It happened so suddenly that it caused everyone in the room to freeze and turn to face the noise.
The spitting noise, rather than the wind being passed, that is.
In one corner of the room, a man stood hunched over, having just spat a mouthful of wine onto the clothes of another man.
Although he had not actually noticed that, given how infuriated he was with the taste of the wine.
"What-what is this? It is disgusting. It tastes like vinegar. Why would you put something this horrible out for others to drink?"
It would seem that in his shock, he had forgotten whose Ball this was.
"What does it matter about the wine. What matters more is that you have drenched me in it. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"What are you talk-" Looking up, he found a rather soggy man in front of him. A man who happened to be a Count. A higher status than the Viscount that he was.
"My apologies. I-I did not mean to…do that. I just received such a shock from tasting the wine that it…came out, as it did."
The Viscount trembled, knowing that his life could hang in the balance here, given the incredible social faux pas he had just performed.
A situation that was made even worse by the King turning up next to both of them.
"What seems to be the problem with the wine?"
The Viscount, now doubly screwed, could only think of one way out of this.
"Err, the wine. Oh, no, there is nothing wrong with the wine. I was just startled, and it caused me to…erm, well, do that," he said as he pointed at the Count.
The King just looked at the Count for a moment before turning back to the Viscount.
Everyone in the room was frozen and engrossed in what was happening. This was like looking into the embarrassing moments of heroes, with how interesting it was.
"You mean to say you just made up all those comments about the terrible wine I had purchased. What would possess you to say that and not just speak the truth about being startled?" The king bore down on the man.
"I, err."
"I think that maybe you should leave now while you still have some dignity left."
"Yes, your majesty," the viscount replied as he bowed with regret.
With that, the room was completely silent as the Viscount waddled his way slowly through the crowd towards the exit, saying his goodbyes to the few people that he knew well in a hushed tone.
Once he was out, the King pretty much just looked at the orchestra to get them to start playing again, telling everyone that the show was over, and to get back to the ball.
But, before the King headed back, he turned to his servants and asked them to help the Count with his clothes, which he was very grateful for.
This then left the King standing in front of the wine bottle that the Viscount had poured his drink from.
Picking it up, all he needed was a quick sniff of the opened bottle to tell that it was not wine. This was definitely some sort of vinegar.
The label on the bottle had the word Korvenka, which he did not immediately recognise, suggesting it may be from one of the other kingdoms. A fact that probably helped bring it to the serving table for this ball.
A quick look around the room, and he could see several other bottles of the same vinegar, sitting out, waiting to be poured. Along with a few glasses that already had some within them.
However, the owners of said glasses seemed to be absent.
A quick word to his servants, and the vinegar was taken from the tables, with no one the wiser. Aside from the ones that had already drunk it and had left the ball because of it.
Before he could rest easy thinking the ball was safe again, a noxious smell wriggled under his nose.
Turning around, all he saw were noble men and women standing around, chatting and eating some of the food from the tables. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.
That is, until he saw someone hunch over and hold their stomach.
Followed by a few others doing the same thing.
It wasn't long before they quickly excused themselves and slowly walked out of the room as if nothing was amiss. You didn't have to be a genius to know that people were getting sick.
You also didn't have to be one to know that it was either the food or another drink that was causing it.
"How? We have spells in place to check for any harmful poisons," he said to himself.
All ingredients in the castle were checked with magic after they were made, to ensure something like this did not happen. So it made no sense to the King how people could be getting ill.
"The chefs here are the best of the best; there is no way they would have cooked anything badly."
Which was correct, everything was cooked to perfection.
But what he didn't know, and what Oriana didn't know to be frank, was that the potion she had purchased was completely natural. It didn't contain any poisons or toxins; most of the brew had ingredients that, on their own, were benign.
But when mixed together, they formed something of a laxative.
"What is going on?" the king asked in distress.
---
Now that he knew the cause, he had to do something about it. Oriana watched him talk to his servants yet again, who then proceeded to take several different dishes and drinks and then left the ballroom.
