Dancing with the Devil

[Lighthawk76]

Closed to Jasmine and Osato.

It had been some time since Blank had attended a formal affair. He had forgotten just how much trouble it was. He didn’t remember having to spend so much time choosing correct garments. He didn’t remember having to talk to so many people just to learn what was to be expected at the gathering. He didn’t remember having to pay so much for a simple cutting of his hair, shaving of his face, and perfumed bath. He didn’t really remember going to a formal affair, actually.

That wasn’t to say he hadn’t attended one though. When you awaken with no memory there’s a chance that anything you do may in fact not be the first time you have done it.

Thankfully, Blank had an ace up his sleeve, though some would have called it a pain in the ass. Alan, an old man who appeared to have his fingers in anything and everything that went on in Althanas, was his traveling companion. The old man had picked Blank up in a fishing village, where Blank had spent the first month of his “second life.” The crazy coot had immediately taken an interest in Blank’s missing past, deciding to take the boy with him on some grand adventure.

After a few months of traveling, Blank had seen a lot. From a crazy warrior boy to a church begging to burn heretics, he was still surprised to be alive. He had traveled from Corone in a whirlwind tour to Salvar, with basically no look into Raiaera, the land of the elves.

The two were finally getting a break from the traveling and were going to enjoy a night of truly civilized company among the Salvan royalty. Blank was already wishing to return to the road before they had yet to enter the ball.

“Why are we doing this, Alan?” asked the young man, his body uncomfortably fitted into a pair of fine pants, shirt, doublet and vest, covered with a cloak that was more flashy than it was useful. His brown hair was slicked back with some sort of oil, and his body smelled faintly of perfume and bath oils. His hazel eyes showed a worry and lack of comfort. This was not the travel attire he was used to.

Beside him in their carriage, Alan seemed to be ready for quite the ball. He was smoothing out some unseen wrinkle in his pants and adjusting his top hat in such small amounts that Blank noticed no difference. His white hair and beard were groomed magnificently, and a small ruffle around his neck framed his head elegantly. He simply looked at Blank with a set of calm and collected eyes, his hands around the intricately wrought top of his cane.

“I promised the Lady of this house, a Madame Lagrange, that I would attend the coming of age ball of her only daughter. This was done for two reasons, the first being that the Lady Lagrange is quite the beauty, and a lonely widow at that.

“The second is that you need some sort practice working in noble circles. When we get back to Corone in a few weeks, their will be many more balls such as these. The spring is full of them.

“Now, does the third explanation make any more sense then the first two times?”

“So, there shouldn’t be any crazy stuff happening or anything?”

“Well, now that we’re almost there, I should tell you that the Lady Lagrange has been informed that you are a young noble from Corone. She will want you to meet her daughter. Make sure to keep up the charade.”

Blank stared at the old man in horror. Alan simply looked back, allowing a twinkling eye and roguish smile escape the noble face he had put on for the night.

“It’s simple, Blank,” he explained comfortingly, “Keep her talking about how beautiful she is and make sure to compliment her whenever she begins to lull in doing so. If she asks about your life, throw one, and only one, random comment about noble life (something about how you raise fifty heads of dragons or swim in milk everyday), and then say you’d like to hear more about her.”

Blank sat back in his chair. “You just want a good laugh,” chuckled Blank, not able to do anything but laugh at the situation.

Alan gave a roguish smile. “Well, there’s that, but I’m also hoping that the daughter will be as lovely as the mother and I can get you busy tonight, because I will hopefully be in that very predicament with the Lady Lagrange.”

Blank simply shook his head and smiled.

When the carriage finally got to the house, the young man was sweating bullets and was more nervous then ever.

The two of them entered the hall. Alan was the utter picture of calmness and suaveness, while his “ward,” the noble Blank, (his name explained as being his parents’ eccentricity) was shaking and darting his eyes everywhere. The hall was a good sixty feet wide and a hundred feet long, with tables lined along each wall with common and exotic delicacies sitting beside detailed ice sculptures of mythological creatures, heroes, and damsels. Tables were set throughout, with a large open area in the middle for dancing. The band was in the corners of the hall opposite the entrance, framing the two sweeping staircases up to the second story of the mansion.

