At least fifty times.

This was the answer to the question of how often parties were held in the capital in a year. Sometimes once a week, sometimes once every ten days. Whether for mid-level nobles or the highest-ranking families, parties in the capital were far from rare. Under the guise of celebrating joyous occasions or simply to satisfy their vanity, or to forge stronger political bonds—parties were held for various reasons.

The New Year’s Ball marked the beginning of these many gatherings, opening the season as the year’s first major event. Celebrating the tournament champion, nearly every noble and aristocrat in the capital attended this royal-hosted event, making the ball a prime arena for subtle competition and unseen political maneuvers among the nobility.

“So, how long has it been since a party of this scale was held?”

“Now that you mention it, it’s been quite some time since there was such a grand gathering. There hadn’t been even small noble gatherings since summer of last year.”

Leon Bening, who controlled most of the capital’s nobility, was quick to institute a policy of overseeing large parties. Although he didn’t outlaw gatherings outright, any noble event in the capital had to take place under his watchful eye.

The nobles, reluctant to give Leon Bening any reason to criticize them, eventually gave up on the parties they once enjoyed. When a court noble, trying to hold a private gathering out of Leon’s sight, disappeared without a trace, the trend of avoiding gatherings became even stronger.

“A ball… My daughter’s ready to debut in society this year.”

“I better hurry and buy some decorations. I’d rather not face my wife’s wrath.”

While the citizens were still buzzing over the martial tournament, the nobles were already focused on the upcoming ball. They carefully prepared what to bring, who would attend, and with whom they should talk. However, their attention remained primarily fixed on one thing:

“The First Prince will be attending this time, won’t he?”

“It won’t just be the First Prince. Rumor has it that the Second Prince and the First Princess will also attend.”

The news of the attendance of the three heirs vying for the throne stirred the court. Although most court nobles were aligned with the Second Prince, the news that the First Prince’s closest knight had won the tournament made them wary. And the fact that this victory came against Leon Bening’s prized daughter, a renowned knight throughout the kingdom, gave them a glimmer of hope.

“…We need to tread carefully.”

The nobles who had been pushed to the fringes of power paid close attention to the attendance of the First Prince and First Princess.

“The atmosphere in the palace is tense. While Count Bening has been lying low, His Majesty has placed several pieces to counter Leon Bening.”

“Count Agon in the East is said to support the First Princess.”

“And I hear the Marquess of the Borderlands has come out in favor of the First Prince.”

One by one, nobles began seeking ways to distance themselves from Leon Bening’s grip, keeping a close eye on the situation.

“This ball…”

“It’s going to be an eventful one.”

Meanwhile, in the First Prince’s reception room:

The morning after the tournament had ended—the last day of the year and the morning of the New Year’s Ball. The First Prince, Louis, didn’t command Maxime to train, even though Maxime visited at the usual time as if by agreement. Instead, with a tired look, he offered Maxime a light refreshment.

Maxime was grateful that Louis didn’t bring up his real name. Louis simply treated him, as before, as a knight and mentor.

“My ears have been itching lately.”

“Someone must be talking about you, Your Highness.”

At Maxime’s jest, Louis let out a dry chuckle.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard such a rumor. Is it a common saying among the knights?”

“It’s something my father often said. If your ears start to itch for no reason, it means someone is talking about you somewhere.”

Louis’s expression stiffened, and he cleared his throat.

“An amusing saying, I must admit. Though, if someone were talking about me behind my back, I doubt it’d be anything kind.”

Snow had started to fall in the afternoon, blanketing everything in white by nightfall. By morning, small snowflakes drifted down, casting a dull light over the city. Louis gazed absently out the window, then set down his teacup. Observing Louis’s distraction, Maxime spoke up.

“Are you worried about the ball, Your Highness?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. But this is something I have to handle on my own, so there’s no need for you to concern yourself. As the champion, you should simply enjoy the ball.”

Louis gestured for him not to worry. Maxime tilted his head slightly, a faint smile showing his unease. Louis looked at him, then clapped his hands lightly as if he’d just remembered something.

