The Dresden Line was not a world nor an island, nor even a city unto itself. Greyshott called them edge-realms, strange thoroughfares between worlds for metaphysical travel. It skirted WestEnd, touched Tamleix, and curled its way through a dozen city streets to the next stop on the path to the Earth that Sophie Rhovnik called home.

That Alain's people had discovered it was nothing short of a miracle. It had fallen out of favor with RhyDin's travelers, and an old contact in Tamleix was the only reason they had ever noticed it. The narrow urban streets were perpetually shrouded in a fog so thick the time of day was impossible to discern, if this place had any passage of time at all. Most of the buildings seemed abandoned, and shops and services were accessed through secret doors with secret knocks.

The Dresden Line's travelers valued their privacy, as did the shady entrepreneurs who plied their trades along the foggy roads.

Alain and Sophie appeared to be alone, but they were not -- further out, his knights picked their way stealthily through alleyways and across rooftops, and others moved among them, too... They knew someone planned to spring a trap, and hoped their own early arrival would foil it. The Baron wasn't nervous but still wary, eyes ticking back and forth as he walked beside Sophie.

There was more than his usual single revolver hidden under his worn-out brown leather jacket; he felt the weight constantly, and it steeled him for what might face them. "Hell of a stroll," he muttered.

Sophie had delayed this trip as long as she could using her research of the ancient texts as an excuse. Her cousin, Chase, and her frequent partner in art theft and international crime, Kicks, had been sent on ahead the week prior. Chase had missed this semester at Dartmouth and she had to get him home before his mother, who was not too particularly found of the Rhovnik lifestyle, lost her mind. He had been instructed to visit his mother briefly and then return straight to his apartment to register for classes and avoid the family until she returned home. Her orders would be followed for he recognized that there was a new head to the Rhovnik family.

The reason she had been so insistent that he avoid the family, the reason she had to return home was that it was time to tell the Rhovniks of Yaya's death.

With heavy thoughts to occupy her and under heavy protection, she dangerously allowed her mind to wander. She knew she shouldn't rely so much on the man at her side but it was quickly becoming a difficult habit to break. Her pale blue eyes lifted to him and a wry smile tugged at her lips. "I would think this is just your sort of evening. Don't be a baby, DeMuer."

But she had to admit that it was chilly despite her sweater. Her shoulders curled up and a hand lifted to rub at the opposite arm for warmth.

There was a short huff of breath, his quiet laugh that was usually accompanied by a puff of cigarette smoke. "Nice walk, imminent danger, matchless company..." His fingers flirted with hers briefly, but they both knew they might need their hands free at a moment's notice. He put his in his pockets just barely, his holstered weapons only a flick of motion away. "Could use more wine." His eyes ticked over, secretly hoping to catch another smile, one to tide him over for however long she stayed away... She could return engaged, or married, for all he knew. She was heir to a powerful family, and some decisions weren't the heirs' to make.

Alain saw her shiver, though. "You're cold." He looked out ahead again, and was already beginning to remove his coat.

Sophie and Alain's lives were hardly ever perfect but every once in a while if all the planets were in alignment and the world was still for just a second they saw happiness in brief flashes that never seemed to linger and never reached to their core. Unfortunately, this was not one of those moments. Little was at peace. Her eyes never found Alain's for they were searching the rooftops, trying to squint through the fog and pick out movement. She never knew that secret wish.

Her eyes did find that old leather jacket as he removed it and wondered for the upteenth million time why he would simply not take her suggestion and buy a new one. "Uh, hello, weapons under your coat?"

He was beginning to respond as he handed it off to her: "You might have a point... but I figure -- " Whatever he figured, he never got around to saying. Something clattered on a rooftop, a shale tile knocked loose and rattling its way into the alleyway below, and the voices in the com-bud in Alain's left ear audibly buzzed. He grabbed her arm and ran for a vendor's stall across the street, rolling over it into the makeshift cover. When their footsteps first raced, a high-caliber rifle cracked out a report and someone screamed up on the rooftops, and automatic gunfire from several weapons began to pepper the street.

