“Young lady Dutair, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He said, smiling widely. “Your father and I have known each other for many eons.”

I took his hand and smiled, “The pleasure is all mine.” I lied looking into the eyes of the man I was about to steal from. I remember my heart racing like a runaway horse and I was sure that even with a lifetime of noble training a bit of that showed around my eyes. Luckily either the Baron didn't notice or he believed it was nothing more than the nerves of a young girl wondering if her dress will fit the season. Either way he released my hand and bowed to my (smug and sorrowful respectively) siblings.

“I bid you all welcome to my most humble abode.” He said disingenuously waving a hand toward the door behind him. The smugness was bad enough on its own but combined with his overuse of the word humble and he made me want to vomit.

However as mentioned I had a lifetime's training at hiding my emotions so I decided to play the dutiful heir and looking demurely down at my feet I followed behind my parents with a sibling on each flank. The Baron and my father continued to talk as we ascended the steps, crossed the lawn and finally the Baron gestured at a doorman to throw open the manor's main portal and we stepped inside.

I am not ashamed to admit I boggled for a few seconds at the sheer opulence and enormity of the party. The word party doesn’t really do it justice either; small polite war might suit it better.

I remember that the room was only as large as our dining room but whereas that was a sparse silent space filled with dust and stillness this gold walled cavern was filled with people, tables, chairs, balloons, statues, urns, water features, soldiers, servants and most of all noise, heat and light. Most of the guests were human and most of them of the noble families but I saw a few of the other races scattered around as well. A Driltz envoy of the under kingdom towering above all the other guests and holding three whole trays of canapés, a eonian harpist played in the band nearest us; her eight arms moving like darting swallows back and forth I even saw a pack of Ltoje huddled together at the bottom of the stairs who rustled their carapaces in the sudden billow of cold air and clacked their mandibles in disapproval.

As we entered the Baron waved and a brief but apparently genuine cheer echoed around the room temporarily drowning out the various bands. As the man of the night descended towards the dance floor to bask in the attention he was soon surrounded by sycophants and flunkies much like a corpse is covered in flies.

The Dutair’s were rather more subdued and subtle (as is the well known preference of our house) but we were well trained from other similarly tedious occasions. My sister broke away from our small procession first, apparently unable to contain herself any longer and immediately fell into a group of girls of a similar age and vulgarity of dress.

Father glided off to talk to a small knot of sombre figures on the edge of the dance floor; the other house heads. They greeted him with tilts of their wine glasses and a slight narrowing of their eyes as yet another player entered their game, father for his part smiled with real joy for the first time that night finally away from socialising and back to politics.

My mother (dragging my younger brother with her) vanished towards the centre of the party to seek out an even greater challenge than my father as she both had to find the wives and husbands of the other house heads and attempt to lever useful information out of them using small talk and scones whilst also trying to prevent Roland from embarrassing our house any further.

For my part I (being left alone and unobserved) headed inwards towards the heart of the party swept along in the flow of people, usually I would be busy talking with the other heirs and laying the foundations of alliances and betrayals for eons to come but as you well know I had a far more important duty to complete that night.

I scanned the ocean of people looking for an opening. The few guards in the building seemed to be focused entirely on the Baron and were mainly clustered around the stairs. This was a gathering of the great and the somewhat good after all; the guards were just there as extra ornamentation.

Finally I saw an opening and took it; swiftly breaking through the throng and sliding out of the press like a darting minnow. I skirted the edge of the dance floor and struck out for the edge of the room where eyes rarely wandered.

I was looking for a door or servant's passageway... honestly I would have taken a coal chute anything to get me out of the dance hall and into the mansion proper. As I skirted a large sofa on which sat a blubbery textile-baron who was arguing with a leading seamstress I thought I saw a flash of brass like a door handle on the wall up ahead. Pushing forwards steadily (yet politely) I suddenly noticed the press of people slackening, becoming sparse even and then I stumbled forwards and found myself on the far end of the dance hall opposite the grand staircase. This was a far more open space with doors leading to the toilets, conservatories and private meeting rooms and through which servants scurried carrying trays and carts.

I was looking around trying to project an air of nonchalance whilst desperately trying to figure out where I was when I saw; her. She was sitting with her back against the fine golden wall on a low stone bench some twenty paces to my left. Rushing through the crowd I hadn't noticed her or else I would never have emerged there.

Lady Lilith Lyteth of the noble house Lyteth, the most ancient enemy of my house. They had once been far more of a danger to us before she was born, they had both the respect of the other Houses and the Arch-Doges ear but the revelation that the head of the house had a bastard daughter and further a bastard who was a half-breed and whose mother if popular rumour was to be believed was a Shaitan[11] (one of the magical races) had put pay to that. If the Arch-Doge hates anything truly and completely it is magic. Following the revelation of her birth and her subsequent legitimization[12] the House's prestige had plummeted and it had never recovered more than a fraction of its power. My maid Lydia had once told me that even the girl’s lack of magic had barely saved her from execution[13] such was the Arch-Doges' fury at her existence. I am sure her family would have preferred to hide her away but to attend an event with less than one's whole high family was, in Prasus, a far greater insult than bringing a half-breed along.

