A masked ball to start the evening festivities, a chance for anyone to anyone and to hidden the true identities and let the wolves come out to play. For Edward himself he held a preference for the masquerade, a chance for him to be a random person in a crowd and not just a king. The only person besides Rupert to know his identity would be Mabil, one of his serving maids and since he was short on grooms at the moment she would suffice. Bringing him the clothes and the large fluffed with silver lining a bit extravagant but regardless it was a time for fun not ruling, a break he wanted to help release from the normal day to today activities. Returning from change in the black, white and silver velvet attire, taking a drink of wine from the platter Mabil had been holding, "Thank you." Giving a curtious nod before heading into the ball, intervening discreetly to avoid detection.

A few people he did reconguise with the first being the Countess of Warwick, Lady Norbury. The bright and free flowing locks of fiery hair was hard to miss. A lovely miss to behold, Ambassador Arn Von Leitner was another he pin pointed easily enough by recognition of his personality alone. Rupert was to be seen since he was mostly likely intermingling with some of the court ladies, though as the night would progress they'd meet up. Also Lady Scarlet would undoubtedly show considering her unofficial namesake of being the wolf of the courts. Though regardless of who was here, would be sure to be a good time. And provide each of the ladies a dance through the night.

"His majesty the king welcomes you all to this festive event and bid you to enjoy yourselves. A night of feasting and dance. Also his majesty has already arrived, so look around you may see your gracious king in the next person." The bell ringer spoke out and right on time.

Letting the music flow freely perusing among the individuals that had shown up looking around, reminding him much of his youth. Thinking perhaps this should be a common place thing at court. Not only to lift spirits but to forget the worries and penances of society. Seeing Rupert more like pinpointing his voice, he gave a quick tap along his back and moved out of sight just as another person in the crowd. A childish trick yes, but then again it was for greater part of the night.

The music for the next dance had begun, the Ductia and partner was in line for him so scavenging threw the court looking. A familiar face came up and he approached, offering his hand out. "A dance my lady." The first he had spotted with the fiery hair and the first that Edward would choose to dance with to start the night off.

Scarlet entered the dance hall as the celebrations first began. She stood near the back for the beginning, simply watching and making mental notes of who she wanted to talk to. It was easy for her to blend in for once and assume a new personality, thats why masqurades had always been her favorite event. She carried herself with her normal dark aura thought, and it was easy to tell that she didn't want to be bothered by any politicals issues tonight. Although she was masked, she still stood out from the rest. Even with her suposed distrust of everyone in the room, she still had a sense that drew young men to her for a quick dismissive conversation. If they weren't interesting, she didn't waste much time with them. She watched as intruduction were made and the flow of music made her want to dance, even if it would never happen.

Her hair was brought over to one side of her bare pale shoulders. It was silky and smooth when she ran her figures through it and its dark blond color reminded her of the flowers that bloomed in autumn. Not the ones that everyone admired that were dazzling arranges of colors, but the flowers that nobody noticed or cared, but were just as stunning. Scarlets eyes followed her hands down her outfit as they ran over the dress and felt the soft texture. The dress was black as the midnight sky and flowed out all around her as most ball gowns did. It was her favorite dress, but it wasn’t easy to maneuver around in. Her heels made it worse; they were probably the simplest thing in the outfit, but that didn’t make it easier to walk. They matched her dress in the fact that they were a simple black, but they had nothing special about them. She had practiced moving with grace, but her old habits still showed when she bit down on her lip or accidantly dropped a glass of wine. Her movements weren't prefect, but she didn't need prefect.

Scarlets eyes shone a Smokey gray, with her eyelashes painted black so that her eyes would be more attractive to look at. The makeup that had been applied didn’t help her feel anymore like herself. She could have been another person and nobody would be able to tell. She felt too young and out of place. The dance room was filled with young, bueatiful people, but the old members of the court still tried there best to dance without having heart attacks. They still had years of pratice on there sides and danced with a grace that scarlet couldn't easily muster. She tried to be light and happy, but it wasn't normal for her. She was better at having a dismissive look in her eyes and a sly smirk across her face. She just wanted to find something interesting that could grasp her attention, instead of boring her to tears. She was like a child, bored, curious and always seeming to want something, but she carried herself like a woman. Which made her interesting indeed.

Masked ball were all the rage, it seemed, ever since Italy and France had started to use them to give the royals a kind of entertainment. Apparently it gave everyone such a rush it was even considered a bit... sensual. But Mabil would not take part in this. Her duty was to His Highness. Mabil was His Highness’s confidant for this ball and she was striving to make sure she did everything perfectly.

She had set out his chosen outfit, the large fluffed with silver lining, white and silver velvet clothing. Now she stood patiently, quietly with a platter of wine, cheese, bread, and fruit for the young king’s delight. Taking the wine from the platter Mabil had been holding he gave her a "Thank you," to which she curtsied graciously as he left. Once he was gone she made sure his room was organized as the head maid said it should be and then left to take the platter back to the kitchen.

Mabil ate a crust of bread and bantered with the round jolly cook, before putting on a more appropriate dress to attend to the needs of the ball. Her hair was put down and she wore a simple black mask, so she appeared in unity with the ball. But she was still a serving maid. And the small party for the servants always took place after the ball, at the wee hours of the night, down at the small gathering place for their kind. Till then it was an honor to watch and attend to the festivities in the name of King and Country. Few got the opportunity.

