Just when I thought I knew everything there was to know about face, the world throws me for a loop once again.

Given the Legate’s early departure, I figured the banquet was over and done with, but apparently not. Despite having no tables or chairs to sit at, the banquet guests make no move to disperse and head home for the night, but instead gather into small cliques to mingle and socialize as if a bunch of them didn’t just try to murder one another. Seeing my questioning gaze, Luo-Luo smiles and strokes my cheek as a silent reminder of ‘face’, which tells me all I need to know. The Legate left in a huff, but in order to give face, we’re keeping the banquet going so everyone can pretend he left early for other reasons which are less embarrassing for everyone involved, including Nian Zu who almost straight up murdered Ishin Shigen for trying to attack Zian.

Crazy stuff. No idea why people enjoy these stupid banquets. Whatever, the Seneschal said to come ‘at my earliest convenience’, so I assume he knew I’d be stuck here for a while.

Thankfully, Mom, Charok, and Grandpa Du had their hands full keeping the rest of the family safe, so they didn’t take part in the brief seconds of near bloodshed, nor were they the subject of anyone’s attack. Lin-Lin and Taduk seem none the worse for wear, though my sweet wifey looks a little bored and sleepy, what with being boxed in by the veiled guards who came with to keep her safe. I’m kinda surprised Guard Leader didn’t insist on coming along, but I suppose she has better things to do than stand around all night. While Mom and Charok stand vigil with barely suppressed scowls, Tali and Tate are lively as ever, smiling as brightly as ever in Alsantset’s embrace and peering about the hall with wide-eyed interest. Nestled in her shoulder bag, Princess peeks her weasel head out and bares her fangs in warning while Song wears an equally surly expression, no doubt over the lack of food. Wary as always, she keeps one hand on her sabre and the other holds Mila close, who’s looking lovely as she stands there in her dazzling ruby tiara and slinky, high-necked dress. Beside them, Kyung mirror’s Song except with Yan instead, while Grandpa Du idly chats with Marshal Yo Jeung-Hun, who brought over the entire Yo Family to exchange pleasantries in the wake of the Legate’s departure. Face being what it is, no one else dares approach my family while the Marshal is there, because manners are so important when looking to subtly insult someone in public.

Even though I can now see why they do certain things, I still don’t really get the logic behind it. Half the people in this room would probably clap with joy if I died on the battlefield, but somehow they still feel the need to keep up the appearance of civility. Ridiculous.

On the other side of the banquet hall, Zian and BoShui are the stars of the show, swarmed by all manner of other guests looking to make the acquaintance of these most promising young men. Tam Taewoong also has his fair share of callers, but he was seated further back which means it’ll take some time for the bigwigs to make their way over to him. The three of them might well become the focus of tomorrow’s gossip, assuming their stories haven’t already made it out into the many taverns and brothels of Central. Young enough to possess boundless potential, yet old and skilled enough to make an impact on the war today, they are standing in the sweet spot between rising young dragon and stalwart, dependable hero, which means making a connection is an investment best made sooner rather than later.

It’s a bittersweet sensation seeing my friends smile and nod at their adoring admirers, while I stand alone and unattended on stage. A part of me is relieved to be out of the public eye for once, but another part of me, the warrior part who so yearns to be a hero, is a little down in the dumps. I wanna be praised and admired too, even if most of it would probably be insincere. I’ve worked my ass off, fought, bled, and suffered for the Empire, and what did I get? Embroiled in an Imperial plot with no good end in sight. Tonight went okay, but the Legate still wants to see me, which means there are still things to be done or discussed. What if it’s another test to see if I’m really crippled? I’d really rather not get stabbed again, it’s almost never fun. Also, what if he’s done with me and intends to cut his losses here and now? He put the smackdown on Watanabe, but that doesn’t mean the Legate still needs me around, as he was very careful to never personally address me or do anything which might be construed as support. Sure, he favoured some of my friends, but he also rewarded my enemies, and seeing how I had no impact on things tonight, his actions could be seen as grooming possible replacements to take up my mantle.

