The man walked in the room apprehensively, as the door slammed shut loudly behind him. He hated being in this room, specifically even. The whole aesthetic screamed death. Being the unassuming looking Hostel, the deep and dank caverns beneath it were anything but welcoming. No, this certain room was the worst, in his opinion. He crept across the floor, carefully planting each step as to not step in the coagulating blood pools. The walls wept an eerie red-brown hue, the windows stained from all the blood that was spilt, the carpet made an awful squish noise and bled, having been soaked and never cleaned. When he reached his master's throne, he hesitantly kneeled in front of it as he'd get blood on his trousers.

"I have returned with news from the agents in Falkreath, milord. They have successfully infiltrated the White Wolf's home and reported that the last Volkihar is bunking there as well. If you will it, we can have the-"

The man's sentence was cut short as his master rose from his throne and made his way down the oddly clean steps. "There will be no such need as to do that, my loyal servant. When we host the party, all will be revealed."

"Of course, Master. When will I s-s-send out th-the inv-vites?" The man's words stuttered as his master caressed his hair, then made his way back up to his throne. The man's blood froze. Never has his master touched his hair. He's only heard rumors of what happens to the unlucky victims of his master's touch.

"Send them once you've arrived back in Skyrim. I will have my personal courier meet you in Solitude. Now I must rest for the big day."

"Of course, Master. I shall leave with due haste." As the man almost broke the threshold of the cursed room, he found himself suddenly and abruptly lifted off the ground and back towards the throne. The sensation wasn't new to him, as this wasn't the first time that the Master had lifted him, and probably wouldn't be the last. "W-was there anything else, M-master?"

"I expect better news for next time.

"All due respect Master-"

"I dare you to finish that sentence…" The Master pulled him close, faces mere centimeters apart. The man could smell that the Master had just had a meal before he arrived.

"Hehe, f-funny thing! I seem t-t-to have forgotten w-what I was going to say!"

"How fortunate for you. Now begone." The Master flung the man away and out the door. As the man stood up, the door slammed shut and seemingly disappeared from plain sight. As he strode away, he thought to himself: I really do hate my job. Thank the Divines he hasn't turned me yet.

…

There was a knock on the front door of Lakeview manor, and Thedrenar motioned for the bard to get it. When he opened the door, the courier handed him the letter, and they both shared a knowing look. "Hey boss, Serana got an invitation to something. Something called the 'Midnight's Ball'? Know anything about that?"

Thedrenar got up from his seat and read the invitation aloud.

"Lady Serana,

You have been cordially invited to the Midnight's Ball by our most esteemed Lord Dromni. Should you consider, you would be permitted one guest, and do arrive in costume. The Ball is always a costume party.

Sincerely,

The Dromni Estate."

Thedrenar read it again, as Dromni certainly rang a familiar bell, but he couldn't place it. He went to Serana's room upstairs and handed her the invite. As she read it, Thedrenar watched her face as to see if the name struck any chords with her. When she placed the letter on the bed, she leant over focusing on the wall across from her, deep in thought.

"So?"

Serana looked at Thedrenar. "I think we should go. You never know, it might be fun."

"I get that," He leant on the wall. "But the name rubs me the wrong way. 'Dromni'? Doesn't that sound like a typical bad guy?"

Serana gave him a disappointing gaze. "You're sounding a tad racist, don't you think? It could be a well-on Dunmer that found his calling and made it big with the Empire."

Thedrenar reluctantly agreed, as he still had a bad feeling about the whole situation. "Well if it's going to be a costume party, and you're the expected guest, I could go as 'The White Wolf'. That'd be cool, right?"

Serana approved, as having what could be seen as a White Wolf look-alike as her bodyguard and valet would be quite imposing. When they settled on the costumes, they both said their goodnights and went to bed.

…

"We should send word to the Master that the invite arrived, and they are attending."

"Master would be so pleased that his plan is coming to fruition."

"I'll contact his courier."

…