She watched as some played child-like tricks on one another, or when the King danced with unsuspecting ladies-of-the-court. Amused she allowed herself to smile, a honey comb sweet thing to see on the face of a lady who looked like she belong more to a manor in the country, than in the King’s court as a serving maid. Ah, but tonight was a mask ball. It was far fetched, but since she did not hold a tray and merely stood close to the wall, waiting for an order... maybe someone would mistake her to be a lady-of-court.

Mabil laughed softly at her fantasy. She wore a simple deep blue velvet dress with white and lace puffed sleeves. Her hair was simply done, with a simple fake pearl adornment, her black mask made to make her blend into the crowd. If anything no one would approach her simply because she looked like a low ranking daughter of a noble. Which, in all technicality, she was. But even in her plain blue dress Mabil seemed to just enjoy watching the ball. She smiled watching everyone with amusement, as they churned about to gallant songs, or as they stuffed pastries in their pockets. Most would think such high nobles would be elegant and dispassionate, but they were just as common as herself. She hid her laughs behind the back of her hand.

A lady in a black dress dropped a glass of wine, and the small clatter was absorbed into the din of talking, laughing and music. Mabil sighed and sent a sharp look to one of the other serving attends in a black mask. Honestly, one could enjoy the scene, but as a servant you had to vigilant. Embarrassed noble were dangerous nobles. And Mabil knew full well what dangers they could unleash first hand. The serving boy would do well to stay vigilant. He moved to the lady in black, cleaning up her mess. Mabil watched the woman carefully from a far. The serving boy made quick work of the mess, almost as if it had never happened. Mabil took a smaller glass of wine and glided through the masked crowd. She curtsied, showed the lady in black the smaller goblet, and placed it on the serving boy’s platter, so that she might take it if she wish. Curtsying again, she glided away, back to her post, making sure watch for His Highness, so that she might send a more discreet server to fulfill any need he might have.

Johanna wore a gold gown trimmed in red, the sleeves and collar beaded with pearls. Her hair she had styled in the Italian court fashion; lightly pulled back in an intricate braid bun, with soft curls framing her face and neck. She wore a mask made of gold, created to appear as fish scales, bringing out her celadon eyes, alas her marigold colored hair gave away who she was, even when hiding her face.

Masquerades were a favorite of many, including Johanna. Dancing and energetic activities were what she enjoyed most; and sedentary things such as needlework and mass board her greatly. Lords and ladies dance together, as laughter and chatting mixed into the sound of the lively music. She had arrived, with her two dear friends, Lady Beatrice, and Lady Charlotte.

“I would be delighted, my Lord.” She replied with a smile, to the silver, black and white clad gentlemen. She placed her hand in his, and made their way to the dance position. Taking in his features that were not masked, she recognized his eyes and smile as that of King Edward’s. Of course she would not let on, that she had guessed his identity so quickly. The King had a particularly handsome smile, that she knew all too well from her many years admiring him at court.

The dance began as the music started. This particular dance she was quite fond of; she being rather graceful, and fluid with her movements. Parts of the dance, where their faces drew close and their eyes met, she would gaze confidently into his eyes, rather than modestly glancing and bat her lashes like she had been taught was proper. Other than her bright red hair, and beautiful reputation, people knew well of Johanna’s bubbly and poised personality, that made her a delight to be around.

---

Rupert was dressed in green and gray silks, his mask painted to match. With a chalice in one hand he sipped his wine, as he charmingly flirted with the group of ladies. A tap on his shoulder made him turn his head, but no one was there. He raised his eyebrow for a moment in question, and then happily went back to chatting with the ladies. He did like to dance, but he preferred specific ones to others, the one let you closer to your partner were his favorite.

This was the fifth ball since Edward was crowned King, and the sweating sickness had subsided in England, and it was still rather odd to see so many missing from court, due to the thousands of death over the past year. Eleven of his servants had died, as did his eldest daughter Margaret’s governess, Jacqueline Devereaux. Luckily his sister, Lady Edith, who had caught the illness, had survived through it. She was also at the masquerade today, dressed in midnight blue.

Taking his leave from the group of ladies, he scanned the room for his cousin King Edward, spotting him dancing with the Countess of Warwick, her red hair easily recognizable. He rolled his eyes, hoping Edward was only dancing her with out of politeness, he’d rather Edward be dancing with Edith. Many men desired the lady Johanna for her beauty and charisma, even Rupert had had a short time many years ago where he was secretly and infatuated with her. But Rupert did not see her as future queen material, her being to assertive and willful for his taste. Rupert was fond of brunettes, who were obedient, gentle, and dainty in manner. Making his way over to the other side of the ball room, he placed his drink on a servant’s empty platter, and walked over to a pretty wallflower, a lady in a simple blue velvet gown, with a black mask.

Offering his hand, he asked in his typical clear voice. “May I have the next dance, My Lady?”

A man dressed in green and gray silks, his mask painted to match, offered her his hand. Mabil blushed beneath her mask, not quiet knowing what to do. Yes, she had daydreamed about it, but surely he was jesting. She was not any Lady Johanna. But she had to keep to pretenses and accept. If she declined it would be suspicious and she might have to exit and no longer be able to tend to His Highness. And his wrath was something she did not wish to evoke. It was only one dance. Surely she'd be safe after only one dance.

