The gala was in full swing. It was not every day that the daughter of the newest Duke of Kiva came of age. Explosions from the exotic powders brought in from Jin-Guo launched plumes of light into the night sky. Foreign dignitaries, nobles, and the wealthiest among the tradesmen and merchants were all in attendance. Finery and embellishments concentrated in one place that shone like a single gem among the dull and boring nation state of Kiva. The crowd cheered and ooo’ed and aww’ed as groups of mindless noblesse tended to in large groups.
To Isabelle, it was droll as any other day in her backwater province. All of this pomp, for what? Her birthday? She suppressed a scornful sigh. She had no special emotions wrapped up in the day of her birth. She did however relish the opportunity to get everyone together like this. So many wonderful lines of engagement between parties for her to play with. The nobility came out in droves, seeking to gain favor with one of the newest and more influential Duke houses. She moved about the affair, her dress flowing behind her elegantly.
Father was here surrounded by some of his friends, he was older and fatter every day. Mother tried so hard to keep him in line, but despite it all, that weak willed, slackjawed fool must have found his sweets and fats elsewhere. His vest buttons bulged, obviously uncomfortable in attire made for a younger and healthier man. He could barely look at mother these days. He avoided being home at all costs, and while Isabelle considered them all better for it, she knew that her brothers were frustrated.
He was chatting pleasantly with a Melioran dignitary. Isabelle agreed with her mother, he treated them far more kindly than those… colonists… deserved. He took every opportunity to travel to that blasphemous country, probably just to hide the shame he must feel for his inadequacies. Of course the usual supplicants that followed her father were in waiting as well.
“Good evening father. Everyone.” Isabelle said with a curtsy as she grew near. “I am so glad you chose to join us this evening.”
“Oh, Isabelle, oh… yes, of course! I.. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Thibeault stuttered out, jolting in some sort of surprise in her approach. “I picked you up a gift! While I was in Meliora.” The colonist he had been speaking to beamed. Isabelle spared him a cold smirk, clearing her throat. Thibeault gestured to the table where the presents had been arrayed. “I won’t spoil the surprise, but I am certain you will love it!.” He said with a cheerful smile, something Isabelle had not seen in perhaps years. It disappeared almost instantly though, as Lady Lamia was announced, entering the fray with her usual flair.
Mother was gorgeous as always. She had was wearing a new dress in the style of Zeona, a long train sweeping behind her wake. Isabelle readjusted her own Kivan style gown for perhaps the hundredth time. While her own bust was still coming into fullness, her mother trounced her as always, and at Isabelle’s own party of course.
“Hello dearest daughter.” Zadore spoke slowly, in her usual controlled tone. She leaned in and the pair exchanged a light peck on the cheek. “A beautiful evening for certain, but oh so expensive, and some of the company…” She said as she glanced sidelong at Mr. Lamia and the man whom he had been gossiping with.
She made her way, gliding across the marble floor towards her husband. He recoiled, and Isabelle saw his face contort, only briefly, in a look comprised of mixed fear and hate. “Good evening everyone!” Zadore addressed father’s entourage. She was instantly swirled up into discussions and the latest rumors, with father going silent and pushing towards the shadows.
The Ladies Lamia were the bright jewels of the soiree. Supplicants and suitors came and went through the hour, begging their pardons and introducing one after another. A constant stream of powerful men looking to make the acquaintance of high society's newest debutante and her ever more openly friendly mother. Each of the five Kivan Duchies were represented, her father included. Young, eager faced, newly anointed Knights stumbled over each other to gain Isabelle’s favor in view of her parents.
Isabelle excused herself and continued her nightlong tour. Mother had already taken full control of the conversation around father, and the ebb and flow of the prattling crowd was firmly in her grasp. If Isabelle was to practice her craft, she would have to find another table.
She scanned for other tables worthy of her presence. She couldn’t honestly say she felt any camaraderie or friendship with the other noble girls her age. Frankly, how could she, as they were all well below her family’s station. The attack nine years ago had seen to that. Once Isabelle would have been no better than the other little flounces of the courts. Now her father was one of the five Dukes of Kiva, second to the Duchess herself. Only two steps of supplication to the child emperor himself. But if she was to have any fun this evening, she would have to deign to interact with her inferiors. And Light willing, there were more than enough empty headed Lords and Ladies to be found here tonight.
