The Author's Will

59 | White Aster

　　 The bustling, lively town square of the empire's high-streets, were teeming with wealthy and well-bred citizens. Of course, considering the event which was to take place in two weeks time, it was only expected that those of illustrious backgrounds, ventured out to tailor new dresses or battle for new gowns and suits.

It seemed the people were eager to make a good impression on Prince Daniel.

A handsome, elegantly-dressed man in particular, watched on from a pristine ivory fountain, at the frantic aristocrats who were entering all the boutiques like a swarm of bees returning to their hive.

Dressed in a long white coat, decorated with silver threading and a simple chained brooch - draped at his shoulders, a simple yet tasteful blouse and trousers underneath. Cascading silver hair tucked perfectly behind an ear, with an exquisite, aquamarine earring perfectly matching the colour of his eyes.

Many of the women who happened to see the young bachelor, stared on at him with interest.

"Isn't that Marquess Cherliann?"

"What's he doing all the way out here?"

"He's so handsome...!"

An individual renowned throughout the empire for his ever-growing, stunningly attractive features. Tall, slender yet muscular in stature, with quite the elaborate sense of style. He was well-liked by both men and women alike for his personality as well as his looks — a refreshing contrast to his fear-inducing father.

The young man glanced toward those gossiping little lambs who could be heard from a mile away, causing them to jolt on their feet in surprise. But his gorgeous face was only graced with a gentle, amicable smile.

They squealed in delight at this action, not realising the real subject of his attention was actually the cloaked, shadowy figure of a man who was approaching from their direction.

Rayvis Arvel Cherliann, the eldest son of Duke Cherliann and his heir, was one of the most highly-sought after young bachelors in the empire despite still having two years left till his coming of age. Albeit young, he earned the title of Marquess through his eminent capabilities, both in the field of battle and handling political affairs.

It was rumoured that Rayvis Cherliann was also the leading figure of a secret guild, which was involved in the darker, more dangerous areas of Laydel. But whether this was true or not, was still questionable.

"So, do you care to explain why you're creating a mess among your own subjects, Sir Leon?" The silver-haired marquess asked, once the cloaked man finally approached him. Beneath his hood, a pair of ocean-blue orbs framed by long, dark lashes were focused on Rayvis with an indifferent, steely gaze.

The shops nearby were beginning to grow boisterous from the war happening between noblewomen, who had their eyes on the same dresses. A discordant cluster of nobles trying to fight for new clothes was creating a scene completely unlike anything they had ever witnessed.

Rayvis couldn't hold back his laughter.

Aristocrats were always the type to peruse and shop at their own pace, but now - it was akin to watching wolves fighting for a single piece of meat. All this to look good in front of the first prince, who they dubbed a runaway not too long ago.

And said prince was standing only several metres away, posing as a commoner.

This really is hilarious.

"I just wanted to help some honourable merchants sell their fine silks," he sighed, as strands of ebony hair peaked from beneath the hood. "With this, there's a high demand for quality fabric during a time there's not enough for everyone. So some of these nobles have no choice but to buy from the merchants they once scorned."