Hesitantly she took his hand, curtsying deeply gracefully. His voice sounded so familiar and she sent up a silent prayer that she would not be dancing with a dangerously powerful man. Mabil was no innocent. This dance was something akin to a dance that required closeness between partners. She did not speak, knowing her hint of an accent might give her away. She'd play the role of Baron's daughter like she had been taught. Be kind and gracious, but distant and refine. If she was not memorable, he would lose interest. Maybe. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her hand from trembling.

What if he found out she was merely a servant, in disguised service for the King? Of course he'd be repulsed and angered, but she sincerely hoped he'd take it out on her and not His Highness. If any problems were to arise because of her... Well, she'd probably lose more than her dignity. This dance was dangerous, but she steeled herself, resorting herself to an old technique many women commonly used when playing dangerous games. Mabil became calm and almost dignified, gliding next to her new dance partner as if she floated on the air. Gracefully she curtsied to her mysterious dance partner, keeping herself a mystery. She spoke with her eyes instead, her dark lashes lowering when she curtsied at the beginning of her dance, but gently meeting his eyes when they took the beginning position of the dance. Mabil displayed herself as humble yet gracious, serene yet refined. Hopefully he get his kicks after dancing with the plainest lady in the room and move on to someone more suited to his breeding and stature. Whomever he might be.

When Scarlet dropped her glass and the sound was exorbed in the music, she knew they would be agile to not make a scene. She had served in places like this before once or twice, before her father died. The people always had to let them know that it was there fault and take all the blame that the rich nobles wanted them to have. She watched as a boy was quick to run up and start cleaning it. He was careful to pick up the broken glass, but Scarlet was simply amazed by how fast he moved alone. She picked up one of the stray peices with her gloveless hand and looking at it bueaty for a moment. She had an odd foundness of glass, but once it was shattered, it had entire different meanings. She picked up a few more that had sputtered away on the inpact and she carefully handed them to the boy. "Thank you. You should get back to work with these cold hearted men. God knows if they have to wait for their wine." She whispered quietly into the boys ear, so that nobody would hear, but made her face sturn and solem, like she was giving a comand. She to a step away from the boy and smiled for once, an unlikely occarance for herself, but it made her look much better.

Scarlet walked from the edge of the ballroom to the edge of the dancing, having the enjoyment of watching the dancers flawless twirls and spins in large dress the whirled around with them as they went. She waited the couples with plain faces, dancing at the same pace as everyone else. They were no names to her, even if their names were probably of leaders of the lands. Her eyes caught more of the attention interesting dancers or the odder couples, people that had rings on their fingers that danced to closely to the people that were missing rings. Her curiousity was envoked, but her eyes scanned over the crowds with a level of disgust. She knew she wanted to dance, but she needed to have more trust with a partner than she was going to get. She disliked it when people touched her, but if she felt comfortable with them than prehaps she could have her desired wish. For now, she tried to find better things to do, but her eyes were captivated by the bueaty of the dancers graceful actions that slid across the room.

She was nervous, but she didn't know why. Scarlet gently bit down on her lip and touched her neck were a chocker wrapped loosly around her neck with a bueatiful transparent flower attached to it. It was the only thing of her old jewerly that she had kept on. When she touched its beaded ends, she seemed to clam herself down and relax a little bit. Or prehaps she was simply to excited over mere thoughts to know who to relax herself normally? She would never be able to tell why she was so wrapped up in all this. A 'wolf' wasn't exactly a good dance partner, especially if she was scarred of there touch as well. It shouldn't matter here, but maybe it mattered most of all. Personalities weren't as hidden as they should have been and people were quick to try and keep their titles displayed even if it meant very little.

Following threw with the heartbeat, the soul of the music with Lady Johanna. That grew more poised, more vivacious with every note that was dropped. Looking onward to his partner, youth was a marvel to behold. Keeping in check with the younger woman as music heightened, the pace quickened as the sweet serenade was coming to a close. And though eight years his younger he kept up with her, just as blazing the her long locks of hair. Closing in with the dance as came naturally, reaching up to her hand guiding it with the slightest of kisses before releasing the Countess. "I hope you stay at court for a while Lady Warwick. And though as soon as a passerby couple came, Edward disappeared behind them. Feeling as a lion, once more would do pleasantly.

The wolf would be the last he'd dance with, searching threw the crowds not able to spot her out like the Countess. But if it was fate that two predators should meet then so be it. Spotting a woman oddly alone, clad in black suspicious but making it all the worth while. Making his way to the woman but no before his thirst was parched by some conquered French wine, feeling victorious as he approached the Lady from the side. Guiding his hand in front of the woman, semi identifying her but not entirely sure on the woman's identity. However though with the rising heartbeat of the next song he took her hand anyways following it out to the middle of floor. After all he was a king and could as he pleased....right.

Though more slower paced than the previous song but still was quite lively and followed threw with it and as the dance progressed he reconginised Scarlett. Coming in close, he came in and spoke, "How does a wolf like dancing with a lion." Mussing a smirk as he came out once, but got incredible close. Almost in of violation of personal space.

In a moment of confusion Scarlett was suddenly on the dance floor with a man she couldn’t easily recognize at first. He had come to her so quickly and brought her along and before she knew it she was caught up in the graceful dancers. Her mind told her that it was a bad idea. That she was foolish, but her curiosity told her that she had to know more and her heart told her that she wanted to dance. So, she continued to dance. She was surprisingly grace on her feet for someone who dropped things so easily. She had spent hours upon hours in the ballroom with tutors, who would try and teach her every little step. She simply enjoyed the feeling and the rush of being in someone’s arms as the music carried her away from life.

