That night, Fiarca and Ras were brought to the lord’s mansion. As the leader of the empire’s northern reaches, the marquis’s home was more like a castle. Though it paled in extravagance to the imperial palace, it was roughly equal in terms of size. The reception hall was lit to a dazzling extent by aura lamps, and a live orchestra decorated the air with graceful tones.
More than a thousand people filled the hall, dressed in colorful costumes. The purpose of this feast was to welcome Crown Prince Auriol to the marquis’s lands.
Standing at the center of the hall was Fiarca, in her disguise, obviously. Kanalayka, wearing a dress, was acting as her partner. Kanalayka was the daughter of Marquis Aluarche, so it was perfectly fitting for her to accompany the crown prince. Her looks were a match, too, but more than anything else, she was perfectly positioned to ensure Auriol’s safety. It was Ras who had foisted this responsibility on Kanalayka, while he killed time elsewhere at the party.
Ras was wearing his ceremonial garb, complete with a red-and-gold cape that identified him as a Guardian of Silver. From his shoulder hung an ornamental braid awarded to all knights who had slain a dragon.
Ras considered whether the full ensemble might be overdoing it, but the purpose was to impress, and in that respect the regalia did its job. Add to that Ras’s status as the son of a count, and his ill reputation as the Stallion, and it was little wonder not very many people at the party approached him.
Thanks to that, Ras was able to enjoy the luxurious standing buffet undisturbed. From time to time, he felt the envious gaze of Fiarca, who kept having to deal with the aggressive introductions of various local noblemen, but that was none of Ras’s concern. He’d probably have to face her wrath later, but that was a problem for another time.
However, in brazen defiance of Ras’s self-imposed solitude, a lone woman came up to him. She had green hair and wore a dress more splendid than any other at the party by far.
“It’s been some time since we last met, Sir Talion. I was hoping for the chance to speak with you, if you’d be so kind?”
“Well, well, if it isn’t Lady Pernille Burndy. Three years ago, in Vif Arger, was it? You’ve only grown more beautiful with time, my lady. Why, the moon itself should be ashamed to show its face beside your radiance tonight.”
Ras’s exaggerated greeting earned him a stifled titter from Pernille.
“Oh, cut it out, Ras. That isn’t funny. When did you become so versed in flattery?”
“It wasn’t all flattery,” Ras replied. “That’s a nice dress you’re wearing, Pell. Is it one of Madame Percival’s designs? That emerald necklace really suits you, too.”
The young lady’s eyes went wide.
“You’re quite right. I’m impressed, Ras. You really have been hanging out around the brothels of Prouss.”
Pernille was the daughter of Marquis Burndy, while Ras was the third son of Count Veredica. As children of Council members, the two had been introduced countless times when they were younger. But they really got to know each other when Pernille was taken into consideration to be Auriol’s wife. At that time, Ras was Fiarca’s fiancé, so due to proximity, the two had become close.
That was why Pernille was so stunned to see Ras now. The man she knew from three years ago was nowhere near knowledgeable enough to be able to comment on a dress’s design.
However, it wasn’t like Ras had come by that knowledge of his own volition. The ability to notice changes in and compliment a woman’s hairstyle or attire was essential for surviving the harsh environment of his favorite brothel, ParadiasH.
“Let’s just say I’ve been through a lot,” said Ras. “So have you, I’d imagine.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry about Princess Fiarca, Ras.”
Mistaking the jaded look in Ras’s eyes for grief, Pernille lowered her gaze and offered a few words of consolation. Ras scratched his head, unsure how to respond, for standing but a few meters behind Pernille was the very princess whose death she was presently commiserating. Ras locked eyes with Fiarca and received a glare of reproach in return. No doubt she was resenting Ras for leaving her to fend for herself while he went off and chatted with a beautiful girl like Pernille. Of course, this all went completely over the head of Pernille herself.
“You never did get along with her, did you?” asked Ras.
“Of course I didn’t. She was always prettier and smarter than me, and you and Auriol both showered her with affection. How could I not be jealous of someone like that? Even though we would have been sisters-in-law, I could never stand her.”
Pernille pouted at Ras, but then her face relaxed into a lonely smile.
“But now,” she said, “I’ve begun to wish it really had all worked out. Even if we never got along, I had nothing against the woman.”
“I see…”
Ras wasn’t sure how to respond. He only managed a weak nod. He suspected that, although she wouldn’t say it aloud, Pernille knew that Auriol was to be wed to a princess of Charlgia. As someone raised from birth with the possibility of being the crown prince’s wife, that news must have been like a boot treading on all the sacrifices she’d made.