“Have fun.” With that Alan began making his way easily through the crowd, shaking hands, saying hellos, and winking at the prettier girls. Blank immediately began following, though he was more of the bull, having to excuse himself more then greeting those around him.

He quickly lost sight of Alan and resigned himself to the night before him.

[Jasmine]

Yesterday afternoon...

Jasmine stared at the small envelope in her hands, the seal of one Lady Lagrange holding it shut. The young woman had thought she managed to disappear from the world of the nobility and all that entailed. She no longer needed to hide her true identity, Lady Jasmine Matrino, Princess of Moriah, but she had grown accustomed to life without those burdensome titles. She knew that inside the small three-by-five inch envelope was an invitation to a ball for one occasion for another, what she couldn’t figure out was how the Lady had known that she was here or where to find her.

Well, if she knew where to send it, then she knows I’m here. I don’t really want to go, but to flat out ignore the invitation would be rude...

With a heavy sigh, she broke the seal with her thumb and pulled out the folded piece of parchment inside. As she had suspected, it was an invitation to a ball. It was to be held in honor of the Lady’s daughter coming of age. The black-haired beauty sighed, she remembered her own coming of age ball. Even then, she had not truly enjoyed the vast amount of balls that were held every year, but she could not miss out on her own ball. Neither had she been able to turn down most invitations. Sometimes, being a princess really wasn’t very fun at all.

Setting the invitation down on the small table in her room, she began pacing across the room. She had taken a room in a small inn on the outside edge of town. It contained only a bed, a small table, and a washstand, but that was all that Jasmine ever required these days. She thought furiously. She needed a dress, her blue and silver travel dress would never do for a ball. Grimacing, she finally decided that she would have to use her rank as a way to get the items she needed. Leaving her travel bag behind, she left the inn to find a dressmaker and a hairdresser. Fortunately, there was one of each. After mentioning that she could pay triple the normal price for a dress if she could have it the following morning, the seamstress got right to work. Anything could be done for Princess Jasmine of Moriah, even making a dress in a single day. The hairdresser was not as hard to find and she made arrangements for the lady to come by the inn tomorrow afternoon.

All I need now is to hire a carriage, for that I will ask the indulgence of the innkeeper...

Today, shortly after lunch...

Jasmine turned around in front of the mirror. The dress she wore fit perfectly. The medium blue silk was cut simply, but had a great deal of embroidery on it. The sleeves were cut close to the arm above the elbow, but then expanded to leave her forearm free. Roses crawled all around the edge of the low-cut bodice, drawing attention to the inch or so of cleavage the dress revealed. She wore enough petticoats to fluff the skirt of the dress out a great deal, making her feel like a great bell. However, she had paid the lady to make her look appropriate for the ball, if the dress was not exactly to her tastes, that would have to be ignored for the evening.

“It is perfect and excellently done, Miss Amari. You should have your payment within a fortnight. Unfortunately, I do not carry a great deal of money with me, but I have already sent for the money to be sent to you as quickly as possible from Moriah.”

Miss Amari did not answer Lady Jasmine, but she nodded in approval as she watched her client. “If all is well my Lady, then I must be going.” Clapping her hands together once, the two young men she’d brought with her collected her fitting tools and standing mirror and filed out the door. Her shouts for them to be careful as they loaded the wagon could be heard even inside the inn.

Jasmine watched them go with a smile on her face, then waited patiently for the time to arrive. The hairdresser had already been by. It had been a long time since she sat for a hairdresser. The experience was just as boring as she remembered, but her hair look magnificent. Her long black hair hung loose to the middle of her thighs, combed, brushed, and fragrantly oiled until it shined. Two small braids went from the sides, just at her eyes, to the back. Small white flowers were woven through the braids and throughout the rest of her hair. She had not wanted anything more fancy. For one, she didn’t want to sit for hours on end for endless pinning. Two, she didn’t have enough money on hand to pay for that. A dressmaker could wait for payment if the circumstances were right, a hairdresser could not.

