Melissa Evisenhardt had begun pulling on her cheeks.
“You’re so cute!” she squealed. “Vincent didn’t tell me how pretty you are, but he should’ve! You look like a doll!”
“……eshcuse me?”
Lucy stared at her incredulously as Count Ravimoux broke out into loud laughter, while the taller woman kept poking and touching her face. To Melissa Evisenhardt’s right, Vincent was watching them, stunned. Then he broke out into a wide smile and hastily covered his mouth to stifle his chuckles. The other Evisenhardts who had come over watched the interaction with a mix of embarrassment and weariness, obviously used to the wizard’s strange actions.
……does she not know my age?
“If anyone else looked at you, they would never guess you’re nearly 250!” the wizard exclaimed happily.
That’s a no then.
Lucille narrowed her eyes as she saw Vincent was still struggling to keep from laughing. Melissa finally let go of her face and stepped back with a calm smile.
“Did he put you up to this?” Lucy asked with a slightly disgruntled expression as she rubbed her sore cheeks.
Melissa glanced at who she was looking at. “Who, Vincent?” She turned back to Lucy and smirked. “Maybe~?”
The man in question very quickly paled and firmly crossed his arms in front of him in the sign of an ‘X’, vigorously shaking his head.
Lucy narrowed her eyes further as she looked back at the wizard. “I see,” she stated dryly, making Vincent blanch even more. She sighed and rubbed her head. “Do you act this way with everyone you meet for the first time?” she asked the wizard.
“Nope!” the green-haired woman replied cheerily. “Only those I find interesting. And you are very interesting, Commission Head.” Melissa smiled.
Lucy gazed at her, feeling slightly troubled. “I’m not sure I want such attention from a wizard of All-Aeon Athenaeum.”
The bubbly woman cupped her cheek and tilted her head. “Oh? Am I scary?” She turned to look at a silver-haired man with a beard, who was standing next to the two women. “Haraldus, what do you think? Am I that scary?”
‘Haraldus’ gazed at his 2nd wife for a moment, and then facepalmed, sighing. A tall black-haired woman with blue eyes beside him watched them with an unreadable gaze, while a shorter woman with brown hair and deep pink eyes chuckled politely from behind a rose-coloured fan.
“Our Melissa could never be scary,” she said with a smile.
Melissa nodded, looking pleased. “Thank you.”
The man with a beard stepped forward and held out a hand for Lucille to shake, which she did. “I’m Haraldus Evisenhardt, Vincent’s father. I will be here in my father’s stead, as he had to leave the event early to respond to summons from the capital,” he explained.
Lucy nodded in understanding. Count Evisenhardt had greeted her on one of the earlier days in the week and she had a short discussion with him, so she had no reason to find fault in the fact he couldn’t be there that day.
The brown-haired woman with a fan took a step forward and curtsied elegantly before Lucy. “Genevieve Evisenhardt,” she revealed.
“And I’m Isaella Evisenhardt, Vincent’s mother,” announced a cool voice from the woman with blue eyes and hair tied up in a bun. Isaella gave her a curtsey as well.
“Pleased to meet you all,” Lucy replied, nodding politely. As someone with a higher status than them within the Faction, she didn’t have to be too formal.
Isaella took a step towards the other Evisenhardt man, who had been watching silently and put a hand on his shoulder. “And I believe you’ve already seen my eldest son before, even if he hasn’t introduced himself to you yet.”
The man, who Lucy knew was the man who had stood behind the Count of Evisenhardt at the meeting, stepped forward and held out his hand. “Lysander Evisenhardt,” he stated. He looked similar enough to Vincent that they could be twins, but his expression was colder, he didn’t wear glasses, and his hair was longer, lying flat against his head. Vincent’s hair was fluffy on top and trailed down the back of his neck.
Lucille gave him a bright smile as she shook hands with him. “Indeed. I believe you left the room looking a bit shocked by the events at the meeting. Have you recovered?”
His expression finally turned to look slightly uncomfortable, and he coughed into his fist as he took a step back. “Ah, yes, thank you,” he said. “You certainly made an….. impression that day.”
