11: Chapter 11 The Chaotic Ball! Lady Lillian!

Three months later, spring arrived.

The Mess Mountains still wore their white snow caps, but the snow at the foothills had melted, revealing sparse grass roots.

The frostbite on the farmers' faces had not yet fully faded, but their eyes were already brightening.

They urged their oxen and began tilling the soil.

Spring wheat seeds were carefully sown.

When not training, the militia members also picked up farming tools and joined in the plowing and sowing.

Busy figures were everywhere inside and outside the castle.

Even the sea breeze seemed less biting and salty, and more gentle.

As the heavy snow receded, the muddy roads to the outside world finally became solid again.

The territory, sealed off for the winter, resumed communication with the outside world.

It was on such a lazy spring afternoon.

Inside the castle's quiet room.

Rowan slowly opened his eyes.

The fluctuations of the Myriad Furnace Breathing Technique slowly receded.

Almost at the same moment he finished his practice, Butler Henry's deliberately light footsteps could be heard outside the door.

"My Lord." The old steward's voice came through the heavy oak door, carrying a hint of rare hesitation.

"Enter."

Butler Henry pushed the door open, holding a letter sealed with exquisite wax.

The wax was deep purple, imprinted with an elegantly spreading skylark, surrounded by olive branches and a sword crest.

Rowan narrowed his eyes slightly; this was the family crest of Count Farrell, the ruler of Gino County.

"A messenger from the county city just delivered this." Butler Henry presented the letter, "It is an invitation from Count Farrell."

Rowan took it.

The envelope was delicate and flexible, with a faint scent of lavender.

He broke the wax and pulled out the letter written in beautiful calligraphy.

"Dear Baron Rowan Flynn, may the gentle spring breeze bring bountiful blessings to you and White Cliff Territory."

"The Month of the Spring Crown, symbolizing rebirth and beauty, is almost here. The Golden-Rimmed Flowers of Golden Flame Territory are about to usher in their most magnificent bloom of the year, and the mountains and plains will flow with sunlight and gold."

"On this auspicious occasion, I sincerely invite you to attend the Spring Aristocratic Ball held at Golden Flame Manor in Gino City during the Month of the Spring Crown."

"Let us dance amidst the fragrance of flowers and fine wine, converse about our friendship, and perhaps forge new bonds..."

The signature was: Leonard Farrell.

The phrasing of the invitation was elegant and appropriate, with no flaws to be found.

"My Lord, will you go?" Butler Henry asked in a low voice.

Rowan placed the letter on his lap, leaned back, and fell into thought.

The spring aristocratic ball in Gino County; he had been once after he came of age.

That was when his father was still alive, he had just turned eighteen, and as the heir of the Flynn Family, he was taken by his father to see the so-called high society.

In his memory, there were luxurious halls, dazzling magic crystal lamps, and the perfume-filled air.

He had scanned all the noble ladies and wives present with the system he had awakened not long before.

Wherever his gaze landed, pale blue rating numbers jumped beside those carefully dressed faces.

Yet most hovered between 60 and 80.

Occasionally, a few exceeded 80, which were already eye-catching pearls in the room.

As for above 90?

Not a single one.

It was that disappointment, coupled with his father's death in battle shortly after, that prompted him to resolutely sell his property and embark on an adventure to the Imperial Capital.

Since Sylvia came to White Cliff Territory, he had declined all subsequent ball invitations.

And as for Count Farrell, after the first refusal, he had tactfully stopped sending them.

It was as if this remote baronial territory of White Cliff Territory had been quietly forgotten by the bustling social circle of the county city.

Now, the invitation had been sent again, and the wording was so enthusiastic.

It seems the news that the mistress of White Cliff Territory had left had finally spread.

Rowan was not surprised; there were no walls that didn't leak.

It was just that because of the Latour Family's information blockade back then, very few people knew the identity of this lady, only that she was a mage.

He had intended to decline.

But...

His gaze swept over the system panel in his mind.

The next reward for the offspring quantity milestone required a full 14 qualified offspring.

And the qualified partner column still only contained the name Sylvia.

He needed a new partner with a rating above 90.

The ball in the county city was unlikely to have a girl with a rating over 90.

But every year, new noble maidens who had come of age entered the social scene.

What if?

"Go." Rowan raised his head, his voice calm.

Butler Henry seemed a bit surprised, but just nodded: "Yes, My Lord. I will go prepare the reply and arrange the itinerary and guards."

"Hmm, keep it simple. Taking Jason and four capable guards is enough. The defense of the territory cannot be lax."

"Understood."

Butler Henry bowed and withdrew.

The quiet room returned to tranquility.

Rowan closed his eyes again, and the Myriad Furnace Breathing Technique slowly began to circulate again.

