“This is looking good, John,” Oscar said, appreciative of the doublet. John used a bolt of indigo silk, it was quite rich with brocade and he added his family crest, the two-headed griffin of the Whitmonds, as well as embellishments suitable for the occasion. “Masterful design, as expected of you.” The undershirt was imported cotton and it felt comfortable on his skin. The pants were made with the same color as the doublet. The boots were soft and hoses fitting.

Something worthy of a duke’s son.

“Thank you, sire,” the elderly tailor bowed as he represented the final piece, the ceremonial belt that held his rapier and pistol. He nodded at the man and he moved to tie it around Oscar’s waist. “It is always a great honor to work on something for your family. Even more so today.”

He wondered how many generations did John tailor for across his life. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was four, or five generations.

He turned towards the large mirror – half a man taller than he was, so he was able to see his entire body between its oval, wooden frame. – to watch the final result. He was uncomfortable to see the griffin’s head on the top of the mirror, staring at him.

“Will this be all, young master?” John said in a monotone voice, and it pulled him away from the staring.

He took another look in the mirror before answering. “Even more brilliant than I imagined it would be, John,” he nodded, “you may leave.”

The man obliged and slowly walked out of the room, hands behind his back.

Funny man, John. Oscar thought. Funny, but talented.

Yes, the man provided him with a great outfit. Oscar smiled as he scanned his reflection. Both the rapier and the gun were custom craftsmanship of the highest quality. The Whitmond’s crest was quite prominent on the surface of both articles. At least people won’t mistake him for a son of the other families.

Oscar moved to the window and leaned on the sill, watching the guests that were arriving at the yard. Hundreds of tables were placed for the guests, with appetizers lining them all. Those would be replaced with full meals and drinks after a bit. His father was always big on displays of wealth. Like the hedge maze, he thought fondly.

“Not planning on disappearing again, are you?” his mother’s voice sounded from the door, so he turned. He managed to see the servants sneaking away before she began peppering them with impossible demands. It made the smile that was plastered on his face widen.

“I was ten,” he protested. A kid vanishes for less than a day, and they won’t let him forget it for the next seven years.

“Won’t be a good look for you,” she approached and gave him a studying look before she nodded.

“Uh,” he gave her a questioning look.

“Disappearing on your betrothal day,” she moved closer and tried to smooth his hair to the side. One of the curses of having hair that defied oiling and the elements. “Cleo would be devastated, too, I’m sure.” her hand moved about, smoothing some of the wild hair that refused to be oiled into place.

She was joking, he knew, but it still managed to push his buttons every time someone reminded him of his disappearance act. “You do realize that I forgot what I even did on that day,” and if they did not bring it up every other week he would have forgotten he even did it.

His mother pulled on the doublet and passed her hands over it a few times to smooth wrinkles that didn’t exist. “where are the servants when you need them,” she looked around, “everything is a mess and-”

“Nothing is a mess,” he said.

“But look at… at the room,” she looked around, trying to find something to complain about. A bad habit of hers, complaining when she’s nervous.

“Everything is fine, mother,” he reassured her before she went to bring a hundred maids to smooth him into the floor.

“My little boy,” his mother smiled, eyes teary, and cupped his face with her hands. “Oh, my little boy.”

“It is merely a betrothal, mother,” he removed her hands and kissed her palms, “I won’t be leaving for another kingdom.” Not for another year, at least.

She took a few deep breaths while fanning her face, before pulling on her eyes to pull the pooling tears back inside. “The party is about to start.”

“Are Cleo's parents here yet?” he looked out of the window again.

“They did not arrive, yet,” she pulled a napkin as she left the room, “go and mingle with the guests. Once you are done with flaunting yourself in front of this mirror, of course.”

Oscar would’ve scoffed if he didn’t know it wouldn’t get him reprimanded for being ill-mannered. His mother was right, though. It was time to start the troubling custom of intermingling and talking with the guests. A show of face.

