Chapter 13
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: The Northern Duke Debuts in High Society (1)
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In the holy site of Beltius, the venue for the Holy Capital Assembly, banquets were held every night as pre-festivities starting several days before the assembly itself.
The purpose of these gatherings was for the participants who arrived early to spend their leisure time until the conference began while strengthening bonds with one another.
Of course, that was merely the official purpose.
A meeting of high nobles with pitch-black hearts wasn't likely to proceed in such a bright and cheerful manner.
The pre-festivities for the Holy Capital Assembly were no exception. On the surface, attendees exchanged smiles, compliments, and polite formalities,
but beneath it all lay sneering barbs and schemes to undermine rival factions—a classic noble social affair, corrupted long ago.
This assembly's pre-banquet followed the same pattern.
The only difference was that the nobles had divided into two factions.
One supporting Aselina Radain as the next Saintess, and the other backing Loretta.
The Saintess, representative of the female priests.
A vital position implicitly regarded as equal to—or even surpassing—a cardinal in authority and status.
Naturally, the nobles would want to exert influence over her selection to solidify their positions in noble society.
Thus, they waged all sorts of political maneuvers behind the scenes to ensure their favored candidate became the Saintess,
and the pre-banquet served as a kind of coliseum where they dueled with tongues and connections.
The grand banquet hall was lavishly decorated with gold, the symbol of the Radain Faith, and glittering chandeliers.
Participants, clad in splendid formal attire and gowns, clustered in small groups, each holding a glass of wine or cocktail served by waiters, engaging in light conversation.
"Congratulations, Count Helmut. I hear your daughter has joined the Rose Knight Order."
"Oh my, has the news already spread to Peron territory? Haha..."
"Isn't it glorious? If handled well, you might even form a connection with the order's captain, Lady Aselina, through your daughter. Ahh, perhaps you already have some 'prior acquaintance'?"
"...Haha."
"...Hahaha."
Conversations disguised as exchanging pleasantries but actually dredging up each other's flaws and suspicions flowed among the nobles.
However, observing the banquet hall's dynamics revealed one intriguing point.
The more influential the noble, the larger the crowd gathered around them.
An obvious phenomenon, yet one that allowed discerning who implicitly held the seat of honor.
And in tonight's banquet, the noble surrounded by the most attendants was none other than the Ferris Duke.
His attire alone boldly proclaimed his difference from the other nobles.
A suit blending the Ferris family's emblematic green with the Radain Faith's gold.
Unlike the relatively restrained Northern style, the sleeves fluttered with Southern lace.
His appearance stood out more than anyone's in the room.
The Ferris ancestors included a Southerner who married into the Radain Holy Kingdom's imperial family.
That bloodline persisted, giving him slightly curly black hair and sharp features closer to a Southerner's than a Northerner's.
Nearly twenty attendees encircled him.
The Ferris family had risen to magnate status through relay trade between the Holy Kingdom and other continental nations.
The duke's high rank, immense wealth from trade, and networks built by leveraging both.
Nobles enchanted by this trinity of power clung to the Ferris Duke today as always, fawning over his every word with exaggerated reactions.
"I hear the Eastern trade route development was a success too, Ferris Duke!"
"Haha. I merely followed the path illuminated by Lord God Juten."
"Lady Aselina will surely be delighted. Your success directly ties to her own."
"Oh, my, my."
Ferris savored the flattery leisurely while downing his wine.
"By the way. I hear a special guest is attending this assembly."
The duke, having emptied his glass, suddenly shifted topics.
"A special guest, you say...?"
"Robertus Bilheim. Who else?"
Silence fell over the group in an instant.
Indeed, as Ferris said, no one at this assembly would draw more attention than Robertus.
But the question was why he brought up Robertus now.
"W-Well... true. He's been quite the topic lately."
Gaining the Pope's support, receiving the Holy Sword's choice...
Fearing to irk the duke, the nobles avoided mentioning his specific achievements.
"Quite so. But I have one concern regarding him."
"A concern?"
"Given he only recently ascended to the duke's seat... I'm worried he might not be well-versed in high society's customs."
Why bring up high society all of a sudden?
Everyone there harbored that doubt.
"He arrived at the holy site today, they say. He might even attend this banquet belatedly."
"I see..."
"So, as a welcoming gesture, I plan to offer him a glass of Noren wine."
