“Camelia, I’ve been meaning to ask, but what makes your hair so red like that?”

  “What a weird question. It’s not as if I dye it.”

  “I know that, I’ve just never seen anyone with naturally red hair like yours. What causes it?”

  “Causes it…? Hmm… well, if I had to guess, it’d be my ancestors.”

  “Ancestors?”

  “More accurately, our adjacent ancestors. I’m as human as can be… but some older members of the family have delved into practices even I wouldn’t dare to experiment with.”

  “Like what?”

  “...Do you believe in vampires, Ma’at?”

  ***

  “Land ho!” the captain’s eccentric first mate called, pointing through the wide window. His upper lip twitched thereafter, his mustache nearly completely covering his mouth. He chuckled at his own joke, but upon realizing that no one had found it funny or maybe hadn’t even heard him over the rumbling airship engines, he grumbled and went to sit back down in his chair.

  Indeed, though his joke fell flat, he told no lie. After nearly three days of endless skies painted with shades of both calm cerulean and turbulent gray, the earth and its solid ground finally came into view through the mysterious mists of the Aaskiminuvien Theocracy. And with it, the familiar gleam of Reville’s gold and brass shone through as well.

  “That’s one of those docking ports you mentioned, isn’t it?” Ma’at asked, eyeing the petite brunette in the large overcoat.

  “Mhm,” Tien replied, peering downward through the foggy glass. “Damn hard to see with all this smoke, though.”

  “It ain’t smoke,” a voice invaded their conversation. The man known as Grin approached them and rested his arms on a leather chair. The same obsidian scythe Ma’at had seen on him before still hung from his back.

  “Who’re you?” Tien stared at Grin with suspicion.

  “Don’t bother talking to him, Tien. He’s just some creep we ran into a couple days back.” Sato had chimed in, though she didn’t even turn to look at him and continued to stare through the window.

  “I’m not some creep, missy. And you’re right about one thing: you ran into me. Took a few days, but you finally understand that now, eh? Not like I expect an apology from you, though.” Grin smirked.

  Ma’at glared at him wordlessly with her selfsame animalistic gaze.

  “N-Nhn… whatever. Bygones be bygones. Water under the bridge and all that.”

  “What did you mean when you said it wasn’t smoke?” Tien repeated her question.

  “I meant what I said. Well, there’s some smoke from the airship, yeah, but Aaskiminuvien’s always foggy. Dreariest place in Vastyliad if you ask me.”

  “We didn’t ask,” Sato quipped with a biting tone.

  “What’s your problem, lady? I’ve done nothing to you.” Grin narrowed his eyes, staring daggers at Sato’s unflinching back.

  “I don’t like you, and I don’t trust you. End of story.” A rush of wind rattled the window, yet Sato still stood as an obelisk faces torrential storms fearlessly.

  Tien rested a hand on her shoulder as a way to tell her to calm down and tolerate the man for now. “It’s always like this, hm? I’ve never been here before, so I wouldn’t know.”

  “Never?” Grin repeated, surprised.

  “Nope. Probably the only place in Vastyliad I haven’t at least passed through.” She glanced longingly outside at the swirling mist, then returned her gaze to the tall, skinny man.

  “An illum friend of mine told me it’s caused by an ancient curse put on the land a long, long time ago. Don’t know if there’s any truth to it, but it sure would explain the gloomy weather all year long.”

  “Hmph. A curse?” Ma’at shut her eyes and shook her head.

  “Yeah, a curse. ‘Why do you think the illum are so pale?’ he asked me once. I shrugged. And that’s when he told me.”

  Ma’at chuckled. “Sounds like he was messing with you.”

  “What!? Ain’t no way. He was dead serious. Most serious I’d ever seen him.”

  “Smoke or not, it’s going to take them a while to line the ship up with the port.” Tien sat down on a chair opposite to the one Grin stood behind and opened up her case with a satisfying click. The latches came undone, and the top sprung open in one smooth motion.

  “What are you looking for?” Sato finally turned from the window and observed the case’s innards with her colleague.

  “The Writer-” She suddenly stopped, realizing that Grin was still standing there, eavesdropping. “If you could leave us be, I would appreciate it. Official Vroque business.”

  Grin’s tongue wrestled around in his mouth, his mind elsewhere for a bit. After a while, he smiled and nodded. “I get it. I’ll be on my way, then.” With that, he left the women to their own devices.

  “...The Writer said he’d message us this morning. I’m just checking the telepaper for anything.”

  “The what?” Ma’at interjected, confusion plainly on her face.

