Maria made sure to stay by the king's side, her eyes constantly watchful even as she tried to listen over the sounds everyone was making for anything anomalous that could be the signal of an attack on her liege.
"What hack composed that?" Prince Alan raved, and it was only the fact his eldest brother had grabbed his hands to keep him from doing so that he wasn't running them though his styled and groomed hair in frustration. "That arrangement was an atrocity! Did he actually think that—"
"Yes, Alan, so you've said repeatedly already," the Third Prince sighed as Maria cast her eyes over the carpeted floors, looking for the tell-tale depressions of invisible assassins. Her shortsword leapt from her sheath and slashed through the empty air over hardwood portions of the floor, as she walked back and forth behind her liege. Most assassins would go for a backstab, after all, since it would be a hit to critical organs that would cause the greatest damage. "Can you please stop obsessing about the bad musical composition?"
"Oh, let him get it out of his system, littler brother," Prince Jeffery said cheerfully. "It'll be the best way to get him to settle down!"
"Hear that?" the Third Prince declared as Maria glanced towards the ceiling, making sure a horde of ravening beasts, puppeteering spiders, strange slime creatures, or dogs hadn't manifested since the last time she'd looked. "Jeffery thinks you should keep doing it! Do you really want to do what Jeffery thinks?"
The First Prince pouted as Alan paused, then shuddered. "Right. You're right. I have to act like an actual adult."
"Hey!" Prince Jeffery protested as Maria drew her sword and used her feet to kick aside the nearby curtains, looking for someone hiding behind them.
"My knight," King Artorias said, sounding both bemused and amused, "is that all really necessary?"
"Yes, your majesty," Maria said, her eyes sweeping down to the carpet once more—boot print! There was an invisible assass— oh, wait, it was just from her own boot. Unless… perhaps some assassin was wearing the same boots as her? "Assassins could be anywhere. If something were to happen to you…" She eyed the four princes, and shuddered in dread. "For the good of the nation, that must be prevented at all costs, lest we descend once more into an age of ash."
"Why did you look at us when you said that?" the Third Prince said in a silky tone.
"I was merely reflecting on how long we've known each other," Maria said as she diligently checked for other boot prints that might not be hers.
"No, it was probably something far ruder than that! And at least look at us when you might be possibly insulting us."
"Can't. Working," Maria said as she diligently glanced up at the ceiling again for basilisks, giant spiders, slugs, and assassins.
After the opening ceremony, the royal family—as well as Maria—had retired to a sitting room. As far as the knight could understand, they were resting—mostly their feet—before arriving fashionably late to the gathering were the other members of the delegations and the invited of Sorcier's nobility. She didn't see how they would need to rest after such a short time standing—it had probably only been an hour and a half—but then, she had admittedly been cheating with light Magic, because why wouldn't she?
"So, my knight," the king said, and Maria focused her attention on him, before scolding herself and resuming her vigilance. His majesty would not be struck down while in her presence! "You've seen the ones who protect the delegates. Do you think you could defeat them? Their strongest warriors?"
"Of course, my king," Maria said.
"Really? You say that so easily?"
"Of course. If I do battle with them believing in anything but my assured victory, the battle is already lost. That being said… some would be more difficult than others." She was a bit unsure how she would reasonably decisively defeat a warrior of such advanced undeath he was merely bones. There was no flesh to cut, no organs to damage. The edge of her blades would be far less damaging. She might have to resort to her fists, or possibly remove one of the long bones from his extremities and bit him with them.
"And who would you say would be the most difficult to fight?" the King asked.
"The one who accompanied the Lord Presider," Maria said promptly.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blinks at the statement. "What, seriously?" Prince Alan said.
Maria nodded. "The man does not correspond to any of the known notable knights and warriors of La Sable. Not Mika the Bellman, not Mervin the Great Fume, certainly not Eiloi the Crimson, or anyone else I was briefed on. The man or woman is a great unknown. While he carried a greatsword, it is probable that was at the behest of the Lord Presider to complete the theme of his… presentation." Prince Alan's eyes started twitching and began muttering darkly again, but Maria ignored him. "From their size though, we can surmise they were either naturally large, or have consumed enough souls to cause some minor growth of their body. The latter implies either a prodigious killer, or a talent worth investing with at least some souls to the point they reached such a size." The man had to have been at least six feet tall, but was just a hair too wide in their other dimensions for that height to have stemmed from natural growth.
The king, the Third Prince, and surprisingly the First Prince all nodded. "I agree with your reasoning, my knight. I'll make arrangements to see if we can uncover their identity to any extent, though hopefully it shouldn't be necessary."
Maria nodded, before turning to glance at the ceiling again.
"Are you actually expecting something to show up on the ceiling?" Prince Alan said.
"If I don't," Maria said, "if something does come from the ceiling, I will not be able to respond in time."
An Alan Interlude
Alan should probably have expected Maria's almost parodic diligence in protecting his father. She had always been thorough and diligent in anything she set out to do—sometimes to her detriment when, say, she tried to do everything—so of course she'd be looking out for giant spiders in the ceiling, invisible assassins, and probably even ogres. To her, those were probably very viable avenues of assassination, or at least something to watch out for.
