Damian arrived at White Stone Manor precisely on time. He wore a sharp, black double-breasted suit that he had Transfigured himself, using the Dress and Etiquette book from Chris's study as a reference.
A localized warming charm? Damian wondered as he stepped onto the grounds.
The environment here was completely different from the freezing town outside. The air was pleasantly warm, carrying the sweet fragrance of the blooming Red Iris flowers that filled the garden. There wasn't a single trace of the harsh northern winter to be found.
Damian handed his invitation to the attendant waiting at the door. The man glanced at the name, pressed a hand to his chest in a respectful bow, and stepped aside. "Lord Damian, please come inside."
The attendant led Damian down a small pebble path lined with intricately carved brickwork. Passing through the grand porch, an exquisite fountain came into view, its surrounding flower beds completely overflowing with Red Irises.
Lady Alsha really loves her Irises, Damian noted silently.
The main banquet hall sat just beyond the fountain. Surprisingly, the layout felt remarkably cozy. Huge, warm-colored chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their designs elegant but devoid of flamboyant, excessive carvings.
Long rectangular tables were scattered across the room, piled high with gourmet food and fine wines. To the right, a live band played soft, relaxing music for the mingling guests.
It was a stark contrast to Damian's recent summer vacation back home. He had attended an enrollment dinner at Malfoy Manor for young Draco, and the Malfoy family's decorations had been entirely focused on showing off their obscene wealth and luxury.
The hall was already bustling with guests holding wine glasses and chatting in small groups.
Stretching out his magical perception, Damian realized that a large portion of the attendees were wizards. Unlike the hidden magical communities back in his world, the spellcasters here didn't hide from ordinary people. The Blizzard Kingdom was a country openly ruled by magic, with the Court Wizards acting as the true governing authority.
"Lord Damian!" a familiar voice called out.
Damian turned to see a very surprised Captain Link Watson approaching him.
Link had entirely shed his usual lazy temperament. His tall, athletic figure was clad in a sharply tailored suit, making him look alert and energetic. Anna stood beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. She wore a dazzling, sweeping gown that caught the chandelier's light perfectly.
Seeing the shock on the Captain's face, Damian offered a slight smile. "I received a personal invitation from Lady Alsha as well."
Link blinked in astonishment. Damian had only been in White Stone Town for a matter of days. Earning an invitation from the manor's master that quickly was unheard of.
"Did you know Lady Alsha before coming here?" Link asked.
Damian shook his head. "No. As I mentioned, I am a wandering, reclusive wizard. I just arrived in town and have never met her."
Link easily accepted the lie. It wasn't uncommon for 'reclusive' wizards to awaken their magic by accidentally stumbling across an ancient inheritance, leaving them disconnected from formal magical society.
"Lady Alsha is an Adjutant to the Court Wizards and is incredibly famous among our generation," Link explained eagerly. "Through her, you can easily integrate into the proper magical circles. Come, I'll introduce you."
Since Damian had saved the lives of his cousin Chris and little Tina, Link had a very favorable impression of the young wizard. He genuinely wanted to help Damian establish himself. Furthermore, Lady Alsha had a blindingly bright future; Link fully expected her to be promoted back to the Royal Capital very soon.
Link led Damian toward the center of the hall, where the master of the manor was holding court.
Lady Alsha wore a stunning, creamy-white gown tailored in a classic aristocratic style, its sweeping hem decorated with intricate lace pleats.
The boat neckline perfectly framed her elegant neck, its edges embroidered with delicate patterns that resembled a sea of snow-colored spring flowers. Her long, chestnut hair was styled into careful waves that cascaded over her bare shoulders. Pure white evening gloves stretched past her elbows, adding a touch of refined gentleness to her striking appearance.
"Lady Alsha, you look as radiant as ever," Link complimented with a sincere bow.
"Thank you for the kind words, Captain," Alsha replied, her smile bright. "I hope you all have a wonderful time tonight." Her voice was soft, melodic, and entirely captivating.
Noticing that her emerald eyes had shifted to Damian, Link quickly stepped aside. "My Lady, please allow me to introduce you. This is Lord Damian, an exceptionally skilled wizard who recently arrived in town."
Damian offered a flawless, aristocratic bow. "Lady Alsha. You are undoubtedly the most brilliant pearl in the room tonight. It is an honor to finally meet you."
Her smile deepened, turning both elegant and knowing. "Thank you for the praise, Lord Damian. One of my subordinate officials happened to witness your brief scuffle with Anna by the river yesterday."
She smoothly explained the mystery of his invitation. "To be so young yet possess such extraordinary combat instincts... you are a truly promising talent."
"Dissanayake," Alsha called out softly, summoning a passing waiter. She made it a point to memorize the name of every servant in her manor. "Lord Damian is my honored new guest. See to it that he is well entertained, and ensure his glass is never empty."
Damian smoothly lifted a crystal goblet of wine from the servant's silver tray, offering Alsha a charming smile in thanks.
Just then, a well-dressed butler with greying hair approached the group. "Miss," he murmured respectfully. "All the guests for the evening have arrived. Shall we officially begin the banquet?"
This man wasn't the original steward of White Stone Manor. He was a loyal confidant who had followed Alsha from the Royal Capital, stepping into the role of head butler the moment the former mayor gifted her the estate. Because of their long history, he—along with several of her older servants—was accustomed to calling her 'Miss' rather than her formal titles.
Alsha nodded to the butler before turning back to Damian. She gracefully extended her gloved right hand.
"Lord Damian, the banquet is about to begin. Would you do me the honor of sharing the opening dance?"
Damian gladly accepted. It was standard aristocratic social behavior, after all. He gently took her long, slender fingers in his own. "It would be my absolute privilege, My Lady."
Fortunately, the Dress and Etiquette book had described this dimension's social dances in great detail, and he had practiced the steps a few times in his study before leaving. Besides, in his current life at Hogwarts, Damian had attended countless pure-blood high-society galas. He could navigate these lavish social minefields with effortless calm—something his past-life self would have completely failed at.
The band abruptly stopped their background music. Recognizing the cue, the guests mingling in the center of the hall respectfully scattered to the edges.
Alsha led Damian straight to the center of the cleared dance floor, instantly making them the focal point of the entire room.
As a sweeping, atmospheric waltz began to play, Damian extended his arm. Alsha rested her hand in his palm. Even through the fabric of her white glove, he could feel a delicate softness, like touching spun silk.
They moved together in perfect sync, executing an elegant three-step turn. Alsha's heavy skirt fluttered gracefully, carving beautiful arcs through the air.
As he guided her through the rotations, he studied her closely. Her curled chestnut hair bounced gently against her fair shoulders with every step. Even at such an intimate distance, Damian couldn't find a single flaw on her face.
Her jawline was perfectly defined, her facial contours striking and elegant. Her large, bright emerald eyes revealed a sharp, captivating spirit. With her straight nose and full, crimson lips curved into a warm smile, she looked breathtaking.
It was as if time had frozen for her at the age of eighteen, immortalizing her like a young maiden in a classical oil painting.
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