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Lynn rubbed the scruff on his face.  Finally old enough to grow decent facial hair and not planning on shaving it off anytime soon.  Not the scraggly mustaches his peers often grew.  Despite his flaws, he liked how his hair grew, straight and black down to his shoulders.  The beard grew full with an equally dark nature.  He kept his hair long for three distinct reasons, for one, it happened to currently be unfashionable with the nobility.  Lynn lived to disrupt the frivolous court culture.  The second reason that facial hair can make the wearer look five years older, an asset Lynn desperately relied upon. But, as much as he might deny it, the third happened to be the most honest reason he allowed his hair to grow.  It covered the disfigurements.  With hair shielding the hole where his left ear had once been and a beard covering the majority of the blackened scars that stretched across the left side his face, onlookers didn’t immediately discover his identity.  A keen-eyed watcher might notice the streaks on the left side of his beard, his limp, the empty left sleeve, or the glass eye but most simply don’t care to examine him thoroughly enough to notice.

A woman walked past him as he leaned against the ballroom wall and she proceeded to sniff at him and stalk away with her nose in the air.  The beard made him stand out in court gatherings, but it usually resulted in looks of distaste, not pity.  Definitely a worthwhile trade.  Besides, with luck, the current ball he was attending would be the last one in his life.

As a boy he dreamed of the lavish balls thrown by kingdoms across the world.  He spent hours with his tutors learning how to properly dance, eager to learn the swirling patterns of movement.  Lynn imagined that he would insight envy in other men while wooing the women with ease.  Those dreams died with his left leg, making his dozens upon dozens of hours practicing useless to him now.  Oh, he might be able to learn to dance with his wooden replacement, but he was under no delusion that, at best, it might be passible.  Never elegant.  One also required a left hand to do dips and spins, something else he lacked.  Balls managed to create a bitter scent in his mouth and spirit, neither a taste nor emotion he particularly enjoyed.  Lynn knew his body currently existed as a lopsided mess but knowing and appreciating were far from the same thing. 

Lynn’s missing left toes twitched as he watched two youths sweep in front of him in time with the musicians’ music.  They gazed at one another, oblivious to the issues of the silt covered world.  The boy’s hand lingered too low on the girl's back, under the shoulder blade.  A minor mistake, but one snagged Lynn’s attention and shattered the illusion of perfection.

Using his good hand, Lynn reached to pat the section of his gentleman’s jacket that clothed his upper left chest.  There were other areas of his youthful studies that he still could apply, and Lynn preferred to practice them.  Hidden in his gentleman’s jacket pocket lay a copy of Vester’s Collection.  A true gem, it contained many of the riddles and poems created by Vester Amadeus back three hundred years ago.  Vester, the son of the famous Sigmund Amadeus, a companion and friend of the legendary Silvis.  He, like his father before him, had become a remarkable writer.  Not for the first time, Lynn pondered on whether the passion for writing was passed down through passion or inherited like a bad nose.

The song ended.  The youth boy dipped his dance partner so deep that her hair grazed the floor.  After raising her back to her feet, he proceeded to bow to her and thank her for the dance.  The couple then exited the dance floor, the girl’s hand on the boy’s elbow. 

Lynn stared up at the glass chandlers dangling above the ballroom.  Light streaming down from them made the glass sparkle like crystals. The ballroom exemplified beauty, the walls and ceiling were covered in golden wallpaper and trimmed with silver.  The walls crafted specifically for excellent acoustics for orchestras, allowing their music to permeate throughout the room. It was luxurious but not the most luxurious.  Far from the most extravagant ball he had attended.  Neo Regnum was set into a two-year rotation for the Silvian Ball and it was the Opal family’s turn.  

The amount of guards patrolling also bogged down the atmosphere.  Their iron chain mail and heavy longswords a blatant contrast to the gentleman’s jackets and rapiers worn by the participants.  Everyone knew about Lord Opal’s paranoia, but it still seemed an excessive amount of security, even for him.

