Turning their gaze to the left they both take a sip simultaneously, the entrance reveals a line of three men and one woman, at the front, is a noble and his lady, behind two noblemen awaiting introduction.
"Lord Alistair Winthrope and Lady Melinda Winthrope of Durmont!" The announcer speaks loudly as the fellow nobles attend their eyes to the entrance.
Lord and Lady Winthrope both step forward, their hands intertwined with each other. Alistair has a full head of long golden hair parted in the middle and draped to his shoulders, his eyes a green hue, his skin tone tanned but still bright, his body slender and being almost six feet tall, he is wearing a brown and silver decorated doublet and black leather pants. To his right his wife with beautiful blue eyes, long blonde hair stretching to her lower back, a small tulip placed on her right ear, she is visibly shorter than her husband with pale skin as if the sun never graced it, she is wearing a long burgundy coloured dress with short white frills on the edges and wrists. They both step forward and enter the gala moving through the crowd, the nobles clap in unison as they enter, stopping just after as the announcer begins again.
"Lord James Ecbert of Sparrington and Lord Henry Clapton of Rivernale!" Announcing their presence, they move forward standing shoulder to shoulder.
To the left is Lord Ecbert who stands six feet tall with short dark hair and dark brown eyes, tanned skin, wearing a grey doublet and brown leather pants. To his right is Lord Clapton wearing a similar doublet but silver and white in colour, his light brown hair is short and parted to the left, his eyes as light a brown as his combed and pampered hair. They both move forward and enter the crowd as they clap for a few moments before welcoming them, as they enter Sevran and Yvette both turn to each other and nod in unison as they both begin walking slowly towards their target. They interlock their arms with Sevran to the left and Yvette to the right, passing through a crowd they see many nobles drinking, conversing and dancing in the background, their eyes peer forward and witness Lord Ecbert and Lord Clapton near the western wall as they both begin sipping wine. Just before they can reach them, they are immediately stopped by Lord Winthrope and Lady Winthrope who passes them for a greeting, they both turn to face them hand in hand as they introduce themselves.
"I don't know you, Lord..." Lord Winthrope speaks to Sevran, his left palm rises and gestures outwards, stopping just before them, they station themselves and attempt to make initial introductions.
"Ah forgive me Lord Winthrope where are my manners." Sevran states, feigning a respectful and curious tone, nodding. He lifts his gaze, Lord Winthrope suddenly cuts in with his words and speaks again.
"Yes, where is this precious commodity of yours." He says with a sarcastic and indignant tone of voice; his wife turns her gaze to him and frowns ever slightly as if a mild amount of contempt slips out.
Sevran snickers at his words and begins to introduce himself by gesturing his left hand to himself and then to Yvette. "Well my Lord, I am Lord Harold Davenport and this is my wife Lady Elizabeth." Yvette turns her gaze to Sevran who signals her with his eyes, prompting to extend her right hand, palm downwards and fingers dangling to the ground.
Lord Winthrope grasps her hand, leans forward and places a small kiss upon it, as he lets her go Lady Winthrope puts forth her hand as well as Sevran plants a kiss as well, Lord Winthrope turns his gaze to Yvette and begins to speak once more.
"It is truly a pleasure to meet you Elizabeth we should... " Before he can finish his sentence, a voice is heard from the north, just a few feet away, alerting Lord Winthrope to the origin's presence.
He rises from the lady's fair hand with seething contempt overwhelming his expression. Turning his gaze to the left his annoyance vanishes in an instance as if such emotions once teetering on the edge of aggression become still and quiet as the night.
"Alistair come over her my friend!" Lord Winthrope releases her hand swiftly before pulling his body as straight as possible like a never moving statue. Lingering his gaze to the left he returns to the individuals ahead.
"My apologies my lord, my lady I seem to have another engagement." He tilts his head forward in a show if minuscule respect, he then grasps his wife's hand and makes his way to the left, with his wife trailing behind.
