Night fell over Valebrand, and with it came the main event of Oathday.
The registrations were finished. Every major house recognized by the Crown had answered the summons, House Clairmont included, despite the fact that there were families in that very castle who now commanded more land, more soldiers, and probably more money than Adrien did.
But Clairmont was Clairmont. The name carried too much history for the Crown to simply lift it out of its place. Before Alaric’s fall, the house had held enough land and enough swords that it had come dangerously close to matching the Crown on its own.
Which brought Adrien back to the same question he had been asking since he inherited the memories of this body.
’Why did Alaric surrender?’
Alaric had been arrested, judged and executed without House Clairmont ever truly resisting. A man with his resources should have been able to make the kingdom bleed badly before anyone put him on an execution block. Instead he had gone quietly, and Adrien had no idea why.
’Nothing I can do about that tonight. Whatever happened is already done. I’ll find the answers when I have enough pieces to start asking the right questions.’
For now, he had a different problem.
The ballroom was enormous. Long tables of food ran the length of both walls while servants moved through the guests with trays of champagne, wine, and things Adrien could not identify. Mana chandeliers hung high overhead and laid warm light across the marble, and an orchestra was tuning at the far end.
This was technically a celebration. In reality it was nobles doing business while pretending to celebrate.
People came to Oathday to meet families they wanted something from, repair relationships they had damaged, build new ones, arrange marriages, sign agreements, and quietly work out who had grown stronger or weaker since the last gathering.
Adrien understood that kind of event perfectly. He also wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.
Unfortunately, the rest of the ballroom had other ideas.
"Lord Clairmont."
He had barely moved ten steps from the entrance before a middle-aged noble intercepted him with a daughter on his arm.
"My lord." Adrien gave him the polite amount of attention.
"I don’t believe you’ve met my daughter, Celene."
The young woman smiled at him with considerably more interest than anybody had shown the old Adrien in years. "A pleasure, Lord Clairmont."
"The pleasure is mine."
Her father’s smile widened. "We heard about your awakening. An SSS talent at eighteen. Quite extraordinary, I must say."
’Oh. I see where this is going.’
Adrien had discovered very quickly that almost every conversation tonight had an invisible destination, and most people were terrible at hiding where they wanted to go.
"It was a surprise."
"I imagine so." The man laughed. "Absolute Mana Sense, wasn’t it? I’d be fascinated to hear exactly what it can do."
Adrien looked at him for a moment. "It lets me sense mana very clearly."
"Of course, of course. But how clearly?"
"Clearly enough that people become uncomfortable when I explain it."
The man’s smile weakened. Celene covered a laugh with the edge of her glass.
"Enjoy the evening," Adrien said, and escaped before the father decided whether he wanted the answer badly enough to ask again.
He made it another twelve steps.
"Lord Clairmont."
’Fuck.’
The next one wanted to know about Greymoor, and he was polite about it. Very polite, actually. He asked after the farms, the state of the roads, and whether the recent redistribution of Clairmont territory had affected trade through the valley.
Adrien listened until the question stopped pretending to be something else.
"Are you asking whether Greymoor is profitable," he said, "or whether it would be worth buying if House Clairmont disappeared?"
The noble stared at him. "Lord Clairmont, I certainly didn’t mean..."
"Good. We’re both relieved, in that case."
Adrien smiled and moved on, and that one avoided him for the next twenty minutes. Unfortunately, three more replaced him.
A young woman wanted to know whether Adrien enjoyed Valebrand. Her mother wanted to know whether he intended to spend more time in the capital now that he was head of his house. Another lord wanted to discuss the remarkable rarity of SSS talents while looking at Adrien like a man pricing a horse.
The strange part was that he could scare one away and two others would arrive to replace him.
’Wonderful. Half of them think I’m the son of a traitor and the other half are trying to decide whether an SSS talent makes me worth ignoring that.’
The women were hardly more subtle.
