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By the Grace of the Gods (LN) - Volume 11 - Chapter 18




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Chapter 7, Episode 38: At the Ball

A week passed after Eliaria and her parents met King Erias in his quarters. The king was hosting a grand ball in the largest room of the palace. The ballroom was split into six different levels, the highest level occupied by the king and the royal family, the dukes and their families below them, then the marquis’ families below them, then the counts, viscounts, and barons. It was customary for those of lower rank to arrive earlier, although everyone was expected to be there before the official commencement of the ball.

Most attendees had arrived by now and were waiting for the ball to start. They had already begun conversing with each other, commencing the verbal jousting that was ever prevalent in noble gatherings... The noble children who started the academy this year, however, were the real stars of this particular ball. With the expectation to become integral members of the government, they were gathered here (whether they knew it or not) to be celebrated and accessed. With many of the noble parents watching over their children like hawks, some out of genuine concern and others to ensure immaculate etiquette, and others already sussing out potential matches for their children to marry, the ballroom was filled with a peculiar tension. If Ryoma had been there, he would have described it as a terribly intimidating parent observation day at school.

Another child and their parents arrived at the ball. A bell announced their entrance, drawing the attention of the participants. After a beat, an attendant by the entrance declared, “Announcing the duke Reinhart Jamil, the duchess Elise Jamil, and Lady Eliaria Jamil!”

Because of how the ballroom was structured, the family was in full view of the crowd, but they moved breezily and elegantly. Each of their outfits was accented by large pearls. Their appearance and poise caused some murmuring among the other participants.

“The Jamils are on a whole different level from us.”

“Lady Eliaria just started at the academy this year. Look how confidently she walks.”

“That’s Duke Jamil? He’s so handsome... Unlike father.”

“Look at Duchess Elise in her crimson dress, and Lady Eliaria’s brilliant blue... They’re both gorgeous. And that jewelry.”

“Duke Reinhart’s lapel, and the ladies’ earrings all have such large pearls... The Jamils are spectacular as always.”

“Their clothes are, of course, excellently made, but they are tastefully reserved enough to make the pearls pop and keep the look classy overall. Such a refreshing sight compared to the tacky, new money nobles down there.”

“I want those earrings too, father.”

“One of those? Do you know how much even one pearl costs...?”

“Any woman would be interested in pearls as beautiful as those. Don’t you agree, dear?”

“Just call for the jeweler tomorrow and get one.”

“Don’t you understand what those pearls are worth?”

“It’s just a jewel. They’ll have it at the store.”

Voices rippled behind the Jamils as they elegantly passed the parted crowd.

The ball was set up as a buffet, and the participants were allowed to roam and mingle, but no one spoke to the Jamils at the moment. Unwritten etiquette prevented anyone from directly speaking to those of a higher status. If someone wanted to converse with those of higher rank, they had to wait until they were spoken to, or ask for someone with a closer relationship to introduce them. Stopping them mid-entrance was out of the question.

The Jamils reached their designated position without interruptions, and began greeting the nobles they knew, starting with other dukes and duchesses and working their way down.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. Are you Count Bernard?”

“Duke. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Please be at ease. I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Bernard searched his memory for any reason to be thanked by the duke, but none came to mind.

“I also need to thank your friends... Is Count Sandrick in attendance today?”

“I haven’t seen the count tonight... He must have much on his mind, lately.”

“Oh, yes. I’m sure he’s quite busy at the moment. How about the viscounts Fargatton, Danielton, and Anatoma? Are they down there?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I see... Well, I have quite a few thanks to give. Are you sure you don’t know what I’m thanking you for?”

Bernard, of course, realized that Reinhart was not here to give genuine thanks. The duke continued pressuring the count with a beaming smile.

“How strange. It’s been a great help that so many people have been sent from your land when our new city quarters are in construction. I’m talking about a few hundred people. You haven’t noticed that large of a population leaving?”

Reinhart hadn’t raised his voice in the slightest. But the duke had walked his way down to the counts just to talk to Bernard. This left those around them, simply rather curious or waiting to sneak in an introduction to the duke, hanging on every word of their conversation. This led to an outburst of hushed murmurs.

“What is he talking about? Hundreds of people?”

“That’s like an entire village. Even for farmers going out for day labor, that’s too many.”

“If they were sent to aid the duke, there’s nothing wrong with the emigration... But the count says he knows nothing about it. What does this mean, runaway citizens?”

