Last Life

Book 3: Chapter 22

“THANK YOU FOR THE GREAT HONOR, Your Highness,” I came with a bow, accepting the wooden sword. The long, narrow blade with a slightly weighted handle reminded me in some ways of the sword I used to fight de Lamar.

“Have you ever danced this fine number before?” Heinrich asked with a slight smirk.

Hm... Somehow Bertrand and I had overlooked this one.

“Alas, your Highness,” I replied.

“What can I say? I’m not surprised,” the prince smiled acridly. “This dance is highly rare and fraught with danger.”

After that, he nodded disparagingly at my silver wing and asked:

“Still, I assume a cavalier of the Order of the Silver Wing is hard to scare with some dance. Beyond that, I noticed that you are an expert at controlling your own body movements. The Viscountess de Marbot would never allow me to lie.”

With a slight squint, he glanced at Aurélie standing beside me who, giving an elegant curtsey, stopped with her head down. A treacherous blush again appeared on her cheeks. The prince meanwhile was looking at the viscountess like a cat at a pot of cream.

“I even envy you to some extent, chevalier,” Heinrich chuckled and added after a brief and quite vague pause: “I for one will always remember my first Sword Dance.”

And although he was talking about a dance, after what the prince said, the viscountess’ cheeks went even more crimson.

“This dance has no particularly complex pas,” Heinrich assured me. “A man with your coordination won’t find it hard to learn on the fly.”

After saying that, the prince turned and went back to where his brother and the Marchioness de Gondy were standing. Walking past the Baron von Herwart, Heinrich tossed him a blue sword, which the mage handled playfully.

“Friedrich, remember!” the prince said to his stryker loud enough for the whole ballroom to hear. “For the duration of the dance, you are a regular person. No using the gift!”

“I understand, Your Highness,” the baron bowed. “You have my word I will not use magic.”

I snorted to myself. Yeah, sure... What a sly smile he had on. And both of their eyes looked to be the picture of honesty. I could even guess who the baron was going to “not use magic” on specifically.

“My brother,” Prince Heinrich came loudly when he got near Prince Louis. “My team is ready. Your move.”

And indeed, while the prince was speaking to me and the baron, nine swords had already been dealt out to his cohort. The Viscount de Châtillon was naturally among them. He repeatedly cast promising, angry looks my way.

Prince Louis nodded and looked over with a bored glance. His taciturn and implicit obedience of his elder brother, who was clearly trying to assert his dominance, said a lot. Although, upon closer inspection, one might have thought Louis considered his brother something of an inevitable evil, someone easier to obey for a short time than putting up long, tedious resistance. After all, Heinrich didn’t make the impression of a man accustomed to backing down.

While Louis looked around thoughtfully at the ball room, many young nobles started to step forward. Their eyes burned with excitement, and a desire to curry favor with their prince. To stand out, make a name for themselves, be remembered.

Max’s cousins with decorative swords in fancy scabbards were already in the front rows, watching Louis’ every move with pleading looks. As an aside, Aurélie’s brother Émile de Marbot, stepped forward as well. His green insignia was a clear indication to everyone whose side he wanted to fight on.

Out of the corner of my eye, I was watching the Viscountess de Marbot. The cold expression on her face made it hard to tell what she was thinking. But her eyes... I saw fear in them. Was this dance really so scary and dangerous that she was afraid for her brother? To my eye, if that was the case, then a six-foot-tall true gifted could certainly come in handy for the green team.

But Louis seemed to think otherwise. I didn’t know the criteria the prince was using to select his team, but Émile the Toad clearly did not fit them. It was plainly all down to the fact that his outfit was not adorned with sufficient bands, lace, or jewels. Because those were the exact kind of “dancers” Prince Louis was selecting as Prince Heinrich and his people smiled acridly, and Émile the Lizard gritted his teeth. For the record, Max’s two cousins did get chosen, which made them hold their heads high and start beaming.

Essentially, compared to the lords weighed down with the latest fashions in lace and plumage, I was essentially invisible. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that, by giving me the wooden sword, Prince Heinrich, beyond all the rest, was trying to dig at his brother a bit. A few off-handed and unpleasant glances from Prince Louis aimed at me served as proof of that.

“Gentlemen!” Heinrich exclaimed. “Take positions!”

After that, turning around, he looked up at the music balcony and said:

“Maestro Gamblin!”

“I am here, Your Highness,” a tall man of around fifty approached the balcony railing wearing a light brown frock and light yellow beret topped with a long plume. If even Prince Heinrich knew his name, this man must have been a relatively well-known figure on the Vestonian music scene.