Being the useless Clairmont had apparently made him invisible for years, and being the new head of House Clairmont with an SSS talent had corrected that problem with almost insulting speed. A brunette from a baronial family touched his arm three times during a conversation that lasted under two minutes. Another young noblewoman managed to mention that she was not engaged before Adrien had learned her surname.
He was beginning to understand why Ariane found nobles irritating.
’Evelyne told me to be careful around enemies. She forgot to warn me about unmarried daughters.’
Adrien finally reached a quieter stretch of wall near one of the pillars and took a glass off a passing tray, purely so that his hands had something to do. He had not even tasted it when the room changed.
Conversations died one after another. He followed everyone else’s attention toward the wide staircase built into the centre of the far wall.
The royal family was descending.
King Osric Valleroy came first, a man of about sixty-two with silver-blond hair cut short, a strong nose, and the heavy frame of somebody who had once been broader than he was now. Absolute Mana Sense put him around Four Stars.
One of his wives walked at his side in dark red, carrying herself with the ease of a woman who had spent decades having rooms turn toward her. The second followed a step behind in pale blue.
Aldric Valleroy came down after them, handsome and thoroughly aware of it, his blond hair and trimmed beard arranged with the same care as clothes designed to make people look. Five Stars underneath the polished public smile.
Charlotte Valleroy walked beside him, dark-haired and immaculate, beautiful in a colder way than Margaret, her eyes moving through the ballroom as though every conversation in it were already part of a calculation. Four Stars, although Adrien doubted her Core was the dangerous part of her.
Aurelian was there as well, dressed more simply than most of the nobles below him, and Adrien’s attention held on him half a second longer than on anybody else.
’Still don’t trust you.’
Margaret appeared last, and Adrien almost failed to recognize her.
The woman he had seen earlier that day had been sweating through training clothes with her golden hair tied out of the way while she threw lightning around an empty room.
This Margaret wore pale gold that caught the light whenever she moved, fitted close through the waist before falling in soft layers to the floor. Fine threads woven through the fabric picked up the mana from the chandeliers in small flashes, and her hair had been arranged over one shoulder instead of pinned back for a fight.
Adrien looked for a second longer than he meant to.
’Okay.’
She had been beautiful earlier. This was unfair.
Margaret happened to glance across the ballroom at almost exactly that moment, and their eyes met. Adrien lifted his glass an inch. The corner of her mouth moved before she turned her attention back to the room.
King Osric reached the bottom of the staircase and waited until the last conversations died away.
"Welcome to Valebrand."
His voice carried through the ballroom without needing to become a shout.
"Your houses have answered the Crown’s call, as they have for generations. Tonight, set business aside where you can, remember it where you must, and enjoy what our kingdom has built together. Eat, drink, speak freely, and enjoy the evening."
Glasses rose around the hall. The orchestra started a few moments later, and Oathday properly began.
Adrien did not move from where he was standing.
’Good. I’ve registered. I’m present. The Crown has seen my face. As far as obligations go, I’ve done my part.’
Now he only had to avoid everybody until it became socially acceptable to leave.
That plan survived perhaps three minutes.
Another noble approached him, and another behind that one, and Adrien crossed the ballroom twice trying to lose them and somehow collected more people with each attempt.
Eventually, while pretending to be deeply interested in a tray of small pastries, he looked across the room and discovered that somebody else was suffering considerably worse.
Margaret had been surrounded.
Five young nobles stood within a few steps of her, with more waiting close enough that their intentions were obvious. One finished speaking, bowed, and another moved into the gap before she had drawn breath.
Adrien watched her give the same perfect royal smile for what had to be the twentieth time that evening. A man offered his hand and she politely declined. Another appeared under a minute later.
’Ah.’
Adrien looked behind himself, where two people were bearing down on him, and back at Margaret.
Their eyes met again. She looked at the men around her, and at the pair approaching him, and Adrien understood immediately.
Apparently, so did she.
He abandoned the pastry tray and crossed the ballroom.
"Princess Margaret."
The man currently speaking to her turned, visibly unhappy about the interruption. Margaret looked considerably less unhappy.
