A Bullet Or Two

Chapter 8.3

Delilah stood in front of the giant yellow-patched yew doors that led to the grand hall, anxious to enter the room. The walnut floor was glistening, so clean she could make out her own distorted reflection in the dark wood. The dust and mud covering the walls and surfaces months back were gone, replaced by dozens and dozens of roses. Guards lined the hallway on either side of her. Charlotte's voice dissipated through the wood, though her proud words were not lost as she announced Delilah's entrance.

Having arrived hours earlier, wearing the very same hat he wore to the Temple of Saol days prior, Jonnie pushed open the door to reveal the company waiting within.

Roast chicken met her nose in an instant. Accompanied by sweet grapes and alcohol with a lemon twist – Baron's most expensive wine. The room was alive with musical notes strung from violins and a piano. Conversation danced its way between the music. 

Three tables stretched across the room like a horseshoe. The two facing one another were laced with the heads of noble families across Farhilm: Lord Bourger, Lord Mabbot, and Lady Bell were present. All the others were a mixture of faces she did not know; most likely coming from the South or other quarters she was yet to visit. 

Each wore suits or dresses of pristine make, not a thread nor colour was out of place. The men wore traditional suits, their waistcoats matching the dresses of their accompanying women. Gold, silver, and red but no blue alternated down the tables, declaring the nobles' allegiances to their quarter. Gold like the thread on Jonnie's uniform for the Franklyn barony. Red for Albert. Silver for Bertha. Plump roast chicken, garnished with potatoes, onions, and many other vegetables were set out on gold plates across the tables.

Stepping into the room, all attention was on Delilah. The conversations paused. Music quietened. And Delilah stood still in the middle of the hall.

The head table stretched from the bay windows to the decorated white walls. Every seat was filled except one, and the food served before them were grander than the roast chickens for the nobles. The carcasses of two full birds, twice the size of the chickens, were placed on either end of the table. Behind them were two very big, very loud men. "Tinezool , my dear. Talfryn brought it for the celebrations. A taste of the Southern Quarter." Followed by the embarrassed hushes of their partners. 

Baron had told her that earlier that day. When he accompanied her to her dressing room, donned in a simple black suit. Now, however, he took the centre chair, clad in a gold suit and black sash from shoulder to hip. His black waistcoat buttoned perfectly.

Beside Baron Franklyn to the right was Baron Albert and next to him was Billy – almost drooling all over his black ensemble at the tinezool. Delilah bowed toward the foreign baron. A show of respect to her soon political ally. Respect was important in public affairs, especially towards the ruling class in front of their people.

Delilah was careful to show it, fearful to mess up after hearing the story of a new hire that had joined Baron and his party to Smacallves once, and who forgot to bow to the Baroness out of ignorance that a woman could rule. Delilah had seen him flailed on return, his pay deducted, and then never saw him again. It was not until weeks later that she found out why.

Without missing a second, Delilah continued her walk as rehearsed many times. Clicked her stick against the varnished wood. Then, claimed the free seat that thankfully was beside Charlotte who sat to the left, closer to the windows. From there she saw everything.

Every exit.

Every door.

Every window.

She could see it all. Even the familiar view of Jonnie's face as he strode into position behind her. Following his every step, until he was out of view, she resisted to turn or twist to look at him. Avoided glancing behind to check he was there or to give in to a new wandering thought, to seek her cousin's new guard. Rather, she kept her face forward, waiting for the party to resume.

Her brown hair curled once again down her back, with some strands pinned up and she craved to check it as the guests continued to glance at her. Eager to be free of their questioning eyes. Her shoulders were covered, a change from her usual loose attire, so it was not a question of her modesty. Gold fabric much like Baron's fitted tight against her arms, with swirls of black vines cascading around her gown. Charlotte had called her a vision as they readied earlier. A queen about to face her subjects. Yet, she felt like the smallest person in the room.

Then, the eyes were gone and the pressure faded. The guests bowed their heads, like guns lowered to the ground, following the movement of their leaders. "May lives prosper. May death be overcome." Her step-father's voice boomed. "Please. Eat."