“I suggest the composition Wind of the North, can you handle it?” Heinrich asked, glancing wryly at his brother.

Prince Louis gave a slight shudder and a shadow crept across his face. Every last footman in the ballroom was aware that it was a hint at Louis’ upcoming betrothal to the daughter of the northern konung. Heinrich had quite a good time winding up his younger brother.

Louis cast a plaintive gaze at the Marchioness de Gondy, who was watching the proceedings with a captivated smile. He seemed very near to throwing himself at her feet in tears. They’d really gotten him...

“As you like, Your Highness,” the director responded.

“Follow my hands, maestro!” Heinrich added. “After every clap I make, increase the tempo.”

Gamblin nodded in silence and went back to the musicians.

“Madame,” Prince Heinrich said to the Duchess du Bellay, who was watching with an impenetrable facial expression as the king’s middle son called the shots in her home at her reception. “I have no doubts that your nephews will prove themselves highly effective today.”

“I never doubted it, Your Highness,” my aunt replied and cast a fleeting glance at me. Some might think it was an attempt to cheer me up, but I could see perfectly well that Jeanne du Bellay was infuriated. Prince Heinrich had clearly outraged her. The duchess’ serpentine unblinking gaze seemed to say: “Get me the win!”

I responded with a barely perceptible sidelong smirk. Quite the tall order, aunty...

With a bow to Aurélie de Marbot, who was watching me with a cold, haughty expression, I said with a smile:

“May I count on your support for Prince Louis’ team?”

“Without a doubt,” she nodded, adding with a slight squint: “But I will be very happy if you are the first one knocked out of the dance.”

“Oh!” I said with an even bigger smile. “Your words have only further ignited the fire in my chest! Now I will put every effort into standing to the end!”

Bowing, I turned around and went into the middle of the room where the teams were already huddling up. Walking past the crowd, I caught Valerie shooting me a burning gaze. I winked at her and moved on.

The de Gramont brothers were already there. They were discussing something softly with another two young men and making a diligent effort to pretend not to notice me. The men they were talking to did the same. All the greens had seemingly been instructed to ignore me. But as for the blues lined up opposite, they on the contrary were watching my every move. Like wolves waiting for a signal from their pack leader to attack a deer.

Catching malevolent looks from my “old pals” de Châtillon and de Hangest, I gave a sidelong smirk.

“Monsieur, good evening!”

A cheery voice behind me forced me to turn around.

Before me stood a short plump young man. His wide and on first glance simpleton’s face was sewn thickly with freckles. If I were asked who at the reception was wearing the most bands, lacy ribbons, and precious stones, I would have pointed to this man without hesitation. Even the red wavy hair falling over his thin shoulders had three ribbons and one emerald hairpin.

But along with that, he was the only member of the green team to have a non-decorative sword on his belt. It remained to be seen whether he could use it.

“Good evening,” I replied. “Who do I have the honor of meeting?”

“Baron Jean-Louis de Levy, personal perfumer to His Highness Prince Louis,” my new acquaintance said, removing his wide-brimmed hat with chic plumage and bowing gallantly. “At your service.”

“Chevalier Maximillian Renard at your service,” I bowed back while giving him a close scan.

As expected, he was shadow gifted and had an emerald energy system fed by three large bruts of the same color. Baron de Levy hid them beneath a gold brocade jerkin next to his heart.

“Yes, I know,” he said with a welcoming smile. “As I’m sure everyone else in the ballroom does as well. I heard you’ve never danced the Sword Dance before? I have accepted the responsibility of teaching you the finer points.”

“Very kind on your part,” I nodded. “I wouldn’t want to lose face in front of Their Highnesses.”

The baron was laconic. Before all the greens had made it to the dance floor, I already had a basic idea of what to expect.

“Thank you, monsieur,” I came when the baron had finished his instructions. “And if I may, a final question.”

“You have my full attention,” the redhead nodded.

“What happens if one of the dancers is exposed for using magic?”

Baron de Levy shot a distasteful look at von Herwart standing in the middle of the blue formation and looked back at his green rivals with unhidden superiority.

“It would be hard to do, but if it were to happen it would be counted as a loss for that person’s team,” the perfumer responded.

“Thank you again, monsieur,” I came with a significant smile. “Your advice has helped me greatly.”

