The Ball Opens

In which the travelers converge upon the highest social event in New Europa, and dance cards fill up.

Leutnant von Locke arrives in the ballroom shortly before the first guests walk in, taking the opportunity to run a last minute inspection of the staff and crew. He walks down their line, trained eye examining every inch of uniform and posture. Content that everything is in top shape, he turns to the crew and speaks. "Gentlemen, let us show our esteemed guests why the Parsifal is the finest ship in His Majesty's Aerokriegsmarine." He dismisses them to their stations and takes his own place by the main entrance to greet the guests as they enter.

On the Main Promenade, the violinist ends his tune with a flourish, bows deeply as gloved hands applaud, and politely takes his leave of the dancers, as the formal ball will start in just moments. He promptly returns to the ballroom, down one deck. Some of the dancers start following him, laughing and chatting gaily. It is this trail of cheerful revellers that Belpaire meets along the companionway as he strolls towards the Promenade. They make a rather unusual sight: two dozen laughing people following a single musician. Belpaire is irresistibly reminded of the pied piper stories of his childhood.

Meanwhile, Lt. von Locke has inspected the ballroom to make sure that everything is ready, and is now greating the guests as they arrive, cutting a very dapper figure in his uniform.

Lord Swiftwing soon walks in sporting white linen, a white silk cravate, a deep blue waistcoat embroidered with a stylised dragon pattern in gold filigree, formal black pants and silk tailcoat, a silk top hat, white gloves, and an ebony cane with a carved ivory dragon head inlaid with gold. Heavy, antique gold cufflinks and his favourite gold pocket-watch gleam, with the watch fob showing discretely; his black boots have been shined to perfection by a devoted valet.

Mateo Falcone is next, displaying as usual a very italian sense of consumate taste and elegance. Mateo is rejoined after a few moments by Antioch. The room is steadily filling in with elegantly dressed men and bejewelled women in fabulous gowns.

The erstwhile dining room is now a grandiose ball room. Most of the tables have been removed, and those that remain have been pushed towards the edges of the room to allow conversation and drinks between dances. At the far end of the room, the musicians start playing softly, not yet a dance tune but more of a welcoming music.

Lord Swiftwing strides into the ballroom with easy confidence and grace that only long years and lots of money can bring. As he surveys the scene he nods to himself once, as though satisfied that the ball appears worthy of his attendance. He turns and nods solemnly to Lt. von Locke. "Good evening, Lieutenant," he begins in a deep and melodious voice. His yellow, slit-pupiled eyes seem to bore into the Lieutenant's skull for an instant.

"I trust all is in readiness?" the Dragonlord continues, a small smile playing about the corners of his mouth. They eyes soften, though they do not completely lose the predatory gleam.

Lt. von Locke smiles at the dragonlord and snaps a short bow. "Guten abend, Lord Swiftwing. The gentlemen are dashing, the ladies are beautiful, the band is in tune, and the night is beautiful. What more can one ask for?" He smiles. "I trust your stay upon our good ship has been to your liking so far?"

The Dragonlord chuckles at the Leutnant's witticism, then nods. "Most satisfactory indeed! Your suites are certainly well appointed, the meals have been sumptuous, and the company most intriguing thus far. I trust all has gone smoothly for you as well?"

The First Officer nods. "Very well, very well. But I would expect nothing less from a crew as fine as the Parsifal's. They are the best and the brightest of all the Aerokriegsmarine. Will you be participating in tonight's ball? I would be more than happy to introduce you around."

"I will indeed," replies Lord Swiftwing. "And any introductions you might choose to make would be appreciated."

"I would be honored," the Leutnant responds. He begins leading the Dragonlord over to the first group of assembled passengers but then pauses. "Is there anyone you have a particular interest in meeting first, or, more particularly, any ladies? It would be a wise maneuver to begin introductions there, while their dance cards are still empty."

"I have already met the Lady Osada, and the Lady deForrest, as well as your own Sorcerous Security Officer - Fraü Ehrenberg - and Miss Rohling, at dinner. A formal reintroduction would allow me to request a dance, however. I suspect that the Lady Osada will be rather in demand, and as she is rather taller than some of the other women it might be desirable that I be introduced early enough that I can request a polka - as you may guess, my size and the length of my legs makes that a very difficult dance to do with a partner of regular height. As for the rest, whomever you think appropriate."