Maria stood a step to the right and back from father, and on the walk from the sitting room—after they had finished resting their royal feet, doing their royal business, and having a small royal repast so they won't have to do something so crass as eat in public—Alan was almost certain that she stayed exactly the same position relative to the king. His father was enough shorter than Maria that there wasn't much in the way of a blind spot. Even then, she subtly moved sideways a few inches to narrow that blind spot down as much as possible.
Normally, this sort of zealousness would have been worthy of gentle and sarcastic mocking, but given the circumstances, Alan was completely in favor of Maria going completely…Maria. While an assassination was unlikely, since they weren't at war or even having unfriendly relations with any of their neighbors, that didn't preclude conspiracies to start wars. And there was also the chance that one of Jeffery's more criminal and zealous supporters would think it was a good idea. And that Dark Magic user who'd already infiltrated the castle once might do it again, as according to Maria she didn't seem all that sane.
Alan stopped thinking about how increasingly likely an assassination was locking, or else he'd run his hands through his hair and make mother sigh.
The gala was in full swing when they finally entered, the most fashionably late of all. The heads of the other delegations had already arrived, and he could hear the loud, grating voice of the Lord Presider, as if he wanted everyone to hear him as he exchanged banal pleasantries. Alan twitched, again hearing that terrible cacophony on the ears of memory, and he took a deep breath to steady himself again.
They were noticed when they entered, of course, and people bowed as they passed. Alan was used to all the attention being directed at him, so he seemingly ignored all the people staring and whispering as he let his eyes wander, looking for people he knew and actually wanted to talk to. Many seemed to be regarding Maria, and he wondered what absurd rumors they came up with about her. Not just speculating she was father's or mother's lover, they made that one up about everyone, but truly absurd rumors, like how Katarina secretly controlled the government, or that Nicol was the Darkeater reborn.
Many of the younger ladies, and some of the more mature ones with the reputation to pull it off, were of course wearing suits in imitation of Maria, as had been the fashion for some time. Of course, they were doing it wrong, the fabrics too delicate of the cut too tight to accentuate their femininity, but Alan caught sight of a few women who were actually wearing something like what Maria would wear, though in bright colors like red, blue or yellow. Perhaps he was just used to Maria's appearance, but he thought those women actually looked better than the pretenders. And while many wore hats, they were colorful, gaudy things, with far too many plumes, feathers, flowers, trailing scarfs, and in one case a small brazier that burned with perfumed incense.
Maria, of course, noticed none of this, or the curious, admiring, or outright longing looks she received. If she saw any of those women, it was probably to see if they were holding or concealing weapons. From the looks she gave their handbags, she was probably wondering what sorts of potions and poisons they might have concealed. If he hadn't been watching her out of the corner of his eye, Alan wouldn't have noticed how her eyes lingered on a woman who'd pulled out a bottle of perfume, or how one hand slowed from its normal walking pace swing as if in anticipation of drawing a weapon.
Eventually, they reached the middle of the area where their nobles had congregated, to find Duchess Claes all but holding court. She and the duke of course bowed to father, followed by everyone else. "You Majesty," Duke Claes said.
"Your grace," King Artorias returned. "Anything of note?"
"My daughter is attracting undead," Duke Claes said with a smile. "And Lord Ascart has been conversing with a young woman from Hallig."
"Conversing? As in it's still ongoing?"
"The last that I heard, yes," Duke Claes said.
"Is that physically possible?"
"Apparently, it's because she's blind."
"Huh," Alan found himself saying, giving his twin brother a side-ways glance. "How come you never thought of that?"
"I admit, now that I hear it, it seems like it should have been obvious in hindsight," the blond admitted. "Though what's this about my Katarina attracting undead?"
His brother visibly faltered for a moment as Duchess Claes directed her attention towards him, despite the fact her features were set to be perfectly respectful. "It appears that word of my daughter's ability to speak and understand the utterances of the undead have spread, and have drawn the curiosity of the undead among the delegations. Lady Lei-Lei and her sister Lady Lin-Lin have already requested her services as a translator during negotiations, as has Lady Karnstein. Apparently their own translators are not as fluent as they would wish, though they will still be present."
Maria visibly twitched, eyes widening slightly, even as she continued her constant vigilance.
"Wait, Katarina is going to be present during negotiations?" Alan said. "Is that a good idea? I mean, does she know how she's supposed to act?"
There was a sound like a distressed cat.
Everyone turned to stare at Maria.
She shifted slightly under the attention… without ceasing her watch for potential assassins. "I have not yet managed to educate my squire in the protocols of being a participant in such an event." She visibly paused, even as she glanced up at the ceiling, most likely for giant spiders. "Admittedly, the seventh edition of 'The Noble's Proper Etiquette Reference and Manual of Propriety and Action' is a bit lacking in that area. Hopefully the eighth edition will correct that in future."
"I don't think you have that long," Jeffery said cheerfully.
Alan however, was imagining the scenario. Katarina at the negotiating table, being asked to translate for undead. Katarina Claes, who never talked to anyone without finding something likable about them, who probably wouldn't be able to simply keep to just translating…
Alan fought the urge to laugh maniacally. Princes didn't laugh like someone you just asked for directions in public, after all.