Clack.
Light flashed across the folds of a golden fan as it tapped shut against a black lace glove.
"No, I believe those accusations are correct, Sir."
The owner of the lace glove, a tall, broad-shouldered woman with her fiery red hair pinned daintily all over her head, took a step forward.
"These are the reports from my father's gambling establishment," the lady explained, taking the stack of papers held out by her footman.
"The Da Braose family can personally guarantee this information."
A collective gasp shot through the crowd as Lady Da Braose brandished the incriminating documents.
"Ha."
The accused man produced a snorty laugh from his piggish, upturned nose.
"Why should any of these people take the word of a mere woman?" the man retorted haughtily, earning himself a murmur of support and chuckles from the crowd.
The pig-like man, Baron Ulricht Lister, was one of the most unsavory people I'd ever come into contact with. His manner of speaking was brash. His style of dress was garish, and his thick eyebrows were only three hairs away from being a single scraggly unibrow across his wrinkled forehead.
Even at that moment, the few rambles of support from an ever fickle crowd somehow lulled him into a false sense of security, giving him the audacity to continue taking jabs at Lady Da Braose.
"If anything," Baron Lister smirked confidently, "you should be the one arrested for daring to use the good Count's name without his permission."
Lady Da Braose was entirely unfazed, much to his dismay.
In fact, she stood silently, her eyes gleaming wickedly as she continued to hold out the documents.
"Excellent," I whispered. "She is performing splendidly."
So far, everything was unfurling exactly as planned.
Only a few moments ago, the most popular ball of the year had been interrupted by dozens of armed guards. Amidst the shrieking and general confusion, the soldiers all came down upon a single man: Baron Lister.
As for who had tipped off the guards with enough urgency as to cause them to interrupt such a prominent party, well… that's a trade secret.
Admittedly, the research and development stage of my plan this time had been rushed in order for the main event to happen at this exact party. While a proper scandal would take months to ripen, I had prepared this one in just under two weeks.
But for a man as despicable as the piggish Baron, who'd committed innumerable atrocious wrong doings against my fellow females, I could spare no less than an absolute extravaganza for his demise.
Plus, I was confident that my ace, Lady Annora Da Braose, could handle anything unexpected that may pop up.
It appeared the event would draw to a close without any disturbances, though, seeing as everyone was following the script perfectly. Let's see, the next line up should be..
"T-This is the Da Braose official seal!!"
Ah. I personally would have delivered it with a little more finesse, but at least Random Side Character #1 came in exactly on cue.
"It cannot be! How is this possible?!"
There it is. That's the passion and utter shock I was looking for in this scene. Bravo, Random Side Character #2!
"Haa. I do hate repeating myself," Lady Da Braose sighed, flicking the precious documents to the ground as if to emphasize how ordinary the powerful seal was in her eyes.
"That b[omitted]h!!" Baron Lister shouted, his face turning a hideous shade of purple. "She must have stolen it from her father. Arrest her, Officers!"
"Ugh," I groaned. "Why do men always put on such a repulsive display when they realize they've been caught?"
Speaking of men being caught, Lady Da Braose's footman had been glancing apprehensively at me for the past several minutes as though he were the one being accused. With a sigh, I gave him an encouraging nod.
The poor dear had such a tiny part but was still so nervous to step onstage.
"A-a-ahem," the small man cleared his throat clumsily. "I saw Count Da Braose present this to the Lady myself."
Another round of gasps shook the crowd.
Aw, good work, little footman.
I quickly made a mental note that I should reward the adorably anxious fellow with a treat after this was all over.
Of course, his part was a complete lie.
Count Da Braose had zero interest in these sorts of 'social going-ons' (as he called them), and Lady Da Braose had in fact stolen and used her father's seal without his knowledge.
Yet, a single word from a man, even one as unimportant and skittish as the footman, was enough to absolve the Lady from suspicion.
(Fear not, friends. The man was handsomely bribed, and adequately blackmailed, to take his little fib to his grave.)
"Well then," the head officer spoke up, motioning for his men to surround the Baron, "I hereby arrest Baron Ulricht Lister for crimes including unpaid gambling debt, embezzlement, and threats against the Crown."
"Threats against the Crown?" The purple rapidly drained from the Baron's face, leaving an unsavory placid yellow in its place. "I never-I mean, I didn't do any of those things, but.. Treason?"
"Yes, Baron. Treason."
The head guard snapped his fingers and turned rapidly on his heels, the remaining soldiers following behind and dragging the stupefied Baron along with them. With a slam of the gaudy ballroom doors, they were gone.
Eventually, the ruckus quieted and merrymaking resumed once more. After all, the largest party in all the land couldn't be cut short for such an insignificant figure.
As the laughter and talk droned on above the music, however, I noticed most of the night's gossip had now shifted to Baron Lister.
Based on the conversations I overheard, it seemed there were several first-hand witnesses to the bad Baron's crimes. And those who hadn't seen it for themselves had, evidently, heard reports of it from a friend or servant.
Like I always say, it's incredible how adeptly a ballroom can be weaponized.
Even Baron Lister's closest friends and investors had entirely turned their backs on the poor man before the night was over.
"Well then, I believe my work here is done," I smirked, stretching my arms above my head as I rose from the stuffy chair I'd been camped in most of the night.
By the time Baron Ulricht Lister set foot outside the local jail the next morning, his name and position would have already been obliterated, leaving him no better than a commoner (though far less popular than the average civilian).
After making a discreet exit, I pranced jollily down the garden path leading away from the Grand Duke's grand ballroom.
With the cool midnight air refreshing my lungs and the gentle hum of spring insects filling my ears, I could not help but feel that the night's victory had been especially sweet.
"Perhaps I should raise my prices and lower my turnaround time," I mused. "I'm sure my clients would be delighted!"
Speaking of clients, the woman behind the scandalization of Baron Lister suddenly jogged up alongside me, her eyes sparkling.
"Miss Scandal Maker!! I can't thank you enough!" she panted, grasping my hands in hers. "You were truly magnificent!"
"I'm just doing my job," I replied, donning my business smile, "and please, be more careful with your body, Miss Customer."
"Oh." the woman's cheeks turned a lovely pinkish shade as she placed a hand on her stomach.
"I keep forgetting.."