Social Party (3)
“Notebook?”
I casually reconfirmed Asella’s question. Sensing something suspicious in my reaction, she emphasized it again.
“You’ve scribbled countless strange sentences in there. Destruction this, death that, and you’ve even crossed some out with lines.”
“You saw that?”
“You should’ve kept a better eye on it.”
This was a bit of a disaster. The notebook contained Asella’s physical data and prescriptions, so I always kept it on me and never let it out of my sight. When it was time to move to the next volume, I’d transfer only the necessary info and burn the old one.
What Asella was talking about had to be the bad ending list. Come to think of it, I had written it down once. The status window only displayed the ending names without details. There had been a time when I revived memories of exactly what situations each ending entailed and organized them to connect to current events.
‘When the hell did she snoop through it?’
I felt irritated, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. If she learned the specifics, it might spark inspiration and send us straight to a bad ending. Realizing how careless I’d been sent a chill down my spine. From what she said, it didn’t seem like she’d read the exact sentences.
I could still smooth this over. With a smirk, I replied to Asella.
“Ah, you must’ve thought I was jotting down nightmares after seeing those notes.”
“Then what were they?”
“There’s this novel I’ve been enjoying lately. It’s nearing the finale, and fans are split on how it’ll end. I tried imagining it myself, but the story felt so familiar that I struggled to figure it out no matter how much I pondered.”
“That was about a novel?”
“Yes. It’s a tale of war between two families, and it seems like the protagonist might die or the world could be destroyed.”
Conveniently, there was a novel I’d read for fun that I could shoehorn in. No choice but to roll with it.
Asella narrowed her eyes like a cat, a hint of suspicion lingering.
“I didn’t know you were into novels, young master.”
“They’re more engaging than you’d think. If you’re interested, I can recommend a few.”
“I don’t have time for that. Seriously, what kind of novel has you scribbling so much? Something about mana rampaging or whatever.”
“Haha, did I write that too? I can’t even remember…”
Mid-excuse, my eyes met Asella’s. Was it because we were too close? Or because she’d heard a bad ending detail straight from my mouth?
“Get out of the way! Move aside there!”
“Gotberg!!”
“Aah, why… how could my mana circuits…!”
Asella thrashed wildly before my eyes. The mana circuits etched across her body flashed madly. Mana poured out uncontrollably from her, dyeing my vision gold.
Boom! An explosion rang in my ears, deafening me.
The sensation of death swirled vividly at my fingertips, my vision flickering.
“Urk.”
I couldn’t hold back the nausea and collapsed ungracefully to the floor.
“Young master?”
Asella’s flustered voice. Clutching my mouth, I sprang back up like a coiled spring.
Her face had gone pale, lips trembling. No wonder. If your personal physician keeled over before you, even I wouldn’t trust my body to them if I were the patient.
I waved my hand dismissively to signal I was fine.
“Must’ve danced too long. Just a dizzy spell. I’m good now.”
“…You scared me.”
Asella patted her chest.
“You’re that frail. How do you plan to survive the imperial court?”
“Haha, I’ll work harder.”
“Sigh… You’re really okay?”
“Of course. Dizziness is temporary. Rest fixes it right up.”
“Let’s head back in.”
Asella and I ended our brief dance and returned to the party hall.
The hall’s music had shifted to softer tunes. The lights returned to normal.
After a short rest by Asella’s side, I felt steady enough to last the rest of the party.
The nobles had moved past greetings, clustering in groups with light drinks and idle chatter.
‘Where is she.’
Rauga giggled merrily with the archduchess. About twenty young lords and ladies around them—that must be the socialite ace clique.
I spotted one hustling to schmooze the elders, and others slinking into corners, exuding gloom. Society’s the same everywhere, it seems.
“Young master, I need to handle some nobles again. Can you manage on your own?”
“No problem. It’d look weirder if I vanished suddenly.”
“…Right.”
Asella seemed oddly considerate. Considerate meaning she wasn’t snapping at me, at least. Even she wouldn’t be that harsh to an invalid, I suppose. Handy for faking sick leave later.
“Sigh.”