"Just once. Just once I'd like a peaceful stroll..."

Sophie's survival instincts -- the ones that had been drilled into her head as a family tradition since she was old enough to walk -- kicked into gear as she crouched at Alain's side, peeking around the stall slightly as if now she might be able to see through the dense fog. There was no more arguing over the jacket, she pulled her arms through the sleeves.

"You might want to pick safer places to take romantic moonlit walks then, huh?" Her tone was soft and teasing before blue eyes turned back on him. The grim smile on her lips was full of confidence not completely felt. "I think we can take them."

With the jacket gone, the bulky shotgun holstered on his back was no longer invisible. He drew it out and tossed it to her, and began to ask, "Can you handle one of these?"

But he knew better. He caught himself, gave her a quick grin, and drove two bulky arcane revolvers from his shoulder holsters. "They're gonna come down off the roofs and charge us -- they won't want to face Malcolm's rifle up there." And right on cue, another high-caliber shot rang out, and the next victim died with a pitiful gurgle. The rooftops clattered again, punctuated by two staccatos of gunfire zinging their way. "Stay low... and cover our flank," he added, nodding down the length of the stall.

Alain pushed out his cylinders and checked his ammunition. Then the assault came.

How many months had it been since Sophie had last held a shotgun? It had been the heat of the summer when she held Marc Franco at gun point. It had been the first time she had ever heard the name 'Alain DeMuer'. She was a beat slow reacting to his orders and for once it wasn't because she hated that someone else was giving the orders. Instead, she was having difficulty with that memory, with the idea that less than six months ago she had been standing in a back pasture checking the fences with the mistaken belief that Yaya was still alive. Grief rode up out of the blue and hit her hard.

As the gunfire sounded, she was ripped free of her memories and shoved back into reality. There was no time to mourn. There was only time to try to survive.

The bullets that kicked up mortar from the brick building mere feet from them came from down the direction that they had come. The fog rolled briefly, exposing the attacker and she lifted the shotgun, keeping her back leg straight but not locked for the shock absorption. She slid the forestock forward causing the gun to load a fresh shell into the chamber and then squeezed the trigger. The fog rolled through as the noise echoed off the building and the only confirmation of the hit was the sound of a body thudding against the pavement and a sharp note of pain.

The brief moment of respite from the fog heralded the arrival of a dense cloud, and the assassins in the street panicked. Alain alternated pistols, coming in and out of cover, a killer's scowl etched across his face and his eyes blazing with silver as Kael told him where to strike the best that he could. There were many of them, an entire security team sent out into the streets of the Dresden Line to retrieve their heads, but Alain knew their backup would arrive soon.

The last of this wave had retreated into cover across the street, but it wouldn't save them. There were wet fleshy sounds and a single metallic clang as a blade cut through them, and when the fog finally rolled away Alain's knight Malcolm was standing in an alleyway across the way from them. A man kneeled at his feet, hands wrapped around the sword buried in his belly as he bled to death, and the last of them, right in front of him, scrabbled at his neck as Malcolm tightened the pressure of the wire he held. Soon he was dead, and Malcolm tossed him away with a disgusted huff.

"...Brutal son of a bitch," Alain breathed as, tentatively, he emerged from the stall.

Sophie stepped out behind Alain, releasing a breath of air that she hadn't realized she had been holding. The heavy shotgun hung in one hand at her side. Her eyes remained only briefly on the dead man and the knight before they lifted to scan the rooftops once again. She hated when trouble had the upper ground. "We need to get the hell out of here," she muttered softly.

Alain nodded mutely as he checked Sophie, himself, and his weapons for any damage. "Where's Ivo?" he asked Malcolm as he holstered his weapons. The knight appeared more or less at peace, which told him they had some time before the rest of the security team caught up with them again.

