Read Novel Full Chapter 689: You Dare to Disrespect Me?! [1]
Chapter 689: You Dare to Disrespect Me?! [1]
The hall shifted instantly.
Every head lowered.
Even the most arrogant young heirs dipped into formal bows without hesitation.
Expressions changed across the room like a wave.
Leonard Vale and the two princes were certainly not in the best of moods.
Their reactions were subtle, but they were there.
Princess Priscilla was not someone they could ignore.
Michael watched the shift with mild curiosity.
He did not know the proper depth of royal etiquette, but he simply followed what the crowd did, lowering his head.
Yet anyone who glanced his way would have noticed something very simple.
His posture was relaxed and casual.
At the entrance, the heavy doors opened fully.
Soft footsteps echoed into the hall.
Princess Priscilla appeared, dressed in a deep blue gown embroidered with faint silver patterns. Her presence alone pressed against the hall with a quiet force.
The nobles kept their bows until her voice floated forward.
"Raise your heads."
They obeyed immediately.
The princes stepped down from the platform and bowed in greeting as well.
Princess Priscilla’s gaze swept across the hall once before she stepped forward toward the platform.
Michael watched her approach.
Her steps were steady, her presence sharp, and there was a faint hint of curiosity in her eyes as she looked across the gathered nobles.
For a fleeting moment, her gaze touched him.
Then she moved on.
The hall remained silent until she reached the front.
The Second Prince gestured politely.
"Your Highness, your arrival honors this gathering."
Priscilla inclined her head in acknowledgment.
"I heard you had a royal banquet. It would be rude of me not to attend."
"Let me get you a seat."
"It’s fine."
Her tone was calm but carried a natural authority.
Michael noticed the Seventh and Ninth Princes exchanging brief looks, their earlier confidence slightly shaken.
It was clear they had not anticipated her appearance.
The Second Prince gave them a mild smile. He turned back to the crowd.
"Now that the Great Princess has joined us, let us continue."
The scroll was lifted again.
The Second Prince glanced briefly at Princess Priscilla, then at the Seventh and Ninth Princes whose polite expressions were now stretched thin.
"The ninth name on the list is Viscount Mic Nor."
The hall reacted in an uneven wave.
Not many people knew Michael personally, but not many were unaware of him either.
The duke’s tournament.
The rapid elevation to viscount.
Some turned their eyes towards him.
Michael felt those gazes but did not react.
He simply stood with a relaxed posture.
He noticed something else.
The faces of the Seventh Prince, the Ninth Prince and Leonard Vale were no longer pleasant.
Michael understood why.
Most likely their intention had been to corner the Second Prince publicly and force a controversy.
But with Princess Priscilla suddenly present, the ground beneath them had shifted.
With her here, any attempt to stir chaos around the selection list now carried risk.
The Second Prince lifted his hand again.
"And the final name," he continued, "is Uga."
Michael felt an unexpected sense of nostalgia.
Uga.
He had not seen the boy since the day they fought.
A pure force of nature wrapped in human skin.
He wondered briefly why Uga was not here.
And why Renn was not here either.
If their names were on the list, then surely they were invited.
But neither of them stood anywhere in the hall.
He was still thinking about that when a soft voice drifted from the far end of the hall.
It was quiet, almost gentle, yet it spread through the entire space as if carried by a breeze.
"No surname? Is this Uga perhaps a commoner? What is a commoner name doing here?"
A hush fell.
Faces turned toward the source, though the speaker remained out of easy sight.
A moment later, a louder voice boomed from the entrance.
"His Highness, the Tenth Prince, has arrived. Everyone pay your respects!"
A wave of movement washed through the hall.
Dozens of nobles dropped into bows.
People lowered their heads in perfect, practiced motion.
Except for five.
The Seventh Prince.
The Ninth Prince.
Princess Priscilla.
The Second Prince, who did not bow to a younger sibling.
And Michael.
He remained standing with a faint frown.
A few nobles who noticed him stiffened in alarm.
Whispers nearly broke out on the spot.
The viscount did not bow?
Was he mad?
Did he not know who the Tenth Prince was?
Arianne reacted first.
Her fingers brushed lightly against Michael’s sleeve, her voice barely more than a breath.
"Sir Mic, bow your head."
Seria leaned in from the other side, her whisper sharp with urgency as well.
Michael did not move.
Arianne’s breath caught.
Seria’s eyes widened.
It was not defiance they feared, but misunderstanding. Failing to show respect to a prince in front of other royal nobility was not a small flaw in court etiquette.
"Sir Mic," Arianne hissed under her breath. "Please."
He behaved as though he heard nothing.
Michael’s attention remained fixed on the doors with a steady, unreadable expression.
Some nobles lifted their eyes slightly and froze when they saw the viscount still standing straight.
Seria’s hand trembled as she felt the gazes of the other royalty shift toward their location.
Arianne swallowed hard.
"Sir Mic, please, at least lower your gaze," she whispered.
Michael did not.
His brow remained slightly furrowed, as if something about the approaching presence had caught his interest.
The hall doors opened wider.
A collective feeling ran through the nobles.
He had arrived.
The Tenth Prince.
The heavy doors parted fully.
Light spilled into the hall, catching on the figure who stepped through.
He looked to be around twenty.
His hair was a deep gold. Each strand seemed to catch the light in a way that made his presence impossible to ignore. It framed a face that would have been handsome in a gentle way if not for the sharpness of his features.
But it was his eyes that drew the most attention to anyone that laid their eyes on him.