Chapter 57: The Halcourt Ball

"I hate noble gatherings," Lars sighed, tearing up the invitation that had been sent to him by Zoe into small pieces. "I know me and Zoe are cool now, but… there are so many annoying nobles there. House Vaude, House Lunettes - though not Klaus, he's actually not a bad character - House Oris, the list goes on… I don't feel like going."

Iskra, who was playing with a stray quill on Lars's desk, looked up, her expression unreadable as she hovered over to Lars. "Elaborate," she simply said, resting herself on his shoulder.

Lars sighed again, leaning back in his chair as he stretched his arms overhead, his frustration palpable. "It's not just about the nobles themselves," he started, a slight bitterness creeping into his voice. "It's the politics, the fake smiles, the constant power plays. You know the kind of people they are. They sit there with their perfect airs and expect you to fit into some mould—just because of your bloodline, your family name. They don't even care about what you can do, just what they think you should be doing."

Lars groaned and rubbed his forehead as he dropped the shredded invitation onto the desk. His thoughts were already spinning with frustration. He hated these events more than he cared to admit, even if they did hold some significance for his future.

"House Oris," he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. "There's one in particular I can't stand—Valeria Oris. She's a piece of work."

Iskra raised an eyebrow. "Valeria Oris?"

Lars nodded, his fingers tapping the desk in agitation. "Yeah. She's a noblewoman with a silver tongue, but there's something cold and calculating about her. She thinks she's untouchable because of her family's influence. And she makes it her mission to remind everyone of it."

Lars's face twisted into a sour expression as he continued. "She's one of those people who uses everything and everyone to climb higher, stepping on whoever she can, no matter how low. Last time I saw her at a gathering, she acted like I wasn't even worth acknowledging. But when she realised I was from House Mertens, a family who despite their earlier disgrace, were a renowned scientific family, she started trying to 'sway me' into doing favours for her family. It was insulting."

Iskra tilted her head, sensing the depth of his annoyance. "Sounds like she doesn't respect you."

"Respect?" Lars snorted. "She doesn't respect anyone. She thinks power comes from titles and lineage, not actual strength. She probably believes people like me are just tools to be used and discarded." He clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing as the memory of that encounter resurfaced. "I can't stand people like her."

The air in the room seemed to grow a little heavier, as Lars's frustration seeped into the space around him. Iskra didn't speak for a moment, instead resting quietly on his shoulder, perhaps offering a silent understanding.

"Maybe I'll go to this thing," Lars said after a beat, his tone darkening. "But if Valeria's there, I'll make sure she knows exactly how I feel about her little games."

Iskra's lips twitched upward slightly. "I'll be there to make sure you don't start any 'incidents.' But I'll admit, it might be fun to watch her squirm."

Lars chuckled, the tension in his posture easing. "You're right. I'd never get anything done at these things anyway." He stretched and stood up, tossing the shredded invitation into the wastebasket. "Maybe I'll just go for the free food and make sure I'm not stuck with her for too long."

Iskra smirked, her voice teasing. "I suppose that sounds better than making a scene... this time."

Lars shot her a half-smile, his mood lightening a little. "Fine. But if she even thinks about pulling one of her stunts again, I'm out of there. I'd rather fight a hundred magical beasts than deal with someone like her."

…

The Halcourt Estate was as extravagant as Lars had imagined—perhaps even more so. The sprawling gardens, glittering chandeliers, and finely dressed nobles created an atmosphere that reeked of opulence. Lars adjusted the collar of his formal attire uncomfortably as he stepped into the grand ballroom, the hum of conversation and clinking of glasses immediately filling his ears.

He quickly scanned the crowd. As expected, the most prominent families of the Clover Kingdom were in attendance. Members of the Halcourt Group—Magic Knight families, influential politicians, and powerful business magnates—mingled with an air of calculated grace. Lars felt a knot of irritation twist in his stomach. He had dealt with many of these families before, but that didn't make their company any more tolerable.

