Ballroom Talk

Mission Details:

Crocus was indeed worthy of its reputation as the capital city of Fiore. Its majestic buildings and lofty architecture spoke of great doings to tourists and appreciators of such magnificent structures. Some others would likely be put off by the excessive waste of resources, but for the most part, Crocus was admired. In the opinion of the Utgardian God Slayer, though, the city was a terrible sham, and its falsehood disgusted Beira. For she knew that with all the beauty, it could only have been created by the money and labor of those who would never enjoy it. Like every other great city, Crocus was segmented into two major living areas, as far as Beira was concerned. There was 'Crocus proper', which had all the houses and palaces of the people who were esteemed to matter. And then, at the edges of Crocus proper were the slums, wherein those who were trodden on, and regarded as the scum, those who didn't really matter, resided. And yet, it was these dregs of the society whose backs, and blood, and sweat, and taxes were responsible for the irritating lords of Fiore to strut and make names and assertions of themselves which they had neither earned, nor deserved.

The Utgardian thought, with a bitter taste in her mouth, of her homeland, probably buried by the snow of centuries... or was it millennia? Beira had absolutely no idea of how long she had been asleep, but in her opinion, the values back then seemed to have changed a mighty deal... or perhaps the people of Midgard had no idea of proper values. Despite the fact that Utgardr had been established by refugees from Asgardr, Beira was quite opinionated that , for refugees, the people of Utgardr were of a most impeccable nature. The first High Emperor of Utgardr, Hrim the Old, whose blood currently ran in her veins, did not sit back and command his subjects to build him a palace. He built it alongside them, hefting stones and cutting wood. And his descendants had towed a similar line. Back then, when her brother, Hodr the Meek, had been given command to defend the borders of Utgardr from the dark elves, Beira and Hodr were both at the forefront of building Winterhelm, the border fortress of Utgardr. And working did not diminish the nobility of the one who labored, at least, as far as Beira was concerned. But it seemed the folk of Midgard, or maybe it was just Fioreans, but these people appeared to love being ruled by lazy, foolish people with insipid minds and bloated bodies.

Beira would have spat, if she were any more irritated, though she remembered how her tutors would have regarded her, if they had caught a "princess of Utgardr, spitting like a wild cat." She smiled in spite of herself. Today, she had been tasked by her guild to gather information from a ball. A party, so to speak. Beira found it irritating that the 'nobles' refused to mingle with the 'commoners', when, without these commoners, there would be nothing for the nobles to rule, nothing to exploit. Well, as expected, commoners would probably only be allowed into the ball, if they were servants, and of course, they were not expected to interact with the nobles. Beira, for her part, was interested in this job for two main reasons: firstly, she was intent on proving her mettle to her guild. Secondly, she wanted to see just how nobly these 'nobles' of Fiore behaved. She was quite sure she would be disappointed.

Intelligence had informed her that the ballroom, and its adjacent regions would be highly guarded. The major problem was getting in, as there would be quite a lot of guards. Beira had considered the three options that seemed safest for her to use to attempt infiltration of the ballroom, as far as infiltrating the ball was concerned. Firstly, she could pass off as a waitress. While it would be easy getting in that way, the Utgardian was rather aware of her own weakness when it came to taking insults, especially from people she regarded as below her station. Someone would probably be rude to her, she would more probably slap him, and the mission would most probably go to hell in a hand basket. She could also attempt to pass off as one of the guards, but the problem was that she was informed that the Head of Security for the lovely waste of money called a party had his own security team, people he had worked with, and was familiar with. She would be easily found out, but perhaps that wasn't as important as the feeling that she wasn't sure she would last an hour in those stuffy Fiorean clothes.

The last option was to come disguised as a noble. She could pass off as some foreign diplomat who was in the country, and had received an invitation to rub shoulders with Fiore's most irritating eminences. It was quite unlikely that the guards would be quite aware of the identities of the guests, so all she had to do was act stuck up and dainty, and she would surely be let in. Oh, and wear clothes for the occasion. That was where the fun of the whole thing would begin. Beira had discovered, to her mild pleasure, that despite the Fiorean hypocritical stance on exposing skin, many of the noble women of younger ages and more alluring curves wore scandalous clothes to such engagements, and were not in the least disturbed for it. Beira smiled. At least she would be comfortable.