“That she did,” Count Ravimoux spoke up with a relaxed smile on his face. Then he turned to Lucy. “Which reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask…. what exactly is in your right eye that you showed then?” he asked curiously. “If it was just a normal object, then a healer would be enough to deal with that, but you obviously haven’t gone to one yet, even though you could.”
The others also looked at her curiously, even Vincent and Lysander, who had seen it before, all wondering the same thing now that it had been brought up.
“Oh… this,” she said, detaching the mask from the right side of her face, “Is not something any healer could actually remove. You can see that it hasn’t ruined my eye, which means it’s not any normal foreign object.”
Her larger golden iris visibly showed how it slowly rotated with an illusion of a miniature magic array, gleaming gold mana lines and runes intersecting and shifting within on a pitch-black background. She pointed to it. “I have essentially had a shard of an artifact enter my right eye, and it has fused with it. I believe it may be permanent.”
“How interesting,” the Count said with raised eyebrows, holding his chin as he observed her eye. “Artifacts work in mysterious ways, so if it has truly become part of you, then I believe you may be correct in that it is permanent. But if so, why do you still wear a mask?” Then he paused. “Unless it’s to hide a valuable object, in which case, please forget I ever asked.”
“It might possibly be valuable, but I am unsure,” she said with a shrug, to their surprise. “It has given me some abilities, certainly, but I had originally thought I only had a shard of a broken mirror in my eye. I didn’t even know it was an artifact until it fused with me.”
I will conveniently leave out how my reflection in the mirror was capable of moving without me and it lets me see the System.
She replaced the hard mask and tapped on it. “This is actually so I don’t subconsciously activate it. The shard is not naturally part of me, so if I use it for too long, it severely strains my eye and even spiritual power. The last time I pushed it too far, I cried blood,” she explained wryly.
Their eyes widened, and Vincent looked especially shocked. In the distance, a few more people began walking over.
“That is a good enough reason to continue wearing it than any, I say,” Count Ravimoux said with a slight chuckle. “It would be bad for our Faction Head to go blind.”
“I would rather not go blind either,” she replied with a smile. “It’s possible that if I rank up, my body will gain tolerance to it, and eventually I won’t need the mask.”
“Hm.” Count Ravimoux narrowed his eyes, still smiling. “And when do you plan to rank up? There have been a few worries voiced among the vassals about the Faction Head still remaining at Rank-0, and I agree with them.” He smirked and crossed his arms. “We don’t want you to die, I’ll have you know.”
“That we don’t,” added a gruff voice. They turned to look at a tall man with red hair and scarred features gazing solemnly at her. A few paces away from him were another man, the red wild-haired man who had been at the meeting, and a curly-haired red-headed woman.
Lucille nodded to the taller man. “Good evening, Count Chavaret. I see you’ve finished your discussion.” She glanced at two other individuals who had joined, one with blonde hair with blue tips, and a shorter person with brown hair that ended with blue tips.
Artair and Arwen Alichanteu were grudgingly standing next to each other, as they needed to so they could be part of the discussion. Behind Artair was the High-mage she saw at the meeting, and behind Arwen was a man with pale blue hair. Ice crystals were forming at the tips of his hair and in a cloud of mist around him, showing he was also at least a High-mage, but he didn’t have the dark blue hair colouration she knew belonged to Alichanteu’s signature sign of magical talent, so it wasn’t Archmage Merkenia.
“Indeed,” Count Chavaret replied. “But I am curious what your answer to Regulus’s question is.”
Considering Count Chavaret was several centuries old, and Count Ravimoux was only 29, it wasn’t improper for him to call Regulus Ravimoux by his first name, as he must have known the dark-haired man since he was a child. Lucy nodded. “As soon as feasibly possible after the Empire’s end-of-year banquet,” she revealed.
“Oh?” the black-haired Count asked curiously. “That sounds strangely specific. Is there a reason why you don’t want to do it beforehand?”
“Partially to ensure outside forces don’t see me as someone worth eliminating,” she explained, “But also because as a Rank-0 ‘successor’, I am especially protected by the Empire’s law.”
Both Counts considered her statement. “But you’ve already inherited the Faction, have you not? That would mean you’re not a successor anymore,” Count Chavaret spoke up.
