Chapter 23 - Grand Social Gathering (3)

The frigid north.

A place gripped by a cold so bitter that no living creature seemed capable of surviving there.

In that land, forever painted in shades of ashen gray by relentless cold waves, as though cursed, a man lay fallen.

Where his right arm should have been, a crimson flower of blood bloomed in its place. The socket that should have held his left eye was empty.

He was none other than the great Kulkan, one of the barbarians’ eight chieftains, awaiting death after his defeat at the hands of Callivan’s cowardly knights.

Yet even as he lay dying, vivid fury filled his remaining eye.

'Honorless bastards...!'

It was not his defeat that enraged him. To the barbarians, who revered combat, death in battle was a glorious thing.

Kulkan’s expression was twisted with rage because his death had been dishonorable. He had fallen for a knight’s scheme to hold a “duel,” only to be ambushed.

He coughed violently, spitting up blood.

Regardless of his anger, the ashen world gradually blurred.

Regardless of his grief, his hearing slowly faded.

Regardless of his despair, Kulkan’s consciousness slowly sank beneath the surface.

And at the moment when everything was about to return to utter nothingness...

'Ah, O Ultultus...'

Kulkan merely called the great god’s name.

At that instant—

TAP

Everything stopped.

His vision, which had gone beyond blurred into complete darkness, saw light again. The sound of the north’s merciless wind reached his ears, which had ceased to hear. His consciousness, about to drift away beneath the surface, slowly rose.

And then...

["My flesh and blood."]

["Call upon me."]

["Call my great name."]

["Call the name"]

["you have revered."]

["And I shall grant your desire."]

Following that great guidance, which was almost a command, Kulkan murmured as though entranced.

"O Ultultus..."

And at last, the thing that had become an Outer God smiled.

####

Immediately after hearing something worthy of the title For Some Reason, I Woke Up as Asteria’s Mastermind, Alon closed his mouth, which had fallen open in a daze, and resumed chewing.

But he could no longer taste any of the sweetness he had enjoyed a moment earlier.

'What the hell is this bullshit?'

Countless question marks rose and vanished in Alon’s mind. He could not understand how such a rumor had started.

If he had been close to the Duchess of Altia or Count Xenonia, who were forming this new faction, he could have understood a rumor like that.

The problem was that he had never once met either of those nobles. He had only seen the Duchess of Altia at a ball back when she was still a young lady, and while he had met Lady Xenonia, he had never even met Count Xenonia.

In short, the rumor was not merely implausible—it was wildly implausible.

After thinking for a long while as he slowly chewed, Alon concluded that the story told by the man exchanging extraordinarily secretive whispers with another noble was a ridiculous, baseless rumor.

He would have needed some connection to them to entertain even the slightest suspicion. Since he had absolutely none, he had no reason to suspect anything.

And so, just as Alon picked up a cookie beside the egg tarts and began to eat it...

"Count Pallatio."

"?"

Alon turned toward the voice. Beside him stood a man in expensive-looking clothes with a sneer covering his face.

'Who’s this guy?'

Alon gave him a quick once-over. The man’s long curls hung to one side, and one glance was enough to tell that his personality was thoroughly twisted, though in a different way from House Pallatio’s. Beyond that, Alon learned nothing.

At least, he had no information about the man in his head.

"Ah, I haven’t introduced myself. I am Carmine, third son of Duke Comalan of the Kingdom of Ashtalon."

When Alon showed no sign of recognizing him, Carmine’s expression seemed to falter briefly before he introduced himself. Alon wondered for a moment, then nodded.

He had heard that foreign nobles sometimes attended the Grand Social Gathering, where most of the Kingdom of Asteria’s nobles assembled.

"I am Count Pallatio."

For the moment, Alon greeted him.

"I know your name well enough. I hear you lucked into becoming a count?"

"...?"

Alon blinked at the response. The man’s appearance had certainly given him some warning that this would not be a pleasant conversation, but he had not expected immediate mockery, as though the man possessed no intelligence whatsoever.

As Alon stood there looking blank...

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Alon turned toward another voice and saw a face he knew, unlike Carmine’s.

'... Marquis Mardinio?'

It was not so much the face that had allowed Alon to recognize him as the crest over his heart and his distinctly middle-aged features.

"Are you belittling a noble of our Kingdom of Asteria?"

"...?"

Alon looked bewildered by this sudden intervention in his defense.

####

Carmine, third son of Duke Comalan of the Kingdom of Ashtalon, was not in a particularly good mood today.

There were several reasons, but the biggest was that, despite all the effort he had taken to come here, the marriage negotiations with Duke Rotegr’s fifth daughter were not going well.

Of course, the negotiations had fallen through purely because of Carmine’s characteristic loutish behavior, as though he had never grown up—in other words, he acted like a little shit.

He had done something as absurd as judging other young ladies’ appearances in front of the duke’s fifth daughter.

But, true to his nature as a spoiled brat, rather than admitting his fault, Carmine had become deeply offended when she said she would have to reconsider the match.

If this had not been the allied Kingdom of Asteria—no, if this had not been House Rotegr, with whom his family secretly conducted a great many deals “behind the scenes”—he would already have caused an uproar.

... Of course, Carmine seemed entirely unaware that Duke Rotegr was only overlooking his disgraceful behavior because of the exceedingly secret relationship he maintained with Duke Comalan “behind the scenes.”

In any event, he had come to the ball to improve his foul mood, spotted Count Pallatio, and picked a fight.

He had only one reason for doing so.

