Chapter 183: Evening Banquet

Chapter 183: Evening Banquet


Mayor Danan had gladly made the event all the more extravagant.


Langga became the center of attention, with Danan proudly at his side.


And since Langga’s relations with Count Raksa had soured, it was Mayor Danan who stood as host tonight. His head held high as he mingled with the county’s bigshots.


"Professor Langga, I’m Rian from the Raksa County Alchemy Association. It’s an honor to have a distinguished professor from Gyakarta Academy visit us," said a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, extending his hand.


Langga shook it politely, the same way he had shaken every other hand tonight.


"If you have time, I’d like to introduce you to an alchemy genius. He saved an entire village from collapse with his Anti-Toxin Pill. His talent is extraordinary, and even the head of Capital City Alchemy Association praises him," Rian said eagerly, sparking impatient looks from those standing nearby.


These alchemy nerds... wasting Professor Langga’s precious time on some country bumpkin? The others quickly pushed Rian aside until he was forced out of the circle.


He tried to push back in but froze when one of his members called him over.


He followed to the edge of the hall, where the man whispered something urgent.


"What is it?" Rian demanded, his voice sharp.


"The alchemist who created the Vena Pill is no longer in his village. He left a week ago."


"What?!" Rian nearly shouted before clamping a hand over his mouth. "That man is a rare talent! With him, we could raise the reputation of Raksa County’s alchemists—no, not just Raksa County, but the entire Swargaloka Province!"


"He handed the production rights of the Vena Pill to the Alrova Merchant House."


"What?! Has he lost his mind? Letting a merchant house control such a masterpiece?" Rian looked ready to explode. "We have to seize the production rights!"


"That’s... impossible, unless we find the alchemist himself. The Alrova Merchant House refuses to sell the prescription, no matter the price."


"Damn it!" Rian punched the wall beside him, seething. But there was nothing he could do now.


Not far away, two other factions were locked in a silent standoff, glaring daggers at each other while whispering in hushed tones.


"M-Master, i-it really seems that the druid baby we sensed is Lady Vita’s descendant. A-and that man Tristan is the one helping hide him," Rais stammered to Silvan, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the humans gathered in the opposite corner of the hall.


"Send word to the Guardian in Wasyah Forest," Silvan hissed, his eyes burning with hatred as they fixed on Tristan. "I’ll crush that man for daring to toy with me!"


Tristan felt Silvan’s hostile gaze and met it with sharp defiance. If not for the formal banquet setting, the two groups would have already clashed.


"Captain, what should we do about the druids?" Emir asked, glancing toward the druid group, who confidently displayed the bark-like patterns etched into their skin.


"For now, ignore them. As long as we don’t make direct contact with Gara, they can’t trace our connection to him," Tristan replied. His gaze then shifted toward the center of the banquet hall. "Right now, we need to focue about that man."


Slowly, his group moved toward the middle. The crowd parted at once, making way for none other than Tristan Cakra.


Langga noticed the approach. Out of respect for a fellow noble of nearly equal standing, he extended his hand first. "An honor to meet you, Captain Tristan."


Tristan nodded, his sharp gaze clearly scanning the young professor before him.


"How’s your engagement going, Professor Langga?" he asked suddenly, out of nowhere.


The guests nearby exchanged puzzled looks. Was Tristan mocking last year’s scandal with Count Raksa’s daughter? Or was he trying to stir things up by bringing up Langga’s rumored new fiancée—a half beastkin, half human?


"I’m not engaged to anyone at the moment, Captain," Langga replied calmly, surprising everyone.


They had assumed the Altas Duchy had already sent a formal proposal to the Tiger Clan.


Ah, so much for wild gossip—it always spread faster than truth.


"Is that so?" Tristan’s voice was steady, not quite interested, not quite dismissive. Yet the topic he raised left the hall unsettled. "Perhaps Professor Langga hasn’t found the right match because you’ve never been engaged to someone... far younger?"


Langga’s face twitched ever so slightly. The words stirred a memory of Gara. He could usually keep his emotions hidden, but if it involved Gara, his control always faltered.


The crowd murmured, unsure why Tristan would make such a rude remark. Then the middle-aged man waved his hand lightly. "Just a joke."


He chuckled, though the sound felt forced. "Enjoy your time in the city, Professor." Then he turned and walked away.


Some laughed, brushing it off as truly a joke. Others, including Langga himself, found it far too absurd. There was a meaning behind Tristan’s words—of that, Langga was certain.


...


Outside the community hall, Emir followed as Tristan strode out. The captain’s brow furrowed. Unlike the calm facade he’d worn inside, he was clearly unsettled.


"He’s not bad," Tristan muttered.


"You mean Professor Langga is not bad... for Young Master Gara?" Emir asked cautiously, startled by the implication. "Are you certain he’s the triplets’ real father, Captain?"


Tristan nodded. "His hair, his eyes, his face... they’re all too similar to the triplets. I also just realized where Ava’s red hair and black eyes came from. From her grandmother, Lady Syeila."


He continued, voice low and certain. "The Alterian House is infamous for having so few heirs. Lady Syeila is desperate for grandchildren. She’ll accept the triplets without question.


With the Duchess’s support, their safety and future would be secure. They might even help Gara reclaim his place in the Eshaan House."


"But Captain," Emir pressed, "will Young Master Gara accept this?"


Tristan had no answer. Knowing Gara’s stubborn nature, his godson wouldn’t easily embrace someone he disliked.


"They’ll cross paths often at the academy. At least... they won’t remain strangers," Tristan murmured. Then his expression hardened. "But I can’t afford to rely too much on outside help."


Emir stayed silent, watching his captain’s back.


"It’s time we return to Cakranloka, Emir."


...