When the blue and green teams had formed two ranks in the middle of the room, the master of ceremonies took a signal from the duchess to declare that the footmen would be coming out shortly to, on Her Grace the Duchess du Bellay’s request, collect the real swords for the duration of the dance.

I was standing on the left end of the rank, and opposite me, ten steps away rubbing his right wrist, a tall black-haired youth was getting ready for the “dance.” He was trying to be casual, but the look in his eyes clearly said he was full of excitement.

I honestly thought I would be put up against de Châtillon or von Herwart to start but, the blues must have had other plans. I had seemingly been left as “dessert.” And I even seemed to know for whom...

Tilting my head slightly forward, I glanced at the green rank.

Ah, now I see your plan, gentlemen.

De Châtillon was standing opposite Gabriel de Gramont. First you want to humiliate my cousins for show, then pick off the bastard. Okay then, let’s see how that works out for you...

“Good luck, monsieur,” Jean Louis said in a slightly agitated voice, standing two paces from me. His thickly freckled face blossomed into a happy smile.

“And happy hunting to you, baron!” I responded somewhat loudly and traced a few quick figure-eights with my wooden sword.

I saw smiles on the faces of the onlookers standing nearby after that. The kid opposite me frowned.

What, did you think I was intimidated by you? No, kid... You’re the one who should be intimidated! The blue clearly didn’t like my sly glance.

Right when all the formalities with the real weapons had been settled, I heard the first dull, measured drum beats from up on the musical balcony.

After the drums, the flutes came in and we got to action. Both ranks formed moving circles. Raising their swords overhead, the dancers stepped out in imitation of riders being cleared before the infantry clash.

The flutes and drums were joined by violins, and I suddenly felt the body I’d inherited start to slightly sway to the music. Muscle memory kicked in. So, I must have inadvertently lied to Prince Heinrich — Max had done this dance before. Oh well, all the better... I just had to not get in the way. I stepped aside and allowed the body to take over. It must be said that after training and mana cultivation, it was in excellent shape.

Meanwhile, the circle fell apart, and the ranks again froze opposite one another. We started to approach. First circle pas. We changed places. Second turn, and we were back in our original positions — now would come the first lunge. The rules stipulated just one blow could be landed. Whoever took the “color wound” first was knocked out, while the first round victors would then go to restart the cycle.

The black-haired kid opposite me froze. His hands were shaking. His pupils were enormous. A drumbeat and the ranks dashed forward at almost the exact same time.

Lunge. I easily dodged the wooden blade of the black-haired man, while the tip of mine made contact with the blue man’s chest. Opposite his heart, I saw a fat green dot. The kid hissed curses through his teeth and, grasping his chest with his left hand, fell out of step.

We turned around just then. Good boy, keeping face. A faded blush on his cheeks, anger in his eyes. But no words.

No time for a bow. The dance went on. Just four greens were still in up against six blues. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Gabriel de Gramont wincing in pain and clutching his stomach.

Catching a gloomy, intent look from de Châtillon, I replied with a smirk. Get ready...

Jean-Louis was in place. The perfumer’s back moved in front of me. His opponent, tossing his sword to the floor in anger, disappeared into the crowd. A little way away, I spotted François’ plumage. He must have been incredibly proud of himself for making it to round two. De Châtillon was now opposite him. Our fourth man was up against von Herwart.

First circle pas… Second...

The Marquis de Hangest stopped opposite me. I no longer saw the confidence he had in his eyes before. He was afraid. And rightly so. My expression could mean nothing good.

Approach. Lunge...

The puffy de Hangest wasn’t even able to properly take a step before the tip of my blade “plunged” into his stomach.

It was a powerful blow. The marquis gasped and doubled over. He immediately vomited on the floor. Down on all four, de Hangest barfed up his entire breakfast and lunch right onto the feet of the audience, who scurried out of the way with loud outbursts.

I turned my head and met eyes with Prince Heinrich. His dark eyes unblinkingly followed my every move. He was aware that it was revenge for Gabriel de Gramont. Based on my aunt’s triumphant look as she stood next to the princes, she was also aware. Her chin went up proudly, and for the first time that evening she started to blush.

Just before I turned around, I happened to spot Blanca de Gondy shooting me an intrigued look. Through the mask of unconcern and boredom, I saw her true colors. The colors of a true predator.

After cycle two, Baron de Levy and I were left alone against four. François joined his brother, rubbing his shoulder with a pale face.

De Levy and I traded glances. The redheaded perfumer’s flushed face beamed with a happy smile. For the record, neither he nor von Herwart had used magic.