Soon, it was time to head over to the Lady Lagrange’s mansion. Downstairs, a black carriage with driver and footman awaited her. The innkeeper had been happy to loan her the use of the carriage for the night, for a price of course. Jasmine sighed as she went down the stairs, holding the hem of her dress up so as not to step on it. Balls just weren’t worth so much money on the part of the guests, in her opinion. The footman helped her into the carriage and within a few minutes, they were pulling up to the front door, the footman holding open door and offering his hand for her descent to the ground.

Murmuring thanks, she glided gracefully in to the ball, handing the doorman her invitation as proof that she was to be here. Once inside, she pasted a cheerful, friendly smile on her face, trying to ignore the announcer as he shouted out that the Lady Jasmine Aurora Matrino was now present.

Why do they always have to do that? It’s so annoying!

Calming her thoughts, she began making her way slowly through the crowd, giving curtsies and allowing her hands to be kissed in greeting as she did.

[Osato]

The gala was the epitome of grace and elegance.

The man turned and twirled with the wealthy of Salvar, dancing to the tunes played by the best minstrels. As the music died down, the song coming to an end, the young man bowed to the woman he had been dancing with. Her titter of laughter mingled with the hundreds of muted words. The girls face flushed with a sudden comment, her fan whipping out to hide her bashfulness. The two were but a small piece of the grand ball, a single couple among plenty.

Inside the hall both the fireplaces and candles emitted light as bright as the day. Intricately inlaid furniture, stairwells, and columns glittered with the vanity of the host. Floors of the smoothest marble were masked with the riches Raiaerian rugs. Tapestries from the proud Radasanth to the mysterious Fallien hung from platinum bars. Blazing on either side of the grand room were roaring fires, tended by four boys in vivacious livery.

Outside was quite a different story. Through the massive windows the last, dying rays of sunlight were cast. A light snow drift, not uncommon for the new fall season in Salvar, was dropping from laden clouds. Overhead the moon peaked randomly out from behind the thick clouds, its radiance yet dwarfed by the vibrant orange-yellow of the sunset. “It’s going to be a cold, dark night tonight.”

The voice belonged to one of the guards of the events. He was a stout man, sporting the goofy mustache that seemed to be in fashion. His uniform consisted of an oversized chain vest, a leather cap that covered his ears, a pair of steel gauntlets, and a pair of trousers with a belt bent on bursting. Overtop the first belt was another, looser belt hoisting a sword on one side and a closed bolt case for the crossbow in hand. The man, Maxwell (or just Max for short) was one of the many guards assigned the task of protecting the wealthy gents and ladies from all sorts of trouble.

“Lucky for them,” the tone was full of scorn. It belonged to Osato, one of the ten mercenaries hired to “assist” the regular guards. There were to be many more nobles then normal at the gala, and the Lady Lagrange did not want to take any chances. His hands moved from his warm armpits to grab the bottle of alcohol being handed to him. A quick swig and the warmth quickly stirred through his body. “Too bad for us, huh?”

“To say the least!” Max placed a heavy hand on the back of the sell-swords back, knocking the light dusting of soft snow off his broad shoulders. Behind him, through the window, the dancing began again. The placid blue eyes of the boy turned to look at the girl, watching her twirl with another boy. He brushed aside a loose strand of his silky, violet hair, watching as a flake of snow landed and melted instantly against his hand. “Don’t you worry lad, as soon as this whole thing is over we’ll be paid handsomely. And you, as a merc, you’re bound to get a little extra and maybe another assignment if all goes well. Our Lady Lagrange is quite the generous woman.”

