Update 11/4/17: I've condensed the main action portions of the gala into a single chapter, and I've expanded upon the pre-bloodbath portions of the event to flesh things out more.
Chapter 8: Red:
Hyperion
Luna
December 18th, 2840
Shiro released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he finished coming his hair in the washroom of the Augustan villa. He'd finished reapplying a fresh round of gold dye to his hair the previous day, but he still wanted to make sure his dark roots were hidden from view as much as possible. If someone noticed that his hair wasn't naturally Gold, they would start asking questions that he wouldn't be able to answer. As a lancer for House Augustus, he had to enter with the ArchGovernor's entourage when they arrived at the gala, but he'd managed to avoid interacting with the rest of the household thus far by hiding in the bathroom fixing his hair. He glanced at his datapad and sighed. It was almost time for the entourage to leave for the gala.
Might as well go outside and wait for the rest of the group, he thought to himself as he put down the comb and took one last look at himself in the mirror before he left the room and joined the last stragglers making their way towards the front door. He stepped outside to find Darrow, Tactus, and Victra standing at the rear of the gathering crowd while their mutual employer stood at the head of the group. Like Shiro, Darrow wore his black military uniform, while Victra wore a dress that would have been considered scandalously revealing by twenty-first century standards. While Shiro had only known the man for a few days, he couldn't help but notice how sullen Darrow seemed that evening. The man still bantered with his friends and laughed at everyone's jokes, but Shiro had seen Lance mask his own insecurities with humor enough times for Shiro to recognize when a laugh was intended to cover up what someone was really feeling. From what Tactus was telling me earlier, he seemed normal before the household arrived on Luna, Shiro observed silently. So, whatever has gotten into him has to be something else that happened in the last three days.
But that was a problem to solve later, as he turned to see an aircar taxi for a landing in front of the villa. He kept his expression carefully neutral as Mustang's twin brother exited the hovercar, faint patches of pink skin on his body indicating a recent medical skin grafting. Despite his curiosity over what had happened to the ArchGovernor's son in the last few days, he didn't want to risk attracting the younger man's attention. The Jackal greeted his father with a comment that the Family Augustus should arrive at the gala with at least one of the ArchGovernor's children to present a united front to their enemies. The ArchGovernor and his son exchanged passive-aggressive verbal jabs at each other about the latter's presence before the Jackal fell in line with a sinister sneer in Darrow's direction.
With everyone in the party accounted for, they set off for the gala. Shiro stood near the middle of the long procession with Tactus as the Augustan household snaked its way through labyrinthine marble halls from their villa to the Citadel Gardens two kilometers away. The Sovereign's tower jutted from the floor of the garden there, a grand, two-kilometer-high sword piercing a groomed garden thick with rose trees and streams. Water ran through the garden in a thousand winding paths, while babbling brooks with colored fish lead to quiet lagoons where carved Pink mermaids swam under flowering trees crawling with monkey-cats, and angry tigerlynx lounged below the boughs.
Violets wandered through the bright woods, flitting here and there like moths, their violins echoing in eerie concert. It was, to Shiro's eye, like a bacchanal painting without the nudity common in classical art. Shiro caught sight of other processions through the trees, family standards glimpsed as flashes of moving fabric and metal. The red and gold lion of Augustus roared in a silent challenge, while a raven on a field of silver marked the passing of the Falthe family over a cobblestone bridge. Shiro kept his face relaxed, but the rest of the house eyed Lord Falthe and his lancers warily. Everyone carried razors tonight as a matter of course, but all other technology was prohibited from the gala. No datapads, no gravBoots, no armor. Shiro shivered at the reminder that he'd be quickly torn apart in the unlikely – but still possible – event that a fight broke out at the dinner. He hadn't felt this defenseless since the gladiator arena. But there was nothing he could do to fix that, so he had no option except to play along for the time being.
The tower yawned above the procession, moss of three different colors climbing the base of the great structure with vines of a thousand hues, wrapping the glass and stone like the fingers of greedy bachelors around the wrist of a rich widow. Six great lifts bore families skyward to the top of the tower. Beautiful Pink servants and Brown footmen serviced the lift, Gold triangles of the Society decorating their all-white livery. The lift was a flat slab of marble with gravthrusters on the bottom, sitting in the middle of a clearing while green grass fluttered in the wind. Several Coppers rushed forward to speak with Pliny, who spoke on the ArchGovernor's behalf, as befitting his duties as his master's chief Politico. From what Shiro could see, there appeared to be some confusion, and the Falthe family slid into the lift ahead of the Augustan entourage.
