Before the Ball of Forgotten Names
Surprisingly little preparation was needed before heading to the Ball of Forgotten Names. Elizabeth and Elena already carried their own dresses and shoes, so we only had to buy something for Anastasia.
“Master, does this suit me?”
“…Yeah. You look beautiful.”
“Hehe.”
When I bought her a dress identical to the one she’d worn at the grand banquet, she grinned like a child. It was genuinely adorable. And beautiful, too. Elena and Elizabeth shot her looks that could curdle milk, but I paid them no mind.
I picked up a single suit and a pair of shoes for myself. I figured wearing it today and keeping it on hand might prove useful later, so I chose the best quality I could find.
And horses. Elizabeth had insisted she wanted to ride instead of taking a carriage, so we bought two horses instead of a coach. Naturally, the second one was for Anastasia.
“Elizabeth, what will you name yours?”
“Hmm… You decide, my lord!”
“Hmm. Red.”
I named it after the color of its coat, which matched Elizabeth’s hair exactly. She glanced at me, then turned away with a huff.
“I’ll just name it myself!”
Thus, the horse Elizabeth would ride was christened Roseau. Anastasia, in her usual detached manner, simply called hers “Number One.” I hoped the alchemist in her wasn’t planning any live experiments on the poor animal.
Before we knew it, the day had flown by and the ball was upon us. We left Brown, Bucephalus, Roseau, and Number One tied in the inn’s stable, then waited on the road out front. Right on schedule, a carriage arrived.
“I’ve come to escort you to Viscount Holsholt’s estate.”
“Good.”
As the carriage pulled away, Elizabeth bounced in her seat with excitement.
“Elena, how long has it been since we dressed up like this for a banquet?”
“A month? Around the time we first met Lord Goshugir.”
“It feels like so much longer, yet it hasn’t even been that long…”
Anastasia kept biting her nails, uneasy without her collar.
“Ugh… It hurts. It hurts… My chest hurts……”
I wondered what was wrong with her. Maybe I should have bought her a choker after all. Perhaps that would have eased the symptoms a little.
After a bit more of this and that, we finally arrived at the ballroom. It wasn’t as lavish as the imperial palace, but its neat, orderly elegance appealed to me more than the grand banquet hall ever had.
The moment we stepped inside, the guard at the door bellowed,
“Count Breitenfeld and his party have arrived!!”
Elizabeth and Elena were still concealing their true identities. The emperor’s orders had been clear, and there was no advantage in revealing themselves anyway. Even so, Elizabeth was visibly thrilled to be in a pretty dress with makeup on after so long; she linked her arm through mine and practically skipped along. Cute. And absurdly, ridiculously beautiful. This was the real charm of Elizabeth. She seemed gentler and a little more airheaded than when I’d first met her, but that only added to her appeal.
Elena kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, clearly displeased that Elizabeth had claimed my arm, while Anastasia simply clung to the hem of my coat, looking anxious.
A white-bearded, disheveled old man in butler’s attire stepped in front of us.
“Allow me to show you to your seats.”
“Fine.”
Following the butler, we reached a spacious round table that could seat four. The moment we sat down, Elizabeth was the first to approach me. She lifted the skirt of her red dress with one hand, bent one knee, and offered an elegant curtsy. Then she extended her free hand toward me. Gone was the bouncing girl from moments ago; she was every inch the perfect noble lady.
“My lord. Would you grant me the honor of this dance?”
Elena’s face twisted in shock at having been beaten to the punch. I took Elizabeth’s hand anyway. Color bloomed across her cheeks.
But something more important came first.
“Sorry, Elizabeth. Let’s eat first.”
“Ehhh?”
Elizabeth trudged back to her seat, sulking, while Elena chuckled under her breath.
I grabbed a plate and headed for the buffet. I was piling on nothing but meat when a man beside me spoke up.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the famous Count Breitenfeld, whose name has been making the rounds.”
I looked over but couldn’t see his face. Tilting my head up, I finally got a proper look. Damn it. I was tall myself, yet this silver-haired, blue-eyed pretty boy looked like he’d walked straight out of a romance fantasy novel with a sign that read “I am the male lead.”
My first impression was that he was an insufferable bastard, so I answered curtly.
“Who’re you?”
The man smiled as he replied.
“Valdemar von Lindbergh. Most people call me the Lindbergh Duke.”
“So why’d you call me over?”
“Haha, you really are as bold as the rumors say. To react like that in front of a duke.”
He really was an insufferable bastard. I kept picking up food while he kept talking.
