Dia ran through the instructions Schwarz had provided for all of them, in the hopes that they could deceive the count, and forcibly went against her usual eating habits that had been drilled through years and years of formal dining. It was especially hard, since all the usual tools of the trade was placed on the table, and she found herself fixating on the fork and spoon in order to ignore the other utensils.

She could feel the keen gaze of Count Nightfall and his companion sweep past her and the others. Did they notice the habits that high nobility exhibited at a formal dinner in her? Dia didn’t know, and nor did she dare to let out any hint that she was paying attention.

Separating out a large chunk of salmon, she raised it to her mouth and used that opening to look at the others. Schwarz and Risti didn’t have much problems fitting in; they were eating without any reserve. Farah, however, was fumbling magnificently with her food; if Dia didn’t know any better, she would have thought that the countess didn’t actually know how to use the finer, more specialised utensils.

It didn’t take long before they were done, since none of them was eating slowly with the kind of grace that should have been afforded to luxurious food. Dia didn’t quite like that fact, but they didn’t have all that much of a choice. Schwarz and Risti clearly weren’t all that trained in fine dining, while she and Farah were acting like normal people with all their might.

The clinking of utensils on plates stopped, and

Count Nightfall chuckled as he picked up a glass of red wine and raised it in their direction. “A toast to the saviours of Licencia.”

Like the others, Dia mechanically raised her own glass and sipped at it.

“Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

After a round of toasts, the Count cleared his throat. Setting down his glass, he leaned back on his chair. “Once again, thank you very much for your aid a few nights back. Folders with Arms Master are natural disasters in a city, and I did not even know that Rickens had that skill. If he did…”

His face darkened for a moment, and the count turned away. “Either way, the Moon Lords have helped to save the population of Licencia. By the time you acted, over two hundred had died; if you hadn’t extended your assistance when you did, the number of deaths could have easily been ten times of that. Assuming, of course, I managed to put him down.”

“No need for thanks,” Schwarz replied, his voice brusque and yet as smooth as butter. “This is my city too. I live here. Helping out when disaster strikes is something anyone would do.”

“But you did more than that,” the count replied. “And that bit more is so much more deserving of thanks than anything else. Thank you. On the behalf of my citizens.”

Dia felt a bit uncomfortable at those words, and she had to push herself slightly to maintain what everyone had deemed to be the appropriate expression for today’s events: solemn, with a touch of melancholy. It wasn’t all that hard, considering that they had just witnessed a scene of grief.

Accepting the count’s heartfelt thanks was the harder bit.

“Think little of it,” said Schwarz.

“Very well.” The count smiled. “Now, I’ve extended an invitation to alll here to discuss what I deem as a suitable reward for the Moon Lords. You might have come here with the intention to reject any benefaction I bestow, but I cannot have that. The hearts of the people will grow cold, even if the Moon Lords explicitly lay it out that they rejected it of their own volition.”

Dia stopped herself from narrowing her eyes. The count was, essentially, cutting off any last route of retreat that she and the others might have been harbouring. Of course, since they were intending on cooperating with Count Nightfall to begin with, it wasn’t that big of a deal, but the way the count had insisted on their partnership was somewhat fishy.

“Pardon me for asking,” said Farah, “but is this truly the only reason? I cannot help but think that you have some ulterior motives in strongarming such a partnership.”

Her words were brash. This wasn’t something anyone had agreed on, but Farah wasn’t the kind to act rashly in situations like this. She could be insensitive, and she used to be quite condescending towards normal people, but Farah had mellowed out over time.

If she acted like that, it could only mean that the countess saw a straightforward question as the best way to move forward. Dia, who was no newcomer to diplomacy, could vaguely understand why Farah did what she did, but…

It wasn’t just her who was shocked, either. The others were showing varying degrees of surprise and fear, even the woman that was standing behind Count Nightfall.

“Hahaha!” Count Nightfall slapped the table and guffawed. “Fascinating, fascinating! So many people have come before me, but you are one of the rare few who dare question my intentions.”

Wiping his eyes, the count patted tapped his forehead, an action that drew everyone’s gaze to his face. Now that Dia was looking at the count directly, she couldn’t help but note that his eyes were a dark purple, a purple that stared at Farah with an incredible intensity.

“I apologise if I have offended you.”

“No, you haven’t. It’s just…I haven’t been questioned directly to my face by a social inferior for a very long time,” said the count. “Nostalgic, really. As for the answer to your question…well, I shall be frank, then.”

“Sir?” the woman behind him asked. “Didn’t I tell you about—”

“Drop that,” Nightfall replied. “Whatever that happened is all under the bridge now.”

“But…”

“No buts,” the count replied, before turning back to Farah. “So. My intentions. Grandis is undergoing a period of unrest. For the first time since the Empire’s founding, a Ruler has died. Murdered, perhaps. I dare not seek out the truth. But war is on the horizon. Duke Istrel will become Ruler Istrel.”

“Count, are you referring to the rumours of war?” Risti asked.

“So, you know. As expected of the Moon Lords, who have already moved to install ballistae, military ones at that, before the price shot up.” The count smiled. “Yes. I am referring to the rumours of war. The future ruler’s vassals have already been informed to mobilise for war, one without precedent. And I, as a tri-folder and as a count anointed by Ruler Istrel, must join the war.”

“You want us to take part?” Schwarz asked.

“What? No. No. Rather, what I need are people who see and place the needs of my citizens above their own considerations,” Count Nightfall replied. “You dared to expose your ballistae in order to stop Rickens. I believe you lot qualify.”

Dia glanced at the others, their eyes full of shock.

“Are you sure about that? What if we had nefarious intentions?”

The count chuckled, and then grinned at the woman behind him. “Okay. Let’s say you have nefarious intentions. What can you do against me, a tri-folder?”

Blue light, one so intense that it physically hurt to look at it, danced around his finger. The burst of mana vanished seconds later, leaving behind a harmless-looking count. “Children have the right to be wilful, but recognise that none of you can qualify to harm me whatsoever. And besides, it’s not an easy job.”

“What do you mean by that?” Farah asked.

“The dukedoms of Umbra are mobilising their troops and the troops of their vassals,” said Count Nightfall. “This presents an incredible opportunity for nobles with expansionist desires; as we speak, I have sent out agents to nearly every single county and barony in Istrel. My peers are doing the same; the region west of Licencia is full of folders and vanillas hoping to disrupt law and order there.”

That open, candid admission of Nightfall’s own ambitions left everyone else speechless, and the count chuckled at that sight. “My main point, however, is that this city would, like every other city, be a battleground wreathed in shadows. As independent folders, the Moon Lords are not expected to take part in the upcoming war…which frees everyone present to secure the city from unscrupulous folders.”

“That’s what you want us to do?”

“In a way, it is but a logical extension of what you have done. Even if I did not say anything, the moment I bring my subordinates out for war, Licencia’s underworld would see multiple incursions by one-folders,” said Count Nightfall, his voice filled with fatigue. “Consider this invitation a blessing and license from me. Enforce order for me. Protect my people. And you shall be duly rewarded.”

“A contract to that effect has already been prepared,” said the woman behind him. “It is a very generous one.”

The count smiled. “Truth be told, I have no intention of forcing the Moon Lords into this. It was something she made me say. I prefer giving people a choice where possible.”

The woman behind the count smacked his head, and then turned to everyone else. She didn’t say anything, but intuitively, Dia understood that this was the crossroads of choice.

She glanced at the others, and as one, they gave their reply.