As Scarlett and Lady Withersworth approached the cluster of opulently dressed nobles, their animated chatter dwindled to a hushed murmur. Curious eyes turned towards the pair, and though Lady Withersworth walked with an air of casual elegance, her mere presence subtly shifted the atmosphere, commanding attention without much effort.
“Good evening,” Lady Withersworth greeted warmly, her voice carrying across the group. The assembly comprised a diverse mix of men and women, some surprisingly young, others closer to Lady Withersworth’s age. “Count Braxton, Baron Redi, how delightful to see you both here again. Lady Graeme, Lady Huxley, it is a pleasure to reunite with you as well.”
Four of the older members acknowledged her with respectful nods.
“Lady Withersworth, it has been some time,” Lady Graeme, an older woman with silver-streaked hair arranged in an immaculate bun, said.
Lady Withersworth’s smile was sincere as she gestured towards Scarlett. “Allow me to introduce my companion. This is Baroness Scarlett Hartford. Some of you may not have met her yet, but I’m sure you have heard whispers of her name by now.”
The older nobles maintained their composed expressions, but Scarlett caught some of the younger ones shifting uncomfortably, their gazes darting away. All except one — a young woman, likely even younger than Evelyne, with long ebony hair plaited into an intricate braid. She regarded Scarlett with undisguised intensity.
“Indeed, there has been quite a buzz about Baroness Hartford lately,” Baron Reid remarked, stroking his meticulously trimmed mustache. His eyes, sharp and assessing, never left Scarlett’s face.
Scarlett eyed him, her brow furrowing slightly. Was that truly the case? She would have thought her novelty among noble circles would have worn off by now.
With practiced grace, Lady Withersworth plucked a crystal wine glass from a passing attendant’s tray, swirling the deep red liquid slowly. “I have been staying at Baroness Hartford’s estate in Freybrook recently. She has been exceptionally hospitable after my own home in Autumnwell fell victim to those dreadful attacks.”
“Ah, I did hear something to that effect,” Lady Graeme said with sympathy. “Apparently, you’ve involved yourself in some charitable endeavours as well, even in your current circumstances. How commendable.”
Lady Withersworth’s eyes sparkled as she replied. “In a manner of speaking, though it is actually an initiative spearheaded by our industrious Baroness here and her younger sister. They are truly committed to supporting the empire through these challenging times. At my age, I can’t help but admire the drive of the younger generation, so I decided to lend them my assistance.”
“How wonderful.”
“Indeed, that is a rather admirable venture.”
“With more people like the Baroness, the empire will surely overcome these challenges.”
A chorus of polite but non-committal comments followed, though Lady Withersworth’s presence likely had a lot to do with that. As Scarlett’s gaze swept over the younger nobles, she noticed they awkwardly avoided meeting her eyes.
Were they…intimidated by her?
Where did that come from? She knew her appearance wasn’t the friendliest, but these weren’t children, and she’d barely uttered a word.
To her left, Scarlett caught sight of a slight, knowing smile playing on Lady Withersworth’s lips.
One of the older noble ladies, sensing the palpable unease emanating from a younger woman beside her, cleared her throat. She turned her attention to Scarlett, her voice tinged with forced casualness. “Baroness Hartford, it is actually quite coincidental that we meet you like this. The Empyreal Chronicle recently wrote a column about you that I found rather fascinating.”
A small scowl formed on Scarlett’s face.
Right, that had been a thing. The previous week, the Empyreal Chronicle had caught wind of the relief initiatives performed by her barony and penned a short piece on it. Somehow, they had also mentioned the orphanage set up in her name, as well as the rumors about her killing a dragon, painting her as some kind of dragon-slaying saint.
While the depiction wasn’t necessarily detrimental to her, it strayed far from reality, and that fact alone irked her. She also found it suspicious how eager the Empyreal Chronicle had been to write about her. After some digging, though, she had realised that Beldon had pulled a few strings behind the scenes.
That said, she wasn’t sure which aspect of that depiction would make other nobles afraid of her. Perhaps it was a combination of the dragon-slaying rumors and stories about the old Scarlett. It was also possible they’d heard about her confrontation with Count Soames at the Tyndall ball. If these were people who had spoken ill of her before, they might now think it best not to cross her.
