The Extra's Rise - Chapter 380

Chapter 380: Star of Valor (2)

I felt Kali’s grip loosen as I stepped forward, moving alone toward the dais. The marble floor seemed to stretch endlessly beneath my feet, the distance between commoner and king expanding with each step. Yet I maintained my composure, my posture relaxed but respectful.

When I reached the foot of the dais, I knelt, bowing my head as protocol demanded.

“Rise,” Valen said, his voice carrying effortlessly throughout the hall despite its quiet tone. “Arthur Nightingale, you stand before us as a testament to valor beyond your years.”

I stood, meeting his gaze directly. Up close, the power that radiated from him was almost overwhelming—like standing before a banked inferno that could, at any moment, roar into destructive life.

“The Star of Valor,” he continued, accepting an ornate box from an attendant, “is awarded only to those who have demonstrated exceptional courage in defense of the Western continent or its representatives.” He opened the box, revealing a gleaming medallion of platinum and sapphire, crafted in the shape of a six-pointed star. “Your actions against the Axe King, protecting our Grand Marshal when all seemed lost, have earned you this honor.”

I bowed my head in acceptance.

Valen removed the medallion from its velvet cushion and stepped forward, placing it around my neck himself rather than having an attendant do so—a significant honor that caused a ripple of whispers through the crowd.

As he leaned close, he spoke words meant only for my ears: “Your second reward will require private discussion.” His lips barely moved, the message delivered with perfect discretion.

He stepped back, raising his voice once more for the benefit of the assembly. “Let it be known that Arthur Nightingale is recognized as a friend of the Western continent and of House Ashbluff.”

The declaration was met with polite applause that quickly grew in enthusiasm. I bowed again, this time more deeply.

“You honor me beyond my deserving, Your Majesty,” I said, the formal response expected in such circumstances.

A slight smile touched Valen’s lips—an expression so rare that several courtiers gasped audibly. “Perhaps,” he replied, “or perhaps not. Time will tell which of us has honored the other more greatly.”

The cryptic statement hung in the air as he returned to his throne, a subtle gesture dismissing me from the formal presentation. As I turned to rejoin the gathering, the orchestra struck up a lively waltz, signaling the commencement of the celebratory portion of the evening.

I made my way back to where Kali waited, her posture rigid with the effort of maintaining courtly composure.

“That was… unexpected,” she murmured as I reached her side. “The King rarely bestows medals personally.”

“I noticed,” I replied, fingering the heavy medallion that now hung against my chest. The Star of Valor was no mere decoration—it contained enchantments that would provide subtle protection against harmful magics. A practical gift as well as a symbolic one.

Around us, couples began moving toward the center of the hall as the dance floor opened. Nobles and dignitaries paired off, their movements forming the intricate patterns of the traditional Western waltz.

I turned to Kali, extending my hand with formal precision. “Would you do me the honor?” I asked, my tone deliberately exaggerated.

Her eyebrows rose fractionally. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly,” I replied, maintaining the gesture. “I need to blend in, and standing awkwardly at the edge of the room will only draw more attention. Besides,” I added with a hint of challenge, “I doubt you know the steps to a proper Western waltz.”

Her eyes narrowed at the provocation, exactly as I’d intended. “I trained with the Shadow Dancers of Maevar for three years. There isn’t a dance form on this continent I haven’t mastered.”

“Prove it,” I suggested, my hand still extended.

For a moment, I thought she might refuse out of pure spite. Then, with an expression that promised future retribution, she placed her hand in mine.

“One dance,” she specified. “And if you step on my toes even once, oath or no oath, there will be consequences.”

I smiled, leading her toward the dance floor. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As we took our position among the other couples, I caught sight of King Valen watching us from his throne, that same enigmatic smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Whatever his “second reward” entailed, I had a feeling it would be far more consequential than a medal, no matter how prestigious.

The music swelled around us as Kali and I began to move in perfect synchronization, our steps matching as though we’d rehearsed for weeks rather than thrown together by circumstance. For all her protests, she was indeed a flawless dancer, her movements fluid and precise.

“Not bad, Nightingale,” she conceded as I guided her through a complex turn. “Perhaps you’re not entirely without grace.”

“High praise from the mighty Kali Maelkith,” I returned, spinning her outward before drawing her back in. “I’ll treasure this rare compliment.”

Her lips curved upward despite her obvious attempt to remain aloof. “Don’t push your luck.”

The waltz concluded, and as Kali and I stepped away from the dance floor, we were immediately surrounded by Western nobility. Their eagerness reminded me of predators circling wounded prey—all polite smiles and honeyed words that barely concealed their underlying ambitions.

“Mister Nightingale, what an honor to meet you,” said a portly noble whose name I couldn’t recall. “My daughter is quite the talented mage. Perhaps you might spare a moment to make her acquaintance?”

