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Commerce Emperor Chapter 15: The Hellfire Ball
🕑 Added 2023-07-18 07:38:28 +0000 UTCPrevious Chapter
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I disliked funerals.
I had seen far too many in my childhood when the Purple Plague swept away my friends and family. I remembered very well how they started out as solemn and elaborate affairs in the early days, to quick and clinical mass cremations once the disease hit its stride.
The count’s funerals belonged to the former category. Alaire’s guards carried the man’s remains in a litter while the new countess herself rode at their side, alongside Prince Roland and a few other nobles. Duke Sigismund, the late man’s liege and Roland’s uncle, had arrived just in time to join the procession. The remains were paraded across the city’s northern half where scores of commoners gathered to watch in silence. There were more onlookers than I expected; the count hadn’t been hated, but he was never popular either.
“They did not come for the count,” Therese said as she rode at my side. “They came for the heroes.”
She was right. Most onlookers present focused their gazes on Prince Roland, Soraseo, and me rather than the count’s litter and his heir. I wondered where the Knot assassins would hide among the crowd. We had soldiers posted along the procession’s path to intercept any potential crossbowman or sniper, not to mention Cortaner’s inquisitors. Eris also teleported along the roofs to survey the area.
I don’t see Mersie either, I noticed. The Assassin had retreated into the shadows, though I had the feeling I would see her at tonight’s ball. She is used to infiltrating the nobility.
“So who won?” I asked Therese as we approached the Black Keep. A pyre had already been set atop the castle’s fortifications, ready to be set alight on a moment’s notice. “Neither Soraseo nor Roland appear to be wounded.”
“The duel ended in a draw,” she replied, much to my surprise. “My fiancé held the advantage at first, but Lady Soraseo grew better at avoiding his strikes as the duel went on. I presume her power allowed her to predict his blows the longer they fought. Then one of my fiancé’s missed strikes blew a hole in the city walls, and Alaire put an end to the duel rather than increase the repair bill.”
“The city walls?” I stared at Therese in disbelief. “They’re fifteen inches thick.”
“Not thick enough for the Knight. His sword cut halfway through them.” Therese chuckled at my incredulous reaction. “You can go see for yourself after the ceremony. Still, I say Roland would have won eventually.”
Soraseo, whose sharp ears had caught on to our conversation, rode closer. “I have not been defeated,” she insisted with a warrior’s pride. “But a spar is not a true battle.”
“I am thankful neither of you went all-out,” I said. If Roland could indeed damage city fortifications while holding back, I dared not imagine what kind of power he could unleash when serious. “We need you both alive and safe, thank you very much.”
“There is wisdom in your words, Robin,” Soraseo said without giving up. “But I still would have won. Prince Roland promised me a new training session.”
Therese and I both suppressed a chuckle at her competitiveness. I admit it felt good to see. Soraseo rarely showed enthusiasm for anything. I hoped these spars with Roland would lead to a fruitful friendship between them. She certainly deserved to make new friends in this foreign land.
We finally entered the Black Keep’s courtyard and climbed down from our horses. We watched as Alaire and her guards took away her grandfather’s corpse to the top of the castle’s walls and placed him on the pyre. The Arcane Abbey priests had dressed the count in his best finery. His corpse still looked fearsome in spite of his old age and wrinkles.
Alaire said nothing as she set his funeral pyre alight. The Arcane Abbey’s local high priest offered us a sermon as flames began to envelop the corpse.
“His soul shall return to the Soulforge, where the four artifacts shall reforge him on the Goddess’ anvil,” the priest said. “May the Firewand set his heart alight with hope. May the Seacup show him mercy. May the Windsword break the shackles of his sins, and the Earthcoin bring him prosperity.”
Unlike the Riverland Federation, Archfrost wasn’t a nation for long-winded speeches. Instead, we all witnessed the cremation in grim silence as the spring wind carried the smoke across the city’s skies. The count’s ashes would mix with the city’s snow, as my parents’ remains did before him. I hoped their essence would smother the Blight that threatened to consume our land.
Afterward, the nobles present gave their condolences to Alaire. Some who had known the count, Duke Sigismund chief among them, recounted what a great man he had been and that she should be proud to take up his name. Others gallantly kissed her hand, promising her the assassin’s head. Others promised their help in these ‘difficult times,’ while not so subtly asking whether she had considered marrying yet. After all, she was a lone young maiden with such a large domain to administer…
The pyre isn’t even cold yet, I thought with disgust. Therese appeared as eager as I was to put these upstarts in their place, but we both held our tongue. This fight was Alaire’s own to win. They could at least show a little grace.
Alaire accepted the condolences graciously, evaded questions about any marriage—though I did notice a hint of frustration in her gaze—and all in all showed nothing but courtesy to her petitioners… with one exception. One middle-aged nobleman with soft, familiar features caused her to visibly suppress a scowl when he approached her.