I bet he already has people in place to take out everyone I hold dear, including Dad and Akanai back at the Citadel. I never should have told the Legate that the People would rebel, but in my defence, I didn’t know he was there and thought the Seneschal was about to kill me. Well, it’s too late for regrets now, and there’s no sense worrying about things I can’t control. Even if the Legate wants me dead, I have no choice but to go see him alone and unguarded as instructed, because there’s still a slim chance I’ll make it through the night in one piece. Like Akanai once said, where there is life, there is hope, so all I can do is keep my head up and be happy for my friends.

Especially Zian. Taewoong getting a promotion is all kinds of great, but Zian’s situation has turned around on its head. This morning, he was the disgraced former Young Patriarch of the Situ Clan, but now he might well be the most eligible young bachelor in all the Empire. While I didn’t think Ken-Shibu was much of a warrior, his reputation says otherwise, and technically, he should have won the match, or would win seven times out of ten. The closest match to Ryo Da’in and a man so talented it was a matter of when he would become a Peak Expert, rather than if, but now, those accolades fall onto Zian.

Now that I think about it, Zian may be further along than I thought. Ken-Shibu is eight years older, and while the general public doesn’t know much about the Milestones of the Martial Dao, I can’t imagine the painted dancer doesn’t already have a Domain. Although I didn’t notice any overt uses of it, it’s unlikely Zian could’ve defeated Ken-Shibu without a Domain of his own. Sure, Taewoong would’ve beaten the Domain-wielding BoShui without one, but he was behaving honourably and not using his Domain offensively, and I highly doubt Ken-Shibu would’ve done the same.

Which I suppose is why so many more people are crowding around Zian than BoShui and Taewoong, as well as why his uncle Yang is wearing such a giant, shit-eating grin.

Although most of the chatter is lost in the hubbub, I can make out a little of what’s being said about Zian, mostly because there are so many people loudly bragging about how they ‘knew’ he was someone to watch out for, on account of him being a well-known patron of the opera. Central puts a lot of stock on the arts, whether it be dance, music, poetry, calligraphy, or painting, and Ken-Shibu was the undisputed number one dancer in all the Empire. Apparently being a great dancer is supposed to translate into being a great Warrior, and I suppose Ken-Shibu was pretty damned strong, but Zian whooped his ass and now people are scrambling to ingratiate themselves to him. Some are crowding around in hopes of exchanging pleasantries, while others are loudly talking him up to no one in particular, while even more are doing their best to ignore the Situ Clan themselves. This morning, Zian was a bit player in tonight’s festivities, but somehow so many people know so much about him. Just being seen at multiple opera shows is noteworthy enough to get the rumour mills going, which sheds light on why Binesi protested so much whenever I wanted to go cuddle my floofs in the park. People are so bored, they’ll talk about anything, including how many times a dude goes to see a show or how another dude talks to his pets.

Privacy is now a thing of the past. I don’t think real privacy even exists anymore, at least not for people like me.

“Lord Husband,” Luo-Luo whispers, not quietly enough to seem conspiratorial, but more in an easy, intimate manner. “Perhaps we should greet lord Brigadier Chen whilst he’s still in one piece?”

For a brief, sickening second, my stomach twists in fear at the thought of someone trying to kill Chen Hongji, but it turns out it was just a poor choice of metaphor. With Nian Zu off the stage and unable to break away from the crowd of would-be sycophants, there’s no one keeping the wolves away from the good Brigadier. Looking exceedingly uncomfortable whilst stuck between the feuding Ryos and Mitsues, Hongji catches my eye and visibly brightens at the attention, and while he stops short of frantically waving me over, his pleading gaze is as clear a call for help as I’ve ever seen. He can’t afford to take sides with one or the other, because unlike the rest of us, he’s actually subject to their commands, what with him being a soldier of Central and all. The safest bet would be to seek protection under Shuai Jiao, but the most austere of Colonel Generals left the stage to greet Monk Happy, who has been standing beside the stage with Ping Ping this entire time.