An awkward silence settled over the group, and Scarlett felt a twinge of embarrassment as she realised she was the cause. With an inward sigh, she schooled her expression as best she could, though she briefly questioned why she even bothered.
One of the nobles, evidently more uncomfortable with the silence than with Scarlett’s presence, finally spoke up. “Baroness Hartford,” he ventured cautiously. “Is there any truth to the tales of you having slain a dragon?”
Scarlett fixed him with a penetrating gaze. “What do you think?” she replied, her tone coming out sharper than intended. “Do you believe a lone noblewoman such as I capable of felling a beast of that calibre?”
He seemed momentarily taken aback. “I…well, that is to say… I’m not entirely certain. Hence why I asked.”
Count Braxton, an older gentleman in an impeccably tailored suit with salt-and-pepper hair firmly combed back, smoothly interjected. “If I may, Baroness,” he began, “your father was a skilled mage, was he not? And I myself witnessed some of your remarkable abilities at the Tyndall ball. To me, it would seem the gift of magecraft runs in the family.”
Scarlett regarded him coolly for a few moments. “…Perhaps,” she conceded. “However, I feel compelled to clarify that I did not kill that dragon.”
The news article hadn’t even claimed as much, but that still seemed to be the story that continued circulating. Frankly, it was strange.
“But it did inexplicably appear deceased in her courtyard,” Lady Withersworth added with a hint of amusement. “In my experience, Baroness Hartford tends to find herself at the center of far more intriguing events than even the most fanciful rumor might suggest.”
Some of the nobles’ eyes widened at the statement, and Scarlett saw one young lady’s cheeks blush in a manner that she decidedly did not like.
“Indeed,” Lady Huxley chimed in with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It seems the Baroness leads quite the…eventful life. I’m certain our children could learn much from someone as…accomplished as her.”
Scarlett’s expression darkened slightly at the woman’s tone, but before she could respond, the young woman who had been observing her intently earlier spoke up.
“Baroness Hartford, if I may ask,” she began, “I’m fascinated by your skill as a mage. How long did it take you to attain the level you are at?”
Scarlett paused, turning her attention to the young woman, realising that was eagerness and curiosity in her eyes. “…Your interest is appreciated,” she replied, “but I must correct your assumption. I am not a true mage in the classical sense. Even so, the skills I do possess required no small investment of time and effort to cultivate.”
A small lie, but it would be true for most others.
The young woman’s gaze remained earnest, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Do you believe someone like myself could achieve the same?”
Count Braxton, standing beside her, seemed to flinch at the question, though he maintained his polite demeanour. Was he her father, perhaps?
Scarlett regarded the young woman thoughtfully, taking in her determined expression. “While it is certainly within the realm of possibility,” she said, choosing her words with care, “I would caution against pursuing such a path lightly. Attaining proficiency comparable to mine would demand an immense commitment of time and energy for most people, with limited practical application outside the realm of combat. Unless you aspire to dedicate your life to defending the empire or exploring treacherous territories as a Shielder or similar vocation, I would suggest a number of other pursuits as more worthy of your talents and ambitions.”
The woman’s face fell slightly at Scarlett’s response, while Count Braxton’s shoulders visibly relaxed. Scarlett wasn’t planning on involving herself more than this, though.
From there, Lady Withersworth took charge of the conversation with practiced ease. She steered the dialogue towards current events, skillfully eliciting information and small talk from the assembled nobles. Scarlett contributed occasionally, but it was clear that Lady Withersworth was in her element, accustomed to this kind of social maneuvering. Even when she allowed others to speak, the flow of conversation remained firmly under her control. More than once, she deftly directed the topics towards potential actions nobles like them could take for the empire, seeming to subtly set up avenues for collaboration with Scarlett in the future.