She shook her head. “Not according to the Empire’s definition. I am already a ‘Faction Head’ recognised by the System, yes, but the Empire has yet to recognise me as the Aurelian Commission’s Head,” she said with a wide smile. “The Aurelian Commission Head must hold the title of Honorary Count. It is a commission of the Eternal Empire, after all. We were originally supposed to be a government authority.”
“I doubt you’ll receive the responsibilities and title of Honorary Commissioner of Finance, however,” Count Ravimoux replied.
“I’m well aware of that," she said with a nod. “But that status was given for political reasons to someone who they knew had no intention of using it, and, well, we all know how long the Founder stayed in the Faction. It was never a real title to begin with.”
The dark-haired Count nodded in understanding.
“Then, could you please ensure you take the time to increase your strength as soon as possible after that,” Count Chavaret stated seriously. “A project can be pushed aside for a month if it means your continued safety.”
“I’ll do as you ask,” she replied with a smile. “I have only been pushing it off because, with my soul power, I am less at risk than most to be at this rank. And my bond is undergoing an evolution to advanced rank, so he can play a more active part in my protection soon,” she added.
“Your bond was a… hybrid serpent?” Count Chavaret said thoughtfully.
“One with a strange fixation on cursed objects,” Count Ravimoux remarked, giving her an odd look.
Lucy’s expression twitched and she sighed. “He’s tried collecting them before,” she grumbled. “He loved the inheritance trial.”
“Actually,” Artair Alichanteu interjected, stepping forward. “Could I ask how you earned the inheritance token, if we’re on this topic? I don’t believe this has been discussed yet.”
She nodded and took some time to explain how she earned the pocket watch, making sure to leave out the System’s interference while only revealing the requirement of how many questions Ashale’viaf needed to ask, and telling them how she didn’t select any of the rings. Her audience had some complicated expressions after she told them about the requirements.
“Have we just been unlucky for so many years?” Artair said.
“Or hated by the guardian spirit,” Count Ravimoux added. “Don’t forget, he’s aware of every person who has ever set foot in Headquarters. He knows most of the Commission’s higher-ranked members.”
Artair looked at Count Ravimoux. “But surely he can’t remember everyone?” he asked sceptically.
Count Ravimoux glanced at Lucille with a sly smile. “I think our Faction Head here would know more about that than me.”
Everyone looked at her when he said that, and she shook her head wryly at the attention. “Well, I suppose that’s true,” she said, looking at them all. “Spiritual energy greatly improves memory. So does mental power and demonic power too, all the soul energies. Spirits and demons have the greatest amounts of soul power, on account of their long lifespans. Although demons lose soul power and memories when they die, so they’re in a different situation.” She looked at Artair. “But yes, Ashale’viaf, as a spirit beast king, should be capable of remembering every detail surrounding those who have visited Headquarters.”
“So, never make a mistake in front of someone with strong soul power,” he muttered absentmindedly.
The others glanced at him, while Lucy smirked and crossed her arms. “Yes, never make a mistake in front of me. I’ll remember it for my entire life,” she remarked with amusement.
Artair’s expression turned awkward as he realised who he was talking to, making the others chuckle. Count Chavaret gestured to his son and daughter beside him.
“Before I lose the opportunity, I’ll introduce Martelemore, who I’m sure you’ll remember,” he said, shooting a glance at the embarrassed Artair, “Was at the meeting, and my daughter, Rosaline.”
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She nodded to them both, the long-haired man looking slightly wary as he obviously remembered her soul pressure, and the woman with long curly red hair looking stern and serious as she nodded politely back.
“The rest of my children have been introduced earlier this week, so I won’t call them over,” Haraldus said, gesturing to the other five silver-haired adults talking to some vassals on the other side of the room, including Count Ravimoux’s poison master and aide.
They continued discussing several things for a while, with the others speaking up, not just the Counts and her talking, when Count Chavaret spoke up.
“I recall at the meeting you said you had two sentient weapons. Could it be those right there?” he asked, gesturing to the two daggers sheathed at her waist.
“Ah. Yes, these are my two weapons,” she replied, unsheathing them. She set them to levitate in the air in front of her, to everyone else’s surprise. She gestured to Apophis. “This one is demonic,” she said and pointed to Ouroboros. “And this one is spirit.”
