[][Andrew][]

The Moon flashed silver in the pond's rippling surface, bright enough to cast shadows across the gardens. Stars hung in the night sky, scattered as if by the brush of an artist, a canvas suspended over the crisp air of late summer. Crickets chirped, leaves rustled, and under it all the musicians of the evening played their first notes.

I fidgeted with my coat, smoothing the slight bends in the red sleeves and toying lightly with the buttons. It felt a lot like going to prom, but even more nerve-wracking; there was no pretense of romance, only of spending the evening with a friend, surrounded by the barbed net of Ylissean politics.

Also, I'd never been invited to a prom, or had to rehearse this much for a single performance.

Gaius tugged on his collar again, chewing on his lip and huffing. "Can you believe those folks dance in this stuff?"

Shrugging helplessly, I gestured back towards the castle. Towards the rectangular pools of golden light, and the door through which Lissa and Maribelle would emerge. "They've got it worse, trust me. Dresses are awful for dancing, and those things must be complicated- I haven't seen Maribelle since breakfast."

He paused, patting down his pockets. "Not even much candy to get me through the night," he continued, "Couldn't fit more than thirty pops in here. 'Least we get to stay in the castle tonight- I'm gonna be dead on my feet after this."

I suspected he hadn't actually heard me, and I sympathised. Nerves could do that. As right as Maribelle was to doubt Gaius, I couldn't leave the man floundering. Now, what could I... ah. My night wasn't about romance, but his definitely was. Walking up, I laid a black-gloved hand on his shoulder. "You're doing this for Lissa," I reminded him, voice steady. "Focus on that, and you'll be fine."

Gaius slipped out of my grip, spinning around and eyeing me carefully. Pulling a lollipop out of his sleeve, he took a shuddering breath and grinned toothily. "You're one to talk, Duds. You've got a background in it, one of your friends is running the event, and Maribelle's got the talking handled. Me? I've got to talk an equal share with Lissa, and I didn't even get the rundown on their weird rules 'till last night. Hey, if worst comes to worst, Anna can just run interference, right?"

I winced, shaking my head vigorously. Maribelle had done me a favor, recommending Mary to help organize the ball- and it was a brilliant choice. The pay was good, apparently, and I think she enjoyed the challenge. Unfortunately, but unsurprisingly, the whole thing's got her wound tighter than a spring and just as likely to snap.

Clearing my throat, I shrugged. "She's pretty stressed out right now, so I don't think that's a good idea," I paused, gesturing towards the castle proper. Closing my eyes, I called Maribelle's words up to the forefront. "But don't worry about it. Just breathe, and always introduce yourself before talking to anyone other than-"

"-other than a servant, or the wife of a noble, yeah, yeah. I'm not nervous," Gaius waved me off, sticking a lollipop into his mouth. Crossing his arms, he looked at me sidelong. "Sounds like Maribelle really drilled it into you, huh. So which one's the champagne flute?"

Blinking owlishly, I desperately tried to puzzle together Gaius' train of thought. "Pardon?"

He tugged at his ruffled sleeves, grumbling. "Duds, if she's gonna drag you to a ball, she's not gonna skimp on the little details. But you knew that. So sometime during your, heh," he brought up his hands, making air quotes, "Training, I bet she tried to teach you about that fancy noble cutlery setup. There isn't enough candy in the world to talk me into listening to that kinda lecture. So, which of those three glasses do you put champagne in?

I snapped my fingers, nodding. "Ah! So that's what you meant. And yes, she did put a lot of effort into it, and it wasn't that hard to get used to. We sat down last night, after supper, and I wasn't allowed to leave until I worked the whole thing out."

Putting a hand against the back of my head, I frowned. "She also threatened me with itching powder, but I hope that was a joke."

"Hey, Duds- you think I can get away with cutting off some of these ruffles?"

With Gaius successfully tossing my entire train of thought into a gulch, I hitched a ride on his.

