From the moment the family left the house at noon, no one seemed to stop moving. Cascel Tower was a frenzy of pawns being moved about a chess board. The only calm to be found was in the penthouse, which Hutch had learned during his first tour, had been the home of Evelyn, Celina's grandmother, until her passing some years previous.
It had been renovated since those days, modernized, and updated, but exiting the elevator, was like stepping into a different world. Turning left, it was wide open with a view of endless sky, through the floor to ceiling windows. And just beyond the sliding doors, a wooden deck and private pool. A kitchen, unlike anything Hutch had ever seen, backed against the wall that separated the living space from the bedrooms, and stretched down the outer wall. It was unique in that it had no upper cabinets in order to keep the view of the sky as unobstructed as possible. Even the living room TV, was set into the corner, where the larger supports columns blocked the view already, so it too didn't ruin the majesty of it.
To the right of the elevator, mirror covered closet doors, stretched halfway down the length of the wall, where a hallway, led to the five bedrooms, two on either side of the hallway, with a bathroom shared between them, and the master suite, that was hidden beyond a set of masterfully carved wooden doors at the very end, provided the only access to the private balcony beyond, on the east side of the penthouse floor.
Celina's main assistant, Michiyo Voh, had met them upon arrival, and after a brief introduction, Hutch found himself alone in one of the two guest rooms, that took his breath away. To him it was what he thought a luxury hotel suite must have looked like and felt large enough to fit the entirety of his trailer home inside. Floor to ceiling windows, and a sliding door, provided access to the walkway that led back towards the pool deck to the west. The other end was blocked off by a security gate, made of a solid piece of sheet metal, with thin decorative cutouts, to let the wind pass through, in order to maintain privacy for those in the master bedroom. A closet lined the inside wall, and the king-sized bed, centered on the left between two nightstands, was stacked high with pillows, and covered in a fur duvet three inches thick, over a set of black satin sheets. Grey pallet walls enhanced the vibrant colors of the artwork; bold landscapes and sweeping mountain ranges. And across from the bed, a sitting area, with a table and chairs, a small couch, and wall mounted TV over a bookcase stocked with an array of literary wonders. Hanging from the closet door was a garment bag, and on the foot of the bed, laid out as presents were three boxes, progressively larger in size.
"You ready to go?" Casimir questioned, rapping lightly on the open door to garner Hutch's attention.
"If I said, not in the slightest, would you drag me out of here?" Hutch replied, finding it difficult to look away from the view of the endless sky, his heart palpating uncomfortably knowing how high he was above the ground.
"I suppose I could. If it would help."
"I never, not once in my life, imagined I'd be in a place like this. Not in this sort of room or attending this type of event. Or even working a job that didn't require some lack of ethics or morals."
"I'm not certain you're going to find this job to be much different," Casimir replied as he stepped up next to him.
"Planning on having me kill in your name, again?"
"Depends. Do the stains on the linens count?" he responded with a smirk, before turning around and heading for the door. "I can have you obliterate them all, in my name, if it makes your job feel more ethically questionable."
"Where do you even come up with these things?" Hutch muttered, shaking his head as he followed Casimir out of the room.
The day seemed chaotic, from the outside looking in. Hutch had spent the afternoon, with Casimir, following him around, as he reviewed the security details for the evening's events, and walked through each of the venue spaces. Hutch had kept silent for the most part, only engaging when someone engaged with him first. It felt like old times, harkening him back to the days he'd spend following Cascel through villages as he inspected what needed to be inspected, and spoke to whomever he felt necessary to speak to. The only thing missing was the backpack he'd carry, and the ever-looming planets hanging in the sky.
By six that evening, everything that could be checked, handled, and arranged, had been completed. There was nothing left to do, and whatever crisis might arise, would be another's responsibility to handle. At seven the restaurant would be closed, and the space would be transformed until the following day. Tables and chairs would be stored or repositioned, allowing guests to enjoy a buffet style of dinning throughout the evening, while a live band would play orchestral music from a platform in the corner left of the entrance, and the dance floor stretched out before them across the width of the restaurant. Drinks and champagne would be served at the bar, and on the observation deck guests would find the items for the silent auction, the prizes for the raffles on display, and the southwest corner was cordoned off, for the poker and blackjack tables, for those interested in playing for charity against the house, until it neared midnight when the lights would be turned off for the course of the fireworks display.
In the courtyard below, the common folks would spend their time. For a fee of $10.00 a person, they could gather near the stage where live bands would play throughout the night, enjoy the light displays, and those of a legal age, could indulge themselves in the beer garden, or participate in the snowball fight, going on in what was the ice-rink on any other day during the winter months.
Each of the venues, would open at eight, and wouldn't close until two.
After sharing a quick dinner, brought up from the restaurant, it was time for the women to prepare themselves for the evening, as Michiyo arrived with two women, wheeling suitcases, and lugging large totes under their arms.
Hutch had no desire to get involved in whatever magic ritual would be taking place beyond the doors of the master suite, to in which the women had disappeared. Instead, he took to his duties, storing the leftovers, and cleaning the dishes, before packing them in the crate they'd arrived in and calling for a busser to come and fetch it.
When seven came around, Casimir turned off the TV, and stood from the couch.
"It's time, gentlemen. Let us go and change."
Hutch felt a little strange as he entered his room, the vastness of space, staring back at him through the glass of the windows, the view, far above the city lights, being superior to the ground below, and yet to him it still felt empty, devoid of the dead gods and Euvhalon.
Turning on the light, he made his way over to the bed and sat down, pulling the largest of the boxes that had been awaiting him, closer. Inside, was a pair of new dress shoes, laced and shined. In the second box, was a smokey grey, silk tie, with a matching pocket square, and pair of black dress socks, each wrapped in sheets of paper and sealed with a sticker bearing the logo of the tailors they'd visited two days before.
"She must have ordered these when I wasn't paying attention," he muttered, as he carefully set the box aside, and reached for the final one, which was only a touch larger than the size of his hand.
Removing the lid, he slid out the jewelry case from the inside. The black velvet was unmistakable, he'd seen them plenty of times before in his mother's room, although this one was of a much finer quality, the type one would look at and think, no expense was spared. Setting it aside, he wasn't eager to view what was within, mostly due to the overwhelming sense that what he'd just held probably cost more than his life was worth. Turning his eyes to the garment bag, the feeling sunk only deeper. He couldn't remember the last suit he'd worn, but knew it was nothing like this. His would have come from a thrift shop and would have had an ill fit. The only thing he'd ever worn of value, worth keeping in its own cloth lined chest, was his ceremonial armor, and he let a faint laugh slip.
"A different noble's party, in a different type of palace, but the same damn king," he muttered, as he unzipped the garment bag and pulled out the black suit from within. "If he's wearing a gold tie, I swear I'm calling him 'your majesty' for the rest of this fucking year."