The young women in attendance could the majority be found at one table, of course. Isaac was back in town as of this very week, and he was more dashing and charming than ever. He had returned from the northern front, a proud and successful dragon hunter. The crowd of would be damsels and femme fatales vied amongst themselves for proximity to the eldest, and ever so eligible Lamia Lord.
Isabelle almost smiled. He truly was an amazing person. Already he had practically taken over father’s business, having saved it from ruin through shrewd and tactical acumen two years ago.
Rumor was, he would be honored Knight soon, due to his exploits in the Great Hunt. It was just a matter of Isaac traveling to the crown city to meet Julian the XIII himself; adding one more reason for the ladies of the table to titter after him.
“Brother.” She addressed him kindly.
He rose to greet her, first kissing her offered hand, then embracing her firmly. “Isabelle, so good to finally see you! I am so sorry I haven’t seen you or the family since I’ve been back, so much to do.”
She noticed a new bright red line, healing well, but obviously once a grievous wound down his chest to his neck. “Oh dear, and how did this happen?” She asked playfully, poking at it with her finger.
He winced, but smiled. “I was just telling the tale! Come, sit, join us for a drink or two.” He waved jovially towards the nearest server, and garnered her a drink and himself another two. The ladies at the table tittered and greeted Isabelle warmly. She smiled, for their sakes, and her brother burst back into the story with blustering excitement.
“So there we were, we had tracked the damn thing for two weeks, and finally we had it cornered in its cavernous lair.” He spoke animatedly, his hands setting the scene. The girls and even Isabelle were held in rapt attention.
The story was interrupted again however, and the collective female disappointment could have killed a man if it ever materialized to a physical form.
“Brother!” Isaac jolted up, completely disrupting his own tale. He pushed through the throng of admirers, rushing towards a gaunt and pale young man that had just entered the party, denying himself an announcement. “Isley! Isley how are you?” Isaac said before even approaching. He swept the youngest Lamia up into a gargantuan bear hug.
“Hi Isaac, how was the north?” Isley managed to whisper out through the crushing grapple of a welcome. Isaac set his brother down but held onto him, his arms on his shoulders.
“Muggy, oddly buoyant, and filled with sharp clawed perils. I am glad to be home.” Isaac said, his smile ever widening. Come, sit, I was just telling this tale. He said with a flourish,
relinquishing his grasp and pulling his shirt down to more fully expose the three red gashes across his chest.
Isaac went back to his seat, and resumed his story. Isabelle sighed and rolled her eyes. Already the crowd of once eager and forward girls had become reserved and closed off. Isaac didn’t seem to notice, and continued the story with a brazen charge, telling a rousing narrative of hunt and victory.
She saw it, and she knew for a fact that Isley saw it. As much as the young women loved Isaac, they reviled Isley. Isley and Isabelle had once been close friends as children…. Once…
Isley was dressed as finely as any, as fitting one of his station. He truly did have a face just as handsome as his father once, or his brother now. It was his demeanor and uncomfortable stares that so many of the young woman of their social circles had become unwillingly familiar with that pulled tight the curtains of the world around him.
Isley excused himself just as Isaac entered into melee with the ferocious winged beast, obviously feeling the effects of the tension that he brought to the table around him. Isaac begged him to stay, but Isley made his excuses and headed to grab a drink and speak with one of the merchants he had quarrelled with earlier in the week.
Isabelle excused herself as well. It was a pleasure to see her elder brother, but there would be time for catching up later. For now, she had a party to grace, and many more faces to see and rumors to mill.
She floated from group to group, whispering in the right ears quietly as she heard half spoken rumors floating through the miasmic aether of the party. It was in these moments, free of the gravity of her family's immediate presence that she could truly enjoy herself.
It wasn’t twenty minutes before the shouting began. Isley had obviously upset a group of gentlemen, and one fellow in particular was practically red faced and sputtering with rage. She excused herself and moved closer.
“This… this is ridiculous. I will not stand here and be made a fool of by a child.” The man shouted, spittle launching from his teeth and landing on his chin. “If you have qualms with the theocracy son, take it up with the Emperor, leave us out of it. Frankly what you are saying is borderline blasphemous and I will hear no more of it!”
“But that is the point isn’t it, without a separation of church and state, I can address one as quickly as the other can I not? I mean, you call yourself businessmen, but aren’t we all beholden to the clergy?” The teenaged Isley slithered out, obviously upsetting the men around him with his choice of party conversation.
