At least nothing has gone wrong yet. Quenton thought to himself as the assembled families finished the dessert, a kind of caramel-like pudding with an assortment of berries and a milk-based sauce. When he had entered the manor he had received a quest that simply read, “don’t embarrass yourself.” With a guaranteed reward of thirty exp.

From the beginning, it was clear that the Morays were less than welcome at this event.

That impression had only been reinforced as each family arrived in style and then ended up in the drawing-room. Each family had been “polite” but that politeness had a coating of either contempt or a jeering sense of anticipation. The older Lords and Ladies were casually dismissive to the point that Ivy and Tomas essentially ended up just being silent observers of their conversations.

It wasn’t much better for the younger generation who Quenton had been quite interested in meeting, For they lacked the sense of courtesy to not be fully open in their disregard, instead they asked questions. Leading and mean questions that one point was so probing that they made Rosalind blush slightly in anger.

“Oh have you found a worthy prospect among the older generation?” Was one line that had been thrown at the three sisters by a rather sneering young Lady named Bellinda Myrewatch, a companion of the Eastford family. The three young Lords who had come were openly asking about more…scandalous topics if Quenton could read their lips correctly as they passed by Rosalind.

The only light in the situation was that at least Quenton had Julianna to talk to through the whole ordeal. Especially during the dinner where the two of them had been seated together as the Tufonts and the Morays had been placed at the end of the table.

It had been an excellent if very cold meal for the two families who clearly were not rising stars in the eyes of the local nobility. At that point in the evening, the humiliations had gone purely into the stage of outright isolation rather than mean questions or whispered comments. Quenton had decided on a whim to test out his new Know Rank skill and it had revealed some interesting things.

Most dismayingly he had the lowest Social Level in the room, he was even lower than Julianna herself. In the dining room, the Eastfords and the Pritchetts were noted for having about an average level of 17. While the Lindwoods were level 23 specifically. Quenton could both feel their “rank-aura” as it were and if he focused on one individual he could see their name, title, and level hover above their heads like in an MMO.

“Shall we retire to the library?” Lord Lindwood asked as the last Lord had finished his meal and a general murmur of assent went through the room. It did not take much time for the entire group to exit the dining room.

Quenton was slow to leave as he didn’t want to get caught up in more conversation with the various people there. It is better to avoid that until I can grind my Charm and Wit some more. He thought to himself as he followed the group out of the dining room and to the library.

It was unlike the libraries back home in two respects, the first being that books seemed organized after aesthetics rather than a reasonable system at first glance. The second was that it actually had tall bookcase ladders as he had seen in movies.

Once they all had entered the women and the men spread out to lounge in comfortable chairs or stand in small clusters and engage in conversation. Lord Hugh Pritchett, the young heir to House Pritchett, opened the talks by remarking casually. “A little bird has told me that House Aske in the north has been wiped out to the last.”

“Oh? Why has that occurred, Lord Hugh?” Tomas asked from where he was chugging down a glass of brandy. The other man who had blonde hair with slight streaks of green in it grinned. “Well as it happens Moray, I have heard that it was due to their youngest daughter refusing the match that her family had agreed to. At which point she most scandalously departed her home whilst consorting with a stablehand.”

Oh fuck. Quenton could practically feel Julianna along with her two parents tense up like a coiled spring. Lord Tufont was already deep into his fourth drink and Quenton supposed this would help push him to consume even more.

“What a scandal, but fortunately none of us in this room has been foolish enough to raise daughters that would elope with a stablehand of all things.” Lord Lindwood remarked cooly while sipping a glass of red wine. Quenton could see that Lord Tufont was growing redder around the ears by the moment, and he hoped that someone would change the topic.

“It apparently was a rather gruesome affair,” the young lord continued without paying much mind to the dig that Lindwood had thrown at Lord Tufont. “Not that I know this for sure, but the Vengeance of the Mountains was the guild that was said to have been employed to cull the house.” He swirled the liquid around in his glass self importantly as a soft murmur went through some of the guests.

Quenton noticed that Missai like him, seemed not to recognize the reference, and thankfully she spoke up so he didn’t have to. “And who, pray tell, are they? I must still confess that I am largely unaware when it comes to the various guilds.” Missai said with an open and self-effacing smile as she looked at her husband specifically.

“They are heretics my lady, mountain clansmen who have left to earn coin for whichever bidder pays most. Unlike most assassin guilds they are without a direct patron, rather mercenary in that sense.” The young man said with a disgusted sneer before continuing. “It just so happened that I heard about how cruel they have been in the past. An unfortunate quarrel between two young ladies caused them to be employed by the stronger family, not too long ago in fact. The eyes of the entire family were sent to their closest kin…without their heads coming with as an attachment.”

