82. The Banquet

“Hmm.”

Before the wardrobe.

Isaac was lost in thought.

He seemed to lack proper attire suitable for the banquet taking place today.

His past as Helmun’s son-in-law had meant he had attended such events numerous times.

He even possessed several impressive, and rather costly, formal attires.

‘Perhaps I should’ve swallowed my pride and brought at least one suit.’

He’d left it all behind when he departed Helmun. Given the less than amicable circumstances, taking things he’d received from them seemed… inappropriate.

‘The suit I wore for the investiture ceremony…’

He’d considered wearing it again, but it felt excessively flamboyant.

The investiture ceremony had been *his* moment, so a grand display was almost a courtesy.

But this time, he wasn’t the star, nor did he hold any particularly impressive position.

“Aah, this is a dilemma.”

He’d heard nobles short on coin fawned over commoners from wealthy families.

Wasn’t that exactly what he was doing now?

Lost in this indecisive gloom, a knock echoed from outside the dressing room.

“Baron, the Princess has sent you a garment.”

“A garment?”

Isaac opened the door to find Karen, a polite smile gracing her lips, explaining,

“Yes, she sent something for you to wear at this evening’s banquet.”

“Why would the Princess do that?”

“Why, indeed?”

Karen chuckled, offering further clarification.

“You are her partner, aren’t you?”

“…Me?”

“Yes, Baron.”

That a mere Baron would be escorted as a Princess’ partner at a banquet.

‘She’s really putting me to work.’

Still, it wasn’t unwelcome.

It saved him the trouble of choosing attire, and anything sent by the Princess would surely equate to a costly formal attire acquired for free.

“Hoho! I, too, shall finally grease my insides for once.”

Karen beams, eyes twinkling.

She’d be accompanying as a handmaiden to assist with the banquet’s affairs.

Karen had originally worked in the Royal household as a court lady, so she would occasionally go to assist them.

“Then, you needn’t bother coming to work tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

Isaac accepts the attire and drapes it before himself in front of the mirror.

Karen mutely echoed the remark back in bewilderment, but he, lost in examining his reflection, appended,

“It means you can drink. You’re friendly with the Royal maids, aren’t you? Catch up with them for once.”

“Baron!”

Karen gazed at Isaac with an expression of pure, heartfelt emotion. Her hands were clasped tightly together as if in prayer, singing his praises.

“If only there were more like you, Baron, I’d have no more wishes! When I was first assigned to work under you, I was honestly a little worried… I’m so grateful!”

“Worried? Why?”

Isaac glanced at her, and she confessed, seemingly embarrassed.

“The truth is, I have a fiancé. He threw an absolute fit when he heard I’d be working alone under a handsome Baron.”

“…Right, well, you make sure you reassure him. I’m not that kind of man.”

“Yes, sir! Karen! This humble servant! I’ll serve you until my dying breath!”

“There’s really no need for that. You can go now.”

I still need to change and check the sizing of this uniform.

“Understood!”

“Oh, and Karen.”

As she headed for the door, Isaac offered her a piece of, in his own way, sincere advice.

“Think carefully before you get married. Love alone isn’t enough.”

“…Are you sure you want to be saying that to a bride-to-be?”

“It’s advice from someone who’s been there.”

* * *

A princess, and first in line to the throne.

Adeline Seraphia Legardea’s party was as extravagant and abundant as her name and the weight it carried.

The entire palace ballroom had been opened for the festivities.

Claris had spoken of it so casually, as if it were a children’s party, but it was anything but lighthearted.

“So… this is it…”

As Claris’s partner for the evening, as well as one of the party’s hosts, Isaac hadn’t been able to join the already progressing event.

The hosts, after all, were meant to appear once the atmosphere was sufficiently lively.

Isaac was straightening his attire at the back of the ballroom.

“Wow?”

Claris, stepping into the room, couldn’t help but let out a gasp of admiration.