“I don’t want another job, I don’t want the one I have,” Osato wanted to tell the man. “I should be in there, with them, dancing with that girl right there. I should be among the noble, among the wealthy.” What the boy really meant was that he was too attractive, too much like a noble to be plodding along the manor with the rough men that acted as guards. What really came to mind was the whispering anger of an ego deflating on the end of the sword at his side.

“At least I will have that as a consolation.” But it would not be, and he knew it. He watched the girl spin, the man smile. Instead of watching further he diverted his attention to the frozen hydra and the ice sculpture of the hero opposite it. He would be that man one day; he would be the one that would be held still for countless years in the picture of glory. “Lets go make the rounds, after another swig of course…”

[Lighthawk76]

Blank could be nothing but thankful that no one had yet to approach him. He had been sitting to the side, trying his best to look friendly, yet still haughtily noble. By the strange looks and giggles of the passersby, he had apparently been hitting strange, yet laughably cute.

Now he was simply sitting and watching the entrance of the other guests. He and Alan had apparently been lucky enough to enter without any sort of grand announcement, though whether that was because Alan has asked them not to (unlikely), or they did not have the noble credentials to garner one remained to be seen.

The list simply continued to grow. A Sir Desmond Carlyle entered, scowling ferociously under big bushy eyebrows. A Lord Francis Trent followed accompanied by a Lady Genevieve Trent, both a couple of corpulent jolly folk. They were followed by a Lord Raynor, a Lady Kerrigan, and a Lord Tassadar. Next came a Lord Arthas, with his body-servant, with the very original name Thrall, and accompanied by a Lady Jaina and Lady Tyrande. The list just seemed to go on.

“Having fun, my young ward.”

Blank turned to find Alan behind him, the old man leaning himself against his staff haughtily with a roguish smile escaping his lips. Beside him stood a young woman dressed in a gaudy green color, making her seem like some insect moving about on its bloated bottom. What the woman lacked in color choosing she made up for with a beautifully soft face. If Blank knew Alan, and he was quite sure he did, the old man was more interest in a pair of somethings between the bloated bottom and pretty face.

“How much longer is this going to last?” asked Blank after taking in the woman.

“Oh quite a bit longer, I hope. The young Miss Lagrange will be making her appearance in an hour or so, and then the real dancing will begin, with every eligible man taking his turn with the young lady.”

A feigned expression of forgiveness crossed the old man’s face, and he turned to the woman behind him. “Oh, forgive my manners, Lady Jessica. This is Lord Blank of Corone.”

She extended a hand with a questioning look. “How do you do Lord… Blank?”

“Oh yes,” came in Alan, quick to answer the unspoken question. “Young Blank’s parents are quite eccentric. You most likely haven’t heard of them, the Coronians like to keep them somewhat of a dirty secret. They believed that their son needed to have a name which allowed him the utmost freedom. Therefore, Blank. He can fill it as he wishes.”

The young woman gave a small chuckle and looked at Blank with a mixture of amusement and pity.

Blank just smiled and excused himself. He made his way over to the tables, hoping that something good could be found to eat… or at least a drink strong enough to help him through the rest of his night.

As he moved he stopped paying attention to the names being called. If he had listened to the names, he may not have gone so fast through the crowd, moving to welcome in the latest entrant. If he hadn’t been moving so fast, he may not have tripped in the clutter of legs, falling right into a black haired beauty in blue.

[Jasmine]

Jasmine hid her boredom behind a feigned smile of quiet amusement. She had practiced that smile for hours when she had been a young girl attending countless balls in her homeland. She was surprised to find it still came now as naturally as it had back then. She was just starting to turn away from yet another conversation, listening to endless compliments about her hair, her eyes, and whatever else the young lord could think of to tempt the outland Lady to stay at his side, when another young man fell into her.

Moving nimbly out of the way, she managed to stay upright, though only just barely. The other lords and ladies around them looked aghast at the young man on the floor, but Jasmine only smiled a small friendly smile, this one genuine as she reached forth a hand to help him up. “If you wished to speak with me, you had only to say something, my Lord. I do not bite.”