The next thing to do was to get her hands on an invitation. She had been given details about some irritating countess that was attending the ball as well. Normally, Beira wasn't sure she wanted to be caught dead in the same room with such a person naturally, but in this annoying woman, she had discovered her means of getting into the ballroom. Happily, despite the challenges posed, she could not impersonate the countess; by appearance she would be about two decades younger than the termagant. But she wasn't hopeless. Just a little help from the spells in her arsenal, and she would be in. All she had to do was cast a few well-placed illusions, and nobody would see it fit to turn her away. It was very unlikely that the guards would start going round to check people for defunct invitations when the ball was under way, as long as she didn't misbehave in the ballroom. In any case, Beira was sure she had a cool head on her shoulders. Pulling this off would be a piece of cake. Oh, and she would probably be treated to some good food while she was at it. Better her than the countess.


WC: 1137/3500

Following the directions she had been able to procure from her intelligence sources, Beira had paid a visit to the delectable middle-aged lady known as Countess... well, the name was too difficult to pronounce. Of course, the Countess had been overjoyed to see her, and had even been so willing to part with her own invitation pass so that Beira could perform her mission with ease. The Utgardian maiden turned over her shoulder to take one last look at the unmoving form of the Countess, half-risen from her chair, a very priceless look on the woman's face. The God Slayer allowed herself a childish giggle, and disappeared in a puff of black smoke and runes.

Of course, knowing that the Countess was a woman with a very conflated ego, Beira hadn't even bothered to ask to see her, instead choosing to teleport directly into the woman's hotel room. Before the Countess could utter a word, Beira had coated her in a trustworthy film of nether rime, which wouldn't give up until twelve hours were done. By that time, Beira would probably be somewhere at the top of Mount Hakobe, enjoying a warm meal or reading a book. In any case, since the Countess had been in no position to deny Beira, the Errings Rising mage had taken what she needed for the mission, and left the same way she had come. Now, to make her way into the ball, she would have to perform some well-placed spells, and a lot of smoke and mirrors. Of course, she had already dressed herslf up for the occasion. Now the next thing to do was show up fashionably late. Possibly one of the last arrivals. That way, only the guards would be available as spectators for her entrance.

From the shadows of a hidden alley, Beira watched silently as the guests of the ball arrived and were allowed entrance into the hall. Evoking the name of a Precept, namely the 70th Precept, also known as the Fabula Phantasmatis, Beira created a large bubble, one in which the door of the hall, as well as the guards standing before it, happily found themselves, and nobody, perhaps except Beira, knew that they were just about to enjoy a massive illusion. From a sharp bend in the road would come an exotic horse-drawn carriage, which would stop before the doors of the hall. The coachman would get down and open the door of the carriage, and Beira would step out in style, her clothes easily blending scandalous with elegant. The horse-drawn carriage would return the same way it came, and Beira would remain motionless, watching it until it went. Then she would approach the guards.

That was what they had seen. What was actually true was that almost everything was just an illusion, but in Beira's favor, her illusions commanded sight and sound. Had any of the guards decided to be overtly chivalrous and attempted to interact with the carriage, his hands would have passed through it as surely as through air. And since the carriage wasn't corporeal, of course, Beira wasn't in it. She had used her Anima Umbrae spell to render herself invisible, and had executed the illusions. Then she stood exactly in the place where her illusory self was standing, but did not yet dispel the Fabula Phantasmatis even when the carriage had driven out of sight, though she dismissed the illusion of herself, so that the guards could see her now. And they were none the wiser.

Walking up to them, she confidently held out her hand with the invitation towards them. One of the guards took the invitation and studied it. While the Countess' name and office were written on the card, what he saw on the card was the name of a petty dignitary from Seven. "You are from Seven, then?" one of the guards asked, handing back the invitation to Beira. She smiled warmly in response and nodded. Good thing they weren't so amazing at small talk. Security details didn't focus much on that. The guards opened the doors and let her in, and Beira could feel their eyes on her back until the portals were shut again. Stage one of the mission was successful. She was in.


