Royal Reboot: Level up, Your Majesty!

Chapter 47: The Masquerade (2)

The Masquerade

2

The heavy timber door slid open once the AI scanner cleared them. Astra slipped on her silver mask, the wisteria pattern curling around her eyes. It didn’t hide much. She wasn’t trying.

Theo, on the other hand, wore a full Italian mask, concealing every inch of his features. It suited him. Anonymity was a trivial concern for her. She was just a shadow in this glittering crowd. But Theo wore his crown even when no one could see it.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

They entered the foyer, greeted by a grand staircase lined with what seemed to be Persian carpets. Then again, it could have been something spun by a reclusive 18-year-old weaver living in a cave. With these elites, it was hard to tell.

Ascending to the second floor, they entered the ballroom, a true reflection of old money. Chandeliers cast a golden glow across dark mahogany walls and Victorian Art-Deco plasterwork. The upper level provided guests with a more private space for conversation and access to the balcony overlooking the fountain and gardens below.

Astra scanned the space. No hint of the purple smoke. Just truffle oil, red wine, jasmine, lilies.

She felt eyes on her. But to be specific, they were directed at Theo. Despite his mask, he had the presence of someone they couldn’t quite place but knew they should. Like a knig—prince, Astra corrected herself.

Focus.

Yet her mind betrayed her, picturing fleeting images of long silver hair and armour gleaming with an otherworldly glow. She forced it aside. Not again. Now wasn’t the time.

Still, she tucked it away for later. It seemed like something that person would need to know about.

Shifting her focus back to the room, Astra listened to the quiet conversations that surrounded her. They weren’t just small talk. These were investors assessing Thomas like a stock option.

Noticing a small gathering near the bar, Astra and Theo moved closer and discovered Athena, standing with the timeless sophistication of a classical sculpture in her flowing white gown and immaculate updo. Beside her, Athena's "date"—a nondescript agent in her father's employ—faded into insignificance.

Athena’s smile was polite, her fan hiding most of it. But Astra saw the flicker in her eyes. The frequent glance at her watch. 

She must have accidentally seen something she didn’t want to see.

“I’ll stay close to her,” Theo murmured softly in Astra’s ear.

Astra nodded. He wasn’t playing chivalry this time. He was worried. As he moved toward Athena, Astra remained on guard, monitoring the perimeter.

“Ah, there you are, Thena,” Theo’s deep voice cut in smoothly as he positioned himself between her and a man whose gaze had overstayed its welcome.

Athena’s smile became real for a second. “Theo!” she said brightly, lacing her fingers with his. “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce my fiancé.”

Astra’s eyes danced with amusement at the collective disappointment, but Theo’s absence at her side meant…

"My lady," a voice as smooth and unwelcome oozed into her personal space. "Surely you wouldn't deprive me of the immense pleasure of your acquaintance?"

Of course.

She didn’t even bother to count how many it had been so far. Too many. She made a mental note to thank Eydis for her “helpful” fashion tips. Perhaps a floor-length knit cardigan would have attracted less attention.

The thought of Eydis’s inevitable playful teasing made her heart skip—much to her irritation. Damn it.

The small smile that memory triggered had been a mistake. The man beside her clearly took it as encouragement.

“I assure you,” she said flatly, “the deprivation is mutual.”

The man, either too dense or too arrogant to take the hint, flashed a dazzling smile, the kind meant to leave women blinded. She wasn’t. 

“How terribly rude of me. Allow me to introduce myself properly—”

“Unnecessary,” she cut him off, stepping smoothly around him with a smile so brief it barely brushed her lips. She headed to the upper level, gaining a vantage point over the gathering below.

Astra scanned the ballroom until she found Thomas, the only one not wearing a mask, drifting through the elite. Athena and Theo had both tried approaching him, but he dodged them each time. His expression was pleasant, his pace unhurried, but it was clear he was intentionally avoiding them.

How strange. Athena wasn’t exactly forgettable. Golden eyes, golden hair, all very House Van Nassau. Anyone remotely familiar with Alchymian politics would recognise her on sight. So why was Thomas avoiding her?