As they both leave Sevran and Yvette nod in unison as they pass by, rising again they both look at each other for a moment before making their way towards their target. Passing through the crowd of nobles they seamlessly move through them like a swimmer treading water, as they approach Sevran turns his gaze to the left, plants his arm over her shoulder and begins whispering in her ear. "I need you to distract Lord Clapton for me." With a soft tone and low voice, he whispers a sizzling request in her ear, spurned by the words that have now infiltrated her mind, her thought began to churn with a repulsive web.
Her gaze swiftly turns to meet his as they both stop in the middle of the shifting crowd, leaning to the left she whispers her response. "Is that why you need me, to be you pretty little distraction." Her gaze transforms into smouldering annoyance at this perceived affront to herself.
Sevran smiles mischievously as humour begins to waft pass his little trickster mind, he pauses for a moment and delivers his reply. "You needn't worry about Lord Clapton as he prefers the company of men than women, in private of course, but in public, he prefers the latter rather than the former, appearances, appearances." Speaking softly, he explains the situation, prompting Yvette to sigh in protest but ultimately nod in agreement, with their new understanding they both press forward, moving through the crowd they eventually reach the western wall.
Leaning against it are both Lord Clapton and Ecbert both nursing glasses of wine as they both exude boredom at their current situation. Arriving they approach them both with false and feigned smiles as if greeting these two men were a pleasurable occasion, Sevran begins the conversation as their gazes fix to the two strangers approaching.
"I don't believe we have been formally introduced my lords, my name is Harold Davenport and this is my lovely wife Elizabeth." Standing before these two men Sevran extends them every courtesy as he gestures to himself and Yvette, the men both nod and raise their glasses to greet them as Lord Ecbert responds to their introductions. "It is a pleasure to meet you Lord Davenport, Lady Davenport." Speaking with a calm tone he takes a sip of wine before turning his gaze to the right, peering at his friend he sees Lord Clapton with a gaze drawn to the ether of the party as if distracted and daydreaming.
With his right hand grasping the wine glass he lightly taps his friend with his elbow to snap him out of his distraction, jostled Lord Clapton returns his gaze forward and grasps Yvette's outstretched hand and planting a kiss upon it. His gaze rises to meet hers, lingering for a few seconds he turns to the left and stares at his friend, returning he immediately releases her palm and speaks. "My apologies but may I have this dance, my lady." He asks with a sincere smile but words the emit a false tone of desire intermingled with expectation, Sevran turns to meet Yvette's gaze and nods in assurance.
Both Yvette and Lord Clapton rise and proceed to clasp arms and move towards the dance floor. As they move away Sevran steps forward and turns his back to the wall and asserts himself next to Lord Ecbert, raising his wine glass to the left, they both toasts together with a soft clank of glass. "Don't worry about your wife, Lord Clapton is an utmost gentleman." Lord Ecbert states, sipping his wine in unison with Sevran.
"That's good to know... I have actually heard good things about yourself as well as Lord Ecbert." Sevran speaks with a tone of interest, his false smile and gaze spur the other to return the same, his eyes glow with interest as his sincere smile portray his desire to learn more.
"Please call me James... So, ah... What have you heard?" James pauses for a moment as if such words were unknown to him, his fragility comes forth, attempting to reply with sincerity his mask his less then humble desire to be praised. Sevran's eyes spot a slight crack within his pompous facade, as the man's desire shines brighter than any sun upon heaven or earth, with this information Sevran's thoughts draw to exploiting the weakness he has just marvelled before him.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
"I heard you are an impressive scholar of the arts, true pioneer of science, your work in discerning the truth of the heavens is most admirable." Sevran's voice rises as he extols the man's virtues and achievements, his hands gesturing in front of him as he continues to speak. "You are the lord of Sparrington yes, the hills and mountains that surround your keep must afford you the greatest view of the night sky." As he speaks the glow that was once a flickering flame within the man's eyes began to grow ever larger, brighter was the interest he attempts to conceal.
James clears his throat with a cough, he begins an attempt at a humble reply. "Oh yes my humble keep has an impressive view of the night sky, I sometime seat myself atop the hill to observe the heavens and document the stars above, a little hobby of mine." James speaks in a soft tone with his gaze darting to the left and glass swirling in his hands.