He took one last look, making sure everything was in its proper place. He tried to smooth the sharp edges of his hair back into shape, with no avail, before heading towards the garden.

He did not notice as the mirror’s surface rippled behind him.

Oscar had to take the winding stairs at the grand hall and move through the servants who were busy preparing the dining hall on his way to the garden. Not really moving through, since they all moved out of his way, he mused. He usually preferred to go through the kitchen, to cause a panic there, it was also faster, but keeping appearances and whatnot.

His mother was busy directing the servants left and right, and did not – or chose to not look at him as he exited to the yard.

“There he is, the man of the day!” one of the guests raised a glass, greeting him.

“It is,” he smiled and moved on, the man followed. This was going to get annoying, Oscar sighed. He waved at a few more people as he walked by.

“You know, when I first saw you, a few years ago, I wouldn’t have imagined you would get this tall, and handsome too.”

“Thank you,” he told the plump man.

“Where is the duke, if I may ask?”

And there it was. “I think he was somewhere inside.”

“Truly? A shame. I really wanted to talk to him. I don’t suppose you could present me to him later?” the man laughed, like he was joking, but was entirely serious. Oscar learned that long ago.

“Yeah, sure,” he looked around, and was thankful there weren’t many guests yet. “would you excuse me?”

“Yes, don’t forge-”

He moved away, choosing to move further from other people in case of similar incidents. It wouldn’t end if he stopped for everyone that greeted him. Most of them were here for his father’s money, not him, anywho.

There was only one person he was interested in seeing today.

His eyes scanned the area where he saw Cleo and found her standing between a group of women. He moved faster, trying to rescue her. No one should suffer the horrible fate of standing with a gaggle of her… peers. He would have to save her from such a fate yet again.

“Excuse me, ladies,” he called out as he approached. “There is something of mine in there.”

“Oscar!” Cleo beamed and grabbed his hands as he closed the distance, squeezing them a bit too hard. She leaned in and whispered, “saveee meee.”

He fully intended to do that without a request from her.

“I am terribly sorry, but I have to steal my lovely fiance from you, ladies,” he grinned as he dragged her away, ignoring the protests. “There are important matters we need to discuss before the ceremony.”

“Oh, exciting,” she wiggled her eyebrows and laughed. He pulled her away, towards the hedge maze. Taking the turns he memorized long ago.

Away from the guests, away from the noise, and away from prying eyes. Towards privacy. Where she planted a kiss on his lips.

“A reward,” she smiled as she leaned onto his body, “for my brave hero.”

“I’d have to rescue you more often, then,” he leaned in for another, “for the rewards, of course.”

“And here I thought you liked me for me,” she pushed him away. “I don’t know how they can do all of that… the brain-wringing talks about relationships and the constant flaunting where everyone tries to one-up the others.”

“Years and years of mandatory practice would fix that for you, ” he took a good look at her, now that they were alone. “Do you like the dress old John made you?”

“A bit tight around the waist, if I’m being honest,” she looked down, “not used to these ridiculous dresses.”

“Well, I like it,” he proclaimed. The red dress made her look even more beautiful than she usually did. But he could sympathize with that forced waist resizing. “I’ll speak to John about keeping the wedding dress within human standards,” he smiled.

“Thank you,” she nodded, smug, “I honestly don’t know why you keep going to that man,” she looked at his clothes. “This doublet is not flattering you, the belt’s color is not suiting the rest of the outfit, and your family’s crest is looking in the wrong direction.”

It was? He looked down, frowning. “It is,” he said, genuinely surprised. The griffin was facing left. “Huh, didn’t even notice that.”

“You look at this darned thing all day long, from the roof of your room to the-” she gestured wildly at his doublet and weapons.

“Yeah, I’ve gotten pretty used to this ‘darned thing’,” he laughed.

