The Beaumont family arrived at House Castille surrounded by a large retinue in a show of ostentation. Two rows of elite knights in ceremonial armor marched forth to form an aisle. They then dropped to one knee in unison and bowed their heads to Lord Beaumont. Only then did the Lord and Lady, along with their three sons, enter the banquet hall. 

Others might find their actions brash, but what of it? Was it not just a matter of course that a ducal family made their entrance known? Half of the attendees here were not even nobility, so did their opinions even matter? Obey or be crushed. That was the Beaumont philosophy. 

None embodied the Beaumont philosophy more wholeheartedly than the eldest son, Quinten. Quinten was a tall young man with short golden-blonde hair combed to the side. His facial features were square and well-defined. He had wide shoulders and a muscular build like a star athlete. He was a true blueblood destined to stand out from the masses by right of his birth. 

Whatever he desired he needed only to lay his eyes on it, and it would be made his. Most recently what his eyes fell upon was Aya Castille. He had of course met Aya before, but that had been years ago when he was just a teenager and she was still a child. It was only recently that they encountered each other again at a formal function, and Quinten discovered that she had grown into a gorgeous young lady. Not only that, but like himself Aya was also talented in sorcery. Their pairing was simply fated! So he decided he would have her.

It just so happened that Lord Castille came to his father seeking to deepen their families’ connection. Duke Beaumont was originally lukewarm on making such an arrangement. There was no harm in strengthening the House’s ties with the Castilles, but there wasn’t a strong incentive in making an equal trade either. It was Quinten that brought up the matter of having Aya betrothed to him. The Castilles would gain a marriage alliance with a powerful partner, and the Beaumonts would gain a daughter-in-law with a good bloodline. A child between Quinten and Aya would be practically guaranteed to have at least some affinity with sorcery.

As Quinten was being greeted by his many followers and fans in the younger generation, he spotted a head of silver hair drawing closer. For a moment his eyes flashed, but he quickly realized that it was not Aya approaching. Instead it was her older sister. 

Evelyn Castille was beautiful in her own right, however she was just another cultured noblewoman eager to curry favor with him. To most perhaps that was enough to catch their eye, but to Quinten such girls were a dime a dozen. What made Aya special was her fiery personality. Such girls were more difficult to tame into obedient kittens, but that made it all the more satisfying. 

“Lord Quinten, my family is graced by your visit.”

Evelyn curtsied to the Beaumont heir before raising one hand up to cover her lips. She turned her flushed cheek to the side in a perfectly practiced show of coquettish shyness. 

“Good evening, Evelyn. I wonder why your sister doesn’t seem to be around?”

“Aya is busy being scolded by our father, I suspect. She decided to bring along her commoner friend to the banquet today, and the poor thing made quite the fool of himself struggling to fit in with the upper class.”

“A commoner friend? How quaint.” 

Evelyn let out a soft sigh and shook her head as if recalling a great shame.

“It might have been rather charming, but… The boy seemed to believe that since he was brought here as her escort, he was her date and feelings of romance would spring between them. Now he appears to be sulking in a rather terrible mood.”

The corners of her lips curled up ever-so-slightly as she nodded in Sayer’s direction to point him out to the ducal heir. Sayer was minding his own business alone in the corner of the party, but he couldn’t hide his foul mood as guzzled down a glass of wine. To Quinten, he appeared exactly as Evelyn described it.

“I would be cautious towards him, Lord Quinten. He may try to disrupt things for you later.”

Quinten let out a dismissive laugh, but his eyes narrowed. Evelyn slipped away to watch the fireworks from a safe distance, her mission accomplished.

—

In an unused guest room a few doors down from the banquet hall, Aya was in the midst of a heated confrontation with her father. 

“I cannot believe you would do something so idiotic! Do you have any idea what kind of consequences your actions would have if the Beaumonts were angered by his presence?”

“They would call off the engagement and Father would have to make a costly concession in your negotiations, is that it?”

Lord Castille was so angry that his face was ripe like a tomato. He had already smacked over a terracotta bust from its plinth and sent it tumbling to the ground just to vent. 

“Entitled waste of a daughter! We will be lucky if all they do is cancel the new trades. This will cost the family a fortune!”

“I feel very sorry for you, Lord Castille. I have no doubt that you had such a good agreement all lined up. There are many things House Beaumont could offer. Resources, connections, security, status, all for the low price of one daughter. Very cost-effective. When my mother was still alive, you never showed such practicality in your dealings. House Castille is surely on the verge of a new era of prosperity.”

Aya wore a face of stone as she gave praise to the man’s shrewd business sense, but in doing so she also pointed out his failings as a father. Lord Castille’s expression turned especially ugly after Aya mentioned the late marchioness. 

“You act as though I’m selling you into a life of misery. You would be a future duchess! A daughter of House Castille cannot remain unwed her entire life. All I’ve done is just arrange the best match possible for you. It was not my decision alone either, all the elders of the House gave great effort to ensure your happiness.”

“The best match possible for me, or the best match possible for the House? When you and my uncles gathered around to discuss who I would marry, I wonder why I wasn't invited to take part?”