The others allowed Count Chavaret to take a step forward and observe them with interest. As a blacksmith, inspecting rare weapons such as demonic and spirit weapons, while also having them be sentient, was an uncommon experience, and so they understood he’d be interested. His son and daughter also seemed to be analysing them with scrutiny, although they didn’t interrupt their father by moving forward.
“These are…. very high quality,” he muttered, slowly picking up Ouroboros, who Lucy told to let the Count pick up. “And I can sense with my skills that this dagger is considered an ‘incomplete piece’?” he said, turning to look at her.
“They need to be used together to bring out their maximum power,” she replied, nodding. “I’m sure you can tell their energies aren’t trying to conflict either, even though they’re a spirit and demonic weapon.”
“Well, I won’t try to inspect them for much longer, no matter how unique they are,” he said, taking a step back as he let go of the dagger. “But when you do visit the Chavaret County, take them to me and I’ll find out what evolution materials would be best.” Then he narrowed his eyes at the blades. “But these aren’t their true forms, are they.”
Lucille’s smile stiffened. “Yes, but… their true forms are rather large….”
“We can just make room,” Count Ravimoux said with a smile, likely interested in what was causing her reaction. “I am likewise curious to see what other form a dagger could take.”
She glanced at them but sighed and stepped back. She picked up Ouroboros, and then, pointing her at the floor, the dagger lit up with blue light and extended out to about a metre as she switched to longsword form. Lucy slowly raised the weapon once the sky-blue aura died down and held it horizontally near her to let them see.
“Flamberge? Or…. not. I haven’t seen a flamberge with such a style of edge before,” Count Ravimoux remarked.
“No, this isn’t it. This isn’t what I’m detecting,” Count Chavaret said with a frown. He looked at Lucy. “Three forms?”
She shook her head. “Technically this is just its inactivated second form.” She gave them all a mildly exasperated look. “Again, it is very large. You’ll need to take a step back if you want to look.”
To her annoyance, they all did, weirdly interested in the weapons she carried for some reason. She sighed again and pointed Ouroboros up.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
With just a thought and the sound of metal, the segments detached and then extended, before several more were added to the end. She extended it out to about three metres and lowered the slowly oscillating white blade, surrounded by a thin layer of sky-blue aura. She observed their mixed reactions.
“In all my time as a crafter, I have never seen such an interesting weapon,” Count Chavaret mused with bushy eyebrows raised, looking at the way the segments shifted and tilted. “And if your two weapons are a pair, I’m assuming that black dagger is a weapon like this as well.”
“That’s a... snake-sword?” Vincent spoke up, having been silent for some time. They all looked at him as he gazed at Lucy with a strange expression. “So… you have a snake bond, and you soulbound two snake-themed weapons? Am I understanding this right?”
Lucy scowled at him. “It’s a coincidence.”
“Seems our Faction Head may have the attributes of a serpent if serpentine things are gathering around her,” Count Ravimoux said with amusement.
“I said it’s a- you know what, never mind,” she muttered. “Forget it. Next topic, please?”
“What are their names?” Arwen Alichanteu asked, wanting to have his part. He had been beginning to look uncomfortable about how he was being ignored.
“The white one is Ouroboros and the black one is Apophis,” she said, gesturing to the two weapons. “I actually had to name them, as they had apparently been left unnamed by their maker. You wouldn’t be familiar with the names. They’re named after mythology from my world.”
“How cruel,” Count Chavaret replied with a frown. “They didn’t name two sentient weapons.”
“You had to name them?” Vincent pointed out with narrowed eyes. “This wouldn’t be a case where they had indeterminable forms before you named them, and only chose to become snake-swords after you got involved, would it?”
She groaned. “No. They were snake-swords before I named them. Why are you so fixated on this little fact?”
He just shrugged, making her sigh. Arwen Alichanteu looked at the still-floating Apophis.
“Then I guess the demonic weapon must be pretty much the same?” he asked, gazing at the black dagger embedded with malevolent red rubies.
She gave him a tight smile. “Yes, there’s little difference,” she said as she retracted Ouroboros and returned her to dagger form.
Vincent, becoming suspicious due to her expression, gestured at Apophis. “Then you should have no problem extending that snake-sword for us to see too,” he remarked, smirking slightly.
Lucy narrowed her eyes at him, but his smirk only widened.