“The fact that the count didn’t notice is a bigger problem than their reason for leaving. How did he not know? How is he managing his territory?”

“If they fled his land, then why? I hadn’t heard of any issues with the count’s finances or treatment of the people... Maybe things aren’t as they seem, under the surface.”

The speculation of the crowd was only worsened for Bernard by them hearing bits and pieces of Reinhart’s statements. Some nobles who were overhearing had begun piecing things together.

“He must be feigning ignorance because he knows everything.”

“What would be the point of doing that?”

“He must have considered it worse to admit he knew.”

“Oh? Do you know something we don’t?”

“It’s something I heard the other day... Remember the rumor that Gimul was becoming less safe?”

“Yes... I don’t fault Duke Reinhart too much, as he’s still young.”

“Rumor has it, other houses orchestrated the crime in the city. Something about multiple houses plotting against him, discarding the troublesome residents of their cities in Gimul. I even heard they hired members of the underground guilds.”

“My! Come to think of it, the stories about Gimul sounded like someone was spreading them on purpose.”

“Underground guilds... How dreadful. But that’s why the count...”

A new speculation rippled through the crowd of nobles, and people began to tactfully distance themselves from Bernard. No one wanted to align themselves with a noble that antagonized the duke for fear of Reinhart retaliating. Noticing his growing isolation, Bernard struggled to find a way out under a mask of calm pleasantry.

“Well, tonight’s a party,” said Reinhart. “Let’s save this discussion for another time. Excuse me.”

In a split second, shock, joy, and mockery for Reinhart whirled in Bernard’s mind. “Thank you for taking your time to speak with me.” The count bowed deeply, having regained some calmness on the inside to match his exterior that did not betray a shred of the tumultuous undertones of their exchange.

Reinhart continued to make his rounds, his wife and daughter in tow.

“Count Fatoma. It’s been too long.”


“Oh! How wonderful to see you, Duke Jamil.”

“This brings me back to our school days. I’d love to introduce you to my wife and daughter.”

“I would be honored!”

“Wonderful. Elia, this is Count Fatoma, an upperclassman from my academy days.”

“Porco Fatoma. It’s a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle.”

“Eliaria Jamil. The pleasure is all mine. My father has told me much about you.”

After some small talk with Fatoma, Elia gestured to a pair of families.

“Mother, do you see over there?”

“Oh? Yes, let’s join them.”

“Excuse me. Count Wildan, Baron Clifford... And your families, I presume.”

They met up with Michelle and Riela’s parents.

“Duke Jamil! Thank you for sparing your time for someone like me.”

“Please, Baron. No need to be too formal. Your daughters have been very kind to mine, I hear.”

“My daughter Riela is lucky to have Lady Eliaria as her classmate.”

“The same goes for my daughter Michelle. I was worried about her eccentricities, but she tells me that Lady Eliaria has helped her get along with the rest of her class as well.”

“I owe you both my thanks. I hear your daughters are both excellent students, and I hope our daughters can continue their friendship. Same for us parents, of course.”

“Thank you,” the count and baron said in unison.

Once the parents were through with their greetings, every family member was formally introduced to each other before they engaged in small talk.

After some time, the ball officially began, announced by a few rings of a bell by an attendant in the corner of the room. This prompted the nobles, including the Jamils, to return to their respective areas of the ballroom. After waiting for the participants to take their places, the attendant kneeled by the bell. On his cue, the participants followed suit, facing the royal family’s section.

From the corner of the highest area of the ballroom, the king and queen entered from a door hidden behind a thick curtain, walking with dignity and their arms interlocked.

They took their seats and the king announced, “Raise your heads.” The participants obliged, still kneeling. “From the bottom of my heart, I am joyful that another year has passed in peace, and that I am able to meet the young men and women who are the future of the country. That’s enough of the formalities. I don’t wish to bore the young among you...nor myself. Let us drink and be merry. Raise your glasses!” At this command, drinks were dispersed. After every participant seemed to have a glass in hand, the king declared. “To the bright future of our great nation and the young spirits who will lead it!”

The guests raised their glasses and drank from them, officially commencing the ball; it had begun.

“Let’s go, Elia.”

“Yes, father.”

