(a/n: Sorry for the lengthy wait, but here is a new chapter! Thank you for being very patient and big thanks to Lucius Walker for all his help!)
Ch.9: Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous
Night was drawing near and Arche was almost at her destination. The tired young Worker trudged her way toward her least favorite place in the entire capital, the coins in the pouch dangling from her belt gently clinked with every step. Staff in hand, Arche looked like a traveling magician who was down on her luck. Her traveling cloak and boots were dirty, sullied by dust and flecks of dried mud. Grime and sweat covered her delicate features and she smelled like she hadn't bathed in months. But that was just an ordinary part of a Worker's life.
The young mage and the rest of Foresight had been away on a job, escorting a merchant and his goods southward through ogre infested territory toward one of the cities bordering the Dragon Kingdom. It was slow going, but Foresight managed to get their client to his destination and earned a decent amount of coin, both from the merchant and from the ogre ears and goblin teeth they turned in for a reward. The journey back was more peaceful but no less taxing. The weather had been humid and sunny, followed by brief bursts of rain. Fighting through ogres, goblins, mud, and insects made Arche look forward to going home.
It had been a while since she last visited her parents and sisters. The life of a Worker kept her moving and the last visit was filled with arguments over things they've already discussed a thousand times before. Arche loved her parents but some days they've made her consider more…drastic measures. The two were so desperate to cling to the past, they don't realize how far they've fallen into debt. The people they owe money to were shady at best and weren't known for their charity or patience. Arche has thus far kept them at bay with regular payments with her earnings but they have made it clear what they'd do to the former Sir and Madame Furt, should they decide to borrow even more extravagant amounts of coin and try to stiff them.
Arche shook her head, recalling the not-so-subtle threat the lender made as she handed him the pouch of gold and silver. She pondered how long she can keep this up and how her parents are so blind to their circumstances. Don't they know just how much things have changed and that no matter how hard they try to pretend, there's no going back to the way things were. They were not noble. They had no holdings, no fortune. Any influence in politics they once had, along with any connection to the Imperial Court and the Court Council, was gone. All that they had now were a house in desperate need of repair, a few odds and ends, and James, the family butler. Why can't they just wake up and see the reality of things?
The young mage turned and found herself walking down a familiar street, past a familiar row of houses. These houses were a lot like her family home: grand, spacious and old. Unlike the Furt family home, these houses looked immaculate and well tended. One looked like it had recently been whitewashed and the garden trimmed, as the smell of paint and cut grass drifted on the gentle breeze. As Arche continued down the street, she heard the rhythmic jingle of the coins in the coin pouch.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
The jingle of metal reminded her of the spurs that members of the Royal Air Guard wore. Few had actually met members of that elite troop, men and women tasked with patrolling the skies above the Imperial Capital on the backs of their fierce griffins. Arche never met one herself but she did see one at a party long ago. Her eyes drifted to a nearby familiar house as she passed and remembered that it was that house. It seemed bigger and brighter then. Back before the ascent of the current emperor, back before her parents lost their status and ended up deeply in debt, desperately trying to keep up appearances. Now, the house just looked dark and silent, as if it had recently been abandoned.
The young Worker recalled how serious the guardsman was, dressed in armor and a heavy fur cloak. He looked like a knight from an old fable. The beard and scars merely added to his charm and made Arche think he had fought many monsters and rescued a number of maidens in distress. Arche frowned and shook her head.
Everything about that night, from that part of her life, felt like a dream. Back then, life was…good. Of course, being born into nobility had its perks: money, status, respect. However, what most don't know or consider was the fact that a cushy life like that also came with a slew of expectations. The life of a noble was, in all things, always spent in the service of one's house. From the eldest to the youngest, a noble is always expected to further the ambitions and glory of their own house. For example, Arche had once been friends with a boy who came from a family with a long military tradition. His grandfather, father and brothers were all officers, so of course it was expected of him to become one as well. While the boy had dreams of being an artist, having a gift with a brush and paint, he couldn't overcome the demands of his father. The boy was enrolled in the military and, thanks to his family's reputation, was welcomed with open arms. She saw him only once after that, at a party during a holiday. He looked absolutely miserable, despite the regal uniform and winning smile.
After that, Arche swore to herself that she wouldn't let anyone take her choices away from her. Fortunately, for her, the Furt family had little in the way of grand glorious traditions or expectations. Well, aside from throwing extravagant parties and plans to marry Arche to the son of a wealthier, higher ranked family with ties to the Court Council. But all that changed when she enrolled in the Imperial Magic Academy. From there, Arche's life had transformed. It felt as though the horizon stretched out before her, limitless possibilities waiting to be seized. But then Emperor Jircniv Rune Farlord El-Nix ascended the throne and turned the world upside down.
Arche was indifferent to the Bloody Emperor. However, it was because of his reforms and purges that forced her to quit her education early and take jobs as a Worker in order to provide for her family. The young mage pondered how different her life would've been had he not ascended the throne or made the reforms he did. Noticing the darkening of the sky, Arche picked up the pace. In the end, it didn't matter. Nothing stays the same and, in retrospect, the position of the Furt family wasn't as solid as they believed. Had things remained the same, they probably would've become the victim of some political scheme of a greater house and been left destitute, at best, or sent off to live on the southern or eastern frontiers at worst. For now, they still have each other, they still have their health, and Arche, fresh from a job, had more than enough money to pay off a good chunk of her parents debt, bringing her very close to fully paying it off.
The young mage came to the end of the street and froze. Arche's heart sank and the faint hope of paying off her parents debts immediately evaporated.
No, no, no! Arche thought, horrified.
Standing there, across from the young Worker, was her family's home. Instead of the usual somber, isolated atmosphere she called home, the house was filled with light and activity. Every window in the house was illuminated, allowing her to see finely dressed people moving about. The gates were opened and the long pathway up to the front was lined with torches. A handsome carriage had just finished unloading its passengers, a handsome man dressed in the robes of an Imperial official and a woman in a fine blue dress. They were ushered inside by James, the Furt family's butler. Once they were gone, the carriage pulled away and the elderly servant noticed Arche as she was marching his way.
"Miss Arche," the elderly man greeted with a bow.
"James, w-what is all this?" Arche demanded, trying her best to control her anger.
"Forgive me, my lady," he said softly, "but I tried to remind your father of the lack of funds and the imprudence of such an extravagant celebration."
"Celebration?"
"Yes, for the birth of your sisters."
Arche frowned, a mixture of confusion and frustration filled her. She had forgotten that it was her sisters' birthday. Being away on a job can really make time pass quickly. While she was frustrated with forgetting such an important occasion, she felt that there was more going on here. This was based on the fact that the twins' previous birthday celebration was not nearly this extravagant, even though they borrowed a sum of money to afford a decent meal and some gifts. No, there has to be some sort of significance. Noting the discomfort in James's expression, the arrival of an imperial official and the colors of some streamers hanging nearby, Arche connected the dots.