Gaius prodded at his ruffled sleeve with a knife, inspecting it with great care. My heart called out sympathetically; ruffles were no fun, even if they went really well with the simple black-and-gold theming to his outfit. Those brass buttons on the doublet were a nice touch, and almost certainly Virion's influence. Reeling myself back towards the question, I pushed back a silly thought and shook my head emphatically.

"Please don't, Gaius. Those kinds of ruffles are pretty expensive," I said, pausing and scratching my chin, "Wouldn't it be, uh, hard to cut them off with a knife?"

Gaius stared at his ruffles the way a lion watched an antelope, gently deforming the white fabric with the edge of his knife. "Expensive and hard, huh," he frowned, lollipop stick wobbling in his mouth, "Wouldn't be the dumbest job I've taken. What other kinda ruffles are there? Ruffles the guy? Some sorta cheap ruffles?"

The crisp memory of potato chips surfaced from the depths, accompanied by a pang of homesickness. "It's a snack we have where I come from," I said finally, "They weren't my favorite, but they were great for carrying dips." And it reminded me of a lot of things I couldn't have.

Eyeing me strangely, Gaius slowly lowered his knife and went back to pacing. "It's unfair, y'know. You're goin' with the snootiest of the snoots," he paused, grinning as I chuckled, "And I'm walking in there with... well, Lissa, and you know how she feels about all this. But you're the one that got an outfit with no ruffles past, well, Ruffles."

How hard could it be to invent potato chips, exactly? Maybe after I worked out ketchup, I mused, scratching my chin again. And, maybe, this beard stuff they handed me was actually drying out my skin. That'd explain the itchy chin.

"Duds?"

I blinked, trying to push back on the heat in my cheeks. He was right, though; my current outfit was a black doublet, brown pants, uncomfortably fancy boots, and a rather nice red coat with gold trimmings. Not a ruffle in sight. "Um. Well, that's a funny story. Virion wasn't involved."

"Guess you've got some scoundrel in you after all," Gaius grinned, pulling the lollipop stick out of his mouth and replacing it with a new one. "How in the damn did you manage that little bit of trickery?"

"Tiki."

Tilting his head, he raised an eyebrow. "I withdraw my previous statement."

"Whatever event I am accused of, I take full responsibility," A familiar voice called cheerfully, softly echoing as the owner stepped out of the castle.

"Speak of them, and they shall appear!" Gaius said a bit too loudly, startling me. "And, man, I didn't know women could wear those."

Oh, so it was Tiki. I turned to face her, giving her a curt nod. She'd put on a white blouse, black pants, and tossed a violet coat over the ensemble, which I had mixed feelings about. Maybe if she'd done her hair differently it'd be better, but I decided that would've been rude to mention. "They can indeed," I nodded, working my jaw, "Well, I really doubt anyone's going to tell Tiki no."

Tiki smiled serenely, clasping her hands together. "Unless I am to be wed, I prefer full use of my legs during events," she informed us, "Good evening, Andrew, Gaius."

Gaius looked her up and down. "Huh. Now it's just unfair. You don't have ruffles either!"

Tiki's grin had far too many teeth. "It was not a difficult discussion, and it was cleared with Sir Frederick posthaste."

We lapsed into a comfortable silence, or at least a silence I assumed was comfortable.

Tapping his foot, Gaius sighed. "You never answered my question, Duds. Which one's the champagne... Lute? Champagne flute?"

I turned to Tiki, only to find her looking back. Gaius was staring at me as well. "What?" I frowned, "Why would I-"

Tiki arched an eyebrow, tilting her head. "You would know better than I, Andrew. I have lived in Valm far too long to recall the dinner arrangements of Archanean nobility, assuming they have stayed the same."

"If she mentioned the itching powder, she must've had a few hours to fill up your head," Gaius grinned, wiggling his fingers, "Is it the tall glass or the wide glass?"