The Jamils returned their glasses to a server’s tray and headed directly towards the king and queen. Of course, their every step drew the attention of nearby guests. Even the less observant among them noticed the pearl necklace hanging on the queen’s neck. They were already aware that the Jamils all wore pearl jewelry. The suspicions of the ladies who showed interest in the pearls (and their husbands and fathers by proxy) were confirmed by the queen’s thanks directed to the duke. This single interaction guaranteed that nobles would come crawling to the Jamils for those pearls. In exchange, they would further expand their influence.

There were some nobles who disliked that outcome: Count Bernard, for example. The moment he averted his eyes from the interaction that showed clear closeness between the royal couple and Reinhart, Bernard spotted the viscounts Fargatton and Danielton. The two other lords who had sent their residents to Gimul were whispering to each other, faces drained of color. The count suspected they were all thinking the same thing.

“Viscount Fargatton. Viscount Danielton.”

“C-Count Bernard!”

“Thank you for—”

“There’s no time for pleasantries. You were discussing the matter at hand?”

“Uh, well, not entirely unrelated, I suppose...”

Bernard’s irritation grew at Danielton muddling his words, but he couldn’t raise his voice during a ball. Bernard repeated himself in hushed frustration.

Fargatton answered instead. “Everyone is discussing our ill repute tonight.”

“Who do you mean by our?”

“We who are involved in the matter at hand, Count.”

Bernard listened to the whispers all around them.

“Have you heard? Viscount Fargatton isn’t as faithful as he seems.”

“Speaking of debt, I hear Viscount Danielton is up to his neck in it.”

“My son is a tax collector, and he told me Baron Reefled has avoided his fair share.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that Viscount Sergil uses his power and money to engage in all sorts of debauchery.”

“I was told Count Sandrick has a trading company he treats very well.”

“And Baron Geromon spends his nights in the red-light district.”

All Bernard could hear were whispers tarnishing the reputation of the members of the conspiracy, including himself. Upon a closer listen, he could hear everything from the most minuscule secret they hid out of embarrassment to the details of their most sinister illegal activities.

“What is happening? You haven’t heard from him?”

“Not a word. But it seems certain that someone is spreading our secrets.”

“Even then, the rumors are starting everywhere... Like they’re competing to slander us.”

Bernard stood aghast as he realized his predicament. The nobles racing to smear their names was strange in itself, but it was stranger yet to hear them do it so openly. Nobles usually conversed in subtext, composing their speech as vaguely as possible to avoid being held responsible for claims. Of course, the vagueness varied on a case-by-case basis. Ordinarily, speaking ill of another noble family in a public setting like this could be taken as slanderous. Even if the rumors were true, it wouldn’t bode well for the noble who dared to voice their opinion directly.

There was an exception to this rule; the atmosphere of the ball told Bernard that this was an exceptional circumstance. When a house was caught in a scandal, it was fair game to openly insult them. Even if the comment were drastic, the worst that could happen was a slap on the wrist. There was an unspoken rule where scandalous nobles lost their privilege to be respected. And once a noble’s name was smeared, they were powerless. They would survive the scandal physically, but their noble pride would not. He felt the color drain from his face, knowing he would never prosper in high society.

Bernard could not deny that he and his compatriots were being treated as the walking dead of high society. The other nobles looked at them differently. Duke Jamil had orchestrated it all. Without realizing, they had been trapped in a sinking cage.

Bernard’s hands had begun to shake when the king spoke and excitement rippled through the ball. The count had not heard the king speak, but quickly caught on as the crowd reverberated: “The king gave his stamp of approval for the pearls given to him by Duke Jamil.” This would further increase the value of any pearl handled by the duke, and with it his influence in the country.

Count Bernard stood hopeless. He was ready to forsake all pretense and do everything it took to protect what sliver of reputation he could scavenge. The only tactic that came to mind was to grovel at the feet of every noble and beg their forgiveness. Pathetic excuses rushed through his mind. Finally, the count absentmindedly looked up from the ground, and happened to meet the eyes of the duke.

Reinhart was smiling at him. No words were exchanged, but Bernard understood well that the duke had foregone persecuting him earlier because he was already mated.

Throughout the ball, Count Bernard could be found standing as still and quiet as a statue. He spoke to no one, and no one spoke to him.

Later, the scandals of the count and his compatriots were officially brought to light, briefly amusing high society with talks of revocation, but that was all. Soon, none of them ever even broached the topic of conversation among nobles.



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