"It's not just for them, isn't it?"
"No," James sighed. "I'm afraid that your father is…making a statement."
"By throwing a party honoring the birth of our former emperor, Uriah Bradac Fallowtide El-Nix, which happens to be on the same week as his son's and my sisters'," Arche surmised.
James nodded.
Ache let out a groan. Of all the things her parents have done, this is by far the most wasteful and foolish. While Emperor Uriah was a good man and is generally liked, he was more a friend to the corrupt nobility than anybody else. He didn't take his job seriously and often endowed the nobles with lavish gifts and titles. With his death, many nobles mourned him and expected his son to be just like his father: lazy, corrupt and pliable. They were sorely mistaken. Although it wasn't illegal to celebrate or honor the former emperor, it was widely considered bad taste due to a short lived rebellion of nobles using the former ruler's memory as a rallying cry. To this day, very few actually celebrate the late Emperor Uriah, save for those looking to make a statement or trying to get a rise out of Jircniv.
But why would her parents do this? They were walking a very dangerous line here. Something must've happened or changed. But what? Whatever the reason, Arche was hoping her parents weren't stupid or proud enough to be saying anything that could be misconstrued as seditious. Otherwise, they'll be spending the Bloody Emperor's birthday celebrations in prison.
…
James led Arche through the house toward the parlor. The young Worker was going to give her parents a piece of her mind. However, as they made their way through the halls, she was taken aback by just how different everything inside appeared. The interior and furnishings were the same but looked cleaned and polished, almost new. The light from the candles and chandeliers bathed the interiors with bright, warm light, banishing the tomb-like darkness and stillness that often befell the house at night. As they neared the parlor, the sounds of guests reached her ears. Laughter and chatter buzzed, mingling with the soft scent of floral perfume, freshly made finger foods and the pungent odor of tobacco pipes.
When they arrived, James opened the parlor door and for a moment, the young mage felt like she was looking into the past, back to her childhood and before her family's fall from grace. She vaguely recalled parties and social events that occurred in that parlor, where she'd listen to the adults talk with utter boredom before running off to play with the other children or pester James. The daze was interrupted when her parents, among the sea of faces and fine clothing, looked her way.
"Ah, Arche!" Sir Furt said with a smile. He waved to her. "Come in! Come in! You're just in time!"
"Arche!" Madame Furt grinned. "Welcome home!"
"Mother…Father…" Arche said slowly as she hesitantly entered the parlor. Although she was still determined to scold her parents, the young Worker suddenly felt self-conscious. Among the fine dresses, tunics and robes, she was still sweaty and dressed in her dirty travel cloak and armor. Despite this and the few curious glances, most of the guests seemed more engaged with the wine and present company.
As she joined her parents, she noticed that her parents were speaking with a golden haired young man. The young man looked to be her senior by nearly a decade. He was dressed in scarlet and gold and watched Arche's progress with piercing blue eyes. Arche met his gaze and saw a coldness that belonged to that of a professional soldier or Adventurer and not some pampered noble.
"...dear?" Madame Furt asked.
Arche blinked. "Huh?"
"How was your journey dear?"
"It was fine. Mother, what's all this?" The young Worker gestured to the party guests.
"It's a celebration of course! Everyone has gathered here to celebrate Ureirika and Kuuderika's birth."
Arche resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The Furt family didn't have very many friends. Most were killed off in the purge while others kept their distance due to Arche's father and his poor financial instincts and not-so-subtle distaste for Emperor Jircniv. The young Worker did recognize a few faces, faces of those precious few family friends who have maintained a cordial relationship with the Furts, most however were new. Although she wasn't well versed in the current fashion of the Imperial capital, she did recognize that the fine attire of some of the guests were outdated and showed signs of repair. If she were to guess, the young mage would assume that most of the guests were fellow former nobles who were worse off than the Furts. These former nobles had little in the way of practical skill or value for the emperor and had struggled to adapt to the changes. With little choice, they eked out a living by attending parties that would have them and pocketed whatever food and valuables they could get away with. Arche pitied them, though she made a note to remind James to make sure nothing of value was stolen.
"What I mean is how are you able to afford all this?" Arche asked, bluntly. "I told you to only pay for what is essential."
"And celebrating the birth of your dear sisters is essential," Arche's father replied calmly.
Arche scowled. "Is this really about Ureirika and Kuuderika?"
Arche's father gave her an odd look. "Of course! Does a man need any other reason to throw a party than to celebrate the births of his delightful twin daughters while also honoring a beloved former emperor?"
The young Worker was not in the mood for an argument but was about ready to deliver a harsh retort until the golden haired young man intervened.
"So, this is the famous Arche Eeb Rile Furt. The magical prodigy."
Arche looked at the golden haired young man and did her best to stifle the built up anger within her. "Y-Yes I am. I don't believe we've met. You're not from Arwintar, are you?"
"Indeed I'm not. I am from Arven, a fortress city out west near the border with Re-Estize."
The young Worker raised her eyebrows. "Arven? I was in Arven not too long ago."
"I've heard. Tell me, what is the life of a Worker like?"
"Not too different from that of an Adventurer. Just fewer rules and more headaches."
"I see. Sounds…liberating."
Arche smiled a little. "You have me at a disadvantage. You know my name but I don't know yours."
"The name's Lucian," the golden haired man smiled, dipping his head to Arche politely. "Lucian Alfric Sardan Harstom."
"Of the Harstom Trading Company?"
"You've heard of us?"
"Who hasn't heard of one of the largest slave trading companies in the Empire?"
There was more of an edge to her tone than Arche had intended. While slavery was legal in the Empire, she feared and hated it. After all, a fair number of slaves in the Baharuth Empire were from not too dissimilar circumstances than the Furt family. People desperate for money or up to their eyes in debts often became slaves in order to work off said debts or were forced into it as punishment. Despite there having been reforms and more rights granted to human slaves in the Empire, slavery was still slavery. People were bought and sold like property and were at the whims of people who treated them as such. It was one of the things that drove her to earn as much as she could to ensure that her little sisters didn't end up as property.
"Arche!" Sir Furt exclaimed, startled by the tone of his daughter's comment.
"It's quite alright," Lucian said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I know that not all are keen towards my profession. Until the Empire decides that it has no need of slaves, I am merely a man who is working to meet the demands of my country and right now that demand is elven slaves. Besides, I don't trade exclusively in slaves. I also trade in various goods from the frontier."
"Of course," Arche said evenly, "but what brings a prominent trader like yourself to a mere birthday celebration like this?"
