Day of the Masquerade…

Frances steadied herself as the carriage she, Ayax, Edana and Alexander was sharing trundled down the road. Don wasn’t attending the ball as he was staying home with Ayax’s younger adopted brother, Ben.

The costume Frances was wearing was meant to cast her as a fairy. She had a bright blue silk dress with billowing puffed sleeves. The silk had a shimmering effect that Don said was due to how it was manufactured with magic and other materials. Wire-framed silk wings, a gold crown, a white half-mask embedded with blue gems, and Ivy’s Sting masquerading as a wand with a fake star at the end, were her accessories. She’d wanted something less… gaudy, but Don wasn’t having any of it.

Edana was going appropriately enough, like a dragon. She had a maroon dress with a scale-like pattern that wrapped around her and ended in a long tail-like train. Don said that the pattern was because the dress was made from crocodile and alligator skin, though, there were real-life dragons. Her mask mimicked a dragon’s head and had this amazing snout protrusion that could open wide for food or snacks.

Ayax’s father Alexander, and Ayax had matching costume themes. They were going as a kind of musketeer-gentleman theme. Alexander was decked in black silk doublet, black gold-trimmed breeches and wore a bandit-style eye mask. A black, wide-brimmed hat, made likely out of beaverskin and with a red feather tucked into it, completed his costume.

As for Ayax, she was completely decked out in brass-buttoned, dark blue leather shirt and trousers that were polished to a lustrous shine. On her left arm was fastened a decorated leather pauldron emblazoned with a city surrounded by an ocean, Erlenberg’s sigil. To complete her costume, she had a fake floppy rapier and a black eye mask and hat that looked taken right out of a Zorro movie (Author’s note: known in our world as Cordovan hat).

“How are you not sweating under all that?” Frances asked her cousin.

“Fashion is pain.” Ayax let that statement sink in for a second, before she ruefully added, “I’m also using a cooling spell.”

Alexander sighed, “I’m sorry Don got a bit carried away.”

“Oh no. I love this. Can I keep it?” Ayax asked, glancing at her father.

The older troll chuckled, “Of course.”

Their carriage came to a stop and a footman opened the door for them.

“Showtime,” said Edana, levering herself up with her staff.

Frances followed her mother out. According to Eleanor’s briefing, Avery Ironhand, the ball’s host was an up and coming merchant who was making a fortune creating cheap mass-produced weapons and armour for both the Kingdom of Alavaria and Erisdale. Essentially, an arms merchant.

Frances imagined that such a character would look either like a fat balding man out of a cartoon or nothing like that. The reality, however, subverted both expectations. Avery was chubby, and his hair was receding. However, the broad-shouldered man still cut a fine figure in his jester-themed costume, complete with bells on his hat.

Oh, and as to how Frances figured out he was their host, he was greeting them personally by the door. Right now, he was shaking Eleanor’s gloved hand. She was dressed up as an evil queen, which… across from Edana’s dragon, seemed oddly appropriate if the theme was fairy tale villains.

“Madame Windwhistler, always a pleasure,” said Avery.

“Thank you for having us.” Eleanor, behind her purple mask, gestured to Edana and Frances. “This is my daughter, Edana the Firehand, visiting from Erisdale, and her daughter, Frances.”

Avery smiled and shook Frances’s hand. “Oh the Firehand and her Otherworlder daughter, welcome to Erlenberg both of you,” he said.

If Edana and Eleanor were surprised, she hid it well, because Frances was caught off guard, and only her mask hid her widening eyes.

“It seems our reputation precedes us,” Edana said, smiling beatifically, even as she took Avery’s hand and squeezed ever so tightly.

Avery seemed to get the hint. “Your daughter made quite the impression when she beat Ophelia Voidsailor. Quite a few people are eager to meet her.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re at a masquerade then,” said Edana coolly.

After greetings, the Windwhistler party entered the ballroom. At the moment, people in costumes were chatting around a dozen small tables with snacks and drinks on them. It was a wash of colour, feathers, hats and a rainbow of silks and fabrics. Finery Frances had never seen much less grasp.

