"Gebel's wife? You? Then you must be the daughter of a high noble house that has managed its bloodline for a good several hundred years...... how is it possible to be ugly?"
"But what business brings you all the way to distant Deber to thrust that unsightly face before this prince? Surely it is not over the matter of Marquis Gebel. The lady of a marquis' house would hardly be so petty as to still be holding on to a past affair. Is that not right, Winter? Ah hahahaha!"
"If you have come to beg forgiveness, withdraw. Gebel may have committed a great crime against this prince, but I have no intention of punishing his wife as well. This prince is not petty enough to make one atone for another's crime."
The Ninth Prince Zion Riobelt. Violent words spat out just now by a being who deserved to die on a sword this instant.
"Kyaaaaaaaaah!"
Unable to expel all her rage through screaming alone, the marquess tore wildly at her hair.
The hair she had brushed up so neatly became a wild tangle reminiscent of a witch's.
"Butler! Mobilize the full capacity of the main house! I will most certainly see the Ninth Prince kneel and apologize!"
It was a decision made in the madness of rage and at the same time a coldly noble-minded choice.
House Gebel had risen vertically in a single stroke from a fallen noble house that could barely maintain a barony to the rank of marquis.
Unless the husband who had been that driving force regained consciousness, the Ninth Prince had to be thoroughly crushed.
If they failed to do so...... they would be devoured.
That was when it happened.
"Milady. An honored guest wishes to see you. He said you would know him if he was announced as Marquis Remiconin."
"Marquis Remiconin?"
In his younger days Gebel had spent long years in Deber and had once held a senior post in the Governor-General's Office.
There was no way she would not know House Remiconin, which occupied one corner of the Five Enemies Within the Palace.
"It has been a long time, madam."
A nobleman as though drawn in a painting offered an elegant greeting.
Though he had reached an age that must now be called old, he possessed the appearance of a man in his prime, and his attire was without a single thread out of place.
He was Marquis Remiconin, often called "the largest wing" in Deber.
"It is regrettable, but I heard the scream a moment ago and asked those below about the circumstances. I understand you were insulted by the Ninth Prince. What excellent timing."
"What did you say? Did I hear you correctly?"
Elegantly, and coldly.
Marquis Remiconin replied.
"You heard correctly. I mean that the probability of your accepting this Aleon Remiconin's proposal has risen a great deal, so it is fortunate."
The Five Enemies Within the Palace. The five thieves who sold the nation from inside the palace.
One of them looked upon the opportunity before him and let his eyes gleam.
"Let me first inform you that Governor-General's Aide Kishinian shares this Remiconin's intent, madam."
To grasp more, he could sell even his nation.
This time as well, Marquis Remiconin intended to sell what belonged to others and fatten his own belly.
"Are you aware that the Ninth Prince has not shown his face at the Governor-General's Office even once, though he has set foot on Deberian soil? His Excellency the Governor-General is much displeased. On top of that, he recently reduced two diligent, hardworking businessmen who were contributing to national development through their enterprises into utter ruin, all to fill his own greed......."
He was not called the worst trash in the Empire for nothing.
Quite literally, there could be no one in the whole of the Empire capable of greater thuggery.
"Do you wish to bring the Ninth Prince down, madam? The Governor-General's Office wishes to put the Ninth Prince in a state where he cannot run wild for at least a few months. It seems we could have a long talk together."
Having finished speaking, Marquis Remiconin drew up the corners of his mouth.
***
The method for gaining power quickly, the first.
Power comes from connections.
It was not for nothing that the upper class had come up with terms like social activity and high society.
Now it was time for Zion, too, to make his entry into society.
If only to secure a distribution route for the refrigerators that would go into full production before long.
"That Your Highness should wish to make his Deber social debut through our social club is an honor upon an honor. However, our social club is in many respects lacking...... among our many, many shortcomings is...... and thus we cannot presume to host Your Highness...... there are many other excellent clubs...... we beg your understanding and close here."
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Winter set letter after letter down in front of Zion, whose expression looked as though he had chewed something foul.
"Every club has expressed refusal. The contents are all much the same."
