The Surmount Butler scuttled along the hallway from his office. He had a chance to readdress today. Those he worked for were not patient, and had little desire to risk the Game truly starting. If it started, that meant that, however unlikely, the Servant Branch may somehow....unimaginably....win.

He stopped and briefly rested against that one wall that was burging in the Servant's corridor, clutching his heart at the impossibility of that very notion.

Giants crushed the small. The Powerful ate the youth of young, stole the wisdom of the old, and proclaimed whatever they deemed right in their own eyes as the new justice and new right. Standards were for the weak or the stupid. Just as long as one was honest enough not to lose the Law of Fae, what more could you need?

The Former Lordling Elswith had imagined himself above the ways of the world, and now would be striped and swallowed by those he had dared attempt to step over. That was what was going to happen.

The Surmount Butler pushed himself away from the wall, disquieted as it started pulsing again. They really needed to get that checked out one day soon. He hustled quickly into the lobby of the Lesser banquet hall, quiet as there was no function here this evening, then into the Lesser Banquet hall.

And there, standing with the curtains drawn across the glass doors leading into the outer gardens, was the Servant Branch.

He hardly looked as bedraggled and rushed as the servant had proclaimed. In fact...he was dressed in his uniform again. But standing there, so proudly, one may be forgiven for assuming it was the finest material, and not some low quality cloth for the rabble.

In fact, it almost looked like the cloths he used to wear when he was a Lordling of the Red Sword.

And for just a second, the Surmount Butler could almost imagine that terrible hilt at the Heirling's waist, casting terrible ruby shadows across the dim banquet hall as deep as oceans of beast blood.

He swallowed.

But then the illusion was broken, as the Servant Branch bowed to him, as exactly an underling should bow to a Surmount Butler. Not a single smidge more respect or trepidation than required.

He rubbed the tired from his eyes. Just a trick of the eyes. Just a flashback all the times the Red Circle had had functions at this Estate. Only now, the Surmount Butler was not playing dog for the little lordings who celebrated something as minor as holding back the destruction of a little town for another year, when everyone knew the rural regions were doomed anyway.

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Why had the little arrogant child changed his clothes? Moreover, how had he changed his clothes so fast? According to the servant who informed the Surmount Butler, the Servant Branch had arrived muddy and dirty in soiled clothes not more an 2 minutes ago. Unless that servant had lied...While there was technically enough time to go from the Servant's hall, where he had been spotted, straight to the laundry room, retrieve his uniform, and then rush to this room, but that would only leave around 20 to 30 seconds to change. That seemed unlikely...

Well, that other servant should be punished anyway. The unfortunate messenger had not been as careful as the former Lordling, and had left many areas open to attack....er....correction, the Surmount Butler smiled to himself, briefly, before reminding himself that he still had more to do and he could not take a break as of yet...

Because now stood there, in that red uniform, the former Heirling of the Red Sword. He even tied his cravet correctly. Beside the faint salty smell of the Lagoon, and some very faint white chalky powder along the former Lordling's hair, he looked impeccable.

"Greeting to the Great Surmount Butler of the Southern Wing of the O'Tells Family Estate." said the Servant Branch, reminding him expertly of his high position.

And his high position would not allow him to criticize small remarks. There was much duty and pride that came with being such an important servant as a Surmount Butler. Especially over an entire section of the massive estate. For him to criticize the dust in the boy's hair would be to dirty his own position. That fool new Lord from the Sky Court struggled with that concept. But the Surmount Butler knew very well the limitations that came with more power.

The Surmount Butler would have to find another way to try to change the scenario. Even if he couldn't manage to score a complete win, it just needed to be big enough that it wasn't a loss on his part. He felt a phantom pain around his neck as he struggle with that concept.

"You are not on duty." he said, very primly. He also shook his head, disapprovingly at the Servant Branch's appearance, as if to say, 'not good enough, not good enough, but not worth dirtying myself to mention it'. That was allowed.

But the insult was either ignored and missed, as the ash blonde servant smirked slightly, knowingly, and bowed his head. "Forgive the late hour. I am here, to practice." Said the Fallen Lordling, smoothly. Those blue-gray eyes seemed so calm, completely removed. "I feel that I have shamed the Great O'Tells House, as my Lren Style had some places to polish."

And there went the Surmount Butler's plan of criticize the new Attendant the next time. Since the teenage Fae had mentioned it first, any vocational efforts that went toward it would be, in some way, him agreeing with the Servant Branch. It made everything complicated.

"You are here past the time when you should arrive."

The game was on between them.

The Surmount Butler must do something to reclaim the situation. On his side was experience, position, and authority.

What did the little servant have? Practically nothing.