Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 142 – Floor 13: Part 3

As Mathew entered the gardens, the sounds of music and conversation washed over him. He didn’t appreciate it; he had spent too much time in hostile environments to enjoy a crowd of people watching his every move.

The conversations stilled as he swept his gaze across them. He was looking for threats by habit, not because he truly expected any danger here. The ‘Buzz’ hadn’t activated a single time since his arrival, even when facing the Lady of the Lake.

But he had no intention of ever-changing. Better to be constantly on edge than let his guard down. Sure, this Floor had shown that it was relatively safe, but what about the next?

Still, he allowed himself to relax slightly as he saw no obvious monster lurking in the shadows or knife-wielding assassins ready to leap out of the group of Nobles.

He had told Albrecht that he would try to enjoy the party, and he sort of meant it. How long had it been since he had been around people without the threat of violence? It felt like ages.

Mathew used to like parties; at least, he thought he did. His memory of Earth was a bit hazy. There were galas and events when he was at Harvard. Emily had gone with him to some. Thankfully, he was shaken out of thoughts of her by loud voices and a group of Noble Lords approaching him.

They were all dressed in fine clothing, heavily embroidered and thick jackets matched with long cloaks. Several of them had furs on the hood despite the heat. Mathew felt stifled and uncomfortable in his own uniform, the most uncomplicated and simple outfit in his newly provided wardrobe. He couldn’t imagine adding additional layers to it like these men had.

“Prince Aiden! A marvellous display, I can understand why your Father kept you hidden for all these years! Truly a showman!” A large lord said as he spread his arms wide and gave a slight bow. Beads of sweat rolled down the lord's face despite the enchantments on his clothing to provide cooling in the spring warmth.

His statement was followed by a chorus of agreement from the others, and Mathew found himself in their midst. Their praise continued, but Mathew could detect a hint of something in their tones. They were digging for information, each of their questions circling around his personal life.

They never outright asked where he grew up, but they came close. Mathew stuck to the agreed-upon backstory that Albrecht had provided.

“The Colonies are a lot warmer in spring; you’re quite right about that. Anglia’s chill will take some getting used to.” Mathew replied to one lord who had commented that the colony's weather was different from Anglia’s in an attempt to get Mathew to open up.

“The Southern Americas can be quite humid. I spent some time there as a Squire, although that was a few decades ago!” An older lord said as he took a drink from his wine glass, using a handkerchief to wipe the droplets from his large mustache.

“It can be pretty hot.” Mathew said, not offering any more than that. Let them guess where ‘Aiden’ grew up.

The real Aiden was supposed to land in the Northern Americas, close to Boston. Of course, in this world, the United States didn’t exist. The colonies barely held on at the frontiers of North America, and the Demi-Beasts controlled most of the mainland.

Mathew had been surprised to learn about that. Anglia had been keen to exploit the natural resources of the new world, but the Demi-Beasts were too well entrenched for humanity to gain a significant foothold there.

From what Mathew had read, the West Coast was practically uninhabited, not to mention the various monsters that lurked beneath the sea, preying on the ships that passed. It was no wonder that the colonies weren’t flourishing.

“What are your plans now that you have returned home, Prince Aiden? Can we expect a sortie into the Orkneys?” Another lord asked, and Mathew was just about to open his mouth to respond when Queen Margrit interrupted.

Following behind the Queen was a young woman wearing a light blue dress and her honey-coloured hair done in an elaborate bun with curls coming down to her shoulders. She was pale, pretty and confident in herself. Seeing ‘Aiden’ looking at her, she gave a small curtsy.

“I’m afraid I must steal my son away from you, but it is time for him to open the ball with a dance. Aiden, this is Evelyn Toth. Her family has been close to our house for many generations. Accompany her onto the dancefloor.” Margrit ordered, and Mathew’s eyes flicked over to the Queen for a moment before he nodded.

“Lady Evelyn.” Mathew said as he took her hand and led her into the center of the cleared space designated for dancing. He just hoped he remembered enough from the few dance lessons he had gotten ages ago.

Page Break

Marten and Daphne watched Prince Aiden approach the dancefloor with Evelyn Toth.