I scratched my chin. The whole thing reminded me a bit of chemistry sets, if chemistry sets threatened you with a parasol if you did something wrong. Neatly arranged tools (well, cutlery) filled the gaps between the porcelain plates and the wall of wineglasses, ready to be used by someone who actually knew what was going on.

At risk of sounding nonensical, only two of the wine glass-shaped glasses were wine glasses. One for red wine, one for white. There was also a champagne flute and a sherry glass, and I couldn't for the life of me remember which was which. But fluted glasses were tall and narrow, so...

"You know that glass that's narrow, widens at the middle, and tapers a bit at the top?" I gestured with my hands, describing the gently curved sides of what I hoped was a champagne flute.

I got a nod from Tiki, and a shrug from Gaius.

"Well, it's that," I finished lamely, dropping my hands.

Gaius simply shrugged again, earning a fanged smirk from Tiki and a sigh from me. "Isn't that most fancy glasses?" he frowned, cupping his hand as if to hold a wineglass, "All of 'em are kinda wide in the middle, Duds. So is it the real tall one, the thin one, the wide one, or the short one?"

The images Gaius' words brought to mind were entirely unhelpful- the champagne glass was tall and thin, and the other two were wide and short comparatively... "First of all, there's only three actual wine glasses," I began, buying time for a response as Tiki's smirk turned to an impish smile, "Two are wide and short, and the other- the champagne glass- is tall and thin. Probably," I hedged, tapping my chin.

His eyes lit up, hands moving to mimic the shape of the champagne flute. "Now the first one, yeah, I can see it now," Gaius agreed, pausing to shake his head, "But the other two, nah. Pretty sure one is shorter and wider than the other. The Red one is taller, ri-"

"Yes to the first, yes to the second, no to the third thought, dears," interjected a new voice, accompanied by rustling fabric and a click of the tongue, "I understand it can be difficult to grasp the intricacies of fine dining."

Maribelle walked into view with a bounce in her step, her many-layered pink skirt hiked up and out of the dirt. Her bodice and hair looked much the same as her favoured outfit, but enhanced with elaborate lace frills and rather nice-looking pink hair clips separating her curls from the bulk of her long, blonde hair.

She turned to face me directly, brow furrowed as she met my gaze. "Well, dear?"

I frowned, scratching my chin. "I'm gonna guess the taller glass is for White Wine, then?"

Confusion mounted as Maribelle huffed, rolling her eyes. She busied herself with her hair, though I couldn't really figure out what needed fixing.

Tiki shuffled over, elbowing me in the side. "Not the wine, Andrew," she murmured, lips quirked in a half-smile.

"Oh!" I felt a guilty flush creep across my cheeks as I looked everywhere but at Maribelle, ignoring Gaius' snicker. Rubbing the back of my head, I finally made eye contact with Maribelle. "Um. Yeah. I like the outfit, Maribelle, it's very much, um. Your color?"

That got me another elbow in the side from Tiki, but it looked like I'd passed the test. Maribelle nodded graciously, reaching out and seizing one of my hands in her own iron grip. "How kind of you! But it wouldn't do to linger here chatting, dear. Let us be off before we are late!"

"But-" I started, raising a hand to argue as she dragged me along, "You're the one who took two hours-" I looked helplessly back at Tiki and Gaius.

Tiki laughed, waving me along. "Off with you!"

Gaius made a show of sucking on his lollipop, shrugging. "See ya, Duds."

My shoulders slumped, even as a smile crept across my face. Catching up with Maribelle's brisk pace, I moved to walk alongside her. "Alright then. I'm not ready in the slightest, so let's do this."

"You inspire such confidence," Maribelle replied dryly, looking straight ahead. "Try being reasonable and civilized, and you'll come out of this mostly unscathed."

Drawing my smile tight and thin, I took a deep breath in. "Thrilling."

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While it was far from my first impression of the ballroom- Maribelle and I had practiced the various waltzes here- it was my first time seeing it gussied up for an event. It was the sort of thing you only see in old mansions or period television, which I suppose made a lot of sense.

