A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Heart Kingdom]

[Pulchritudo]

[Banquet]

Gretel was beginning to regret agreeing to come to the banquet.

The regret had not arrived all at once. It seemed to accumulate gradually, built from one small irritation after another until she could no longer ignore the uncomfortable thought that she probably should have known better before ever agreeing to come here.

She had expected an opportunity to investigate the Duke’s estate, perhaps learn something useful, maybe even discover where the supposed artifact was being kept. Instead, she had spent what felt like an eternity standing around wealthy nobles who smiled too much, praised everything they saw, and laughed whenever the Duke said something that barely qualified as a joke.

Now she found herself in an even more uncomfortable position.

The young girl suppressed a sigh as she glanced to the side.

She was seated on the luxurious white couch with the portly Duke occupying the center, while Ella sat on the opposite side. The cushions beneath Gretel were soft enough that she could feel herself sinking slightly into them, but the comfort did little to ease the irritation building behind her eyes.

Ella, at least, did not appear nearly as bothered.

The raven-haired girl sat with her dainty arms folded comfortably across her chest, one leg crossed over the other. Her posture was relaxed to the point of seeming almost careless. She barely spared the Duke a glance, instead looking off toward the side of the room as though something considerably more interesting might suddenly appear if she waited long enough.

Gretel stared at her for a moment.

("At least one of us doesn’t really care.")

The thought came dryly.

At the very least, Bluebeard had not yet attempted to put his hands on either of them the way he had so casually rested them upon the backsides of his servant girls earlier. Gretel had noticed that much almost immediately after sitting down.

That did not mean she was comfortable.

The Duke’s hands remained where they belonged, but his eyes were another matter entirely.

There was still that lecherous quality in his gaze whenever it settled upon them. He did not seem particularly subtle about it, either. His attention lingered for just long enough to make his intentions obvious.

Gretel disliked it; she disliked even more that she had to sit there and tolerate it for the sake of their objective.

Most of the nobles who had previously surrounded the Duke had gradually thinned out. They had evidently realized that Bluebeard’s attention had shifted almost entirely toward the two unfamiliar young women seated beside him, and there was little point in continuing to compete for it.

They had not gone particularly far.

Several remained standing nearby, exchanging remarks and occasionally throwing curious glances in Gretel and Ella’s direction. None seemed willing to approach while the Duke was occupied with them, but their interest remained obvious.

The two servant girls who had previously been seated beside Bluebeard had also remained nearby. They now stood behind the couch, their expressions carefully maintained, though Gretel could still catch the sharpness in their eyes whenever they looked toward her and Ella.

They were not pleased.

Gretel could hardly blame them.

Their positions had effectively been taken from them, and the resentment was difficult to miss.

Still, Gretel decided not to acknowledge it.

There was no reason to create another problem when she already had enough to deal with. Instead, her silver eyes shifted toward the figure standing before them.

Trismegistus had remained on his feet; the Royal Guard had apparently decided against taking a seat despite there being enough room. He simply stood there with his hands folded behind his back, his golden mask concealing whatever expression might have been hidden beneath it.

Gretel still found his presence difficult to ignore.

There was something inherently imposing about standing so close to one of the Queen’s Royal Guards. She knew enough about them to understand that they were not merely highly ranked soldiers given an impressive title. They were among the most powerful individuals directly associated with the Queen herself.

But Trismegistus seemed completely at ease; however, his mere presence seemed to discourage the surrounding nobles from approaching too closely, and Gretel had noticed that the crowd instinctively gave him space.

Perhaps that was why he had chosen to remain standing. Or perhaps, as with nearly everything concerning him, there was some other reason she simply could not discern.

Gretel had barely finished considering it when Bluebeard’s voice pulled her attention back.

"I do hope you two lovely ladies have been enjoying my banquet thus far," Duke Bluebeard said, his deep, gravelly voice carrying easily through the surrounding conversation. "I have to admit, I spent quite a considerable amount of effort organizing this evening. It was not enough merely to gather the usual food and entertainment. I wanted the banquet to feel worthy of the occasion, so I even went to the trouble of bringing in delicacies from the Dominion of Oz."

Gretel blinked once; she glanced briefly around the enormous hall before returning her attention to him.

There was no denying the scale of the banquet.

The food alone was excessive, the decorations extravagant, and the estate itself was larger than anything she had personally experienced. Whatever else she thought of the Duke, he had certainly spared no expense.

"Well, it’s definitely grand," Gretel answered honestly. "I can’t really deny that. You’ve clearly gone to considerable effort to make the entire evening impressive."

She stopped there; she had no intention of showering him with needless praise simply because everyone else seemed determined to do so. If she exaggerated her admiration, she suspected Bluebeard would only become more pleased with himself, and the last thing she wanted was to feed his ego.

Ella, however, apparently saw no reason to offer even that much restraint.

"It’s fine, but honestly, it’s nothing too special," she replied bluntly. "It’s certainly large, and I suppose you’ve spent a lot of money on it, but I wouldn’t exactly call it remarkable. There’s plenty of food, plenty of people, and everything looks expensive. That’s about it."

