TBATE | Twisted Ethos [Hiatus]

A Game Of Shadows I

||Sevren Denoir||

I don one of the suits that the male servers wore, a simple white button-down garment, a red waistcoat, black trousers, and shoes. My right hand stuffs my previous clothing in a burlap sack, tying it on the neck before storing it on my ring, which I tucked in my pocket since no accessories were allowed.

"There you go, good as new," my fingers comb my hair, patting my shoulders of any filth. I push on the bathroom doors and proceed to the kitchen on the other side.

Entering, the room was filled with a platoon of cooks working in their respective stations. Despite the unnerving clamor of pots, and pans; the barking of orders here and there; the scramble of things happening every second, it didn't feel chaotic, it was rather harmonic as the entire staff moved in unison, not one interrupting the routine of the other. I grab a tray that was on one of the long tables, it filled with desserts. I mount it in my right hand, and hoist it just above my shoulder.

"Finally!" A man breathes out as he sees me pick the tray up, "Go on, mate."

"Keep up the good job," I reply back, my left thumb perking upwards as I stretch my arm towards him, beaming a smile.

He stops stirring a pot that is filled with what seems to be caramel. His gaze jumps to me, scoffing, "You worry about yourself, kid."

He maintained eye contact for a second more, showing nothing but the overbearing fatigue slowly taking a toll on his body. Beads of sweat channeled down his face, which he promptly wipes with a towel that his left hand always clutches.

I headed towards the west exit of the kitchen, which was closer to the ballroom. With my shoulder, I pushed the two wooden doors that creaked as they opened. The noise of the kitchen clashed with the loud ambiance of the party, music, and chatter flooding my ears.

As soon as I step into the large venue, I immediately sense his presence, and my eyes shift toward him. He was with them, as he intended. Despite the distance, his eyes merely jump to the right, both of us making eye contact. He didn't even have to scan around. His eyes merely locked on me the second I gazed at him.

A creeping chill runs down my spine, the hairs of my skin rising up. It was kind of eerie. He blinks, and his gaze returns to his companions.

My mind snaps back from the encounter, reminding me of the assignment. Dismissing the short interaction, I continued on. Passing by, I mingle with the environment. Serving desserts to guests of the party while walking in a general direction, north.

"Enjoy, milord."

"Our finest, desserts, milady."

"We hope you like it."

I kept reciting lines as I pass by, serving what was on the round tray I held.

Sir Alexander and Norock are at the front of the ballroom, entertaining a group of guests that had formed a crescent around them. Outside of the crowd was a man with grey hair and a senile expression that contrasts with his active physique. Strands of white on the side of his head streaked his hair which was combed towards the back. What he wore was nothing to note of, it was typical formal wear.

The man was conversing with another, laughing while they drank from tall glasses filled with what looked like champagne. He happily wipes a tear, before responding with another fit of chuckles.

"Lord Beathan," I call out, catching his attention while I walk towards him, doubling my pace.

He paused, inspecting me before laying his eyes on the tray I held, "Ah yes, desserts. Thank you, young man."

My hands lowered themselves, while he took one of the plates with a slice of cake in them, "Chocolate, my favorite." He grabs a plate, the last one on the tray.