The Banquet (2)
I left the annex and headed for the banquet hall.
"...You're actually attending, my lord?"
I nodded at the flustered butler, and he smoothly pushed open the great doors.
The glow of an ornate chandelier. Sweet, lilting music.
The moment I stepped inside, a ripple spread through the crowd — the kind that follows an appearance no one saw coming.
— My goodness. My goodness. I've never seen that man at a social gathering before.
— Hasn't he never attended even once?
— Who is he, anyway?
Questions passed from mouth to mouth, and a moment later the name began to ring out across the hall.
Ian Darkest.
Good thing I borrowed the clothes.
They were a little worn, but Yerna must have put some care into them — pressed clean and sharp. They certainly wouldn't match the splendor of this banquet, but at least they wouldn't be a breach of etiquette.
In that case, there was no reason to shrink back.
Ian walked into the hall with a bearing that was, if anything, confident and unhurried.
Surprise, contempt, curiosity, and even a touch of mockery — a tangle of emotions drove sharp gazes into his back.
He let every last one of them slide off him and went straight toward Lionel, seated in the highest place of honor in the hall.
"Thank you sincerely for inviting me to tonight's banquet."
At the polite greeting with a barb buried somewhere inside it, Lionel's brow twitched ever so slightly.
His lips worked.
He looked ready to spit out something like, What does a bastard like you think you're doing crawling in here? — but with so many eyes on him, he couldn't quite go that far.
"...Ah. Yes. Welcome, Ian. I didn't expect you to come. I'm truly glad."
Lionel forced a gentle smile as he answered, but his eyes weren't smiling at all. Cold fury and contempt smoldered in them instead.
"You sent the invitation yourself, elder brother. As your younger sibling, how could I refuse? It is an honor to share such a fine banquet."
Ian fired right back without yielding an inch.
On the surface it looked ordinary enough, but underneath, blades were crossing — a taut, knife-edge tension.
Ian quietly watched the corner of Lionel's mouth twitch.
Honestly, it was a little satisfying.
This was a banquet Lionel had prepared to lock down his position as heir. And now Ian had shown up and dumped cold water all over it — of course he'd be furious.
In short, from Lionel's point of view, someone had just crashed his party and started wrecking the place.
And what exactly are you going to do about it?
This man obsessed over his image to a pathological degree. He would never throw Ian out in front of everyone.
Which meant Ian simply needed to take what he came for and leave.
Having reached that conclusion, Ian looked at Lionel.
"Well, since you've come all this way, enjoy yourself. I must go greet the other guests for a moment. Excuse me."
Lionel slipped away as if he wanted nothing more to do with Ian.
As expected.
Ian offered a light bow, turned his back on Lionel, and moved on. His next destination was already decided.
"Might as well eat."
Ian made for a table in one corner of the hall, laden with an extravagant spread.
Dishes designed for formality — bite-sized, yet varied enough to satisfy every palate — glittered under the lights.
He filled a plate at a leisurely pace and surveyed the room.
Sure enough, most of the nobles were watching him with sour faces, or with open, undisguised distaste.
Of course they were. A bastard son no one had ever heard of — and one notorious as the family's problem child, no less — had suddenly appeared at an event this important. Their reaction was only natural.
Manageable enough.
Mental Resistance
Cold stares of this caliber were exactly what he'd expected, and enduring them was no longer particularly difficult.
As he calmly took in his surroundings, a fair number of named figures caught his eye.
Probably thanks to the memories from his days playing Theore — memories that had been growing clearer by the hour.
People who had played important roles in those memories, or who had possessed formidable abilities, were all gathered here tonight.
Just the names that came to mind offhand: Schweinste, Daniel, Eric Reward, Lainia.
Figures. A banquet hosted by one of the Twelve Chosen Houses.
It was more than worth enduring these unpleasant stares to attend a social event like this.
And above all —
Among this crowd of named figures, there was one person he absolutely had to find tonight.
"You. You actually crawled all the way in here?"
A sharp voice cut in as Yerna drew up beside him.
Displeasure still filled her expression, but curiosity flickered in her eyes as well.
"I'm touched, little sister. Everyone else is avoiding me, and yet you came all the way over to talk. Your consideration is moving."