...

Sacred Calendar 1853, March.

The Month of the Spring Crown arrived as scheduled.

Over three hundred miles south of White Cliff Territory was the center of Gino County, Gino City.

It stood on a fertile river valley plain.

The scale of the city was far beyond what White Cliff Territory could compare to.

High stone city walls surrounded it, and the spires of the bell tower and church inside pointed to the blue sky.

And in the west of the city, on a gentle slope, was the venue for this ball.

The Golden Flame Manor of Golden Flame Territory.

At this moment, it was the most beautiful time of the year here.

The manor was built against the mountain, facing the river valley.

The most eye-catching thing was the sea of Golden-Rimmed Flowers on the hillside.

This was a peculiar plant, with leaves naturally bearing a circle of brilliant gold patterns on the edges.

And in spring, it would bloom with small, goose-yellow flowers with a touch of orange-red in the center.

A single flower was unremarkable, but when hundreds of millions bloomed at once, they formed a flowing, leaping ocean of gold.

Under the spring sunlight, it reflected against the shimmering waves of the river valley in the distance, breathtakingly beautiful.

On the carefully manicured lawn beside the flower fields, white silk tents were set up.

The noble ladies were the brightest embellishment of this spring feast.

They wore luxurious gowns, gathered in groups of three or five, whispering and occasionally letting out reserved laughter.

The air was filled with a lazy, hedonistic, and subtly restless spring atmosphere.

Rowan's arrival did not cause much of a stir.

After all, White Cliff Territory was remote, and the Flynn Family had declined.

His attire today was quite low-key, a dark blue slim-fit suit with no excessive decorations, only a simple silver family emblem pinned to the collar.

But just by standing there quietly, his impeccable, succubus-level handsome face attracted many subtle gazes.

He casually took a glass of pale gold sparkling wine from the waiter's tray and scanned the room with a calm gaze.

The system panel flashed pale blue rating numbers across his vision.

76, 61, 78, 64, 72, 80, ...

Sure enough, it was not much different from several years ago.

Occasionally, a few young ladies reached 80 points, and they were already surrounded by attentive gentlemen, like stars surrounding the moon.

He took a sip of wine, the sweet and slightly astringent liquid entering his throat.

The excited whispers of several young noble ladies drifted into his ears.

"Have you heard? The Duke Witton's youngest daughter is engaged to that Mason of the royal family!"

"Oh my god! Really? Is it that Lord Mason? The twenty-four-year-old Great Knight who single-handedly killed two Night Whisperers of the Church of Night in the Dusk Canyon battle?"

"Who else could it be? He is hailed as the genius of the royal family in this era, most likely to impact the Sky Knight, or even the Legendary Knight!"

"Oh, gods above, he is my dream lover! I even dreamed last night that I was riding a white horse with him, galloping across a field full of flowers..."

"Hehe, I'm afraid your Prince Charming has changed many times in your dreams, right?"

"But speaking of which, didn't the Dawn Knight have an engagement with that talented mage young lady from the Latour Duke's family in the Imperial Capital before?"

"You mean Ms. Sylvia Latour? Yes, I wonder why it was canceled later."

"I heard that young lady went to the magic tower on the southern border for long-term advanced study?"

"Sigh, truly not knowing the blessing when one has it. That is the Mason..." A young lady from a baron's family wearing a goose-yellow dress hummed softly.

Rowan's fingers holding the wine glass paused slightly, then he looked away as if nothing had happened, gazing at the golden flower sea in the distance.

He didn't expect that at this county ball far from the Imperial Capital, he would inadvertently hear about Sylvia's past.

A very faint arc appeared at the corner of his mouth, and he raised his wine glass, drinking the remaining liquid in one gulp.

The cold liquid slid into his chest, but he inexplicably felt a bit... subtle.

Just then, a scent mixed with mature roses and some warm, sweet amber quietly approached.

"Good afternoon, honorable sir. Don't you feel a bit lonely admiring the scenery alone?"

The lady's voice was soft, carrying a hint of just the right amount of lazy Charm.

Rowan turned around.

A noble woman of about twenty-five or twenty-six was looking at him with a smile.

She was wearing a wine-red off-shoulder satin dress, the skirt like a blooming petal, setting off her skin as white as snow.

Her chestnut long hair was pinned into an elegant bun, with a few strands lazily hanging by her neck.

Her features were of the bright and atmospheric type.

A pair of slightly upturned peach blossom eyes were full of Charm as she glanced around. Her full red lips were painted with lipstick of the same color as the dress, slightly upturned.

Her figure was plump and well-proportioned, and under the tight-fitting dress, the curves were breathtaking.

She was a beauty who knew how to radiate Charm.

