Waking from her nap, Abreigelle carefully rubbed her eyes, her vision clearing. Beshna's sharp nudge was a certain sign that they had arrived at their destination-which was now visible outside through the little window.

Carriages. Hundreds of luxuriant, stallion-drawn carriages poured into a roundabout at the foot of the Grand Ballroom. At least, it had to be the Grand Ballroom, considering how unbelievably enormous it looked. Footmen, butlers, and other human servants helped the Neurean Lords and Ladies out, showing them the way up onto the tall steps and past a row of enormous marble columns. Beyond that were three sets of double doors, which were propped open, each revealing a brightly-lit foyer beyond.

Abreigelle had never seen so many people gathered in one place. The social events that were occasionally held back at the Varner manse paled in comparison to this...this festival. Ribbons, streamers and colorful paper lanterns decorated the driveway, along with golden garlands and hedges of sharply-trimmed topiaries...and that was just outside. She couldn't imagine what the inside might look like.

The Swordfellows, still sporting blank expressions on their faces, left their carriage first, stepping out onto the cobblestone drive. Abreigelle followed them, holding out a hand for Lady Beshna as she squeezed through the door.

As Beshna adjusted her skirts, Abreigelle's eyes darted to the glowing ballroom and out past it...out to the city beyond. It took her half a moment to realize that they were standing on the highest hill in the entire city. Hundreds of thousands of lights from the houses, cafes, and shops twinkled like little stars all the way to the horizon, where they blended in seamlessly with the clear night sky. A glimmer of moonlight on water revealed the location of the Channel-the border that separated the Shah Neurean half of the city, from the Rvyni half. Beyond that Channel, way out into the distance, was an entirely different country, a wilderness of mountains and feral beasts.

The Varners had always been explicit with their servants about their dislike of that place...and it wasn't even because of the harsh terrain or the large reptilian creatures. It was simply because the Rvyni people hated Neureans, and Humans, apparently, were not welcome to live there, unless they were sent on special business. Additionally, Rvyni--at least, those who lived in the home country of Rvyn-were religiously obligated to only wear the color black, much to the Neureans' horror. Abreigelle was certain that she never wanted to visit that place.

"Stay with me," urged Beshna as her shoulder brushed past Abreigelle's. Her voice was quiet, yet commanding. "but always walk four or five strides behind, unless I tell you otherwise. And do not stand too close to me when we get inside. Give me room to breathe."

"Yes, my Lady." Abreigelle said obediently. Beshna obviously did not want a human near her out in public. She needed Abreigelle, but only for her advice. "Whatever you wish."

Lady Beshna continued forward up along the colorfully-lit pathway, her head held high in a forced, stiff manner. Abreigelle bit her lip, and counted to five before pursuing, just to be sure. Evadrian, Asfounder, and Monfreid stayed put. Abreigelle assumed that their job would include even less interaction with Beshna than hers, which was probably better. They didn't constantly have to wait for Beshna's approval-they could just roam around in whatever way they saw fit. At times like this, Abreigelle wished that women were allowed to become Swordfellows because she would have joined in a heartbeat.

The crowd became thicker as they neared the entrance, and Abreigelle had to dodge what seemed like thousands of people-Neurean nobility, handmaidens, and Swordfellows alike. With her left hand, she clung onto her flower crown to keep it from being knocked off. Beshna was near enough that Abreigelle didn't have to constantly keep track of her movements, thankfully. She figured that the Lady was heading into the main chamber like all the rest. As the walkways narrowed closer to the three sets of doors, the mob became like a rushing river, sweeping her away inside, into bright orange lamplight.

In the small foyer, it was unbearably hot, and the used air made Abreigelle want to gag. There were too many people in here, and not enough space. The world spun, and Abreigelle's breaths quickened. She clutched her dress with sweaty hands, feeling lightheaded as she had never felt before.

"Abreigelle!" She barely heard her name over the loud hum of chatter. "Abreigelle, come here!"

Beshna. A deep pit opened up in her stomach as she realized that she'd lost her. Her one purpose here at the Ball...Abreigelle had forgotten already. I am such an idiot! Everything had happened so fast.

"What are you doing, Abreigelle?" Beshna demanded, now grasping Abreigelle's arm, and pulling her out into the main chamber. "Don't go wandering off!" Unfriendly glances were shot her way as she was dragged ahead, grazing the shoulders of a good many people.

Abreigelle intended to apologize, but the words seemed stuck in her throat. What in the holy hells am I doing here? I don't belong here... Her thoughts dwindled as she took in the new, airy space before her. Even Beshna had halted, her eyes glazed in fascination.

The Grand Ballroom of Shah Neurn was enormous, a bigger space than any Abreigelle had ever been in. Arched windows lined the walls, framed by rich, merlot-colored curtains. The entire place smelled like aged perfume.

Hundreds and hundreds of people were gathered on the floor, some standing on the outskirts chatting in circles, and others hovering near the orchestra with their partner, waiting for the musicians to begin playing their music. Most of them were Neurean, with greyscale skin tones and straight hair devoid of color. The women were dressed in wide gowns like the one Beshna wore, each with their hair unnaturally curled and pinned on the tops of their heads. The men wore traditional doublets, with tall feathered caps instead of curls. However, there were a few brightly-colored heads among the crowd, heads characteristic of other races. It was possible that there were humans out there on the dance floor, but the bulk of them sat on benches that lined the back wall-the Swordfellows of all the high Lords and Chancellors of Shah Neurn. Abreigelle hoped that Beshna wouldn't eventually put her there, far away from everyone.

