Chapter 36: Masquerade
In Greta's opinion, one would have to live under a rock to not know the King and Queen of Morley coming to Dunwall for their state visit. It was all the papers would talk about, producing long pieces on how matters stood between Morley and Gristol, short ones listing all the upcoming soirees and Royal Appearances, and sleazy ones theorizing that the King and Queen would take Owen's status of paramour as an affront. On the streets one could easily hear the City Watch complain about all they had to do to prepare for the visit, starting on the 22nd day of the month, and ending a swift three days later.
The only effect this hubbub had on Greta's life was putting a pause on her visits to the Tower. Emily was far too busy for even twenty minutes of tea, something Greta did not envy. In any case, they will see each other again when the King and Queen left town. The pauses were good for her too, as the chapel archive was recently donated a box of old herbal books that needed to be noted and sorted. Tonight she was getting the finishing touches on her notes for the last one. Her eyes swam as she blearily gazed at the archaic print. The small clock on the wall chimed seven times.
"Crap!" Greta cried, tearing her eyes from the book to the clock face. She did not mishear, it was indeed seven at night, she had missed dinner. Her stomach gurgled sadly at the thought.
"Well there is no use continuing now," she grumbled aloud, mentally kicking herself as she put away the book and her notes for it. Might as well go back to her room and meditate before going to bed early. She walked through the quiet halls and opened her room door.
"Greta!" There was Elanor, sitting on the bed. Greta, surprised, stood dumbly in the doorway. The star beckoned her forward, and Greta found herself walking into the room, the door closing on its own behind her. "How would you like to go to a masquerade?"
"Huh?"
Elanor sighed, a tad exasperated at her confusion. "The welcome ball is a masquerade! Would you like to go with me?"
"Go with you?" Greta said. "I'm flattered, but I don't have anything to wear."
The star crossed her arms and snapped her fingers. Greta watched in awe as her clothes changed from her uniform of white and black to a dapper coat and pants of red and gold. Floating just in front of her was a fox mask; she reached out and took it. Elanor smiled at her.
"Now you have an outfit!"
"Thank you very much!" Greta darted over to her small mirror and carefully put on the mask. It fit wonderfully, showing her eyes, mouth and chin. When she turned around she saw Elanor wearing an engraved metal mask that covered her eyes. Matching cat ears neatly poked out of her blond hair, her regular ears covered to further the illusion. She wore a snappy suit of white trimmed with fur and with buttons of gold.
"Ready to go get some free food?" Elanor said, her bright red lips parted in an eager grin.
Greta's stomach rumbled in anticipation. "Definitely!"
Billie stood beside the Outsider in the main hall as they waited for Corvo and Emily to come down. Captain Otte was off talking to the guards in the corner, dressed like his normal self like all members of the City Watch. Billie could not help but envy him. There was something so terribly confining about fancy suits. The blasted bat mask was not helping matters. At least she looked sharp, even with the ridiculous bat wing cape.
The Outsider seemed relaxed under the Áneukhrmato's strange skin, its head and snout pulled over his head like a hood, toothy attached jawbones framing his face. He further painted the top half of his face a sooty black. Billie looked down and frowned.
"Where are your shoes?"
The Outsider continued to stare straight ahead, but a frown twitched at the corner of his lips for a moment. "Luiz did not regard them as "sufficient". So we worked around not wearing any."
"Going for the wandering performer look?" she asked dryly, casting a critical eye on his ribbon-wrapped calves.
"Might as well look the street rat I am at heart," he snarked. They were quiet for a moment, watching the maids file into place. It would not be long now before the ball was going to start. Billie inhaled deeply, then out slowly, her hands tense behind her back.
"I know you feel as out of place like I do," the Outsider murmured quietly.
"Not quite right there," she replied back with a bit of a snap. "As the Spymaster I belong here. I cannot help the minds of people who will think that I do not belong here."
"You are right, people are going judge us for our low birth no matter how noble our position is now," he placidly stared forward, his black eyes focused on the wall across from them. "So why are you so anxious?"
Damn the bastard. Billie exhaled through her nose, rattling her mask. "I am sure you know why."
He hummed. "Your manners are fine Lurk. Royalty does not awe you so you shall not trip over your tongue like a fool. Your stance is proud, not one ounce of your nature is servile. When you do serve, it is out of respect. Be at ease, no one will walk over you."
"What about you?" Billie countered.
His lips curled up into a sharp smile, revealing elongated eye teeth. "It will be fun to see what people try with me."
"Hopefully nobody will try anything untoward."
Their heads turned to see Emily walking down the stairs, closely followed by Corvo. Emily was dressed in brilliant shades of blue, her long jacket sleeves made to look like bird wings, her hair up in a series of braids enwoven with shimmering blue ribbons and the top her face only just hidden by the delicate bird mask. She was clearly meant to be Eulalia, who was proudly perched on her shoulder. Corvo was dressed like a menacing raven, all in elaborate embroidered black, complete with a short feathered cloak. Tailor Luiz had really gone all out for the two of them.
