Chapter 42: The Banquet

In noble society, socializing was an important event that couldn’t be skipped.

Especially for nobles of marriageable age, though they didn’t wield swords, it was no less than a battlefield.

If modern youth work hard to build résumés, acquire various certifications, and gain competitive advantages for employment, this era’s noble youth staked their lives on the marriage market and threw themselves into social events. The noble class was small to begin with, and those of comparable status were even fewer.

Wealthy nobles, nobles with high titles, and nobles holding office had it relatively easy, but for the middling nobility below them, banquets were opportunities to showcase themselves.

When attractive premium prospects—heirs or their equivalents—appeared, the competition began: graceful as swans on the surface, fiercely kicking each other beneath the water. Such was the stark reality of noble society hidden beneath its glamour.

That was why they staked their lives on marriage even at the cost of lowering their status—out of desperation to continue the family line. The family was a noble’s foundation, and this was an era where the family’s honor was the noble’s honor. So preserving the family itself was a noble’s most important duty.

While high-ranking nobles’ heirs had political marriages arranged with relative ease, the rest were driven into cutthroat competition. Truthfully, I hadn’t realized noble society’s marriage problem was this severe. It wasn’t an era where concubines were tolerated; whoever claimed the prize first was the winner.

In that sense, I—invited to Court Count Mainhof’s banquet alongside Bertheim—had not a single noble lady approaching me, let alone any premium prospects. There was just one shady old man chuckling and savoring his wine.

He’d said some odd things, so I checked with the Manager Scouter, but this old man was definitely currently unemployed. I didn’t discover any peculiarities—a blind spot of the Manager Scouter. It only judged based on current status, so I couldn’t know who this person had been in the past.

Very suspicious, but just an ordinary old man with no special abilities or anything noteworthy.

Anyway, I was also of marriageable age and should have been thinking about marriage, but since the person inside was a man in his mid-thirties, I felt an ethical dissonance about taking a fifteen-to-eighteen-year-old girl as a wife. Even if my appearance was fifteen, the mind within was in its thirties, so naturally I couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

But this was an era where family was everything, so I had an obligation to somehow continue the Streit bloodline and had to set those feelings aside. So I adjusted my age criteria toward older candidates. Bertheim clicked his tongue, seeing no ladies approach me.

"Tsk tsk tsk, the ladies can’t recognize the phoenix and keep chasing after chickens."

"I haven’t made a name for myself yet, and I’m a lowly hereditary knight, so isn’t it only natural they don’t notice me?"

"Well, that’s true. That’s exactly why you need a proper stage, isn’t it?"

Why were both the crown prince and this old man so eager to set up a stage for me? I’d take care of my own stage, so please don’t go stirring up unnecessary trouble. Since the most important guest, the crown prince, hadn’t arrived yet, I just quietly drank my wine.

But then an attractively short-haired girl approached us. Through her flashy dress, I could tell she was a high-ranking noble lady. Yet I felt like I’d seen her somewhere before. Where had it been? She smiled brightly and said to Bertheim:

"I didn’t think you’d come to such a dull place, Marquis."

"That’s my line. For you, who loathes banquets, to attend—what a surprise."

"Haa, my family made such a fuss about me attending that I had no choice but to come."

"I see. Have you been well, Hilda? The last time was at your birthday three years ago, wasn’t it?"

"I’m glad you look healthy. I haven’t been well—Mother’s been tormenting me."

They chatted warmly like grandparent and grandchild, but I was suddenly left standing there like a forgotten sack of barley. Yet the girl kept glancing my way. I couldn’t tell whether this was the right moment to introduce myself or whether I should wait for Bertheim to do it.

This girl had a liveliness you couldn’t sense from other ladies, and above all, she was strikingly pretty. She smelled wonderful, too. Was that rose? But the more I looked, the more I felt I’d met her before. Had I encountered such a noble lady somewhere?

"Oh my, I was so happy to see you that I forgot introductions. Sir Streit, this young lady is the youngest of the War Minister’s family, Brünhilt von Steiner."

...The War Minister’s family?

"I’m Wolfgang von Streit. It’s an honor to meet you, Fräulein."

"Nice to meet you, Sir Streit. Please call me Hilda."

Asking to be called by her nickname at a first meeting.

Fräulein Steiner was neither shy nor, surprisingly, a pretentious girl. She seemed about my age, or perhaps a bit older. Seeing her wine-colored hair cut to a comfortable length, she struck me as someone who enjoyed staying active.

But she was the youngest daughter of the War Minister’s family.

An incredibly elevated position in noble society.

Even Mainhof, who was hosting this banquet, held the title of court count, but it was only nominally equivalent—utterly incomparable to the Steiner court count family, which had served as War Ministers for generations. And if I hadn’t come with Bertheim, I was a lower noble who couldn’t even have gained entry.

Hilda looked back and forth between me and Bertheim and said, clearly amused:

"This is the first time I’ve seen a young knight at the Marquis’s side. Quite the unusual pairing."

"I wanted to introduce him as my grandson, but I’m holding back for fear of the late Sir Streit scolding me from the grave. That’s how much I expect from this fine young noble," Bertheim replied.

"Oh my, really? For the notoriously stingy Marquis to give such high praise. Hmm."

Having suddenly taken an interest in me, Hilda began examining me from every angle. Like a frog before a snake, I couldn’t move. She looked at me with smiling eyes, and for a moment they seemed to hold an allure that made this old soul’s heart skip a beat.

Then her gaze fixed on my left cheek.

This was a scar from fighting the Rose Knight.

A scar that would disappear later if I had the chance to use medical services.

"What story does that scar tell? It doesn’t look ordinary."

