Chapter 931 - Duchess and Dame (Patreon)

Following Ruby's instructions, the next day, I head to the meeting place. And that is, as always, in the upper parts of Megacity. I thought about this not that long ago, but it is like everyone powerful or important likes to have their place as high as possible. No, not on some lonely tall mountain, but somewhere where other people are, just above them.

There is probably some metaphor about climbing higher by having your office building placed higher up or rising in the power rankings. And I also wonder what that says about my moon base plan.

I swear, it is just for the view.

The building I reach immediately gives me that old aristocratic British posh kind of vibe. At the entrance, I do not even have to explain what I am searching for, and the butler, who, judging by his strength, seems to be quite powerful too, gives a deep bow.

"Your Grace, welcome to the establishment. Duchess Fiona and Lord Brich are awaiting you in the Golden Parlour on the second floor. May I escort you, or would you prefer to make your own way?"

“I will find them on my own.”

“Very good, Your Grace. Allow me to open the way for you.”

The butler gives a smooth bow before stepping aside to gesture toward the grand staircase.

“Should you or your party require anything further, be it refreshment, further privacy, or assistance, simply ring the silver bell on the side table in the parlour. I shall see to it personally. Please, enjoy your meeting.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

I pass by him into the interior, which is decorated exactly as expected. There is a lot of red, brown, gold, and a lot of wood. Whoever decorated the place also seemed to hate empty walls, so almost every single free wall is adorned with something, be it a painting, a weapon, or a stuffed monster head.

The stairs are grand and wide, with a red carpet over the dark brown wood. The carpet is slightly washed out, but it does not seem at all to be because of a lack of money or care.

In the hallway, there are just a few servants who are, similarly to the butler, very formally dressed. They give deep bows, not even looking up as I walk upstairs.

The stairs have a slight give to them and also creak faintly, but not in an annoying way. It is a weirdly cozy feeling and sound.

When I walk onto the first floor, it has a long hallway with multiple doors, each leading to their own parlors, dining rooms, smoking lounges, trophy rooms, game rooms, libraries, or just some meeting rooms. Some of the doors are open, allowing me to see all of that, while others are clearly in use, with a few even having pairs of bodyguards standing in front of them.

It is fun to observe them without probing too much, just through my sight alone or by looking at the way they influence the area around them. Mana leakage is one of the easiest ways, or the reactions of the air can tell a lot about their physical stats. Meanwhile, I barely let out any mana signature as I cycle it all under my skin. Looking at my clothes, I wonder if I look like a bum to them or if my clothing causes an even higher alert for them.

Though, I am wearing some slightly more formal brown pants and a polo shirt in a color I cannot fully describe. It is something between frosty green and very pale blue. That shirt even looks like it is knitted.

Honestly, it might be one of the fanciest Earth outfits I have ever worn, my time on Earth included. The only reason for this is that I am starting to run out of my favorite sweatpants and casual shirts. The sort of clothes that feel the most comfortable during combat. I might have to hit up Gloria soon and beg her to try to get me some more. And I will totally buy out all the stock during the 4th tournament.

While making my way through the hallway of the first floor, I even get a greeting from a demon that stands outside of one of the doors as a bodyguard, and I greet him back.

When I make my way to the second staircase, this one is half the size of the first, and there is even a guard who seems to be close to champion rank. Like every employee of this “establishment,” he wears heavily fancy clothes.

“Your Grace,” he says, offering a formal bow and stepping smoothly to the side. “The Golden Parlour is on the right side, the third door down.”

“Thanks,” I answer and make my way the rest of the distance.

There, I finally take a turn to the right and stop in front of a heavily polished oak door with a gleaming metal plate where the words “Golden Parlor” are inscribed. It would probably take me a week or two to carve it in a similar way, and it would still look ten times worse.

It is that kind of plate that you do not know why, but you want to steal it and hide it under your bed in a pile of similar items. You know you would never find a use for it, and it would probably even cause trouble instead. Yet. It is shiny. It is pretty. And it makes me touch it just to feel the surface.