As the evening wore on, long after Scarlett had grown weary of all the talking, Lady Withersworth seemed to decide they had spent enough time with this particular group. With a graceful smile and a few well-chosen words, she excused them both. For a brief, hopeful moment, Scarlett thought her social obligation might already be at an end. However, Lady Withersworth’s sharp eyes had already spotted another cluster of influential-looking people, and she smoothly led Scarlett along towards them.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
This pattern continued throughout the evening, with Lady Withersworth introducing Scarlett to a parade of important figures, showcasing her to friends and acquaintances alike, peppering her introductions with astute comments on their personalities and influence. For Scarlett, maintaining a facade of relative cordiality was exhausting, but with Lady Withersworth’s help, she managed to find a rhythm in these interactions. While she wasn’t sure if she ever made a stellar impression on her own, people at least seemed to regard her with more respect now than they had immediately following the Elysian Proclamation.
After navigating through at least half a dozen different groups across the banquet hall, Scarlett’s energy was wearing thin. She wanted little more than to find a quiet corner somewhere and take a break. That was when Lady Withersworth’s gaze seemed to land on yet another target. Scarlett was on the verge of voicing her protest when she saw who had caught the older woman’s attention.
Gathered around a small round table adorned with an array of delicate refreshments was a group deep in discussion. One of them, a portly man in his late fifties with neck-length hair streaked white, had a rumpled face and a thin mustache. He leaned heavily on an ornate cane clutched in his right hand.
Duke Ingomar Valentino of Bridgespell.
Beside him stood his wife, Duchess Lenka Valentino, a woman of graceful bearing despite having turned more gaunt from stress over the recent months. She was engaged in conversation with another couple that Scarlett vaguely recognised: Viscount and Viscountess Clapham, if her memory served correctly. She recalled meeting them briefly at that ill-fated wedding she had accidentally crashed in Ambercrest all those months ago.
…She supposed she could stomach one more social interaction.
As she and Lady Withersworth approached the group, Scarlett’s eyes scanned the room for a much-needed drink. Spotting a nearby attendant bearing a tray of crystal glasses with sparkling wine, she signaled for one as they passed.
“My, Lila!” Lady Valentino exclaimed, her voice carrying over the ambient chatter. “Is that you?”
“Who else, Lenka?” Lady Withersworth replied with easy familiarity, coming to a stop before their table.
The duchess shook her head with a laugh. “I thought I caught a glimpse of you earlier, but I scarcely believed my eyes! It’s been years since I last saw you at these serious gatherings. What a pleasant surprise.”
“It’s a joy to see you too, Lenka.” Lady Withersworth’s gaze shifted to Duke Valentino. “Ingomar, I see you’ve put on even more robustness since I last saw you. I heard what happened to your son. My sympathies. I trust he’s on the mend?”
The duke regarded her for a long moment, his expression inscrutable, before offering a slight nod. “Lila,” he acknowledged gruffly. “Your concern is…appreciated. And yes, he’s recovering, albeit slower than we’d like.”
Lady Withersworth then addressed the Viscount and Viscountess, her smile never faltering. “My, my, how long has it been since our paths last crossed? Far too long, I would wager.”
“It, it has,” Viscount Clapham replied in a jovial tone. “In fact, my wife spotted you earlier and suggested we seek you out, but it seems fate has saved us the trouble.”
His wife smiled pleasantly. “I must say, Lady Withersworth, your presence here tonight is quite the surprise. And in such intriguing company, no less.” She turned her attention to Scarlett, her gaze appraising but not unkind. “It’s wonderful to see you again as well, dear. Our last encounter felt far too brief.”
“Are you familiar with Baroness Hartford, Lady Clapham?” Lady Valentino asked.
Lady Clapham nodded. “We’ve had the pleasure of meeting once before, yes. And if I’m not mistaken, my husband was acquainted with her father. How did you come to know her, if I might ask?”
The duchess placed a delicate hand on her husband’s arm, interjecting. “Oh, the Baroness has been quite the talk of Bridgespell lately. She assisted Ingomar with some rather important matters a few weeks ago, and we had the fortune of sharing conversation over a few pleasant meals. Isn’t that right, my dear?” she added, glancing at her husband.
“…Yes,” the duke almost muttered, eyeing Scarlett.