"For several reasons. The first being that I have recently taken up residence not too far from here and I thought that this would provide me an opportunity to socialize with my neighbors. The second is to pay my respects to the Furt family."
"Why?"
"You were too young to remember," Madame Furt chimed in, "but Lord and Lady Harstom were dear friends of your Uncle Ingram. They visited us on your third birthday."
That was a long time ago. Arche did have memories of her Uncle Ingrim, a rather jolly and adventurous man who disappeared years ago. Everything else was a blur, though she couldn't shake the feeling that what they were saying was familiar and made sense.
"Oh…I see."
"Not only that, but your uncle has helped my father when he had lost a bit of money playing cards," Lucian added. "He never was good with money. So, as repayment for the kindness your family has shown to mine, I thought I could contribute to the party for your darling little sisters."
A sense of confusion and relief swept over Arche. While she was happy that the money spent on the celebrations wasn't entirely from her family, the young mage was confused as to why this man was paying for a party that wasn't his. In her experience, everything came at a price.
Arche glanced at her father, who regarded Lucian like a war hero returned home from some battle. The young mage decided that she should keep a wary eye on this benevolent stranger. There was more going on here and she wasn't ready to incur anymore debts.
"Now, go get cleaned up," Madame Furt told her daughter, gently guiding her toward the door where James stood waiting. "I've had James draw a bath for you. Once you're done, I've left you a little surprise in your room."
The young mage wanted to argue, but, feeling weary from travel and the strangeness of her current situation, decided to relent. The tired Worker followed James up to her bedchamber where a tub of steaming water waited for her.
Once she was alone and the door was locked, Arche shed her dirty clothes and stepped into the tub. The water was warm and soothing to her sore body. For a few moments, Arche allowed herself to lay there, allowing herself to relax for the first time in a long time. A brief knock at the door from James startled Arche and brought her back to the present. If he hadn't, the young mage would've drifted off to a comfortable sleep. A quick and thorough wash with soap later, Arche had dried off and discovered her mother's surprise: a dress of scarlet and gold. It looked new and well made, though the young mage thought it looked gaudy and expensive.
The young Worker was tempted to put her dirty travel clothes back on, but discovered that James had removed them to be washed. Arche sighed. To others, the dress may seem like a lavish gift. But to Arche, it was a symbolic act by her parents to convince her to return home. To give up being a Worker, so that things can go back to the way things were before.
Arche had half a mind to try rooting around her old things and wear something else, but she thought about Ureirika and Kuuderika. It was still their birthday, after all.
Do it for them. Arche thought to herself.
With no other choice, Arche slipped into the dress and returned to the party.
When she returned to the parlor, Arche received more glances and looks from the party guests. Although the young Worker was used to people staring at her, due to her age and status as a Worker, she was beginning to feel uncomfortable at all the attention. Fortunately, the birthday girls had arrived.
"Big sister!" cried Ureirika.
"You're home!" cried Kuuderika.
The twins rushed over and embraced her tightly. Arche wrapped her arms around her sisters and squeezed them tightly.
"Of course I am!" the young mage said with a grin. "I would never miss your birthday!"
"Did you bring us a present?" Ureirika asked.
Arche winced. "Unless you have a collection of goblin teeth and ogre ears, I'm afraid I don't have anything you'd like."
"Blegh!" Kuuderika exclaimed in disgust, sticking her tongue out.
"I'll get you both something nice on my next trip, I promise," Arche said solemnly.
"You better," Kuuderika said with a pout, "or you're not invited to our next birthday party!"
Arche's grin widened, knowing that her sister's displeasure wasn't very serious. Although they would've loved an actual gift, she knew that Ureirika and Kuuderika were just glad to have their elder sister home. The girls began to talk their big sister's ear off, bringing her up to speed on what she had missed during her absence. As the girls took a deep breath and began their story anew, Arche spied her parents in one corner of the parlor with Lucian.
The three of them stood closely together and spoke with serious expressions. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but the young mage knew that it must be something serious for her parents to look so…solemn. For a moment, Arche considered trying to stealthily make her way over there and eavesdrop on them. Maybe they were talking about something that could prove dangerous to not just them but to her and her sisters. However, her train of thought was disrupted by the soft melody of a stringed instrument. The chatter in the parlor came to a stop as the other guests went silent and listened, hearing the same song drifting through the air.
"Ooh! Ooh!" Kuuderika exclaimed in realization "that's him!"
"Who?" Arche asked.
"The bard! Momma said they hired the best bard in the capital! He must be ready now!"
Arche frowned. A bard? Bards weren't cheap, especially if they were supposed to be "the best in the capital."
"Ladies and gentlemen," a familiar voice spoke.
All eyes turned and focused on the tall, pale man in all black standing in the doorway. Arche's heart skipped a beat. Standing there was the pale assassin of the Good Companions, Kane. The last time she saw him was when she and the rest of Foresight took that job in Arven. Although they had parted ways on a positive note, the young mage could never shake this uneasy feeling she had about him. The man was as pale as a corpse and moved with an almost inhuman grace. That was how Hekkeran described him, when the leader of Foresight recounted what he saw that day in the Azerlisia Mountains. The man in black scanned the parlor with dark eyes, his gaze briefly meeting Arche's. The young mage felt her skin crawl.
Kane smiled. "He is ready for you. Please make your way to the courtyard."
The assassin stepped aside and directed the guests out of the parlor. Ureirika and Kuuderika rushed out of the parlor, giggling excitedly. Arche hurried after her sisters and the rest of the guests followed, accompanied by a buzz of chatter.
Out in the courtyard, a small makeshift stage was set up, complete with a crimson velvet curtain. Now that night had fallen, the courtyard was illuminated by some scattered torches and braziers. A few rows of wooden benches and chairs were set up before the stage, waiting for an audience. Ureirika and Kuuderika took the front row and urged Arche to join them. Sitting down, Arche was reminded of the Grand Imperial Theatre, albeit on a smaller and cruder scale.
Slowly, the seats around Arche and her sisters filled. Sir and Madame Furt joined their children, followed by Lucian in the row behind them and then the rest. As the rows became filled, Arche caught snippets of conversations.
"...how could they afford this?" wondered one astonished man.
"...the greatest artist in over a century!" whispered an excited woman.
"...said to be sculpted by the gods themselves." said another.
Arche frowned. Were they talking about Gareth? Considering Kane's presence, it seemed likely that the leader of the Good Companions was the very same bard that was going to perform. While she hadn't heard him perform, Arche was certain that no man was that good.
Once the last of the guests were seated, the velvet curtains were drawn back, revealing a single figure. Gareth. The bard was dressed in a bright, colorful tunic with striped sleeves, leggings and pointed boots and a patchwork cloak.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the bard spoke, his voice was silky and pleasing to the ears. "I welcome you here tonight. We have gathered here to celebrate the lives of dear Ureirika and Kuuderika…" Gareth said, gesturing to the twins, who giggled and blushed.