I wonder if Kukku is here? I wanna know if he hid from the Legate’s Concealed Guards too, but it probably wouldn’t change much even if he did. That cowardly chicken hides from everyone, myself included. Maybe I should get some pet chickens and play with them, so Kukku will know I’m okay, but I don’t really want to be friends with a normal-sized chicken. They’re too delicious to love...

With Luo-Luo on my arm and Pong Pong on my shoulder, I casually stride over to join Hongji and catch the tail end of the Ryo and Mitsue family dispute. “...no one more deserving of rest,” Ryo Dae Jung is saying, whose cordial smile does nothing to take away from his business-like body language, making it clear Hongji is a valued subordinate rather than a cherished friend, “But I would sleep easier knowing Sinuji was back in your most competent of hands. Twice now it has stood against the largest Defiled incursions to date, and we have you to thank for both victories. Easy to see what might have happened without your forethought and preparation this second time around.”

A none-too-subtle snub of Watanabe, who is off whispering with one of the Legate’s staff members about all the rewards he’s supposed to hand out. Luckily, Hongji is a much better politician than I am and speaks up before Mitsue Juichi has a chance to retort. “Respectfully Colonel General, that is not entirely true. Colonel Watanabe did an admirable job holding the line, though I fear not even Colonel General Nian Zu could have held Sinuji for long against a full one-million Defiled.” Grinning in evident relief, Hongji motions me closer and says, “What’s more, even though it was my hand upon the tiller, it was the Imperial Consort here who helped me navigate through those most dangerous of waters and map out our path to victory.” Clapping me on the shoulder, he breaks custom by greeting me warmly in the midst of a conversation, but being the star of today’s show, the Colonel Generals have no choice but to allow it. “Well met, young friend, well met. Look at you, in such good health, as hale and hearty as can be. Those damned rumours of your infirmity had me twisting and turning at night, unable to sleep for guilt of having let you come to harm.”

A statement which plants Hongji firmly on my side, one of many he’s made tonight. Not exactly the smartest thing to do in this current political climate, but the good Brigadier is a loyal man, if nothing else. “You flatter me, sir, but my injuries were no fault of yours, as this sort of thing tends to happen in war.” Purposefully leaving out his rank, but not overstepping to call him by name, I accept Hongji’s hearty shoulder pounding while making sure to tell everyone I have the Legate to thank for my good health, and also introducing Luo-Luo and making small talk. Beside us, the two Colonel Generals pretend to ignore us while also watching us closely, but none of us can keep this up for long, as eventually I’ll need to greet them. For now though, I’m content to catch up with my former commander and pretend like everything is still okay.

When I first met Hongji, I thought he was a well-connected Officer or brilliant strategist who’d been tapped to hold a vital and prestigious position on the front lines, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. He’s still an effective commander with a fine appreciation for devious tricks and a keen eye for tactical deployment, but his skills had nothing to do with why he was picked for command in Sinuji. Back then, everyone expected the Defiled to break through within a matter of months, so being commander meant shouldering a gruelling and thankless task which could only end in disgraceful failure. Hongji got the job because no one else wanted it, and being something of a pariah in the military on account of his common background and unwillingness to toady up to his superiors, he had no one to protect him. Now, the once friendless, and frankly unpromising Chen Hongji is the rising star of the Central Army, a gruff, no-nonsense soldier who puts service above all else.

In the other provinces, this would pretty much be par for the course, but to the glory-hungry ladder climbers of Central, this sort of mindset is almost unheard of. Everyone does what they can to make the connections required to score that next promotion, to the point where Central’s army is bloated with useless Field and General Officers. Hopefully Hongji’s example inspires more soldiers to follow his example, but I doubt it.

