The Masquerade Ball
The festival that had stretched on for a full week was at last drawing to its final day.
The academy’s main hall—normally closed to the public—was now thronged with people.
“Urgh…”
From a quiet corner of the ballroom, Schwarz watched the crowded scene and let out a low groan.
“What? Uncomfortable?”
Milia turned to him as she asked. A plain, unadorned mask covered her face, and her hair had been dyed a soft pale gold.
“My Lady…”
Schwarz answered with a quiet sigh. He wore a matching mask and had dyed his own hair silver.
“Come on. It’s a masquerade—you don’t have to fuss so much over a partner.”
“Even so…”
Faced with her unapologetic confidence, Schwarz looked thoroughly put-upon and let the sentence trail off.
“Besides, there isn’t a single man here I actually like. If that’s the case, I’d far rather stay with you.”
“…”
She cut him off with a faint smile. Honestly, who could ever rein this young lady in? Schwarz thought, shaking his head.
“Still… there really are a lot of people.”
“For today only, outsiders are allowed onto academy grounds.”
Students and academy staff were not the only ones present. Nobles, royal officials, and patrons of every sort filled the hall. Everyone wore masks, so no one could be certain who was who—yet the guests still clustered in little groups, each pursuing their own purposes as they enjoyed the party.
“This sort of thing really isn’t for me.”
“You’ve never cared much for parties, My Lady.”
Milia spoke as though the whole affair already bored her. Schwarz gave a soft snort of laughter and nodded.
The dress was too tight, the atmosphere too dull… When she had been younger, she would slip out of every banquet and spend the evening with him instead. Compared to those days, tonight was nothing short of remarkable progress.
Just then—
“There you are.”
“…?”
A familiar voice sounded behind them. Milia and Schwarz both tilted their heads and turned.
“It’s been a while, you two.”
Standing there was a young girl with hair as white as snow and eyes that shone like sapphires. Even with a mask hiding her face, the grace in her bearing and voice was unmistakable—and deeply familiar to them both.
“Your Highness?”
“I knew you would recognize me, Milia.”
The moment Milia spoke, the girl—Elis Nella Elianos—drew her into a light embrace.
“W-wait, Your Highne—no, Elis?!”
“Shh. Keep your voice down. It would be troublesome if my identity were discovered.”
Elis winked and pressed a finger to her lips. Milia, still flustered, managed a sheepish apology.
“Ah… sorry…”
“It’s good to see you again as well, Schwarz.”
Leaving the still-startled Milia behind, Elis turned to Schwarz with a gentle smile.
“Your Highness.”
Schwarz dropped carefully to one knee, took the hand she offered, and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.
“I truly am sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you both. I never expected you would humor my selfish request.”
When Schwarz rose and stepped back, Elis turned to Milia once more.
Originally the evening had been planned as an ordinary ball. A few days earlier, however, Amelia had delivered a letter—from Elis herself. The letter asked whether it might not be better to turn the event into a masquerade. The schedule had already been nearly complete; the entire plan had to be rewritten from the ground up. But what of it? The ones who would suffer were not Milia herself.
In the end Dane and the rest of the General Affairs Department had burned the midnight oil for days on end, and somehow the preparations had been finished in time.
“How could I refuse when it was you asking?”
“Yet you refused when I asked you to lend me Schwarz.”
Elis’s tone was playfully sulky.
“Th-that was…”
“Heh. I’m only teasing. Schwarz is precious to you—I was the foolish one back then.”
Milia trailed off, looking awkward. Elis laughed softly at the sight.
Then—
“Pardon the interruption.”
“…?”
An unfamiliar voice came from behind them. They turned to find a man bowing lightly in their direction. He stood half a head taller than Schwarz, with a well-proportioned build, blue eyes visible beneath his mask, and gleaming blond hair—the very picture of a handsome nobleman.
“What is it?”
“Nothing of great importance. I simply found myself without a partner and happened to notice the two of you. If it would not be too forward, might one of you do me the honor of dancing with me?”
He bowed again toward the stiff-faced Milia. Then her gaze fell on the crest pinned to his shoulder, and her expression soured.
A set of scales and a gold coin drawn above a document—the seal of House Pension, one of the kingdom’s five great ducal houses. The Pensions had risen from ordinary merchants to one of the five pillars of the realm, a true self-made success story. Yet public opinion of them was far from kind.
People who would sell their own family for money.
That was the reputation most held of Duke Pension’s house. Small wonder Milia reacted as she did.
Troy Pension, was it?
