Lucille felt tempted to take a peak around the doorway to look into the ballroom. She and Vincent were on the second story of the ballroom, and on the other side of the doorway was a balcony. Attached to the balcony was a grand staircase that led down, gradually growing wider as it reached the main hall’s floor before all the nobility. Unfortunately, her perception didn’t let her look outside its borders, so she’d have to expand her perception field to cover the whole ballroom if she didn’t want to use her eyes. Which, with her body, would probably kill her right then and there.
She was wearing different clothes today. Instead of her usual violet, her now buttoned-up suit jacket was a darker purple, and gold embroidery of the Faction’s symbol decorated it. She was wearing a white shirt and wore a black tie instead of a grey ascot. An athyst brooch was pinned to it. She even had her hair partially up in a small ponytail, a thin gold ribbon holding it in place. She was planning on ditching the whole ensemble after this to go back to her violet suit though, if only for Vincent’s reaction.
She looked at Vincent who was nervously fiddling with his collar. “The staircase has a long handrail. I could slide down it.”
He didn’t answer for a mont and then started as he realised what she said. “Slide down- Huh? What?”
“Slide down the handrail,” she repeated, holding her chin as she observed it on the other side of the open doorway. “It would make an impact.”
“No, you can’t slide down the handrail. What an absurd notion,” he replied, aghast.
She turned to him. “Why not?” she asked innocently.
“Why- why not?!” he exclaid, incredulous. “Of course you can’t! You’re the Faction Head!”
“The puppet Faction Head,” she responded with a sly voice. “Who cares what the puppet Faction Head does.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “But you’re not.”
“Who says I’m not? I have no power of my own and have to rely on the cooperation of the Counties to get my plans to work. The relationship dynamic could change at any mont,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“Ignoring the fact you have a healthy amount of threatening ability in the form of a violet pocket watch,” he stated flatly.
She humd and then shrugged. “Sure. Ignoring that.” She turned back to look at the balcony. “Are you jealous you didn’t have the idea first? You could slide down the handrail too if you want.”
He stared at her. “If I- no, I don’t want to slide down the handrail!” He looked at the staircase. “Even if I wanted to, I’ve never done it before, so I wouldn’t know how.”
She grinned. “Soone sounds like they’ve had a sad childhood.”
He glared at her, and then sighed, pinching his nose bridge. “Why are you talking about inane things like this? In only ten minutes, you’ll be revealed as the Commission Head, and then we’ll have to start dealing with nobles. We should be preparing more.”
She eyed him for a mont. “It’s because you look stressed.”
“Of course I’m stressed,” he stated dryly, adjusting his glasses. “This has been the most stressful ti of my life. And then we’ll have to do it again next year…” he grumbled.
“Well, if it helps, after the external debut, I won’t be at the Commission as often, so there will be no big events we have to host,” she said, shifting a bit of stray hair.
“What will you even be doing?” he asked dubiously.
“Lots of things,” she replied with nonchalance. “I need to do the stages to rank up, then I need to level up, and I need to level up my two weapons too, not to ntion finding evolution materials for them. Then I need to go check out the airship developnt and go to aid Alichanteu as they start implenting the new city developnt plans. I don’t trust those heirs with half of that.”
“And how much of all this are you planning on informing about before you run off?” he asked with suspicion, eyes narrowed.
She smirked. “I just told you the things I plan to inform you about.”
He sighed wearily but moved on. “Where are your weapons, by the way?” he asked, noticing she didn’t have her sheaths. “I thought sentient weapons normally stay very close to their wielder.”
“They’re ‘guarding’ Scytale in my room. Not that they’ll be very effective,” she replied. “And that might be the case if they were not sentient weapons from the beginning, and felt a desire for others’ presence. They only know themselves as ‘swords’ rather than a demon and spirit.”
“…..weren’t they daggers?” he questioned, confused.
She coughed awkwardly. “Well, no, not technically. How many mbers of your family did you say were coming today?” she asked abruptly.
He gazed at her, suspicious of the strange topic change, but answered, “Half of my siblings, my father, his three wives and the Count and his wife. Originally only my mother, Isaella Evisenhardt, and Genevieve were coming, but it seems lissa randomly decided to join in too.”
