Chapter 172: Winter Ball pt. 1

The rest of the week wasn’t a blur. It was a moment-by-moment, hour-by-hour effort of concentrated focus. By the end, I’d hardly noticed a difference other than knowing more potentially-useless names than I ever imagined I could; but I was told I walked a different way and had a different bearing about me—a scarier one. Part of the mask certainly, but I hoped the confidence was real. Apparently I’d also learned to make use of my villainous face. That, at least, was only the mask I was making… hopefully.

I also hadn’t avoided sleep in this long, well, ever, and it was why I nodded off in the carriage ride to Duke Reynard’s estate. Not entirely out of fatigue, but certainly out of boredom. Not to mention my dress was almost suspiciously comfortable.

For the Winter Solstice Ball (a proper name, I had been told), Countess Elstein had made me quite the outfit. A blue formal dress, darker and richer than the evening’s clear sky, covered me from neckline to ankles. Accented with silver lines, swirling like a winter wind, it pulled tight—but not too tight—against my midsection, showing my unfairly-sculpted figure despite its apparent modesty. A few well-placed pearls on my cuffs, neckline, and hips would catch any light, and I wore the necklace Kartania gave me proudly.

Underneath, Countess Elstein had outdone herself, the layers of dress comfortable and looser than they appeared, while the almost-delicate looking heels supported my weight by virtue of a steel frame lightly dressed in dark leather.

“You’ll wrinkle everything sleeping like that!” Tina hissed at me, rousing me.

Presumptuous of a servant, my lessons told me. Those same lessons reminded me she was the king’s servant and I should remain tactful—blessedly in line with the cordiality I preferred.

I pulled myself upright, smoothing the dress under me, and cracked one eye open. “Then perhaps I should have changed in the carriage, as I requested.”

“That’s undignified!”

I wished Mary had come along—the better part of a day alone with Tina was getting to me. I reached up and planted my hand on the carriage’s ceiling. “Yes, and the carriage is too small, too. I trust you’ll handle the unavoidable wrinkles? I can provide a hot wind.”

Tina stiffened in the seat across from me. “I will, yes.”

“Then may I rest more?” I asked in an overly-sweet tone.

“Y-you may, but we’ve nearly arrived. We’ll be there well within the hour.”

Darn. I yawned, remembering to cover my mouth politely and resist the urge to stretch. “Very well then. I’ll remain awake.” At Tina’s nod, I pushed the curtains just barely open and peered out.

Blanketed in snow, the outskirts of the city of Norgath, from which the duchy got its name, looked quite similar to Linthel, if flatter; steep-roofed houses huddled together between small fields and a scattering of businesses. Between here and there, we’d gone over a small range of hills, any views from which I’d missed. However, I knew a good deal about the Duchy of Norgath from my lessons: a large region of relatively flat, arable land with hills of good timber. Part of, if not most of, the historical heartland of Edath, and very near the capital.

Despite being deep in the territory, the Reynard family had ties to Ordia going back centuries. They didn’t consolidate this region under their control without outside help, after all. As a result, the region was well split between the upper and lower classes; the aristocrats’ loyalties were split between Linthel and Ardath, while the people leaned heavily toward the former.

A perfect place to send a beast on a leash like me. Show those on the fence the power of the King of Edath, and that said power lay well away from the Church of Dhias. Of course, that plan relied on me playing nice: desiring to form connections for my isolated, ailing march, and wishing to legitimize my status as a part of human society. Well played, Carvalon. If the leash pulls where the hound wants to go, the hound doesn’t notice.

I had no reason to play along, but that wouldn’t stop me from trying to determine King Carvalon’s future goals. So aside from legitimacy, aid, and allies, tonight I would dig deep for rumors. Not least of all because within hearsay of small-town disasters and mysterious murders, I might well find my next moves against Envy.

All in all, this evening was promising to be an intense one. Surprisingly, I found myself more excited than nervous. That I feared not for myself in an immediate sense, but for my friends, allies, and subjects perhaps helped.

I kept quiet and in good posture until the carriage was ushered through the gates of a massive estate. Before we reached the turn in the drive where I was to disembark, I stood up as much as I could and brushed myself off with heated hands, Tina moving silently to help.

The uptight maid offered me no words of encouragement as she opened the door and stepped out, moving to one side as if I needed aid with the short steps out of the tiny box. Through this door, however, I got my first look at Duke Reynard’s estate. A three-floored mansion, square and expansive, stretched out to the sides, some few top and bottom windows lit, but many dark.