“Is that Ser Hugdan’s father?” I asked Therese. The familiar resemblance was quite visible.
Therese nodded sharply. “That is indeed his father, Baron Dolganov.”
From what I heard, the man—a lean, beardless knight with ghostly gray eyes who now appeared younger than his supernaturally aged son—softly apologized to Alaire for his son’s behavior and absence. Ser Hugdan would not attend the ball due to ‘health concerns,’ whatever that meant. Alaire accepted the apology without a hint of sincerity.
He doesn’t seem to hold a grudge for his son’s fate, I thought as I watched the baron leave. Still, I didn’t believe any word coming from that man’s mouth. He had fiercely tried to stake a claim on the Brynslaw estate not too long ago, and his reputation as a glorified thug followed him like the plague. He would make for a tempting target for the Knots.
“Send someone to shadow him,” I whispered to Therese. “Just in case.”
“Already done,” she replied.
The last and most important condolence was Roland’s. Archfrost’s crown prince lauded the late Count Brynslaw’s wisdom before complimenting his heir.
“From what I have heard of you, Lady Alaire, you have proved yourself more than up to the task he left for you,” Prince Roland said. “I hope that Snowdrift will prosper under your rule. As Countess Brynslaw, your challenges will be many.”
Alaire smiled thinly. “Can I count on your support, Prince Roland?”
“Of course,” Roland replied before kissing her hand, more gallantly than any of her would-be suitors. “Let us build a new Archfrost together.”
And like that, Prince Roland confirmed Alaire’s title in front of most of Archfrost’s nobility. Her claim to her grandfather’s estate would go utterly uncontested so long as the future monarch lived. I noticed a few nobles in the audience frowning at the prince’s words, but none dared to voice their concern. One did not disagree publicly with the future king, let alone the Knight.
Who among them belongs to the Knots? I wondered. Mersie informed me that the cult infiltrated Archfrost’s government, though I suspected more spies among the Regent’s staff. Cortaner will have much work on his hands.
With the funeral and condolences concluded Alaire, Therese, and the others moved on to welcome the noble guests to their quarters. I was ready to follow them when a guard came to see me. “Lord Robin, Inquisitor Gunndra demands an audience with you. She says it relates to the current investigation.”
“So soon?” Cortaner said he would send for me if his group found anything, but I didn’t expect him to get results within hours. “Send her to the council room. I will greet her personally.”
A few minutes later, I found myself sitting at a table with Inquisitor Gunndra on the other end. After politely greeting me with a silent nod, the woman checked the doors and windows for any eavesdroppers.
This one is exceedingly careful, I thought. A true professional. “Anything to report, inquisitor?”
“I have good and bad news, Lord Robin.” Gunndra presented me with a hermetically closed, oval-shaped glass container full of swirling yellow liquid. I immediately identified it as a show globe. Apothecaries hung them above their doors to advertise their craft to strangers. “The good news is that we have intercepted an attempt to smuggle this substance into the city as medical goods.”
“You suspect the Knot of Wrath is involved in it?” I studied the container while remaining careful not to break it. Watching the swirling liquid inside filled me with unease. Its coloration reminded me too much of Belgoroth’s berserk flame, and my magical sight picked up the presence of unnatural essence. “What is this? Poison? Flaming oil?”
“We aren’t sure yet, and our prisoners weren’t entrusted with that information, but we requisitioned an entire crate of them.” Gunndra crossed her arms, her expression grim. “According to the smugglers we interrogated, the enemy will strike tonight.”
I expected as much, but good to have my suspicions confirmed. “Do they intend to attack the prince at the ball?”
“That’s the bad news, we cannot tell what form the attack will take yet. Only the high-ranking members of the cult know the details and the lackeys we captured could not tell us much. Though we can assume this substance factors in their plans.” Gunndra’s hand moved to the hilt of her sheathed sword. “The Knot of Wrath is not particularly subtle in our experience. They prefer violent massacres and arsons over targeted assassinations.”
“They will stage a terror attack,” I guessed. The Goldport Massacre came to mind. Instead of merely killing Mersie’s family in a subtle way, the Knots massacred everyone inside their mansion, servants included, in such a bloodthirsty way that it triggered a Blight. “How did they infiltrate the city? We have already ordered a curfew with the prince’s visit.”
“Cortaner suspects some of them traveled into the city days ago by disguising themselves as merchants eager to assist in the city’s recovery,” Gunndra explained, much to my dismay. Snowdrift had been in such dire straits that the Trade Guild did not look too deeply into the background of would-be immigrants. “Others might belong to your guests’ staff.”
I could already think of one noble willing to help the Knots.
“In any case, I would not expect more than a few dozen assassins,” Gunndra explained. “Demonic cults are by nature highly selective and tight-lipped to avoid discovery, with a larger network of dupes who remain unaware of their employers’ true nature.”