She gave him an odd look. “I have to say, your family is really strange. Isn’t your father much closer to the Count in age than he is to you? And the second youngest child of his is already 78.”
He thought about it. “Well, my grandfather is 942, and my father is 712….” He hesitated, realising just how much of an age gap there was between him and the rest of his family.
Lucy shook her head with amusent. “Right. Anyway, Count Ravimoux is obviously alone, and both the two male Alichanteu heirs ca, their sister not having any interest. What about Count Chavaret?”
Vincent held his chin. “I think it was him, his eldest son, who you saw at the eting, and his second daughter.”
“I’m not familiar with the nas of his children,” she told him.
“His eldest son and nad heir is Martelemore, and his second daughter is Rosaline. She’s a warrior of so fa within Glory Pantheon,” he inford her. Chavaret, while part of the Commission, was also a warrior clan of Glory Pantheon, and participated in their Tournants.
“…..Rosaline,” she stated flatly, after a pause.
Vincent sighed. “Yes, they have red hair, and he decided to call her that. That observation has co up plenty of tis before, in almost any discussion I rember occurring at an event she attended. Please don’t ntion that near her. She is very proficient with the halberd.”
“While I might intend on acting thoughtless for the nobles this week, I’m not quite irresponsible enough to irk a warrior of the Pantheon. Nor suicidal enough,” she replied in a dry voice. She blinked, held her chin in thought for a mont, and then looked at Vincent with incredulity. “Actually, how stupid do you think I am? That was a terrible insult to my intelligence.”
“No, that’s not what I-” He hesitated, and just sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I was at an event that resulted in a very burnt limb of soone’s when they tested her patience once. Even if she is known as the most patient of his children….” he added with a strange expression.
“Really,” she comnted drolly. Then after a mont, she humd and took out her pocket watch to check the ti. She smiled widely and turned to Vincent. “It seems to be ti for us to make our entrance.”
“I don’t feel ready,” he muttered nervously.
“Well, I’m going whether you want to or not, so you have no choice but to follow ,” she replied smugly. Then she paused as her eyes fell on the staircase.
“What are you-” His eyes rested on what she was looking at. There was a tense mont of silence, and then they traded glances, staring at each other for a second. Vincent paled at the Cheshire grin forming on her face.
“Don’t fall behind!” she exclaid cheerily, dashing towards the staircase. In one movent she leapt onto the railing and slid down it while ignoring her aide’s anguished cries, her cane in one hand.
The nobles below looked up at the commotion with startled expressions, which quickly turned to strange gazes as they registered the girl who arrived at the bottom of the stairs. Lucille grinned as they watched her, and then gave them all a fancy bow. She straightened up.
“Hello all. My na is Lucille Adrienne Goldcroft.” She gave them a wide smile. “The new Head of the Aurelian Commission.”
Vincent was going to hate her for this.
…
“Haha, what an interesting young lady you are!” said a random noble for the fifty millionth ti in a row.
To be fair, most of the nobility Lucy was dealing with happened to be major side family mbers of the Counties or their most powerful vassals, so they weren’t that random, and she was easily capable of rembering all their nas with her eidetic mory. She just didn’t want to.
She and Vincent were being approached by the more powerful nobility, such as those from the Aeternus plane and the Major Kingdoms, talking to them as they, in turn, tried to analyse her personality. Several tis, as they had decided, Vincent would make a show of talking quietly to her and directing her to sowhere else, just to portray the idea she listened to him. Baring the staircase incident.
“So, the 12th Major Kingdom’s people usually wear clothes like this?” she asked with wide eyes, acting like a curious young girl. The man she was talking to had dark skin common to those from the desert plane and was dressed in flowy red and white robes. Heavy gaudy jewellery decorated his fingers and wrists, and he had a short black goatee.
The man gave her a wide smile and nodded cheerfully. “Indeed, we do. And our Kingdom is famous for our fine fabrics, and my Viscounty especially!” the man said, giving her a jolly chuckle.
“Wow! But I thought the 12th Kingdom was famous for having lots of sand,” she said, blinking innocently.
