Fantasy Writers 1860

Evergarden Castle, outside Lentinion.

The courtyard outside was filled with all kinds of luxurious carriages, each bearing a noble or ancient family crest. Noblemen and ladies dressed in splendid attire stepped down from the carriages.

This evening, Margaret Spencer, the mistress of Evegarden Castle, hosted a charity banquet, which was attended by many prominent nobles and celebrities from Lentinion.

Ordinary people of high status were not even qualified to receive an invitation, because Lady Margaret Spencer was the second daughter of the famous noble Duchess Spencer, and her husband, Derek Ian Mondford, was the Lord Mayor of Mondford, the Privy Councilor, and an old money whose ancestors had crossed the border with William the Great.

"Miss, the banquet is about to begin." Evelyn pushed open Alia's door and found that Alia was already dressed in the gorgeous dress that her mother Margaret had chosen a few days ago, and was sitting in front of the dressing table, her flawless smile reflected in the mirror.

"How is it, Evelyn? This curve is perfect, isn't it? Doesn't it look both innocent and adorable?"

Evelyn didn't answer, but walked behind Alia, put her hands on the latter's shoulders, and subtly pursed her lips.

"Hey~ why are you making that face? What's wrong? Do you think my smile is too fake?"

"It's a bit too exaggerated. Madam probably didn't mean for you to fake a smile like that..."

Alia's perfect smile shattered, replaced by a soft, human-like chuckle: "I think a fake smile is true politeness~ You see, if I were to genuinely smile like this, I'd be accused of not being ladylike enough."

"The guests have already started to arrive, so we should head over too." Evelyn remained noncommittal about her young mistress's topic.

"There's nothing I can do about it. Being born into this kind of family means I'll always have to do these kinds of troublesome things..." Aliya adjusted the diamond hair accessory in her hair in front of the mirror, smiled as she stood up, the intricate lace and gemstones on her skirt trembling slightly.

"How boring." The smile on her face vanished instantly, replaced by a cold rationality that shouldn't belong to a young girl, as cold as frost.

But just a second later—or more precisely, just after brushing past Evelyn—that innocent and lovely smile, which she had repeatedly adjusted in front of the mirror, reappeared on her face.

Evelyn seemed unfazed by this, but after Alia left, she followed closely behind.

The master and servant walked through the castle's long corridors, their footsteps swallowed up by the thick carpets. The portraits of the family's ancestors hanging on the walls cast shadows of varying depths under the illumination of the magic crystal lamps.

Upon entering the banquet hall, all the clamor of the world rushed in like a tide: the atmosphere of extravagance, the mixed smell of perfume and tobacco, the rustling of silk, and the unique voices of the upper class that seemed to be carefully crafted.

Derek Ian Mondeford was dressed in a respectable and gorgeous suit, but even the haute couture could not hide his overweight figure.

When he caught a glimpse of Alia's perfectly tailored evening gown, which accentuated her snow-white skin and elegant demeanor, a fleeting look of amazement crossed his eyes, tinged with a self-satisfied enthusiasm: "Oh my darling, you look absolutely stunning today! You're like the moon, radiant and beautiful!"

Aliya nodded slightly, a genuine fake smile she had just developed on her face, her gaze as calm as a lake as she greeted the arriving guests.

"Miss, you look absolutely stunning tonight! Like a freshly baked cream cake, so beautiful..." A bald, middle-aged man stepped forward and tried to strike up a conversation with Aliya.

"Thank you for your compliment, Mr. Hank," Alia interrupted at the right moment, her voice clear and pleasant. "My father often says that the grains you produce are of the highest quality in the entire empire. I hope tonight's meal will suit your taste."

Seeing that he hadn't gotten anything out of it, Mr. Hank gave an embarrassed smile and left.

Next came a well-dressed woman with sharp eyes. She slightly raised her chin and spoke with a scrutinizing tone: "Aliya, I heard you've been studying Eastern herbal medicine lately? If you're interested, you'd better not waste your time on those Eastern witch doctors..."

Aliya spoke with grace and composure:

"The knowledge of witch doctors is not without its merits; perhaps they can fill in some of our blind spots. I simply hope that one day I can do my part for the world, to do some good deeds under the witness of the gods. This is the duty of us nobles, and the reason we are gathered here today, isn't it?"

Seeing that the other party did not respectfully listen to her teachings, the sharp-eyed woman felt speechless and left.