The first thing to hit me was the sound of it all; a wash of muted murmurs, masked by a cadre of musicians playing meandering, meaningless tunes that just screamed 'fancy'. Second came the sight of it all: moonlight streamed in through thick, rippling windows, gleaming off waxen wood and polished marble floors. Under a gleaming chandelier of crystal, tan columns cast scattered and fragmented shadows, a geometric webwork like shattered grey glass. Servants flitted in and out of the room, weaving between gaudy nobles with their trays of somehow gaudier food; the necessities of nobility, and all that. Opulent, ostentatious, and- oops, almost stepped on Maribelle's dress.

"Sorry," I whispered out of the side of my mouth, eyes trained on the mess of nobles spread about the room. Lots of yellow and green outfits, with a smattering of pinks and reds. And, despite it all, not a single familiar face. "Anyone I should look out for?"

I kept Maribelle in the corner of my gaze as often as possible while I scanned the room, watching as her shoulders squared and her posture stiffened. With light catching the muted tones of her makeup, it was like watching an actor play the part of Maribelle. "Everyone," she said eventually, her tone even and clipped, "Do not treat them as you would a Shepherd, or even a distant colleague, Andrew. Introduce yourself first, and do not answer questions about the Plegian War unless absolutely necessary."

Drawing in a jittery breath, I nodded. "So what first?"

"First," she said, clasping her hands over her waist, "We speak with Duke Themis, my father. I do not see him in the crowd," she clicked her tongue, hands clenching, "We must find him before he-"

"Maribelle, my dear daughter!" A deep, rough voice called, breezing through thick, tense air. "Back from the war, with nary a scratch. You look lovely tonight!"

Maribelle bit back a groan, fighting to keep her expression neutral. "-before he embarrasses me in public. Again."

I held back a grin and went for a sympathetic shrug. Parents embarrassing their kids was an age-old tradition, after all.

"I'm sure he's just happy to see you," I offered, stepping to the side to allow another noble to enter the room. Not a moment later, a man just barely taller than Maribelle slipped through the crowd, running a hand through greying blond hair and using the other to straighten a rather impressive blonde mustache. With that done, he gripped the lapels of his coat, straightening them before brushing off the ruffles at his collar. "I don't know how he saw us, admittedly. Paternal instincts?"

That earned a snort for Maribelle. "It certainly would explain how he always finds me. Ah, father! How long has it been- three, four months, since we last saw each other?" Maribelle's voice shifted, becoming louder and a bit more wooden as her father stepped into hearing range.

Maribelle's father smiled, stopping a few paced in front of us. Tapping fingers on his palm, he glanced up at the ceiling. "Four months and a week, my dear girl! Even with the assurance of my friend Reynard, and Prince Chrom's couriers, ah, it was difficult to not see you for so long."

I got the impression they were dancing around a subject, but I couldn't tell what. Hell, why hadn't they spoken before a fancy ball forced them into the same room? I resolved to ask later, assuming I didn't work it out on my own. Or maybe not, I amended, because that sounded like a personal issue and something she should tell me about. But what if... Shaking my head, I pulled my thoughts back into the present.

"And who, might I add, is this fine gentleman accompanying you?" Maribelle's father continued, reminding me that I still didn't know his name, and there was something very important I had to do.

With two pairs of eyes on me- at the least, maybe some nearby nobles were watching, like that guy in maroon- I took the practised bow, one arm behind my back and the other held across my midsection. Pulling on years of acting experience, I intoned, "A friend of Miss Maribelle, sir. Mister Andrew Southerland Fairmason, at your service. Though the introduction seems a bit redundant," I paused, grinning, "This is Miss Maribelle Themis."

Maribelle's father's eyebrows shot up, his eyes following me as I straightened fully. "Well, well," he chuckled, clapping his hands together, "When I heard you'd be bringing a new plus-one, my dear, I did not know what to think! But I digress. I am Duke Alfonsus Jax Themis. Might I ask, Mister Andrew- what land do you hail from? I do not recognize either of those family names, and they certainly are not of Valmese origin."