To vent his frustration.

Of course, there were plenty of servants and knights around whom he could treat with contempt, but Carmine did not particularly enjoy teasing them.

That was not because he was a decent person. Playing with toys he could smash whenever he pleased simply held no appeal for him.

That was all non-nobles amounted to in the eyes of people like him, and in that respect, Count Pallatio was an excellent punching bag for relieving Carmine’s stress.

According to the rumors Carmine knew, Count Pallatio was merely an immature fool who had lucked into his title, and he had no close noble friends.

Lout though he was, Carmine at least knew this was not his own territory. Through his own brand of nuanced thinking(?), he had identified a punching bag he could strike without causing any trouble.

That was why he had picked a fight the moment he saw Alon. But...

"... Are you aware that insulting a noble of the Kingdom of Asteria is a grave breach of etiquette?"

"No, that’s—"

"The Kingdom of Ashtalon has long been our ally. But that is only because we have respected one another. Has Ashtalon perhaps lost that respect?"

"No, sir. That isn’t—"

"Good heavens. Is that how Duke Comalan, a pillar of the Kingdom of Ashtalon, regards Asteria?"

"Absolutely not...!"

"Then why are you addressing a noble so casually, without observing proper courtesy, when you have not even formally inherited a title?"

"Th-that’s—"

Carmine looked confused. Contrary to the rumors he knew, the moment he picked a fight with Duke Pallatio, nobles had sprung out from every direction to berate him.

Flustered, he turned his gaze toward Alon.

But Alon, too, was staring blankly at the scene, utterly bewildered and confused behind his customary expressionless facade.

'... What’s going on now?'

Alon looked at the three nobles defending him.

One was Marquis Mardanio. Another was Duke Rotegr. The last was Count Pallan.

Alon could readily identify all three partly because of their crests, but also because the men defending him were highly renowned within Asteria.

Marquis Mardanio was one of the royalist faction’s major figures, while Duke Rotegr was, conversely, a major figure in the aristocratic faction.

Count Pallan maintained political neutrality, but had actually accumulated considerable power by preserving that position.

However little interest Alon took in politics or nobles, no noble of Asteria could possibly be ignorant of these men.

"So Duke Comalan does look down on us after all?"

"N-no, sir."

"Then why on earth did you speak to the count so disrespectfully?"

"I-I... was discourteous."

"Discourtesy is not the issue. The point is why you spoke to Count Pallatio with such contempt."

True to their experience in politics, the nobles cornered Carmine with a circular barrage of remarks that seemed strangely familiar. Alon watched, pondering for a moment, then suddenly realized where he had seen this before.

["I’m sorry."]

["Does saying sorry end your military service?"]

["I’m sorry."]

["I asked if saying sorry ends your military service!"]

Ah—that was it.

The memory flashing through his mind remained vivid despite being more than ten years old, and Alon involuntarily broke into a cold sweat.

"I-I... was discourteous...!"

In the end, Carmine could no longer endure the nobles’ berating and fled the ball. The moment he left, the nobles approached Alon and began speaking to him as though they had been waiting for their chance.

"Count Pallatio, are you all right?"

"I am, but..."

Alon looked at the three nobles, wondering why they were doing this for him.

However...

"Look at that. It seems those gentlemen have already heard the rumors."

"... The rumors really must be true, then. To think they would prompt such influential figures to act."

"The Duchess of Altia and Count Xenonia would be overwhelming if they entered politics. But look—the other nobles are bewildered. This is still a secret rumor, so mind what you say."

"... Where... on earth do you hear these things?"

"I have my ways."

Since Alon had not yet withdrawn the mana enhancing his hearing, he could still hear the noble who had been whispering secrets earlier. Only then did he vaguely understand what was happening. His incredulous expression lasted only a moment.

"Come to think of it, I don’t believe we’ve ever spoken, Count. Well, I understand. You must be very busy."

Starting with Marquis Mardanio, who spoke with a genial chuckle as though he knew everything, the three nobles acted naturally familiar with him. Alon seriously considered telling them the rumor was false.

There was more than enough potential for things to become needlessly complicated later.

Still, telling them now might make the whole situation terribly awkward. As Alon wondered what to do...

"Ah, that reminds me. I hear you’re studying magic, Count. Is that true?"

"It is, but..."

"Then how about a small gift from me? Among the artifacts I acquired after wiping out a band of orcs recently, there is a relic that can store mana for later use. What do you say?"

"Now that you mention it, I’ve prepared a gift myself—"

Alon fell silent for a moment at the nobles’ ensuing offers.

... And that day, Alon received two magical artifacts and five mana restoration potions from the three nobles.

Meanwhile, as most of the nobles looked bewildered by the powerful figures suddenly flocking to Alon...

'We picked the wrong man to mess with...'

'W-we’re in serious trouble...!!'

Count Kryld and Count Edorn squeezed their eyes shut in despair.

####

Four days after the banquet began, as Alon’s list of spoils somehow continued to grow one item at a time...

"... An Outer God has descended in the north?"

"Yes. That’s the information that came out. Apparently, those purple crystals are connected to the Outer God as well... But they say their information came from ancient records, so they don’t know the details for certain."

"..."

"Anyway, they say Callivan is in an uproar because of it."

With only two days left in the banquet, Alon began considering something after hearing the information Evan had obtained through the Information Guild. Then...

"... Evan."

"Yes, sir."

"Once the banquet ends, we’ll finish what we need to do and head straight to Callivan."

He made his decision without hesitation.