"This is a social trap," The Black Paladin heard Augustus mutter back to Leto, his favorite ward. "The fools. See how they feign accident. Soon they will tell us we must use the lift with the Falthes, when instead they should grovel to have us go before them."
"Could it not be an accident?" Leto asked.
"Not on Luna," Augustus replied, crossing his arms. "Everything is political." Having lived there for a few months, Shiro was inclined to agree with his employer.
"The winds shift," Leto commented.
"They've been shifting for some time now," Augustus murmured, surveying his aids as if making an accounting of the razors they all carried. Shiro and many of the lancers older than himself wore their blades coiled at their sides. Others, like Darrow, wore them wrapped around their forearms, while Tactus and Victra each used theirs as makeshift sashes. Leto turned back to address the other warriors of House Augustus
"I want three lancers attending the ArchGovernor at all times," the man announced, keeping his voice quiet to avoid being overheard by the Falthe retinue. Everyone nodded as the pack formation tightened. "No drinking," Leto added. Not like I was going to anyway, Shiro thought to himself. Although he couldn't keep a smug smirk off his face when Tactus groaned in protest. His mirth faded as he watched the Jackal. Mustang's brother didn't change his expression as he watched Leto give orders, and Shiro couldn't help but shiver. Soon, Pliny returned from speaking with the Citadel staff. As Augustus predicted, the entourage was to share the lift with the Falthes. Their Obsidian and Gray enforcers would have to remain behind, however.
"All families are to proceed to the gala without attendants," the Politico explained. "No bodyguards." Murmurs rippled through the Augustan ranks, concerned about attending a dinner party without their bodyguards. If assassination attempts at dinner parties are that common, Shiro thought. I'm afraid to find out what it's like when they're really trying to kill each other without hiding behind decorum.
"Then we won't go," the Jackal said.
"Don't be a fool," Augustus replied.
"Your son is right," Leto commented. "Nero, the danger – "
"Some invitations are more dangerous to decline than to accept," Augustus remarked before making a cutting motion to his Stained, Alfrun and Jopho. The two men nodded silently and joined the other Obsidian to the side. Genuine worry filled the slave knights' eyes as the Augustans joined the Falthes on the lift and ascended toward the gala. The head of House Falthe smiled as his station improved. At least the Obsidian won't get hurt if anything happens at the gala, Shiro thought to himself, taking a small measure of comfort that fewer lowColors would be endangered should hostilities break out.
The banquet area on the roof of the Sovereign's tower was modeled as a winter wonderland. Snow fell from invisible clouds, dusting the spear-like pine trees of man-made forests, and frosting everyone's hair with snowflakes that tasted like cinnamon and orange. Trumpet calls heralded the arrival of ArchGovernor Augustus and his entourage. Shiro followed Tactus's lead as he and some of the younger lancers stepped in front to cut off the Falthes, obstructing their path so Nero and his party could enter the gala first. The Augustus household was a body of pale gold and blood red as they moved into the landscape of snowy evergreens, where the pride of Gold culture awaited.
Beneath the spire, the Citadel complex sprawled outward, and the millions of lights from nearby cities glistened beyond the grounds. Large chandeliers hovered overhead on small gravthrusters. Light sparkled and dresses moved like liquid around perfect human forms. Pinks served hors d'oeuvres, appetizers, and alcoholic beverages on plates and in goblets made of glass and ice. Hundreds of long tables spread concentrically outward around a frozen lake in the center of the winter landscape. Artificially carved mythical creatures moved beneath the ice, while Pinks glided around on ice skates to serve their Golden masters. The sigils of each family marked the tables, rather than names or numbers, and Shiro soon found a miniature lion seated on the center of the Augustan table amid the griffins, ice fists, eagles, and iron swords of other Aureate families.
While Tactus was busy feeding the carved lion, Shiro took a seat a few chairs away from the center. Nero claimed the seat at the head of the table as patriarch of House Augustus, while the leaders of the minor houses serving as his vassals sat around him. Agrippina au Julii took the seat to the left of Mustang's brother, Adrius, while Kavax au Telemanus, father of Mustang's friend Pax and the man whose influence helped shape her worldview, took the seat that would have been Mustang's. The lancers sat towards the middle, and Shiro claimed a chair at the edge of the group. While Mustang might trust many of these people, he was still nervous about interacting with other Golds, so he sat on the fringe.
