Blessed Time: The Complete Series: (A LitRPG Adventure Box Set), page 131
TWENTY
BALLROOM DIPLOMACY
Micah swayed in time with the music, a pained smile frozen on his face. The sound of violins swelled behind him as he did his best to follow Gwen’s practiced movements.
The Princess was gorgeous. Considering the number of servants that had joined Micah’s guild on their circuit of Sandrovok, it only made sense. He barely understood the unspoken rules of fashion and etiquette that bubbled under the surface at the balls and high society events that she forced him to attend, but Micah did see the hours of preparation she spent before ever touching a slipper to the dance floor.
From makeup to studying reports on the nobles that would be present, Gwen put as much effort into preparing for each ball as Micah did for his dungeons. It was an alien world, one that he wasn’t even sure he wanted to fully understand.
“How did the latest clearance and suppression mission go?” The Princess’ question snapped Micah out of his woolgathering as she pushed slightly on his right shoulder while pulling on his left hip.
Micah followed her direction, twirling the two of them just as the music flourished, drawing a scattering of applause from the crowd surrounding them. It was half-polite and had nothing to do with him. Some of the local nobles, largely manor lords managing country estates that rarely made it to the capital, were genuinely impressed by Gwen’s dancing. For most, their polite interest was a matter of calculation. Even if they didn’t really care about the dance itself, most of the nobles didn’t want to thumb their noses at the royal family.
“Pretty well,” Micah replied, ending the spin in response to a squeeze of his hip. “None of the men were hurt, and pretty much all of them have gained a level per dungeon so far. They aren’t quite where I want them yet, but they’re pretty close to combat ready.”
“Your entire organization is impressive.” Gwen jumped up into Micah’s arms, forcing him to catch and hold her for a second as the music paused. She dropped to the ground, smoothly resuming the dance just as the drums began to pick up. “Drekt has drilled your guild as well as any imperial training sergeant, and your siblings form an emotional core that keeps everyone’s spirits up. Even Esther and Leeka have grown into their own. They might not be the most powerful warriors in the organization, but they can certainly make their presence felt.”
“Thank you?” Micah tried to turn the words into a question.
She squeezed his bicep a half second before the song came to an end, giving Micah the notice he needed to take a half step back and bow over an outstretched arm. Around the dance floor, the other pairs of dancers mimicked his motion, but Gwen stood firm and imperious. Alas, one of the many minor benefits of being born to royalty.
“Just a compliment,” she said with a pleasant smile. “I can see why you have such faith in your people. I still think we should be focusing a bit more energy on the Imperial Army, but after having seen you in action, it makes sense to have a battalion of soldiers you can trust surrounding you. Despite what my fathers have to say, I’m not sure our people can handle that greater daemon I saw you dissolve. The brensens and luocas are difficult, but at least our attacks don’t evaporate before they land. Whoever or whatever we end up fighting in Pereston, it will likely be you landing the final blow.”
The crowd around them clapped and began filtering out onto the dance floor with drinks and finger food. Unless Micah missed his guess, it would be another fifteen to twenty minutes before the next formal dance, and already the nobles were streaming toward the two of them to get as much face time with the Princess as possible before they were interrupted by the music.
“Thank you,” he replied, more sincerely this time. “The Baron himself is strong enough to put that daemon to shame. I doubt anyone will be able to fight him but me if he gets serious, and even then, I’m more than a little worried. Of course, that’s if I can even manage to find myself face to face with him.”
Nobles began to surround them, complimenting Gwen on her performance and all but ignoring Micah. One or two even tried to brush forcefully past him, but he stood his ground, taking a bit of petty satisfaction out of hearing their quiet curses as they bounced off of his solid form.
“Given how many converted forgotten I found in the countryside during our national tour,” he continued, voice taking on a grim tone, “I’m worried about the army itself. I suspect that your father has investigated and cleared the vast majority of the blessed, but that doesn’t fully account for camp followers, cooks, porters or any other of the hundred or so forgotten jobs that go into feeding and equipping an expeditionary force.”