She kept her tone light, trying to soften the blow of falling in front of so many people. She remembered her own early years and how clumsy she had been. While she waited for the embarrassed young man to get up off the floor, she narrowed her sapphire eyes at the staring nobility. They quickly found other things to occupy themselves with and she nodded satisfactorily to herself. Most knew who she was thanks to the announcer, so she was not surprised that she had only to glare to get them to leave her alone. Sometimes, a royal title could come in handy. Turning her attention back to the young man that had fallen into her, she spread her skirts and curtsied politely.

“Good evening, good Sir. I am Lady Jasmine, but you may call me just Jasmine. Titles can be quite burdensome and I don’t like to be reminded of them when I can avoid them. May I know the name of the man who so graciously saved me from a death of boredom?”

[Osato]

The man talked the entire way, much of what he said went right into one ear and out the other—as they say. Osato shrugged his heavy cloak back up onto his shoulders, knocking loose a thick patch of fresh snow. The night was getting much darker and the clouds were opening up more. Soon the ground was covered with a thick layer of snow, the branches of the trees were hanging heavily, and the small palisade around the perimeter was becoming increasingly difficult to see.

“So that’s when I decided that Raiaera really was full of stuffy bastards and that their stupid schools were too hard to understand,” Max said as he shook off the snow from his shoulders, copying Osato. The man really did look funny in his uniform. If the Lady Lagrange really was as kind as he said she was, she could at least get them better looking uniforms. Luckily, he thought, he did not have to work in one, but only because they did not have anymore his size. “Plus magic’s not for me.”

“What about you? You like that magic business? You ever thought about going to those high elven cities to learn that song magic?” The sell-sword shrugged. Magic was a sore subject for him. If he wanted to learn magic it would only enough to keep the damned mages in Corone from poking at him with spells. He doubted if he would even go that far. “Huh?”

“Oh, sorry,” the boy responded as he shook his head. The snow was catching in his hair and melting slowly. Thick strands of hair were getting wet and becoming violet locks. The boy shook his head and sighed. “I have never been to any of those elven places. I came from Corone, though Salvar doesn’t take nicely to the islanders apparently.”

“Yeah, something happened long ago… not sure what though.” The two stopped for a time, taking a quick swig from the flask. They waited only a second more for the false warmth and comfort to take root before beginning to walk again. “It seems though that we’re opening up trade again with them.”

“Yeah, though I’m not from Corone so I don’t know what—“ Osato stopped short. Shadows were moving on the outside, something was on the outside at least. The mercenary look a tentative step towards the walls, a heavy hand from Max stopped him. “Did you see that?”

“I think you’ve had enough for tonight. What’s wrong with you boy? Can’t hold your liquor?”

“No,” he responded distantly. “I’m good with liquor, but not with this snow. I’m not used to it or how it messes with my eyes.”

“Yeah, it does that,” was Max’s only response. The two stood and watched the tree for a second longer before turning and continuing their patrol.

[Lighthawk76]

Blank smiled apologetically as the young lady helped him to his feet. His face was crimson, and his eyes looked worried. While he had been willing to meet and talk to a few people only moments before, he was by no means ready to become the center of attention that he was sure he had just become.

The only piece of good news was that he hadn’t fallen right into the black haired beauty. That wouldn’t have been a very good sight. He was so embarrassed that he missed the girl’s jesting comment.

Blank smiled forcibly, turning an apologetic eye to everyone around and hoping to disappear. The girl saved him again, able to work in this setting much better than he, and able to drive off the onlookers with a simple glare.

The girl turned and curtsied, thanking Blank for something that the young man was sure he should have been condemned for.

“I, uh, should be… graciously thanking you for, uh, saving me from, um, losing face in front of… well…” Blank was stumbling. He was trying his best to mimic a noble lord’s speech, and in doing so sounding more like a confused puppy than anything else.