To make matters worse, the very purpose of this party was to see Auriol off to that destination. Once he reached Charlgia, it was only a few days before he would meet Princess Tishna and the engagement would be made public. This must have been the saddest party of Pernille’s life. And yet despite all that, she could not refuse to show her face. At a party attended by sore reminders, perhaps Ras was the only ally she could find.
“Be that as it may, I think you’re better off keeping your distance from me,” he said.
“Why’s that, Ras?”
“Because the gossips love to spread lies about the Stallion,” Ras explained, “and anyone who associates with him. I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
Despite his efforts to push her away, however, Pernille smiled coyly and brought herself closer.
“I don’t mind,” she said. “You’re single now, are you not? All you have to do is say you’re serious about me.”
“Drop it. I don’t want to make an enemy of your father.”
“I don’t think he’d mind, either.”
As Ras took a step back, Pernille looked up into his eyes, a cheerful smile on her lips. The next moment, without so much as a sound, somebody in a deep crimson dress stepped between the pair. It was Kanalayka.
“Ras,” she said, leaning close and whispering into his ear. “I know she might be eligible, but don’t you think you’re getting a little too friendly with this woman?” Although her words blamed Ras, it was clear her motive was to stall Pernille’s actions.
“You’re quite right,” Ras replied. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Taking advantage of the distraction, he moved behind Kanalayka, putting her between him and Pernille. It was probably Fiarca who had sent the legate over for precisely that purpose. The reason partly being to prevent any bad blood from forming between the empire and Marquis Burndy. The two families were already on thin ice with each other, thanks to the breaking off of Pernille’s engagement. If Ras, the crown prince’s aide, were to be seen making a move on her now, it could very easily invoke the marquis’s wrath. It was only natural that Fiarca should want to prevent that.
The other half of the reason was, of course, pure jealousy. Fiarca had been fielding the introductions of noblemen all evening and hadn’t even managed to eat. Seeing Ras happily enjoying himself at a time like that was enough to stoke the fires of rage in even the most levelheaded imperial princess. Especially when the person Ras was talking to was Pernille.
Kanalayka, of course, had nothing to do with any of this, but the bonds of loyalty forced her to take part in her mistress’s revenge. Pernille, meanwhile, hadn’t the slightest inkling of the complex motives underpinning Kanalayka’s actions, and so her anger fell squarely upon the legate’s shoulders.
“Are you really in a position to be interrupting us, Lady Kanalayka?” she asked. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you seem a little jealous, wouldn’t you?”
It was clear that Pernille was trying to rile up Kanalayka on purpose. It wasn’t as if she had been trying to make a serious move on Ras, but even so, she was annoyed at having their conversation cut short and decided to take out her anger on Kanalayka.
To make matters worse, Kanalayka was acting as the crown prince’s partner this evening. If she got into a catfight over the Stallion, it wouldn’t reflect well on Auriol.
In response to Pernille’s malicious words, Kanalayka stiffened and attempted a mature response. “I am simply ensuring that Ras engages in behavior that is appropriate to his new station,” she said. “I would ask you to be more temperate with your accusations, Lady Pernille.”
“Are you not accompanying His Imperial Highness tonight? Why is it any of your business with whom Ras decides to associate? Don’t tell me you’re allowing desires of the flesh to cloud your judgment?”
“I have no such desires! The only things I feel for Sir Talion are love, respect, and faith! You take that back at once!”
“Love?” repeated Pernille, her eyes wide. “I didn’t know you really did have a thing for him…”
“N-no! Not that kind of…! I—I misspoke… I mean…”
Kanalayka immediately started to stumble over her words. It appeared that while she made an excellent military officer, she was not so well versed in the verbal taunts enjoyed by young ladies of the noble class. For better or worse, she wore her heart on her sleeve, and while Pernille had only meant to tease the legate a little, the embarrassed reaction was so far from what Pernille expected that it threw her off her game instead.
Ras noticed that many of the partygoers were staring in their direction, and he cursed under his breath. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before stories started to spread about Kanalayka and Pernille, locked in a battle for the Stallion’s affections.
But Kanalayka still didn’t understand what was at stake, and Pernille seemed unlikely to back down. If she turned tail and fled as soon as Kanalayka showed up, it would only disgrace her reputation even further.
In addition, because of Pernille’s prior engagement, both Ras and Auriol were not neutral parties and could not intervene without being seen to take sides. Just as Ras started to consider resorting to auramancy to beat an expeditious retreat, there came a voice he didn’t expect to hear.
“What an interesting conversation you’re having, Pernille.”
The unassuming voice nonetheless filled the air with tension. Pernille’s breath caught, and Ras clicked his tongue in exasperation. Turning up alongside the crown prince and a contingent of guards was a tall man with gray hair—Marquis Frédérique Auver Burndy, the very host of tonight’s party, lord of the northern march, and Pernille’s father.