The grand debutante gala tasted like ashes.
I mean, if people could lick a grand debutante gala right after one’s father ordered them to betray a three-thousand-year-old covenant and trigger a potent curse powered by the lifeblood of a [Spiritualist] fairy, they would probably feel the taste of ashes. Definitely ashes.
Was it a coincidence, or did the [Emperor] know something? I doubt whoever erased the were-cat princesses from history wouldn’t leave a warning for the future sovereigns of this place. If the deathbed prophecy of the Mad Empress remained, records from that age did too. Where were they? There was no mention of the slave fairies except in a single fairy tale, probably preserved by the people of Therian, or “Theiria” as the modern Empire called that place.
I found nothing in the {Emperor’s Vault}. It had a lot of documents, journals, grimoires, books, enough to put Windemere Academy’s library to shame. Nothing about ancient history, at least around that epoch. It was left blank as if it never existed.
Maybe the answer lied in my father’s storage ring, most probably. I could sense the powerful enchantments, and he never took it off. One would believe the [Emperor] had full confidence in his vault but his prudence may have been proven correct. Hoarders were paranoid beings. Just look at me, my {Item Box} was never stolen from yet I spent a bonus Perk on protecting it from thieves.
Sitting in the waiting room on the second floor of the ballroom/guest wing, I heard the buzzing of the guests mingling and could even follow some conversations. The host of the party would be fashionably late and the [Emperor] along with his [Concubine-Queen] would be the ones to introduce the young [Prince] to Imperial society.
And they need time to read with perfect loquacity the full titles of each and every guest. Most wouldn’t make it into the ballroom before dawn. Once the Imperial family entered the venue, interest in who was arriving would dwindle. A few nobles, dukes, and marquises mostly, couldn’t bear not having attention to themselves. So we waited.
I felt butterflies in my stomach at the thought of Rhiannon being next to that monster. But anything I did would only jeopardize her safety. Inaction would preserve the status quo and the mother of the [Prince] should remain alive. At least the others were safe. Commoners weren’t invited, so my four female guests remained in my apartment. My very secure, heavily enchanted apartment.
On other social occasions, I could take M&M with me as my personal escorts, protected inside their suits of armor and veils. But today my personal protection would be provided by the Imperial Guard as I was still supposed to be sheltered by the [Emperor]. After my introduction to society, I would be able to act on my own.
Nenandil said about the curse Silverstreak imbued in her final act.
It was a rudimentary form of Fate magic, just like many other times when I sacrificed my life to create something permanent. With my affinity and awareness of the lingering effect, I could almost sense it, woven into every Imperial citizen from birth. It was comforting to know that it survived for three millennia. It meant the other effects, like Atlantis’ protections, would last for a long time.
While I could sense Silvertreak’s magic in the people around me, including the [Emperor], I couldn’t sense it around me. Fate magic was fickle and divining one’s own Fate was dangerous, imprecise, and often misleading. Just like I couldn’t tell which of the two girls was Lorna’s reincarnation.
The only reason I could narrow it down to either of them was because of our secluded location. They were the only children born around me near the same time as I did, and I could sense Lorna’s reincarnation in my vicinity. If I’d been born in a village or a packed metropolis, all bets were off.
Triggering the curse would put my precious people to sleep too. I don’t think I could take them out of the Empire or even if it would make any difference. At least I had the presence of mind to put the “undisturbed” in the Perk text.
There shall be no creepy horny necrophile Prince Charming kissing the sleeping Princess he thought was dead in this Sleeping Beauty remake. No, sir.
“Your Highness, His Imperial Majesty called for you.”
I check myself in the mirror for the last time. I’m wearing a military uniform that looks fine in the ancient Prussian military. Tight riding pants and boots, a white dress shirt with a navy blue jacket with golden buttons and trim, a few medals my father bestowed upon me on my chest. Epaulets accented my shoulders, making them look straighter and broader. I had a ceremonial sword on my belt, the one I had to use if any duels were called during the gala.
My face was clean shaved and showed how young Percival really was. Back on Earth, I would be still a kid below drinking age, but here people were considered adults as soon as they got the System at puberty. The gritty and ruthless world stripped them of innocence fast while the boost on mental Attributes made adolescence a fading social construct.
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I open the door and walk out. The valet takes the lead and guides me to where my parents waited side-by-side before closed doors.
Rhiannon wore a sky blue gown with sparkling diamonds all over the fabric. The tight fit made justice to her figure and captivated the eye. The diamonds caught the lights and she looked like the starry sky of early dawn when the night still refused to give way to a morose morning. Her hair was braided in complicated knots carefully woven with gold wire, contrasting with it and making it seem like her hair was half made from the precious metal.
“Nervous?” The [Emperor] asks with a smirk.
“I’d rather be fighting monsters,” I groan, keeping Percival’s acrimonious persona.
“You will be, at least your army will, soon enough,” He remarks, then nods at the footmen holding the door.
I stood at his right. The ring was right next to me. Maybe I could…
> Dimensional Pilfer
The [Emperor] instantly pulled the hand away as he cast a wary glance around him. The well-trained guards in the room with us scanned around.
“Is something wrong, husband?” Rhiannon asked.
