Chapter 155: One Hundred and Fifty – A Canadian Riftwalker in the Harpies’ Court

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Chapter One Hundred and Fifty - A Canadian Riftwalker in the Harpies' Court

“Introducing!” The announcer called out, his voice ringing out across the ballroom.

The girls and I stood at the threshold of the entrance overlooking the main floor. The area was built rather strangely. There was a large open floor with a square in the middle for dancing and a stage beyond that where a harpy woman was pulling a bow across the strings of a violin while a band set up behind her.

The room was ringed by two balconies on the second and third floor, each one with railings around them that let the people mingling there look down onto the dance floor proper. Some younger harpies were jumping down from the second floor and onto the first with a few flaps of their arms to soften their landings.

The chairs and tables where food would probably be served were all on the second and third floor, which left the first open to let people chat and, presumably, dance, though it seemed as if it wasn’t time for that yet.

The herald took a deep breath. “Lady Amaryllis Albatross. Lady Rosaline Albatross. Lady Clementine Albatross. And guests, Lady Awen Bristlecone. Lady Broccoli Bunch.”

I watched the Albatross sisters to know what to do next. All three stepped up as one and cleared the area around the entrance. Awen was still hooked onto Rosaline, so I decided to skip after Amaryllis to keep her company. “Do we get food now?” I asked.

She snorted. “Your one-track mind is showing,” she said. “There’s another hour, maybe two, before the food is served.”

My tummy didn’t like that news, not one bit. “Not even snacks?” I asked.

“It’s a bit of a faux-pas for a lady to eat before the food is served. But there are some finger-foods for the men.” She gestured upwards. “They should be served a floor up or so. Somewhere out of the way.”

“There’s sexism in the food order?” I asked. It was the first big display of anything like that I’d really seen. I had thought that the harpy were egalitarian, or nearly so.

Amaryllis shrugged. “It’s tradition? If it helps, the ladies get desert foods after that the men don’t.”

I scrunched my nose up in distaste. “Do you think I could use my country bumpkinness to get away with a snack or two?”

Amaryllis grinned. “I’m certain,” she said. She gestured to the side and towards a staircase tucked away in a corner. “Shall we?”

“Sure!” I said. My goal at the ball was to... be at the ball? I was really just there to be with my friends and maybe meet some new potential friends. It was Clementine who had an actual mission and responsibilities. I just had to keep my head down and eat lots.

We climbed the stairs and moved to the second floor, or maybe it was the first balcony as opposed to an actual floor. I was certain they had their own fancy terms for it.

The lighting was just a bit dimmer. Not so dark as to make it hard to see or cause you to bump into a chair, but dark enough to make the space feel smaller and more homey, with only the occasional lamp hanging off of pillars to light the room. The dance floor had been very bright, especially with the way it was all polished and shiny.

“There,” Amaryllis said as she waved a wing towards the end of the room.

There was a buffet table, with silver plates and platters covered in little bits of food that I couldn’t quite identify from across the room. True to what Amaryllis said, the only people around it was a group of harpy boys of about our age.

Another table nearby had what looked like punch and bottles of wine with a servant behind them pouring for those who wanted something to drink. At least that seemed to be gender-neutral.

“What’s the best snack?” I asked as I pulled Amaryllis along behind me.

“At a ball like this? There will be some fish. There’s a pastry called a golden wing which is just cuts of fish pressed into a sort of soft dough and fried. It looks like a feather. I quite like those.”

“Why’s it called a wing if it looks like a feather?” I asked.

Amaryllis blinked. “I don’t know,” she finally said. It sounded a bit defensive.

Giggling, I pulled up to the buffet and started eyeing up all the food. I was just reaching out to grab a small plate--an actual plate, not the sort of plastic plate I would have expected at any of the parties I’d even been at--when I heard Amaryllis groan.

“Oh no,” she muttered.

I looked over to her, then followed her gaze over to the young harpy men. There were four of them, and they were coming our way. That much was fine, they were probably coming for the food, maybe even to tell me that I was too much of a girl for the food meant for them, but the sneers they wore and the way they were focused on Amaryllis instead of me said otherwise.

“Amaryllis Albatross,” the harpy in the lead said. He was a tallish boy, with brownish-red feathers that I suspected made him a hawk harpy. He would have been handsome if he wasn’t wearing an expression like someone who just walked home to find that their dog pooped on the carpet.

“Oh, it’s... you,” Amaryllis said. She frowned a little. “What was your name again?”

The lack of panic over forgetting his name suggested that it was all a ruse to poke at the young man, which, judging by how red he got, worked exactly as planned. He took a deep breath, then let it out as a whistle between grit teeth as he reigned in his anger. “I do believe you know my name, Lady Albatross,” he said.

“I don’t!” I said. I smiled big and happy at him and his friends. Maybe I could turn the situation around? There was no reason we couldn’t all get along.

The boy looked me up and down, then scoffed dismissively. “Is this one of the friends you made when you ran away from your duties, Amy?” he asked.

Amaryllis huffed, a very dangerous huff. “As a point of fact, she is, Francis.”

