Silver-painted walls. Violet rugged floor. Luxurious-looking chandeliers and scantly placed gray armored statues.
Tristan inspected the room's features and noticed a few things that had been changed compared to the last time he was there.
His figure approached the table with careful steps while he never stopped feeling Lucia's blue eyes burn into his skin.
Having kept her calm, seemingly uncaring demeanor when they made eye contact, only Tristan could understand the various levels of emotions wrapped within her figure.
He could already sense her desire to shed tears and honestly it maddened him.
Nevertheless, according to his promise, he'd only act on his anger if the person she was to marry remained someone morally unfit for her.
"Tristan! I thought you'd never come." A man who looked in his mid-fifties stood to address the approaching young man.
A round head full of gray hair. They were nicely trimmed, oiled, and combed backward to preserve the sharp look the man possessed.
He was the town's lord; Ior. And truth be told, he hated the fact that Tristan even showed up.
Tristan could already notice that fact at first glance and could only shake his head inwardly. Nevertheless, he wasn't going to cause unnecessary trouble. At least not yet.
Maintaining a calm outlook, Tristan managed to acknowledge the town's lord before taking a seat beside the same man.
All eyes fell on him at that point and he didn't hesitate to lock gazes with all those people, including Lucia.
The table remained empty as the feast had not started, but soon those doors flung open and a group of maids pulling a table led by Sestien unfolded in their gazes.
The moment Tristan had stepped in, the conversation between those men had ceased. He had heard a bit, but not enough to make out anything notable.
"We have prepared a meal. I hope you all enjoy it," Sestien bowed, utilizing his professional tone. He straightened his figure and coordinated the serving maids. Not once did he glance at Tristan.
"My honored guests. Please have at the food before you," Lord Ior announced, pulling those men's attention off Tristan and onto himself. He had a bad feeling.
"We greatly appreciate your kind gesture, Lord Ior. You have welcomed us of the Urtal family with warmer arms than expected." One of the eight men seated spoke, expressing a seemingly genuine smile.
'All a facade,' Tristan shook his head inwardly, while he scanned those men for the person eligible to take Lucia as his wife.
He found two men worthy of that role, both were younger than the middle-aged man that had spoken to Lord Ior.
He recognized that those men would be no more than 20 or a bit higher in age. Both possessed calm demeanors, but only one silently and occasionally glanced at the beauty that was Lucia.
In truth, all those men stole glances, but this person remained bold about it.
Even Tristan had to inwardly admit how stunning Lucia looked.
She had been made to wear a lovely turquoise-green off-shoulder gown featuring a big blue ribbon on her chest.
Her blonde hair had been made into a knot adorned with a similar turquoise-green butterfly hairpin.
Her natural looks did the rest and the light blushes placed on her cheeks and enhanced chin further made her stunning. There was almost no difference, however, only a bit of emphasis.
Her lips were lush and red, and even her mere blinking felt gracious. She was a work of art. Only one that had been put in such a cruel situation.
She deserved far more.
A series of polite verbal exchanges flew across the table as most of them remained silent and ate of course. The man who seemed to be the caretaker of that group simply conversed with lord Ior. He would later be identified as Ged the personal guard to the real young master.
Tristan could still feel eyes on him, even Ged who spoke with lord Ior threw glances at his figure from time to time.
The time for action soon came. Towns lord Ior had calmed down believing Tristan didn't mean trouble.
"Which one of you is to take her hand in marriage?" Tristan suddenly slammed his palms on the table, standing. Startling everyone.
With eyes widened Lord Ior opened his mouth to speak. "Take your seat, Tristan. This is none of your concern!" The man also stood, greatly Infuriated. He shocked himself seeing how defensive he was concerning that matter.
He instantly lost all hope that Tristan wouldn't cause trouble. He quickly regained his composure, however.
Tristan ignored the man and gazed directly into Lucia's blue eyes. Her gaze remained calm on the outside but he could tell she begged him to take his seat as her father had commanded.
Tristan's expression fell stern and he watched her eyebrows flicker with pain. He broke off their gaze and swept it on those men.
None had moved in response to his sudden action. They all simply watched, amused. All eight had stopped eating to focus on the event.
Lord Ior tried to grab hold of Tristan's wrist, but one of them raised his hand.
"No need for that, Lord Ior," one of the candidates chipped in, a light smile evident on his face.
'I knew it!' Tristan exclaimed inwardly, further inspecting the individual's features. He looked in his early twenties and was a handsome black-haired man. He possessed a pair of vibrant yet calm brown eyes.
Tristan watched the good-looking man stand from his seat. He raised his hand to stop the others from doing the same.
He was Den Urtal, a man who had known to get his way many times in life. His demeanor on the outside fooled many, but deep down he remained an obnoxious young man too spoiled for the fullness of the cruelness of life.
"I understand that you're the one to take her hand in marriage?" Tristan raised an eyebrow addressing the finely dressed man.
"Yes. I will be taking Lucia as one of my three wives," the man revealed and Tristan felt like his chest caught fire.
'Three?!' His eyes scanned his surroundings until they landed on Lord Ior who felt like he sat in the presence of a beast. Tristan wasn't so far from an apex beast. He had seen far too much to not fear the young man.
"You're Tristan one of the best combat practitioners our great kingdom has seen," Den smiled expressing his genuine pleasure to speak with him.
"Mhm... I challenge you to a duel," Tristan went straight to the point catching everyone by surprise.
"If I lose, you get to have her as your fourth wife. But if you lose you don't get to keep her, and your family must work together to help us grow." Tristan explained rather calmly. He avoided his best friends' gaze since it held pleading.
Arcing an eyebrow, Den spoke. "What if I choose not to accept the duel?" He teased slightly understanding what he had stepped into.
"Then none of you will leave here alive," Tristan's tone plunged and his gaze darkened.
Unable to have more of that, Lord Ior slammed his palms on the table. Furious. "Tristan!"