“A Halloween Party?”
Bertrand’s
personal assistant, a Darigan Draik, stared at him with an
incredulous look as he was handed a bag full of envelopes.
“Are ya sure Lord
Kass will approve that?”
The Shadow Lenny
stared back with an excited smile, his head nodding in excitement.
“Yes, I already
asked him myself,” Bertrand replied as he grabbed onto another bag
himself. “It took a bit of convincing, but in the end he relented.
It’s a perfect opportunity for him to strengthen his relationship
with the other Neopian lands .”
The Draik looked
through the bag, his eyes darting from one side to another, looking
through a handful of envelopes at a time. It was clear he was looking
for something specific.
“No,” the Lenny
replied before the Draik could even ask. “No representatives of
Meridell for this one. We want to keep an amicable environment. With
their previous actions and Skarl’s awful attitude… Nothing good
can come from it.”
“Besides, if we
invite him, King Hagan won’t come. We all know Brightvale is a much
more reliable ally.”
The Draik rolled
his eyes slightly and shrugged. “Well, ya ain’t wrong about
that.”
“Please bring
that bag to the royal couriers,” Bertrand instructed him, as he
placed a second bag of invitations over his shoulder. “I’ll make
sure to deliver these ones myself.”
“Whatever ya
say,” the Draik grumbled as he stepped out of the room.
Now by himself, the
Lenny clenched his hands around the strap of his bag and frowned.
Ever since he had been assigned to be Lord Kass’ minister of
foreign affairs, he had been looking to prove himself as more than
just a personality hire. He hoped the event would convince the other
ministers and counselors of his worth.
Bertrand took a
deep breath and relaxed his grip, he knew he could handle it. As a
Neovian himself, there was no one in the Citadel more qualified than
him to organize a Halloween party. And what best way for Lord Kass to
mingle with other leaders, than with a celebration for which the
Citadel’s aesthetics lent themselves perfectly?
The young Neovian
searched through the envelopes for any familiar names and made his
way outside the office, heading towards the different Ministers’
offices to invite them to the party.
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊
The reflection of a
Darigan Eyrie’s red piercing eyes turned towards Bertrand. Lord
Kass sat in front of his vanity as he inspected the makeup over his
face; the shape of a skull had been painted all over it.
Days had passed
since the invitations had been sent out. Bertrand had worked
tirelessly to make the best Halloween party the Citadel had ever had,
which granted, was an easy task with this being the very first. But
the Lenny had made sure to make all necessary arrangements to make it
one hard to beat.
“Are you sure
about this?” the ex-general grumbled as he rubbed his fingers over
his right eye, removing a clump of white makeup.
“Don’t mess
with it, I worked really hard on that!” Bertrand said.
“I’m not, some
of it got on my eyelids,” Lord Kass replied. “Now answer the
question.”
Bertrand stared
down, nervously fidgeting with his bowtie. He had dressed himself as
a Funerary Director, and thought a Halloween Eyrie-inspired look
would look good on Lord Kass.
“Well, back in my
University years, I hosted multiple successful Halloween parties,”
Bertrand replied, undoing his bowtie unknowingly. “As long as we
have good music, plenty of food, and keep everyone engaged and
entertained, the party should go without a hitch.”
Lord Kass stood up
from his vanity, and took a couple of slow, heavy steps towards the
much smaller Lenny. He leaned down to grab Bertrand’s bowtie and
tie it up again.
“You talk like
you got everything under control,” the Eyrie said, his voice deep
and serious. “But you always fidget when you’re nervous.”
The Eyrie redid
Bertrand’s bowtie, then stared at him directly in the eyes from
just a few inches apart. Kass’ usual frown softened into a
sarcastic smile. “Better keep your hand away from that tie, I won’t
be around to redo it all night,” he joked at last, before standing
back up.
“T-Thank you,”
Bertrand said, his face turned red from embarrassment after having
his bluff called out with such ease. “I’ll go make sure
everything is ready to receive the diplomats.”