Isley was obviously pleased with himself, but the man he was antagonizing was near on edge. Isabelle knew him vaguely, and had heard rumors of his temperament. If Isley continued, considering the drink passing from server to patrons this evening, she was certain Isley would take a fist to the eye any moment.
Isabelle sidled up to the group. “I am ever so sorry gentlemen, but I must have a word with my dearest brother. I don’t wish to deprive you, but we must make away for the moment.” She grasped him by the back of the arm, and with just enough force to be insistent, she drug him away.
“Hey, Belle, stop it. Shit I was just having some fun with them…” The sixteen year old exclaimed, obviously having had a drink or four himself.
“Lee, if you are going to fuck with the simple-minded, please don’t do it at my Light damned debutante ball.” She hissed at him under her breath.
“Pfft, fuck off Belle, like you give a shit. I am playing the same fucking games everyone is, I’m just willing to admit it out loud.” He said too loudly and with an uncertain gait as she guided him towards the open balcony. Isabelle thought that some open air would do the boy well. The balcony was quiet, one other woman was out smoking.
“Evening Ms. Lamia.” The woman greeted them, taking a step to close the gap. “My name is Sharla Ghazal.” She said with a slight curtsy. “May I offer you a smoke?”
The woman was older than Isabelle, mid-twenties if she wagered a guess. She was obviously foreign, perhaps of Ma’aleki descent. Her skin was a dark olive, and she had an exotic beauty that Isley obviously noted, his eyes going straight to her more… generous endowments. For a moment, Isabelle thought to ask who she knew to garner an invite, as obviously she did not know the honorary for whom the party was being thrown personally, but her manners got the better of her. There were too many foreigners here tonight for her taste.
Isabelle scrunched up her nose. “No. Thank you.”
"Shit yea! Thanks, Sharla was it?” Isley responded, shaking free of his sister’s grasp. “Thanks.” He said as he took a box of tinder-twigs out of his pocket and lit the rolled tobacco with a practiced flair.
Isabelle sighed, and knew that she had lost her brother’s attention for at least the duration of that disgusting choking inhalant.
“What do you think of the theocratic government?” Isley asked ungraciously. His mouth half open with the tobacco hanging out of one side.
“Ridiculous and antiquated of course. As a matter of fact…” Sharla engaged heartily with Isley.
“Alright, Sharla, a pleasure.” She extended her hand graciously, interrupting the exchange. Sharla kissed it with a proper curtsy. “Behave yourself Isley.” She went back to the party. How ridiculous that Isley should somehow manage to find someone else willing to humor his absurd notions.
She came in off the balcony to cheers. Apparently the group at large had decided it was time to open gifts! Publicly opening gifts was ridiculous, but her father was telling more and more people in attendance in excited hushed whispers of his present, and the attendees had concluded communally that they wished to participate.
As she came in, the merchant that Isley had been antagonizing, appearing more drunk than before even, slid past her and through the door to the balcony. She noted it, but had no chance to act, as she was swept up by the tumult and towards the gift table.
With cheers she began playfully toying with the crowd, gaining their amusement and attention of the attendees as she knew she must as a good hostess. She went from gift to gift, saving the crowds desire for the gift from her father for last. Jewels, gowns, priceless trinkets, ancient tomes, all of the usual offerings were arrayed. She was nearly upon her father’s endowment when a bloodcurdling scream cut through the din.
“Did that come from the balcony?” Isaac jumped up and rushed toward the door.
Isaac was first to arrive, but the crowd shoved its way over with haste. Isabelle pushed her way through to take in the scene. Isley was tousled, and Sharla had some sort of amused smirk on her face. The merchant that had gone to the balcony was nowhere to be seen.
Isley flashed a look at Isabelle, and she knew exactly what had happened. For the party at large though, he kept a flat face, though she knew it must be hard for the boy, as he was not terribly accustomed to imbibing drink as he had been this night.
“Oh my, how terrible.” Sharla said with a start. “That man, rather drunk, accosted myself and young Isley here.” She said with a trained, controlled tonality and cadence that Isabelle recognized as not unlike her own. “He slipped on his own spillage, and tumbled over the edge.” Sharla gazed over the balcony, embellishing her lies with physicality as Isabelle had learned from her mother. “Quite a drop…” She trailed off as Isaac approached the railing.