“Demonic weapons have unique characteristics that differ from spirit weapons,” Count Chavaret announced. “They seem to mirror each other in some ways, so I would be interested in seeing what it looks like.”
Vincent grinned in victory as she looked around at her curious audience with a complicated expression, placing her hands on her hips. “Why are you all so interested in my weapons? I’m sure members of the Counties have better things to do than discuss my belongings.”
Count Ravimoux smirked and spread his hands. “Surely we’re allowed to be curious about our new Faction Head, can’t we? This is the longest extended period that the Counties have had any interaction with you, after all.” Then he held his chin and thought for a moment. “But, I must say, you did a spectacular job at misdirecting the other nobility into thinking you had little importance.”
“The amount of nobility trying to gain my favour has been spectacularly annoying as well,” Vincent commented with a disgruntled look, pushing up his glasses.
“It is good for you to begin being part of more social events,” Isaella Evisenhardt spoke up, looking at her son. “You’ve avoided the central politics of the Counties and the Empire long enough.”
“But that doesn’t mean I want to be introduced to them as the aide of the Commission Head!” he said with exasperation.
“No point complaining about this now when you’ve already signed the contract,” Lucille responded nonchalantly.
“Yes, but- oh.” He narrowed his silvery eyes at her. “I see what you’re doing. Lucille, you still haven’t shown us your demonic weapon’s form.”
“I had been beginning to notice that,” Count Chavaret added, furrowing his eyebrows as he gazed at her.
She looked between them both, and gave a long sigh of resignation, grabbing the handle of Apophis. “Please avoid touching the demonic aura,” she warned, as she extended his blade to longsword form.
Then, she raised it and inserted her spiritual energy just like she had done with Ouroboros. The segments appeared with several clangs, along with the additional delayed sound of the half-segments appearing. There was silence as they watched the half-segments running up and down the blade’s length repeatedly pull away from the main segments’ ridges, and then pull back inward. The slight vibration running along it meant the weapon also twisted slightly, rotating back and forth as a crimson aura bloomed with a bloody glow, humming mechanically. The aura itself incited a sensation of discomfort due to the Despair affliction caused by the Chaos Power. The awkward silence continued as they gazed at the deadly weapon/blender.
“…..is that even a snake-sword anymore?” Artair Alichanteu muttered.
“Hm,” Count Ravimoux said in contemplation, observing the moving weapon. He turned to Lucille. “Miss Goldcroft, I didn’t think you were that kind of person.”
She didn’t feel the need to mask her expression as she glared at the dark green-eyed Count. “And I’m not.”
They went back to watching the weapon. The silence continued for a bit longer until the other Count spoke up.
“You know….” Count Chavaret mused, a strange expression on his face. “It reminds me of the time I went to the Coalition. There was a tunnel the equivalent of ten men high filled with layers of massive blades, used to crush, and slice their discarded metal creations before being re-smelted.” He gestured to the blade and looked at Lucy. “Those you attack might suffer a similar fate.”
She retracted her energy from the demonic weapon and it shrunk back down to its longsword form, and then its dagger form. She let it float again. “It goes without saying that this weapon will not be used on people,” she replied dryly.
“Does our Faction Head possibly have intentions of killing people somehow?” Count Ravimoux said with a sly smile. He held his chin as he observed her. “I’m not sure what reason the Commission Head would have to do something so violent. Do you perhaps have a secret?” He narrowed his eyes at her and grinned. “Possibly a secret not fit for someone like the Commission Head… do we need to do something about this?”
They all stared at him, shocked at what he was saying, or implying. Lucille just cocked an eyebrow. “Are you threatening me again?”
He blinked. “Did I sound like I was threatening you?” He looked around and saw how they were avoiding eye contact, looking away or at the ground. “Really?”
Count Chavaret ran a hand down his face. “Regulus….” he muttered in exasperation.
Count Ravimoux crossed his arms and frowned at the ground. “That was not actually my intention at all. Hmm.” Then he looked up at them all. “Oh. I see what this is. This is all because I’m a Ravimoux, isn’t it.” He lifted up his chin. “You’re biased against me, so you see my every word as a threat,” he proclaimed with mock affront.
Lucille and the others just gazed dubiously at him. “Sure. Let’s go with that,” she said.
