Oath of Steel

17 |Outlander|

Rosalynde and Grey glided in between the rushing servants with their hands full of laces and decorations for the upcoming opening of the first ball, the uniforms bearing the crest of the Imperial Family multiplying in the neverending bustle of the polished halls, only a handful of servants had stopped whatever they were in the middle of doing to turn around and greet the two.

They stopped and bowed down to try and be remembered, a good word coming from one of them would surely have saved them one day, taking out of their path a reprimand or a beating that would have left a permanent future scar.

But alas, saving their unfair life would have never made it to their list of priorities, not even in their next life.

Tarnishing the honor of the family by committing a foolish act of idiocy or by not being able to weigh spoken words before they were told meant facing nothing more than an outcast, unwelcomed even in his very own home.

All servants of the Imperial Citadel had an affiliation of a kind to the aristocracy of the Rowlian Empire. How, it did not matter - some could be daughters sent to catch an excellent match between those luxurious walls. Others could very well be sons sent to polish their image to the public opinion under the expert guidance of Lord Sandors.

However, the majority of the servants working under the Crown belonged to neither parties, or to be precise - not completely.

Many of them were bastards, born out of wedlock unknown best to the rest of the family except from the general deceiver, unwanted mistakes that after passing a certain age were thrown as disposable manpower into the Imperial Citadel.

They would have done anything to improve their status, their ears and eyes could be sold to the highest bidder, but only if they were in possession of the right amount of money to throw away.

That was why Rosalynde opted for the two of them to meet in the private library that Pharah used when researching ancient law texts that she could implement and then show during a council meeting, harrowing the armored man posing guard at the entrance, checking if someone was inside before inviting the banker to take a seat.

"You seem different today." Was the first thing Grey said to Rosalynde as she finished checking the perimeter, turning to look at him with her usual conscientious smile gracing her young visage.

She'd been preparing too for tomorrow's night ball after all, the maids close to her had been dreading to shower her with oils for the skin, hair and whatever else Pharah and Katherine had pushed her to use to make her skin glow.

"You seem to keep forgetting what's going to happen tomorrow night," she replied without a trace of any kind of emotion traspiring from beneath her clear seeking eyes.

She made sure to not contract any muscles while she spoke, knowing that people like her had mastered the art of unmasking the true emotions of the speaker.

She'd never harbored the desire of becoming the hunted, the role of predator had already rooted deep beneath her skin already countless years ago.

She thrived when she wore the robes of the slayer, she found it even more satisfying than watching the prey she'd caught die under her grasp - be that human or animal, under interrogation or in the middle of the streets.             

"My bad, the next time I'll ask my assistant to remind me of this idiotic week filled with nothing but festivities every single day until I'll agree in commissioning a new suit for the event," His sarcastic reply nearly made her scoff in amusement, her half-bored eyes holding in something close to what people called a sight on understanding compassion.

Pharah had tricked her in commissioning a new dress for tomorrow what over a week ago, using the excuse related to what had happened at the Opera to trap her into three hours of excruciating measure-taking sizes and fabric choosing.