Chapter 948: Formality

Chapter 948: Formality

Later that day, Adam donned fine, silk robes of pure white, embroidered with black threads. The cuffs and collar were lined with intricate patterns, and a silver clasp in the shape of a serpent fastened the robe at his chest.

He rode his sleek, black carriage, making his way toward the heart of Uptown Quarter.

The invitation letter he had received was surprising, to say the least. But he had also expected it.

He knew that a member of the Acadian Royal Family would be arriving at Ravenfell to spectate the Grand Magus Tournament.

It was tradition. Every thirty years, a royal dignitary would preside over the event, formally declaring its commencement.

In recent years, Adam’s fame had spread far and wide across the lands of Ulier. So much so that many believed he was as renowned as the Grand Magus Tournament itself, if not more.

After all, it was true that a great number of people had journeyed to Ravenfell to catch a glimpse of him.

Adam rested his chin on his hand as he gazed at the passing scenery through the window.

Everything looked normal. People were out on the streets, seemingly enjoying their day. Public squares were crowded, and shops and taverns were overflowing.

It was almost as if the news of Hayes Ballard’s death didn’t affect these people at all.

Almost…

There was an unmistakable tension in the air. The number of armored guards patrolling the streets had increased. People’s eyes flickered with hints of wariness.

Adam let out a heavy sigh. He wondered how the Professors and the Councilors were handling this matter.

That Elder from the Inner Circle really did a number on the city by spreading those rumors, he thought to himself, his eyes flashing with a dark light.

What’s more, had the local guards found the spy’s mutilated body, it would have plunged the city into even greater chaos.

Violent, frenzied, and uncontrollable!

Elrod had sent him a letter earlier in the morning that they had recovered the Cult spy’s body and removed all traces from the man’s bedroom.

Moreover, the elf had also told him about the message carved in blood on the corpse’s chest.

Hell opens its gates for Ravenfell…

A dark scowl appeared on Adam’s face.

Are they planning to sacrifice the city’s residents to the devils of Nine Hells? Just what are they planning?

His jaws involuntarily clenched, and his eyes narrowed. With the Grand Magus Tournament only a week away, an ever-deepening sense of forboding clawed at his heart.

I have to begin my preparations, he thought with a grim expression.

But first…

His gaze settled on the distant main gates of a sprawling estate. This property belonged to the Acadian Royal Family, and somewhere within, the Prince of Acadia was waiting for him.

He took a deep breath and then exhaled.

Alright, let’s get this over with.

***

Acadia Estate.

Inside this sprawling, vibrant, and luxurious property nestled in the heart of the most affluent neighborhood of the Uptown Quarter, a black carriage—having passed through numerous security checks—finally came to a halt before an opulent white-marble manor.

One of the many servants waiting at the base of the grand marble staircase opened the door of the carriage.

“We greet Count Constantine.”

The servants bowed respectfully as Adam stepped out of the carriage.

He gave them a curt nod, then his gaze shifted to an old man with a hunched back standing by the towering main doors of the manor.

Adam’s eyes narrowed.

What’s with him? He thought to himself, perplexed.

And why is he giving me that look?

The old man with the hunched back watched Adam climb the stairs and approach the main doors. He had a grumpy look on his face and hints of dissatisfaction in his eyes.

It would seem that he was not happy with Adam’s antics during his homecoming ceremony.

Due to the raven-haired youth secretly casting the gravity spell on that day, the old man had lost his footing and miserably fallen to the floor.

And it had to happen in front of the man he served… The Prince of Acadia.

The hunched-back, old man was greatly humiliated, needless to say. And now, it would appear that he hadn’t forgiven Adam for that.

Just thinking about it caused the old man to feel embarrassed.

But more than anything, he was furious at the raven-haired youth for having the sheer audacity to cast a spell on someone of royal blood.

Adam climbed the stairs and walked toward him with calm and steady strides. Then, he stood before him, towering over him… looking down on him.

The raven-haired youth’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke in a tone that was neither friendly nor hostile, but still enough for the old man’s expression to turn grim.

“I don’t like that look on your face,” he said flatly.

The hunched-back old man suddenly felt an oppressive pressure weighing down on him. Just being in the presence of the Dark King made him feel like he was standing before a powerful, ferocious beast.

But he was not intimidated. He stood his ground, matching Adam’s gaze.

“Casting a spell, of the third rank no less, on the Prince of Acadia is punishable by death, Constantine,” the old man said with narrowed eyes.

Adam’s lips curled up into a cold smirk. “And? What are you going to do about it?”

The old man gazed deeply at the towering raven-haired youth, his eyes squinting.

There were no traces of remorse or fear in those dark, abyss-like eyes.

Does he not respect the Royal Family?

The old man thought to himself.

No, perhaps he holds no respect for anything that even remotely resembles authority or control!

This is going to be troublesome…

However, now was not the time to pick a fight with the Dark King. The old man knew that very well. The purpose of this visit was something else entirely, something far important.

The old man’s eyes lingered on the youth for a moment before he turned around and slowly entered the manor. “Follow me,” he said.

Adam scoffed, but followed behind him nonetheless.

The old man guided the youth through the luxurious main hall. They seemed to be heading towards the backyard.

Without turning around, the old man muttered sternly, “Listen closely, Constantine. When you meet him, you are to address him as ‘Your Highness’. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He folded his hands behind his back and continued, “Do not call him ‘Prince’ to his face. That may be acceptable among equals or in casual speech, but you are neither.”

The old man stopped, turned around, and gazed at him with narrowed eyes.

“And whatever you do, don’t let your tongue slip in arrogance. The crown does not take disrespect lightly.”

After a brief pause, he added, his tone cold and emotionless.

“This is not just a formality. It’s survival.”