Chapter 114
A Modest Gathering
Led by a procession of servants holding candles, the guests were led to a private room where a long table that could seat 10 people was set. Each of the seats had names upon them written neatly on a good quality paper. Each piece costing a full week of a regular working man’s wage.
Above them was a magnificent dome with frescoes of heroes and gods; from which a number of lanterns hung at odd angles. A very peculiar sight, contrary to the style of the current trend.
An old man wearing richly ornate long robes typical of a mage and a lopsided pointed hat took his seat before the host. Martell frowned at this, but the host did not comment so he kept his silence.
Prince Elhart, being so obscenely obese, had to be supported by two servants just to be able to reach his seat at the head of the table. He groaned in visible pain as the slight contact with the floor disturbed the gout infecting his right foot.
“Please, have a seat.”
They all took their seats. As for the large-bodied Akula, she was provided a recliner.
After making sure that everyone had their glasses filled by the servants, Prince Elhart lifted his goblet and spoke. “On this most auspicious of night, I have invited the hero of Calendia and her companions to celebrate with us. The day when justice is upheld and a Hero is born.”
He gestured with his goblet to Connie, who sat at his right. “May Junnaveil’s grace be with us all.”
“May we live in interesting times,” Connie said in reply as she touched his goblet with her own.
“Before we begin, let me introduce you to some of my friends. The first of course is no other than the Lady of the Theater.”
“To her left is someone you must recognize. Master Edward Grothe. Master of Lady Eleanora. The current party member of this generation’s Hero. He is also an Archmage. One of the only ten in our Kingdom.”
The old mage nodded with a gesture before drinking his goblet dry. The red wine staining his pure white beard. “My apprentice has been talking about you two. It seems that you have inspired her somewhat.”
“It is our pleasure.”
It was a Beastfolk with goat-like horns and a bushy beard. He wore a tunic with woven silk with a pattern that was foreign to the Kingdom. Mainly of animals and fern-like plants. His eyes were black with a tinge of grey. He looked very different from Martell and Akula, as he seemed to be more beast-like than them. “And that is Bazit. My brother from another mother. Isn’t that right, friend?”
“Surely you jest. I cannot afford to have a brother like you, Elhart,” the man said. Nick paled at his rather offensive reply and was bewildered when he saw no anger in Elhart’s face.
“He is my counterpart in trading with the Grasslands. We’ve known each other for years.”
“To my sufferance,” he said with a nod. “A pleasure to meet the hero of Calendia. Huut Akkar.”
Connie raised a glass to him and said. “It is my pleasure, Sir Bazit.”
“And the last one, the man in the stained cloak is Lester Knobbs. He is one of the few Alchemists who obtained the honor of providing Potions for the Knights. He is a very private person.”
The man being introduced had messy hair and the pale skin of someone who seldom went out under the sun mumbled to himself as he sat there, without acknowledging the gesture.
“Please, don’t take his silence as arrogance,” Bazit said. “He’s just a very private person.”
Connie nodded politely and then introduced herself and her party members. When it was Nick’s turn, he was so stiff that he could only manage a sound like a throttled cat. He was an experienced warrior, but he knew that if the man leading the feast was dissatisfied with him, his life would be over.
“Why so nervous, Nick?” Martell smirked.
“Perhaps he is not used to sitting with people like the Prince,” Bazit said helpfully. “Most of those who shared a table with him often are. Oh, indeed. One word from him and any one of us could lose our life, just like that. But he does not do that…very often. Seven times out of ten.”
“I – I’m not - I do not expect for such high-falu- I mean – affluent people to accept us sitting at the same table.”
“You wound me, Mister Nick,” the man said. “On my dining table, we are all equal. Partake of the bounty that I shall put before you. And drink of the wine that I shall pour for you. Whether you be poor or rich. prince or pauper. As long as you are of good cheer then you are a friend. But enough of that, I am hungry. Come! Let us begin!”
After she was finished, Prince Elhart clapped his hands a few times and a plate of savoury pastries topped with brined salmon was served.
After that came delicate soups that smelled intensely of herbs and meat were served.
The soup course started rather awkwardly, but with the help of the second glass of wine and the conversations began to flow.
“Do you know that this style of dining did not start until the coming of the Second Hero of Calendia?” A Beastfolk with long, winded horn said to Martell, who seemed the easiest to talk to.
“Oh, I didn’t. Tell me about it.”
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Illumca was sitting in front of the old mage, who was visibly taking glances at her. She wanted no more than to fling a well-aimed fireball at him but did not feel that it was right to do so here.
“How is the soup, Lady Steelheart?”
“Excellent. I did not expect such an intense flavor from such a clear soup.”
“It is a specialty of one of my Chefs,” Elhart said with a smile. “There are a few more courses coming. I hope you are hungry.”
It was an understatement. It was already the tenth course and they were now served a type of braised fish. While Elhart was telling the servant how to cut the fish; Clarice, who had been silent since the beginning of the feast finally spoke to Connie, “You are not going to ask me anything?”
“What should I ask you?” Connie asked. “Why I did not see you at father’s funeral? Or that you have never once come to me while I was under the oppression of that whorish swine?”
Clarice was mildly surprised at such filthy words coming from her niece’s lips. It took her a few moments before she finally uttered an answer. “I am no longer a Steelheart.”
“I know, you were disowned,” Connie said as she sipped her wine. “Father mentioned it once. He told me that he regretted not stopping his father from doing so,” Connie recounted Cornelia’s memory emotionlessly. “But still, you should have come to his funeral. Not for me, but for him.”
“…”
“Geno Steelheart…my father is an absolute bastard. He might be the very model of a dutiful Knight. But as both a father and a husband, he is severely lacking.”