Billie finally glanced at the Outsider and nearly burst out laughing at his poleaxed expression.
"You look beautiful," he breathed, admiration in his tone and adoration on his face.
Emily approached him, eyes scanning him up and down, an appreciative smile upon her lips. "As do you my dear."
The clock chimed seven times, prompting Corvo to clear his throat. The two split apart, and everyone took their places. It was time for them to welcome the guests.
A hundred of some of the most important people of Gristol and Morley under one roof called for skilled security. It was nothing that Corvo had not arranged before, and Captain Otte was a pleasure to work with. This was, however, the first time in over ten years that he was not fully privy to the activities of the spymaster. Billie and the Outsider seemed to think that there will be an assassination attempt on the O'Conner Dons, the rulers of Morley. The mere thought of such a thing happening gave him a headache. Masquerades were an assassin's dream come true, as he knew all too well. But that was Billie's problem. Only was it when assassins turn their sights to Emily did it become his.
The steady stream of guests was all familiar so far. There was the Inchmouths as hagfish, the Whites as herons, Baron Griess a hare, Chopin an ice bear, Solokov as a whale, Esma Boyle a swan. Sinjean DeLuc and Marius Silva shocked him by making a beeline for the Outsider after the briefest of greetings with Emily and talking with him for a good five minutes. A stern Elys Cassidy marked the end of the Gristol guests and the beginning of the Morley delegation.
"Oh Empress you look splendid!" Queen Gracie glided over, her grey hair masterfully arranged around a pair of short antlers. She held out her hands to Emily and she took them with a warm smile.
"As do you highness," Emily replied earnestly. "It is truly good to see you after so long."
Gracie gave her hands a fond squeeze. "I look forward to having a nice long chat with you."
"As am I!"
The old King leaned heavily on his beautiful cane as he made his way over Emily and his wife. Gracie let go of Emily's hands, and took her left hand and bestowed a kiss upon the signet ring.
"It is truly a pleasure to be in your court once more Empress."
"Please, let us do away with titles for the evening," Emily declared warmly. The King and Queen laughed.
"As you wish Emily dear."
With an incline of their heads they made their way over to Elys, who would take them to the elevator. Corvo allowed himself a smile under his mask. He always loved how kindly the O' Conner Dons treated Emily, how they held deep and genuine affection for her. It was good to see that it was still there.
"Empress Emily," Merida Fitzpatrick bowed before Emily. "I want to warn you that my brother and his wife are actually attending tonight."
"Thank you for the warning Merida," Emily replied gently. "Thank you for coming."
"It is my honor to attend."
Just as Merida warned, Wyman was there with his little pregnant wife. Mercifully their greetings were polite and short. The rest of the line flew by, and finally, with the last person introduced and welcomed, they could join in the festivities.
Greta knew something was up when they simply appeared in the Music room instead of the typical entrance line.
"Elanor, were you actually invited?" she asked warily.
"It is a masquerade," the star replied lightly before moving to sit at the harp. "No one will notice us as uninvited guests."
Greta heaved a sigh as Elanor started plucking at the harp. "That does not mean we should crash it! This is also a state event! They are probably going to start with a fancy dinner beforehand, and seating is of utmost importance. We are not going to be able to sit for dinner!"
Elanor stopped her harp playing. "Truly?"
"Truly!" cried Greta, a touch horrified. "Let's just go before we can get in trouble."
"Nonsense!" Elanor stood up. "There is a way around this little roadblock."
Greta threw up her hands. "How?!"
Elanor sat back down by the harp, and began strumming. The music was ethereal and distorting. The next thing she knew Greta found herself seated at the dinner table between her childhood friend Lydia Fitzpatrick, neé King. and the Outsider. Down the table between Esma Boyle and beautiful black-haired women she had never seen before was Elanor. Lydia was chatting aimlessly about how beautiful everything is and how nice it was to see Greta back where she belongs. The Outsider, however, was staring at her with disapproval. Nobody but him was looking at her strangely. Whatever Elanor did, it worked.
"By the way, how did you get invited Greta?" Lydia asked innocently. "I thought you were still a Blind Sister."
"Oh I am," Greta replied with a short laugh. "Empress Emily and I are friends; that was how I was invited."
The Outsider coughed into his soup, a cough that suspiciously sounded like the word "bullshit".
"Friends? Wyman never mentioned you being around the palace before," replied Lydia, sounding confused.
"We became friends after my chapel helped her clear the Tower of Delilah's witches," Greta said quickly before helping herself to the delicious soup.
"Ooooh, I see!" the blonde finally turned to her own bowl.
Most everyone around the table was carefully eating, some around their masks, others having to hold snouts and beaks out of the way. Greta glanced up at the head of the table to see Corvo was in the latter camp, with the tip of the beak in danger of dipping into the soup at any moment. At that moment she was stuck by how silly it was to have a masquerade ball with an official dinner. Finishing up her bowl, Greta peeked to her left, wondering if the Outsider's manners improved. To her surprise, she saw an empty bowl. Empty, as in it looked like nothing had been placed in it. All silverware sat in their places, untouched. Confused, she gave him a look and opened her mouth.