"Noren...!"
Shock spread across the nobles' faces in unison.
What was Noren wine that made them react so?
Noren was merely a red berry resembling raspberries, common across the continent.
A fruit used as a herb for awakening the imbiber and restoring vitality.
The issue lay in its taste.
Noren berries contained a substance that irritated mucous membranes.
Thus, even a tiny amount of the raw fruit or juice without preparation overwhelmed the consumer with a burning sensation like fire in the mouth and throat.
No matter how strong—even a swordmaster—no one could endure the direct irritation on mucous membranes.
Without exception, those who consumed Noren vomited on the spot, tears and snot streaming as they writhed on the floor.
Due to this trait, Noren wine held symbolic meaning in high society.
Offering Noren wine was a public declaration of insult and enmity.
A declaration of war, vowing to fight without restraint until one side fully submitted.
Its origin traced back to ages past, when an emperor at an imperial banquet offered it to a treason-plotting noble, publicly humiliating him.
Drinking Noren wine offered by an opponent at a banquet meant exposing yourself vomiting and rolling on the floor to all present.
A disgrace unimaginable in high society, forfeiting a noble's dignity.
Thus, presenting Noren wine before everyone was tantamount to a declaration of war in noble society.
And if the recipient drank it unaware of the meaning?
Simply watch and enjoy.
The bumpkin ignorant of high society's basic customs paying the price, writhing on the floor.
"..."
The nobles exchanged meaningful glances.
"The Ferris Duke plans to openly antagonize the Bilheim Northern Duke."
"Why risk such a dangerous act? What's to gain from provoking the Northern Duke?"
Nobles standing a bit apart whispered thus.
At first glance, a irrational act with only risks.
Yet in truth, it was a calculated move by Ferris.
The Ferris Duke supported Aselina.
Beyond mere support, he was the de facto leader of her backers.
Thus, he stood to gain the most if she became Saintess.
But recently, a young upstart named Robertus had blazed into noble society like a comet.
For a Northern barbarian to steal the attention he deserved was infuriating enough.
And then, days ago, he obtained intelligence.
Aselina was trying to recruit Robertus.
A new rival emerging in what had been Ferris's unchallenged domain among her supporters.
The tree of Aselina, which he had meticulously nurtured.
Ferris wouldn't stand by while another plucked its fruit.
'I must crush that upstart Robertus's arrogance from the start. Uproot competitors before they can sprout.'
Of course, risks abounded in his plan, but he deemed them manageable.
First, Aselina.
Removing her recruitment target might earn her resentment, but he could bear that much.
'With all the money I've poured into her, she won't openly defy me.'
The Pope was similar.
Even setting aside his role as Aselina's foster patron, the taxes he paid to the Holy Kingdom made harsh punishment unlikely.
Finally, the risk inherent in offering Noren wine.
A public provocation staking his honor.
Failure would bring unparalleled humiliation.
But Ferris saw no chance of victory for Robertus.
The Northern army was renowned, but they couldn't march across the Holy Kingdom to his distant Southern territory.
'Any clash between Northern and Ferris territories would be economic or political, and no crude Northerner could overcome my refined politics and vast funds.'
Robertus had two paths upon receiving the Noren wine.
Rebel clumsily and break against his political prowess, or bow humiliatingly and submit.
As Ferris immersed himself in pleasant imaginings, confident of victory,
"Robertus Bilheim, Duke of the North, has arrived at the banquet hall!"
The herald's cry announced the banquet's true protagonist had entered.
Entering the banquet hall tensely, receiving the herald's greeting.
Nobles in colorful dresses.
Their stinging gazes upon me.
Some observing with curiosity, others openly uncomfortable.
No friendly looks in sight.
'This is suffocating...'
Feeling my necktie constricting like a noose, I crossed the hall as confidently as possible to avoid seeming intimidated.
'...Now what?'
Typically, when a new guest arrived at a banquet, acquaintances would greet them.
But I was a fresh debutante in high society.
I naturally knew no one, and given my image, no one seemed likely to welcome me.
'Should I just grab a drink and lurk in the corner...'
As I half-resigned myself,
"Well! If it isn't the famous Robertus Bilheim, Duke himself!"
Someone approached from afar, calling out exaggeratedly.
'Green suit, black curly hair, Southern features...'
I immediately recognized him as Alots Ferris, the duke.