The castle maid smiled in response.

“I am here simply as a result of my work. Surely Mr. Lakefur can understand my position as well?”

The merchant enterpriser shrugged, accepting the handshake of a familiar face. He had met the half elf maid in a previous conference where she had taken the role of one of his attending servants. Clearly, she had moved up the ladder since last he saw her.

“I can. Although it’s unusual to see a repeat member of this conference outside of organizations like ours, I won’t say the occurrence isn’t a pleasant one.”

Unlike the nation states, commercial organizations and other bodies of influence on the western continent attended in a different structure. Besides the three-representative limit, organizations also had to attend with their primary leader as a part of the delegation. There were historical reasons for this, one having to do with a particularly bloody conference about forty years back, but nowadays most just considered it an excuse to get away from their work for a bit. As a result, Jonathan Lakefur, the inheritor and current sole leader of the Lakefur Merchant Group, was forced to attend alongside his most capable aides.

That Marina was here yet again was unusual for a staff maid, but it meant that the same person was probably hosting it again.

“Tell me, are you here to join us again? I think our party is a little full, but it can certainly be adjusted.”

Jonathan looked back at the three servants who were assigned to his group, preparing to extend his hand to dismiss one of them in exchange for Marina. But he was prevented from doing so by the maid herself.

“My apologies for the confusion, Mr. Lakefur, but I’ve been assigned to a different guest for this conference.”

Marina replied while looking at the approaching carriages.

Jonathan nodded in understanding, but internally he was a little confused. Marina looked to be dressed as a head maid now, so whoever was receiving her must be important. Was it an arriving nation? No, Jonathan internally shook his head. All of the nation’s delegates would have already arrived earlier in the day. Then who was it? It had to be a civilian organization like his.

The problem with that thought, was that in his opinion, there was no organization that had more influence than his own. He scanned through the list of possible organizations that were invited. No more than three ever got the invitation per conference, and one was already taken up by him.

He looked at the first carriage. All black, and curved like thorny protrusions. It was hard to tell from the design, but it could be the merchant group Erebus that specialized in black market trade. Their taste in fashion was known to be just as shady as their business practices. As for why they could possibly be invited to an event like this, it was simple. The black market was a cornerstone to any nation’s economy. Whoever had a large enough stake in that would have a seat at the table.

If it wasn’t them, Jonathan could only think of Blackreed based on the carriage.

Inviting Erebus would seem redundant to Jonathan, as his merchant group was already in attendance. Although he didn’t specialize in the black market, their multinational influence already surpassed Erebus’s by a lot. Lakefur even had its own autonomous zone on the eastern coast of the continent, south of where they were now. Erebus had no such thing, not that they could afford to with their position.

In that case, it could be Blackreed, although he couldn’t be sure. All he knew of them was that they were a plantlife-based organization, operating south between his own region and the kingdom of Mont Ryoux. Jonathan truly didn’t know if they had someone important enough to be guided by the head maid, as despite his own organization’s intelligence gathering abilities, the inherent security of plant-based societies made it next to impossible to gather info on them.

The last carriage, however, Jonathan had no idea who was in it. Compared to his own gold and marble carriage and the dark and thorny carriage in front of it, the last carriage to come up the hill lacked any notion of class. With basic wooden framing and opaque windows, it might as well have been covered in dung. Jonathan’s face twisted, it was practically an insult to the history of the Western Conference!

He cared little for the conference itself, but being one of those prominent enough to be in attendance, any slight to it was akin to one to himself!

As he thought this, the black and thorn-adorned carriage made its way to the top of the hill and stopped before the first archway to the courtyard. Marina went to greet them, following the servants dressed in suits like his own who rushed there first.

“Their servants wear suits, so it’s probably Erebus, no?”

Once the door of the carriage opened, however, his thoughts were dashed. A stubby mass of stone, twice as wide as the door frame yet just under it in height, positioned itself sideways to step out. The ragged contour of stones along with the scarlet pulsating veins that crawled all along its surface prompted a chorus of gasps from the onlooking servants. Even the Lakefur group was unable to contain their shock.

“What is this!? What is a golem doing here?”

Jonathan shouted in outrage, pointing an accusatory finger at the monster who had walked out from the foreboding carriage.

Marina held up her hands, speaking in effort to calm those who were about to run. Golems, as a general rule, were monsters one would hope not to encounter in their lifetime.

“Everyone relax, this is not the first time our guests from Blackreed have come to join this conference.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Marina turned with a solemn expression, calming those who had let out gasps of amazement.

“Blackreed?”

“The territory of plants?”

“Why were they invited?”

Although the frantic mood was quelled relatively shortly, the nervous servants couldn’t help but murmur amongst themselves. As they did, another two faces stepped out from the carriage.

A visage not so nearly as foreign to the onlookers as the creature of stone and scarlet vessels entered their view. A woman, of light green complexion and dark green hair and dress, let her enchanting voice soothe the nerves of those present, speaking as if she hadn’t heard the mumblings of the servants.

“Ah, I thank you for your help. Sometimes our colleague Nokken can be a little…surprising to those unfamiliar with our kind.”

