CHAPTER 209: FALL OF VALTAIR [5]

Alaric arrived first.

Black tailored coat. Fitted perfectly. Quality fabric that spoke of money without screaming it. And the mask.

Black. Covering the upper half of his face. Elegant but simple design. No excessive decoration.

It was woven with a concealment talisman. Subtle distortion magic that would alter his voice slightly. Make his features blur just enough that even if someone stared directly at him, they’d struggle to recall exact details later.

Expensive. Yeah. But worth every coin.

He adjusted it. Made sure it sat properly.

His crimson eyes looked back at him from a shop window’s reflection—except they didn’t. The mask made them appear darker. Less distinctive. Just another pair of eyes behind black silk.

Good.

Footsteps approached from the side street.

Two figures moving together.

Teryn appeared first. Dressed in servant’s clothes. Quality enough to pass at a noble gathering but clearly marking him as staff rather than guest. Dark vest. White shirt. Simple but clean.

He looked uncomfortable. Kept tugging at his collar.

And beside him—

Delphine.

Her dress was perfect. Deep burgundy. Quality fabric with subtle embroidery along the bodice. Expensive but not ostentatious. Exactly what a successful merchant’s wife would wear when trying to impress nobility without overstepping.

It fit her well. Showed her figure without being improper. Her brown hair was styled up. A few deliberate strands left loose to frame her face.

She wore a mask too. Lighter colored. Gold and cream. Covered her eyes and upper face. Left her lips visible.

Those purple eyes behind the mask found him immediately.

Her breath caught. Just slightly. Her steps faltered for half a second before she recovered.

Right. The husband and wife act.

She approached. Teryn trailing slightly behind.

"My lord." Her voice came quieter than usual. Nervous. "We’re ready."

"Good." Alaric gestured toward where a covered carriage waited. "Let’s go."

They climbed. But Alaric sat with the coachman.

Clop! Clop! Clop!

The horses started forward. The carriage lurched slightly then smoothed into motion.

They moved through Millcrest’s darkened streets. Few people out at this hour. Most businesses closed. Just the occasional tavern spilling light and noise.

The town gave way to open road. Countryside spreading out under a clear night sky. Stars visible. Moon providing enough light to see by.

The wheels rolled steady. Rhythmic. Almost meditative.

Inside the carriage, silence stretched.

Then—

"So." Teryn’s voice came muffled through the partition. "Husband and wife."

"It’s just a role." Delphine’s response came quick. Defensive.

"Right. Just a role."

"It is."

"That’s why you’ve been touching your dress every thirty seconds since we left."

Silence.

"I’m making sure it sits properly."

"Uh-huh."

"Stop it."

"I didn’t say anything."

More silence.

Then Delphine’s voice, quieter: "Do I look... appropriate? For the event?"

"You look fine, Del."

A pause. "You think he’ll think so?"

Alaric heard the question clearly despite the partition. Heard the uncertainty underneath.

He didn’t respond. Let the siblings work through their nervous energy.

The road stretched ahead. Trees lining either side. Occasional farmhouses dark for the night.

An hour passed. Then another.

The landscape gradually changed. Became more cultivated. More maintained. Estate lands rather than wild countryside.

Lights appeared in the distance. Many lights. Concentrated in one area.

The gathering place.

Not a single estate. Instead, it was a massive pavilion. Built for events like this. Neutral ground owned collectively by the Five Houses who organized these gatherings.

Torches lined the approach road. Carriages already arriving. Dotting the path ahead and behind. A steady stream of nobility and wealthy merchants converging.

The pavilion grew larger as they approached. Five stories. Open design with columns and arches. Light spilling from every window and doorway. Music floating out along with the murmur of hundreds of conversations.

Guards stationed at intervals. Checking invitations. Watching for trouble.

Coachman guided the carriage toward the designated area. Other drivers were unhitching horses. Seeing to their vehicles.

He brought them to a stop. Set the brake.

Alaric climbed down.

Moved to open the carriage door.

Delphine appeared first. She took his offered hand. Let him help her down.

Her fingers trembled slightly in his. But her posture stayed composed. Head high. Playing her part already.

Teryn followed. Straightened his servant’s clothes.

Alaric released Delphine’s hand. Offered his arm instead.

She took it and linked her arm through his.

Her touch was warm through his coat sleeve.

"Ready?" His voice came quiet. The mask’s enchantment making it sound slightly different. Deeper. Less recognizable.

"Ready." She replied. Though her grip tightened slightly.

Teryn fell into step behind them. The dutiful servant following his employers.

They moved toward the entrance. Joining the flow of masked guests climbing the pavilion steps.

Music swelled louder. Laughter and conversation building to a roar.

Alaric’s lips curved beneath his mask.

Let the game begin.

**********

Another carriage rolled up the approach. Sleek. Well-maintained but not overly decorated. It came to a stop near the other vehicles.

The door opened.

A figure stepped down.

A man, maybe in his sixties. His clothes were fine. Deep black coat with silver threading at the cuffs and collar.

And a red mask. Elaborate. Covering most of his face. He straightened. Adjusted his coat.

Then turned back toward the carriage. Offered his hand.

Another figure emerged.

Slightly shorter. Slimmer build. Dressed in tailored jacket in deep charcoal. Vest underneath. A green mask covered their face. Simpler than the red one. Elegant but understated.

They took the offered hand. Stepped down. The red-masked figure gave a subtle nod.

They moved away from the carriage. Walked toward the pavilion entrance at a measured pace.

But the red mask leaned closer. His voice dropped to barely a whisper.

"Are you certain, Your Majesty?"

His head turned slightly. Just enough to glance at his companion without being obvious.

"You brought only me? I don’t think I can protect you alone if something—"

The green-masked figure raised one hand. A simple gesture. Stop.

"No need to worry about it."

The voice came out. Lighter. Slightly feminine despite the attempt at masculine tones.

They paused. Reached into their pocket.

Pulled out a scarf. Wrapped it around their neck. Adjusted it carefully. Let the ends drape.

Then spoke again.

"You alone are enough, Ser Sebastian."

The voice had changed. Deeper now. Rougher.

"And don’t forget." The green masked figure turned toward the red one. "I’m Green here. Not..."

They didn’t finish. Didn’t need to.

"Understood, Red?"

Sebastian’s posture shifted.

"Of course. I apologize—"

"You’re the noble here." Green’s tone carried authority despite the disguised voice. "I’m just your aide. Remember that."

"Understood... Green." Sebastian straightened. Corrected his bearing. Became the role he was playing. Attended by a trusted assistant.

Nothing more.

They continued toward the entrance. Joined the flow of other masked guests climbing the steps.