“How delightful,” Lady Withersworth said. “It seems everyone here is already acquainted. No need for the lofty introductions, then.”
Scarlett’s attention remained fixed on Duke Valentino, studying him intently. “I must confess, Your Grace,” she said. “I did not anticipate your presence here tonight.”
She knew that Bridgespell had been heavily impacted by the recent monster attacks, and reports suggested the incursions near the city were growing more intense by the day. Given the city’s precarious situation, not to mention that it was still dealing with the aftermath of the Citadel incident, Duke Valentino was likely one of the busiest nobles in the empire at the moment. Despite this, he had made time to attend this gathering where other notables like Duke Tyndall or Marquis Delmon hadn’t.
“Believe me when I say that I had little choice in the matter, Baroness,” the duke replied, his tone laced with annoyance. He considered her for a moment before shifting his gaze to Lady Withersworth. “So, Lila, the rumors of you taking on a new protégé were true after all.”
“Oh?” Lady Withersworth raised a hand to her mouth in feigned surprise. “Are those the rumors making the rounds?”
“Don’t pretend you had no hand in them,” the duke said, his fingers tightening around the head of his cane. “We both know you’re far more adept at manipulating the rumor mill than playing innocent. On that note, where is that husband of yours? I hear he’s been quite busy these past two weeks.”
Lady Withersworth clicked her tongue and waved one hand dismissively. “That lumbering oaf is skulking about somewhere, I’m sure. No doubt embroiled in some terribly ‘important’ business or other with his equally oafish cohorts.”
A slight frown creased Duke Valentino’s brow, deepening the lines on his face. “I see. There are several notable absences tonight, even among those one would have expected to attend.”
Lady Withersworth’s expression turned more serious. “Do you know something, perhaps?”
The man shook his head irritably, causing stray locks of his hair to fall across his forehead. “The Imperial Family has kept me in the dark about their plans for tonight.”
“Well, that is rather disconcerting,” Viscount Clapham said.
Scarlett listened to their conversation, considering the implications. It sounded as though something was going on, though she wasn’t sure what. It could be related to the political maneuvering Beldon had warned her about, with certain factions pushing for rather extreme policies. However, she doubted Lord Withersworth would be involved in most of that.
“No matter,” Duke Valentino finally said. “There is little we can do but wait at this point.” He turned his attention back to Scarlett. “As for you, Baroness, it seems you’ve been keeping yourself remarkably busy since causing a stir in my city. It is truly astounding how one young noble can find herself embroiled in so many predicaments. I hear you even managed to wrangle the Chancellery into sending you to the Rising Isle.”
Scarlett arched an eyebrow. “I was not aware my endeavours were of such interest to you, Your Grace.”
“Do not flatter yourself, Baroness,” he grumbled, shifting his weight on his cane. “I have acquaintances within the Chancellery who saw fit to inform me given our recent collaborations, that is all. Apparently, they have been rather…tied up in negotiations with the Isle’s wizards ever since your visit.”
Scarlett would certainly hope so. She wasn’t privy to the precise details of what the Chancellery had gained from her trip to the Rising Isle, but she doubted it was inconsequential. For her part, she was more concerned with the Isle’s council fulfilling their promises to her. Though she had cut negotiations short due to the empire’s current situation, they owed her a rather considerable debt now.
As long as they didn’t learn about her breaking into the Veiled Library, naturally.
“I feel somewhat out of my depth here,” Viscount Clapham remarked. “I wasn’t even aware the Baroness had paid a visit to the Rising Isle. What exactly were you doing there? If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”
Scarlett turned to him. “Not at all, Viscount. I was there on a diplomatic mission of sorts — a project to facilitate the exchange of knowledge pertaining to Zuverian mysteries and artifacts,” she explained. “Perhaps it is not common knowledge, but I have dedicated a significant portion of the past year researching these topics, and the scholars of the Rising Isle expressed a keen interest in my findings.”
The viscount’s eyebrows rose in slight surprise. “Why, I hadn’t heard about that whatsoever. Most impressive, I must say. If the opportunity should present itself, I’d be fascinated to hear more about your research.”
