Chapter 307
Chapter 307
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 307
>Chapter Title: ......Halfway to Refinement
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The grand banquet hall in the city of Hazen.
Third Princess Bellrose, dressed in an elegant gown unlike her academy attire, was greeting the nobles.
“I greet Your Highness.”
“Viscount Filk, it’s been a while. I hope you’ve been well?”
“This old man has nothing special to report. I’ve been living comfortably thanks to Your Highness’s grace. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Good. Enjoy yourself.”
The elderly noble kissed the back of Bellrose’s hand in courtesy before stepping back.
But Bellrose had no time to catch her breath before another noble approached.
“Besub de Aronda greets Your Highness.”
“Baron Besub, thank you for making the long journey here.”
“If Your Highness calls, it’s only right for a vassal to come running anywhere. This humble one is at a loss for words at being invited to such a prestigious gathering.”
“I hope it becomes a meaningful time.”
“Seeing Your Highness has already made it profoundly meaningful.”
The young noble bowed his head deeply and withdrew.
Once the young noble had stepped away, Bellrose finally had a moment to breathe, and a flicker of fatigue crossed her face.
It was only natural, perhaps.
There were thirty-two families invited to the party.
Of them, only about seven were originally part of Bellrose’s faction—which meant...
...dozens of pairs of eyes were appraising Bellrose.
Even she couldn’t help but grow weary under those subtle gazes, and it naturally drained her immense mental energy.
Just maintaining a smiling face was exhausting.
But.
“...Hoo.”
Bellrose steadied her briefly faltering smile and donned the mask of the “ideal princess” everyone expected.
This was a place where she evaluated the nobles—and they evaluated her.
For Bellrose, who was still merely “chosen,” not a single lapse was allowed.
Even if they were mere viscounts and barons of lower nobility, she had no choice in her still-unstable faction.
Even they were precious to her right now.
Of course, higher nobles weren’t absent.
Most notably...
“...Count Erzin.”
Bellrose took in the approaching old noble.
His hair was grizzled and white, his back hunched. His kindly eyes.
If not for the luxurious clothes he wore, he could pass for a country bumpkin—but this old noble was the true star of the banquet.
He was...
Erzin de Jourmain.
The indomitable general who, in the old wars, had felled tens of thousands with a few thousand soldiers.
Though time had diminished his prowess, his family had guarded the borders for generations as the empire’s shield. Even from the frontiers, they wielded influence in the capital as one of the great houses.
And despite his small stature, his personal skill bordered on Master Knight.
“Erzin de Jourmain greets Your Highness.”
“Count Erzin, it’s been a while.”
Count Erzin paid his respects to Bellrose with utmost courtesy, then introduced the young man standing beside him.
“This is my unworthy grandson. Might he offer his greetings?”
Bellrose nodded in place of a reply, and the young man bowed politely, introducing himself.
“Mehod de Jourmain greets Your Highness.”
“Mehod... You must be the famed ‘Tiger of the Borderlands.’ They say you single-handedly repelled the Ranger unit from Hoaksen Kingdom?”
“It’s mere reputation, nothing more.”
Even as he downplayed it, the young noble’s face brimmed with irrepressible pride.
Who could blame him?
Word was he had the makings of a future Master Knight. Of course, whether he’d truly ascend was anyone’s guess.
With Mehod’s greeting done and a step back taken, Count Erzin chuckled softly.
“It’s been since the late emperor’s funeral, hasn’t it?”
“Has it...? Quite some time, then.”
“This old man worried he might be too late. My steps are so slow these days... I hope there’s still a seat.”
Subtly flaunting his ties to the late emperor, Count Erzin glanced around the hall with feigned concern.
Of course, he wasn’t truly fretting over a seat. He hadn’t arrived that late.
So, what was it?
In Aster’s words...
- Ah, I was pretty tight with your granddad. Got a spot for me?
Bellrose replied with a warm smile.
“No need to worry about seats. Though I wonder if the food will suit your tastes. I hope you find a satisfactory spot—one with good food.”
What did that mean?
Seats were there, but it depended on him.
Count Erzin chuckled and bowed his head.
“Then I’d best hurry to claim a good one. I’ll take my leave.”
“I hope it’s meaningful.”
“Thank you.”
After Count Erzin departed.
Bellrose veiled her mouth with her fan, watching his retreating figure.
“An enigma.”
To Bellrose, Count Erzin was a catch she couldn’t let slip—but one she had to guard against all the more.
He had the background and position to be welcomed anywhere.
“I need to watch him.”
What he wanted from her. Why he’d abandoned neutrality to enter the imperial power struggle.
If she trusted Count Erzin, she’d uncover it all in detail.
Of course, it wouldn’t happen overnight.
It would take time.
What mattered today was...
