Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 539: The Velvet Veil of Nagareth

The Velvet Veil of Nagareth

Night stretched like a velvet curtain over the sprawling lands north of Vel. The distance between the ancient city and the rising jewel of New Nagareth was vast, but even from afar, its glow was unmistakable. Fires of torches and lanterns flickered like constellations fallen to the ground, outlining streets that bustled despite the lateness of the hour. The city had grown rapidly since Leon’s arrival, its streets a living, breathing testament to his power and vision. Each avenue was paved with polished stone; the façades of buildings reflected both moonlight and lamplight, giving the metropolis a surreal, almost magical sheen.

In the heart of the city, a grand estate rose like a crown above the surrounding streets. Its walls were high, its gates adorned with intricate engravings of the golden seven-headed naga, symbolizing the dominance and protection of the Nagareth Kingdom. Lavish carriages rolled past the cobblestones in an orderly procession, each drawn by black-and-gold horses with bridles glittering under the twin moons. Servants and guards lined the streets at intervals, bowing as the carriages passed, their movements precise and rehearsed. This was the territory of Count William, a man whose name carried weight in the northern provinces, and tonight, every detail was meticulously arranged for his presence.

The first carriage stopped at the ornate gates of the estate. The gatekeeper, a stern-looking man with a scar cutting across his left cheek, gestured with a hand clad in black leather gloves. The carriage doors opened smoothly, releasing a gentle hiss of night air into the polished hallways. Servants in crisp uniforms and the soft gleam of silver buttons moved quickly to receive guests, their footsteps silent against the marble floors.

Inside, the estate was a labyrinth of luxury. Velvet tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of conquest and prosperity. Crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings, catching the light of hundreds of candles and scattering it across the polished floors. Maids in black uniforms with subtle silver trim glided along the corridors, their movements measured and practiced. Their long hair swayed slightly with each step, and their eyes reflected both duty and a quiet intelligence. Butlers, equally precise, held trays of refreshments, their expressions neutral yet commanding a presence of subtle authority.

The hall itself was enormous, a grand chamber where the high ceilings arched like the belly of some immense creature. At the center stood a long, polished table of dark wood, carved with intricate runes that shimmered faintly in the candlelight. Chairs were placed with calculated spacing, each waiting to hold the weight of those who would negotiate, plan, or command. Tonight, the room was empty except for the soft shuffle of maids arranging the final details, placing crystal goblets, silver plates, and embroidered napkins. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and polished oak, a sensory reminder that this was both a place of power and refinement.

One of the maids paused by a window, catching sight of the twin moons reflecting off the estate’s grand fountain in the courtyard below. Her gaze lingered for a moment, wondering at the quiet majesty of the city from this height. She could see carriages still arriving, moving with a rhythm that seemed choreographed by some unseen hand. The northern wind whispered through the open window, carrying with it the scent of pine from the forests beyond the city’s walls and the faint tang of the sea from far off to the east.

"Everything must be perfect," whispered a butler as he adjusted a candelabra. His voice was low, almost conspiratorial, yet sharp enough to slice through the stillness. "Count William will not tolerate disorder. Not tonight."

The maids nodded, moving with renewed urgency. Velvet curtains were drawn to the correct height, mirrors polished to remove the slightest smudge, and even the footsteps of the servants were timed to avoid any echo that could disturb the impression of pristine order. Every detail, every movement, every gesture was a thread in the intricate tapestry of expectation and protocol.

Outside, the city continued to pulse with life. From the rooftops, lanterns flickered in the breeze as traders finished their final sales, street performers practiced their acrobatics for the morning crowd, and the distant hum of horse hooves echoed off stone walls. For all the serenity inside the estate, the world beyond remained restless and alive, a living organism that responded to the commands of its new king and the shadowy movements of his appointed guardians.

The grand staircase at the back of the hall gleamed under the soft illumination of sconces, the steps polished to a reflective shine. From the top of the staircase, the faintest sound—a tap, tap, tap—began to descend, punctuating the quiet. The maids paused in their movements, heads tilting slightly, listening. Even the butlers stiffened, aware that someone was about to make an entrance. Their eyes flicked toward the staircase, anticipation coiling in their chests.

Time itself seemed to stretch as the faint sound grew nearer. The ticking of a clock somewhere in the hall echoed in the high ceilings, a metronome marking the inevitable approach of whoever was coming down. Every breath, every heartbeat, every soft shuffle of silk and leather was amplified in the silence of the room.

And then, just as the last echo of the tick reverberated off the marble, the sound shifted—no longer just a tic-tac, but a movement, deliberate, measured. A shadow appeared at the top of the stairs. Someone was descending.

The servants froze, their tasks momentarily forgotten. The twin moons outside cast a pale, ethereal light through the large windows, illuminating the figure as it stepped forward. Even from a distance, the presence was commanding, the very air seeming to recognize authority before the body was fully visible.

The maids exchanged nervous glances, the butlers’ hands twitching slightly over their trays. In that frozen moment, everything in the estate—the polished floors, the hanging tapestries, the glimmering chandeliers—felt suspended in anticipation.

The night had stretched its arms across the city, and now, in the center of its most lavish domain, the air held its breath, waiting to see who would emerge from the shadowed staircase.