At the Wolfwood table, Andrea and Anita watched as the Young Wolf danced with the noble girls. Both sat in shining knightly armor, unable to join the dances because of their duties as bodyguards.
"I wanted to dance with the Young Wolf too," Anita sighed, a touch of envy in her voice.
Andrea laughed.
"Do you even know the steps of noble dances?"
"Of course not!" Anita shot back.
"Then how would you have danced?" Andrea asked, her eyes gleaming playfully.
"Like in the tavern," Anita replied with a shrug.
Andrea burst out laughing.
"Well, the nobles have never seen a dance like that! Hahaha!"
"After the knightly tournament, let's go to an inn and dance ourselves silly!" Anita said enthusiastically. "The Young Wolf would enjoy that kind of revelry much more anyway."
"Yes, indeed," Andrea nodded. "Noelle still hasn't come back? Did she really upset her stomach that badly?"
Anita answered loudly, without the slightest refinement:
"Noelle is currently wrecking the royal toilet."
Andrea gave her a stern look.
"A proper lady shouldn't speak like that."
"I'm a blacksmith's daughter," Anita shrugged. "The Young Wolf likes my foul mouth anyway."
Andrea smiled, then laughed.
"As do I. Hahaha!"
The two knights' boisterous laughter filled the area around the table, while the noble dances continued on the floor. Yet both knew: after the ball, the inn would hold a very different kind of merriment for them.
Floralys returned to sit beside Carla, while Christina eagerly stepped to the side of the Young Wolf—though in truth it was Noelle in disguise. Only fifteen minutes remained of the Royal Dance, and everyone knew: this would be the final pairing of the evening.
"At last, it's my turn," Christina said, her eyes flashing playfully. "Did you miss me, Young Wolf?"
"Hello, Christina," Noelle replied, perfectly imitating Andras's voice. "I'm glad I can dance with you as well."
"And who was better to dance with, Amelia or Floralys?" Christina asked, a touch provocatively.
"Hmm… With Floralys we spoke about magic the whole time. With her, the minutes passed so quickly I hardly noticed," Noelle answered.
"I thought so," Christina nodded. "Mage things, right? Listen, Young Wolf. If you marry Amelia, you'll get me as a bonus. What do you say?"
Noelle answered awkwardly:
"Floralys said that if I married her, I could bring Noelle along as a lover."
"Elves stick together, don't they?" Christina laughed. "Fine! If you choose Amelia, I'll be your lover, and Noelle too—and even Andrea!"
"What about Anita and Ironclaw?" Noelle asked, trying to deflect the delicate subject.
"Anita can come too," Christina replied lightly. "And Ironclaw, if you want her. Though with her it would surely be… wild. Anyway, they can all come."
Noelle's tone grew serious.
"What's the point of marriage if you'll have a crowd of lovers afterward? Isn't it better to stay free, to enjoy life as if tomorrow doesn't matter?"
Christina eyed him suspiciously.
"You're acting strange, boy! Don't tell me you've started fooling around more seriously with your girls?"
"Not yet," Noelle answered briefly.
"So you're still untouched," Christina smiled, her eyes gleaming mischievously. "Hmm… what if tonight we slipped away to a room, just the two of us?"
"That's too soon for me," Noelle shook her head. "I'm not ready for that yet, not in my heart."
"You'll get used to it, just like with magic," Christina teased.
"Such things aren't like magic," Noelle replied firmly.
Suddenly, the ballroom's lights went out. The guests gasped, the musicians' instruments fell silent. Christina looked around in surprise.
"What happened? The lights just vanished…"
Darkness fell upon the ball without warning, and everyone felt it: something extraordinary was about to unfold.
The ballroom shimmered with light, the melodies of the musicians filling the air—until suddenly, every light went out. Darkness fell upon the hall, as though the night itself had descended upon the palace. Christina had just finished her first dance with the Young Wolf when the shadows swallowed the splendor of the ball. The guests gasped, the instruments fell silent, and the hush became chilling.
But let us rewind time. The true Young Wolf, Andras, was already at the entrance of the ball, disguised as a royal maid. The corridors were empty, for everyone's attention was fixed upon the dance. Andras slipped into a vacant chamber he had visited before, and once more assumed Noelle's form. This time, upon the half‑elf girl's maid attire, he left the wolf crest displayed—to mark his allegiance.
The ballroom was lit by fire‑elemental crystals, yet Andras had prepared in advance: beneath the Wolfwood table lay a magical device capable of short‑circuiting the crystals. When he activated it from afar, the lights extinguished all at once, plunging the hall into pitch black.
Moments later, the crystals flared again, light returning to the chamber, and the guests stood in stunned silence. But then the hush was broken by a new presence. Atop the great chandelier, as if emerging from nothing, sat a masked figure. Clad head to toe in blood‑red garments, like a sinister shadow. His mask was half black, half white: one eye laughed, the other wept.
Every gaze in the ballroom turned toward him. The guests held their breath as the mysterious figure slowly rose upon the chandelier, his presence radiating a chilling tension. It was as though fate itself had stepped into the ball, ready to alter the course of the night.
The ballroom's radiance suddenly vanished, then flared back to life, and every gaze turned toward the figure perched atop the chandelier. Clad in blood‑red garments, masked with one eye laughing and the other weeping, he was a grotesque, ominous sight.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the stranger bellowed, his voice both playful and threatening. "Tonight's star guest has arrived! Allow me to introduce myself: I am the Magical Thief, Liverpool!"
The crowd murmured in shock, and the Hero stepped forward.
"Magical Thief, Liverpool?"
"I came here," the masked figure continued, "to proudly announce that I have stolen the royal family's greatest treasure!"
The King cried out in outrage.
"Our greatest treasure?! The crown is upon my head. Our legendary sword, the Dragonslayer, rests at Captain John's side. Then what have you stolen, you villain?!"
Liverpool spread his arms with laughter.
"Well? Can you guess? Or shall I reveal it?"
"Tell us at once what you've stolen, rogue!" thundered the King.
The masked thief slowly drew something from his pocket.
"The royal family's greatest treasure is none other than… drumroll… the Princess's panties!!!"
The crowd gasped in disbelief. Liverpool triumphantly waved the garment in his hand.
"But those are mine!" the Princess shrieked, her face blazing red. "That's my favorite pair! He really stole my panties! Give them back, you vile scoundrel!"
"You fiend!" roared the King, trembling with fury. "For this you shall hang! Return my daughter's undergarments at once!"
Liverpool laughed, retreating along the edge of the chandelier.
"Ah‑ah! I've decided to keep them… for other purposes. Farewell!"
At that instant, the ballroom's lights extinguished once more. Darkness fell upon the palace as though the night itself had descended again. The guests screamed, the musicians' instruments fell silent, and all felt it: the Magical Thief had vanished into the shadows.
"Is this his doing?!" the King thundered, his voice filling the ballroom. "In the darkness he will escape! Seize him at once! He must not get away!"