"So Lydia, you and Wyman Fitzpatrick huh?" What, that was not what she meant to say at all. Greta glared at the Outsider who stared back at her with his black eyes glinting with a hint of challenge. A shiver crept up her spine. Best heed the unspoken warning and embrace Lydia as her conversation partner.
Lydia lit up at the question. "Oh, it has been a dream! He and I have been in correspondence since the last Month of High Cold, and when he stepped off that boat six months ago we have scarcely been separated. Not to mention we are expecting our first child together. Greta dear, I feel my life has been fulfilled!"
"That's wonderful," Greta forced a smile to her face. From the bits and pieces she heard about Wyman Fitzpatrick she doubted that Lydia's joy would last. After all, the fellow cheated on Emily for crying out loud, imagine what they would do to a naïve fool like Lydia.
A bell rang, and the soup was taken away in a coordinated clearing by the wait staff, all wearing simple black masks that went with their uniform. Moments later they laid the new course before them, a delicately prepared dish of chilled Wei Gon puffer fish. Lydia made a noise of disappointment beside her.
"Oh I was hoping they would not serve this!" she bemoaned quietly. "I have always wanted to try it, but pregnant ladies should not eat uncooked fish."
"Oh that's a shame," Greta remarked absently, picking up her fork.
"At least I'm not alone it seems," Lydia continued thoughtfully. "The Empress does not seem to be too fond of the dish either."
Greta looked up to the table's head and saw that Lydia was right, Emily was completely ignoring the dish as she chatted animatedly with Queen Gracie.
"Huh," she found herself saying aloud. Was Emily's stomach complaint back? Did she ever see the doctor about it? "Why would the Empress have a dish she will not eat on the menu?"
"Because it is expensive, and King Seamus likes it above all fish dishes," the Outsider replied, his head also inclined to look down at Emily.
"I did not realize that Emily stopped liking puffer fish."
Greta found her eyes pulled to the person sitting directly across from the Outsider, a svelte golden-haired beauty with blue eyes peering out from behind his stag mask. Greta realized with a jolt that the person was Wyman Fitzpatrick.
"It is a recent development," the Outsider replied airily, plate before him empty like it was never covered with food once more.
Wyman hummed, handling his fish with perfect manners and grace. Greta could not stop her eyes from darting between the two of them, trying to cover up her curiosity with a mouthful of puffer fish. She nearly gagged on the strong taste, and had to fight it down to maintain her manners. Lydia, for her part, stared openly at the Outsider from behind her doe mask.
"Wait, are you Owen Pharmakós, the Beast Killer?" she asked, wide eyed. The Outsider turned to face her, politely detached.
"I suppose that is my title now. And you are the lovely little Lydia Fitzpatrick."
Lydia tittered, clearly delighted by his somewhat stilted tone. "That is indeed me! Tell me, what was it like to go up against such a horrible beast?"
Her questions seemed to be drawing some attention, as even behind the many masks Greta could see eyes move and heads tilt. A small frown bloomed on the Outsider's face.
"There was a strange quality to it, much like seeing a green sky or blue grass. Such creatures should not be, yet it was there nonetheless. Spymaster Lurk and the Royal Protector spent more time fighting it. Greta here was also among the people who spent more time fighting it than I did."
"Indeed?" Wyman sounded faintly interested. Lydia squealed in horror.
"You fought the beast?!"
Greta winced. "Well, not really? I was just there to make sure Emily did not get hurt or eaten. I just helped her run from it."
"Emily, running from a fight?" Now Wyman was giving the conversation his full attention. "That does not sound like her."
"She certainly did not like it," Greta said firmly. "But she liked living far better than getting torn to bits and eaten alive."
"It was not a beast that you could fight with normal weapons," the Outsider's face was carefully blank. "Are you not aware of its nature?"
Wyman tilted his head. "Why would I be?"
A look of pure disbelief flashed across the Outsider's face. "Because you are third in line for the throne of Morley and at least three women have been killed by a beast prowling your Ballyrood estate."
There was a beat of silence, and then Wyman shrugged. "That's a matter concerning my estate agent. I'll put him in touch with you about that."
The bell rang again, and the plates were taken away. Suppressed dislike was coming off the Outsider in waves. Greta tried not to shudder. Perhaps she could distract Lydia with talk of fashion; she always did like to be in on the latest trends.
When they were finally released from dinner to mingle and dance the Outsider could not contain his sigh of relief. Perhaps he could escape away to his room and eat his dinner in peace. He did not dare to try his hand at table manners while seated across perfect little Wyman. What a creature he was! A wonderful noble, delightful conversationalist, and pleasant to his wife and peers, impeccable manners, and a terrible landlord; a prime example of the Morlean nobility. He was someone the Outsider could do without.
But alas, that was not to be.
"I thought you might be interested in joining me and a few others for a game?" The invitation posed by Wyman as they stood was not so much an offer as a carefully concealed command. He swallowed his ire at being ordered about, and affected distant curiosity.