“He’s always been like this.” Count Chavaret sighed, before turning his head to gaze at Lucy with a stern expression. “And what did you mean by ‘again’?”
The dark-haired Count turned to Count Chavaret and opened his mouth to say something, but Lucille beat him to it.
“You can ask ‘Reggy’ all about that,” she replied, using her thumb to point to the man next to her.
Count Ravimoux whipped his head back around to stare at her. “You-”
His words were cut off when they all heard a suspiciously timed loud coughing noise coming from the other side of the room. They turned to see Margaery Femidela, the Viscountess and Count Ravimoux’s poison master clutching her stomach as she doubled over, trying to keep from laughing. She held a half-spilt glass in one hand. The woman flinched and looked over her shoulder when she detected Count Ravimoux’s gaze, his eyes narrowed.
“Aaaand we have an eavesdropper,” Lucy commented in a wry voice.
The dark-haired Count’s expression darkened, and he clenched his fists. “Excuse me for a moment,” he growled, marching off to go to find his far too visibly amused vassal.
They watched him drag his poison master off somewhere by her collar and then returned their attention back to their discussion circle.
Lucille picked up the floating Ouroboros to return the dagger to her sheath.
The blonde and blue-haired Artair gazed at Apophis and reached forward to touch the ominous weapon. “I’m still shocked that this dagger can turn into that. I mean, it looks so-”
She hastily looked up once she realised what he was doing. “Wait, don’t-”
“Ow!”
“…..do that,” she finished, sighing wearily.
He abruptly yanked back his bitten hand to gaze incredulously at the strange black snake ornament that had unwound itself from around the handle, ruby eyes glinting as it bared its metallic fangs. One of the points had slight traces of red from where it had bitten the Alichanteu heir, drawing blood. The metal snake tried to extend itself from the dagger to pounce on the young man, but its tail couldn’t lose contact with the weapon, even if it had slithered onto the dagger’s blade.
“Apophis. Back,” Lucy stated harshly before the aggressive weapon could realise it had autonomous movement and didn’t need to mimic a snake to get within stabbing distance of the heir. The black snake opened its jaws in a soundless hiss at Artair but rewound itself around the handle, and then the dagger floated near Lucy. She picked it up and sheathed it, then crossed her arms to stare at Artair.
“How come it bit me?” he asked, looking stunned. “The other one didn’t bite Count Chavaret.”
The red-haired Count in question, as well as his two children, gazed at Artair with strange expressions, while Lucy just sent the young man a flat look.
“Spirit,” she said, gesturing to the white dagger on her waist. “Demonic,” she stated blandly, pointing to the black dagger opposite it.
Artair blinked and then covered his face with a hand as his ears tinged pink. “Right,” he mumbled. “My mistake.”
They all gazed at the Alichanteu heir with mixed emotions before Count Chavaret turned to her. “Well, it was interesting seeing your weapons,” he said, giving her a nod. “However, I might take my leave to discuss a few things with some of the other Counties’ vassals. Please do visit our County when time allows.”
“Ours as well,” Haraldus added. “Although,” he said, turning to Count Chavaret. “I believe you said you wanted to discuss one of the partnerships between our main businesses?”
The Count nodded, and they moved away, their children and wives too. Vincent stayed behind with Lucy, seemingly not interested in talking to his family any longer. As they left, Melissa turned around to give her a small wave and a wink.
“I might take a break to get a little fresh air,” Artair murmured, nodding to the High-mage just behind his shoulder.
“Enjoy the rest of the night,” Lucy said with a nod. He dipped his head in a slight bow, and then walked off, leaving only her, Vincent, and….. Arwen. Also his ice mage.
The brown and blue-haired 19-year-old took a confident stride forward and then dipped his head. “I have yet to properly greet you tonight, Faction Head,” he said with a broad smile.
Both Vincent and Lucy eyed him sceptically but didn’t show it on their faces. “Indeed,” she said with a bright smile. “We had quite the gathering earlier, so there was no urgency to. You don’t have to now, either. There’s no need for such formalities,” she added, trying to get him to leave.
“How could I possibly do such a thing? And I would definitely take the chance to discuss things with you,” he said with a grin. He didn’t get the message. “I am the one who has had the least interaction with you, out of the main County members, after all.”