“Excuse me, dearies,” a groaning voice made him jump, he had his hand on the rapier within a second. An old woman made her way across one of the winding paths of the maze. “I think I’m lost.”

She looked haggard. Like a beggar, only her skin was very clean to be one, despite her clothes looking dirty.

“What are you doing here?” Cleo asked, frowning.

“I came here to give a gift to the young lord,” the old woman smiled at him. “Snuck through the guards and walked into this place.”

“You are not supposed to be here,” he pulled out the pistol and aimed it at the old woman as she walked closer. She froze in place.

“She’s a guest,” Cleo tried to push his right arm away but he kept it aimed at the old woman. His left arm was grabbing the hilt of his rapier still, just in case.

“Or an assassin,” he said flatly. She had no idea how many of those tried to get him, there were at least three, last month. “Who sent you?”

“No one,” the woman stood still, “I just came here to give this to you, young lord-” she pulled out a small box.

“Stop!” he shouted. “If you move a single hair, I’ll unload all six chambers in your skull.”

“You are being ridiculous,” Cleo huffed and walked to the old woman, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back. She pulled her hand out of his grip and glared at him. “Put that thing down, she’s shaking like a leaf.”

She did not shake, not one bit. “Stay away from her,” he hissed.

“Do you remember,” the old woman began, “that day, seven years ago?”

“What?” he frowned.

“You found me and helped me,” she smiled, “saved me, I would dare say.”

His frown deepened. The day he disappeared?

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“You don’t remember?” the woman blinked. “Shame. Anywho, I just wanted to give you this wedding gift and leave. I don’t even want to stay for the ceremony.”

“Where did you come from?” Cleo asked as she moved in front of him, shielding the old woman from the gun. He grumbled and just stepped to the side.

“The harbor,” the old woman lied, and she gave him a sly smile. She knew that he knew that she was lying.

“You did not have to come from such a faraway place just to give a gift to this idiot,” Cleo smiled, “but that is extremely thoughtful, and I’m sorry about the way this big oaf treated you after you came all this way.”

“You could learn a lot from her,” the woman extended her hand, offering the box to Cleo.

“Careful,” he moved closer, gun still aimed.

“Stop!” Cleo hissed. “Just. Stop.”

He bit the insides of his lips and reluctantly lowered the gun. Both his hands remained on the ready to use any of the weapons.

Cleo grabbed and opened the box, at least she did it slowly.

“What is it?” he grumbled.

“A betrothal gift, for saving me” the old woman repeated. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

“Uh,” Oscar didn’t.

“Thank you,” Cleo held the old woman’s hands. “We really appreciate this very thoughtful gift.”

She put the box away while she talked to the woman, revealing its contents. A pair of rings made of what looked like spiderwebs-like threads suspended in glass-like material with two extremely black gemstones on the top. “These are truly lovely.” Cleo smiled at the woman.

He was quite surprised, he did not expect something that looked this fancy from a ragged old woman such as this one. They cost her a fortune or were counterfeits. Good counterfeits, but counterfeits nonetheless.

“Oh you are too kind, child,” the old woman touched Cleo's cheeks. “And you…” she looked at Oscar, “After all this time, I managed to come to you to repay the debt I owe you. The kindness you showed me. Even if you treated me like… like this,” she laughed. “You need to treat people better, especially ones that come bearing gifts that you will need soon.”

“Oh, really?” he did not see himself needing rings any time soon. “Sorry, I still don't remember you,” he shrugged.

“These rings are special,” the old woman told Cleo, revealing a mouth with more holes than teeth. “If you wear one, and he the other, you will be able to find each other no matter the distance.”

“That sounds great,” Cleo jumped, excited. “Let's wear them!”

“But,” he took one look at her and knew he was going to lose this argument. It was unbecoming of him to wear such a ring during the ceremony. “After the ceremony, after we get this woman out of here?”

The ring already found its way around her finger, and she was putting the other one on his. He frowned.