"Lord Clairmont."
Adrien offered his hand. "Would you like to dance?"
There was half a second in which her eyes moved past him toward the nobles waiting their turn. She put her hand in his.
"I’d love to."
He could practically feel the resentment behind him as they walked toward the floor.
’Excellent. Now they can bother each other.’
Classical music filled the ballroom as more couples joined around them. Adrien put one hand where the memories told him it should be, Margaret took the other, and she started moving.
He followed.
Fortunately, the old Adrien had been born into one of the greatest noble houses in the kingdom. Coreless or otherwise, people had spent years forcing etiquette into that head, and the body remembered enough.
Margaret guided them through the first turn and looked at him with mild surprise. "I didn’t know you were such a good dancer."
Adrien considered that. "Neither did I, honestly."
"That’s reassuring."
"It should be. I’m learning a lot about myself this week."
She took them through another turn, and he adjusted quickly enough that he stopped having to think about where his feet were.
For a while neither of them said anything important, which was surprisingly pleasant. The ballroom moved around them, hundreds of conversations layered under the music, and the dance gave them one of the few socially acceptable ways to stand in the middle of the room without anybody interrupting.
Margaret’s expression changed slightly.
"Lord Clairmont."
"Hm?"
"Be careful with Aurelian."
Adrien’s attention narrowed, although he kept moving with the dance. "Would it trouble you to be a little more specific, my lady?"
Margaret gave him a look. "Just Margaret, please."
"Alright." He turned with her as the music shifted. "Then call me Adrien as well."
"Adrien."
"That’s much better." He gave her a small smile. "Now, is there something wrong with your brother?"
Margaret was quiet for a few steps. "Nothing I can explain to you in one dance."
"That’s reassuring."
"I’m serious." She lowered her voice. "Just be careful with him. Aurelian rarely does anything without a reason. If he approached you earlier, he wanted something, even if you don’t know what it is yet."
Adrien kept his expression where it was. Inside, he almost laughed.
’So I’m not paranoid after all. Apparently my instincts about people still work.’
He glanced across the ballroom. Aurelian was talking to an older noble near the royal tables, relaxed enough that nothing about him looked particularly threatening, which somehow made Adrien trust him even less.
"Thanks for the warning."
Margaret nodded.
The music began winding down shortly afterward. Adrien guided the final movement this time, and when they came to a stop she took her hand from his.
"You improved."
"During one dance?"
"You stopped counting."
Adrien blinked. "You noticed that?"
"Immediately."
"That’s rude."
Margaret laughed again, and that was when Adrien felt someone approaching.
His smile faded by a fraction as Absolute Mana Sense spread outward.
The ballroom came back crowded with mana. Several Four Stars. Five Stars scattered through the room. Six Stars or better that announced themselves the moment he paid attention, and further off, the deeper pressure of people whose power made his own One Star Core feel very young.
The person coming toward him was none of them.
’Two Stars, and I know exactly who this is.’
He turned before the man spoke. Léon Arquenay was already smiling.
"Princess Margaret." He bowed to her first. "Lord Clairmont."
Adrien gave him considerably less ceremony. "Léon."
Something moved behind Léon’s eyes at being addressed that casually, and he recovered quickly.
"I have to admit, Adrien, you’re having a better evening than I expected."
"Are you keeping track?"
"I noticed."
"You’ve been watching me?"
Margaret’s lips twitched. Léon’s smile tightened.
"Don’t flatter yourself."
"I wasn’t. I was getting concerned."
Margaret made a small sound beside him and covered it by lifting her glass, and Adrien saw the exact moment Léon realized she was laughing at him. His jaw hardened.
"I see awakening a single SSS talent has done wonders for your confidence."
Adrien nodded thoughtfully. "It might have."
"Funny. Last time we spoke, you could barely stand through your own father’s funeral."
Margaret’s expression cooled. Adrien’s did not.
"And last time we spoke, you spent five minutes explaining how useless my talent was." He looked him over. "I’m starting to think you make bad predictions."
