[And it's pronounced Ash-Shall-Lay...not Ash-hole. Pronounce it wrong and off to the gallows with you, pleb!!!]

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"Lady Fellanie Anne Misdemeanir, you dare to torment my Divine Saintess," exclaimed an angry Asholle, Isekia's second prince, as he swung his glass of wine at me from the second-floor railing of the ballroom.

A hundred thoughts raced through my mind as the wave of merlot sailed towards me.

Would he kill me if I dodged the wine? Was he on drugs and thought this was acceptable behavior at a "Welcome Home, Warmachine!" celebratory ball? Maybe he was off his medication, and I looked at him the wrong way earlier? 

Should I dodge the wine so that I could comfortably enjoy the rest of the banquet?

I went for it. 

I tucked in my shoulders and chin, then barrel-rolled to the right to avoid the wine's trajectory. A sharp pain shot from my wrist and ribs when I pitched out my hand to stop my roll. A quick look back revealed that the roll was unnecessary as he would have missed by at least 10 feet. 

Urgh.

"SOMEONE DOUSE THE WENCH IN WINE," roared the Second Prince with the fury of a thousand little angry suns. He slammed his fists onto the marble railing to add an extra oomph to his childish command.

[Is that...Comic Sans?]

Locks of red hair tumbled down when I looked at the crowd. Several bystanders stepped up; they had me in a corner, and I had to pick the least damaging option. I couldn't fight everyone in the crowd, nor could I change anyone's mind with a few words. They were all enthralled by the thought of humiliating the Villainess of the North without repercussions.

I shut my eyes and held my breath, fully knowing what would come next.

SPLASH! x5...x6....x7!? x10?

After the onslaught of liquids died down, I slowly opened one eye.

My eyes shut closed again as the astringent liquids trickled down into my eye. My dress, a blank canvas, was now painted with Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Pinot Noir, orange juice, Chardonnay, and broken glass-

Wait– "Who threw a whole glass of wine at me!?" I yelled at the mob.

My eyeliner streamed down as I violently hacked up wine and phlegm. 

I wished that someone had sent me a memo about this hazing event. I would have worn burgundy instead of hotel sheet blanc and carried a riot shield instead of a feathered fan.

I squinted at the crowd.

Rather than sympathetic, the crowd was impatient and disgusted because I dared to ruin their evening by being publicly shamed.

I don't deserve this. I don't even belong here. 

From the corner of my eyes, I spotted a blurry Duke Northartic. 

As the star of this gathering, he stood on the second-floor balcony alongside the Crown Prince,  Saintess Aino, Second Prince Asholle, and various guards. A black and red cape with golden trim covered the Duke's shoulders. A twisted cord fastened his cloak to his immaculate white suit. Gold epaulets laid on both shoulders, and many medals completed his outfit. 

How pretentious and extra.

His ruby eyes narrowed, and his nose wrinkled in disgust as he stared down at me. 

The bloodthirsty war general wanted to kick my ass.

Duke Northartic was a hero to Isekians; he was the commanding officer of all army units and has won every battle. Rumour has it that he beheaded all enemy captive leaders after subjecting them to unthinkable torture.

The Duke clenched his fists like he was holding himself back from jumping down to kick the crap out of me. Our eyes met. My heart and breathing accelerated. It accelerated because I was afraid of getting punched, not because of something ridiculous like falling in love at first sight.

My head turned instinctively from his intense gaze. The hairs on my nape stood on end despite having averted my eyes.

"AHEM! AHEM!! HEY!" came an annoying voice from above. 

Oh, the Asholle is speaking again.

"My brother is breaking up with you! Father has agreed to the annulment. You are a disgrace to this country of Isekia and Margrave Misdemeanir." Red-faced, Asholle took a deep breath, got down on one knee, and turned to the Saintess.

 "Saintess Aino, will you marry me?" He continued, "you have stolen my heart and must now take responsibility." 

What a clown. This made no sense. Did you just annul my engagement to your older brother?

Saintess Aino nervously looked around and blinked quickly three times. And then blinked slowly three times, and then quickly three times again. 

That was morse code for S.O.S., wasn't it?

BOOOMMMM! 

The room shook, and I felt as if someone shoved me hard. Now, a total silence. There was a faint ringing noise that increased in volume until I heard muffled screams all around me.

The explosion painted their faces with fear and left their mouths agape. The guests frantically dashed to the doors, leaping over one another. This was an incredible feat considering the wardrobe of this period.

Well, that escalated quickly.

It went from a villainess-initiation hazing to straight-up terrorism.

My 3-inch stilettos prevented me from getting up. I covered my neck with my hands and tried not to get trampled by the mob rushing to the exits.

Duke Northartic jumped off the second-story railing and landed in a generic superhero pose. The cringe one with one fist and one knee on the floor. His eyes scanned the room.

His gaze landed on me.

Shit! Was the Duke going to kill me before I became a real threat to the Saintess?

I desperately willed my legs to move, but I remained on the floor as he bolted my way. I latched onto the bright red carpet to make myself harder to kidnap.

"Fel, we have to hurry!" he yelled as he scooped me up in his right arm and then flung me over his shoulder. 

"S-stop, it hurts, let me go," I yelped as he whisked me away like a sack of potatoes. His tense shoulder dug into my diaphragm, and his large hands gripped my waist way too hard.

As the Duke rushed me out, Asholle finally snapped out of his daze. The Second Prince pushed the Royal Guards aside, slipped, ate shit, and eventually fled the scene.

Haha, what a moron!

...I really shouldn't be laughing at others while I'm being kidnapped.