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The Viscount from the Tua’Cethla Kingdom of Shifting Sands’ smile stiffened, while another noble standing next to him tried to stifle his laughs. The Tua’Cethla Viscount glared at the other noble, a pale, reedy middle-aged man likewise dressed in long robes, but his clothes were elaborately decorated with a multitude of tiny gemstones, and precious tals adorned them. His robes were reminiscent of Earth’s dieval ti period, uselessly ostentatious and impractical.
“Why yes, my lady. The Crumbling Ruins plane is definitely famous for having a lot of sand, and not much else!” the new noble spoke in an amused voice, to the Tua’Cethla noble’s intense displeasure. “My Barony on the Aeternus plane, however, contains beautiful mountain ranges that I’m sure would delight you more than the views of the sand kingdom. And if you co, I will make sure to have a vast array of our finest precious gems, mined straight from my Barony’s mountains, just for you,” he said with a pandering smile.
“Bah. Don’t listen to this re Baron, Faction Head,” the Viscount said with a scoff. “His gemstones can barely function in magical items, and the highest quality he’s ever managed to find was only enough for a High-mage’s staff! The only thing he has is quantity, pumping out overpriced rocks year by year.”
“Overpriced rocks?! And I’ll have you know, this Baron from the Aeternus plane has a noble title equivalent to that of a re Viscount from a Major Kingdom…”
Lucy inwardly sighed as the two nobles began to bicker. The conflict between the Commission’s vassal noble clans was always petty, because as rchants, the Counties strictly prevented them from fighting with each other, otherwise it might damage their main businesses’ profits. Feeling a bit irritated, she clapped her hands together once very loudly to gain their attention.
“Then sir, what kind of gemstones are in your Barony?” she asked happily.
The reedy noble coughed into his fist and raised his chin high, eager to sing his own praises. “In my fine mines, we regularly find Eagle’s Eye Rubies, fad for their use in vision-enhancing fire affinity elixirs, Undine’s Tear Sapphire, a useful power storage in water breathing items, and Luminescent Winter Opal, the gorgeous stone of dual light and ice that many a noble lady have desired to have embedded in fine jewellery to hang around their necks.”
“Those nas sound slightly familiar…” she mused with a thoughtful expression.
The Baron puffed himself up even higher. “Of course! These unique stones of our Barony have been hailed among the ages as fine gems of splendour, fad stones of gorgeous wonder and-”
“I believe I might know where you heard of them, Faction Head,” Vincent interrupted with a calm smile. “It was likely when we investigated the contents of the Founder’s vault. I recall seeing several thousand of those gems recorded as yearly offerings from many, many different noble fiefdoms throughout the Mystical Realm.”
Ha. Vincent is finally getting sick of his spiel too.
“So, I can look at them whenever I want?” she asked him.
He nodded, giving her a pleasant smile as he gazed at the withering Baron in front of them with narrowed eyes. “Yes, we have plenty of them.”
The Baron didn’t look as haughty as he slowly backed away, to the sand kingdom Viscount’s imnse amusent. He let out hearty guffaws as the Baron glared at him.
“What about the Viscount’s fabric?” she asked her aide.
“Ah, you wouldn’t have quite as much of that, I’ll have to inform you,” the Viscount interjected with an amicable smile. “We joined the Commission much later, so our wares would be quite a bit…. rarer within the Founder’s vault.” He seed to swell, having found sothing that the Commission Head didn’t have.
“Do you have purple?” she asked abruptly, knowing full well due to the customs of the Tua’Cethla Kingdom that he did not. She gazed at him with an eager look.
The dark-skinned Viscount let out a sigh of ‘sadness’, even though he obviously didn’t care too much. “Unfortunately, the Tua’Cethla royal family is the only nobility allowed to wear the Crumbling Ruin plane’s signature regal purple fabric, and they have never deigned to share their recipe with lower nobles like .”
“Oh,” she stated. Then she shrugged. “Well, I only want purple. It’s my favourite colour. If you don’t have it, then I guess I don’t need to visit your Viscounty.”
The Baron beside him gained a grin as the Viscount's expression froze. “Oh, but my lady, I am sure I could find sothing else that would please-”
“No thanks,” she replied with a cheery smile, making his words die in his throat. “Maybe I should go say hi to another Viscount, one on the Aeternus plane this ti?” she wondered aloud, the Viscount’s face paling. “I’m sure they might have purple fabric….”