“Thank you-” Cleo turned towards the woman that was no longer there. Vanished without a trace, gone without them noticing.

“I really hope that you didn’t place cursed magical items on us.”

“I hope she will be okay,” Cleo took a look around the corner and found nothing. “Let’s go back to the guests!”

“Sure,” he sighed but led the way, taking the tur-

Oscar saw the glint of light reflecting on the hedge and avoided being skewered by just an inch or two. Only because he had his hand on the rapier. The glowing edge slid over the rapier and slipped into the ground.

Cleo screamed.

It wasn’t an assassin, but a crystalline beast. A creature that moved on two legs and had a blade for an arm, just the one. It made a sound similar to wind chimes – only sharper, and it made his teeth grit and the hair on his skin stand – in response before it attacked with its – tail?

He tried to parry, and a sickening noise was his reward, as the tail scratched into the rapier’s metal, but he managed to put the monster off balance. He took the opening and stabbed it in the back, only for the rapier to bend. A slight crack that webbed through the beast’s body for all his trouble, but he also had the gun ready in his hand.

He shot twice, and the monster turned into a rain of sharp crystals.

Some flew towards him, cutting through the skin on his face and the fabric of his clothes.

“What in the name of the cursed hells was that?” he hissed, looking at the clattering pieces of glass and stones. The cuts they made were clean, straight, and frigid, bitterly so, like a frostbite’s burn.

“Are you okay?” he asked Cleo who was on the ground, wide-eyed. She did not seem injured. None of the shards hit her either. He sighed in relief.

“I… I-” she shook her head, eventually. “You are hurt.”

He touched the wound on his cheek and felt a burning sting. “Just a scratch,” he wiped the blood on his doublet, a waste of a good single-use piece of clothing. “Come,” he pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go to the mansion.”

She nodded.

He put the rapier back in its sheath and held her steady. They moved slowly, making their way to the yard. What was left of it, his eyes widened.

It all went to hell.

He looked around, putting Cleo behind him, as the monsters attacked the guests mindlessly. Screams and chaos suddenly replaced what was a relatively calm ceremony. The tables and food were scattered on the ground, the decorations ravaged.

Strange beasts – like the one that attacked them, but with different shapes – made out of crystals, bodies with sharp angles that made them look like they were paper thin, yet logs thick. Some had strange elongated features, others wide, some had a strange wiggle to their rigid-looking bodies. They refracted light around and made focusing on them harder.

One of the wriggled beasts moved straight for him and got shot in what he assumed was the head – it had what looked like teeth, and sockets – for its trouble.

Its head shattered into a thousand pieces – away from his face this time, thankfully – that sprayed across the grass.

The guards were trying to shoot them, as well, some managed to hit their targets and it shattered them in a similar manner. But there were too many of the beasts and too few of them. Most of the guests weren’t allowed to bring in weaponry, and they were now paying for that decision. The few that met them with swords were producing the same shrill noise he suffered earlier.

The sharp edges of the creatures made for horrible cuts on their victims.

“Stay close to me,” he told Cleo, trying to make his voice audible over the chaos. He did not wait for the confirmation before he began moving.

Oscar saw the plump guy from earlier flopped on the ground, a long-legged thing carrying a small wriggling blob standing above him. He shot the wriggling fiend as it jumped for the kill – he almost regretted that, as the shards cut the guest across the arm and legs, almost – and the long one as it turned around.

The one shot wasn’t enough, but the creature sputtered with a musical tone as the guards showered it with bullets.

At least bullets killed these things fast.

“Help me, I’ll pay anythi-” the plump man began.

“Where is my father?” he turned to one of the guards that ran towards him.

“Please!” the man tried again.

“Silence!” the guard shouted at the man, earning them said silence. “Master Regilan did not leave the mansion,” the guard said, angry eyes watching the man. “What are our orders, master?”