“I sent it, but you truly wear it well! It was worth using such expensive dyes to make it perfectly black.”

Claris had coordinated her own attire, a black dress, to match Isaac’s black uniform.

A playful smile graced her lips as she promptly moved in to adjust his clothing.

“Your tie is crooked. You don’t seem to know how to tie it properly?”

“Yes, well…”

Isaac was accustomed to such ministrations.

Though the one difference was, there was no heady scent of roses.

[…The tie.]

When he attended banquets as Helmut’s son-in-law, Rianna would often adjust his tie in this manner.

She took care of him without the slightest change in her expression, but back then, that alone made him overwhelmingly happy.

“There, all done. How is it?”

“Fine.”

“No, how am *I*?”

“…”

Clarice stepped back with a playful smile.

With her elegant black dress and neat hairstyle, it was hard to believe she was the same woman he’d seen in the marketplace.

Truly, a woman reveals her complete radiance through adornment.

“You look every bit the princess.”

“Is that a compliment? Or are you implying that I haven’t been acting like one until now?”

“…”

Isaac was careful with his answer.

Clarice only pouted her lips and grumbled, but didn’t press further.

“More importantly, is it alright for you to take me as your partner?”

He was a divorcee, after all.

If the princess partnered with someone like him, she wouldn’t exactly receive favorable attention.

On the contrary, rumors could even circulate that she was antagonizing Helmut.

“We’re using each other.”

Clarice explained with a somewhat apologetic smile.

“I’ll be known as a completely wild, uncontrollable princess. And Isaac, since you’re fortunately handsome, I’ll be perceived as an impetuous fool who fell for your face.”

“For the sake of the throne?”

“Precisely. I need to give it to my sister.”

“Hmm.”

He understood her intentions and nodded.

“Conversely, there are nobles who view me unfavorably because I escaped Hellmunt. So, declaring that I have a princess as a solid backer, is it?”

“Precisely! Isaac, have you perhaps considered being my escort? Isaac is much, much easier to talk to than Heirad!”

He pretends not to hear.

In any case, the Princess’s intention was understood.

Hellmunt’s standing was so high that there were families closely tied to them.

Among them were those who didn’t look favorably upon Isaac for diminishing Hellmunt’s prestige.

However, if Clarice showed her support once more, he wouldn’t have to worry about those people’s opinions.

“Do you have much experience with banquets?”

“I did follow Rianna around, in my own way.”

“Then it’s practically nonexistent.”

He couldn’t deny that.

Back then, he was like a puppy trailing behind Rianna.

He’d never participated in the conversations nobles had at banquets, nor had he ever tried to discern intentions behind the facade of polite greetings.

“These banquets are practically just for show. Showing who I am, how exceptional I am. Through clothes, speech, and etiquette.”

“Are you going to start teaching me noble ways now?”

“I can’t always be your partner, can I? Who knows when I might get married.”

“…Give marriage careful thought.”

“Such piercing advice.”

Clarice gave a soft laugh.

“Do you know what is most precious to show off, and what receives the most envy and jealousy?”

Clarice subtly extended her hand.

Following her gesture requesting an escort, Isaac gently took her hand.

“What is it?”

“A partner. Grant me the glory of having the most handsome man in this ballroom as my partner, Isaac.”

“……”

“And I shall grant you the glory of partnering with the most noble of women.”

Their eyes met, and the corners of their lips slightly lifted.

The atmosphere between them was less like a man and a woman, and more like mischievous children roaming the back alleys of a small town together.

To receive the envy and jealousy of the ballroom, the two began to move.

* * *

“Boring.”

Inside the banquet hall.

Sitting in a corner, eating, the Grand Master sighed.

He had followed Clarice here, but he was only indulging in the food.

There wasn’t much she could do, nor anything she wanted to do, particularly.

She only longed to remove the awkward hat she wore as a disguise.

‘Where in the world are my fellow disciples?’