The Leutnant thinks for a moment. Short ladies, tall ladies. Tall ladies, short ladies. He no doubt will have to ask the ship's engineer for some measuring tape.

He spies the Lady Osada seated at a table across the room, along with the charming Señora Diaz and Monsieur du Pont-de-la-Vierge. He notices also, standing nearby, the Lady Constance de Forrest trying to remove the dance card from her airship. Maybe the measuring tape won't be needed after all.

"This way, Lord Swiftwing. Have you perchance met Miss Palmer? Though not as tall as the Lady Osada, she may meet your preference in height. And she's quite the interesting lady as well."

The Dance Cards

The ladies approach the greeting table with curiosity. The dance cards offered at a ball are treasured keepsakes; the more important the ball or the host, the more extravagant the dance card. This fashion keeps several manufacturers busy, simply making the trinkets that will hold, hide or accompany the cards proper. With the gadget craze sweeping New Europa, the best "dance cards" are often complex mechanisms whose secret compartments must first be discovered in order to obain the pencil and card they hide.

The guests are not disappointed this time. The Parsifal dance card is a real, honest-to-goodness miniature working "steam" zeppelin that floats around behind the lady, carrying the card in its gondola! The miniature airship's bag is barely a handspan long from tip to tip, and made of extremely fine silk filled with some lighter-than-air gas; the gondola is a delicately cut and folded affair of paper lace (anything heavy would drag the miniature airship to the ground) containing a leaflet and a small ivory-tipped pencil. The whole contraption is mostly white with gold and sky-blue trimmings, with the royal swan insignia. A long string of silk is used to tether the ship.

"How remarkable!" exclaims Lady Osada. "I must remember this clever design and try it in origami..."

The leaflet in the gondola lists the twenty dances planned for the evening, ten before the buffet and ten more after.

Coronation March, by Strauss the Younger
Polonaise, by Lumbye
Waltz "Myrthen Kraenze", by Strauss the Elder
Polka "Aesculap", by Strauss the Younger
Quadrille "Bijouterie", by Musard
Polka Redowa "Bellevue", by Bergmann
Waltz "Ball Geschichten", by Strauss the Elder
Quadrille "Puppenfee", by Bayer
Gallop "New Champagne", by Lumbye
Polka Schnell, "Di Bajadere", by Strauss the Elder
Waltz "Nixen Taenze", by Lanner
Quadrille "La Militaire", by Strauss the Elder
Polka Redowa "Annie", by Schultze
Waltz "Mein Lebendauf ist Lieb und Lust", by Josef Strauss
Polka "Louisen", by Bergmann
Waltz "Aether Traeume", by Strauss the Elder
Gallop "Brightest Eyes", by Schultze
Quadrille "Handel's Elite", by Strauss the Younger
Polka Redowa "Brasher", by Helmsmuller
Polka Mazurka "Die Emanziperte", by Josef Strauss
Waltz "An der schoenen blaues Donau", by Strauss the Elder (of course)

Next to each dance listed is a space for the ladies to write their partners' names. Of course, it is up to the gentlemen to ask ladies to dance, and only a cad would stand idle while ladies are still available for a dance.

Fiona's heart races as Lord Ardghal leads her into the ballroom. His touch is light but sure, and his words... Could he have guessed her mother's claim? There was, indeed, faery blood ever so long ago in her family... "Nonsense," she thinks, and shakes her head slightly to clear it. Approaching the table, she exclaims in delight, "What wonderful pieces!" Reluctantly releasing his hand to claim her dance card, she selects one, secures it to her dress and gently extracts the dance card and pencil.

Just as Olivia is starting to worry that she may have to miss the Great March, she spots Iris hurriedly making her way through the small crowd, carrying a small bag.

"Señora!" gasps the maid as she reaches Olivia. "Here is what you requested!" She opens the small travel bag and holds it for Olivia to see. Several pairs of gloves are carefully spread flat in it, along with some combs, ribbons, travel veils, etc. "Perhaps these?" adds Iris, regaining her breath, and pointing to a long pair of white silk evening gloves.

While Olivia selects new gloves, Iris's eyes dart left and right, over the brilliant company and catching a glimpse of the ballroom. The longing clearly paints itself on her face for a brief instant, then is wiped away, and the maid lowers her eyes again to her mistress' gloves.

