A few days later, night. 

The City Lord's mansion was in full swing with lanterns bathing the whole area in a festive glow. Even the vast grounds surrounding the opulent estate were opened to the public, now filled with a boisterous crowd of people who ate and drank with great merriment. There we singers and storytellers, jugglers and dancers. 

Various stalls and vendors sets shop, and several games were being played ranging from cards to pig chasing. 

Damien even saw a chicken kicking competition in place, which he promptly--and violently--broke up.

Within the building itself the air was more austere but no less merry.

Packed inside were the various men and women of influence of Valen. The Noble, the wealthy, all were in attendance dressed in typical fashion. The women wore flamboyant dresses while the men adorned suits of a more somber affair with a touch of jewelry here or there. 

As they ascended the stairs towards the mansion's entrance, none blocked their path. One part was confidence, the other was the attire. Damien has dressed up in a long, deep grey overcoat with gold buttons and purple velvet lining. Beneath that was a red vest and black dress shirt with matching legwear. A brown leather belt with a silver rose buckle hung at his waist, showing off a newly-acquired longsword. 

Meanwhile, Vera was wrapped in a dark blue dress that hugged her petite frame.  Her skin had been dusted in powder glitter, making her already gorgeous appearance even more ethereal and dazzling. She was like a fairy from tales of old, glowing with a cold youthful beauty.

As for her mother, Mary...she was truly transcendent. From top to bottom, her hair was loosely tied back into a bun and held in place by two wooden hairpins decorated with red and gold flowers. Two ribbons of emerald green framed the sides of her face, so alluring and lovely that only the barest of make-up was used. A mere touch of red rouge at her cheeks and full, sensuous lips.

She wore a magnificent violet satin dress that cut off at and exposed her soft white shoulders, leading to an exquisite and perfectly s-shaped clavicle that all ended and attracted attention to a pair of voluptuous breasts enough to drive all men wild with desire.  Further down a slit opened at her side that laid bare an endlessly long and supple leg while at her waist hung a string of glittering pearl and diamond. Completing the ensemble was a white fur stole resembling a fox tail that hung down her back and held up by the crook of her elbow.

Needless to say, none of the three looks pat of the common rabble. Whether it be their auras, attire, or looks, they all screamed of high Nobility. As such, the guards naturally didn't block their entrance. 

At they reached the door, Damien merely flashed a small golden badge with the Claybrook family crest and the Stewart announced his arrival with great aplomb.

All at once, the various discussions at play turned quiet and all eyes turned their way. Interest and lust mingled together in equal as they landed upon either Mary or Damien. Even Vera. For those Damien made a mental note. 

In no time at all, they heard a voice break the silence and a fit middle-aged man with a mane of greying orange hair approached him.  

 "What a pleasure it is to finally meet you, Lord Claybrook! I've heard such good--." Evered broke off abruptly.

....When he heard the announcement, his first thought was, Why the ever-loving fuck is he here?  Bu now upon seeing the boy in question his thought became, Who the hell is this?

It was not a surprising question. The person standing there was a man, not a child. Tall, slightly more so than Evered, and broad-shouldered with a rare handsomeness. He wasn't at all like the youth Evered had seen in portraits.  The only similarity was the rich purple eyes which were a trademark of the Violet Fucker.

"Lord...Damien?" Evered asked doubtfully.

"Indeed," Damien smiled. "Surprised?" He grinned. 

Evered blinked, then collected himself. "Apologies, my Lord. You just seem so... different from the paintings."  He gave a chuckle that seemed to trail off a tad awkwardly.

"Yes. I've had a growth spurt, as you can see."

Evered felt his chest tighten. Isn't he supposed to be in his fifteenth year? The fuck kind of growth spurt is this? Don't bullshit me, you look as old as my son!

"Clearly," Evered didn't know what else to say. "Regardless, its a pleasure. As I was saying, I've heard such good things."

"Really?" Damien raised a brow. "Like what?"

"Hm?" Evered, who had been about to launch into another topic, was cut off. 

"I asked, what good things have you heard?" Damien pressed. 

"That's...." Evered was at a total loss on how to reply. He hadn't expected the other to ask. No, why would he need to? He should know very well himself what people say abut him!

