The Mad Bitch's Invitation (3)
"What're you doing...?"
"Gotta pay you back somehow. This is the only thing I could think of."
With that, Pelle crawled between my legs before I could even react.
"For helping those idiot demon guys. And the gifts you gave them."
She meant the food I gave Ammugar and Orkog, and the dwarf-made pen? How the hell does that lead to this?
"I don't have any money, and I'm not good at just saying thanks. So this is how I'm showing it."
Pelle started undoing my trouser hem. I hurriedly glanced toward the stairs.
She caught my look and said, "No one's coming down. Everyone's in their rooms."
"Still, doing it here is kinda..."
"Your room's riskier. This spot's better."
What the hell do I do... I wasn't against Pelle doing this, but the timing and place were way too sudden...
"What're you waiting for? Grab the horns."
As she worked up some saliva, pursing her lips, a long string of drool stretched from them. Seeing that sent my arousal spiking, and following my creed of 'eat when you can', I seized Pelle's horns with both hands.
The cuckoo bird popped out from the wall clock, announcing the hour. Pelle, with her horns gripped tight, didn't seem to mind her jaw at all as she went diligently to work.
That's when Kali's barking echoed from outside, followed by the inn's door handle rattling.
Pelle froze at the sound. I tensed up too, turning my head toward the door.
On the second day of the city-wide mourning curfew, who the hell was coming to the inn? City hall? The guards? But the door was locked tight, and when it didn't budge, the visitor kept yanking the handle.
I started to stand, but Pelle pressed my thigh down with her hand, forcing me back into the chair.
"Uighaeo (Ignore it)."
"You think?"
Pelle resumed her service. But then, the definitely locked door suddenly burst open with a bang.
A chill wind howled in, making the bar's candles flicker wildly. In my shock, I ended up dumping a massive load of trouble right into Pelle without thinking.
She flinched but clamped her mouth shut, careful not to let any spill on the floorboards. I whipped my head toward the door.
A black silhouette stood there.
What the fuck? How'd they open a locked door?
Pelle scooted back on her knees, and I hastily pulled up my pants. Good thing she was behind the bar—if we'd been at a table, we'd have been fucked.
The figure crossed the hall straight toward us. Soon, they entered the candlelight's glow.
"Brione...?"
Brione, the royal palace mage with her light sky-blue bob, gave me a faint smile. She was in her usual sleek leather pants and breezy shirt, clutching a document envelope.
"Bertrand. Long time no see."
"What the hell are you doing here?"
That's when Pelle stood up from behind the bar. Brione looked a bit startled at the sudden demon.
"Huh? A demon? What were you doing back there?"
Pelle, lips pursed, gulped down what was in her mouth with an audible swallow. She peeled a single strand of hair from her lips with her finger and spoke.
"None of your business."
Brione's mouth twitched at Pelle's icy retort. A skilled mage like her could easily dispatch one demon. Though if Pelle went all out with Bongma, it'd be a different story. Either way, if they fought, it wouldn't end with just hair-pulling and scratching.
"Pelle. Go upstairs and rest."
"Tasty as always. I'll come back for more next time."
"Come anytime. I'll stuff you till you burst."
Pelle flashed something almost like a smile for a split second, then headed up the stairs. Brione glared at her back and asked,
"What was that about? What'd she eat?"
"None of your business. Why're you here?"
"What do you mean? What'd you feed her till she bursts?"
I shut my mouth and stared at Brione. Feeling the weight of my gaze, she looked away.
"Go lock the door first."
"Okay."
Brione shut the rattling door against the wind and sat in the chair opposite me.
"Get to the point. If you're here to spy on me again..."
"It's not that, Bertrand. No drink or anything? I'm freezing from the rain."
She was bone-dry, no sign of rain on her clothes, and spouting bullshit.
"You came straight via dimensional gate. Cut the crap and spit it out."
"Busted."
Brione stuck out her tongue playfully with a grin. But when I didn't smile back, she straightened up and pulled it in.
No matter how sweetly she smiled at me, I had zero fondness for Brione. Back when she was an apprentice mage at the palace, she'd used me to climb the ladder—gaining the cred of "mage who quested with the hero." The second her apprenticeship ended, she ditched me cold and returned to the palace. And recently, on Princess Elua's orders, she'd come snooping on me. Probably figured Elua would outmaneuver Alvis and Gobert to become the next ruler and hitched her wagon early. One of that cunning bitch Elua's many lackeys doing her dirty work. An opportunist latching onto whoever for personal gain. That's the Brione I saw.
