Chương 53: Chapter 1.53: Intermission

The crowd around them dispersed, yet the three powerful Senators at the center remained, beginning an animated discussion. Serpens was arguing with Valeria, but Marcus glared at Favius. He meaningfully looked first at the boy, then at his sisters. Favius narrowed his eyes. Why isn't he calling me out? Oh, I guess he wants to avoid that because it would embarrass him. He widened his eyes as Marcus stared him down. See, Father, I'm innocent. He smiled.

The side of his father's face twitched, and he made a sharp yet understated gesture without raising his hand. The meaning was clear. Cut it off. Favius inclined his head and smiled. Well, if he's unwilling to intervene… He walked off and saw an approving expression on his father's face as he looked over his shoulder. With a smirk, Favius turned towards the buffet. But surely my Father cannot expect me not to take some refreshments before talking to my sisters. He studied the food-laden tables and his grin widened.

This wasn't just a buffet. It was an art gallery of food. The food was arranged into animal forms and abstract shapes, and waves of smells met him. Dozens, no, hundreds of sauces and dips were provided alongside every conceivable dish. Half a hundred kinds of fish, a dozen varieties of egg, and a huge selection of fruits, many of which he couldn't recognize, to name a few of his options. A servant approached him, reading his intentions, and began following him with a platter.

Favius merely had to gesture or inquire about the food, and the man, his expression the perfect mix of professionalism and servility, explained and elaborated on the tastes. Soon Favius settled onto an empty couch, the servant bowing as he placed the platter on the low table, and Favius stretched out on the upholstered piece of furniture. Jesus, all of this… It was so exhausting. I'm glad it's over. He began his culinary adventure with an egg dipped in a yellow sauce and garnished with spices.

Chewing, he closed his eyes with a pleased hum. The egg was sour with a slight note of vinegar, and the sauce tasted like sweet mustard. He grinned broadly as he munched down on it. Well, I guess the advantage of being the absolute elite of a country is that I get to eat the food of the zero point, however many zeros, one percent of society. His next morsel was a honeyed fish, which the servant had assured him was quite popular with young aristocrats.

"Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained," he murmured and took a bite while observing how more and more noblewomen were clustering around his sisters, both of whom were handing out gifts and holding polite conversations. With a broad smile, he saw that several other clusters of nobles were sniffing at and fussing about the soap. More and more women from those other clusters left towards the two girls. Favius snorted as he licked the sweet juices of an exotic fruit off his fingers.

It had been prepared along with a spicy flower and a mixture of greens. He clicked his tongue. It is exquisite. I've never been to a place where the garnishes are not just aesthetic but also taste so good. While focusing on the platter, his eyes narrowed with the effort of making the hard decision of what to try next. A shadow fell over him. He looked up and saw a young boy around his own age, followed by another servant with a platter.

"Young Master Ovinius Loran," he said, inclining his head.

"May I join you for this meal?" Favius bobbed his head in agreement and smiled. The boy settled onto the couch cornering his, and the servant left the platter. For a moment, Favius continued studying the food in silence. The other child spoke up.

"You ought to try those cakes. Their plum and mutton filling is among the tastiest things I've yet found." Favius raised his eyebrow and picked up the small muffin. He took a bite and couldn't help but hum in agreement. The earthy taste of mutton and the fruitiness of the plums were connected nicely by a note of something that was close to yet not quite the smoky note of whiskey.

"You have my thanks," Favius replied after he licked his lips clean. The boy grinned.

"Please, none of that. The secrets of the best foods at any party ought to be freely shared, especially"—he gave Favius a toothy grin—"among fellow cultivators." Favius raised a single eyebrow in his best.

"A fellow cultivator. That is a bold claim." He chuckled.

"Not nearly as bold as your father proclaiming that all three of his children are cultivators when you entered the hall." Favius chuckled, conceding the point with a gesture.

"Well then, it appears you have me at a disadvantage. What is your title then?" The boy shrugged.

"That is no great secret. Like you, I am a Cultor Bellator." He smirked widely.

"What else would be appropriate for young nobles like us but to pursue the martial path?" Favius replied with a grin.

"So I can assume that you too have a merciless tutor who pushes you through endless drills in the mornings?" You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. The boy laughed boisterously.

"Yes, indeed. We share such a fate. My tutor is particularly fond of having me hold boulders over my head while performing sprints. How is yours tormenting you?" Favius smirked.

"It must be something with the sprints. Mine is fond of taking us on long runs in the mornings, which we finish by sprinting up a hillside again and again until he believes we've given all we have to give." The other boy snorted, then leaned in conspiratorially.

"Please make sure that my tutor never hears of that. It might give him..." The boy shuddered.

"Ideas."

"You have my word." The boy looked around mischievously.

"So how did you get to cultivate before the proper age?" Favius narrowed his eyes for a brief moment, and the side of the other boy's mouth twitched upward.

"Well," Favius said, "I asked my mentor to explain things to me, and it turned out me and my sisters were talented."

"A tutor skilled at not only the martial arts, but also capable of ensuring one of your sisters became a Cultor Mentis. Most curious," he replied, and for a moment, both of them chewed on snacks in silence. The other boy leaned forward.

"Let me show you something." He picked up a copper coin and let it run over his fingers. The speed increased, and soon he was shooting the coin with the blurring speed of a bullet, yet the unerring precision of a sniper, between his hands. Favius smelled the distant tingling of pneuma. He's clearly enforcing himself. But it's not just that. I haven't trained for a very long time, but I don't think I can match that. So he has an insight related to speed? He hummed. The other boy grinned.

