Rosie's Games - Chapter 483: The Banquet 2

“This banquet is a tradition I initiated many years ago, in loving memory of my dearly departed mother, the former queen of our cherished Rakha Kingdom,” the Princess declared, her voice carrying across the room as the guests completed their main course, eagerly anticipating the arrival of dessert.

With grace and elegance, she rose from her seat, her fingers lightly holding up her wine glass as she beamed a radiant smile at her guests. “Here’s to yet another quarter flourishing in prosperity. May the divine goddess bestow her blessings upon us and upon Rakha. Raise your glasses, cheers!”

The clamor of approval echoed throughout the grand hall, resonating with a shared camaraderie and joy. Once the jubilant cheers subsided, the Princess gracefully returned to her seat, marking the continuation of the extravagant banquet.

For Rosalind, this wasn’t merely an occasion marked by exquisite cuisine. Much to her surprise and delight, the banquet was adorned with various forms of entertainment that piqued her interest.

Melodious tunes resonated from instruments played by skillful musicians, enchanting ladies swayed gracefully in intricate, gossamer attire, and strapping men donned in traditional warrior garb showcased their prowess on a nearby lake. She found herself thoroughly engrossed in the captivating spectacle that was the banquet.

“Your grace…” A feminine voice broke her reverie, drawing her attention. Rosalind recognized the speaker as the daughter of a local baron. “Though this is our first encounter, I couldn’t help but admire your flawless complexion. Could you perhaps share the secret behind your radiant skin?”

The woman was pleasantly plump, her features emphasized by twin dimples that deepened as she smiled, enhancing her youthful charm. She exuded a sense of innocence, her question painting a genuine picture of admiration.

“Yes, indeed…” another noblewoman chimed in, her voice laced with curiosity. “Could it be honey water that you use? I’ve heard that our Princess is quite fond of it as well. The product has been creating quite a stir in beauty circles of late.”

An additional voice entered the discussion, bringing a different perspective. “While I’ve also heard about various skincare concoctions, I do wonder how much of it applies to those from the northern region,” another lady mused thoughtfully.

This comment drew a perplexed look from Lady Sheryl Oran, the Baron’s daughter who had initially commented on Rosalind’s skin. “What do you imply?” she questioned.

The woman who had spoken, Lady Kimberly if Rosalind remembered correctly, replied with an assertive tone, “The north is characterized by a frigid climate, resulting in a naturally paler complexion. Yet, to achieve such a flawless, poreless visage, additional aid in the form of cosmetics or other enhancers would be required.” Lady Kim, as she was commonly referred to, was the wife of a distinguished knight, a fact she was well known for.

Lady Sheryl, however, persisted with her inquiry, “What about beauty rituals involving floral baths and honey water?”

Lady Kim countered, “That might work differently due to the varying weather conditions. Honey water suits our Princess well, but that doesn’t imply universal effectiveness. Lady Sheryl, I’d suggest shifting your focus from skincare to overall wellness. I recall a physician stating that holistic health is the true secret to radiant skin.”

This response sparked a sharp retort from Lady Sheryl, “And what are you insinuating by that?”

As Rosalind had anticipated, the two ladies began to trade barbs, their insults veiled under saccharine expressions. The dessert course was now being served, and the ladies had moved to smaller tables dotted around the banquet hall, specifically designed to facilitate mingling.

Rosalind had purposely picked a table far from the bustling hub of the Princess and her circle of friends, favoring a quieter spot by the serene lake. Her preference for tranquility and the beautiful view had inadvertently become a hotspot for a growing debate sparked by Lady Sheryl’s innocent question. The exchange drew the attention of other women, eager to weigh in on the skincare discussion. The conversation had escalated to the point where even the Princess was now making her way toward their group.

Rosalind could only offer a silent sigh. The desire for a peaceful evening was gradually slipping away. All she wanted was for the banquet to end as early as possible.

“May I know what her grace was thinking about this matter?” Princess Isadora’s voice interrupted Rosalind’s stupor.

“You mean the matter of the skin?” Rosalind immediately noticed everyone’s attention turning towards her way. She smiled at the Princess while letting out another sigh inwardly. What was this woman doing?