“Gather everyone, the guests, the guards. Move towards the mansion and form a defense there,” Oscar thought. “The bunker, it will be the most suitable location for now. See if you can’t send someone to get the city guards to help.” As far as Oscar was concerned, this was their job, and finding monsters this deep in the city was a testament of failure.

“Yes sir!” the guard saluted and ran.

He did not know where the monsters came from, but he knew that there would be safety in the mansion. The fortified room, near the study. Close to his room. The bunker near the cellar for the guests. He moved with purpose, hand grabbing Cleo’s.

He made it to the mansion without further incidents, thanks to the guards. People were moving to the grand hall, and one of the guards directed them toward the bunker.

There were no monsters inside. He did not find his parents, either. Nor the servants. He hoped they would be in the fortified room or the bunker. “Don’t stop,” he commanded before turning to the guard that directed people. “Check if my parents are in the bunker,” he was met with a nod.

“The others-” she turned, but he pulled her as he went to the stairs.

“The guards will take care of them,” he hoped the damage wasn’t too much, “and I’ll take care of you, once you are safe then I’ll try to get as many as I can to safety and help with the monsters.”

She followed, not arguing. So unlike her to not argue, but he’d never had her in a situation such as this.

He moved past the study, sparing a look to see if his father was in there. He did not see him in the brief moment he did so. His room was empty, as well.

God, he hoped they were in the fortified room whose door was open. He froze.

Why was the door open? It shouldn’t be open. Not during an attack. He felt a small wave of relief as they approached and heard talking. His mother’s voice. As nervous it as always-

Oscar smelled the blood and froze again.

She nodded and vanished into the room and closed the door gently.

He took a few deep breaths and edged on the wall before leaning in to look into the fortified room.

Oscar almost vomited as the heavy scent of blood and guts overwhelmed his nostrils, and the sight of slaughtered and dismembered servants did not help. He scanned the bodies frantically, trying to find out if his parents were among the victims.

The wall shattered above his head, a gun was fired in his direction. He moved back against the wall and pulled his rapier. He looked towards Cleo and found her squatting on the floor. He pointed towards his room and she crawled.

“Shame,” the musical wind chime-riddled voice said, “could’ve ended this once and for all.”

“My son is not so commonly trained that he’d fail against a mimicry,” his father said in a commanding voice.

“Oh, I wonder,” the musical tone sounded amused.

“Who are you, and why are you attacking us?”

“Why don’t you look in and see?” the words ended with a sharp wine glass clinking sound.

“It does not matter, Oscar,” his father said in his rigid tone. “Bring the guards and destroy him. He has nowhere to go. It will be-”

“Don’t, Oscar!” his mother screamed and it alarmed him.

“What did we say about the way you mindlessly destroy threats, Duke Whitmond?” the voice chimed again.

“He’s holding a blade to my neck,” his father said, unbothered. “And a gun,” he added.

“Silence!” the scratching glass on metal voice squealed.

“No!” his mother cried.

He jumped in, as soon as the voice sounded, hoping it would be distracted enough that he wouldn't shoot him as soon as he entered. He was, thankfully, distracted and missed the shot from the crystalline gun, aiming lower than he should and hitting the stone floors.

Oscar struck the crystal gun with his blade, sending it to a wall with extreme force and hearing it shatter. He aimed his own at the –

“What is the meaning of this?” Oscar held the gun against the creature’s head, between the two glassy eyes.

It looked like a crystal version of him. Wearing the same outfit he wore, the same embellishments and crest were on it, only translucent and refractive. He even had a rapier similar to his own, hosted on the opposite side. “What is the meaning of this, fiend?”

“Kill it!” his mother shouted. Oscar glanced towards her, watching her hold his bleeding father between her arms.

“Quite rude of you to ask someone to kill your son, mother,” he grinned, revealing perfect crystal teeth.

“My son is over there,” she hissed, pointing at him.

Oscar looked again, towards his father. The cut was on his chest, and it was bleeding hard. He turned towards the thing with a hardened look. “Go and get the guards, mother,” he said in a surprisingly cold tone.

