The Biggest Fool

CLICK.

CLAK.

TINK

HAHAHA!

The laughter and fervor of Eidolenhollow's nobility filled the large hall of the Grand Spire; the venue of the highly-esteemed Ever Gait Ball.

The dim glow of candlelight flickered against the polished floors while the chandeliers illuminated the velvety curtains, embroidered with the solemn sigil of Eidolenhollow – four stars below an ouroboros serpent.

The Royal Orchestra hummed with a quiet yet haunting melody.

Tables of glazed mahogany, shaped by the deft hands of master artisans, stood adorned in velvet drapes, their rich surfaces crowned with elegant candlesticks whose flames danced to the waltz of unseen winds.

Servants glided across the ballroom, bearing goblets of ruby and silver, vessels of intoxication for the indulgent elite.

I, myself had taken a glass of fruity red wine and by the Drake, was it exquisite.

GULP.

"Damn..."

I took another sip, feeling the liquid graze the back of my throat. The wine had a cooling effect, drinking it made one feel lighter and yet, it couldn't extinguish the burning wrath in my chest.

Elowen...

My jaw tightened, and my eyes narrowed behind my mask.

That damnable elf, so insufferable! So willfully obstinate!

Not only had she made a fool out of me in the carriage but she had also suddenly vanished, using her friends as an excuse.

Had she not been taught the basic form of courtesy by her excuse of a father?!

My gaze hardened even further, and my grip tightened around my glass. A muscle in my jaw ticked as I recalled the scene from the carriage.

I had approached her, as any fiancée would; she should have been joyous, should have submit but instead, she disgraced me with a slap.

Me.

Charles Chevalier, the prodigy heir of Chevalier House slapped by a woman from lesser birth. I pushed my amber hair to the side, uncovering my left eye.

Who does thou beget herself to be? Dost thou have no modicum of the countless women who would willingly kiss thy feet just to be in thy embrace?

HISS...

I let out a low growl when I touched my left cheek – it was throbbing.

My gaze swerved across the crowd and found the source of my wrath.

A snowy-haired elf masked with a sharply adorned yet simple guise. Her flawlessly pale skin, gracious curves, blood-red lips and luscious proportions were all highlighted by the elegant gown that hugged her body. Her long, sharp ears flailed as she let out a smile, whilst talking to a group of other women.

HISS...

I let out another growl when I felt heat between my legs. My eyes stared at the generous view of her cleavage before averting when I took another sip.

Thy wouldst lie, she is quite the beauty...which is why thou must fall into my grasp...

Elowen would be mine.

I declared inwardly.

My eyes narrowed and I straightened my elegant mask.

On this night, thy shall be sure of it...

I tipped the goblet once more, wine washing over my tongue, yet failing to quench my thirst.

Then...

The doors of the hall parted.

And in strode a man.

...

I smiled.

A practiced movement.

One designed not to be feeling but polite; one worn to curry favors.

"Then thou wast like 'femme-fatale, may I escort thee to the bedroom?'"

HAHAHA!

The court of lady's laughed as Lady Auvienne finished another long-winded tale about her latest suitor. I laughed as well, an action which was more of a performance than a revelry.

Inwardly, I sighed. My guise masking the weariness of my gaze.

House of Vyerille...thou would be of use on a later date...

Her gaze wandered across the hall, catching glimpses of her companions who were conversing with their respective partners each.

They were all happy and joyous.

The sight both made me feel pleased and envious.

"Mm."

Turning away from them, my gaze swept across the room and landed on another figure.

Charles.

The Chevalier heir sat across the ballroom, now surrounded by his entourage. Although, he wore a mask and had a nobleman's smirk, the tension in his jaw was unmistakable.

A child sulking behind a wine glass. Fitting.

Despite my thoughts, the sight brought me no satisfaction—only mild irritation. It was to be expected after all, a man like Charles could not take humiliation lightly.

Still... it's best to tread carefully tonight.

I drew my lips into another smile, before picking up my glass of gold wine from a nearby table. I lifted the glass to my lips, disguising my subtle scan of the room.

Hmm...it seems father and mother are yet to arrive...

I thought while listening to the slow tune of the marvelous royal orchestra. Their tune as heavenly as always.

I think I should reconsider my harp lessons.

The moment that thought ended...

The doors opened.

And from beyond it, a slight chill ensnared its way into the hall.