"Oh? What sort of game?"
A coy smirk appeared on Wyman's face. "Oh just a little twist on a simple childhood game. Come, and you will see."
Damn his curiosity. He followed the noble, unable to help but wonder what the game was. They entered the library, and found a group of seven young men already chatting around a large table. They were all part of the Morley delegation, young nobles eager to make connections and have a good time. One in a mouse mask turned to them and a smile crossed his face.
"Fitzpatrick! I see you managed to bring along Pharmakós!"
"Indeed I did," Wyman declared somewhat smugly as he took a seat, glancing up at him expectantly. Reluctantly, the Outsider took the final empty seat. "I see we timed ourselves perfectly!"
The Outsider followed his eyes to see the table was laden with dishes, filled with things that he could recognize and some that he could not.
"You have yet to explain this game to me," he said dryly. Several of the men chuckled.
"Well it is quite simple Phramakós," Wyman explained flippantly. "We take turns posing questions. We all have to answer the question, or eat a dish of the questioner's choice. Oh, we also make bets to see how long it takes before someone throws up, as well as who will be the first to throw up and other such things."
Throw up? What on earth about these dishes would make anyone throw up? Were they putrid? None smelled like they were too far gone. Unsure what to say, he just nodded. At least this was not a drinking game. It would not do to make himself a fool.
"Alright!" declared the youth behind the cat mask with a clap of his hands. "Since we are all here, I will start. How much was your income last month?"
The Outsider felt his stomach rumble. Void he was starving. He could barely pay attention to each man giving their answers.
"Pharmakós, Boyle, Erne, last chance to say anything, or else you shall eat the fish eyes."
Fish eyes? Why those weren't half bad when fresh. Without thinking too hard about the question even posed the Outsider simply grabbed one of the several small plates and began popping them into his mouth. Oh, these were fresh. Better yet, someone seasoned them with some pepper!
"Holy fuck Pharmakós!"
He opened eyes he did not realize that he closed and saw many slack jaws and wide eyes.
"What? Have none of you eaten fish eyes before?"
"No!" they replied in astonished chorus. The Outsider shrugged and finished cleaning the plate.
The next question was posed, something about who they hated the most. The food was bull testicles. So he kept his mouth shut and tried to make it look like he was not eager to eat such a thing. But come on! Eating bull testicles brought good luck and health.
"Have you ever broken the law?" posed a sly youth behind a ferret mask.
What was the food for this question? From the great deal of uncomfortable shifting he supposed that he would be sharing whatever was challenged.
"Come now, do you really want to eat the jellyfish?" crooned the questioner.
Jellyfish! Now that took him back. One just needed to find the right sort and just suck them up with some fresh water or wine. He glanced around and was pleased to find that there was a glass of water within reach. So he just picked up the little dish, took his glass, and plopped the jellyfish inside, before sucking down the whole thing with learned care.
The Outsider earned maybe one awed glance from the mouse-masked noble, the rest were engrossed in the Otter-mask's story of shoplifting some of King's Brandy from the distillery shop. He did one more glance at the table. It was almost as if these fellows were making things easy for him! Best to sit back and absorb the secrets as he always did.
Emily watched the dancers neatly make their way around the floor as she stood by the King and Queen, both far too old to keep up with the faster paced dances, but eager to watch. Emily herself was not too keen to dance. Something she ate was not particularly agreeing with her right now. Eulalia twittered on her shoulder, whistling along to the music every now and then.
"So my dear, we have heard you have gotten yourself a new man," Gracie broached lightly.
Emily hummed. "That is indeed the case, especially since the previous partner saw fit to depart without so much a by-your-leave."
Gracie winced at that. "I am truly sorry Wyman did that. The lad had no idea how good he had it, and it was cruel to abandon you like so."
"It was for the best," Emily soothed, giving a smile. "He and Lydia seem to care for each other and Owen is a far more supportive partner."
Gracie nodded. "Well, it is true that Lydia is a good wife for him. I am happy to hear that Owen makes you happy but…"
Emily let the silence ebb, waiting for Gracie to finish her thought.
"But what?" she prompted, after a moment too long of silence.
Gracie waved her off. "It is probably nothing, but I have heard rumors. Petty ones. Emily dear, I would like to meet him properly though, it would sooth my doubts."
The small quartet played the last bars as those on the floor came to a stop and traded bows. As some couples left the floor, Emily noticed a pack of young men make their way along the walls to the quartet, the Outsider among them. Even across the crowded room she could sense his discomfort. The group descended on the quartet, and seemed to be in intense discussion with the four. The remaining couples on the ballroom floor stared at the gathering in confusion and a small amount of disgruntlement.
"What are they doing over there?" asked Gracie with a frown.
"Attempting to settle a bet, your highness."
Emily started at the familiar voice. She turned to her right and saw Greta, dressed in a smart red suit and a fox's mask.
"Settle a bet?" she asked, pushing aside the confusion she felt at Greta's presence. What on earth was she doing here?