Frida was here, of course. She stood near the Silver Eagles contingent, Lyra and Erin, whose families were also members of the Halcourt group, radiating an air of cool indifference as she sipped a glass of wine. Lars pretended not to notice her, and she returned the favour, their silent agreement to ignore each other as strong as ever.

Lars's attention was drawn elsewhere when he spotted Ximena Laird, his fellow squadmate in the Coral Peacocks, standing across the room. She was unmistakable, dressed in a ridiculously frilly pink gown with ruffles that seemed to swallow her whole. Lars couldn't help it; he burst out laughing.

Ximena, who had been chatting with a group of young nobles, froze. Her dark eyes zeroed in on him like a hawk spotting its prey. Her expression hardened, a flush of embarrassment and fury creeping up her neck.

"What's so funny, Mertens?" Ximena spat, stalking toward him. Her Earth Magic aura began to ripple subtly around her, like the rumble of an impending landslide.

Lars smirked, crossing his arms casually. "Oh, nothing. Just didn't realise you were auditioning for a role in a fairy tale. The whole princess look really isn't your thing, Ximena."

Her fists clenched, the polished floor beneath their feet trembling slightly. "You think you're funny, don't you? Care to back that up in a fight?"

Lars's grin widened, his irritation from earlier now replaced with amusement. "Oh, I'd be delighted. Let's see if your Earth Magic can keep up with my Mind Magic."

Before anything could escalate further, another figure stepped between them. Ximena's older brother, Elias Laird, placed a firm hand on her shoulder. He was taller, more composed, and carried himself with an air of authority that Ximena lacked. His Earth Magic aura was far more restrained but no less intimidating.

"That's enough, Ximena," Elias said calmly, though his sharp gaze never left Lars. "We're here to celebrate, not to cause a scene. Let's not embarrass our family."

Ximena huffed but didn't argue, though the glare she shot Lars promised that this wasn't over. Elias turned his attention fully to Lars, his expression unreadable. "And you, Mertens. I suggest you watch your words. Not everyone here will tolerate your sense of humour."

Lars held up his hands in mock surrender, his smirk still firmly in place. "Noted, Elias. I'll behave... for now."

Before the tension could escalate further, a hush fell over the room. The Halcourt family had arrived.

Anastacia Halcourt, the eldest sibling, entered first. Her black hair and piercing grey eyes commanded attention as she strode into the ballroom with regal confidence. She wore a gown of deep sapphire blue, the intricate embroidery glinting under the light.

Following her was Florian Halcourt, the middle sibling. His black hair was neatly combed back, and his emerald-green suit matched his sister's outfit, showcasing the family's signature colours. He carried himself with an air of charm and arrogance, his smile both inviting and sharp.

Finally, Zohava—Zoe—Halcourt appeared. Unlike her siblings, she seemed far less enthusiastic about the event. She wore a simple but elegant dress of soft green, her dark curls loosely styled, and her expression screamed that she would rather be anywhere else. Lars caught her eye for a brief moment, and she gave him the smallest of nods—a silent acknowledgment of their friendship amidst the sea of nobles.

Their parents entered last, their presence exuding authority and wealth, though Lars barely paid them any attention. All eyes were on the Halcourts as Anastacia raised a glass, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.

"Welcome, everyone, to this year's Halcourt Ball," she announced, her tone smooth and commanding. "Let the festivities begin."

The room erupted into polite applause, but Lars barely heard it. His mind was already turning, wondering how he'd survive the rest of the night without causing too much trouble—or perhaps, just enough.

…

Lars stood by the refreshment table, swirling his punch absentmindedly as he conversed with Klaus Lunettes, a rare moment of calm in the otherwise noisy ballroom. Klaus was one of the few nobles Lars actually respected, even if he often teased him.

"So, Lord Four Eyes," Lars began with a grin, leaning casually against the table. Klaus adjusted his glasses with an exaggerated sigh, clearly used to the nickname by now. Despite the teasing, their camaraderie was genuine, and Lars liked Klaus's dry humour. "What's the Golden Dawn been up to lately? Any more noble pranks or heroic deeds?"

