It’s a party in the past...

“Canapes! I need the canapes out now!”

“No, the fish, the fish! Set it there, there, and there!”

“Do you not know how to arrange a proper cheese platter? A wheel, a wheel, this is the pattern...”

“Did someone never teach you a thing as elementary as washing and plucking grapes properly? These are for eating, not for wine!”

Amber’s tyranny of fashion was on full display. The baronial staff was completely cowed by now, hurrying this way and that, their former huffiness and disdain broken under the relentless demands of perfection and busy-busy she was heaping upon them.

Everything had to be set before the visiting nobles got back from their tour of the winery. Bunting was being hung, candles put out, the wines and many glasses put in place, and Amber had half the glasses sent back to be cleaned and buffed properly, so outraged that she had a senior maid crying in frustration.

Mama, of course, cleaned them all up with a Cantrip, greatly relieving the maid, who returned in triumph. She was promptly set off to clean up a dozen tablecloths that were stained as a reward for her fine performance, and went back to Mama, trembling in anxiety.

One of the Northmarch King’s lesser wives’ children, cousins of the Baron, were visiting with an entourage, turning this small winery into the biggest gala of the season. There were dozens of young nobles in attendance, many of them young maidens wearing their best and trying to outshine one another. Many of those had the misfortune to run into Amber and her tight and eye-catching garb, with flowing silks and frippery and tight here and showing legs and high boots there, were totally bowled over, and in a flurry of fittings and cuttings, were now wearing custom outfits that were obviously very different from all the other girls.

Amber took to the mass confusion with a great smile, inexhaustible energy for everyone, and soon knew everyone’s names, faces, backgrounds, who was sleeping with whom, tastes, preferences, and all the gossip, all the while directing the event with total aplomb, as if she was born for it.

Nobody would have believed she was only twelve, and as she was extremely mature for her age as a Hagchild, she said nothing.

Mama, Verd, and Veis had taken over the kitchens with a deftness and coordination that put the serving staff to shame. They’d also brought over most of the appliances from home that Hazé had helped them put together and enchant, because the quality level of the ones in the manor simply weren’t up to snuff, and there was even a quick stone building annexed to the kitchens holding the newly-extended cooking facilities.

Mama’s use of lesser magic to accurately Assay the food, Phantom Servants to help with stirring and peeling and other drudgery, heating and cooling exactly as fast as needed, and the use of alchemical ingredients all combined to fill the kitchen with a heavenly aroma. The pastries and fruit for breakfast had already received rave reviews, with not a few intruding minions inquiring if they weren’t for permanent hire at other estates before being shooed off and out of the way. The sight of the diminutive and unbelievably cute Veis in her fluffy skirts bringing out tray after tray of delicacies definitely had them all salivating for more.

Feist was working in the kitchen too, and many a servant was watching as his knives moved like living things, juggled without effort, slicing meat, bread, cakes, dough, whatever, at a speed to rival magic, only more precise. He had been roped into the cooking the girls did long ago despite himself, and had a real gift for working with pasta.

Hazé contributed minor magic where needed, mostly getting food where it was meant to go at maximum speed. Dark and quiet, she did little more than accept the invitations, which allowed her to examine all the nobles coming in, and as she moved through the flow of servants, all of the help as well. Very proper, and her green eyes very knowing, she intimidated even many of the noblewomen, especially with the silver amulet at her throat indicating she was also a Caster, if her casual use of Cantrips wasn’t enough to alert them.

Verd and Veis had been very excited to go into business, and Amber was also keen to use the chance as a launching platform. Mama hadn’t minded, and with Hazé around, picking up fine and fresh ingredients was remarkably simple. Teleport and Item spells let her grab fresh fish from the ocean and fresh berries in season from the other side of the Empire in passing, as there simply was no way they could afford to pay her properly for using that level of magic just to transport food.

But it was definitely paying off. It had taken her three weeks to get all the proper ingredients, getting everything prepared for this, and everything was going smoothly.

While the others were glowing with the accomplishment of putting their names out there, Hazé was here to people-watch.

Most of the important nobles wore minor Artifice to interfere with Divinatory spells, out of both an enhanced sense of privacy and the whole noble and mercantile family secrets thing. A social event like this was a good chance for the younger generation to meet and to socialize, competing and comparing, while the older generation would renew ties, break ties, and forge new ties in a whirlwind of cut-and-thrust wordplay and cruel one-upsmanship.

The money being spent on new clothes alone could last their quaint little town of Vyster for a year or more.

However, these nobles didn’t know they were dealing with a Ten Caster, and their minor defenses wouldn’t stop Divinations at Five. She had Dawnstopped her Aural Rede, and with the permission of Aru, it would last until the first rays of morning light. She was examining everyone’s Auras, especially those who came from far away.