Shaking my head, I open the door and enter the parlor where two people are waiting.

The Golden Parlour is full of deep mahogany with fine gold leaf inlaid along the panels. Beside the entrance sits a small silver bell resting on a velvet pedestal, exactly as the butler described. Brich, no, Lord Brichant, is lying on the couch.

The lumoran is not even wearing his armor and instead has a really fancy suit on him, though I still notice a dozen or so items. There is even the evil slaying ego sword Calvorn that Adrian wanted so much, resting against the very same couch.

And for some reason, this kleptomaniac, this copy of a copy of a copy, this more-machine-than-man lumoran has a headband on his head.

That headband has black ant antennae.

That headband is also an item. A damn upper arcane item.

For a few moments, I just close my eyes and take a breather.

I am this close to leaving.

Is that what the great Ruler of Diligence has to suffer? I would be pissed off too. There is a dragon invading his neighborhood, his reputation is in ruins due to his own actions, and the other day he even put the system on a blocklist.

Like, damn.

But Dili is a good ant. He does not deserve any of this. The people responsible should pay for this.

“Guildmaster Gwyn, it is an absolute pleasure to finally meet you. I have heard so much about you.” The second voice draws my attention away from Brich. “Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Fiona Blackwood, and this is my bond, Dame Vesta.”

The red-haired woman is already standing up from her armchair and is no longer holding the cigarette or her glass. Instead, with an elegant gesture, she offers me her hand while her bond sits quietly on her shoulder.

That bond looks like an axolotl, a mix of white and pink colors and even that same kind of tail. Though this one's legs and tail both appear a bit hazy and look like they are constantly surrounded by wavy hot air. They are nearly transparent, almost as if Dame Vesta is not a fully material being.

I look at Fiona and her offered hand, then slightly tilt my head. This causes her to give a small, polite smile. “I have been learning the customary greeting of your home world, so we may use that instead. My own planet is far more formal and stiff, and I would not like to impose our tedious etiquette upon you.”

“I see. Well, it is very nice meeting you. I am Nathaniel Gwyn.” I shake her hand and entirely ignore Brich.

“I assume you and Lord Brichant are already acquaintances?” she asks while gesturing towards the lumoran man. I notice that her bond licks her cheek and then, almost as politely and formally as Fiona herself, remains sitting still on her shoulder.

It also almost causes me to shudder when I hear how she refers to him.

“Me, Nathaniel, and Calvorn go way back! And he often visits the Crimson Forge, so we bump into each other there. By the way, Eldrin is saying that you should get your ass over there. He wants some help with The Chestplate.”

“Why should I? Tell him to stop messing around and actually do the thing I asked of him, instead of always coming up with some new weird ideas. If he, Isolde, and Silverweave do not complete the item before their tutorial ends, or if they try to steal it and take it to their planet, I will find them.”

I make my way over to the free armchair and sit down in it, which causes Fiona to follow suit as well.

“Brich, I swear-” I continue.

“Please call me Brichant.”

“-that I will get the coordinates of their planet and get over there to pry it out of their grubby hands, even if it takes years.”

“They know! So do not worry.”

“Good,” I answer and turn my attention back to Fiona, who is already smoking again. The way she sits and holds the cigarette is almost annoyingly aristocratic.

Almost annoying, but not truly, because she does not feel pretentious at all. It just feels like this is simply how she holds herself, as if it is something completely natural to her. Her high-collar white shirt with long sleeves and her brown pants emphasize that feeling further.

“I hope that you do not mind,” she says while gesturing at the thick cigarette.

“Not really, but what is this event all about?”

“Lady Greed has not told you? I would presume that having someone as great as her as a Handler, you would know much more than we do,” she asks, looking slightly surprised.

“Nathaniel, I thought we were friends! Why haven't you told me she is your Handler? You will have to make her introduce me to the Ruler of Diligence. I-”

“In exchange for Calvorn, maybe.”