"From what I could tell Owen was challenge to eat whale, refused, and instead of eating whale he is to dance or something," Greta explained with a shrug. "We will see."
Eulalia let out a huff, then took off from her shoulder. Emily tried to follow her with her eyes but the little bird disappeared quickly in the crowd around them.
The dance floor was cleared out by the men, accompanied by a great deal of grumbling. The quartet had put down their instruments; one member was now holding an accordion. Beside them was a cat masked woman in white, holding a drum. There was a beat of silence, tense with curiosity. Then the drummer began to play a fast, intense beat. Emily could see the Outsider approach the edge of the dance floor, face carefully blank. The accordion began to play an energetic tune utterly unfamiliar to her ears, complementing the beat of the drum.
The Outsider took two long, rapid steps before gracefully throwing himself into the air, landing upon his knees near the middle of the dance floor. Almost immediately he sprung up to his feet and pivoted, moving using his knees and toes. It was mesmerizing to see how rapidly he could move, how graceful he made the aggressive postures. How delightful it was to see how well he moved! How flawlessly he spun and balanced on the tips of his toes to the edge of his heel. How well he controlled the jagged movements of his arms.
Emily did not realize she was standing to applaud until the music stopped, the room filled with applause rather than the drumbeats. The Outsider stood tall, arms held back and stance wide, his face blank and eyes relieved. Emily clapped as hard she could, trying to show him how much she appreciated him. Beside her Greta wolf-whistled, an act mimicked by Merida off to the right.
"I can see why you choose him," Gracie murmured in her ear. "If he beds half as well as he dances he is quite the catch."
Emily did not know what to say to that.
The Outsider finally relaxed, bowing to her and Gracie before leaving the dance floor, returning to the pack of men who started the whole matter. She would have watched them if it was not for Lydia King-Fitzpatrick, Merida, and another woman wearing a seal mask descending upon her.
"Dear Empress, your lover is quite the dancer!" declared Merida excitedly. "It almost made me see the appeal in men."
The dark-haired woman on Merida's arm laughed. "A bold statement from you, my hawk! I personally was not expecting a dance like that from a man such as him. It was so martial!"
"A man such as him?" Emily asked, her tone tightly controlled and unamused. Merida had the good manners to look embarrassed, but the other woman stared back at her plainly, her pale blue eyes unashamed and judging.
"Well," Lydia piped up from Gracie's side. "We have heard he was a, ahem, dancer before the Spymaster took him into her employ." She glanced up at Gracie, who nodded somewhat sheepishly.
Emily slid her gaze over to Greta, who was also staring at the four women with a touch of dumbfounded irritation.
"A 'dancer'?" she drawled, stretching out the uncomfortable moment.
"Yes, was he one or was he not?" the seal-masked woman declared, chin tipped aloft.
"Arabel!" Merida cried, mortified. "You cannot ask such a thing!"
"Ask what?" Seamus made his way over to his wife, cane in one hand and a glass of whiskey in another. Emily greeted him with a nod before casting a judgmental eye on the women.
"Asking whether or not my lover was once a prostitute," she declared frankly.
Lydia gasped and covered her mouth, horrified to hear such brazen vulgarity. Gracie too placed a hand over her heart, looking rather faint. Seamus himself was aghast.
"A prostitute?! Oh Emily, do tell me that it is not so!"
Emily tried to swallow her utter offense. Of course she would not take on a prostitute as her lover, she had standards for crying out loud! In assuming the worst about the Outsider they were also assuming the worst about her. How dare they, were they not friends?
Greta scoffed loudly, yet politely into her glass of wine. "Please, your majesty, tell me that you do not think so poorly of the Empress?"
Seamus opened his mouth then closed it, much like a fish. His cheeks flushed and he took a gulp from his glass.
"YOUR MAJESTY, DON'T SWALLOW!"
It was Billie, running from the hallway, followed by a shrieking Eulalia. But it was too late, in his surprise, Seamus swallowed.
The brown-haired pelican and green-clad snake caught Billie's attention soon after dinner. The two were poor minglers, and seemed more at ease talking to the staff than other guests. Even so, they paid a keen attention to King Seamus. Billie tried to keep an eye on them, an act that was difficult as it seemed that many people were keen on talking to her. Admirals Haddock and Branson took up a good fifteen minutes discussing coordinated efforts between the military and the spymaster's office. That was ended by Esma Boyle drunkenly cutting in to introduce herself to Billie and steal Admiral Branson for a dance. She was then dragged onto the dance floor by an overeager Captain Otte on his break for a miserable quickstep. Getting free of that was quite the relief.
And a stroke of luck, because as she left the dance floor, what did she see, but pelican and snake talking to one of the waiters; A new fellow by the name of Patrick, a Morlean with suspicious ties to anti-royalist groups, most predominantly the O'Conner Don-hating Threshers. Allowing him to be hired was a gamble on her part, a gamble the Outsider was thankfully endorsing. Catching the Threshers in the act and arresting them would indebt the O'Conner Dons to Emily, further ensuring their loyalty to the Empress.
