The night of the Mayors masquerade ball was upon them and there was a chill in the air; the kind that crept up one's spine and made the hairs stand on the back one's neck. Lyolis hairs stood now while the carriage shook over each dip in the road. Even inside the booth, the chill found its way in.
Lyolis squeezed Zoars hand and he must've noticed her bumpy skin because he drew close, wrapping an arm around her, warding off the chill while her skin found warmth.
Across from them sat her father Leofort and mother Lyseria, her father with a look of curious amusement while her mother stared out the window bordely, tugging on her black, jeweled gown. It look as though they were in mourning. All in black: Lyolis in a gown that matched her mothers, with a tight strapped top and ruffled skirt, matching the black pearls around her neck and wrist; while her soon to be and father wore black, long tailed coats and trousers, and tall brimmed hats that nearly touched the carriages roof.
"We look ridiculous," she mumbled, shifting in her seat, trying to rid whatever piece of fabric was working up her rear. "Do remind me why we have to wear such attire?"
Lyseria glanced down at the black mask in her hand, with two holes for eyes and golden glitter that glimmered around the rim. "I don't understand these traditions myself, my child."
Leofort snapped the sting on his mask. It was much the same, except more rigid and gleamless. "Why hide the face?" He questioned. There was always an enthused tone in his voice like he'd forgotten his duties as a chief, and had no worries in the world. He snapped the string once more. "We won't know who anybody is?"
"I think that's the point," Zoar grumbled.
He seemed the least bit amused. His face sour. Staring blankly like something was on his mind … though there was always something on his mind. Zoar sat much more seriously than her father ever had. Upright, chin up, and chest out. A proper Chief one day while her slumped further in his seat, snapping the band until her mother swiped the mask for safe keeping. She seemed less irritated after that.
I hope there's music… Lyolis thought. She missed the sound of the constant beat of drums heard in totem, the birds singing while the flutes and chimes whistled with the wind. And a proper feast...
Her father's stomach must've heard her; it grumbled. "I don't know how much longer I can take feeble meals." He muttered and Lyolis silently agreed. "If they don't have a proper pig I may have to pack our things and leave by morning light."
Lyseria pressed her hand against the ceiling, holding herself down while the carriage rocked. "What's the matter, my chief. You're not fond of caviar and cocktails?" She laughed. And once the carriage settled she brushed her nails through her braids; the nails glued on by the maids before they left. An annoyance, Lyolis could tell, pulling at her own. "Stop picking at them, my child … you could rip your finger off."
"But they're so… awkward." Though her mother kept silent, Lyolis could see the glimmer of agreeance in her eyes. She hid her hands and picked at the nails some more.
"You should've seen your mother when she was young and fierce." Leofort smirked. "She had nails like the cougars of her tribe … But since she's become a bear, her nails have been reduced to dull, cub claws." He bellowed with laughter, grabbing his protruding belly that fought to pop the buttons of his coat.
"They dulled with my love for you…"
Leoforts laughed sorely scratching his head. And once he went quiet an awkward silence filled the carriage. Lyseria seemed pleased with the quiet that rode with them, up the winding hillside and to the top. There they found the Mayors lavish estate, twice as large as their own, and tucked away behind trees glowing with lanterns.
They peered out the window, marveling. The horses came to a trot when passing the iron gates, hooves clicking against the stone path, while tree limbs hung like outstretched fingers. At the end of the path, the carriage circled a fountain, glowing blue, with a half-naked, masked man pouring water from a pot.
The carriage stopped and the coachman opened the door. "You've arrived," he said, waving a hand.
Lyseria stepped out, not waiting on the others, walking up the red carpet that stretched to two lavish white doors. Leofort hopped next, hurrying after her, trying to recover his pride
Zoar took Lyolis by the hand as she found the carpet then followed, wrapping an arm around her own. "I think this is how these people do it…" He whispered, locking at the elbows.
It was an odd way to hold someone, she thought, lifting her chin high. Zoar smiled and she giggled. "Like this, right?"