Also, not to toot my own horn, but he’s not wrong to thank me for his success. It’s not just the fire-trap and other ideas I passed along, but also because the introduction of cheap cast iron helped speed construction along to the point where we had more labourers than materials for them to work with. Since the workers had nothing better to do, the powers-that-be set them to putting up rammed-earth fortifications all along the front lines, which again were only possible because we could build them around an iron skeletal framework.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

So yea, you could say I gave the Empire a huge advantage in this war by making cast iron readily available, but sadly, no one seems to really care. All they talk about is how I made a vast fortune doing it, most of which went into funding the Tyrant’s ill-fated experiments...

After hearing about his family (who are conspicuously absent) and exchanging news about Rustram and Major Sun Qiang (who recovered from his injury and recently scored a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel), I finally turn to greet the Sword King. “Apologies Colonel General Ryo, in all my excitement, I’d forgotten my manners.”

“Hmph. Forgotten manners are easily forgiven, but what of forgotten protocol?” Interrupting with a pointed snort, Mitsue Juichi studies his long, painted nails with far too much interest before continuing in a piercing falsetto which is utterly at odds with his burly, barrel-chested figure. “Even as low as my expectations were, you still somehow managed to slink underneath. Think carefully, and perhaps you might remember that despite our equal ranks, I hold seniority here, which means...?”

“Ah of course. My apologies, for I meant no disrespect.” Not true, but it still needs to be said. “Greetings, Colonel General Mitsue. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“That makes one of us then.” Still refusing to pay me any attention, Juichi continues studying his nails. They’re very long and painted prettily, but I have no idea how he holds his honking big maces hanging from his bejewelled belt without digging his nails into his palms. Maybe he doesn’t, because he certainly isn’t dressed for battle, wearing several layers of ornate, multi-hued robes and so much jewellery he could open his own store.

I’m still not quite sure what to make of this oldest Colonel General. Like so many others of Central, he dresses ostentatiously with face-paint and long feathers aplenty, which really kills the whole ‘deadliest warrior’ vibe. Despite the makeup and puffy clothes, it’s hard to ignore his chubby cheeks and rotund paunch, not to mention the many, many wrinkled lines on his aged, spotted skin, all signs of a man well past his prime. I mean, I kinda figured as much, seeing as how the dude is a hundred and eight years old, but compared to his contemporaries, Juichi seems to have let himself go quite a bit. Where Grandpa Du and the Seneschal are the very picture of a grizzled old veterans, Juichi looks more like a kindly old grandfather who likes to dress real fancy and has put on a little weight, a joyful, artistic spirit who I’ve somehow sorely disappointed.

Don’t feel bad for him. He’s been badmouthing you all week dude. So what if he lost a nephew and a Disciple? That doesn’t mean he can talk shit about you.

Knowing this could horribly backfire and end in horrific bloodshed, I decide it’s probably worth the risk and go ahead with it anyways. “My condolences on your loss, Colonel General Juichi.” Despite my efforts to sound heartfelt and genuine, Juichi’s gaze is ripped away from his nails and settles on me instead, and I can almost feel his bloodthirst pressing down on me from above. “Although we might not have been friends, I was honoured to serve beside Hideo, and the Empire is lessened by his loss.”

For long seconds, Juichi stands utterly still as the heat of his anger pours off his broad, bulky frame, and I wonder how I could have ever thought he’d let himself go. A little flab, a couple of wrinkles, and long, painted nails won’t get in his way if he wants to reduce me to a meat paste, and considering Ryo Dae Jung just signalled his wife to step back, I’m not sure the youngest Colonel General could stop him either. “You,” Juichi hisses, packing the pronoun full with all his venom and hatred, “Are not worthy to speak his name. Not after what you’ve done.”

Well... this is going great.

