The Banquet (2)
The banquet hall was packed with nobles, high officials, and power brokers who formed the very backbone of the empire. In any ordinary gathering they would have been the stars of the evening, the natural centers of attention—but in this moment every last one of them had been reduced to a supporting role.
Dawn Star, Najin.
The Snake That Swallows Gold Coins, Dieta.
The two who had just revealed themselves to the hall were carving out achievements that bordered on revolution in their respective fields, and they had done it in an astonishingly short time. One had shattered the centuries-old balance among the empire’s merchant guilds in a mere four months and brazenly claimed the seat of a great merchant—an unprecedented trader. The other was a once-in-a-generation genius who was dismantling the common sense the empire had piled up over a thousand years of history.
If anyone were asked to name the two most famous figures in the empire of late, those two would be chosen without hesitation. That such a pair had appeared together at the same banquet made it only natural that every eye in the room was drawn to them.
“Indeed.”
“Standing side by side like that, they do make quite the picture…”
“A pity. When I heard the rumor that the Guildmistress hadn’t managed to secure him, I was rather looking forward to trying myself.”
“Planning to hang a pearl on a pig’s neck, are we? In this girl’s opinion, that would be a grave insult to the pearl.”
“So I’m the pig, then?”
“I meant that the Guildmistress is the pearl.”
“Which still makes me the pig.”
“Direct speech is never beautiful. Must this girl spell it out so bluntly?”
“You’re no girl yourself, for all your ‘this girl’ talk.”
Several male nobles stole glances at Najin standing at Dieta’s side and clicked their tongues. Young ladies and other women looked back and forth between their own partners and Najin, then covered their mouths with fans and sighed.
“······.”
Dieta kept her eyes half-lowered, listening carefully to the surrounding murmurs. Outwardly she gave nothing away, but inside she was cheering.
The hall was crowded with power brokers—and just as crowded with gossips who watched those power brokers’ every move and spread rumors. By tomorrow morning, everything that happened at tonight’s banquet would be common knowledge across Camelot.
By tomorrow morning, everyone would know exactly who Dieta’s partner had been, and who Najin’s partner had been. Attending the banquet with Najin was already a joy; the rumors that would follow made it even sweeter.
I need to mark him like this at least once.
Plenty of nobles had their eyes on Najin, whose stock was rising by the day. Just as many were already circling with marriage proposals on their lips. To those thieves Dieta was, in effect, making a declaration right here and now.
Hands off.
If you were thinking of making a play for this man, give it up. He is my partner—close enough that we attend banquets like this together. Surely none of you would stoop to something so vulgar, uncultured, and faithless as trying to steal him away?
She glanced up at him. Perhaps he misread the look; when their eyes met, Najin offered a faint smile. Dieta’s breath nearly hitched. She barely managed to hold it steady and answered with a composed smile of her own.
The banquet continued. Factions formed and gossiped, nobles hurried about trying to curry favor with the powerful, and endless whispers about the empire’s political situation traded hands without pause.
“Guildmistress!”
Then someone arrived late. The newcomer appeared long after the banquet had begun, yet no one showed the slightest irritation at her tardiness.
Who would dare scold a pillar of the empire?
Eternal Brilliance Horn, Cypria Gachevska.
Her long golden hair streamed behind her as she waved cheerfully at Dieta. She wore a platinum dress; lifting its hem slightly, Cypria smiled.
“The dress you sent is perfect. It’s been ages since I last came to one of these things—I was fretting over what to wear, and then you go and send me a gift like this? Honestly, I only ever seem to receive from you.”
“I’m glad it suits you. The dress looks wonderful on you.”
As they chatted, Cypria’s gaze naturally shifted to the young man standing at Dieta’s side. She knew him as well.
“You’re…?”
“Najin. It is an honor to meet the empire’s fourth pillar.”
Najin bowed in greeting.
Cypria had been the one to examine his qualifications when he became a Sword Seeker; they were, if anything, already acquainted.
“I’ve heard plenty of rumors about you. You know Nayuta, the Grey Tower Master, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’ve met her once.”
“She and I were academy classmates. She talks about you constantly. Says the moment you hang one more star she’ll give you a new name—keeps scribbling ideas down and everything…”
Cypria looked at him with a bitter smile that clearly said, You know what I mean, right? Najin understood perfectly.
She was referring to the Grey Tower Master’s infamous naming sense.
Najin returned the same bitter smile. He would prefer to decline that honor, thank you very much. Dawn Star was more than enough.
The banquet was in full swing, and midway through a light ball was held so that partners could dance. Despite already having a partner, Dieta received a flood of dance invitations—every one of which she refused, of course.
There was only one person she intended to dance with.
Taking the hand Najin offered, she walked with him to the center of the hall.
“I noticed this last time too,” Dieta said with an incredulous laugh as they danced, “but you’ve never actually learned to dance, have you?”
“I picked up a little while staying in Trebache.”
“That was only a few hours.”
“I’m a quick study at most things.”
Whatever the field, if it involved moving the body, Najin’s talent shone. For someone who could even mimic the movements of a transcendent, imitating a dancer was hardly difficult.
And as they danced, Dieta was happy.
The center of the banquet. The focus of every gaze. Looks of envy and longing mixed together. It was a scene straight out of a fairy tale or romance novel—and she was living it in reality, as the heroine of the stage. To claim she wasn’t enjoying herself would have been a lie.
In the end Dieta was still a young woman who had, at least once, dreamed of moments like this and spun them into idle fantasies.
Then, mid-dance, Najin’s body suddenly went rigid. Dieta blinked. The eyes that had been fixed on her alone had shifted elsewhere. She followed his gaze.