She wasn’t frightened, but she wasn’t trusting of the man. Until, about half way through she felt a shift in balance between them. He came in closer and whispered in her ear. Scarlet had been foolish to think that she hadn’t been recognized by anyone here, and up until this moment she had been thinking about it. Excitement was quick to cloud her thoughts. His comment at first startled her and you could see the confusion for a split secound, but she was quick to understand. She gave a quick laugh as if it had been a joke and looked at him with her alluring gray eyes that was all you could see from her mask. She knew where ever this ended it wouldn't end well for herself.

Although he was getting to close for Scarlett’s comfort, she simply gave him what she knew he wanted to see from a ‘wolf’. She smirked, slyly, but almost flirtingly. A simple gesture could say so much. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing can’t fool everyone I see, but a lion could fool the world. Wouldn’t you agree?” It almost seemed like a riddle when she said it, but it didn’t mean anything more than it was. It was just a game, hopefully one that would give her some space so she wouldn’t have to try and smile through his close relations. If he got any closer, she might break. Now that she knew who she was dealing with she knew she couldn’t let that happen. She had to keep him fooled like everyone else with a sly smile and a few mind games. She could smell the wine on him, so it couldn't be too hard to charm him.

"Really, Veronika?"

Earl Battenborough smiled behind his mask as he looked at Veronika as they danced together. Veronika wore a purple costume that distinguished itself in how it was a design you'd be expecting to see on a man: Pants, coat, somewhat of a regal fashion. On her face was an immaculate white porcelain mask forming a smirk and on her head, a golden laurel wreath. The earl continued.

"The whole Byzantine 'Born in the purple' and add to that a Gilded Laurel crown, how roman... then again it wouldn't surprise me if little people here were educated enough to appreciate these... inside jokes. Woe to me Veronika, for you must contemplate the hand of the king and refuse my love for thee."

Battenborough had been one of the first to open himself to Veronika when she first came. A well educated gentleman of little nobility that walked the court seeking favors from the king, get higher in the realm. He knew of Latin and thus was of great help when it came to learning English but he found himself seeking the love of her student. Both of them knew of this and of course, knew of the impossibility of this relation... to be official at least.

"If we were born as different people in another time perhaps, Sir Battenborough. And I hope you will forgive me for announcing my nature to the world so openly, for my accent is apparently quite noticeable no matter my costume, so I find refuge in audacity."

Some people looked at the strange dancers. It didn't help that Veronika was quite tall and Battenborough, not the tallest of man. In another situation the woman wearing pants would have been outrageous but no one would break the masquerade... at least not until the king did it first. Plus, the excuse of being a foreigner from a distant land excused almost any outlandish moves under the guise of being normal somewhere else in the world. As Veronika's eyes turned from her dance partner to scan the room and the location of the different people, she stopped on the king. The Earl sighed.

"But will that attract him? Perhaps something more conventional would have been in order?"

Veronika turned toward her dance partner, her facial expression inscrutable behind her mask.

"One seeking the attention of someone would be foolish to try and blend in the crowd... Plus my dear sir, you overestimate my desire to get married. What is the rush? What does England have that Rome would need? As long as at the end of the night I am the one to step in as the King's Consort, I did my mission here, no matter what time it takes."

Battenborough turned his gaze upward when she said 'Rome', comparing backward old Moscow to the empire of old. The Grand Prince Claimed the title but ultimately it was only a claim. The dance stopped and so did they.

"Another dance?"

Veronika left the earl's arm, walking away.

"Later..."

Veronika tried to follow the king with her eyes. Of course she couldn't just go up to him and ask him for a dance, if he accepted it would be humiliating for him considering she was in a man's clothes, no she had to attract the man into asking her to dance. The Princess bit her lip when she heard the music beginning again and saw the king with the Duchess of Oxford. No matter, this party wasn't over yet. Oh Earl Battenborough how pleasant but distracting you were. She saw the King's old dance partner and had a smirk. Well, fortune smiled to the bold, so perhaps it was time to be bold indeed. She approached the Countess from an angle as she was observing the ball. Veronika cleared her throat and politely bowed.

"My fair lady, if I may be so bold to ask you for a dance?"

The voice was meant to sound masculine but with the outrageous accent it left no one obvious to who the person was. Some turned around and giggled at the scene. Johanna wasn't the first one actually and Veronika had already danced with a few inebriated ladies who accepted to humor her (Veronika herself didn't touch wine in the entire evening, it clouded judgement). Still, it was one of thooooose situations where she was delighted to put a potential opponent on the scene, one where there was no real good choice, each sending a message to the court in a certain way.

The music set the tone for the night and the planned festivities like any soundtrack should. It sent people to the dance floor and commanded their movements in wondrous fashion. Music could lighten the feet of even the most dubious of dancers and it was that power that always captured Arn’s attention. Unfortunately the soundtrack of his life was different and it was, at the moment, overpowering the work of the orchestra.

“What I mean is that a lowering of the merchant licence could allow for a larger growth in trade. The benefits could be incalculable.” Montague said. His wine soaked teeth destroyed the sober front he was trying to carry. He was challenged by another as quickly as the wine glass reached Montagu’s lips.

