Open Morealis' Midnight Masquerade

[Edmund Morealis]

[Edmund Morealis]

88th of Autumn, 514AV
Blacksugar Manor & Gardens
Midway Through the 19th Bell

Tonight’s festivities were nearly a season in the making, and what a season it had turned out to be. From the first day of Autumn and through to today, Kenash and its citizens had been suffering through a sea of turbulence and uncertainty. Arranging a masquerade in the midst of all the chaos was like keeping a craft afloat in a stormy sea. It was all Edmund could do to hold his course for this date.

In the end, though, he had been successful. His efforts had been rewarded, and the Morealis’ Midnight Masquerade was due to commence with the coming of dusk. Blacksugar was prepared.

More accurately, the gardens were prepared. There were a number of decorations about that Edmund had ordered the slaves to put up, from laced ribbons strung along the wooden archways to embellished artistic glassworks beside the already tasteful sculptures. All of them were arranged spatially around the twisting paths through that wound through the Blacksugar gardens, where the only light offered were from the din wrought lanterns that lined the paths and the moon which shone from above. The dim glow allowed for an altogether calmer atmosphere, a picture of peaceful solitude should any couple wish to retreat from the main body of festivities in favor of the quieter, more romantic atmosphere.

Closer to the manor, the massive courtyard was bathed in bright light which shone from Blacksugar like a sun. It appeared that every light in every window on every floor had been lit, offering its gleaming radiance to the large space outside one of the Morealis’ ballrooms. No tables of refreshments were offered; instead, an army of house slaves lined either side of the courtyard holding trays of refreshments for those attending. Glasses of fine wine, select rum, expensive brandy and champagne were balanced on ornate silver platters held perfectly evenly. An assortment of elegant pastries and other exquisite morsels were offered, everything from smoked fish to puff pastries glazed and adorned with ripe berries. The house slaves that were charged with carrying these dishes donned only the finest attire that was available to them, many wearing suits that seemed nearly as fine as the kind Edmund would wear on any given day. Near the ballroom itself stood a small troop of house slaves dressed in extravagant floral costumes carrying similar platters, meant to be wandering the rest of the gardens to offer refreshments who preferred their privacy.

Aside from the company of slaves in attendance, the courtyard was lined with an additional garden of potted plants and greenery. Though the courtyard pushed right up against the edge of the Blacksugar gardens, Edmund had made it quite clear that the theme for this particular gathering was that of flowers and growth, the blooming of new buds so to speak. It was perhaps a little on the nose, but there was no denying that there was a serenity to the aesthetic that was pleasing to the eye. That was all that Edmund asked of the arrangement of flowers, as that would be enough to help ease the minds of his guests. At least, such were his hopes.

So marvelous were the Blacksugar gardens that Edmund was hardly required to purchase any additional ornaments, so the actual work required in the beautification of Blacksugar took comparatively little time. It was the logistics of the refreshments that had taken Edmund some effort, which turned out well in the end. Tonight’s atmosphere was meant to be a good deal more relaxing than the standard fare of extravagant parties the like of Askara and Draer had hosted. Gods knew that the Dynasties needed to relax a bit after the tempestuous season everyone had just endured.

Edmund was simply taking a final tour of the gardens before the masquerade was due to start, ensuring that everything was to his satisfaction. Evidently Leth concurred that everything was set right for this celebration, for his brilliant moonlight shone down and covered the cultivated field with his pale luminescence.

“Everything is sorted, I trust?” asked a voice from behind him.

Turning, Edmund was delighted to find the presence of his uncle Dimeer, who strolled up alongside him with the aid of his cane. To all appearances Dimeer was authentically using it to aid his movement, but Edmund knew better. Dimeer was young yet and should have no trouble walking, thus the cane was something else for the former Morealis head to have at his side.

“Most certainly,” replied Edmund, bowing in respect to his elder and esteemed Dynasty member. When he rose, a smile was appropriate for the reunion of close family was fit upon his face. “The arrangements were all made well in advance, and any discrepancies that arose were dealt with in haste. Everything is in place for a wonderful evening for our guests. All that they could want is available to them, save perhaps a room to retreat to.”

“Marvelous,” Dimeer exclaimed, joining his nephew as they continued along his original path. All around them the flowers of the Morealis gardens paved their path, petals glowing softly in the moonlight.

Along the path they continued in silence, neither Morealis feeling the need to talk in the near-perfectness of the scene which surrounded them. Expansive were the gardens through which they tread, their trail winding through the many turns and junctions spaced around the fields surrounding Blacksugar. With the absence of any noise save the natural sounds of the wind and night birds, the setting was truly one of peace, a peace that both uncle and nephew enjoyed tremendously.

As they finished their circuit of the gardens, they ended standing side by side facing the courtyard and Blacksugar manor itself. The silence persisted for a moment longer.

“Should anything go awry, I will take full responsibility,” proclaimed Edmund, though his voice remained soft and unintrusive to the tranquility of the atmosphere.

