“Princess Iskara Drazhal said that you, my sweet boy, laid hands on her naked body. News is traveling in all nobles' circles.”
I deadpan at the news, and then my brain's wheels start spinning. Yet, I am left without an answer. I have no idea why she'd want sothing like that kind of rumor to be spread.
“She's interested,” my mother says.
“Huh?”
“She's interested. Nobles and Royals play with rumors such as this one all the ti. For her to put it out like that, she's marking the territory. That might be the reason no one has approached you, actually.”
“She's marking the territory?”
Princess Priscilla Valemont puts the cup on its little plate with a clink and nods, caressing its golden rim and scrutinizing the floral motif painted on it.
“That doesn't an she's expecting you to propose or make a move, necessarily,” my mother says. “But if an Infernal Princess wants it to be known that a human touched her, she's warning people. And she's also testing you.”
“She's testing ?” I feel more lost than before. “Testing what exactly?”
“Darling,” my mother smiles. “You're the Guide of the Champions.”
“I'm the Guide of Champions, and?” I ask, confused. “What's that got to do with Iskara?”
“It's just funny,” my mom says, hesitating as she tries to touch my face. I don't shrink away from the touch, though, especially after what King Baalrek told . She caresses my face with an almost sad expression--perhaps more lancholic than sad. “You're my sweet boy. I always thought Kai was going to be my forever sweet boy, but he's grown--I can see it in him. You, though, you have a very pure heart, darling.”
“I keep not following,” I say, gently pulling away from my mother's touch, to avoid offending her or having her think badly about
pulling away.
“I am a good judge of character, Jacob. I knew you'd take so after your father, which would make you a good person, but I didn't know you'd be even more...” she shakes her head. “Anyway, is there anything I can help you with while I'm here? I'll spend so ti on Academy grounds to gather Quests, and then I'll leave.”
I hesitate, not knowing whether it's proper for
to ask things of my mother already. Sure, she's my mother, but we just t.
“Jacob,” Princess Priscilla says, “nothing is ever going to make up for
not being there for you while you were just a child. No mother worth her na should be away from her children. Yet, that's exactly what I've done. Please, if there's anything that I can do for you now, let . It's the bare minimum.”
“I'm looking for so Royal-grade Infernal Skills,” I say slowly. “My Class is an Infernal Class.”
“I know,” she says pensively. “Royal-grade Skill Crystals for Infernals are not sothing easy to co by.” She drums her fingers on the tea table beside the couch. “I can't give you money directly either. But... I have reliable information on where to find a Secret Room that contains an Infernal heritage.”
“Oh?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Which Dungeon?”
“It's called the Celestial Tower. It's an Elite Dungeon whose monsters span from Platinum Rank to an Interdiate Diamond Rank Boss.”
“What kind of Infernal heritage is there? And how do you know about it?”
“You can find hints and clues in other Dungeons. I was clearing a Mithril Rank Dungeon, and I found directions to the Celestial Tower's Secret Room. It's refreshing a few weeks before the end of the sester, and it's just a few-day trips from the Academy. I can take the next entrance round to it since it's a mostly useless Dungeon for every other aspect. It's dangerous and the rewards are not up to the usual standards of an Elite Dungeon. The heritage itself should be from the infamous King Baalrek, though, which ans it might kill you.”
“Oh, mother,” I say with a smile. “I am actually acquainted with the lore of that man. Don't worry. In fact, thank you so much. I couldn't have hoped for a better gift.”
“Happy to help.”
* * *
By the way, I say to King Baalrek as I walk toward the restaurant where Fatty said he'd et
for dinner, can't you, like, just tell
where your Infernal heritages are?
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
First of all, even if I knew, I wouldn't. It would defeat the point AND ss with your Karma, Jacob Cloud. Now that you're surrounded by so many powerful people, you should be particularly wary about ssing with Karma. Your mother's help, for example, doesn't really count. She's only giving you directions. That doesn't enter Karma's ledger. Yet, if she helped you further than that, you would have suffered a loss of Karma.
I keep not fully understanding how Karma works.
Those who can say they do are few and far between.
I stop in front of a restaurant that looks extrely fancy.
“Holy shit,” I swear under my breath, seeing guards in front of the door. “Has Fatty lost his mind?”
You told him he can keep eating out if it makes him stronger.