“Your father…”

“Can still be patched, and the guards know how to dress wounds in the meantime,” he replied. She nodded and rushed out. “As for you,” he moved away, aiming the gun at the creature’s head. “You will tell me who sent you, and for what purpose.”

The clone waggled its eyebrows and turned slightly. Its body caught the light and sent it into Oscar’s eyes. It made enough of a distraction, enough time, for the crystal clone to draw on its rapier and strike his hand, leaving a cut on the back of it and making him drop his gun.

He parried the thrust, countered with a swing that got hit to the side then turned into an opening where the monster lunged forward. A feint? Oscar jumped back and swung his rapier to strike away the incoming blow, using little force, before his body telegraphed another jump to the back, baiting his enemy.

It didn’t work.

“Why do you care,” the creature said, twirling the blade and closing the distance in leisure. “He is a cold and horrible man. Never spared a moment of attention to his son, and could not even tell who he was until he was a grown man,” it pointed the blade at his father.

“A great father,” he retorted. “Heavy-handed, maybe, but to push me forward. You wouldn’t recognize that, you honorless cur.”

The clone looked angry. Good.

Oscar edged in, loosening the duelist stance.

“Come on,” he said under his breath. The crystalline ran towards him, preparing to thrust again, and he was prepared for it. He made the jump a small one, lunging closer to the charging creature. It couldn’t stop in time and readjust the charge.

He used his rapier to direct away the enemy’s and tried to kick him hard to throw it off balance. The kick landed with a loud thud, like kicking empty jars, and it managed to buy him an opening.

The creature looked like it smiled as it kicked on the ground to hold itself as Oscar swung the blade towards its side. The creature just moved forward to receive the blow that never came. Oscar knew it would probably bounce the blade away, and make him open to an attack that might end him in a way that didn’t even harm the creature.

“Shame,” the monster smiled coldly. “Seems we are out of time.”

“What?” Oscar frowned.

The creature waved its arms, throwing crystalline dust at him and Oscar had to cover his eyes. If that thing was anything similar to the sharp crystals the creatures were made of, he would probably be blinded.

He heard the incoming footsteps and used the rapier and his arm to cover the most that he could of his heart, lungs, and stomach, not that it would help if the creature thrust his own rapier, he realized in horror. He opened his eyes just as the thrust came for his neck, and he managed to move his head out of the way just enough to avoid it being skewered, but still getting cut on the side.

The monster did not follow with another attack and instead was running out of the room when Oscar managed to turn.

“No!” Cleo’s blood-curdling scream followed.

“Cleo!”

He grabbed his gun from the ground and ran out. The fiend was in his room. Oscar ran as fast as he could, dropping the rapier and putting his hand on the neck wound. He was getting dizzy.

“Unhand me!” Cleo shouted again.

He made it to the door and aimed the gun. He squeezed the trigger as soon as he saw the target, aiming to shoot that thing’s feet, but the bullet flew, hitting the floors. Oscar dropped against the door frames. He shot again.

The gun made a clicking noise. He squeezed the trigger, again and again.

Empty.

“Shame,” the monster laughed, carrying a struggling Cleo on its shoulder as it stepped into the mirror’s surface. It wriggled as he began to pass through. “Do count your shots next time.”

“Stop!” Oscar struggled to walk towards the mirror. There was no reflection, just this… thing. This creature. Holding Cleo. looking down on him. “Give her back!” he tried to step in and hit his head against the mirror’s surface with a dull thud. “Give her back!” he struck the surface with his fist.

The monster shrugged, before moving away. “Come and get her back, from this world of reflections.”

Oscar hit the mirror, helplessly as he watched his clone walk away and vanish with his future wife.

The mirror waved and reflected the injured, bleeding haggard face of his back. He screamed, frustrated.

“I told you,” the old voice said, “that you would need my gift.”