"...and the late Emperor, Uriah Bradac Fallowtide El-Nix, father of Baharuth's current monarch, the magnanimous Emperor Jircniv."
This caused Sir Furt to clear his throat and elicited a few eyerolls from among the crowd. Magnanimous was the last word this audience would use to describe Emperor Jircniv, though they wouldn't dare say so out loud. Not with an Imperial official present.
"We have a wonderful show in store for you tonight. So sit back and enjoy!"
The audience applauded and with a flourish, Gareth's lute appeared in his hands and he began to play.
…
An hour later, Arche and the rest of the audience found themselves back inside, being treated to an exquisite feast. The young mage stared at her full plate of steaming hot food, still dazed by Gareth's performance. She was taken aback by the quality of the performance. It wasn't just a display of musical talent, the bard had put on a show. He infused each note of every song with magic, which affected the audience in a variety of ways. During a ballad about love lost and won, the audience was brought low by melancholy before being raised to pure joy, which produced a lot of tears. During a song about a tense battle involving a band of knights trying to rescue a princess from a cruel prince, the audience were at the edge of their seats. To top it all off, the bard conjured up a host of shadows and glowing specters that pantomimed each story, providing stunning visuals for each narrative. By the end of the performance, Arche felt a combination of emotions that made her applaud as Gareth took a bow.
As everyone was ushered back inside, Arche overheard her father tell one of the party guests, "Worth every coin." She couldn't help but agree.
Arche was brought back to the present when her stomach growled. Her hunger and fatigue had returned, having temporarily been forgotten due to the enchanted performance of the bard. The young mage felt her mouth water at the overpowering aroma of spices and cooked meat. Initially, Arche was hesitant to eat. After all, the food, the cooks who prepared it and the servants serving it to them were all paid for by money from another person. Arche eyed Lucian, who sat several seats away near the head of the table by her parents. However, the longer she sat there, the more she took in the exotic scents. Across from her Ureirika and Kuuderika had already finished their dinner and were being served jelly tarts and sweet rolls.
Her stomach growled louder and louder until any resistance she had was gone. Arche dug in and found herself lost to the array of flavors: pheasant and duck smothered in sauces, creamy stews, trout and lobster, honey cakes and much more.
So enraptured by the flavors and dishes was Arche, she almost didn't notice Gareth and Kane arrive. The two entered the dining room to a round of applause. The pale assassin trailed behind his brother, who bowed and waved to the clapping diners.
"Thank you! Thank you!" the bard said with a grin. "You're too kind."
Once the applause died down, the two brothers took their places on either side of Arche.
"Good evening Arche," Gareth said with a genuine smile. "Or should we call you Lady Furt?"
"Princess Pintsized?" Kane suggested. "And how are the rest of Team Foreskin?"
"Arche would be fine and it's Foresight," the young mage growled, glaring at the pale assassin.
The man in black grinned. "Whatever you say, m'lady."
Arche scowled. "What are you doing here?"
"Haven't you heard? Gareth's the talk of the town! He's the most sought after bard since Laertes Longstrider…whoever that is."
"Your parents hired me," Gareth explained as a servant poured him a glass of wine. "They put in a request with the Bard's Guild and happened to outbid some notable figures in the capital."
Arche's eyebrows rose. "They what?"
"I know, surprising isn't it? Word around the guild was that they had money troubles and were nearly banned after trying to avoid paying the last guy they hired."
Arche vaguely recalled that incident, having paid off the Guild's representatives out of her own pocket.
"And you took the job?"
Gareth shrugged. "It seemed like they were doing alright. They were throwing money around like there was no tomorrow. They beat out the Andolin family!"
Arche blinked in surprise. The Andolins were a prominent family with ties to the military and the Merchant's Guild. Once they were farmers but, overnight, became one of the wealthiest families in the Empire. To beat them in an auction must've involved a lot of money. The young mage's gaze turned toward her parents, who were once again deep in conversation with Lucian. She could imagine why her parents got involved with the Bard's Guild once again and outbid the Andolins: Pride. The Bard's Guild had threatened to go to the authorities after Sir Furt tried to repay their services with nothing but the "satisfaction of serving the noble Furt Family'' and the Andolins were everything Sir Furt despised: commoners who reaped the benefits of Emperor Jircniv's reforms.
She shook her head. Of course this whole party was nothing more than a big show for her parents. To show that the noble Furt family was not finished and that they will regain the power they once held. No matter what.
"And I take it that you're here to provide security?" Arche asked, looking at Kane.
"Of course," the pale assassin said through a mouthful of duck, dark red sauce dribbling down to his chin. "Gotta keep all those horny admirers off of my brother. There's some real sickos out there, you'll never know what they'll do."
Arche cocked an eyebrow. Admirers? Her gaze drifted and she noticed that most of the women at the table were casting not-so-subtle glances toward Gareth while whispering and giggling.
She glanced toward the bard, who, while looking calm, seemed to be moving stiffly and avoiding eye contact. She smiled a little bit.
"Fighting a dragon must be feeling preferable right about now," Arche said.
Gareth raised his wine glass to his lips in an attempt to hide his mouth. "You have no idea. I've been regretting that guild competition. Can't go anywhere in this city without being recognized."
"Dragon?" Ureirika asked, perking up. Her wide eyes focused on Gareth. "You fought a dragon?"
"I wouldn't necessarily say fight-" Gareth began.
"Not just any dragon," Arche interrupted. "It was a Dragon Lord."
"Really?" Kuuderika exclaimed, "A real Dragon Lord?"
The buzz of chatter lessened considerably and soon half of the room was looking toward Gareth.
Gareth hesitated for a moment and nodded. "Y-Yes. It was the White Dragon Lord, Olasird'arc Haylilyal. But it's a long story…"
Unfortunately, this only drew more attention and caused a few to beg him to tell the tale, including young Ureirika and Kuuderika. With no other choice, the bard cleared his throat and recounted his encounter with the Dragon Lord, starting from the very beginning. Arche listened and smiled a little. It felt like a lifetime ago, being up in the Azerlisia Mountains. Although there were times she thought she was going to die, that adventure was by far the best job she had. A brief memory flashed through her head: it was of Gareth holding her in his arms, rescuing her from the jaws of the Dragon Lord. Arche blushed and took a sip of wine to clear her head.
As Gareth neared the end of his story, Arche noticed a figure slip into the dining room. The figure was a disheveled man with straw colored hair and maroon clothes. He carefully tiptoed into the room and settled in the corner by the door, close to the foot of the table where the Imperial official sat.
