Chapter 33

Iberin smiled brightly, and the butler quickly curved his own mouth into a sly grin and let out a low chuckle.

The organization had been wrecked, but Lyssel didn't kill — so its members had to be alive somewhere.

Of course, the plan wasn't to help the organization rebuild itself. The plan was to put them to work, strictly unpaid.

---

"Really, nothing at all?"

"…No. They actually had the gall to say they couldn't do this kind of work anymore."

But no matter how long they waited, all the men brought back were stories of Roto Civelli's good deeds.

And they said:

The marquis is a man held in deep admiration by the common people. We tailed him because we were afraid of Lecashe, but we're done with it.

There was less to show for it than she'd hoped.

It seemed Roto Civelli kept his public image meticulously polished.

When even back-alley thugs were defending him, there wasn't much to latch onto.

She'd been sure that a man who'd clawed his way up to marquis through dirty methods had to be doing dirty things now, too.

"Then again, if his tail could be caught just by tailing him, someone would've caught it ages ago."

"…You're not wrong."

"What to do…"

Iberin rubbed at her chin, thinking.

She'd stayed behind in the capital, so she meant to do something with the time.

"…I'd been thinking about building some connections."

"Connections?"

"Yeah. When am I going to be in the capital again? I figured I'd use the chance to plant some eyes and ears."

"How?"

"By using the people who are curious about Lecashe."

"…But."

"There might be a bit of friction, but I don't mind. Of course, I have no intention of clinging to a friendship that has to be forced."

In any case, the emperor hadn't put any restrictions on what Iberin could do.

"Should I look into it?"

"Yes. My body's in better shape now than it was."

Still not good enough to head back to the territory, mind you.

But she wasn't completely confined either.

"Heh."

One way or another, Iberin wanted to hand the emperor a real fuck-you.

---

A noble's party hall.

Inside, a woman snapped her fan open with a look of keen interest and opened with the question of whether they'd heard the news.

"Heard what news?"

Was another scandal brewing? The ever-curious nobles all leaned in to listen.

The woman opened her mouth.

"Grand Duchess Lecashe is still in the capital."

"Really? Why?"

"You all know Lecashe filed suit against the Gelta nobles, don't you?"

"A commoner, maybe — but is there a noble who doesn't know that?"

"Honestly, I'm curious what the trial would have looked like. I'd have liked to lay eyes on the Grand Duke at least once."

"Oh my, how brave."

"Ohoho, rumor has it he's astonishingly ugly!"

"The people at the temple said he looked like a monster!"

Whenever Lecashe came up as a topic, the rumors never ran out.

The noblewomen rattled off everything they'd heard, one piece at a time.

That was when the woman who'd started it all snapped her fan shut and let out a small laugh.

"I happen to know something even more interesting."

A smile full of confidence.

The noblewomen's eyes lit up.

What on earth could it be, to make her speak like that?

"Don't keep us in suspense, out with it."

An impatient noble pressed her, and her smile only deepened.

"Grand Duchess Lecashe is looking for a companion."

"…What?"

"She calls it a companion, but isn't it really that she's curious about the capital?"

"True, the daughter of some obscure viscount no one's even heard of, coming up to the capital…"

"Her rank is Grand Duchess now."

"…I'd be curious to see what she's like, I'll admit."

There were plenty of rumors about the Grand Duke Lecashe.

But no one knew which of them were actually true.

Maybe meeting the Grand Duchess would even turn up something genuinely entertaining.

What the nobles feared was the Grand Duke himself, not his wife.

"How does one become her companion?"

The chatty noblewomen pressed in, interested.

It didn't matter to them if the Grand Duchess turned out to be naive or vicious.

Either way, she'd make excellent prey.

---

As one might expect, Pons was the one who'd put the rumor out.

He'd lived in the capital a long time and knew plenty of people, so seeding something like this was nothing to him.

Before long, party invitations came flooding in.

Since Iberin wasn't hosting one herself, the curious parties were reaching out first.

"The reaction's softer than I expected, though. I figured I'd be shunned as a cursed thing."

"Lecashe has been in seclusion for so long that the curiosity is naturally enormous, but more importantly, there's been no recorded case of the curse spreading apart from the Grand Duchess."

"Ah."

"They'll have weighed that to some extent before sending the invitations."

"Right. More importantly, out of the ones who sent invitations, who's the best bet?"

"Countess Megan would be your safest choice. I've heard she's gentle by nature, a peacemaker. I've done some preliminary research right here."

Pons really was a tremendous help.

She took the folder he held out and read through it.

It listed what the countess liked, her sore spots that mustn't be touched, even her general disposition.

"When did you put this together?"

