Prelude (Underworld Lucian Fanfiction)

86 - Chapter LXXXVI: A Light in the East

Eight hours later.

And so it was that the second day of Hangrove dawned, bright and early with an optimistic air about it, despite bearing all the hallmarks of a disaster. For example, the storm from the previous night had already toppled one of the hundred-year-old trees—planted by Lady Morrigan—into the newly-fallen snow; thereby causing an uproar among the planning committee, who in turn, held a moment of silence for the tree but then ordered the grounds-people to work through the night, clearing what could be cleared before anyone under sixty could start feeling nervous or discuss how close it had come to knocking out their electricity. Instead they were like children again, awake on the eve of Christmas, peeking beneath shutters before calling everyone to come quickly and see...

...astounded by its brilliance. The joy it brought to their faces, these creatures who rarely served in the red zone. Whose parents were so rich...and so keen to protect their heirs, the continuation of their fortune, that in dividing them from poverty, they had neglected to prepare them for hardship. Instead it was their lot to be frivolous. Unimaginative. So practiced in the business of mortality that they did not think twice before pulling on coats, boots, and in one case a dressing gown, so they could play a farce of war, throwing snowballs across an open plain at one another, while sentries kept an eye on danger from afar.

But that was the point.

Hangrove.

Any death-dealer would assume only mortals were stupid enough to be so blatantly vulnerable. Every ridiculous expense, every extravagant ball giving them credence in that mortal world, while giving them an excuse to rake in funds for the ever-increasing wartime budget...

...and yet at some point in the past six weeks, the decision to combine Hangrove and Yuletide as a cost-saving measure, and its subsequent memo to the budgetary office, seemed to have been cast out the window, pecked into pieces by one of the poultry house residents, before finally being defecated upon the same grounds across which their guests were making snow-angels. Instead, there were now two sub-committees, one headed by Erling, whose success with the first afternoon tea of Hangrove was now spouted as being legendary—despite Allegra having done most of the work—and the other headed by everyone else...at the same time, thereby causing some confusion as to whether it was still an afternoon tea, a gift-giving exchange, or an evening of parlour games.

In the interest of democracy, it became all three. The initial plan to host the second Hangrove tea in the same room as the previous afternoon, swept aside in favour of a new venue. A place which—as everyone had agreed at the start of planning—would have been a perfect location for a winter afternoon tea, had not all orangeries across lycan territory fallen out of favour after the fall of 1907, a fact which the Lady Allegra had hastened to remind the planning room, just prior to being backstabbed by the Lycan Women's Temperance Society, whose Chairwoman, Lady Forsythe stated—and she quoted, while conveying the tale to Raze three hours later—they ought to "hear the boy out." To which the Lady Morrigan replied that it would be on their heads.

And it was.

Literally on their heads.

Erling strutting into the planning room and before a single one of them could ask a question, placing a fruit basket in the centre of the table and suggesting they all start with what he called an "ice-breaker." Each of them placing a piece of paper on their forehead and tasked with determining who each of them were...without...looking at the name now presented on their respective foreheads. The boy having wisely chosen the names of...women. Women of power. Women of strength. Throughout history. Speaking into his belief on how each of these women had changed the world, so that before an hour had passed, the entire Lycan Women's Temperance Society were now of the opinion that any man willing to put such effort into honouring their history ought to have a place on their planning committee.