Lady Ophelia of Condos had always adored the Queen. They were, in many ways, incredibly similar. Like the benevolent monarch, the White Rose treated each individual with equal respect, be they of high birth or low. Elise was warm and gentle, much as Ophelia was; perhaps the Queen was even kinder than she, for it was no secret that Ophelia did not gladly suffer insolence.

Naturally, then, she sought any excuse to place herself in the company of her heroine, so when her family had received an invitation to the monarch’s birthday celebrations, she had been delighted.

She had taken the utmost care in preparing the gifts she would present to the Queen. She had most carefully painted her portrait from memory -- a very stellar memory, as was often remarked upon. The detail was exquisite. It depicted Elise in a peplos of the palest purple, for purple denoted royalty, but light tones signified purity of soul and spirit. She was seated upon her splendid throne, head crowned with a diadem of gold and pearl. She had captured with immaculate skill the details of the Taengean Throne Room, for it was a place she knew almost as well as her own home, having passed many a pleasant hour there. She had also fashioned her the woman a solid gold pendant in the shape of a crown, adorned with rubies to match that of the royal crest. She wove a bedsheet in a similar fashion, white in colour with the crown emblazoned upon it, and another in vibrant crimson with the golden lion of the Mikaelidas clan perched upon it, looking so incredibly lifelike that one could hardly blame a person for fearing it might spring from the sheet into into reality. Three vases had been crafted, tall and thin, to honour the Gods the Taengeans saw fit to worship most dutifully -- beauteous Aphrodite, gifted Apollo and fruitful Dionysus.

On the dawn of the celebrations, the very first thing she did was order that the wicker baskets containing the gifts be brought to her chambers. Then, still in her shift -- for Artemis and her silver disk had only recently bid the sky adieu -- she made her way down to the gardens and selected the most fragrant roses. White for Aphrodite’s vase, orange for Apollo’s vase, red for Dionysus’s vase. After most carefully arranging the blooms in their respective vases and praying that each God watch over and bless their glorious ruler, she threw on a silken robe and made her way to the kitchens with yet another basket, where the staff were expecting her.

For yet another hour, they assisted her in choosing the choicest portions of meat, the finest fish and the freshest eggs. Mouth-watering fruits and vegetables were added, along with fresh-baked pastries, and a bottle of the Condos’ finest wine. Her basket filled, she carried it herself back to her bedchamber, where she found a small breakfast awaiting her. While she partook in the pale, creamy cheeses and fruit from afar, her handmaidens set about laying out her attire for the occasion.

Immediately upon completion of her meal, the noble and her companions made their way to the family bathhouse, an expansive chamber of exquisite architectural design with a mosaic in dedication to the twelve Olympian Gods spread across the vast ceiling. She and her mother enjoyed only half of this view, for the room was split in two -- family or not, it was not deemed fitting for the genders to bathe together, and Ophelia quite agreed. She would rather not know what her father looked like under his chitton; such things were best left to someone else’s sordid imagination. Her mother had yet to enter their bathing chamber, so Ophelia could only assume that she was still at breakfast or attending to household matters. It mattered not; she much preferred to bathe without the company of the other woman. At least with her handmaids she could speak freely if she chose, never fearing the raise of a scrutinizing brow.

As she sank into the warm waters, her whole body relaxed. Muscles she had not even realized were tense unclenched as steam billowed in soft puffs around her. Her handmaidens set immediately to work, one combing rose oil through her wet hair while another cleansed her smooth, soft skin of the last vestiges of dirt left from her previous day’s excursion to the house of a common family in Vasilidon. After this she was thoroughly dried and taken back to her chamber, where a skin softening lotion was applied most liberally, along with a rose oil lightly dusted with crushed pearls, so that her skin took on a faint, barely noticeable, yet otherworldly glow.

Rather creatively, she had sewn two tunics together to form a rather beautiful garment. The top layer was of tight fitting scarlet, the waist cinched in. She had slit this pelos down the middle, and sewn beneath it another layer of fabric, giving the skirt of the original peplos the appearance of a tiered overskirt. The underskirt she had sewn in was a pale gold silk in colour, and she had most carefully stitched upon it silken roses of a darker gold, inside which were hidden tiny pearls. The peplos was secured at the sides with golden thread, a stark and breathtaking contrast to the red.