The music stopped, the laughter dulled, the candlelights danced, the chandeliers flickered, the curtains rustled and the shadows suddenly grew deeper.

A beat of silence, almost imperceptible, rippled through the ball.

Forcing me to lower my glass.

"Who-?"

"Wha-"

Everyone's gazes snapped to the source of the chill.

And there...

A lone figure stood at the entrance, wreathed in shadow.

And then, as if they were merely strolling into a tavern instead of the lion's den, the figure stepped forward, into the illuminated hall of the Grand Spire.

I gasped, my glass nearly falling out of my hand.

The moment the light of the chandelier's illuminated the figure, he's striking envisage came to light.

Dressed in a masterfully woven wear of silk and gold filigree, poised in a gait that commanded attention and masked with an obsidian guise that bore an eerie similarity to that of a jester.

His long, mess of a hair was tied back, leaving only a single strand over his mask.

Despite the mask over his face, one didn't need to implore the Drake to tell that he was striking.

But...he wasn't a noble.

The man who stood at the entrance was no scholar, at least none of renown. He was no lord swathed in gold-threaded silks and no heir weighed down by the pomp of expectation.

He was something else entirely.

His gait was too fluid and too unhurried, it lacked the rigid formality that bound the men of this hall.

His posture, neither boastful nor meek, carried a weight that did not come from jewels or titles and his clothing, though fine, bore the air of something deliberately chosen rather than assigned by birthright.

And as for his eyes...

I shuddered; my heart suddenly aflame.

They were staring directly at me.

...

Dawg, what the f? You're not even doing whatever the book said!

Hmm? Of course not.

Why the hell did you read it then?!

Hmpf! Thou mind art too shallow...

Rules exist to be broken.

I had read that book not to know what do but to know what not to do, and those things that shouldn't be done are every rule in that book.

Taking a step forward, I walked into the hall in stride.

My shoulders swaying as my boots clicked against the polished floors of marble.

The guests of the Ever Gait Ball parted as I advanced, taking a step back away from the enigma of the Fool.

I advanced, making my way towards my destination; the elven figure in my eyes.

Lady Elowen of the Va'athiel House.

Ah...it's that girl who gave you an L.

Indeed.

CLICK. CLICK.

My steps echoed through the hall, before coming to a halt. I stood a few feet away from the elven woman and outstretched my hand.

Now time for the final phase...

With a gentle smile that contrasted heavily with my tempestuous arrival, I drawled, my tone laced with mild amusement.

"M'lady, wouldst thou care for a dance?"

WHOOSH.

What da fu-

A wave of gasps and whispers spread through the crowd of nobility like a ripple, causing them to murmur in confusion, excitement and fear.

I caught sight of the lovely elf's fingers curl into the fabric of her gown, a slight tension in her knuckles betraying her otherwise composed exterior. I hadn't broken my gaze, and neither had she.

A moment of silence enveloped the hall before suddenly, a man stepped forward. His golden hair shone beneath the light of the chandeliers while his eyes glinted darkly behind his porcelain mask.

He opened his mouth to speak, eager to lash out at me when suddenly Elowen raised her hand, halting him entirely.

She turned her gaze towards me and lifted her chin,

"I fear thou dost presume much, sir.", she spoke, her voice poised but firm, "A lady is not some ribbon to be passed from hand to hand at thy whim."

My smile did not dim.

Ah...I see the feminist type, huh...

"Ah.", I mused, my tone languid.

"Then I have erred indeed, for I have mistaken thee not for a ribbon, but a tempest."

With a calculated move, I tilted my head, "Tell me, then, lady tempest, if not at another's whim, shall thou dance by thine own will?"

Elowen was taken aback, her eyes widening slightly but before she could respond the gold-haired brute stepped forward, his presence looming like an iron wall.

This is insolence.", he growled, "Dost thou know to whom thou speaketh?"

Ah, yes...the young master.

I turned to him, my mind shuffling before saying, "Thine name is Charles Chevalier."

"The heir of a house built on its own self-righteousness. A man who would rather wield a woman's future as a leash than let her step freely."

The gold-haired brute gasped, taking a step back. His fingers twitched as the crowd burst into a wave of whispers.

It wasn't that hard to learn about him, really.

With a little bit of both hot and cold reading, one could construct a suitable psychological profile for anyone.