  “The telepaper. It’s standard paper infused with magic used by older mages to communicate with one another. See?” She held up a page of crinkled parchment, most likely crushed under mountains of junk and doodads Tien kept locked up in her suitcase. Within the margins, faint letters written by a wizened hand seemed to float into existence on its surface.

  “I trust you’ve made it safely to the Theocracy, dear Tien?” Ma’at read aloud from the page.

  Tien procured a pen from her pocket and scribbled down her answer: “Short delay due to the fog, but yes. We are here and ready to leave the Cloudstriker.”

  “Grand! And I trust you’ve identified our client for this particular job? Miss Beatrice Blackthorn should be her name.”

  “B-Blackthorn’s our client…?” Ma’at, bewildered, grasped at her head through her dark, fluffy hair. “Of course she is. That’s why she was testing me, huh? Bastard…”

  “So she was the one who hurt you!?” Sato growled. “Where is she? I’ve got some things I’d like to say to her…”

  Tien grabbed Sato by the sleeve of her raincoat. “Stop. What part about her being our client don’t you understand? She hired us. She practically owns us until the contract is fulfilled. We have to do whatever she says until she feels as though her goal has been achieved. This is elementary stuff, Sato.”

  “I know! I know, but… I can’t just ignore it when someone hurts my friend. What kind of person am I if I turn a blind eye to the suffering of people I care about?”

  “What kind of person? A good employee. A hard worker, I don’t know.” Tien replied flippantly, half-joking, half-serious. She knew it was an awful thing to say, but it was simply the correct decision in the moment. “Letting your emotions get out of hand on a job is a warrant for termination. I don’t need to tell you that.”

  Sato brushed Tien off. “Fine. If you say so.” Downcast, the Maiden turned back around and looked down at the looming landing port with a forlorn aura.

  Ma’at looked at Sato’s still back, then returned her gaze to the telepaper splayed across Tien’s case. “That lady… Beatrice mentioned an invitation. It looked like some kind of red envelope. She said most of us would have one, even you.”

  Tien paused, lost in thought, before eventually making some silent judgement call within her mind. She twirled the pen around in her fingers. “Yeah, that's right. I have one, too.”

  “What’s this job really about, Tien?” Ma’at hushed her voice to a whisper, her eyes darting across the crowd of passengers loitering around them. “What is the Scarlet Masquerade?”

  “The Writer told me to keep that information classified until it’s relevant.”

  “I’d say it’s pretty relevant right now,” she snapped sternly.

  Tien sighed, her sky blue eyes tired and sunken. Tiny dark circles seemed to have developed around them over their time aboard the Cloudstriker. “You know that I would tell you if I could, but I can’t. Sorry.”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Ma’at’s menacing glare met Tien’s, and for some time, the two were locked into a quiet battle of attrition much like a staring contest. She wasn’t sure if such a thing could work on Tien nor bear any fruit at all, but there was no harm in trying.

  Tien, at last, gave up and averted her gaze.

  “Give us something to work with, hm? How can we be prepared for anything if you tell us nothing?”

  “...Okay. All I can tell you is that it’s a… reunion party… of sorts.”

  “A reunion party?”

  “For certain important families. That’s it, though. That’s the highly simplified explanation. You’ll have to see it with your own eyes to understand the rest.”

  “See it with my own eyes…?” What the hell is she talking about? Ma’at thought. She supposed it was yet another situation in which she’d have to go with the flow to find concrete answers, and that none preceding the event would be given without a shroud of irony or metaphor. Funnily enough, with all of her nonsensical musings, Beatrice had given her more of an understanding of what was to come than her own colleague.

  After thirty or so minutes of Tien scribbling cryptic messages to the Writer and nothing else of note other than waiting, one of the white-gloved workers finally came into the main chamber and cried out: “The Cloudstriker is now commencing landing procedures. Welcome to Docking Port 36-E of the Aaskiminuvien Theocracy!”

  Following the statement, the sensation of slowly falling permeated every individual as the airship lowered into place. The engines roared and blared, then began to quiet down, then came to an abrupt silence as they had finally reached solid ground and connected with the waiting mechanisms below. An endless cacophony of turning gears and clicking machinery sounded from within the airship’s depths, then they also came to a solemn hush.

  The passengers muttered and jabbered amongst themselves until another worker came and opened the main hatch with a practiced hand on a nearby lever. The hatch flung wide open, and the same descending boarding ramp extended down to the platform. This one was not marble, however. The docking port, aside from the iconic gold and brass signifying its relation to Reville, was mostly made from stone and dark, curling metal one would find in old gothic architecture. The metal fencing around the platform was crooked and warped on purpose, giving the already tense air of the Theocracy a wicked, almost wretched feel. Soaking in the gloomy atmosphere, every passenger one and all left the airship with a hopeful heart looking to the ever-approaching time. The time of the coming event.

