"Elaborate and ostentatious etiquette and the luxurious clothing of mainland nobles may seem hypocritical to them or even arouse their dislike."
He paused for a moment, then offered his advice: "I don't need to dress up like an ornate clothes rack to greet them at all."
"Why don't you go and prepare right now the finest spirits and large chunks of roasted, succulent red meat?"
"Prepare enough food so that Eist and his warriors can drink and eat their fill at the feast."
"No need for excessive formalities. A warm and solemn attitude, the kind known and loved by the people of Skellige, is the greatest respect you can show them and the best way to win their favor."
Hearing this, Raymond's furrowed brows gradually relaxed. He stroked his chin, carefully considering Karl's words.
"Hmm... you are right." Raymond nodded slowly.
"The customs of the Skelligers are indeed different from those of our continent; they value practicality and straightforwardness more."
"Treating someone to a good meal with strong alcohol and quality meat might be far more effective than formal attire and strict etiquette..."
He muttered to himself, weighing the pros and cons, loosening his grip on Karl's arm.
"Alright! Let's try as you say! I'll arrange everything right away! But just in case, we'll also prepare evening attire."
"If they prefer continental etiquette, we can switch to wine, songs, and dancing..."
Raymond muttered to himself, then turned and hurried off towards the kitchen and storeroom.
He continued to mutter the list of food and drinks he needed to prepare.
Seeing his father leave, Karl finally breathed a sigh of relief; he really didn't want to get involved in these tedious wedding preparations.
He turned and headed towards the training ground behind the manor, intending to check on Dalton and the other man's progress in mastering the breathing techniques, as well as to help Roche master them.
Walking through the manor's corridors, he saw many maids rushing back and forth, carrying various items, clearly busy preparing for the upcoming grand banquet and reception.
Karl only glanced at them, not paying much attention. If something truly important were to happen, they would naturally come to report to him.
He didn't use his super senses to purposefully listen to the sounds coming from all over the castle; he didn't have such freedom.
However, just as he turned a corner, very faint footsteps, clearly on tiptoe, suddenly came from the other side of the corner.
A muffled thud.
A short figure in a brown hooded cloak crashed into Karl's leg.
Then the person was knocked back and fell to the ground with a dull thud.
"Ow! My head..." A distinct, painful cry rang out.
The voice was somewhat androgynous, but upon closer inspection, it was clearly a girl's, and a rather young one at that.
Karl remained motionless, completely unaware of the impact.
He narrowed his eyes, processing the information. He recalled that among the children undergoing training, there were definitely no girls.
So where did this sneaky little one come from?
Instead of immediately asking questions, he bent down and helped the girl up from the ground, brushing the dust off her clothes.
Through the wide brim of the hood, Karl could clearly see that the other person had deliberately dirtied her hair with mud, but her original grayish-white color was still visible.
At the same time, the skin on the palm he touched to help the other person up was exceptionally soft and fair.
Unlike the boys on the training ground, whose skin was tanned and slightly roughened by physical exertion.
By this point, even without using his clairvoyance, Karl had already guessed who this little one was.
He smiled gently and harmlessly and asked quietly: "Lost little one, what's your name?"
"And... shouldn't you be training? What are you doing here?"
The girl under the hood slightly lowered her head, as if trying to hide her face.
But through the gap, she secretly glimpsed Karl's face.
When her gaze fell on Karl's face, she was momentarily stunned.
Then her eyes widened, as if she had seen something unbelievable.
"This man... why does he look so much like the man in the portrait my grandmother gave me?" A storm raged in the girl's heart.
"No, it's not the same... He is much more beautiful than he appears in the portrait."
Caught off guard by Karl's sudden question, she stammered: "I hope... I hope... my name is Xili, sir."
She almost blurted out her real name but quickly corrected herself and made up an excuse.
"I... I'm not feeling well, so I ended training early."
Karl's lips twitched almost imperceptibly as he struggled to hold back the smile that was about to burst out.
Deep down, he already knew that Ciri, using the pseudonym "Xili," was most likely planning another escape.
Unfortunately, she was completely unfamiliar with the manor's complex layout and wandered around like a headless fly.
As a result, instead of escaping, she ran into the space behind herself, getting further and further away from the exit.
He tilted his head almost imperceptibly, his hearing expanding like an invisible radar, picking up and filtering the hundreds of dissonant sounds inside the manor.
Soon, he isolated the steady heartbeat and breathing rhythm from this sea of sounds: it was Geralt.
At that moment, he was on the training ground, quite close to Dalton and the others.
Karl's thoughts raced. With Easter and Ciri's arrival, Terra was obligated to hold a grand welcome banquet, as was customary.
At such banquets, generally everyone could attend, with ordinary residents of the territory having the opportunity to participate and enjoy delicacies and fine wines usually inaccessible to them.
Geralt, as his friend, held a prominent place on the guest list and was naturally already waiting for him at the manor.
With a gentle smile on his face, he said to the "lost" Ciri: "Well, not feeling well is no small matter."
"As it happens, I have some experience in treating illnesses that might help you. Come with me."
Before finishing, he gave Ciri no chance to refuse or even to think, quickly tracing a circle in the air.
Bright golden energy sparks burst out, emitting a faint hissing sound, and quickly expanded into a portal.
On the other side of the portal, a clear view opened up: the training ground behind the manor.
On the field, Geralt and Dalton, who seemed to have just finished a duel, simultaneously lowered their swords.
Surprise appeared in their eyes as they looked towards the portal. Beside them, watching the battle, stood Phillip and Roche.
Karl remained calm and stepped through the portal, his feet touching the grass of the training ground.