THE IMPERIAL COURT OF ELDORIA did a lot to try to manage the Queen's violent act at the Winter Formal, but her brutality to the Baron had many witnesses. Unfortunately, those that no small money could buy. The Nobles at the party were just as frocked in gold as Her Majesty. The Queen's Court sent out appeal letters which were not too subtle in veiled threats to all Houses in the kingdom who were represented in the Formal.
Clandestine coffers of gold were shipped to those of gentler stations to straighten any loose lips. The court even had a makeshift loft in the castle where some [Rank A] Mage was held to wipe the memories of every single one of the servers and belly dancers present in the waltz hall that night.
The Queen was yet to make an appearance, or open confrontation with the family of the Baron.
By default, the Baron's daughter was crowned Belle of the Winter Formal, Diamond of the season and Lady of Snows. It was some sort of weak move to appease.
In all these, the Court who served the crown's less than noble affairs were unable to convince the Queen to sign a letter of apology.
It was the morning after the tragic event and the circle of advisers had spent the entire night in grueling mind-racks to salvage the situation and save the Empire's unity. Giselle Van Imperia herself was locked in the most secret presidential suite of the castle with them. She sat on an executive seat with the round table of nine Fae emissaries. Rafel was the quiet looming silhouette in the shadows.
He had honorably remained at Giselle's side all night.
"Your Majesty," One of the Elf Princes was saying, "This is not a good look at all. Baron Tipious Caan was head of his House and controlled a sizeable holding of the sea ports. I don't think anyone would consider the Queen blasting her cosmic touch through him as nothing less than an act of war."
Giselle stoked in silence.
". . .first, the General Noguri," some other Fae, a woman with sharp ears continued. "Now a successful Baron? A Revolution rebel is one thing, a beloved statesman is another. People are talking, Your Majesty!"
Giselle bristled. Her impatience was matched with stress from sitting quiet all night.
"Let them!" She pounced to her feet. "It's all they can do. People will talk anyway. Unless you all missed the part about him calling me a Wilding Whore, don't lecture me about sentimentality. The Baron was a jealous prick with a mouth bigger than his balls. And I AM NOT fucking apologizing for liquefying his guts."
She tossed the frilly papers to the faces of her trusted Fae advisors.
"—I sign this, and I might as well resurrect the cunt. Now if there's nothing else, I really do need my eight hours of sleep."
Giselle looked around and when none of the men and women in the covert room responded, she deftly pushed back her chair and vanished out a side door. Rafel nodded to the advisors. He dished a final look of consequence at them before he slipped out the shadows, taking the Queen's route.
He had just exited into a dim passageway when the full force of Giselle's body slammed into him. She hugged him hard. She was soft and warm, and Rafel enveloped her in his arms. He knew all too well her condition. He couldn't count how many had fell to his longsword, Brimstone in the arena just for cussing on him.
"Thank you for being here, Rafel." Giselle's voice was sobby in his chest. "Really, thank you. I–I just react sometimes, you know? I don't even think it through half the time. I didn't think my hand would pass through him. I just. . .I just wanted to shut him up."
Rafel caressed the small of her back with his big hands. Giselle was quite tiny. But he got her agitation. Fae were supernaturally strong. And sometimes, their magically enhanced kind forgot their own power.
Rafel pushed her back an inch.
"You should get some rest. It's been a long night," he said.
Nodding, Giselle pulled away. Rafel surrendered her to the nearby company of three Gold Cloaks who flanked her side all the way to her bedchamber. When Rafel finally made his way back to the empty hall used for the Winter Formal, a cleanup crew was in session. Determined castle servants fervently mopped at the large pool of crimson stain in the center of the room.
Dried blood.
The corpse had being carted away in the dead of night.
Rafel paused to stare at the pails of sloshing red water a moment. The news this morning would only tell of the sudden passing of Baron Tipious of the noble House Caan. Nothing else of how he died or who'd done it. The true events of the night would be left unspoken by lips of the witnesses, silenced in gold, blackmail, and veiled threats.
"Hmm, Dawn already." Rafel looked up to the yellow skies as he picked up pace to the cobbled lot where his carriage awaited.
Cora was asleep in the back seat. She stirred when he pulled back the curtain but didn't open her eyes. Rafel softly petted her back to sleep and smiled when she cooed like a pigeon. He shut the buggy's small doors and walked up to the rider's hoist.
He found bald-headed Menelaus holding the reins in his hand. There was no sway of sleep in the Ghostrider's face. At least his head wasn't on fire. And he wore shades to keep out the sunlight.
"A GRIM MORNING to you, Your Eminence. This arrived for you!"
Menelaus spoke in a voice that sounded very much like crackling tinder. Since he was from Hel, he addressed Rafel by his title as Apollyon and not Your Grace as would befit a mortal Lord. He handed over a small white letter with a gold embossing.
Rafel swiftly read it through. It was an invitation to the Penderghast's villa. By the Count, Sir Lucius.
As Rafel folded it once symmetrically, the paper lit and crumbled to ash in his palm, blown off by the cool morning wind. Rafel swiftly gave orders to Menelaus.
"Our Champ is asleep in the backseat. Keep the ride smooth so she's comfortable. Ride all the way back to Emberfall and make sure she gets home safe. Burn to toast any fiend lurking to attack in the forest path."
Menelaus turned his shades to Rafel. "Won't you be joining us, Your Eminence?"
"No." Rafel looked south toward the direction of the Penderghast villa. It wasn't too far from the castle and the city. "I have a meeting here in the Capitol. I won't be long. Go on! Off on your way!"
Menelaus deftly slapped the reins and rode into the sunrise.
Rafel watched the carriage rumble down the chessil path of the vast castle grounds and fluidly dove into the shadow cast by a towering black pillar. He had been to the Penderghast villa once and thus knew the corners the light didn't hit. He could use his [Shadow Self] ability.
The silver blood rune on his chest glowed with a crimson aura out his midnight tunic as he pulled on his mana core, absorbing enough darkness to transform into shadow itself and merge with the umbra of the pillar. He was soon submerged in a world of total black.
He moved in it, transporting in the space of a millisecond to the villa of the Count.
Rafel reintegrated into his bodily self right in front of the mansion's high doors. Everything was white at the Penderghast estate, even their doors. Rafel knocked thrice, smelling jasmine and rosewood filtering out the long oval windows.
It was the Lady of the Manor who answered the door. She was still her in her nightie and Rafel made out the alluring moulds of her breasts and hips. His cock answered the call raptly. The Lady of the Manor smiled coyly at the early visitor.
The Countess, Cordelia Penderghast, onetime lover of Rafel waved him in with a grin.
"He's expecting you," she said, meaning her husband. "And no—he doesn't know about us."
Rafel was showed to an extremely long white sofa in a room decored in immaculate flowers. There, he waited on the Count.
Good Sir Lucius didn't know he had just invited into his stately home his wife's virile and ruthless lover. Rafel crossed his legs on the sofa.
'Shit. Poor man doesn't know I'm fucking his wife.'