Chapter 9 : Banquet (1)
Chapter 9 : Banquet (1)
Deltain didn't have much on his mind.
He had hesitated for a moment while choosing his tuxedo today, but he had shaken that off, so his head was filled only with the thought of getting the 'job' done.
The composure he had struggled to maintain was moving his heart with a steady rhythm, as if to represent his state of mind.
That was why the shock he felt was all the more vivid.
The Agnes he finally faced possessed such a distant, ethereal beauty.
"How is it?"
The hall of the Levadein Duchy.
Agnes approached Deltain with a faint smile.
Her blonde hair was tied up in a bun at the back. Her pink-tinged cheeks and neatly falling eyelashes were delicate, and the area around her eyes, with the dark circles covered, and her cherry-blossom-colored eyes held a warmer light than usual.
That wasn't all. The dress was a white and pink combination without any large decorations, but that actually made her beauty shine even more.
Did someone say it? That the best accessory is one's face. Deltain finally admitted it.
Even without any splendor or shining jewels, even though she was wearing a simple dress, just the fact that the face she was wearing belonged to Agnes made Deltain feel a fluttering in his gut.
Every time she walked, the hem of her dress fluttered. It was like spring flowers blowing in a gentle breeze. Her features, which came into clearer view as she approached, had a way of making people shrink back on their own, and the smile on her lips had a quite lethal shape.
"Deltain. I asked you how it is."
"...Don't ask."
"Isn't it pretty? Now that my complexion has improved, my makeup definitely goes on better."
"Think again about who you owe that to."
"Thank you. For letting me walk, and for saying I'm pretty right now."
"I never said you were pretty."
"You didn't deny it. Then that's an affirmation."
Agnes said that and clung to Deltain.
There was no scent of perfume on her.
"I paid attention to my bath. You said you didn't like the smell of perfume, so I didn't spray any."
"...I didn't ask."
"Escort me."
Agnes reached out her hand.
"Like a gentleman."
She said so.
Deltain avoided Agnes's gaze. He chided himself for being shaken by a mere change in appearance. Even while doing so, his arm reached out diligently.
A space appeared in Deltain's embrace for her hand to rest. Agnes placed her hand on Deltain's forearm.
Agnes said in a voice filled with laughter.
"Take good care of me today."
Deltain thought again.
Perhaps curing Agnes might have been a mistake.
*
As is usual for banquets hosted by the Imperial family, today's banquet also had notable nobles scattered throughout the banquet hall, to the point where it was hard to see them gathered anywhere.
However, there was no commotion.
It was because the voices of those gathered in small groups, wearing masks of formality and dignity, were so small they could barely be heard as whispers.
Of course, that didn't actually mean they were dignified people.
The 'pigs who think they're all that,' as Deltain would put it, were busy sharing various news about today's banquet and talking behind someone's back.
The only difference was that while usually stories ended with someone from some family doing something, these stories were continuing without end.
"Did you hear the news? That the Lady of Levadein is coming to the banquet today."
"I heard Count Hebron took charge of the treatment himself? There's even talk that they might come together...."
"Is it true? It's that Lady of Levadein, you know. The one even the Lastoria Church shook their heads at."
"It's not just the Lady, but Count Hebron too. He's not the type to enjoy banquets, and he's never brought a partner there before, has he?"
The protagonists of today's gossip were Deltain and Agnes.
It wasn't just this group; the entire banquet hall was busy carrying their story.
It couldn't be helped. After all, weren't the protagonists of the rumors the Archmage and everyone's first love?
I'm talking about the two who would be in the top three if you were to count the most famous and mysterious people in the capital.
Such a strange heat was lingering in the banquet hall, and it was reaching the ears of Cargo, a cardinal of the Lastoria Church.
'So he's coming after all.'
Cargo was in the middle of tasting all sorts of greasy delicacies. Having gone hungry for days and nights during the war, it remained a grudge, so he was so weak in front of gluttony that he was stuffing nutrients into his mouth.
'The Count is coming to the banquet....'
Cargo felt a chill for no reason.
It wasn't simply because he had an aversion to him.
Cargo, who had always been right next to him during the war against the demons, knew that Deltain was a man who did not indulge in unnecessary entertainment.
'Is something going on?'
The reason he was seeking out a banquet like this wouldn't just be to escort the Lady of Levadein.
Rather, it would be because there was work here that only he could do.
Continuing his thoughts, Cargo soon made an 'Ah' sound.
'Come to think of it, I heard the Aristocratic Faction is causing trouble.'
Being in a position like a cardinal, there were political situations that reached his ears.
If he remembered correctly, there was definitely talk that the Aristocratic Faction's flow of funds was suspicious these days.
Strictly speaking, Deltain was in a position to support the Imperial family.
Perhaps there had been some sort of deal between the Emperor and Deltain for him to come here.
Cargo perfectly deduced the answer from the given clues.
However, the course of action that Cargo thought of next, having deduced the answer, was at odds with that wisdom.
'I should just eat and get out of here.'
Cargo didn't want to get involved with Deltain for no reason. Also, he didn't want to get involved in the capital's political situation.
Just eating delicious food, praying at the church, and living a leisurely life.
Cargo was a simple man who made such things his life's mission.
It was in the middle of that.
"Gasp!"
A sound of someone gasping for air was heard from somewhere. It wasn't from one direction.
The shock that spread like a plague had covered the entire banquet hall.
Cargo tilted his head in wonder at that.
...That was something he shouldn't have done.
"Cardinal!"
A warrior's shout that rang loudly through the banquet hall. At the same time, a figure was imprinted on Cargo's retinas.
