Last Life

Book 3: Chapter 20

BEFORE ENTERING THE MAIN ROOM, a footman in ceremonial livery accepted my cloak while another led me to a wide door with the master of ceremonies standing at the step.

In a well-composed sonorous voice, he slowly and solemnly announced the arrival of the guests slowly streaming into the ballroom.

On the way in, I heard a nonstop howl, which turned out to be a medley of seemingly hundreds of human voices, musical instruments, the rustling of women’s dresses and the clinking of wine glasses.

Regardless of the power of the master of ceremonies’ voice, it was no match for the cling-clang monster within. Nobody noticed when my name was called except a few people nearest the door who ran indifferent looks over my person.

The ballroom was dominated by a seriously vivacious atmosphere. And of course! After all, news that Prince Louis had been joined at the reception by his brother Heinrich, as well as the Duke of the South and his daughter, had already leaked to the crowd. And the elites immediately began discussing that loudly. Meanwhile, a lot of people were constantly impatiently glancing at the front door, where Carl III’s sons were supposedly going to appear any moment.

I looked around slowly. Ahem... Max’s aunt must have had very deep pockets. Most likely, she had spent a whole fortune on candles alone. And she still had to feed us. The dishes could not be basic like the lentil, lardon, and red pepper sausage stew so beloved by local commoners.

Sculptures of half-naked ancient gods and bas reliefs depicting scenes of fairy-tale balls in blue and rose marble, elegantly painted ceilings, golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, a wide music balcony containing an orchestra, and the mirror-polished marble floor — the ballroom’s opulence was blinding. Seemingly, the late Duke du Bellay had left a massive fortune to his wife after his untimely passing.

“Cousin, finally!” I turned my head toward the cheery familiar voice.

A pair of pretty girls came walking my way quickly, and one had on a big welcoming smile — Yveline de Gramont. Wearing a light green dress, elegant emerald jewelry, and a small diadem — I got the feeling Jeanne du Bellay looked just like that in her younger days. I even wanted to rub my eyes to cast off the illusion. The resemblance was simply striking.

Yveline made her friends simply fade away by comparison. They lacked her charisma and vivacious beauty, though they overcompensated for it with a huge amount of jewelry, ribbons, and bows. It was evident that Yveline was aware of her superiority over her friends and accepted it as a given. Something definitional like, “snow is white, and pitch is black.”

At any rate, Yveline and her friends looked at me and my outfit with zero interest. They even looked down on me a bit. Were I the real Max, I’d probably have felt acutely like a bum. But Max had long departed this world, and his body was now inhabited by the mind of a man who didn’t care about scornful looks from girls who were utterly worthless without the wealth and high status of their families.

“My dear cousin,” I bowed. “Looking charming as always.”

“Dear cousin!” Yveline snorted happily, extending her hand for a kiss. “I am very happy to see you again!”

After that, she introduced me to her companions, who were viscountesses. They paid only distant attention to my greetings and compliments. They seemingly could not understand why Yveline dragged them over to meet me. The young women were occasionally shooting burning gazes into the crowd, searching it for the gentlemen they’d come there to get to know better.

My cousin, meanwhile, was no different. Hitting me with a distracted look, Yveline promised to come see me again later and flitted off with her friends for more fun.

“I see you decided to disregard our aunt’s recommendations?”

I turned. Valerie was standing a few paces from me. In contrast to my cousin, her outfit was darker and with less gemstones. But at the same time, Max’s blood sister looked stunning. I found myself unwittingly admiring her. She noticed, and a slight blush appeared on her cheeks.

“Good evening, sister,” I bowed and kissed her warm hand. As ever, she wafted with an aroma of eastern spices. “You look stunning!”

Although my compliment was not the height of elegance and refinement, it came from the heart and, based on my sister’s embarrassed and burning gaze, she could tell.

“As for the recommendations...” I smiled. “I took them into account.”

“But...” Valerie gave a wily laugh.

“But I didn’t think it right to wear something not conforming to my taste,” I replied and, patting my stomach, added: “Beyond that, I came to the conclusion that green makes me look fat.”

Valerie, sticking out her upper lip amusingly to reveal little white teeth, laughed quietly.

“I was imagining how you would explain that to our aunt,” she said, continuing to smile. “I do not envy you.”

“You know,” I said thoughtfully. “Something is telling me our fantastic aunty will be glad I chose this color by the end of the night.”

“You have caught my interest,” Valerie said, her thin little brows shooting upward. “What scheme have you cooked up now?”

“That’s just it — none,” I shrugged. “It’s just from time to time, things happen that I have no ability to predict and so I have to play it by ear. For instance, today. Whoever would have thought Prince Heinrich would decide to visit tonight’s reception?”

“I suggest you keep your distance from the prince and his circle,” Valerie said softly. “At any moment, they might bring up de Lamar’s death. Heinrich doesn’t like having his toys taken from him.”