“You would find a reason to reject no matter who it is! Enough of this! Go and send that boy home before the Beaumonts arrive. If you try to sabotage the family’s interests for your own selfishness again, I will disown you on the spot!”

As Aya was sent away, she kept her head down with a stiff lip. No one could see the moisture welling up in her eyes. Her friend from the academy told her she was crazy. Her father and uncles refused to listen to her opinion. Her sister would be even less likely to take her side. Did she really have no allies in this world? With this lonely thought, she put on a calm face and headed back towards the banquet.

Lord Castille headed towards the foyer so that he could be there to greet the Beaumonts when they arrived, but on his way a servant informed him that they had already entered the hall. The marquis felt an ill premonition.

—

Sayer was halfway through his third glass of vintage chardonnay while he ignored the disapproving looks from around the room. He normally wasn’t much of a drinker, however at the moment he was determined to gulp down as much money into his stomach as possible. This way he’d get at least some remuneration for being tricked into attending a gathering of snobs.

He didn’t notice that many of those gazes turned away and the chatter in the room quieted down conspicuously.

“I hear you’re called Sayer?”

Sayer’s eyes flicked up from his glass and landed on a blonde young nobleman who approached with a smirk full of mockery. He was already in a bad mood and now someone had come to provoke him.

“I am, and which very important family are you from?”

“The same one that Aya will soon be a part of.”

Sayer gained a look of recognition. This must be someone from the family seeking a marriage alliance with the Castilles.

“Ah, you must be the Beaumont heir then?”

“So you know about the engagement and yet you still showed up here to make trouble? Am I to take it that a common man like yourself doesn’t think much of my house? Or perhaps it’s only that no one has ever taught you to respect your betters?” 

Sayer had no idea just how dangerous this individual was. He only believed that this was a stuck up rich kid who would threaten him with his family name. However, Quinten was a talent in sorcery on the same level as Aya. Moreover, he was a few years older than her and unlike Aya, he was not an apprentice but a fully fledged sorcerer. Even worse, he was an evoker.

Enchantresses like Aya made for excellent diplomats, negotiators, salespeople, and even intelligence gathers. Evokers on the other hand had only one purpose: to dominate a battlefield.

The low murmurs died down even further until a stifling silence hung in the air. It was at this moment that Aya quietly returned to the banquet. She felt the strange atmosphere in the room, and soon noticed Sayer and Quinten Beaumont facing off with one another. 

“It isn’t me that doesn’t seem to think much of your house, but Aya. From what I can see, she isn’t very enthusiastic about the engagement.”

Sayer was only speaking his honest thoughts. As far as he was concerned, it didn’t have much to do with him. But to everyone else listening, he was clearly defending the honor of the girl he had feelings for.

“I suppose you believe that’s all that matters, hm? Wealth, status, pedigree all mean nothing so long as the girl likes you?”

“All that matters? Maybe not, but isn’t that just the bare minimum?”

“Aya doesn’t need to be in love to get engaged. She’ll fall in line eventually when she sees she’ll find no better lot in life than at my side.”

With one eyebrow raised, Sayer stared at Quinten like he was looking at an idiot. When he thought of how willful and hot-tempered that girl was, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Brother, if you want a pretty vase to sit on your shelf, Aya is not the right girl.”

Quinten smirked with dry amusement. This petty insect really had delusions that there was a future between himself and the daughter of a marquis. Could there be anything more laughable? He was just a harmless fool with his head in the clouds, but the one thing that Quinten couldn’t abide was Sayer’s disrespect towards him. A peasant laughing at the Beaumont heir? He would give him a harsh reality check.

Without losing that sinister smile, Quinten Beaumont reached forward and grabbed Sayer’s wrist. Sayer was surprised by the sudden rudeness of this act. To him, he had only been speaking the obvious and didn’t say anything offensive. That surprise only lasted for a moment before it was overtaken by pain.

A sizzling sound came from his skin where Quinten had grabbed him. He could feel an intense heat and the scent of burning flesh reached his nostrils. Sayer’s wine glass shattered on the floor. He used his other hand to try to wrench his arm free from Quinten’s deathgrip, gritting his teeth and groaning out in agony. 

“I think it’s time that you left. And don’t think of returning to House Castille again.”

“Let go of him!”

Aya flew between the two men and used her momentum to shove Quinten back a step. If it weren’t for the fact that Quinten was taken by surprise, a petite little body like Aya’s would never have been able to move him. 

She looked down at Sayer’s arm and could see a distinct handprint there. He was burned so severely that his skin was charred black in some places. 

Aya thought of the way no one today had cared about what she wanted, not even her own father. But this random guy she brought along to embarrass her family didn’t call her crazy because she wanted to control her own life. He acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. He even stood up for her in public and ended up getting injured for it. She suddenly felt terrible for getting him involved. Her stomach was twisted in knots of guilt. But there was also a kernel of warmth as another feeling began to take shape.

“Come on, let’s go.”

With a complicated look, Aya grabbed Sayer’s good hand and led him towards the door. Under the weight of a hundred silent gazes, Aya and Sayer left the manor of House Castille together hand-in-hand.