After Aoide had dressed her in her work of art, the handmaidens stepped back so that Aglaia could begin work on their mistress’s hair. Half was twined into the shape of a rose, golden ribbon threaded artfully through the deep brown strands, while the remainder was left to tumble like a fountain down her back. Atop her head was placed a diadem of ruby and gold, matching the ruby rose that was hung from a golden chain around her neck and the tiny ruby roses that were placed in her ears. Golden sandals studded with rubies were placed on her feet, and a small carrying bag sewn in the likeness of a golden rose packed with feminine essentials such as extra scent and a portable looking glass.

When it was time to depart, several slaves carried her precious cargo down to a carriage that had been provided for her by her father. One of these slaves explained that, for various reasons, the other members of her family had been detained and would arrive later to the festivities, but her Lord Father desired her to go on ahead as planned, enjoy the festivities, and pay their respects to the Queen. Happy to do so, she gladly accepted the use of the family’s second best carriage, settling back into the plush cushions while her most senior handmaidens chattered excitedly on the opposite bench.

It did not take them to arrive at the enormous palace, for the ride was not a long one. Ophelia beamed as the driver extended his hand to her, assisting her in her descent from the luxurious vessel. As was her custom, she thanked the aging man before turning her attention to her handmaidens.
“Grab those baskets, will you? Oh, but be careful, there are delicate things in there.”

Eva set about directing the others, handing the more delicate baskets off to the girls she knew could absolutely be trusted not to drop them and delegating the heavier baskets to those she knew could carry greater loads. She herself took a lighter basket, for she was not so physically strong, but it contained the trinity of vases, the most fragile gifts of all. She, of course, would never drop the basket, come hell or high water.

Once the gifts were collected, Ophelia processed with her handmaidens towards the palace, where they were recognized on sight by a guard. The man beamed benevolently upon her and offered to have her gifts taken to a special room. Not wanting to force her ladies to carry their baskets for an unnecessary length of time she accepted and the loaded wicker baskets tied with ribbons bearing the Condos crest were immediately whisked away by a team of burly men. Again, she gave the same warning to be careful, lest delicate items be damaged. The guard then bid her and her handmaidens follow him to the celebration space, and they did so eagerly.

The room was exquisitely decorated, alight with lanterns and candles and sparkling with gems of all colours and cuts. Everyone she laid eyes upon seemed to have put forth their best effort for the occasion, so that no matter where she looked her eyes were dazzled by an intricate hairstyle, a vibrant hymmation or an armband of the finest craftsmanship. Briefly glancing down at her own attire, she wondered whether her creation would go unnoticed among the many beautiful outfits, or whether its utterly unique design would earn it some recognition. She had, after all, hand-stitched each pearl into every silken rose, and each silken rose onto the gold of the underskirt she had sewn beneath the original peplos, slit just so to make the skirt an even blend of crimson and aur.

As a server passed, she stepped in their path and extracted a single goblet of wine from the tray they held aloft, thanking them graciously before sending them on their way. She had yet to spot the Queen, but had no doubts that she would soon. In the meantime, she was content to simply observe.

She did not know what she had expected, but it certainly had not been to find herself without a companion for such a long period of time. Minutes seemed to stretch on for hours, and she found her eyes skipping nervously to a nearby hourglass, watching the amber sand trickle tauntingly towards the bottom. She scanned the room for her dearest friend, but Gianna had yet to arrive it seemed. Undoubtedly she was making some bold fashion statement of her own, the finishing touches yet to be completed. Still, it seemed odd that no courtier had sought her out, for lower-born nobles were always soliciting her help to choose just the right pelos to set off their colouring, or to enquire whether or not she thought coriander too masculine a scent for a woman

That was why she could have kissed the man who finally approached her, though she held herself firmly in place. Straightening her back, she placed her goblet down on a table so that she might offer a proper greeting. His chiton was spun from fine fabric, though not nearly as fine as the material that clung to her own fertile form. She could tell instantly by his appearance that he was a military man, and his clothing led her to the conclusion that he was almost certainly a Captain.

