Chapter 137. Banquet (2)
I silently surveyed the hall.
Waiters with silver trays wove through white tables, food being set out, the atmosphere growing lively.
The special banquet doubling as a social event was true.
Attendees weren’t just seated—many stood, chatting freely, confirming it.
Groups with notable figures were swarmed, hard to approach.
From my seat, I could see the unexpectedly vibrant scene.
My assigned seat was near the terrace, on the second floor’s lowest tier.
Coincidentally, I wasn’t alone at this low-tier table.
“Hm, as expected, we’re both at the bottom?”
Ariadne Elsyde.
Assigned next to me, she muttered in her languid tone, leaning back.
A seventh-rank direct descendant, above my ninth rank and Dionil’s eighth. Yet her relaxed demeanor belied her status.
I replied briefly.
“Result of the family’s merit calculations.”
“Well, our achievements pale compared to others here.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“For you, the exemption mission was personal, so it doesn’t count as family merit. Only joint and nomination mission results count, and as a first-time attendee, you’re courteously placed at the bottom.”
Her detailed knowledge of my exploits nearly made me comment, but I held back. Ignorance would be stranger.
Ariadne pointed to herself, adding.
“Same for me. Just minor dispatch missions. There’s a reason we’re both here.”
Smiling lazily, she drained her wine glass. Watching her silently, I found it quite a spectacle.
Her refilled glasses numbered seven or eight.
No snacks, nearly a bottle. Yet she kept drinking.
“Phew, sweet wine.”
Smiling contentedly, she swirled her glass, the liquid sloshing.
Tipping her head back, she gulped it down, her cheeks flushing as she pressed a hand to them, grinning.
“Ha, expensive wine’s the best~”
“…”
“No missions, no funds. A direct descendant’s measly stipend can’t buy good wine. Mess hall wine’s awful, but banquets nail this.”
As I narrowed my eyes at her tension-free complaints, she turned, offering her glass.
“Too tense? Want some wine?”
“No, thanks.”
“Right, not of age yet? Soda?”
“I’ll get what I need. Waiters are around.”
“You’re missing out not eating here. Way better than mess hall or kitchen food.”
Her gesture made me glance around.
The mood was heated, with wine and drinks served, lavish dishes displayed on trays.
Attendees’ approaches varied.
Some sat to eat, others in suits or dresses leaned on tables, chatting casually.
Despite being a banquet, as Lien said, it prioritized mingling over formal dining.
The high-society vibe was palpable, a new facet of the Main House.
One relief: as the banquet began, the crowd shielded me from excessive attention.
A good thing. With Ariadne beside me, I had questions.
‘She seemed to know the old Enoch.’
Lien said she didn’t know much about Enoch before thirteen. If true, Ariadne, a direct descendant, might know something.
I came here for two reasons.
One was to find someone who knew Enoch’s past.
Clear on my goal but wary of direct questions seeming odd, I eased into conversation.
“You complained about no mission funds, but being here means high merit, right?”
“Oh, I lucked into a good dispatch near Victoria Kazimieśi. Was getting risky.”
“Risky?”
She nodded repeatedly.
“You know? No mission results, and everyone nags. There’s an unspoken quota.”
“Guess so.”
“Even if I hate missions, not meeting the quota gets family complaints. So, smart me had an idea.”
She tapped her wine glass, the liquid rippling with a clear chime.
“Laze in my room, take easy missions to meet the quota. Like now.”
“…”
“I hate hassle, and I’m content, so no need to overdo missions~”
I shook my head slightly.
“Pretty half-hearted.”
“That’s the thing. Hard work needs a world that rewards it, right? Moderation’s best. No losses.”
Her words made Elsyde’s future seem dazzlingly grim. Unfazed, she grinned languidly, glass in hand.
“Moderation’s unbeatable.”
Her flushed cheeks suggested low tolerance, prompting my dry remark.
“You say moderation, but you’re already drunk?”
“Of course, drink moderately. But my sole follower family nags, so when else can I indulge? Right, Pyra?”
Smiling at the woman behind her, I glanced back.
A young woman, fists clenched, trembled with anger.
“Lady Ariadne, even at the banquet… restrain yourself!”
“Don’t yell, Pyra, you’re always so harsh…”
“Who else would I be harsh with?!”
I sighed softly.
Despite her laziness, Ariadne was in the original story.
Hoping her mild nature would yield info, she proved useless.
Unfazed, she raised her glass, grinning.
“Anyway, Enoch, if you’re not after the head’s seat, drinking and chilling’s nice. Oh, do you like wine?”
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t covet the head’s position, but I had tasks.
To prepare for the future, I needed to use time efficiently.
I wouldn’t abandon my direct descendant role, the fastest route to empire events and mission assignments.
“Enoch, ignoring your sister? That’s sad.”
Ariadne drooped her shoulders. I’d zoned out, unintentionally snubbing her. She smiled lightly.
“Well, your cold streak hasn’t changed. I didn’t know you well, but I remember that vibe.”
Intrigued, I asked.
“You said it’s the first time since I was thirteen. Before that?”
Sipping wine, she nodded.
“Duh. After you were confined, I didn’t see you. But you haven’t changed much.”
Not changed much?
Her words made me tilt my head. She knew the old Enoch a bit, but something felt off.
I glanced back.
Lien stood poised, hands clasped over her maid outfit.
How did she know Enoch had changed?
Was it because she was always by his side, or was Ariadne just oblivious?
Shelving unanswerable questions, I pressed.
“How did I seem back then?”
“Hm? Well…”
Ariadne groaned, face contorting as if struggling to recall, then slumped.
“Sorry, can’t remember well. I only saw you from afar. You avoided getting close to anyone.”
“Avoided?”
“Yeah. You couldn’t, given your position, but that’s all I know. You were cute but super cold.”
Couldn’t get close. Guessing her meaning, I lowered my head slightly.
Perhaps Enoch had already sensed he wasn’t a mage.
Not precise info, but it sketched his past. A decent gain.
Cold, though? What did that mean?
“Are direct descendants not close?”
Half-curious, I asked.
The original barely detailed direct descendant relations, portraying them as strangers.
Swallowing wine, Ariadne replied wearily.
“Hm, not great or bad, mostly. Varies. For you, it’s different, though.”
“How?”
“You know? Even before you were labeled a non-mage, there were issues…”
Thud.
Mid-sentence, she slammed her head on the table. Dishes rattled with a dull sound.
I watched impassively as she giggled, forehead on the table, looking up.
“Wow, everything’s spinning. Wine’s kicking in.”
Just when I thought she’d share something useful, she was hopeless.
“Ugh, Lady Ariadne! You can’t handle wine, so why…!”
Her follower, Pyra, scolded, propping her up. Ariadne snapped to, looking at me.
“Oh, right. There’s news you should know.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“Not for others, but you need to hear.”
“What?”
“During my mission, I got a connection. Info from there…”
Struggling up, she asked.
“Pyra, can you tell him?”
Pyra nodded, looking at me seriously.
“It’s about your battle with Tantalus, a Vendetta officer, where you won and killed him. True?”
“Yes. What’s the issue?”
I nodded. Pyra pulled photos from her pocket.
“We found these during our mission, and they seem related.”
Several white photos landed on the table.
They showed something eerily familiar. My eyes sharpened instantly.
“Humanoid magical beasts?”
“Yes. They match descriptions in past family operation logs…”
As I opened my mouth, a loud noise erupted from the hall.
“Enoch, is Enoch here?!”