“Still looking down on our army, I see.” Adrian Harris’ voice set Micah’s teeth on edge. He hadn’t seen the man since their expedition into Pereston, and as far as he was concerned, that was a blessing.
“Baron,” Micah said with a nod toward the officer that had all but appeared from thin air in the midst of the throng of nobles to his right before turning his attention back to Gwen. “I suppose I will leave things here, Princess. If you need me, I’m sure you’ll be able to find me on a balcony somewhere. You know I prefer fresh air to all the hubbub of these sorts of events.”
He began walking away, noting with a throb of frustration that Baron Harris was following him away from the gaggle of country nobles. Somehow, the man looked like he hadn’t learned much from their brief expedition abroad. His pristine white uniform was covered in medals and ribbons indicating exemplary service and bravery. Against what, Micah couldn’t say. Sandrovok hadn’t been in a proper war in a generation, and most of its current conflicts were either border disputes or dungeon breaks in the deep deserts.
Following the man were a number of flunkies, knights and the occasional manor lord from the look of them. Minor nobles that could make a nuisance of themselves out in rural areas, but without any real weight back in the capital.
Micah tried to ignore Adrian. It was clear that the young Baron had been taking advantage of the ball’s open bar to replace his good sense with something more volatile and liquid. On one hand, he hoped that his erstwhile companion remembered the veiled threats he’d used on him in the mountains. If the noble were anything approaching intelligent, he’d realize that Micah wasn’t exactly bluffing.
On the other, Micah wasn’t exactly sure how smart Baron Harris was. He’d never been particularly impressed with the man, and with an alcohol induced flush on his cheeks and a crowd of rowdy idiots at his back, there was plenty of potential for the noble to disappoint even Micah’s low expectations.
He walked out of the ballroom and onto a wide balcony. At great expense, a garden had been transplanted to the desert, and a wave of floral aromas washed over him as Micah approached the railing and leaned his weight on it.
Stars twinkled in the clear desert night. Without moisture, there weren’t many clouds meaning he had a perfect view of the constellations and Mursa’s moon, hanging heavy in the sky as if the goddess were rapturously watching the events playing out on the planet below.
His moment of peace was disrupted by the clack of dress shoes on the stone balcony behind him. Micah didn’t turn around, but a wince found its way to his face. Through the power of the crown, which he more or less always wore at this point, he could feel a half dozen enchantments approaching him, all devoted toward increasing the pleasure felt from food and drink or stamina of the bearer.
“Micah Silver.” That was Adrian. Hardly a surprise, considering the Baron had followed him out of the party, but also far from welcome.
“Baron Harris,” he replied, not turning around. A gentle breeze blew in from the desert and across the garden before layering the balcony in the gentle scent of lilac. Behind him, the quiet buzz of conversation from the ball erased most of the ordinary night sounds. If he didn’t actually look at the annoying man, Micah could almost enjoy the tranquil moment.
“I hope you don’t think that I’ve forgotten about your behavior in the mountain,” the noble growled at him. “You might have been able to threaten and extort me away from civilization, but now we’re back in Sandrovok. Don’t think that the Princess’ protection will last forever. Eventually, she’ll move on to another toy, and the day that happens, I’ll be there to take you to account for your behavior.”
“I doubt it,” Micah replied, “but you’re welcome to-”
He paused. There was the faintest whiff of the magic of Elsewhere coming from the Baron. Micah hadn’t noticed it in the party due to the crush of people and distractions, but out the balcony, it was unmistakable.
“It’s strange that you would approach me today, though,” Micah continued, turning to face Adrian. “Ordinarily, if someone were plotting their revenge, they would lay low, biding their time until their victim didn’t suspect them, only to spring their trap at the last moment. Instead, you’re approaching me while I do have royal protection and tipping your hand. It seems like an out-of-character blunder to me.”