"Coming," Malcolm replied hoarsely. He cleaned his sword carefully and lovingly, and barely looked up when an engine roared to life nearby. The rumble grew louder, and Alain moved out to meet Ivo. The man -- green-skinned and four-armed, strangely enough -- didn't even spare a word, only a nod as he climbed off the motorcycle and drew four weapons, two pistols and two swords. It was an older British bike, WWII-era, and Alain tested it with a couple of revs as he climbed on.

Other engines rumbled further away. Ivo squinted into the distance for a moment and said, "Not ours." He examined his pistols and scowled in the direction of the approaching motorcycles.

The four-armed man grew a flick of a glance from Sophie while Alain tested the bike. How awfully handy another set of hands would be in a situation like this! Noting Ivo's words, she turned in the direction of the engines with a tight-lipped frown. Getting back home was becoming increasingly more difficult.

With a tick of an upward nod, she passed the shotgun off to Malcom. Extra weight wouldn't help them now. A hand found a handgun in a pocket of the borrowed jacket as she moved for the motorcycle. Those things certainly weren't built for two people but they had little choice at this point. She swung a leg around as she climbed up behind him, ignoring the tight fit and silently begging him to do the same. "Would have been a lot easier if I just clicked my heels a couple of times."

"So I should get you those ruby slippers for Christmas?"

Malcolm cocked the shotgun and gave Sophie a quick nod of respect, then disappeared into the urban jungle with Ivo to hunt. Alain revved the engine twice more and they took off, roaring away into streets suddenly clearing themselves of fog. On the one hand it made the Dresden Line easier to navigate... on the other hand, they were much easier targets now. "Someone's playing with the weather," he growled, and they sped up.

"Yeah. Definitely pulling out all the stops." The cold air whipped at them as the bike cut through near darkness. Briefly, just briefly, she allowed herself to bury her face in the dip between his shoulders and neck for warmth. The handgun was left in the jacket for now so that both hands could keep hold on him but the gun's weight against her side was reassuring. After that moment of warmth, she returned to keeping a careful watch of their surroundings as he kept a careful watch on the road.

"This bike's not meant for two. They're going to catch up with us," she stated without emotion.

"We're almost there," he said over his shoulder to her, but they weren't close at all to the end of the main route they had reviewed earlier that day. "Remember Route C?"

It was an alternative path, too narrow for a motorcycle, too narrow even for anyone to maneuver in, but the fortunate part was that they would have no one coming from that way, and it was an ideal alternate if Sophie and Alain had to split up. He made a sharp turn down a side road and screeched to a halt in the dead end before the alleyway, only three feet wide, and promptly cut the engine. It would make it that much harder for their pursuers to zero in on them, and buy her a little more time.

"They'll follow the sound of the engine, and I'll lead them away." His head turned, eyes seeking hers and at once searching them, more than simple concern for the 'mission' locked in his gaze.

He suddenly felt incredibly close to her. Her hands lingered on him for balance as she threw her leg back over the motorcycle to give him the full seat back. Alain was right, of course. She would be safe and he would stand more of a chance at out running them. It just felt entirely wrong to ditch him and run for safety while he covered her exit.

Her pale blue eyes never left his as she shook her head slowly. "I can't leave you like this."

Alain moved a hand to his hip and flicked his eyes there, for hers to follow -- a sword-hilt had appeared when he reached for it, marked with runes she could read. Celestial. This was Lilinbane, the sword of Kael. "I have help. I'll survive this."

His heart made a wild leap for his throat, and there was one last silent cry of pain somewhere deep within him, the part of him that mourned and punished his heart's every move, the part that held him back; he reached out and held the side of her face. "If anything happened to you... I couldn't stand it," he whispered.

Her hand moved to cover his and her lips spread into a soft smile. An entirely un-Sophie like smile. But then that was what was so wonderful about spending time with Alain. They didn't have to be who they were supposed to be. They could open up, shed the weight of responsibility that they each bore without complaint, and for a few stolen moments be the people that were buried deep inside. "I will see you in a couple weeks."

Alain shook his head and smiled; some witticism formed on his lips and fell apart, and he kissed her. It was passionate but swift, desperate to fill the brief moment they had when the poet buried in his heart begged for hours, days. He held her face for a moment longer with his head bowed and said, with an audible grin, "You'd better come back with my jacket."