He knew Princess Clarice was doing her best to search,

but two months had passed without any news, leaving him only to wait with a heavy heart.

“Hoo.”

His eyes closed.

Naturally, he revisited old memories.

A trip down memory lane he’d taken countless times.

The same sequence, the familiar flow.

Living together, wielding swords together, running towards a common goal together, in those days.

“Hoo.”

As the memory neared its end, he subtly opened his eyes.

He had no desire to dwell on the tragedy that followed.

‘How fragile.’

The Grand Master smiled wryly at himself.

Just as he was about to eat more and try to think of something else, a familiar name reached his ears.

“Baron Logan actually gave permission to drink?”

“Then Karen has a day off tomorrow? I’m so jealous!”

“Hehe, it feels like just yesterday she was crying about leaving the royal palace. She really did the right thing by leaving.”

‘Hmm?’

It was Karen, the woman who worked at Isaac’s mansion.

He’d heard she was a former palace maid. It seemed she was taking some time during her work at the palace to chat with her old colleagues.

“Ah, I’m so envious. Just looking at the Baron, you can tell he oozes coolness from his eyes, you know?”

“I wouldn’t mind being used as Baron’s footstool. I wish he could hire me.”

“We cried when Karen left, saying how pitiful she was. Pitiful my foot. She’s doing the best out of all of us.”

‘Hmph, quite the popular one, are we?’

Intriguing.

Though it could be said that gossiping the night away over rumors and men was the very essence of a maid’s existence.

Still, was this not a rather high estimation of Isaac?

‘Isn’t the divorce… a detriment?’

Surely it should be.

“But Baron Logan is divorced, isn’t he? Doesn’t that suggest there’s a… problem?”

Karen fired back at one of the maids immediately.

“Hush now, our Baron is nothing of the sort. I’m more inclined to wonder why I ever let him slip away.”

“What does a divorce matter? If it were me? I wouldn’t care a whit. Straight to my chambers he’d come!”

“You crazy woman!”

The maids dissolved into peals of laughter.

They were like women who practically lived inside romance novels, and their own little fantasies seemed to spring from that.

“That kind of thing is just *so* wonderful. To embrace a wounded Baron, murmuring, ‘It’s alright, I’m here.’”

“Ooh! What a narrative. Montblin, you should try your hand at writing!”

“The Baron would say, ‘Montblin, I can no longer… trust in women.’ And then I’d say, just so, ‘I will simply… be here when you need me.’ And immediately, I’d draw him into my arms-!”

‘…That woman certainly has an active imagination.’

Montblin, that maid, was practically writhing as she spun her fantasy.

Just then, another maid piped up with a daydream of her own.

“Ah, I prefer the kind where… the Baron is a bit… rough at night.”

“oooh.”

“Coercive? That’s good, too.”

“Suddenly, he summons me to his chambers at night, demands I disrobe and then, forces himself-!”

“Oh, my! Baron! Please, no! Though inside, I’d be thinking, undress me faster! Get on with it, already!”

The maids erupted into another round of giggles.

‘Oh, I can’t abide this.’

The Grand Magister was about to move away, unable to listen any longer, when Karen’s sharp voice stopped her in her tracks.

“That’s not right. The Baron would never do that. He’s terribly kind and ever so gentle. And so considerate. I am always so touched whenever he thanks me after I serve his meals.”

“Yes, well, that’s him.”

“I was truly astonished to hear that Hellmunt’s eldest daughter was marrying a commoner.”

“It could only be someone of that caliber, I suppose.”

The maids, finally calmed.

Admitting their outburst, they were just about to return to their duties when…

A hush fell over the banquet hall. A pair, entering together.

Princess Claris, escorted by Baron Logan.

The two, matching their dress code in black.

Beauty that, in the truest sense, commanded the banquet hall.

“Hmm, to some degree…”

The Grand Master, his lips curving into a sly smile, understood the ladies-in-waiting’s fuss.