Zoar looked around, chin high as hers. "Your guess is as good as mine." They laughed and strolled to the doors.
On either side stood a grim-faced man. Their coats, trousers, and hats black as their eyes. Lips sealed as envelopes. Standing like statues, and for a moment she thought they were, but quickly realized they were the guns of the Mayor — Legionnaires they were called.
"Dress your face and you may enter," the man spoke with an eerie tone. One that rose her hairs higher than the chill.
The four looked to each other, working the riddle until Lyseria rolled her eyes, fitting the mask to her face with a snap. The others did the same.
"We look ridiculous…" Lyolis said once more, giggling.
Zoar winked. "Mask or no mask, I'll still find you, my princess."
Lyolis smiled. Leofort yawned. And Lyseria rolled her eyes.
The doors screeched, opening a threshold to an unknown hall, dancing with torches while a smooth fragrance tickled at their noses. Lyolis closed her eyes and took a breath; she coughed. The smell was as powerful as skunk spray, burning her insides. Her nose wrinkled. And the fragrance absorbed the air.
Lyseria didn't seem to mind, leading down the hall as she always led.
Even behind his mask she saw Zoars eyes water. Since they met, Lyolis knew he wasn't fond of the smell of roses or honey. He was a wild one, preferring the sharp essence of pines and the cold bite of winter.
"You ready?" he coughed, "princess…"
She nodded and they laughed, taking a step inside, doors booming closed at their backs. Their shadow dance off those walls while a haunting song came from end, muffled, and growing louders on approach.
Two more guards stood by another set of doors; Great, black-beaked masks across their faces, their sunken, black eyes shining like the pearls around her neck. When they drew close a stink cut through the fragrance and she wondered if it was the men.
"Hello there…" Lyolis blurted nervously. They stood as mute as the totems in Totem.
She looked them over quickly, dressed in a suit of black, with hats tall as Zoar and Leoforts, white gloves to hide their hands. One shifted suddenly, his body jerking, hand grabbing the door twisting. In motion, his sleeve pulled exposing flesh. Odd looking flesh. Pale with black spots, some oval and some round, each a different size than the last.
Lyolis turned towards the others. Their attention was divided towards the grand room beyond the doors. From the balcony an orchestra wailed on their stings, blared their horns, and pounded their drums while a man held center stage, banging the keys of his piano, filling the room with a haunting melody that brought a chill like the howls of a ghost.
They squeezed into the a room filled with a sea of black gowns, black suits, and black masks. From one side of the chambers to the other stood the bodies of all sizes. No two persons was the same, though their masks made them appear as one. Their head tilted, eyes on those who conjured the song … another somber minute and the instruments faded, all but the man on the piano; his fingers moving blurs, walking up and down the keys for another minute then slamming to close.
A curtain pulled from the allowing the moons light to strike the balcony. The Mayor stood small, wearing a nights robe, standing limp and hunched, a hand to his chest. The moonlight made the black in eyes gray, along with the slick strands on his stash and hair.
He smiled, holding out a hand. "Let's us give a hand to the Arkoskian Orchestra!" The sea of black cheered, clapped, and hollard. "And a hand for Drajorik Gordon on the piano!" The crowd erupted and he gave a much deserved bow. Once the sea found their silence the Mayor spoke again. "My friends! For too long the people of southern Texionya has been at war … within itself and within each other … and now we've all come together as one: Pioneers, Cyoakians, Yurks, Merkoits, Moolus, Dravados, Stralies, Pompies, and Oganakis. Here together for one purpose — The Iron Alchemist Tournament." The crowds voice shook the room. The Mayor rose his hands and they silenced. "Thank you for your cooperation. As a token of my gratitude, I invite you to come and share the balcony … as one people."
The curtain on the roof was pulled and the light gone, the Mayor vanished. The room black
Lyolis reached out a hand hoping it was Zoars she found.
From the far end of the room came a snap then a creak, while a beam of light ripped beneath the balcony, extending across the room. A gate slowly collapsed while the orchestra blared. And then suddenly … in the midst of light … Lyolis grew afraid.