The big day arrived with no fanfare, starting like most any other. Erica made her usual morning preparations, eating alone this time after she prepared some of the better rations for breakfast. Shortly afterward she was notified that Amanda had arrived and went to the front doors to greet her.
Opening the door gently, she was surprised to receive another hug from Amanda. Erica gave a gleeful laugh and said, "Hi!"
"Hello!" Amanda beamed. She marveled at the base as she was let in, "Isn't this something? I never thought I'd get to see the inside of one of these. But, I'm not here to sight-see, we need to get you ready for the Iron Ball!"
"Yeah, never been to anything that fancy," Erica admitted, "Biggest thing I went to was the dances at the bigger festivals at home, but I stopped going after a while."
"This will definitely be more formal than that," Amanda agreed, "but you knew that already. Where's your room? While I'm sure Mister Arbiter is busy with his own preparations, we don't want him to pop in on you while we're getting you in that gown."
"Sure, it's just over here," Erica led Amanda to the small stone room that served as her home the past day and a half. Erica changed into the gown with Amanda's help to close the buttons on the back. The Ozlowes did a good job, as the crimson gown now felt like it was made just for her in the first place. Amanda was a little taken aback by Erica's prosthetic, but didn't stop to gawk at it. After slipping on the black shoes and tying the straps in place, it was time to do up her hair.
"Now, what do you want to do?" Amanda asked, "Your hair is nice and long, so we can do a fair few things with it."
"Please don't coil it on top of my head," Erica half joked as she sat on the bed, "I've seen that hairdo in enough book covers to know I don't want that."
"I did think of that, but it isn't really you, no. Do you want to just do a bun? Simple and out of the way?"
"That feels a little too restrictive, and reminds me a bit too much of my days as a guard..."
"You used to be a guard? Interesting, though it's clear to see that you work out and train, so it isn't too surprising."
Erica had an idea, "I've seen a hairstyle on a wig in one of the storefronts yesterday, it was a loose bun toward the top of the back of the head, while keeping the bangs loose. Do you think that could work?"
"I can give it a try, and if that doesn't work we can try something else," Amanda said after visualizing Erica's request. After several minutes of brushing and wrangling hair, she held a hand mirror in front of Erica, "Well, what do you think?"
Erica was amazed, she never thought she'd ever look like this in her life. It felt strange not to have her hair against her back and over her shoulders, but the stylized bun Amanda had done looked better than she had envisioned it. It was kept in place by a silver hairpin that Amanda had brought for her to borrow. She retained a lock of brown hair on either side of her face, coming down a bit below her collarbone. She said, "This is... different. Glad I asked for a higher-cut gown, even having my shoulders exposed feels weird, but I feel like if it were much lower I'd be getting the wrong kind of attention. But I like the hair! Still me while being reined in."
"Glad you like it! I think it'll fit in well at the ball," Amanda beamed, "Now, to do your makeup."
Erica grimaced, "My favourite, yay."
"We'll go for some more neutral tones and avoid bright colours, then."
"Can you cover the scar on my cheek?"
Amanda hesitated, "If you don't like wearing makeup, that's going to be a lot of foundation to cover that up, which I'll have to mirror on the other side to not make it look off. If you want to stay 'you', I'd say leave it visible. It makes you look tough, you know?" She teased.
Erica raised a hand to her scar, "I'd rather not be defined by my scars."
"Ah, please forgive me, I'll start on the-"
"But, I can't hide from them forever, either. Do what you feel is best, I don't know much about makeup and honestly would go without it, if I could."
Amanda nodded enthusiastically and got to work. Sponges and brushes and pencils tickled Erica's face as she did her best to remain still. After what felt like an eternity, Amanda closed the makeup kit Madeline had donated and held up the mirror again. Erica took it in hand and inspected Amanda's handiwork. She had indeed used a light touch, using a faint blush, black eyeliner with a deep red eye shadow, and only slightly reddened Erica's lips with a subtle lipstick. Erica hovered over her scar briefly before turning back to Amanda.
"Do I look dolled up enough for the Iron Ball?" She asked.
"I'd like to think so," Amanda said, looking over Erica's face for any spots she may have missed or needed to correct. Satisfied, she stood up and continued, "I'd be surprised if you didn't get a gentleman or three asking you to dance."
Erica began to blush under the makeup, "What? No way, I'm not that much of a looker... am I?"
"Girl, I've just shown you your face in the mirror, both before and after the makeup. Maybe a kroll or guhr would be oblivious, but you are definitely a looker. Plus, you are wearing a lavish gown to a formal ball with my handiwork dressing up your hair and doing a fine job with your makeup, if I do say so myself! You look like you could have walked off the page of a romance novel!" Amanda seemed particularly pleased with the last comparison.
