That night, we’re seated at the dining table for once when Bell comes bolting into the room, tail swishing like mad. I pause in the middle of feeding Kierra a piece of steak, opening my arms as the imp jumps into my lap. “Ooooh, there you are! Did you do a good job?”

“Coo!” [I have completed my job with no problems, Master Lou.]

“Good, good. I knew I could count on you.”

Kierra slides my plate toward her as I set Bell on the table in front of us. “What?” she says to the look I give her. “You were feeding it to me, weren’t you?”

“Not the whole thing. I thought I was the glutton in this relationship.”

“We both know it takes a lot to fill me up.” She takes another bite of my steak as I stare at her with a hanging jaw.

Mm. Not a fight I’m going to win. Time to retreat. “Alright, Bell. What do you have? Geneva, could you bring us something to snack on? And some of the Herbanacle, if we have it?”

[With the help of Umphrieltalia, I was able to obtain information of Prince Samuel and the individuals with him during your encounter.]

“Mm. Start from the guy trying to kill him.”

[Please close your eyes.]

I do and soon an image appears. Once again, I am in the dining room of the Gold Dorm, Prince Samuel standing before me. However, the picture is a little off. Everything in the room is blurry except for the one Bell suspects of harboring murderous intentions.

He doesn’t seem very threatening, with his stiff features and impassive blue eyes. He’s a bit too pale. I’d go as far as to call him sickly, his white pallor almost as bright as his shirt. Long, dark hair is tied back, the tail falling past his shoulders. With his thin shoulders, small waist, and weak chin, someone might mistake him for a girl at a quick glance. Only at a glance, though. His voice would definitely give it away if the completely flat chest doesn’t.

[The boy is Marcus Ferraro, fourth son of Marquis Ferraro, a vassal family of the Rosefields. As there is no chance for him to inherit, he was gifted to the prince as a manservant. It is a practice meant to inspire loyalty and cooperation between the houses.]

“That failed.”

[I sense from the boy deep dissatisfaction and envy. He is not at all happy having his life’s worth being remanded to that of someone’s servant.]

“So, we know why someone close to the prince wants to kill him. Though this Marcus is an idiot. Does he think life will go swimmingly if this assassination is successful? I don’t care what the people behind this promised him, his life is over. Either he’s executed for high treason, goes into exile to escape said execution, or he becomes a puppet of whoever knows he was complicit.”

[Greed is blinding.]

“Uh huh. I’m guessing my way in is related to the others?” Marcus can’t be a good fit. If I were in his shoes, I’d be jumpy and paranoid to the Abyss plane and back.

[Yes. Your best bet to get close to the prince would be Cecilia Rosefield, the noblewoman.]

The picture in my mind changes. Marcus Ferraro is blurred out and the girl at the prince’s shoulder because the center of my focus. Bright, golden hair that marks most of Harvest’s older families, with bright green eyes. Her eyes are narrowed, thin lips turned down in a slight frown as she presumably looks at me, if this is an image taken from my memory.

The expression doesn’t mar her pretty face but it doesn’t do much for me. Reminds me of too many sneering noble ladies from my childhood.

[Duke Rosefield’s niece. Their relationship is quite interesting. Cecilia remains close out of a sense of obligation while the prince harbors quite the lust for her.]

“How scandalous.” A prince lusting over a noblewoman? No, no. Purebred stallions like himself don’t get to jump onto any filly. He swings his sword the wrong way and he can start a lot of problems. Especially if his affections aren’t returned. “I see the potential. A damsel in distress. Suppose I can save her while I’m in the middle of a good deed.”

[It will also be the most plausible approach, as you are commonly known to be a lecherous lover of women.]

“That’s…not wrong but…” Why do I feel wronged?

[The second girl who accompanied her is her handmaid, Aquafina, though the girl refers to her as simply Fina.]

Cecilia is reduced to a haze of colors as the girl beside her becomes the center of focus. Despite that, I can’t see much of her. Fina’s head is bowed, hands clasped over her apron. A few strands of brown hair peeks through the white cap she wears over her head, everything about her screaming ‘demure servant’.

[Daughter of a baron tied to the Traditional Faction. No one of much note, bred into her role. She does have a recurring fantasy of being swept off her feet by a handsome nobleman who will lavish her in the riches she has to envy everyday.]

That sounds incredibly exploitable but I wouldn’t toy with a maiden’s heart like that. Despicable. But perhaps she can be helpful.

[The boy standing behind the prince is your second obstacle.]

Fina is blurred and a young man standing slightly ahead of Prince Samuel comes into focus. Unlike the others, his person doesn’t scream wealth. Like Alana, he is dressed in light armor, a sword hanging from his waist. Clean shaven, serious eyes, and a strong chin, he reminds me of the first sons from the village, the ones who grow up to take care of their families and fathers want their daughters to marry.

[Browyn, a son of House Griffon which has provided members to the Royal Guards for generations. Very observant, very obedient, and very repressed. He smells of a budding earth affinity.]

The little imp licks her lips. Oh saints, protect that boy. The last thing a repressed young man needs is a succubus taking an interest in him. “I don’t really care what you get up to as long as it’s consensual and it doesn’t cause me any problems.”

Her grin is vicious. [Last, the one who was watching is Julius.] My focus narrows onto a young man at the back of the group. Dressed in a blue-green robe lined with gold and covered in gold jewelry, he is a beacon of wealth. From his darker skin and short, curly hair, I figure he must come from the coast, perhaps one of the ports.

[Son of the House Yule, a vassal of the Guiness family.”

“Whoa, a merchant? That doesn’t make any sense. Unless he is in on the plot?”

[At the moment, he seems to be something of a devil on the shoulder. Trying to worm his way into forming a connection with the royal family and the Traditionalists.]

“Mm. Working with the enemy. Gold really is the one true king.” If they are vassals of the Guiness, then their business must be quite restricted. Branching out into new markets, are we? It’s been a while since I’ve visited Maxine. Wonder if she would want to know about this? Hopefully, he doesn’t become a problem.

“I’m starting to see it. I make nice with the noble miss. She is undoubtedly charmed by myself. She keeps her new best friend close as she hangs around the prince, which gives us the opportunity to save his life without him ever knowing. Easy as raising taxes. The only question is where to ambush her. The Gold Dorm is out of the question, not even I am bold enough to show up outside her door—”

“Perhaps you should be,” Geneva suddenly says from my side, setting down a platter of fruit and cheese. She moves around me to fill Kierra’s glass first. Oh, my dinner’s gone. Sigh. “Fortune favors the bold.”

“If I do that, I’m going to go from a lech to a predator. Men have died for less. Saints protect me.”

Geneva fills my glass, lifting it to my lips. “No, Lou. That’s what we’re here for. You will be perfectly fine.”

I drink obligingly. It sounds very convincing when she says it like that. In lieu of grabbing the cup, I pull Geneva until she sits in my lap, motioning for her to raise the cup again. Reminding myself that this is a circle 7 don, one of the strongest residents of Burning Earth ever recorded, helping me sip my liquor.

Kierra is right. Really need to break my common sense. Doesn’t fit me anymore. “Okay then. Next Restday, Cecilia Rosefield can expect a visitor.”