"C-consideration, my foot! I came because I want to know why the hell you crawled in here!"
"Crawled? I'll have you know I am a properly invited guest."
I flicked the invitation stamped with Lionel's seal back and forth.
"Hmph. If you're a guest, then any stray dog that wandered in with an invitation in its mouth would be a guest too."
"You could put it that way."
"...You."
Yerna stared at Ian with a distinctly startled look.
"I've been seeing that surprised face of yours an awful lot since I came back to the family. Before that, it was mostly the face you make when you spot a disgusting bug."
At Ian's sly jab, Yerna's cheeks colored faintly.
"Wh— what? No! I wasn't surprised at all!"
"Right, right, I get it. More importantly, Yerna."
He caught her wrist as she tried to walk off, turned her back around, and went on.
"Anyone here tonight who doesn't usually show their face? Someone unusual would be even better."
"Why are you suddenly asking that?"
"I need to know. People who never come to the regular banquets but showed up today."
Yerna answered as if the question itself were absurd.
"You."
"...Besides me."
"Ugh. Why do you have to ask something so annoying."
Despite her words, Yerna frowned slightly, sifting through her memory.
"The young lady of House Silvest, I think... and the children of Count Yegaterina's family seem to be here for the first time."
She listed a few house names. None of them were who Ian was looking for.
"Ah. And also..."
Yerna tilted her head and added one more name.
"Kiadrice Sol. Supposedly a baronial house, but I'd never heard the name before, so I thought it was odd. They sent an invitation, but there was no reply, so the butler assumed she wasn't coming."
Kiadrice Sol. The instant he heard the name, Ian knew. She was the one he'd been looking for.
She was one of the heroines from Theore — one of the ones he'd only recently managed to remember.
"Do you happen to know what she looks like?"
"Hmm... red hair, I think they said. It was distinctive and striking enough that it stuck with me. Why? Why are you looking for her?"
"I've got some business with her. Any idea where she might be?"
"No. More importantly — you."
Yerna narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brow.
Why is she looking at me like that?
"You're not planning to hit on her, are you? Because if you are, you're dead. For real."
"Please. Is my little sister worried her big brother might actually get married?"
"Just die. Please."
He thanked the dead-serious Yerna and moved on.
Red hair.
There was no conspicuous red hair anywhere on the first-floor hall.
In that case...
The banquet hall was built with an open center, so the entire first-floor floor was visible at a glance from the second-floor gallery. Ideal for discreet meetings — or for observation.
Ian smirked and walked toward the stairs leading to the second floor. The moment he started to climb —
"Hold on a moment, Ian."
Lionel was suddenly there, blocking his path. That trademark, loathsome smile sat on his face.
"You've gone to the trouble of attending the banquet. Surely you're not planning to simply leave? If you truly carry the blood of House Darkest, you ought to take part in the swordsmanship exhibition that will begin shortly. For the honor of the family, no less."
Why does this bastard want me in the event so badly?
Ian saw through Lionel's scheme at once.
Those who inherited Darkest blood were almost all skilled with a blade. But the original Ian Darkest had been a weakling who'd barely ever held a sword properly. Lionel meant to use that fact — to humiliate him publicly in front of all these nobles and plant the idea that Ian was no true blood of House Darkest.
"I'd rather rest a little tonight. I pushed myself pretty hard with muscle training yesterday, so I'm wiped."
He ignored the offer and tried to climb the stairs.
Meeting the woman named Kiadrice mattered more right now.
Lionel raised his voice, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, and sneered.
"What's the matter, little brother? Don't tell me... you're frightened?"
"Excuse me?"
"Even if it's been a long time since you last touched a sword, there's no need to worry so much. If Darkest blood runs in your veins, your hand will find the blade on its own!"
At his blatant provocation, the surrounding gazes sharpened and gathered.
Ian stopped walking. Slowly, he turned to face Lionel.
"........"
A sigh escaped him of its own accord — the kind that comes when someone's transparent intent to humiliate you is written all over their face.
But on second thought, it wasn't a bad offer.
Ian turned his steps toward the center of the hall.
From among the many swords on display, he drew the plainest, least conspicuous longsword he could find.
"All right. Let's do this."