"Reason I'm here is this."
Brione pulled something from the envelope. It was a luxurious card with gold-embossed edges, sealed with red wax bearing the royal seal, folded in half.
I took it and read the ornate script in gold-flecked ink on the front.
"Former civil servant who diligently served at the royal palace, Bertrand Balder"
It felt insultingly modest compared to my actual deeds—phrasing that made me sound like some pencil-pusher who'd clocked in till retirement. Of course, I felt no offense. I never saw my hero days as my life's pinnacle anyway. It was just what needed doing, so I did it.
But this was weird. Why put that on an invite delivered personally via Brione, who knew my real identity? Royal documents didn't fuck around with even a single word—they were vetted endlessly, laced with the sender's intent and political subtext.
So this had to be deliberate. Meant to piss me off and humiliate me. Nothing else made sense.
"From Elua?"
"No. Mass-produced at the palace."
"Only that crazy bitch would pick wording this fucked."
Brione's brow furrowed slightly at me trash-talking her boss. Bullshit. Acting all loyal.
If that madwoman sent this amid the current shitstorm, one conclusion: she'd pulled it off.
"Elua's becoming queen?"
"Open it."
I broke the seal and unfolded the card. Sure enough, a curt line inside.
"Attend my father's funeral and offer your condolences."
"Take it back."
I tossed the card in front of Brione, but she shoved it back.
"Don't refuse, Bertrand. This is a royal command."
"No coronation yet, so no queen."
"She's regent now. Wielding full authority. Her word is the king's."
"Bullshit."
I wanted to kick her out right then. But with almost no palace contact these days, I decided to pump her for info.
"Why'd the king drop dead suddenly?"
"Health decline. Common at his age."
Health decline, my ass. Couldn't take that at face value. The king had visited the inn, and plenty of time had passed since. No way he'd done zilch to stop Elua from taking the throne.
"Heard the noble council was backing a successor."
"Duke Alvis? Drowned on summer vacation."
Assassination. That left only the bastard Gobert. Him too?
"What about the half-bro?"
"Bertrand, stop. Just attend the funeral. It's good for you."
Brione dodged, trying to sweet-talk me.
"Her Highness really wants you there. For old times' sake, at least..."
I burst out laughing, making her flinch.
"Old times? Hilarious. Whatever. What happened to that fucker Gobert? He dead too?"
"Bertrand..."
"Dead?"
Brione clamped her mouth shut, meeting my stare. But no mage, no matter how skilled, could withstand my gaze. Sweating bullets, she finally cracked.
"A while back... volunteered for front-line legion general..."
Got it. Gobert was alive. Soon as the king died after visiting the inn, they'd secured him first.
As I stayed silent, Brione ventured cautiously,
"Bertrand... I've heard roughly about you and Her Highness. But don't oppose her too hard."
She flinched under my eyes but pressed on doggedly.
"I know if you wanted, no one could stop you. But you're not the type to throw that power around on whims. Plus, the late king adored you. It's his funeral."
I was already planning to go. Hated seeing Elua's face, but I wouldn't outright ignore a regent's command. As Brione said, I crushed threats to my circle without mercy, but I played by common sense within the law's bounds. The king had been good to me—made me a Grade 1 special civil servant despite no official title, doubled my pension and severance. Skipping his funeral over personal beef? Not human.
"To the palace by tomorrow?"
"With me, via dimensional gate. You're VIP."
"Hm. Not bad."
I tapped the table with my finger, rereading the card. Spotted something odd.
"Plus one companion? What's this?"
"Everyone else getting cards is barons or higher. So they can bring a servant or spouse."
"Funeral or fucking ball? Lunatics."
"Kinda... Palace directive."
Brione hesitated, like she was hiding something. That mage was never straight.
"But you don't care, right? Coming alone? No one to bring anyway."
She glanced at the stairs—probably eyeing our staff on the third floor.
I stared hard at the "plus one companion" line, lost in thought. Alone was fine, but heading to the palace anyway... felt like a wasted chance...
"When exactly?"
"By tomorrow morning. Go today, they'll give you a guest room. Tomorrow, I'll fetch you."
"Then go. Come back tomorrow."
I left Brione and headed upstairs. On the third floor, I stopped in front of a door.