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墨書 Inktalez
"Hello, are you the renowned Divine Knight, John Stephen?" the young man asked first.
Upon hearing the question, John was momentarily taken aback, then nodded in acknowledgment. "Yes, I am John Stephen. May I ask who you are?"
As he spoke, John couldn't help but scrutinize the person before him. The young man appeared to be around seventeen or eighteen years old, with striking silver hair cascading down his shoulders like a waterfall. He exuded a certain purity and kindness reminiscent of university students from John's past life. His slightly youthful face bore a hint of stubble that added to his boyish charm.
"Hello, my name is Grinstowas. Marquis Duvas is my uncle," the young man said with a polite smile.
At this revelation, John's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly bowed respectfully. Regardless of whether Grinstowas held any title, his connection to such a prominent family made him someone John could not afford to offend. A careless word could lead to dire consequences if Grinstowas chose to speak ill of him in front of his uncle, Marquis Duvas.
Not even the Redman or the entire White Family could stand against such formidable power. The disparity between their statuses was simply too great; they were not even in the same league.
After steadying himself, John cautiously asked again, "Respected Mr. Grinstowas, may I inquire why you have come to see me?"
Grinstowas smiled slightly, sensing John's apprehension. "Relax. I'm here purely because of your reputation. I had the fortune of passing by your barracks earlier today. The title of Divine Knight is well-deserved, so when I saw you alone, I decided to pay a visit."
Hearing that Grinstowas wasn't there for any ill intent eased John's mind somewhat. Despite being a noble now, titles without substance meant little; they were merely empty accolades.
"It's all just empty praise," he said, trying to sound more confident despite his lingering fear of the young man's connections. "I don't know what you wish to discuss with me."
"Mr. John, you speak plainly and directly. I do have something I'd like to discuss with you," Grinstowas replied after a brief pause, straightening up and fixing his earnest gaze on John.
"John, I greatly admire your talent and courage. Therefore, I would like to sincerely invite you to join my ranks as a commander in my army. With your abilities, I believe you can lead us to glorious victories."
John's expression turned serious as he regarded Grinstowas with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, he asked, "Is this at the behest of Marquis Duvas?"
Grinstowas quickly shook his head and explained, "No, this is entirely my personal recognition and appreciation for you; it has nothing to do with Marquis Duvas. Would you be willing to accept this invitation?"
Upon hearing this, John did not hesitate to wave his hand and politely declined. "I’m truly sorry, Mr. Grinstowas; I have no thoughts on this matter at the moment and must decline your kind offer."
Noticing the distance in John's tone, Grinstowas furrowed his brow slightly but quickly returned to his usual demeanor and pressed further.
"Is this what my uncle, Marquis Duvas, means? Would you really refuse so resolutely?"
Faced with this question, John did not respond. He slowly lowered his head, directing his gaze to the bottle of wine he held in his hand.
He lifted the bottle gently and tilted his head back, taking a generous swig of the liquid. As it slid down his throat, he couldn't help but let out a satisfied sigh. "Ah, that's refreshing!"
After a brief pause, John raised his head again and looked at Grins.
"Even if this is truly the will of Lord Marquis Duvas, I can only express my regret and state that I cannot comply. My elder brother, Redman, has treated me well and shown me kindness; I must not forget this favor. So, I apologize, Mr. Grins, but I must take my leave. It's simply too cold outside; I need to hurry inside to warm up."
Grins was taken aback by John's firm stance and could only step aside.
"Go ahead, then."
John quickly turned and made his way into the banquet hall.
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