“We’re going to have to be careful here, Frances. They seem to be interested in you,” said Eleanor brusquely. “You and Ayax need to stay close to one another.”

Frances nodded, schooling her expression. All she had to do was blend in. She was good at that before she’d come to Durannon, though at the time, she hadn’t had the right outfit to do so. Now, she did.

Ayax muttered, “Yes, Grandmother.”

Because of Avery’s warning, for the most part, Frances and Ayax stayed quiet and close to their parents, while the adults in their party introduced them to other adults. The two girls greeted these people politely, but it soon became nearly impossible to keep track of their names, especially since these adults were more interested in talking to Eleanor, Edana, or Alexander. It meant that both soon found that their main source of entertainment was watching the amazing costumes of the other guests and the snack food.

But while Ayax seemed only tangentially interested in learning who these people were, Frances did keep track of their names, or at least she tried to. Avery had invited a whole host of men and women, lords, ladies, mages… Edana and Eleanor were only introducing her to a few, mostly researchers and mages of Erlenberg who told Frances of their work. They told of a magical experience quite different from that of a war mage. Often, being a mage didn’t actually mean fighting, it often just meant solving problems that normal means couldn’t solve quickly.

Frances had just said goodbye to Fairbanks, a mage specializing in constructing and improving Erlenberg’s canals when Eleanor seemed to glower at a group of people approaching them.

“Oh here comes a shit parade.” Eleanor turned to Ayax and Frances. “You two need to get away. Quickly. Those are the Voidsailors.”

Frances blinked. The group of people who were approaching all seemed to have the colour purple as a theme, which gave a sense of unity to their clashing, extremely outlandish costumes. “Who?”

“You beat their champion, Ophelia. They will not be happy,” said Ayax, taking Frances’s hand and steering her away. Frances let her, coming to the same conclusion.

“I’ll call you later, mom,” said Frances as they left.

Edana waved her daughter goodbye and turned to the approaching party.

“Anything I should know, mom?” she asked.

“Let me do the talking,” Eleanor hissed. She stepped in front of their group and smiled. “Oscar Voidsailor. You’re looking spry.”

The leader of the party, a tall man with greying hair dressed as a berserker with dyed purple furs, stepped aside to reveal a much shorter figure; a half-goblin-half-human male with a sharp grin and a costume meant to evoke that of an armoured knight.

“Eleanor Windwhistler,” said Oscar, his voice had an odd, almost raspy quality to it. Then again—Edana mused—perhaps it was appropriate given his size. He was just four and a half feet tall. “It’s been a while. Heard you did a number on the Seaskimmer’s SS Stormfly.”

“It’s not us doing a number if they copy the wrong designs,” Eleanor said airily, only, the Windwhistler matriarch was grinning a bit like a shark that could smell blood in the water. “So, what’s the occasion for this meeting?”

Oscar chuckled. “I want to talk to you about the Winter Tournament and congratulate you on finding two worthy champions.”

Edana frowned. That sounded like a compliment, as in, a proper and polite compliment. Maybe Erlenberg court customs weren’t like Erisdale’s and she wasn’t hearing things properly. Her mother, however, was narrow-eyed as well.

“Thank you. What is it that you would like to discuss, Oscar?” Eleanor said in a cool, stately tone.

Oscar smiled and Edana instantly tensed. As well-intentioned as this seemed, she suspected the smile was a prelude to a more sensitive topic.

“I want to discuss how to restrain some of our more… impulsive younglings from escalating things in this year’s tournament,” said the half-goblin.

Edana bit back a sigh. If she knew her mother…

“If I recall things correctly, the ‘escalation’ was initiated by your grandchildren.” Eleanor inclined her head. “I admit, perhaps my grandchildren were overzealous in their response, but I can hardly blame them. After what Basileus did to Eva, I nearly… overreacted.”

Edana frowned. What exactly had happened last year?