I scowled at her with what I hoped was a haughty expression. She blinked at me twice; first with an outer set of eyelids as red as the rest of her skin and then with a second clear set that extended from the corners of her eyes like a cats. But the strangeness of that paled in comparison to her actual eye. Her pupils were upside-down golden pyramids in the centre of pure blackness, no whites or iris, just black and gold. I remember that she smiled at me (showing a mouth full of gleaming white and obviously razor sharp fangs) and waved a cocktail sausage almost companionably in my direction. The black of her horns and the pink of the sausage contrasted in a most stomach churning way. I was so nervous I unthinkingly waved back at a scion of my house's most ancient enemy before I darted away into the crowd looking for a truly deserted patch of wall.

I darted and wove through the ball again, even with all my training and practise I was still somewhat shaken by the enormity of what I was about to try (and no small amount by running into a seemingly friendly Lyteth), as I blundered I nearly stepped on the King of Carestilands shoes then turning to apologise I almost knocked down a hurrying waiter, only his quick reflexes saved his tray of canapés. After a few hasty curtsies I hurried past them and finally blundered into another patch of deserted wall. My nerves had almost gotten the best of me and I could feel cold fire filling my heart but I hastily extinguished it with an effort of will, hiding your emotions was a survival skill in Prasus. After a moment I straightened up, brushed my dress flat again and glanced around... and that was when I finally saw it. On the wall to my left was a long sky blue tapestry showing some historically inaccurate scene of bravery and nobility on the behalf of the Barons ancestors. It was just one of a million tacky ornaments polluting the great dance hall like any other piece of tat however this one was rippling ever so slightly; as if blown by the breeze.

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

I glanced around as casually as I could then reassured that I was unobserved in the mayhem of the soiree I darted behind the tacky wall hanging. If I had been wrong this would have been hideously embarrassing (and I’d have probably broken my nose), luckily however I was right. Behind the tapestry was a short stone passageway which thanks to its lack of carpet and second hand illumination I instantly pegged as a servants corridor. I slunk inside quickly then paused for a second my heart hammering in my chest to listen for pursuit, but no one followed me or called after me and in retrospect there was no reason for anyone to do so. I was a noblewoman ducking out of a party by a perfectly accessible door next to the dance floor, for all anyone knew I was going to the kitchen or the ladies room or on some other private errand but I digress.

I slipped along the corridor as stealthily as I could which back then wasn't very but luckily it was deserted. Reaching the end after what felt like a hundred eons I headed left deeper into the mansion. I hadn't been able to find out where the Baron kept the egg and I couldn’t very well go around asking where his vault was. In fact I only knew that the egg existed at all because of a few rumours and the fact that I had sneaked a look at Des’Lunt’s order list last time me and father had paid her a visit in her studio to commission our new steam-carriage (even as the heir to a noble house the number of zeros under the price column had truly shocked me).

Which is why dear reader I was wandering randomly back and forth in the Baron's mansion looking for something that I was only quite sure even existed and which I had absolutely no idea of its location. In retrospect this entire “heist” was a stupid thing to do and I'm luckily I didn't realise that at the time.

As it was I was walking along yet another unlit and sparsely decorated servant’s corridor cursing myself for a fool for attempting this without a map when suddenly I heard approaching footsteps and muffled voices. Panic gripped me and I darted back into the shadows where my dress (of the darkest hue I had been allowed to pick this season) blended with the darkness around me to a really quite gratifying degree. Stuck between an appallingly tacky hat stand and a vase of wilting flowers I waited trying desperately to quiet my breath and hoping that the hammering of my heart wouldn't give me away. I needn’t have worried of course as servants going about their business are hardly likely to go poking around in the shadows and checking behind doors, a fact which I have often had cause to be thankful for long after that night.

The two men I had heard entered the corridor at its far end both talking loudly, one of them holding a lantern and the other a tray full of empty wine glasses. They were most definitely not looking for me in any way (which if I had been thinking clearly I would have guessed) the first man kept the lantern he held aimed squarely at the floor and they laughed and joked as they passed me by.

“I hear the Barons pushed the boat out for this one.” Remarked the lantern holder as he passed by my hiding place.

“Really?” replied the other with relish, “You reckon this time he didn't water down the wine?”

The first man had laughed and half stumbled; I could smell the drink on his clothes. “Ha! No chance of that.... miserably skinflint.”

The two continued past me both echoing the others sentiment until they were lost to sight. Even so I believe I stayed there in that shadow for a good five minutes not yet aware of how unlikely it was that a busy servant would bother checking behind him in a kitchen access corridor for hidden intruders. After I was sure they were both really gone I crept out of my extremely uncomfortable hiding place and back into the wane light where I paused again to wipe the sweat from my brow. It was only then that I belatedly remembered my rather pathetic attempt at anonymity.