"This ratty old thing?" Her voice was warm as she squeezed his wrist. Her eyes lingered upon him, begging him to stay safe. She wouldn't vocalize it, though. She couldn't tell him how suddenly and deeply she had come to rely on him, to need him. Finally, she released his wrist and took a step back away from the motorcycle. The gap between the building and wall seemed shockingly narrow and unwelcoming but this was something she had to do. She had to go home and take care of business. "Your taste is downright disturbing. We shall have to rectify it when I return."

The motorcycles were getting closer... finally zeroing in. He smiled, wryly, at the threat -- it looked like he'd have to quit cigarettes. "Two weeks," he said. The engine roared to life, and he made a sharp turn out into the road, drawing Lilinbane from its sheath as he vanished from sight.

"Two weeks," she whispered beneath the drown of motorcycle engines from either side. Her gaze remained concentrated on the fog into which Alain had disappeared. Then with a ragged exhale, she turned on her heels and stepped into the shadows of the narrow path. Two weeks.

"Where are you going, Sofia?"

Vivid colors over seascape were limited to the early morning hours on the eastern seaboard but that did not lessen Sophie's love for the ocean at sunset. It seemed as if there was a sense of peace that settled upon the world as the forces of day drew to a close and the nocturnal awoke to prepare for their nightly mischief.

Walt needed a run. But, most importantly, Sophie could not stand one more moment in her mother's house. Her words still rang through Sophie's head, teasing her with the cruel suggestion. They had ruined you already. "I'm going to go take a walk with Walt, Mom."

"Be sure to take a coat," she reminded before firing up the blender. It seemed to be the point in the evening when it was time to throw together what consisted of dinner in this household -- a round of strawberry daiquiris.

The reminder to grab a jacket was one of those rare moments in which Martha Polk Rhovnik felt the urge to say something motherly. Yet, in no mood to argue with the woman and considering the request was quite practical, she did step into the guest bedroom to collect a jacket. The leather jacket Alain had sent her off with was thrown over the end of the bed, waiting patiently for her to need it. Her stomach flipped at the sight of it and something deep in her burned with yearning to return to him. He understood. He didn't think she was ruined. Releasing a heavy exhale to push away those thoughts, she grabbed the jacket, pulling it on even as she crossed through the house towards the door with Walt hot on her heels.

She didn't feel free of the burden of that woman until sand was under foot and all that filled her ears was the crashing of waves and Walt's happy yipping as he barreled down the beach towards a pair of resting seagulls. The beach was empty save an older couple walking in the opposite direction. Martha's house sat towards the northern end of the community butting up against Huntington State Park and its remote and rarely busy shoreline. She buried herself in the jacket, flipping up the collar to stave off the evening chill. For a moment, she felt his warmth. For a moment, she was safe with her grief back in the barony.

A voice behind her interrupted all of that. "I hope this evening finds you well, Sofia."

There was no denying who the man was or what he did upon allowing her eyes to come to a rest upon him. His graying hair was tossed from the wind and his hands were resting in the side pockets of his sports jacket. He was entirely over dressed for the beach and entirely under dressed for his station in life. She did not need to know his name because somehow she knew exactly who he was. Her head dipped in a demure, respectful nod. "Director," she stated softly in greeting.

"I am glad that you recognize me as such. It saves me having to convince you of it," he stated in a humble, jovial tone. "I am Director Fawcett and I come to speak to you at the behest of all the eleven Directors of the Council of Ad Lucem."

Sofia studied him for a long moment before raising a brow. "My research suggested that there are twelve Directors?"

The comment drew a smile from Director Fawcett. The corners of his eyes crinkled in a way that suggested just how he had gotten those wrinkles in the same place. "There are supposed to be, yes. Director Minnowich passed away this past January. We have been waiting for his replacement to be ready to accept his seat since then."