"Not what I was going for, but thank you for everything," Erica smiled and stood up, bowing her head.
"Not a problem, I'm glad I could help!" Amanda started to pack her bag of additional makeup supplies and hairbrush, "If you have time, I'd love for you to swing by the shop later and tell me how it went!"
"We'll see," Erica said sadly, "The Altean Army keeps me moving, especially when Damon is pulling me along so I can continue my training. I'll visit you if I can, but no promises."
"Right," Amanda said, deflating for just a moment before perking up, "Well, it's about time I return to the shop. Knock 'em dead! ... Oh, hi, mister mechan...!" She said as she left the room and encountered the soldier who escorted her out of the base.
Erica couldn't help but smile to herself as she applied a little perfume. She wished she could hang out with Amanda forever, but reality was not so kind. Perhaps, had things turned out differently that fateful night, she could have gotten a job in Durhelm and met her that way. Alas...
Donning her matrix maigum, Erica stepped out into the base's courtyard. Damon was nowhere to be seen, and it was nearly time to go. She knocked on the door to his room and received silence. Knocking on the bathroom door, on the other hand, got a response.
"Yes?" Damon's voice came muffled through the door.
"Are you ready?" Erica asked, "We're going to be late!"
"Nearly, I'll just be a moment."
"This is your event, not mine. Why am I ready before you?!"
"Because I am not accustomed to trying to wear this accursed multi-piece nonsense! You also had help."
Erica stood waiting in front of the door for what felt like ages. As she was about to knock again, the door swung open and revealed Damon standing in the doorway. Erica was stunned by what she saw. The usually unkempt Altean general had cleaned up nicely, freshly shaven with slicked back hair. He was dressed up in a slate grey suit jacket with matching pants, with the polished black dress shoes they'd picked up earlier. The jacket was worn open, showing an Altean beige vest over-top a simple but sharp white shirt. His own matrix maigum rested on his chest. His expression, on the other hand, was one of surprise, another uncommon sight on him.
"Beautiful," Damon uttered in awe.
Erica was left speechless as the two locked eyes. She could feel her ears start to flush with heat as she realized they'd been like this for a little too long. She cleared her throat, using that as an excuse to break eye contact, saying, "Isn't it time for us to go?"
She hazarded a glance back at him and saw him catch himself as he hastily looked away and stammered, "Y-you're right, let us depart."
They set off toward the front door of the base, where a mechan waited for them. It gave a quick salute as they approached. It lowered its arm and said, "The car is ready for you, masters."
The mechan opened the door and led them to the armoured car parked on the other side of it. There were few people about, but those who noticed Damon and Erica stopped and stared for the brief time they were on the street before entering the car.
"Great, we're already getting looks..." Erica muttered as she fussed with her gown to allow her to sit in the car's back seat comfortably.
Damon said nothing, but Erica caught him also looking at her via the rear-view mirror. When their eyes met, he quickly shifted his gaze ahead, "Let's go."
The mechan driver wasted no time in engaging the car's maiga harness array and they were on their way. Erica took the opportunity to look over what she could see of Damon in the rear-view mirror. She never noticed how gentle his features looked when his hair was tamed and his face shaved. It was nice not to see his face contorted with fury or consternation. She also looked over her own features while she had the time. She still felt a little alien looking at this done-up visage, but she couldn't deny that she liked the look. The scar on her cheek was peeking out below the blush she was wearing, but it wasn't demanding to be acknowledged as much as it usually did.
They traveled to the innermost wall of the city, a construction of blocks of stone laid by hand rather than shaped. They went through a gatehouse, though it took some time between the traffic going through and the guards' unhelpful demeanour. After finally convincing the guards to let them through, the Alteans continued down several cobbled streets to reach a grand hall. More recent than the rest of the hand built structures surrounding it, the hall was shaped to be a grandiose building. It didn't outshine Durhelm's central castle, but it was close. The path leading up to the open double doors was covered with people in high class dress mingling and making their way inside. The Alteans were in a line of vehicles dropping off more people in dresses and suits until it became their turn.
"Wait," Damon said as he exited the car. Erica watched as he walked around the front of the car and opened her door, "After you."
He must have picked up that detail watching the vehicles ahead of them empty their passengers, but Erica was impressed he actually followed the example. Damon held out a hand to help her get out of the car, which she took with her prosthetic. As Damon closed the door behind her and the car pulled away, Erica surveyed the crowd. No one seemed to be paying them any mind as they went towards the hall's entrance. She picked up on scattered bits of conversation, ranging from local politics to greater scale mercantile affairs, none of which she felt she was in her depth around.