She returned his smile with a beam as warm and radiant as Apollo’s sun-rays, sinking into a delicate curtsy as she did so. It was not a particularly low curtsy, for those were reserved for those of rank and title, but it was a gesture of genuine respect.

‘Lovely evening isn't it? I'm Heron of Messenis, Lieutenant of Heaven's Blessed.’
Ah, so he was a Lieutenant. This surprised her slightly, but the information was not at all off-putting. Indeed, it only served to intrigue her. Had he perhaps won the chiton in a bet? Performed some great service that had earned him enough money to buy it? It mattered not, she supposed. It became him well, and that was all that counted.
“Indeed,” she answered jovially, her eyes alighting on his. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant. I am Lady Ophelia of Condos, and you are most correct in your assessment of this evening; the decorations are rather splendid, do you not think? Have you seen the sculpture of Queen Elise newly erected in the Entrance Hall? I have rarely seen such fine craftsmanship.”

She hoped that her chatter was putting him at ease rather than intimidating him as it did some of the acquaintances she had made. She knew that some people found her presence intimidating, simply due to her station. There was naught she could do about her exalted birth, but hopefully through her kindness, she could assure those of lesser rank that all of tender heart were welcome in her presence.

This was not the first time that Imma had been to the Mikaelidas Palati, but it never ceased to impress her. As part of her art lessons at the Scholeio, she had been granted permission to paint there a few times, mostly in the gardens. Tonight it was more beautiful than she had ever seen it. She felt as if she was in a fairy tale and was glad that she had been able to persuade her parents into letting her attend the Queen’s birthday celebration. They had planned to leave her at home … after all, she was only ten … but she had convinced them to change their minds and promised that she would be on her best behavior.

She had never seen Queen Elise except from a distance, and she found the woman imposing and more than a bit scary. Imma wondered if she was excited. Her own birthday was less than two months away and she was thrilled that soon she would be turning eleven. In only a few more years, she would be making her court debut.

Maybe people who were as ancient as the Queen had celebrated so many birthdays that they weren’t special anymore. How old was she anyway? She looked like she was at least one hundred.

As she stepped into the grand hall with her parents and those of her sisters who had traveled with them, the delectable aroma of tasty delicacies wafted through the air. Her stomach immediately began to growl. Her mother glanced down at her with disapproval, and she smiled sheepishly. Imma couldn’t help that she was always hungry. She still had a lot of growing to do, or so she hoped. The young blonde was quite a bit shorter than other girls her age.

A servant walked up to them with a tray full of savory delights. Imma took a skewer of spicy shrimp and proceeded to slide them off the skewer with her teeth. The next tray provided her with some grilled scallops and she grabbed a small plateful of raw oysters from the third. The youngest Leventi sister adored seafood and fully planned to eat until she couldn’t bear another bite. Not all the servants saw her and lowered their trays so that she could see what they held. And so she began to seek out those who did, straying farther and farther away from her parents,

Her lavender chiton swirled about her legs as she skipped from servant to servant. It was the most beautiful article of clothing she owned, comprised of silk heavily embroidered with tiny white iridescent butterflies that completely covered the apoptygma that reached to her thighs, as well as forming a wide border at her hem. It was fastened to her shoulders with pearl and amethyst fibulae, the excess fabric undulating in ruffles down her side. Another ruffle was formed by wearing a belt that matched her fibulae over both layers of her chiton instead of under the apoptygma. Her jewelry consisted of a necklace, armbands and wristbands also made of pearls and amethysts. Imma’s long white-gold curls cascaded loose down her back. Atop her head was a wreath of summer flowers.

She paused to wipe her hands on a clean cloth given to her by a servant who carried a basket full of them. It wouldn’t do for the royals and nobles to accidentally stain their finery with greasy hands. Imma’s blue eyes widened as she realized that her family was nowhere in sight. Should I find them? Before she could make a decision, she was distracted by another tray. Grilled octopus! Grabbing a plate, she wove through groups of guests conversing together while munching on the succulent morsels.

Hopefully, she would run into somebody she knew. It was a bit frightening to be small and alone in a sea full of unfamiliar faces, even if the food was delicious.

Despite the ease with which he conversed with people, Fotios was not sociable by nature. He did not like people. He used them as pawns and he manipulated them to be behave as he wished which meant that he literally could not enjoy the company of others. He knew too easily how they could be bought, how they could be persuaded. Like dogs begging at the knee of their master.