Alexander, Ayax’s father leaned closer and whispered, “During the tournament, in a break between matches, Basileus tripped Eva as she was walking through the stands, causing her to roll down a flight of stairs and be seriously injured. He did not mean to hurt her so badly and made an appropriate apology, but needless to say, we considered starting a House War over attempted murder.”

Edana glanced at Alexander, gawking briefly, but there was no exaggeration in the troll’s eyes. House Wars were essentially formal, private wars between Erlenberg’s commercial families, enabling any two or more families to declare war on each other, as long as their fighting didn’t damage public property, take place on public property, or kill any member of the opposing family. That, however, meant that the destruction of the enemy’s property and the maiming or wounding of any family members was still within limits.

Edana could barely recall the House War her mother and late grandmother had fought when she was but a child. All she knew was that it bloody and dark, and her mother never mentioned it ever again. Only in passing.

Oscar had said something that Edana missed, so she returned her attention to the conversation again. It was her mother speaking this time.

“That… you’re apologizing…” Eleanor groaned and leaned on her walking cane. “Alright, you know what, screw this fancy language. I can’t make head or tails of what you want. What do you want, Oscar?”

Oscar shook his head at Eleanor and opened his hands. “I want detente. Deescalation of tensions. We are never going to agree on the immigration and citizenship issue. You Windwhistlers need cheap labour, and we bankers don’t want to funnel more money to the public institutions than we already are. That’s a reality we both have to face. However, I’m promising the Voidsailors will stay neutral in the Council on that issue if you support our new tax for the army and military spending bill.”

Eleanor gave Oscar a thoughtful look and stepped closer to her counterpart. “We were going to support that anyway. Apart from the Windstorms, who I get because they’re hemorrhaging money, no sane House would reject that.” She leaned down, former contempt went, all business. “What do you actually want, Oscar?”

Oscar glanced over his shoulder and beckoned Edana to come over. “Firehand, you need to hear this too. It concerns Erisdale.” Edana, frowning, walked up closer and bent down so the two Windwhistler women were eye level to the Voidsailor patriarch.

“Erlenberg’s relations with Alavaria are getting frostier by the day. Our persistent neutrality is apparently something King Thorgoth cannot abide by. I will not let war come to Erlenberg, but I’d rather not be caught staring at the moon while being robbed,” Oscar hissed, using an old goblin turn of phrase.

“Yeah, but we both know that. That’s why this bill is being brought up and debated. You’re going to get it through.” Eleanor’s eyes widened. “Something changed hasn’t it?”

“Yeah. Only the Gods of Sea and Sand know why, but the Seaskimmers are voting against it and they’ve brought some others to their side.” Oscar fixed Edana with a glare. “Firehand, I must ask, does Erisdale have a contingency if that damned Demon King invades Erlenberg?”

Edana pursed her lips, took a deep breath and made a snap decision.

“You’re assuming we have the resources for a contingency.”

Eleanor’s attention snapped to her daughter. “What do you mean, Edana?”

“Two years of constant warfare has been extremely hard on what trained soldiers and mages we have. The War Council has assumed however that the war must be equally hard on the Kingdom of the Alavari, and so based on what we know of your fleet and your army, the War Council assumed Erlenberg should be able to hold out in the event of an invasion.” Edana felt a deep pit in her stomach form. “Are you saying Erlenberg can’t?”

“Some think we can, but I don’t. We’re well equipped, but what armed forces we have are painfully green in comparison to your troops.” Oscar fixed Eleanor with a serious look. “This Winter Tournament cannot deteriorate the relationship between your house and the rest of the council. We can’t afford it this year.”

Eleanor arched an eyebrow. “What’s stopping you? We have never thrown the first hit. And if you’re approaching us, you know we agree with you about the war.”

“I’m asking you to reign in your typically vicious counter-attacks, because I don’t think I can reign in my more moronic grandchildren and children, Eleanor.” Oscar wiped his brow with a kerchief and sighed. “Basileus’s father Basil is chafing at the bit to get at you as is Olivia and her children. I’ve argued with them again and again. Only my heir, Oliver and his children see the bigger picture.”