Keeping my expression as neutral as possible, I let my mind churn. It wasn't a complicated question, per se, but I didn't actually know how to answer. 'I'm from another world' would be accurate, but reflect badly on Maribelle. Refusing to answer was a bad idea, and being vague wouldn't help either- Duke Themis seemed to know his stuff.

And letting the pause drag past a heartbeat wouldn't do either. Time to improvise some lines, and channel some fancy characters I'd played.

"The far-away land of-" Saying New England would just raise more questions, so maybe some minor alterations, "England. Southerland and Fairmason aren't names of particular note, so I'm afraid my long name doesn't mean much."

Maribelle sniffed loudly, catching me with a sidelong glare. "Strange as his claim may be, they are vouched for by respectable figures, including the Manakete in attendance tonight."

Duke Themis smiled faintly, extending a hand to me. "Is that so? Well, my dear, you certainly pick interesting companions. I won't keep either of you any longer- not when there is so much to be done! But it was good to meet you, Mister Fairmason."

"Interesting companions," Maribelle echoed, "You will find no shortage of such people surrounding the Shepherds."

Yup, I'd definitely missed something important in that conversation. Maribelle didn't seem upset, though, so I'd passed the test. Whatever it was. I took Duke Themis' hand and shook it. "And you as well, Duke Themis."

Nodding, Duke Themis released my hand and waved us on, looking off into the crowd. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be off as well," he paused, eyes training on a man in a long maroon coat. "Ah! Reynard, my friend. I didn't see you slip in! How's that business with the dry docks going?"

Maribelle trapped my hand in hers, leading the way into the crowd. "Come on, dear. I'd rather not get caught between Reynard and my father- they can talk for hours."

"Isn't that the point of this event?" I mused, tapping my chin.

"If you're an established noble, yes. If one is looking to be a Magistrate, as I am attempting to do, it's best to mingle," Maribelle replied shortly, scanning the crowd as we slipped between groups.

I followed her gaze, tracing it as it went right past the clusters of nobles and straight towards a grey-haired man in black holding a silver tray of sandwiches. "Uh-huh. You forgot-"

"-yes, I forgot lunch, Andrew. Not the time or the place," she hissed, before suddenly plastering on an uncomfortably wide smile, "Lord Crawford! It has been an age, hasn't it? Now, I'd love to stop and talk, but I'd rather do so on a full stomach. Would you mind if we sidled past to reach the appetizers?"

Pulling my focus back to my immediate surroundings, I saw an older-looking gentleman with raise a glass of champagne (or so I assumed) before stepping to the side. "By all means, Miss Maribelle! And I hope we'll be introduced to this gentleman next to you, hm?"

"We?" Maribelle prodded, her smile flickering. I did my best to not look awkward, standing there and not saying anything.

"Of course, we!" Lord Crawford exclaimed, smiling back and taking a sip of his drink. He gestured off to the side, pointing at two men off by the side of the room. "Alonsius and Duke Warren were caught up with the raids in the villages down south- lots of road maintenance to do. Fascinating stuff. That can wait until after you've eaten, I'm sure!"

Maribelle nodded, expression perfectly unreadable. "Indeed, Lord Crawford. We shouldn't be long."

As Maribelle tugged me along towards the sandwiches, I was struck by a faint feeling of regret. It was going to be a long, long night, wasn't it?

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"...but you didn't hear that from me," Lord Crawford rambled on, his voice finally breaking through the wall of automatic responses I'd been throwing out- 'really?' 'is that so?' 'I see.'

Well, it wasn't his voice, per se. It was that he'd stopped using it, as mean as that sounds. I'm sure Lord Crawford is a great guy and all, but he could talk for hours about... stuff. Rumors, gossip, and the sort of trivia I'd done my best to avoid in my later years of grade school.

