You’re dressed well, and beneath your finery the sound of your black leather boots tap gently to the beat of the waltz.
It’s a lovely ball, you wish you could enjoy it, but you allow for no indulgences while on a job. You watch your mark carefully as he floats across the dance floor. The imperial crown prince himself.
You didn’t ask why, you have no interest in involving yourself further with the situation; the less you know the more deniability you have. Although, as your eyes follow him across the floor a bit of curiosity wheedles itself into your brain.
He catches your eye and you nod to him, it only seems appropriate. His smile is kind, genuine. Does you’re employer have a personal grudge? A political goal? Greed or hate, both great motivators. You peg the job as political. The young man seems polite enough, and even if he is a bit of a prick you doubt that he’s bad enough to kill. So, political it is.
The song ends and you watch him bid his partner adieu. He begins his way in your direction and you have to stifle a laugh. He can’t be serious. However, it appears he is, because as the next group of dancers make their way to the floor he offers you his hand. You take it, ready to get the job over with.
Today's escapist playlist:
Expectation, Herold Lavrentievich Kittler
Oh the hills of Manchuria, Ilya Alekseevich Shatrov
Masquerade Suite: Maskarad, Aram Khachaturian
Autumn Dream, Archibald Joyce
Remembrance, Archibald Joyce
Your invitation, written out to someone who definitely isn’t you
A lacy black masquerade mask that came with the invite
The collection of knives you keep covertly hidden
The emerald signet ring you wear with a secret compartment for poison
A lock pick in case you get yourself caught in a difficult situation
A map of the castle floor plan, all the servant passageways, and secret corridors