I can see why he doesn’t believe me though, since it seems like I purposefully targeted Hideo back during the Grand Conference, but in my defence, it’s not like I intended to shame him. We all picked lots and Hideo was unlucky enough to face off against Dastan. It could have been any one of us, myself included, but I don’t think this counts for much in Juichi’s eyes. Intentions mean nothing, and it’s results that matter, and the result was Dastan defeated Hideo, shaming Mentor and Disciple both.

So I guess Juichi will never stop hating me now. Butting in when he tried to take Taewoong as a Disciple a few minutes ago probably didn’t help either, but rather than apologize, which would be wrong and look weak, I simply salute and offer my condolences once more. Since there’s no point in continuing the conversation, I simply greet the Sword King a second time, which judging by Luo-Luo’s fingers tensing around my bicep was probably rude and uncalled for, but Juichi hates me already, so it hardly matters.

Or so I think, until I realize Dae Jung is trying to decide if he should acknowledge my greeting or leave me hanging in the wind.

...Because I just disrespected a superior officer by ending the conversation without being dismissed. Right. Shit.

What did I say? It’s the familiar unfamiliarities which always trip me up.

“Oh?” There is no enraged outburst or screams of ‘you dare?’, not from the Obsidian Shadow, Mitsue Juichi. Instead, he raises a single, painted eyebrow, and speaks in a quiet, even tone. “So a mere private thinks it his place to dismiss a Colonel General? Such gall.”

The conversations stop all around me, and though I dare not turn around to check, I suspect this little kerfuffle has garnered the entire audience’s attention. Unable to think of a better move, I simply smile and inwardly pray this works out for the best. “I may be a mere private, but this is a social affair, not a military one, which means...” Trailing off just like he did, I shrug and leave it at that. Essentially, I’m pointing out that I’m here in my capacity as Imperial Consort, which means that technically, I stand above a ‘mere’ Colonel General, what with me being an Imperial Noble. However, given the precarious nature of my status, it would be stupid to push the issue, because it could really go either way. The Legate could support me and take Mitsue Juichi down a peg for impugning upon the honour of the Imperial Clan, or he could kick me while I’m down and have me lashed for insubordination.

Knowing this is not the hill he wants to die on, Juichi simply sniffs and shakes his head in muted disapproval. “Such thick skin,” he declares, making no effort to hide his disdain. “Most in your position would be ashamed to brandish title without strength to support it, but I suppose shamelessness is a different sort of strength.”

Scoffing at how ridiculous he sounds, I refrain from pointing out the glaring flaw in his logic out loud and settle for a pointed look at the flustered Watanabe instead. Who says I can’t be subtle? Juichi gets my drift well enough, how his entire family is every bit as shameless as I am, and it does little to endear myself to him, but even he can’t argue that his children are less than exemplary. Personally, I would have thought that if anyone could empathize with my position, it’d be Mitsue Juichi himself, because without a Peak Expert to stand up for them, the Mitsue Family will fall once he’s gone.

Pain and affection intermingle in his eyes as Juichi tears his gaze away from his son. “Such is life,” he whispers. “Might makes right.”

“Where might is master, justice is servant,” I quote, though I’ll be damned if I remember where it’s from, and for a moment, it feels like I might have gotten through to Juichi. In a just world, his wealth would pass down to his children and the law would protect them, but here in reality, Juichi’s allies and enemies will divide the spoils amongst themselves the moment he bites the dust, and if he’s lucky, his children will be left with just enough to get by. Might does not make right, it only oppresses the will of others, but once that oppression disappears, well... payback is a bitch.

Then, Juichi looks away and waves a hand in outright dismissal. This could be seen as him giving face, or it could be construed as uncertainty as to how far my patron’s goodwill will stretch, but either way, it allows me to safely wander off to greet the Sword King’s wife, Jeong Hyo-Lynn, a lovely and intimidating woman who terrifies me to no end. Now, my actions have shown I’m still willing to lean on my Imperial title, and it’s about damn time it was good for something, but it still takes a few minutes before Luo-Luo finally relaxes her death grip. Pong Pong, being the cautious coward he is, is tucked neatly inside my collar and behind my neck, no doubt intending to use me as a physical barrier between him and anyone who might threaten him. Honestly, I kinda wish we were having these conversations on the ground, because then Ping Ping would be happily hovering around.

