Chapter 517: An Awkward Dinner

The grand dining hall of the Avery estate was lit by two crystal chandeliers, their warm light falling over the table covered with roasted duck, glazed root vegetables, and decanters of aged crimson wine.

Cherion sat near the middle of the table, Derrick beside him on his left. Across from them sat Marchioness Avery, while Marquess Avery sat at the head of the table, his back straight as he cut himself a piece of meat.

"So," Marquess Avery began, setting his silver knife down with a soft clink against the plate. He wiped his lips with a linen napkin before turning his sharp gray eyes toward Cherion. "How is His Grace holding up these days, Lord Cherion? We hear so many conflicting reports in the council chambers."

Cherion didn’t miss a beat. He swallowed his wine, setting his goblet down gently as he forced a quiet, familiar mask of weary concern onto his face.

"The Duke has his good days and his bad days, My Lord," Cherion replied smoothly, his tone laced with a practiced mix of quiet optimism and faint melancholy. "Some mornings he wakes up feeling as strong as he was on the frontlines, and on other days... the fatigue simply takes over. The imperial physicians are doing everything they can, but it remains a daily struggle."

It was the exact script Cherion had rehearsed a dozen times. Vague enough to hide Zarius’s actual unholy affliction, yet precise enough to satisfy the court’s relentless curiosity without raising fresh suspicions.

Marchioness Avery frowned slightly, laying a gentle hand on her husband’s sleeve. "Must you bring up such heavy court matters during dinner, dear? Poor Lord Cherion has had a terrifying afternoon. The last thing he needs is to be cross-examined about his fiancé’s health over roast duck."

"I am merely asking out of genuine concern for the state of our empire, my love," the Marquess replied smoothly, offering his wife a calm, unapologetic smile. "Duke Valtrane is the backbone of our military forces. Naturally, everyone in the high council is anxious to know if he will be fit to oversee the upcoming inspections. Especially considering how many unusual incidents have occurred since the subjugation celebration banquet."

Derrick shifted uncomfortably in his seat, cutting in before the atmosphere could grow any heavier. "Father, all of those banquet rumors were cleared up days ago. Everything has already passed, so there’s really no need to dwell on it. Can we please just enjoy the meal?"

"Of course, son," Marquess Avery murmured, though his gray eyes lingered on Cherion for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before he picked up his fork again. "I am glad to hear all is well."

For the remainder of the meal, the conversation shifted to safer topics. The Marchioness spoke warmly about the upcoming seasonal galas, Derrick complained lightheartedly about his administrative tutors, and Cherion offered polite, charming responses that kept the table relaxed.

Yet beneath his pleasant exterior, Cherion felt a persistent prickle of unease. Every time Marquess Avery smiled at him across the table, the expression felt just a little too deliberate, his polite inquiries carrying an underlying weight that Cherion couldn’t quite shake off.

When the final dessert course was cleared, Cherion stood up and offered a graceful bow toward his hosts.

"Thank you deeply for your wonderful hospitality, Marquess and Marchioness Avery," Cherion said, his voice warm and sincere. "The dinner was exquisite, but I really should be heading back to the ducal manor before it gets any later. His Grace is likely already waiting for me."

"Of course, dear," Marchioness Avery said, standing up to pat his arm warmly. "Please take care of yourself on the ride home. And do use our carriage escorts if you feel uneasy on the roads."

"We truly cannot thank you enough for looking out for Derrick today, Lord Cherion," Marquess Avery added, stepping forward with his hands clasped behind his back. "If you had not reacted so quickly in that washroom, my son might have been severely hurt."

Cherion lowered his head slightly, a flicker of genuine remorse touching his face. "Please don’t thank me, My Lord. Truthfully, I am the reason Derrick was placed in danger in the first place. Heinrich was targeting me because of an old grudge. If Derrick hadn’t been standing beside me, he would never have been involved."

"Nonsense," Marquess Avery said, his voice firm and reassuring as he offered Cherion a broad, warm smile. "Do not place the sins of a lunatic on your own shoulders. Heinrich Bramwell is a fallen, corrupt criminal who made his own choices. I assure you, I will personally speak with the Minister of Justice tomorrow morning to ensure that scoundrel receives the absolute worst punishment he deserves. He will not set foot in the capital ever again."

"I appreciate your firmness, My Lord," Cherion replied softly.

As Cherion turned toward the heavy double doors leading out to the grand portico, Marquess Avery called out one last time.

"Ah, Lord Cherion," the Marquess said smoothly, his smile remaining perfectly in place as he raised a hand in farewell. "Please be so kind as to relay my warmest personal greetings to Duke Valtrane when you return."

Cherion paused at the threshold, turning his head back with a polite nod. "Of course. I will be sure to pass along your regards."

He stepped out into the cool evening air, where Ezek and Reiner were already waiting beside the ducal carriage. As the footmen pulled open the carriage door and Cherion climbed inside, he glanced back one last time toward the grand entrance of the Avery mansion.

Marquess Avery was still standing under the bright archway lantern, watching the carriage with that same unyielding, polished smile.

Cherion leaned back against the dark velvet cushions as the carriage wheels began to clatter over the cobblestones. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, a sudden, cold shudder running down his spine.

It’s probably just my nerves after getting attacked, Cherion thought, staring out the darkened window into the passing city lights. So why does his face keep giving me such a terrible feeling?