Gretel’s eyes widened slightly.

She turned her head toward Ella, her expression making it clear that she had not expected her to say that quite so plainly.

Ella did not acknowledge her reaction.

The raven-haired girl remained entirely occupied with examining her painted nails, calmly turning one hand slightly as though inspecting the finish. Her legs remained crossed, and there was not even the smallest trace of concern in her posture.

Gretel stared at her for another moment.

("She really just said that.") It was almost impressive.

Bluebeard, meanwhile, did not appear immediately offended. If anything, his expression seemed more perplexed than angry. His brows drew together slightly as he looked toward Ella, as though he genuinely could not understand the response he had just received.

"Whatever do you mean?" Bluebeard asked, his confusion plainly audible. "Nothing too special? Surely you don’t mean that the banquet itself is lacking. I’ve gone to considerable lengths to provide the finest food, the finest entertainment, and an atmosphere worthy of distinguished guests. Most people who have attended tonight have been rather generous in telling me precisely how impressive they find it."

He paused, looking between Ella and Gretel.

His expression suggested that he was genuinely trying to understand how someone could sit beside him, look over everything he had arranged, and simply decide that it was ordinary.

Ella finally raised her eyes from her nails.

Gretel could already tell from the look on her face that whatever answer came next was unlikely to make the Duke feel better.

"These sorts of things don’t really impress me, Duke," Ella said, the words leaving her lips carelessly.

A small smile rested on her face; it was one to make it difficult to tell whether she was being sincere or insulting him.

The effect on Bluebeard was immediate; his attention sharpened. His eyes lingered on her face for a fraction longer than was appropriate.

"You see," Ella continued lightly, crossing one leg over the other, "I’ve been to places far grander than this. Seen things far stranger than imported food, expensive wine, and a room full of rich snobs trying to out-praise each other."

Her red eyes drifted lazily across the room.

"Compared to some of the things I’ve experienced..." She tilted her head slightly. "This all feels pretty tame."

The Duke stared at her; for a moment he seemed genuinely uncertain how to respond. As though he had spent so long being surrounded by people eager to flatter him that hearing anything less felt foreign.

"Truly?" Bluebeard finally asked, his voice carrying curiosity now and something else. Interest, the dangerous kind.

Ella gave a small shrug.

"Yeah." Her gaze returned to him. "Honestly? It’s kind of disappointing." The smile on her lips widened just slightly. "Here I was thinking I’d finally see something interesting."

Beside her, Gretel nearly frowned.

("What is she—") The thought barely had time to form as the realization struck. ("...Ah.") Her expression smoothed out. ("I see what she’s doing.")

The Duke leaned back against the couch, thinking.

His eyes never left Ella.

"I suppose what you’ve seen tonight isn’t everything a Duke of my standing has to offer." His voice lowered slightly, a note of confidence entering it. "Some things remain beyond public view." He spread his hands lightly. "There are matters that are... rather sensitive."

His gaze lingered on her.

"I don’t know if I should reveal such things so carelessly."

Gretel resisted the urge to roll her eyes; the implication was painfully obvious. The Duke was bargaining and seeing what he could get.

("Pig’s basically asking what I’ll give him if he shows me something interesting.") Ella’s expression did not change.

Internally, however, her thoughts were considerably less polite.

("Well, perverts like him always want the same thing.") The answer had practically written itself.

"Tell you what." Ella shifted close enough to seize complete control of the conversation.

The movement alone made Bluebeard visibly stiffen. Gretel’s eyes widened as Ella leaned forward until she was far closer than etiquette permitted, far closer than she should have been.

Her dainty hand lifted, one slender finger extended, then she poked him beneath the chin. A simple gesture, but Bluebeard looked as though his brain had stopped functioning. His breath hitched as his eyes widened.

Clearly, he had expected many things.

He had not expected the younger girl to be this forward, to move first and invade his space so casually.

Ella smiled; it was beautiful, dangerously so.

A smile that made people forget they were being led somewhere.

"Show me something interesting," she said softly. Then her smile sharpened. "And I’ll give you my virginity."

Gretel choked on her own spit; a sound somewhere between a cough and a splutter escaped her. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head as every coherent thought immediately abandoned her. She stared at Ella in complete disbelief; the servant girls behind the couch froze.

Even Trismegistus seemed momentarily quieter.

Bluebeard, meanwhile, looked ecstatic, with his eyes widening even further. A greedy, shameless grin slowly spread across his face, a grin that belonged on a starving man who had just spotted a feast. Any pretense of dignity vanished, and any attempt to hide his intentions vanished with it.

His expression practically screamed exactly what he was thinking.

("That was way too easy.") Ella kept smiling.

Inside, however, she felt nothing, but there was mild disappointment.

The Duke had folded so quickly that it almost felt insulting.

("Seriously.") Her smile never slipped. ("At least pretend to have some self-control, you desperate bastard.")

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