30th day of Zun’s Rest, twelfth month of the year, 983:

For a few seconds nobody dared to emit a sound. Noct crouched near the High Paladin, getting ready to heal his arm. Once he started to close in with some spells in his hands, Pozos reacted again against the sword and screamed, swatting his hands and receding backwards to move away from the ‘monster’ he was facing. Recovering his sanity after gaining some distance, he opened his mouth but closed it right after, not daring to apologise. ‘Even if I am carrying ceremonial armour, it's still enchanted armour for Gods’ Sake!! What is that thing?’

Simil, at the side of the Duchess, didn’t notice he had opened her mouth in a disgraceful way. ‘He tore through an enchanted shield and gauntlet with a single strike! The magic explosion that should have occurred was eaten by that cursed sword too?!’. Her daughter, next to Soral, was as pale as she was.

“Then, if there is no second duel, I declare Soral as the victor. Any opposition to my ruling?” With the iron will of a Duchess, she controlled her expression to a neutral one, as it was necessary for the judge of a duel.

Nobody dared to utter anything under the memory of the darkness emitted by Noct’s sword. A bit put off by the trembling of his brother, who appeared to have reopened his wound, as he was slightly doubling on his side and whose hands were trembling, she said. “ If it’s within my power, could we have a moment to discuss?” She tried to be considerate, as nobody seemed to have realised the sorry state of her brother.

Larra looked around and seeing as everyone needed that little respire, she accepted. Having given permission, Soral walked to his brother.

“Are you fine?” As she tried to move away his hand to see the wound, correctly fearing its reopening, she grabbed his hand and started to carry him near the chimney, which was burning to stave off the winter. ‘It’s as cold as ice.’ “We should check your injury, Noct. Nobody will dare to dist…..”

As if she had intended to hurt him ever more, she was leading him to the fire of the chimney. Once he started to hear the crackling of the flames, memories he did not want to remember sprung. Maybe they were so overpowering they could dispel the darkness swinging his sword produced in him, maybe it was the fault of that very blade, the one he had carried in those memories, but the act of checking the fire almost made him choke.

Quickly withdrawing his hand, he almost made his sister fall. “No.” Now was the turn of Noct to back away and retreat. Not being able to hide the fear in his eyes, he excused himself, “I need fresh air.” He didn’t realise the hurt look his sister had when he pushed her away.

But before he could retreat to the balcony, the Duchess spoke, trying to distract the nobles from that scene.

“As per the rules of the duel, Lady Soral is given a boon. She may choose to expel Malix from her own palace for the duration of the celebration, as Lady Maliz had made a similar boon herself. In the case she refuses, she can ask for something of similar weight. What will you ask for, Soral of the Ashen?”

The countess and her daughter stood, pale but ready to face the consequences. If Maliz were to be expelled, she would miss her own coming of age and face a ridicule that could very well make her second sister be the nex Countess, as she would lose the respect of their vain vassals. Hope returned to them, even if it came from a novel angle.

“I would never dream of such a thing!” Started Soral. “While they may have been disrespectful to myself and my house, I am not going to cause further embarrassment to the Household of my Countess.” Her lips curling up, she figured a way to both quell her resentment and humiliate them more. Looking around, she saw the nobles who had ridiculed her with their petty stratagems and derogatory small talk. “If I may, could I ask the countess in place of her daughter? She may refuse after hearing me out. Even so, I swear upon Elenia it would be nothing of material origin.”

The Duchess gazed at the countess who, after visibly cheering up, nodded.

“Then I would like to ask to switch our positions in this ballroom. I would be the Countess for an hour.”

“You ask for….?” Asked Larra, thinking it was a cruel joke.

“Of course I would have no real authority over the realm nor over her vassals. Only inside this ballroom.”

“That’s….” Larra, beyond confused, looked at Simil another time. What she was asking was completely unusual, and some Imperial lawyers could even argue about its treacherous implications. The offence committed here was not as heavy to warrant that change, hence her initial intent to refuse, not that that prerogative laid on her, as she had left the right to choose or deny to the countess.

Her gaze resolute, Simil answered. “If that is all I accept, Countess.” Her tone devoid of her earlier poison, she accepted her fate.

Soral smiled, reaching her ears, and she sang. “Excellent! I am honoured to have been granted such authority, even if temporarily.”