The Lenny turned
around and hurried out of the room, before the soft-yet-firm pull of
Kass’ hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks.
“I didn’t mean
to make you doubt yourself, I’ve just never been the most social
person,” the Eyrie admitted in a softer tone. “I trust you. If
you think this will help the Citadel build stronger bonds with our
possible allies, I’ll follow your lead.”
Bertrand turned
back and smiled at the Eyrie, feeling reassured.
“I- No… We got
this,” the Lenny said with a reassuring smile.
Lord Kass smiled
back.
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊
The music of a
string quartet filled the Darigan Citadel Castle’s Ballroom as
representatives of each land mingled with each other. Lord Kass made
sure to welcome each one of them with an occasional friendly reminder
from Bertrand on who was who as they approached him to thank him for
the invitation.
To Kass and
Bertrand’s surprise, every dignitary and Neopian leader present had
attended the party in costume. Many of them had taken the costume
party as an excuse to outshine the others with the most extravagant
of costumes. Of particular notice were Queen Amira, who had shown up
wearing a multi-layered gown inspired by Halloween Aishas, and toped
by a red, devilish tiara; King Roo had dressed himself up as Orig the
Great, he had added a few balloons under the suit to fake musculature
and would enthusiastically flex for anyone who approached him; and
King Hagan, who had dressed himself as the Neopian Philharmonic
Conductor, and had to repeatedly explain his costume to other guests.
Outside of the
castle, it seemed to be a windy night, clouds had gathered over the
Darigan Citadel’s sky and threatened the party with rain. But
inside the castle’s walls, there was no reason to pay notice to
such inconveniences.
It had been a
couple hours since the party had started and once introductions were
done with (which always came with an observation about the weather),
the Lenny took a moment to check in on how the staff were doing.
“The cooks are
bringing a new batch of Turtum Shell and Assorted Berries salad,” a
Darigan Wocky reported as she eyed one of the Brightvale
representatives assaulting the fancy cheeses section. “We are
running out of cheese, though.”
“That’s odd,”
the Lenny said, mostly to himself. “I made sure to order plenty.”
“I’ll ask the
staff to look for them, maybe they’ve been misplaced.”
“No, no… Let’s
just ration them a bit more, we could compensate for it if we add
more cured meats to the display.”
The Wocky nodded
and walked towards the kitchen to deliver the instructions.
The Lenny then
walked towards the manager in charge of the event’s music, who
turned towards him with a look of dismay.
“It’s a
disaster,” the ancient Blue Scorchio whispered, his body trembling.
“She won’t perform!”
“Who won’t
perform?”
“The guitarist we
hired!” the director replied in a whispered scream. “She’s lost
her lucky guitar pick and now refuses to play without it. She says
she won’t play in front of royalty without her lucky pick.”
“What does it
look like? I’ll have some of the guards look for it.”
“She says it’s
a golden pick, gifted to her by her grandma,” the elderly Blue
Scorchio replied. “It’s very shiny.”
“Go get some
guards from the barracks and have them look for it with her,”
Bertrand said. “Have them retrace her steps and look the
surrounding areas.”
“But what shall
we do in the meantime? The quartet hasn’t had a break and they’ve
almost run through their whole set.”
“I will play
something in the harpsichord while they take a breather and figure
out what to play next. Go look for that pick, and I will let them
know.”
The Scorchio nodded
and rushed outside through one of the hallways in the back. Bertrand
followed him with his eyes before turning around and bumping into
something, no, someone.
The Lenny raised
his eyes to find Lord Kass looking down on him.
“I’ve never
seen that old Scorchio run this fast ever before,” Lord Kass said.
“What is going on?”
“Some silly pick
went missing,” the Lenny replied with a frown. “Please don’t
pay it any mind, go mingle with the others, I’ve got it under
control.”
