The Exiled Lord: My Maid is a Battle Goddess-Chapter 126: Celebration Ball
Amid the flowing strains of music, men and women stepped gracefully onto the dance floor, their elegant steps perfectly in rhythm. Luxurious gowns fluttered through the air, accompanied by the soft, tinkling laughter of women. The ball was extraordinarily refined—nobles from the imperial capital had arranged the banquet with a taste that could effortlessly overshadow anything seen in the other provinces.
"Whew..."
Even Phield, who had seen his share of grand occasions, couldn’t help taking a deep breath. After all, in his previous life, he had never attended such a magnificent ball.
The moment he stepped into the hall, a well-dressed servant approached and offered him a glass. After pouring the wine, the servant bowed respectfully and withdrew.
"It seems aesthetics and pleasure always advance faster than science."
Holding his glass, Phield surveyed the ballroom, which was decorated in a sapphire-blue theme. Nobles from great families carried themselves with imposing dignity—either breathtaking beauties who drew every eye or handsome gentlemen radiating charm.
Well... of course, there were also the unfortunate products of close-kin marriages, odd individuals who required servants to care for them around the clock.
As for the minor nobles or those from impoverished regions, the difference was immediately obvious—whether in complexion or attire, they fell noticeably short.
And finally, there were the opportunists who had bought expensive tickets to enter—usually merchants. Under the disdainful or curious gazes of the nobles, they tirelessly promoted their goods.
"Merchants are truly unpleasant. Even the fresh air becomes irritating when they’re around."
A rather ordinary-looking lady in extravagant attire walked over, pretending to appear casual. Her eyes slowly scanned Phield from top to bottom before she turned her head slightly and quoted with arrogant composure,
"It is harder for a merchant to enter heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle."
In the present age, merchants stood far below nobles in status, so being disliked was nothing unusual. But the woman before him was clearly just trying to attract his attention.
If he refused to play along, rumors might spread tomorrow—perhaps that he was some sort of effeminate man who wasn’t even interested in beautiful noble ladies.
"Yes, noble lady. May I have the honor of this dance?"
Phield extended his hand.
"Well, since you’ve asked so politely... I suppose that’s acceptable."
The woman laughed softly, pretending to ponder for a moment before gracefully placing her hand in his. Immediately, Phield caught the heavy scent of perfume.
Phield was terribly clumsy at dancing. Though the original owner of his body had learned as a child, he’d never had the chance to practice. As a result, he stepped on her feet three times.
"I heard your surname is Ross. Such a romantic name, yet you’re rather adorable."
The woman teased him before subtly moving closer. Phield immediately noticed a "hidden vertical line," even the tiny fine hairs above it clearly visible.
She giggled.
"You don’t dance very often, do you? Then the honor must be mine."
A naïve young boy might have already fallen halfway in love, blushing and daydreaming about how many children they might have together.
Unfortunately, Phield had been spoiled by Ashina and Rosalia for far too long. His resistance to beauty had grown extremely high.
"Yes, my surname is Ross. Unfortunately, my territory lies in the Northern Province—nothing but rotting corpses, smog, and death."
Phield spoke bluntly without hesitation.
He could clearly feel the woman’s body tremble in his hands. She had obviously been frightened. The joy vanished from her face, and her gaze began to wander uneasily.
Someone’s dream of becoming a rich lady had just shattered.
The woman absentmindedly withdrew her hand and lowered her head to adjust her skirt.
"I’m tired. I’d like to rest for a while."
"As you wish."
"Oh, by the way, I’ll usually be resting over there. If you ever feel like chatting... or perhaps stargazing, I’d be happy to accompany you."
With that, she turned and walked away.
"Looks like my charm isn’t too bad."
Though Phield admitted he was a little narcissistic, he understood exactly what the woman’s final words had meant:
Even though you’re poor, you’re good-looking enough to spend the night with.
"It seems someone will be spending tonight in a very sweet dream. How enviable."
A pleasant voice sounded nearby.
Elsa approached gracefully, dressed in an elegant gown, lifting the blue hem slightly as her snow-white feet stepped lightly across the floor. Her expression was cool and distant.
Behind her trailed a crowd of men, their eyes completely fixed on Elsa. It was a wonder how they managed to see where they were walking.
"As a gentleman, if Miss Elsa is so envious, I’d gladly give the opportunity to you."
Phield had already imagined the scene of the two women "embracing" each other.
Elsa rolled her eyes.
"You’re still as humorous as ever."
"Gentlemen, could you please give us a little private space?"
Elsa addressed the surrounding men. The impatience in her eyes was carefully hidden. Though she would have loved to twist their heads off, her upbringing made her words sound as gentle as a spring breeze.
"Of course, sweetheart."
"I’ll wait for you—even in my dreams."
"You owe me a dance later."
The men left while tossing out their cheesy lines, though not before glaring viciously at Phield, as if ready to challenge him to a duel on the spot.
Phield sighed silently.
Sigh... this woman is really troublesome. She keeps making enemies for me. Not that I’m afraid, but it’s annoying.
The key point was that Elsa had already been contracted. Phield had absolutely no interest in her.
Once he squeezed a few more benefits from her family, he planned to stay far away.
"On the night of the decisive battle, we all witnessed your courage and leadership. If you hadn’t led your troops to block the rebels’ charge, we would have been attacked from both front and rear. You also captured Springwater Village—quite heroic."
After offering sincere praise, Elsa smoothly shifted to the real matter.
"Are you curious about what you might gain from this war?"
"Will I gain land?"
Phield cared most about territory. Even a single town would be an enormous asset.
Elsa’s eyes sharpened like blades piercing straight into his heart.
"Hard to say. After all, you seized those crates at the end. As you know, imperial law states that all spoils of war should be distributed by the military command. Could you tell me what you obtained?"
"Things minor nobles envy but great nobles disdain. Some potions and magical concoctions—all low-tier."
"Nothing else of importance?" Elsa narrowed her eyes.
"What could possibly come out of them? A cute little Divine Chosen?"
Phield remained perfectly calm as he casually ate a piece of cake.
"Haha, that would indeed be impossible."
Elsa laughed softly, then leaned close to his ear and whispered,
"I think you misunderstood what I meant. If you fill four large crates with gold and silver treasures, add a divine artifact, and return them to the governor under the pretext of returning spoils of war... perhaps you might obtain what you desire."
"So that’s what you meant."
Phield wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead. For a moment, he had thought the matter of contracting a new Divine Chosen had been exposed.
Of course he had considered such a move—but he had no intention of doing it. It simply wasn’t worth it.
With the amount of wealth he already possessed, properly developing Nightfall Domain was far more important. As for the lands in Itavon Province, they had already been reduced to ruins by war and would require rebuilding from scratch anyway.
With that much effort, he might as well conquer new land instead.
"No, I don’t have the money. But thank you for the suggestion."
"You could use an artifact instead. For example, the one Sherry gave you—The Eye That Pierces the Veil. That’s how you discovered the invisible army, isn’t it?"