Schwarz narrowed his eyes at the crest. Troy Pension—eldest of the duke’s three sons, a man of exceptional business acumen and the most likely heir. Yet the gods, it seemed, were fair: the man was also a notorious womanizer. His presence at the ball almost certainly had less to do with commerce than with personal appetite.
“I’m afraid we have no intention of taking partners.”
“I see. Then what of the lady beside you?”
Having been rebuffed so cleanly, Troy turned to Elis.
“I’m sorry. I have no wish for a partner either.”
Elis shook her head with clear disinterest. But in the next breath—
“Hmm… is that so? Then at least allow me to apologize for my rudeness by kissing the back of your hand.”
“Pardon? Ah—?!”
Before anyone could protest, Troy seized Elis’s hand, dropped to one knee, and pressed his lips to her knuckles. Kissing a lady’s hand without leave was the height of impropriety, yet no one nearby dared intervene for fear of the consequences.
And in that instant—
“That is enough.”
“…!!”
Milia’s voice was ice. She snatched Troy’s hand away. At the same moment Schwarz stepped in front of Elis. Troy’s eyes went round with surprise as Milia fixed him with a glare.
“There are limits even to rudeness.”
“Oh? I merely wished to apologize for my earlier discourtesy.”
“An apology no one asked for is itself a discourtesy, is it not?”
“…”
Troy rose with studied nonchalance, but his eyelid twitched at her retort. The surrounding guests murmured and edged away, unwilling to be caught in any fallout. Troy composed his features.
“Bold, aren’t you? But are you certain this is wise? I am not so generous as to suffer insult in silence.”
“Then the insult you offered my companion is somehow forgivable? How very self-serving of you.”
“…”
His warning only drew another sharp reply. Troy’s face twisted.
“Insolent little—!!”
He strode toward her. Even with a man two heads taller looming over her, Milia did not flinch.
“Some mongrel of unknown origin dares interfere in my affairs?!”
He raised his hand—
And in the next heartbeat Schwarz had seized that wrist, staring the man down with a face of stone.
“Wh-what—?!”
Troy had not even seen him move. He tried to wrench free, but Schwarz’s grip did not budge.
“I will not overlook discourtesy toward My Lady.”
“Ghk…!!”
Schwarz began to tighten his hold. Pain contorted Troy’s features, yet Schwarz did not release him. After the insult to Milia and House Valentine, breaking an arm or two felt like the least that was required.
Then—
“Schwarz. That’s enough.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
At her word Schwarz nodded and let go.
“Hah—!!”
Troy staggered back, clutching his arm and glaring at them both.
“Since the discourtesy was mutual, I suggest we pretend this never happened. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Tch…”
Milia offered him a bright, sunny smile. Troy stared at her for a moment with open distaste, then clicked his tongue, turned on his heel, and vanished into the crowd.
Even after he was gone the atmosphere remained unsettled—until the orchestra struck up a new piece. The murmurs faded, and before long the guests returned to the pleasures of the ball as though nothing had occurred.
“Thank you, Milia.”
Elis still trembled faintly.
“Are you all right?”
“I am, thanks to you. And thank you as well, Schwarz.”
“I merely did what was required.”
Schwarz bowed lightly as Elis drew a steadying breath.
“Honestly, every last one of that house is the same…”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Pfft…”
Milia grumbled; Schwarz nodded in perfect accord. Elis laughed softly at the pair of them.
“Elis?”
“Your Highness?”
Both looked puzzled.
“The two of you really are alike. I suppose that’s what comes of growing up together.”
She smiled faintly.
“Well… I suppose you could say that.”
“Is that so? I’ve never really thought about it…”
They both trailed off with soft, awkward sounds. Elis laughed again.
Then the music ended, and silence settled over the hall. The center of the floor cleared; couples began to gather there in pairs.
“Will you be all right, Milia?”
“Hm? All right about what?”
Elis leaned in and whispered. Milia tilted her head in confusion.
“The dancing. You practiced, didn’t you?”
Elis’s smile was knowing.
“H-how did you—?!”
Milia flinched.
“Milia. Did you take me for a fool?”
“That’s not it, but—!!”
“Don’t worry about me. Go dance a set together. Opportunities like this don’t come every day—it would be a shame to waste it.”
“…”
Milia lowered her head, cheeks flushing scarlet. She nodded, then stepped toward Schwarz—who had been watching the whole exchange—and took his arm, drawing him toward the center of the floor.
“Eh? My Lady? Where are we—w-wait a moment?!”
Schwarz’s startled voice trailed after them as they disappeared among the dancers. Elis watched them go with a quiet smile, then let out a soft sigh in the direction they had vanished.
“I envy you, Milia.”
She turned toward the window and lifted her gaze to the moonlit indigo sky.