Dominic’s words, coupled with his appearance, reminded everyone in the room that he was more than just a simple Gunsmith and Advisor.
He hadn’t meant it that way, though it was true that the Earl, his Uncle, had assigned him a tutor as a child.
It was not out of duty as a Royal, though. It was because he was happier running around in the woods or assisting his parents with their work than he was studying at the Manor’s school, so he needed someone to keep him from getting distracted from his studies and wandering away.
But as a child, he had a much harder time dealing with the draconic side of his nature, and most of the time he couldn’t even keep his fingernails from growing out into claws.
He would see something in a tree, then a half second later, he would have five centimetre long claws to help him climb.
That hadn’t happened in years. His nails were currently trimmed, but they were still as hard as dragon claws.
"Interesting. We’ve got representatives from both major Noble Academies in Cygnia, as well as a product of Wavemates private tutoring." Prince Claudius noted.
One of the Biverlow Academy Nobles chuckled. "I can only imagine what those beasts train their children to behave like. It would certainly never measure up to the decorum of the ladies in Port Tarleigh."
Thorvald gave a wistful sigh. "Ah, the ladies of Port Tarleigh. How I do miss them. I do attempt to stop in every time I sail south to Marescomia or Roth’s Reach."
The others chuckled quietly, and Dominic realized that he had missed something.
Other than the obvious fact that it was not "Noble Ladies" that Lord Thorvald was referring to.
Dominic smiled at the Lord from Port Tarleigh. "Most undignified, I agree. Would you believe that they had young girls of only five or six training with the sword? Running about in pants, climbing trees with the boys. All horribly chaotic."
The Nobleman was about to retort, then he caught the sarcasm in Dominic’s voice and remembered just what he was here for.
The youngest three Princesses of Cygnia were all Paladins, and notorious tomboys.
The Crown Prince was struggling to keep a straight face as he ate. It was tempting to join the verbal sparring match, but today was for the younger men to establish a pecking order among themselves.
"So, it is true what the King of Dagos said then? That the Wavemates Nobles were put down because they all went feral and started eating people like animals?" One of the other Nobles asked, pushing the topic, in hopes of getting Dominic to falter and make a fool of himself.
Dominic rolled his eyes dramatically. "Of course not. Even a man of isolated upbringing such as myself knows that you don’t use your teeth when eating people. It’s hardly a dangerous pastime."
The Princess choked on her wine, and Dominic heard the Crown Prince’s knee thump the underside of the table while Thorvald howled in laughter.
"But that’s hardly dinner table discussion. Even if this steak is so wonderfully soft that you hardly need to chew it. My compliments to the Royal Chef." Dominic added.
Nobody knew how to follow that comment up. In their opinion, Dominic was lucky that the Crown Prince hadn’t ejected him from the table, or from the competition entirely.
There was a limit to the crude humour you could express at a Royal Function.
Another course was brought, and the conversation changed to the merits that the other Nobles had earned for themselves.
Neither West Keria nor Midfield had been engaged in any major wars or border conflicts in recent years, so the younger Nobles of their nations had no military merits to show off. But none of the others present, other than Dominic, had gone to battle either.
They had all been recalled home to wait on attacks that never came, as they were hundreds, or even a thousand kilometres from the battles.
So, the stories were mostly of training accomplishments, with the occasional barb at their competitors.
It wasn’t hard to tell that the stories were boring everyone by the time that the dessert service was complete, and the Royals were preparing to excuse themselves immediately.
"Advisor Dominic, there is a morning strategy meeting, and the courtship trials do not excuse you from your duties. I will see you in the morning." Crown Prince Claudius announced as he got to his feet.
"It has been a pleasure meeting you all, but I do have duties to attend. Sister, will you join me?" The Crown Prince added.
Once the Royals were gone, the Nobles all turned on Dominic.
"What sort of game are you playing? Did you think silence would help sell your case to the Princess while we boasted about small accomplishments?" A dark-haired Noble, who Dominic vaguely recalled as having introduced himself as a son of Baron Milworthia, asked.
Dominic shook his head. "What would I even tell her? Perhaps of my gallantry in battle? The soldiers and Dagos infiltrators I cut down with magic and pistols? Or of the success of the magitech rifles I made?
None of them would do me any good, she was standing right next to me for the vast majority of the siege, and she was already debriefed on the rest."
The noble nodded in understanding. "I see. So, you have the early lead, but that’s all old news, and now you’ve got to come up with something to get her to see you as more than just an advisor."
Dominic nodded. "Exactly. Winning a duel didn’t even get a round of applause out of her, so I’m going to have to try harder."
The Nobles nodded in understanding, but Thorvald’s eyes went to Dominic’s wrist, where he was still wearing her token.
The Dragonkin was a true master of understatement.
Could it be that he had stolen the Princess’ virtue, and the rushed marriage plans were actually a cover for an impending scandal?
He had that "I could have your girlfriend" sort of face.