The Simulacrum

~Chapter 149~ Part 4

Lady Yseult gave me a rather critical look, but whatever retort she had on the tip of her tongue had to be swallowed back when the cello music in the background abruptly cut out and a tall, if slightly heavy-set woman took to the stage with a microphone in hand. She had a tan complexion and a simple black dress of a rather conservative cut.

"Thank you for attending our banquet, dear guests," the woman spoke, her voice deep and sonorous, and that finally jostled the gears in my head enough to recognize her: she was the wife of the Lotan patriarch, currently away on a business trip, and the host of today's party.

Publicly addressing the guests like this wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but the timing was quite conspicuous, so I lightly nodded in the direction of the blonde Draconian matriarch and sidled over to the side of my girlfriends, idling on the edge of the crowd gathering near the stage.

"I see you've found her," Judy noted absently as soon as I came within earshot, and I shrugged.

"It would be more accurate to say we stumbled into each other."

"Is this one of those 'event' things?" Elly inquired the moment she had my attention, and Judy responded in my stead.

"The timing is too tight to be a coincidence, so it probably is," she concluded, and I nodded along.

"Let's observe."

"Let's," my dear assistant nodded, and tried as she might to hide it, I could see that she was clearly curious about how the situation would develop.

On the other hand, the princess had much less interest in the tropes of this genre of romance fiction and was looking at things from a much more practical perspective.

"Do you think they're going to fight?"

"The heroine and the villainess fighting at this stage of the plot? That's…" I wanted to say 'preposterous', but then I gave it another thought and muttered, "Actually, considering it's a Draconian matriarch and Mountain Girl we're talking about here, it might be in the cards."

"The Chief is right. It would go against the contract marriage romance template, but it would fit ours."

"That being… what was it? Battle harem?" When I nodded, the princess let out a groan and massaged her forehead. "It's hard enough to keep those trope things in mind, and now we also have to deal with genres…"

"The two are not mutually exclusive."

Judy earned herself a displeased pout from the princess with that response, but in the meantime I was pondering about what she just said.

"You know, if you think about it, the current main scenario isn't a battle harem story anymore. I think we're more of an urban fantasy at this point."

"Hush, Chief. We can split hairs after the event is over."

I didn't argue and gazed at the stage, where the Lotan matriarch was patiently waiting for everyone to pay attention to her. After a minute or so, once everyone who mattered gathered in one place, she cleared her throat and raised her microphone to her face again.

"I would especially like to welcome the esteemed clan head of Clan Feilong, Mister Naoren Feilong, who not only graced our dinner party with his presence, but I've been told he chose this occasion to make an important announcement!"

When she said that, the crowd in the middle parted like the Red Sea before Moses, with only Naoren and Rinne standing in the gap. I could see them due to my height advantage, but the girls weren't so lucky, so I had to narrate the events.

"Naoren and Mountain Girl are in the center of the attention now. He looks unflappable as usual, while she's… making the best wooden board impression I've ever seen in my life."

"Leo. That's rude," the princess complained, yet all I could do was shrug.

"But accurate."

Meanwhile, the two of them walked over to the stage and stood right in front of it. Soon, he received the microphone from the hostess and looked all over the crowd before inhaling deeply.

"Thank you for your attention, everyone."

"It's starting," I told the girls. "Count the tropes."

"These are tumultuous times. The World of Mystics have changed tremendously in such a short time, turning over the heaven and the earth. Old enemies became staunch allies, legendary existences of old walk among us once more, and the world is filled with hidden dragons and crouching tigers."

"Is… that a trope?" Elly whispered, but Judy shook her head.

"No, that's just a preamble," I told her and focused my attention on the unfolding scene.

"My life has changed as well, no small part thanks to a chance meeting." Naoren paused and pulled Mountain Girl closer. I could tell she was clearly suffering from stage fright, because she moved like a mannequin. "It was fate that brought us together, and thus I would like to officially announce my engagement with—"

"Stop!"

An icy voice interrupted the proceedings, and Judy immediately nodded.

"That's a trope."

"That was quick," Elly muttered, sounding slightly disappointed.

In the meantime Yseult sauntered forward, and while I could only see the back of her head, I had a feeling she was glaring at the duo at the forefront.

"Lady Yseult? Why are you interrupting our—?"

"I said stop. Say no more." Strangely enough, she wasn't yelling, yet her voice was clearly audible even in the back. "I thought we already discussed this, Naoren. You don't have to do this just to placate those geriatric fuckers."