Soon, a man who looked to be in his early thirties, full of youthful vigor, approached Alia: "I extend my greetings on behalf of Her Majesty the Queen. She misses you dearly, but unfortunately, she is always busy with official duties and can't find the time..."

"Please also give my regards to Her Majesty. I still remember the story of chasing butterflies with her in the gardens of the Platinum Palace when we were children..."

Aliya chatted and interacted with all sorts of people, flitting lightly through the crowd like a butterfly, skillfully striking the most suitable pose for each one.

Even though she didn't like it.

At the same time, Alia's gaze quickly swept over the others, lingering briefly on some familiar faces:

Count Rugmoen, renowned for his collection of Oriental artifacts, was also present. He was usually quite low-key and almost never attended such banquets, so his presence today likely indicated some financial difficulties, prompting him to sell some of his collection to raise cash.

The former Lady-in-Waiting was chatting with her mother. Her husband had died three months earlier, leaving behind a considerable inheritance and three nephews vying for the throne. She had come to her mother, probably hoping to curry favor and secure a position at the Royal Women's Charitable Foundation…

Over there, several young nobles, whose names they couldn't recall but whom they were certain they'd seen somewhere before, were pretending to admire the Rubens imitation on the wall, while actually glancing at every woman who entered out of the corner of their eyes.

Aliya glanced over, feeling that lingering on these estrus animals for even a second would be a waste of her life.

She turned her gaze to the slightly more interesting parts of this dull banquet:

The Home Secretary's wife's necklace is too new, and she probably doesn't have the financial means to buy one now, because something has happened in their family recently that has suddenly led to them spending money in large quantities, to the point that they put an entire estate up for sale last week—of course, most people wouldn't know that it was their estate.

Meanwhile, Home Secretary Calvin Harper was at the other end of the banquet hall, chatting with several men, including his brother and his superior, Secretary of State for Colonies and Overseas Territories Byron Emerson, Commissioner of Police Soren Holt, and someone he didn't recognize.

"Evelyn," Aliya quietly tugged at the little maid beside her, "Who is that person? The one who works for the Minister of the Interior, I've never seen him before?"

"Kirk Walsh, president of the Imperial Logistics and Trade Association, owns many businesses and is also the 'Emperor' of the Blue Blood Gang. He is preparing to retire from the criminal world," Evelyn said.

"Go listen to what they're saying."

"it is good."

Evelyn carried a plate of red wine and walked over there.

……

"So you read 'The Million Pound Stamp' too!" Police Commissioner Soren exclaimed in a low voice, surprised to find a fellow enthusiast here, who was none other than his superior, Home Secretary Calvin.

I never expected that he would also be reading such a rather unseemly novel.

Soren thought he was the only one among everyone present who read the Lontinion Weekly.

After all, it's just a tabloid, and people in high society wouldn't read it.

"I wouldn't say I read it. I came across it by chance because of work, and I only read a little bit," Home Secretary Calvin said with a smile. "Sir Renster wrote me a letter earlier, saying that the novel being serialized in the newspaper promoted unhealthy trends and endangered public safety. He sent me some of it with the letter, and I also found out the sequel and read it myself."

"Sir Lenster is absolutely right, this novel really does pose a threat to public safety." Upon hearing this, Police Commissioner Soren couldn't help but sigh.

"Oh, what do you mean? I just returned from the colonies in the Americas and am not yet aware of the recent situation in Lentinion," said Byron Emerson, the Minister of Colonies and Overseas Territories.

"There are indeed many people who imitate the plot of the novel, forge a large banknote, and then pretend to be rich to swindle people..." Police Commissioner Soren slowly recounted the ins and outs of this bizarre case.

"That sounds really funny... I mean, I feel sorry for those poor people who got scammed."

Kirk Walsh, who had remained silent until now, finally found an opportunity to express his opinion. After glancing around, he very naturally walked over to Home Secretary Calvin and quietly asked:

"Is this also part of the plan?"

"I have no idea."

The two moved naturally, and the brief exchange was so quick that even the police chief Soren and the colonial minister Byron Emerson, who were right in front of them, did not notice anything amiss.

To be precise, they paid no attention to this clue at all, because they seemed to be pondering something at the moment.

Evelyn took in all of these unusual developments.

"Gentlemen, would you like some red wine?" Evelyn asked, carrying a tray with a professional smile befitting a maid.