From somewhere deeper inside, I could pick up the faint sound of music, tumbling through an open door, held by a graying butler. Another servant, this one a younger man with gentle features and a sharp haircut, approached. He, too positioned as if to help a lady down.

Had I not the last week of training, I’d have spurned their offered hands and stepped down myself. Now, though, I knew the greater play was to take them despite how obviously pointless they were.

Indeed, the young servant's smile faltered when I rose out of the carriage door, up above its roof, and his hand disappeared inside mine. Resisting the urge to skip the last step, I planted heeled feet on the ground, and offered an appropriately shallow nod. “Thank you.”

The young servant’s jaw worked for a moment, opening wider and then shutting quickly as if suddenly remembering decorum. “W-welcome to the Reynard Estate, Marchioness Miller. Please follow me, if you would.”

“Certainly.” I glanced at Tina, who nodded and retreated back inside the carriage. Gone now is the visible eye of the king.

The young servant stared up at me a moment longer; in heels as I was, his head barely reached my underbust.

“Well?” I raised one eyebrow.

He jolted, then gave an apologetic half bow and began to walk quickly toward the front doors.

I followed, heels clacking satisfyingly on the well-fitted stones of the drive. The area had been cleared of snow and ice, perhaps by magic, and I felt a similar warmth when I entered the main foyer. I didn’t have to duck for the grand doors, but I drew the gazes of every servant we passed, and I kept my chin high.

As much as I wanted to act against my role, I wouldn’t. Tonight was the debut of Marchioness Zarenna Miller, and she would not project weakness. Whether or not I respected the people whose respect I was trying to earn was irrelevant.

I would wear a mask—for now.

The young servant led me through the foyer to a much shorter door, through which I could hear both music and conversation.

“Through here,” he said with a gesture. Another servant pulled the door open, almost mechanical in her movement, and I stepped inside.

Immediately, bright light joined the sensory assault of sounds and smells: food, perfume, wine, and woodsmoke. Piano overlaid with a crowding of humanity desperate to hide under other, frailer scents. The ballroom was massive, fireplaces roaring at each end. A raised stage with a piano and small orchestra sat to one side, an upper-floor gallery of paintings and sculptures ringed the room, and massive windows looked out at vague, snow-blanketed shapes of a well-kept garden.

“Marchioness Zarenna Miller, recently appointed of Astrye,” a smooth voice to my side introduced. Not loud enough to halt the ball, but enough that people took notice.

A lot of quick, curious glances either doubled back or lingered overlong.

Reflexively, I scanned the well-dressed crowd for anyone I recognized. Countess Elstein stood by the railing of the gallery above, dressed in an elegantly conservative green dress, but to go first to her would be too forward. Instead, I had no real choice but to linger nearby and endure the whims of all who sought to approach me.

So I bowed. “I thank Duke Reynard for the invitation, and his estate for the warm welcome.”

My piece said, I walked to a nearby long table, set with small plates and flutes of wine. While servers moved and carried much about, this place was left open for those who desired—or who needed somewhere to linger. No sooner had I taken a plate, than the first brave soul approached me.

She was a slight woman, just on the young side of middle age, with genial features. Her dark hair was done up in a jeweled bun, and her russet dress spoke of wealth and warmer climes. She was also on the short side, making her gaze just about level with my navel.

“Oh my, Dhias does make them different in the south.” Her voice had a slight Ordian accent, and pitched playfully up at the ends of words.

I turned and offered a curt smile. Lady, Dhias isn’t responsible for me. “I suppose; I’m told there’s ogre blood somewhere down the family line. But in truth,” I leaned down conspiratorially, almost bent in half at the wait to reach. “I just eat a lot.”

“A sense of humor, I see!” the woman laughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Duchess Arina Kapel. I’m afraid I’m a bit of an outsider at this ball myself.”

Duchess of the region that Gedon is in. Her estate is a little further from the border, but her family still has strong ties to Ordia. Why would she be an outsider here?

“Marchioness Zarenna Miller, of Astrye.” I picked up the plate I’d been eyeing. “But you already know that.”

“Indeed. You know, I’ve heard quite the interesting story regarding your appointment as Marchioness of Astrye.” She leaned forward, but her voice projected out.

Nearby, others were listening in, some not so subtly. Around us, Duchess Kapel’s presence had created a bubble, the source of which I couldn’t know. Regardless, our isolation spoke of power—a very different power than mine.

I took a polite bite. “I’m curious to hear the tale myself.”

“You were there weren’t you?” Duchess Kapel laughed lightly. “I’d like to hear what really happened, if you don’t mind.”

