As a veteran elite, Gael's ability to track moving objects and her reflexes were far beyond those of an ordinary person. An orange posed no challenge; she caught it with ease.
But to her, this was no ordinary orange...
She looked down at the orange in her hand, then up at her daughter, who had just "attacked" her in a fit of rage. Her gaze went blank.
Meeting her mother's eyes, Francesca felt a jolt of guilt. She suddenly thought she had gone too far. Her mother had always been like this, saying whatever came to mind with no filter.
What she had said was only a joke, yet Francesca had suddenly thrown something at her, especially in front of their guests. It had been terribly rude.
She hesitated, wondering if she ought to apologize, when Gael suddenly clenched her fist.
"Wonderful!"
Francesca stared at her in bewilderment.
Had this woman finally gone mad?
Lady Jessica, who had been watching the entire exchange with keen interest, raised an eyebrow, then looked away. After offering a few polite remarks along the lines of "Please, make yourselves at home and enjoy the meal," she strode off with her expressionless "secretary" in tow.
The elderly Mrs. Sterling did not linger either. She gave Francesca a kindly smile that sent a chill down her spine, then left the banquet hall with the support of her maid.
Even Gael made a casual excuse, claiming, "I'm going to keep Mother company for a while," then snatched up Pawdrick and hurried after them.
In moments, only the younger guests remained in the banquet hall.
Brandley and the others naturally breathed a sigh of relief. It was always hard to relax at a friend's home when their parents were in the room.
Unable to contain herself any longer, Isis was about to ask Altaïr something, but he silenced her with a glance.
Later. Eat first.
Isis pouted. With no other choice, she lowered her head and continued stuffing food into her mouth.
"What's going on?" Back in her chair, Francesca looked from side to side. Something felt off, but she could not put her finger on it.
She turned to Serl. "Do you feel like something's wrong?"
I've always thought there was something off about your mother.
Serl kept the thought to himself; he could hardly say it aloud. He forced a smile. "Not that I've noticed. There's plenty of food, and it's all delicious."
Francesca turned to Altaïr. "What about you? You don't feel it?"
"Hm?" Altaïr looked up, appearing slightly confused. "Fine, I suppose. What do you mean?"
Francesca waved her hands vaguely. "Like... my mom and the others? Especially Mom. She's been acting strange on and off all evening. Doesn't she seem particularly unhinged today?"
"Uh... maybe she's just in high spirits because you brought so many friends, and both Mrs. Sterling and Lady Jessica are here?"
"How do you know my aunt's name?" Francesca eyed him suspiciously, then immediately turned to Isis. "Did you tell him?"
Isis, still chewing, shook her head instinctively. By the time she realized that was the wrong answer, it was too late to take it back.
A hint of apparently genuine helplessness crossed Altaïr's face. "Your grandmother mentioned her."
"My grandmother? You two came with Mom to see her this afternoon?" Francesca stood and began firing questions at him in quick succession, even employing a few deliberate interrogation techniques.
Realizing what she was doing, Altaïr did not rush to answer. He studied her for a moment before saying, "We only happened to run into them in the garden."
When someone was pressing you for answers, panicking and piling one lie atop another was the worst thing you could do. It only made the gaps easier to spot. Answer as little as possible, and whenever possible, tell the truth.
Unable to find any immediate cracks in Altaïr's composure, Francesca sat back down. "Why did you two suddenly leave the shipyard to find Mom this afternoon? And why did you come all the way to the main house?"
"Because of Morgan." Altaïr speared a piece of dragon tail meat that was difficult to gnaw and passed it to Isis so she could keep eating. "He had something he wanted to ask Lady Gael."
"What would Morgan want with my mom? Oh, right, speaking of Morgan, where is he? Why haven't I seen him at all?" Francesca was no longer pelting him with questions as before, but she was still intensely curious.
Isis's heart pounded. Thank goodness Altaïr had passed her that tail meat. She lowered her head and nibbled at it slowly, with no intention of looking up again until she had stripped every last shred of meat from the bone.
Altaïr set down his fork, looking as exasperated as if to say that his senior asked far too many questions. "Morgan is preparing for his promotion to High Rank and wanted to ask someone for advice. Isis recommended Lady Gael.
He paid a price, and in exchange, Lady Gael agreed to lend him some of your father's journals. We came here to retrieve them."
As he spoke, Altaïr produced the journals Morgan had left in his safekeeping, waved them briefly, then tucked them away again.
Brandley, a fellow Heavy Bowgun user, looked up with undisguised envy. He resolved to shamelessly track Morgan down the moment he had any free time and talk shop with him. He could not pass up the chance to discuss those notes on the "Supernova"!