Klaus gave him a flat look, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "We've been busy, as always. Yuno's showing even more promise, if that's what you're asking. It's been hard keeping up with him, but he's becoming a strong leader. He's even started doing a bit of mentoring for the new recruits."

Lars snorted. "Of course, he's the shining star. Bet you've got a shrine to him in the Golden Dawn headquarters, right?"

Klaus raised an eyebrow, unfazed by the jibe. "Only on the walls of the mission reports. He's earned the praise, Lars. You should be proud of him."

Lars waved a hand, rolling his eyes. "Sure, sure. But what about you, Klaus? Still babysitting all the snobby recruits and making sure no one trips over their own egos?"

Klaus sighed. "I wish it were that simple. It's exhausting, but somebody has to keep them in line."

"Ah, the noble life," Lars muttered with a grimace. "Sounds like a nightmare."

Klaus chuckled, clearly enjoying the rare moment of levity. "And yet, you've chosen to live it too. Not exactly free of drama in the Coral Peacocks."

Lars raised his glass in mock salute. "Touché. But at least I don't have to put up with your brand of drama." He grinned, feeling the weight of the conversation lift just slightly.

But the light moment was short-lived.

A voice, smooth and sharp, pierced through their exchange like ice.

"Lars Mertens."

It was Valeria Oris, her smile as thin and calculated as ever. She approached them with deliberate steps, her icy gaze locking onto Lars with a predatory gleam. Her dress was silver, shimmering in the light, a stark contrast to her cold demeanour.

Lars's smile faltered but quickly returned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Well, well. If it isn't Lady Oris. What an unexpected honour."

Valeria tilted her head, eyes glinting with something between amusement and disdain. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, Lars. Still laughing it up, I see. But tell me, how did things go in Lire Village? I hear the mission didn't go as smoothly as you'd hoped."

Lars's jaw clenched, but he kept his composure. "Things went fine. More than fine, actually. But I'm sure you'd rather focus on the negatives." He didn't need to look at Klaus to know the latter was listening intently, his attention now split between the two of them.

Valeria's smile widened, enjoying the discomfort she was causing. "Oh, I simply find it interesting that despite the mission being easier than most, you still didn't escape without any casualties."

Lars's hand tightened around his glass, his eyes narrowing, but before he could respond, Frida Mertens appeared like a storm cloud, her sharp voice cutting through the tension.

"Enough," Frida said, her voice icy but commanding. She stepped forward, her eyes flicking over Valeria like a predator sizing up its prey. "You'll stop this right now, Valeria."

Valeria blinked, caught off guard by the sudden interruption, but quickly regained her composure. "Frida Mertens. How predictable," she sneered. "Shouldn't you be focusing on your own squad instead of playing the protective older sister?"

Frida didn't flinch. "I'm not here to entertain your petty games. You'll leave my brother alone. Now."

The room grew tense as the two noblewomen locked eyes, the simmering hostility in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. Klaus stood silently, his posture stiff, though he watched the scene unfold with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. He knew Frida well enough to understand that this was about more than just defending her brother—it was about something much deeper.

Before the confrontation could escalate, a new voice, smooth and controlled, intervened.

"Frida, please." Anastacia appeared at the entrance of the grand hall, her presence commanding attention immediately. Her expression was serene, yet firm. "Let's not forget ourselves here. This is a gathering for esteemed guests, not a battleground."

Frida's gaze flicked to Anastacia, her jaw tight. "I wasn't aware that defending my family was considered rude."

Anastacia's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but her voice remained poised. "We all have our responsibilities, Frida. And right now, as one of the Silver Eagles' representatives, and a Vice-Captain, you have the responsibility to maintain decorum."

Frida's gaze remained cold, but she said nothing more, her stance one of quiet defiance. She wasn't about to back down. And Anastacia seemed to recognize that, her smile never wavering.