In the barren corridor I reached into the folds of my skirt and pulled out my mask, the mask that had started it all. I had heard about the Baron’s cruelty whilst out shopping in the Golden Scion district, a district filled with as many gossiping nobles as boutiques. One lesser noble had been trying to impress just such a group of tittering idiots, he had told them about the Baron, about his vicious guards and his carefully crafted egg but with a tone more of admiration than reproach.

I had been stood at the back of the crowd and I remember to this day thinking that someone should do something about him, someone should prove that even the nobles weren’t above the law, that such callousness wasn't the rule... then I had looked around and seen on some unnamed pedlars cart the mask. I honestly can't recall exactly what it looked like, my very first mask. I think it was dark blue but it might have been black or purple. I do remember that it was smooth with a finish like glass. I nearly dropped it when I lifted it from its strap, looking into the eye sockets I realised that I was someone so why shouldn’t I do something?

I tossed the pedlar a handful of Silver Lire for the mask (each one alone worth five times the man’s entire stall) he was so enthralled by the tumbling silver coins that I was sure he hadn't gotten a clear look at my face as I slipped away into the crowd and even if he had I was just another spoiled noble girl buying some idle curio.

So I stood there in the empty cold corridor. I raised the mask over my face and pressed it to my skin. I can remember that it was a crude mass produced volto carnival mask; probably carved from Earln[14] wood taken from a nearby floating forest, certainly nothing imported or rare but still putting it on made me feel... strange.

Tightening the ear straps on my new mask I spun in that empty corridor like a dancer on a backed dance floor nearly turning a pirouetted, then I stalked away up the passageway (or at least walked in the way I thought was a stalk but it was more of an odd side to side stride in retrospect) feeling a new surge of confidence and poise. Looking back I wonder if that was the first time I ever felt that feeling as a mask goes on and the whole world changes... of course that's not the trick is it? The trick is that the world stays the same and it’s you who changes.

As it was back then in the dark all I felt was a surge of confidence and a sense that I could take on the entire world. By the time I approached the end of the corridor I was very nearly strutting.

Reaching the end and reining in my boisterous feet I peaked around the corner, spent a good few seconds wondering why all I could see was blackness, remembered that masks greatly reduce your peripheral vision and then tilted my head more to the side.

Luckily, since I had spent a good twenty seconds staring at the inside of my own mask and wondering what had happened; the corridor was completely empty.

This process repeated (minor my small blunder) for a handful of minutes as I scouted my way across the mansion. I of course had no way of knowing exactly how long I had spent blundering around in the dark but I was sure I wouldn't be missed at the party yet, although I was almost missing it as one dusty deserted corridor lead to another equally deserted but somewhat dustier one and so on and so on. I was getting quite bored to be honest but I did at least still have the sense to head towards light and livery, the Baron wasn’t likely to keep the precious egg in a servant’s barracks after all. As I was musing upon this and wondering if that was a suitably criminal moment of cunning I finally came upon a brighter corridor, still somewhat dull and unadorned but lit at the far end by bright light. I followed the gleam like a moth and soon found myself at the bottom of a vast spiral staircase made from hardwood.

Rising out of the depths of the manor step by patient step I was quietly amused to see the way that each landing and length of staircase became more elaborately decorated than the one before it, dull porcelain became smoothed stone then engraved then covered by wall hanging, lit by torches then candles then finally gas globes. Eventually the sumptuousness plateaued as the stairs themselves did and I was left standing on a large landing.

In front of me on the landing was a wide open marble balcony curtained with drapes of pale pink silk, the floor was richly carpeted in deep blue plush and directly in front of me was a huge silver and gilt embossed door made from some rare imported wood that gleamed with dark and lustrous gleam in the gas globe light.

As I stood there on the landing a sea breeze blew fresh night air across and in through the balcony’s open doors setting the curtains fluttering and goose bumps rising all across my skin even as it carried the smell of sea salt to my nostrils. After a moment's thought about the inherent nature of nobles I sidled up to the very valuable door to what was I had no doubt the Barons study (my fathered had one as well of course all lords and ladies did but his had a plain but heavily armoured door better to protect its contents and not attract attention). I pressed my hand gently against the varnished surface as I turned the handle; pushing with one hand and pulling with the other I slowly opened the door in complete silence.

Padding gently into the room beyond I quickly scanned for any threats then satisfied I was alone I slid the door shut as silently as I had opened it. The study was as tasteless as I had expected from someone like Baron Fairbanks, wide and high with its walls obscured behind crests, trophies, bookcases and hung swords. The floor was utterly lost under a ridiculously thick carpet that made every step feel like wading through sand and even the ceiling was painted using gold flecked paint worth more than a peasant would earn in a lifetime. At the far end of the room was sat an antique desk and chair of old light brown wood both heavily engraved. But at the time I barely noticed any of this I barely noticed the room itself, all I saw was what sat proudly on the desk. Their glimmering and glittering was the treasure I was seeking, the reason the daughter of a noble family was creeping into a nominal ally's private study, the egg.