“Excellent hunting, monsieur!” de Levy exclaimed.

Saluting him with my sword, I smiled.

Prince Heinrich’s clap was not too loud, but Maestro Gamblin had a sharp ear, so the orchestra increased tempo.

Cycle three. Two on four. The dull beats of the drums grew quicker. The flutes and violins were joined by a previously silent bagpipe.

First circle pas… Second... De Châtillon stopped opposite me. He was gripped by thrill of the hunt. Like a wolf that just killed all its former enemy’s pups, he was preparing to cut down the last, youngest, and most flea-ridden of the bunch.

Approach... De Châtillon made a burst and aimed directly at my heart in a long lunge. A look of triumph and delight danced on his face. He had finally gotten his enemy, the man who humiliated him. The blow was completely unrestrained, hoping to skewer the heart of the man who’d humiliated him.

The viscount was fast, but not fast enough. I like a toreador, made a small step to the left so the “bull” would sail past me and, raising my right elbow high, greeted de Châtillon’s approaching forehead with the tip of my blade. The viscount’s body out of inertia kept moving, but I could tell by his eye roll that my blow had knocked him unconscious.

To be frank, de Châtillon had dug his own grave. I just had to hold up my blade at the right moment. His arms splaying limp, the viscount collapsed to the floor. When the footmen deftly dragged the viscount aside, holding him beneath the armpits, I smiled at the fat green dot on his narrow forehead.

But alas, my partner Jean-Louis was also knocked out. He didn’t stand a chance against three rivals. But the valiant perfumer took one of his opponents to the “grave” with him as he “perished.” And that left me one against two.

“Monsieur!” the redhead exclaimed, smiling in spite of the pain in his chest and stomach. “I did all I could!”

“And I thank you for it!” I smiled back.

Prince Heinrich clapped again, and Maestro Gamblin increased the tempo more.

Another cycle... Two circle pas and a lunge...

Baron von Herwart, who had been watching me like his long-awaited prey all that time, made a sharp lunge. Watching his energy system in true vision, I was able to distinctly make out a pulse of lilac. The stryker had used magic. Oh well, untied my hands.

The second blue was more sluggish, which I took advantage of. Treating myself to a small mass of energy, I dodged the tip of the mage’s blade and slid forward, poking his slowpoke partner beneath the armpit.

The blond aristocrat with a blue armband gasped loudly and stepped aside. I saw disbelief and shock in his eyes.

Okay, now it was one on one.

Another cycle... The last... Or maybe not. The baron didn’t seem to be preparing for another round. He moved forward sharply. A lunge... I easily parried his blade and, dancing, continued circling.

Another lunge. Another miss. The baron was spending his lilac mana sparingly so the audience wouldn’t think he was cheating. So far, everything was going according to the plan I’d instantly formed after Jean-Louis’ instruction.

One circle pas... The stryker, no longer caring about the dance, as the crowd gasped loudly, made another lunge. And missed again.

I had a smile on my face.

I saw the combat mage’s jawbones grinding. He was starting to lose patience. The unexpectedly spry bastard was embarrassing him in front of the prince. Von Herwart was clearly not accustomed to such things.

Second circle pas... The mage’s energy system was now aflame with lilac fire. But he still wasn’t ready. I needed to give him a push.

“Perk up, baron!” I shouted. “It’s just a dance! Never fear.”

Okay. Ready. I had noticed strykers having this quirk before. They were painfully given to fits of temper. The Shadow’s lilac energy must have affected the psyche of the combat mages.

Baron von Herwart’s eyes filled with blood. A fast lunge from the stryker... Very fast. A normal man couldn’t move like that. On the edge of my perception, I heard a few audience members murmuring. It was starting to hit them. But I had yet to hear any cries of protest. Oh well, that remained to be seen. I pretended to have dodged by dumb luck, though I was already using mana to the fullest.

Two circle pas back. Now the final lunge. We stopped opposite one another for a moment. Baron von Herwart’s broad chest was heaving rapidly. He seemed to be enraged. He didn’t care about anyone else. There was just this nimble bastard who refused to be defeated.

A moment later, the stryker’s silhouette seemed to go blurry in the air. Just after that, the baron appeared a step away from me. The tip of his blade was racing toward my chest. I just stood with my hands dropped, slightly pushing brown-lilac energy into my aura to ease the now unavoidable blow.

The baron and I met eyes. He saw a sly smile on my face. A moment before the blow, he seemed to see what had just happened.

And a second later, my chest was pierced with pain, and darkness overtook my mind.