“I suppose the cult invited demons to crash our party? I would be disappointed if they did not.”
Gunndra scowled. “Chastel’s name has come up more than once.”
I studied her face for a moment and considered the implications. Mersie will be at his throat once she learns this, if she doesn’t already.
“Has Lady Marika mentioned him to you?” Gunndra asked with a frown.
“Marika?” No, she hadn’t, but it didn’t take me long to connect the dots. “He’s the man who recruited her husband into Belgoroth’s cult.”
“We doubt Chastel is a man anymore. He has been active for at least a hundred years. Ancient demons are more adept at hiding their nature and essence.”
Man or demon, this fiend had not only slaughtered Mersie’s family, but also threatened Marika’s to the point of traumatizing Beni into muteness. I would have his head. “Are you familiar with him?”
“No.” Her hand moved to the scars on her cheek. “But I was acquainted with his kind at a very young age.”
I winced at that. In all likelihood, she was a demon attack’s survivor. Unlike Mersie, she had chosen to pursue her revenge in the light rather than from the shadows.
“Chastel follows a very specific pattern,” Gunndra warned me. “He usually targets small communities or families, and favors violent massacres that shake the public’s faith. The terror he spread then fuels the creation of Blights that go on to haunt areas for generations.”
“So we can assume he will try to spread chaos in order to break the seal on Snowdrift’s Blight,” I guessed. “Have you managed to strengthen it?”
“We shaped additional locks on top of Lady Marika’s existing protections.” Gunndra’s scowl eased up a little. “Your efforts to inspire hope in the people of Snowdrift are already beginning to weaken the Blight.”
“This warms my heart,” I replied. “Though to weaken it is not destroying it.”
“The lock remains fragile for now,” Gunndra confirmed. “This particular Blight is directly linked to Belgoroth. If Chastel spreads enough chaos, even for a moment, it might be enough to disrupt the seal.”
In short, they had to eliminate the cultists before whatever attack they planned could gather momentum. A few dozen assassins wouldn’t be too much of a problem to deal with under normal circumstances, but Fenrivos had shown me how a single demon could do more damage than an entire garrison of soldiers. It didn’t take many people to stage a terror attack or set a city on fire. Only sufficient preparation and cruelty.
“Keep me informed of anything,” I ordered. “We’ll remain on our guard.”
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If I had to thank Sforza for anything—besides dying—it was training me to fit in among nobles.
The best way to fit among parasites who never had to work a day in their life was to portray a ‘subtly wealthy’ look. If one didn’t carry enough gold on themselves, they would appear poor and stringy. Carry too much, and that same person would look like an insecure upstart eager to showcase his newfound wealth. Ostentatiousness attracted the wrong kind of crowd: the vapid, the vain, and the greedy.
While I disdained nobility as a concept—merit should determine wealth, not birth—individual nobles were often honorable and competent. The ‘subtly wealthy’ look helped attract the Alaires and Rolands of the world. People I could do business with.
Hence I decided to show up to the ball wearing a black, gold-lined coat over a wool shirt also lined with gold, alongside a scarlet scarf with silver epaulets on the shoulders. Black boots rose all the way to stainless white pants bound by a belt where I had sheathed my rapier. This outfit was the perfect mix of Archfrost austerity and Riverland Federation fashion. I was a proud son of the kingdom who returned prosperous in foreign wealth and knowledge.
Moreover, my clothes let me hide daggers up my sleeves. Those always came in handy at parties.
Poor Marika, however, appeared like a fish out of water in this environment. Therese lent her one of her dresses, a dashing garment composed of a pink corset covered by a red, long-sleeved doublet and an orange overskirt that reached all the way down to her purple sandals. A butterfly-shaped golden necklace with rubies matching well with Marika’s hair completed the picture. I expected many bachelors to flock to her side tonight, hero mark or not.
However, Marika herself appeared deeply uncomfortable in her new garments. She grabbed part of her dress to avoid tripping, and the way she moved told me she had never worn a tight corset in her life.
“I look terrible,” she complained, her breath short and uneasy.
“You look splendid,” I insisted.
Marika glared at me. “Why am I here, Robin? I should be in my workshop or with Beni.”
“Besides protecting tonight’s guests, Archfrost’s richest and most powerful nobles have gathered tonight,” I reminded her with a smile. “All of them are potential investors and clients. As for Beni, he’s in a safe place and better guarded than our own crown prince. Enjoy the evening.”
“I won’t.” Knowing her son was safe reassured Marika a little, albeit not by much. “I’m not good at social gatherings, Robin. It’s why I usually let Will handle the business side.”
“I felt the same at first,” I confessed. “I was quite shy when I was young.”
She looked at me in disbelief. “You? Shy?”
“Now, you make it sound like I am utterly shameless.” I didn’t know what to make of her doubtful gaze. “I was terribly nervous the first time I attended a ball. Have you ever attended a theater play?”
