Left to mull over her thoughts, desires, and wishes, the time before others return seems to happen in a flash. Knocks on the door quickly turn into a flood of people entering the room. Apparently, it's a whole event to get prepared for whatever she's being prepared for, and she finds herself being pulled into the suite's bathroom and assisted in being cleaned up. She almost draws the line there for a moment but then clamps it down internally, instead allowing this whole new environment to manifest. The new people introduce themselves, but with a whirlwind of names and faces, Tallulah quickly forgets as soon as they leave the room. The stylist shoos others as they finish aiding, and slowly, the numbers of people dwindle to the tailor, the stylist, and an assistant.

Standing there, naked as the day she was found and adopted in the Wilds, Tallulah doesn't feel ashamed. She doesn't feel anything like she would usually feel; this is a new world for her, and she's bound and determined to make the most of it. Tallulah keeps silent outside of the basic conversation, mostly revolving around quick adjustments. The three aides chatter to each other in their own fabric and textile lingo, and before too long, Tallulah finds herself having makeup brushed on, dressed, and wearing proper shoes for the emerald evening gown they've chosen for her. With a couple of somewhat excited handclaps, the stylist gushes that she looks absolutely perfect, though the tailor grouses about how they could have done more if they'd had more time.

Tallulah moves to stand in front of one of the large mirrors within the room and slowly turns to view herself. The stylist and her assistant stand there like proud parents watching a baby's first steps. Her long and silvery gray hair is braided ornately, with tiny woven flowers carefully placed here and there to accent the work done. The makeup has shaved at least ten years from her looks and is done to be regal and elegant while positively enhancing her thin bone structure. The gown is a vivid emerald green–over top of a shape-maintaining undergarment corset–with the gold embellishments the stylist earlier dictated must happen. They did do a good job, she realizes, tilting her head this way and that as she gazes upon someone she isn't sure she even knows: herself.

A knock at the door draws all of their attention, and the tailor quickly makes his way over to open it. Micah allows himself in, and the trio of stylists, with her assistant and the tailor, all politely exit the room, their jobs done for the night. For a moment, Micah stops and looks at Tallulah, and she can tell that he did not expect the transformation to be so successful with her. She offers him a little smile, which seems to shake him out of the near-stare he had adopted.

"Ah, hello again–" Micah clears his throat, as his voice was a little weak initially, "–Apologies, hello again, Miss Tallulah. Are you ready for me to accompany you?"

"Yes. But, before we go, where are we going?"

Micah hesitates, clearly unsure if he's supposed to share the answer to Tallulah's question, which is very likely why he has been cagey about it all evening. Tallulah tilts her head, giving her most innocent look, almost begging him without words to share what he knows.

"Eh…" There's a long pause before Micah finally continues speaking, "The house is holding court tonight, as with every full moon. The basic overview is that many attend to socialize, trade information, make deals, and–if necessary–reaffirm their loyalty to the house. Er, among other things."

Tallulah furrows her brow, not understanding why he didn't say that earlier if that's all. She tilts her head questioningly.

"That's all? You made it seem like it was a gathering of some secret society or something."

"Well, I mean, technically, it is."

"I guess you're right." She laughs outright.

"Right. Are you ready to go, Miss Tallulah?" Micah doesn't return the laugh; he doesn't seem to share her comedy with it at all.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose. These shoes are going to bother me after a while, though, I think."

"I don't think you'll be worried about your shoes for too long."

Tallulah narrows her eyes at that ominous-sounding line, and as she walks towards Micah, she maintains the suspicious look, though she doesn't say anything else.

He holds open the door for her, then allows it to close behind them. As they walk through the halls, she sees that there isn't the same amount of vampires littered about here and there–in fact, she doesn't see any. This time, Micah leads her up some of the homestead's sweeping steps to the second floor and guides her into the same hallway that leads to those beautiful oversized carved wooden double doors. There are two vampires, one on either side of the door, holding positions with open guns slung across their chests. She recognizes both of them: one is Rhys, the stocky, all-American-looking young man. The other is the extraordinarily plain-looking Vincent, though it took her a few moments to remember his name.

Micah slows to a stop a few paces from the pair of vampires and nods his head to them.

"Miss Tallulah is here as requested by the house."

Rhys speaks up for the pair of them in response to Micah.

"We'll take it from here."

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Tallulah is slightly surprised at Rhys' brush-off and clipped tone for Micah. She turns her head a little to look at Micah's face as he starts to back away and move back down the hall now that he's been dismissed. He's pretty unreadable, which makes her think this is just a typical interaction for him. What a strange hierarchy! She realizes that no matter the station of Micah with the other guards or that he's seemingly "in line" to be turned into a vampire, he's still treated as if you would no-name help. Rhys speaking again draws her attention back to the present.

"Miss Tallulah, it's good to see you've settled into your new situation so well."

There doesn't sound to be sarcasm in his words, so she offers him a little smile in response. Rhys continues speaking once he's gained that reaction from Tallulah.

