The morning of the banquet, Baron Conte stiffly marched up to me in a near-perfect right-angle gait.

It seemed he had been greatly shaken by the slight warning that failure this time could make his family's survival a bit difficult.

“All the preparations for the banquet are complete, Viscount.”
“You’ve worked hard, Baron.”
“This is a banquet I have prepared with my utmost devotion. The only thing missing is the imperial emblem as decoration. Aside from that, the formality is nearly identical to a banquet hosted by the imperial family.”
“There won’t be any issues, will there?”

Baron Conte shook his head.

“I still have the entire imperial etiquette handbook memorized—down to the exception clauses and legal loopholes. Even if this is taken to the High Court later, it will be ruled completely innocent. I made a very minor ‘distinction.’ Look here.”

The baron showed me the upper and lower portions of the tablecloth.

“I embroidered the Rothschild family emblem in gold thread on the top, but if you look closely, there’s no gold thread on the bottom.”
“This was done for the sake of etiquette, I assume?”
“Yes, precisely. And a person’s gaze does not usually go to something they must lower their head to see. So, anyone seated at this table will be overwhelmed by your wealth and power, Viscount, as they behold items just as lavish as those used by the imperial family.”
“And if someone nitpicks about etiquette, we simply show them the bottom?”