“Once or twice.”
“Just think of it like theater,” I said, trying to cheer her up. “A game. You are an actor playing a role, and when the play ends at midnight, all will forget your performance.”
“I’m not sure I agree with you, but I see what you’re getting at.” Marika stared at my arm as if it were a snake. “Are we supposed to hold hands?”
“Simply hold my arm,” I suggested. After a short moment of hesitation, Marika did so, trembling all the way. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
“Thank you.” Marika gathered her breath and her courage. “Let’s do this.”
I opened the door and we stepped into the grand ballroom.
Out of all the Black Keep’s rooms, this one was the most lavish. Hundreds of immaculately dressed guests gathered in small groups over a floor of Stonelandian marble. Ancient tapestries showcasing the Brynslaw silver pegasus on a blue field fluttered next to the dancing light of chandeliers. A group of minstrels trained by Soraseo played foreign songs next to entertainers such as fire-eaters and sword swallowers. Unobstructive servants delivered wine and brandy to nobles discussing the latest juicy gossip.
While Riverland Federation balls always bordered on free-spirited chaos and debauchery, Archfrost’s elite proved more formal. No one dressed indecently, no intellectuals gathered in a corner to discuss philosophy while smoking drugs, and no amorous couple kissed and cuddled in public. The guests cluttered into groups of friends that didn’t mingle together.
At least, until they noticed me.
“Lord Merchant!” I heard someone call, followed by a chorus of ‘Lord Robin’ and ‘Lord Waybright.’
Marika winced at the tide of noblemen closing in on us like a pack of wolves. “Marika, we’ve fought a demon,” I teased her. “Don’t you think we can fend off a few lordlings?”
Marika chuckled nervously. “I should imagine them with horns. It would make this easier.”
“That’s the spirit,” I said before smiling at our new posse. “Greetings, gentle lords and ladies.”
As I expected, Marika’s presence immediately invited the guests’ curiosity. “Who is this lady, Lord Merchant?” a young noblewoman asked, before covering her mouth upon noticing Marika’s mark. “Could she be…”
“Allow me to introduce you to my fellow hero, Marika Lunastello,” I said gallantly. “Our generation’s Artisan.”
“A pleasure,” Marika replied with sheepish embarrassment. She hardly said another word afterward, letting me take the lead.
I would have loved to say that I had a pleasant time speaking with Archfrost’s elites. That was not the case. I might have been a social butterfly, but the kingdom’s elites were a cagey group more interested in asking me details about hard facts such as Snowdrift’s situation than exchanging quips and banter.
Still, I made the best of this opportunity. I explained how my fellow heroes and I intended to renovate the city, that we would help Archfrost recover from its woes, and that we were eager to work with the soon-to-be-king Roland to achieve our mutual objectives.
“So the heroes stand with Prince Roland,” a noble with a sharp gaze observed. “With one exception.”
“The Cavalier will return into the fold eventually,” I insisted. “Marika is currently opening communications with her.”
Marika briefly glared at me for bringing attention upon herself, and tried to say as little as possible. “I have only sent a letter,” she insisted. “But I hope she will see reason.”
“We all hope to see the Glorious Generation come again,” a pretty noblewoman in her twenties said. She blushed slightly when our eyes met and swiftly changed the subject. “Will Lady Eris be among us? I do not see her.”
“Lady Eris is like the wind,” I answered. “She comes and goes as she wills.”
In truth, I had asked Eris to patrol and to check on our allies across the city, Cortaner chief among them. I expected her to teleport in our midst with bad news at any moment. She also kept an eye on Baron Dolganov’s movements. I didn’t see him anywhere in the ballroom, so I expected foul play from him.
A pity Eris wouldn’t teleport near Chastel to gather information on his whereabouts. “I wouldn’t try that, Robin,” she had replied with a faint smile when I asked her if she ever considered it, “If my power was instantaneous instead of merely quick. I would rather avoid spending a minute in close quarters with a demon eager to take my pretty head, thank you very much.”
Eris’ power held great potential for hit-and-run assassinations, but it left her deeply vulnerable for a short time. I agreed with her. I was loath to risk a friend’s life that way.
“If I may be bold enough to ask, Lord Robin, what is up with Snowdrift’s ships?” a guest questioned me.
This puzzled me, doubly so when Marika choked. “What of it?” I asked. I hadn’t checked on the shipyard for a while.
“I have heard word of how the last three of your new ships were named,” the man answered with a smile. “The Thirsty Merchant, the Maidenless, and the Gingerfox. Seems to me your shipwrights have a quaint sense of humor.”
I squinted at the culprit, who lightened up a little at being caught in the act.
“I told you,” Marika said in between chuckles. “I told you I would get revenge.”
“This felony calls for the highest retribution,” I replied with the utmost seriousness. “The next ship shall be named the Burning Stew.”