The harpy’s face turned red again.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Francis,” I said. “My name’s Broccoli!”

“My name,” he said. “Is Francisco. Francisco Hawk of the Hawk clan.”

“That’s nice,” I said. “Who are your friends?”

Francisco paused for a moment, looking a bit confused until Amaryllis snorted while holding back a laugh. “They are of no concern to you,” he said. “How about you leave me and my fiancée to talk; I’m certain someone of your sort can find something productive to do with your time.”

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My smile didn’t so much as twitch, though it wanted to. “Fiancée?” I asked.

Amaryllis looked unconcerned, but I’d been her friend for weeks and I knew that something was up. “We had a contract. Emphasis on had. I would like a husband of... quality, you see.”

“Okay, okay, wait!” I said as I stepped up between the two and raised my hands. “I’ve seen this scene in like, a dozen books before. You’re both going to keep sniping at each other, and it’s only going to get worse, and then someone’s going to end up calling a duel or something and none of us want that.”

Francisco glared at me. “Who do you think you are?” he asked.

I stared at him. “Do you have any idea who I am?” I asked.

The man hesitated for a moment. “No, no I’m afraid I don’t,” he said.

I really, really wanted to start spouting off some sort of ridiculous title. Like I’m Broccoli Bunch, the breaker of dungeons and rider of dragons. I have risen ten levels in less than a month, befriended necromancers and kidnapped princesses. I am a riftwalker, called to the world to make it my friend! But saying something like that would be super rude.

“Well... okay, so I’m not actually anyone important, but I might have been, and if I was then being rude like that would be really silly. Heck, even if I’m not... which is actually the case, being rude is just kind of not nice. I’m sure we can all talk civilly about things.”

Francisco didn’t seem to know how to handle that, but his buddies seemed to know just what to do. One of them, the biggest of the lot, made himself look bigger by puffing out his chest, and the others glared. “Back away from Lord Hawk, you bun peasant.”

I snorted.

I saw Amaryllis’ hands tighten into little balls and she glared right past Francisco and to his friend who’d spoken. “Keep your tongue in check,” she said.

I wanted to slap my hand over my face as that only got Francisco to puff up even more. “An ironic statement from the likes of you,” he said. “I can recall your reputation suggesting that you had a hard time doing just that yourself. A problem I was told I’d need to fix as your mate.”

“How fortunate for you that you’ll never have to fix anything of the sort,” Amaryllis said. “I pity any lady that lets the likes of you close to her eggs.”

Francisco crooned a sort of growl and leaned forwards as if trying to intimidate Amaryllis. Amaryllis who’d fired spells at a dragon before. It didn’t work very well. “You Albatross are all the same. You’re just like that slattern sister of yours. I’m glad that our blood never mixed.”

Had... had he just insulted Rosaline?

“Do you want to solve this in an arena?” Amaryllis asked. She looked perfectly calm, but I could feel the mana wafting off of her and snapping at the air with little statticky sparks.

Francisco scoffed. “What do you take me for? An idiot?”

“Yes,” Amaryllis said. “Though... perhaps not. I actually respect some of the idiots I know.”

The harpy’s face went some interesting shades. “What do you wager, then?” he asked.

“Um. Really? There are actual duels?” I asked.

“Of course there are,” Amaryllis said. “It’s a simple way to demonstrate one’s superiority to weaklings like Francis here.”

“To the death?” I asked.

Amaryllis shrugged. “Not at a venue like this. I’m certain they have somewhere where we could humiliate Francis.”

“It’s Francisco,” Francisco corrected again. “And I’m from the Hawk. We have a proud heritage of military service. Not that I would use even that as an excuse to beat the likes of you.”

“You wouldn’t manage,” Amaryllis dismissed out of hand, “not even the four of you together could take me and Broccoli on.”

“Very well,” Francisco said. “The four of us against the two of you.” He smiled smugly. “And we’ll fight over... Are you the member of the Albatross clan being sent on the expedition? Or do they not trust you that far?”

Amaryllis grinned. “I’m going to Slyphfree,” she said.

“Still as expendable as before, then,” he said.

Judging by how pinched Amaryllis looked a moment before she schooled herself, that had stung. I patted her back and glared as hard as I could at Francisco.

“How about this then. You lose, and your family doesn’t send anyone. We lose, and we’ll do the same.”

Amaryllis’ smile was downright predatory. “You’re on,” she said.

The Hawk harpy didn’t seem to expect that. The stakes were probably too high and the odds too poor for anyone to actually want to try... anyone that wasn’t a really ticked off Amaryllis, that was.

“Very well. We’ll see you and your mongrel friend in the arena later.”

And with that, Francisco and his friends were off.

I watched them go for a bit before turning to Amaryllis. “Are you sure that was wise?” I asked.

“No. But It’ll be worth it to wipe the smug look off of his face,” she said. “That guy’s been a jerk to me ever since he learned how to open his beak. That marriage contract just made him worse. I think I’m going to have fun wiping the floor with him.”

***

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