  “Wow~” An awed cry escaped Sato’s mouth despite her dispute with Tien earlier. “It’s completely different from Reville. It’s so… empty.”

  She didn’t mean to say the platform cluttered with passengers was empty, no. She meant that their surroundings were totally devoid of any attendants, passerbys, anyone. An overwhelming loneliness personified the area.

  “Too bad we couldn’t land right by the castle. I don’t see it anywhere. How far do we have to walk?” Ma’at asked with a heavy heart. She looked forward to getting some exercise after lounging around the ship for so long, but not if it was a great distance away.

  “So it’s already started…” Tien muttered under her breath.

  “What?”

  “Hm? Oh… it’s probably not too far. See those woods?” Tien pointed past the black, spiraling fence of the port and toward a gathering of gnarled trees. The ground they grew from featured naught but gray, withered grass one might find in a cemetery. “Should just be through those. Once we’re out, the manor should present itself.”

  Ma’at cocked an eyebrow. “Present itself? You’re making less and less sense as the day goes on.”

  But her comrade met her with resigned silence, then made her way following the crowd descending down the wayward stairways.

  Sato, shrugging, met her stride, and Ma’at followed reluctantly.

  As they reached the bottom and trudged along the pathway leading into the woods with the sea of other passengers, they spied bright, twinkling lights in the distance. Past the various trees and sticker bushes, quite far into the forest, was a parade of people marching solemnly.

  The lights they had seen came from the beautiful attire they had donned. Miraculous, immaculate shimmering cloaks hung from their shoulders and glittered behind them like the night sky. Their skin, too, glowed in the eerie dark a pale bone white color.

  “Who are they?” Sato inquired, even more in awe than before. She had nearly gasped when she saw them.

  “The illum. Seems they’ve been invited too.”

  “What is it that they’re wearing?” Ma’at ducked down slightly and narrowed her eyes to get a better look. Even with their bright clothing, it was hard to make out their faces from so far away. The sinking shadows cast by the mists above didn’t help either.

  “Veils,” Tien stated. “Of the… Timeda variety, looks like.”

  “Veils? Are they magical?”

  Tien nodded, her eyes locked on the ephemeral procession. “They’re a bit hard to describe. Veils are conceptual Arcane Constructs, in a way. They pull them from the mind, from Paracosms. Some say they take them from people’s dreams when they’re very young.”

  Ma’at shook her head, stunned. “I don’t really understand, but it seems like the illum are deeply mysterious folk, right?”

  Tien nodded again, this time diverting her attention back to the path ahead and the backs of those who ignored the peculiar sight. “That’s right. They’re hard to understand for most people, no matter your origin. I’ve only handled a couple Veils before, and I couldn’t make out one bit of the creative process. It’s nothing like our own. Really, comparing them to mere Arcane Constructs is foolish, but it’s the only way I’ve been able to grasp the method.”

  The marching illum seemingly vanished behind the shrouded trees, disappearing as though they had never been there in the first place. Tien’s hypothesis seemed to be correct, however. They were heading in the same direction as everyone else.

  “We should hurry. I don’t think we should separate from the crowd,” Sato said, a twinge of fear in her voice.

  Ma’at and Tien nodded, moving along.

  “I heard there was to be a mighty buffet!” a pompous passenger declared to his fellows.

  “Is that right? The Count truly knows how to treat his guests, hm? Ahaha!” a woman in a puffy dress responded.

  “I do hope those illum occultists don’t spoil dinner.”

  “It’s nothing to worry about, sugarpie. Our gracious host won’t let them ruin such a feast. I swear on my family name! Haha!”

  “Why would they even be invited in the first place?” his friend asked bitterly. “Those pale-faced witches of theirs cause nothing but harm to everything they touch! Black magic, I say. Horrible things they’ve done. Haven’t you heard of the Scourge of Falk?”

  “The what?” the woman chimed at a loud, unpleasant octave.

  “Falk,” the man repeated. “It was a tiny village up north. Pleasant place. Known for its fruits. Two years ago, an illum witch razed it to the ground. Now all that’s left is rubble and wandering ghouls.”

  “How awful!” the woman exclaimed.

  “Mm. I heard about that,” the first pompous man replied. “I believe there were a handful of survivors… they said her name was… Ilzif or something of that nature.”

  “That’s right! Ilzif the Scourge they called her. If she’s invited… I think we better leave as soon as we spot her.”

  “No!” the woman declared, stopping and stomping her foot. Her beautiful shoe slipped into the muddy ground. “Witch or not, I am NOT going to leave my first Masquerade early! No chance. Even if she starts cursing people left and right, I still won’t budge!” She huffed and folded her arms, pouting and glancing away dramatically.

