Chapter 16

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Oh no, not at all! What a frightening thing to say.”

“As soon as I had a drink, whew…! I could swear I saw your face hovering in front of me.”

Flattering remarks devoid of any sincerity came pouring out. Their transparency was obvious—even Mariax could tell. Everyone was trying their best to stay in Gart’s good graces. And yet, if it was truly their best, it seemed futile. Gart’s expression remained unchanged as he listened to their sycophancy. His brow lifted ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth curled faintly upward, as if to say, “Impressive nonsense.” Whether others flattered or cursed him, he would likely respond the same.

“Then by all means, enjoy yourselves. No need to stand around like you’re trying to kick out the intruder.”

They did their best to sit, did their best to enjoy themselves, did their best to stuff their mouths with food, and did their best to throw alcohol down their throats. Gart gave them a slow glance, then sat in an empty seat. Only then did the people notice Mariax, who had been hidden behind Gart. All eyes turned to her. Silence returned.

Under the weight of those gazes, Mariax carefully examined each emotion she could sense. Observing and analyzing was the one thing she did well. Curiosity, surprise, vague hostility, vague goodwill. Their emotions were as uncertain as their knowledge of her.

But Mariax knew how to blur others’ emotions and gazes toward her. Stay silent. Suppress the sound of breathing. Keep her eyes forward but focus on nothing. Minimize movement. Erase her presence. By blending into the atmosphere, she no longer appeared to be a powerful figure who posed a threat, nor a weakling who could be threatened. She became like a stone on the roadside—something unnoticed, uncared for, even if it was there.

The avoidance tactics she’d refined over years worked to some extent. The moment she stood still without saying a word, some people lost interest and began watching Gart instead. It was only natural—he was the kind of person whose presence drew attention even when he simply breathed.

In the suffocating silence, Gart began eating the bread and meat in front of him. Only then did the others relax and resume enjoying their food and drink. People who couldn’t recognize their own faces in a mirror after a drink weren’t likely to pay much mind to Mariax. Their attention quickly faded. They sang songs, laughed foolishly, fought while stealing each other’s food. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. Yet despite being in the same space, Mariax felt like she alone was in a different world. Her eyes drifted toward the few empty seats. Maybe she just felt awkward standing there doing nothing. But no seat felt like it belonged to her. The idea of being told to move, or imagining Gart frowning if she sat in the wrong place, kept her rooted to the spot. Even if her legs ached, standing seemed the better option.

“Lady Mariax.”

The large door opened and Three Thousandth entered. Despite having seen him only a few times, Mariax felt a faint sense of relief.

“What are you doing standing there?” Three Thousandth asked her, while glancing toward Gart. Gart shrugged as if to say, “How should I know?” 

So she was allowed to sit. Mariax fidgeted with the fur on her cloak.

“Please, have a seat.”

Three Thousandth kindly pulled out the chair next to Gart. Why that one, of all places? Hiding her dismay, she sat down carefully. Contrary to her fears, no one told her to move, and Gart didn’t even glance at her—he just continued eating.

Only then did Mariax finally take in the dishes laid out before her. A fragrance she’d never encountered before tickled her nose. The ingredients were likely similar to what Ulri and Ba’en used, but how did they manage to make them smell this good? Unlike the dry meat Ulri and Ba’en often burned to a crisp, the meat here was browned to perfection, glistening with juices. Instead of the black or grayish stews they would make from various ingredients, the humans’ stew had a rich reddish-brown color that looked truly appetizing. Her senses, heightened from hunger, predicted how it would taste just from the aroma. Saliva pooled in her mouth. Her shrunken stomach twisted in pain. She placed a hand inside her coat and gently pressed her abdomen. That helped a little.

“Seems like everyone is here, except for a few.” Looking around the noisy hall, Three Thousandth continued, “Thank you for your efforts in today’s battle. Let us offer a prayer for the deceased.”

He placed an open hand over his heart and closed his eyes. Not even a second passed before he opened his mouth again.

“To Thul’mor.”

It was an ancient word meaning “to the gods’ embrace.” Mariax understood the meaning, but didn’t know it was commonly used to close prayers. It was as if the entire content and grief of the prayer had been skipped. People scrambled to follow, quickly placing hands over their hearts and shutting their eyes—then just as quickly opening them again.

“Damn, aren’t we supposed to pray for at least a minute?”

“That was the most half-hearted prayer I’ve ever seen.”

Ignoring the protests, Three Thousandth went on, “We have a distinguished guest to fill a vacant seat today. This is Lady Mariax, a god of Heimdrix, who will assist with my research for the time being.”

Several people coughed at the mention of “a god of Heimdrix.” Must have gone down the wrong pipe. Their attention shifted back to Mariax. She was not thrilled. Whispers started spreading. 

“Ah, no wonder she didn’t look human.” 

“Still though…”

“I’ve never seen a living god of Heimdrix before.”

It was a line she’d heard somewhere before. Mariax now wondered just how many dead gods of Heimdrix they had seen.

“She is also a guest of Anir. Please treat her with respect. Additionally, since she is not yet familiar with the layout of the fortress, if anyone finds Lady Mariax alone in the hallways, please escort her safely to Anir’s chambers.”

Mariax immediately understood what he was really saying: “Don’t even think about wandering off to find Ulri and Ba’en.” She clenched her fist under the table. So this was why she’d been brought along—to announce this to everyone. Now that so many people were aware of her, she would be under constant surveillance. She guessed that the vague feelings others held toward her would harden into clear wariness.

But instead of reacting in anger, they just stared at her in dazed confusion.

“…What?”

“Anir’s chambers?”

That one phrase doused the festive atmosphere like cold water. Mariax didn’t understand why and rolled her eyes slightly to observe. The looks directed at her had changed. It wasn’t exactly hostility. There was something else—eyes starting to glisten with moisture, brows drooping low, lips falling into pouts, people clasping their hands in prayer…

Mariax was used to reading nonverbal cues, but this—this, she had no idea what it meant. In her 159 years of life, she had never encountered a reaction like this.

A plate slid onto the table in front of her. Meat, potatoes, and sausage were piled high. Mariax looked at the person who had placed it down. From the tightly tied hair, to his skin, even his fingernails—he was completely black, like pitch ink. With his eyes closed, had it not been for his light-colored tunic, he could have vanished into the darkness.

“Hello, Lady Mariax. I’m Oze, from the cave of the black underground god in Zimna’an. Would you like this? Ah—wait, maybe you don’t eat. Then what should I offer…? Oh! How about a song?”

As Oze spoke, the man beside him lifted an instrument, and another began taking off his coat and loosening up, as if preparing to dance. Their expressions held a gentle determination—as if saying, “Just nod once, and we’ll show you the performance of a lifetime.”

They weren’t mocking or insulting her, so why did it make her feel so uneasy? Mariax shook her head to reject their excessive kindness. The only ones acting naturally were Gart and Three Thousandth. Unbothered by the strange mood, Three Thousandth continued, “Yabesa, Oze, Ditsi, Salenoch, Virette.” He called out several names. Those who had food or drink in their mouths looked up at him. “Those named will abstain from drinking tonight.”

“Huh?”

“Aw, come on!”

“No way!”

Several people jumped to their feet in protest.

“It’s Anir’s order.”

“Whew, I was trying to quit anyway! Perfect timing!”

“That stuff’s just pain the next day anyway! Only fools chase fleeting pleasures!”

Their mood swings were astonishingly fast.

“There have been frequent battles lately, including today. Some of you need to keep your wits about you. If you have any complaints, take them up with Anir. His door is always, wide open, to you all.”

A man with a beard muttered under his breath, “May it stay shut forever…”