“That is a bit distasteful, but these things happen.” Lord Lindwood said with a smirk and an incline of his glass towards Tomas and Ivy. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lord Moray, that our former peers who end up in such predicaments cannot blame the world for seizing upon their weakness?” Tomas to his credit finished his glass before answering, but his answer was not exactly helpful.

“Well, I mean that these things do happen. Also, have any of you heard of the new racer Lightningstep? I have heard he has accounted well for himself in the Chariot Races in Tetrigard.” Tomas transparently attempted to change the subject, but rather than acknowledging the attempt Lady Myrewatch spoke over him. “I for one think it is only right as Lord Moray said, families with ill-bred and discourteous children can only blame themselves when the blades are called.”

She looked over at Quenton with a cruel smile and he could feel his cheek reddening as for just one moment he was in focus. Should I say something? Quenton resisted the urge to look around the room as that would confirm their thoughts. It is a rumor, they don’t know anything so if I suddenly try to change the topic or defend myself then they know. So, I have to play it cool.

Quenton could practically feel hear his heartbeat loudly to the point that it felt like it was inside of his ears. He summoned up his ability to contain himself and sipped out of the little cup of tea he had asked for as he entered the room.

Don’t give them anything, maintain my poise and look completely unaffected. It’s just bullying with higher stakes. Quenton practically screamed at himself in his mind, but he thought that it worked because the cruel gazes of the nobles looking at him almost uniformly seemed to be replaced with boredom or disappointment at the lack of a display.

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When the conversation moved on he dared to look over at his family and then Julianna. Rosalind only gavest the barest of inclinations of her head in response to him, while she deftly talked with two older women and a young lord.

Viola was busy perusing the shelves rather than focusing on Quenton. Ivy looked distraught and was mostly busy trying to be a wallflower. Tomas, kept himself occupied by drinking and looking in a book about chariots.

Julianna and her family looked absolutely devastated on their end, the father already clearly intoxicated while the mother desperately tried to keep him from doing anything foolish. Or at least so it seemed to Quenton based on the way she rapidly whispered to him. Julianna looked despondent, but when she saw that Quenton looked at her, she smiled in a pained way before trying to talk to a footman serving drinks.

The conversations continued dispassionately about the subject of assassin guilds and the importance of finding a reliable one to give patronage to. Lord Lindwood opined that it was important to have a family rather than a guild of broadly affiliated individuals.

“That means that their work is in their blood, it is like with loggers of wood as it with loggers of men. People who do the cutting must be able to know their craft in their bones. It must come with their mother’s milk and with the backhand of their fathers. That is why we in house Lindwood make sure we have good respectable families in their employ, people raised to do the work rather than hired out of mere convenience. A virtue I know people in other houses don’t hold to, but not all can be principled in a harsh world.” He smirked once again for just a moment as he glanced over at the Morays.

An old dowager from the Eastwoods, a Dowager Lady Eastwood. Who was a shriveled little hag in Quenton’s opinion, said. “Quality is important Lord Lindwood, but I am sure you as our host wouldn’t gainsay those of us who employ people from long and far. You out of all of us must know to appreciate…diversity.” She downed her glass of sherry with the barest affectation of a smug grin hidden behind the glass.

Before Lord Lindwood could reply Lady Missai spoke up and held her hand up conciliatory. “I am sure that my husband can appreciate your family’s wisdom in these matters, but I think that rather than discussing tedious matters we should see to this surprise my husband has planned for us.” She smirked back at the old woman before glancing at Lindwood.

“Why yes, I have a worthy surprise in store for you.” Lindwood who seemed just a moment earlier like he was about to sit up in a rage, instead stood up grandly and began to speak.

As it is the Autumn Festival, I wanted to compensate for what we might miss from attending the local fairs. Therefore, I planned to have a little exhibition for you all here in the library. You see my house has the honor of hosting a man I think that most of you know, if not personally then by reputation at least. He has come here to tell us about his latest inventions before he has to depart to reach a train that will take him to Tetrigard.” Lord Lindwood began his voice filled with even more pride than in the dining room.

“He has just come back to our glorious empire after having been to the mysterious continent of Aikon for two long years. Some of you may know him as one of the most accomplished arcane philosophers today, others might know him for his family name, but I hope most are familiar with his many exploits in the service of the imperial throne and the Imperial Society of Academic Explorators. I give to you, Count Elias Meynor!”

Lord Lindwood finished his speech more like a pro wrestling announcer than a regular host, and out from seemingly nowhere, he appeared. Quenton’s breath caught as Count Meynor came into focus. He was an older gentleman seemingly in his late forties or early fifties, but he looked powerful nonetheless.

