Chapter 91: Chapter 91

"A handwritten invitation-what difference does it make?"

Yaan's private room inside the inner keep of Verkut territory.

Still awkwardly holding Ren's hand, Yaan-who had been practicing what he considered a dance-asked the question.

"A simple handwritten note wouldn't be a problem. But sending it this openly changes everything."

Ren corrected Yaan's constantly drifting position by forcibly pulling him back into place as she spoke.

It looked as though Ren was dragging Yaan-who moved entirely on his own whim-around the room.

"What you received was a letter-form invitation. While everyone else got the standard cards written by the stewards, only you were sent this one."

On the desk in the room where the dance practice was in full swing lay the victory celebration ball invitation from House Dunois addressed to House Diana.

Unlike Yaan's card-written in gold ink on purple stationery-this one was in white ink on black paper.

The lettering, too, was neat rather than the ornate script used for Yaan's.

"A publicly sent handwritten invitation signals intense interest-practically a love letter."

"Ugh, that gives me the creeps. A love letter?"

A creepy smile, as though bugs were crawling, and an unfathomable emptiness-and a mysterious lady linked to the Ancient legacy.

The mere thought that she was interested in him made him frown; calling it a love letter was worse.

"The invitation came by post. No way it would attract that much notice...."

Yaan tried to deny reality, but Ren sidestepped his left foot-he'd almost stepped on hers-and denied it for him.

"From the moment the postman took that invitation, rumors started spreading. By the time it reached this frontier keep, they'd already...."

"...spread throughout the entire Empire, you mean."

Alienor's handwritten invitation, delivered only to Yaan-who was hardly the hero of the war.

Refusing such public special treatment would be an unbearable burden for Yaan, newly risen to the ranks of minor nobility.

"I was trying to figure out how to decline, and now this madness."

It would take at least a month to assemble the forces needed for the colonial suppression.

He couldn't shove still-repaired Frames and an unfinished unit onto the battlefield just to dodge a ball.

"A forced march to Dunois territory the instant training ends-utter madness."

The moment he boarded the train down from the keep toward the capital, all the fatigue he'd accumulated hit him at once.

"So why are you glued to me ?"

In the convoy truck from the keep to the station, then in the carriage, and now in this train compartment.

Ren, seated right beside him, showed no sign of ever letting go.

"Only the two of us are here. I have to guard my protectee."

"Guard me? From them?"

As he spoke, Yaan glanced at his knight seal and then at the elderly couple approaching with beaming faces.

"Oh my, Sir Knight, riding the same train! Thank you for protecting the Empire in our stead...."

The old man's expression froze mid-bow, his greeting unfinished.

"Dear, what's wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost...."

Following her husband's fixed stare, the old woman likewise froze on the spot.

"Thank you for the support."

Yaan flashed a cheap smile; the Penal Corps brand was etched into his shoulder.

"P-Penal Corps! They say you drink goblin blood...!"

The lady's face drained of color the instant she recognized the unintended insult. Had it not been for her resolve to save her husband, she might have fainted on the spot.

"Have a safe journey."

Having fled before finishing their farewells, the couple-and every other nearby passenger-now avoided Yaan's gaze.

Yaan shrugged toward Ren, but she remained unmoved.

"If there's even a slight possibility, you can't let your guard down."

With that, Ren actually leaned closer to him.

"Seriously, what is it? This is driving me crazy...!"

Ever since the invitation arrived, Ren had stuck to him nonstop; Yaan muttered, at a complete loss.

While the two bickered for the second day aboard the train, the heavy cars rolled on, past the Imperial capital and toward Dunois territory.

"You've been stuck to me for two whole days-now what...."

No use. He had no idea what she was thinking.

Inside the train compartment (he'd booked a four-person sleeper, but two passengers left the moment he boarded), Yaan-now in uniform-offered his right arm to Ren in her white dress, then headed for the exit where the Dunois carriage waited.

"Lord of House Verkut, Sir Yaan Verkut, I presume?"

At the courteous question from the bowing old gentleman, Yaan answered and followed him into the carriage.

The large coach drawn by two horses looked far too spacious for just Yaan and Ren.

"It is an honor to meet you, Sir Yaan Verkut. I am Steward Fabian David, and I shall escort you both to the mansion."

The bespectacled elder greeted them with practiced courtesy, seated himself opposite Yaan, and signaled the driver.

"As head steward of the ducal house, his rank is technically higher than mine."

Not merely in wealth, but in social standing. For such a man to greet him personally...

The unprecedented courtesy was almost unsettling.

"However, Sir Verkut."

David, face calm, looked from Yaan to Ren beside him and opened his mouth.

"I believe you received the Duchess's personal letter."

As Yaan produced Alienor's letter, David quietly adjusted the monocle over his right eye.

"And the lady accompanying you-may I ask the reason for her presence?"