"This scar is from fighting a knight. A fierce battle."

"You’ve seen real combat, then. Did you also participate in a war?"

"I haven’t been knighted yet, so I couldn’t answer the duchy’s knight mobilization order."

Unfortunately, I hadn’t fought in a war yet. Most of my kills were slum organization members, and the only knight-level opponents I’d faced were Frost and Klugen. But Hilda showed considerable interest in my combat experience—not a subject that typically interested ladies.

Was she drawn to this because she was the War Minister’s daughter?

Honestly, I was flustered by the unexpected topic.

Bertheim had abandoned me while savoring his wine, as if he’d known this would happen.

Hey, old man. A little help here?

Hilda asked me all sorts of questions, and I answered as sincerely as I could. Setting aside whether she favored me, my conversation partner was a high-ranking noble lady far above my station. Rather than making a poor impression now and paying for it later, it was better to put in the effort up front.

Hilda apologized, realizing she’d made me uncomfortable.

"Sorry, Sir Streit. I was rude."

"It’s fine, Fräulein. Please don’t worry about it."

"Then ask me questions instead. I’ll allow it."

She urged me to ask with bright, expectant eyes, making me break into a cold sweat.

As a lifelong bachelor, I didn’t know how to talk to women very well.

So I just decided to ask straightforwardly.

"You seem to like staying active, Fräulein. Is that why you keep your hair short?"

"That’s right. You’re fairly observant, aren’t you? I don’t like being cooped up quietly at home. I like dipping my feet in the lake at the villa and racing horses across the fields."

"Wonderful pastimes. I enjoy staying active as well. I train daily to keep my skills sharp. I haven’t acquired a war horse yet, but I’d love to have a horse race with you someday, Fräulein."

Originally I hadn’t been the active type, but daily training had become addictive, and I’d become the sort of person who grew restless after missing even a single day. Maybe that was why I felt drawn to active women.

But Hilda, whom I’d taken a liking to, was a flower on a cliff far out of reach, and to make her my legitimate wife, I’d need to be at least a lord knight. Regrettable, but unavoidable.

Then the banquet hall suddenly grew very noisy.

"It seems the crown prince has arrived. All the ladies have rushed to the entrance."

"If they keep that up, someone’s going to fall... oh dear."

"The lady who fell is Court Baron Leobrante’s daughter."

"The kind crown prince personally helped her up."

"She fell on purpose. His Highness is too kind."

She’d fallen on purpose to get his attention?

No wonder Vermeer, standing behind him, looked somewhat displeased. Eisenach and the guardsmen blocked the ladies and nobles from getting too close, escorting the crown prince through. It was like watching an idol’s entourage fend off fans.

Come to think of it, the crown prince was still unmarried. If a lady could become crown princess, it would mean tremendous social elevation, so the behavior wasn’t incomprehensible—but wouldn’t such an obvious ploy backfire?

"Who’s that person greeting His Highness?"

"Count Mainhof."

I hadn’t known who the host of this banquet and the owner of this magnificent mansion was, but thanks to Hilda, I finally could put a face to the name. Hmm, so that was the bold one who’d insulted the Grand Duke? Count Mainhof cut a rather gaunt figure; he seemed to have suffered greatly.

Welcoming the crown prince joyfully, he guided him to a seat with an empty chair beside it. Whose seat was that? I was curious, and Hilda answered right away, somehow already knowing:

"That must be Lady Mainhof’s seat. A good chance to catch the crown prince’s eye, don’t you think?"

"Even the highborn suffer in all sorts of ways, being put upon like that."

"It’s Fran’s lot in life. Enduring it is part of the crown prince’s duties. Oh, Fran is a nickname."

They were close enough to call the crown prince by a nickname? Well, if she was the War Minister’s daughter, she’d naturally have connections with the royal family. But hearing her use a nickname for him bothered me somehow. Hilda began pointing out the attendees one by one while people-watching—who they were, what sort of people they were.

Was she being this kind because she’d taken a liking to me at first meeting?

Then Vermeer spotted Hilda and approached.

"Lady Hilda. I didn’t expect to see you at this banquet."

"Hi, Leo. Enjoying yourself? Found any lady you fancy?"

"No. But the person beside you... Sir Streit?"

Vermeer seemed quite surprised, clearly finding it unexpected to see someone at Hilda’s side. Hilda was equally curious that Vermeer knew me. So I briefly explained how I’d met the crown prince through Bertheim’s introduction.

Hilda was taken aback to hear I might become the crown prince’s close associate, since it wasn’t a position given to just anyone.

"Perhaps Sir Streit might become a more important figure than I first thought."

"I’m not without ambition, but I’m always cautious, wary of other nobles’ jealousy."

"If you’re a close associate who appeared out of nowhere, there will certainly be jealous nobles. That’s why you need to actively cultivate allies and learn to act in concert with them."

That was exactly what I’d been thinking. I needed to build connections solid enough that rival factions couldn’t meddle with me carelessly—that was how I’d protect myself. Right now I was safe enough as a lowly hereditary knight, but the closer I got to power, the proportionally greater the danger.

So I wanted to secure allies before being targeted by hostile nobles as the crown prince’s newly designated close associate. First, Marquis Bertheim. This old man presented himself as a retired elder content to stay behind the scenes, but he was certainly no ordinary person.

Above all, the connections he’d cultivated over his many years as a court noble were formidable. Though it was risky in that I couldn’t read his intentions at all, my reason for trying to stay close to Bertheim lay in precisely those advantages.

I had no other connections yet. If I could grow close to Hilda, I could add the War Minister’s family to my network. Of course, that was impossible given my current status. So, regrettably, maintaining friendly relations was the best I could manage for now.