“That’s why you want to talk… so that we can come to an understanding,” Eleanor realised. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Right, consider me in accord with you for the moment, but we need to discuss what happens if our children or grandchildren do something stupid. And I fully intend on helping my grandchild and grand-niece win the Winter Tournament.”

Oscar breathed an evident sigh of relief and extended his hand, which Eleanor shook. “Excellent. Though, your Frances and Ayax don’t stand a chance against Ophelia. She’s done nothing else but prepare to fight your champions.”

“I think they will both surprise you, Oscar,” said Edana, grinning.

“When do you think it’s a good time to call them?” Frances asked Ayax.

“It’s too soon. They’ll be discussing things for a while.” Ayax sipped a glass of some sparkling wine. “In the meantime, it’s best to just lie low.”

Frances nodded and sipped from her glass. “Yeah, I didn’t quite expect the ball to go like this. I thought we’d see more people of our age.”

Ayax nodded. “It is kind of boring.”

“I didn’t say—”

“You implied,” Ayax said bluntly, though, she was smiling as she said so,

Frances blushed. “It would be nice if we could find some other people to talk to.”

“Let’s go then,” said Ayax. She strolled forward and Frances quickly followed. As they made their way through the glistening ballroom, both girls scanned the crowd. But neither could see anybody that looked their age. All they could see were adults, men and women clearly older than them chatting in their own social circles.

Suddenly, like an island rising out of an ocean, Ayax spotted a trio of teenagers sitting together at a round table beside the ballroom wall, chatting quietly.

“There, let’s go,” said Ayax. Frances nodded and the pair walked towards the group.

As the pair approached, they could see the three teens turn towards them. One looked to be a troll going as a pirate. The other was a half-orc, also going as a pirate, but more of the flamboyant and calico buccaneer style. The only female in the group was dressed as a farm girl. Of course, no farm girl had such a high quality and somewhat tacky red-green tartan dress, fine leather boots, an orange silk apron, and floppy head bow, also of orange.

Hold on. Orange? Frances felt she’d seen that colour recently. It certainly wasn’t a colour most people would wear, not even to a costume party.

“Are you bored too?” the troll asked, grinning.

“Very. Brought here by your parents, or grandparents?” Ayax asked, smiling with relief.

“Oh the Gods yes,” whined the half-orc. “Got to show our house is still here, show we are still great. We’re going to get plenty of opportunities to show off at the Winter Tournament.”

“Oh, are you entering?” Frances asked.

“Yes. Are you also contestants?” the human girl replied, in a wary tone.

Behind her mask, Frances narrowed her eyes. There was something about that voice that made her feel like she’d heard it before. She’d met this person, whoever she was behind this mask. But she knew all the Windwhistlers here, and the only people who she had met in Erlenberg apart from the library people, was—Frances froze.

Ayax was nodding. “Yes, I’m—”

“Perhaps we should not reveal from which houses we are,” said the human girl.

Frances nodded and smiled. She knew it wasn’t her most convincing smile. Then again, she didn’t blame herself for failing at that.

“Yeah. I mean, might as well play into the whole masquerade theme of this ball,” Frances said.

After all, she was quite sure that Ophelia Voidsailor was the girl standing across from her, and she somehow recognized Frances.

Ophelia was smiling, and hoping she didn’t show her uneasiness. This… wasn’t good. Frances had seemed surprised by Ophelia, and so, her rival must have recognized her. Somehow the two lugs, Jeffrey and Robert, didn’t realize they were talking to their rivals. Neither did the troll beside Frances, who had to be her rival’s cousin, Ayax.

Wait, Frances recognized her? Oh! Her rival actually remembered her! Ophelia was so giddy with glee that she almost didn’t notice Robert ask:

“So what shall we talk about then?” the troll asked congenially.