Click.
Najin was looking toward the entrance of the banquet hall. A late guest had arrived—no, not a guest. Neither Dieta nor any of the guilds hosting the banquet would ever have invited that person.
Why is that being here?
The moment she recognized the figure, Dieta’s eyes went wide. She wasn’t alone; the other guildmasters reacted the same way. No one had expected this visitor.
An uninvited guest.
Yet the figure who stepped into the hall was far too great a personage for anyone to point out that fact. For a single heartbeat the entire banquet fell silent at his appearance.
“…Lord Eurypylos?”
Someone murmured the name.
Eurypylos. That was the name of the man who had entered the hall. But another name was far better known.
The Lighthouse Keeper, Eurypylos.
Great Warrior of the Holy Light Church’s principal god, “the Lighthouse That Illuminates All Creation,” and the guardian of the lighthouse that stood as the church’s symbol. A being who had remained motionless for centuries had suddenly appeared at the banquet.
His last public appearance had been roughly fifty-seven years earlier; that alone was enough to plunge the hall into silence. Through that silence Eurypylos walked.
Click.
He stopped directly in front of Najin, raised a hand, and pointed at him.
“Are you Najin?”
Are you Najin.
Faced with the question, Najin did not answer at once. He simply met Eurypylos’s gaze.
Pure white.
That was the word the man brought to mind. His hair was pure white, and so was his clothing. Hair, garments, skin—everything about him was snow-white. The only color that was not white was the gold that filled his eyes.
Eurypylos.
Najin knew the name. He knew the face as well; he had researched it. So of course he also knew exactly what kind of being stood before him.
Just as the Holy Blood Church had its Executioner and the Holy Body Church its Star Incarnation, Eurypylos was the Great Warrior who represented the Holy Light Church—the Lighthouse Keeper.
Holy Light Church.
The moment he rolled the name over in his mind, something stirred unpleasantly inside Najin. He did not let the disturbance show. He only glanced at Dieta standing beside him. She silently shook her head, then shaped words with her lips.
An uninvited guest.
After a brief silence, Najin spoke.
“Yes. That is correct.”
“I have something to say to you. Over there will do. Follow me. This place is not suited for conversation.”
Eurypylos pointed toward the garden, then turned and started walking without waiting for an answer. Speaking to his back, Najin said,
“I decline.”
Eurypylos stopped.
He turned. The blank face shifted; brows furrowed as he looked at Najin. Unfazed, Najin continued.
“I have nothing to discuss with you. And I have even less interest in keeping company with a guest who was never invited to the banquet.”
“Do you not know who I am?”
“I do. You are the Lighthouse Keeper, are you not?”
“And still?”
“Does the fact that you are the Lighthouse Keeper give me any reason to obey your commands?”
Najin spoke as if the idea were absurd.
“I am not a priest of the Holy Light Church. This is not holy ground of the Holy Light Church. This is the empire, this is a banquet hall, and you are an uninvited intruder who forced your way in. Walking off with you right now would be an insult to the people who organized and are enjoying this banquet.”
He frowned.
“The way you speak—as though I am obligated to follow whenever you open your mouth—is rather unpleasant.”
The Holy Light Church commanded the largest following of any of the three churches, and the man before him held a position second only to their principal god—a giant among giants. Najin was well aware of that fact.
Most people, faced with a demand from a Great Warrior of one of the churches, would simply obey. They would do so out of fear of making an enemy of such a power, or out of respect for that authority.
Najin had no need to do either.
He was already at odds with the Holy Light Church, and even if he respected the Lighthouse Keeper’s authority, that was no reason to bow to it.
“So I decline.”
Najin cut the matter short.
The words and manner were arrogance itself; under the right circumstances they could even constitute blasphemy. Yet Najin had not acted on blind impulse, swept away by the loathing he felt for the Holy Light Church.
He had deliberately pointed out that this was the empire.
This was the empire, and Najin stood under the protection of the Empire’s First Horn. To order him about and treat him with such rudeness was, in effect, a challenge to the First Horn’s authority.
Moreover, this was Camelot, the capital of the empire—the place where Gerd’s gaze reached, which meant it was a place Gerd’s sword could also reach. Najin’s eyes said as much: if you think you can, then try it.
“······.”
Eurypylos’s brows drew even tighter.
He frowned, then absently looked up at the sky. Eight stars were shining there—the stars of Gerd, the Empire’s First Horn.
Perhaps he took note of that light.
The Lighthouse Keeper glared at Najin, still frowning, then lightly stamped his foot. A wave of power radiated outward from the point of contact, sealing off sound so that no one else could overhear their conversation.
“Insolent. Just because another star shelters you, do you think that star is yours?”
“Isn’t it better than serving a star whose purpose no one even understands?”
“Are you insulting Holy Light?”
“Insult? An insult requires something that can still be looked down upon. Why bother lowering something that is already on the floor?”
Najin smiled slyly.
Eurypylos’s golden eyes narrowed.
“What do you think gives you the right to—”
“I’ll say it again.”
Najin cut him off.
“This is the empire. Are you certain you want to do this?”
“I am the one asking. I am the Lighthouse Keeper of the Holy Light Church. Even if Gerd shelters you, do you truly believe he will side with you at the risk of friction with the Holy Light Church?”
“Is that a threat?”
“Not a threat. Merely a statement of fact.”
At that, Najin laughed—openly contemptuous.
“It seems the Empire’s First Horn is of a rather different opinion.”
From the summit of the First Horn Tower, eight stars blazed brightly.