“And I am telling you that it should be a decrease in the toll tax. Lowering the cost of the licence will only make every boy with a wagon think they can become a trader. Lower the road tolls will let us carry product further and make the profits increase. That is how you make a bridge to Asia.” Capulet was just as far down the wine barrel as the two continued to bicker.

The debate raged on as Arn strained his ears to try and hear the music more than the two old merchants cross words. The position was normal for him. Being an ambassador to what felt like all of Western Europe meant everyone who did business beyond the western walls of Vienna had to go through Arn and his country. It was a great honor of course; however, it also meant that his job was never off. Even when wine, food, and music were in the room.

With the party being a masked event he thought he could be saved from the torment of politics and greed. Even the mask didn’t hide how foolish a thought this was. Arn figured the merchants had paid off someone to describe his mask so as to find him at the party. This was normally a trick saved for a man to find a woman he fancies, but in the world of business Arn could see the merchants seeing him as a mistress of trade. The thought humored and revolted him.

Arn had finally used up the last bit of patience he had for the two and decided to put an end to the discussion. “Gentleman I beg you to hear me. The tolls pay for the roads that you use to carry goods to England. They also bring food to my countries markets. Places that see none of your goods. The merchant licence allows our own merchants a fighting chance against titans of trade such as you both. Your bellies are full and your families happy. Let that thought carry you to continue to do business with my grateful country.”

Before a word of protest came from the two Arn excused himself under the pretext that he needed another drink. The reality being he rarely touched the stuff. It was something that he had taken on during his time in the Holy Land. He was not practicing his avoidance out of a religious rule, but found the liquid lead to a dark path showcased by Montague. He wandered through the crowd until he came to the large table with food and drink. He began to decorate a plate with some food.

“You speak armed with the power of wisdom and forethought. Very befitting of the son of Nikola Von Leitner.” A man’s voice said from behind Arn. It was familiar to him and after turning around there was no surprise in finding his good family friend Alexis standing before him. The mask did a fine job of hiding his face, but nothing could hide the large belly under his coat. “Every time we see each other it seems you are spitting wit and silencing problems.” He reached out and gave Arn a hug.

“Were I truly capable of spitting wit I would never lose to you in our debates.” Arn said with a smile. He had known Alexis for many years and had been ecstatic when he had learned he was to be selected as one of his aids and fellow representatives for England. “What you witnessed was a man tired of trial and dreaming of paradise.” Arn and Alexis both laughed and walked towards the center of the crowd that had formed next to the dance hall.

“Paradise my good man, is clearly right before you.” Alexis said while motioning towards a small gathering of woman. They were standing, in obvious fashion, with a desire to be asked to dance. Their gowns, each a masterpiece of fabric and fashion caught the eyes of many and to their credit held many.

“I would rather scale the walls of Jericho.” Arn said flatly. His tone only matched by his somewhat obvious uncomfortable shift in his stance. The reaction brought on a boisterous laugh from Alexis that gathered the attention of many around them.

“My friend the crusader! He not only fights to keep the Holy Land pure, but continues the fight within himself. My goodness even a man of the cloth can approach a woman with thoughts of sin and virtue. It is only his tools that that make us different.” Alexis laughed once again and patted Arn on the back. Thankfully he had finished the food on his plate; otherwise, everything would have likely flown through the air. “Well perhaps we have approached this battlefield wrong. You normally lead the charge, but this does not require the clash of swords and will. What we need is one who is skilled in the ways of woman, a spy as it were.”

“Alexis I was not prompting you to…” But it was already do late. An unseen wink behind his mask was all Alexis gave as he walked over to the woman and began to talk with them. He could then be seen looking back and pointing to Arn. This prompted another awkward shift in the mans stance. Shortly after the group of women laughed at something Alexis said. A half step later he walked back towards Arn with the company of two women.

“My good sir. Your chivalry and status as a gentleman is known through the world out. I come here with these two beautiful flowers in hopes that you can help them with a distressing problem. It would seem that their beauty is so far beyond the understanding of man that they have yet to be courted. I humbly request that you, with your courage and nobility, might hold the key to assisting me in this dire situation.”

Alexis was a jerk of a friend at times, but when a man can use his tongue like that it never surprised Arn that he was good with woman. The woman laughed together and then the one wearing a passionate crimson red dress stepped forward and held her hand out for Arn to take. “I have been told to assure you that I do not bite.” She added as Arn respectfully took her hand. He then followed Alexis who was leading his partner to the dance floor.

Rupert had chosen to dance with this particular woman for the simple fact that she stood out in all her simplicity. Among the Lords and ladies dancing and mingling about in all their fancy garb and jewels, she stood alone dressed in a simple mask and gown. They danced, and as he looked at her face he tried to place a name to it. Brunette, petite, and what he could see of her face, some would call pretty. No lady he knew of came to mind, and this was a first for him, to not be able to pinpoint the name of the pretty lady of Edwards’s court. Perhaps she was a guest of someone’s. Rupert was quite a bit taller than his dance partner, but then again he was always on the taller side compared to all the other men around.

“So many I have the honor of knowing my lady’s name, or should I guess?” He asked curiously as they danced together.

---

The dance ended, the masked King kissed Johanna’s hand, and quickly disappeared into the crowd. Johanna smiled to herself, happy to have been first to dance with the King, not that most knew which fancy dressed Lord the King was tonight. She found her friend lady Beatrice standing next to the table, with a look of longing in her eyes as she watched the Archduke Arn begin to dance with the fair-haired lady. Lady Beatrice had basically been infatuated with him since first time she met him, many months ago, but she had yet to even speak to him once.