Invited by the Duchess's love letter, then bringing a woman to the ball-was he out of his mind?

Realizing the steward's implication, Yaan let out a low sigh.

It was Ren who answered, when Yaan hesitated.

Snapped back to attention, Yaan spoke at once to David.

"The guest list lists her as a young lady, but she is a member of my company. She volunteered to escort her captain, and I granted permission."

For something made up on the spot, it sounded decent.

David's dubious eyes lingered, but Yaan's face was the picture of calm.

'What else can I do?'

Reading that shameless expression, David could only nod. He clearly wasn't convinced, yet the answer wasn't wrong, so he let it pass.

"The true hero of the battle is Sir Cain; I never expected an invitation when I played only a supporting role."

If David was close to Alienor, he would know her mind-so Yaan tested the waters.

"The Duchess understands the battlefield. She said that while Duke of Lorenz's record is impressive, the operation could not have succeeded without the 87th Independent Company's work-disrupting the rear and securing the advance route."

"Not at all. Her Grace never offers praise lightly."

Watching the steward's faint smile, Yaan clicked his tongue silently.

'Just like his mistress.'

Those appraising eyes-ever since entering the carriage, he'd been in Alienor's grasp.

"Ah, we have arrived."

The carriage slowed, then stopped; the door opened to reveal the venerable Dunois Castle.

The moat that once served as a defense had become a lotus pond, and lights blazing for the ball seemed to bring the night sky down to earth.

Such splendor was alien to him. No-after all he'd seen, the fact that he still hadn't grown used to it spoke of instinctive revulsion.

Entering the keep with a stiff face, Yaan saw a ballroom rivaling any Imperial gala.

"Sir Yaan Verkut. Welcome to House Dunois."

Behind him, David-now formally dressed-bowed deeply.

Unlike the grand roll calls at an Imperial party, the mood was as light as a home gathering.

The nobles attending were also dressed not in flashy ball gowns but in comfortable evening wear.

"Pleased to meet you. I am Siegel, a landowner from the Plen region."

Starting with David's brief greeting, the nobles who noticed Yaan began to swarm toward him.

House Dunois seldom mingled with other nobles.

Rumor had it that Alienor, the head of Dunois, had sent a personal letter, so the minor nobles hoping to curry favor with her could hardly leave Yaan alone.

"I am Gin, of the Baron's household in the southern demesne. When might you visit our party..."

"Do call on us sometime. This season we have works by a painter rising like a new star..."

At last month's victory parade they had shunned him as Penal Corps scum and bastard, yet now they approached with smiles plastered on their faces-laying bare how high House Dunois stood in the Empire.

"They're treating me like half a member of House Dunois. Disgusting."

Watching them, Yaan swore under his breath-no, more precisely, at Alienor, smiling amid the crowd beyond them.

Seeing his expression turn ever more grim, the nobles stepped back in unease.

With no intention to smooth things over, Yaan muttered curtly and pushed through them.

Like the sea parting, the nobles split to either side.

"Welcome. Did my invitation please you, Sir Knight~?"

Alienor wore a black dress, her night-sky-blue hair cascading like a starlit sky.

A sensuous smile that could bewitch any onlooker curved her lips as she approached Yaan.

"Once I received the invitation, I could hardly stay away. However...!"

Yaan's breathing quickened as he spoke to her.

These people surged like a swarm of bees drawn not to Yaan Verkut but to the halo of Dunois.

Crushed by the sheer presence of the great House, Yaan felt overwhelming revulsion and wanted only to finish what he must say and leave.

Yet Alienor, stretching out her hand to cut him off, would not allow even that.

"Sir Knight. Will you grant me one dance?"

Alienor spoke with a smile on every feature.

Gritting his teeth, Yaan had no choice but to take her hand.

His partner was the head of the second ducal house, rivaling Lorenz. Giving in to emotion and provoking her would solve nothing.

Ren's white hand slipped from his arm, and Alienor's black-gloved hand took its place.

As the hand that had held hers so tightly let go, a crack ran through Ren's expression.

"Ah, look at that, Sir Knight."

Leading Yaan onto the floor, Alienor began to giggle in a voice only he could hear.

"The face of someone afraid to lose you-simply exquisite, is it not?"

"I've no intention of indulging your twisted tastes. State your purpose."

The other nobles, perhaps unwilling to intrude on their private conversation, kept a distance and watched the pair dance.

Yaan's movements were awkward beyond words, yet guided by Alienor they looked as though intended.

"Purpose? If I name it, will you listen? Or will you point a pistol at my face again, just like before~?"

The mask of her dancing smile began to melt.

Anyone seeing it would find it hard to believe this was the same Alienor they knew-her laughter was that wild.

As if to embrace him, Alienor drew Yaan close while they danced, and soon pressed her face to his ear and whispered.

"When this dance ends, I shall propose to you, Yaan Verkut."

To be continued in the