Sevran listens intently to every word as if a single syllable may lead to success. With his words tumbling from his mouth, Sevran listens until the words cease as the man sips from his wine glass and sneers at the contents. "Must be an amazing sight." Sevran states with a smile leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms with his right hand free, wielding his wine glass.
James continues to sip his glass before speaking once more. "Where do you hail from Lord Davenport?" He asks, curiosity in his eyes.
"Please call me Harold, I have an estate in Towershore." Turning his gaze to the left he peers directly at him, James pauses for a moment as his mind becomes encumbered with thought.
"Towershore I have heard of it, never been, heard it was a bit drab, to be honest." Leaning to the right he speaks in a sarcastic tone.
Sevran smile's as a result and speaks in return. "True Towershore is not known for its beauty but for its ships, staying near the merchant harbour does great things for a man's purse." Turning to the left once more he leans closer to James and speaks in a soft tone as he covers the right side of his mouth with his left palm. The words from which Sevran speaks flow directly into the ears of the interested man, his desires enflame as greed steadily becomes more and more apparent upon his face.
"Do tell, my good man." Turning his body to face his he waits patiently for Sevran's reply, turning to face him as well he begins to speak.
"Such delicate things should not be said here, perhaps the balcony might be a better location and we should have a proper drink... some ale?" Sevran asks as he gestures his right hand towards the northern balcony, James turns his gaze directly behind him, lingers for a moment before returning with a smile.
"Ah finally a man with taste, I hate this Valintiyan swill." James states with an untamed tongue, his voice rises with anger, his gaze fixed to the glass for a moment before rising and signalling to the passing servant. "Bring us some ale boy, two goblets and be quick about it." His words frighten the young servant as he is taken aback a foot before bowing in respect mixed with fear.
"Right away my lord." He turns around with a silver tray in his right hand and proceeds to move towards the banquet table opposite the room.
Sevran then speaks up once more. "Perhaps you should adjourn to the balcony first, it is a beautiful night sky tonight, I will be along shortly."
Sevran's eyes dart to the right and catch Yvette twirling in the centre of the dance floor with Lord Clapton. James nods and turns to head towards the balcony, Sevran waits whilst leaning against the wall as his eyes watch Yvette carefully. With her hands clasping Lord Clapton's and the Lord's hand upon her back, Sevran smiles as they weave back and forth surrounded by other dancing nobles.
As Yvette twirls in the centre, the servant quickly arrives with the two goblets of ale upon the silver tray, handing the goblets to Sevran he places his empty wine glass and exchanges them for two filled goblets. The servant boy bows slightly before turning and entering the fray of the crowd, with both goblets in hand, his gaze returns to Yvette as he lifts both goblets for a mid-air toast. Smiling as he watches her dance like a prestigious lady glistening amongst the opulence of the crowd, Yvette's gaze returns to his for a moment as she rolls her eyes in protest.
Sevran turns around and passes through an oval entrance into a small hallway to the side, the hallway leads to several rooms and each end with closed wooden doors. Leaning against the wall out of sight of the party, Sevran inhales a long breath as he shuts his eyes, suddenly the stone upon his right-hand ring begins to glow, slowly his presence begins to disappear in an ethereal wave until he vanishes completely. Now invisible with his steps no longer making a sound he turns back into the gala and makes his way to the balcony, weaving left to right as he dodges the travelling nobles. Exiting the gala, he steps upon the balcony where he finds James leaning against edge with two nobles a man and a woman huddled in the corner to the left, waiting for a few minutes the nobles vacant pack to the party. Now deserted save for James Sevran manifests himself visible again and approaches the man.
"Incredible isn't it." Sevran speaks as he approaches behind him, moving towards the right side of James and stationing himself against the barrier to the long fall down to a garden area.
Placing one of the goblets on top of the balcony, James grasps it quickly and begins drinking it immediately, Sevran follows the same as he peers forward to the night sky. Outstretched in the darkened night, lit only by the many stars upon the pitch-black skies, like tiny lanterns gracing the heavens. Below is a small garden area with hedges and plants and not a single person within it, in front is a small gate surrounding it with several other buildings on the opposite side. James still in awe at the very sky, drops his goblet upon the balcony and turns his gaze to the right and speaks directly to Sevran.