He took a few breaths and closed his eyes. He opened them again and looked at Jasmine. The girl wasn’t being at all as stuffy as he expected noble’s to be.

“I’m Blank,” he said, throwing away the need to sound noble. “It’s very nice to meet you Jasmine. Sorry about the fall, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

He smiled, gaining a little confidence from his lack of break ups. “What was so boring?”

I think that Osato should start seeing a few odd things outside, like he just did, and that Jasmine and Blank should notice some odd things about the inside after this round of posting. Probably strange guard movements.

[Jasmine]

Jasmine smiled warmly. She was certain that this was not Blank’s accustomed atmosphere, but she said nothing about her observation. Blank had been through enough already in the last few minutes, she did not need to add to it by pointing out what so obvious to her. Around them, the other nobles continued with their conversations, no longer paying as much attention to Jasmine and Blank.

“It is good to meet you as well, Blank. Do not worry about your fall, it is nothing to worry about. As for what was so boring, this whole party is, to me at least. I had hoped that I had left such things behind when I left home, but alas, my face is much more well known than I had thought. Would you care to walk with me? I have come alone and it helps to ward off empty-headed nitwits if I am not walking around alone.”

Her smile was warm and friendly. She half expected the young man to decline her offer, but she offered it anyway. His company was already far more relaxing than that of anyone else she had met this night and she very much wanted it to continue. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move and turned her head to get a better look. However, there was nothing there when she looked, only the men on guard duty. Odd, I could’ve sworn I saw something...must’ve been one of those guards. No matter.



((Sorry for the long wait... >.<))

[Osato]

It took little time for the young mercenary to situate himself with the climate. As snow continued to drop lightly from overhead the young man smirked and took another swig of the heavy alcohol. He let the smooth yet sharp fluid skip his tongue and go straight to his throat, the only way to drink. It burned and shot pricks of pain as it leached down the back of his throat. A heavy cough barely masked the snap of a broken twig.

“Wha’?” Max mumbled as he turned towards the dark perimeter. His hand was resting on the rounded knob at the bottom of his sword, fingers open. Osato followed suit, actually wrapping his elegant fingers around the leather pommel. The lights from the ball flickered and danced as they projected through the frosted glass. Though muted slightly, there was plenty of light creating a small boundary, cutting back the shadows. “Didja hear somethin’ too?”

If it had not been for the serious depth of worry that was settling in the young man’s gut he would have quickly jested with the older man about his slurred speech. However, under the circumstances, Osato was far from finding the situation amusing. The man he was supposed to follow and rely on was somewhat tipsy, and just outside of sight the leaves were beginning to rustle. “Yes, I did… should we take a look?”

“Damned right we should, I’m not gonna ‘ave my money taken away because some t’ief though’ ta come during the ball...” Max slowly removed his sword from its leather sheath. Through the frosted window the light cast long shadows before the two of the guards. The shadows reached out, away from the two, and Osato dimly wished that he had taken one of the few torches. “You first.”

“Oh, thank you so mu—“ the words were split. Out of the shadows a fleeting shape emerged. It was moving faster than the amethyst eyes of the soulless mercenary could follow. Before he could follow its target a cry was raised. Max roared and was halfway to the ground before Osato turned towards him. “Max!”

“Blow ta bloody ‘orn ya fool!”

Osato tipped the small horn along his waist to his lips and gave it a mighty blast. The horn did little though. The sound that came from it was neither impressive nor dramatic. Instead the blast let out a low moan, deep and loud enough though. Yells began to fill the icy air.

Another arrow shot through the darkness, it was accompanied by a face. The twirling, singing tip barely scraped across the outside of the boy’s leg. He winced more from the surprise than the actual pain. But without waiting over Max, or for more men to arrive, the sell-sword charged forward. Pay held little fancy as a reason for charging. The lives of the nobles and their little party was only a secondary concern when held against the loss of his life.