Simil nodded, not that sure of what Soral intended, as it would only affect the respect her family talked to Soral, and maybe she could talk down some of her vassals for today, a most idiotic thing as nobles used to be extremely spiteful. Ridiculing them today would be dangerous to both of them. Crashing her expectations of the presumed favour she hoped Soral was doing to her, Soral started to walk towards her throne. Her thought process stopped, as that was something her brain refused to accept, she almost called her guards on her right here and there.

For when Soral arrived in front of the throne, with all the arrogance Noct usually exuded, she sat in the countess’ throne and crossed her legs. No one was capable of believing what they were watching, as sitting on a noble’s throne was the biggest insult anyone could make, as it was the personification of the obligations one had towards their lessers. It was an action that only smeared dirt on their face and the face of the people they protected, nothing but a malign way of telling the others they were no longer nobles. Even more when who did the offence was of a lower rank than the offended. If Countess Simil said the word, the head of Soral would start rolling on the ground.

Oblivious to the atmosphere, she rested her head on her hand and started to remember the last two days. The blue haired noblewoman who had tried to spill on her the drink she was drinking, a knight who had attempted to collide with her, the laughs and snickers behind her back, the ill intended jokes, the despective looks. Even if she had suffered those things, Noct hadn’t been as lucky, for he had regretted not being able to shield her from and, even more, he couldn’t defend himself either. His case had been worse, as defending from those offences was one of itself. He had had to take it all in stride, and they had not been as subtle with him. ‘So this is the so-called high world, I do not care one bit for it. What did my brother used to refer to it? Ah, yes, ‘mirrors and smokes’, an illusion of control. Well, it is time for me to start playing. Let us see how you clowns deal with a Soral you can not mistreat.’

With the icy eyes of a tyrant, she ordered. “I require a footrest. Maliz, come.”

If something could break the stupefied silence, that was it. Murmurs breaking all around, Maliz, red faced in fury, approached her and crouched in front of her. She had been able to break Noct of his stupor too, and he, after a moment, walked as fast as he could towards her.

The only thing that had saved her that day was the very Rosekeepers she was humiliating. If something the Rosekeepers Household was proud of, it would be their pride. The pride of having accomplished way more than an average count family could have; the pride in their old lands, once barren plains and now a metropolis of trade; the pride in their honour and loyalty, the stalwarts defenders of the Empire in the north; the pride in their banner, the living proof that simple farmers could rise to whatever position they desired by effort and blood alone. That very pride was the reason they hadn’t ordered the execution of Soral that instant. That pride made them respect the duel they had lost and the boon they had granted her, no matter how humiliating it would be. They had the highest pride there was, to value one's word over anything.

Even if she wanted nothing more than to cut that little smiling harlot, Maliz had taken in stride the teachings of her House. While she was a tad bit arrogant she acted like a Rosekeeper when push came to shove. So, as if it were only natural, she laid on her four in front of the one who had beaten her so easily. ‘A worthy rival.’, that thought made Maliz smile.

Sensing the strange feeling of competitiveness from the one she wanted to humiliate, she almost gave her a kick, action the angrily whispering of Noct, who had almost rushed to her when he recovered, stopped. “The Nether you think you are doing, Soral?! Do you realise you are making everyone in this godsforsaken joke of a celebration your enemy? I thought you were the one of us who knew how to control themselves! Stop this foolishness right now and I will apologise. We can….”

Her fist trembling, she whispered back, “Do not dare to pretend to worry about me, Noct! You lost the right to long ago!! Never ‘we’ me again!” Feeling ecstatic after that outburst, she didn’t register the odd gestures of Noct, who had to bend near the brazier next to the throne to whisper to her, as he had been scratching his arm as if to ground himself. She also did not perceive the regret and sadness that briefly crossed Noct’s eyes.

“As you want.” Leaving her side, he retreated to the balcony, as he had intended to before. As he left, he heard Larra say, “That throne really fits you, Lady Soral.” Sighing, as the ballroom started to enter reckoning again, he left to breathe some fresh air, the sound of the flames still deafening him.

………….