So she kept an eye on Patrick soon after pelican and snake left him, following him at a practiced distance. He made his rounds, cheerfully offering drinks and in general being unsuspicious. When his tray was empty he returned to the kitchens, and emerged with it filled. But this time, Patrick made a beeline for King Seamus.
Billie went to intercept, brimming with suspicion.
"Miss Lurk, we are in need of your counsel!"
It was Marius Silva, wearing the mask of a wolf. He was standing close to Sinjean DeLuc, who had tipped his hound mask up, revealing his smug and wine-flushed face.
"Sinjean does not believe that I am the better kisser!" Silva declared, a pout evident in his voice.
"How am I supposed to fix that?" Billie replied, still focused on trying to get to King Seamus before Patrick did. DeLuc leaned forward, alcohol on his breath.
"Why by judging the kissing for us!" he said.
Billie recoiled, thoroughly distracted. Where these two men flirting with her, or just using her as a measuring stick in their competitions?
"How about this?" she suggested, struggling not to let her offense get into her voice. "You two kiss each other and try to figure out who is the better kisser that way?"
Fortune must have been smiling down upon her because DeLuc's face lit up and Silva looked like he had just found a mound of diamonds.
"What a perfect solution!" Silva cried, before turning to DeLuc and seizing his face. "Show me what you can do, you bastard."
DeLuc pushed up Silva's mask just so, leaving his mouth free and accessible. "Bring it on, you son of a bitch."
Billie was somewhat ashamed to admit she stood there staring, open mouthed for a good minute or three just watching the two bitter rivals make out. The Outsider would've loved to see this.
What snapped her out of that trance was Eulalia, fluffed to a bright violet, ramming into her head.
"What the fuck!" the bird screeched, peeling away towards where Billie last saw Patrick. Billie stared as the bird flew back to her, practically motioning her to follow. So she followed Eulalia, the bird darting forward then back to her to make sure that she was following.
Perhaps she should recruit Eulalia to work with her, as the little bird lead her straight to Patrick. The waiter was walking away from King Seamus, who now had a glass of whiskey in his hand. She should stop him from drinking that whiskey until she knew it was safe.
But as she turned to go to the King, Eulalia let out an annoyed screech and pulled on her mask's ears. Patrick was heading out into the hallway, tray suspiciously full.
Well, the King seemed to be distracted by the strange drumming and whatever was happening on the dancefloor. And he was close to Emily, who was armed with many antidotes. Following Patrick and confronting him was worth the risk.
So she picked up the pace, and finally caught up to him in the hallway.
"Oh thank the waves I found you, I am parched!" Billie declared as she swiped a glass of the practically full tray.
"Miss Lurk!" Patrick cried, a look of horror developing on his face. "Please return the glass, I have learned that this whiskey is below standards, utterly unworthy of consumption!"
Billie hummed, sniffing the alcohol. Indeed, it certainly did not smell like any whiskey she had ever known; far too fruity. Eulalia came to perch on of the other glasses, dipping her head into the whiskey. Patrick blanched at the sight.
"Miss Lurk! Please, get the Empress' bird out of the whiskey! That cannot be good for it!"
Eulalia yanked her head out of the whiskey with a screech. Her feathers there were a bright green, a deep contrast to her violet body.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" She charged into Patrick's face, tiny little talons forward and ready to claw out his eyes. On his part Patrick gave a shriek of fear, throwing the tray up as he desperately tried to shield his eyes.
Billie stepped to the side as the carved crystal glasses shattered on the floor, spilling the poisoned whiskey everywhere. She set her own drink down, watching Patrick melt into the ground as he was scratched and bit by tiny, fierce Eulalia.
"Get it off! Get it off, please!" he wailed into the stone floor, his hands bleeding as Eulalia chomped on his pinky.
"Only if you tell me what you put in those drinks and where you got it," Billie declared coldly, preparing a sleep dart.
"I don't know!" Patrick howled. Two guards approached them, a curious look on their faces. "It can't be stopped, once you drink it you're dead! Now get the thing off me!"
Billie put her foot on the back of his neck. "Where did you get the poison?"
"From Kathleen Psalter! In the snake mask!"
At that Billie sank the sleep dart into his back. Eulalia finally let up, darting to sit on her shoulder, warbling anxiously. Billie turned to the two guards, who patiently stood at attention.
"Take him to Coldridge, and save that whiskey glass over there for analysis. Alert the others to a woman wearing a snake mask. Round her up, and a fellow in a pelican mask. I have reason to believe he is an associate of hers."
They saluted, and gathered up the passed-out Patrick. Now Billie had to stop the King from being poisoned.
She entered the hall in a sprint, spotting to her horror King Seamus taking a large sip from the poisoned glass.
"YOUR MAJESTY, DON'T SWALLOW!"
Unfortunately, that was the wrong thing to do, as in his surprise, he swallowed it.