“Yes… six stories down.” The night was dark outside of the mansion, but Isaac had incredibly sharp eyes. “Dear Light… Yes I see him.” He gestured back the crowd. “Best for the ladies not to look, quite horrid I am afraid.”
Sharla spoke again. “Oh my, I do feel quite faint from all the excitement. Isley would you be a gentleman and accompany me to the carriage?” She asked with a tone of dramatic flair for the crowd.
Isley nodded wordlessly, and took her offered arm with a bit of a shaky step. The pair excused themselves, and to Isabelle’s eyes, Sharla guided him through the throng, though she made quite a show of it. Isabelle was certain of what had happened, but why the beautiful, foreign, older woman was protecting Isley, she did not yet know… She would though, eventually.
“Well, quite a mess this has become I am afraid.” Isaac said, taking control of the crowd. “The servants will see to it, but if there are no objections, the night is young and life is, as we all know, even more firmly in the moment, very short.” Isaac had the attendees in his palm, and he barely had to try. Isabelle couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy at her elder brother’s raw power of command. “Now, I believe we had one further gift!”
Thibeault nodded in acquiescence. Zadore guided him by the arm back toward the table. Isabelle felt a tinge of guilt. A man has just died, likely at the hands of her younger brother. But as is always true in high society, the show must go on. She put her brightest smile on, and walked to take Isaac’s arm. “Yes, of course dearest brother. A lesson learned for all our men and woman fighting in the north, brought home for all to share. Come! Let us celebrate life while we can, and death some time later…”
The group moved with a sluggish response, none quite willing to just let the matter slide away so hurriedly. But Isaac and Isabelle were charismatic and convincing.
The gifts were rejoined, and Isabelle took her time with practiced flourish in shifting the mood back to the positive.
She gingerly picked up her father's gift, opening it delicately and with bated breath from all in attendance. She opened it with a flourish. Inside she found two simple unadorned sleeves inside a small box.
“What is it?” She asked her father.
“Magic.” Her father responded with a beaming, rather drunken smile. “They can create any garments that you wish. I got them for you in Meliora!” He stated the obvious once more.
Isabelle smiled graciously and thanked her father for the benefit of the crowd. She gave all of the required pleasantries to all in attendance and all who had gifted her the wonderful, beautiful, worthy presents.
The party resumed, but with the mystery and excitement of the night, Isabelle was certain it would go on far too long for her tastes. Before midnight had been struck she made her rounds of goodnights, and headed towards the lobby to take a carriage home. She was pleased with her party. People would be thinking and talking about it for a very long time. She was disappointed that the Grand Duchess did not attend, but ultimately, she had been spending more and more of her time in the capitol, and it came as no surprise.
Before she could speak with the servant in the lobby however, her drunken father slovenly approached, stumbling down the stairs after her. “Do you… do you like them Isabelle?”
“What? Oh, the garments? Yes I suppose?” She said flatly, emulating her mother’s tone for these moments.
“They can be anything, anything at all you see! It’s amazing and wonderful what they do over there…” Thibeault slurred out.
“Of course father, so I suppose I should become known as the woman who only owns one pair of magical clothing? Not to be seen in the shops? Perhaps I will simply stop patronizing the local clothiers, I am sure the township will think nothing of the Duke's daughter wearing a Melioran curiosity instead of local tailored gowns…”
Thibeault frowned and was taken aback by her tone. “But…” he stood dazed.
“Goodnight father.” She said coldly as she made her way onto the terrace. “Next time you want to purchase me a gift, perhaps you should seek mother’s council on the notion first.” She turned and walked out of the door.
The servant greeted her with a nod and called her carriage. “Mistress?” The servant interjected inappropriately.
“Yes? What is it?” Isabelle responded curtly. A servant dare address her unasked?
“Well, you see mistress, I thought you should know that your brother went home with that woman.” He responded tentatively.
“Isaac?” She said, not sure what the servant meant. Wasn’t he still upstairs?
“No mistress. The younger Lamia son, he went into the carriage with that foreign woman… I… I am afraid they were being quite inappropriate with one another…” The servant said, obviously not sure what his proper place was in this matter.
“Ah, of course. Thank you for that information.” She brought out a coin and flipped it towards him. “Please, remember that you can always bring me any notions with which you are uncertain in the future.” She smiled to herself as she entered her carriages cabin. She thought to herself in amusement: Isley had found someone interested in his peculiarities. Good. Good..
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