Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

However, even Mrs. Navarre, who could effortlessly manage the atmosphere of the soirée, encountered people who left her helpless. While attending to her guests, part of her attention was always on her daughter, fearing that some chaos might ensue.

Her eldest daughter was now standing in front of an egg tempera painting of Aphrodite, surrounded by several gentlemen. The people in this small group were all listening to a handsome man with a fine beard critique the painting.

To this critic, the lovely young girl was probably the most attentive listener in the world. She was seventeen, having shed the naiveté of a child, yet not possessed of the maturity of a married lady. She was in the most vibrant stage of youth where every frown and smile was radiant.

What made her an even more valuable audience was that there was not a trace of impatience on her face. Mrs. Navarre's daughter was seriously appreciating the artwork, listening with a smile bright as a blossom, nodding gently from time to time, humming in agreement.

The critic thought he had gained an admirer, but Mrs. Navarre had already noticed her daughter's subtle changes in expression and habitual hand movements, realizing that she was on the verge of an angry outburst.

"...The biggest problem is the artist's biased understanding of beauty." Encouraged by the beauty at his side, the critic grew more animated in his critique of the painting, "Aphrodite is clearly the goddess of love and beauty, yet the goddess in this painting lacks aesthetic appeal and fails to invoke any thoughts of love in me..."

"Anna, come here," Mrs. Navarre called to her daughter, who was standing a little distance away.

Anna Navarre offered a gracious smile and a slight nod to the gentlemen, as if apologizing for having to leave, and then walked straight to her mother, passing between the men who moved aside for her.

Objectively speaking, Anna's features couldn't be considered traditionally beautiful. She hadn't inherited her mother's soft and graceful countenance, instead taking after her father's more defined facial lines. Yet even without any overt flirtatiousness, men were involuntarily drawn to her fair shoulders and lustrous hair.

Mrs. Navarre took her daughter's hand and squeezed it subtly without showing any emotion, to remind her to always be mindful of her manners. Anna understood her mother's message, let out a dissatisfied hum, but obediently followed her to another part of the living room.

Mrs. Navarre placed her daughter in a group mostly made up of young people and then continued fulfilling her duties as hostess, attending to the guests.

Meanwhile, Antonio and his nephew had just arrived at the Navarre residence.

Winters had not had his fill of riding and reluctantly handed the reins of the spirited horse to a livery-clad servant. Guided by the butler, he followed Antonio into the grand side hall.

"General Serviati, how are you?" Mrs. Navarre greeted Antonio with effusive warmth, playfully chiding him, "Why are you so late? I thought you weren't going to show your face." Enjoy new adventures from empire

This chapter upload first at NovelUsb.Com

"How could that be? I am your most loyal servant," Antonio bowed his head graciously and gently kissed Mrs. Navarre's hand.

Mrs. Navarre smiled behind her fan and said, "You, not loyal at all. Now introduce me to this handsome young man."

"Don't you recognize him? My nephew, Winters Montagne, just returned from the Military Academy this year."

"Elizabeth's son?" Mrs. Navarre exclaimed softly. She measured up to Winters's waist with her hand and said with a sigh, "Good heavens, he's all grown up now. But in my memory, he was only this tall as a child."

It seemed Mrs. Navarre had seen Winters before, but he had no recollection of it. One can't remember everything from childhood, so Winters merely smiled politely without speaking.

"Ah, the academy has turned him into a blockhead, you will have to take good care of him."

"It's your precious nephew you should be worried about, lest he be spirited away by one of these ladies," Mrs. Navarre said casually as she affectionately linked arms with Winters.

Winters felt the lady's soft body and warmth on his left arm. He had never been so close to a woman outside of his family, and this sudden closeness made him stiffen up and his face flushed red.

"Your friends have been waiting for you for a while," Mrs. Navarre said to Antonio, "I will take care of this young man."

Antonio nodded with a smile and left the bewildered Winters by Mrs. Navarre's side before departing from the evening party.

"Elizabeth and Kosa are both my friends, just consider yourself at home here," said Mrs. Navarre, finding the young man's reaction amusing. She took a glass of wine from a waiter's tray for Winters, "Does being with elders make you feel constrained? Let me introduce you to some people your own age. Have a drink and don't be so tense."

"Thank you, madam, but I don't drink," Winters replied earnestly. "Um... do you have anything to eat here?"

Mrs. Navarre could not help but chuckle at Winters's words; it was her first time encountering someone looking for food at such a reception. This kind of gathering was neither a banquet nor a buffet; there was no food, just drinks.

But Winters was truly famished and feeling dizzy. He had accompanied Colonel Field to the customs prison that afternoon and ended up throwing up everything he had eaten for lunch. After returning home, Kosa took him to the tailor's shop, and it wasn't until nightfall that they returned, only to immediately rush with Antonio to the Navarre residence. He had been too hungry to eat earlier, but now, for some reason, his stomach began to churn again.

Winters's expression was straightforward, and his tone was sincere. Mrs. Navarre knew he wasn't putting on an act but was genuinely hungry. She found the young man's social inexperience charmingly naive and explained to Winters, "We don't have food here, but the kitchen will have some. I'll have someone take you there."

Mrs. Navarre called her daughter over in a soft voice and introduced her to Anna, saying, "This is Mr. Montagne. Anna, take Mr. Montagne to the kitchen and ask the chef to prepare something Mr. Montagne likes."

She then turned to Winters and introduced her, "This is my daughter, Anna. She will take you to the kitchen."

Mrs. Navarre's daughter smiled, lifted her skirt in a curtsy, and said softly, "Mr. Montagne, please follow me."

As Winters beheld Anna's smooth forehead and her graceful neck, his face grew even redder. But as a Spellcaster, his keen senses made him realize that Miss Navarre was actually very displeased.

She was smiling, but there was no hint of joy in the corners of her mouth or eyes, which made Winters feel like she was a doll.

"Just call me Winters," he replied, bowing back to her. He didn't like to trouble people and said to Mrs. Navarre, "There's no need to trouble the young lady; a servant can take me instead."

"You are an honored guest; how could I let a servant accompany you?"

Mrs. Navarre was adamant, and Winters had to accept her kindness.

Under Anna's guidance, Winters passed through groups of guests and left the reception room through another door.

Before leaving, Winters's gaze involuntarily shifted to a fresco of Aphrodite—how could it not attract his attention? The goddess in the painting was nearly naked, boldly displaying her delicate body while covering only the slightest bits.

Poor Lieutenant Montagne had mostly seen military maps and church murals, where saints were wrapped up tightly, and any nude figures, if at all, were male. He had never seen artwork that portrayed the female form so unabashedly.

Anna noticed Winters standing transfixed by the painting and paused. Winters, deeply embarrassed, hurried to catch up.

The two left the reception room, walking down the corridor in silence, one after the other, until they reached the kitchen door.

Before pushing the kitchen door open, Anna suddenly turned her head to lock eyes with Winters and asked seriously, "What do you think of that Aphrodite painting?"

"What? Was that the goddess of beauty?"

————I am the precise line of awkwardness————

Because basically no readers are telling me their thoughts... Nonetheless, I also feel these chapters have been a bit too draggy, so I will move the main story along quickly after Anna Navarre's entrance...