Damien Claybrook actually had a respectable reputation among the commoners and some lower-rank Nobles, but the people who knew his other side only knew him as a Devil who flew off the handle at the smallest of things. 

Evered recalled a story where a Baron's son flogged his horse to death after it cost him a race during an annual three-day festival. Damien, who participated in said race, saw that and went completely insane. 

To everyone's horror, he cut the dead horse's stomach open and forced the boy to climb inside, then dragged the carcass over to the father's tent. Using his higher status, he forced the enraged Baron to unwillingly flog his own son until he pissed and shat himself under the eye of a gathered crowd. The boy was covered in blood and bile, utterly traumatized. To then be beaten by his father on top of that, even soiling himself in front of so many.... 

"Its said you have a magnanimous and kind heart," The City Lord made up some bullshit that all those nearby could tell was a lie.

Damien, however, smiled. "That sounds about right." 

....Evered marveled at his shamelessness. He could only offer a small laugh and put out his hand. 

Damien looked at it blankly. "Did you wash first?"

Evered's amicable expression turned noticeably taut.

"For all I know you could've jacked off with that hand before coming here, after all," Damien spoke as if that was something very reasonable to assume. "Wouldn't want any white crust on me."

Shock. Evered froze, completely and utterly stunned by the ridiculous words. The few closest to them who heard let out quiet laughter. 

He damn near passed out in rage and shame at that, his cheeks reddening instantly.

"I assure you, I'm clean." Evered ground his teeth.

"I believe you," And yet Damien kept his hands at his side, leaving the man hanging. Evered felt a vein pop in his forehead as he lowered his arm.

Two minutes here and Evered already wanted to kick him out. 

"I heard you're going to give me a medal?" Damien suddenly changed the topic.

"Yes. That's right," The City Lord responded tightly.

"....Well?" 

"Hm?" 

Damien put his hand out and gestured with a patient smile. It was the universal sign of "Gimme."

"Let's leave that for later." Evered swallowed his anger. "Enjoy the banquet first. Mingle." 

"Sounds boring."

....By now Evered's eyes were twitching. 

"But since you insist....lead on, cunt." 

The man paused, sure he misheard. "Pardon?"

Damien raised a brow. "I said lead on, Count. Aren't you going to bring me inside? You said mingle, so let's go. Show me around."

"Ah...yes," He frowned. "Right." Then led him deeper in. Raising his voice, the man clapped Damien's shoulder. "Everyone," He started, " The guest of honor!" 

At that a round of cheers made the whole room vibrate. Evered then hailed a  servant and spoke low into his ear. After a moment, he nodded and scurried away.

Evered turned his attention to Damien's companions. "And who might these lovely ladies be?" He asked, his eyes going easy on Mary.

All three acted like they hadn't heard him.

Seeing their disregard, Evered composed himself and pretended as if he hadn't asked. It was bad enough Damien had ignored him, but the woman and her child didn't even seem to acknowledge his existence.

No-good whores.

"Come, my Lord, have a drink and make yourself at home. What's mine is yours."

A goblet was quickly passed to the City Lord, then another to Damien.

"A toast!" Evered roared with more good-naturedness than he actually felt. As one, another cheer broke out among the crowd and they all downed the contents of their respective cups. 

Once that was done, Evered started to introduce him to a few men and women from among the crowd. Each one had wide smiles but empty eyes. The hostility they held was only thinly veiled by niceties they could barely be bothered to fake. 

Damien could guess they were also fuckers who profited from the now-disbanded black market.

He paid them no mind and only responded with enduring politeness.

The night was young. They'd get their's. 

Damien thought thins would progress with equal monotony until Evered brought him to an absent-looking woman. Next to her was a burly teen of perhaps seventeen and two younger children, a boy and a girl, who probably didn't surpass twelve.

"Finally, we have Lady Olivia and her children," Was it just him, or did the man's voice seem a touch more jovial?

At her name, the woman raised her eyes. "Ah..." Her voice sounded far away. "Count. Hello.."

"My Lady," Evered nodded. "I've someone I'd like you to meet." He patted Damien's shoulder. "This fine young man here is Lord Claybrook. He's the special guest of tonight's banquet. Come, get acquainted."

Damien was curious about the man's unexpected shift in mood but didn't bother about it. Rather, he just said the same line he drily fed all the other women he'd been shown so far.