“Beatrice my dear, once he’s done dancing, you should put yourself in his way, might he notice your beauty and instantly fall for you, as you did he.” Johanna said for only Beatrice to hear.

“I could never be as bold as you Johanna, and I’m not at all suited for him, I am only the daughter of a lowly baronet. I've also told you many times, that I’m to be married next spring to Sir Calvin.” Beatrice replied to Johanna’s pointless encouragement.

As Johanna and Beatrice chatted more, sipping wine, and giving their opinions on the many gowns worn tonight, the lady Veronica dressed in men’s clothes came and asked Johanna to dance.

“Why is that you Lady Veronica? That is quite the costume you have on. A dance sounds just fine with me.” Johanna said smiling and trying not to laugh. Masquerades seem to bring out the fun in people, and Johanna was certainly enjoying this entertaining night. They walked to the dance area.

Veronika liked some parts of Johanna, the fact that she was able to actually have fun without looking at a priest to see if it was okay beforehand. Other parts she disliked however in the fact that Johanna was always this playful no matter the situation and it became tiresome at times. Then again, it was something working in her advantage, as Johanna would thus make a horrible queen... not that it would stop Edward. But yet, this carefree attitude ultimately worked very much in favor of Veronika: Johanna was easily disposable of through humiliation or death.

As Veronika went back to think on it and try and situate Johanna on an axis in comparison to herself she found it harder to do than anticipated for Veronika herself couldn't be put in such an axis. Everything was a mask, outrageous at time, charming at an other calculating the next... Ultimately one could consider that her calculating side was always the one to triumph and direct her actions but then again, it was the one she enjoyed the least. She lived for those moment: Dressed as a man dancing with a lady in the middle of a royal court in costume. 'Your Byzantine Blood' her mother would probably say.

Veronika smiled to Johanna and before starting to dance bowed profundly before kissing the hand of the woman and getting in position, assuming the role of the man of the pair.

"Please my lady, I am but a mysterious stranger of an unknown name in this masquerade!"

So she said, despite her extremely obvious curves only enhanced by the tightness of her outfit, and painful Russian accent. As they began to dance, Veronika directed her paces to be closer to Johanna and whisper.

"I'd say well played Lady Johanna, but indeed I am afraid both my accent and somewhat considerable height in comparison to the other feminine members of the court give little challenge to unmask me... No matter of course, with these inconveniences I find refuge in audacity... Say, I do believe you have the basic steps mastered Lady Johanna, what about more advanced ones?"

A second later Veronika raised her arm, guiding Johanna for a spin before stepping around her and going back into position. Visibly Veronika knew what she was doing.

"But I do think you could tell me long about audacity. A white dress, that certain height we've all learned to measure, brown hairs and an unmistakable confidence... Really, no one will teach a Greek anything about comedy."

With this as Veronika's foot stepped forward to be hidden by Johanna's dress, she quickly jerked it to the side into Johanna's ankle, the movement being destined to make her fall, in combination with Veronika leaning forward on Johanna. While there would have been a fall for a moment, the move was however entirely calculated and Veronika quickly grabbed Johanna behind her back, leaning close, very close, to her, almost as if to land a kiss despite the masks. Without giving the time to say anything she turned her head softly and whispered.

"Left."

Where she turned her head, King Edward 'Happened' to be looking in their direction. As he and Scarlett passed next to them in the swirl of the dance, Veronika let out a small giggle, sending a look at the king that wanted itself enticing as she compressed her bust against that of Johanna. As the two of them passed however, she had one last look at Scarlett who she could see behind the back of Edward and sent her a more piercing and rapacious gaze, not victorious, but cold and calculating. If Edward was a Lion and Scarlett a Wolf, then Veronika was the Roman Eagle.

When the moment was passed, she slowly got Johanna up.

"My apologies, it seems I am quite clumsy. I haven't had much the occasion to dance since I came to England."

With this, she continued the dance.

Mabil looked up at him when he asked for her name, her eyes gleaming with intelligence and giving nothing away about the turmoil storming inside of her. His voice and height, his build and confidence... Oh dear... If he was who she thought he might be, it gave her all the more cause not to speak. Even if this man wasn't the King's cousin, most Englishmen frowned on Scots, thinking them more barbaric and uncivilized than their English women. While some of it was true, Mabil was a blend of both, born Scot, partially raised English. Sometimes she could cover her accent, but there were some words that she just couldn't hide herself from. But maybe if she kept her sentences short he wouldn't notice.

"Guess," it was only one word and softly spoken, so it glided on the swirling musical air like a breathy whisper, only just clear enough for him to make it out. He could not simply place her from just a single word. Couldn't he? He was a noble after all, who knew how many ladies he talked to on the daily. And she was a servant to the King. Most noble never took notice of simple servants, as long as they were quiet and obedient, like she usual was. A kind of idea dawned on her. Her stepsister, Grace, would be an acceptable dance partner for him. And even though her face and personality was not at all like Mabil's they were the same size and had similar hair color. If worse came to worse, she'd simply lie. Though... she would feel a bit worried for Grace. But the cost would not be so high, surely. If he tried for some reason to seek her out after the ball (now there was a laughable though), he'd call on Grace, and either realize Mabil had lied, or think Grace had been his partner. They were all masked after all.

