Gun of Ashes

Lorenzo struggled immensely before finally emerging from the lavish assembly, a concoction of fragrances and incessant chatter that resembled a rosy Hell.

Bending down and taking advantage of the crowd’s cover, Lorenzo pulled Selyu towards the backyard. One couldn’t deny its extravagance—though the lights didn’t fully illuminate the courtyard, shadows moved among them, with a pool in the center, adorned with floating vibrant petals.

Lorenzo couldn’t quite fathom the joys of the wealthy; in such cold weather, is swimming still desired?

A faint melody began to play, as a minstrel leaned against a lush tree, softly singing, cloaking this gorgeous night with a veil of mystery.

For a moment, Lorenzo was entranced; in the dim shadows, the minstrel’s figure was blurred.

”I never thought there’d still be minstrels.”

Lorenzo was stunned for a while, before smiling openly.

This was not like those who wrote poetry; the minstrel before him was a bard, a profession abandoned by time. In an era when information transmission was undeveloped, bards were fascinating—singing tales of a distant past. But times have changed, with the invention of telegraphy and telephones, rendering ancient storytelling obsolete. Even newspapers are arguably more advanced.

”What’s wrong?”

Selyu asked, surprised Lorenzo found interest in such a profession.

Lorenzo shook his head, indicating it was nothing.

In the tranquil courtyard, everything appeared so elegant and beautiful, as Lorenzo and Selyu sat by the poolside chairs. It seemed no one had recognized Selyu, the award winner, which left Lorenzo somewhat disappointed.

Yet suddenly, the silent courtyard began to chatter, and Lorenzo looked over. Accompanied by a group of nobles, a middle-aged man was slowly walking in.

Though somewhat distant, Lorenzo could still feel the man’s noble aura—his attire bore subdued simplicity, like an unembellished sword, much more appealing than those flamboyant nobles.

Respectful and humble words constantly echoed, and with the Demon Hunter’s keen hearing, Lorenzo discerned the man’s identity.

The host of this ball, Duke Salicardo—Lorenzo didn’t know much about this noble gentleman. He’d only heard he was an economic giant, whose family rose to power through war profits during the Radiant War, controlling several large enterprises, with factories spread throughout Ingwig.

This was why the ball was so lavish, for this duke was genuinely wealthy.

In Lorenzo’s mind, he had his judgments about these big figures, like the one sitting beside him.

The Stuart family actually had no substantial power industry; the ancestors basically perished in the southern war zone. Even Selyu was rescued by Lorenzo from Gaulunaro; without her, Stuart would practically be extinct.

Though thriving through war, it’s different from the Phoenix family, which consistently maintained bloodline continuity and expansion. The Stuart family, after enduring hardships, was left with nothing but the glory of merit.

Thus, essentially, Selyu was a mascot, a symbol of honor—a link connecting families uplifted by war honors.

Yet this mascot carried immense energy, with these war-honored families still abiding by their sworn promises. Though not wealthy, the entire Ingwig’s social doors are open to her.

”By the way, aren’t you going to say hello? Though not aligning, it’s a courtesy since they invited you after all?”

Looking at Selyu, who was dazed nearby, Lorenzo said.

But Selyu just shook her head.

”With so many people here, let’s wait till it quiets down.”

Nobles surrounded Duke Salicardo, like wolves around fat sheep, eager to kneel and shout about being secret heirs. Not all nobles are wealthy; during the Radiant War, Queen Victoria enacted many laws targeting nobles to recapture power. At that time, no one cared; after all, the enemy was at Old Dunling’s door, and ordinances were cheerfully passed.

Yet then came the Radiant War’s reversal; Ingwig once even counterattacked into Gaulunaro’s territory. Seeing this, fleeing nobles reconsidered, joyfully sharing the war dividends. Only later did they realize those cursed laws…who would’ve thought victory was possible?

Now, many nobles appear impoverished, barely surviving on ancestral assets. They fought to earn ball invitations, hoping to draw fortune from the raffle—were they fortunate enough to catch a notable’s eye, all troubles would vanish.

Most maintain a facade of splendor; only Lorenzo shows his true self, unabashedly grabbing expensive eats.

He wished to be more flamboyant, but the outfit was too tight—afraid another bite would pop the buttons.

”What now? You don’t mean to idle here all night?”

Lorenzo grabbed a handkerchief, wiping his mouth, as Selyu remained silent beside him, like an ice sculpture.