"But of course," Maribelle agreed smoothly, looking pointedly over Lord Crawford's shoulder. "Perhaps it would be time for us to change course, Lord Crawford? I believe it appropriate for us to introduce ourselves to Duke Warren and company."

Lord Crawford blinked, a cheery grin spreading across his narrow face as he turned around. "Ah! Alonsius! Duke Warren! Done with the roads business, I hope?" He paused, turning back. "I'm not sure you've met Alonsius, Miss Maribelle- he's- ah, you're aware he's the Minister of Coin for Duke Talys, I'm certain. The rest, I think he'll tell you himself."

I nodded along, focusing on the two men approaching. The taller one, a pale and youthful-looking man, wore only a white doublet and black pants. The other man, brown eyes twinkling from a grandfatherly face, wore an outfit that would make Virion green with envy. Blue coat, massive white ruffles, all adorned with an air of class that hung around him like a mist.

Also, lots of gold tassels. Lots.

Maribelle elbowed me in the side again. "Now, dear," she murmured.

Jerking to life, I took a deep bow, putting on a plastic grin all the while. "Hello, sirs. I am Mister Andrew Southerland Fairmason, a friend accompanying Miss Maribelle Themis tonight."

The man in blue smiled thinly at us, nodding but saying nothing.

Beside him, the taller man clicked his tongue before speaking in a lilting, nasal voice. "Magistrate Alonsius Blake, at your service."

A rustle of fabric was my only indication that Maribelle had reacted, and for the life of me I couldn't tell why she'd stiffened. Time to take a quick walk down video game memory lane- the world magistrate rang a bell, so it'd be a good place to start.

Finally, the man in blue spoke, one arm across his midsection as he performed a half-bow. "Duke Tobias Warren. The business with the roads is quite evened out, Lord Crawford; I'm sure you'll hear more about it from your own Duke later- dull work, through and through, I'll spare you," he said warmly.

It was strange to see a grown man pout, but it was really the only thing that described Alonsius' expression. "Rude," he muttered, brushing off his collar.

The murmurs of the ball crept in over the lull, a just barely uncomfortable quiet as Lord Crawford sipped at his wine. He made a bit of a face, frowning into the glass. "Bit on the bitter side tonight, isn't it?"

Duke Warren coughed into a fist. "Would you happen to be the Andrew formerly of the Shepherds, by any chance?"

Holding back a grimace, I nodded. "I am he," I said carefully, only to be plunged into confusion when Duke Warren's expression brightened.

Duke Warren clapped his hands just a bit too loudly, catching the eyes of one or two idling nobles. "Good, good! I would like to speak to you at noon tomorrow about something, if you don't mind. Where should I send a runner to retrieve you? The Shepherd barracks, I presume?"

Huh? I blinked, the process of collecting my thoughts helped along by Maribelle elbowing me. "Uh, sure- but I'm not in the barracks tonight. I'll be in the guest's wing of the castle."

He looked faintly curious as he nodded. "Excellent! It's nothing much to worry about, I assure you. With that out of the way, though, I must be off; good evening to you all."

Without another word, Duke Warren walked off, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

"So," Maribelle said finally, turning to face Alonsius, "Duke Warren mentioned you were a Magistrate, Mister Blake. Could I perhaps inquire after your work?"

Alonsius practically preened. "Of course! Not even three weeks ago, I had to arbitrate..."

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"Really?" Maribelle hummed, eyes sparkling as she clasped her hands. "The deal with the dockworkers was yours, Alonsius? I cannot even begin to imagine how difficult that situation was to navigate."

Alonsius adjusted his collar, visibly forcing his expression back to neutrality. "It was nothing special, Miss Maribelle. I was merely doing my duty as a Magistrate."

I nodded along, trying to pick up the conversation I'd completely zoned out of. I was tempted to comment, but if I'd missed something important, I'd just make a fool of myself. And, as their conversation turned towards dense legalese and taxation, I found myself tuning out again.