Well, until the King took off his mask at least. But then Mabil would simply disappear into the background, steal away like many of the other hidden servants to change into more appropriate attire, and return as if nothing had ever happened. Her eyes cast a casual glance towards the King, like she were merely looking around her to shyly avoid her dance partner. His Highness was now dancing with with a lady all in black, gallantly dancing just as he had did with all ladies. Sometimes Mabil really did wonder if one man could truly enjoy all the flirtatious schemes of everyone around him. But as long as he was the center of attention, surely he didn't mind. Especially when two women were bold enough to press themselves so intimately together just to earn a simple gaze.

Which begged the question, was this man the same? She still wasn't quiet sure if he was who she thought he was, but were not most men like the King? Did they not all wish, in some way or another, to be the objection of affection and admiration above all others. Perhaps it would be unkind the call all men the King's equal in desires, for His Highness truly was magnificent in the area of desiring so much and expecting it all to be giving willingly. They gracefully turned and spun on the floor, one pair among twenty or more. The dim lighting made Mabil feel even more like this was something she wake up from. Even if she was a bit fearful of who was behind the mask, she was elated at being able to dance again. The servants had their own parties, but none of it was at all elegant or dream-like, like this. Servant celebrations, with permission of His Highness, often occurred in celebration of a well done ball or other such festivity they had worked. The music and dancing there was far more passionate and wild than the elegant swirling of a noble's ball.

Mabil met the eyes that were behind that mask and she gave him one of her small, almost intelligently playful smiles. Mabil was obedient, loyal and reserved, but shame upon anyone who ever called her dull. She let people think what she wanted them to think and was a master at masking her true feelings. It was a talent acquired when a baron's step daughter was not only off Scottish blood, but looked nothing like her stepfather. Hold your true self close to your heart and guard it so you may never feel real pain. Though there were some who saw her true feelings, but only through actions and most of the time they were not even focused on her.

Mabil spun contently with her partner holding her close. While it made her a bit nervous, she used her blush to her advantage, letting him see what he wished and hiding her anxiety. Let him guess till their dance ended. She would not so easily give him the information he desired, this unknown man. But she would enjoy him, his hands, his broad shoulders, his curious eyes, his amused mouth...

Throughout the dance Arn felt his mind wander. It was unlike him and above all rather rude to his dance partner who seemed far more interested in the proper steps than her partner. When the music slowed and the dance ended Arn bowed to his partner with a graceful, albeit somewhat apologetic manner. This was met with a curt bow from the woman who hastily turned to leave the dance floor with her friend.

“Perhaps you should picture your partner as a blade wielding opponent. Then your feet will find their rhythm.” Alexis said as he walked over to his friend. His comment was paying tribute to Arn’s excellent swordsmanship skills and how clean and graceful his movements are when he fought with a blade. “Though I doubt these woman are interested in a dance of death.” Alexis added with a somewhat mournful tone.

Arn could see his friend Alexis being pulled into the dark memories the Holy Land blessed those that walked its bloody path. Not to let his friend fall down the rabbit hole he smacked Alexis in the back and brought him back to the present. “Enough talk of the past. I hear there is a young duchess in need of making some poor choices with you.” The two laughed together and removed themselves from the dance floor as the music started up again.

Alexis returned to his normal party happy self as he skipped off to join a group who was beginning to play some party games. Arn made a note to join them when he returned from relieving himself. Making his way to a side room he called for a camber pot and began to prepare for its arrival. Shortly after he finished his business he returned to the large room as Alexis and the group had finished deciding what game they would entertain themselves with.

The game was called knights and knaves and it was a staple of any successful masquerade. Its goal was simple; correctly indentify everyone playing as either a knight or a knave with knights answering only truthfully while knaves only answer in lies. There are easy ways to win this game, but most enjoy the game for chances to learn silly or embarrassing things about others playing. Each person drew a small piece of fabric from a hat. If the color was black then they were a knave while a white labeled them as a knight.

Teaching and sharing the rules had already been done and the game quickly began. Hidden behind his gold and black mask, Arn’s first stop was a young woman wearing a yellow dress. His piece of white fabric tucked away in his platinum colored vest. She was the first to ask a question. “You strike me as a man with good taste.” The woman paused with a flirtatious glance through her mask. “Do you like what you see?”

The forward nature of the woman took Arn back a little, but not in a way he didn’t enjoy. He liked the gamble the woman was playing and above that enjoyed that she had laid everything out on the table as far as the joke of the game. With a friendly smile he nodded his head. “Before me indeed stands an objected to be desired and cherished.” The two laughed together until Arn continued the game. “When you arrived this evening were your intentions noble or wicked?” The question of course was a continuation of their flirting.

The woman made a face of mocked shock before she leaned forward and whispered in Arn’s ear. “My dear sir, have you not heard?” She then pulled he face back and looked at Arn with a mischievous grin. “All women carry with them wicked thoughts.” She then winked and turned to the rest of the crowd and made her way to another partner leaving Arn shaking his head and grinning.

Turning over to another group and walking towards them he began to seek out a new partner while the fun of the game already soaking into him.