  “Calm yourself, my dear. I’m absolutely sure nothing like that will happen. These illum will behave themselves. If they don’t, I’ll have a word or two with them!”

  The lady broke her pouting facade and smiled endearingly. “Oh, darling! You always know just what to say!”

  “Uck,” Ma’at expressed her utter revulsion through her throat, emulating the noise she’d make when vomiting. “Are all nobles like these?”

  “Veronica wasn’t,” Sato said. “Well, not this bad anyway.”

  Tien laughed. “Not all of them. Most of them? Maybe. But not all. You met Beatrice, too. I doubt she was anything like them.”

  “Hmph. No. Not at all.” The nightmarish memories she had of the woman in black rose to the forefront of her mind.

  The path ahead eventually forked into multiple confusing twists and turns. The crowd of passengers from the Cloudstriker that were once akin to bees of a hive flying alongside each other diverted and split into many different cliques and posses befitting whatever faction, lineage, or fellowship they belonged to. As always, the Vroque women were no exception. They and a few other individuals wound up together, wandering through the spooky woods with no other guide than the crooked, fading path they set their feet upon.

  “Tien… I think we’re lost…” Sato eked out, checking over her shoulders for potential enemies every other second.

  “No, we’re not. Trust me. My sense of direction is second to no-” Her boast was cut short by the sudden end of the leading path. They found themselves in an alcove like one would find in a grand garden. It led nowhere. Nowhere but a dead end. “...Shit.”

  “Damn fools…! We followed you because you seemed so confident!” One of the people that had taken to following the trio grew infuriated at their predicament. “Where’s our maid?”

  “Isabella?” his wife asked.

  “Yes! Where is she!? She said she’d guide us!”

  “You don’t think…”

  “That’s impossible! She knows the repercussions. If she truly meant to get us lost and killed, then…” The man didn’t finish his sentence, but its meaning was clear. Endless tangled threats and scornful emotions whirled around in his head.

  Suddenly, a plume of putrescent vapor filled the air and expanded all throughout the clearing. Everyone present began coughing and hacking.

  “Put this over your mouth!” Tien cried, handing Ma’at and Sato a small, violet rectangular rag.

  Heeding her call, the two followed her order and her example, covering their mouths with the cloth.

  “What is this…? Kah! Kah, kah!” The man and his wife coughed some more, hacking up a lung, then went silent and fell to the forest floor like ragdolls. Their spit, dyed a strange purple hue, dripped from their mouths like mucus from a dying fish.

  “Haah…” The sound of a sigh echoed throughout the woods. It came from a silhouette within the putrid smog that grew clearer and clearer. An oddly-shaped blade was in its hand. “Couldn’t you three just sit down and go to sleep already? Killing you while you’re in a coma is much easier and a whole lot more painless than killing ya normally.”

  Still holding the pleasant-smelling cloth firmly against her lips with one hand, Ma’at unsheathed one of her blades with the other and tried to make out the figure through the fugue.

  “Brace yourselves!” Sato’s muffled cry rang true, and following it, an orb of rainwater expanded from her and shot out in all directions. It knocked back the figure, but it also helped to clear the air of the noxious fumes permeating the area.

  Now that the smog was mostly cleared, the figure could be seen. It was a lengthy, skinny man with black hair holding an equally black scythe. It was Grin. “Damn it. Can’t have anything go right for me, eh?” Another exasperated sigh left him. He rolled around prickly plants in his free hand, likely the source of the deadly vapor.

  “You… You reht’ka!” Sato yelled with pure fury in her voice. Her suspicions seemed to have been true all along. “Stay the hell away from us, or I’ll blast a hole through your stomach and pump you full of water!” Her radiant eyes full of rainfall shone like diamonds in the shadows of the gnarled woods. They gleamed fiercely as she pointed her umbrella straight at the man with confusion and anger.

  “Heh… so you really did fuck over the Gunblades, huh? And, by extension, the Nye Inkorpt.”

  “Yes. What does any of that have to do with you?”

  Grin sighed again. He twirled his scythe around and around in his hand, then stuck it into the ground and leaned on it for support, as if relaxing. “Don’t you get it, dumbass? I’m with the Nye Inkorpt now. This is my contract. Supposed to kill you three or take you alive, doesn’t matter. Like I said, would’ve been easy with these plagueroot bolases, but…” He gave them a tired look. “It’s nothing personal. I got a good-paying gig, so I’m damn well gonna get it done. I need the Kin, ladies. Doesn’t matter what I have to do for it.”