The woman’s red eyes traced the half elf who had worked to calm everyone down. Her vertically-slitted eyes blinked in appreciation.

The maid Marina gave a slight bow.

“It is of no consequence. I hope the Blackreed party has a pleasant stay here for the duration of the Western Conference.”

A man’s voice responded.

“And I’m sure we will, given the excellent hospitality. Come, Chlorus, Nokken. Let us meet our host if we are to introduce ourselves properly.”

The final member of the Blackreed trio, a man dressed in a merchant’s suit, spoke his appreciation for the maid. He then grabbed his fellows to lead them toward the castle, servants trailing behind. Jonathan Lakefur watched him as he walked, noticing the man’s clear pale skin and otherwise unremarkable black hair and features.

Jonathan gave a simple nod to him, a sign of respect for one who was able to attend the same conference as a civilian, to which the man from Blackreed only chuckled before looking ahead, not deigning to give him the same courtesy.

“Motherfucker.”

Jonathan whispered to no one. If his information about Blackreed was still correct, then that had been the leader of their semi-independent nation of plant lives. Tane Silvanus Veles. An overly-pompous name for an asshole in equal measure. Upon their first meeting Jonathan immediately decided he hated him.

Turning his focus back to the last carriage, he snorted again. It seemed he would find no allies at this conference amongst his fellow civilians. No matter, he still had plenty of leverage with the nations. Though noticing that Marina still hadn’t left the yard, his attention was now higher than ever.

“Um, Mr. Lakefur, should we leave the yard? The delegation from Blackreed has already gone inside.”

Frankie, the younger girl he had brought with him who was looking to be just as competent under the tutelage of his trusted assistant Destiny, spoke aloud.

“No, I want to see who’s in the last carriage.”

Destiny agreed as well by nodding with Jonathan’s statement, prompting Frankie to follow their gaze over to where the last carriage had stopped. The trio concentrated on its opaque windows, trying to determine what figure lay behind. The head maid, Marina, stood a few feet in front of the door. Waiting for it to open.

After a few seconds, the door slid open, and out walked a figure extracting a completely opposite emotion from the onlookers than the last group had. It was complete silence.

Everyone was frozen, watching as the figure clad in a gaudy red suit stood from the step of his carriage and adjusted his red top hat.

Frankie turned to her boss, sounding out a question in an unsure whisper.

“Um, Mr. Lakefur…that man, isn’t he a criminal?”

The figure who she referred to stepped down from the height of his carriage, and shook hands with the half elf head maid. His completely unpigmented being held no expression, nor could anyone tell what he was looking at, or what his facial expression was. For the simple fact that he had no such thing to speak of.

From his head to conceivably his toes, his body was covered in a completely opaque yet reflective texture of porcelain. He had all the ornamentation of a human, fingers, legs, ears, yet they remained unfurnished by wrinkles or hair as if he was a marble carving yet to be finished. His suit a shade lighter than blood was draped elegantly over his body. Fine shoes concealed themselves underneath the length of his trousers.

The only indication that Marina had of the man’s gaze being on her was the direction of his clothing and the point of his chin. The maid spoke first.

“What shall it be today, Mr. ?”

“Stanley. I’ve grown quite accustomed to it as of late.”

His voice had a deep timber to it, yet carried through the air with effortless class.

“Mr. Stanley it is then. Thank you for accepting your invitation to this conference. We’re grateful to have you.”

The porcelain man nodded, letting go of the maid’s small hand.

Marina had asked what name the man was using for this conference, as simply put he was not recognized as having any verifiable name, but historically had a habit of changing it every few years.

The leader of the Sanctum of Tellus was an ambiguous and vague individual, known to have existed for a time longer than thought possible for the races of men. Historically, he was a factor of rebellion, heresy, and anarchy, and was labeled as a criminal by almost every nation in attendance to the conference. His organization, situated in the southeastern most point of the continent between the Lakefur and Blackreed regions, was commonly declared a cult. Their holdings over the region were not given by political or commercial rights however, but had been taken and maintained purely by the force of their group.

It was also common consensus that the leader of their cult, ‘Stanley’, was a spectral. And a highly-skilled one at that.

Few people in the yard knew just what the nations were thinking, having invited such a notorious character. Some kind of sick joke, perhaps.

“Mr. Stanley, is it just you in attendance or…?”

Marina asked politely.

“Indeed, I am the sole member of our Sanctum to attend this event. I trust this will cause no problems for the venue?”

Marina gave a polite smile. Understanding as if he was concerned with seating.

“None at all. Now, if you’ll follow me, Mr. Stanley. I am to guide you to your residence.”

The porcelain figure nodded, adjusting the cuff of his strikingly red suit, he gestured for her to lead.

As they passed the trio from Lakefur, the porcelain cult leader nodded at the man. His towering frame now apparent as his difference of a head’s worth of height with the merchant was obvious. His polite nod, however, was unreturned.

Stanley shrugged his shoulders and continued on into the castle. The face of Jonathan Lakefur, still partially frozen in shock, disappearing in the courtyard behind him.