Just as the tension in the room was on the verge of boiling over, the grand doors to the ballroom swung open with dramatic flair.

The Vermillion family had arrived.

At the front was Kirsch Vermillion, his unmistakable flamboyance cutting through the stillness like a blade. His eyes scanned the room with exaggerated grandeur, taking in every face with a self-satisfied smile. "Ah, how charming," he said, his voice dripping with superiority. "A family gathering worthy of a royal celebration."

Behind him, Mimosa Vermillion shuffled in, her discomfort clear despite her graceful appearance. Her sunflower-yellow dress was radiant, but her face was pinched, her eyes darting uncomfortably as she walked, doing everything she could to avoid making eye contact with her older brother.

Mereoleona Vermillion, the acting matriarch of House Vermillion, entered with a fierceness that caused heads to turn. Her presence was like a flame in the darkness—unstoppable and intense. Her crimson gown only added to the aura of ferocity she carried, her eyes sweeping over the room with an almost predatory gaze.

And finally, Leopold, her younger brother, followed closely behind. His enthusiasm and nervous energy were palpable, but it was clear he was trying his best to appear composed, even if his fidgeting hands betrayed his excitement.

The room fell into an immediate hush. Nobles from all corners of the ballroom bowed their heads, some deep and reverent, others merely respectful. But the Vermillion family's arrival commanded absolute attention.

Ximena, who had been standing somewhat off to the side, hesitated for a moment before reluctantly curtsying. Her expression was a mix of irritation and forced decorum, but her brother Elias gave her a pointed look, silently reminding her of the family's expectations. With a huff, Ximena complied, lowering herself with a begrudging grace.

Lars couldn't help but watch the scene unfold, feeling a mix of awe and apprehension. This night's definitely going to be interesting, he thought to himself, glancing at Klaus, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod as if acknowledging the arrival of a storm.

The attention in the room was entirely on House Vermillion now. All eyes were fixed on them, the tension momentarily forgotten.

The arrival of the Vermillions set the entire ballroom abuzz, but the energy was far from uniform. Mereoleona Vermillion, the acting matriarch, made no attempt to mask her disdain for the event. She strode into the room with her usual commanding presence, but instead of engaging with the gathering, she headed straight for an unoccupied corner of the room. Crossing her arms, she slouched against the wall, glaring at nothing in particular, the very image of a caged lion.

Lars noticed her almost immediately. It wasn't like Mereoleona to sulk—her ferocity was legendary, and her disdain for noble events even more so. He could only guess that her attendance was due to her sense of duty to Fuegoleon, who was still recovering from his injuries.

As Mereoleona silently brooded, her younger brother and cousin took to the ballroom with more enthusiasm. Leopold's energy was palpable as he scanned the crowd, and when his eyes landed on Lars and Klaus, he made a beeline toward them. Mimosa, following close behind, looked less thrilled but obliged, her nervous glances indicating she was doing everything possible to avoid Kirsch's overbearing presence.

"Lars Mertens!" Leo said, his smile large. "I trust you've been getting stronger, like a true warrior!"

"Hello, Leo," Lars replied, his smirk large. "Trust me, I haven't forgotten what you've said to me. I intend to push you to the very end." He extended his hand towards the fire mage.

"Just what I intended to hear!" Leo said, meeting Lars's hand in a firm handshake.

Klaus, meanwhile, was starting a conversation with Mimosa. "It seems," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose, "we've both ended up here."

Mimosa chuckled sheepishly. "It feels weird to see you out of uniform, Klaus. And yet, you're still as uptight as ever…"

Klaus gasped inwardly, obviously quite wounded by Mimosa's comments. Me? Uptight? What is she talking about? I'm the most fun person around!

He adjusted his glasses once again, deciding to feign ignorance instead of causing a scene due to his wounded pride. "Yes, well, we are representing our noble houses. I want to make a good impression."

Mimosa sighed. "To be honest with you, I don't really want to be here. Letoile and the others are out enjoying a fun time in the capital, while I'm stuck here."