The orchestra launched into a waltz causing men all around him scuttled off to find partners before the most attractive girls were snagged.  Lynn hobbled along the edge of the dancefloor and made his way to the bar.  To his surprise, there a girl his age sat there already, looking down into her wine.  A girl?  A woman?  Lynn didn’t know where to draw a distinction.  The court found it to be incredibly uncouth for anyone to be found drinking at a social function, everyone knew the bar was present as a background, not meant to be functional.  She wore a silver dress that hugged her waist and left her shoulders exposed.  She was pretty, certainly, with brown curls that fell down her shoulders, but not gorgeous.  He sat four seats down from her at the bar, keeping her to his right so he could watch with his good eye.  She might be pretty but he remembered being given sage advice from an old friend to distance oneself from girls in their cups.  As he recalled, the friend had also gone on to explain that even as irrational and unpredictable as girls are, it’s somehow magnified tenfold when drinking.

“Mulled wine,” Lynn said to the bartender.  The man, obviously baffled to find himself serving, not one, but two guests still managed to pour him a drink and pass it to him

Lynn took a sip and his missing leg throbbed.  The spices swirled on the half of his tongue that still could taste.  A piece of him longed to take gulps to numb the missing limb. 

“Hey lovely.” Richard Garnet sat down next to the pretty brown haired girl.  “I haven’t seen you before.  Can I get a dance out of you?”

“I’m afraid I am not much of a dancer.   My mother taught me a few dance steps, but I was never able to fully grasp them.” 

“Too bad.  I guess I’ll be on my way.”  He made as if to stand and leave her.  Lynn recognized the ploy of ‘I’m not that interested.’

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“Oh no!  Please don’t mistake my decline as a, uh, lack of interest in you.  I really am a terrible dancer but you’re welcome to stay.  I haven’t had anyone to talk to all night and I completely welcome your company.”

Normally Lynn would ignore a conversation like this, but her accent caught him off guard.  It sounded like she was attempting to match the prestigious Neo Regnum accent just a hint too much.  Lynn examined her and noticed that she sat straight up in her seat, her body posture stiff.  Richard, seemingly oblivious to the oddities, still declined in the polite style of Neo Regnum nobility before proceeding to saunter away.  Lynn had no doubt he intended to swoop back in another round after keeping her alone for a while.

Interested, Lynn snatched up his honey wine and hobbled over to the now vacant seat on her left.  The light sent of perfume hung around her pleasantly.  “What’s your name?”

 “Vivian.”

“Not that name, your family name.”

The girl’s eyes widened and glanced about as if attempting to recall her name.  Her mouth moved soundlessly as if mouthing a dozen possible names.

Lynn grinned, he had found his entertainment for the night.  “You’re not supposed to be here, are you?  Are you a part of a scam?  If so, you’re in far deeper than you can swim.”

“I-I’m n-not-” Vivian spluttered.

“When the next person asks, respond with ‘Ruby’ they’re a distant and reclusive family.  No one here would know any better.  Though, if I’m being honest, I doubt you’ll keep your head by morning.”

At the last part, the girl’s eyes suddenly glinted, gaining a confidence that hadn’t been there before.  “Would you like to place a bet?”

Lynn cocked his head, curious.  “What do you have in mind?”

“If I make it through the night without being thrown into prison, I get a favor from you and your house.”

“And when I win?  You’ll be dead.  It’s a worthless bet.”

“If you win, I’ll buy you a drink.  Directly before I lose my head.”

“The liquor here is free,” he said dryly.

Vivian shrugged.

Lynn considered the proposal.  It’s possible she could just be a pretty noble girl, just forgetful.  But to forget her own name?  “You know, I am rather thirsty; however, on the conditions that you stay the entire ball, introduce yourself to a dozen nobles, and dance with at least half that amount.”

