Faerun: The arcane mage is still too imprisoned.

Lance ignored him.

He glanced at the crowd and saw Arya waiting at the door.

Tonight, she wore a deep red backless dress, her fiery red hair cascading down like a waterfall, shimmering under the lights.

When she saw Lance, her eyes lit up, and she quickly walked over to him.

"Mr. Lance," she said, extending her hand, "you've come."

Lance took her hand: "Ms. Arya."

Arya's gaze passed over him and landed on Cielsa.

Cielsa stood half a step behind him, holding Little Black, with a polite smile on her face.

"Miss Cecilia looks beautiful tonight," Arya said with a soft laugh, covering her mouth.

"Thank you." Cielsa nodded. "Lady Arya looks beautiful tonight too."

Meow~~

Little Black poked its head out from in Sissa's arms and barked.

"This is……"

"Its name is Xiao Hei."

Arya smiled: "Little Black, welcome, welcome."

Little Black flicked its tail in response.

The three of them entered the banquet hall together.

The moment the door was pushed open, the light from the crystal chandelier rushed out.

Hundreds of people had already gathered in the hall.

A huge magical crystal chandelier hung down from the high dome, illuminating the entire hall as if it were daytime.

The long table was piled high with food—roast suckling pig, baked lobster, whole grilled fish, oysters piled high, and various exquisite desserts.

The waiter skillfully weaved through the crowd with a tray, the wine glasses on the tray remaining perfectly still.

The moment Lance walked in, he immediately attracted attention, and the noise noticeably subsided for a moment.

Countless gazes fell upon Lance. Curiosity, scrutiny, awe, fear, longing…

It has all kinds of emotions.

Lance remained expressionless, his steps unwavering.

Cielsa linked her arm with his, her back ramrod straight.

Little Black jumped from Cielsa's arms onto Lance's shoulder, then suddenly stood upright, looking down at the nobles with a flick of its tail.

Arya led the two through the crowd toward the main table deep in the hall.

Along the way, people kept trying to strike up a conversation, but when they saw Arya's indifferent "don't block my way" expression, they awkwardly backed away.

The main table is set on a high platform at the far end of the banquet hall, two steps higher than the ordinary seats.

The table was set with more exquisite tableware, and the people sitting there were clearly among the most powerful in Rield.

Sitting in the middle was a man in his forties or fifties, with short gray hair, bronze skin, and several deep scars on his face extending from his forehead to his jaw.

Even when wearing a well-tailored black tuxedo, you can still tell what kind of strong and amazing muscles are hidden beneath the clothes.

His posture was casual, yet he exuded a sense of oppression, like a lurking beast or a coiled python—Graham Ironfist, Lord of Rield City and a level twelve warrior.

To his left sat two old men in mage robes, one with gray hair and the other bald.

To the right are several hereditary nobles dressed in fine clothes.

They all had gray hair and shrewd eyes.

"Lord of the city," Arya bowed slightly, "this is the mage Lance Charlotte."

Graham looked up.

Those gray eyes fell on Lance, their gaze sharp.

He looked Lance up and down, his gaze sliding from his long silver hair to his sky-blue eyes, and finally landing on the little black dog on his shoulder.

Little Black was curiously observing the city lord, its tail gently rubbing against Lance's ear, making it tickle.

Graham paused for a second.

Then he burst out laughing.

"Mage Lance," Graham's voice was deep and powerful, "I've heard so much about you."

"Lord Graham, it's a pleasure to meet you." Lance nodded calmly.

"I heard you've been cleaning up the pests in town lately," Graham said, his tone unreadable.

"Well done, it's good that you cleaned up those scumbags."

"Hmm... just something I did on the spur of the moment."

Lance said.

Graham stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed out loud: "You're really funny."

He raised his glass to Lance: "A toast to you."

Lance took the wine glass from the waiter and clinked it with the city lord's.

The crisp clinking sound was particularly clear in the quiet hall.

Little Black meowed at the opportune moment.

Graham looked down at the little black cat.

"At first glance, I thought your cat was your magical pet! But it's just an ordinary cat. It seems you really like it."

Lance calmly stroked Blackie's fur: "What's wrong with it being just an ordinary cat?"

"Anyway, it won't be long before it becomes extraordinary."

……

Seeing that the atmosphere was quite good, the nobles who had been watching with bated breath breathed a sigh of relief, their faces beaming with smiles, and they moved closer with their wine glasses in hand.

"Master Lance! I've heard so much about you!"

The first person to approach was a chubby middle-aged nobleman, who was smiling like a chrysanthemum, his face so fleshy that his eyes were squeezed into slits.

He squeezed in front of Lance, reaching out his hands as if to shake hands but then hesitating, and finally just rubbed his chest together.

"I am Viscount Parker! I've long wanted to meet you!"

Lance glanced at him:

"oh."

Viscount Parker showed no embarrassment whatsoever; on the contrary, he became even more enthusiastic: "I heard about your feat of single-handedly wiping out the gang! It was amazing! So satisfying! Those scoundrels should have been dealt with long ago!"

Another tall, thin man squeezed in from the side, with a pointed chin, a hooked nose, and shrewd eyes.

He nudged Viscount Parker aside, a fawning smile plastered on his face.

"Mage Lance, I am Earl Edmund. If you ever need any help, just ask! I run three trading companies and some mines in the city. If you want to buy anything, just come to me, and I guarantee you'll be satisfied!"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Another nobleman squeezed forward. He was an old man with gray hair, wearing a formal suit embroidered with gold thread.

He has so many medals on his chest that they could be used as breastplates.

"Master Lance is so young and promising, his future is limitless! I have a manor in the east of the city, with excellent scenery and a full complement of staff. If you have time, you are welcome to come and stay anytime!"

"I heard you also killed the bishop of the Thirsty Hand?"

A handsome young nobleman pushed his way to the front, his face flushed with excitement, and his voice trembled slightly.

"My God, that was an elite-level priest! How did you kill him? Can you tell me?"

A group of people chattered amongst themselves, showering each other with compliments.

Sissa watched from the side, her lips twitching as she barely managed to suppress a laugh.

These nobles were just watching from a distance, putting on airs and acting aloof, but now they're pouncing on them like cats smelling fish.

The face is gone.

A few people couldn't squeeze in and were whispering outside.

"Lance is such a young man, yet he's already a fully-fledged mage. He has a very promising future!"

"Perhaps he's a scion of some powerful family who's out here for training!"

"Indeed, with that talent and that strength, could someone from a common background really reach this level?"

"Yes, yes, yes, they must have a very important background!"

Does it matter to us whether someone comes from a commoner background or not?

"...That makes sense!"

"Yes, if he really is from a commoner background... then that's even more terrifying! We need to befriend him even more!"

……