Eventually, Gareth reached the end of his tale. "Once the Runesmith King's hammer was secured, my comrades escaped while I distracted the fierce dragon. Several times he nearly had me but I managed to escape through a hidden passage and reunited with the rest of the expedition!"
The party guests clapped and the bard bowed his head and tried to return to his dinner. However, as the applause died down, the dinner guests became aware of the newcomer.
"Sorry!" the man apologized, his voice was velvety. "I didn't want to interrupt your fascinating story."
"Who invited him?" hissed one to a nearby dinner guest.
"Elf lover," muttered another.
From that epithet, Arche realized that the man was none other than Duke Donatus Tiran Fulton. Duke Fulton was perhaps the least popular man with the nobility, save for the Bloody Emperor himself. The man is eccentric and was often labeled a fool for his unusual ideas, namely his ideas on the treatment of elves and half-elves within the Empire.
And yet he is one of the few who not only retained his titles but his family's fortune as well, Arche thought.
"Ah, Donatus!" Sir Furt said with a tight smile. "What brings you here?"
"I heard that it was Ureirika and Kuuderika's birthday and I figured I'd stop in on my old friends and…" he produced two beautifully made porcelain dolls from his maroon coat "...leave a gift for the birthday girls."
Ureirika and Kuuderika both brightened up at the sight of the dolls. A servant came and took the dolls and delivered them to the twins, who hugged the toys and thanked their "Uncle Donatus".
"A kind gesture," Sir Furt said, his eyes narrowing, "but I don't recall sending you an invitation."
"Really?" Duke Fulton said, blinking in surprise and began rummaging around his pockets. "Huh! I could've sworn that I had it." After a few moments, the man threw up his hands in defeat. "Oh well, it must've gotten lost. But I wouldn't worry. After all, we're old friends! And, as the Emperor's Master of Revels, I thought it'd be imperative that I be here."
Sir Furt stiffened and some of the guests gazed in bewilderment. The Master of Revels wasn't a powerful or influential position, being tasked with overseeing the Emperor's entertainment and festivals held within the capital. What was shocking, however, was the fact that a controversial figure like Fulton held a position, in any capacity, in the Imperial Court.
"Y-You? Master of Revels?" one man sputtered.
"Indeed, I'm as shocked as you," the duke drawled as he procured a glass of wine from the tray of a passing servant. "I insisted that His Majesty had the wrong man but he was equally insistent that I take the job. I suppose he wanted a new perspective when it came to his birthday celebrations. But I think it more likely that he wishes to see me fail worse than the poor bastard responsible for last year's manticore debacle."
He took a sip of his wine and eyed Gareth. "So, to ensure my survival and that His Majesty is entertained on his big day, I've come to take a glance at the great Gareth Silvertongue. So far, I'm impressed. And this meal! Splendid! Absolutely splendid! My compliments to the chef!"
Arche cast a glance at her father and could tell that he was doing his best to maintain his composure and not lash out at this interloper. Fortunately, the duke seemed to notice the growing undertone of coldness.
"I shall leave you now and make my report to the Emperor. Master Silvertongue…" the duke approached Gareth, pulling out a folded piece of parchment with the Imperial Seal stamped on it. "...Congratulations, and I'm truly sorry. When the day comes, I hope that, for both our sakes, you'll do your best."
"Oh don't worry," Gareth said confidently, accepting the parchment. "You can assure Emperor Jircniv that he will be pleased with my performance."
Kane snorted and quickly covered it up with a cough.
Duke Fulton gave the bard a small smile. "I will and I'll be looking forward to seeing what you have planned for the celebration."
He turned and approached the door. Along the way, Fulton tapped the Imperial official on the shoulder and the man and his companion both stood. He turned to the assembled former nobles and smiled and bowed his head. "Again, I deeply apologize for the intrusion. Carry on. Eat, drink and be merry! Happy Birthday, Ureirika and Kuuderika."
Fulton turned to leave, but paused and turned back to the party guests. He straightened up and declared solemnly. "Long live the Emperor and the Empire!"
The Furts, along with their guests, all raised their wine glasses and intoned, "Long live the Emperor and the Empire!"
With that, Fulton departed, accompanied by the official and his wife. A few uncomfortably silent moments passed before Kane let out a sigh and quipped, "Well…that happened."
There were some chuckles and the mood seemed to ease a little as the party resumed.
…
The night grew old and the party was at its end. Following dinner and dessert, the birthday girls were shepherded upstairs to bed by Arche and James as Sir and Madame Furt retired to the parlor with their guests. The young mage and James helped the girls into their nightgowns before the butler was called down to help with a mess caused by one of the party guests.
Shortly after James had gone, Arche tucked her siblings into bed and attempted to rejoin the party. However, her exit was impeded when the twins grabbed on to their sister and insisted that she stay and tell them of her trip, of Foresight and ask her questions regarding Gareth. Most of them were about the story, about the job in the Azerlisia Mountains and the White Dragon Lord. But the final question that the two asked before being forced to go to bed was: "Do you like him?"
"What do you mean?" Arche asked, confused.
"Do you like Gareth?" Ureirika asked. "Like…do you want to marry him?"
The young mage felt her face grow warm. "I…I like him but not in that way."
"Why?" Kuuderika asked.
"Because…because I'm a Worker and Workers are busy. I don't have time to think about marriage."
"Mr. Hekkeran and Ms. Imina are workers, and they're married," Ureirika pointed out.
"No, they're not married," Arche gently corrected. "They act like it, but they're not."
"But they like each other…a lot." Kuuderika said.
Before the conversation could progress any further and get more personal, Arche firmly commanded her sisters to go to sleep. The young girls returned to their beds. After a kiss on the forehead for each twin and blowing out the candles, Arche made her way back to the party. As she slowly made her way back to the party, the young mage could still hear her sister's question echoing around in her mind over and over again.
Do you like him?
The young mage thought long and hard about that one. Gareth was handsome and, as far as she could tell, was a kindhearted person. He saved her from certain death and has been very nice to her. However, she doesn't know much about him. While the bard was all smiles and sociable, Arche could tell that there was more to him. It was as if what he was showing everyone was just an act. Maybe if she got to know him…
Arche shook her head. It wasn't right to be poking around in other people's lives. Besides, she has other worries to occupy her time like the benevolent Lucian Harstom and his money. A prominent businessman from the frontier, a supposed friend of the family, suddenly arrives in the capital and showering impoverished strangers with lavish amounts of money. Nothing about it seemed right. Either it was one hell of a genuine coincidence or Lucian is up to something sinister.
The rest of the party was dull and uneventful. More conversations, followed by more wine, which was followed by more candid remarks and jabs at people not in attendance. Arche helped herself to more wine in order to make the painfully dull conversations she was dragged into seem more enjoyable. It also helped her clear her mind of a certain bard, for a little while. The population of the parlor, which had already decreased significantly after dinner, had shrunk even further. As they watched the last of the party guests being helped into their carriage from the front porch, Sir Furt turned to his daughter and bid her goodnight.