“Oh, I’m not threatening you with violence or legal threats,” the Baron slurred. “Everything will be perfectly above-board, but I will take what you want most from you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Micah could only blink. What he wanted most? Hells, he wasn’t sure he could articulate that. Once upon a time, it would have been for things to work out with Jo, but he’d grown since then. Right now, it was probably a safe spot for his parents and siblings and to watch his guild grow, all without attracting the sort of public attention and pressure that was crushing down on him right now, but Adrian had no way of knowing that.
“I will demonstrate my merit,” Harris continued, “and then I will take her from you. Princess Gwendolyn will see from both my deeds and noble blood that I am a much more fitting partner. It is beyond me how a commoner like you could even think to claim her hand, but I can assure you that your efforts are like the flailing of a newborn before me. Clumsy, childish and inexperienced.”
“What,” Micah blurted out despite himself. The crowd of minor nobles and lackeys murmured their approval, some of them slapping the Baron on the back, others pumping their fists or clapping their hands gently.
“While you have been traveling across this country on a romantic tour of local capitals,” Adrian crowed, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy, “I never lost sight of the real problem. I remember those monsters we ran into in the mountains, and I’ve kept my eyes open. I found them.”
“What?” This time, it was a real question. Micah was still a bit off balance from the man’s unhinged ranting, but if he had found signs of the daemon cults slipping over the border from Pereston, that was an obvious issue. He had been doing his best, going from town to town and sniffing out the converted where he could, but his findings had begun to diminish. The optimistic in the Princess’ party had concluded that most of Pereston’s agents had been found, but Micah didn’t share their rosy view.
The Third Prince was a crafty being. It would not stand by while Micah dismantled its operations in Sandrovok. It might have taken some time for the converted and their allies to track his movements and learn to avoid him, but it seemed likely that they had simply adapted to Micah’s investigation, not ceased operations altogether.
“I’m a scout after all,” Adrian puffed out his chest, slapping his torso hard enough to make his medals jingle. “I can tell when someone is behaving abnormally, and from there, it’s a simple matter of tracking them back to their homes and learning more about them. I’ve found an entire network of daemon summoners using those bat things to fill crystals with energy. Once I bring them down and present them to the Princess, I’m sure she’ll notice my efforts. Then, you’ll be a thing of the past, Micah Silver.”
Micah sucked in a breath of the night air. The scent of Elsewhere coming off of the Baron was faint enough to give weight to his words. If the man had been involved in a summoning, it would have hung heavier, but the mostly dissipated essence tracked with his explanation. If he had been hanging around ritual sites or participants well after the actual summonings took place, it could easily have given him that trace whiff of otherworldly energy.
“Interesting,” Micah replied, smiling at the drunk noble. “You say that you know where one of these cults is operating?”
“Of course,” Adrian answered proudly. “It took me the better part of a month to track them down, but the second I found scraps of clothes and missing peasants, I knew I was onto something.”
The various nobles began shuffling uncomfortably. They looked more than a little lost by the conversation, and unless Micah missed his guess, they were mostly following Adrian around to see the man “teach the commoner a lesson.” That said, their boredom wasn’t his problem, so Micah plowed forward.
“Well, Princess Gwendolyn is here right now. There’s no better time to break up a ring of summoning cultists. I’ll even go with you to witness, but don’t worry, you can have all of the credit.”
“I don’t know,” Adrian responded, blinking uncertainly at Micah. This time, he had caught the interest of the knights and manor lords that had followed the Baron out onto the balcony. “I could do it, sure, but what’s to stop you from lying about my accomplishments? I know you’re strong, Silver, but that doesn’t mean that I trust you or believe that you’re on my side.”
“Then bring your friends,” Micah said, waving in the direction of the intoxicated nobles surrounding the Baron. “We can grab some food and drinks and make a party out of it. If anything gets out of hand, I’ll step in, but it sure sounds like you’ll be able to handle a roost of bats on your own. Then, if we’re quick, you can present your victory to the Princess tonight.”