To blend into the upper class quickly and gain power, one had to engage in social activity.
Social activity meant, literally, socializing, making acquaintances, so it could not be done alone; one had to belong to a venue for socializing such as a club.
And if one is refused club membership?
Then naturally there is no social debut or anything else.
"We are ruined. What is the reason?"
He could not send word and ask.
Litania was a nation that died for face and lived for honor. An act that damaged one's own face was not permitted.
'So the status of a prince is not entirely without its drawbacks.'
The very reason the various clubs had been able to send refusals to a prince's letter in unison was his status.
Because although he was the one requesting membership, he could only write a letter along the lines of granting them the honor of hosting this prince.
Which made it possible for them to refuse under the guise of a humble decline, saying they were not worthy of receiving such an honor.
"There is no need to even ask the reason. It is ostracism."
When Winter said it calmly, Zion scowled hard.
"Ostracism? Of a prince?"
"To be precise, of the trash prince who received an unprecedented sentence of exile to the outer territory and devoured two hardworking businessmen the moment he arrived in Deber."
Hm. Put that way, there is nothing to say.
"They have all caught on. That exile and stripping a prince's title are not nearly enough to stop the worst trash in the Empire."
The powerful figures who had no need to fear him would not come near him in the first place out of distaste, and the small fry who did need to fear him knew their place and fled to a distance in advance.
That current had led to ostracism.
"The Seielia Social Club refused as well?"
Seiel's, no, Deber's largest venue for socializing.
That is, the center where all power gathered.
He found the Seielia Club's letter in the pile.
"A place too shabby for a prince to grace, so at the risk of discourtesy they refuse membership."
Unlike the other letters, this one used the word "refuse" directly.
That is, this letter was the sneer of Deber's finest social club offered to a prince.
"To come at me like this even though the club was founded by the previous Governor-General himself, they must plainly not want to take me. Is this to say that a scoundrel like me joining would lower their standing?"
"Who would dare think such a thing. There are other inconveniences and risks......."
He cut him off.
"No, no. I feel it. These bastards dare to regard me, the noblest of the Divine Race, as a being who lowers them?"
"......."
Winter gave up on speaking and shut his mouth.
He seemed to have understood that this was building a justification.
'If the drawback is that a prince's status prevents me from showing a strong desire to join, then I need only cover it with a greater advantage.'
"Let us go, Winter."
"Where to?"
"Where else. The club."
Surely they would not refuse to his face?
To a prince's face, no less.
If they dared to, then they would have to be made to pay the price for daring to do so.
"If you are refused there, you will suffer an irreversible wound to your honor. Will that be all right?"
Litania had a culture in which one absolutely had to retaliate when one's face and honor were damaged, or else take one's own life out of shame.
It was a nation where, even if a man did not wish to take his own life, those around him urged him to.
"What, are you worried?"
"Yes."
Hm. I did not expect him to concede so easily.
"I am worried about what sort of thuggery you will commit when you get there. Please, keep it within the bounds of what can be dealt with afterward."
It was a different worry.
At any rate.
"That will be difficult, I think. Because I intend to show them why this prince is called the worst trash in the Empire."
Zion grinned.
As the habit left in his body dictated, his mouth twisted.
***
A luxury airship bound for Deber. Small lights were visible far below.
"Is that Seiel?"
A distance far enough that a nation's capital looked like a small dot. And yet an altitude high enough that seeing it at all was still possible.
From here one could quite literally look down upon the world.
A privilege that even in the age of great magitech engineering only a very few could enjoy.
......It was a privilege that not even the Deputy Director of the Finance Administration Bureau, one of the ten most powerful figures in the Deber Colonial Governor-General's Office, could presume to enjoy.
'Were it not for those two, that is.'
When he turned his head, he saw a silver-white-haired young man and girl enjoying their tea time.
Siblings of striking appearance... no, an elven father and daughter.
'Just how vast is their fortune?'
Not a passenger liner but an airship. Even if you gathered the entire fortunes of three or four of Deber's leading businessmen, it would come to the price of a single ticket.
