Zeke and Lara exchanged a glance as the horseless carriage came to a stop in front of them. Even she, as a decorated veteran of countless battles, was visibly tense. Zeke couldn’t say if it was from excitement or nerves, but the casual ease Lara usually projected was absent now.
As per usual, one of the waiting staff members opened the carriage. With a fluttering heart, Zeke waited for somebody to emerge. When a figure finally appeared, Zeke could barely hide his shock.
The person was covered from head to toe in a flowing, black dress. Not even their eyes were visible. However, this was not what had surprised him. Zeke had seen too many people in strange clothing for this to startle him. No, what truly stunned him was the fact that he could not see through the person’s clothing at all. Even while concentrating with all his might, his [Perfect Spatial Awareness] could not penetrate that thin layer of fabric.
All that showed up in his sphere of perception was a gaping black void. It reminded Zeke of how Voidiron appeared to his senses — this realization managed to give him pause. Was this it? Did they somehow incorporate a mana-repellent material into the fabric? He didn’t have long to ponder this matter as the figure approached with swift steps.
“Greetings,” Zeke said hastily. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name, sir messenger.”
“Messenger suits me just fine, Ezekiel von Hohenheim,” the figure responded in a raspy voice.
From the tone alone, Zeke wasn’t even able to figure out if the speaker was a man or a woman. Furthermore, the clothing made it impossible to figure out if the person in front of him was a Mage or not. Usually, one could tell the approximate strength of a Mage by how much Mana their core passively attracted, but this type of robe prevented the phenomenon from happening at all.
“It is an honor… sir Messenger,” Zeke said somewhat awkwardly. “Please come right this way, we have been awaiting your arrival.”
He shot another glance at Lara. Compared to him, she didn’t seem overly surprised by Messenger’s appearance. Her face had returned to its usual, relaxed state. Zeke led the group down the hallway, Lara just a step behind him and Messenger silently following, with David bringing up the rear.
A hush fell over the crowd. Nobody spoke, as they looked between Gilderoy and Zeke. Most of the people hadn’t known about the bad blood between them before. Now, however, in front of all the noble houses and diplomats, the feud had become public. The silence was broken by Lara snickering off to the side, which prompted many people to discuss what had just happened in hushed whispers.
Gilderoy was fuming. His face had turned as red as a tomato. He surely would have lashed out by now, had his father not held him back. Zeke, on the other hand, felt more refreshed than he had in weeks. Verbally slapping the arrogant man across the face had been just what he had needed. However, after winking at the man one last time, he proceeded to ignore him.
"Ladies and gentlemen,” Zeke exclaimed, “you know of the chance to seize the opportunity to secure your orders. But here's a friendly tip: the exceptional quality of our craftsmanship allows us to produce only a single vessel per month. So, don't dally too long in making your choice, as your hesitation could mean months or even years of waiting."
Another murmur, and many glances toward the staff members waiting to take orders. However, so far, nobody had approached them yet. Zeke cursed under his breath. He had hoped this would be enough to get the ball rolling. As soon as somebody started placing orders, the rest would follow, he was certain of it. However, nobody wanted to be first. He had to act fast before the people started to overthink.
Luckily, Zeke had another trick up his sleeve. “…One more thing. We currently have three completed ships. I had originally planned to auction them all off today. However, instead of all three, I’ll only sell two of them.
“This one,” Zeke said as he pointed at the vessel he was currently standing on, “the first of my creations, will not be auctioned off. Instead, I intend to gift it to His Royal Highness. Will you accept this present on his behalf, sir Messenger?”
All eyes snapped to the veiled figure. Without a shred of skin visible, it was impossible to tell what the figure was thinking; however, everybody was clear on the implications of his answer. If the King accepted the Gondola, it would be the highest endorsement possible. Many people inched closer to the staff, ready to place their order as soon as the Messenger replied.
After a long, drawn-out moment of silence, the raspy voice of Messenger could finally be heard.
“No… I will not accept this present.”