It is the work of a moment for Olivia to strip off the kid gloves she wore for dinner and replace them with the silk ones. She takes a smaller reticule of fine gold links, and after moving her card case and handkerchief to it, drops the larger reticule into the bag, and then hands the maid the shawl of wool challis she has been wearing. She holds out each hand in turn for the maid to button the small pearls that close the wrist opening, then dismisses the young woman with gently-spoken but firm words. "That is all for now. I will not need you until late." She has noticed the woman's longing, but there is nothing Olivia can do for her.

Olivia is now ready to face what the Ball may bring. She approches the table to receive her dance card. The elegant souvenir delights her. As soon as she removes her dance card from the delicate lace which held it, she ties the silken string to her reticule. Then she pencils in the Baron's name for the last waltz. She hopes he will arrive! It will be delightful to end the evening dancing a Strauss waltz with a Viennese! There are far more dances than she will be able to dance. Other than that, she has no qualms for the evening. She is sure that every gentleman will do his duty by every lady who chooses to dance, and should there be an insufficient number of partners among the passengers, why, the officers of the Parsifal who are in attendance will offer themselves as partners. She watches as the higher-ranking persons are led to the point where the Grand March will begin.

Jean-Michel was a bit taken aback by the abruptness of Lord Árdghal’s departure but rises to the occasion. He escorts Lady Osada and Doña Olivia to the table, silently nodding a greeting to the maid, and waits as the two ladies peruse their floating dance cards. In truth he is burning with curiousity about the odd contraptions but manages to refrain from behaving like an utter bumpkin and so keeps enough distance to not block the table but close enough to not give the appearance of having abandoned his duty as escort. The interlude also gives him the opportunity to careful consider what to do next; if Lady Osada is indeed royalty, then it would not be proper for her to be escorted in the Grand March by a commoner, particularly a human one, when there is a Dragon Lord present.

He sighs quietly at his lost opportunity for a quiet dinner with a very intriguing lady, but even more in sorrow on her behalf. As royalty she commands great power, but she has also lost a great deal of her freedom. Why, even if someone offered to make him King of France (without the shedding of blood, of course!) he would very likely turn down the opportunity for Kings are not free to indulge in their wanderlust. (‘Although, come to think of it, neither can I,’, Jean-Michel reflects, ‘Not with fuel costing what it does!’) Still and all, whether commoner or blue-blood, Princess (Queen?) Osada has his deepest respect for she has comported herself as a true Lady at all times. Well then, what must be done must be done, regardless of what his wishes in this matter are; hopefully Doña Olivia will forgive him for leaving her but it should only be temporarily.

As soon as the Dragon Lady has finished securing her dance card Jean-Michel approaches and bows, “Your Highness, the Grand March will be commencing very shortly; I would be honoured to escort you to Lord Swiftwing or to whichever gentleman this dance may be promised to.”

Lady Osada lowers her eyes to the dance card she is holding in her gloved hand, then looks back at Jean-Michel demurely. "That is most gracious of you, monsieur Jean-Michel," she answers. "Unfortunately, I must confess that no one has asked me to dance yet, and so there is no need for such an escort."

She toys with the string tethering the miniature airship, now tied to her left forearm, pulling the little dirigible down to examine it. "Does the Nuage d'Or look anything like this?" she asks.

Solemnly Jean-Michel examines it before pronouncing, “Well, the Nuage is rather larger; at least she has room to accommodate a cat which this one does not quite seem to manage.” He smiles and in his more normal manner continues, “Regarding size, she would be quite a bit smaller, in fact you could fit the entire Nuage inside the Parsifal’s gasbag and still have a comfortable gap.” He goes on to describe other differences (although he does leave out two important differences which, given the flag he flies and the present company, could be misinterpreted).

In the moment that she awaits Lord Árdghal's reply, Olivia hears Jean-Michel's description of his aeroship."At least I am not the only one here with Secrets" is the thought which comforts her.

The Dragonlord Strikes Again

Parsifal

Señora

Fraülein

Monsieur

After initial pleasantries are exchanged, the Leutnant excuses himself again. "Please forgive the rudeness of an abrupt departure, but I must see to another passenger. If I may be of any service later this evening, please do not hesitate to ask." He bows again and departs the group, walking over to the Lady de Forrest.