And yet the elf before him, Councilor Smarag of House Eldrich, had paid not only for his attendants but for the ticket of his escort, the Deputy Director himself.
Once again the Deputy Director felt the true face of the present age.
An age in which money someone could not earn in an entire lifetime was, quite literally, candy money to someone else.
'Well, that is why I, a man of real power in the Governor-General's Office, am volunteering as a former councilor's escort.'
His superiors had even warned him that if there were the slightest shortcoming in the protocol, they would not let it pass.
'Still, she is dreadfully beautiful.'
Councilor Smarag's daughter. Her name was Noxiluna Eldrich.
She wore the appearance of a girl, but an elf's age could not be discerned from looks, and rumor had it they sometimes shot up suddenly, so her actual age was unknowable.
Silver-white hair falling to her waist.
Abundant yet arranged without a single strand out of place, so that in the light it gleamed like cold metal.
Her skin had no trace of blood in it, yet rather than pale it gave a strong impression of snow on a snow-capped mountain.
Or perhaps it could be described as a marble statue, in which the absence of visible veins is only natural.
"Father. How much is left until Deber."
"Two more days, my daughter."
"I see."
Even her voice was exquisitely beautiful.
A timbre and intonation neither high nor low, neither slow nor fast, exactly pleasant to hear.
And at the same time full of a clarity that seemed to boast the vitality peculiar to elves.
Yet if there was one flaw.
'Emotionlessness like this is remarkable enough to be a curiosity.'
Noxiluna Eldrich was inhuman.
Not only in beauty, but as a person in herself.
A face beyond emotionless, into desolate.
Ice-colored eyes that blinked rarely, like glass beads, eyes it would be no wonder to find chilling when they met yours.
Well, someone would probably say that the gap between beauty and cold acted instead as a charm that heated a person up.
To put it in words, a chilling beauty.......
A chill!
Those dreadfully still eyes were fixed on him before he knew it.
"Why did you look at me with those eyes."
"Ahem, my lady."
"Why did you look at me with those eyes."
"That is...... my apologies."
"Why did you look at me with those eyes."
Noxiluna's head tilted slightly to one side.
"Deputy Director Rainic."
Councilor Smarag's quiet summons.
Feeling extreme tension, the Deputy Director clicked the heels of his shoes together and snapped to attention.
"It is a misunderstanding, Councilor!"
"I understand, so do not worry."
"......Pardon?"
"Losing one's wits at the sight of a beauty is a man's instinct. Hahaha."
The elven young man laughed cheerfully. There was not the slightest sense of reproach toward a middle-aged man harboring designs on his young daughter.
......In a different sense, this too was an inhuman attitude.
"I mean it, so do not worry. You are a 'human,' after all. I understand it all."
His daughter, too, would not take offense.
To be precise, she would be incapable of taking offense.
Smarag was confident that if his daughter expressed displeasure, he would leap for joy and scatter money in all directions.
Noxiluna's emotions were that precious.
"More to the point, now that Deber is drawing near, I find I want to confirm it once more."
The reason Smarag was heading for Deber with Noxiluna in tow.
It was because of the price the Empire's First Prince had offered.
Because if his daughter made her social debut treated as a princess in a nation's royal palace, it would become a very fine memory when she someday recovered her emotions.
Although the true purpose of the visit was a combination of official business and the management of private enterprises, the reason Deber had been chosen among several candidate destinations was clearly his daughter.
"Convey my thanks to the First Prince. Thanks to his suggestion that we visit Deber instead of the imperial capital, it seems we shall have a fine experience."
In truth, Smarag had intended to refuse the deal if a visit to the imperial capital had been the condition.
Since the Imperial family were an insufferable lot who dared call themselves the Divine Race.
Moreover, there was one more reason it absolutely had to be Deber.
"Keep it in mind. The party for our daughter must be prepared most splendidly!"
Smarag took Noxiluna's hand and laughed heartily.
'Daughter. It is soon. Soon you will get it back. Because in Deber we shall meet that bastard Zion.'
That bastard Zion had better keep his promise.
If he did not wish to die.