His choice of partner wasn’t surprising; it was obvious that the King was rewarding his most loyal retainers. Marten wouldn’t be shocked if a betrothal contract was already in place, which had been discarded when Aiden first went ‘missing’ and is now finding new life with the Prince’s return.

Evelyn Toth was beautiful; anyone with eyes could see that, and she matched Aiden perfectly. The pair stood on the dancefloor, the magical lights illuminating them clearly for the crowd. Taking her hands in his, Aiden began a simple waltz.

It was clear to even Marten that Aiden wasn’t a good dancer. He kept to the basics, in reasonable time to the music. Serviceable enough not to embarrass himself, but the stories in tomorrow’s papers weren’t going to be about his dancing.

While the couple danced, Marten eyed the surrounding lords and ladies. He could easily spot Matilda; she seemed ready to pounce on Aiden as soon as the music stopped, hoping that the Prince would pick her next.

Sweeping past her, Marten settled on Lord Rosen. The man looked like he had spent the evening sucking on a lemon, not even attempting to hide his disdain for the new Crown Prince. If there was going to be trouble, it would come from the group of sycophants clustered around Rosen.

The music finally died down, and the crowd applauded the pair. Marten could see that the Queen was already in the process of selecting Aiden’s next partner, a charming young woman who had just been introduced to Society this season when Marten noticed another person approaching the Prince.

Camille Rosen. Perfect. Lord Rosen’s youngest daughter was twenty and had a number of suitors, all ready and willing to do whatever it took to catch her attention.

“Get ready, here comes trouble.” Marten said to Daphne. He was just the perfect amount of drunk to watch the show without being so drunk as to look forward to it. Next to him, Daphne’s eyes locked on to the Prince just as Camille called out to him.

“My Prince, May I request the next dance?” Camille asked, her voice silky smooth. Wearing a form fitting green dress and her long, blond hair set in elaborate curls that reached down her back, Marten could understand why so many young lords were clamouring for her affection.

By the gods, Marten could almost count himself amongst their number if the effort wasn’t too bothersome.

Prince Aiden turned to look at the young Lady just as another Lord swaggered toward them. He had a sword on his hip, and Marten recognized him immediately. Reginald Fairfax was from a house closely aligned with House Rosen.

Marten let out a snort at the farce playing out in front of them, and Daphne looked to her cousin for an explanation. Shaking his head, he gestured for her to keep watching.

“Why don’t you have a dance with me, Camille? You’ll save yourself the embarrassment of having your feet stepped on.” Reginald said loudly, practically shouting the words out as he looked around in satisfaction at the effect he was having.

“That is quite alright, Reggie. I prefer a real man.” Camille said without even sparing Reginald a glance. She gave Aiden a large smile and approached even nearer to the Prince.

Page Break

Mathew, aware of exactly what was going on, let out a weary sigh. Couldn’t they just get it over with? Why did they need all the pageantry?

“A real man!? I’ll prove my devotion to you here and now! I challenge you to a duel, Aiden. I will have-”

“Fine. Let’s get this farce over with.” Mathew replied, cutting off the pompous idiot before he could launch into his spiel. Unbuttoning his coat, Mathew looked around at the surrounding Lords and Ladies. Many of them flinched as his gaze met theirs.

“Listen, if you want to attempt to kill me in a fight, just go ahead and try. But please, for the love of the gods, spare me your bullshit. Get out of my way!” Mathew growled the last words at Camille, gesturing her rudely to step aside.

With the way the woman’s eyes opened wide and she appeared stunned, Mathew guessed it was the first time someone had ever been rude to her.

Tossing his coat away, Mathew pulled out Excalibur and gave it a few practice swings, heedless of his surging mana's effect. While he was limbering up, Albrecht approached him. Across the dancefloor, Reginald had drawn his own weapon, a single-edged sabre.

“You won’t be able to use that in an honour duel. These things need to be fair. Here, use mine.” Albrecht said, taking Excalibur from Mathew’s hands and giving him his own sword.

“Oh, and try not to kill him.” Albrecht finished, patting Mathew on the shoulder and walking back to where the Queen stood. No one seemed surprised at the sudden turn to violence; everyone had been expecting something to happen.

“Come on, I don’t have all night.” Mathew muttered as he flashed a grin that seemed to relish the violence. Mathew normally wasn’t one to look forward to a fight, but anything was better than dancing and small talk.