According to the Baroness, it was the poetic charm of the young Baron Lonna that won her heart. However, this perfect marriage came at a steep price. Under the pressure of powerful noble families whose members had vied unsuccessfully for the Baroness's affection, the Baron lost his job and gained countless rivals.
In fact, many of the nobles invited to the ball were there more out of respect for the Baroness and her beautiful daughter than for the Baron himself. Despite this, the Baron still believed that he was the happiest man in the world, and he now hoped to secure the same lifelong happiness for his daughter.
The guest list for the ball had been meticulously curated by the Baron and Baroness, who invested a great deal of time and effort into selecting the right attendees. Despite their daughter's renowned beauty, which could have easily attracted the most powerful noble families in southern France, the Baron and Baroness deliberately avoided inviting them. They feared that these high-ranking nobles might not have sincere intentions and might toy with their daughter's affections—an apprehension that was rooted in the Baroness's own experiences of rejecting numerous noble suitors in her youth.
Even Ribo, a sharp observer, could see the reasons behind their cautious selections. Surely, the Baron and Baroness were not blind to the dangers of the ongoing political strife in Sersburg. The kingdom's ruling factions were more fragmented than they had been in centuries, with political tensions running so high that they seemed irreconcilable. Additionally, ever since the ten-year war with Delitze at Bires, the age-old nemesis of France had ceased its border incursions. This prolonged conflict had drained both nations' coffers, and the Baron, who had served in a public office shortly after the war, was acutely aware of how empty the royal treasury had become.
Despite the end of the war, the fear of renewed hostilities had prevented France from reducing its military forces. The combined strength of the garrisons at Bires, Tarunburg, and Port Blain—France's three major military strongholds—totaled over 200,000 soldiers, a staggering expense for the nearly bankrupt treasury. As the threat of war faded, the king grew increasingly impatient with this costly and seemingly unnecessary burden. He planned to cut the military presence in Bires and other regions by at least 100,000 troops, retaining only 50,000, which he believed would be sufficient. However, Prince Philippe, the king's brother and a war hero from the Bires campaign, vehemently disagreed.
This disagreement sparked a fierce conflict within the royal family, making it a dangerous time to align with any faction. As Ribo had wisely observed, there was little to gain from taking sides during such a volatile period. From his position on the fringes of power, Baron Lonna had a clearer perspective on the situation than Ribo, an outsider. This is why his guest list included no nobles with strong political ties.
For Baron Lonna, this cautious approach was prudent. Historically, when civil unrest broke out, powerful noble families often suffered the most once the dust settled, while lesser-known nobles like himself thrived as rulers sought to win over the populace. The Baron was confident in this low-risk, high-reward strategy.
What he didn't anticipate was Ribo Haide, a boy full of surprises, openly sharing his perspective on the political landscape. Interestingly, Sir Kayviel Egret Haide had not originally been on the guest list. The notion of social equality was crucial to maintaining noble dignity. Marrying their daughter to the son of a common noble would be seen as selling her off for wealth, a stigma that could irreparably damage their noble reputation. Throughout France's long history, there had been instances where such short-sighted decisions were made, and those families were scorned by other nobles. Over time, their bloodlines became diluted with commoner ancestry, leading to their eventual disappearance from noble circles.
Baron Lonna had no intention of tarnishing his family's legacy, so common nobles were deliberately excluded from the invitation list. However, Eckert Haide was different. His refined manner, extensive knowledge, and, most importantly, his unique insights into poetry had quickly endeared him to the Baron. While common nobles were unwelcome, foreign nobles who had fallen on hard times were a different matter. Their bloodlines were still noble, and many of these families had once been powerful.
Although Baron Lonna didn't know much about Sir Kayviel Egret Haide, the mermaid crest on the Haide family coat of arms was enough to convince him of the family's noble heritage. The mermaid was a symbol of the Eyrie royal family, indicating that the Haide family had once produced at least one queen, possibly even a reigning queen.
The process of verifying a family crest was not taken lightly. While many French nobles grumbled about the king bestowing noble titles on too many commoners, at least he hadn't granted them the honor of a family crest. For foreign noble families, the Senate rigorously vetted each crest before it was officially recognized. The Baron's intimate knowledge of the Senate's scrutiny reassured him that the mermaid symbol was authentic. Inviting a descendant of the Eyrie royal family to the ball seemed perfectly reasonable.
Yet, the Baron never expected Eckert Haide to send his nephew in his place. Nor did he anticipate that young Ribo Haide would be such an extraordinary individual. Baron Lonna couldn't help but admit that Ribo, like his uncle, was someone who naturally commanded attention. Both were equally learned, composed, and refined, with temperaments that were more noble than those of ordinary nobles. Their distinguished demeanor was unmistakably the result of a long and illustrious lineage. Unlike ordinary nobles, they lacked the aloof pride that made others seem unapproachable.
Had the Baron not aspired to become a poet in his youth, he too might have been a stern and serious nobleman. Yet, Baron Lonna intuitively sensed that Ribo and his uncle were fundamentally different.
To the Baron, Eckert Haide was a scholar, perhaps even a poet at heart. Reflecting on their friendship, the Baron believed that Eckert was a kindred spirit—someone who, like himself, had once been passionate about poetry but had abandoned his dreams under the weight of familial obligations.
In essence, the Baron still saw himself as a poet, and he believed that Eckert Haide shared this poetic soul.
But Ribo was different. Perhaps it was the exceptional education he received from his grandfather, but Ribo possessed a maturity and sophistication far beyond his years. Moreover, Ribo's gaze was sharper and more penetrating than Eckert's. The Baron had only seen such eyes in seasoned knights—veterans of countless battles. While Eckert Haide exuded a sense of harmony and tranquility, Ribo Haide projected a sense of steadiness, competence, and a unique air of mystery.
As Baron Lonna pondered the contrasts between the uncle and nephew, he was interrupted by a soft voice at his ear.
"My dear, which of these young men do you think our daughter favors?" the Baroness inquired.
"Oh, my dear wife, I think they all blend together. None of them stands out like I did in my youth," the Baron quipped.
"You do know how to flatter yourself," the Baroness replied, giving her husband a playful glance.
"Well, in all seriousness, I feel sorry for these young men. Their luck is just too poor. How can any of them compete with the standard set by the young man upstairs? None of them can compare," the Baron observed.
"Do you think it's inappropriate?" the Baroness asked.
The Baron was taken aback. "Isn't it obvious? That boy is at least two or three years younger than our daughter."
"Oh? I thought you were more concerned about the disparity in noble status," the Baroness remarked with a gentle smile.
"That's part of it, too. I haven't fully considered that aspect yet, but the age difference is undeniable. I don't think it's possible," the Baron replied.
"That's what you think. But from my perspective, it's very possible. If I'm not mistaken, if it weren't for the fear of offending our guests by leaving abruptly, our daughter would have already run off to the upstairs parlor," the Baroness said.
"How do you know that?" the Baron asked.
"A mother's intuition. I'm more attuned to our daughter than you are. You were too busy chatting to notice her expression. While she tries to appear natural and indifferent, her attention has been completely captivated by young Ribo Haide," the Baroness explained.
"I didn't notice that. But surely she knows that such feelings are entirely impossible, right?" the Baron asked.