"Lady Olivia, what a rare treat it is to meet such a lovely--"

He got not another word out before he was met with a loud slap that attracted the attention of everyone in the room.

Ah, there it is.

"How dare you show your face here," The woman's voice trembled. "Murderer!" Her entire expression crumbled into a mess of tears and running makeup.

Damien already could tell what was going on, but Evered was all too happy to explain anyway.

"Ah....my apologies, my Lord." He explained. "Actually, Lady Olivia's husband, Lord Byron, was unfortunately among the criminals you executed that day. I should've realized sooner and steered you away." He sighed guiltily. "Alas, it must've slipped my mind."

Sure you did, prick.

Damien merely brushed off the apology. "Its fine, Lord Evered." He was prepared to leave it at that, but Vera chose that moment to speak up.

"Old age comes with many failings." She said mildly.

"Memory and libido are always the first to go," Mary added sympathetically.

Evered opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to form any kind of response to the unexpected attack. It would've simply infuriated him if Damien had been the one to insult him. But it coming from such a beautiful mother-daughter pair made him feel as if his entire being had just been dragged through a pile of mud...

Damien ignored him. Instead, he faced the woman again.

 It was the first time in a while a woman had struck him. Looks like if they hate me enough, my "glamour" doesn't work. 

Because of the effect his biology had on females, he wasn't sure if it was still possible for normal women to dislike him. Much less hate and even strike him. To be honest he was glad.

"As for you..." Damien rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. 

Evered, still searching for his missing self-esteem after the blow it'd just taken, was desperate to latch onto some distraction. And what was about to unfold would surely do that quite well.

He hid a cold sneer. What're you waiting for? Go ahead, show us how you plan to explain away killing their beloved husband and father. 

It wasn't just him, either. Everyone else watching also eagerly awaited the response. Drama like this didn't come around often. Whether they supported the young Lord Claybrook's actions that day or not was of little difference. All they knew was that no matter what excuse or platitude he attempted, it was sure to be entertaining. 

After just a few moments, Damien seemed to settle on something.

"To be perfectly honest I don't know which pro-slave piece of shit your husband was, nor do I give a fuck. But I hope you at least take comfort in the fact that no matter how gruesomely he may have been killed, he deserved it."

All at once, the jaws of everyone present appeared to hit the floor. All sound seemed to vanish entirely as his words left everyone in stunned silence. 

But he wasn't done."If you have doubts, look at where we are." He gestured to the room at large. "Hell, they're even giving me a medal. "

The widow's eyes widened in shock and pain. Her lips quivered, but no matter how hard she tried there were no words able to make it out her mouth. 

"Monster!" 

The silence was broken by an enraged voice, a single word tearing through the quiet so thoroughly it startled people out of their disbelief.

An instant later a stocky teen rushed Damien. It was one of the children at Lady Olivia's side. Needless to say, he was the eldest son of Lord Byron.

But despite his vigor, the youth got easily put down by the much stronger and skillful Damien. Faster than anyone could blink, Damien already had the boy on the floor underneath his  boot.

"Let me go!" The boy shouted viciously. "Murderer! Demon! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!"

"Evan!" His mother cried. She ran up to Damien and started shaking him, trying to push him off her son. "Let go of him, you bastard! Let go! Evan!"

Damien rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ, just shut up!" He snarled at the woman in annoyance. Faced with such an unfamiliar intensity, the woman quickly froze in fear. "You too!" He stepped harder on the struggling boy's back until he felt something pop. No real damage, but enough to hurt for some weeks.

"I get it, I killed someone you love. Boo-hoo, go cry in a corner." He said mercilessly. "I'm sure that's what the families of those slaves your scum husband and father bought in the past had to  do, too." Damien sneered.  "What, you expect me to feel bad? You have no idea, nor do you give a damn, about the kinda shit some of those people have to go through. I've seen slavers who'd put entire families into cages and left them to rot until they started eating each other out of starvation. Maybe if I did the same to you, you'd be just a little more understanding when I put down the cock-sucking scumbags who keep people like that in business." 

Damien in general hated the concept of slavery. But seeing a little girl and her brother munching on their family's corpses...

Well, that's a special kind of fucked-up he simply didn't approve of. Ever since then, he flew into a frenzy each time he encountered slavers. Its also the reason he had been steered clear of their path as often as possible in the past. 

