Book Two ~ Chapter Four

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The main halls of the palace dripped with garlands and streamers. People were already flooding in from the gates, dressed in every color of the rainbow. Lucio snagged a bubbling glass of champagne from a passing servant, "Ahhh, now I'm ready to party!"

"We're supposed to keep watch for suspicious people, remember?" Leviathan asked.

Lucio nodded, "I know, I know. But we gotta blend in! How am I supposed to blend in sober?" He went ahead and drained his first glass, picked up two more, and handed one to Leviathan. "You know, the Masquerade started as my birthday party. So, happy birthday to me, and here's to us!" Leviathan smiled, clinked his glass against Lucio's, then gently sat it on a passing server's tray. He didn't want to be spiked if there was some sort of magical tampering in the champagne. And besides, one of them had to keep their wits about them. "Aww, do we have to be responsible?" Lucio asked.

"Yes. We can be irresponsible after we've done our part for tonight." - "That being said, I don't really know where I should start looking for suspicious people or magic." Leviathan thought as he quickly dragged Lucio away from another tray of drinks and into the first themed room he saw. The moment the two were inside, the overpowering scent of perfume flooded Leviathan's nostrils. Colorful clouds wafted through the air in strange shapes. A hazy purple butterfly landed on Leviathan's shoulder. It brought a wave of lilac scent and the fleeting feeling of a cool, late spring drizzle.

"This is really nice. Why didn't I ever have a perfume room?" Lucio asked as he poked at a brilliant orange cloud of perfume. Leviathan took a quick look around the room. His eyes met someone else's behind their pig mask.

"Oh, what a horrid little room! Full of horrid smelly butterflies!" The Praetor Vlastomil screwed up his nose in disgust, waving off one of the perfumed clouds. "I don't suppose there is a wormarium anywhere here? A lovely garden of wigglers, full of the sweet smell of decay..." Vlastomil rounded on Lucio, who visibly recoiled.

"Uhh... I don't know anything about worms—"

"What a tragedy," the Praetor tsked, "A party with no worms is no party at all!" Lucio gulped as Vlastomil loomed uncomfortably close, trying to peer behind his mask, "Have we met before..?"

"Er- no, no! I'm Lu- Lorenzo. This is my first time attending a masquerade so I don't think we've met!"

Leviathan nudged Lucio with his foot and he hastily clamped his mouth shut. Leviathan then turned to the Praetor, plastering on his most polite smile, "Other than the lack of worms, are you enjoying the party?"

Praetor Vlastomil hummed, "Oh, yes! My pockets are full of snacks for my precious children!" he patted his pockets and something made an ominous squishing sound.

Leviathan tried not to react, "If I could just get something useful out of Vlastomil..." he thought, "He struck a bargain with Lucio in the past. Maybe he knows something of The Devil's plans." - "Have you seen anything interesting tonight?"

The Praetor stroked his long and thin beard, twirling it between his fingers, "Interesting? No wormarium, no grub house," he paused, "Nothing I would call interesting. Oh! I suppose there is a big announcement later tonight. I hope everyone sees it."

"Announcement? Of what?" Leviathan asked.

"A surprise! A special surprise! You wouldn't want me to spoil it, would you?" As Vlastomil spoke, Leviathan reached out with his magic. All he could detect was a minor enchantment on the perfume in the room. Nothing from the Praetor himself. But before Leviathan could press him any further, Lucio grabbed his hand and started pushing toward the exit.

"Where are you going?!" yelped Leviathan.

Lucio shushed him, "Hurry up before they see me!" he jerked his head toward the back of the room. Morga and Erik stood looking just as unimpressed with the magical perfumes as Vlastomil. Though, there was a slight hint of suppressed whimsy in Erik's eyes. Lucio all but dragged Leviathan out of the room, barreling through a shimmering pink cloud of roses.

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