Audience
Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the banquet hall was reaching its height.
The sparkling wine had been brought out merely to quench thirst, yet after three or four glasses the pleasant warmth of intoxication had settled in nicely, and as the hours stretched on the murmur of conversation swelled until it nearly drowned out the music.
In that disorderly space, Hugo was fielding the stream of people who approached him in hopes of cultivating a connection.
"It has been some time, Sir Hugo."
A man in an ivory dress coat offered a graceful bow. He had opened with the familiar greeting of long absence, yet inconveniently his face existed nowhere in Hugo's memory.
"A pleasure..."
Still, there remained the chance that he had simply forgotten the man, so Hugo let the reply trail off.
Hugo possessed no superhuman recall; his was an ordinary memory that readily discarded anyone he judged 'unimportant.'
Ordinarily Eldrina, who held her own kind of dominion over high society, would have stepped in and steered the conversation with practiced ease. For some reason, however, she had yielded her place tonight to her daughter Siriel.
Eldrina's absence.
Even so, the situation never quite tipped into true difficulty.
That is Viscount Posse. Second brother-in-law to Duke Ermenst.
Just before the moment could grow awkward, his daughter's quiet tip reached his ear.
From here on it would be far simpler.
"Viscount Posse. To run into you at a gathering like this."
"You remembered me?"
Perhaps it was simply hearing his name spoken. The face of the man in the ivory coat brightened noticeably.
"I hear you returned safely from the recent campaign as well. My heartfelt congratulations."
"...We can only be thankful it ended at that level."
Without letting the talk die, Hugo cast a sidelong glance around the room. He had already spoken with quite a few people, yet still more hovered nearby, waiting for their chance at a single exchange.
What on earth do they think I am, that so many keep seeking me out?
A light wave of dizziness passed through him.
I knew it. Places like this do not suit me.
It was a thought he had held for a long time, and with each passing day it only grew sharper.
Artificial light. The choking reek of perfume. Crowds of people. The ceaseless noise of conversation.
—...I was seriously considering beating the dog half to death.
...What was that?
For an instant his keen hearing snagged on the curse. Yet Hugo had no spare attention to spare for it.
Wherever drink flowed, drunken scuffles were common enough, and his own mental stamina was already stretched thin simply dealing with the man in front of him.
"Come to think of it, there was an interesting rumor circulating..."
Viscount Posse likewise paid no mind to the distant stir Hugo had just registered. Hugo erased the far-off commotion from his thoughts entirely.
"I understand your own child is currently enrolled at the Academy as well. Is that correct?"
"It is."
"Lately they say quite the uproar broke out at the Academy. Have you heard anything of it?"
"...What do you mean by that?"
Conscious of his daughter standing attendance behind him, Hugo answered with a question of his own.
"There is a rumor that the young lady of House Strasser and General Boss's son both had their noses broken by a classmate."
A tedious story.
That was what he thought, though he gave no outward sign of it.
"...If the rumor is true, that is truly unfortunate."
He only wanted to offer a suitably bland reply and cut the topic short.
"Yes. Fortunately they summoned a healer in haste and the injuries were treated without so much as a scar."
Yet whether the man lacked any sense of tact or simply possessed the nature of a gossip, he was only warming to the tale.
"And here is another amusing bit of news—Count Schreier's second son and Margrave Carr's grandson both had their arms and legs broken during sparring class, if you can believe it."
"...Hm?"
Hugo's head tilted slightly.
Why on earth would broken limbs among noble heirs count as amusing news? The dubious remark narrowed his eyes as he regarded the man.
Is something wrong with this fellow's head?
As if he had read that very thought, Viscount Posse's eyes went wide.
"Did you find the story dull, by chance?"
"...Not at all."
"Then?"
"As you know... broken arms and legs are hardly uncommon, are they? And since it happened during sparring, I felt nothing particularly remarkable about it."
"Ah! In that case I must not have explained thoroughly enough."
Viscount Posse took a step closer to Hugo.
"This next part I heard from my brother-in-law. Every one of those young people I mentioned was done in by a single student. Arms and legs broken, noses smashed—heavens, what a spectacle it must have been."
"...Is that truly so?"
"Yes. From what I was told, the number of youths that student put on the ground easily runs into double digits."
"Then until it reached that point, no one else took any measures? I would have expected someone to demand a response."
"Interestingly enough, they say no one did a thing."
Hugo felt no real interest in the story, yet he answered with a suitably polite nod.
Whether that response struck the man as positive, a thin smile began to form on Viscount Posse's face.
"Well. Broken limbs are common enough, aren't they? And since it was a conflict among children, perhaps the adults simply thought intervening with censure would look ridiculous."
"...I see."
"Ah! In that case I shall take my leave. I have monopolized far too much of your time on my own."
Hands clasped behind his back, Viscount Posse drifted away. The sight of a man who said only what he wished to say and then vanished left nothing but the impression of someone thoroughly tiresome to deal with.