"And how can I be of service to Ad Lucem, Director?" Sophie's tone was guarded. Her arms remained crossed in front of her chest. That he had found her here, that he had made it past the guard tower was not the least bit surprising considering their many talents and resources. But what could they want from her? They had already had a Rhovnik this generation. Could he be here to express his sympathy for her loss? That was so entirely uncharacteristic of Ad Lucem. Once an agent had been Taken they were dead to their family. Typically, they never returned and if they did many decades later they would not be the person that had left.

Director Fawcett's eyes darted towards Walt who was skirting the incoming waves careful not to get caught by the bone-chillingly cold water and then they returned to Sophie. "We would like to invite you to take Director Minnowich's seat on the Council?"

The pain and grief broke around her with the crash of a wave. She shook her head in disbelief at the man before her. Anger swelled but she kept a strangle hold on it. Emotion had no place in this world, in this war. Anger tainted, colored, and distorted, never allowing the truth to be fully seen. "You cannot be serious. I was not good enough to be an Ad Lucem agent. Yaya was Taken instead. Her fate was supposed to have been my fate and now you want me to be a director? What has changed?"

"Nothing has changed," he replied patiently. His entire manner was calm and unflappable. Those qualities more likely than not exactly why he had been sent for this task. He could deliver this to dangerous grieving woman without flinching. "This was always your destiny, Sofia. You were the one to make the difficult but needed decision to kill the boy when you were in high school. You took a life of a friend knowing it would save the lives of others. You know how to read and speak not only the modern languages but also the language of the ancients. It is a rare skill indeed. You were never meant to be an agent. You were always destined to be a director."

Sophie lifted a hand to run through her wind-swept dark hair as she turned her eyes back on the horizon where the lofty depths of the blue-green ocean met lofty heights of the steel gray sky. "You want me as a director," she repeated.

"Yes, we do, Sofia. And, unfortunately, that's not all we have to ask of you," he began carefully, his eyes never leaving her. He paused until she turned her pale eyes back on him. He clearly wanted eye contact to tell her what he must. The kind, gentle humor that had lined his face was now suddenly missing. "We need your help in controlling DeMuer. He's unpredictable and violent and has seemingly unlimited resources at his fingertips. He could be a beneficial ally if he wasn't such a loose cannon."

Sophie's laugh was short and died quickly. It was much like her life; an empty shell full only of bitterness. One day it would end. That was all she was promised in this world. Death. One day she would do her duty to family, to God and her life would end. Making the ultimate sacrifice and receiving peace was what she had to look forward to obtaining. Most lived for the journey, she lived for the ending. "How in the world do you expect me to control Alain?"

"We would not be opposed to a marriage," the director stated carefully. Not opposed to a marriage. The words were so carefully chosen that she had to consider why. The answer didn't take her mind long to come by. A Rhovnik-DeMuer union was not only a benefit to Ad Lucem but, depending on the situation, it could be a detriment. The concentration of power, wealth, and knowledge would be great and could even rival Ad Lucem. They would have to rely on her being loyal to them first and foremost rather than to her husband.

Husband. It was ridiculous to even think of Alain in that manner. She tilted her head at the director, narrowing her eyes. "And if I were opposed to a marriage?"

"Then we ask that you still work at helping us to control him. You are destined to be a director and you are the heir to the Rhovniks. You will not need a marriage with Alain DeMuer to be a powerful woman." A knowing smile settled upon his lips. He was appealing to that slice of her that was very much like her grandmother. He was appealing to a desire for power, a desire to be a part of this ancient war beyond birthing its future soldier.

Her neck twisted sharply as she turned back to watch Walt dance between the waves crashing, barking at them as if his demand for them to retreat could change the flow of the tides. One Blue Tick Coonhound against the world. She released a breath that she had not realized she had been holding. "I need to think about this."

"I understand," Director Fawcett acknowledged with a nod as he took a step back, lifting his voice so that she could still hear him over the waves and the giddy barking. "We will meet and discuss this at greater length when you return to RhyDin."

