Altair walked along the road with a parasol in hand, cursing George III under his breath as he went. "What was that idiot thinking? Holding a hunt in summer—doesn't he know how hot it is?"
"Altair, over here."
As soon as Altair entered the tent, he heard someone call his name. He turned toward the voice and saw Hether Grant calling to him.
When Altair reached the table, he saw that Hether Grant had already taken out a "deck of cards." "Come play a few rounds of Fight Evil with us," she said.
Looking at the "playing cards" in her hand, Altair couldn't help but laugh ruefully to himself.
Back then, Roselle had copied everything and claimed he'd invented it all. If no one knew the truth, that was fine. But if anyone found out, Roselle would become a laughingstock.
Fortunately, Altair had been farsighted. He hadn't changed the names when copying them; whoever had designed something got the credit, which would keep him from being found out later.
He was also curious whether, two and a half years from now, Klein would come looking for "them" when he saw those items and their designers' names.
"A nine."
"A ten."
With nothing else to do, Altair sat down and joined Hether and the others in a game of Fight Evil.
He looked at his hand, casually played a card, and asked curiously, "What's going on with this 'hunt' today? Why is it being held in summer?"
Tiffany O'Neill looked at the cards on the table, played a king, and said, "I heard it has something to do with the Third Prince, Edsac."
Hether tapped the table to indicate that she couldn't beat the card, then said casually, "It's nothing major, really. They're just building up Edsac's image."
Hether's words left Altair confused. He immediately asked, "Are they deciding on the heir to the throne ahead of time?"
Hether looked at him and smiled. "Why assume it's about choosing an heir? Couldn't it be something else?"
"For example, supporting one prince so he can compete with the eldest prince for power."
Hearing Hether's explanation, Altair couldn't help sighing. This method of balancing power at court was used everywhere.
Now it all depended on whether anyone took the bait. Guess right, and you'd be rewarded for backing the future ruler. Guess wrong, and your entire family would be executed.
"Tap, tap, tap."
The sound of Hether tapping the table interrupted Altair's thoughts.
Seeing his distracted expression, Hether said slowly, "Why haven't you played a card yet? You need to focus."
Altair glanced at the cards on the table and played a seven.
"A ten. I win! Pay up, pay up!" Hether said with a happy laugh.
Altair's inattention had helped the two women win the round. He casually took two one-pound notes from his wallet and handed one to Hether and one to Tiffany.
After taking the money from Altair, Hether began shuffling the cards again and said calmly,
"I asked you to come over and play cards with me for this reason, too. Owen and Leif both told me to warn you to be careful and keep an eye on you while you're here. Whatever happens, don't get involved. For now, you're just an ordinary noble."
"Come on, don't dwell on unimportant things. They'll handle it. It won't spoil our game."
Just an "ordinary noble," and I'm not supposed to get involved. Have I been targeted?
What family's "ordinary noble" was as unusual as he was? His family members had served in the military for generations and had solid connections in the army. He was wealthy in his own right, and now he was leading the development of the New Industrial Zone.
His family had considerable influence, both politically and socially.
There was only one person left in his family, making him a perfect "asset" to leverage.
Altair had been soundly defeated at Fight Evil that morning. When he played against Hether, he felt like a child; she saw right through all his thoughts.
He was losing nine times out of ten. If Tiffany hadn't been there to lose even more often, Altair would have thought his Spectator abilities had stopped working.
Using his Telepathist ability, Altair could only sense Tiffany's thoughts.
It was completely useless against Hether. She was like a walking "anti-magic field."
Hether patted Altair on the shoulder and said, "Still spacing out? Come on, the luncheon is about to begin. If we're late, those people will accuse us of being rude."
"Altair, you should try this. This dessert tastes pretty good."
"Yeah, it's less sweet than the other desserts."
The luncheon was served buffet-style, with guests helping themselves and no servants waiting on them.
This approach, of course, had been invented by Roselle and brought over from Intis.
Apparently, Roselle hadn't liked the traditional way nobles dined. He thought it was too formal, so at one banquet he ordered the guests to serve themselves.
Altair had to give Roselle credit for that.
Under the traditional dining arrangement, guests had to be seated according to rank, from highest to lowest.
The food was served in the same order: the King first, followed by the Prince, Duke, Earl, Viscount, and Baron.
The King would never wait until the servants had served everyone else before eating.
Instead, each person ate as soon as their food arrived. Once they finished, the tableware was cleared and the next course was served.
When there were too many guests, the nobles at the end of the line didn't get to eat at all. They could only sneak into the kitchen for something to eat after the banquet ended.
As the afternoon sun sank lower, the young men could no longer contain their excitement. They were about to race horses in the sweltering summer heat.
Hether led Altair into the VIP box, where they watched the horses gallop past.
The summer heat kept Altair fanning himself nonstop, leaving him unable to pay attention to anything else.
Hether only turned to look when she heard the strong gusts from Altair's fan.
She gave his efforts an approving look, then said, "It's a good thing I brought you along. At least I don't have to fan myself."
Altair said expressionlessly, "When will this banquet be over? I feel awful."
Hether didn't answer his complaint, only smiled and said, "You're already having a hard time? There's another part tonight that'll make you feel even worse."
"Another part tonight?"
Altair immediately stopped fanning himself and asked in confusion. Then he thought about it and muttered under his breath, "Could it be about Edsac? But my great-uncle and the others said they'd take care of it."
"Of course it has something to do with him—and not just him," Hether said with certainty, then explained,
"You're the target of every noble youth in Bexland right now. Look at those young men over there, all dressed to the nines. A good number of them have their eyes on you."
"If you don't believe me, try it tonight. At the ball, you'll definitely be the center of attention."
Before you continue