“Thanks for the warning, sister,” I nodded. “Our aunt has already received my assurances that I will make an indelible impression on his Highness’ people.”

Valerie’s suspicious expression was in some way reminiscent of the way the duchess looked at me a few minutes earlier. Wanting to change the topic, I nodded at Max’s older sisters, who were stuck to their older cousin like glue, and said:

“I see our sisters are wasting no time. After all, today they are likely going to draw the attention of the offspring of some high house. And who knows? Maybe this evening, the spark of a new love will be born.”

Valerie was not fooled by my pathos-laden tone. Curling her lips a bit, she replied:

“Love? Ha! What do you mean love? We are children of a traitor. We are only tolerated here because we are the nieces of the lady of the house.”

“Then we’re very fortunate to have such a caring aunt.”

Valerie furrowed her brow.

“The Stone Lady cares only for increasing the greatness of our house. The Duchess du Bellay, daughter of the de Gramonts, uses her nieces and nephews to marshal her wordless automaton soldiers to shore up breaches in defenses or attack with their bodies. She doesn’t care about our feelings and wishes. All of us will marry who we are told — you, me, and our cousins. It’s the way things have always been. Our grandparents and great grandparents did the same. Or do you believe Jeanne du Bellay married the Duke du Bellay because she truly loved him? The only good thing about the duke was his massive fortune. But alas, we can’t even dream of such a thing. We have been branded children of a traitor. We cannot possibly dream of such a bright future...”

Valerie would have said more, but her monologue was interrupted by the coming of princes along with the lady of the house, the Duke de Gondy, and his daughters.

As soon as the master of ceremonies announced at full yet insufficient volume that the highly placed guests had arrived, everyone in the room bowed in greeting. Valerie and I followed their example.

A minute later, on the duchess’ signal, the orchestra on the music balcony again started playing their broken melody, while nobles quickly started flitting around the princes and de Gondy, hurrying to greet the king’s sons and inform him of their esteem.

Watching all the fuss, out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Valerie, who was breathing agitatedly and watching Prince Louis’ every move.

I suddenly wondered whether she considered how things might have unfolded had the king’s uncle, the Duke de Harcourt, not lost the struggle for the throne. Because Max’s father was one of his closest friends and cohorts. One could only imagine the future Ferdinand de Gramont’s children would have had in store then. Valerie’s hands and heart would now be sought after by Vestonia’s most elite and wealthy gentlemen. And why just Vestonia’s...? All Mainland’s... She might have even married into the royal house...

The farther Prince Louis went into the ballroom as a large number of ladies looked on coquettishly with promising smiles, the more goosebumps covered Valerie’s neck and the uncovered part of her back as if there had been a sudden gust of icy wind. Blush appeared on her cheeks, while a fleeting sparkle flickered in her eye. The Viscountess de Gramont was squeezing her fan so hard her thin little fingers went chalk white.

She was probably imagining very hard. But couldn’t conjure the image. I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that she sided entirely with the conspirators in her deepest thoughts. And the only thing that bothered and tormented her was the fact her father was too weak to prevail.

The princes were being trailed by a merry company of nobles who had arrived with Heinrich. The duchess’ guests looked on them with caution, some even outright hostility. Honestly though, that was more done quietly or at their backs in case, gods forbid, the fearsome broad-shouldered blond von Herwart might notice.

“What are your thoughts on the baron?” I asked Valerie in half voice.

The viscountess gave a slight shiver in surprise and, opening her fan, hid her lips.

“Don’t even think about messing with him, brother,” she replied drily. “These aren’t the sons of some western counts like the ones you playfully slung mud at. They aren’t even de Lamar. Friedrich von Herwart is gifted. He is one of Vestonia’s most powerful combat mages.”

I snorted to myself. Rumors of the might and power of the man we were talking about were, to my eye, very exaggerated. Up close, I was able to scan him in greater detail. I was forming the impression that von Herwart was sophomoric. Well, not exactly. He had obviously not given much attention to improving his energy system.

His energy channels were thin, and nodes not reinforced. I wouldn’t be so wrong to suggest the baron relied completely on his dozen large lilac bruts, or rather the huge amount of mana within them.

I wondered what he might do if one of his energy channels got overstrained in the heat of battle and simply burst. But that it would happen I was one hundred percent certain. Were he to cross paths with a stryker as powerful as those I’d seen on the frontier, those bruts wouldn’t have done much good.

Most likely, the Astlander had not often faced off against others like him. And why would he have? All he needed was for the rumors of his power and invincibility to spread. Beyond that, combat mages were vanishingly rare. Particularly considering the fact a whole party of them had recently fallen near the lake next to the Shadow.

I even found myself wondering if I could take him down. What would he even have been capable of without the magic armor?

“I thought all Astlanders at our king’s court sided with Prince Philippe,” I came.