“Oh come on,” Marika complained. “It happened once. Once.”
“And it was a disaster.” We were lucky she hadn’t set our house on fire that time, and that poor Benicio kept a bucket of water nearby. From what I gathered, he had grown used to his mother’s abysmal cooking skills. “One that will be remembered by all for generations to come.”
“Careful, Robin,” Marika warned me with a wink. “I know where you live.”
“So do I,” I teased her back. “So do I.”
Amusingly enough, the guests mistook our friendly banter for another kind. “Are you two married?”
“No, no,” Marika replied, but she couldn’t help but say too much. “We live together, but we are not together, together.” Upon realizing what she had just said, she started blushing. “We keep separate rooms.” And when I said nothing out of amusement, she managed to dig herself deeper. “I’m divorced.”
A few noblewomen covered their mouths in shock. A middle-aged baron from the north looked almost scandalized for a brief second before correcting his expression. Divorce wasn’t too popular among Archfrost’s traditionalist elites.
I could not resist making fun of Marika. “We do raise a child together though.”
Like any courteous lady would have in her situation, Marika stomped my feet with all of her might. As a true gentleman, I pretended not to notice. It did hurt though.
I took a moment in-between questions to scan the room for familiar faces. Soraseo was already present—knowing her, she arrived first and on time—while wearing a red Shinkokan garment with square sleeves, a black sash, white socks, and sandals. The design on the dress’ surface represented blossoming pink petals. I believed the Shinkokan called it a kimono. Or kirimono? In any case, she was already swarmed with nobles, whom she handled with courtesy. In spite of the language barrier, my friend appeared as comfortable at a noble party as on the battlefield.
Roland and Therese arrived soon after, stealing some of my thunder and admirers. Therese, as usual, dazzled everyone with her elegance. Her conservative blue dress and coat fit her financé’s heraldry, and the way she arranged her elegant silvery hair in a ponytail held by a silver brooch… She did not need a crown to look like Archfrost’s future queen.
As for Roland…
I squinted upon catching a glimpse of the prince. He dressed perfectly for the occasion, with a blue ermine mantle and a white coat decorated with Archfrost’s coats of arms. Yet he appeared uneasy holding Therese’s arm. His fingers were clenched, tense. His posture was a bit too straight. His nervousness contrasted greatly with his fiancé’s confidence.
I would have put this on a simple case of a young man unused to romance being uneasy holding a woman’s arm, but I didn’t sense that kind of vibe from Roland. In fact, I sensed no physical attraction to Therese. If anything her touch made him uncomfortable. The source of uneasiness came from another wellspring.
Shame, I guessed. Guilt.
Over what? Roland had been nothing but courteous to his fiancé since he met her in an official capacity. Unless… Could he be hiding a mistress or another romance? He was not yet eighteen, after all, and spent most of his life sheltered. Perhaps he had a crush in the capital to return to.
In any case, Roland sensed the glances I sent him and responded with a warm smile. Seeing me in the crowd helped him lighten up for some reason.
Finally, Alaire arrived soon afterward alongside Minister Leclerc and Duke Sigismund. I admit I did not recognize her at first. I had grown so used to seeing her in armor that she appeared nearly unrecognizable in a dress. Hers was black lined with purple and silver, alongside a silver necklace that glittered in the ballroom’s lights. We exchanged a brief gaze which caused her to blush.
Awww, how adorable. A pity I could not tease her in public anymore.
My amusement died when I noticed Mersie in the crowd.
Unlike everyone else, she had come dressed according to Riverlandian fashion: a splendid velvet dress that scandalously left her shoulders exposed. Her garment was the darkest shade of crimson, perfect to hide bloodstains, except for a shoulder wrap of white fur. An exotic pink flower bloomed among her perfectly groomed golden hair.
Though she was surrounded by half a dozen men clearly vying for her favor, her head snapped in my direction before I could turn away. She sent me a wicked smirk, the one she used whenever she was up to some mischief, and moved her gloved hand down her neckline in an awfully suggestive way. I wondered if she wore a corset underneath–
Curses! I thought while looking away. I tried to think of anything other than undressing her, which only made me picture it more vividly. Damn it!
“Struggling with lingering feelings, huh?” Marika asked after observing the entire interaction.
More like lingering lust. I turned my gaze at all the fair ladies who attended this evening. There had to be a lovely blonde among them who wasn’t my ex-lover. Why did she have to be here? How could she even infiltrate this ball?
“Why do you stick with me, Robin?” Marika whispered into my ear after we managed to fend off most of our posse by making a beeline to the appetizers. “I can tell you’re dying inside not to fool around.”
“To spare you a tide of marriage proposals,” I replied. As a hero, Marika made for a prized match in spite of her lack of a noble title. “So long as we appear together, no ambitious bachelor will dare trouble you. I thought you would not appreciate those.”