Not that any such thoughts showed on his face. Seraphim of Leventi had been many things - an abusive father, a calculating neurotic and an obsessively greedy man. But he had also been a good teacher. Whether his methods were considered firm or brutal in the eyes of others (Hades, even in the eyes of Fotios) was irrelevant when it came to their efficiency. Fotios had been trained well. His features were his own and under his strict management. They hid his deeper intentions or the way he viewed others. They showed only the stoic and polite mask of an educated man so entirely familiar with the event at hand.

Upon arrival, Fotios was sharper than he might normally behave but this was only because he had two of his daugthers in tow. Agape and Melina had accompanied him to the Queen's birthday festivities whilst their mother was spending the night in a province to the south. Dafni was too young for such things and had been relegated to her bedchambers an hour before.

Alone to manage his two children, Fotios was hyper vigilant as they journeyed through the capital and then descended from the carriage. He adjusted dresses, and tucked a hair behind Agape's ear. The touches might be considered tender if they were not an exercise of perfection. Fotios had no intention of a Leventi being anything besides perfect at a public function. Even if he had to fasten strings to their limbs and operate them himself.

"Behave," he instructed as they were greeted by servants and guards. It was a single word but enough to have both girls looking to their father with an anxious eye and straightening their spines. Both were still of an age where they wished to please their sire, despite his standards being as impossible high as their late grandfather's.

Mounting the front steps of the royal palati, Fotios allowed himself to be guided through the marble corridors and out towards the great gallery. He knew precisely the way but said nothing as he was led with formal etiquette. As Master Informer, his visits to the royal palati had been numerous. Since becoming head of his house so many years ago, such attendance had not dimmed. He had maintained his connection with the royals, made himself an honoured guest within the walls and even befriended the Queen through his friendship with her brother in law.

Fotios was no fool. Zenon was less liking of his company. Not because he distrusted Fotios specifically but because he was a straight-shooting monarch and believed in transparency. Men like Fotios, who lived in secrets and swam in private information, were a necessary evil for political success but they were not the kind of man that the king enjoyed socialising with. Fotios' smooth manners and intelligent conversation had worked a greater charm over his wife.

In proof of his own thoughts, the Queen was the first to greet him as she stood by the main doors to the gallery. Whether she had just arrived or had positioned herself there to greet guests, Fotios was not sure, but she smiled with a brightness that betrayed genuine affection.

'Lord Leventi!' she welcomed, holding a hand to be clasped and kissed. Fotios obliged with grace. 'Such a pleasure to have you with us this eve. Is the Lady Eirini not with you?'

"Alas, Your Royal Highness, my wife is visiting a sick friend in the south this night. Though, she did mention that if it were at all possible she would be here tonight, so her carriage may deliver her fashionable late... If not she has sent her fondest regards with me."

The Queen smiled good-naturedly and nodded in understanding before her gaze fell upon the girls.

'Why young Agape looks more like her every day, does she not? Very beautiful... And Melina your dress is sensational. Please...' she held out a hand. 'Take advantage of the wine circulating. I understand that Lord Nikolias has donated much of what is being served tonight but perhaps we can forgive a fine vintage's origin?'

The Queen held strong and friendly connections with the Condos family, so her back-handed comment was merely humour for his sake. The rivalry between Condos and Leventi was infamous and she was poking at it only for his amusement.

Fotios allowed a half smile to curl at the corner of his mouth. He nodded austerely.

"But, of course, my Queen. Such a happy occasion should not be spoiled by trifles. I am sure the wine is exceptional, as will the rest of the event be. Please, excuse us, for the girls are eager to see the gardens..."

'By all means... Please, please, enjoy...'

The gracious hostess, allowed the three of them to pass by so that she could greet the guests that entered behind them. Fotios corralled the girls long enough for them to spot the first passing tray of canapes and then the twinkling candles outside. It took only a look from them to know their intent and Fotios allowed them to go.

"Enjoy the grounds but speak to no-one you do not already know." Fotios had no suspicions regarding dangerous people being allowed in an exclusive event but he also needed his daughters to be vigilant. Any introductions that he had not authorised personally could be hazardous to any plans he still had in fruition. For Fotios always had plans...