"Thank you for your assistance, Leutnant," replies the Dragonlord, nodding. Realizing with some horror that he will once again have to use his horrible French, the Dragonlord decides to stick to easy words this time, and not to attempt any humorous stories.

"Good evening herr Pont-de-la-Verge, Lady Osada, it is a pleasure to see you again. Fraü Diaz, a pleasure to meet you. Lord Árdghal," he bows, "I am honored to make your acq... acq... I am honored to meet you as well."

Olivia bows deeply to Lord Swiftwing. "My Lord, it is a great honor to be presented to you." And, indeed, he more closely resembles a being of legend than Lady Osada. His great height, his yellow eyes... the aura of age and wisdom.

Turning to Miss Rohling, Lord Swiftwing speaks in Bayernese German (with some relief), "Miss Rohling, you look most radiant tonight. I would be most honored if you would be so kind as to grant me a dance. Also, if I could trouble you for a moment of your time before the Grand March, I thought we could perhaps take the air briefly on the Promenade?"

"Why thank you, my lord," answers Fiona with a smile and small curtsey. "I would be honored to walk with you before the Grand March." So saying, she excuses herself from Lord Árdghal, "Thank you for the escort. I hope you will excuse me for just a few moments." Turning back to Lord Swiftwing, smiling, "Shall we go?"

Lord Swiftwing nods. "Ja, bitte, [Yes, please]" he answers in German. In bad French, he adds: "Lord Árdghal, please excuse the inter... interruption. Ladies, I hope that you will be kind enough to save me a space on your dance cards. Monsiur De la Verge, perhaps we will see one another in the smoking room." Lord Swiftwing bows. "Please excuse me," He offers a very long arm to Miss Rohling.

Olivia wonders whether, in spite of his age and wisdom, he is as ignorant of the Polite World as his words and action suggest, or whether he is simply arrogant because of his status and power. In any case, she knows how to answer him. She has already decided she will sit out certain dances...

She smiles mischievously at Lady Osada. "I will write him in for the first polka redowa, My Lady. Of course, if you should happen to write him in for the same dance, I will most happily yield." Olivia hopes that Jean-Michel and Lord Árdghal will take the hint and ask for dances, if they do indeed wish to dance with her.

Lady Osada's eyes twinkle, as she fans herself delicately. "I believe I have already written him in for this dance," she comments, shaking her head in mock sorrow. "But I believe His Grace is too busy to notice..." Her gaze follows the tall Dragon as he exits with Fiona. "This foolish one thinks that His Grace has just been hit by some clever idea he must now share." She looks back at Olivia and shrugs delicately.

"I have never slept the long sleep yet," she murmurs confidentially to Olivia, "but I understand a century-long nap can make it quite difficult to keep abreast of customs and fashions. This is why we of the Dragon Kingdoms like a static, unchanging society. His Grace has certainly slept many times, for he is older than all the kingdoms of New Europa save that of Lord Auberon or the Dwarfholds.

"Nevertheless," she continues, brightening again, "I must insist that I have that polka redowa with him since my height makes it so hard to find partners." She winks to Olivia, behind the cover of her raised half-open fan.

Meanwhile at the door, the Sorcerous Security Officer, Fraü Patrizia Ehrenburg, walks in gracefully. Those who have seen her only in her severe uniform are lightly stunned by her poise and delicately feminine elegance. Her petite but perfect figure is enhanced by a fabulously fashionable gown of rich blue silk with silver trimming. The dress flows gracefully with her every move, in a whisper of rustles. Her blonde hair is piled up, but in a much softer style than when she is on watch duty, with wisps of golden hair escaping the hairpins and framing
her face.

She walks in confidently and approaches the table to pick up a dance card. She retrieves the actual card and pencil from the airy contraption, and ties the little floating dirigible to a nearby chair with a smile for the steward handing the dance cards. She leans forward and murmurs a few word to him, and both chuckle lightly, then the Sorcerous Security Officer steps away from the table and turns to look at the scene in the ball room.

Nearby, Lord Árdghal, momentarily abandoned by Fiona, smiles at Olivia and Lady Osada. Although he was only a step away, he has politely ignored their conversation. He now breaches that short gap and bows politely.