Her voice took on a softer quality. "But… Cousin Fuegoleon often said that this was one of his favourite events. I feel an obligation to be here for him while he's recovering. It's silly, really…"

"Don't say that!" Klaus said emphatically. "You feel a need to honour a family member, that's not a silly-"

Suddenly, Klaus felt the aura of a very angry lioness behind him. Mereoleona's growl caused him to turn blue with fear, and he slowly turned around to look at the Crimson Lion Kings' captain.

"Don't talk about my brother like he's dead," she said. Klaus nodded, which seemed to satisfy the Vermillion, and she walked away.

The Golden Dawn knight, still trembling from Mereoleona's earlier warning, quietly excused himself to a less conspicuous corner of the ballroom. The fiery lioness strode through the room, her imposing presence leaving an impression on everyone, and most wisely avoided her path. Mimosa gave Klaus a small pat on the arm, muttering something about finding her brother Kirsch before vanishing into the crowd.

Meanwhile, Frida and Anastacia, still engaged with Kirsch, appeared to listen intently as he elaborated on the reports of magical beast attacks. "The creatures seem emboldened, almost as if they're being driven by some unseen force," Kirsch mused, his usual dramatics replaced by a rare tone of seriousness. "Several captains suspect foul play—perhaps a rogue mage or some other dark influence at work."

Anastacia nodded, her sharp features drawn into a frown. "If that's true, the Kingdom could be in more danger than we realise. Frida, have you heard anything from the intelligence networks?"

Frida, ever composed, crossed her arms. "We've seen similar signs along the northern regions. Unusual activity, erratic patterns of behaviour among the beasts. If this is a coordinated effort, it's not one we can afford to ignore."

Kirsch gave a slight shudder, though he quickly masked it with a flourish of his hand. "Such grim thoughts for a gala. Still, it is I, Kirsch Vermillion, who will ensure that my esteemed house remains untouched by this chaos."

Frida's sharp eyes cut to him. "You might want to focus less on theatrics and more on preparedness, Kirsch. If we're dealing with something this severe, even you may need to get your hands dirty."

Kirsch bristled at the implication, but before he could retort, Lars found himself caught in another unpleasant encounter.

Zoe Halcourt approached Lars again, this time looking even more timid. Her shoulders hunched as she approached him, but before she could say anything, Florian, her older brother, swept in like a stormcloud.

"Zoe," Florian said sharply, his voice dripping with disdain. "What are you doing pestering Lars? Shouldn't you be off somewhere failing spectacularly at something else?"

Lars frowned, his posture straightening defensively. "Florian, there's no need—"

"Oh, but there is," Florian interrupted, sneering. "Zoe has a talent for making a fool of herself wherever she goes. It's practically an art form. Isn't that right, dear sister?"

Zoe's face turned crimson, her lips trembling as she struggled to find a response. Lars clenched his fists, ready to step in, but before he could speak, Anastacia joined the fray, her cold gaze locking onto Zoe.

"I have to agree with Florian, unfortunately," Anastacia said smoothly, her voice calm yet cutting. "Zoe's attempts to rise above her station are… admirable, I suppose. But really, they only highlight how far she has to go."

Zoe's head dipped lower, and a faint chuckle rippled through the nearby crowd. Valeria Oris, standing just within earshot, erupted into loud, mocking laughter, her voice carrying over the hushed murmurs.

"Truly, Anastacia, your wit is unmatched!" Valeria cackled, prompting more laughter from the crowd. The sound felt like nails on a chalkboard to Lars, whose frustration bubbled beneath the surface.

Lars stepped forward, prepared to put an end to the cruelty, but the air in the room shifted dramatically. A searing heat emanated from Mereoleona Vermillion as she stepped into the circle, her presence commanding immediate silence.

"That's enough." Her voice was low, but it carried the weight of thunder. She turned her blazing gaze first to Anastacia, who froze, her confidence crumbling. "You're a vice captain of the Crimson Lion Kings," Mereoleona growled. "You carry the title of leader, but here you are, acting like a petty bully in front of everyone."

