7:32 A.M.
The sun had made a rare appearance over Wregate. The farmers, the fishermen, the tradesmen, and indeed, just about everyone else was grateful for that. The warm, radiating rays would heat the city and provide a respite from the cold that would soon engulf the entire nation.
There would be some time, hours in fact, before the guests arrived and preparations were already well underway: the furniture was being shined, the carpets washed and fluffed, and the tile polished. Jefferson Perrault, one of Nicholas Fleming’s trusted associates and roommate from the Wregate University of Law and Government, was placed in charge of ensuring that all expectations would be surpassed. A small and isolated island nation would still be able to impress.
Everything had to be arranged so that even the most scrutinizing eye would be pleased with what it say and even the most trivial details were not overlooked. Take, for instance, the silverware arrangement on the tables. The detailing at the end of the pieces of cutlery was all aligned to a perfect 180 degree angle.
Of course, the real highlight was the centerpiece. An intricate and elaborate sculpture of the recently decommissioned flagship of the Flewichean Navy made completely of sugar. The sculpture served two purposes, the first being to showcase the best skills of the candy makers, the second to show how rich the Duke was. Despite the influx of foreign sugar, it remained one of the most expensive commodities on the island, only affordable by the richest. And to have such a sculpture be built for the mere spectacle and not for consumption is an even larger status symbol.
Perrault climbed one of the staircases overlooking the foyer below, hooked his thumbs in his waistcoat pocket and let off a relieved sigh. It was finally coming together. He beckoned over a servant, told him, “Have Mr. Edwardson send out the invitations.”