"I suspect that Your Highness will share the Great March with the First Officer," he says to Lady Osada, "since the Captain appears to be on duty at the moment. Therefore, I hope Your Highness will not feel I am being too bold if I beg for the Polonaise that follows." He turns to Olivia. "I would be most honoured, Señora Díaz, if you would grant me the pleasure of accompanying you for the March. However, should you be already engaged, I hope you will deign to consider me for the next available opening on your dance card."

Olivia is greatly tempted by the invitation to be led into the Grand March by
Lord Árdghal, but... Smothering a sigh, she replies, "Thank you for the honor,
my lord, if you are agreeable I will put you down for the Quadrille
"Bijouterie", although it is not the first opening on my card. I know we
waltz devinely. I would like to know how much having you as a partner will
improve my knowledge of the Quadrille!" She smiles mischievously at him. "As
to the Grand March...alas!...no doubt an officer will present to you one of
the titled ladies who take precedence over me, expecting you to do your duty
by her. However, I await your preference."

Suiting the action to her words, she holds the pencil poised over her dance
card.

"The quadrille is an excellent choice, señora," Lord Árdghal says approvingly. He gives the Spaniard a small bow, then takes the card and pencil from her hands and quickly inscribes his name before returning the card.

When Olivia looks down at the card, she realises that the Faerie Lord has pencilled himself for the quadrille "Bijouterie"... and for the Great March as well. His mark is a flamboyant, illegible Sidhe glyph. He is looking carefully at Olivia to gauge her reaction.

"I am old, señora," he murmurs, just loud enough for her to hear. "The games of titled oneupmanship started to pale a long time ago. I like to dance with witty companions, not titled ones. However, if you disapprove, I will find myself conveniently called away on some urgent business in time for you to find another partner, and return a bit later."

Olivia is breathtaken, staring at the card, hearing his words. She has to pause for thought. Then, "My Lord Árdghal, since you are au courant of the great difference in our status and yet offer me the compliment...why, I would be foolish to refuse what will please us both." The dignity of her reply is spoiled by a smile so wide it is almost a grin. "And it is not witty to be foolish!"

The Irish faerie lord smiles and gently takes Olivia's hand as the couples start assembling and forming into a neat line for the Great March. "Shall we get closer, señora?" he asks, with a glance for the other dancers.

Jean-Michel's Dance Partners

Upon hearing the Sidhe Lord's words to the Dragon Lady, Jean-Michel feels more at ease; Lady, Princess or Queen Osada will have a partner for the Grand March so that is one less worry to plague him. Señora Díaz will also be accompanied which is another matter that had caused him some concern, so all that remains is to confirm whether or not Mademoiselle Rohling has a partner. Unfortunately he has no way of knowing until her return. Bien, he will not commit to that yet and tend to what he can for now.

He inquires of Lady Osada, “May I request the honour of a Quadrille? Perhaps “La Militaire” or the “Puppenfee”? Then to Señora Díaz, “And I would like to request the Polonaise. That is, of course, if that dance is not already taken.”

Lady Osada smiles. "I should think "La Militaire" would be wonderful," she says. "It would give me some time to look forward to our dance -- and perhaps a chance to practice the quadrille before you suffer my unworthy skills."

She holds forth her dance card and pencil for Jean-Michel to inscribe his name.

“I shall hold it an honour, not penance, to dance with you.” Jean-Michel writes his name next to La Militaire. “This is my first formal dance in New Europa and I confess I find myself a touch nervous; I am not entirely familiar with the nuances of this continent’s etiquette and certainly do not wish to give cause for offence out of ignorance, particularly given the amount of nobility present. I have not met any who acted boorishly regarding their title and I pray matters may continue so.”

Olivia is greatly pleased at Jean-Michel's choice of dance. The Polonaise is the dance which she least knows, and Jean-Michel will surely be a "forgiving" partner. But mostly, it will give them a chance to agree on items which require discretion... She hands him her dance card and pencil.

"Captain, I will be delighted to be your partner for the Polonaise."

“As will I, Doña Olivia, as will I.” Jean-Michel places his name next to the Polonaise. “By the by, both your companions are well, yes?”

Knowing that her reticule is too light to hurt Jean-Michel restrains Olivia from hittting him over the head with it.

