6. Traven
That evening, the banquet at Count Traven's manor began in a profoundly heavy atmosphere. Every year, after the Jump Watching ended, they would savor a variety of meticulously prepared dishes made from the hunted Elsk meat using the chef's special recipes, followed by an excited buzz in anticipation of the wine auction in the adjoining ballroom separated by heavy doors from the dining hall. But today, with one soldier dead from being gored by an Elsk's tough horn and six others injured—including Lady Belpharos nearly meeting her end—the unsavory incident had made the assembled nobles tread carefully in their behavior.
In the low murmurs and sporadic silences, the dining hall was filled with the subdued clinks of forks and knives against plates. As the meal wound down and grape pie was served for dessert, Kylie glanced sharply at Count Traven seated at the head of the table. He was quietly poking at his pie with a fork, head bowed. Sensing her gaze, the count looked up and met her eyes, sending her a gaze that burned hot beneath the facade of a fond father's smile for his beloved daughter. Kylie returned it by lifting the corner of her mouth, though her own eyes remained ice-cold.
Tonight, or tomorrow night once the guests had all departed—as always—he would summon her. The thought killed her appetite entirely, and she reached for the wine glass on the table. Gophrid, seated across from her, watched intently as she sipped the wine with sunken eyes.
The intelligence had been accurate, without a doubt. After his wife's death, the count had entered an incestuous relationship with Kylie, who bore an uncanny resemblance to her late mother. That recent exchange of glances suggested the affair was still ongoing. So what, then, was the purpose of the processed merchandise he'd seen at Stunel the night before? Gophrid furrowed his brow slightly. For a fleeting moment, it occurred to him that a magically treated product could serve as a substitute for her.
Kylie had left for studies on the eastern continent at age fifteen and gone straight into imperial service upon graduation, rarely visiting the western continent except during breaks or holidays. It stood to reason that such items satisfied the count during her absences—and explained why he hadn't remarried in over a decade. Gophrid recalled the rumors that had quietly circulated at Ashton Academia during their school days. The beautiful and formidable Kylie, two years his senior, had been the subject of all sorts of gossip, one of which claimed she shared beds with women. Of course, publicly it was just idle talk. She'd openly dated men during her time there, after all.
But Gophrid knew better. The way she'd looked at those boyfriends had been utterly detached. Officially a virgin, she likely hadn't slept with any of them. He stole another glance at Kylie, then shifted his gaze as movement caught his eye at the entrance to the dining hall.
"Look, Lady Belpharos is entering," Gophrid said.
Kylie lifted her eyes from her wine glass and looked over. Olivier, freshly bathed and adorned after washing the blood from her body, entered wearing a white dress. Her pale-faced maid followed and stood against the wall behind Olivier's seat. Kylie's gaze lingered not on the lavishly dressed Lady Belpharos, but briefly on the maid who had entered with her. Noticing the flicker of interest, Gophrid recalled Shaylin's words once more. She'd said there was someone in the Belpharos baron's household who would pique her curiosity. He'd assumed it was Lady Belpharos herself, but Kylie's expression today pointed to the maid.
Sensing the subtle undercurrents of emotion in the room, Gophrid twirled the wine glass between his fingers. His visit to the Astar region had been unexpected, sandwiched between business at Stunel and Bluebay Trading Company in Eliyum. Here, he'd reacquainted himself with the faces of Ashton Empire nobles long forgotten in the western continent and gained certainty on several lingering suspicions. Not a bad yield for an impulsive detour. Come morning, he'd depart Traven manor and return to routine duties in Eliyum. With no interest in the wine auction to follow the banquet, he decided to linger here, sipping wine and observing leisurely.
As Kylie rose and approached Lady Belpharos, Gophrid tilted his glass.
"Lady Belpharos."
Olivier had just lifted her spoon to start on the soup brought by a servant when the soft voice calling her name pierced her ears. Unthinkingly, her grip tightened on the spoon. She looked up to see Kylie drawing near. Gone was the bloodied uniform; now she wore a simple shirt, a fitted vest that accentuated her figure, and black riding breeches. Her perfectly proportioned, toned body gleamed like a medal with every step. Her sculpted face exuded a mysterious allure laced with androgynous charm. Olivier stared, then slowly opened her mouth.
"Lady Traven. I didn't get a chance to thank you properly amid the chaos earlier. I don't even know how to express my gratitude for what happened today..."
As Olivier shyly trailed off, lowering her head, Kylie's warm gaze lingered on her face.
"If anything, I should apologize. I overstepped without realizing in my worry earlier. Please forgive me."
"Forgive you? Don't be ridiculous. If not for you today, I..."