WC: 709 words
Total: 1846/3500

The interior of the hall being used for this irritating ball was quaintly designed, and the doors led directly into a long ante room, most likely used for red carpet processions and other frivolities when more dignified members of society graced places such as this. Beira could not say she was impressed. The fact that most of the people here had no idea which was was up on a sword made the Utgardian miss home, and not for the last time. Back in Utgardr, nobility was characterized by a number of virtues, including stalwart character and a good knowledge of combat. Even if one lacked combat prowess, he could be respected and accepted in noble circles for his impeccable nature. A warlord could be base, but her ability to work magic with a blade could earn her a seat of honor in the higher halls. Here, the word "noble" had absolutely nothing to do with its meaning. One had to simply have money, and lots of it. One you were rich, you could buy a meaningless title, or an office, or even a kingdom, as long as you knew the right cards to play. Sure, there was something to be respected about someone who could win a kingdom for themselves, but if all one could do was scheme and throw money about, such a one deserved to be a tax collector, not a monarch.

Beira's steps led her into an expansive, well-decorated and lavish hall, filled with politicians of all sorts. At various points across the hall, guards in ornate armor stood, the armors designed to be pleasing to the eye, but at the same time not sacrificing anything in the way of effectiveness and mobility. Waiters served different drinks, and some strange Fiorean music, slow and surreal, pervaded the area. A waiter approached the God Slayer and asked, "champagne?" That was surely what was the name of the drink he conveyed on his silver tray. It was best to have a drink with her; she didn't want to do anything to draw suspicious attention to herself. "Yes, please," she answered, taking a glass for herself. Putting the glass to her lips, Beira took a sip of the sparkling liquid. It was foreign to her; a bit sweet, not at all unpleasant, and definitely alcoholic. She made a mental note to herself to carefully guard how much she drank. Unlike some, she wasn't known for holding liquor.

A voice in greeting interrupted the sanctity of her solitude, causing the Errings Rising mage to turn. She wasn't supposed to know anyone here. And as expected, the tall man who strode to meet her was a stranger to her, as well as the woman walking by his side. They were both of a similar age demographic as hers, and for a moment, Beira was afraid, because most of the youths of Fiore currently desired to be up to date in technology and the likes. Beira had no interest in technology, nor the desire to be "current", but she was sure she could save herself from the horrors of appearing inferior to the approaching pair. It seemed that it was the nature of royalty to love feeling they were better, or at the very worst, just as good as those they interacted with, and Beira was no exception. She studied the two as they came close. They were both good-looking, to be expected from people with all the money they wanted, and a desire to be admired by others. They were also both tall, but the man , of course, was taller. Despite her heeled sandals, Beira still felt very short. The man looked friendly, the woman didn't.

"Hello there," the man said. "I am--" Beira didn't quite catch his name, though it sounded something like 'melon'. His title, however, she was quick to master, as soon as he said it. Titles were almost everything with these Fioreans, and if she knew the titles of these fellows, Beira was sure her forgetting their names would be readily forgiven. The man also introduced the scowling lady beside him, who, it seemed, was his fiancee, and Beira gave a slight but gracious bow. "I'm honored to make your acquaintances, Councillor Everry, Baroness de Salle. I am Envoy Magna of the Taxale Reach of the Sevenwood." As made up a title if ever there was one, but Beira was sure she would not be found out, as the Fioreans who'd approached her seemed rather sheltered, from their mannerisms.

The Baroness made a scoffing sound. "Do envoys in Seven always dress like harlots?" The question was more a vitriolic stab than an honest question, as the Baroness could see that her man was quite pleased with the Utgardian's appearance. Everry, realizing the impoliteness of his fiancee, tried to mollify Beira, though he obviously didn't want to anger the Baroness, as he said, "well, I do think the Envoy rather gracefully manages herself, even if the fabrics of her dress are... wanting." Beira smiled patronizingly, as she replied, "I'm flattered that you approve of what you see, Councillor, even if you must be coy about it. For my part, would I be right in assuming that not all Fiorean Baronesses have the dressing of a noble and the graces of a harlot?" The eyes of the two women met, and the Baroness' face turned a bright red, as she struggled, but failed to find a proper comeback. Then picking her skirts, she stormed off.

The Councillor looked apologetic. "Do forgive my lady," he said, "she can be a little abrasive at times." Beira responded with a cool smile. "I'm not offended. People after all tend to be critical of that which to them is new... like the implementation of your new law." The tall man frowned slightly. "To be honest, I've no idea what the commoners will say about it, though it will eventually be good for trade in the country. But enough of such boring things. Why is such a beautiful damsel such as yourself in such a place as this?"

