A Background Character's Path to Power-Chapter 216: Arrival At The Derier City

The sun dipped below the jagged mountain peaks, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange and purple.

After hours of asteady trekking, punctuated by a few swift, decisive skirmishes against hungry beasts, the weary travelers finally saw it: the sprawling silhouette of Derier City.

Its colossal walls, dwarfing even Eclipse Keep, rose from the flat plains like an ancient sentinel, pierced by four massive gates.

Each of the city’s four gates served a distinct purpose: three provided the main entrances to the territories of the great Shield Families. Luthaire, Viremont, and Fenvar, while the fourth led directly to the Iron Throat Pass, connecting the region to the rest of the kingdom.

Officially, the city was under the Viremont Family’s jurisdiction, but governance was shared, with a neutral city lord appointed to maintain balance.

At least on the surface.

They passed through the Luthaire Family’s gate, a grand arch adorned with the family’s crest. The streets within buzzed with a liveliness starkly different from the somber quiet of Eclipse Keep.

Torchlight flickered from open doorways, casting dancing shadows, and the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread drifted in the air.

"We’ll find an inn for the night," Professor Harken announced, wiping the snow from his spectacles. "We will continue the journey tomorrow morning, after a good meal and a proper rest."

The others agreed, and soon they found themselves standing before The Frostbloom Inn, a modest but well-kept establishment near the city center.

Lumin approached the counter, where a stout innkeeper polished a glass with a worn cloth.

"Rooms available?"

The man glanced up, nodding. "Aye. How many?"

"Two. And dinner for four."

The innkeeper plucked two iron keys from a rack behind him. "Third floor. Meals’ll be ready when you come down."

"Thank you."

Upstairs, they split, Lumin and Zephyr in one room, Harken and Aeron in the other. After washing off the grime of travel and changing into lighter clothes (Derier’s climate was milder than the mountains’, the inn’s temperature was pretty good too), they regrouped in the common area.

As they settled around the worn oak table, steaming plates of roasted lamb and spiced vegetables before them, Lumin let his attention drift across the bustling common room.

While the others dug into their meals, he tuned his enhanced senses to the surrounding conversations, filtering through the noise for anything useful.

Near the fireplace, a group of merchants grumbled. "Worst winter in twenty years, I tell ya," a red-faced man declared.

"The pass was nearly impassable for weeks." His companion nodded vigorously, adding, "Aye, and the frostbite’s been terrible this season, lost three fingers meself! Look, they aren’t moving at all."

At a corner table, two women whispered behind their hands. "Heard the Viremont’s second daughter, Lady Seraphina, was caught in quite a scandal with the Crown Prince."

Another voice, equally hushed, responded, "Aye, what a mess. The rumors say he was far too... familiar in the Academy Gardens. A disgrace, apparently."

The first one chuckled, "Disgrace or clever maneuver, depends on who you ask."

...Guess women mostly talk about these kinds of things.

At a smaller table, a well-dressed merchant was speaking with a cloaked figure. Their conversation was hushed, but fragments drifted over. "The Ironclad Legion has been quieter than usual, haven’t they? No grand pronouncements, no new decrees from the royal family. Makes you wonder if they even care about the Hollowlands sometimes."

"Hmmm..." The cloaked figure merely hummed, an ambiguous sound. He probably didn’t want to talk about sensitive topics.

"And the Guild of Menders," the merchant continued, understanding the gesture, "they’ve put out a new bounty, haven’t they? For rare medicinal herbs that only appear around the Hollowlands. Something about a blight affecting the noble houses in the capital. Desperate times, I suppose."

Lumin’s fingers stilled around his fork. That last bit was particularly interesting and potentially profitable.

He made a mental note to inquire further tomorrow.

Then, he took a slow sip of his honeyed tea, letting the warmth soothe his throat as he observed the sudden shift in atmosphere. The lively chatter of the inn had died to murmurs, and dozens of eyes flicked toward the entrance.

"It’s her?" someone whispered.

"Yeah, she’s already returned."

"Guess she couldn’t bear the shame.

"...or the fame."

"..."

Though he had his suspicions, curiosity still pricked at him. Like the others, he turned his gaze toward the counter.

Three figures stood before the nervous innkeeper.

The first was unmistakable, a young noblewoman, no older than seventeen, with fiery red hair spilling from beneath an ermine-lined hood.

Her winter coat, embroidered with silver thread, marked her as someone of high status. Two maids hovered behind her, their expressions carefully blank.

But it was the second woman who drew Lumin’s sharpened attention.

Dressed in a deep blue traveling cloak, she wore both a headscarf and a veil that obscured the lower half of her face.

Only her eyes were visible, sharp, calculating, and utterly indifferent to the whispers around her. She stood silently, waiting as the innkeeper fidgeted under the noble girl’s glare.

The tension was palpable.

"I will take that room."

The red-haired noble’s voice cut through the silence, cold and imperious.

The innkeeper swallowed. "M-My lady, it’s already reserved for—"

"I don’t care." She flicked a pouch onto the counter. "Move them elsewhere."

A beat.

"No."

The veiled woman spoke for the first time, her voice low but carrying. She didn’t even glance at the noble. "The room is mine. Keep your money."

The noble’s eyes flashed. "Do you know who I am?"

"Should I care?"

A collective inhale swept through the room.

Even Lumin’s fingers twitched; this was escalating fast. And the veiled woman... She sounded a little familiar...

The noble’s maids tensed, one reaching subtly into her sleeve.

The veiled woman didn’t move, but something in her stance shifted, like a blade loosening in its sheath.

The innkeeper looked ready to faint.

"Miss Carmine."

A new voice, smooth and bemused, cut through the tension.

A man in an expensive winter robe leaned against the stair railing, his smile razor-thin. "Causing trouble already? And here I thought you’d be hiding after your... incident with the prince."

"You—!"

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