“Now that I think about it, you probably won’t have an easy time enjoying the ball, either. After all, you’re going to be the event’s main attraction.”

“…Still, I imagine there won’t be many people bothering me, will there?”

Louis gave a sly smile.

“Who knows? The high-ranking nobles will want to bring you into their circles, and many smaller nobles would likely consider offering their daughters’ hands in marriage to win you over.”

Maxime frowned at Louis’s words.

“Surely not. I’m already engaged.”

“They’d probably settle for being a concubine if it meant having you by their side. But that’s up to you.”

“…That’s a headache.”

Maxime sighed, and Louis laughed at his expression. Since Maxime had shown his true face, rather than appearing as Arsen Bern, he seemed much more at ease.

“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing just how troubled you’ll be at this ball.”

“You’re quite mischievous, Your Highness.”

Maxime replied with a wry smile. Louis shrugged his shoulders as if it were nothing.

“It’s always nice to have a companion to share in such troubles, isn’t it?”

“…Indeed.”

A knock on the door interrupted them. Maxime instinctively guessed it was the First Princess, Michelle, who visited every few days.

“It’s Michelle, isn’t it?”

“In that case, Your Highness, I’ll take my leave.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that. She’s probably here to discuss the ball, so you might as well stay and listen.”

Louis called the attendant at the door to let her in. The door opened, and the First Princess entered, her face brightening at the sight of Louis before her expression turned slightly strained upon noticing Maxime.

“Good morning, Louis. The gentleman seated here is…?”

“It’s a pleasure to see you, Your Highness.”

“Yes… It’s good to see you. Congratulations on your victory.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Maxime greeted her politely, though his tone was somewhat restrained. An unexpected meeting with him couldn’t be entirely pleasant, after all.

“Didn’t you come to discuss the ball? If so, it might be best if Maxime stays. Does his presence make you uncomfortable?”

Michelle, the First Princess, hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. Maxime, too, couldn’t quite hide his discomfort, his brow twitching slightly.

“No… It’s probably best if he stays.”

With a sigh, Michelle pulled a chair over to the table and sat down with them.

“Well, it doesn’t matter, I suppose. I’m not particularly uncomfortable.”

Michelle continued to stare thoughtfully at Maxime, then turned to Louis.

“There will likely be a lot of attention on you at this ball, Louis.”

“I’m aware. Even before the support from the Borderlands Marquess and Count Agon, people were bound to be watching us. Maxime’s victory has only increased the spotlight on me.”

Louis spoke with an apologetic tone, but Michelle looked at him with a hint of sympathy.

“What do you plan to do about the smaller nobles trying to cozy up to you?”

“Even if they’re smaller, we’re not in a position to be picky. I’ll accept any who aren’t attempting to undermine me. With the Marquess backing us, I doubt anyone would approach recklessly.”

Louis sighed, mentioning the Marquess. Michelle’s expression stiffened slightly.

“…Did things go well with the Marquess?”

“I’ll discuss it in detail after the ball. Though my current allies assure me it won’t greatly impact our alliance, much depends on the Marquess’s decision.”

Louis’s voice was tense. The Marquess’s people were still harboring anger over recent events. Their eyes, fixed on the retrieved corpses, couldn’t hide the killing intent simmering within.

“It’s not my place to say that I understand their anger.”

Louis spoke bitterly, clenching his fists as if to steady himself.

“Whoever is responsible must face the consequences.”

“…They will face them.”

Maxime replied firmly. Seeing Maxime’s resolute expression, Louis’s stern expression softened slightly.

“…Thank you for saying that. I’m sure they’ll be grateful to you, too.”

He turned to Michelle, as if to lighten the mood.

“By the way, where’s that maid who always accompanies you? Is she not here today?”

“Marion? I’ve sent her on an errand. She’ll be with me at the ball, so you needn’t worry.”

Though Louis had asked, Michelle’s answer seemed directed at Maxime. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Michelle.