"I understand that you have your own dwellings, but i-it's late and if you don't feel like making the journey…" he trailed off for a moment. Although her father was a proud and stubborn man, Arche knew her parents genuinely cared for her. They always kept her room clean and available for her, should she ever decide to quit being a Worker and want to return home.
"Father…" Arche began, not really sure how to respond.
"Whatever you decide, it is your decision to make. Now, if you'll excuse me, your mother and I have some important matters to discuss with Lord Harstom."
Before the young mage could ask what "important matters" meant, Sir Furt was gone. Arche frowned and returned to the parlor to talk with Gareth and Kane. However, when she reached the parlor, the two Adventurers were gone. After searching the dining room and the courtyard, Arche went to the kitchens and asked James.
The butler blinked and informed her that the two departed shortly after dinner, while she was upstairs tending to her sisters. While it didn't really surprise her, Arche was left feeling disappointed. However, James then told her that the bard had said that should she "have any questions regarding his payment" she can take it up with the Bard's Guild at the Singing Apple Pavilion or talk about it with him personally at the Golden Lance Inn.
Arche felt herself smile. Feeling drowsy and heavy from fatigue and wine, the young mage dragged herself to her old bedroom. Her head was swimming from all that had happened that day. From worrying about repaying debts to suspicion regarding a nobleman from the frontier and confusion regarding a handsome bard.
Still in her party dress, the young mage threw herself onto her incredibly soft bed. Arche felt herself sinking into her pillows and into a dark, dreamless sleep, all the while blissfully ignorant of the treasonous meeting taking place in her father's private study.
After he was certain all the guests were gone, and all the servants dismissed for the night, Sir Furt joined his wife and Lord Lucian in his study. The study was the one of the few places in the entire house where the true state of the Furt family was on display. Once the study played host to a collection of ancient tomes and priceless heirlooms and baubles. Now, it was populated by a plain old desk, some scant books on empty bookcases and rickety old chairs. It wounded Sir Furt to be in this room and know exactly what was missing, which was why he rarely spent time here.
Sir Furt secured the door behind him and clicked the lock in place. Once that was done, he sat in the chair beside his wife. Lucian poured him a glass of brandy and handed it to him. The young lord sat on the edge of the sturdy old desk, gazing at the elder man.
"Well?" Lucian asked, expectantly.
"They said they'll think about it," Sir Furt answered with a sigh.
"They better make up their minds quickly, we don't have much time." Lucian told Sir Furt.
"I've explained as much to him but the Steradz family was always very cautious, especially regarding something as grave as treason."
Lucian smiled. "Is it treason to scheme against a tyrant? Against a monster who betrayed his own country, his own people?"
"Perhaps, but it's not like we're planning on a summer picnic," Madame Furt said softly.
"True. But this is a once in a lifetime opportunity! We may never get this chance again."
Sir and Madame Furt both shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. While they disliked the current state of things, to even speak of things aloud, even in jest, was dangerous. After the disastrous rebellion of Lord Maximilian Pemberton and the Great Noble Houses, anyone so much as dreams of going against the Imperial Throne risks execution. The only reason that the far off mountain city was named after him was due to its remoteness and distance from the capital.
"And what of you?" Lucian asked, after sipping some brandy from his own glass. "You never really answered my question?"
Sir Furt was silent for a moment. He pondered how he got into this situation. Their chance meeting when the usurers came calling, demanding their money. Was it really a chance meeting, when Lucian seemingly appeared out of nowhere and casually paid each of the usurers exactly the owed amount. From then on, Lucian had been like a generous relative, paying for Ureirika and Kuuderika's birthday, for the food and the entertainment. Sir Furt wasn't one to say no to a free meal, but he wasn't stupid. He knew this blessed day came with a price tag, and by the gods the price was not what he expected. All this money, this luxury, in exchange for committing high treason: overthrowing the Emperor.
Emperor Jircniv. The very name was enough to make Sir Furt's blood boil. He's seen the boy only once and he knew he hated the brat the moment he saw him. Arrogant, cruel, selfish. The little bastard ruined so many lives and drove his family into poverty, forcing those of noble blood to cower and beg for their bread. Unthinkable! Sir Furt wished him dead. However, now that someone is offering to make that wish come true, the former noble was unsure. He was unsure if it'll work, if this whole thing wasn't some elaborate trap or if this was some fever dream and that he'll wake up in the morning to find the house empty and cold once more.
Sir Furt regarded Lucian once more. The young man was polite and conducted himself like a true noble. Everything he said about his schemes appeared to be sound. But why can't he shake this feeling in his gut like something is wrong and that there was more he wasn't telling them. The elder man looked down at his drink before downing it in one gulp. He set aside his glass and asked with all seriousness, "What would you have us do?"
The moon hung high above the royal capital of Re-Estize, providing enough light for Henry to navigate the dark streets of the older quarter of the upper district. The valet rounded a corner and, seeing the group of half drunk soldiers, lowered his gaze and skirted around them. Judging from their attire, Henry surmised that they were officers. Probably making full use of their free time before being sent off to their new postings. Although men of their rank and station are often discouraged from frequenting areas like this, it wasn't unusual to see them around at this time of night. While there were plenty of taverns and brothels in the capital, few could ever match the quality of services and "goods" provided by the establishments of the Velvet Quarter.
Henry studied his surroundings as he pressed on. The Velvet Quarter, an older neighborhood in the Upper District of the Royal Capital. It was a playground for the wealthy and powerful. Originally a place for artists and craftsmen, the Velvet Quarter gradually transformed into a precinct full of expensive pubs, restaurants, social clubs, parlors and brothels. The only thing that remains of its nobler past was the Magician's Guild, which sat at the edge of the Quarter uphill closer to the royal palace, looking down at the old neighborhood in disgust. Usually a hub of late night activity, with the rich and powerful mingling and moving about in secret to partake in whatever pleasures the Quarter had to offer, it was quiet tonight. The streets were less populated and the various establishments appeared more tranquil and serene. Which suited Henry just fine.
Tonight was not a night of revelry and pleasure. Tonight was a night of business. In the daytime, Henry was a valet in the house of Lord Archel Nizun Eike Fondoll, one of the oldest and most cantankerous nobles in the Kingdom. By night, however, Henry was an agent of Eight Fingers, the true rulers of Re-Estize. The valet spied his destination across the street. A large building of brick, well maintained and glowing with a warm inviting light. A sign hung over the guarded entrance, proudly declaring the establishment's name to the world: The Black Moon Inn, perhaps one of the most famous, or infamous, establishments in the capital.
