The grand hall of the Nevera household was buzzing with conversations and the clinking of crystal glasses. Nobles, merchants, and minor house representatives moved in clusters, exchanging pleasantries wrapped in veiled intentions. The hall itself was lavish, with towering marble pillars adorned with intricate carvings and chandeliers that bathed the room in a warm, golden light.
Fornos scanned the room, his mind racing with calculations. He recognized a few familiar faces—members of minor noble houses who had once attempted to muscle into his father's business, only to be quietly driven out. There was also a contingent from the merchant guild, their elaborate outfits proclaiming their prosperity.
His mother, Mary, walked gracefully at his side, her gown trailing behind her in emerald waves. She moved with effortless charm, greeting people with a polite nod or a gentle laugh. It was a dance—a dance of reputation, wealth, and power.
Fornos, despite himself, couldn't help but attract attention. A small group of young ladies gathered around him, their eyes alight with curiosity. One of them—a girl with auburn hair and a sly smile—stepped forward. "You must be Fornos Dag, aren't you? I've heard so much about you. Is it true that you took over your father's business dealings while he was away?"
Fornos smiled, though his mind remained guarded. "I merely did what was necessary. My father taught me well."
Another girl giggled, leaning in a little too close. "And they say you're quite skilled with golems. Is that true too?"
"Skilled enough," Fornos replied, keeping his tone humble but firm. "Though, it's mostly hard work and study."
The girls exchanged glances, clearly intrigued. One even whispered something to another, eyes darting to his face. Mary couldn't help but stifle a laugh as she watched her son become the unexpected center of attention.
"My, aren't you a heart-stealer, my boy," Mary teased lightly, stepping closer to rescue him from the flock.
Fornos gave her a pointed look, clearly flustered. "They are only coming because of my face. I'm pretty sure all of them will run after seeing my real self."
Mary arched an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I mean, you are pretty. If you wore a dress, men would pounce on you without question."
Fornos looked at her with mild exasperation. "Am I that thin?"
His mother chuckled. "You're not thin, dear, just... delicate. Handsome in a way that confuses people."
Fornos sighed, straightening his collar. "Wonderful. Just what I needed—confusing people at a political gathering."
Voss approached them with a knowing smile. "You stopped being a child far too soon, Fornos. Let your mother have her fun while she can."
Fornos gave a resigned smile. "I suppose. I just didn't expect to be part of the attraction."
Mary leaned in, her tone conspiratorial. "It's not just attraction, dear. They're assessing you. Seeing if you're approachable, if you're calculable. Let them think you're a harmless pretty face. It will only make your next move more effective."
Fornos's eyes lit up with understanding. "You're right. Let them underestimate me."
Mary patted his shoulder. "That's my boy."
Just then, a booming voice broke through the ambient noise of the hall. "Ah! Voss Dag!" A tall man with a robust build approached, his graying hair combed back neatly. He wore a rich blue coat embroidered with silver threads. "It's been too long!"
Voss turned and greeted the man warmly. "Lord Anvar. It's good to see you."
Lord Anvar's eyes shifted to Fornos, a hint of curiosity in his gaze. "And this must be the prodigy I've heard so much about. The boy who took the Fern Company and crushed it without breaking a sweat."
Fornos offered a polite bow. "Merely resolved a problem, sir. It was a matter of correcting mistakes."
Anvar laughed, slapping Voss on the back. "You've raised a fine son! A little terrifying, but fine nonetheless."
Mary gave a playful smile. "He gets it from his father. Always decisive."
Anvar grinned, clearly entertained. "I like decisive men. Though, young Fornos, you might want to take care—being too competent too quickly can make people wary."
Fornos didn't miss the subtle warning wrapped in casual words. "Advice noted, my lord. Though I find that competence and caution go hand in hand."
Lord Anvar laughed again, clearly impressed. "Wise words from one so young. Keep that mindset, and you'll go far."
As Anvar moved on, Voss leaned in, his voice low. "He's one of the more cautious nobles. If he's taking an interest, it means others are as well."
Mary nodded in agreement. "We need to be careful. These gatherings are as much about gathering intelligence as they are about flaunting wealth."
Fornos watched as Anvar moved to greet another guest. "Do you think he's testing us?"
Voss shook his head. "No. If he wanted to test us, he'd do it indirectly. This is just a greeting—a way to measure how confident we are after recent events. The real tests will come later."
Fornos took a slow breath, maintaining his calm facade. His instincts told him that something was brewing—a subtle but growing tension in the air. He spotted a few other noble representatives giving him wary looks, and his mind whirred with possibilities. Were they threatened by his actions? Or were they simply trying to understand who he really was?
He couldn't afford to be careless. This gathering might seem like a grand party, but beneath the surface, it was a battlefield of wits and influence.
Fornos carefully navigated the social web, exchanging brief words with a few more guests and subtly collecting information. He noted the alliances forming in the room—who stood close to whom, who avoided eye contact, and who seemed overly eager to speak.
Mary glanced at him approvingly. "You're analyzing the room again."
"It's necessary," Fornos whispered. "If I don't understand the power dynamics, I'll be blindsided."
Voss chuckled. "You're far too young to worry like an old man. Enjoy yourself a little. There's no harm in pretending to be just another ambitious youth."
Fornos gave a rare smile. "Perhaps you're right. Let them think I'm just a boy playing politics."
He allowed himself to relax slightly, blending into the atmosphere while keeping his senses alert. A few more guests approached, some offering thinly veiled praise, others subtly probing his intentions. Fornos handled each interaction with practiced ease, always polite but never revealing too much.
As the evening progressed, Fornos couldn't shake the feeling that someone was deliberately avoiding him—someone who should have approached by now. His mind raced, considering the possible motives. Were they planning something behind the scenes? Or were they waiting to see how he would react?
Whatever it was, Fornos knew one thing: this gathering was just the beginning. The Neveras had called them here for a reason, and he intended to find out what it was before the night was over.