Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

Chapter 292: Chapter 287: The Actors Take Their Places

Velin was assigned to a guest room in the west wing of the castle.

The room wasn’t large. A coarsely woven family tapestry hung on the stone wall, its design the crest of the Dawn family, but it had faded from years of exposure.

The bed was made of oak, and the sheets smelled of soap and sunshine, clearly having been diligently laundered and sun-dried.

He walked to the window and pushed open the panes.

The scene in the courtyard came into view.

Diana was sitting on a stone bench by the basin of a dry fountain in the center of the courtyard.

She was still wearing the same pale blue linen dress from earlier, her back ramrod straight, like a poplar tree braving the cold wind.

A man was standing before her—Count Philippe.

He held a leather-bound book in his hands and was reciting poetry in a declamatory, aria-like tone.

"Oh, pearl of the Dawn, your golden hair outshines the rising sun, your lake-blue eyes are the starlight that guides me when I am lost..."

His voice echoed in the empty courtyard, sounding somewhat ridiculous.

Diana had a smile on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her gaze drifted elsewhere, settling on the withered lawn.

From the other end of the courtyard came the shouts of "HYAH! HAH!"

Viscount Valerius was bare-chested, his bronzed, well-defined muscles gleaming under the sun. He was sparring with an attendant using heavy wooden training swords, each swing filled with power, stirring the air.

"Watch out!"

He roared, parrying the attendant’s attack while glancing at Diana out of the corner of his eye.

Diana’s expression didn’t change.

Velin watched the scene outside the window. ’Interesting.’

He recalled the advice from his letter: borrow external power, strengthen oneself, then turn the tables on the guests.

Diana had clearly only managed the first step. She had invited two wolves but hadn’t prepared a strong enough cage or a sharp enough knife.

These men had been entrenched in the Dawn Territory for some time now, and both had won over some of the minor nobility.

A web was slowly being woven.

Now, if Diana wanted them to leave, it was no longer a matter that could be resolved with a simple order.

Unless... they could be made to feel that this place was not worth staying in. In other words, the prize had to be turned into a hot potato.

In the courtyard, Philippe finished his lengthy poem. He looked up, his eyes meeting Velin’s at the window.

He paused for a moment, then sent a signal to Valerius on the other side.

Valerius also stopped sparring. He took a towel from an attendant to wipe away his sweat and followed Philippe’s gaze to find Velin.

The two men reacted almost simultaneously.

Facing Velin, Philippe elegantly closed his book of poetry and held it to his chest, an expression on his face like a host scrutinizing a guest.

Valerius was more direct.

He snatched the wooden training sword from the ground, pulled his arm back, his latissimus dorsi muscles bulging in an instant, and then hurled it forward.

"WHOOSH—"

The wooden sword spun through the air, whistling as it flew across half the courtyard, before landing with a THUD, embedding itself deep in the grass not far below Velin’s window. The hilt was still quivering.

It was an undisguised warning.

Velin simply stared calmly at the vibrating sword, then took a step back and, with a sharp SNAP, drew the curtains closed.

The light in the room dimmed.

He turned, opened his luggage, and took out a neatly folded set of black formal attire for a nobleman.

Next, he took out a small cedar box.

He opened the lid and inspected the contents against the light, confirming there were no cracks.

’Tonight’s banquet will be my stage.’

That afternoon, Velin left the castle.

He slipped out unnoticed through a small door used by the servants, circled around to the stables behind the castle, and then followed a desolate path down the hill.

He came to the oak forest west of the city, crossed the leaf-strewn forest floor, and found the dilapidated inn.

He went up the stairs to the first door on the left on the second floor and knocked.

"It’s me."

The door creaked softly as it opened inward.

Fabian stood behind the door.

A wide hood concealed his face, making him look like a shadow melting into the gloom of the room.

Velin entered the room and closed the door behind him.

"How are the preparations?" Velin asked.

"Everything is ready," Fabian’s muffled voice came from under the hood. "The Holy Emblem has been polished, and the water from the town well has been blessed. I’ve also memorized the speech you gave me."

He paused, his head lifting slightly beneath the hood as if he were struggling with something.

"My lord, is this really necessary? With your wisdom, there must be many ways to deal with those two nobles. We... we are using the majesty of a god to practice deceit."

"The methods I choose to use are my own affair," Velin said calmly.

"Besides, I am merely providing a stage for them to reveal their true natures. ’Let those who have sinned be exposed to the sun’—isn’t that a proverb of your faith? I am simply bringing the sun out a little early."

Fabian fell silent.

’There was no piety in Velin’s words; he was turning the tenets of faith into just another tool to be used.’

’Moreover... "your faith"... Velin truly is an unbeliever.’

After a long moment, he answered in a low voice.

"...As you wish."

"Good," Velin nodded. "Tomorrow, wait for my signal."

Without another word, he turned, opened the door, and left.

Fabian stood rooted to the spot, watching the wooden door close before him.

「Night fell.」

In the Count’s castle in Light City, the long-silent banquet hall was brightly lit by dozens of tallow candles.

But no matter how bright the candlelight, it could not dispel the vast hall’s empty and desolate atmosphere.

The long dining table was covered with a white tablecloth, starched stiff, and set with polished silverware.

Velin was already seated to Diana’s right, the seat of the most honored guest.

Philippe and Valerius sat on opposite sides of the long table, a clear division between them.

The former was dressed in a purple silk formal suit, his family’s sugar-leaf crest embroidered in Golden Thread on his chest. He was gently stroking the side of a silver goblet with his fingertips.

The latter, however, remained true to his usual style.

He wore tight-fitting black leather armor, covered by a short surcoat embroidered with a wind-raven, and his Knight’s Longsword hung at his waist.

Clearly, he was treating the banquet hall as another battlefield.

A soft sound came from the main doors.

Diana entered.

Velin looked up.

She was wearing a deep blue velvet gown.

The gown was exquisitely tailored, clinging tightly to her upper body.

From the cinched waistline, the fabric cascaded downward. As she walked, the heavy hem glided silently across the floor, creating soft ripples.

Her golden hair was piled high and secured with a small silver coronet, revealing the long, fair lines of her neck and collarbones.

She walked to the head of the table and waited for Velin to pull out her chair.

As she turned and sat, the skirt of her gown spread out around the chair like petals.

The movement pulled the fabric taut across her chest, accentuating its firm curve.

She folded her hands on the table, assuming the posture of the lady of the house.

Hubert the butler stood at the main doors. After catching Diana’s eye and receiving a nod of confirmation, he cleared his throat.

"The banquet will now begin."

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