Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 313

Chapter 313: ’Another Hurdle’

Soft music drifted through the dining hall, played by a quartet of harpists nestled in an arched alcove.

Their fingers moved like water over the strings, weaving melodies that shimmered through the air—elegant, unobtrusive, and warm like the gentle kiss of the sun through stained glass.

The entire hall seemed to breathe in time with the music, its grandeur elevated by sound. _{ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com}

’Wow.’

The room itself was a masterpiece of imperial opulence. Vaulted ceilings soared above, painted with sweeping murals of royal triumphs and celestial scenes that seemed to ripple with life in the candlelight.

’I have to hand it to Lucius. He may be a jerk but...’

Enormous chandeliers dripped with crystal, catching every glimmer and scattering it like fragments of a dream across the marble floor below—so polished it mirrored the world above, a reflection of power and splendor.

’He really knows how to manage events.’

The grand dining table stretched like a silver-spined dragon down the length of the hall—impossibly long, with place settings so ornate they could’ve doubled as crown jewels.

"Please sit here, Your grace."

"Your grace, your seat is here."

"Princess, this is your seat."

"Prince Florian, follow me to your seat."

Each guest was guided by liveried attendants to their designated seats, the chairs arranged in perfect symmetry, with scrolls of elegant calligraphy bearing names and duchy crests laid across each plate.

On one side sat the dukes and their heirs, draped in velvet and gold-threaded finery. On the opposite side, the harem made their entrance—resplendent in silks, their expressions polite and unreadable.

Bejeweled hands lifted the folds of their robes with practiced grace as they found their places, all while the air seemed to thrum with a strange, quiet tension.

Florian took his seat beside Alexandria, who gave him a side glance before leaning in, her perfume sweet and powdery with something floral underneath.

"I heard what happened with Duke Alexandrius," she murmured, voice a silken thread. "That must’ve been... quite a shock."

Florian adjusted the napkin in his lap, chuckling lightly to mask the discomfort creeping up his spine. "It was," he whispered back, lips barely moving. "I’m just glad you weren’t the one caught in that mess."

’Alexandria is too kind and soft to have to deal with someone like Alexandrius.’

Her smile was soft—grateful, perhaps—but it didn’t linger. Her gaze drifted toward the center of the table, to where King Heinz now sat at the heart of it all, slightly elevated above the rest. His posture was regal, composed, but Florian could see the tension braced in his shoulders.

Lucius and Lancelot stood behind him like twin shadows—silent, unmoving, and sharp-eyed. Always watching. Always waiting.

"Psst."

Florian blinked, then subtly glanced up. Across the table, the Frostblade twins grinned at him, identical in their mischievous energy. They wiggled their fingers in a synchronized wave, their bright eyes dancing with amusement.

He gave them a small smile and a nod before quickly redirecting his attention forward—just in time to meet the icy stare of Duke Alexandrius.

Several seats down, the man was watching him with a glare as frigid as his name. Cold. Measuring. Dangerous.

And beside him sat Andrew—lips curled into a smug, knowing smirk, as if daring Florian to speak first. As if he knew a secret Florian didn’t.

’Ugh. They’re going to be a problem. Both of them,’ he thought, fingers curling tighter around the stem of his goblet. ’Especially Andrew. He’s as shameless as his father.’

A sudden clearing of a throat shattered the low murmurs of conversation, drawing every eye toward the center.

Heinz had risen from his chair, a new goblet in hand. The glow of the chandelier caught on the crimson wine within, casting a ruby light across his knuckles. His gaze swept the room slowly, deliberately.

"As mentioned earlier," he began, voice deep and smooth like aged oak, "a feast has been prepared for you all. Each course has been chosen from the culinary traditions of your own duchies—crafted by masters who understand your lands, your palettes, and your pride."

There was a weighted silence. One heartbeat. Two.

Then—

A sharp scoff cracked through the hush.

’Of course he’s the first to stir the pot...’

"Ignored us for years," Alexandrius continued, calm but chilling. "Dismissed our warnings. Refused every invitation, every proposal, every concern. And now he feeds us—feeds us—as if we’re starving dogs to be appeased?"

’What absolute bastards.’

’I’m sure they’re pissed but not as pissed as...’

’No. No, this isn’t good,’ Florian thought, heartbeat kicking up a notch. There was something Florian had realized earlier that made him understand why the dukes are acting like disrespectful.

’If Heinz snaps, everything we’ve prepared for will collapse. The other dukes will retreat, or worse—turn hostile. We can’t afford that. Not now.’