Rowan scanned her with a calm gaze, and the system rating quietly emerged: [81 points].

"Good afternoon, my lady." Rowan bowed slightly, his etiquette impeccable, his voice carrying just the right amount of gentleness:

"Accompanying the beautiful scenery with fine wine is already a pleasure. Moreover, it is an honor to be able to converse with a lady like you."

His response was polite, but when his amber eyes looked at the other party, there seemed to be a subtle glimmer flashing by.

It was not a deliberate use of skills, but a certain characteristic inherent to the succubus profession.

The interest in the beauty's eyes clearly deepened a bit.

She took a half step forward, narrowing the distance to the closest edge allowed by social etiquette, looking at him with smiling eyes.

"You are really good at talking, sir."

"Let me introduce myself, I am Lady Lillian Blanchette, the widow of the late Viscount Blanchette."

As she spoke, her gaze roamed over Rowan's face and body without concealment, carrying appreciation and evaluation.

"Rowan Flynn, Baron of White Cliff Territory. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Lillian."

Rowan stated his name, understanding in his heart.

A widowed viscountess, possessing considerable autonomy and wealth, the purpose of appearing in such an occasion...

"White Cliff Territory... ah, I remember now, it is that beautiful territory in the north near the Mess Mountains."

Lady Lillian suddenly realized, a flash of understanding passed through her eyes, and then the smile deepened, a smile with a subtle sense of superiority and greater interest.

"I heard that the White Cliff Castle there is magnificent, facing the North Sea directly, I really want to have a chance to see it."

"You are always welcome, my lady. It's just that the territory is remote and crude, I'm afraid it might slight you."

Rowan responded with ease, an impeccable faint smile on his face, speaking some polite words without any substantial meaning, but his words were not lacking in clever flattery and subtle flirting.

He did not actively use the Charm skill.

But the gentle words and subtle actions were just enough to pluck the other party's heartstrings.

Sure enough, Lady Lillian was teased by his few words into letting out low laughter several times, her eyes becoming increasingly soft, and her body unconsciously leaned closer again.

She began to talk about the recently popular poetry, the new plays performed in the county city, and occasionally used her fan to gently touch Rowan's arm, her posture intimate.

"Although these Golden-Rimmed Flowers are beautiful, they feel monotonous after looking at them for a long time." After chatting for a while, Lady Lillian suddenly pointed to a patch of flowers in full bloom not far away with her fan, her voice lowered a bit, carrying a hint of lazy suggestion:

"I heard there is a small oak forest behind the manor, and at this time of year, the bluebells in the forest are blooming just right, quiet and unique."

"I wonder if Baron Flynn... is interested in accompanying me for a walk and appreciating another kind of scenery?"

Her gaze contained waves, gently tracing Rowan's lip shape, the meaning of the invitation couldn't be more obvious.

At such a ball, noble men and women finding excuses to leave the main venue to go to a quieter place to enjoy the scenery alone was a tacit signal.

Rowan met her gaze, but his heart was calm and waveless. 81 points, for him, was tasteless to eat, and abandoning it... didn't seem like a pity either.

The Drain skill required a higher-rated lady to harvest more attribute points.

For an 81-point lady, the time spent in the process of draining emotional energy was not much different from the proficiency gained by his own cultivation.

Just that the process was more enjoyable?

He raised his eyes again, his gaze seemingly inadvertently sweeping across the room, and the system rating jumped between those ladies.

The highest were still those few surrounded young ladies above 80 points, and there were no new discoveries.

It seems that the quality of the county city this year is still like this.

His gaze fell back on the face of the charming viscount's widow before him.

A gorgeous face, mature Charm.

At this ball, she was indeed one of the most eye-catching and proactive ones.

Perhaps, it was precisely because of her confidence in herself that she dared to directly flirt with such an outstanding-looking young baron like him.

Since he was already here, and there was no way to cultivate here, then why not...

Thinking of this, Rowan put on a slightly aggressive faint smile.

He leaned slightly, approaching Lady Lillian's delicate white ear, his voice lowered a bit:

"It is my honor to accompany you to appreciate the beauty of the bluebells, my lady."

He straightened up and extended his arm to Lady Lillian.

A flush mixed with excitement and shyness flashed across Lady Lillian's face, and without hesitation, she placed her hand, wearing a silk glove, on Rowan's sturdy forearm.

The two looked at each other and smiled, walking calmly away from the noisy main venue towards the lush oak forest behind the manor.

The sea of golden flowers, the noisy dance music, the hypocritical greetings, were all left behind them.

The light and shadow in the forest were sparse, and the small blue flowers of the bluebells bloomed quietly among the fallen leaves.

The air was cool and quiet, carrying the fresh scent of soil and trees.