"Hold on, is that Damon Arbiter?" A man near them exclaimed, and suddenly all eyes were on the Alteans. The two were forced to halt as those in front of them turned to see if it was indeed Damon standing there. A hush fell over the assembly as people began registering that yes, that was him, and started to move back like he was infectious.
"Wait, that lady has an arm made from altanite!" Another man said a little too loudly. People were now looking at Erica directly, wondering who she was to have an entire arm made from the elusive material. The hush was broken by excited and curious murmurs as people started speculating.
Erica did her best to ignore the dozens of pairs of eyes boring into her as Damon led her toward the hall, still holding her prosthetic hand. Before long a group of attendees had barred their path. A rotund but impeccably dressed man led the group, extending a hand to Damon.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mister Arbiter," The man said jovially as he grabbed Damon's free hand and shook it vigorously. Erica noted a shift in the maiga Damon gave off, the irritation coming off of him was sharp and immediate. The man either didn't notice or didn't care as he continued, "And who is the lovely lady with you?"
"My name is Erica," she said before Damon could answer for her.
"That is a masterfully made prosthetic, madam. And that crystal around your neck, you must be part of the Altean Army, yes?"
"Yes, and unfortunately we do not have time for this," Damon insisted, prying his hand free from the man's grasp. He attempted to move past the group, but more curious people had gathered upon seeing someone brave enough to approach the Alteans.
"Come now, a ball is not a place of urgency!" The man gave a chortle, "Surely you can take some time to answer a few questions about yourself and your lovely companion?"
Erica felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. She did not like the attention she was getting in the slightest. People were still maintaining a respectful distance from her, but she could still feel the eyes on her. She suddenly felt exposed wearing this gown instead of her usual garments, even though it was fairly modest as gowns went. She was also increasingly uncertain about Damon holding onto her hand. While she didn't particularly mind it, she also couldn't feel it, and wasn't sure it was giving everyone surrounding them the right idea about them.
She was about to pull her hand back gently when Damon said with strained calm, "There are matters we need to bring to the Iron Council without delay. We would be grateful if you would let us pass."
"It's almost like you're trying to get out of answering any questions from us regular folk!" The rotund man joked, though his tone was accusatory, "Is it that you don't want to deal with any awkward truths? For instance, what is your relationship with Miss Erica?"
An amused murmur arose, people beginning to come up with whatever outlandish theories came to mind.
"Erica is one of my generals," Damon said with authority, "We are here to see the Iron Council and that is the end of it. Now, let us pass."
The murmurs died out as quickly as they started, an awed hush falling over the crowd.
"An Altean general? Her?" A woman exclaimed.
"Explains the arm..." A younger man mumbled loudly enough to be heard.
The murmurs picked up again as people began to crowd Erica, trying to get a word in with her or to get a better look at her prosthetic.
"Hey- Excuse me-!" Erica felt the onset of panic as she didn't know what she could do here, trying to keep people at bay with her left arm and failing. Just as the man who had started talking to them before was about to touch Erica's prosthetic, an explosive outburst of oppressive maiga gave everyone pause. Damon was letting his displeasure be known, the pressure he was exuding powerful enough to be felt even by non-shapers.
"I would thank you to not crowd us like a roadside curiosity," he said with measured restraint, "Now, if you would allow us, we ought to be making our way inside."
The throng of people who had gathered around the Alteans parted to allow them to proceed, a mixture of fear and irritation on the faces that followed them as they made their way to the open doorway. It disheartened Erica that Damon had resorted to intimidation to get them out of that situation, but the crowd wasn't listening or letting them pass.
As they neared the open doorway, Erica pulled her hand back gently from Damon's hold, "I'm able to guide myself."
Damon looked back at her, bringing his hand back to his side, "Right, sorry."
Erica stepped up her pace to walk next to Damon instead of trailing behind, "It's fine..."
As they walked through the doorway, they were greeted by a display of splendour the likes of which Erica had only read about. Marble floor and elaborately shaped pillars hosted a great gathering of people in the central dance floor, surrounded by more open space. A gallery made a ring above the main floor, with guests filling that too. A sizeable orchestral band was performing classical music from their stage opposite the entryway, dressed in deep green and gold regalia. Hanging from the vaulted ceiling was a grim chandelier made from wrought iron, at odds with the marble finery below.
As Erica was taking this all in, Damon was scanning the assembly before them, muttering, "Not here. Of course they aren't front and center..."
"Sorry?" Erica followed his gaze as they moved further in, along the right edge of the hall.
"The Iron Council," Damon checked that Erica was still following him closely, "they're supposed to be in attendance here, but in typical fashion they keep themselves sequestered away somewhere. I'd like to have my discussion with them sooner rather than later."
