"And that was "dance by moonlight", by the Abulan jazz group "Moonlit Symphonies. Seeing a pattern here, people?" the mobile phone said after three and a half minutes of music, to the amusement of the two police officers listening to the broadcast, who emitted a brief chuckle. "I am Sabina, your humble host, and this is The Maid's Jukebox, the radio station of choice for the Adran Gentleman and, for some reason, the Esgonian everyman. But you all already know this. What you may not know is that today is a very special day. This 27th of November of the year 1975 - 2018 for our non-Union listeners, greetings from the past - our beloved Princess Adreanna, a former guest of the show, is hosting a very special ball here in our little corner of Ausozera. While balls are hardly a novel thing here in this "blast from the past" nation" - both officers nodded in response, as they had already been deployed in other four such events in the last month "this is a special one, as it aims to help the poor people that were victims to the savage Brutalization of the former Azen nation, regardless of flag, god or colour. So, while we may not have been invited to the event - I know I haven't - I suggest to our listeners in the area to lend their hand to our future Monarch, wether it's by giving directions to foreigners lost or just by offering a smile to the foreign envoy. Let's all make sure they know the true spirit of our City! Now, for those of you who can’t help and want some more music, here’s a little Esgonian indie group I can’t recommend enough. Ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy-"
"Constable Paulinus! Constable Durus! What the Hell are you doing standing around like a pair of idiots!?" The screaming of their immediate superior officer, Sergeant Mills, snapped both agents of the law out of the broadcast and startled them into standing to attention. "The guests are waiting to be cleared for entry and you two are doing absolutely nothing! Hurry up and go to the checkpoint before I reassign you to patrol Capella Alba!" With haste, both members of the Metropolitan police hurried back to their post. Sergeant Mills looked on as they left before taking the short range radio from his belt and speaking through it. "Chief Inspector? Situation's green here on the bridge. Turns out the missing agents had sneaked out for a smoke. Over." He released the button to the familiar sound of the "over" function and awaited the response from his superior. After a few seconds, Chief Inspector Galba replied through his communication device.
"Copy, Sergeant. And Mills, do calm down. I think we can handle a few aristocrats and foreign dignitaries, over."
Stuart Mills, Sergeant of the Metropolitan, sighed. Normally he wouldn't be so nervous, but the fact they still hadn't a suspect for the murder of an entire (well, nearly the entirety. The youngest child of the family was still alive) branch of the Yakuza made him uneasy, not to mention the security of the main event was in the hand of mercenaries. Mercenaries! He couldn't believe the Princess could be so foolish. Maybe they had bribed her? Regardlless, he brought the device back to his ear. "Copy, Chief Inspector. I will report if anything happens here." he took the device off his ear and looked at a car approaching the checkpoint. From its make, it was pretty clear they were the first non-Unionist guests to make it to the bridge. "It looks like the first foreigners are arriving, sir. Over."
"Good, very good." the old man said through the radio. It was strange to see the Chief Inspector so happy, but he supposed a ball was better than serial killer duty. "This is going to be a calm night, Mills. Mark my words. Over and out."
Mills couldn't help but grimace at that statement. "Calm night, he says? We haven't had a bloody night of calm in five goddamn years."
Entry to the courtyard, 19:40
"Thanks for being with us tonight, Lord Ljubo. Please proceed to the courtyard, our host will say some words in half an hour. Feel free to help yourself to some drinks or food in the meantime, but do leave something for dinner. You will love it, I am certain of it. And fi you need anything, feel free to ask, for I am here for our guests' comfort" With a polite smile and indicating him the way to the Courtyard, Lady Augusta sent the new arrivals on their way. She stood in the courtyard's entry, sporting a radiant smile, waiting to receive the next batch of guests.
