Seraphine's demeanor remained composed, her expression unfazed by the noblewoman's attempt at belittling her. She met the woman's gaze with a calm resolve before responding in a measured tone.
"Good day to you as well," Seraphine replied with a polite nod. "I am Seraphine, in service to the Marquis Ornstein family. And as for what I am doing here, I am simply accompanying Lord Damian, who is an esteemed participant in this event."
The noblewoman's friends exchanged smirks, clearly expecting Seraphine to be flustered by their presence. The second noblewoman, dressed in a shade of blue that matched her eyes, chimed in mockingly, "Oh, how quaint! A servant attempting to play the role of a noble companion."
Seraphine's response was unwavering, her poise unchanged. "While my status may be different, I am here to offer my support and aid Lord Damian as best I can. After all, we're all gathered here for the same purpose—to enjoy the festivities and camaraderie."
The third noblewoman, whose attire was a blend of greens and golds, scoffed, "Enjoying festivities? Is that truly within your limited understanding, my dear 'companion'?"
Seraphine's lips curved into a serene smile. "Indeed, I've found that enjoyment can be found in even the simplest of things, regardless of one's status. Perhaps it's a perspective worth considering."
The trio of noblewomen exchanged glances, momentarily taken aback by Seraphine's steadfast response. They had likely expected her to wither under their words, but instead, she had maintained her composure.
" But why would an ordinary commoner like yourself have any business with a high-ranking noble, let alone participate in the elite and exclusive Hunting Ceremony reserved for our kind only! " The noble, clad in crimson, sneered in her tone as she spoke.
"I may appear as a commoner in your eyes, but I am, in fact, Baron Miller's adopted daughter," Seraphine retorted calmly.
"An adopted daughter? So you're of peasant blood after all!" The group of nobles burst into mocking laughter, clearly regarding her as beneath their notice.
"An adopted baron's daughter dares to stand up for herself, huh? Don't you know who I am?" the lady in red sneered, her confidence evident.
"Forgive my ignorance, milady. Might I inquire about your name?" Seraphine maintained her composure, striving for politeness even as her frustration simmered beneath the surface.
"I am Beatrice Esmont, a daughter of Count Esmont. Make sure to remember it, even with your hollow brain." As Beatrice attempted to taunt Seraphine by jabbing her finger, Seraphine gracefully sidestepped, causing Beatrice to lose her balance and teeter precariously on her high heels.
"You!" Beatrice seethed with anger as she regained her footing and marched toward Seraphine, her hand raised to strike. But Seraphine's swift movements allowed her to deftly evade the slap, causing Beatrice to stumble and fall to the ground.
"Resorting to such brutish behavior is rather unbecoming, Miss Beatrice," Seraphine retorted, her smug smile clearly taunting them in response.
"How dare you mock me like that!" Beatrice exclaimed, regaining her footing and attempting to strike Seraphine once more. Her yelling drew the attention of Damian and several knights who emerged from the nearby tent, witnessing the unfolding scene.
"What is the meaning of this? explain yourself, lady Beatrice! "
Damian's sudden appearance halted Beatrice in her tracks. His stern voice cut through the tension, demanding an explanation from Lady Beatrice. As his small, unintentional burst of demonic aura seeped out, the atmosphere grew even more intense, causing Beatrice to struggle for breath.
Recognizing the gravity of the situation and the potential danger, Seraphine swiftly intervened. She understood that if the confrontation escalated further, it could lead to dire consequences.
"Young master!" Seraphine's urgent voice called out to Damian, snapping him out of his momentary lapse. He immediately reined in his unleashed aura, redirecting his attention to Seraphine.
Ignoring Lady Beatrice, who now lay on the ground, struggling to regain her composure, Damian hurried to Seraphine's side, his concern evident. He checked her for any signs of harm.
"Are you hurt, Seraphine?" Damian inquired, his worry palpable as he focused on her well-being.
"It's nothing, young master. We were just engaged in a conversation and having a bit of banter," Seraphine assured him with a composed demeanor.
"Sir Damian, I..." Beatrice's voice wavered as she struggled to regain her composure.
However, before she could form coherent words, the effort seemed to drain the last vestiges of her strength. Her eyelids fluttered, and her body swayed unsteadily and descended to the ground.
Damian's eyes narrowed as he watched this scene unfold, his initial anger and frustration shifting to a begrudging concern. He sighed, a mixture of annoyance and exasperation escaping his lips.
"Such an annoyance," Damian muttered under his breath, his voice laced with a mixture of irritation and resignation. He glanced around at the gathering crowd, his expression a combination of weariness and frustration.
In an effort to defuse the escalating situation and the growing crowd of onlookers, Seraphine swiftly took charge.
" Young master, I think it would be best if we let her recover in peace. The infirmary should attend to her, and it might be wise to inform her family," Seraphine suggested, her voice calm and composed despite the turmoil that had just unfolded. She glanced at Beatrice, who lay unconscious on the ground, and then turned her attention back to Damian.
Damian, his initial anger subsiding, nodded in agreement. He instructed a nearby knight to tend to Beatrice and inform her family, his tone now more composed. As they carefully lifted Beatrice and began to carry her away, the spectacle left the other two noblewomen speechless, unsure of how to proceed.
Turning his intense gaze to the remaining noblewomen, Damian's authority radiated. "You two, leave this place immediately," he commanded, his voice carrying an air of dominance. The two women, lower in rank than the Marquis, quickly complied, scurrying away in fear under the weight of Damian's earlier unleashed aura.
As Damian worked to resolve the aftermath of the incident, a knight approached him, delivering a message in hushed tones. Damian's expression shifted as he absorbed the information. With a nod, he approached Seraphine, his demeanor now a mix of concern and determination.
"I had a feeling something might transpire while I was away, but I hadn't anticipated that Lady Beatrice would act so recklessly," Damian confided, his tone revealing his genuine surprise at the turn of events.
Glancing at Seraphine, he continued, "By the way, the knight just informed me that the opening ceremony is about to commence. We should make our way there now."
Extending his hand toward Seraphine, Damian offered a reassuring smile. "Shall we? It's a chance for you to meet the crowned prince for the first time," he added, his grip gentle as he led her toward the central stand in the waiting field, where the ceremony was about to begin.