Asella closed her eyes briefly, then opened them. Her expression reverted to that charismatic imperial demeanor.
From afar, the western duke spotted Asella and approached with his escort knight. Today’s prime target.
“Princess Asella, an honor to behold your countenance.”
The duke greeted first with proper etiquette.
“I congratulate you on your victory in the Central Gorge Defense, Duke Shvartsshubaiku.”
Asella indeed. She hit him with banmal right off the bat on first meeting. Sure, she outranked him as imperial, but he was a duke and war hero—most would observe formalities. She didn’t hesitate.
From his reaction, the duke seemed to admire her boldness. He bowed with a smile.
“Your fervent praise humbles me.”
“Thanks to you, 100 million imperial citizens greet a morning free from foreign invaders.”
“It was the grace of the empire’s flag flying bravely.”
With formalities done, Asella cut to the chase.
“Duke, how many knights retired due to injuries from this battle?”
In high society, every conversation carried political intent. Asella might rank above as imperial, but the duke’s house rivaled a palace faction. Meanwhile, her Moonlight Palace was the smallest among the five succession contenders. And this was his party. Advantage duke.
Thus, to win him over, Asella dangled a unique hook she wouldn’t waste on lesser nobles.
The duke’s interest piqued at the topic, sensing the conversation’s direction.
“Retirees? Knights beyond healing from fatal wounds: one hundred twenty.”
“A major battle with thirty-two Bannerets fielded. Taking only that toll is a feat in itself—your merit.”
She could’ve invoked the goddess’s grace or emperor’s favor, but Asella spotlighted him. Unlike with others, she signaled clear intent to build rapport and proved her grasp of battle details to showcase her competence.
“It was your grace in governing for the empire that aided us, Princess.”
Despite first meeting, the duke yielded credit. He accepted her overture.
Every word was wrapped in etiquette, yet laced with intent—no waste. Political discourse was tricky.
With his goodwill secured, Asella’s turn. Mere words built no alliances in politics; mutual gain was prerequisite.
What would she offer? One slip, and she’d seem hollow.
“Reducing those one hundred twenty retirees by ten would’ve greatly bolstered your duchy. A pity.”
The duke’s lips curved, intrigued. Asella proposed two: a deal to strengthen his forces, and approval to expand his knight order.
Dukes faced imperial caps on army size—lest duchies break away and weaken the empire. She’d baited him with the juiciest lure.
“A way to reduce retirees?”
The duke probed for specifics. Asella tilted her chin.
“Heard of penicillin?”
Ah, she planned to pitch me from the start.
In the end, the duke showed keen interest in the antibiotic, laying groundwork for alliance with Moonlight Palace.
In this era, even minor wounds led to tetanus or amputations from secondary infections. Antibiotics prevented that—essential battlefield medicine.
Asella nailed the sale. She hooked him with mass-produced penicillin from Gotberg ventures. Sure, scaling for a large order meant years and full business rollout, but no major wars loomed; the duke could wait.
“This party must be the goddess’s blessing upon me. To meet so vital a guest above all others.”
The duke seemed quite satisfied. A stronger duchy meant potential independence; another direct imperial succession line. Of course, he didn’t know Asella would choke him out upon ascension.
Securing equal footing with a duke on her social debut? Asella was indeed exceptional.
“A toast. You there.”
The duke signaled casually; a servant brought champagne flutes.
Asella raised hers alongside. I’d rather she skip alcohol, low-proof or not, but she seemed pleased—maybe one glass.
[No. 040: Deadly Poison Trap 19% → 86%]
[No. 101: Mana Overload 4% → 100%]
The moment I saw the status window numbers, my body moved on instinct. Before the memory of dying to Asella’s poison trap could flash back.
Crash!
I’d smacked away the glass Asella had nearly sipped from.
“Young master?”
“Don’t drink it, Princess.”
Thud! A body hit the floor amid screams.
Turning, the duke writhed, choking. Impatient fool—he’d already gulped it.
“Diagnosis.”
> [Injury Status: Neurotoxic Poisoning]
Target the duke? Asella? Both? An assassination attempt.
Treatment first. I unbuttoned my suit jacket.