“Lady Saint, I am Simon, a knight of the Earl of Charleston.
You may call me Sir Simon.
It is an honor to…”
“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Saint!
I hail from the esteemed House of Liame in the East…”
As the assertive knights gathered around Lina introducing themselves, she began to drift away, transfixed by the glamorous sight of the dance floor as the music began.
There, Rouche and Seria were engaged in the first dance.
The breathtaking beauty of the grand ballroom, suffused with the sweet melody of the music, drew gasps all around.
Most of the guests had now halted their conversations and were staring at dancing hosts.
Whispers fluttered around the room, but all eyes were firmly fixed on the dance floor.
“Sir…” Lina murmured to Baron Aison, who was standing at her side.
“Why is it only the archduke and Seria who are dancing?
Is it because they are the hosts?
Could I do the same if I were to host a ball of my own?”
“You see,” Baron Aison smiled at his pupil.
“The archduke commands a high rank, as is decreed by imperial law.
For several generations, the Archdukes of Berk have held a rank equal to that of the royalty.”
As an archducal house of strategic location, House Berk had been granted permission to maintain a sizable private army in order to protect the empire from the evil residing within the glacier.
This privilege had been passed down through successive generations, securing their high rank.
As such, the Archduke of Berk was entitled to the special honorific, “Your Highness,” as his given rank elevated him to a royal status.
“What about Callis and I?” Lina asked.
“Yes… Well, while you, my Lady Saint, are indeed a remarkable person, the empire has drawn strict lines between the nobility and the royalty.”
The royal family of the Giroux Empire had always been relatively generous in bestowing titles of nobility.
They did not simply hand out lavish titles for free, but heroes returning from war were often awarded the rank of earl, as a way of reflecting the empire’s good will.
Given the empire’s vast territory and large population, such generosity was feasible.
Such good graces, however, were only used to create earldoms, and no more powerful rank.
On top of that, the chance of an earl being promoted to a marquis was incredibly slim.
The separation of those ranks formed an unspoken line of demarcation.
For those of held earldoms or lower, venturing into the realm of royal bloodlines was as rare as finding a needle in a field of haystacks.
Even if a gentleman or lady from the lower ranks gained particularly favorable attention in society and then managed to marry into the royal family or earn military honors, it was rare for them to ascend to the royal court.
Besides, the royals tended to choose spouses only from marquisates or higher.
‘It is possible,’ Lina thought to herself, ‘that even I, the Lady Saint, could be awarded the rank of countess.
After all, His Imperial Majesty must be extremely pleased with the sudden appearance of a saint in his lands.’
According to the customs of the Giroux Empire, any rank higher than that would be difficult for Lina.
Unless she happened to marry into the royal family.
“The royal family…” Lina murmured.
While Lina was staring vacantly at Rouche, a group of noblewomen approached her.
These particular women came from a locale in the vicinity of House Hanneton’s dominion.
As they were closely connected with House Hanneton, they were often referred to as the Ladies of Hanneton.
“Lady Mathieu!” Lina greeted the woman at the head of the group.
Lina had spent several days with Callis, so she had managed to build a rapport with the Ladies of Hanneton.
But, to her confusion, the ladies glared at her with blatantly distaste.
The woman Lina had greeted, the Countess of Mathieu, was the most influential among them, effectively their leader.
And it was she who was the first to speak.
“Lady Saint, we did not expect to see you here.”
“No…?
But I received an invitation.”
“Oh dear,” another lady commented.
“Are you yet so unfamiliar with social etiquette?”
“I’m sorry…?”
The ladies exchanged glances.
“The hostess of this ball is Her Grace, the Archduchess of Berk,” the Countess of Mathieu explained.
“Given the circumstances of… well, you know… Do you not think it may have been wise to have returned the invitation?”
“Without a doubt,” another lady agreed.
“I should say so,” said another.
Lina could think of no advantage that might come from agreeing with the Ladies of Hanneton.
She gritted her teeth.
“No.”
“Excuse me?” the countess asked.
“I said, no.
My tutor, Baron Aison, told me that in order to become the true Archduchess of Berk, one needs the permission of the royal family.
So, Seria is still Lady Seria Sterne.
Therefore, it is not at all right for you to judge me so harshly.”
“Judge you harshly?” one of the ladies feigned shock at the accusation.
“Us?
Treating the Lady Saint poorly?”
“Yes,” said Lina, staring at them.
“What you are saying to me is immoral.”
Together, the ladies released a noise that sounded like a collective sigh.
‘Here comes trouble,’ thought Baron Aison.
He was watching the interaction closely, struggling to keep himself from stepping in.
Lina learned quickly.
However, she lacked the experience needed to fully grasp and handle confrontations of this sort, especially in a society as subtle and complex as this.
Someone with a solid understanding of these social norms would strive to avoid such unpleasant situations.
She would unquestioningly play the role of a guest by maintaining exquisite etiquette, even if it stabbed her ego like a knife.
Such was the accepted and graceful way of carrying oneself.
Lina might have handled it this way if, as Baron Aison had anticipated, she had been able to study for a few more uninterrupted months.
Then she would have made her society debut in the capital with ease, and she could have avoided such an ugly scene as this.
But the milk had already been spilled.
Moreover, these ladies seemed to have a high opinion of Seria Sterne, who was supposed to have married into the Marquisate of Hanneton.
So, although they were not the hosts of this party, they were being unduly hard on Lina.
“My Lady Saint,” one of the ladies looked at Lina.
“Are you preaching morality to us?”
“You should not speak of such things so flippantly,” added another.
Lina’s face turned pale at the allusion to Seria’s ruined wedding.
She clenched her fists.
“Lady Saint,” Baron Aison finally stepped forward, “perhaps we should be on our way…”
Lina ignored her tutor and focused her glare on the Ladies of Hanneton.