His father had to spend an exorbitant amount of money and pull numerous favors to get Damien out of prison that time. Apparently butchering fat pieces of garbage and feeding them their own appendages was considered "inhumane."

...Heh. His father never quite looked at him the same. Though surprisingly, he also didn't seem too startled by it? Now knowing his mother's true identity, Damien finally understood how his father could take such a thing in stride. Turns out, he was already used to depictions of gore.

Putting those thoughts away for the moment, he took his foot off the brat. "Alright, I'm done. Take your kid home and put some ice on his back. Don't let me see you here again."

No one moved. Evered, the widow, her children and all the guests gathered there. Not a single one of them seemed capable of even breathing. They all just looked at Damien as if he was some alien creature. 

"...Or I could just kill him. He tried the same with me." Damien unsheathed his blade and put it to the boy's neck. "Should I?" He questioned, as if genuinely curious.

Evered finally shook himself out of his daze. "Lord Claybrook!" He shouted. "That's quite enough!"

Damien cocked a brow. "Is it? Are you sure? Fucking dickhead." He narrowed his eyes at the man. "Don't you stand there and act like you didn't bring me over to this woman and her family on purpose." He looked across the crowd. "Well? Have a good show, you bunch of insufferable twats?" He glared hard at them all. 

"Lord Claybrook!" Evered sputtered. "You go too far!"

Damien zeroed in on the man. 

"Too far?" Damien suddenly seemed to lose momentum. His previous foul-mouthed and domineering attitude disappeared and was replaced by a look of deep apology. "I see. Yes, you're right." He blew out a breath, his face taking on a kinder light. "Forgive me, Count. I lost myself for a moment." He returned his gaze to the widow, whose face had long since lost all color. "My sincerest apologies to you, Lady Olivia. And my condolences to your husband."

He bowed. 

No one said a thing. His change was too quick, giving everyone a sense of whiplash. 

Is...Is this man insane, they quietly wondered?

Meanwhile, Vera and Mary gave each other a look.

"I think I'm going to go grab a drink, settle myself." Damien continued. "Would you care for one as well, Lord Evered?"

The man grimaced, feeling ill at ease. 

"...Yes...that sounds....yes." 

"You'd better go get one then, shouldn't you?"

And just like that, Damien wandered off and was left alone. He expected to remain that way for the remainder of the night, but only a few minutes later he was surrounded by men and women all wanting to gain his favor. Being friends with the heir of a powerful Marquis was always attractive. Unfortunately. 

Irritated though he was, he handled them in expert fashion, having long since become used to this. The only change was the women, who all appeared eager to giggle and brush against him at any opportunity. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Mary also being surrounded by throngs of men all wanting to make her acquaintance. He felt his lip curl in amusement at her distraught, and annoyed, visage. Then chuckled as she struck down all attempts at conversation. 

Meanwhile, Vera stuck to his side by grabbing onto his sleeve. It made her look so shy and demure that several men looked at her with heated gazes.

Damien made a mental note of them. 

It was half an hour later when he decided to make his move and whispered to Vera. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighed, then nodded and slipped away.

It's about time we spice things up, he thought, watching Vera's retreating back with an almost malicious glint in his eye.

 ***

"He has some goddamn nerve, that brat," Evered growled taking another swig of wine to calm himself, trailing off into momentary silence. 

He was seated at a long table located at the back of the room. The raised floor allowed him to look down on the other guests, signifying his status as City Lord. Only close friends or family had the right to be seated alongside him. 

"Is he really so terrible?" His daughter asked, causing him to stare at her sharply. 

She was in her nineteenth year and had recently returned from abroad. Ever since, she's been often in her room with her baubles, doing some type of research. In fact, she'd been consumed by it. The girl had been in collaboration with a prominent figure from Baumeister. Though that slowed ever since the disaster, they still kept in touch.

Even tonight, she only showed just a few minutes prior.  Hence, she hadn't witnessed that bastard's cruelty.

"He seems charming enough," She went on obliviously, casting a favorable glance towards the man in question while saying so.

Her father slammed the goblet onto the table in a show of rage. "Charming? Hah! Typical woman," He complained. "Only ever caring about looks." A shake of the head. " He stomped a man's head into the ground like he was smashing melons. Still think he's charming?" 