Before I could respond, a silver-haired baroness cut in. “Arthur, may I call you Arthur? I’ve heard such fascinating things about your research into necromantic theory. The Viridian Academy would be most interested in offering you a fellowship…”

Kali stood beside me, her face fixed in a polite mask that I knew concealed growing irritation. Her fingers twitched slightly at her side—a tell that she was contemplating summoning Deepdark just for the satisfaction of watching these nobles scatter in terror.

“You’re quite popular,” she murmured under her breath. “Should I be jealous?”

I suppressed a smile. “Terribly. Can’t you see I’m being fought over like the last sweetroll at a feast?”

Her lips quirked upward despite her attempt to maintain her aloof demeanor. “More like vultures over a carcass.”

A young noblewoman with elaborate golden curls pushed her way to the front of the crowd, batting her eyelashes with practiced precision. “Mister Nightingale, I simply must hear the tale of your encounter with the Axe King directly from your lips. Perhaps over a private dinner?”

Kali’s expression darkened, and I felt her aura shift subtly—not enough for the others to notice, but a clear warning to me that her patience was wearing thin.

“While I appreciate the interest,” I began diplomatically, “I’m afraid my schedule during this visit is quite—”

“Excuse me,” came a familiar voice from behind the crowd. “I need to borrow my classmate.”

The nobles parted, revealing Crown Prince Jin Ashbluff. At sixteen, he carried himself with the confidence of both royalty and exceptional talent, though I knew better than most that it was partly a mask. Unlike his regal attire during formal functions at Mythos Academy, tonight he wore the full regalia of his station—royal blue and silver that emphasized his status rather than his age.

Several of the nobles looked between us in confusion, clearly trying to reconcile the casual familiarity in Jin’s tone with our respective stations.

“Your Highness,” I acknowledged with a nod that was just respectful enough to avoid causing offense, but familiar enough to confirm our acquaintance. “How fortunate to run into a fellow member of Class A.”

Jin’s eye twitched slightly at my deliberate mention of our shared class at Mythos Academy. As the only students from the Western continent in the elite Class A, we had a connection that predated my recent rise to fame—though few knew just how complicated that connection had become since I’d secured his cooperation through carefully applied blackmail.

“My father wishes to speak with you,” Jin said, his tone carefully neutral though I could detect the underlying resentment. “Now, rather than at midnight as originally planned.”

I turned to Kali with an apologetic shrug. “Duty calls. Try not to miss me too much.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll somehow endure your absence.”

Jin and I moved away from the crowd, maintaining a facade of casual camaraderie that would seem natural to observers given our shared status as classmates. Once we were out of earshot, however, his demeanor changed.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he muttered, leading me toward a less populated corridor. “Playing the hero when half the people in that room would faint if they knew what you’re really capable of.”

“Says the prince who’s bound by a mana oath to assist a commoner,” I replied quietly. “How is that going for you, by the way? Has the heir to the Western throne found his servitude educational?”

Jin led me through several more corridors before pausing at the base of a spiral staircase, ignoring my jab at him. “This leads to my father’s private study in the Eastern Tower. He’s waiting for you there.” His expression shifted, showing genuine concern despite our antagonistic relationship. “Be careful, Arthur. My father doesn’t request private audiences with teenagers, no matter how talented. Whatever he wants from you… it’s significant.”

I studied him for a moment, surprised by the warning. “Worried about me, Jin? How touching.”

“I’m worried about what happens if he decides you’re a threat rather than an asset,” Jin clarified. “Despite everything, you’re still my classmate. And Mythos Academy would be considerably less interesting without your particular brand of chaos.”

Coming from Jin, this was practically a declaration of friendship. I nodded, acknowledging both the warning and the unexpected sentiment behind it.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, starting up the staircase.

“Arthur,” Jin called after me, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “My father can see through deception better than anyone I’ve ever known. If he asks you something directly… consider honesty. It might save your life.”

I paused, looking back at him with raised eyebrows. “That’s the second favor you’ve done me today. Keep this up, and I might start thinking you actually care.”

Jin scoffed, though there was less heat in it than usual. “Just ensuring my investment remains intact. If my father eliminates you, I’m still bound by that damned oath with no benefit.”

“Of course,” I replied with a knowing smile. “Purely practical.”

I continued up the spiral staircase, leaving Jin at the bottom. The climb gave me time to compose myself, considering what King Valen Ashbluff might want from a sixteen-year-old boy with a growing reputation. By the time I reached the heavy oak door at the top of the tower, I had run through a dozen possibilities, none of them entirely reassuring.

I knocked firmly on the door.

“Enter,” came a commanding voice from within.

The study was circular, lined with ancient tomes and artifacts that pulsed with power detectable even to my untrained senses. A large window offered a sweeping view of the Western capital, moonlight streaming through to illuminate the imposing figure standing behind a massive desk.

King Valen Ashbluff turned as I entered, his penetrating gaze assessing me with an intensity that would have made most grown men falter. Despite Jin’s warnings, I met his eyes directly, refusing to show the deference expected of my age.

“Arthur Nightingale,” he said, my name sounding like both a statement and a question in his resonant voice. “We have much to discuss.”