After breathing in and out in the cold fresh air of the county, he tried to clear his head. Wishing he could throw up somewhere his hand grabbed the railing of the balcony, the other was still fixed to the hilt of his sword. A storm of conflicting thoughts, “Don’t act as if I were better than before, I know I regretted not cleaving tha…..” Striking the wound in his side to stop his dark feelings from returning, he gasped in pain. Seconds turning into minutes, there seemed to be no stop to his mindless talk. “I know I deserve the pain, it is not going to help me. Give up, don’t I want to die? My dear sister at least wants to see my dead body so clearly. We can jump, it’s a long fall. Or maybe I should burn together with this palace, like those blasted farmers, I enjo…. ” He gagged, the sounds of fire always reminded him of that cursed village. The sizzling of the wood too uncannily similar to the one of a human body. The smell of smoke in the ballroom lacked the smell of burned meat, not that his mind was too lazy to not fill it in, free of charge. The screams of old mixing together with his ramblings, “I truly am corrupting Soral. Only hitting her once? Is that a justification? She was, was, so sweet. Am I…”

“I didn’t expect you to win that clearly, I am going to be honest, Lord Noct.” That voice grounding him, he recomposed himself a bit and turned towards the voice. Only when he was looking at Larra did he realise his hand was still glued to the hilt of his sword. Clumsily releasing it, he felt his head clean up.

“High Knight Pozos was certainly not a pushover. It is my first time seeing him panic like that, not even in battle. I wanted to ask, is your sword a cursed one?” Asked Larra.

“No, your highness. I handcrafted this sword by myself. It is especially good against magic. I fear Pozos trusts too much on his top notch equipment.” Answered Noct.

“I see.”

“Still, I am terribly sorry for my sister. She has no experience in this field and I have teached her poorly. All fault lies within me, please.” Kneeling down, he begged her.

Larra turned to look at the night sky, waving to him that it was of no consequence, and asked.

“Do you want to be a count?”

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“Excuse me? I think I misheard.” Calming down after understanding that his sister was not in danger, he continued to answer, grateful. “Even so, by Imperial Law males may not inherit nor permanently hold titles.”

“What If I said I could still make you a count?”

Seeing as his past attempt to sweep the traitorous talk under the rug failed, his voice strained, “Your highness, I would beg you to st….”

“And what if I do not want to, of the Ashen?” Turning to him, her green eyes burned with resolve.

“I am tired of this never ending war, the whole north is. Towns, villages, cities, everywhere our fathers and husbands march to the warm lands and never return. Every day, fellow countrymen die in a war that the North has nothing to gain nor a real stake! Nether, nobody here remembers why it even fucking started! Each year thousands do not come home, and for what?! Because our Empress doesn’t want to accept a non unconditional surrender?!” Calming down, she finished, “It’s the definition of foolishness, and I know you think the same.”

Looking to the sky to evade that idealistic gaze, Noct spat, “All citizens bleed, Duchess. Northmen, Sourthmen, Westmen. It isn’t only the north, all Imperials do. To be fair, we are the least bleeding region of the whole Empire. Is this all it takes for you to turn coats, Larra?”

Laughing and not minding the disrespect and straightforwardness, she answered, “Of course not. The war is the smallest reason. Human supremacy, strict autocracy, rampant corruption and poverty. This is all that has been able to rot and fester in the North, thanks to the inability of the Empire ro stop himself from failing to those very evils. And the list goes on!”

With more and more power behind her voice, “Your barony is a beautiful example of what a true noble can achieve. Not that anything larger can take such egalitarian reforms without the Empire cracking down on them. The Empire is rotting away, is it that strange to want to save my home?”

A cold voice retorted, “When a house starts to fall down you repair it, Duchess, you do not burn it as it falls to make another. You are in the prime position to cater to your own ideals, use it.”

Exasperation coming to her voice, “I took you for a smarter person. Do you really subestimate me so much as to think I haven’t tried? The first time I proposed a constitution for my duchy the Court almost beheaded me. The last 12 years have been nothing but trying, and I have grown tired of it. The republican ideals may be taking it too far, but I would side with the Demon Lord to salvage the North from this mess.”

After a few moments, Noct looked at her and drily said, “When I crush your rebelion together with the Empire, I will ask for what they did not give you. Maybe you would make for a good excuse.”

Smirking, Larra said, “I would feel honoured for my death to have that big of an impact. Being a sacrifice to better the North doesn’t sound half bad.” Laughing a bit, she inquired, greed returning to her eyes, “There’s nothing I could give you to bribe you?”

“Godhood would be a good start. Add the boots of Elenia on top of that and I would be sold.”

A few moments in silence, she asked, “From where comes your royalty?”