THIS PLACE LOOKS EVEN MORE EXPENSIVE THAN THE OTHER ONE!
So what, you have a Rainbow Skill that can spawn money out of thin air, Jacob Cloud. Stop behaving like an idiot and enter. I'm curious to see what kind of food they're serving. I wish I still had a stomach and a mouth.
I walk up to the guards who look
up and down.
“Identification,” one of them says.
“I'm Jacob Cloud. My friend, Lancelot, should be inside already.”
The guard widens his eyes and then smiles widely.
“This way, esteed sir.”
Fuck. Stupid Fatty, how much money have you spent already?!
I enter and find a restaurant decorated with wood, gold, and silver everywhere. Fancy chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and every step I take into the place I feel more and more poor. I feel like money is literally leaving my pockets as I make my way into the restaurants.
Yet, the scene of Fatty gorging himself on my di is not what presents itself to
when I reach my loyal Squire.
“This is not what I ordered!” Lancelot says, outraged.
“Sir, this is exactly what you ordered and what you will be billed for.”
“This is not what I ordered! It's not giving
any energy!”
“Sir, I don't know what that ans. This is a fine-dining establishnt and you're being served the Heavenly Trout, the Spicy Volcano Potatoes, and the Herbland Cow's Butter as you requested. Please, stop causing a fuss. You're disturbing the other patrons.”
I walk up to Fatty, who's still arguing with the waiter.
“What's up?” I ask him.
“They're trying to scam ! This is a hundred Platinum Coins dish, but it's not hitting the spot!”
Why do you speak like that? Can't you put more dignity in your words?! I think to myself, feeling second-hand embarrassnt for it.
Yet, I also know that when it cos to food, there's no one I trust more than the bastard who eats away at my riches.
“Sir, you must be this man's Knight,” the waiter says. “Please, rein him in. This is a fine-dining establishnt.”
“You already said that, but I'm definitely not fine-dining,” Fatty says, shalessly popping a potato in his mouth after lathering it with butter. “This is alright-dining at best! You're scamming
out of my money!”
YOUR money?!
“AH! Look who's here!”
I turn to see Marcel Valemont. My cousin--to which degree of blood, by the way, I have no idea.
I look at the large hat on his head, and I can't avoid stifling a laugh.
Seeing the fun I'm having looking at my handiwork, Marcel puts a very self-conscious hand up to his hat and narrows his eyes at .
“Peasants clearly can't distinguish good food from bad. We might as well feed you alongside pigs.”
I look behind Marcel, seeing that he's not with his twin, Cassian. Instead, he's got three girls in tow who are laughing in synch with his insults.
“Marcel, cousin,” I say. “What a wonderful pleasure eting you here.” I completely ignore his previous insult. “It's quite chilly out tonight, wouldn't you agree?”
“Huh?” he looks confused. “What's that gotta do with anything?”
The girls, too, look confused by my remark.
“I'm just saying, you're lucky to have such a big hat on your head. You'd get brain freeze otherwise.”
Marcel starts trembling, and one of the girls makes the mistake of not being able to suppress her laugh.
“You! Silence!” Marcel roars and then turns back to . “I will take so much pleasure in squishing you like a bug during our duel,” he says. “I will also make sure that it will hurt.”
All the people in the restaurant are now watching the scene and listening intently. This is pri noble gossip.
“I wish you had a beard or sothing.”
“What?” Once again, Marcel is confused.
“For the duel. I'd love to place another bet and shave your beard, too. It's the only other kind of hair I'd want to shave. I don't want to touch the other hair on your body. I'm scared of little worms.”
Now, all three girls have to do their best not to laugh while Marcel's face becos red as a tomato.
“Y-you! Just wait for the duel! And in the anti, get the hell out of this fine-dining establishnt! Your peasant tastes can't clearly distinguish pig food from such fine delicacies. And the sa goes for your fat bastard of a Squire!”
Now, I narrow my eyes. Initially, I had intended not to cause a scene with this restaurant. With all the debt that Fatty amassed at my na, a few hundred Platinum Coins more wouldn't have changed much. Yet, now that this piece of crap insulted my friend, I'm willing to make an example of him and any other snickering noble here.
I take a deep breath and look between the two. Despite the boisterous attitude, I can see that Fatty is worried that I won't take his defenses. I look at the smug waiter, however, and I nod slowly. I move my eyes to the food.
Grimoire, analysis.
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