Vincent took the chance to place his hands on her shoulders to steer her away from them. “Then we shall take our leave. We have other nobility to greet, after all,” he said with his best business smile.
The two nobles gave them slow nods as they bid them goodbye, both mournful over their lost chance to gain more power.
Vincent bent to whisper into her ear. “Is purple being your favourite colour the real reason you dress like this?” he murmured.
She gave him a glance and then smiled cheerfully, still acting like an innocent girl for all the other watchers. “Of course not. How could I still have a favourite colour after nearly 250 years?” She paused and looked to the side. “And it seems the main County families are finally moving. Or one mber of the main County families.”
Count Ravimoux was walking towards them with a smile on his face, holding a glass with red wine inside. Two people were beside him, both dressed in black and wearing masks. One seed to be a man, while the other seed to be a woman. The man’s mask that covered his chin, mouth and nose was entirely black, but the woman had green detailing on hers, decorated like a snarling mouth. She appeared to be trying to converse with the masked man beside her, who didn’t seem interested and was steadily gazing forward.
“Have you been enjoying yourself?” Count Ravimoux asked.
Lucy gave him an energetic wave. “Hello, Regulus!”
Vincent gave her an odd look, and the Count’s eyebrows raised just a fraction, but he seed willing to play along, as his smile widened as he approached. “I’ve noticed you’ve been busy talking to the many people here, Lucy. If you want to leave, you can.”
She noticed how the people nearby seed to be trying to listen closely to their conversation. “I have a bit of ti left, don’t I?” she said, turning to Vincent, who nodded.
“Yes, you have ten minutes left before you may return,” he stated with a smile.
“I’ll try for a bit longer then,” she replied, turning back to ‘Regulus’. “And who are you with?”
“Ah. This,” he said, gesturing to the man, “Is my aide, Tarquin. He’s not very social, so I’ll hope you forgive him for not contributing to our discussion.”
She tilted her head slightly, looking at the stern man, and gave him a small wave with a smile on her face. He glanced at her but didn’t say anything. Count Ravimoux then gestured to the brown-haired woman next to him, who ca forward. “And this is one of my subordinates-”
“Let introduce myself, my lord,” she said to the dark-haired man. The Count smirked but stepped back and sipped his wine. The woman smiled, or appeared to be smiling due to her eyes as her mask covered her mouth, and gave Lucy a bow. “My na is Margaery, a poison-elent manipulator. Also known as the Viscountess of the Femidela family.”
Lucy pretended to eye the woman warily with wide eyes and slight nervousness. “...poison?”
Viscountess Femidela stepped forward, a hand on her cheek as she observed Lucille. “Yes, poison. Are you scared?” she asked amusent in her voice.
Lucy noticed the Count’s smirk had grown wider.
Oh, he has definitely told her what I’m like. They’re both having fun at my expense because I have to do this.
She glanced at Vincent, who seed to be watching the developing events with interest.
If he starts anything too, he better be prepared to work overti.
“N- no, I’m not scared,” she stated, crossing her arms. “But… what do you do as his subordinate?”
The woman blinked, caught off guard, and then laughed. “I make very special kinds of cocktails,” she said with a wink.
“Does Regulus enjoy drinking them?” Lucy asked innocently.
The Count’s expression beca slightly strange while the Viscountess covered her mouth and began laughing again. “No, not for him,” she chuckled.
“But if you’re his subordinate, shouldn’t you make things for him?” Lucy continued, tilting her head in fake puzzlent.
The Viscountess clutched her stomach as she laughed harder, and the Count gazed at them both with slightly narrowed eyes. Vincent was looking at Lucy with exasperation.
“It seems my subordinate enjoys the idea of poisoning her boss a little too much,” the Count stated in a dry voice. He stared intently at Margaery Femidela, who flinched and avoided eye contact.
“Oh, no sire! It would physically pain to consider such a thing!” she said dramatically, slowly backing away.
“That’s because the dark contract would activate and inflict torturous punishnt on you if you did,” the Count said in a cheerful voice, smiling brightly at his subordinate.
The Viscountess pouted but returned to her position beside him. “Can you believe him?” she said to Tarquin. Tarquin ignored her.
“Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your night, Lucy,” the Count said, giving her a nod. “I’ll be going to-”
“Ah, Miss Goldcroft, I don’t believe we’ve t yet!” exclaid a new, young voice.
They all turned to see who had so rudely interrupted, and found that a young man who appeared in his late teens was approaching them, with deep blue eyes and brown hair that ended in blue tips. He wore a dark blue jacket with gold adornnts and walked forward with what was either supre self-confidence or arrogant idiocy. Sothing about his smile seed to be suprely irritating.
In the distance a few tres away, the blonde and blue-haired Artair Alichanteu was watching the young man approach them with caution, sipping his drink carefully.
Lucy blinked. “No, I don’t believe we have.”
The young man strode forward and gave her a deep bow. “You seem to have already t my brother before, though,” he said, giving her a wide smile and sticking out his hand. “I give my greetings to the Faction Head.”
“Greetings,” she said with a nod and smile and reached out her hand to shake hands with him….. when he grabbed it and kissed the back of her gloved hand instead.
She, the Count, his subordinates, the nearby eavesdroppers, and Vincent stared at him for a while, stunned. In the background, Artair Alichanteu spat out his drink.
Lucille was very proud her expression didn’t so much as even twitch.
If sobody doesn’t do sothing I’m going to kill this brat right now.
The Count’s face showed undisguised incredulity, and Tarquin had to slightly nudge him before he realised he had lost control of his emotions, so he coughed to recompose himself.
The sound made the young man release his hold on her hand and straighten up. He then turned to Count Ravimoux and bowed again. “And I greet the Count of Ravimoux,” he said, his tone much more deferential than to Lucille.
“Hmm,” was all the Count replied, seemingly observing the man with disinterest. “Who might you be?”
Lucy dearly wanted to smile when she saw how the young man’s calm smile stiffened and beca strained as he smiled awkwardly at the Count. She could sense Vincent behind her covering his mouth to hide his own smile.
The young man coughed and stood up straight. “We have t before, your lordship. I am an heir of Alichanteu’s main family line, Ar-”
“Artair?” the Count interrupted, rubbing his chin ‘thoughtfully’. He glanced at the brown-haired man, whose expression distorted montarily, and then shook his head. “No, Artair has blonde hair. He’s also taller and clearly older. You can’t be more than twenty.”
The man’s smile beca even more strained as he spoke to the taller man. “No, my na is Arwen Alichanteu, Count Ravimoux. Artair’s younger half-brother.”
I’m almost thankful he hasn’t seed to realise the Count is fully aware of who he is. While it would be amusing to see him try to verbally fight the Count, I don’t want him dead just yet… We’ll see if that changes though.
“Ah. The teenager. No wonder I didn’t recognise you. The last ti we t you weren’t even fifteen yet,” the Count replied, giving him a large nod.
Arwen winced at the description of ‘the teenager’, but dipped his head. “Yes, it has been five years since then. Unfortunately, I haven’t had the capability of going to more events over the last few years. My dear older brother is a bit… overprotective,” he said, smirking.
“Really,” the Count stated flatly, unimpressed, although it was clear to Lucy and Vincent that the young man didn’t pick up on it.
“Oh, that’s not to say I don’t appreciate his well-aning intentions,” he continued, oblivious to the lack of interest or sympathy from his audience. “I just wish I could’ve returned back to the County from the Academy much sooner. There was so much I could’ve helped him with!” He shook his head ‘sadly’. “Alas, those issues have already been dealt with, so I must show my capabilities in other ways.”
“I see,” Count Ravimoux responded in a dry voice. “Well, if you have so much to say on this topic, why don’t you say it to the person in question?” he said, suddenly turning around to point to Artair Alichanteu so distance away behind them.
Artair flinched at the attention and awkwardly tried to shuffle away, realising his eavesdropping was discovered.
Arwen narrowed his eyes at his half-brother, now aware of what he had been doing. “Actually, I might just do that. Thank you for the suggestion. I bid you goodbye, your lordship,” he said with a nod to the Count, and then abruptly turned to give Lucy a flashy bow with a wide smile on his face. “And I hope to see you again very soon, Faction Head. I would love to begin forming a closer relationship with you, so if I could be so honoured to receive your invitation….” he drawled, his smile widening.