The [Emperor] shook his head and smiled to dismiss her worries, “Nothing. I sensed something odd but it could be a barbarian uprising at the frontier. You know I do sense every major combat that happens in my territory.”
Bloody dammit! The guy must have some really high-level Perks and Proficiencies regarding perception. But he didn’t notice or at least didn’t let transpire, that I was the one attempting larceny. Maybe his Perks allowed him to act on instinct while giving fewer details. It could be a trade-off for sensitivity against precision.
Or he was just playing dumb, letting me tighten the noose around my head. The [Emperor] was no pushover and no easy adversary to have.
“Open the doors!” He commanded.
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We wasted almost half an hour at the top of the balcony as the crier announced our titles. Mostly my father’s. Then we descended the grand stairs to the ballroom below.
The ballroom was packed.
Peacockish Ladies in fancy gowns in all colors of the rainbow (not together, Lisa Frank!) and decked jewelry stylish or gaudy, with hairstyles one more different than the next. The young ladies who attended the whole week of court sessions, along with even more young ladies ready to engage in the Aristocracy’s third most favored game.
Hardy gentlemen in military dress uniforms displaying their military decorations, mostly self-awarded on their chests. Swords with fancy guards by their sides, a challenge to their agility and grace to not bash the person behind them with the scabbard. Maybe that’s why the ladies favored the ballooned gowns, to protect their delicate legs.
A thousand eyes observed our every move. The only ones not glued on the Emperor were the young ladies, barely holding their squeals and the need to fawn over me. Some of the older ladies sent envious wicked glances at my mother and I marked them for future punishment.
Outside, the dismayed and disgruntled lesser nobles would rot underneath the starry sky until it was so no longer, for nobody would announce them now. Leaving was a capital sin, a statement that the [Emperor]’s invitation was no good.
Like most things in the Empire, hospitality too was twisted into a malignant mockery of itself.
We moved to the center of the now-empty dancing area while all conversations slowly died.
“Welcome to my son Percival’s debutante ball,” the [Emperor] greeted loudly. “This young man is as fierce as I was when his age. He backed down from no challenge so far, be it in magical power, martial prowess, or other battlefields,” he winked.
Some nobles laughed with his lewd daddy joke. A few ladies blushed while others swooned in expectation of one day challenging the scion to “battle”.
“He is ready to take on your challenge, be it from anyone in any arena,” he proceeded. “Now he will perform the ceremonial dance with my wife, his mother.”
With that, the [Emperor] moved to the high table reserved for him, leaving Rhiannon and me alone. I bowed to her.
“Mother, would you grant me this pleasure?”
She offered her hand and I took it.
> > Roar of the Crowd (spectators grant extra resource regeneration)
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> > Diva Presence (those not engaged in combat must stop and watch).
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> > Center Stage (no hostile action allowed against anyone except performer).
>
> > Untouchable Performance (perform with no hostile actions, reduce all harmful effects by 75%)
The woman was transfigured by joy. It was the moment she dreamed of for more than a decade, one she dreaded would be destroyed by my dark secret. Being born a woman from the Emperor’s loins, what a capital sin. I could hear the cackles of the late Empress, clutching her frozen pussy and enjoying her vengeance from the beyond.
Yet I pushed my grim ruminations to the corner of Apricot’s {Compartmentalized Mind} and reverently took my mother’s hand and waist. She deserved every moment of this gala and I would make sure it would be perfect. I’d practiced the Empire’s dance with the girls and knew every move by heart. With two hundred Dexterity, I led her as we glided over the polished marble floor, my attention on every reaction of hers, my joy derived from every spike on her heartbeat.
Raswaria’s Royal family was killed by the man who wed their [Princess]. A frontier kingdom happily ensconced in their idyllic highlands at the corner of the world. He conquered that place only because he could, the economic value of such faraway land negligible compared to the behemoth of a nation bigger than modern-day China and Russia combined.
Rhiannon lived on the brink of madness for a decade, wracked with guilt. Her sin was to give birth to twin girls, forcing a mage to give his life for the last bastion of his homeland. She had no idea how worthy she was. For her, I would suffer the existence of this rotten Empire. For her, I would smile back at the hideous corrupted beasts dressed in fancy clothes around us.
Inside my soul, Rosalinda resonated with my resolve and love. I still remember her stony hands on my soft baby skin. I danced with all of them. Eathelin, Thaorllara, Nozmizla, Eirana, Callatea, and Juniper. The score of nameless ones as well, dead upon my birth by the machinations of wicked gods. How I regret not knowing them.
“I love you, mom,” I said only to her.
“I am so proud of you, my son,” she whispered back as we kept spinning, stepping in perfect synchrony to the music of the orchestra. “You endured so much for our sake. I am deeply thankful.”
“I would shoulder the world’s burdens so nothing heavier than a plume weighs on you, mother. That I swear. You have no idea how precious of a concept ‘mother’ is to me.”
She blinked her tears away, “You’re going to ruin my makeup,” she simpered.
“Cry all you want. I have a spell to keep your mascara from running,” I chuckled.
I almost ignored the crossbow bolts fired from above that poked ineffectively at me, nicked my clothes, and clattered to the floor.
Almost.