If you don’t mind. To give myself time, I finished the small morsel of candied nuts with a second bite. It didn’t take my lessons from Sigmund to know that I didn’t have much of a choice, not with all the people around. My first act as Marchioness of a small region snubbing a polite request from an influential duchess?

I hated politics.

But, I had one advantage—I didn’t mind what I was. A glimpse under the mask, then.

I straightened my posture, opposite of the shrug I wanted to give. “A demon-worshiping cult, including the disgraced former inquisitor Horatio Finley, had taken hold of Astrye. As my parents died in the Great Linthel fire, I had a personal stake in the conflict.”

“Yes, but what did you do? I’ve heard the wildest rumors.”

I tilted my head just slightly, and took a sip of sparkling wine. “My allies and I killed the cult to the man—save those who fled ahead of our arrival.”

Implying, but granting vagueness through my allies. Duchess Kapel wanted something, clearly, but all the lessons in the world couldn’t give me the experience to know what that was.

“The entire cult? You must truly—”

“Have some powerful secret,” a gruff voice finished for her. It came from a very well-dressed man in primarily Edathan blue who broke the circle of watchers to stride purposefully toward us. He had a round face given sharper features by a well-trimmed mustache and small beard, an Ordian complexion, and a build that most would probably find intimidating. From the sour look Duchess Kapel gave him, I had a guess who he was before he’d even introduced himself.

“I am Duke Ludwig Reynard.” He didn’t bow. “Welcome to the Winter Solstice Ball, Marchioness Zarenna Miller.”

I forced a smile.

He returned it, all too eager. “Would you mind, perhaps, to regale those who desire to know our newest compatriot?”

“Might a sitting room prove better than a ballroom?”

“There are many who wish to hear, I believe.” The duke swept his arm around the room. Some folk had gone back to dancing, and the piano played a muted melody. But many still remained watching.

Not least of all the duchess who’d gone from ignored to fuming. “Including myself, Duke Reynard. I believe she was already about to tell us of her prowess without your interruption.”

Duke Reynard bowed to the Duchess. “I merely saw an opening to introduce myself.” He delicately picked a wine flute off the table and studied the rising bubbles. “I am curious as to my new neighbor, after all. Though our realms share only cold mountains, the border need not be so… material.”

I didn’t like the way he said that.

“Very well,” I offered, “I combated them with a mixture of martial prowess and prodigious magical might. My allies supported me as I drove for the head of the snake.”

“Did you cut it off?” Duchess Kapel asked, springing up higher on her heels.

I shook my head. “No, one of the demons who had conspired with Finley betrayed him, though I witnessed his death.”

“And the demon?” Duke Reynard asked.

I might’ve messed up. “The demon got away—moving as if living smoke.”

Duke Reynard clapped his hands. “What of your weapon? Would that I could see such a storied… blade?”

“I am fond of the spear,” I replied evenly.

“Ah, for even greater reach. A practical, common, weapon.”

Hey, don’t insult spears!

“Indeed.” I finished my wine. “Might I perhaps peruse your collection?” I gestured to the gallery above the ballroom, where paintings of all sorts were hung. More importantly, it was where Countess Elstein sat watching the scene.

“Certainly.” The duke turned, his words also impolitely implying dismissal to Duchess Kapel, then stopped and raised a finger. “Ah, but a demonstration of your magic—a master mage such as yourself must have the finest control, yes?”

“I do.”

“A show, then? I believe many here would relish such an influential spectacle.”

I barely suppressed a shiver down my spine, and my smile widened reflexively. Thankfully, all it showed were dull human teeth. My magic—my aura. He intends to out me.

Unfortunately, I’d been put on the spot—the back foot. It was my answer, not my decision. There was no easy way to spin this into a reveal of what I was—if even that had been a good idea.

“Certainly,” I answered. “If I could have just a bit more space.”

“Should we be concerned?” Duchess Kapel asked, mid-retreat.

“Certainly not—I simply wish to provide a suitably impressive showing.” The size of what I do won’t matter, so engendering respect—even if through fear of my capabilities—must be my play.

I almost missed the nod Duke Reynard gave to someone in the gallery up behind me. I snuck a look just before I began and almost faltered. Up in the gallery was a man in the shining armor and tabard of a Paladin of Dhias.

And he was staring right at me, eyes glowing.

Worse, he wasn’t alone—and those were just the people I saw near him: acolytes and at least one other paladin. Still, that wouldn’t change what I was about to do. Taking a deep breath, I faced the crowd and called upon my magic.