"How about it? If you display your insight, I promise I'll tell you the name of mine." Favius nodded to himself, and his thoughts were racing. Of course, this is not just a relaxed encounter. He has an agenda. Favius smirked, looking over at his sisters distributing the soap from across the room.

Marcus met his eyes, but the annoyed fury that had been there before was gone, replaced with a thoughtful expression as he looked between Favius and the noblewomen chattering, fussing, and gossiping around his sisters and their little soap project. It's not that I came here with the intention of just enjoying the party, but... Favius shook his head.

"I would love to, friend, but sadly my insight doesn't lend itself to such displays." The boy raised an eyebrow.

"A martial insight that cannot be displayed?" Favius gave him a toothy grin.

"Not without unduly upsetting the hostess, I believe." He studied the other cultivator's face as he considered Favius's words with thoughtful interest.

"Very well," said the boy.

"I must say I am very glad to have met you."

"And why is that?"

"Because standing alone at the top of our generation would be boring. It is our peers that push us to grow and against whom we should measure ourselves, wouldn't you agree?"

"So you're saying you haven't found any peers so far?" Favius gestured across the room.

"Today must be your lucky day. For now you have three of us." The boy snorted and looked across the room before refocusing on Favius.

"Please. Your sisters may be talented, but in the end they are girls. And what true man would measure himself against a woman?" Favius gave him a tight smile. I don't think that discussing gender norms with a ten-year-old aristocrat in a patrilineal society is going to be productive. Though… He tilted his head. It might actually be fun to push him. After all, he wanted to measure himself against a worthy rival, and rhetoric is considered a legitimate area of contest here.

Favius marshalled his thoughts and gave the boy a vicious grin.

"You may think that, but—" Gasps and cries of surprise and outrage filled the hall. Both their heads spun around, and Favius saw Urania in the middle of a crowd of young noblewomen. Yet there was a boy at the early end of puberty looming over her. The box of soaps her servant had been carrying about lay broken on the ground, and the packages had scattered.

"What the fuck?" murmured Favius, and before he knew it, he was on his feet as he carved his way through the crowd. The boy was waving his hands threateningly, and Urania's expression turned from upset to angry. Favius accelerated. Damn it, I know this face. She's about to start crying. Why is no one— An older noblewoman stepped forward, extending her hand towards the boy, but two younger ones intercepted her, and Favius's blood went cold. He looked over his shoulder.

A red-faced Marcus was arguing with Serpens while Valeria was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Aelia as he let his gaze drift across the room. So it's on me. But this entire thing— Before he could continue the thought, he was already in the middle of it.

"Have you no shame, girl? This is a party of the highest nobles, and you're peddling wares like a common merchant. Then again—" The boy, as if by a third sense, turned towards Favius and gave him a vicious smile.

"What else ought one expect from the whelps of a traitor who overstepped all bounds of propriety?" Favius gave the man a cold stare. Yet there was an odd lightness in his chest. This is not like meeting my Grandmother or the other politicians. This is just another child. He interposed his body between Urania and the boy and put ice into his voice.

"What is the meaning of this? Can't you see that the noble ladies were discussing affairs of beauty? Why do you think you can so boorishly barge into this and push about a little girl?" The boy straightened himself.

"You dare call me boorish?" He sneered and kicked at the splintered box.

"Such an insult is rich coming from someone whose sister acts like a common fishmonger. But perhaps..." The boy's expression grew thoughtful.

"If she is so mercantilely inclined, it's not just her wares but also her virtue that's for purchase." He reached into his robe and threw a jingling coin purse at Favius's feet.

"May I assume that I am now free to do with her whatever I desire?" Anger boiled up in Favius, and the surrounding nobles and their retainers gasped. Several noblewomen took a step forward, outrage on their expressions. Well, this idiot is certainly pushing things, but Marcus— Favius was about to shoot back, but then looked over his shoulder again and saw Serpens's smug smile as he clearly stood in Marcus's way. This. This is just another layer of political theater.

If this boy acted like this just because he felt like it, I don't think he would be able to sit for an entire month after his father was done with him. He studied the coin purse and took in the growing outrage around him. What is the plan here? I'm practically obliged to challenge him to a duel now. Is that what all of this is about? Getting me into a duel? Favius swallowed. He's bigger and tougher, but as long as he isn't a cultivator, I stand a chance.

But is this pubescent brat worth fighting or will that get me into more trouble? He studied the unusually tall and muscular frame of the boy. That's not going to be a nice fight. He recalled what Brutus had taught him about fighting superior opponents. His thoughts froze as the boy's smile widened as Favius failed to respond. In duelling, it matters who issues a challenge, and in politics, the framing of an incident is more important than its reality. So...

Favius let out a loud snort and shook his head disapprovingly.

"You must have forgotten your manners in a drunken stupor, cur. Normally, I would break your jaw for your words. But..." He studied the boy's body disdainfully.

"Given the grotesque physique of your body, it is pretty clear to me that your mother should have eased up on the alcohol during pregnancy. Like, a lot." The smug expression shattered, and the boy gaped at Favius, mouth and eyes wide open.

"You. You." He sputtered, and laughter arose from the crowd around him. The boy stepped forward and brought up the back of his hand, trying to slap Favius across the face just as Brutus had done with Cassian. Favius released his pneuma and took a step back, avoiding the strike by a few finger-widths. The boy grunted in surprise and stumbled. Favius saw the opening right there. His footwork is bad. And that extended knee. One kick.

But before he could even finish the thought, never mind act on it, a loud clap sounded through the room as Serpens called out to the masses.

"Well, well, my friends, it seems there shall be some entertainment to liven up this party."