“The party maybe?” Ayax suggested.

Jeffrey laughed. “What’s to talk about? It’s an adult party and we are bored out of our minds.”

“The costumes are pretty, though,” Frances quipped.

“Nothing compared to mine,” said Ophelia grinning widely. “I made mine myself.”

“Oh?” Ayax gave Ophelia a once over. “Did you make the boots too?”

Ophelia grinned. “Oh yes.” She absolutely loved talking about her handmade clothing. It was a hobby of hers, aside from pulling pranks on her family members. She had no idea why but every time she started talking about her skills her family members would ask to leave. However, as she launched into a very very detailed description of her making the costume, Ayax only sat there and listened attentively.

“Oh dear, she’s going to be like this for a while,” said Robert.

Frances nodded slowly, though, she was also rather glad Ophelia’s attention was now off of her. “I bet. Um, well what would you like to talk about?” asked the troll and half-orc. Sure, they were friends of Ophelia but… they didn’t seem too unfriendly.

Jeffrey snapped his fingers. “Oh, I know! What do you think about the war?”

Frances’s stomach’s contents were now doing the equivalent of food being churned by a blender. Swallowing, she braced herself. “Um, you mean the Great War?”

“What other war is there?” Robert asked. He didn’t begrudge this strange human girl, however. Not all Erlenberg citizens knew about the war, though, it was becoming a regular discussion topic in circles. It was strange however that she seemed so hesitant to discuss the war. “It looks like the Human Kingdoms are pushing the Alavari back. They won at Westfall this year, defeated them at Crimson Cliff, retook Kwent and the Blue River crossing.”

“Not to mention they repulsed the Alavari at Freeburg,” said Jeffrey. The half-orc crossed his arms. “I think we ought to support Erisdale and the Human Kingdoms.”

Frances stared at the half-orc and murmured, “But why?”

Robert grumbled, his tail stiffening with annoyance. “Jeffrey thinks that Alavaria will declare war on us. Our relations are… not great, yes, but they wouldn’t be so insane to do so. He and his family think it’s a good idea to involve us in an expensive fight.”

“We’ll be involved with it anyway, Robert,” Jeffrey shot back.

“That’s…it’s just…” Frances gently touched Ivy’s Sting, trying to calm her thoughts, and sort out the myriad of emotions she felt. “Why would you want to fight a war?”

Jeffrey’s thick brows, a product of his half-orc heritage, furrowed. “Because we’d lose out if we don’t enter? Better enter on our own terms.”

“And you’d fight in the war?” Frances asked.

Jeffrey shrugged. “Well, if I have to.”

“And kill people?”

Ophelia stopped talking and Ayax’s head whipped around. Blinking, Ophelia’s eyes widened as she took in Frances’s cold look, barely hidden behind her mask. There was something so discomforting about the sight of a multi-coloured fairy, with a look like that.

Jeffrey’s eyes were wide and he was visibly lurching away from Frances, who sighed and said simply. “If you can’t, then you shouldn’t wish for war.”

“You’ve… killed?” Robert asked. His tongue felt so numb, he barely got the words out.

Frances swallowed. She ought to lie, but… she wasn’t sure if she could do so convincingly. If she could make up an excuse of some kind though…

“Yes. In self-defence.” She shot Ayax a meaningful look, and her cousin gave an imperceptible nod.

Robert nodded, frowning. “Ah, you’re a war refugee.”

Frances blinked, hesitated, and nodded. It wasn’t true, but it would be a convenient excuse. However, the two boys were giving her looks of pity, mixed with disdain.

“So am I. Do you have a problem with that?” Ayax asked.

Ophelia coughed, glaring at Jeffrey and Robert. “I don’t. How can they help themselves if they are refugees?”

Jeffrey glared at Ophelia. “Come on Ophelia, you know that refugees like them are a drain on Erlenberg’s resources and the more we create citizens from them, the worse off we will be.”

“Erlenberg would benefit from new taxpayers and workers,” Ayax hissed.