If she had to guess, they were probably taking them to be tested or checked by the chefs. It was likely they would find something, but the deed had been done, and more than enough people were already getting ill.
The king also could not just take all the food away. How would that look to the room full of nobles? For one, he would have to explain himself, and saying that he believed some of the food was poisoned would not end well for his reputation.
A king who couldn't even be sure whether the food he was serving had poison, and to have let such food end up on the table in the first place. His approval rating would plummet.
Whatever risk management skills he had told him it was better to leave the food as it was, and hope the guests thought they had eaten too much food, or that the dancing had affected their stomachs somehow, making them feel ill.
Even if they thought the food had not been cooked fully, it was better than them thinking the king had left poisoned food in the ballroom.
Oriana just looked around from her place against the wall, invisible as she was, at the scene before her.
Where there had been several dozen people, the number was now slowly dwindling, the partygoers dropping like flies. In a metaphorical sense.
She was happy to see that Lady Eleanor looked healthy, holding a plate with one of the desserts, the flavour of which she could attest to being incredible. If anything, she looked rather happy as she saw her head towards her father on the opposite side of the room.
"I wonder if she will get into the art of Sir James Kraven like her father."
Oriana hoped not, but who knew?
---
"Your Majesty, I know you do not want to bring up the possibility, but…well, too many people are getting sick."
"How sick have they become?"
"None appear to be afflicted with anything life-threatening. The symptoms are fairly benign, just rather embarrassing for the individuals."
The butler, having come back from the kitchen, had also been tasked with checking in on the nobility that had left the room, trying not to show they were sick in front of the other nobles.
It could be seen as a sign of weakness, and being sick at the royal family's party could affect one's reputation as well. So, they tried to hide it as best as they could.
From both the kitchen and locating the nobles, the butler explained the symptoms to the King.
"That is terrible and problematic. To think someone was able to sabotage my daughter's debutante ball in such a way. This will ruin our reputation if others learn of this."
"Yes, your Majesty. But you see, that is not the worst part."
"Oh."
"Yes, well…we are starting to run out of bathrooms for people to use," the butler said, looking away in embarrassment at having to say such a thing.
"What. You cannot be serious."
"Apologies your Majesty, but it is true. Nobles are having to line up for the bathrooms. But because they do not want others to see them and learn that they are sick, they are hiding nearby. It is quite a mess."
"What is happening? Who is causing all of this…ridiculousness?"
Scratchscratchscratch
The king, having heard that odd noise nearby, turned to find the source, hoping this wasn't some other oddity within the party.
His bad luck, however, knew differently.
Finding the noble man, the king searched his body with his eyes and found himself very much focused on what appeared to be a rash on his palm.
"How did you get that rash?" the King asked, getting rid of any such decorum, with the situation being what it was.
In amongst the scratching, his shock at being asked so suddenly was quickly washed away once he realised who it was that addressed him.
"Y-your Majesty. I do not know. All of a sudden, it appeared. I am sure it is nothing. It just itches, is all."
The King had no proof, but he couldn't help but assume this was linked to the rest of the strangeness that had happened tonight. Hoping to get some clarity, he asked the man to follow him to one of the mages within the Castle.
Oriana watched from afar and saw the mage cast some sort of spell, a diagnostic one, maybe. Then, with a few quick words, the noble man with the rash sighed in relief, while the King, also somewhat reassured, looked around the room trying to find something.
But Oriana knew what had caused it. The Sawinian Spider Silk tablecloth. Touching the fabric caused the toxins from the silk to seep into the hand, and a few hours later, rashes would appear. Incredibly itchy rashes.
A petty revenge gift indeed.
All in all, it had been a good day. Vinegar was consumed and then spat on others; a lot of assumptions were made about the princess and a hero; rashes from touching the tablecloth had everyone itching as if their lives depended on it, and the ice sculptor caused quite a stir with the Nobility.
Plus, many of the Nobles were having fun hiding their flatulence from each other.
It was very fun to watch.
But, as they say…all good things must come to an end.