Sophie did not turn around, she did not respond. She merely stared at the bouncing dog play fighting the crashing waves as the Ad Lucem director turned and walked away, disappearing behind the sand dunes. Still, her eyes lingered on Walt. It was almost as if he were compelled by the formidable opponent to battle it to the death. Certainly, he would never defeat the ocean but he did not know that.

Eventually, she would have to pull him away from his game least he be swept away by the tide. The thought sent a grave chill up her spine and she pulled the leather jacket tighter around her, sinking into its depths and thoughts of the man who seemed to determine to make sure she was not swept away as well.

Farmers have always called the remnants left in a field after harvest residue or trash. Trash is a bit inaccurate since it isn't swept away for disposal because it helped to limit erosion but residue must be managed as it can provide the perfect cover for insects needing shelter for the winter. The residue crunched beneath Sophie's boots as she marched through the back fields on her father's farm in upstate South Carolina, looking for just those spots where pests might dig in. She had always found the fields mildly depressing in winter. They were so vacant and so useless. At least in the northern states, they spent most of the winter covered in several inches of snow so that it was not obvious how empty and infertile they remained through the season.

Walt followed after her with his nose to the ground. His black ears flopping with every jaunty step. The chilly air seemed to electrify him or perhaps it was the smell of deer that was all around this time of year. His black and white speckled coarse fur gave him a navy blue appearance from a distance which is what earned Blueticks their name. His prized bloodlines had given him an excellent nose. Although, Sophie found that stomping around in the backwoods in the middle of the night chasing after raccoons was not the least bit fun but that's not to say that Walt's nose didn't go to good use. Her prey just usually happened to be the human variety.

"Sofia!" A voice called breaking through Sophie's fog of memories.

She stopped in place and turned to find the surreal sight of her grandmother standing in the middle of a field in South Carolina. It was far away indeed from the elegant parlor on the banks of Lake Erie or the a Manhattan penthouse suite or a Paris couture runway show. In all those places, Elsie Rhovnik was the master of all she surveyed. Here in this field, though, she stuck out like a sore thumb. It was then that Sophie realized the brilliance behind the upbringing that their father had given her and Yaya. They were at home in the backwoods as well as in the finest of the world's cities.

Walt shoved his head into the air and watched Elsie with what had to be an incredulous look on his face. Sophie headed for her grandmother who clearly was not coming a step further. Why had she not allowed someone to take her on an ATV to find her? Although, the thought of Elsie Rhovnik on the back of an ATV was even more ridiculous that the thought of her trumping through the fields in Chester. "Grandmama, what are you doing here?"

"I was advised that you would be coming to Ohio four days ago and you had yet to show. All of my calls had gone unanswered," Elsie's tone was harsh and scolding. A deep anger bubbled just within Elsie's control. Sophie's rebellions were becoming a problem. "This is it, Sofia. I am done with this behavior. Not only are you acting like a fool but now you're dragging your cousins into it? You took Andrea to Costa Rica? Chase missed a whole semester of school? And all for what, Sofia? What have you discovered?"

Sophie's backbone straightened and she took a step closer, invading Elsie's personal space. "I found that my sister is dead."

"The Taken disappear, and the lucky ones die. Knowing that gives you nothing." Elsie's tone was even and controlled. There were no emotions. At first, Sophie thought that Elsie knew of the death but, then upon studying Elsie's face for another moment, she realized that wasn't it at all. She had written Yaya off for dead the moment she had been Taken and, yet, she had still rejoiced on that day. The Rhovniks had given yet another child to the fight. They had continued the ancient tradition. They had all done their duty by making sure she was properly trained. Now the focus was to produce the next generation and train it. "I don't want to hear anymore of it. We are all to move on. What I am here to discuss with you is Alain DeMuer."

Alain DeMuer. Of course, Elsie knew. Sophie was an idiot to think that she could keep that a secret. Her lips tightened into a sharp from and she shoved her hands into the side pockets of his leather jacket. She had barely taken that jacket off since leaving Will's house. "I will not discuss Alain with you, Grandmama. He is none of your business. I understand my duty to my family and I will do it. That is all you need to know."

