The moment Calorie slunk into the ballroom with a tray of champagne in hand, she immediately picked out the faces of at least two potential enemies.
As a former member of the PopularTM clique, one of her special skills included facial recognition, something that Bolita and Auricularis unfortunately did not share, and Calorie knew that those blonde tresses were something that she had seen before. Specifically, in explosive conversation at a decidedly messy tea party a bit over 10 chapters ago.
So according to one of the cardinal rules she had learnt as a FPS gamer in a fairly friendly public server, she immediately backtracked to report the enemy sighting to her buddies. Or, because at the moment Bolita was busy in the duchy, just buddy.
After shoo-ing the rest of the maids helping Auricularis prepare out of the princess's room under the guise of discussing confidential information and double checking that nobody was behind the door, Calorie dished the intel.
"B1-B3?" Auricularis frowned, forgetting that Calorie was not privy to her mental nicknames for the blonde members of the nobility. Thankfully, Calorie had something vaguely similar to situational awareness and was able to deduce who they were from the context clues.
"Yeah, them. Enemies really do meet on narrow roads, it seems," Calorie affirmed solemnly.
"Huh. Can't say I'm surprised, but these things do happen."
"Well until you stop these things from happening, then this thing will not happen!"
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Ok then."
They sat in silence for a moment as Calorie undid the atrocities that were the tangles wracked up over a period of two days in Auricularis's hair.
"Do we at least have a game plan?" Auricularis asked, contemplating football plays.
"I didn't think you were a 'game-plan' type of girl. I always felt like you were more of the 'circle-back' type. But the only thing I can think of is to tell Bolita and let her come up with something. Two of them were trying to kiss up to her last time, after all."
"That makes sense."
The two of them spent another moment in silence thinking about their single brain cell currently in Bolita's custody. They had gotten almost nothing out of the divorce.
"I can't with your hair right now, but if I styled it differently you'd be basically unrecognizable. Oh well, here goes." Calorie pulled out an extravagant box of jewels from under the vanity table. "Who did your makeup? It's not half bad."
"Uh, one of the maids. It's mighty uncomfy though. Feels like I've got a cake on my face." Auricularis scratched her head before Calorie smacked her fingers away from her shiny pink locks.
"Don't touch your hair. Or your face," she sniped as she herself poked at Auricularis's hair with a comb. "Also, if your face feels cakey, then that means either the products are bad or too much was used. Oh well, can't expect that much from a historical fantasy setting. So, where's the dress?"
"The maids were going to bring it just before you came in."
"Hmm, guess I'll just call them back in and lurk in the back or something. I'll finish your hair after you're dressed."
With but a snap of her fingers, two neat lines of maid scurried back into the room and began to decorate Auricularis like one would a fir tree during Christmas.
"Take a deep breath, Your Highness!"
"Squeeze, Your Highness, squeeze!"
After Auricularis had been stuffed into her dress, adorned with jewels, and had her hair styled, she was escorted by Calorie to the ballroom where she would wait until it was time for the royalty to enter. Until then, however, they would just have to sit and wait.
Meanwhile, further away in a carriage fresh from the duchy, Bolita was weathering through an extremely bland conversation with Alfred.
"Why, My Lady, I do believe that carbon steel reinforced shovels are indeed the best way to go when it comes to digging garden holes. The other metals simply don't cut through the silt the same way," he said, pushing his monocle up decisively.
"Oh my, is that so?" Bolita opened her fan with a practiced flick of the wrist to hide the way her mouth inadvertently twisted to the side in a grimace.
While the previous Lady Schmancy may have been a seasoned connoisseur of home and garden supplies, she certainly was not.
"Quite so, My Lady! In fact, I remember the first hole I was buried in was dug with one such very shovel. Unpleasant as the experience was, it was a very splendid hole."
Marie, who was crammed in next to Alfred and stuck between the carriage door and Bolita's copious skirts, was slightly better at reading the mood so she jabbed him sharply in the side with a bony elbow.
"I believe the Lady would prefer some quiet so that she may prepare for the ball."
"Oh, my apologies, My Lady," Alfred murmured, abashed. It seemed that he would have to wait until he could meet up with the princess's maid before he could discuss the finer points of carbon steel shovels.
"It is of little importance," Bolita snapped her fan closed, just because she could. "But thank you, Marie."
"Of course, My Lady."
The matter actually was of little importance, because by the time they had finished their conversation, the carriage was pulling up at the end of a long line of carriages parked outside the palace gates.
The line to enter was almost as long as a worm on a string, which wasn't saying much, so the Schmancy entourage was actually admitted with relative speed.
"Announcing Lady Bolita of the Schmancy Duchy," called the doorman who was accepting the invitations.
It seemed that Bolita was the first of the trio's nobles to step onto the stage. As soon as she descended onto the ballroom floors, the aristocrats around her dissolved into gossip, most discussing the (true) rumors that the ball was to be held for her engagement.
Bolita felt her digestive organs do an uncomfortable funky jig as two unfortunately familiar blonds glided toward her. Though she recognized their faces, she was only able to recall the name of one of the blondes from that day, and it wasn't the name of either of the ladies headed her way.
"Greetings, My Lady!" exclaimed the one in front with an unsubtle sugar sweet simper. "I do hope you've been faring well after that, well, that exceedingly eventful tea party."
"Greetings, My Lady," the other one curtsied with far more poise, but relatively the same level of suck-up. "A pleasure to be seeing you again so soon."
True to her status, Bolita granted them a haughty nod of acknowledgement because she was superior, not because she had forgotten their names and didn't want to say anything.
Unfortunately, they did not receive the memo and continued to chatter on.
"What a fine ball the palace has hosted tonight, not at all like…a certain recent tea party. Why, I can hardly recognize the garden with all the flowers they've decorated it in! Speaking of which, those camellias are lovely, are they not?" The more blatantly flattering one inched a tad too far into Bolita's personal space bubble, and she hid a grimace behind her fan just like she had practiced in the carriage with Alfred.
"Oh my, is that so?" Bolita fanned herself and pretended to look contemplative in order to avoid a longer answer.
"Oh yes, My Lady, camellias really do add such elegance to a space," the second one jumped in. "But with all this extravagance, one simply must wonder what possibly their Royal Highnesses must be up to. Perhaps…an important announcement is in order?"
"Oh yes, good news, all good news it must be." It seemed the blonde ladies had joined forces in order to poke Bolita for information about her engagement.
Unfortunately for them, Bolita was a master at avoiding the subject. It was a skill she had honed in order to avoid talking to normie acquaintances she met outside of school, and at this point in time she could safely say that her skill level was triple-S rate.
"Oh my," Bolita smiled primly, snapping her fan shut and placing her hand on her cheek. "Is that so?"
"Well, it does seem to be so, My Lady," the second blond lady began to backtrack, realizing that they would be unable to pry any information out of Bolita.
"Pardon me, My Lady, but it seems there are some…matters that I must excuse myself to attend to, by your leave," the first blond lady followed suit.
The two of them curtsied quickly and scurried off to another corner of the ballroom to find better potential sources of gossip.
It was nice, Bolita decided, since she was beginning to tire of the ellipses. Then there came a great round of fan fare, not dissimilar to an army wake up call from the world Bolita came from.