'That's not good...' Noble could feel the newcomer's aura hit her like a wave.
The newcomer was imposing, with long, luxurious hair and a dark, feathery beard. His shoulders were so wide that they seemed like they could hold the NQSC across them. He was ruggedly handsome, and all of the women might have swooned for him if not for the fierce, cold look in his eyes and the half mask covering the top part of his face.
The retinue from the Maharana Clan stood across the room, surrounding the Saint protectively. Though if anything happened, they would be the ones in need of protection.
Noble watched them enter with morbid curiosity. The man might have been trying to hide his identity, but she knew that stance well.
She had only had interactions with Dar in the Dreamscape back when they were both Awakened, so it was a little strange to see him wearing a form-fitting tuxedo instead of armor.
He wasn't exactly what she was expecting, but what he had expected from a long-range arrow sniper, Noble couldn't exactly say.
'Also, when did he become a Saint?!'
Tristan eyed the newcomer with contempt. The young Master's wild accusation did nothing to take away from his handsome physique, but it did make him look more insane than he had before.
Was he really trying to blame the person who had just arrived for his sister meeting a man at a party? That was quite the stretch, even for the hot-headed legacy.
Dar slowly scanned the room, ignoring the initial outburst. Eventually, his clear, observant eyes moved to Awakened Aaryav, a frown forming on his chiseled face. For the first time, Aaryav's confidence faltered. Dar's glance swept across Clara and finally landed on Tristan.
The Saint viewed the haughty Master man with indifference. "Did you say something, Master Tristan?"
Instead of backing down, Tristan was emboldened to continue. "You know I did, Sir. You and your charge need to answer for this injustice."
'Is that Dar's Brother?' Noble thought the two dark-haired men looked similar. They were at the very least blood-related for Dar to come out of his seclusion, even if he was partially in disguise.
Somehow, the professor managed to keep her face neutral; only her eyes betrayed her shock.
'Dar's brother and Tristan's sister! How in two worlds did that happen?!'
Two young people from rival domains falling in love. It was a real-life Romeo and Juliet story!
Forbidden love was alluring no matter the age in history, and it seemed that these two had played the odds and been discovered. What was more unfortunate was that both of their siblings were powerful Awakened. Tristan could squash Aaryav, but Dar could obliterate Tristan before he ever got that chance.
Noble suddenly felt like an extra in a movie. A movie where a wrong move on the part of the main cast could end in many real casualties.
Dar strode forward, the beat of his unhurried steps drowning out what was left of the music. He came within striking distance of Tristan and paused.
"The greater injustice would be that you are an ungracious guest. Tell me, who would need to answer for that?"
"Tristan, this isn't the place..." The second young man from Aegis Rose tugged Tristan's sleeve.
"You, whoever you are!" The scion's emotions spiked. What he lacked in vocabulary, he made up for with gusto. "On my honor, I am not afraid of you!"
"You should be." Dar's expression softened as he glanced past the knight of Valor. "Thank you for trying, Mercy. Everyone knows you do the best with what you were given."
"What is that supposed to mean?!" Tristan's eyes looked like they might bulge out of his head.
"It means nothing!" Mercy rubbed the back of his neck.
"Choose your weapon, sir!" Tristan began to remove his dinner jacket.
"If you want to die today, I will not stop you," Dar left his coat on his shoulders.
"No! This is my doing." Having gotten over his shock, Aaryav finally found his voice to intervene. "I will not let you fight my battle."
"Two duels in sequence, then," Tristan nodded. "Then I will take Lady Clara home."
"Tristan, please!" Clara clung to her brother's arm.
"Master Tristan!" A loud tap of a cane silenced the room. "You will not spill blood on my property. I knew your father and his father. They would be ashamed of this show of mock gallantry!"
If anyone else had said it, Tristan would have immediately engaged himself in a third duel for the evening. However, Ambrose was both elderly and mundane. Tristan paused, indignation on the tip of his tongue.
'Oh no, you don't!' Noble had not wanted to get involved, and up until now it had been a family matter.
However, the professor was not about to let their kind host be disrespected in his own house.
She pressed calm onto Master Tristan, pulling his anger away as she did so. There was a struggle for control, though Noble doubted that Tristan was aware of it. Something else was trying to wrest the anger from her.
'Is that his Flaw?'
She wasn't sure, so rather than play a game of tug of war, Noble doubled down on the calm she injected into Tristan's being. There was no string to be a conduit, so the floating Saint used brute force instead.
The pressure might have broken a mundane human, but it was just enough to get through to Tristan.
'Hard-headed!' Noble wanted to click her tongue.
She persisted, filling him with equanimity until there was no room left for hate.
"Leave my home at once. I will be speaking to your mother about this." Ambrose finished, his voice sounding stronger than it had earlier that evening.
"I..."
Tristan swayed. Mercy caught his arm and seized the chance.
"My companion seems to have enjoyed too many refreshments. We will leave at once and not return this evening, Mister Ambrose. Thank you for your hospitality, and I am sorry for the intrusion."
Pulling Tristan away from Clara, Mercy escorted the man toward the front door.
"This isn't over," Tristan began.
Mercy tightened his grip. "For tonight, my friend, it is."
"And you, Mysterious Saint. Do you mean to cause trouble in my home?" Ambrose looked the tall, muscular warrior up and down.
Dar glanced at his brother and sighed. "No. I will have a brief word with my kinsman and be on my way as well."
"As you say, then. Have a good evening." Ambrose tapped his cane lightly. "Where is the music? This is Nasrak's final concert before he leaves for the Dream Realm. Strike up the band!"
With a gracious nod, Nasrak lifted his baton, and the orchestra was revived. A pleasant melody filled the air, but the two men were not able to enjoy it. They left the dance floor to speak privately in the corner. Fortunately for Noble, that place was just close enough for the nosy Saint to hear their conversation.
"Brother, I–"
"Sh! Have your fun tonight, Aaryav," Dar paused. "You cannot see her again after this. It's too dangerous...for both of you."
"But," Aaryav began, but the cold look from his brother silenced him. "I understand."
Dar's expression softened. "If you love her enough to go against two worlds, then you'd better both disappear where neither the king nor queen will find you. The dead gods will not be helping you, no matter how true your affection."
The younger man nodded somberly. "Thank you, broth–Mysterious Saint."
They parted ways, Dar heading for the door and Aaryav returning to Clara. The young man forced a smile, but Noble could feel his despair. For the sake of the young lady's safety, he would break her heart at the end of the evening.
'Not exactly Romeo and Juliet, but just as tragic…' Noble sighed.
"That was quite a show," the man closest to her tried to strike up a conversation.
Noble smiled politely at him. "It certainly was."
The other guest shook his head, running one thumb along the side of his glass.
"Funny thing. Sir Tristan hadn't had anything to drink, no less the Awakened wine." The man's glance flicked up toward Noble. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"