“You deeply underestimate the bond between me and Calvorn. We are friends. Asking for him is like asking for a piece of me.”

“Yeah? Take him out of his scabbard, and let your best bud talk a little.”

“...”

“Yeah, I thought so,” I say and turn back to Fiona. “We could say that the Ruler of Greed considered sharing more information to be beneath her.”

“Well, who are we to judge the Rulers? If you are open to it, I can share the information I have.”

“Go on, please.”

“Straight to the point. How refreshing,” Fiona says, giving a patient smile as she explains. “To my knowledge, the event we all seem to be so interested in will start in three days on the second floor of Beyond. Three unusual monsters will be let onto the floor by the system, and destroying each of them offers, well, similarly unusual rewards. The Rulers are capable of predicting such events, so we have an advantage that will allow us to capitalize on this situation. As for the monsters themselves, they are pulled either from the database of the First Dungeon or they are a type of being the system gave prototype traits or skills.”

“Prototypes?” I ask.

“Yes. From what I understand, they are exceptionally rare and often carry strict conditions, but they possess immense power when applied correctly. They frequently border on breaking the rules established by the system, though they can prove just as dangerous to their wielder. We have a rare opportunity here, you might never encounter someone with a prototype skill again.”

“How nice,” I nod. “You said unusual, but how strong are we talking about? A Champion? An Absolute?”

“That is the extent of the information I have, Guildmaster Gwyn. Just unusual. Would you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Not really. Go on.”

“Did you really single handedly face three Champion grade beings on the fifth floor of Beyond?”

“Short answer? Yes. Longer answer? There were more than three, and I cheated a little bit. Can I ask you something too?”

“Please do. You have answered my question, so it is only right for me to answer yours as well.”

“Can I pet Dame Vesta?” I ask directly.

Both the fresh S rank and her axolotl bond look at each other. It even causes Fiona to fall into a silence that lasts for a few seconds before she taps the ash from her cigarette into the ashtray and looks at me.

“Can I be honest with you, Guildmaster Gwyn, and use the exact words my bond has used?”

“Sure. I promise I won’t get angry.”

Fiona taps a long, manicured finger against the edge of the crystal ashtray. On her shoulder, Dame Vesta looks at me in what almost looks like noble patience.

“Very well,” the red haired woman says, she gestures slightly toward the tiny creature. “Dame Vesta’s exact words were as follows.”

Fiona clears her throat, adjusting her posture to sit up slightly straighter.

“Tell this unrefined barbarian that if his grotesque appendages so much as breach the thermal threshold of my personal space, I shall personally incinerate his fingers. The absolute audacity. To address a noble lady of the Ember Mantle, a bonded entity of Duchess Fiona Blackwood, third to the throne of the greatest Royal Lineage to ever exist, as though I were some common beast or a pampered lap-pet to be pawed at by a man who looks as though he dressed himself out of a laundry basket in the dark! Look at him! He sits in a high-parlour with the posture of a slouching mercenary, wearing a shirt the color of stale pond ice, and he presumes to request physical intimacy with a being as noble as me? I am not a pet to be patted on the head for good behavior, nor am I a tavern mascot. Tell him to keep his clumsy, lanky appendages strictly to himself before I turn his feeble form into a heap of smoldering ash.”

Fiona pauses, taking a slow, smooth drag from her cigarette before exhaling a small, perfect ring of smoke.

“Word for word,” Fiona says, her tone returning to its polite warmth. “Though she did use a rather colorful classical idiom regarding your trousers at the end, which I felt was slightly too vulgar to say out loud. So, I must politely decline on her behalf. Dame Vesta values her personal boundaries quite fiercely.”

On her shoulder, the little pink-and-white axolotl does not even seem to look different from the way she did when I entered the room. Even if her words seem angry, she still has that same cute axolotl face with an unchanging expression. Though I did notice her nodding in a somewhat elegant looking manner while Fiona interpreted for her.

Excellent. My urge to touch the forbidden salamander has officially doubled.

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