Henry approached. He pulled back the hood of his cloak, showing his face to the guards at the door. They nodded and allowed him inside. Stepping inside, Henry was greeted by a wall of cool, fruit scented air. The interior was lavishly decorated with soft carpets, deep purple wallpaper, expensive wood furniture and illuminated by lamps and crystal chandeliers. Waiting near the door was a young woman dressed in a fine butler's uniform, her hair done up in a bun. After searching him for weapons, the woman took his cloak and directed Henry to the parlor where guests and patrons often waited.
The valet sat down in an armchair by the fireplace and did his best to keep himself occupied. He eyed some of the artwork. Some pastoral paintings, a vase with a bouquet of violet and white blossoms, and a statue of half naked figures in suggestive poses.
While Henry was no prude, having visited establishments like this before, the valet never felt comfortable around the Black Moon. After all, this particular inn was owned and operated by none other than Cocco Doll. Although he may not appear so, the skinny well groomed man was one of the more dangerous and powerful men in the Kingdom.
Cocco Doll was head of the slave trafficking department of Eight Fingers, which meant he had access to more gold and manpower than most nobles. Additionally, being the proprietor of numerous brothels, Cocco Doll was able to provide all manner of "services" for members of society at various levels. This made him privy to all manner of dirty secrets, which gave him leverage with some powerful people. Some said people even help him as a favor, for all that he's done for them. Needless to say, it'd be unwise to underestimate or cross him.
Henry sat in silence for what felt like a long time. Across from him, outside the parlor, the valet saw a few others arrive at the inn. Each newcomer was greeted by the woman at the door and then led upstairs by another, similarly uniformed woman. Among the new arrivals, Henry spied a familiar looking man. Middle-aged, pudgy, wide shouldered, mustached. Once he shed his cloak, Henry saw that the man wore fine clothes and had a large copper crest dangling beneath his chin.
It was then that Henry realized why the man looked familiar. The man was none other than Staffan Heivish, a Constable and an agent of Eight Fingers. Although Staffan no longer served Eight Fingers full time, they often relied on him to steer law-abiding subjects of the Kingdom away from their operations, help their agents escape the law, bribe guards, and occasionally collect debts.
As the sharply dressed woman guided Staffan towards the stairs, Henry observed a gleam in the constable's eye. It reminded the valet of a starving animal, drooling and eagerly awaiting as its meal was being placed in front of it. Though he never knew Staffan personally, Henry has heard of his…proclivities. A man like him could only get his pleasures from places like the Black Moon Inn, a place that was private, secure and, no matter what he did, would gladly welcome him back.
The valet felt a pang of sympathy for the poor woman who was unlucky enough to be spending the next few hours with him. From what Henry was told, the last woman he had was still comatose and barely clinging to life. That is if Cocco Doll or one of his subordinates didn't dispose of her already.
After more time passed, one of the uniformed servants arrived.
"He is ready for you," the well-groomed androgynous butler said in a soft voice.
Henry rose and followed the butler out of the parlor and deeper into the inn. They passed the stairs and carried on down a corridor full of doors. Most of the doors were closed and from some muffled moans and squeals, the valet knew them to be occupied. At the end of the corridor, the butler gently knocked on the large door. A muffled voice told them to enter. The butler opened the door and ushered Henry into a spacious backroom.
Through the door, Henry was greeted by a pair of rough looking men in leather armor. The two seized him up and, after a brief search of his person, allowed him to pass. Henry scanned the backroom. It looked more like a private lounge than a place of business. The walls were similarly wallpapered and adorned with artwork, only these were far more explicit and, in some cases, disturbing. Across from the entrance, at the other end of the room, sitting at a desk was none other than Cocco Doll.
The slave trader was scratching away in a heavy, leather-bound ledger with a quill, not bothering to look up at the new arrival. Henry approached the desk and paused a few feet away. He watched as Cocco Doll continued to write. After a few silent moments, the slave trader set aside his quill and looked up. He regarded Henry with cold, reptilian eyes, like that of a snake analyzing its next meal. Despite having known Cocco Doll and done numerous jobs for him, Henry still felt his skin crawl when the slave trader looked at him.
"Thank you for your patience, my dear Henry," the man apologized, his voice soft and sultry. "So good of you to come on such short notice. How is Lord Fondoll?"
"Same as always: old, bitter, and showing no signs of slowing down."
"Oh fooey! Shame. I hate the old bastard, but I can't help but admire his resolve. Oh well." The slave trader shrugged. "In any case, let's get to it then."
Cocco Doll closed his book and interlaced his fingers together. "It appears we have a bit of a problem that we need you to take care of."
"What else is new?" Henry remarked.
The slave trader smiled. "Indeed. On the surface, this job appears like a simple one but it may be a little more…challenging than we anticipated."
Henry raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
"As you may have ascertained from my message, we've been eyeing a potential new addition to my stable. A fair young lady of noble blood, one Elizabeth Stanton."
"Brasel's daughter?"
"You know her?"
"Knew her father, the stupid bastard." Henry snorted, remembering the noble in question. The man was a vainglorious prick, who'd do anything to get ahead. To hear that he's selling his only child to Cocco Doll in exchange for funds is, unfortunately, not very surprising. Little wonder why he had so few friends and so many enemies who'd gladly stab him in the back. "The day he fell from grace was perhaps one of the few times I ever saw Lord Fondoll happy."
"Indeed. Though stupid, he is still a client. He had scheduled a meeting for us, Succulent and I, to meet the young lady to judge her worth. Unfortunately, Succulent was called away with the rest of Six Arms to deal with some rabble rousers on one of Hilma's Black Dust plantations, so I had Teldun accompany me. However, when we arrived, the little darling told us that Lord Stanton had vanished."
"Oh?" Henry raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, and even without her father there, Teldun and I were in agreement that she was the type of girl we were looking for and carried out the transaction."
"I see and…how does this concern me? Sounds like you have everything well in hand."
Cocco Doll's lips tightened into a line. "Yes, well she…refused."
Henry blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"She refused!" the slave trader snapped. "It was amusing at first, but the girl was insistent. She told us that there is a new head of the House of Stanton and that any deals made by her father were void! Teldun tried to force the girl to comply, but-but that brute of a man broke poor Teldun's wrist!"
"Man?"
"Yes! Some dashing swordsman whose name escapes me. She threw us out of the house like we were common vermin! Us! What's worse was she threw coins in our faces and told us to go find another girl to whore out and slammed the door in our faces."
Henry nodded slowly. That certainly would be a reason why Cocco Doll called on him. Eight Fingers, much like the noble class, never took defiance well.
"What of her father?" the valet asked.
"I've searched high and low, interrogated everyone who knew him and found nothing. Nobody has seen him. It's as though he never existed. Probably scurried his way to the countryside or to Baharuth."