He was built like a martial artist, lean and muscular but not bulging. The right hand was covered with some kind of gray silk glove, while the other was free and seemingly both pristine and weathered at the same time. His hair was graying but luscious and extremely well maintained.

Count Meynor smiled in such a way that seemed both sincere yet so clearly displaying his casual superiority that the room couldn’t help but love and envy him at the same time.

It almost felt like he was looking at them all like a collection of adorable cats that he had just happened to chance upon. Meynor didn’t have the perfect and unblemished pale skin of most of the aristocrats in the room, his skin was marked by having been in the sun and working under the open sky for hours upon hours. It all coalesced into the picture of a hero, perhaps a bit fancier than Quenton usually thought of, but striking all the same.

His eyes were the most striking thing of them all besides his weathered but masculinely handsome face, they were yellow and seemed to literally glow with power as he looked at each of the assembled nobles.

Or so Quenton thought in the moments before he spoke and his beautiful baritone voice entered the fray. “My Lords and Ladies, it is my honor to be here tonight on the eve of the Autumn Festival to present to you one of my latest innovations within the field of Phosphoromantic Ingeniatry.”

He stopped for a moment and winked to the crowd in a way that made at least Quenton feel that he didn’t mean that anyone in this room was a layman. Which Quenton knew was not true because he was certainly one.“Which in layman's terms is the art of arcane light structures. It has come to be most useful to me after my recent expedition when I have had to tell my tale, which I hope that on a less pressing night I will be able to relay to all of you.”

Count Meynor snapped his fingers after having made his introductions and two servants practically appeared out of nowhere and put a heavy case on one of the thicker tables. They were both dressed in nondescript black traveling clothes and were only different in height, but not in appearance. Black hair, stubby noes, and aquamarine-colored eyes that seemed to take in the entire room in moments.

The servants stepped back out as quickly as they appeared and the Count swaggered over to the case and pressed a button underneath the handle. Suddenly the case flew open and metal along with crystal floated up in the air and began assembling themselves.

“Oh, you may ask, where is the light structure? Well, the art of this device is that it creates the structures for you.” As Count Meynor stepped aside the device finished assembling itself and Quenton almost gasped in recognition. It looked like a fantasy version of an old image projector, he remembered his grade school english teacher had to use one once because her work laptop malfunctioned.

“I call it, a luminarium.” He spoke with a casual ease combined with extreme gravitas that made him a wonderfully compelling presenter and he began gesturing at the machine while explaining it. “The idea chanced upon me while I once studied a pictogram that an acquaintance of mine showed me in Long. Pictograms are the most vivid of pictures taken from a machine that creates images of us by copying light and making them into something like paintings.”

Count Meynor easily silenced the people who seemed to be about to ask questions by providing a simple explanation of the context while also presenting his actual idea. “I thought to myself, why don’t I make something based on these principles. Therefore, I constructed this machine which can take any image either from your mind or in physical reality, and project them out into the air as a larger light construct.”

He gestured with his gloved hand at the projector and glowing blue lights flared up along his arm and runes on the sides of the projector started imitating the blue glow. Quenton stared as he witnessed true magic being performed for the first time. An image of a large mountain suddenly appeared as the light from the projector flowed out, but rather than meeting the wall it stopped in mid-air and had the image projected in three dimensions.

“Before anyone asks, no this invention does not require you to be an arcane philosopher to operate. There are special attunement bracelets that anyone can use to operate the device and project their own thoughts. Do be careful mind you, it is easy to think about the wrong thing in the moment you want to make an image appear.” Meynor winked in a way that caused slightly scandalized giggles to go through the room from several of the Ladies.

“Now, who wants to help me make this project realized on a larger scale in our empire?” Count Meynor smirked knowingly as he finished showing various images being projected and stepped over to the men with his arms spread wide. “Now, now I think we should discuss such matters away from the fairer sex.” Lord Lindwood said and before he or any of the others knew it, then Count Meynor had convinced them to leave the Ladies to discuss the matter in the drawing-room. But not before he had a quick conversation with Viola of all people before he left.

The women all started excitedly talking about the presentation the moment the men had left and they could speak openly. Quenton on the other hand took no part in it, for he had used the Know Rank talent while the presentation took place, and he had felt and seen the man’s social level compared to his own.

Count Elias Khanenko Meynor.

Title: Count of Magic and Exploration

S-Level: 47

Quenton thought only one thing of note after the party was finished and the family traveled with the carriage home. I need to remember to talk to Viola privately about this Elias Meynor, because that might give me ideas about how to grind my own stats. After all, he had just met someone who had a higher s-level than anyone he had met before in this world, and it had more than doubled the s-level of Lord Lindwood