“Baron von Herwart’s father fought for Conrad the Fifth in the famous Battle of Lüneburg,” Valerie replied. “He passionately despises Otto the Second, who currently rules Astland, same as all supporters of Conrad the Fifth, who was beheaded and quartered at Wolfsburg. They consider him a usurper.”

Hm, that made me wonder what the bellicose Prince Heinrich could have promised the baron.

My thinking was interrupted by a muted sob from Valerie. She suddenly went pale, and terror seized her eyes. Grasping for my hand, she whispered hotly:

“It’s him... He’s here... The monster is here...”

I followed Valerie’s line of sight.

Hm... I see...

“The Viscount and Viscountess de Marbot!” the master of ceremonies announced loudly.

The couple strode into the ballroom. Opposite people. Beauty and the beast. A woman of uncommon beauty who had been designated to be my bride, Aurélie de Marbot, and a six foot broad-shouldered giant, her elder brother Émile de Marbot. Émile the Lizard, or Émile the Toad.

Valerie was not lying. The man looked extremely rough. The magic scalding on his skin made him appear reptilian. The finishing touch was a wide lipless mouth, flat nose and yellow, magic-disfigured eyes that looked out at the world like a herd of sheep. Or even prey.

He didn’t seem the least bit concerned with the disgust in peoples’ eyes when they looked at him. Out of interest, I decided to take a look at the giant in true vision.

Hm, now that was curious. Émile de Marbot was true gifted. With an energy system of his own that, while unconventional and hideous, was quite developed. He had clearly been cultivating it for years. Baron von Herwart wouldn’t stand a chance against Émile the Lizard. The viscount would eat him for breakfast. And quite literally at that. Émile had an unmistakable stench of blood on him. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that, before coming to the duchess’ reception, the mutant had eaten the flesh of his most recent victim raw and bleeding.

Compared to the hideous giant, Aurélie de Marbot looked like a fairy-tale nymph. Her light hair with a pearlescent shine seemed to sparkle in the light of a thousand candles. The little diadem in her hair, which was shaped like a branch, was dotted with white pearls, emerald leaves, and turquoise buds.

The necklace, earrings, and miniature bracelet on her left arm were all in the same style as the diadem. Her soft turquoise dress accentuated all the curves of her enchanting figure to great effect. I believed Aurélie to be nearly thirty, but she looked so fresh and spry that I never would have given her more than twenty.

As repellent and frightening as Émile de Marbot’s appearance was, his sister’s amazing beauty was just as powerful at drawing the eye of everyone in the room. The Viscountess de Marbot was doubtless the prettiest woman in the room. I found myself unwittingly admiring her uncommon beauty and grace.

A moment later, the Duchess du Bellay appeared next to her brother and sister and, as a good host should, started saying something to the new arrivals with an iridescent smile.

A minute later, the de Marbots were set loose and got lost among the crowd. I felt Valerie’s grip weaken. I even heard her breathe a sigh of relief. Waves of shivering ran over the viscountess’ body.

“Convinced now?” she whispered with a shaky voice.

“You were right,” I decided to defuse the situation. “Aurélie de Marbot is very beautiful.”

Valerie looked up at me uncomprehendingly and, seeing a smirk, was about to say something very mean. But before she could, my old pals came over to pay us a visit.

“Chevalier Renard!” came the Marquess de Hangest, standing a couple steps away from us. A pointed smile blossomed on his puffy face. “It really is true when they say the world is small. What an unexpected meeting!”

At his side stood Gaspard Craonne, a light of happiness burning in his eyes. Already tasting more fun.

The third man was André de Châtillon. He looked gloomy and upset.

Valerie, her mouth slightly open in surprise, tried to find an explanation for what was happening on my face. I gave her a furtive wink and, with a slight bow, smiled back at de Hangest:

“Indeed, monsieur! If I knew last time we met that you were friends of my dear aunty, I would have been much more obliging! How is your health, viscount? Last time, alas, for entirely explicable reasons, I was unable to ask. You were a bit out of sorts.”

André de Châtillon’s face filled with red spots and his jawbones started grinding. De Hangest just shook his head while Craonne struggled to hide a smile.

Based on her stunned look, Valerie was seemingly starting to figure things out. People standing nearby were drawn in by the unusual scene and started quietly walking over to us.

“Chevalier,” de Châtillon squeezed out through his teeth. “I assume you will not refuse me the pleasure of another meeting whenever is convenient for you.”

“Monsieur, I got the impression that last time we left with unfinished business,” I came calmly, nodding at his forehead.

“You are correct,” the viscount barked dully. “It was a mere impression. Hence why I insist we meet again.”

“But given you wish for final clarity, I am at your service. Time and place?”

“Tomorrow morning,” the viscount replied sharply. “On the banks of the Legha, near Westbridge.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Mademoiselle,” the viscount and his friends gave gallant bows, then turned and headed toward their lord.

Valerie glanced at me. Her cheeks were burning red in excitement.

“So you’re the country aristocrat everyone at court is talking about? The one that took down the Viscount de Châtillon in a single blow?”