Grand Lust Sovereign-Chapter 68: Duke Barthes

Technology was not as advanced outside the Tower, but magical devices served well enough for communication.

The banquet’s grand proceedings were telecasted to every busy square in the Silverose Kingdom, drawing crowds eager to witness the nobility’s splendor.

For commoners, this was a rare glimpse into the lives of those who existed in an entirely different realm of power and privilege.

Inside the palace, the atmosphere was solemn and formal. A line of carriages, gilded and majestic, rolled into the grand courtyard. Nobles exited one by one, their presence commanding and meticulously composed.

Lord Balthazar Raiken stepped out first, his silver cloak adorned with crimson that gleamed under the pale light of enchanted chandeliers. He moved with an air of cold confidence, his sharp gaze enough to silence whispers. Every step he took exuded the weight of old money and unshakable authority.

Behind him, Lady Isolde Vaelmore descended gracefully, her golden gown flowing like liquid sunlight. A quiet murmur rippled through the crowd of nobles as her entrance demanded attention. Her every gesture was polished, every look deliberate, her beauty striking yet untouchable.

Then came Sir Theon Aldrick, a man of both wealth and infamy. His purple attire was bold, a sharp contrast to the reserved tones of those before him. He smirked faintly as he strode into the hall, his presence brimming with a quiet arrogance that made others either look away or watch with caution.

Meanwhile, in the squares of the Silverose Kingdom, the mood was a world apart. The magical screens shimmered, reflecting the noble arrivals to the captivated masses. Faces in the crowd lit up with excitement as they pointed at the screens, their voices rising in awe.

"Look at that cloak! It must be worth a fortune."

"She’s like a pretty flower… I’ve never seen someone so beautiful."

"Who’s the man in purple? He looks dangerous."

A child stood near the front, clutching his mother’s hand, eyes wide as he stared at the glowing images. To the commoners, this was a spectacle, a dream-like moment that revealed the untouchable world of the elite.

The procession paused as a gilded carriage bearing the insignia of House Barthes rolled into the courtyard. All eyes turned to Duke Ludwig Barthes as he stepped out, his sapphire cloak trimmed in gold shimmering under the enchanted lanterns.

Barthes took his time descending, every movement slow and deliberate, as though choreographed for the audience both inside the palace and beyond. The magical screens transmitting the scene to the public squares across the Silverose Kingdom captured his grand display in vivid detail.

The King’s official approached, bowing deeply. "Your Grace, welcome. The banquet awaits your esteemed presence."

Barthes offered a faint smile, his head tilting slightly upward.

"Of course it does," he replied, his tone oozing with confidence. Instead of moving toward the entrance, he remained by his carriage, his sharp eyes scanning the gathering.

"Magnificent architecture, as always," he mused aloud, as though the palace were a mere backdrop to his presence.

"And the turnout… truly worthy of the occasion."

The official hesitated, his smile tightening. "Indeed, Your Grace. If I might suggest—"

Barthes raised a hand, silencing him with an elegant wave. "Patience, my good man. Let the people see what strength and dignity look like."

His gaze flicked briefly to the magical screens, where commoners in the public squares watched in awe and curiosity.

"Is that the Duke Barthes? He looks even more imposing than the stories say."

"Look at the way he carries himself… as if the whole world is beneath him."

"His boots probably cost more than my house," someone muttered with a dry chuckle.

"Did you see that cloak? Pure sapphire weave! Only the richest nobles can afford that."

"What a life. A man like him must never worry about a single meal," an older man said, shaking his head.

Children pointed at the screen, tugging at their parents’ sleeves. "Mama, why are they all bowing to him?"

"Because, child," the mother replied with a faint smile, "men like him have power we can’t even dream of."

The awe was tinged with whispers of envy and frustration. "I wonder how much he paid to get that ’respect,’" a man in the back grumbled, only to be hushed by those around him.

"He’s just the first, though," another voice said, quieter. "I heard the Duchess is coming next. They say even the King keeps his distance from her."

The murmurs grew softer as the commoners waited to see what would happen next, their eyes glued to the screens.

Inside the courtyard, however, the tension among the King’s aides was mounting.

One official leaned toward another, voice hushed but urgent. "Why isn’t he moving? He’s delaying everything!"

"I know," the other replied, glancing toward the gilded carriage still stationed behind Barthes. "If she arrives before he’s inside…"

The thought was left unspoken, but the weight of it was clear. The King himself would not tolerate disrespect toward the Duchess, let alone a delay caused by someone as self-absorbed as Barthes.

The senior official took a discreet step forward, his tone firm but respectful. "Your Grace, the King awaits your presence, and it would be most fitting for you to honor his patience."

Barthes turned to him, lips curving into a practiced smile. "Ah, but such moments are rare. Do not deprive the people of inspiration."

Behind him, the faint sound of horses stirring broke the tension like a crack of thunder. The official’s face drained of color as he glanced at the next carriage, its curtains drawn, its presence foreboding.

He turned back to Barthes, bowing deeply again. "Your Grace, I insist—"

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Barthes finally straightened, his demeanor unchanged, and strode toward the entrance, still leisurely but deliberate. The King’s official exhaled quietly, his hands tightening behind his back, a subtle tension in his posture.

Just as Barthes reached the threshold, the unmistakable sound of hooves clattering against stone echoed through the courtyard as the Lichtenstein carriage finally arrived.

The massive emblem of the Lichtenstein House—a phoenix surrounded by dark crimson flames—stood proud on the side, gleaming like a jewel in the moonlight. It commanded attention, leaving no room for doubt that a figure of unparalleled power sat within.

Inside the King’s Castle, the tension was palpable. The officials, already sweating from the debacle caused by Duke Barthes, struggled to compose themselves. They had delayed the Duchess by five minutes—a mistake they could only pray would not cost them more than their dignity.

The door of the grand carriage opened, and the courtyard seemed to hold its breath.

A single figure stepped out.