I took another step forward, closing the last inch between them. My voice dropped into something quieter, something only Charles could hear.

[Skill: Terror Inducement is active.]

I let a bit of my bloodlust leak out before whispering, "And yet, despite all this, thou art powerless to stop me."

SHIFF.

Charles trembled slightly, his face going pale, his eyes widening. I would have loved to see him break utterly but sadly; I had bigger plans.

With a graceful twirl, I took hold of the lady elf's soft hands and said, "Shall we?"

My fingers curled into hers but not with force and not too softly. I didn't pull her but merely waited.

The lady elf was startled for a moment before gripping my fingers as well and then, she took a step forward.

The Royal Orchestra, the supposedly 'divine deities' of music suddenly let out a tune.

One I recognized as Choppin's Winter Wind.

Mmm. How fitting.

With that, Elowen took a step forward and I followed in kind.

...

The tension in the air sharpened as Elowen and the Fool reached the center of the ballroom. The beginning tune was slow, and hypnotic.

Seizing the moment, Elowen murmured, "Thou art a dangerous man."

The Fool chuckled, his grip steady but light, "Dangerous? Nay, I am but a humble fool."

"A fool?", her eyes flickered.

"Aye. For only a fool would stand before a lion and tease its claws.", the Fool said with a smirk.

His words sent a shiver through her spine. She knew not whether he spoke of Charles… or of her.

"Thy name.", she pressed, voice softer now, "Surely a fool is not nameless."

He tilted his head, amused, "A name is a chain, Lady Elowen. Wouldst thou be so cruel as to bind me?"

She narrowed her eyes, "If a name is a chain, then thou art a specter."

"A specter?", he mused, chuckling, "Ah, but specters linger. I, dear lady, am merely passing through."

Suddenly, the beginning tune ended, and the once slow music suddenly took a sharp pace.

Their steps, in turn, quickened. The dance swirling into something more feral, more unpredictable.

The nobles watched with bated breath while Charles watched with clenched fists.

The Fool and Elowen continued to dance in a tangled motion of hurried beats. Each step of theirs was fluid and flowing, matching the other without so much as a flaw.

And throughout all this, their gaze never broke.

"Thy never expected thee to be a dancer of such skill.", Elowen spoke with a bewildered gaze.

"And I must say, Lady Elowen...", the Fool paused as he twirled the elven woman before pulling her close, his hand on her waist. He reeled her in until their masks were merely a few inches apart before continuing,

"Thou art far more entrancing when unbound by decorum."

At the remark, Elowen's eyes widened and a rush of red crept up to her cheeks, but still she managed to compose herself,

"And thou art far more irksome than any man I have met."

The Fool chuckled.

He twirled her once more but this time he dipped her low, her back arching as she bent backwards. Their masks were inches apart once again but this time their breaths mingled.

HA...

HA...

Elowen's heart was ablaze, never in the twenty years of her life had she been enthralled by a man. She had see them to be fickle and simple-minded, either driven by wealth or pleasure. Even her father was a man who saw wealth as first and foremost, it was an admirable quality but a shallow one at best.

She had aimed to be an independent woman, one who would be unshaken by any man and yet here she was, yearning for this charming stranger.

Her long sharp ears were flushed as well as her cheeks, and her previous composure was slowly coming apart.

She was well aware of the hundreds of gazes all fixed on her, watching her every move with masks of admiration, scrutiny and even jealousy but right now...

She didn't care.

She didn't care about the ball, about the crowd, about her parents and even about Charles.

All she cared about was the stranger before her – the specter who had whisked her away.

The feeling that was boiling in her heart was no longer just curiosity or admiration. No, it was beyond that...

It set her aflame, enamored her and made her bask in revelry.

The Fool with his arm looped around her waist, and his other interlaced with her arm, raised her up slightly and pivoted on one foot.

The action sent the rest of the world into a blur, forcing her startled gaze to lock with the Fool.

For a moment, she saw a flicker of heat and desire burn in his eyes. A heat so intense it threatened to overwhelm her but just as quickly as it had rose, it disappeared. Vanishing into the deep gorge of his eerie eyes.

Then he spoke,

"It's a lie."

His lips which had once formed an amiable smile, slowly took the shape of something monstrous, something chilling.

Like a crack along the earth, he let out an unhinged smile, and a chilling voice escaped it's gorge,

"Elowen, your love is a lie."