He declined his first invitation to Charthagnion Manor on the excuse that he had urgent business to attend to at his estate, which was true, but no more true than it is for any of them at all times. In truth—well, everyone staying in that house is either a former diabolist or a Menadorian, if not both, and he’s not actually sure which is worse. He’s been to Menador, in his former life; Menador, where Iomedae is worshiped as a goddess of war first and Goodness second, and dinner parties are invariably concluded with contests of brute strength that he, a wizard, could only be embarrassed by. He hadn’t planned to go back.

Worse still, a pamphlet has come out with a reasonably accurate account of his genealogy, including his other family name. It shouldn’t matter. It really shouldn’t matter. He doesn’t have one drop of devil’s blood in his veins, and the pamphlet doesn’t even claim that he does. But the name itself has become a curse—no wonder!—and in the current climate of the city of Westcrown, the truth may not be enough to save him. Hopefully the pamphlet will be dismissed as nonsense, which most of them are—but he definitely can’t be seen visiting a house full of barely-repentant diabolists now.

He also can’t decline two invitations in a row without seriously alienating a fellow Archduke that he’ll have to work with long after the convention is over. He has his bodyguard Teleport him directly into the foyer so that he can’t be seen arriving.