“Would your husbands approve of the way you are speaking to me?
And how about Callis?”
At this, the women shrank back.
Their mouths were sealed shut.
Their expressions stiffened to cold malice.
Baron Aison turned away, unable to bear the sight of their hateful, offended grimaces.
His pupil had chosen the course of action.
‘If only Lady Seria Sterne were friends with the Lady Saint,’ thought Baron Aison.
‘Then perhaps she could have intervened to save the Saint from her own poor choices.’
Seria Sterne, a woman as dangerous as a viper.
She would never give in to such insults, even in the capital’s ruthless social circles.
Her frigidly malevolent yet beautiful eyes could make almost anyone back down without a fight.
And the rumors of her cunning tricks were endless.
Just as Baron Aison was entertaining the futility of such wishes, he heard a familiar voice behind him.
“What is this all about?”
Baron Aison and Lina both turned around as if they’d been granted a last-minute reprieve.
“Callis!” Lina called out.
Lina ran to Callis and hid behind him, leaning her forehead against his back.
Callis glanced back at Lina and then stared at the group of women.
The Ladies of Hanneton stood helpless before the lord of their domain, bowing their heads nervously.
“Lord Hanneton,” they greeted.
Baron Aison quickly came forward.
“The ladies were having a chat with the Lady Saint…”
“A chat?” Callis asked skeptically.
“Yes, a chat.
Nothing at all out of the ordinary.”
It would indeed be fortunate if things could blow over so smoothly.
But things did not pan out as Baron Aison had hoped.
That’s because they could all hear the muffled sniffling issuing from just behind Callis.
“Lina…?” Callis asked.
Baron Aison very nearly clasped his hand over Lina’s mouth.
But it wouldn’t have mattered.
Lina was still shedding tears.
“I would like to ask the ladies myself.” Callis looked at the women, a scowl scrunching his features.
“Well?
What exactly was being said before I arrived?
Have you all gathered together just to torment the Lady Saint?”
The Countess of Mathieu slowly bowed her head.
With Lina crying, this matter would not be easily overlooked, as both she and Baron Aison had hoped.
“It seems,” began the countess, “that our frank words may have upset the Lady Saint.”
“When one steps beyond certain bounds, it is no longer frankness, but rudeness.” Callis glared at them.
“Be more mindful of your words, and to whom you choose to say them.”
“Yes, my lord, I understand,” responded the countess.
Their faces may well have been carved from ice, so cold and stony were their expressions.
In the upper ranks of society, indifference was a greater blow than even envy or jealousy.
And so, this was their rebuttal––to treat the Lady Saint as if she were non-existent by cruelly withdrawing any curiosity or warm feelings they may have developed for the Saint.
Their eyes would contain no warmth when next they fell on her.
When they finally retreated, Lina lifted her head.
“Callis…” she whispered.
Callis let out a weary sigh, to which Lina flinched.
“Lady Saint?” said Baron Aison.
“Your dress is wrinkled.
Perhaps you would like to go and smooth it…”
“What’s that?
Oh, yes, yes…” Lina agreed, still flustered.
A maid led Lina to a lounge where she could rest for a few minutes, calming herself and fixing her dress.
Baron Aison took the opportunity to speak with Callis.
“That was not the smartest move,” the Baron warned.
“You have upset those ladies.
You know very well that the management of House Hanneton’s dominion is overseen by a cooperative of several houses.”
“I know,” Callis deflected.
“But she was crying.”
“That is so,” Baron Aison conceded.
“When we return home,” Callis said, “I shall have some gold and silver distributed amongst them.
I imagine even the trek home will be exhausting with things the way they are…”
Callis was a dignified marquis and not unaware of societal norms.
If Lina had not burst into tears, he could have ignored the entire scene and played by the unspoken rules of society.
That would certainly have led to a better outcome for all.
However, he could not have simply ignored the Saint, weeping as she cowered behind him for protection.
His solution had only made the dilemma worse, and however the situation might unfold from here, it did not bode well.
‘Since those ladies are partial towards Lady Seria Sterne,’ Baron Aison sighed, ‘we can certainly expect more trouble from this.’
* * *
“Marquis Callis Hanneton really did that…?” I asked, rocked by what I’d just heard.
“He did, Lady Sterne,” the woman assured me.
“He scolded the Ladies of Hanneton.
Right in front of everybody!”
“Thank you for telling me, Lady Ashlyn.”
“Oh, my pleasure…”
The number of people amongst the nobility who thrived on gossip was shocking.
The spreading of rumors seemed to give them bonus credits, adding to their reputations in the saloons of high society.
And before I came along, Seria Sterne had been no exception.
When I married Rouche, the quantity of such loose-mouthed nobles seemed to increase overnight.
Rumors spread faster than they ever did when I still resided in the capital.
In return for privately telling me what had occurred while Rouche and I took the first dance, I later called Lady Ashlyn forth, bestowing her with the advantage of being singled out by her host (doing my best to honor the particulars of social etiquette).
When she walked away, her face was glowing with satisfaction.
But I was left frowning.
The Ladies of Hanneton were very close to Lina in the novel.
In the part where Lina officially debuted in the capital and subsequently received an invitation from Callis to visit the domain of Hanneton, they got along extremely well.
I never saw this coming.
It seemed that there was a good reason why Baron Aison’s complexion had grown several shades paler.
I waved off the women vying for my audience, claiming fatigue from a morning visit to the glacier.
I tried to hide my face, swollen from hours of lengthy conversation with scores of guests.
Surely, some of them had already noticed.
But what could I do about it?
I leaned against the west wall, sipping from a bubbling flute of champagne.
Across from me, on the opposite end of the grand hall, stood Callis.
He was watching me.