As quickly as it has attacked her, the angry impulse passes. Jean-Michel is young to be a captain, yet he has been one for years, with a loyal and competent crew. His apparent indiference to her maid should not have deceived her. He had every right to wonder why the woman he knew as Olivia's sister now acted as her maid. Perhaps Jean-Michel means the polite question as a warning that he is due an explanation. Is that why he has asked her for the polonaise?

"When last I saw them," she manages to say calmly, "they were quite well. When next I see them, I will tell them of your courtesy in asking."

On the Promenade Once More

Once they have reached a position of, if not seclusion (which would be scandalous) then at least moderate isolation from those who might overhear, the Dragonlord begins "Miss Rohling, please forgive my abruptness - it is not normally in my nature to be so rude, but I am afraid that circumstances, and perhaps my sense of humor, have caused me to stretch the limits of civilized behavior."

Fiona laughs lightly but incredulously, "You, my lord, stretching the bonds of civilized behavior? But you have been most perfect in your comportment that I have seen. Please go on!"

Lords Swiftwing smiles. "Miss Rohling, I have lost count of the times that I have not stretched, but broken the bonds of your 'civilized behavior'. Such comportment is actually relatively new to my kind."

There is a slight gleam in his eye - it reminds Miss Rohling slightly of the gleam of a cat's eye when it pounces on a mouse. It is there only for an instant, however, and then is gone again. "There are two reasons for which I needed to speak with you. The first, concerning the cut glass decanter, I have already alluded to at dinner. Upon my return to Bayern, I will be needing such an item, preferably one of some antiquity and breeding. It will need to be empty and clean, of course, for I have recently become aquainted with a fine vintage, very old, of Ottomon stock, which I wish to make comfortable in my home. Poor storage can, of course, spoil everything. As this vintage is quite special, and will require a container of equally special qualities, I might be so bold as to suggest that you become aquainted with it yourself. If you feel the need of refreshment during the dance, see my man Hans, or Adolf if Hans is not present. I will leave instructions that you be aquainted with my vintage. It might be best, should you be interested, were you to allot a reasonable amount of time to savor the encounter - such things do not come along often, and you should certainly endeavor to get full enjoyment out of it."

"A fine wine you say ..." says Fiona, thinking further, "I have heard much about the storage of such things, but 'comfortable' is not one of the words that brings to mind. Forgive me, please continue."

"The world of wine has its own convoluted language. Wines may be described as 'oaky", 'fruity', 'dry', 'earthy' and whatnot. Some vintages do not travel well, and great care must be taken when transporting them for long distances - in the parlance they must be kept 'comfortable' else some unpleasant fate will befall them. In some cases even the storage must be carefully planned and executed, let one find mere vinegar where one had hoped to find wine."

"The second matter is a personal one," continues the dragon, "and neither so taxing nor so important - more in the nature of a favor. Perhaps as you arrived you noticed the servant attending Mrs. Rodriguez - she brought her a pair of gloves I believe. The poor creature clearly longed to attend the ball, but was unable to do so - no doubt due to lack of proper dress. As you may note from the dress of my gentleman, Hans, it has always been my custom to allow my personal help a great deal of latitude in these situations, and to allow them to enjoy as many of the fruits of my own personal success as possible. Indeed, were someone not needed to see to my recent acquisition in my cabin, both Hans and Adolf would be attending the ball. As it is, Hans will be departing the ball halfway through, and Adolf will be taking his turn at that time."

"I suppose that for me the matter boils down to the nature of nobility. It seems to me that a noble title, or large sums of money, often have an unpleasant effect on a person, and tend to bring about conceit and an idea that one is better than others. I have been fortunate enough in my long life to observe this phenomenon over a great period of time, and I must tell you in all truth that there are many who now live on poor tenant farms who's ancestors counted themselves of great importance to the Roman state. For me, true nobility lies in the efforts one makes to better oneself and those around one. Having tried, for a time, to live as a classic noble during the Renaissance, I can also speak with experience when I say that my current views are also considerably more stimulating - much moreso than the classic drudgery of court with its endless rounds of meaningless intrigue simply for the sake of gaining oneself a better station."

