/n/jackal-among-snakes-1520/c-78
chapter-77

Argrave and his entourage of well-dressed companions stepped past the open set of gargantuan carved marble doors, entering into the banquet hall just behind their footman. Two sets of stairs branched to either side, leading down below into a veritably sparkling room.

Their escort stepped to the balcony atop the stairs, announcing, “Now entering: young lord Elias of House Parbon, heir to the Margravate of Parbon, lady Elaine of Vyrbell, young lord Veladrien of Jast, and Argrave, son of King Felipe III.”

Argrave scratched his cheek as most gazes within the hall turned to them. Perhaps the title ‘son of King Felipe III’ had been intended to acknowledge his bastardry, but it seemed far more grandiose than ‘Argrave of Vasquer.’ Helmuth had been entirely excluded from the introduction. Perhaps it was because of his relatively baseborn status, or perhaps he was simply included in Elias’ retinue.

Argrave’s gaze wandered around the grand banquet hall belonging to Count Delbraun of Jast. The player did not often have cause to come here, so the place was mostly unfamiliar to him. The wide and open hall was a vainglorious testament to the power and wealth of House Jast. The place had an air quite similar to a basilica, though perhaps that could be solely attributed to the two prominent colors—white and red.

The room was near fifty feet high, and silver chandeliers bearing bright red candles illuminated the room much better than they had any right doing—most likely, they were enchanted. Marble pillars held up the ceiling, lined up all along the side of the rectangular room. The center of the hall was empty, occupied only with some chatting guests. The birch tables had been placed against the walls and were already filled with food, covered partially by red cloths. Vibrant crimson banners covered the windows, elaborate white suns embroidered in their center—Jast’s heraldry.

Obsequious servants replaced what was taken and tended to the guests ably. Though they were some of the first few to arrive, the hall was already quite filled, and curious eyes watched them readily. After a brief scan, Argrave could not spot Delbraun.

“These places make me nervous,” Elias muttered to Argrave.

“Do they?” Argrave asked rhetorically. He stepped towards the stairs, continuing, “Don’t let it bother you. I can’t hold your hand, you realize.”

“Don’t know what it is. The big crowds, the open spaces… well, banquets and balls have their fair share of tragic endings,” Elias mused. “Maybe it’s only reasonable to be nervous.”

“I know why it bothers you,” Argrave said, placing his hand on the rail and walking down the rightward flight of stairs as he assigned names to those present. “You care what people think about you.”

“Well…” he paused, then said defensively, “Everyone does.”

“There will always be some, sure. It’s never pleasant to be hated. It generally only leads to sadder days.” Argrave glanced back. “You can care less about what they think, though.”

“How?” Elias questioned.

“View things with a larger perspective,” Argrave stated simply. “Me, or you, or anyone in this room—we live relatively meagre existences. We’ll live, we’ll do things, and then we’ll die. First, we’ll die physically. Then, as time passes, people will forget us, and we die spiritually. On this plane, at least,” Argrave added. “Who knows what happens after? I don’t.”

“Your solution for combatting anxiety is to contemplate death?” Elias frowned as they came to the final steps before the banquet floor.

“Recognize the unimportance of your actions,” Argrave urged. “Being disliked by another is nothing on a cosmological scale.”

They came to the banquet floor. Already, some people stepped towards them. Elaine asked Argrave, “You truly believe this?”

“Of course not,” Argrave said incredulously. “My vying heart battles my logical brain, and oft wins, I find. I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought my actions didn’t matter. Rather, I plan to leave an indelible mark before I leave this earthly realm—if indeed I leave it at all. Living forever is not so far-fetched for one of my talents.”

“You’re a real headcase, huh?” Stain mused.

“It’s a joke. I’ll probably die young,” assured Argrave. He watched Elias, who fidgeted noticeably less. Argrave had given that little monologue only to ease his nerves, and by his estimation, it worked splendidly. There was a small group of people headed their way, and Argrave stepped forward, assuming the role as their leader.

“Look at this,” he said levelly. “So many beautiful people so busy looking so good. Let’s mingle, shall we? Follow, and remember—our host is not present, and we must ask why that is.”

Argrave greeted those approaching with a convivial smile, assuming a neat dignity that integrated itself naturally. While a discerning viewer might comment that Argrave lacked noble graces, it proved to be no barrier to his inclusion in the conversation, and he very quickly drew the rest of his company into the fray.