Marika studied my face with a frown. “I see…”
“Besides, Archfrost’s elites need to know that we are partners with equal standing. That they can come to you directly instead of going through me.” I smiled at her. “That way, if anything happens to me or the Frostfox Company, you will have a large network of clients and allies to help support yourself.”
“Oh.” Marika’s frown eased up into an expression of gratitude. She appeared genuinely moved. “That… that is thoughtful of you. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” I raised an eyebrow. “Wait, does that surprise you?”
Marika sighed. “My former husband… Will used to deal with everything related to sales and clients. I thought we were simply covering each other to the best of our abilities, but in retrospect he was simply trying to sideline me. To exploit my work for himself.” She looked away with a mix of anger and sorrow in her gaze. “If he were in your position, I wouldn’t be here today.”
I pointed out the obvious. “I am not your former husband, Marika.”
“You did remind me of him at first. He was a smooth talker too.” Marika’s lips stretched into a blissful smile. “I’m glad I was wrong.”
“I am a smooth talker, Marika. The kind that backs up his words with action.” I glanced at the untainted dance floor. “Are you thankful enough to grant me the first dance?”
Marika blushed in embarrassment. “I do not know how to dance. Not like this.”
Truly? If I had known, I would have sold her the appropriate skills. “I will guide your hand.”
And so I gently led Marika onto the dance floor. She shivered a bit when I put a hand on her waist, but eventually relaxed as we took our first steps to the tune of the bards’ lutes and biwas. Others joined us, including Roland and Therese. Duke Sigismund invited the much younger Alaire to dance, and she politely accepted. As for Mersie, she had so many suitors I wondered if they would end up dueling for her favor.
While she proved inexperienced as warned, Marika proved far from hopeless. After a round waltz or two, she started getting the hang of it and growing more confident. She was grinning ear to ear by the time we completed the first dance.
“You were splendid, Robin,” Roland congratulated me with a gentle smile once we finished. He then suddenly remembered he ought to thank my dancing partner. “You too, Lady Marika.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Marika replied with a slight blush. “Your Grace? Your Highness?”
“Please, call me Roland.” He took Marika’s hand into his own and kissed it gallantly. “We are both heroes, after all.”
“Would you like to switch partners?” Therese suggested. “I will let you borrow my prince, Marika.”
“Me?!” Marika’s shyness turned to mortification. “Dancing with a prince?! But I… I am a mere blacksmith, I can’t–”
“You are the Artisan and the best exorcist in the world,” I reminded her. “I daresay you are overqualified.”
“Well-spoken, Robin.” Prince Roland graciously entrusted his future queen to me. “Lady Marika, if you would allow me this dance?”
Marika could hardly refuse an offer from Archfrost’s crown-prince. A minute later, I was dancing with Therese. Unlike my roommate, she proved an experienced partner and matched my moves perfectly.
“You should invite Alaire to dance next,” she immediately chided me. “She would appreciate it greatly.”
“I was explicitly told not to show that kind of interest in public to avoid rumors.”
“Is that what she told you?” Therese smiled. “No doubt Alaire wishes to avoid comparisons with her mother, that is true, but she is mostly trying to hide her shyness.”
I scoffed. “Alaire, shy?”
“She can charge fearlessly in battle, and find excuses to keep boys away just as quickly.” Therese winked at me. “The two of you would make a good couple.”
Ah, that explained that look of disappointment I had seen earlier this morning. “Are you trying to play matchmaker for your friend?”
“Yes,” Therese replied bluntly. “I do have other candidates in mind, but you remain my first pick so far. Marrying a hero would strengthen her position, and she needs someone who can support her in difficult times.”
“I am honored,” I replied lightly. “But I think you are misled.”
Therese raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“The truth is, I do not intend to Archfrost forever, let alone Snowdrift,” I explained. “My short-term goal is to help renovate the city and eliminate the Blight, but once I complete this task, I intend to move on.”
“Where?”
“Wherever the market takes me,” I mused. “There are so many trades to make, places to see, businesses to build. I have a whole world to explore and while I love my homeland, Archfrost is only a small part of it. That and…”
“And?”
“Belgoroth is a Demon Ancestor among seven, whose cults span all of Pangeal,” I pointed out. “His kindred are no doubt scheming in other nations. The mark chose me to be one of mankind’s heroes. Not just Archfrost.”
Seeing the Blight from within had engraved into my mind the severity of my mission. The Demon Ancestors were an existential threat that sought to turn the entire world into a hellscape. They had ruined countless lives, from Marika and Beni to Mersie and the Goddess knows how many. They had to be stopped, no matter the cost.
Therese scowled as she put two and two together. “My dear Alaire is duty-bound to Snowdrift. She won’t follow you, and you won’t stay for her.”
“I am all too willing to love and let go,” I said as we waltzed among the couples. “But I doubt we can build anything in the long term.”
“I see.” Therese sighed. “Disappointing, but understandable.”