At the front of the Ballroom, was a wide dais, at which a long table was situated. Three men stood behind their chairs, each chatting with the other. One was relatively short, and wore the tallest cylindrical cap Abreigelle had ever seen along with a large cape made of layered peacock feathers. That had to be the High Councillator. At his right was another man, who looked very plain from out where Abreigelle was standing. To the High Counciliator's left, however, was what appeared to be a jester, with a motley jumpsuit and a hat covered in glistening silver bells.

Abreigelle absentmindedly picked at her nails, trying to take everything in. This was so strange, so new, and she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed, like she was floundering in the ocean with her head barely above water. If she missed a crucial detail, her job might be forfeit. That would be the cost if she did not pay attention.

Beshna looked no better. Somewhere out there, her father was minding his own business, expecting Beshna to find an advantageous husband. Again, Abreigelle felt pity for her Lady-they were both similar in regards to age, yet so, so different.

As the flow of guests into the Ballroom slowed to a trickle, the sound of beating drums finally shifted everyone's attention to the front. The large Ballroom was eerily quiet, which could only mean one thing...the ball was about to begin.

The raised table in the front was high enough that Abreigelle was able to see it over the hundreds of hairdos and hats. The High Councillator stood, smoothing his feathered cape, and began to speak in a surprisingly loud voice, "Welcome, dear guests to this celebration...this celebration of everything we have accomplished in this past year. First, I would like to thank you distinguished guests..."

Abreigelle cringed at the High Councillator's speech. The way he trilled his r's was just ridiculous, and he sounded so pompous that it might have been laughable. The supreme leader of Shah Neurn was everything she expected him to be...a rich idiot.

"...and on this New Year's night, I would like to wish everyone a good fortune, and good health." With a flourish of his hand, he pointed to the jester who was seated at his left. "And now for the annual fortune-telling, all courtesy of the remarkable, astounding Trystan."

The jester-Tryn-stood, and gave the crowd a wave.

"Now, Tryn, what condition will we expect our beautiful country to be in this time next year?"

Everything in the Grand Ballroom seemed to hold its breath as Tryn took a minute to rub his chin. Surprisingly, the jester didn't use any sort of magic hand-waving or card tricks as Abreigelle would expect-he just looked like he was thinking...thinking really hard. He didn't even use a disc, which was the closest thing to real magic that he could use. Abreigelle didn't even think that it was possible to use a disc to tell the future. So was the man just guessing? He had to be.

Tryn spoke at last, his voice projecting, but calm, "For this great and prosperous nation...I can see that this year, as always, will being its share of trials and hardships, but I can say with great certainty that it will be a year that will go down in history as being the one of the most fruitful and cheerful for its citizens."

Murmurs of assent broke out among the crowd of people.

"And for you, Your Magnificence, I predict a long life filled with much happiness, although very soon you will make your retirement and spend the rest of your days as a wealthy cabbage farmer."

As if on cue, the ballroom burst into polite laughter. Even Beshna let out a giggle, placing two fingers over her mouth. Tryn grinned, clearly pleased with his audience's response, and began to hop up and down on his left foot, the bells on his tall hat tinkling.

Was that supposed to be funny? Thought Abreigelle. It seemed kind of rude to insult the leader of your country in front of most of the elite...people who very well could be plotting against him.

The High Councillator snorted, folding his arms, displaying an ominous look in his dark eyes. "What you speak of is nonsense, fool." His voice was loud enough to hear throughout the room, and everyone quieted in shock. "But I will let it slide. This is a day of celebration. And I will say that I have absolutely no intention of making my retirement anytime soon."

Abreigelle could have sworn that she saw a hint of disappointment on several faces. Figures. There would always be those who loathed the High Councillator, those loved him, and those who wanted to seize his position for themselves. There was no such thing as a perfect government.

After it became clear that the High Councillator was done with his preamble, the orchestra began playing their music, and the party guests began wandering about the room or dancing. Beshna just continued to stand near the back wall, looking awfully lonely. Didn't she have any friends she could talk to?

Abreigelle inched closer to Beshna, wondering she was already venturing into 'off-limits' territory. Perhaps if she talked... But Beshna just stood there, until she spotted something way out near the far wall. Without warning, the Lady grabbed Abreigelle's wrist and hauled her through the crowd.

"Where are we going?" Abreigelle protested, her voice uneven. How can I just allow myself to be dragged around like some ragdoll? This was getting absurd. "Aren't we supposed to be looking for Rashtar?"

"Are you crazy? The ball just started!" Beshna didn't seem to mind drawing attention to herself as she walked through the swarm of dancers and straight to a long table situated near the east wall. "In the meantime, we will get something to eat. Nobody visits the dessert table at the start of the dance." She smiled.

At moments like this, Abreigelle was thankful for Beshna's cleverness. Despite her first-class education, she could be dim sometimes, and Abreigelle got frustrated having to put up with it on a regular basis. But occasionally, her intelligence would shine through. At times like this.