She didn’t say anything but just smiled politely. The teen gestured to her.
“Then, is it really true your soul age is nearly two and a half centuries?” he asked, observing her with a relaxed smile. “I had thought it was false when I had originally met you.” He smirked. “After all, who could believe such a beautiful young woman was at that age?”
Lucille felt an eyebrow twitch, and Vincent stared at the young man like he was a particularly many-legged creature. Her polite, very false smile became even more fake. “Yes, I am 231 years older than you,” she stressed, beginning to feel immensely irritated.
“And you revealed this to the Counts… so you have a way of showing without a doubt that you are that age?” he asked, gazing at her with narrowed blue eyes. “Would I be able to see this?”
She raised an eyebrow but blinked and glanced at Vincent when she sensed his expression darken in her perception field. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Arwen Alichanteu, are you implying that you can’t trust the judgement of the Counts themselves and that you think you are important enough to require evidence for your own eyes before you can accept the fact that the Commission Head is 249 years old?” he stated sternly.
Isn’t that a bit of an overreact- oh. Really.
She narrowed her eyes at her aide, who glanced at her but looked away.
He’s trying to stop me from using my soul power again. How ridiculous.
Arwen’s eyes widened slightly and he hastily shook his head. “Oh no, I would never do so. Just for curiosity’s sake is all. If you don’t wish to, that’s fine by me,” he said to Lucy.
“I won’t, because it will affect more individuals than just you if I did so,” she stated, wishing he was an enemy so she could start permanently ridding herself of him already.
“If that is your will,” he replied, giving her a deferential nod. He glanced up at a clock in the large room and then sighed. “It appears it might not be possible for us to continue discussing things like this much further. Oh well.” He smiled widely and gave her an elegant bow. “I will wait for the invitation of my lady in the future for us to meet again,” he said, holding out a hand.
She just gazed expressionlessly at him and crossed her arms. He blinked when he registered her expression and that she hadn’t taken his hand for him to kiss.
“Ah, do you perhaps not like this method of parting?” he asked, straightening up. He smiled and then held out his hand again. “Then, should we just shake hands normally?”
She was silent as she looked at his outstretched hand for a moment, and then she smiled brightly, having had an idea. She took his hand….. and then bent, and kissed the back of it. He stiffened.
“I hope you’ll enjoy waiting for an invitation that will never come, my lord,” she said cheerfully and then walked away with a spring in her step, leaving the frozen Alichanteu heir and stunned Vincent in her wake.
Vincent glanced between her and Arwen incredulously, hardly believing what just happened, and then hurriedly followed after her. “Lucille, what did you just do?” he demanded. “Lucy? Hey!” He kept following her as she moved to the other side of the room, whistling merrily, and completely ignoring her aide.
Behind her, the teenager turned bright red in humiliation as he registered what had occurred, and angrily stormed towards the exit, his ice High-mage hot on his heels.
----------------------------------------
Several minutes before, Count Regulus Ravimoux and Viscountess Margaery Femidela were standing on a balcony overlooking the large room, taking a break from the social event below. Regulus had a glass of wine in his hand as he leaned against the railing, and he looked at his poison master.
“Have you done what we discussed?” he asked in a low voice.
Margaery smirked, hands on hips. “Of course, my lord. I have all thirty countdowns corresponding to each individual on my Status screen, and so each and every one of them will suffer one of several different variations of death, including heart failure, stroke, or death by a curse. We’ve already tracked how many resurrections they each have, and so our assassins are ready to kill them permanently before they can return to their forces.”
He swirled his glass and took a sip as he gave her a curious look. “All thirty? I was expecting half that number.”
“How could you have so little faith in me, my lord!” she gasped with mock outrage. Then she leaned her back against the railing and gave him a sly grin. “Even when it is my undying affection for you that gives me the motivation to do so well.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure your husband would approve of these ‘undying affections’ of yours,” he remarked dryly.
“Oh psh,” she said, giving him a dismissive wave. “Who cares what he thinks. Besides, Tarquin doesn’t approve of anyone or anything, so what do you expect.”
He tilted his head but didn’t comment as he continued to observe the figure of Lucille Goldcroft below. He watched with interest as Arwen Alichanteu approached her.
