Arthur’s table had turned into a battlefield. The younger attendees were practically tripping over themselves, scrambling to pour Solivair tea, to raise their glasses in his honor, to seize any moment that might win them his favor. It was shameless. Hugo and Ryder watched from across the banquet hall, their concern growing by the second. They knew Arthur wasn’t someone who could be easily manipulated. But this wasn’t about Arthur’s intelligence. It was about Solivair. A man like him wouldn’t sit at that table without an agenda. Banquet seating wasn’t random. It was deliberate. Your seat determined your standing. It was an unspoken hierarchy—one that everyone understood. Arthur had been seated at a mid-level table, surrounded by other up-and-coming figures. A few lower-ranked elders had been scattered among them, but nothing out of the ordinary. Solivair, on the other hand? He belonged at the highest table, among the most powerful. For him to sit here? It was a blatant violation of the banquet’s traditions. And yet, the organizers had allowed it. The only explanation? Solivair had arranged it himself. There was a reason he was here. And Hugo and Ryder had a very bad feeling about what that reason was. Arthur was young.Solivair was ruthless. And after today, Arthur had publicly embarrassed him. This was dangerous. Without hesitation, Hugo and Ryder grabbed their glasses and made their way over. Hugo spoke first, his tone casual, but his words cutting straight to the heart of the matter. “Mr. Solivair, how unexpected to see you here. This table is quite a distance from the front. Are you sure it’s appropriate for someone of your standing?” It was a direct challenge. Hugo knew Solivair’s weakness: his pride. There was no way he would normally tolerate being seated so far from the head of the room. The fact that he had willingly placed himself here only confirmed their suspicions—he was up to something. They needed to get him away from Arthur. Ryder quickly followed up. “I have to say, I’m surprised by the seating arrangements tonight. Usually, these matters are handled with much more care.” He didn’t look at Solivair as he spoke. Because Ryder wasn’t speaking to him. He was speaking to the banquet organizers. Reminding them that this was highly irregular. That they had made a mistake. That they had allowed a mistake. It was a subtle warning. One that the organizers would undoubtedly take note of. Solivair leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass. His expression remained unreadable.But his eyes? They gleamed with something dark. Amusement. He was enjoying this. As if he had been waiting for them to come. “Ah, how thoughtful of you both,” Solivair said smoothly. “But there’s no need to trouble yourselves. I find this table rather enjoyable. Young people are the future, after all. What’s wrong with spending a little time among them?” His voice was light, even pleasant. But every word was a knife. He wasn’t just refusing to leave. He was making it sound like they were the ones being unreasonable. Hugo and Ryder exchanged a glance. So, this was his play. He had no intention of moving. No matter what they said, Solivair would spin it to his advantage. Which meant their only option—was to take Arthur out of the equation. Ryder made his move. “Well,” he said, forcing a polite smile, “as it happens, I was hoping to speak with Arthur myself. I quite enjoy his company, and we rarely get the chance to sit together.” His tone was light, almost casual. But the meaning was clear. Arthur needed to leave this table. Now. And if Solivair tried to stop it? Then he would be the one looking unreasonable.Solivair’s grip on his glass tightened, just for a fraction of a second. Then—he laughed. A quiet, almost indulgent sound. “Ryder, you make it sound as if I’d ever keep young Mr. Gray from good company.” And just like that, Solivair stood up. Effortless. Smooth. As if this had never been a battle at all. His lips curled into a half-smile. “This year’s seating is a bit different, isn’t it?” he mused. “Everything’s a little more… relaxed.” He raised his glass in a mock toast. “Since you’re so insistent, Ryder, I’ll leave you to it.” Then, without another word, Solivair turned and walked toward his rightful place—at the front of the room. Ryder and Hugo didn’t move, didn’t speak, until he was gone. Only then did Ryder exhale, shaking his head. “That was too easy.” Hugo’s expression remained serious. “He let go too quickly.” Arthur nodded. They had won this round. But Solivair never played a short game. This had just been a move on a much larger board.