He called himself the Baron von Arenim and he was a very wealthy man. Nobody knew how exactly how he'd become so well off or even from what lineage whence he came. People hardly ever saw him, for he usually never ventured outside his estate. Some people said he was once a merchant and earned his way from there; the title was really just for show. Others said he must have earned his take by taking part in clandestine criminal operations and that must have also explained his limited public appearances. And while he hardly ever revealed himself to people, people often found reason enough to come to him. It seemed Baron von Arenim was not only famous for the rumors he'd never bothered refute, but also his love for wild and memorable parties. Those that attended often spoke of them for years, or some never again. For whatever their own reasons, they were definitely something that could never be forgotten.
Each year the festivities were different and only got wilder and stranger with the next one. Everyone who was anyone was invited to attend them. While it was not exactly custom to speak of them openly in public, what happened at Baron von Arenim's tended to stay at Baron von Arenim's. Discretion was always paramount and discussion of the parties were limited to whispers, hints, and insinuations. Nothing direct; whether it was for shame, or of some unspoken oath, no one could tell.
The Baron himself, while people knew little of him, seemed far from the image of a solitary man. He was often described as tall, about six foot, with sleek black hair that was always coiffed elegantly. While he had a fairly fit physique, he appeared as if he drank far too much. He never wore rags or was seen as unkempt and his face was clean cut with a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee combination. And there was an odd discerning quality about his dark-eyed gaze. And he may as well have been Adelan for all the good the tan of his skin did him. Perhaps he was some Adelan expatriate, or just spent too much time in the sun. There was an unmistakable eccentric air about him, and a subtle flamboyancy that only seemed to make others flock to him. The source of such charisma was primarily unknown. Was it sorcery or was he so naturally charming that people had little qualms about him or his intentions?
How long had he lived in the area? Even townspeople that had lived there all their lives couldn't dictate precisely when he'd moved in. It was like he'd just appeared one day, out of the big blue. Yet everyone could have sworn that he must have been there forever.
The year was turning warm and the time for the Baron's festivities were coming soon. The lord's estate was a few miles outside La'marri and any who ventured out to take a peek at the large, sprawling building would see that the outdoor preparations were already underway. Within a week, all the local gentry were arriving at Baron von Arenim's in colorful regalia, costumes and masques that disguised themselves as monsters or legendary and even historical figures. One such guest appeared through the high pearly double-doors that served as the entrance, a beautiful woman with powder-white skin and a sleekly cut dress with a pearly-sheened demonic, horned mask covering half her face.
The guests filled the manor's main room. Servants, or guards if that's really what they were, walked around with trays filled with wine goblets and small appetizers. They too were dressed up in costume, though in a distinct uniform color combination that set them apart from the guests. The main room opened up to a wide rounded staircase that spiraled around the room and was supported by ornately carved pillars. Whatever architect designed this room alone must not only have had an eye for detail but had been incredibly patient for all of it to have been constructed.
The woman eyed the structures with curious eyes, an open expression, even beneath her mask. She took a drink from one of the servant's serving plates and while the guests all mingled together with their meaningless small talk. One approached her, an older man who was dressed in feathered robes that were drifting from his costume. He laughed as he greeted her. "Good evening, milady! I don't think I've ever seen you here before. First time to one of Von Arenim's parties?"
The lady looked at him, leaning her head a little to the side at first, then quickly snapped to attention. "Oh yes! Yes it is."
"That explains the unfamiliarity! I'm a regular here at the Baron's. Since this be your first time, let me tell you that you'll never truly forget your first Von Arenim bash! No one does. Oh, but please excuse my manners. They call me Bolgrim. Broderick Bolgrim that is. And you are?"
"Ophelia Erith." The woman who called herself Ophelia smiled gently and held out her hand as Bolgrim shook it gently. "If I may be so bold, may I ask just where is the Baron? Does he not see that all his guests are getting rather impatient to see him?"
"Aye, that be a very good question, my lady. And I'm afraid I cannot give you a worthy answer. He usually never keeps us waiting. I'm sure he knows we are here."
Just then immediate silence came over the guests, their loud voices quickly turning to whispers then nothing. The sound of doors opening and closing gently shut were heard above on the staircase though not visible to the floor below. Ophelia waited patiently as she heard people around her hold their breaths. Footsteps came heavily down from the top floor and around the beginning of the staircase curve, though the person making them was still not yet visible. As they came just to the step where the person might appear, they paused for almost a full minute. Bolgrim seemed to be turning blue. But he released his breathe just in time as black boots appeared at the edge of the stairs and lazily took steps slowly down the staircase, taking his sweet time about it. Finally the Baron came into full view.