“Have you made any progress on that matter down there?” Margaery said, turning around to also focus her attention on the girl with a mask.
He glanced at his subordinate. “Be careful what you say. She might be able to hear.”
The poison master thought for a moment. “I’m getting the impression she already knows or doesn’t even care.”
“I suppose that is probably true,” Regulus acquiesced.
Margaery bent over the railing and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey Faction Head, if you can hear us look up!” she said in a stage whisper.
Lucille Goldcroft didn’t look up.
He gave her a flat look as the brown-haired woman leaned back and shrugged. “I don’t think she can right now.”
He sighed but didn’t say anything about her actions. “It’s going poorly. The circumstances are very…. unusual this time, yes, but there’s nothing on her. She’s like a ghost.” He shook his head. “No, even a ghost from Tartarus would have more on them. There is absolutely nothing on her before her arrival at the Violet Luminosity Jungle region.”
His poison master hummed. “So, it’s unlikely she’s offended some powerful force or noble family and will bring trouble to us?”
“Yes, unlikely,” he replied. “For all intents and purposes, I think it’s best for us to assume her tale about coming from an unassimilated world is correct.”
“Interesting,” the woman responded, propping her chin up as she leaned against the balcony’s handrail. She glanced at his right hand. “And what does that say about her?”
He shrugged off his coat on his right shoulder and pulled back the sleeve of his black shirt, revealing his forearm. There, what seemed to be a coiling tattoo slowly shifted and moved, but if looked at in greater detail, the tattoo could be seen to be formed of densely packed black runes arrayed in tight ribbons of script, ravelling, and unravelling themselves to form ever-changing patterns. He straightened his sleeve and put his coat back on properly.
“It’s absolutely terrified of her,” he said with some amusement. “And I’m not surprised. The density of her soul power back then nearly sent its runes into disarray.”
He viewed the runic tattoo as it slowly curled around his fingers. “But what really scares it is that it can’t detect her presence. Its curse energies can’t find her killing intent at all.”
“So this girl has either never killed anything or is expert enough to hide her killing intent from even that,” Margaery remarked, eyeing his hand.
“Possibly, but-”
He paused to watch Lucille Goldcroft below interact with the Alichanteu heir.
“What is she doing?” he muttered, frowning slightly.
Margaery blinked and looked down. “Hm? Oh, looks like the Alichanteu brat realised the Commission Head shouldn’t be treat-”
They stared incredulously as the girl bowed and kissed the back of the heir’s hand, in the style of a lord to a lady, and then happily walk off, leaving the heir to stew in embarrassment and mortification.
Regulus kept his gaze on her, feeling a weird mix of amusement, shock, disbelief, and niggling suspicion.
Is our Faction Head a little crazy?
His poison master burst out laughing. “I’ve never seen a woman do that before! Hey, can I have her instead of Tarquin?” she asked him, grinning.
He rolled his eyes, making her chuckle.
“I’m not quite sure what she’d think of your statement if she was listening to-” He stopped talking as he noticed the dark-haired girl down below look up at them and smirk. He raised an eyebrow.
What, so she really was listening in? How large is her percep-
He felt his thoughts freeze to a halt as the girl waved and then exaggerated the motions of her mouth to silently call out, ‘Hi Reggy.’
The woman to his right broke out into a coughing fit as she struggled to stifle her laugh, having seen it. He glared at her, then at the girl down below before he sighed and turned away from the balcony edge. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling mildly vexed.
This is because I made that comment about her demonic weapon, isn’t it. And I can’t even do anything back. Hm.
He glanced down at the girl again, who had turned away and was now talking to the County vassals. He began walking towards the direction of the stairs.
Well, I probably deserve it. Maybe karma is finally punishing me for my sins.
He smirked at that thought, but with his poison master following close behind, he left the balcony and prepared to get entangled in the far too political conversations he had managed to escape so far. In a few weeks’ time, several factors with special connections to Olden and Radical would find themselves breathing no longer, and would consequently create some intriguing reactions on those two forces’ end, but for now, he had to keep politely smiling and do his boring job as the Count of Ravimoux.
Then he glanced at the girl with a mask discussing things with the vassals as his usual smile fell back in place.
Although, I think this new Faction Head of ours will make things a little more interesting in the coming years.