"Yes, it is now, my friend you were speaking about Towershore and potential opportunities." James asks with a slight smirk, waiting for a reply, Sevran returns his gaze and replies with a smile.
"Well, the benefit of having an estate on one the most profitable trading port's in the kingdom is the relationships that can be cultivated with the various ship captains, they at times ensure that some cargo gets lost and finds its place elsewhere." Sevran speaks softly between a whisper and a regular conversation, with a smile James lean forward and clanks his goblet against Sevran's.
"Well, I believe we can do business, my friend." James states as he rises to a straight stature as Sevran does the same, they both then take a sip from there goblets in unison.
Sevran's gaze turns to a constellation of stars just to the right of James's face, pointing with his right index finger he asks a question. "What would you say is that constellation's name?" Asking the question James turns his gaze to the left, as his gaze turns to the stars upon the sky, Sevran quickly places his goblet upon the balcony and leans against it with his right elbow as James begins to explain the stars nature.
"Well, that constellation of stars is named..." Before he can finish his sentence two gripping hands reach from behind him, swiftly they grasp his chin and the back of his head like a strong yoke, before he can react, they grip tightly.
With a rough tug, the right hand's nails pierce into his chin scabbing the flesh, the left digs it's fingers into the skull as the arms twist and skews the neck, with one sudden and quick flick a cracking sound is heard. Turning his neck clockwise his neck bones splinter under the skin, his once fixed gaze upon the sky now twisted and turned to a cold and indifferent face behind him, a moment passes and the light that once resided in his gaze extinguishes entirely as his body goes limp and hunches over the balcony.
Still grasping his faded body, he pulls it back against his left arm and rests it upon the forearm, his neck cracks against it and hags back over it, Sevran grasps his goblet and splashes some ale upon his chest before placing it back on the balcony. He grasps the body with both arms and lifts it upon the ledge, pushing the body over as it tumbles to the ground with a soft thud upon the soil beneath.
Sevran's gaze looks down upon the garden for a moment before turning to the right, grasping the goblet and downing the last of its contents, he turns around before stopping immediately in his tracks at the sight of Lord Winthrope standing just behind him with his back leaning against the opposite wall. With a smile Lord Winthrope remains there as his gaze is fixed to the surprised Sevran, without a second thought, Sevran rustles his right wrist as a small blade descends into his hand.
Spurring his step, he lunges quickly at the standing lord in front of him, dagger in hand, before he can reach, he lands halfway as Lord Winthrope raises his right hand and aims his palm at him. "Imperium Corpus" Lord Winthrope chants as he stiffens his fingers in a claw-like manner, suddenly Sevran freezes as his limbs constrict in a running position, Sevran now constrained gazes back at the lord and desperately speaks.
"What... how... that's not possible." Sevran strains to speak, raging against the supernatural grip of the constricting spell, Lord Winthrope just smiles, constraining him before speaking in a malevolent tone.
"Of course, it's possible, it's my favourite trick, isn't that right old friend." He speaks as if familiar with the assassin before him, but Sevran's gaze exudes confusion at the man's remark, the lord then proceeds to speak again. "How sad that you don't recognise your old friend Sevran, but that's understandable given the situation." Lord Winthrope states while still smirking at an unknown situation that Sevran remains clueless of, raising his left hand he lifts his palms to the right side of his face and passes it across to the left.
His palm traverses his visage an ethereal glow manifests around him as his appearance shifts and reveals the face of Orpheus. Dropping his right hand he releases Sevran from the spell, still confused Sevran rises to his feet and asks a simple question while he exhales his tired breath.
"How?" He asks with a simple desire to learn the truth of an unforeseen situation, still smiling Orpheus drops his gaze to the floor and then rises a moment later, still with a malevolent and devious smile he speaks once more.
"It's a long story, grab us a proper drink and I'll tell you all about it." Orpheus replies.