“I would expect you to,” Dimeer replied immediately. “That is no concern of mine, though. You have always been so eager to please since you were a young lad, always rising to the occasion when one should arise. If something happens tonight that demands your attention and concentration, there is no doubt that you will tend to it. For that is just the kind of nephew you are.”

One of Dimeer’s hands came to rest on Edmund’s shoulder, and the younger Morealis felt immense pride in the familiar contact. “Do not forget, though, that you have your own joy to worry about as well. It sometimes worries me that I do not see you filled with the same passion that drives my children and the rest of our family. Even your younger sister has found her calling and devoted her life to it. There is more to life than responsibility, Edmund.”

As with every other time anyone broached this subject with the young caretaker, Edmund merely smiled. “There is no need to concern yourself with my happiness, uncle. I am perfectly happy with the lot I have been handed.”

Edmund’s response was answered with a rough sigh from Dimeer, whose hand dropped back to his side as he began walking back toward Blacksugar manor proper. “You always know exactly what to say in any given situation to make yourself seem alright,” Dimeer noted. “You cannot fool this old man, though. Sometime this Winter, you and I must do something together, find you a hobby of some sort, lest this work of yours consume you. It is unhealthy to dedicate one’s life to only a single pursuit, after all.”

The old Morealis raised his hand in parting as he walked toward the manor. “You may find me attending the masquerade at some time or another. Until then, I am retiring to my room.”

“Rest well, uncle,” Edmund said back, walking in a different direction to the one Dimeer had taken. The caretaker was headed instead for the entrance, where he wished to ensure for one final time that the house slaves set to greet the guests were familiar with their instructions. They undoubtedly were, for he had ensured this nearly a dozen times already, but loathe was Edmund to sit idle. Especially with the thoughts Dimeer had given him.

Shortly After the 20th Bell

There had been the usual early arrivals to the Masquerade that Edmund had been expecting that arrived many chimes before the event was due to commence, and since then the guests had been slowly trickling in. A number of carriages from the various Dynasties rolled up in front of Blacksugar, some departed to return at a certain time and others parked out of the way while their drivers waited patiently for their masters to return.

As for Edmund, the young caretaker could not sit still. At times he was present in the courtyard to welcome those guests who had been directed from the front entrance, at other times he was strolling around to ensure that the slaves were offering their refreshments when appropriate, and at other times he was making sure that the musicians had everything that they required. The courtyard, bathed in the effulgence of light pouring outward from the adjoining ballroom, was slowly filling with people with their wide array of costumes suited to the theme. Quite imaginitive was the variety of outfits that Edmund had the pleasure to observe, some decidedly more bizarre than others, but at least he took heart in that they had risen to his invitation.

Unlike how Edmund was usually, at present he was constantly flitting between groups of guests, talking with the politely and chatting for a certain amount of time, endeavoring to greet each new guest as they arrived with pleasant salutations and cordial discussion until he excused himself to welcome the next arrival.

Currently the number of slaves wandering the courtyard with their platters was few, as there were thus far only so many dynasts in attendance. They would, however, grow in proportion to the number of guests that arrived, well into the evening when everyone who was going to finally arrived. Such a time was in the future however, and for now people were slowly familiarizing themselves with the setting that their host had entreated them to.

[Harkon]

Just before the 20th Bell Harkon stepped down lightly from the carriage that had brought him from the city proper to Blacksugar, courtesy of his employer. Harkon may not have even a hint of the wealth that the Dynasts maintained, he still made an effort to look the part. He was wearing his Season's Best, consisting black silk undergarments, a white mohair shirt, black and silver brocade silk vest, black and silver brocade satin jacket, black satin trousers, black leather high boots, black leather belt with buckle, black silk top hat, a shiny black walking stick, and most importantly, a black, fine wool mask, with silver beads. His trusty battleaxe adorned him as well, though beneath the folds of the jacket, hanging from his belt, so as to not panic the more sensitive Dynasts. He nodded at the various servants and slaves putting the finishing touches on the preparations. Harkon already knew his duty tonight, and as such, he meandered slowly around the garden before guests arrived, inspecting the grounds. He made his way toward the doors of the ballroom, passing many of the slaves brandishing platters topped with food. Harkon took his post just to the left of the ballroom entrance, walking stick in his left hand. The mercenary took on the semblance of one of the statues. His counterpart for the right hand side of the entrance arrived as well. Harkon preferred the left, for when a couple arrived, more often than not, the woman would be on the far side away from him, with the man closer. This let Harkon get a better glance at the man's garments, not for help with style, but to see who was bringing weapons, and who might be leaving with items that belonged to the Morealis. As the twentieth bell rolled around and guests began arriving, Harkon maintained his duty. He stood there, eyes always watching, scanning the courtyard for dangers or disturbances. He would not leave his post unless absolutely necessary, he would not speak unless spoken to first. If he was spoken to, he would keep his answers short and polite, so as to move traffic through the doors more easily, but without offending the patron. If he spotted a minor problem, he'd summon one of the security detail that roamed the ground with a raise of his arm, and inform them of the situation. If a situation was more serious or dire, he was to use his best judgment. But for now, he was a decently dressed statue with an impartial face, eyes moving were the only obvious sign of life.