Robert shook his head. “Not those who have no loyalty, or sense of propriety. You refugees do anything to become citizens, even exploiting marriage if necessary. Once they do, all they want to do is live off our institutions.”

“I think that’s more of a problem with citizens than the refugees,” Ayax shot back.

Robert spluttered at that retort, but Jeffrey muttered, “Perhaps. Still, if war does come to Erlenberg, the true citizens will stand and fight, but people like you, recently adopted, preying on our kindness, will just cut and run. Your oaths of citizenship to this city mean nothing.”

Ophelia slapped her hand against her face, while Ayax flinched. Frances found herself standing, Ivy’s Sting in her grip. She forced herself to breathe slowly, deeply. It would not do well for her family to lose her temper here. Shaking her head, Frances momentarily reflected that two years ago, she would probably not have gotten angry at such a thing.

It was hard, having pride, and the anger that came with it.

Curtsying, Frances enunciated, “Goodbye sirs, and Lady Voidsailor. I will see you at the tournament.” With that, she turned on her heels. Ayax, giving a short bow, walked beside Frances, glaring daggers over her shoulder.

“Like you will. You’re too scared to go to the tournament!” Robert jeered.

Frances rolled her eyes at the juvenile insult. “Oh, I’ll be there. I promise,” she called without looking. Ayax stuck her tongue over her shoulder, barely breaking her stony expression.

“Yeah, but your parents won’t be!” Robert retorted.

Frances flinched and forced herself to keep walking, reminding herself this wasn’t a competition for who could get the last word in. Only… Ayax was no longer beside her.

“Oh. Did I hit a nerve?” Robert chuckled. “What did daddy and mommy die of?”

Frances spun around. Ayax’s fists were balled, her eyes narrowed at the troll across from her. The half-orc beside the troll looked alarmed, whilst Ophelia looked aghast and rather frustrated.

“Roranoak raiders.” Ayax strode toward Robert, her voice quiet. “A company of Roranoak raiders sacked our village. They raped my mother. They killed my father. But before that, my father and I beat every single one of them to a bloody pulp.” Ayax smiled joylessly. “Do you know that even if a human’s guts are spilling out, they can live for some time?”

Ophelia looked sick to her stomach, but she still inserted herself between Ayax and Robert. “Lady Windwhistler, I apologize for my friends’ thoughtless remarks. I hope we can meet on better terms in the future.”

As Ayax stared at Ophelia and Frances tried to formulate a response, Jeffrey blinked. “Windwhistler… You’re Ayax Windwhistler. And that must be Frances.”

“Yes.” Frances curtsied and gently took Ayax’s elbow. “Apology accepted, Ophelia. See you soon.” She shot Ophelia a grateful smile and tugged Ayax again. The troll reluctantly turned away and the pair strode away from the trio.

Ophelia turned to glare at her friends. “You idiots. You nearly started a fight at a ball. On neutral territory—where’s Robert?”

Jeffrey pointed at Robert, who had as Ophelia turned, slid by her. Cursing, the human mage reached out to try to stop her friend, but she was too late.

“I heard your father was called Allaniel the Valiant. Valiant enough to die, but not skilled enough to stay alive.” Robert sneered as Ayax froze. He must have hit a nerve, so he had to be right. His research had indicated that Ayax’s father was a famous war mage. If he’d died, he clearly wasn’t as good as his title portrayed him as.

“Robert, that’s a bit too far,” Jeffrey stammered.

Robert groaned. “They’re just Windwhistlers, and they’re not even proper Windwhistlers. One got taken in because she can’t go back home. The others just had parents who failed to stay alive long enough.”

Frances stiffened and punted the fury and shame she felt down her throat, even as she felt had her hand reaching for Ivy’s Sting’s holster.

The problem was that Ayax, well, she didn’t.

A second after Frances had relaxed her hand, Ayax lunged at Robert, four-fingered hands reaching for his throat.

“You’re wrong! I failed them!” she screamed.