Unless he feared her.

Astra watched as Athena tried once more, Theo by her side. Thomas met his gaze with a casual smile, muttered something indistinct, and vanished into the crowd.

Interesting. 

If Astra’s instincts were correct, Thomas held insider intel from St. Kelvin’s, probably the same source behind Natalia’s leaked duel footage. If that was the case, he likely orchestrated the leak himself.

She glanced at the grandfather clock beside the stage: ten minutes to seven. In a moment Thomas would claim the podium for his hour-long address, and the audience would file into their assigned seats.

No one needed to hear the speech to predict its contents. He would promise to remake the Territory, rally the crowd against their favorite monsters: the smoke creature and the Eye. And heap fresh pressure on Ares Van Nassau, Alchymia’s Chief Minister, to act.

To the elites it would sound like prophecy. They’d been dying to shake House Van Nassau’s grip on Alchymia, since apparently a few hundred years of control hadn’t been enough to figure things out.

Which meant catching him afterward would be impossible.

Maybe, Astra mused, a little… coercion might be necessary. 

She needed to find him fast. He had vanished. Late arrivals jammed the corridor, champagne flutes welded to their hands, making the search difficult.

Astra was just about to head downstairs when raised voices made her pause. The velvet curtains over the private balcony stirred faintly, and she edged closer.

"You really think these stunts will get you elected, Tommy? People aren’t that easily fooled,” said a low, deep voice, probably belonging to someone over fifty.

“Oh, feeling a little jealous, brother? The numbers say otherwise,” came the silky reply.

Noah? Why was he here? And if it was indeed him, that made the other voice Thomas.

Astra suppressed her aura in case Thomas could sense it. Even mirages, though, cast shadows. 

Sensing unwanted gazes again, her fingers twitched, causing a nearby server to stumble.

The tray wobbled, glasses tipped, and red wine spilled across an elite’s pristine shirt just as he stepped toward Astra.

“Oh my, t-terribly sorry, sir.” The server floundered, though he seemed faintly amused, then sloshed a second wave for good measure.

While eyes turned to the spill, Astra slipped behind the curtains. Through a narrow gap she saw Noah’s golden mask and silver hair. His hand was on Thomas’s shoulder in a shove that failed to budge the man. Wine in Thomas’s glass sat as still as ice.

Then the malevolence hit her. It rolled off Thomas like a poisonous fog. 

“My, my, Noah. Physical violence? How quaint.” Thomas mocked. “Imagine the great Noah Blackwood—star athlete, Father’s pride—reduced to this.”

Noah’s hand dropped. “What have you done? You were always the frail one, always in hospitals, unless …”

“Choose your next words carefully, brother.” Thomas sipped his wine without breaking eye contact.

“I don’t know what deal you struck or what you’ve become, but on our father’s grave I’ll expose you. The apple never falls far from—”

“Go on, finish it,” Thomas rumbled, "and you might find yourself praying for early retirement. Wouldn't want to disappoint your doting supporters with a tragic... accident, would we?"

Noah flinched, tore the curtain, and fled.

Astra melted into shadow as he passed.

“This isn’t over, Thomas,” he muttered. “I’ll tear off your mask and burn your lies.”

He vanished down the stairs. Only Thomas’s laughter lingered, a sound no human throat should make.

Astra’s fingers flew over her phone, but her eyes stayed on him.

“Oh, Noah, Noah, Noah-the-saviour, the shining example, while I’m just… ‘Tommy’.” Thomas cocked his head at an impossible angle, speaking to empty air. “Can I kill him now?”

He paused, seemed to listen, then smiled wider.

“Ah, the long game. As you wish, my lord.”

My Lord? 

The darkness around him was heavier than anything she had sensed before. It was hungrier and denser even than Tiffany’s aura, as if feeding on something foul and unseen.

Without looking away she tapped out a message and raised a translucent shield across the exit.

Upper-level balcony, northeast corner, now. Thomas compromised. Purple entity, sentient.