"I'm an always-prepared butler, after all."

Pons smiled, plenty pleased with himself, and Iberin let out a small laugh and gave him a thumbs-up.

"Good. Then send Countess Megan a reply."

"Understood. If your condition takes a turn for the worse, please tell me immediately."

"Of course."

The party was a week out.

All she could do was hope her body wouldn't give out in the meantime.

---

Over the week, Iberin had a dress in the latest capital fashion made and ordered a matching jewelry set.

She was, in her own way, properly outfitted for it.

Her condition was holding steady, but pushing past two hours would send up warning flags.

That was why she'd given Countess Megan advance notice that she wouldn't be able to stay at the party past that point.

"Why's everyone so on edge?"

"Because we're worried about you, my lady!"

"What am I, a child?"

"You're not a child, but we're still worried. What if you collapse?"

"Don't worry. The second I feel off, I'll come right home."

When the Lecashe father and son were around, she'd always been surrounded by them, but staying alone at the estate had brought her closer to the staff.

The Iberin they'd come to know was a mistress who was easy to serve.

So much so that they questioned whether masters like her even existed.

Maybe that was why the staff were even more excited than Iberin about her first party.

She had to be dressed up prettier and more lavishly than anyone else.

"As warm as possible without being too hot. This dress is thin, so pack a few thicker shawls. Light on the makeup. The shoes — you've prepared the low-heeled ones, yes?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good."

The biggest fusser of the lot was the butler himself.

Iberin pressed a hand to her forehead and let out a short laugh of disbelief.

In any case, after all that, Iberin's preparations were complete and she arrived at the Megan estate.

---

"Thank you for coming. I'm Pitani Coel Megan."

The moment she stepped into the hall, Countess Megan greeted her warmly.

But aside from the hostess herself, no one approached Iberin's side.

She'd expected a certain amount of feeling-out, so the chill didn't throw her.

"I'm Iberin Sherburn Lecashe. Thank you for the invitation."

"I hope you have a lovely time."

True to the butler's recommendation, Countess Megan had a pleasant air about her.

"Will you come this way and make introductions?"

She followed the countess's gesture and found a small group sneaking glances at her.

There was less hostility than she'd expected.

The introductions went smoothly enough.

Since this was a small tea party, the attendees weren't all that numerous to begin with.

"The tea is especially good today."

The conversation opened gently.

The atmosphere was warmer than Iberin had braced for, and the tea party turned out very much to her taste.

It seemed not just Countess Megan but the women in her close circle all shared a similar temperament.

"Lady Iberin, is there a tea you prefer?"

"I'm fond of simal-flower tea."

She'd looked into tea parties before coming.

Nobles, she'd heard, were generally devoted to tea and their conversations centered on it, so she'd done her homework.

She'd tried simal-flower tea for the first time yesterday, while studying.

"My family has a simal-flower farm. When the next harvest comes in, I'll send some over. Simal-flower tea is wonderful chilled in summer."

"…If you'd send some, I'd be very grateful."

"Would you like to come visit our home sometime?"

So sudden?

It wasn't unwelcome, but the abruptness of the invitation did fluster her.

Countess Megan must have caught it, because she stepped in.

"Viscountess Hamilton has a deep knowledge of tea. The moment tea comes up, she gets like this."

"Ah, I see."

"Yes. She owns a sprawling field at her villa on the outskirts of the capital, and a visit would be well worth your while."

"Ah, hearing that does make me curious. If you'd invite me, I'd gladly come."

After that, the atmosphere stayed pleasant and easy.

Iberin found herself thinking she'd somehow made good friends, and she slipped comfortably into their conversations, smiling.

But then —

Beyond the garden where the tea party was being held, a small commotion broke out.

Countess Megan's brow furrowed slightly as she excused herself and rose, but before she could move, a servant rushed in and whispered to her.

For a moment the countess's brow knit even deeper, but she quickly smoothed her face into a smile and said,

"It seems we have an unexpected guest."

"Pardon?"

"She wasn't invited, but she insists on joining us. Marquise Emily Balkan Civelli. Does everyone mind?"

Civelli?

Iberin's eyes flew open.

But a glance around showed everyone shaking their heads with thoroughly displeased expressions.

"…There's not much we can do, if she's already here."

The look on Viscountess Hamilton's face was unmistakably one of distaste, but she'd offered the opening of it can't be helped, and one by one the others reluctantly fell in line.

A marquise was the highest-ranking among them.

Of course, dropping in uninvited was rude, but the Civelli marquisate was the house most deeply in the emperor's favor right now, and they couldn't exactly snub her.

"Show her in."

In the end, the countess gave the word, and not long after, the marquise made her appearance.