“I would also be interested in hearing more about this,” Lady Withersworth interjected, fixing Scarlett with a look that was equal parts curiosity and subtle reproach.
Scarlett met the older woman’s gaze, recognising the unspoken question in her eyes. She realised she hadn’t actually shared much about any of that with Lady Withersworth, and unlike some of her more public activities, Scarlett’s work with Zuverian ruins wasn’t as widely discussed outside of mage circles. She wondered if the woman saw this as a missed opportunity of some kind.
“This is not the venue for such a detailed discussion, but perhaps we can explore the subject more thoroughly when circumstances allow,” Scarlett said.
“Of course, my dear,” Lady Withersworth replied with a gracious nod. “Speaking of Zuverian research, it brings to mind talk of the first princess. I seem to recall she was quite famously passionate about the subject.”
Scarlett noticed Duke Valentino’s expression grow markedly more taut at this sudden shift in topic.
Lady Withersworth simply smiled at the man. “In fact, I’ve caught wind of some rather intriguing rumors on a similar theme. They suggest that the princess might have paid a visit to Bridgespell recently, ostensibly to investigate some ruins in the area. I don’t suppose there’s any truth to these whispers, Ingomar?”
The duke eyed the woman warily before casting a pointed glance at Scarlett, who maintained a carefully neutral expression. She hadn’t shared any information on the matter. As far as she was aware, the princess’ disappearance was still meant to be a closely guarded secret, let alone the young woman’s investigation of the Zuverian ruins near Bridgespell. If Lady Withersworth had somehow caught wind of this, it meant information had leaked from somewhere.
Were those actually the rumors circulating in the wider circles? Or did Lady Withersworth possess unique sources? Given that she was broaching the subject so openly, the former seemed more likely, but perhaps it was a combination of both. Judging from the current situation, it was clear that the woman was using her question as a subtle probe for additional information.
Whatever the case, Scarlett was determined not to be held responsible.
Duke Valentino leaned more heavily on his cane as he addressed Lady Withersworth. “I don’t know where you heard that, Lila, but I know nothing about it. Perhaps you would be better served spending less time indulging in idle gossip at your tea parties and more time consulting more reputable sources of information.”
Lady Withersworth responded with a light, musical chuckle. “Oh, come now, Ingomar. There is no need for such defensiveness. I assure you, I listen plenty to both. But perhaps you’re right. Let’s not dwell on weighty discussions here. We’ll have ample opportunity for that later in the evening.”
With her characteristic finesse, the woman steered the conversation back to lighter topics, easing Scarlett into the conversation where possible. It certainly helped that, this time, Scarlett was at least somewhat acquainted with half of the people present, even if the duke wasn’t her biggest fan.
Their talks continued for some time, touching on various subjects of nominal importance, until a noticeable increase in movement around the banquet hall caught their attention. More attendants began to filter into the room, signaling a shift in the evening’s proceedings.
“It would appear that we’re on the cusp of a change in venue,” Viscount Clapham observed.
Scarlett’s gaze swept across the room, noting the changing of the guard as Solar Knights took up new positions at the exits and entrances. Her attention was suddenly drawn to a familiar face entering the banquet hall, moving to stand guard next to one of the smaller exits.
It wasn’t Leon, but rather a woman with long copper-blonde hair tied up in a neat ponytail. She was clad in the distinctive black-gold armor of the Solar Knights, a sword hanging at her side. Dame…Trista, was it?
If Scarlett recalled correctly, the woman was both a friend and compatriot of Leon’s, as well as someone who harbored a strong dislike for the original Scarlett.
Engaging with her at this point probably wasn’t the best idea, but Scarlett did have a question she wanted answered.
“If you will excuse me for a moment,” Scarlett addressed Lady Withersworth and the group. Her abrupt departure earned her a few curious glances as she stepped away.
As she made her way across the bustling hall towards Dame Trista, the knight’s gaze locked onto her approaching figure. The expression on Trista’s face immediately darkened, her features tightening with unmistakable displeasure.
Honestly, Scarlett couldn’t blame her. She was the bride whose wedding Scarlett had inadvertently crashed that one time, after all.