Rivers of the Night - Chapter 70

Chapter 70: Tapestry of Emotion

The curiosity in Theron’s eyes faded as he entered the long hallway. He could hear the bustle of festivities in the distance, and a herald’s voice was already announcing his achievements to the crowd. His gait, however, didn’t speed up.

‘As expected… Imbued Resonance is more of an open secret.’

After Theron combed through Manson’s memories, he got that vibe as well, so he thought it was the perfect opening volley toward Sigil.

While he was, indeed, curious about what Imbued Resonance was, it wasn’t to the point of taking such a risk without reason or cause.

The words he had chosen today were very deliberate.

Thanks to Manson, Theron had learned three very important things.

The first was that Imbued Resonance wasn’t as shocking a secret as he thought it might be. Though, he felt that there was likely a reason it was still so protected.

Theron had never seen something so censored before. Just for comparison, he had a full understanding of maybe every special herb and plant beneath Gold Grade. Logically, these should be no less valuable than the information about Imbued Resonance.

So why was one so protected while the other wasn’t?

The answer wouldn’t come today, but something else certainly would. In fact, all three tidbits of information Theron had learned would be very useful tonight.

The second was that Sigil wasn’t the only candidate for heirship of the Thistle Clan. He was the most talented of his father’s sons, but there were various uncles and cousins in the main family line as well. There were two others with no less talent than Sigil himself.

His path to Patriarch wasn’t guaranteed, and much like his father before him, he would need to build his own coalition.

Theron obviously hadn’t come right out and said it, but that was why his mention of Imbued Resonance was so perfect. Sigil would assume that that was what he really wanted to know, while the seed of taking him in as a real vassal would be planted.

In such a situation, wouldn’t he gain a small bit of leverage?

As for the third thing he had learned… well, that would play itself out very soon.

…

“… A young genius that’s already accumulated a shocking 39 Credits in just his first year! Please welcome, Theron Galethunder!”

Theron took a step out from a curtain, stepping through. Light beamed down on him, a great number of gazes landing on his young face.

Curiosity, intrigue… doubt, disdain… animosity, indifference…

Colors of an emotional spectrum painted the room, bending, bowing, and shifting the Mana in the air. Theron couldn’t help but wonder how a Spirit Mancer might see this sort of crowd.

The pressure didn’t stop him from calmly scanning the crowd, though. He wanted to understand just what he would be facing tonight.

His Imperial Scholar robes fluttered beneath the waves of pressure.

One after another, he met the gazes of those that looked toward him, his expression gentle, his eyes difficult to read.

‘Hm…?’

Theron found Thessa in the crowd. But more interestingly than that, Soren and Teagan, who usually followed her around, were instead on the far opposite side of the table.

‘Interesting.’

It wasn’t the separation that mattered to him. It was likely that since this wasn’t a Sect setting, their noble statuses meant far more than their shared disciplehood. In that case, Thessa being promised to a Nightingale would place her status on a completely separate level from them.

Though it was doubtful Thessa was here under that status given the circumstances, she had to be from a decent noble Clan herself to warrant a prince’s attention.

That said, it was the fact Thessa was here at all, especially when Yonowai had only just tried to kill her a month ago, that was of real interest.

Now that he thought about it, this was the first time he was seeing her in quite a while.

Theron smiled and gave her a nod.

Thessa was a bit taken aback, but then quickly looked away.

Though he raised an internal eyebrow, Theron didn’t think much of it as he swept his gaze through the last and final group. He had left them for one final purpose.

Their gazes were the most intent, their presences looming the largest.

The Ironhart Earldom. The Vermouth Earldom. The Ashenvale Earldom. And finally…

The Thistle Marquisette Clan.

Amongst the Vermouth, Theron pretty quickly spotted Malaya and gave her a small smile as well.

Malaya blushed, lowering her head quickly. A young man by her side that bore some resemblance raised an eyebrow, and then gave Theron another look. But he said nothing at all.

He seemed a year or two older than Malaya, but on his lapel there was the insignia of the Luminscent Moon Sect, meaning he wasn’t in the Imperial Academy.

‘That isn’t a normal Insignia. He is a Core Disciple.’

Core Disciples were only beneath Chosen. As far as Theron knew, the Chosen for the Luminscent Moon Sect for this generation had yet to be selected, which meant that all things considered… this young man had a very good chance at it.

His cultivation was at worst at the Higher Silver Resonance levels.

Someone this powerful wasn’t expected by Theron at all. It seemed that there would be quite some fireworks tonight.

Each noble Clan seemed to have at least one young noble of this caliber with them.

The Ashenvale had sent forward two incredibly pale-faced young women that looked like a pair of elder and younger sisters, while the Ironhart Clan…

Well, they too had sent forward two people, but Theron was only interested in the younger of them, a young man with a row of grinning silver teeth.

He wore a suit, but the sleeves had been ripped off, revealing a chiseled pair of arms lined with silver tattoos.

His hair spiked up in all directions as though he had just been shocked, and there was a fiery blaze in his bronze eyes.

Every time he moved, heavy brass bracelets that looked far too large to have successfully stayed on his wrists rattled, but one would be quick to find out that there were more pairs around his ankles as well, hovering above his bare feet.

It looked like he had been forced into formal attire, only for him to rip them apart with his bare hands.

This could only be one young man.

Thalrix Ironhart.

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