“An errand?”

“Yes. Nothing dangerous or strenuous, so you don’t need to worry.”

Michelle looked at him with a mischievous smile, as if to say, “I know you’re curious, but I’m not telling.” She then shifted her expression to a playful smirk, as if relishing in his intrigue.

“You’ll find out at the New Year’s Ball, so don’t worry too much and just wait.”

“…Understood.”

What could it possibly be? Maxime wanted to ask further, but Michelle had already turned back to Louis, discussing what attire he should wear to the ball.

…It’s probably nothing serious.

Maxime sighed lightly.

==

The previous day, in the First Princess’s quarters:

The First Princess was enjoying what had become a regular habit—chatting with Marion. Marion was particularly cheerful today, though a hint of unease was mixed in. Michelle observed Marion, who alternated between smiling and puffing her cheeks, and chuckled.

“What’s the matter, Marion? Are you unhappy that your fiancé won the tournament?”

Marion’s face turned bright red as she shook her head vigorously, her expression revealing she’d been caught.

“No, Your Highness. I’m truly delighted that my fiancé… that Maxime won the tournament. I’m just worried about what comes next.”

“It’s natural to be worried. His swordsmanship is quite impressive. He’s not to my taste in looks, but he’s decent enough to be proud of. I understand why you might feel a bit anxious. His opponent in the finals looked anything but ordinary, too.”

Michelle’s teasing left Marion looking a bit downcast.

“…I suppose there was nothing I could have done about that. But I am worried about the ball.”

“Don’t worry too much. I doubt there will be anyone at the ball as lovely as you.”

“Your Highness, such praise is too much for me.”

Michelle smiled approvingly, while Marion, though blushing, still couldn’t completely hide her anxiety. Michelle couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her. The engagement ring on her left hand and her downcast face showed her lingering insecurity.

She really had no reason to feel so down; she could afford to have more confidence.

The princess’s gaze drifted to Marion’s right side, where a black mask concealed her face. It wasn’t overly adorned, but its simplicity lent it a sense of elegance. Marion had never shown her face to the princess, nor had she removed the white glove on her right hand. She believed that showing her scarred face and hand would be disrespectful.

Although she was now better, the wounds of her childhood seemed to still bind her. Michelle looked at Marion with a mix of compassion and sadness.

Then, someone knocked at the princess’s door. Marion went to answer, finding a maid waiting outside.

“What is it?”

The princess asked, and the maid glanced toward the entryway.

“Your Highness, someone is here to see Lady Marion Borden.”

“A visitor for Marion? Who is it?”

“A blonde woman, judging by her uniform, she’s a knight of the First Guard.”

At this, the princess frowned slightly, and Marion’s blue eyes widened.

Christine? What could she want?

“Let her in. I’ll hear what this is about directly.”

With the princess’s permission, the maid quickly went outside and returned with a woman who looked exhausted. Marion still seemed bewildered, and Christine offered a hesitant smile to the princess and then to Marion.

“What’s the matter?”

“Your Highness, I’m here on behalf of the royal family to visit Lady Marion Borden.”

Christine’s voice held a note of fatigue.

“Can you tell me exactly why you’re here to see Marion?”

In response to the princess’s question, Christine reached into her uniform pocket and produced a small glass vial. Inside, a blue, refreshing-looking liquid shimmered. The princess looked at the vial with curiosity, while Christine smiled softly at Marion.

“A new medicine has been developed, and I believe it may greatly benefit Lady Marion.”

“…What do you mean?”

The princess asked again, and Christine turned her gaze to Marion, who stared at the bright blue liquid, unable to look away.

“When it was formulated, we named it the Elixir of Restoration.”

“Elixir of Restoration?”

Michelle’s eyes widened, clearly understanding the implication of the potion’s name. She turned to Marion. Marion, her hand raised to her mask, wore a dazed expression.

“Does that mean… this medicine could…?”

“It may be the answer to Lady Marion’s struggles.”