first baron added. "We shall look forward to hearing more about your mining prospects later tonight."

Count Cecilion turned slightly, excusing himself from the conversation with the two other barons, and slipped out onto the quiet balcony corridor.

I checked my surroundings, scanning the main hall to see if anyone was paying attention to Count Cecilion’s sudden departure or my position near the pillar.

The Duke was currently occupied talking to a group of high mages near the throne platform, surrounded by glowing scrolls and diagrams.

Duke Voulstridge stood tall in his dark blue noble attire, his expression stern as he listened to the head mage speak about regional mana instabilities.

As if sensing my gaze, his sharp eyes met mine for a brief second across the crowded hall.

He did not move his head or change his expression. He simply paused his conversation for a split second, locked eyes with me, and gave me a subtle nod. It was a clear, unspoken signal. He knew why I was watching that corridor, and he was giving me full authority to pursue my lead.

I pulled my gaze away, adjusted the bow tie that Victoria had painstakingly fastened, and took a quiet breath.

I slipped past the velvet curtains and followed Count Cecilion into the shadows of the hallway.