Looking back to the moon, he softly answered, “A fool in the barony would rather die than betray the Empire. The moron still thinks it's salvageable, not that he saw the Capital as I did. Nonetheless, I would be an even bigger bastard if I left him to die alone, feeling betrayed yet again.”

“I see. Not even neutrality in the conflict?”

“Not my decision. Those are of the High Commanders.”

Gritting her teeth, she surrendered, “We will meet on the battlefield.” Turning back and leaving, Noct could do nothing but curse. It appears war was on the horizon if she was moving so brazenly. ‘This spring will be red it seems.’

Turning back to look at the inside of tha ballroom, he wondered if Soral had accepted the offer already. Laughing to himself, he chastised himself as a fool, for how could she not accept?.

…………….

On the fourth day of their stay, the Welcoming of the Sun took place. A zunist celebration that originated in the Theocracy, when the old Blood Empire fell to the rebels of the Sun God and destroyed the old order. It had originated as a celebration of the beginning of the new era of prosperity and equality, thanks to a new and devoted vampire nobility that cares for the people they reign over, and it was, and is, the ceremony where the new nobility vows to the morning Sun and choose to turn into knights, the main army of the theocracy, or into true nobles, that rule over the masses, while chanting their pledges. But, the Empire, as it always did, deformed it into a festivity to confirm the true heiress of a Household and a method of presenting her.

No faith swearings that would make them burn upon transgression, no heartfelt oaths to the people, only a vain festivity that doubled down on the autocracy that was the Empire. But all in life had exceptions, and some of the zunist nobles adhered to the true ceremony and the making of bonds. Those had turned into the defenders of the common people, always fighting to better the empire. The Household of the Rosekeepers were proud, but they did partook in this shameful appropriation.

Only five households clinged to these lofty ideals, The Ashen Household, excluding Noct as he was a regent and had not done the ceremony; The Marquis Household, the noble household that collided with the savage wolfmen of the central-east of the Empire, called as such thanks to being the only Marquesate of the whole Empire; the Fireholders Household, barony in the Emerald Dukedom, situated in the western parts of the Empire; the city state of Lomp, important port of the east; and the Whatelmond Household, another barony of the south.

The ceremony took place in the palace’s garden. On a carpet of bloomed flowers that resembled a blue rose looked from the air, as they had been groomed this past year to blossom at this very day. The altar were Maliz stood was located in the head of the ‘rose’, planted full of blue delphiniums, and the almost a hundred visitors, counting the close aides and guards, watched as Countess Simil bestowed her own tiara to Maliz, placing it on her head, and officially named her as her heiress.

After a speech that Soral completely ignored, thinking about what tiara she should buy for her own coronation, another ball started, now in the garden.

“Should we eat something, Lady Soral?” The question of Mulia woke her up.

Nodding, they went to the buffet, a few great tables located on the edges of the centre of the head, and took some plates of raptor meat, an exotic meat home from the raptors, the reptilian cavalry of the deserts of the Theocracy. Together with some ‘tomato sauce’ from the orc tribes of the far south and some spices from the giants’ tribes of the far west, it could not be said to be a cheap meal.

After picking four plates, which were carried by Mulia, they went back to their corner of the garden. A stranger collided with Mulia and made her drop her plates. Apologising, he helped her pick another four, but Soral was too far ahead to notice.

“....is but a chore. These celebrations always bore me to death.” She overheard Sorak say to Noct.

“They are but the chest puffing of people with too much free time on their hands. If they only spent half the time that they waste on parties in bettering the realm, we would have conquered the known world already.”

“For once we agree on some…. Lady Soral!” Looking around, she saw Mulia carrying the plates a bit behind, “It was not needed of you to accompany the servant to pick us the food. I could have escorted her if you had given me the order.”

“Of no consequence, Sorak. Walking doesn’t irk me as much as all of this.” Said Sorak while gesturing to the gathering with an arm.

Once Milia arrived, Noct grabbed a plate and, after thanking Mulia, said, “Get used to it. Dealing with the nobility shall be your job soon enough.”

“You never dealt with it, I don’t see why I should.”

Not dignifying the combative responses of her sister, who had been angry with him for almost all of their stance here, he rose and went somewhere to eat his lunch. Mulia, bowing apologetically, soon followed him.

“....Throw a tantrum like a child then.”

Sorak, not wanting to point fingers at anybody, changed the topic.

………….