Wearing a golden domino mask with scriptures form her favourite classic poet that covered the top half of her face, Augusta Pulcherius Tasius was wearing a rather simple white dress with blue accents. Having just entered the age of 53, Augusta still oozed vitality and self confidence, which showed whenever she received a guest or firmly yet politely commanded the mercenaries securing the event. However, this outgoing, dignified attitude hid the understandable nerves she had due to being part of an event such as this. Years ago she had been renown in the nobility circles as an outstanding event organizer, but after marrying at age 30, many lords and ladies stopped going to her, believing her settling down had dulled her capacity. This was her first job in over 23 years, and she found it more intimidating than it had any right to be, but still soldiered on with stiff upper lip, not letting the guests see any sign of "weakness", as she called it, and going all out to bury perceived "flaws" in her presentation. She owed as much to the host, Lady Adreanna, God bless her soul, who had seen past her age and brought her back to the job she had so sorely missed.
She was going to make sure the guests would have an unforgettable night, and she would do so for the poor souls of what was Azen, for Her Highness that had so graciously gone to her for help, and for fun, because in this very moment, Augusta felt like she was 25 again.
Queen's Crossing Street parking, right outside the island, 19:43
The man looked at his clock again. Seven minus Seventeen. He groaned. It still wasn't late per se, but they had agreed he would get his answer at seven minus fifteen exactly. Two minutes left. He looked back outside the car's window towards the island. The place looked nice. The bridge was locked. The air was closed to prying eyes, in the middle of the river, with a single point of access towards it. It was perfect. He looked back at his clock. Seven minus sixteen. He tapped his foot in exasperation when, suddenly, he heard a knock on the car's window. He lifted his hand to the car's chauffer, who had started reaching into the car's glove box, immediately stopping upon seeing the gesture of his master. The passenger then lowered his window and looked to the person who had knocked, a young boy who recoiled startled upon seeing the man's mask, very similar to an ancient comedy play one with holes in the mouth and the eyes. "Yes, boy? How can I help you?" The kid gulped and brought the man's attention to an envelope he was carrying in his hand. "Is that for me?" the man asked, in a kind tone. The kid, still unnerved but not as much, nodded. "S-she said I should ask what time it is before." The man in the car groaned. Of course she would. He looked at his clock. "A quarter to seven exactly, down to the second." Nodding, the child handed the letter to the man, who smiled. "Very good. Very, very good. Now-" the sinister gentleman said before the kid could even turn around, "for a well done job." He pulled out a 10 melchiott note and handed it to the kid, who grabbed it lacking the meekness he had shown all through the tense - yet - short encounter. "Have a good night, child." Not wasting any time, but giving the man a smile and wishing him one back, the kid left at a relatively quick pace.
As soon as he was alone again, the man opened the envelope with a letter opener he always kept in the back of his private car and turned on the vehicle's interior lights. He started to read.
K.
"Hide in plain sight to avoid prying eyes." I won't lie, when you first told our superiors this, old man, I thought it was early stage dementia (finally) getting to you, but you will be pleased to know they are more open to out of the box thinking than I am. The entirety of our circle of friends will meet in the designated area at the appointed time, and I will be meeting you at the ball earlier as a fellow distinguished guest. Under a mask, of course, but you will find me pretty easily. After we ingratiate ourselves with the host and guests, our compatriots will arrive the way you suggested (rather ingenious plan, I should add, but you know what they say, a broken clock is sitll right twice a day) and meet us to actually catch up for once (after months of inactivity we are finally stopping sitting on our asses like a bunch of idiots with nothing better to do). Hopefuly this meeting proves to more frutiful than the last one.
Signed
E
The man sighed in exasperation. She was perfectly aware no one else was going to read this letter, so the only reason she was speaking in code was because he found it annoying. Or at least that's what he wanted to think, really; he would never concede that abrassive brat had had a good idea for once. He tore the letter in four pieces and gave them to the chaufer, who procceeded to put them in the car's ashtray and set them on fire with the car's lighter. "Take me to the ball", the man said.
"It's going to be a long one."