"But I digress - the matter at hand is the poor waif who brought Mrs. Rodriguez her gloves. If possible, I would like to make arrangements for her to attend at least part of the ball. I find it pleasing personally to do so - it is little effort on my part and obviously would mean much to her. More, it would grant her a vision which might inspire her for the rest of her life. At the very least it would be a momentary relief from the drudgery of servitude. Hans can work out most of the details, but I find myself woefully unprepared to supply ladies apparel suitable for a grand ball. Might I beg of you the loan of one of your dance dresses for the poor woman? It need not be of the first rating - merely something suitably refined to grant her access to the dance. You and she appeared roughly of the same height and build. In return I shall certainly procure for you another when we reach a suitable location."

Fiona's eyes light up at the prospect. "Lord Swiftwing! I had no idea you were such a humanitarian." Then, solemnly, "It would give me great joy to assist that young woman. After all, I am not high born either, but simply have the good fortune to work in these circles for my business. If Hans or Adolf can give her instructions to my room, I will see that my assistant, Cora -- who doesn't like the noise and bother of social occasions but is a first class artist in taste and makeup -- makes her look like Cinderella."

The Dragonlord fairly beams with pleasure. "Good, good!" he motions for Hans to approach. "Hans, a situation has arisen similar to that which we encountered in Lisbon last year. You may be familiar with Mrs. Rodriguez, one of the passengers. I noted tonight that her maid was most desirous of attending the ball. Miss Rohling has agreed to the donation of proper clothing for her. She is unknown to me, so I do not know if she is single or married. If you would be so kind as to aquire the dress from Miss Rohling, ascertain this maid's whereabouts, and deliver it with our mutual compliments... unless of course Miss Rohling wishes to remain anonymous in this matter. If she is married, I would appreciate it if you would donate some suitable apparel to her husband, if single it would be most appreciated if you would act as her escort."

Hans's normally placid face lights up with a smile. "Yes, Your Grace," he answers with feeling. "I will also let Adolf know what to expect for his turn." He bows with respect, then straightens up and clicks his heel in quasi-military fashion before leaving promptly to attend to Lord Swiftwing's orders.

Fiona continues, becoming animated with the scheme, "If you could have Hans find out where Mrs. Diaz is staying, we can send two notes with him -- one from me, for Mistress Cora with instructions, and the other for Mrs. Diaz's assistant. She quickly gets out one of her cards, and uses the pencil for the dance cards to scribble furiously. It reads, "Please outfit the young lady who Hans brings with suitable ball attire - F." "P.S. Are you sure you don't want to come also?"

"Lord Swiftwing, do you wish to use one of my cards to send to Mrs. Diaz's lady?"

"I shall send one of my own with Hans," the Dragonlord replies, but if I might borrow your pen for a moment..." He writes something on the back, apparently in latin, in a strong and confident hand, then hands it to Hans.

Fiona politely proffers the pencil from the dance card contraption. "Perhaps I should stay anonymous for now, Your Grace. Certainly our beneficiary will know, once she proceeds to my room to prepare, but I will take great interest in watching the speculation, should it occur. Now, is our business concluded until I inspect your 'vintage'? I don't mean to rush, but I don't have a single dance partner on my card yet, and I believe the Grand March will begin shortly!" She emphasizes "dance partner" with a gleam of amusement as Lord Swiftwing holds her dance card pen.

He holds it poised over the dance card. "'Handel's Elite' is a rather enjoyable tune, and I would be more than happy to dance the quadrille with you Miss Rohling - unless you would consent to a waltz?" The twinkle in the Dragonlord's eyes matches than of Miss Rohlings. "'Mein Lebendauf ist Lieb und Lust' falls soon after the buffet." He sketches a brief bow (brief because he has a dance card in one hand, a pencil in the other, a cane tucked under one arm, and a top hat on). "The choice, dear lady, is yours."

"Sir, you honor me. The quadrille would be marvelous!" Fiona replies with a grin, proffering the dance card to Lord Swiftwing.

To Be Continued...

Notes:

As for the concept for the dance cards offered on the Parsifal, blame Grenmeth. The joke was too good to pass up.

A few links of interest:

Harper's Bazar' Cotillion Favors - a little late for the period but still very appropriate for New Europan balls.
The Dance Card Museum of Antiques - See how extravagant dance cards could get.
Dancing in New Europa - Technical note from the previous chapter, with additional links.

A Game of Chance

Under the Ottoman Stars

Constance's Dance Card

Story So Far

Castle Falkenstein Main Page

the Host

The graphics on this page comes from Sandy's Graphics

Thank you to Grenmeth for suggesting this choice!