“Your companions are quite lovely. Might I ask them for a dance?”
Hmm. I wondered if the girls would fall for his charm.
“Do what you want.”
With that, I returned to my seat. The other two, aside from Anastasia, had gone to fetch food and were nowhere in sight.
Chew, chew. Meat really was delicious. Meat was truth. I hadn’t eaten monster meat in a while, but I’d been living off it until just a month ago. That was why meat was always right.
Anastasia was also spearing meat from my plate with her fork when Elizabeth and Elena returned with their own food and sat down.
“Lord Goshugir, I brought some of that salad over there as well. You shouldn’t eat only meat. Have some vegetables too.”
“My lord! They say this meat is incredibly tender! I’ll cut it for you!”
The two who had been glaring daggers at each other moments ago were gone, replaced by Elena and Elizabeth flanking me and shoving food my way. I nodded silently and shoveled meat into my mouth. It really was delicious.
That was when it happened.
“Pardon the intrusion during your meal, beautiful ladies.”
A sweet, oily voice I’d heard just moments ago drifted from behind me. I turned to find the Lindbergh Duke. He wore an easy smile as he bowed politely toward Elizabeth and Elena.
“My name is Valdemar von Lindbergh. Perhaps it is because you accompany the count, commander of the northern legions, but your beauty puts the ballroom’s lights to shame. If you would allow it, might I have the honor of a single dance—”
“I’m not dancing.”
Before the duke could even finish, Elizabeth flatly refused. She didn’t so much as glance his way, focused entirely on transferring meat from her plate to mine with her fork.
“……Excuse me?”
“Why would I dance with you? I’m waiting until my lord finishes eating so I can dance with him. You’re blocking my view of him, so could you move?”
The duke’s handsome face cracked at Elizabeth’s sharp tone. He clearly hadn’t imagined any lady in this ballroom—especially not one attending with the highest-ranking noble in the vicinity—would reject a dance from the Lindbergh Duke. Poor bastard.
Even if she was hiding her identity, Elizabeth was still the princess. A mere duke’s title meant nothing to her.
The duke cleared his throat and smoothly shifted his gaze to Elena.
“Haha, your pride matches your beauty. Then perhaps this intelligent and lovely lady—”
“Your Grace.”
Elena regarded the Lindbergh Duke with a cool, haughty stare.
“I must decline as well.”
“……!!”
Elena’s family, the Weisswalds, were also a ducal house. That calm expression made perfect sense now.
Chewing my meat, I looked at the duke and said,
“I told you to try. Didn’t say they’d go for it.”
“Haha… But isn’t it rather rude for a mere count to treat a duke this way?”
The laughter vanished from the duke’s face, replaced by a chilling aura. His hand drifted toward the rapier at his waist.
Oh. Not only had he come armed to a noble gathering, but he was about to take his frustration out on me with violence? I simply picked up my fork and wiped the grease from my lips with a napkin.
Grinning, I said,
“What, you wanna go a round with me? Draw your sword, you bastard. I’ll take you on with a fork.”
“You insolent—!!”
The man drew his rapier and lunged at me in one swift motion, but I simply blocked it with my fork.
“Bringing a rapier only to get humiliated by a fork. Get lost.”
“Y-You bastard!!”
Elizabeth, Elena, and Anastasia all fixed him with icy glares. The music in the ballroom stopped. Dancers and diners alike turned to stare at us.
That was when it happened.
Flash—!
Suddenly, every light in the ballroom went out at once.
“Wh-What’s going on?!”
Someone’s voice.
“Ah, it seems the mage in charge of the lights made a mistake while replenishing the mana.”
At another voice, Elena muttered as if in response.
“No.”
I could feel it too. There was no way I could forget. That thick, dark energy that had filled the air around the Northern Wall. Demonic energy.
From afar came Viscount Holsholt’s voice.
“Who goes there?! How dare you intrude upon the Holsholt family’s ball—!!”
I reached into the air to summon a weapon, but—
Flash—!
Only the table where my party and I sat was illuminated by magical light. And at the center of that light stood a woman in a black robe, looking down at me. I had no idea when she’d approached.
Long black hair. Crimson eyes. The mana I sensed marked her as at least a 7th-circle mage. No—an archmage of the dark arts.
The reason I froze wasn’t because of her overwhelming mana.
The woman pushed back her robe and spoke to me in a voice that sounded almost pleased.
“Hello, my Shu.”
Why did I feel tears welling up?
Soon after, I lost consciousness.