Then again, I don’t think I’d ever recover if she’s injured or killed while keeping me safe. Floofs are friends, not warriors, and were it not for me, Ping Ping and Pong Pong would be happily splish splashing away in their choice of pond.

After making my rounds through the guests of honour, I resist the urge to check in on Watanabe and see if I’ve got a promotion coming, though I sincerely doubt it. At the very least, I would like to not be a soldier anymore and get Dastan’s death sentence lifted. He and his people all seemed resigned to their deaths, but that’s no way to live a life, especially not in this world where depression comes bundled with malevolent and murderous ghosts. I’ve yet to see Dastan smile since we returned from Sinuji, and for good reason too. Of the hundred warriors who pledged themselves to his service in Sanshu, there are now only a mere six survivors, with a good twenty-six of them lost just over two weeks prior in defence of Sinuji. Now here they are at a banquet meant to honour their efforts, to honour the sacrifice their comrades’ made, yet not a single stranger will ever appreciate what they’ve done or suffered through, for no other reason besides the fact that they’re slaves. Instead of enjoying the food and festivities, Dastan, Sahb, Camsul, Saida, Balta, Rithy, and Khin have been standing at full attention and watching my back because I can’t trust the Death Corps guards in the Legate’s presence.

It’s a bum deal, and the worst part is, there’s nothing I can do to help them besides dig myself out of the political snake pit I stumbled into exactly one year ago today.

To do this, I need the support of my allies, so I step down from the stage and begin the most exhausting portion of the night: the mingling. Marshal Yo is my first target of the night, as it would be insulting to approach anyone else first. That said, this shouldn’t stop others from approaching me, so it comes as something of a surprise when I make it to the Marshal’s side unaccosted. I’m not complaining, it’s just weird, because even if the other guests are giving face to the Marshal, there should be other, less friendly bystanders trying to pick a fight, especially considering how the first few rows had been packed with Mitsue family sympathizers.

And at the very least, Nian Zu should’ve smiled or something, or you know... not ignored me...

As the night wears on, I notice a growing trend of people outright ignoring me, which on the whole I do not mind at all, save for the few times it happened when I walked up to greet someone. Dienne at least flashes me an apologetic shrug before turning away, and I’m not shameless enough to ask the back of his head for a favour. The other Southern delegates are even less cordial, carrying on their conversations as if I’d never spoken up, while a few of Central’s people also do the same. Strange that everyone would pick the cold-shoulder as their weapon of choice in this diplomatic war of words, but it beats verbally fencing with people I barely know and have no reason to like. Luo-Luo doesn’t see things the same way though, as she grows visibly more agitated with each snub we encounter, but I have no way to ask her without being looked down on by everyone in the freaking Empire.

Personally, I don’t see the big deal. If they don’t wanna chit-chat, then I won’t force the issue, but there’s undoubtedly something important about this response that I’m not picking up on. It might have something to do with how I verbally eviscerated Ken-Shibu and Gulong and no one wants to risk it, but I’m a little bummed out, because I came prepared to mock and insinuate, not win a popularity contest. I expected to be repeatedly challenged by some idiot or the other, but aside from Yari Tetsudo’s half-hearted attempt, the young idiots of the Empire have left me well enough alone. Oddly enough, a good number of those snubbing me are still trying to ingratiate themselves with my staunchest allies, not just Nian Zu, Yuzhen, and Marshal Yo, but with Zian, BoShui, Taewoong, and even Taduk of all people. Weird, but again, I neither mind nor understand what the big problem is, so I mentally shrug and soldier on.