"You want me to find him?"
"No," Cocco Doll shook his head. "We'll deal with him later. What I want is that girl. Bring her to me. While not nearly as experienced nor beautiful as my other girls, she has this…aura to her. I don't know how to explain it. But a girl like that, I know a few boys who would pay good money to have her for a few nights, maybe even to keep her all to themselves. But not before I give her an education in manners."
Henry nodded. "I see. But what of the swordsman?"
Cocco Doll thought for a few moments but then waved a hand. "Do as you wish. Just bring me the girl alive and unharmed."
"You're certain that I'm the right man for the job? I mean, I'll do it, but I'm not sure if my skills are appropriate for this task."
The slave trader smiled. "That's what I love about you darling. So modest, so humble. You're more than up to the task!"
…
After receiving more details about the assignment, Henry departed the Black Moon Inn. While he was tempted to take up Cocco Doll's offer (a free evening with the girl of his choice) the valet had to make preparations. Although Henry was confident of his success, he felt a little uneasy about the job. Firstly was the absence of Lord Stanton. The man was an ass, but he'd never miss an engagement, especially if it was with an executive of Eight Fingers. Then there was the girl Elizabeth. From what he heard through the gossip at the Royal Court, Elizabeth was a sad reserved girl who endured all manner of depraved things at her father's insistence. To hear Cocco Doll describe her now, Henry would have assumed that he was describing someone else. But, from the details given about her appearance and her residence, Henry knew that his boss was talking about the very same Elizabeth. Then there was this mysterious swordsman.
While Henry was no stranger to violence, he didn't like going into a job not knowing all the details. It's like what his old master would say: knowledge and preparation is the key to a successful assassination. A swordsman who he's never heard of before may complicate things. While Eight Fingers had their own assassins and departments devoted to kidnapping and espionage, they certainly wouldn't lend him the resources to kidnap the daughter of a disgraced noble. Which was why the valet began considering some outside help.
As thoughts whirled around Henry's head, he felt stomach rumbling. The valet sighed. He had been so busy these past few days, tending to Lord Fondoll. With the added pressure of Cocco Doll's assignment, Henry was half tempted to quit altogether. But of course he couldn't do that. His reputation was at stake, he needed money and, no matter where he went, Eight Fingers would make him pay dearly for abandoning his mission.
The valet wrapped his cloak around himself as he ventured out of the Velvet Quarter. Henry made his way to his favorite tavern, to eat and to gather his thoughts in peace. A short distance from the Velvet Quarter, the valet arrived at his favorite tavern: the Shaggy Dog. While there were better, more exciting places in the capital, Henry enjoyed this place for the peace and quiet. Fortunately, the tavern looked devoid of activity, save for the barkeep and the staff. The inside of the old tavern was quiet and dimly illuminated by scattered candles, lanterns and the crackling fire in the fireplace.
Henry slipped into his usual spot and ordered a mug of ale and a plate of roasted meat. As he waited for his order, the valet went over the details of the job in his head. He calculated the equipment needed, how he was going to infiltrate the house, at what time, and how he was going to deal with that swordsman and any other potential threats. This job had to go off without a hitch. Eight Fingers may hold considerable power, but the wrong move could draw unwanted attention or worse.
It didn't take long before the valet had a plan half formed in his head. By that time, the food arrived. Before Henry could dig into his meal, a hooded stranger sat down across from him. The stranger's face was shadowed by his hood. With their back to the fire, the stranger appeared like an ominous apparition.
The stranger stared for a long moment, making the valet uncomfortable.
Henry frowned. "Can I help you?"
"I think the question is, can I help you?" the stranger replied in a gentle male voice.
"Huh?"
"I can't help but notice that you look troubled."
"Well…thank you for your concern, but I'm trying to have dinner right now."
"I can see that but don't you think that your little conundrum regarding Miss Stanton is a little more pressing at the moment?"
Henry froze. He forced himself to remain calm, to not react. The valet blinked and gave the stranger a confused look.
"I-I'm sorry?"
"Miss Stanton, I know that you intend to harm her. Well, maybe not you, but rather your employers."
"I think you're confused."
"Oh, I'm quite certain that I have my man. You see, like my namesake, I make it my business to be aware of the internal struggles of those around me and help guide them toward a better, more enlightened path."
Henry stared at the stranger in confusion.
The stranger chuckled. "Think of me as your conscience, and as your conscience, I'm here to tell you taking that job was perhaps the worst choice you could've made."
The valet regarded the stranger carefully. This man was either insane or stupid. Whatever the case, he knew too much and had to be dealt with.
"I know that you're thinking of killing me," the stranger said nonchalantly. "And I'll have to strongly advise against it. Aside from the moral implications of murder, it'll do you no good."
"Oh yeah?" Henry said, his free hand slowly wrapping around the hilt of the concealed dagger under his cloak.
"Yeah," the stranger said.
Without warning, Henry attacked. Quick as a viper, he rose from his seat. He drew his dagger and slashed through the air, drawing a line across the stranger's throat. The valet had practiced this move hundreds of times and has never once failed to hit his target.
Until now.
The dagger was very near to the stranger's throat and was held in place by a single hand. No, wait…
Henry looked and saw not a hand but rather a hairy brown appendage, the type of appendage that typically belonged to a bug. The valet blinked in surprise. Before he could process what was happening, he felt strong, firm hands grab both his arms. Henry looked and discovered that those hands belonged to the barkeep and one of the serving girls. The two had identical vacant, glassy-eyed expressions. Despite his struggling, the two held onto him tightly. The barkeep wrenched the dagger from Henry's hand and the two forced the valet back into his chair.
"W-What the hell is this?" Henry demanded.
"I'm afraid that this is what we call an intervention," said the stranger, rising to his full height. The stranger shed his hood and cloak, revealing a man-sized cricket clad in a fancy waistcoat and jacket. He placed a tall, stove-pipe hat atop his head, near his long antennas.
Henry's eyes bulged out of their sockets. "W-What…w-who are you?"
"Didn't you hear?" chirped the cricket "I'm your conscience and I'm here to set you straight, pal. From now on, you're going to be playing nice."
The cricket grabbed the plate of steaming hot meat on the table. The serving girl and the barkeep forced Henry's mouth open. The cricket held the plate of food close to Henry's face. Without warning, a slimy larva-like creature burst out of the hunk of meat on the plate and leaped into his mouth. The valet gagged and struggled, trying to force the thing out but the worm forced its way deeper and soon there was a sharp burst of pain in his head, which quickly faded as Henry's mind and vision became hazy.
End of Chapter.
(a/n: thank you again for your patience and I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! See you next time!)
(references)
(chapter title): song by Good Charlotte