“Aster.”
Bellrose eyed the masked youth standing at the edge of the hall.
A gathering to soothe the unrest among her newly joined nobles, solidify her base, and send a warning to the Second Prince.
On the surface, it was a success.
Tall boots? His height seemed greater, accented by the latest trendy all-white suit. And the ebony cane in his hand—where had he gotten that?
It embodied the mystique of a great mage.
The problem, however...
“Hwaaaaaah—”
...was his innate roguishness, impossible to hide even under the mask.
“...”
Bellrose stared coldly for a moment at Aster yawning wide, then shifted her gaze beside him.
“Who’s... that?”
The mask marked “8” suggested rank 8 in the 72.
“...Wasn’t it a fake group?”
Something felt off.
Even with perception-blocking magic, the graying hair couldn’t be concealed. Aster, an academy student, was rank 4, and an old mage—whatever—at rank 8?
Too sloppy for a real group, too odd in ranking for fake.
Her mind grew complicated.
“Your Highness, it’s time.”
Bellrose nodded at her attendant’s words.
“Let’s go.”
Escorted by attendants, Bellrose headed to the platform at the front of the hall.
...Snap.
The orchestra fell silent, and quiet descended.
As if on cue, the nobles’ gazes turned to Bellrose. No one spoke. They simply stared piercingly.
With all eyes gathered.
Bellrose gave Aster one last glance.
“...Ready?”
Aster yawned with sleepy eyes, then his gaze sharpened at hers.
That was answer enough.
On the platform before everyone, Bellrose spoke. Her voice spread through the hall.
“Thank you all for coming such a long way.”
* * *
As Bellrose’s speech began, Aster scanned the surroundings with bored eyes.
“Man... tough job.”
He knew little of noble culture, but he could sense the atmosphere even without that.
Bellrose was fighting a precarious battle right now.
Few here were true believers. They called themselves nobles—precious blood—but to Aster, they were just hyenas in fine clothes.
Their gazes reeked like a beast’s predatory stink, their smiles bared fangs.
Nobles were often called fat pigs, but these starved hyenas stank worse.
“...Makes sense.”
Those sincerely joining Bellrose’s faction could be counted on one hand.
The rest were scavengers eyeing scraps.
“Disgusting.”
Aster quietly agreed with Mysern.
“Yeah.”
Mysern questioned him.
“Do you even know what I find disgusting?”
“...”
Aster didn’t reply. He sort of knew anyway. Mysern’s gaze pinpointed the target.
Anyway, Aster was listening to Bellrose’s speech with a listless expression when Mysern’s voice rang in his ear.
“I really don’t have to do anything?”
“Yeah, well. They said it’s just for the free meal.”
“Sure?”
“Hey, you’ve only been tricked?”
“Doesn’t sound right coming from a guy who’s only tricked others.”
“Ehe.”
“Fine, whatever. Been a while since I saw this stinking scenery—not so bad. I’ll hang here, do your thing.”
Mysern stepped back slightly, and that’s when Bellrose’s gaze turned to Aster.
Her eyes, far sharper than before her speech, drew a faint smile to Aster’s lips.
At the same time, Bellrose’s voice lowered over the hall.
“...Then, allow me to introduce the special guest who graces us tonight. Rank 4 of the 72...”
Aster slowly walked toward the platform.
By the time Bellrose called his name, he was atop it, looking down.
“...Wyvar.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Wyvar.”
The nobles’ eyes sparkled. Some tilted their heads in curiosity.
The third princess bringing a famed great mage was surprising—and suspicious.
Aster pondered them briefly.
“Let’s see...”
There were thirteen “uninvited guests” here.
Two on the roof, seven disguised as hall staff. Four sneaking in as attendants.
Good. Now, how to crush them so word spreads far?
Note: the white outfit was deliberate. For maximum impact—nothing showed blood like white.
As he brainstormed methods.
“Heh heh.”
A chuckle from somewhere.
Aster cocked his head.
It was Count Erzin, stepping forward to address Bellrose.
“Your Highness, is this the rumored great mage?”
“...”
Bellrose glared coldly at Count Erzin.
Rude. Daring to interrupt before the imperial event ended?
Tension chilled the hall at his outburst. Eyes converged on Bellrose.
All waiting to see her response...
“Your Highness, what the fuck is that shit?”
“...?”
“...?”
The vulgar curse drew every gaze to one spot.
Surprisingly—or perhaps predictably—the culprit was Wyvar. That is, Aster. He stared at Count Erzin and repeated.
“Your Highness looks pissed off enough not to answer, so you, old fuck—why don’t you answer for her? What kinda shit are you?”
...Awkward, half-assed formal speech.
Mysern clutched his forehead involuntarily.
“Really...”
He wanted to run.
The shame was killing him.