Elsie gave a firm nod to accept the statement. "Good because we need to go to Savannah. The Nottoways are holding a masquerade ball and it will be just the sort of place to introduce you to an intelligent man of a powerful family. In fact, I have one in mind already." There was no question in her tone. Sophie was expected to follow. Elsie turned on her heels and began to pick a path through the residue and back towards the house.

"Come along, Sofia." Elsie called and after a moment's hesitation, Sophie followed.

The White Room had served as the ballroom in Nottoway Plantation since the home was built by Francis Nottoway in 1833. The Nottoway family had owned the property long before that even but it wasn't until the portion of the Georgia charter which outlawed slavery was changed in 1755 that their wealth began truly expanding at ridiculous rates. And while the second half of the nineteenth century and the turmoil of war had subdued their happy fortune, the Nottoways struggled through the tough times and adapted as was necessary to prosper in the New South.

One only needed to look around the ballroom on that particular night at the show of wealth to know that they were indeed a wealthy lot. Christmas parties in the Nottoway family were grand affairs and the newest Mrs. Nottoway insisted to her husband that this year they would ignore the economy and make this the most extravagant of them all.

Swaths of white fabric were slung from the high ceilings and twirled around the great columns of the ballroom. Tables dotted the outer wall with centerpieces of pure white Oriental lilies mixed with dark magnolia leaves and evergreen pinecones arranged elegantly in silver urns but the main floor was left open for dancing and even now it was quite crowded with couples both young and old dancing to the sounds of a string quartet. Smartly dressed waiters turned and weaved through the crowd with hors d'oeuvres and champagne.

As well as Alain DeMuer wore his tuxedo, he felt self-conscious. It had taken him until the age of twenty-two (six years after Newbretons are considered adults) to try on a suit, and though he loved them now, dressing fancier was always a chore that his valet had to struggle to convince him was necessary.

That he was on a version of Earth very different from his own, with a vast bureaucracy and countless laws against him even being there, and a high culture he had only some familiarity with, did not help matters. They'll think I'm strange... and they'll be right. But the presence of the powerful old woman on his arm helped instill a little more confidence in him, emboldened him. In a way, the two of them had very much in common... and that was a small comfort to him.

And while Alain was feeling out of place, Elsie Rhovnik looked very much a creature in her comfort zone. Diamonds glittered around her neck, on her fingers, from her ears, and in her perfectly coiffed hair as she stood to survey the gathered crowd. One could not have hoped for a better gathering of both the ancient families and the relatively newer ones such as the Nottoways.

Elsie's wise blue eyes cut up to Alain and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Are you ready to get to work, young man?"

"As ever," Alain breathed elusively, but there was a smile in his eyes. In addition to her power, Elsie Rhovnik was very charming: a small, subconscious part of him sensed that she was the woman that Sofia would one day become. Perhaps Ad Lucem had not picked Sonja so unwisely... He had cleaned up and dressed well, but these men and women, if they regarded and remembered him, would easily do so by the prominent tattoo and scars on his right hand. In RhyDin they were very normal, but for this world's powerful elite, no matter how dangerous, it would be unique.

Rapidly he took on the same air that he had at balls held by princes and ambassadors. He was a Baron here as the sovereign representative of his nation, and he had an even more important mission in mind; as the first gaggle not quite content to merely whisper about Elsie Rhovnik and her guest approached the pair, he assumed the appropriate smile.

Mr. and Mrs. Nottoway would be completely remiss if they did not immediately greet the head of the Rhovnik family. Mr. Nottoway was alerted to her presence by a staff member and immediately he excused himself and his wife from their gathering so that they might be the first to approach. The worldly and, well, other-worldly John Nottoway only needed to glance at the hand and the face of the man who had just escorted Elsie Rhovnik through the door to know who he was. It created a nervous smile as they reached the woman and her escort.

"Mrs. Rhovnik! A joy to have you with us this evening," Mrs. Nottoway shone a sunny smile at her, reaching out to cup one of Elsie's hand with both of her's.