Anastacia opened her mouth to respond, but Mereoleona cut her off. "Don't bother making excuses. You've shamed not just yourself but our squad. A vice captain is supposed to set an example, not join in on childish mockery."

Mereoleona's attention snapped to Florian next, who wilted under her glare. "And you. Mocking your own sibling? You think that makes you look strong? It doesn't—it makes you look weak. Family is supposed to protect each other, not tear each other down for sport."

She turned slightly, her gaze piercing everyone in the room. "And to those who stood by and watched—or worse, laughed—you're no better."

As Mereoleona strode towards Zoe, Frida was in her path, and she hastily stepped aside, but not before Mereoleona whispered something to her, just loud enough for Lars, who was near her, to hear.

"You, Frida Mertens, are one of the biggest perpetrators of this."

The Silver Eagle stiffened slightly, her expression remaining calm, but there was no mistaking the faint flash of discomfort in her eyes. Lars's heart twisted. His sister was always poised, always above reproach, yet even she hadn't stepped in to stop what had unfolded.

Zoe glanced up at Mereoleona, her eyes wide with a mix of gratitude and awe. "Th-thank you," she whispered shakily.

Mereoleona grunted, placing a heavy hand on Zoe's shoulder. "Hold your head high, girl. Don't let cowards like this make you forget your worth."

With that, she turned and strode away, leaving behind an air of simmering tension. The crowd dispersed quietly, and the rest of the ball continued, though the lively atmosphere had been thoroughly subdued.

As Lars lingered near the edge of the room, he found his gaze drifting toward Frida. She stood tall and composed, her expression unreadable as she sipped from a glass of wine. The earlier rebuke from Mereoleona had been brief, but Lars couldn't shake the image of his sister being singled out.

He sighed, leaning against a marble column. Frida and I… we're more alike than I think either of us wants to admit. She bore the weight of the Mertens name with an iron will, yet even she faltered, her humanity slipping through the cracks of her perfect façade.

She's not invincible. The realisation struck Lars harder than he expected. For all her strength and grace, Frida was just as capable of mistakes as he was. Maybe that's why her barbs always cut so deep—because she saw too much of herself in him.

"That's ridiculous," Lars chuckled to himself softly, though his eyes betrayed his sadness and uncertainty. "Me and Frida have never been alike. The Mertens family is as good as broken.

Frida walked past him, and Lars's voice cut through the silence. "Hey. Why'd you defend me back there?"

Frida turned towards him, her expression a mask to her true mix of feelings. "I felt like it," she simply said, before walking to the entrance of the Halcourt ballroom and kicking the grand oak doors open, leaving the premises immediately.

…

A week passed, and all of the captains were assembled - William Vangeance of the Golden Dawn, Nozel Silva of the Silver Eagles, Mereoleona Vermillion of the Crimson Lion Kings (who was once again shoehorned by her loyalty to her brother and her simultaneous anger with Anastacia - who she would have normally sent - into going to this stupid meeting), Jack the Ripper of the Green Praying Mantis, Charlotte Roselei of the Blue Rose Knights, Kaiser Granvorka of the Purple Orcas, Yami Sukehiro of the Black Bulls, Rill Boismortier of the Aqua Deer, and a sleeping, almost comatose Dorothy Unsworth of the Coral Peacocks.

At the head of the table was the Wizard King, his expression unusually grave. Beside him was his assistant, Marx Francois, who held a small device, and he placed it onto the table, simultaneously infusing some of his mana into it. A hologram shimmered, showing a map of all of the Clover Kingdom, with multiple red dots engraved onto it.

"Now that all the captains are here, despite some lateness from some of you," Marx said, his gaze flickering to Mereoleona and Yami, who both scowled back, more than slightly scaring the memory mage, "we c-can begin our meeting."

A/N: Nobles are horrible people - we knew that already. And now we can actually see what Zoe's family troubles are like as well.