"I don't think you'd want your sweetheart getting more jealous than she already is, Councillor Everry," Beira replied with a conspiratory smirk, "but to answer your question, I'm just here to get a feel of Fiorean politics. We in Seven sometimes have our troubles implementing laws, especially in a land so wild and free, and my uncle persuaded my father to allow me engage in this... field trip of sorts, see how this new law is implemented and learn a bit of Fiorean wisdom pertaining to controlling the responses of the beloved people." She still had no idea of what this new law was about, but fortunately, the Councillor threw her a lifeline. "Well, I hear that the Minister for Commerce will soon address everyone formally on the implementation of the law. He should be somewhere upstairs, preparing himself for his speech, which should be soon."

Beira looked past the Councillor, and saw the Baroness returning, face like a thundercloud. "Well, Councillor Everry, I suspect I must grace others here with my presence before the Minister captures our attention, so do enjoy yourself, and best of luck in your soon-to-come marriage," she said, gliding away gracefully, and making herself scarce, even as she heard the voice of the Baroness, taking her anger out on her man. Humans.


WC: 1231 words
Total: 3077/3500

After making herself scarce, Beira found the restroom and entered it, stepping into one of the toilet cubicles and closing the door. Once inside, she stood on the toilet seat, and froze the door of the cubicle with nether rime, so that she would be left alone to her own devices. Then she began to concentrate on her sixth sense. She could sense the aristocrats in the hall beyond milling about and wasting time. She could perceive the guards standing by, watching to see if there was danger. She could perceive someone leave the ballroom and begin heading upstairs; he was armed and armored. That was most likely the Head of Security. And upstairs, she sensed someone else. A rotund fellow, seated in a room into which the Head of Security entered. That room was most likely the security hub, and the Minister had chosen to stay there while he prepared for his speech. While it was not in the nature of most aristocrats to hole up with security, preferring to have their own bodyguards, this fellow seemed extra cautious. Well, the papers of his speech were what Beira was interested in; they would be sufficient proof of this new law to be implemented.

Getting the papers was going to be a bit of a hassle, seeing that the Head of Security seemed to have decided to stay for a moment in the upstairs room, which was expected, since the room was most likely his office. An idea struck Beira, as she remotely observed those within her range of sensing. She would utilize the age old art of distraction. After all, she had heard a proverb which stated that old tricks were the best, and that was the reason they survived. Using her Anima Umbrae, Beira rendered herself invisible and passed through the doors of the restroom. Unseen, she made her way to the space behind the ball room, in which the stairs leading upstairs were. Then she tucked herself in a corner, and activated her Fabula Phantasmatis once more.

In the ball room, one of the guests looked up by chance to see an extremely ugly bat-like creature on a chandelier. Of course, he shrieked at the top of his lungs, and everything devolved into chaos, though the soldiers did a very good job of attempting to calm the party goers and rectify the situation. The security head came flying downstairs, and Beira took the chance to sneak upstairs, her sixth sense informing her that there were about four guards watching over the Minister. Entering the room, the Winter God Slayer appeared, firing shards of her Winter God Curse to temporarily freeze everyone in the room. Then she picked the Minister's briefcase and opened it to ensure that there was proof of the implementation of this mystery law. Good, the stuff was there. It was, of all things, about fish tax. Beira almost rolled her eyes.

Her sense informed her that the Head of Security was returning. The door opened, and the man froze, his eyes surveying the room before coming to rest on the Utgardian. A moment passed as their eyes locked, then he roared, swinging his sword and firing a ball of flame at her. There was a puff of black smoke and runes, and Beira was gone. The range of her teleport was enough to get her out of the hall, but she wasn't still safe. In any case, it wasn't anything her Anima Umbrae couldn't fix. Vanishing into thin air, she made her way stealthily along, smiling to herself as she avoided security personnel and made good her escape. She'd killed no one, so between the Minister and his guards, the Head of Security and the good old Countess who had been so generous as to lend her a pass, there'd be lots of stories to tell. Well, no publicity is bad publicity, so they say.



WC: 658 words
Total: 3735/3500