The empty space he left was filled at once by another. This time it was a man wearing thick-lensed spectacles—another face absent from Hugo's memory.
"Sir Hugo. To be able to speak with you in person like th—"
"Father."
Just as the man was about to greet Hugo with an eager smile, his daughter's call came from behind.
"A moment. Excuse me."
Speaking as though issuing a notice, Hugo turned. There stood Siriel, her complexion poor, one hand pressed to her forehead.
"...Are you unwell somewhere?"
"May I step out for a little air? I have been standing so long that a touch of dizziness has come over me."
"Of course."
Hugo turned his head slightly and met the eyes behind the spectacles.
"I am sorry, but might we postpone this for another opportunity?"
"Y-yes, yes. Please, go right ahead."
"I appreciate the consideration."
With a nod, Hugo supported Siriel and withdrew from the banquet hall.
The banquet held within the imperial palace: Long Sword Night.
No small number of people had gathered, yet because only carefully chosen guests of honor were permitted to set foot there, nothing that occurred inside—however partial—ever leaked to the outside world.
Even the matter of the Prien heir insulting the First Prince, Austin, to his face had not escaped.
Austin considered that for the best.
"It would be preferable if yesterday's events did not spread among the public."
A hotel in Rihnn, inside a room reserved under no name.
Seated upon a red leather sofa, Austin spoke as though making a proposal to the man facing him.
The man stroked a bushy beard that invited the adjective "unkempt" and replied.
"Yesterday's events, Your Highness?"
"The fact that I... was insulted by that creature of uncertain origins. Surely you saw it? As I recall, you too were in attendance at the banquet."
"I did not witness it myself. I heard of it from Count Elgar."
"...That is fortunate."
Austin deliberately wore an expression of relief. He had little choice.
"My blood pressure has been rather poor of late. The fewer people who remember me in a humiliating light, the better."
"A most reasonable sentiment, Your Highness."
Because the man before him was not a man of the Empire before he was Austin's man, it was better to be perceived as someone who valued face above all else.
What an exhausting bother.
That said, Austin could not simply lie to the man as he pleased.
The claim that he was glad the man had not seen yesterday's affair was false; the fact that his blood pressure had been abnormally high of late was true.
Austin would have to blend an appropriate measure of truth into what he told him.
Count Voland was a man of the Ajani Principality who, five years earlier, had brought word of the younger brother stripped of his place among the imperial family.
He had introduced himself as a sorcerer from beyond the desert, yet in the letter Henry had sent separately he was described as a renowned ascetic monk of the Ajani Principality. That such a man still held a title was almost laughable.
Even so—
Count Voland could not be trusted, yet among the cards Austin held he was the most capable.
Capable meant something very specific.
When Austin voiced a wish to this man, it was generally granted.
He had said he did not want to be abandoned like his younger brother.
He had said he did not want to die.
He had said he could not die like this.
And finally he had said he wanted to become emperor.
As if by some sorcery the man found a way each time, and so Austin had no choice but to employ Count Voland even while knowing something was amiss.
Still—
The unknowable, the suspicion, the weariness of dealing with him, the dizziness in his head—those seemed unavoidable.
Rubbing eyelids that felt weighted with lead, Austin wanted nothing more than to finish the conversation quickly.
If I do not wrap this up soon...
"Your Highness."
Just as a premonition struck him that his heart might stop, a wrinkled hand seized Austin's own and held it fast.
"There is one matter I must urge upon you."
"And what is that?"
Perhaps because both hands were gripped so tightly, Austin felt his eyelids grow markedly lighter.
The leaden heaviness vanished somewhere,
his mind seemed to clear, and his heart eased along with it. Whenever he clasped Voland's hand, Austin felt as though he had slipped free of his damned flesh and were walking upon clouds.
Utterly natural, without the slightest sense of wrongness.
Austin's consciousness fixed upon the man.
"Judging by Your Highness's condition, at this rate you will perish before the Emperor himself. It would be wise to begin adjusting the strength of the cursed implement."
"...Is it that severe?"
Austin furrowed his brow and held out the staff.
The staff Count Voland had given him after he voiced the wish to become emperor. He had been told it was a tool that offered the user's life force as sacrifice in order to gnaw away at another's life.
Click—
Voland twisted the grip of the staff and separated it from the shaft.
"Your Highness's blood pressure is not the only concern; your complexion is far from normal as well. I shall adjust the amount. Hmm... just a pinch less, I think."
Tilting the white body of the staff, Voland moved his hands as though scooping something out.
—Tssssst
The sound of something falling onto the table.
Yet Austin could not see it.
Chilling beyond words. I know it is right in front of me, yet it remains invisible...
The sorcerer's gestures performed before his eyes looked like nothing more than hands waving plausibly through empty air—an act that only made the lie easier to accept.