“You will find a better match for her than me,” I reassured her. Alaire was kind, intelligent, and well-born. She would find someone worthy of her in time. “Speaking of partners, is there an issue between you and Roland? He seems strangely distant.”
From her scowl, Therese had noticed it too. “I have heard rumors about my fiancé.”
As I feared. “He already has someone?”
“Or so I was told,” Therese confirmed. “He promised he would remain faithful and devoted once we are married, but… I am not certain if he is capable of it.”
“Truly?” I was a bit surprised. I considered myself an excellent judge of character and Roland struck me as both honest and dutiful. The very kind of man who would take wedding vows with the utmost seriousness. “You think he would lie to you?”
“No, no. If the rumors are true, the problem lies elsewhere.” Therese bit her lip in annoyance. “I could not confirm anything yet. It might simply be hearsay.”
Our dance ended before I could pester her for more details. I hesitated to follow Therese’s advice and invite Alaire when someone beat her to the punch.
“My apologies, Lady Therese.” Mersie approached me with the aplomb of a warlord entering a newly conquered city and offered me her hand. “But might I requisition Lord Robin for the next dance?”
No, I immediately thought. A dozen jealous noblemen glared daggers at me. “That would be ill-advised, miss…”
“Luminara. Baroness Luminara.” The lie was spoken with such confidence I almost believed it. Mersie had nailed that easy noble ‘I was born to rule’ attitude. “You and I have much to discuss.”
Was she trying to get my attention to deliver important information? I glanced in Alaire’s direction, only to find out Roland had selected her as his new dancing partner, much to Therese’s dismay. Duke Sigismund approached the future queen, no doubt with a similar offer in mind.
“One dance,” I agreed, much to my chagrin. “Only one.”
“Of course,” Mersie replied with a tone that implied that I would not keep that vow.
I reluctantly let go of Therese’s hand and took Mersie’s into my own. I immediately felt a shiver down my spine when I seized her waist. She didn’t wear a corset under her dress. One strong pull and the whole thing would come crashing down on–
“Damn it,” I cursed as the music began.
“I’ve known you to be more polite, Robin,” Mersie lightly chided me as we began to waltz. This dance immediately felt different from my previous partners. I had to take charge with Marika and Therese had matched my moves through her experience, but Mersie followed my steps naturally. She simply knew me. “I am disappointed you invited Marika over me.”
“We both know it would have been a terrible idea.” Who will buy my lingering feelings? I almost blurted out to the nearest dancer. Please take them away! They’re distracting me! She’s distracting me!
“Once upon a time, you delighted in terrible ideas,” Mersie teased me, her eyes searching for someone among the dancers. Chastel? Someone else? “I miss the Riverland’s masquerades. This party lacks a certain flair.”
“You did come masked,” I chided her. “Baroness Luminara?”
“I bought the title and name a few years ago.” Mersie winked at me. “I hide better in plain sight.”
Roland and Soraseo sent glances in our direction, their eyes lingering on Mersie. They had sensed her heroic mark. If she had dared to show herself in public so brazenly, then it meant the enemy would strike soon.
“I know Chastel is in town,” Mersie whispered into my ear. “I want to interrogate him before I gut him. Can it be arranged, Robin? I would consider it a personal favor.”
Of course she wanted something from me. “I’m not certain we can keep a demon alive. They don’t do too well in captivity.”
“I’m sure you will find a solution, Robin. You are a problem solver.” I couldn’t explain why, but hearing her compliment me warmed my heart. “I’ve decided to invest in your company.”
“Are you trying to bribe me, Miss Luminara?” I looked into her eyes. “I am not for sale.”
“I know.” She approached her lips so close to mine I could smell her fresh, mint-heavy breath. “Consider it… a gift.”
Don’t kiss her, don’t kiss her, don’t kiss her–
A cloud of white mist erupted in the dancing floor’s midst, interrupting the ball. I almost drew a dagger on instinct, as did Mersie, until I noticed a familiar figure emerging from the smoke.
“Eris!” I said, trying to hide my relief. Saved from myself!
“Sorry to interrupt this splendid evening,” Eris said, her eyes wandering across the room to pick up her fellow heroes, “But we’ve got a problem.”
—--------------
Five minutes later, all heroes present in Snowdrift—Cortaner and Mersie included—had gathered in the Black Keep’s council room. Considering the matter at hand, introductions were short and to the point.
“The Assassin,” Cortaner calmly noted when Mersie unveiled her mark. “Good. Your power will be useful tonight.”
“I didn’t expect you to be one of us, Lady Luminara,” Roland noted. He had left Therese in the ballroom along with Alaire in order to reassure the guests that the situation was well under control.
“I would appreciate it if you did not share the word, Prince Roland,” Mersie insisted.
“Of course.” Roland turned to face Colmar, who had called for the meeting. “Are we expected to fight soon?”