She was unsurprised and yet still disappointed at the few people among the nobility veering to the side of The Light. Despite invoking the gods and praising them, their hearts were completely on mortal needs and the demands of being rich and wealthy people scrambling to preserve their status and gain ever more of it. Such a mindset naturally reached down into the children, who had already lost their innocence and were scheming for their own futures, especially any young women who didn’t have any real Levels or power of their own to fall back upon.

Those with darker intentions and ambitions, willing to do a wide variety of socially unacceptable things to further those desires, were also very much in evidence.

She was making mental lists in her Visual File of who served what, and whose Auras resonated with others via emotional attachments and enmity, despite seeming to have no relationship. She saw hands red with the blood of the innocent, others flaming with dark lusts, and a notable few with some very dire proclivities.

If things were not handled very carefully, there was going to be a lot of blood spread at this gala. She wasn’t necessarily opposed to a number of these people getting their just desserts, but the fallout for the locals might be a bit excessive...

-------

The evening’s entertainment was a singer and her band from Southmarch, invited to perform from their tour of the area, their alternately lively and sad music very different from that of the Western March. They arrived late, coming in only an hour before dusk, but set up quickly, replacing the classic orchestral quintet smoothly before launching into their show. Support members of the band were more than happy to demonstrate a couple southern dances to the eager younger folk, and the head singer, Muomissa, did a soulful job on the traditional waltzes and strolls on alternate numbers.

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During a short break in the dancing, Amber slid in with a tray of drinks to the band. Winking at them conspiratorially, she said, “This is some Kruegur vintage that may have fallen off the table before it got to the nobles. I thought you might like a taste of some of the famed Golden River grapes?”

The band members glanced at one another knowingly, and eagerly accepted the golden wine, which did indeed go down smoothly.

She presented the final glass, a deep red, to Moumissa. “And a vintage from the Kasmaido hills. There was only the one bottle, so we would not think of denying the singer a taste from her home, so far away.”

The chocolate-skinned singer looked both impressed and hesitant, but accepted the glass, sniffing it with a smile, and her dark eyebrows rose despite herself. She took a drink of it, and nodded once to Amber. “Very good! You have a considerate eye, young miss.”

Amber waved it off. “Think nothing of it,” she smiled graciously. “Now, I have to go, as I’m sure they’re trying to let the cream melt before we can serve the sherbet.” She turned and glided off quickly, adroitly accepting a few fluted glasses on the way without breaking stride, before handing the tray off to a maid and zipping out to inspect the desserts.

The band finished their wines, and the whole tray of gooey, cheesy pastries of out-of-season fresh gooseberries, and headed back to their instruments.

---------

The late dessert was coming out, slices of elderberry pie and moonberry sherbet, to top off the evening and give a kick of energy to those who still wanted to dance. The band played softly, and Moumissa crooned an old ballad from her native land, perfectly adept at fitting the music to the temporary mood as the people ate their fill.

The gasp behind her, and the sudden off note alerted her to the fact something was wrong. Then the longhorn player choked, his instrument bleating as he dropped it and clutched at his throat.

All her band members started writhing in pain, lines of silver shining where veins should be. As they did, they began to change.

Their faces elongated, sharp muzzles protruding, incisors extending, whiskers blossoming as dark fur erupted over all of them. Their clothing tore as hairless tails erupted from behind them, legs shrinking in size as clawed feet drove out of fine slippers and boots, and their hands twisted into strong yet delicate claws.

Moumissa’s hands flew to her chest. Something was burning inside her; her heart was roaring, her blood pumping, and she was also losing control.

She spun around, looking for Amber, and found the whole of the noble audience staring at them, aghast, as Hazé walked into the center of the room.

“Ah, vampire, you should not be looking at me,” Hazé said softly, staring at the sharp-eared, red-eyed, long-fanged woman before her, a undead’s pale coloration completely covered by her naturally dark complexion. Hazé’s finger glowed as she shook it, trailing silver ripples as the undead singer tensed, her flesh crawling with unnatural strength.

The singer grunted suddenly, and looked down at the shining length of wood that had been driven through her back, now jutting out the front of her dress.

Ancient magic jerked through her system. Unable to move, she fell forward in place, revealing a young man with brown hair and eyes behind her, looking grim and ready... and not like someone who had not seen a vampire before.

“You should be looking for the Prince with the hawthorn stake in hand.” Hazé bowed slightly to the young man, about her own age, and he returned a nod of his head. “Herr Baron, I note that you seem to be equipped with some silver. Would you mind putting those wererats out of their misery? Oh, Amber, fetch the local musicians from earlier. I believe they are playing in the conservatory.”

The grim Baron rose to his feet, looking at the silver knife he’d used to cut his pie in his hand, and glanced at several of his compatriots, who rose to their feet at the same time. Before the shocked eyes of their guests, they slit the throats of the writhing wererats, a rather bloody job they performed with dour steadfastness.