Caught amidst the unexpected attention, Rosalind noted the eyes that had turned her way. She felt the weight of their scrutiny, the curiosity sparked by Princess Isadora’s inquiry. The Duchess of Wugari attempted to keep her composure, offering an amicable smile in the Princess’ direction. However, she sighed inwardly, wondering what the Princess was playing at.

Rosalind’s natural radiance was indeed a sight to behold, yet the secret to her flawless skin was not some mystic elixir or magical concoction. It was her inherent ability to heal through her bestowed blessings of light. Her body instinctively harnessed this power to maintain her perfect complexion.

“Yes. The assemblage appears to be quite curious about your skincare routine, my lady,” Princess Isadora probed further, her voice melodic yet laced with an unmistakable undercurrent of intrigue.

Realizing the depth of the trap the Princess had laid, Rosalind quietly analyzed her options. Responding with the true cause of her impeccable skin was out of the question. And each of the plausible explanations she could think of had its own set of perils.

Pointing to the frigid climate of the north as the reason might be plausible, but it would seem disingenuous given her southern origins and a past spent in the warm embrace of a merchant family. Claiming her youthful age as the reason would risk offending the older women present. Referencing a specific diet would imply a critique of the others’ eating habits. Every potential response held the power to stir resentment.

At last, under the expectant gazes of the onlookers, she met Princess Isadora’s eyes. With a note of assertion, she offered, “It’s the result of a specialized regimen that the Duke of the North had insisted I follow.” Shrewdly, she decided to leverage Lucas’s influence to navigate the precarious situation.

“A regimen?” The Princess echoed, her eyes widening ever so slightly, mirroring the ripple of surprise that spread amongst the assembly at Rosalind’s revelation. “Could you possibly share the details of this regimen? I realize it may be considered impolite to ask, but curiosity seems to have taken hold of us all,” the Princess implored, her voice brimming with feigned innocence, a charming smile playing on her lips.

Rosalind considered her words before replying. “If the Princess is indeed interested, I would recommend corresponding with the Duke directly. As much as I would love to assist, I must confess my limited knowledge about the herbs native to the north, integral to the regimen. Some of the ingredients required, like the eyes of a demonic beast or the skin of a demonic tortoise, halted my inquiries. It distresses me to think of any creature being harmed merely for the sake of maintaining my complexion.”

The chatter ceased immediately, replaced by a pregnant silence. Inside, Rosalind suppressed a chuckle, her inner amusement contrasting the shell-shocked expressions around her.

“Are you suggesting that you use the eyes of a demonic beast and the skin of a demonic tortoise for your skin?” The Princess stuttered, her face a picture of disbelief.

With a serious expression, Rosalind nodded. “Indeed. My husband, the Duke, personally ventures out each Sunday before dawn. He stressed the importance of acquiring the ingredients before sunrise to preserve their potency. Therefore, the creatures must be dealt with swiftly, and their body parts harvested fresh. As you can imagine, this topic…” Rosalind sighed dramatically, “…it truly frightens me. I’ve even had nightmares where I’m pursued by a tortoise demanding its skin back, its blood-red eyes haunting me. One particular night—”

“I understand,” the Princess abruptly interjected, likely sensing the growing discomfort among the ladies as Rosalind wove her ghastly tale.

“Given the Princess’s curiosity, I feel obligated to shed light on this matter, despite its unsettling nature,” Rosalind offered a melancholy smile. “I’m truly grateful for my husband’s devoted care, and despite the gruesomeness of the story, it is a testament to his dedication.”

“I’m sorry, your grace, but that tale was quite…” the Princess attempted to interject.

“I completely understand,” Rosalind cut her off, sounding entirely congenial. “Isn’t this precisely why I hesitated to share it? To have cast a cloud over such a delightful gathering is regrettable. Allow me to make amends by imbibing three glasses of wine.” Without waiting for approval or a protest, she proceeded to lift the goblet of wine that the Princess had poured, draining it in swift gulps.

Soon, many of the women, who moments ago were delighting in the prospect of witnessing Rosalind’s potential embarrassment, were excusing themselves, their faces pallid. Some even lost their stomachs contents into the lake.

Rosalind observed the spectacle, a proud glint in her eyes. She was well aware of the minefield these banquets could be. Utilizing the Duke as her shield had proven to be an astute move.