Greta was utterly confused as to what was going on. Since dinner ended she had been spun around the dance floor by Elanor until the quartet was commandeered by Wyman and his pals over some stupid bet. The Outsider was caught between performing a dance in front of the entire room or eating whale meat, and luckily for him Elanor cheerfully offered her musical services. Abandoned by the one person she felt comfortable with, Greta decided to make her way over to Emily, deciding to eat the questions in favor of spending time with a friend.
And now the King of Morley was poisoned.
Queen Gracie was remarkably composed for seeing her husband swallow poison, holding his hand and crooning a song as they sat in their chairs, the King sniffling from a runny nose and breathing shallowly. Merida had ran off to get her brother Wyman, leaving the pretty seal-masked woman to console an increasingly hysterical Lydia.
"Billie, do you know what the poison is?" Emily immediately asked as the bat-masked Spymaster ran over, bright purple Eulalia zipping over to rest on Emily's shoulder.
"The idiot didn't know, he only said it couldn't be stopped," Billie grumbled with a huff.
"We will see about that," said Emily determinedly as she reached into a carefully concealed pouch, removing several bonecharms and a strange ugly stone. She held the items out to Queen Gracie "Set these charms against his chest and put the stone into his mouth."
"But Empress that is witchcraft!" Lydia shrieked as Gracie balked at Emily's instructions.
"If you have a better idea tell me it now," Emily snapped. "We have no idea what this poison is, or how fast it works. This could stop or stall its effects. You want your uncle-in-law to live do you not?"
Gracie visibly steeled herself before taking the bonecharms and arranging them as Emily prescribed. The King himself took the strange stone from Emily's hand and put it in his mouth.
"Now what?" asked Gracie, her voice trembling oh so slightly.
Emily cracked her knuckles. "We find the poisoner's accomplices and get them to tell us how to save Seamus."
Greta cleared her throat. "Empress, Elanor is here, should I call her over and see if she could help?"
Emily locked eyes with her for a brief moment and nodded. "That is a good idea Greta. Bring her over here, quickly."
Greta nodded and closed her eyes, hoping to find Elanor. There she was, over in the music room! Pushing her way through the slowly forming crowd, Greta ran out of the hall to get to Elanor. She practically danced between conversing aristocrats and perfectly postured waiters. Finally, she reached the music room doors.
"Elanor!" she cried as she threw open the door.
Greta was not expecting the space to be so crowded. Many animal-masked faces looked back at her, Elanor's mouth slightly open and her hands poised over the strings of the harp.
"Greta, whatever is the matter?" Elanor asked.
As much as Greta wanted to ask what Elanor was doing, she reminded herself to say on task.
"The King has been poisoned, we need your help!"
A gasp rippled through the room. Elanor stood up from the harp at the same time High Overseer Chopin stood.
"Poisoned! By whom?" he cried.
Greta shrugged. "I do not know, but I believe the spymaster and the Empress are aware of who did such a thing. But right now we need help in stopping the poison."
Elanor nodded resolutely and joined Greta in the doorway. As they left she could hear the group bust into chatter, being soothed by Chopin behind them.
"So what sort of poisoning is it?" Elanor asked as they made their way to the King, soon elbowing their way through the crowd.
"I do not know," replied Greta as she squeezed between Captain Otte and Mr. White. "All I know was he was poisoned through his drink."
"So, it wasn't from a rock or something like that?" Elanor's tone was hesitant and somewhat doubtful.
Greta found herself looking back at her as they kept moving towards the King. "No? I do not think so, why?"
"Weelllll," Elanor's glowing eyes shifted to look somewhere up on the ceiling. "I can only fix one type of poisoning, and that's radiation poisoning, which really is not a problem for any of you."
Greta came to stop. "What do you mean you can only fix one type of poisoning?"
"Poisons are a 'Void thing'!" she replied defensively. "Same thing with diseases! I can fix blindness and other light or heat related issues but that is it!"
A sigh came from Greta before she could hold it back, and pinched the bridge of her nose through her mask. "So we need to get Owen?"
Elanor nodded. "Yes, he'll know what to do."
Greta was about to close her eyes to look for the Outsider when a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air, coming from the main hall near the king. Elanor seized her hand and pulled Greta towards the direction of the scream; the pull was so strong she was nearly yanked off her feet.
"Out of the way!" Elanor yelled as she shoved through the crowd, Greta running as fast as she could in her wake. There was a tense air around them, everyone was still and murmuring at loudest. What happened?
"Let him go or your lover gets his brains blown out!"
Elanor came to a sudden stop and Greta ran into her, causing the two of them to yelp.
"Don't any of you move a muscle or he dies!"
Greta peeked around Elanor. They had come to the edge of the crowd, now a circle around a gathering of ten or so people. But the main focus was on four- Emily standing over a prone man with a knife to his throat, a beat-up pelican mask beside his head. And across from them a woman in a snake mask, holding a gun to the Outsider's head.
"Are you kidding me?!" Elanor screamed.
"I know, right?" the Outsider snarked back, hair a mess as the head of the skin was pushed back like a hood. "Out of literally an entire ballroom of people Psalter chooses me. I'm just filled with luck aren't I?"
