The corridor of the Kyrope Barony estate echoed with the sharp sound of shattering porcelain. The delicate vase, a family heirloom that had survived generations, now lay in glittering fragments at Axel's feet, catching the sunlight streaming through the nearby windows. The young servant's face drained of color, his hands trembling as he stared at the broken pieces. In many noble households, such an accident would result in immediate dismissal - or worse.
But Axel's golden eyes softened with concern, not anger. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle, instinctively reaching out to grasp the servant's hand. The touch was more of a motherly check for injuries than a noble's reprimand.
The servant stammered, caught between shock and confusion. Here was a baron - young, powerful, heir to a prestigious lineage - and he was checking if a mere servant was hurt.
"Ah, you've scratched yourself," he muttered, more to himself than to the servant. "You should have been more careful."
"M-my Lord," the servant stammered, caught between confusion and terror, "I... I'll pay for the vase. I'm so sorry—"
"Pay?" Axel looked genuinely puzzled. "Why would you need to pay? Accidents happen."
The servant felt torn between fainting, apologizing, or asking if this was some elaborate dream.
"Go take some rest. I'll take care of this." Axel said, releasing the servant's hand.
The servant looked utterly bewildered. Take care of what? The broken vase? The Lord?
Axel, already bent down, carefully began gathering the broken pieces of the vase. He was, after all, a man who believed in practicality, and this was a mess that needed to be cleaned up.
The servant stood frozen, watching this bizarre scene with the wide-eyed bewilderment of someone witnessing a unicorn doing household chores.
Before the servant could respond, Butler Heron, a man in his 30s, burst into the corridor, a letter clutched in his hand. His eyes widened at the scene - his young master, Lord of the Kyrope Barony, cleaning up broken pottery like a common housemaid.
"Ha!" Heron's sigh could have powered a small windmill. "My Lord, how many times must I tell you? You cannot do this!"
Turning to the servant, Heron's tone softened. "Go call someone else to clean this up."
The servant, grateful for an escape, practically teleported away.
Axel, however, seemed unfazed by the butler's disapproval. "Wait, wait," he said, his voice earnest. "I'm almost done." He continued gathering the pieces with an almost childlike determination.
"That's not the point!" Heron exclaimed, grabbing Axel's arm and pulling him up. "You are a noble, you cannot do a servant's job. They are there for a reason."
Axel's response was a world-weary sigh that suggested he'd had this argument approximately 3,742 times before. "And who exactly wrote that rule, Heron?" He placed a particularly sharp shard in a neat pile. "The 'Official Noble Handbook of Uselessness'?"
He then gathered the remaining pieces of the vase and moved them to a corner, making sure they were out of the way for the servant who would come to clean.
Axel stood up, brushing his hands on his immaculate noble attire - which now sported a few ceramic dust marks. "They are there to live, Heron," he said, his voice soft but firm.
Heron sighed dramatically, pulling out the letter he'd been carrying. "I'm telling you, My Lord. If you keep doing this, you might end up doing it somewhere you should not."
The letter in Heron's hand caught Axel's attention. "Oh, what's that?" he asked, momentarily distracted from the broken vase saga.
Heron's expression shifted, a hint of seriousness replacing his exasperated look. "A letter from the royal court, My Lord. Regarding the upcoming debutante ball."
Axel's eyebrow raised. "The princess's ball?" He leaned forward, his slightly messy black hair falling into his eyes, giving him the appearance of a curious child rather than a nobleman. "I suppose it's obligatory to partake?"
Heron hesitated, his fingers tapping nervously against the letter. "Well..."
Axel's brow furrowed in confusion as he reached for the letter, plucking it from Heron's grasp. He squinted at the elegant script, his lips moving silently as he read It internally. The words flowed in a confusing jumble, but as he read further, a bewildered expression spread across his face.
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[Royal Seal of Renara]
By Decree of His Royal Majesty, King Alastor Cadencia de Renara
Esteemed Noble Houses of the Realm,
After considerable deliberation and in acknowledgment of the persistent enthusiasm demonstrated by the noble families, I hereby announce the Debutante Ball for Her Royal Highness, Princess Daphne Cadencia de Renara.
The event shall be held on the 15th of Autumn, at the Royal Palace of Renara, commencing precisely at the eighth hour of the evening.
Those nobles who have expressed such... remarkable interest in this occasion are cordially invited to present themselves. Attendance is, naturally, a matter of your own discretion.
Refreshments will be served. One hopes the quality of the fare might compensate for the inevitable tedium of noble interactions.
Formal attire is mandatory. Tedious small talk is strongly discouraged. Excessive flattery will be met with royal indifference. Try not to embarrass yourselves.
Your response is technically required, though your presence is neither guaranteed to improve nor diminish the evening's proceedings.
By Royal Command, King Alastor Cadencia de Renara
P.S. Arrive punctually. We have better things to do than wait for your fashionably late entrances.
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Axel blinked. Then blinked again. The kind of bewildered double-blink reserved for moments of supreme administrative absurdity.
"I guess..." he muttered, holding the parchment at arm's length as if it might spontaneously combust, "Attendance is not mandatory?"