The Eyrie looked
stunned at the Lenny, then smiled deviously. Kass had grown to
recognize that frown of his after many months working together.
Bertrand always seemed so nervous and coy, but when things called for
action, he always found a way to hold the fort. That was exactly the
reason he had chosen him for that position: His determination when
faced by an unexpected challenge.
“Very well,
then,” the ex-general said, smugly. “I shall leave you to it.”
The Lenny walked
towards the quartet and nodded at them as they turned at him. They
calmly transitioned into the end of their melody and slowly but
surely, their music faded away.
By the time they
were done, Bertrand had laid his funerary director’s jacket next to
him on the seat, and rolled over the sleeves of his shirt to allow
his wings to move through the keyboard without them getting in the
way.
As the Lenny pushed
his wings towards the keys, two large windows swung open. The
slamming sound drowned out the sound of the harpsichord. A strong
gust of wind accompanied the racket, extinguishing all of the lights
in the ballroom.
Bertrand turned his
head around and saw a shadow fly across the ballroom as lightning
flashed through the Citadel’s skies, soon followed by the rain,
which was now being blown into the ballroom.
A couple shrieks of
horror filled the air.
“What happened?”
“Who turned the
lights out?!”
“Did anyone else
see that shadow?”
“It’s the orb’s
curse! It’s come to claim more victims!” a final voice called
out.
The crowd went
silent for a second, and suddenly the panicked mutterings of the
attendees overpowered any attempt from the hosts to calm things down.
Then, a much larger
shadow swooped into the air, its large wings spreading far and wide
across the ballroom. And a deep, assertive, familiar voice broke
through the panicked chattering.
“Stay calm!”
Lord Kass announced, flapping his wings to stay in place. “There is
no reason to think the Orb’s curse has come back.
“Meridell was not
affected when we recovered it, and it’s been a year since it was
destroyed. There’s no reason to suspect this is the Orb’s doing.”
The crowd went
mostly silent, save for a few whispers.
“Please allow my
people to pull everything back together,” the Eyrie said. “And I
assure you, this will be a celebration to remember.”
Kass slowed down
the flapping of his wings and glided towards Bertrand.
“Think you can
start over?” Lord Kass asked, but the Lenny didn’t respond.
The ex-general
turned to look at his minister of foreign affairs, who seemed
entranced, his eyes fixed on a corner of the ballroom.
“Bertrand?” the
Eyrie asked.
“I think I saw a
shadow fly towards that corner,” the Lenny said, pointing with his
beak.
A pair of maids
walked towards the window and closed it once again, securing it in
place. This was followed by a large group of servants, who made their
way into the room with lit candelabras in their hands, they spread
across the room, strategically placing them around the ballroom,
lighting it back up.
The attendees tried
to ignore the recent scare and go back to the festivities, some
showing off the intricacies of their costumes to each other. A few of
them trying to remember what they had been talking about before the
interruption.
Bertrand took one
of the candelabra’s that was set on the catering table, and walked
towards the corner he had pointed out; the Darigan Eyrie followed
close behind. A few heads turned towards them as they walked across
the ballroom. With each step he made towards the corner, he noticed a
pair of shrieks growing clearer and clearer.
The Lenny raised
the candelabra towards the ceiling, revealing the source of the
“curse” that had befallen the party.
A nest sat on top
of a curtain rack, a Crokabek sticked its head out from it, looking
back at Bertrand with an unwelcoming look. The Crokabek cawed at him
and the crowd that now had turned their attention towards the
intruder. From its nest, two baby Crokabeks with barely a few
feathers also popped their heads out and stared down, then stared at
their mother, opening their hungry mouths and shrieking for more
food. Bertrand moved the candelabra to the side, illuminating a large
clump that rested on the opposite side of the nest, it was a
collection of shiny little trinkets, on top of which the golden
guitar pick stood out.
“That’s my
missing lucky pick!” a white Ixi exclaimed from within the crowd.
“I can’t play without it!”