“I’m afraid so,” Colmar confirmed grimly. He presented us with a bottle of white wine, except the liquid was a bit too sickly yellow on a closer look. “See for yourself.”
“We confiscated it from one of Baron Dolganov’s attendants,” Eris explained. “His men attempted to smuggle six of those bottles into the gathering. Thankfully, the guards arrested them before they could get anywhere close to the ballroom.”
Roland scowled, his eyes brimming with anger. “And the baron himself?”
“Missing,” Eris replied.
My suspicions paid off, I thought. In a way, I was almost relieved. Ser Hugdan’s father had been bound to become a problem for Alaire even if he hadn’t thrown his lot with demonic cultists. Nothing gets my blood pumping like purging corrupt nobles.
Marika paled upon studying the liquid. “It’s the same essence as the berserk flame.”
“Indeed,” Colmar confirmed. “After careful examination I have confirmed that this is not a liquid, but a gas.”
“A gas?” Roland asked, his eyes widening. “Like… smoke?”
“Of a sort,” Colmar confirmed. “Once the container breaks, the substance turns into an essence-charged miasma. I strongly suspect Florence used the Purple Plague as a template to develop this weapon.”
“How can you be sure it’s Florence’s work?” I asked him.
“She carried some of the substances used to develop this weapon when we last met her.” Colmar crossed his arms. “The gas will induce heightened aggression, which shall steadily escalate into a state of frenzy. The subject will lose the ability to recognize friend from foe while a rush of adrenaline will dull their pain. The mind will interpret any movement, no matter how trivial, as an attack.”
Those were the same symptoms we had observed at the Gilded Wolf. Men would tear others apart in berserk rage until they were killed themselves.
“Those bastards…” My hand clenched in fury. “They’ll tear the city apart.”
My anger paled before Soraseo’s own, however. Her polite expression had twisted into one of barely-restrained fury and she started raising her voice. “This is pure dishonor!” she all but snarled. “Tricking others into slaying the innocent… that is the greatest sin!”
“There’s more,” Marika warned. “The more anger they spread, the stronger the Blight will become. Too much and the seals will shatter.”
“The cultists will target the Gilded Wolf too,” Cortaner stated without any doubt. “My men are already in position. They will hold the line until we purge the cultists.”
“Then there is no time to waste.” Roland’s hand moved to his sword’s hilt. “Which places will the Knots attack first? I would have expected populated areas, but with the curfew everyone should be at home.”
“Where the wind blows,” Soraseo guessed immediately.
“They will need elevated points to efficiently spread the gas,” Colmar confirmed. “Hills, towers, any elevated place that can help the night wind carry it. Too far and the effect will become diluted, so we can exclude locations outside the city’s limits.”
Since the wind blew north to south at this time of the year, I could think of six places that fit Colmar’s description. “The Black Keep,” I whispered. “The cistern, the cathedral, the Witchcrafter Guild’s office, the northern watchtower, and the old observatory. All these locations are carefully guarded.”
“This city’s soldiers are no match for a demon,” Cortaner said bluntly. “We should expect more than one.”
Unfortunately, he was probably right. I doubted Chastel was the only demon in town. This was the Knots’ chance to wipe out a third of the heroes. They would call upon all available resources.
Prince Roland immediately took charge. “We will split into groups and aim for all the noted locations. I am powerful enough to stand on my own, as is Soraseo.”
Soraseo nodded sharply, her hand clutching her sword to unsheath it on a moment’s notice. “I shall slay any demon that stands in my way.”
“I can operate on my lonesome too,” Mersie said with confidence.
“Are you sure?” I couldn’t help but ask her, before remembering how she had slaughtered an entire room without leaving a trace.
Mersie answered my worries with a dreadful smile that sent shivers down my spine. “A single caress will put them in the tomb.”
“Then the rest of you will split into teams of two,” Roland decided. He started assigning roles with the confidence of someone who had been raised to rule. “Lord Cortaner and Lady Marika on one hand, Lord Colmar and Robin on the other. Lady Eris, you will protect the Black Keep in our absence and coordinate efforts by teleporting from one group to another.”
Eris chuckled to herself. “If anyone tries to steal your beloved, I will call for help.”
“I… I appreciate the thought,” Roland replied before assigning locations to each and every one of us. Colmar and I were entrusted with securing the cathedral. “Any questions?”
“No,” Cortaner replied before immediately moving towards the door. He glanced over his shoulder at Marika, who was busy staring through the council room’s window rather than following him. “There is no time to waste, woman.”
“No,” Marika confirmed, her jaw clenching. “No, there isn’t.”
My stomach soured as I joined her at the window and opened it wide to see better. The darkness of night blanketed Snowdrift, with only a few lights coming from houses and forges dancing across its cityscape. However, I quickly noticed a candle burning on the horizon.
A yellow bonfire shone atop the north watchtower.
The attack had already begun.
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