Though little Baoli and her past self were not bound by blood, she loved her as if she were her own. She had cared for her, taught her the sword, and watched her become a worthy cultivator. In the end, she became a righteous person. Unfortunately, her protection had caused Baoli to become unable to see the machinations of the Righteous Faction.
“Nobility is…a yoke,” Clarice said thoughtfully.
“More of a joke, I think,” Connie answered. Seemingly quite pleased with her own answer as she returned her attention to the fish on her plate. Clarice looked at her with an expressionless gaze. Her fingers curling tensely.
While the conversation was happening, Illumca finally could not handle the rudeness of the old man and decided to confront him.
“What is it?” she said coldly.
“Forgive me, Miss Illumca. But I could not help but be curious,” the old man said. “Which clan are you from?”
“I have no desire to answer that.”
“I’m sorry it sounds rude. It’s because…I have never seen such incredible mana flow before,” the man said. “It’s like…a clear river free of impurities. I have seen a few Dark Elves in my life, but I have never seen one with such a beautiful flow of mana.”
“You…” Illumca narrowed her gaze in suspicion. “You have the Seeing Eye?”
“Yes,” he pointed at his right which was gleaming pure blue. “But enough about me! With such pure Mana, I could only imagine the power of your magic! I’d very much like it if you can come to the Tower and visit my apprentice and I. We can exchange pointers! The things we could explore!” The man rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out a silver token. “Just show the Guards this token and they will point you on the right direction. Go ahead! Don’t be shy,”
The Dark Elf accepted it dubiously as the man began to gush over her. For some reason, however, the man did not disgust her as much as others who favored her. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he reminded her of her grandfather.
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The final course was a plate of colorful candied fruits that shone like jewels, reflecting the candlelight. Served with a serving of fresh cream. By this time everyone had already had enough, except for Prince Elhart, and surprisingly Illumca; who was eating them with full concentration.
“That reminds me,” the Prince spooned a fresh cream onto a pear before cutting them gently. “My brother is planning to hold a reward ceremony for you in a few days.”
“I was wondering when he’ll do that.”
“Oh? Looking forward to the reward, are you?”
“I am not a Hero, Prince Elhart. I expect a due reward for a job well done,” she said without sugarcoating it.
“Indeed. Indeed,” Bazit agreed as he slowly sipped his wine. “A proper reward for a proper job. That’s the way it should be.”
“I advise you to be wary,” Clarice said. “You may have gained a lot of friends who wished to curry favor with you. But at the same time, you have also gained a lot of enemies.”
Connie tapped her fingers as she pondered the warning.
“I wouldn’t try to kill a Hero if I’m afraid of having enemies, would I?”
Hearing this, the eyes of the man named Lester narrowed.
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After the small gathering was finished, the guests all parted ways. Prince Elhart had graciously told his servants to send them home using his carriages. Of which he had no shortage of.
The mute servant who had been standing to the side, unheard and unheeded, came forward and prepared his after-dinner tea.
“Tell me clearly, why did you invite her here? Even going so far as not telling me,” Clarice said from her seat. Unlike the others, she did not leave as she had a bone to pick with her patron.
Instead of answering her, the man gestured at the fine cup of tea before him.
“It is a fine set.”
“How much do you think these costs?”
Clarice was no stranger to the finer things in life and confidently said. “Five hundred Gold.”
Prince Elhart smiled mysteriously. “This white ceramic set of cup and saucer decorated in the traditional Calendian colors cost more than a mansion in the residential district in Courandhel,” Elhart said as he caressed its rim. “The whole set, including the fine plates used for this little gathering was sold to me by a Noble House that had fallen on hard times a few days ago. They had been in the possession of his family for more than three decades.”
“The whole set on this table was crafted by the hands of Master Helmholt, who lived in a small town named Herlik. This man would in his later years created masterpieces that people would pay anything to get their hands on one.”
“These doesn’t look to be worth that much money.”
“Of course not. This was made before he became famous. A subpar product. But do you know why people like me would spend that much on such items?” the man said. “Because of the story, my dear. The history that made it what it is now was more valuable than the item itself. Just like how the play you were a part of is valuable because of who made it and who acted in it.”
“What does it have to do with my question?!”
“Are you not curious?” the man asked. “Her achievement, her bravery, her arrogance. Compare this to the rumors that abound about her thus far. One does not change so greatly without a reason.”
“Is there someone guiding her from behind? Or is this all her?” Prince Elhart spoke. “So, I invited her here without telling you because I want to shake her emotions. See her for what she really is. Is her confidence just an act? Or is it real?”
“And what is the result?”
“Turns out…you are more sensitive than you let on, my dear,” Prince Elhart said as he laughed, shaking his bulbous stomach. But soon that laugh died down as the pain of his gout reappeared from that strenuous and sudden movement.
“Enough with the bullshit, Elhart,” the woman said impatiently. “Tell it to me straight.”
“She is a hard one to read. But anyone could see that her arrogance was all her. One thing for sure, however…is that anyone treating her as a simple girl would pay dearly. I look forward to what she will do next,” Prince Elhart said. “As for a matter of protégé, we can wait. I will appear when she needs help. A friendship that started when one is at one’s lowest last the longest, after all.”
"But what if she does not fit your expectations of her?"
Expressionlessly, the man dropped the cup of tea. It shattered on the floor, staining the floor with the liquid within.
"Then the story ends there and then."
“If you say so…” Clarice mulled her words. Then, was La Troubadour’s information correct. That little niece of mine was the one who obtained Grunford. But why would she give away such a treasure? This does not make sense.
“By the way, what is that in your hand?”
“Oh, this is something the girl told me to take. Said it’ll ease my pain.”
The obese man held aloft a small glass bottle filled with a few round balls the size of a thumb.
“I appreciate the gesture, but I doubt it’ll do anything. This gout is something I have to live with.”