It was like a demon.
Ash-colored hair fluttering wildly, muscles all over her body bulging as if to burst, a monster that couldn't even be called a woman was looking straight at him while wearing a pink dress.
The pink dress, which only a 10-year-old girl would wear, was screaming for help, but Cargo was not in a state of mind to pay attention to the dress's screams.
Thump!
A shallow vibration occurred as she took a step.
Cargo dropped the bread he was holding. It was because his strength had drained away.
Thump!
She took another step.
At that moment, Cargo's jaw was trembling.
Thump!
The moment she took another step, she was already right in front of Cargo's nose.
An incomprehensible movement that crossed the hall in just three steps.
Should one call it a Lord-class knight? Or should one call it a demon's stride?
"It's been a while!"
Cargo felt faint.
"H-how...."
"I came to see you!"
Kaltara the masochist. She gave a big, barbaric grin.
"I missed you!"
As Kaltara spread her arms, her muscles pulsed. It was a body where not a trace of body fat could be found.
Her pectoralis major muscles stretched vertically, and long muscle lines continued. Her shoulders rolled back, and her latissimus dorsi spread out like a tower shield. Thus, her exposed serratus anterior, biceps, triceps, and the forearm muscles filled with strength were revealed.
It was a shape reminiscent of the inside of a beast's mouth with its jaws wide open.
Flinch.
Cargo stepped back, but Kaltara's movement was much faster than that.
Squeeze!
"Gahk...!"
Trapped in Kaltara's embrace, Cargo opened his eyes wide as if his eyeballs were going to pop out and made a choking sound.
It was a pitiful struggle for survival, but no one could think of a way to save him.
Kaltara the masochist is a Lord-class knight. She is the first hound of Deltain Hebron. And she is a barbarian.
Even if the Emperor were to come, there would be no way to separate her from Cargo through rational conversation.
'D-Deltain!'
Cargo called out to Deltain in his mind.
But there was no answer.
It was natural. Deltain hadn't shown his face in the banquet hall yet.
At that moment, Kaltara whispered.
"I missed you. After my war ended, I met this man and that man, but they all couldn't even last three hours and collapsed."
Tremble, tremble.
Cargo's body trembled.
"I even tried a few of my priests, but they didn't seem to have as much divine power as you, so they couldn't even last six hours."
Kaltara's breath was hot. Also, her snickering laughter was filled with sadism.
"Don't be scared. If you help me for just three days, I won't look for you for a while."
Like holding a treasure found after a very long time, Kaltara grabbed Cargo's plump buttocks with her hand.
"Hng...!"
Cargo's eyelashes fluttered. He welled up with tears like a deer bitten on the nape of its neck by a beast.
What was imbued on his face was a look of resignation.
'Oh, Lastoria...!'
Cardinal Saint Cargo. He was captured by a demon for the sin of being possessed by gluttony.
Cargo's appearance as he left the banquet hall, held by Kaltara, was so pitiful, but there was no one here to pity him.
The 'voyeuristic perverts who enjoy talking about others,' as Deltain would say, were just sparkling their eyes at the new issue that would shake up the capital.
*
There had been a happening, but the atmosphere of the banquet hall had ripened.
It was because those who had only been continuing to talk about Deltain and Agnes were excited about the newly emerged topic.
To them, the issue of the barbarian and the cardinal's ecstasy was such an interesting story.
That was it.
By nature, others' misfortune is a comedy when viewed from afar.
No one was interested in Cargo's suffering.
It was in the middle of that.
That the atmosphere of the banquet hall changed rapidly.
[Count Deltain Hebron and Lady Agnes Levadein are entering!]
All eyes in the banquet hall turned toward the closed door.
"The rumors...."
"I-it seems they were true."
The door opened with someone's surprised voice.
There were two figures slowly revealing themselves through the gap of the slowly opening door.
In an instant.
"Ah...!"
Exclamations burst out from everywhere.
It was a surprised breath where no dignity could be found, but no one here gave it a glare.
It was natural. It was just that they had held back their exclamations, but the impressions felt by those here were all the same.
Awe toward an overwhelming beauty that didn't even evoke feelings of jealousy.
The moment Agnes stepped into the banquet hall, that was the only thing they felt.
Everyone's first love, Agnes Levadein.
The woman who had already earned such a title at the age of 15 had broken a long, long hiatus and bloomed splendidly, dominating the banquet hall with her mere presence.
Click.
The sound of shoe heels was heard in the banquet hall where silence had risen.
As the beauty that had evoked awe just by standing there added liveliness, reality was rewritten.
Someone else sighed. It was a sigh about not having brought their painter here.
Since every moment was a wonder, they felt a deep regret that the steps she took were nothing more than a fleeting dream that would disappear when the moment faded.
Someone else shed tears. It was a noble who had spent his whole life hanging onto the concept of beauty, collecting gold and silver treasures.
For the first time in his life, he was realizing the concept of beauty that he could not possess.
No one could rashly step forward.
Also, no one could open their mouth.
In the midst of that, there was someone who stepped forward.
"Agnes."
It was a woman wearing a splendid white dress. Her hair color was snow-white, the same as the dress. Her indigo eyes shone.
Her eyes folded nicely, drawing a smile.
The 7th Princess, Elina Von Levrok.
As she approached, Agnes's movement stopped.
Elina took Agnes's hand.
"I'm so happy that we can meet like this at the banquet."
If one were to bother to fathom the meaning of the smile that appeared on Elina's face, it was like that.
It was a smile imbued with benevolence, like that of a mother.
This was the second time.
That Agnes was facing madness.