Scarlett finished her dance with the king and quickly dismissed herself before he got any closer to her. She had spotted a game that she had played at many balls when she was a bit younger and made her way over to it with a slight joy. It was a dangerous game, but she could always learn a thing or too about a noble if they weren’t playing carefully enough. Perhaps, she didn’t take the game to seriously herself, but watching others embarrass themselves with simple words was an easy thing. As she walked over she drew a small piece of black fabric from the hat and tucked in away into the side of her dress. It felt safer to lie than to be honest anyways, but it always seemed to promote further rumors.

She glanced across the room at the others that were playing the game. She let out a quick breath as she spotted someone from across the hall. She noticed a gentleman who looked as if he could offer her something interesting instead of a way to flirt. Scarlett swept across the room with grace, but she moved with intent. She didn’t want anyone to stop him before she got a chance to converse. It would be no fun if she didn’t have a chance to speak to a single soul.

Scarlett looked like a raven as she waltzed across the room. Her black dress and mask let her blend into the sides of the hall, but in the middle of a group she stood out like a sore thumb. She reminded herself with every step her took that she had to keep up her grace or else she wouldn’t make it to the end of the night. She smiled slyly as she approached and made a refined curtsied in her large dress, which seemed to be more of a challenge than it was worth.

“You don’t carry yourself like everyone else. Why might that be?” She was cool and smooth as her words flowed out of her. She knew he could always be lying, but that was just another part of the game. She moved like a noblewomen and spoke like a noblewomen, but it wasn’t hard to tell that she hadn’t always been that way. She didn’t have the playful bliss that the other women had. She clearly wasn’t like them.

If you looked closely enough at Scarlett you could see in her smoky gray eyes that she wasn’t interested in just the game. It was clear that she had another motive, but she was very dismissive of things that didn’t help her. She didn’t need fun and games to keep her thoughts occupied, only simple statements to keep her own mental games rolling. She looked at him with curiosity, but it wasn’t gentle. She did a fine job at making herself seem like a flirt, but she wasn’t like the other girls. She clearly wasn’t as drunk as some of the other nobles either, but she had a few drinks herself and it took all of her energy to think out her next words.

Mabil separated herself from her dance partner once their dance was over. She did so with a graceful curtsy and turned, emerging herself back into the crowd. She paid him no more mind than anyone else. Some great men found it amusing to dawdle with the lower aristocrats. Though her experience with those types were limited, she had seen it happen before. And it almost always ended in disaster for the women. So she brushed aside the dance, even if it had made her a bit flushed and shaky. All that she was here for was to be an attendant to the King. Keeping her eye on the King she moved through the group of aristocrats, trying not to engage.

Time to play a game of her own. Here where she was perfectly anonymous yet knew all the lords' and ladies' identities, she could have a bit of her own fun. And what better fun than the kind the King himself enjoyed? She bumped into Lord Arn, an aristocrat known for his business senses more than his sense of entertainment. She made sure it was a good sized bump too, hoping to make his miss a step somewhat. Gliding away, she tripped up the Lady Scarlett with the hem of her plain dress, the high Lady in the current endings of a dance with His Royal Highness. Next she moved on to elbow into the noble Veronika, whom she found amusing in and of the fact she was dressed in male clothing. Lady Johanna was next, her hand flippantly tip a drunken Lord's wine glass, so that when it fell it would splash onto the hems of the vivacious Lady's dress.

Hiding behind her plainness and mask of obscurity, these acts that would more commonly lead her to punishable lashings, were just small matter of chaos in a crowded room. If they did try to seek her out, she'd merely slip away, like the shadow she was. A serving maid's robes would put them off the scent if she absolutely had to change out of her masked persona. His Highness would surely be unmasking himself soon. This would lead his guests into doing the same, some for good, others for only a moment. But for now she'd enjoy the small vengeful acts she commited.

Slipping out of the large ballroom, she pulled off her mask and signaled for a young maid in a masked outfit to replace her. His Highness would surely not even know the difference if the young maid had any sense and kept her mouth shut. A few other serving maids bustled about her in a mere moment.

"How was it?"

"Did you get to taste the food?"

"Oh, you're so lucky!"

"Did you dance with anyone?"

"Did the King dance with anyone?"

A small smile formed on Mabil's mouth, as she put a hand up to answer their flying questions. "Twas as borin' as any old ball," she smiled haughtily, which was not in her usual character, her voice still soft and holding that Scott twang, "The food too rich, the wine too strong. They all milled about like cackling hens an' dance in their stuffy ways. His Highness danced with the Wolf and the Sheep. What more could he do?" She let out a small secretive giggle. "But I'll tell ye this. Lord Arn never looked so funny, dancing with a twig of a lady who was more made of wood than of rhythm. Ye should of seen the smirks on th' ladies' faces," she leaned towards the girls a bit more, "An' the Noble Veronika dressed as a man, dancin' away with Lady Johanna. Oh, an' poor sullen Sheep Scarlett looking at her tiny feet as she twirled away with the King! Ye never seen anythin' more comical!"

The young ladies tittered among themselves in the hallway. "If you ask me, the foreigner Veronkia has more incline to the ladies than a normal woman should," one of the older maids mumbled with a smirk.

"At least she ain't as flashy as the ol' peacock Wolf of a woman, Lady Johanna," another snickered.

"Well they both shine brightly compared ta' that poor sullen Lady Scarlett, they do," the third huffed.

"Aye, maybe they'd all do bettah tryin' their gamely tricks on the King's cousin," Mabil murmured. All the maids laughed, their musical laughter echoing down the halls.