Margaret laughed properly this time.
Léon’s face changed, and he stepped closer. "You think because a plate gave you three letters, you’re suddenly somebody different?"
"No. I think I’m different because you keep coming over to remind me."
A few people nearby had begun listening. Margaret lowered her glass, making no effort whatsoever to help Léon recover, which only made him angrier.
"You’re One Star."
Adrien’s eyes narrowed very slightly. So Léon knew.
"Correct."
"I’ve been Two Stars since before you could even touch mana."
"Congratulations."
Léon stared at him. Adrien waited.
"That’s it?"
"What else do you want? A speech?"
Margaret turned her face away, but her shoulders moved.
Léon’s hand went to the white glove at his wrist, and Adrien noticed.
’Oh, don’t.’
Léon pulled it free.
’He’s going to.’
The glove hit the marble between them.
Conversations around them began dying immediately. Margaret looked down at it, and Adrien did the same, before looking back up at Léon.
"A duel," Léon said. "Unless that SSS talent only works when there’s nobody in front of you."
’And I told Mother not to worry.’
The thought arrived with such perfect timing that Adrien almost sighed.
People were already gathering. The open space around them widened as nobles stepped back, and the movement pulled more attention out of the ballroom.
A royal official in a dark formal coat arrived before either of them could continue.
"Lord Arquenay."
Léon did not take his eyes off Adrien.
The official looked between them, and at the glove on the floor. "A formal challenge issued during Oathday may be recognized by the Crown. Both parties must consent. Lord Clairmont is under no obligation to accept, and refusal carries no penalty under Crown law."
Adrien nodded. "Perfect."
Léon’s smile returned.
"I refuse," Adrien said.
Margaret laughed. Several people around them did too, more quietly.
Léon stopped moving entirely. "You refuse?"
"That’s what he just said I could do."
"Afraid?"
Adrien shook his head. "Not particularly. I don’t see why I should let you waste my evening for free."
That earned another laugh from Margaret. Léon looked at her, and back at Adrien.
He had come over expecting to embarrass the useless Clairmont in front of a princess, and instead the princess was laughing at him. Adrien could practically watch the decision happen.
"Fine."
Léon reached behind him and mana condensed in his hand as though drawn out of the surrounding air. From that gathering, a staff formed in an instant, as if it had always been there and reality had only now caught up.
Adrien’s attention changed immediately.
It was a beautiful piece of work. Dark polished wood running into a silver setting near the top, with a pale crystal held between curved metal arms. More importantly, Absolute Mana Sense could feel what was inside it.
A lot of mana.
’Oh?’
Léon held the staff out where Adrien could see it. "My casting staff."
The people around them went quieter.
"If you beat me, it’s yours."
Adrien looked at it again. He could feel the structured mana running through the wood, stable and dense in a way that nothing else in that ballroom was.
Now that was interesting.
Margaret caught the change in his face. "Adrien."
He lifted one finger toward Léon without looking away from the staff. "One second."
When he finally looked back up, he was smiling. "You should have started with that."
Léon’s mouth twisted into something satisfied. "So you accept?"
Adrien looked down at the glove on the floor.
A One Star mage who had awakened days ago, against a Two Star noble who had been training for years. Around them, more people were arriving to watch.
He bent down and picked it up.
He straightened. "I accept."
The royal official stepped between them before Léon could say anything else. "The challenge is recognized. The wager is recorded. Both parties will follow Crown duel law, and the match ends on surrender, incapacity, or the ruling of the officiant."
The ballroom had almost completely stopped pretending there was anything more interesting happening anywhere in it. Adrien could feel eyes from every direction.
Léon looked delighted. Margaret looked considerably more interested than worried. And somewhere beyond the growing circle of nobles, several much stronger presences turned their attention toward him.
He rolled the glove once in his hand.
’And I really did tell Mother everything would be fine.’
Apparently, he had lied.
...
AN: Add the novel to collections and send support if like it ;) Wanted to write both things in this Chapter: the result is a long ahh Chapter.