"There are a few simple rules before you head inside. One, you do not approach the house unless you are called on to do so. Two, no open violence is allowed on these premises tonight. Three, don't engage with–or interrupt–the servants as they attend to their duties, no matter what those duties are."

"That seems pretty straightforward."

"Yes, of course; just remember your three rules, Miss Tallulah."

Her three rules? Does that mean there are rules for others present? She wants to ask but doesn't get the chance as Rhys leans over with Vincent, and they both open the double doors that lead to the ballroom.

As Tallulah steps past the two and into the ballroom, she is shocked at the number of people inside. Easily thirty to forty vampires of all shades, shapes, and sizes. There are animals on leashes, people on leashes, two individuals in cages completely without clothes–one painted like a red bird and the other a blue bird–and others of varying degrees of nakedness being used as actual chairs or benches to be sat on. There are even some beautiful tropical birds that are allowed to rest on perches. Despite herself, she blurts out a laugh as she realizes that the absurdity of her whole situation continues. As a servant walks past her naked, yet painted like a peacock, with an impressive plumage of feathers spreading outwards from an anchor point in his back end, she realizes it's all some degree of madness, and all she can do is laugh along with it. The doors are closed behind her, and a few vampires inside turn to look at her with fanged grins and open amusement.

Past all of the absurdity, excess, and, in some cases, open debauchery sit those three chairs from the first night she was summoned to speak to Kofi. Outside of people being used as furniture, those three chairs–ornate and imposing as they are–are still the only sitting furniture in the ballroom. This time, Kofi is not in the center chair but in the left-most chair. In the center is a man who looks to be in his late forties, with faint graying along his temples and peppering of gray throughout his relatively long mustache and goatee. His piercing green eyes shift without purpose over the room, and somehow, Tallulah knows that this man is the most important in this room. In the right-most chair rests a woman, who could be carved from alabaster with her pale skin so smooth and perfect as it is. She has dark black locks of hair, curled elegantly in waves that spill down over her bare shoulders. She is slender but healthily proportionate, a true classical beauty that would turn men's and women's hearts regardless of age or time period. Her dark eyes seem to be paying attention to some antics with one of the caged servants.

Kofi, resting in the left chair, is the only one of the three that settles his eyes on Tallulah as she arrives. She offers him a very slight smile, which isn't reciprocated in the slightest. He watches her with a stone-faced look for only a few moments before pointedly looking away towards something else. Tallulah feels a little crestfallen, though she isn't entirely sure why, and decides instead to start moving further into the ballroom so she isn't just standing next to the doors like an idiot with no idea of what to do.

As she drifts through the opulent room, she hears murmurs and chatter from the vampires behind her, pointing her out and designating her as "the faerie," as if she doesn't have her own damned name! A servant comes up to her, offering a glass of what looks to be a bubbling glass of champagne. Scooping one glass off the provided tray, she starts to thank the servant, but they're already moving away from her just as soon as she takes the glass. Her eyes follow the servant, and she sees him move over to a small table for the servers. He puts down the tray of champagne and instead picks up one of the trays holding glasses filled with a slightly viscous dark red liquid. Blood, she realizes, and the servant only pointedly brought champagne to her rather than anyone else in the room. Suddenly, Tallulah feels very, very alone and isolated.

Trying to stave off the feeling of being a rabbit in the middle of a wolf den, she attempts to appear nonchalant when she sips the champagne in her glass. Immediately she has to resist the urge to suck in her lips to her teeth–she forgot how bitter some liquors are–though she's sure the champagne in question is of "the finest quality." Disgusted by the taste in her mouth, she tries to find somewhere to shed the glass without it being obvious. When no place jumps out at her, she carefully walks over to one of the kneeling servants acting as a bench and carefully sets down the pretty much still full glass of champagne next to the half-naked man.

"Sorry," she murmurs before standing back up. The man only slightly turns his head, but he doesn't lock eyes with her at all, and the movement is so minimal that she only sees it because she is looking.

With her hands free of holding anything, she folds them loosely in front of her while moving throughout the room. She isn't shocked by anything inside; being a creature of moon ascendance, she's been to some pretty bizarre engagements and over-the-top parties in her time, but she is surprised at how open and unconcerned all of the visitors seem to be. Blood is drunk from glasses–and from servants here and there–laughter, both genuine and biting, fills the air, and all through it sit the three in the chairs, unmoving save for their eyes, emotionless expressions on their faces.

A man wearing a sharp suit with no adornments steps out from one of the three doors behind the three chairs and makes his way next to the seated woman of classical beauty. He kneels next to her so she doesn't have to move her dark-haired head and murmurs something into her ear. She inclines her head once, and at that, the man steps back a few paces. He clears his throat, and bizarrely, when he does so, the entire room goes silent a moment or two later. Tallulah looks left and right, then steps back a few steps so that she's next to one of the bear-adorned marble pillars.

As the room quiets down, the man speaks formally as though he were announcing someone before royalty.

"Mister Benjamin Stanton wishes to bring his grievance against Mister Charles Saint Claire before the liege lord. The liege lord has accepted the request to hear the grievance tonight. Misters, please step forward before your liege lord who will adjudicate the dispute."