And before I know it, the banquet is finally over and done with, leaving me free to go visit the Legate. Unlike entering, everyone is free to leave in whatever order they please, but I bring Mom and everyone else aside to let them know about my upcoming meeting. I had to commit a faux pas and put up a Sound Barrier to do it, but I don’t think the big kahuna would take kindly to word of our meeting getting out, else he wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble having his Seneschal tell me through Sending.

None too pleased by the news, Mom scrunches her nose in an adorably squirrelly manner, which sets me to hoping I one day get to meet a half-squirrel. “I do not like this,” she says, fixing my perfectly straight collar to settle her nerves. “It would be all too easy to have you killed in a dark corner somewhere and lay the blame on some footpad or ruffian.”

“As if anyone would believe I was killed by a thief.” Taking her hands to offer reassurance, I smile and explain, “The instructions were to come alone, but that doesn’t include the Death Corps, so I’ll have them to keep me safe from footpads and ruffians lurking about in the heart of the Citadel.”

“A bold boy you are, mocking your mother like this.” Flicking my hands aside so she can pinch my cheeks, Mom glares around at the other guests in obvious displeasure. “I am understandably apprehensive after tonight’s reception, so I will thank you not to make light of this. This banquet was hardly worthy of a hero’s honour. You were a bystander at best, and inconsequential at worst, only saying a handful of words with no one mentioning any of your various contributions.”

“I thought things went fine. I mean, no one tried to outright murder me, and that’s already better than most public events I attend.”

“Things are not so simple, Lord Husband.” Coming to my rescue once more, Luo-Luo explains, “By ignoring you all night, your opponents have shown they no longer intend to give you face, which bodes ill for our cause.”

“Right. No face for me. That would be... terrible? Because...?”

“Because face is bestowed not only to the individual, but to a community as a whole,” Luo-Luo explains, repeating something Dad once told me. “By outright ignoring you, they are not giving face to the Imperial Clan, which is almost unheard of. Their disdain is a carefully crafted message, one that says they do not recognize your Imperial Peerage, and thus do not see you as someone worth interacting with. This is not solely about you, but your title, and they are collectively working as a group to force your Patron to action. When Shen Zhen Wu hears of this, he must either treat their lack of face as a calculated insult to the Imperial Clan and publicly support you, or ignore it and tacitly admit your title is of no value.”

“Oh. Well...” Fuck. Right, right, right, I forgot this whole banquet wasn’t about me. I mean, it’s hard not to feel that way with my life on the line and everything, but there is more to this whole shindig than my continued existence. The gathered nobles and merchants want to know if Imperial Peerage is really worth it before they commit to a side, so they’re forcing the Legate to take a stance. Damn me if that isn’t a ballsy move, but at least now they’ll know if my title is worth anything. As an Imperial Consort, I am either an Imperial Scion afforded all the rights and respect as any other Imperial Scion, or Imperial Consort is an empty title and I’m just Falling Rain. Personally, I’m not entirely sure which outcome I would prefer. On the one hand, being an Imperial Scion has its perks, especially if I had the Legate’s backing to force the issue. On the other hand, I would like nothing more than to wash my hands of all this Imperial Clan nonsense and head back to the village to recuperate, or even just stay in the Northern Citadel without fear of being assassinated as a slap to someone’s face.

So I guess this is why the Legate wants to see me, because he expected this power move. I suppose it’s also why he cut out early, so he wouldn’t have to make a decision on the fly and look weak. I hope he doesn’t want a list of names or anything, because I totally didn’t keep track. Luo-Luo knows, but the Seneschal was very clear about me coming alone. With nothing left for me to do, I pass Pong Pong over to Mom, say goodbye to Ping Ping and everyone once again, and head deeper into the building with the Death Corps in tow, all the while praying this isn’t the last time I see my family.

And to think, right up until a few minutes ago, I thought the banquet had gone pretty well. Shows how much I know.

I just hope that lady luck smiles down on me from high above, because the Mother sure as shit hasn’t been looking out for me.

...Sorry, just kidding, don’t smite me please.

Chapter Meme