Lucy was stopped from having to answer (or curse him with dark magic) by Vincent putting a hand on her shoulder and giving the young man a tight smile. “If her schedule allows,” he stated, partly to keep up the ‘puppet leader’ impression for all the eavesdroppers, and partly to tell the man it was incredibly unlikely.
Arwen Alichanteu smirked but straightened up and turned around, confidently striding towards his older brother, who seed to be intensely focused on making his way to the tables of food. Or running away, but the exact terminology didn’t make much difference to Lucille. They stared at him for a mont before Count Ravimoux stepped closer to them and slightly leaned to the side to say sothing only she and Vincent could hear.
“Do I have your seal of approval to assign soone to go find a few interesting details about his past?” he muttered, narrowing his eyes as he watched Arwen try to start a fight with Artair.
She laughed, pretending he had told her a joke and with a cheerful smile said, “No approval needed, and I suggest you find out the dark past of his main supporters too. Sobody needs to punish them for their sins of supporting an idiot.”
The Count smirked and straightened up, then dipped his head to her. “Then I will see you again tomorrow, Lucy,” he replied.
“Goodbye Regulus,” she said, and then he and his two subordinates turned to continue walking sowhere else.
She and Vincent likewise walked away, her steps upbeat and bright as she kept up her acting. “Do I need to visit Chavaret and Evisenhardt too?” she asked Vincent cheerfully.
“That will not be required. They’ll et you later in the week, and any proper discussions will be reserved for the second last day’s slightly more…. informal eting,” he added in a quieter voice.
“Then I suppose it is the next phase,” she responded, pretending to yawn. “Good luck.”
“I’ll need it,” he muttered, before smiling and patting her on the shoulder for the watchers. “You seem tired, Lucy. Let handle the rest. You can go back now,” he said in a louder voice.
“Really?” she asked, blinking. Then she nodded, and ‘yawned’ again. “Then I’ll go back to my floor. Tell if sothing interesting happens!” she said as she moved away, giving him a small wave. She made her way to an exit, but not before she snuck an invisible strand of spiritual energy over to him.
‘I’ll be on the top story watching the hall from above if you really need . Ask a staff mber though, because I’ll be using an illusion to disguise myself,' she sent.
She watched through her perception as he looked slightly surprised, seemingly unaware that was her plan. She inwardly rolled her eyes as she made it to the exit.
Did he really think I’d just be relaxing in the main building while he’s here? I’m not sure what he thinks I do all day if he believes I know how to do sothing like ‘relax’. Drinking tea for my headache doesn’t count.
When she made it to a corner out of sight from any nobles, she drew on the external mana to blanket herself in a layer of illusion mana, changing her outward appearance into a fairly generic and unnoticeable look. She started walking towards the stairs.
It had been a bit funny to see several people’s reactions that day though. She had noticed Silas Vadel and Efratel looking at her strangely at two different points during the event, and Artair seed to have been avoiding her the entire ti like he wasn’t sure how to interact after the eting, nor react to her ‘sudden’ personality change. It seed the act she put on was too far removed from her normal expressions and body language for them to reconcile the difference.
Well, yes she had to make an effort to have her face be anything other than expressionless. That was why she used her spiritual energy to control her body, after all. Let them spend the equivalent of more than 50 years main realm ti under a ti dilation in a pocket dinsion alone and have a look at how expressive their face is. Excuse her for having to relearn what it ant to be normal.
She reached the top of the stairs and walked over to a balcony, ready to watch the show below. The uproar from the nobility would be a sight to see, that was for sure.
She watched as Vincent walked over to his grandfather, the Count of Evisenhardt, and made eye contact with him. They moved over to the base of the grand staircase, and the Evisenhardt Count clapped his hands loudly, drawing the room’s attention.
“May I have your attention please!” he announced with an authoritative voice. “My grandson, Vincent Evisenhardt and the aide of the Faction Head has sothing he would like to announce.”
The room went silent as Vincent stepped forward with a folder in hand, and adjusted his glasses. He smiled at them all. “Now that you have t our new…. Faction Head and she has retired for the night,” he began loudly, “Shall we move on to the real reason for calling you all here this day?”
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