“What’s your game, Silver?” Adrian’s slur was back, and this time, he was squinting at Micah suspiciously. “I know you’re after the Princess. Why are you trying to make an opportunity for me to woo her? If this works out, she’s sure to cast you aside for me. I mean, just look at us.”
The Baron thrust an accusing finger at Micah’s dress coat. It wasn’t anything bad, something his father had made for him about a year before his journey to Jakint. He didn’t exactly stick out in formal gatherings, but the style had gone out of fashion in the past two or so years.
Adrian, on the other hand, was dressed in finery. Micah didn’t know or care enough about current trends and fashion, but it was clear that the Baron did. Keenly.
Micah had spent enough time growing up with a tailor to have some idea how much money and work went into the gold thread and ornate stitching that lined his counterpart’s jacket. He didn’t have a great read on the bits of ivory carved into the faces of ferocious beasts and used as buttons, but there was no way that they could have been cheap.
“Would you believe me if I said that I didn’t really want to marry Gwen? That I just wanted to rid Sandrovok of another cult infestation?” he asked the drunk noble with a quick shrug.
“No,” Adrian replied, still squinting at Micah. “You’re up to something, Silver. Don’t think for a second that I don’t see it even if I can’t tell exactly what it is.”
“Like one of those hidden image pictures with all of the dots and lines,” Micah said helpfully. “It looks like static, but if you cross your eyes before you can see a picture of a monster or a piece of fruit or something.”
“What?” Adrian just stared at Micah blankly. Evidently, Leeka and Trevor had been rubbing off a bit too much on him.
“Never mind,” Micah said with a quick smile. “Now lead the way. You have some cultists to kill in order to prove your value as a potential partner for the Princess.”
TWENTY-ONE
MAKING NEW FRIENDS
The trip to the cult safehouse was unique and amusing if more than a little unimpressive. The carriage jolted, tossing Micah lightly into the man sitting to his right. Somehow, despite barely being able to keep his eyes open, the passenger managed to avoid spilling his drink. Briefly, Micah wondered if the man had a blessing related to balance and coordination before his companion drunkenly patted him on the shoulder.
“S’alright, man. Yah know. You’re alright.”
“Thanks?” Micah replied, ready this time when the world jostled once again. Wherever they were going, the roads weren’t terribly well maintained. Whether it was rocks or potholes, their journey had turned almost impossibly bumpy about a half hour ago.
“You need to relax,” another noble said helpfully, pushing a drink into Micah’s hand. It was a deep golden brown and smelled vaguely like wood and peat. He took a sip.
It certainly wasn’t juusht. The liquid burned, but in a good way. Like he could taste the attunement as it rolled over his tongue and swallowed. It had hints of teak.
“Ish know you and Baron Harrish are goin fer the same girl.” The first man was speaking again, leaning close and whispering conspiratorially in Micah’s ear with breath that smelled like an upscale distillery. “But he’s not really a bad guy. Course I’ll be rootin’ fer him, but you seem like a decent chap too.”
“Tha-” Micah began, only to realize that he’d already used the reply. He chewed his lower lip for a second. If he was going to be stuck in a carriage full of drunk and boisterous minor nobles, he might as well get to know them.
“You called Baron Harris by his name and title,” Micah noted. “Does he make everyone do that? Even his friends?”
That brought a universal chuckle from the cab of the carriage. There were maybe eight men packed in there with Micah, all wearing some vestiges of the fancy garb they’d had on at the party. All of them had made minor allowances for the fact that they were heading to a fight. Bowties were removed and buttons were undone. A couple of the nobles had put on fancy gambesons, hardly the heavy armor that Micah would have picked before a pitched battle, but better than nothing. As for weapons? They had light swords for dueling. Enough to kill a human if you poked them enough times, but not really a first choice for battling monsters.