At least Lord Crawford seemed to be in the same boat- heh, dockworkers, boats. Stifling a chuckle, I turned towards the Lord and tried to whip up a conversation topic. "So, uh," I started eloquently, drawing several blanks, "While we wait for the main event, how's the wine?"

Swirling the contents of his glass with one hand, Lord Crawford crossed his free arm over his chest. He took a careful sip, pursing his lips.

"Notes of green apple, with a surprisingly nutty undertone. A bit sharper than my personal preference- such a pity that Valmese vineyard closed a few years back, you know. What I'm less pleased with, though," he paused, looking off into the crowd, "Is this bitter aftertaste... Perhaps Reynard can figure it out. My Duke! Could I borrow your time?"

Feeling a bit of confused whiplash, I watched Lord Crawford wave down a faintly familiar man with short, pepper-grey hair and a simple maroon coat.

His green eyes flicked over to Alonsius and Maribelle, lips curling into a thin smile. "I trust it isn't urgent, Terrence," he began, voice deep and rough, "I saw Prince Chrom and his fiancé taking the long way through the gardens, so we have a handful of minutes," he paused, finally locking eyes with me. "And this would be Maribelle's plus one, I presume."

Reynard, huh. Maribelle had mentioned him before- and if he was a Duke, that'd make him Duke Reynard Talys. Probably. How many Dukes were there, exactly?

"Good evening," I said, hastily taking a bow, "I am Mister Andrew Southerland Fairmason, and you'd be correct. It's been, um, interesting meeting all these new people."

He chuckled, nodding his chin at me. "Duke Reynard Farrier Talys. It's much better when it's interesting, I think; dull events make me wish for stronger alcohols, and I'm afraid I'm a bit of a lightweight myself," he paused, smiling toothily. Snapping his gaze onto Lord Crawford, he tilted his head. "Now, Terrence, you have my time. Is this about the debacle with the maids last week, or...?"

Lord Crawford shook his head vigorously, waving his free hand. "No, no, my guard captain's been reprimanded, no worries there. This is about the wine, Reynard. Did you notice that bitter aftertaste? I can't quite place it myself," he blurted out hastily, taking a sip to demonstrate.

Duke Talys furrowed his brow, taking a slow sip of his own wine. "Hm," he murmured, licking his lips, "A bit nutty, yes, and there is something under that."

"Oh, good," Lord Crawford sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I feared I was going crazy."

"It may well be that both of us have lost our minds," Duke Talys retorted, lips curled into a half-smile, "And nobody would ever know. So few here drink the white wine that I could easily name them all. Perhaps we've all gone mad?"

And that was the end of it- not because the conversation was over, but because someone had chosen to loudly interrupt everyone in the room.

"Announcing Prince Chrom Lowell of the Halidom, Heir to the Throne, Duke of Ylisstol!"

Before I could even get a glimpse of Chrom, I felt someone firmly grip my arm and yank me away. "It's time to stop loitering, dear; the ball's just begun!"

It took all I had to stifle a pained groan. That had dragged on forever, and it was just the start? "You're kidding me."

I'll spare everyone the hours and hours of details- the nobles, the names, the awkward dances, and the mind-numbing amount of gossip. There were a few high points, like passing conversations with Tiki or Sumia, but they were infrequent lights amid the sea of noble politics. At the time, I'd wished for something, anything to happen.

Of course, shortly after that, my wish was granted in the worst way possible.

The doors slammed open, revealing Anna and Frederick side by side. Neither of them looked particularly happy.

"Please remain calm," Frederick declared loudly, "And stay where you are." A tense, thick silence filled the room, winding tightly around my heart.

"Calm," I whispered, "Not the best way to ask us, is it?"

"There are intruders in the castle, and the wine appears to have been poisoned," he continued, "I would like to request that-"

Pandemonium prevailed.

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Author's Note:

Hey! This was certainly a little late, wasn't it?

Sorry about that. A lot of things happened at once, and I ended up changing many of my plans for Act 2. I think I'm back on track, though!

Cheers,

Narwhal Lord