It has been few weeks to prepare this moment.
The gardens of Halamshiral were now visible, a painting: luxurious dark green leaves and herbs, harmoniously united with the watercolours of the thirthy-three different flower species. Great white marble columns were draped into the nightshades, the glimpsing stars, and if it was in another circumstances, would it look so much as the perfect scene for a dramatic murder?, thought Cassandra Pentaghast.
To have the invitations has been tricky, political arrangements skilfully knitted, it gave an excuse to their organisation to be able to interrupt the imminent death that threatened the Empress. As much as possible, discretion would be appreciated, Inquisition's fame had to be improved during the event, trying to convert bunches of nobles to the cause, discredit others.
The Grand Game was an art that has evolved into a dirty play, where none let known of what his hand was full, and if behind the cards was a hidden dagger, turning the next act uncertain.
More they were progressing toward the castle, more they could feel the attention on them growing; curiosity, hate, jealousy, gossips, the savant recipe owned exclusively by the wealthy people of Orlaïs.
Previous discussions established the best plan, they decided that the Inquisitor Lavellan, Cassandra, Varric and Solas would be a detached group to invest further, meanwhile Leliana, Josephine and Cullen would stay at the party, hearing the whispers and keeping an eye on Célène.
As they arrived at the marble steps of the royal entrance, the Inquistor Lavellan had to continue for a while alone with the Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, as Josephine planned. Gaspard had been of a good help to reach their aim, nonetheless he stayed a trouble maker, with unquestionable tastes for plots.
Cullen and Leliana pretended to have a lovely chat to follow into the castle, melting into the crowd.
With them, Josephine gave smiles to nobles with whom she was forced to deal daily, fighting behind nice speeches and bright reflexions for the interests of the Inquisition. Usually dressed as a voluptuous and charming woman into her golden silk "drapés", all should be well aware of her determination and faith into who her allegiance remains.
And by her side, Cassandra, jaw clenched, eyeing each person as a potential enemy, obviously uncomfortable for some reason. Guessing with ease the reason of an additional cold stature of the warrior, Josephine came clother in light steps, speaking in a low voice.
- Lady Cassandra, I swear to you that I did my best to find the less terrible ceremonial clothing.
Pushing her luck, she added in a louder tone,
- Would you have prefer a dress perhaps? I could fix that if you …
Cassandra turned her face, contemning the tempest in the orbs of her eyes.
- I'm fine –thank you-, it's just that this clothing is made of such a thin material, it covers nothing, shows everything, and protects of none. It is ridiculous. I feel …
She stopped before the end of her sentence. Moving lightly into her red slim jacket, buttoned to the top, it made the muscles of her arms rolled and her strong elbows noticeable, with the golden epaulettes and sapphire sash emphasizing her proud shoulders, in a delightful manner Josie thought.
Lady Cassandra Pentaghast was the bravest warrior that these lands could have ever carried, the stories of her battles, even if she scowled when it came to her ears, have no comparative. Devoted, skilled, true and strong, she was also the most unconfident and bashful person, this, mixed with a fiery temper made usually people unable to understand her. But Josephine knew, that under the steel and iron of her armour, lived a magnificent and burning heart, shaped of tenderness and softness. Time to time, the Ambassadress has to confess that she has come more and more accustomed to tickle this denied part of the belligerent lady.
Trying to bite back a smile, Josephine replied shortly, looking away to someone and giving him a nod:
- Undressed?
She heard Cassandra gasping, staring at her for a moment, and then keeping frustrated her thoughts for herself as Josephine pretended not to notice.
Arriving to a buffet where all the guests seemed to have a glass of a sparkling vine, Cassandra brushed a concerned gloved hand around Josephine wrist in a protective motion.
- Sister Leliana, would you mind? Said the tall woman, with an insisting gaze.
Leliana gave it back to her, raising a cup to her pinky lips, pausing halfway, taking a discreet whiff, and finally drinking it.
Cullen then took the initiative to choose the glass of vine for the ladies, trying to follow the protocol and not to make them looking like savages.
- Dry one I suppose, for you, Lady Pentaghast?
- It has no importance. Answered curtly Cassandra, still not at ease.
The Ambassadress in a quicker gesture took two glasses of a deeper yellow almost tangerine, and handed it one to the Seeker, saying in a whisper, shoulder pressed against shoulder.
- Your sword and shield are in a closet, the Inquisitor will lead you there in a moment. Till then, try not to choke, Lady Pentaghast.
Without waiting for an answer Josephine turned graciously and ingeniously to swim between all the important figures of the party, seeping her glass and starting the Great Game officially for their group. In a stunned and upset expression that kept back her words, Cassandra pulled that glass to her lips. After that the beverage invades her mouth, she looked puzzled staring at it for a second. How did she know that she would have go for the syrupy and peachy wine of Antivan? Her lips curled slightly upward at this though, and at the reassuring one of meeting her sword soon enough. Yes Lady Montilyet does know how to read people, or was it only at Cassandra's embarrassment that she was exceptional at?
- Something to say Lady Cassandra? Said Leliana with a blooming smile.
- Nothing, shall we go? We have a task to fulfil, we are not here for leasure.
Both of them turned their heels, going to the grand hall central place, circled by guardrails where guests could rush to see the ones who will be introduced to the Empress. Celene occupied the royal middle of the spectator part, reminding everyone that she was the most important thing at this precise moment, for the followers as for the traitors.
The astmosphere of the castle seemed jovial to fools, but for the others whom were aware of what was taking place, it was deep, electric, a tensed calm, waiting for the blow. Chess waiting for the last move that will kill no King, but an Empress tonight.