Olivier tilted her chin up slightly to meet Kylie's eyes. Their gazes locked. Caught in that stare, Olivier hurriedly looked away, heat flooding her cheeks. She was flustered by her own physical reaction.
"I might not even be among the living. You're my lifesaver, Lady Traven."
Uttering lines straight out of a romance novel. And while too embarrassed by the heat in my cheeks to even lift my head properly. Olivier bit her lip gently.
Kylie looked down at her. A faint smile played on Kylie's lips. She knew exactly what Olivier's bowed head and expression meant. Like so many female classmates at the academia in the past, she was clearly smitten. Kylie gazed steadily at Olivier, who slowly raised her head as if sensing it. Their eyes met again. Olivier's ruby gaze, glowing subtly, roamed Kylie's face exploratively. It felt as though she were being seduced by that gaze—not overt, but insidious. Kylie inwardly savored it. She was long accustomed to such looks.
"Oh dear, look at me. You must be starving after all that shock, and I nearly overlooked it. I'd have been rude all over again."
Only then did Olivier snap to attention, glancing down at her soup. The spoon in her hand trembled faintly.
"Finish your meal, then let's continue our talk in the study over there. The ballroom will be noisy with the wine auction."
"Ah... yes."
"I'll head there first."
As Kylie passed Olivier, brushing by, she flicked her gaze toward Emily standing against the wall behind her. Their eyes met, and Emily politely lowered hers. Definitely, the maid suited her tastes more than Lady Belpharos. Had Shaylin known? Unfortunately, the maid didn't seem attuned to that sort of sensibility. Olivier watched Kylie's lithe, smooth retreating figure for a moment before collecting herself and focusing on her soup.
Then, Lord Literben—who had been watching her from afar—approached cautiously.
"Lady Belpharos."
Olivier turned at the dull, low voice calling her—not the soft one from earlier. Lord Literben stood beside her, swallowing dryly with a tense expression.
"That accident was truly regrettable. I'm so relieved you emerged unscathed; I must have thanked Isildur a hundred times over while clutching my chest."
A faint crease formed between Olivier's brows as she listened. If not for him, she wouldn't have fled the tent in panic or spent the afternoon on edge. She felt he bore some responsibility, yet his demeanor suggested otherwise. His following words droned on about how deeply he'd worried for her well-being—a tedious monologue better suited for a diary. Olivier sighed softly, staring at her untouched soup.
Who do you think caused all this trouble? She nearly snapped back but remembered his marriage proposal and clamped her mouth shut. Even at this late hour, plenty of nobles remained in the dining hall, still eating. If he so much as breathed a word about the proposal here, rumors would spread through high society, and there'd be no taking it back. She'd have to publicly declare acceptance or rejection. In her tangled thoughts, Olivier pushed the soup far away.
Clueless Lord Literben prattled on relentlessly about his feelings since the incident, ignoring whether she ate or not. Olivier marveled inwardly at his endurance, then grew irritated by the creeping displeasure. Just as she opened her mouth to end it—
A servant, noticing the pushed-aside soup, placed the main course before her, interrupting Lord Literben mid-sentence. Olivier silently thanked him profusely. Glancing down, she saw a thick steak made from today's hunted Elsk meat. The sight of the massive hunk conjured the phantom smell of hot, sticky blood that had splashed her face and body earlier; her face twisted openly in revulsion.
"Lady Belpharos. Are you alright? Your complexion..."
Lord Literben asked worriedly, having watched her expression.
Olivier draped her napkin from her lap onto the table. Dinner suddenly seemed impossible.
"I can't even think of eating this. After that whole..."
"Ah, the accident. I completely understand."
Lord Literben nodded slowly in sympathy. Olivier swiftly rose.
She'd retreat for now and send Emily later if hunger struck, to eat in her room.
"Thank you for your sincere concern. I'm not feeling well, so may I be excused?"
"Ah, oh... yes. Of course."
He replied awkwardly. Olivier flashed him a smile, signaled Emily with her eyes, and hurried away. As she passed, nobles sent sympathetic glances over the accident; she forced smiles in return until she escaped the dining hall.
Her mother's words rang true: in the Traven household, she must behave as a proper lady to leave a good impression on everyone.
Outside, Olivier hesitated. Head to the study to meet Kylie? Or just go up and rest? After agonizing, she turned to Emily.
"Emily, I'll go meet Lady Traven in the study. You return to the room."
She wanted distance, lest Emily notice the budding, subtle feelings she was developing for Kylie. Emily curtsied politely and headed for the stairs to the second floor. Olivier watched her back for a moment, then turned toward the study.