The woman, Psalter, pushed the gun barrel against his temple. "It was nothing personal, but now you are starting to get on my nerves."
"Oh I'm getting on your nerves?" The Outsider glared rather venomously at his captor. "Well I'm soooo sorry for inconveniencing you."
Psalter actually growled. "You stuck up bastard!"
"Kathleen! Stay calm!" It was the man Emily had pinned, his bruised face lifted off the ground.
Elanor was pulling at her hair. "Oh my stars, sweet hydrogen monoxide, this is bad."
"That's stating the obvious," Greta muttered.
"Ms. Psalter," Emily's voice was strong and even. "You are outgunned. If you release Mr. Pharmakós then I will show you some mercy."
The woman laughed a strained laugh. "You think I am going to let go my only ticket out of here? And allow him to undo all our hard work? Nice try Empress, but I think not."
"What do you mean "undo"?" Billie asked from her position beside Emily.
Psalter did not respond, but Emily leaned just so onto the man's kidneys.
"He's a witch is he not?!" the man cried with a gasp of pain. "Reverse poison, stop death, that sort of thing!"
The look of sheer offense on the Outsider's face was almost hilarious. "First off, for the godsdamn record, I am not a fucking witch. As for reversing poison, any natural philosopher or chemist could reverse poisoning if caught in time or treated correctly. That's why Dr. Bonnefoy is with the king right now. If you want to stop death you need to make a pact with the Outsider, who is a thoroughly unpleasant creature. Not worth it at all."
Greta saw Emily fight to keep a smile from appearing on her face. The man beneath her looked utterly confused. Psalter gave a joyous, somewhat maniacal laugh.
"Then our mission is a success, so long as we detain you here! Nothing can stop this poison!"
"Is this the poison?"
Pretty much everyone stared at the Outsider with dumbfounded shock as he held up a small vial filled with an amber-colored liquid. With his other hand he unscrewed the cap, and gave it a sniff.
"What are you doing?" It was Corvo, so quiet that he melted into the background.
"Figuring out if Kathleen Psalter is telling the truth of course," the Outsider said just as he licked the cap.
Psalter screamed and yanked his head back, knocking the vial out of his hands with her other arm. It shattered on the floor.
"YOU FOOL, YOU MORON! NOW YOU ARE GOING TO DIE!" she yelled in harmony with Elanor, her eyes blazing behind her cat mask.
The Outsider licked his lips, a serious expression on his face. "I will not die, but she is correct. We do not have enough time to create an antidote. All we can do is make the king comfortable as he dies."
"Are you certain?" Emily leveled an intense look at him, her voice as even as before, but her knife blade was beginning to cut into her prisoner's neck, her grip on the handle tense. Greta got the feeling that Emily was asking more about the Outsider's survival than the King's doomed fate.
The Outsider returned the stare with equal intensity. "Positive."
Emily sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "Time to end this charade, we have the information we need."
In a blink of the eye Corvo appeared behind Psalter and put her in a chokehold. The Outsider slammed his foot down onto hers and elbowed her in the gut. Her grip on him loosened and he twisted out of her headlock on him, yanking the gun out of Psalter's hand. Moments later, she went limp. Emily stabbed a sleep dart into her prisoner's neck.
The circle breathed a sigh of relief. The immediate situation was resolved.
"You fucking MORON!" Elanor stormed forward and grabbed the Outsider by the shoulders. "DO YOU WANT TO DIE?"
The Outsider blinked, and pulled the Áneukhrmato's head back over his. "I will not die. Besides, do you truly care?"
Elanor stared at him. "What the hell do you mean that that poison won't kill you? It's currently killing the King of Morley! What is making you exempt?"
"I think you know Elanor," the Outsider stated coolly. "Now, can you let go of me?"
She released him, shocked. Emily was currently surrounded by Corvo, Billie, Secretary Cassidy, and Commander Otte, having a hushed conversation with the four as guards carted the assassins away.
"This makes no sense," Elanor murmured.
"What do you mean?" Greta found herself asking, watching the Outsider talk to the seal-masked woman from earlier and High Overseer Chopin.
"His body is mortal," Elanor whispered. "Poison like that should kill him in the same way that it would kill any man. Kill the body and the spirit would return to the Void. Why does he think he is immune? He was all shot up after that boat incident, so why would poison be different? I doubt that he wants to return to the Void."
Greta shrugged. "Maybe you are wrong. Perhaps he is naturally immune to harm."
Elanor shook her head. "No, the Outsider is not built like that."
She grasped Greta's shoulder and the world turned, faded, and came back. They were in her room at the Chapel. Elanor was pacing, and Greta took off her mask.
"What do you mean by built?"
Elanor came to a brief stop by the closet, before resuming her pacing. "Have you ever wondered why there are no gods?"
Greta frowned. "But there were gods, the Outsider spoke of them, I have read about them being worshiped in Pandyssia. They were just things made up to explain the inexplicable."
Elanor bent down, and lit her incense. The soothing smell soon filled the room.
"You are right, there were gods," Elanor murmured, looking into the mellow flame. "And they nearly broke the world."