As the girls left his side and went to enjoy the gardens, Fotios took a goblet of wine that passed his nose. Sipping from its rim and begrudgingly admitting its quality, he moved around the edges of the assembly. The highest echelons of society had congregated in a single room. Dressed in their finery and talking with an animation that was most commonly reserved for excessive drinking of wine.

Suddenly, there was a clatter and Fotios' attention shot to the right. A serving aide had collided with a woman of distinction - a baroness from the west of the capitol, if Fotios was not mistaken - and drenched her arm in wine. Goblets had been sent scattering, the tray had fallen to the floor. A resounding crash echoed off the walls as the golden tray spun round and round upon the floor. The baroness screeched, the servant called apologies and every guard around the edges of the room took half a step forward in case their action was needed.

Over the awkward hush of all other conversations coming to a grinding halt, Fotios heard the servant's babbling of contrition and blame.

'I am so sorry, my lady. Please, I did not see you, I was-'

'Did not see me? I was standing precisely here! How were you to not see me?'

'I was looking up...' the servant pointed towards the exquisitely painted ceiling.

Fotios looked up.

The ceiling was one of the finest examples of Taengea art in all of Greece. Flush with sweet colour and decorative in designs of heroic tales, it was a wonder to behold. But the servant was not pointing directly upwards.

Around the highest reaches of the walls were openings for light. The highest half a foot of each wall was open to the elements, decorative plints supporting the ceiling. On one side, the openings were bright with moonlight, looking out upon the open gardens. On the other, from the right angle, the rooftop of the rest of the palace could be seen.

For a moment, Fotios thought he spied a shadow slip across one of the open holes.

'I thought I saw something! Up there! On the roof! I was looking and then I did not see you and I am so sorry my lady but I thought there was someone...'

The chances that someone had climbed to the rooftop of the royal palati without notice was slim. It was more likely a bird or some small rodent animal. But Fotios was not so sure that that shadow had been small enough for a creature... It had moved very like a human...

Imma was polishing off a portion of spicy grilled fish when a commotion broke out behind her. Whirling around, she saw that a tray full of glasses had flown form a servant’s hand and crashed upon the floor. The contents of one of the goblets had apparently splashed over an irate noblewoman. As she watched the tray spin round and round, she overheard the servant say she thought she had seen someone on the roof. The young girl immediately looked up at the beautifully painted ceiling, where openings in the wall let in the light. Was somebody really up there, watching the scene from a bird’s eye view?

I want to go up there too. Imma loved to climb and could often be found painting in a tree or on top of a building. Unable to resist the temptation, she stuffed the remainder of the fish into her mouth and washed it down with a sip of fruit juice, which had been given to her when she asked for punch. Maybe I’m not old enough to drink the punch, but I bet I’m the only one who can find a way up to the roof.

There was a large tree in the garden that might get her close enough. She had painted that tree, wishing that she was alone so she could climb it. Now she would get that chance. It was easy for such a small girl to duck underneath arms undetected and soon she slipped out the door and headed to the garden. Princess Gianna’s exotic servant was moving in the same direction. Was she on an errand for her mistress? Imma followed her, keeping in the shadows so that she would not be seen and told to go back inside.

Her eyes widened when the woman began to scale the tree. So she has the same idea. I guess I'm not the only one who can find a way to the roof. Maybe the servant thought that whomever was up there, if anybody, was a threat to the Princess.

The petite blonde's stride was so short that the woman had already scaled the tree before she reached it. Luckily, there was a branch close enough to the ground to swing herself up on. From there she used other branches to climb higher and higher, as agile and as silent as a cat. Gianna’s servant had just jumped onto the rooftop by the time Imma reached it. She would never make that jump without hurting herself, so she climbed higher, standing on one branch and holding onto the one above it to edge out toward the roof.

For a moment, she looked down upon Gianna’s servant, afraid of what she might do if she saw her, but such a magnificent view was worth the risk. Now that she knew how to get here, she could come back by herself and paint, if she could sneak away without her guards.

Taking a deep breath, she sat down on the branch and hopped down to the roof, landing right in front of the exotically beautiful servant. “Hi,” she said with a bright and disarming smile.