“My name is Vivian Topaz, would you care for a dance.”  Vivian stuck her hand out to him.

“The pleasure’s mine.  I am Lynn.  Like I said though, go with Ruby, Topaz isn’t an actual family and there are nobles here that will recognize that. And no.  I would not care to dance.”

Vivian looked shocked to have been shot down.  “I’ll keep Topaz.”  She stood up and walked away in a huff.  Soon she approached another young man, set her hand on his bicep, and began speaking to him. 

The night continued on like that.  It seemed that the girl, Vivian, attempted to remain in his sight.  An absolute mess on the dancefloor, the girl fumbled through the most simplistic dance maneuvers.  She stepped on toes, tripped on her dress, and at one point even crashed into an elderly couple dancing nearby. But even then, nobody questioned her.  Certainly, they were irritated but nobody seemed even the slightest bit suspicious.  After a handful of dances, she reobtained her seat next to him.  The girl was brimming with pride.

“Am I your mark?” he asked.

Vivian blinked and put a gloved hand to her mouth.  “No!” As the word came out her eyes almost seemed to pop out of her skull.  She quickly blinked a few times and regained her composure.  “I told you earlier, I am not part of any sort of con.”

“If that’s so, why are you here?  You’re most definitely not nobility.  You simply do not belong at this type of function.  Your demeanor bluntly gives you away.”

“I was legitimately invited and my demeanor is a great deal more pleasant than yours, ‘Lord’ Lynn. I’ll have you know, I wasn’t planning to do anything unpleasant with my reward from the bet but I’m certainly reevaluating my decision there!” She proceeded to stand up and kick him.  Her kick was directed at where his left leg would be but it resulted in a thump as it hit solid oak wood.  His fake leg.  Vivian gave a squeak of surprise before scurrying off, glancing back at him as she took her leave.

Lynn remained sitting at the bar for a great deal of time after she left.  He stared into the scarlet liquid before him contemplating.  He wasn’t sold on the idea that Vivian had actually received an invitation but her surprise after discovering his wooden leg seemed genuine and sarcasm she used when she named him ‘lord’.  Maybe.  Maybe she actually didn’t know.  Or, she might just be a better con artist than he had first believed.  He downed his remaining wine, the taste lingering in the back of his throat.

It would be time for the announcement soon.  The elevated platform behind the orchestra already had a man on it fumbling through papers.  His white clothing marked him as Lord Opal, the lord with the responsibility of hosting this year’s Silvian Ball.  Lynn made his way toward him, navigating clumsily through the field of dancing couples.  He had just made his way to it when the music halted and the man on the platform cleared his throat.  Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned toward Lord Opal. The man, clearly nervous, took deep breathes with his eyes closed.  He set his papers down on the pulpit and dropped his eyes along with them.

The speech wasn’t anything special, every word came out exactly as what should be expected.  His mind struggled to focus as the man prattled on with unremarkable sentences.  Honestly, he felt even more anxious than Lord Opal looked.  Everything depended on his acceptance, he had spent years training himself for this exact moment.  The moment he would know.  Finally, the lord began his list.

“It is with great pleasure that we announce the biannual Silvian candidates.  These twelve remarkable individuals have stood out to the board and their exemplary manner has brought them to the opportunity of potential greatness at Silvian Island studying from the greatest collection of archives in the known world.  Educated to better both Neo Regnum as well as the rest of all societies.  It is with a smile on my face that I announce these names, please step forward onto the stage when you’re called.  Alexis Jade, Quinton Silver, Ivan Quartz, Lilian Quartz, Uriah Diamond, Nyx Opal, Kaylin Garnet, Fitz Jasper, Dreme of the Aquamarine linage, Zac Heliodor, Lynn Jet.” Lynn let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he had been holding and made his way up the stairs, attempting to move as smoothly as possible.  A pause followed as the lord seemed to be checking something on his paper before he spoke again. “And Vivian Topaz.”