"Whoa, those really are Dad's journals. What did he promise Mom in return?"
"What do you think?" Altaïr replied with a question of his own.
"Fine. Probably the usual stuff, like giving demonstrations for the rookies at the training camp." Francesca pursed her lips and stopped prying.
Altaïr picked up his teacup and took a composed sip, though inwardly he was sweating bullets.
Whew. He had finally managed to bluff his way through.
"Hey, do you think it might be that sort of situation?"
As the youngest person present, Balina had kept her head down and had not dared to speak. She glanced around, and once she was certain that no elders remained, she piped up excitedly, "You know, that kind of misunderstanding!"
"What do you mean by 'that kind' of misunderstanding?" Francesca asked, puzzled.
"Oh, come on, that kind." Balina grinned. "Francesca, aren't you and Boss really close? You've known each other for so many years. Whenever people see you two together, they must think you make a great couple!
The elders are even more likely to think that way. You brought Boss home, and now you're sitting right beside him–"
Francesca glanced at the neighboring seats she and Serl occupied, then burst out yelling, "That's nonsense! Mom was the one who invited all of you to dinner! She didn't invite only him; she called every single one of you over!
And I wasn't sitting here before. Mom was, okay? She's the one who pushed me into this seat–"
Francesca's words caught in her throat.
After Balina's reminder, everything that had felt strange suddenly had a very simple explanation.
Mom's excessive enthusiasm, Grandma and Aunt Jessica appearing out of nowhere, Grandma's subtle smile as she left, even Mom's outrageous comments that sounded as though she were plotting something with Serl's mother... It could all be explained as the family elders getting together to discuss a matter of great importance.
What the hell was all this?!
Francesca wanted to flip the table, though she obviously could not budge it. Instead, she spun toward Serl, narrowed her eyes, and stared him down.
Hmm... That dumbfounded face covered in question marks doesn't look like an act. He must be an innocent victim too, just like me.
Then she looked at Altaïr. He maintained a mask of surprise and confusion. Her gaze shifted to Isis, who was still eating without pause. Sure enough, Isis choked and began coughing violently.
Francesca slammed the table in fury. "I knew you were up to something!"
Altaïr was speechless.
Now he truly had no way out. He had only just managed to bluff his senior, but who could have guessed that Balina, that simple-minded girl, would blow the whole thing open with one romance-fueled guess?
A lie was like holding a leaf in front of your eyes. It seemed to block everything, but the slightest shift in perspective brought the truth back into view.
"No wonder Isis kept stuffing her face. She can't act, so she decided to eat instead? So this is why you went to see Mom this afternoon? That bastard Pawdrick must be in on it too!
Wait... If that was the plan, then what that woman said about introducing that girl to Serl was strange. Damn it, she was testing him, wasn't she?!
So that was why that woman suddenly shouted, 'Wonderful!'?!
Hold on. That pretty girl behind Aunt Jessica... You can't find a beauty like that at a moment's notice. That was Morgan, wasn't it?
No one recognized him because Grandma gave him a complete makeover?! Grandma, what are you doing?!
Doesn't he hate women's clothes? Then why did he... So that was the price of borrowing Dad's journals?!" Francesca unleashed a rapid-fire string of curses.
Once she found the first crack, Francesca no longer needed to ask questions. She pieced everything together from the false impressions Altaïr had already tried to explain away.
She glared at Isis, who could not lie to save her life. "Tell me! Is that what happened?!"
Seeing that Francesca had exposed everything, Isis stopped struggling in vain. She set down the dragon tail bone and said plaintively, "We were worried about you...
Pawdrick said that in a few years, you might have to take over the family business. You'd be so busy that you wouldn't have time to think about your personal life, and then you'd end up alone like Aunt Jessica. And you're nothing like Aunt Jessica, either–"
"That bastard..." Francesca ground her teeth. "I'm going to shave off all his fur later!"
Seeing that Francesca's anger was directed mainly at Pawdrick, Isis grew bolder. Her eyes shining, she asked, "Then what exactly is your relationship with Serl, Francesca?"
At that question, the members of the Vanguard Hunting Party all turned to look at Serl.
They were curious too!
Serl scratched his cheek. He was not quite sure how to answer either.
Were they merely friends who occasionally exchanged letters?
Francesca snapped, "It's about the same as you and Altaïr... Ah, wait! No! Damn it, I almost forgot you two are together now.
It's about the same as you and Altaïr a few years ago!"
Isis immediately brightened. "Then, at most, four more years until you two...?"
"Bullshit! Is that how you think relationships work?!"
Francesca nearly sprang to her feet. "I mean we're comrades who fight side by side! Brothers-in-arms! Do you get it?!"
* * *
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