The Lenny turned
around and looked at the nearby guests, he noticed a red Elephante
holding a plate of fancy cheeses. Then he remembered the missing
wheels of cheese.
“I am very sorry
to ask, but may I have your plate?” Bertrand asked with a polite
smile. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind sharing your food with a
couple hungry infants.”
The Elephante gave
him a painful smile and nodded, reluctantly handing over his plate.
The Shadow Lenny
lifted the plate up towards the Crokabek. Who leaned her head
sideways, skeptically looking at the plate of cheese, then at
Bertrand, and back to the plate.
“I know what
you’re thinking, but I don’t think she’ll be leaving her chicks
alone anytime soon,” the Eyrie said in a hushed tone. “Not with
this crowd staring.”
The Lenny sighed.
“I figured.”
Lord Kass took the
plate and lifted himself towards the curtain rack. The Crokabek
immediately flapped her wings, her feathers raising up as it readied
itself to attack the approaching Eyrie.
The ex-general
raised the plate towards the mother and its hungry chicks, but in
response, he received only pecks and bites from the protective
mother. He remained unmoved as the Crokabek viciously attacked his
hand, but it soon realized he was not fighting back.
“Come on, grab
some food for your chicks,” the Darigan Eyrie said. “They sound
hungry.”
The Crokabek stared
back at him for a couple seconds, then quickly grabbed a cube of
cheese. Kass shook his wings just enough to remain in place as the
mother chewed on it and promptly fed it to her babies.
As the petpet
leaned over to grab a second cube, Lord Kass spoke to it once again.
“You can have all
of these and more, but I ask you to return that pick,” he said in a
gentle tone, while pointing at the Ixi artist’s lucky charm.
The Crokabek
followed the Eyrie’s finger, looked at the pick, then at the cheese
and back at Lord Kass. It seemed like she was pondering her options
for a second, then she grabbed the pick, placing it on the plate,
before grabbing all the cheese cubes one by one.
“Thank you,”
the ex-general said as he once again, descended back to the ballroom
floor.
The crowd chattered
in amusement as Lord Kass handed Bertrand the lucky pick.
“Someone told me
all a party needs is good music, plenty of food, and keeping the
guests entertained,” the Eyrie said with a smug smile. “I think
we are missing one of those, why don’t you help us with that?”
Bertrand chuckled.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊
Bertrand stood on
the hallway leading from the ballroom to the foyer as he stared
through the window. The storm had mostly subsided, leaving only a
light drizzle behind.
“That was an
excellent job,” Lord Kass’ imposing voice echoed across the hall
as he stepped out of the ballroom.
“You really think
so?”
“Absolutely!”
The Lenny gave a
big sigh of relief.
“For a moment
there I almost thought everything was going to end in disaster,”
Bertrand admitted. “You did a fantastic job calming everyone down.”
“I could say the
same about you,” the Eyrie replied. “You were quick on your toes.
I heard so from the caterer and the musical director.
“And some of the
guests were talking among themselves about how observant you were, no
one else had noticed the Crokabek until you pointed it out.”
“Well, I heard a
couple attendees swooning over that display of yours with the
Crokabek,” Bertrand said. “Ladies really like men who are kind to
petpets.”
Kass chuckled to
himself. “Well, I hope that improves my approval rating.”
“I’m sure it
will.”
“It’s a shame
we found that pick, though,” the Eyrie said, looking out the
window.
“Hm?”
“I think the
guests would have preferred listening to you play the harpsichord,”
Kass elaborated, placing his hand on top of the Lenny’s. “I know
I would have.”
Bertrand turned to
look at the ex-general, shocked by his sudden affection. The two
stood silently for a few seconds, the Lenny gave Kass’ hand a
gentle squeeze before finally working up the courage to speak.
“Well, the night
is still young… I could play a few songs, if you’re not heading
off for the night yet, my Lord.”
“I would be
pleased to lend an ear.”