Mr. Nottoway reached his hand out to shake Alain's hand with a polite nod. "I must admit that I am quite surprised to see you here, Baron, but I hope you relax and enjoy yourself with the knowledge that you are in a crowd of families quite familiar with the ways of the Nexus."

"It helps to be in good company," the Baron said as he shook Mr. Nottoway's hand with a little tilt to his smile. "Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Nottoway -- you have a lovely home." He cast his eyes about for a moment, flicking over some of the historic aspects of the architecture: it was a subtle opening for the man to brag about his home and his history, and maybe make himself more comfortable in the process.

And bragging was certainly one of the things that Nottways did well but before he had a chance to launch into the Nottoway family history that had been burned into his brain since childhood, Elsie reached out to politely pat his hand. Nobody interrupted Elsie Rhovnik. John Nottoway immediately gave her his full attention. "You'll excuse me for interrupting, John, but my young escort here has not seen my granddaughter in some time. I was hoping to allow him the opportunity to catch up with her. Have the pair of you seen her yet this evening?"

Mrs. Nottoway smiled brightly and nodded, motioning towards a gathering of young woman to one side. "Sophie? Why, yes! I believe I just saw her over there with several of my cousins."

"It was nice to meet you. I will look forward to an opportunity later in the evening to show you around the house," John stated with a polite nod to Alain as Elsie gave an expectant motion towards the group of young women to give Alain her permission to abandon his escorting duties.

There is just a touch of 'out of the frying pan and into the fire' written into Alain's look towards the group of young women. Politely he parted company with Elsie and the Nottoways (new allies, maybe, he speculated) and made his way towards the group.

Now the young man had gone toe-to-toe with an all-powerful demon lord as a mortal human, blazed his way into gunfights with impossible odds, and even once led a cavalry charge, all with a minimum of fear for his own safety... but single women in large groups terrified him. Whispers went up as he neared, sending information up and down the line, but he was making a beeline for Sophie's familiar shape and poise. His heart tensed nervously.

Sophie had seen her grandmother speaking with a man. She had seen Elsie Rhovnik motion in her direction. She had heard the giggling and whispers from her group of girlfriends and family members. However, she had never caught sight of the face of the man that had been speaking with her grandmother and the Nottoways. It did not matter. He would be another in the long line of men that her grandmother had paraded before her.

An instant longing for the leather jacket waiting for her in her hotel room struck at her with sudden intensity. The thought of it emboldened her and she refused to turn her eyes on the approaching man even though she was well aware that her grandmother had sent him in her direction. Instead, she gave an irritated roll of her eyes and turned her back to the approaching would-be suitor to place an empty champagne glass down upon a passing tray. Without turning back and when his presence was felt close enough that she wouldn't have to raise her voice, she steeled herself with the memory of the jacket and did the unthinkable. "I'm sure my grandmother was quite convincing but I am not interested. In fact, I am not even single."

It was only after allowing those words to pass through her lips and after the round of sharp intakes of breath from the gathered women that Sophie had the nerve to turn to face the man with her chin tilted up defiantly. All the defiance came crashing down as her pale blue eyes found Alain DeMuer before her.

He was perhaps the only one around her that was not shocked; in fact, he was grinning. "That's very good to hear... Could I convince you to come have a drink with me?" He offered his arm, then. "That is, if you're interested."

As reserved as RhyDin had made this young man, he was glowing in his own way. He brimmed with a happiness, a joy that he had once not dared to think he would feel again, and it became harder to maintain the poise their surroundings demanded with each passing moment.

They would give the event's gossips more than enough to discuss. Elsie Rhovnik entering on the arm of a young man who was supposedly from the infamous RhyDin. The same young man getting rebuffed one minute by Sophie Rhovnik and then the next reducing the smooth, perpetually cool Sophie to a speechless mess. There was even one or two Rhovnik cousins in the crowd who were confident enough in their status as family members to giggle knowing that Sophie wouldn't dare to beat on family.

After that long moment to recollect, Sophie gave a soft, surprised laugh and reached out to take his arm. "I would love to."