He watched in silence as Quaestors, Judiciars, Governors, Senators, family heads, house leaders, traders, two Olympic Knights, and thousands of others came to wish Augustus a good evening. These older men talked of Outrider attacks on Uranus and Ariel, a foolish rumor of a new Rage Knight already gaining the armor. Mysterious Sons of Ares bases on Triton, and a resurgent strain of plague on one of Earth's dark continents. Light fare, from their perspective. But Shiro listened to everything he could, soaking up whatever information on the Sons of Ares and he could get and filing it away for future reference. He was grateful to Mustang for helping him survive this long, but having to pretend to be a Gold, to enforce a caste system that practiced slavery, sickened him every day. The sooner he could be out there actively attempting to change things, the better he would feel.
Soon, Shiro's attention was drawn to the Sovereign herself. It felt strange to see the woman responsible for maintaining this oppressive system so close. She looked human and frail as she stood with her Furies just beyond the dance floor, speaking with other house lords, men and women who ruled and subjugated the lives of billions. Her face looked as impassive as a mountain's, and Shiro could tell, even without being able to hear what she was saying, that her power was in silence as well as words. Her speech was clearly seldom, but she always listened to words the way a mountain listened to the whispering and screaming of wind through its crags and around its peaks.
As he looked around, he noticed Mustang glide into the gala out of the lift near the edge of the fake forest like a ghost, her dress black amid a sea of red, white, and gold. She rolled her eyes, twisting her smirking mouth at the heads all turning in her direction to stare at her black funeral gown, chosen, like his own dark clothing, to show disdain for all the merry Golds around her. Shiro couldn't help but notice that Darrow's military uniform was black and well and chuckled at the accidental color coordination between the three of them. Cassius escorted her into the room, his hand on her waist as he whispered into her ear. Shiro's heart sank. He wished Mustang would stop her charade in pretending to be interested in Cassius, but he understood why she did it. Even if it was wrong, she had been raised to do whatever it took to protect her family's interests. He didn't agree with it, but he could not fault her logic that getting close to the Bellona through Cassius was the best way for a political mind like her to keep her enemies close.
Cassius looked absolutely stunning that evening. His hair was thick and lustrous. His chin cleft and hands steady. His shoulders powerful and made for war. His face made for melting hearts in the Sovereign's court. Shiro raised an eyebrow as he noticed the rising sun of the Morning Knight emblazoned on the younger man's clothing. Whispers ripped through the party, confirming the rumors that the Sovereign had made Cassius one of the twelve. Darrow may have won their year at the Institute, but Cassius had risen higher on the social ladder, tearing through Luna's Dueling Circuit like a man possessed. Shiro had watched several of his matches in person with Mustang, seeing him stalk around the Bleeding Place as other Golds lay near death. But here and now, the new Olympic Knight dazzles and charms, his face split with a white smile.
A sad smile worked its way onto Shiro's face. Leaving aside his issues with Mustang's relationship, Cassius wasn't really such a bad guy. Despite his blood feud with Darrow, Cassius was actually a pleasant person to talk to. He might even be Paladin material, Shiro thought to himself. If only he could look past himself and see the big picture of
His mood soured, however, when he felt someone staring at him and turned to find himself looking at the Jackal's analytic gaze.
Shiro fought to keep himself from shuddering. He'd heard stories from Mustang about her brother and seen the holos of what earned Adrius au Augustus his moniker. Guess I should add cannibalism to the list of things I hate about the Institute, was what he'd said at the time. As punishment for his killing of Pax au Telemanus at the Institute, Adrius had been cut off from the family and kicked out of his father's house. Word from Tactus and the others was that he had gone on to start a career in media manipulation. The idea that the Jackal might be interested in digging into his backstory chilled Shiro to the bone. Thankfully, the ArchGovernor's son was soon distracted by a Pink offering him a tray of food, and Shiro went back to looking around. Eventually, all the Golds took their seats and formalities began in earnest. Tactus and another lancer, Victra au Julii took note of the absence of Darrow's empty chair as Pinks began to deliver food to everyone's table.