“Ah, Zach! I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Jormir suddenly popped up in front of Zach as if from nowhere.

The smarmy Halfling seemed to have forgotten Zach’s earlier threat as he was back in full git mode. If Zacharias wasn’t in the mood for it before, he was definitely, totally, completely not in the mood for it now. Not only was it a massive pain in the arse trying to come up with various subterfuges so that he could get close to Winfred and tell her what a shite job she was doing, but it had also been a hell of an irritating hour. Once he’d been given the fresh fancy toast, he’d circulated the room and been met with more people being pricks about his face.

“You’re on box duty,” Jormir continued when Zach didn’t bother to acknowledge his presence. “You’re to make sure that all of the distinguished guests in the opera boxes have ample food and alcohol for the duration of the evening. The more satisfied the guest, the more likely they are to part with their gold,” the rotund Halfling nodded to himself before turning on his heel and marching off to go harass the other servers.

Well, Zach told himself, that was certainly a turn up for the books. The guests who would be sitting in the opera boxes would be the richest and most important of all the attendees. It would be the perfect chance for him to network with Dray’Mel’s most powerful. Whether it was getting in some face time or working out which chambers they were staying in so he could grab himself a treat or two before they left the mansion, all Zach could see to his latest work assignment was upsides.

“Would you be the fellow who’s going to show us to my opera box?” A pompous sounding voice said from behind. Zach turned around to find himself face to belly with Romulus Killian. Behind him were two burly Orc warriors, boredom clear on their faces. Zach held back a snort. Typical. Now that Killian was a shadow of his former fit self, he needed to hide behind some filthy Orcs. The two warriors were looking out of place in crisply starched military jackets. The formal look was at odds with their blank slovenly faces, but Orcs weren't exactly known for their social graces

It was well known that the few Orcs that remained in Dray’Mel were now bodyguards for the rich and important. Their kind had been instrumental in creating the mortal guardsmen that patrolled the Noble's District. But they were quick to anger and even quicker to use their native blades which didn’t make for a well-managed infantry. It was these traits that made them the perfect bodyguards, ready to pounce on anyone who looked at their master in the wrong way.

“I’d be delighted to,” Zach replied with mock sincerity. It didn’t seem like Killian recognized him from their meetings at Sykes’ den or indeed the many times he’d delivered the goods the fat bastard craved at the most awkward times. While Sykes was largely known for dealing Dragon's Blood, he'd been more than happy to scrounge up any kind of drugs his rich suppliers had needed.

Zach waved Killian and his entourage through the double doors that led to the auction room. Another boring richie-rich room. Zach was getting used to the sight now. Some people really did have more money than sense. Hand-painted songbirds? How fucking soppy could you get? Zach led his charges to the side door that led up to the opera boxes.

“A remarkable view as always,” Killian said as he landed on a giant red velvet chaise lounge. The Orcs were to remain standing it would seem. “Bring me my champagne and more of that delicious toast.” He continued, waving a hand decorated with numerous jeweled rings in Zach’s direction.

“It would be my pleasure Sir,” Zach gave a little bow. He didn’t have any problem with plying the fat git with as much alcohol as he could. It would make it so much easier to get every single one of those rings off his fingers.

Zach left Killian’s opera box and almost collided with one of the other Halfling servants. The other man cowered away from him which was definitely the ego boost he needed, though the poor git seemed half-dead with fright already.

“Yeah you better watch it,” Zach added with relish.

“S-s-sorry…” The cowardly Halfling replied. “I was...j-j-just showing...the...g-g-gentleman,”

“I can make my way to the box from here,” A voice said from behind him. Zach looked up and saw a slim pale man dressed entirely in black. The suit he was wearing was a three-piece and expertly tailored. Zach had seen similar outfits in the window of a high-end tailor on one of his many sorties through the rich district. The suit was perfectly matched with a crisp white shirt, buttoned up to the neck. In his left hand was an ebony cane with a silver top. He looked down at Zach with intense dark eyes that almost seemed to glow with a faint luster. His hair was almost entirely black aside from a stripe of white and it was neatly slicked back.

The other Halfling stammered an apology and rushed off. No doubt to fail to appease the next poor sod unlucky enough to have him wait on them.

“Uncouth ignoramus,” The gaunt man muttered under his breath as they both watched the servant run away. “I trust you at least know how to speak in full sentences?”

“Of course,” Zach replied. The man’s tone instantly got his back up but this was the one time he was willing to forgive. Unlike all of the other arsehole nobles that were in attendance, Zach knew a vampire when he saw one. He’d heard about them but never had the pleasure of coming across one. From what little he knew about the Tomb-Makers, vampires were the highest ranking of all their Undead forces. “If you’d like, I could even sort out that servant for you.”

One of the more approachable forms of Undead, Vampires were often in charge of the various aspects of Dray’Mel where Undead and the living might intermingle. Still, being social for an Undead was a low bar to cross, as the few stories Zach had heard of Vampires tended to end bloody.

The Nightwalker chuckled. A deep rumbling sound, that raised the hairs on Zach’s neck.

“I would like you to serve me for the rest of the evening,” He said as he started walking down the narrow corridor in the direction of the opera box at the end. “I tire of simpering fools, so be quick about it... You may call me Lysander, or Sir. And fetch my bottle of wine from the kitchen staff, it should be properly chilled by now.”

Zach nodded as calmly as he could, as he concealed a sly grin. Forget fat bastards and their stupid rings. If he could get on the good side of a vampire then he’d be the one laughing.