"Tell me about Crescentia, my lord," Cletus asked, nodding off to the trodding of hooves.
"Why? Loranisburg is so civilized." The gruff aristocrat stroked his chin. His black felt top hat contained a great powdered wig, the same snow-white as his hair. Otherwise, he wore an embroidered courtly suit, replete with a cravat, medals, and epaulets. Cletus rolled the carriage over a stone, sending the lord's entire personage slightly skyward.
"I've never been before, my lord," Cletus responded, enjoying the evening drizzle.
"It's that there isn't much to say. There are just hillbillies, hills, and billy goats."
"Isn't it the land of rare flowers?"
"Those were all weeds before little Desmond burned them down."
"Don't flowers grow back?"
"The scars of a country run as deep as its soil."
"Right. The civil war, I'm sorry, sir." Cletus whispered, eager to change the subject.
The lord had his lands; therefore, he cannot enter Loranisburg without permission from a peer of equal status. He used "Archduchess" Florence. Parties were how the five houses kept the peace.
"I should have suspected good old Bluebeard. There was a curiosity within him, you see. That lunatic tried to boil or dissect anything he could find when we were children. I told on him to his lord father so many times they sent him to the priesthood. It's a shame. So many peers were willing to avenge such a man."
"I have a question, my good lord."
"Go ahead."
"I know I'm breaking the law, but…."
"Desmond Canzones was an attack dog. When he bit his masters, we put him down; there's nothing more to say."
"But, my lord," Cletus worried.
"Aye, he was the bastard of a bastard who excelled in a profession only fit for bastards." The old lord seethed. They continued the rest of the journey in silence.
A set of scarlet ruins appeared across the horizon. The stronghold of the Springfields, with shattered stained-glass windows that once told of opulence, showed off the half-formed names of kings. What remained of the often roofless mansion still sneered at the city below. With the gardens lost to the tall undergrowth, Cletus could barely make out the dim festivities. The creepers reached over the rusted wrought-iron fences, foreboding anyone with a good sense, which thankfully Cletus did not have.
The elderly lord left the carriage, abandoning it on the side of the road with the others, as the front gate was corroded shut. Finding the side entrance with no door, Cletus cut a path through the undergrowth for the Duke of Crescentia. With only the light of a few antique lanterns scattered where the cobblestone path should have been, Cletus slashed blindly at the foliage with his officer's baton. Exotic plants filled his mouth.
"How did the others get in?" The nobleman curtly spoke.
"Close friends of the Springfields used the secret entrance. Everyone else had to fight their way through, sir." Cletus replied.
"Why wasn't I allowed? I'm her relative."
"You weren't even invited, sir," Cletus spoke, racked with guilt. Two days ago, he had intercepted Florence at their old bakery again, asking to bring a plus one. She congratulated him. Saying she can't wait to meet the poor lucky girl, Florence left quickly as a high-ranking Companion, Gotti Sinclair or something, had been admitted to the hospital.
"Fair enough." The lord coughed.
As they made their way towards the sound of the music, Cletus realized that he got more than he could have bargained. All the elegance of Loria was here. Crone's Cultists, Courageous Companions, the clergy, various nobility, socialites, the merchants, and the ambassadors all shared wine, delicacies, and suspicious stares.
"Sir?"
"Yes, Cletus?"
"Florence is going to kill me." Cletus whimpered.
"You're taking an arrow for me, but it's a cupid's arrow, my first sergeant. Think about it; if she fails, she has to fix you up, and she's quite the beauty. I see no downsides."
"Sir, don't leave me here."
From the mass of humanity, Cletus's friend officer Darius emerged. He dressed like a vagabond and had the white armband of a Crone's Cultist. When Darius transferred here from Eikengard, he had done so to go undercover. Eikengard, the Cascadian capital, had found a circle of animal remains that had, at its center, a tunnel that went deep into the earth.
"Your guests await you, my lord," Darius whispered.
"Thank you for gathering them, sergeant." The lord walked off unceremoniously, grabbing a champagne glass from one of the servants he brought to Loranisburg.
"Where are the Springfields?" Darius cocked a false smile, eyeing everything.
Shrugging, Cletus tracked his gaze, noticing the luxuries scattered wantonly around the mingling guests. Delicacies from around the world strangled one's senses. Stuffed peacock, lamprey pie, Donqiaon lychee, and roasted boar crowded the refurbished driftwood picnic tables atop the gilded tablecloths. The ruins and uneasy souls became blinded by the good times, if only for a moment.
"Darius, old chap, I'm sure this place is too haunted to live." Cletus sweated.
"That explains why the cultists feel so at home here. Anyways, about the snake oil salesman on Moor street," Darius asked while gathering rare fruits in his coat pockets.
Familiar voices echoed far away. Barroco, Morrie, and Vivian clamored loudly in the distant thicket as they stumbled blindly. Cletus tried to go escort them, but Darius clasped his shoulder.
"Why is he surrounded by Companions?" Darius questioned, then left as a passing champagne cart caught his fancy. From the darkness emerged the old gravedigger Hestian Abuta, dragging his nephew Barroco and the florist Vivian Ceres in a headlock. On his back were heavy sacks of cookware and ingredients. The sickly man, Morrie Griffinson, laughed and coughed vehemently.
"Look at that; it's almost the same dump." The old gravedigger let go of his captives. He had a few fresh scars.
"What's with those two, my good sir?" Cletus asked.
"Barroco chickened out." Morrie cleaned his machete caked in plantlife.
"He ate the flowers, didn't he?" Cletus recalled the last time Vivian and Barroco fought.
"He panicked and threw them in the river." Morrie tried to hide his devilish grin.
At that, the group burst into laughter, compounding the embarrassment of Barroco and the Companion girl.