Hazé conjured up a couple Disks, and the men unceremoniously dumped the corpses upon two of them, halting before touching the vampire.

“If anyone has not seen a vampire burn before, we’ll leave this one out on the sun deck to greet Aru in the morning. You are welcome to join us for the Salute,” Hazé said kindly. She waved her hand, and the blood soaking the shirts and jackets of the noblemen and staining the play area was lifted away and burned in a flash of silvery moonlight. “Carry on, everyone.”

Coolly and calmly, she led the Disks out of the room, followed by many eyes, while the musicians in the back came smoothly in from the side, hiding their unease and recognizing this was an opportunity to make themselves known.

When the strident notes of the Imperial Victory March rang out, a number of patriotic young men and women surged forwards to enjoy it, and were soon joined by their elders.

After all, they were high nobles of the Empire. A little bloodletting was almost expected at an affair like this. There was no need to be all upset about it. The Empire, and life, went on...

--------

“Very well called, Miss Hazé,” the Prince said softly, his protectors close by as he caught up with her. “Tell me, how did you know?”

“A very impolite Aural Rede, Your Highness,” she replied, sending the impaled vampire off towards the sun room with two very attentive guards to await the sunrise, while she led the corpses of the wererats towards a side room.

With no change in expression, she chopped off the head of one of the wererats completely, and as he watched, flicked a long dagger out and precisely and methodically stabbed each one of the Cursed men’s corpses. Vivic flames spurted out of the wounds, and the magically enriched flesh began to burn like tinder.

“I like being tidy,” she explained, lifting the severed head off by its pinkish, furry ear.

“What are you planning now?” he wondered aloud.

“Some white necromancy. This is the leader of this little rat pack. I’m going to question his spirit about who sent him here.”

She pivoted on her foot even as the swords swept out. Two circles of Shards flashed up around her right hand as the two guardsmen nearest them charged at them both. The Prince gawked as his own personal guards lunged at him.

A dozen amped Shards took each of them square in the face, blowing their faces apart and turning the insides of their skulls to mush. The force of impact broke their lunges and sent their corpses crashing to the sides and down, missing their targets.

The leader of his guards, following behind them, saw his chance, moving with incredible speed and lightness. His hands were like two iron maces as he charged at them, aiming for this dark-haired spellcaster before she could get another spell off-

Two circles of ten Shards popped up around her other arm, which was still gripping the wererat head by its ear. The wedges of force converged and flashed out into a Ray, which then struck a prism of force just ahead of her pointing fingertip. The dual Rays bored right into the man’s chest as he gaped in shock, the magic momentarily lighting up his entire chest cavity.

He crashed down, and they both stepped aside as he slid past them a good dozen feet on a breastplate with two holes in it. Were anyone to cut him open, they would find his entire chest cavity had been reduced to liquified goo.

The Prince regarded her with strange calm as she ignored him, looking left and right down the hallway, and without a change in expression gestured. Each body was lifted, one after another, on top of the burning wererats, where they quickly caught vivic fire.

She also chopped off the head of the guard captain with the same kind of aplomb as before, clearly not unused to doing this.

“I trust Your Highness has some questions for this man, too?” she asked calmly. She looked down the corridor, where a short and smiling figure in a chef’s hat was trotting towards them, his hairy bare feet moving further than his strides with every step.

“I do believe I might,” the Prince replied fearlessly, eyeing the smiling hyn who came up before them... who was also not blinking an eye at the burning unwhite heap of corpses floating on Disks in midair.

“See that we are not disturbed, Master Feist,” Hazé said calmly, and the hyn just laughed and winked at them.

------

As they entered the guest room with the severed heads, Feist assembled the three Disks of the dead around him so as to better discourage people from coming down here to watch them burn.

Of course, they might have some interesting things on them, which he wasn’t at all averse to investigating properly. For evidence, surely...

Feist smiled. It had been some time since he’d had such fun at a noble’s party. Good wine, good food, good dancing, and the bloodletting had already begun! Such fun...

Essence of silver dissolved in holy water, stirred slowly into the cheese soufflé for the pastries, forcing them into their wereforms as the moon rose. Essence of garlic alchemically treated to smell and taste like cloves, part of the dusting around the rim of the wineglass which was the proper serving style of the Kasmaido vintages, forcing the vampire out of her human form and denying her the ability to shapechange.

The hawthorn stake through the heart had paralyzed her completely. No need for a big ritual and burning and whatnot, just wait for the sun to make her perma-dead.

The vampire was a big lure. There were at least two other forces moving who might want to make use of her, and if they made an attempt to save and recruit her, well, the Baron had already been quietly alerted and had his own resident Cleric standing by to take action.

It was going to be an interesting night. When Hazé questioned those two heads, what other interesting scandals might she find? There might even be some wetwork he could hire himself out for...