"That's… an unexpected choice of words," Judy noted, while Elly was busy stifling a chuckle. The sudden f-bomb must've been so surprising, it sent her into a giggling fit.

"Yseult, please. Don't make a scene," Naoren pleaded, and while looking around, his eyes landed on me, obviously asking for support. It wasn't quite time for that yet, especially after the next bombshell dropped.

"I'm not making a scene! You're making a scene! Didn't I tell you that if you're being bothered by your elders, you should just give me a call? Didn't we already promise, back during your coming-of-age celebration, that if either of us were about to be pressured into a loveless political marriage, we would help each other out?"

"Oooh? A childhood promise?" Judy's eyes lit up with recognition.

"That's a trope," Elly proclaimed, and then suddenly turned sullen. "But now I feel... Are childhood marriage promises really this common?"

"No need to get awkward about that, princess. It's water under the bridge, anyway."

I tried to cheer her up by patting her back, my attention still focused on the unfolding event.

"I believe you are laboring under a misunderstanding," Naoren stated loudly and with confidence, and after a beat, he gingerly put a hand around Rinne's waist and hugged her against his chest. "My engagement to Lady Rinne isn't political in nature."

"Like hell it isn't!" she swore again and aggressively flicked her fan open before pointing it at Mountain Girl.

"Is that a trope?" Elly asked, already over her sudden onset of remembrance-induced embarrassment.

"The villainess gesturing with her fan at the heroine during a big public denouncement event? It's one of the biggest tropes there is," Judy responded, and while I would've liked to add that it only applied to a very particular sub-genre of romance, I didn't get the opportunity.

"Just look at her!" Yseult exclaimed, meaning Rinne, and moved her fan to cover her mouth. "She looks like she doesn't even want to be anywhere near you!"

"Lady Rinne is just… not used to this kind of attention." Naoren was trying to excuse Mountain Girl's world-class dead fish impersonation routine, but he wasn't convincing anyone with that. When she remained stock still, he desperately looked in my direction again, hoping for a save, and to be honest, I had half a mind to intervene.

Unfortunately, while I was hesitating, Yseult noticed the direction the bespectacled patriarch was looking at. Following his line of sight, she also quickly found me in the crowd. It wasn't hard, as I was about a head taller than the people in front of me. When our eyes met, her brows furrowed and her nose scrunched up, as if she just saw something unpleasant, and then a moment later she folded her fan and pointed it my way.

"This is all his fault, isn't it? He was the one who put you up to this! Let me guess! 'Marrying my subordinate shows that we're closely knit, and that's good for the stability of the Draconic Federation'? Or did he use some kind of leverage on you to get you to play along?"

"Yseult, please! I assure you; you are entirely incorrect in your assumptions about Brother Leonard! Please stop this, and let us continue this conversation in private."

"No, I don't think so," she declared, and after sending one last glare at me, she turned back to Rinne and, using the fingers holding the fan, peeled off her long evening glove from her free arm and balled it up. "We have to do this the old-fashioned way! Hey, wench! I challenge you to a duel!"

Then, before anyone could react, she backhand threw the glove at Rinne's confounded face. Except…

"What the…?"

No. Nobody should've been able to react, let alone stop it, and yet it never hit her. Silence, like an ocean wave, washed and rippled across the venue as a gloved hand appeared and snatched the piece of cloth out of the air with the ease and alacrity of someone who had been practising just for this specific occasion for a long, long time.

"Chief? What happened?" Judy asked, getting on her tip-toes and trying to get a glimpse at the situation over the stunned shoulders of the people in front of us, but even she froze when a familiar voice hit our ears.

"Oh my. Please excuse me for interrupting this lovely get-together…"

The man who materialized out of thin air spoke in an upbeat, jaunty tone and lightly jerked the flimsy glove around like he was an old-timey passenger on a cruise ship waving goodbye to the shore with a handkerchief. Then he disappeared and casually showed up behind the hostess of the event, flicking the glove onto her. It landed on her head, and she was so shocked she failed to take it off even when he took the time to bow to her.

"Thank you for the hospitality, Mrs Whatsherface! I especially loved the snacks and the music and the melodrama! But alas…" The man on the stage, wearing a white tailcoat and a black mask everyone here would recognize at a glance, straightened his back and turned to face me. When our eyes met, I felt something like a jolt of electricity running down my spine, and I couldn't look away. Then, after a long pregnant silence, Bel of the Abyss solemnly stated, "… I'm afraid this cannot continue."