After a few minutes of eating in silence, Mulia asked, “Lord Noct, are you, perchance, angry with me? Did I do something wrong?”

Remembering he had been unable to talk to Mulia the rest of the journey since he had failed his duty as a commander, he answered, “No. Nothing that I know of. Why?”

“Well, it doesn’t look like I did no wrong. These are the first words you have spoken to me in a week. Could you be honest with me?”

Looking back to his half eaten plate, he answered, “Bad habits. Do not find offence in my ramblings.”

“Can I do something better?”

“No.”

“I see….”

Sensing her unease, Noct chose to bite.

“Your presence reminds me of the bravery and iron will I sorely lack.” With pride showing in his voice, he looked up and met her gaze. “With no training and no expertise in fighting, you saved Sorak. Trembling in fear, you grabbed the first thing you found and stabbed a man with double your weight and clad in armour with enough luck to penetrate one of the weak points of his enchanted mail. What could I be but embarrassed after displaying such bravery while I failed my duties as a commander?” Turning his eyes back to his food, having lost his appetite, he ended, ”You did nothing wrong, the one shamed here is me.”

“....is it about Simon?”

Noct jumped a bit after hearing that name. After a few moments, he asked,

“Sorak?”

“Sorak.”

“Damn her to the Abyss. Yes, it is yet another old story of mine.”

“I’m all ears, again.”

Seeing as he wasn’t going to get out, he obliged her.

“What can I say? The moron took an arrow that was for me, and I, the commander, tried, unsuccessfully, to heal him while ignoring the company I was commanding. When I returned half of them had bitten the dust, only a fifth would end up surviving my leadership. I thought myself better than to repeat the failures of the past. Still, here I am.”

“This time you saved her.”

“And killed three of ours by not joining the fight as it started.”

“You participating wouldn’t have saved them, Noct. You can’t be sure of it. You know better than me that in a fight there are no sures. You saved a life, but you want an excuse to put yourself down. Respect the ones who gave their lives for us a bit more, what you are doing right now is the shameful part.”

“You!” Raising a hand, he realised she had hit the nail on the head. His shoulders dropping, he softly asked, lowering his hand,

“How can you be so sure of that? Can you really look at me and say I wasn’t at fault?”

Reaching for his face, he turned his head to her and met his eyes. “I am not sure, Noct. But of what I am sure of is that you saved my life, Sorak’s, Lia’s and everyone’s else.”

“.....”

Mulia, releasing his face and grabbing his hand, said, “Thank you. I hadn't had the opportunity to say it.” With a sad smile.

Noct, his face reddening a bit, turned away and said, “You should stop giving me hope.”

“...why?”

Looking at her with warmth in his eyes, he smiled and, daring to hope after so long, said, “Because you could turn into the reason I want to live for.” Realising what his nostalgia had made him say, he turned away, not completely able to evade the sight of Mulia’s cheeks reddening up.

Both reddening now, they turned away from each other and finished their meals.

…………….

As they left, Sorak dropped the affability act and, grabbing Soral by the shoulders, she attacked,

“Do you have the slightest idea of what you little play in the ballroom has caused?!”

Soral, scared by the sudden outburst, tried to back away but found herself blocked of her retreat.

“Not content enough to humiliate a High Knight by making him engage a killer of mages in combat, you decided to turn every nether noble in the county into an enemy! First you usurp the title of Countess and drag the standing of Simil to the ground, then you try to use Maliz as a stool before refusing to do so after saying, ‘Too unfit for my feet.’, next you spend an hour degrading the rest of the nobles in the ballroom, and, finally, you engage in a secrettalk with the Duchess in front of everyone! You know what is going to happen now?!”

“They des….” Angrily tried to defend herself from the verbal onslaught,

“Now every noble is going to aim to gain the favour of Noct and get you killed!” After cutting her, Sorak pressed her temples, she continued. “Thank Elenia Noct is on your side.”

“He is not on my side!!”

“You can act like a kid as much as you want, Soral. But you are a baroness, and you need to…..” Seing the blooming tears in Soral’s eyes, she remembered she was but a kid, and a smart one. She ought to have realised by now the foolishness of her actions. Calming down a bit, she followed with, “Do not fret, I will deal with it.”

“.....thank you.” A small whisper made her sigh. ‘How, in Karax’s name, will I address this issue with Noct?’

…………….

The next day they left the county.

………….....