The daughter immediately wrinkled her nose. "Point taken."

Evered nodded satisfactorily. "Good. At least you have some sense."  

"Who cares about him," A new voice joined in. His third child, Tomas, "I'm more interested in that green-haired woman he brought. She's...." He trailed off and breathed heavily.  "Exquisite," His eyes burned with lust. "It's like I can already feel her under me, breasts oiled and wrapped around my cock." 

Evered gave the young man a baleful eye. His son's love of women had always been a point of discontent. He'd rather lay with the maids and do drugs than have any interest in helping to run their territory.

Not to mention, bringing up the woman caused Evered to remember their previous words to him. It drudged up all the humiliation, making his mood darken even more.

Arrogant bitches...

"You're disgusting," His daughter made a face.

Tomas snorted. "Oh please. You'll be doing the same for a man someday. "

"Never going to happen," His sister flatly denied. "I'd rather die than do something so shameful."

Tomas snickered. " Well I do suppose you'd have to actually find a man first, and I don't see that happening anytime soon with an attitude like yours."

Her face grew hot. "Oh, go to hell!" She threw a bun at him. " Asshole." She muttered.

"Lani!" Evered warned. "Mind yourself, we're in public!" 

Lani looked at him indignantly. "But, father, he's the one who--" 

"He's trying to rile you up," Evered cut her off. " Are you going to play his game? Just ignore him."

"Yeah, sis," Tomas chirped. "Ignore me."

Lani sat there boiling quietly as he went on. "Besides, what else are you going to use those uselessly large things for?" He poked her breasts with a spoon. He then took a sip of wine. "Hm. Tastes funny," Tomas muttered idly, thinking no further of it.

Lani flushed hotly, covering her chest. "None of your business!"

Tomas grunted. "I don't even know what you're so embarrassed about you prude. I bet mother-"

As Lani's eyes widened in disbelief, Evered had already reached over and clapped his son on the ear before he could finish his words."You talk too much."

"Fuck!" The boy hissed in pain.

Lani took in her younger brother's suffering with immense satisfaction. "Idiot." 

"What the hell, old man?" Tomas complained resentfully. "That hurt!"

"Serves you right," Lani snickered. "Honestly, have you no shame? Talking about your own mother that way."

"I didn't even say anything yet, technically." 

"Technically, you're a fool."

"Prude." 

"Pervert."

Evered rolled his eyes as the two glared at each other like they were one another's arch-nemesis.

Dumb brat. As if that mother of yours would ever do something like that.

His wife was a kind, giving woman and an excellent mother. But she was far from adventurous. She'd never perform such lewd acts. Well, that was fine. Evered had no complaints regarding their sex life. 

Linia was an outrageous beauty. What man would be discontent?

Besides, he had other women for rougher play.

"Speaking of, where is mother?" A man to Evered's left wondered aloud. It was his eldest, Abrahm. Like his brother and father, he also had a thick head of reddish hair. Unlike them, however, he was quieter and more pensive. Some may even say intense. Thankfully so, in Evered's opinion. He often kept the other two in line." 

Evered waved a hand in dismissal. "She's out back." He replied irritably. His wife, the dear woman, was sweet and well-mannered but shy. She very much disliked large groups and sometimes wandered their private gardens. "You know how she gets around crowds."  

And because his son was supposed to know this, Evered felt prompted to ask, "Why?"

Instead of answering the man merely pointed toward the ballroom floor. "Isn't that her there?"

 His siblings turned first. What they saw was their mother's figure standing next to tonight's special guest. 

Of course, it could only be Damien. 

The boy--man--was currently holding their mother's hand and bowed to kiss it. A normal enough greeting. But unlike the norm, he didn't bother to let go and simply continued to hold onto her palm, speaking words that couldn't be heard from so far away.

 Whatever it was, though, it made their mother's face turn soft and lush. It was such an unfamiliar expression that they were almost certain they were seeing wrong. That the woman couldn't possibly be their mother. 

And yet no matter how hard they looked, it could only be her. 

Their father harsh's glower just then seemed to have been sensed. Turning his head, Damien caught the man's eyes.  But instead of showing guilt, fright, or even surprise, he merely smiled their way.

His lips moved with clear intent. 

"What's yours is mine, right?" He mouthed.

Evered....was absolutely livid!