Von Arenim as everyone came to call him was just as Ophelia expected him to be. He was dressed in fine clothes, a red frock jacket with gold embroidery and buckles and belts just like a pirate. Yet he did not wear a mask, separating himself from the other guests. He looked weary, tired, almost exhausted to the point of collapse. He stopped about twenty steps to the landing, and let his head sway back and forth, teetering his body until he collapsed down the steps, tumbling to the ground. The guests rumbled and gasped in horror, taking several steps back as the Baron rolled to the floor. Servants immediately came to his aid, but just as they reached him, he sprung up from the ground and held his arms up triumphantly in the air. "Does anyone need the Baron?" he said innocently.
The guests all applauded and laughed in spite of themselves. Bolgrim turned red from embarrassment, but he applauded furiously. Ophelia did as well, but kept her silence and did not reveal her face to be surprised at all, almost as if she'd been expecting it. Which would have been peculiar for a woman who seemed not to know the Baron at all. The woman called Ophelia did not know the Baron, but did have a sense of his habits, of who he was, and that there was probably more to him than he openly revealed.
The woman called Ophelia moved closer to the Baron as the crowd waited to be addressed by their host. The Baron climbed up onto the stairs again, stopping up at the tenth step, wherein he turned and raised his arms in welcome. "It is a pleasure!" he began, a smile on his face. "Yes, such a pleasure to have you all here this evening! I see some regular faces in the crowd and some...irregular ones!" He laughed jokingly. "You are all welcome here to my estate, and whether this be your first time or your thirtieth, or hundredth—it really matters not—I guarantee you all...that this will be a night you will not soon forget. As truly sorry as I am to have kept you all waiting, I was just finishing my last preparations for what I have ready for you this evening."
The crowd laughed forgivingly. Ophelia moved surreptitiously through the guests, stopping when she reached two guests away from the front row. Von Arenim continued, "This, surely, will be a night unlike any other for what I have prepared for you tonight...is...a contest. One that will test your resolve and wit, you must be very keen to win..." He paused for a long time, the guests murmuring amongst themselves. "And if you win," he went on. "There is a very special prize, that I will award you myself."
"What kind of prize?" one of the guests called out above the murmurs.
"That, my good friend, is what you will find out if you win," the Baron said quietly. His body language changed momentarily. He seemed to stiffen and he looked out past the guests, almost taken by the light of the moon outside that was visible from the open doorway. He sighed and motioned with one of his hands to call the servants by the door to close it. "The doors will remain locked, as will all exits to the estate, until the very end of the competition," he went on. "You will all be free to roam the grounds, however, as well as the mansion. And now I am sure you are all wondering exactly when this competition begins.
"Well, I shall tell you. It began when you all first entered the door, yes that door that is now locked as I can see you all looking behind you. Yes, you are all competing against each other. The first event, my friends...my good, fine, loyal, hungry friends...the first act of this contest is...to find three red roses. Now, just before you all start rushing off to the gardens, mind you that these are very special roses. The first one to find all three and return them to me will have passed the first act and move on to the next. But fear not! Even if you do not find the roses, you may still have a chance to win, that I want you all to remember. Now, without further ado, let the games begin!"
The guests all rushed to the doors that opened up to the gardens outside. Ophelia waited behind, not knowing exactly where the location of these roses might be found and knew that following the other guests would be her best bet. She eyed the other guests like a strange fish might to a school of similarly colored ones. Yes, that's what all these little mortals were, they were like a school of fish, despite their colorful costumes and different hairstyles and monster masks. For the woman that called herself Ophelia stood apart from the rest of the guests. It was not exactly how she looked, or the way she walked, for she looked just as human as anyone else, but if one looked carefully there was an odd otherworldly air to her. The woman that called herself Ophelia also called herself Ghanon of Dragolir.
Ghanon was confident in himself enough to pull off this woman stint as "Ophelia Erith" and she walked off behind the other guests that did not seem to notice the shimmer of her eyes as they shifted from silver to a fine crystal blue. Now all "Ophelia" had to do was to be the first to find three red roses in the gardens of Baron von Arenim and "she" would be one step closer to finding the item that "she" knew the Baron had.
Let the games begin, indeed! he thought with a smug grin.