Erica furrowed her brows, "What is the point of them hosting a ball like this without being here themselves?"
"They'll be in the building, just not in the main hall. Let's try to figure out where they are."
Erica suddenly found her path behind Damon cut off by another figure. A man, handsome with a jawline as sharp as the outfit he wore and blond hair that was swept back to his shoulders. He stood a measure taller than she did, with emerald green eyes meeting hers.
"My apologies, my lady," the man gave a slight bow as Erica tried to keep track of Damon, who hadn't noticed the intrusion, "but I simply must introduce myself to a beauty such as yourself."
"Sorry, I don't-" Erica tried to walk past the man, but he sidestepped into her path as she did.
"My name is Edwin Van Geist, a local owner of businesses," the man continued as though he were not effectively holding her hostage, "And you are...?"
"Erica." She said curtly, "Now, if you don't mind-"
"Oh, but I do mind. I would very much like it if you would accompany me to the dance floor and we could get to know one another over a waltz."
Erica felt her hackles raise, this man was being far too pushy. She was trying to figure out how to get past him, as she had lost sight of Damon by now and didn't like her odds of finding him in the throng. "I don't think so, Mister Van Geist. I have other matters to attend to, so I shall be taking my leave."
"Just one dance can't derail your schedule too much, can it? If you would just give me the chance, I could show you-" Edwin froze as a hand clasped his shoulder from behind. Following the arm it was attached to, Erica was relieved to see it was Damon standing there.
"The lady has said 'no', sir," Damon said in a low voice, "It would be for the best if you allowed us to continue with our business."
Edwin spun to face him, "Who- M-master Arbiter! Please excuse my foolishness, I shall be leaving then..."
The Alteans watched as Edwin extricated himself from the situation and blended back in with the rest of the guests, pale as a sheet.
"I think you took a year off his life," Erica joked, grinning to herself.
Damon didn't share her mirth, "Are you alright? You weren't behind me when I checked, so I backtracked and found you cornered by whoever that was."
"I'm fine. I would have found a way out of that, given more time," Erica wasn't too sure of that last statement, Edwin had been very aggressively forward and persistent.
"I would like to spend as little time here as possible, I don't fit in. Come," Damon gestured up a set of wide stairs leading to the gallery, "the Iron Council should be somewhere up this way."
They spent the next while ambling the hall, looking for Damon's target. People recognized him and kept their distance, only to crowd behind him to get a closer look at Erica, who was doing her best to deflect their questions and more than a few men's attempts to get her to dance. Damon stepped in to help a couple of times, but she was able to politely turn down the others without assistance. Eventually they came across a set of double doors leading to a conference room according to the sign hanging next to them, with a pair of ostentatious guards posted to bar entry.
"This has to be it," Damon muttered to himself before approaching the guards, "Excuse me, is the Iron Council here?"
The guard looked Damon over, not recognizing him, though shifted his formerly crossed arms to have a hand rest on the pommel of the sword at his hip, "I'm sorry sir, but this area is off limits. Please return to the hall."
"I have a matter to discuss with the Council, and they've told me they would only have time for an audience here. Is the Iron Council here or not?" Damon kept his tone neutral, though a measure of impatience crept into his voice.
"No, the Council is not here, sir. Now, please leave before we have to remove you from the- wait," the guard took a closer look at Damon, "You're not... Master Arbiter, are you?"
"Please don't address me like that, but yes, I am."
The guard paused before excusing himself to enter the conference room. The other guard stepped between the Alteans and the doors while he was inside. A couple of minutes later, the first guard reemerged, giving a salute before continuing, "My apologies, General Damon, but the Iron Council is preoccupied with other matters for the time being, and request that you return later this evening to discuss your matter."
"I have already been rebuffed time and again, when can I expect to get a moment with them?" Damon said with unveiled frustration.
The guards looked nervously between themselves, "Again, the Council requests that you return this evening to see them. For the time being, please return to the hall and enjoy the event."
"I don't have time for-!" Damon cut himself off as Erica grabbed his hand with her prosthetic.
"We aren't going to get anywhere here," she said softly, "Let's come back later, these poor guys aren't the ones to be frustrated with."
Damon looked at her for a moment before giving a huffy breath, "Fine."
Erica noted the guards' visible relief when she led Damon away, back toward the main dance floor of the hall. She had expected him to withdraw his hand at some point, but he kept it within her grip as they weaved through the crowds of people along the gallery. Erica was oddly unconcerned with the surprised looks they were getting as people recognized Damon being led by the hand by a crimson clad woman with an obvious prosthetic. When they made it to the main floor, Erica led them to a relatively empty portion of the dance floor, close to the band.
"Right," Erica said as she turned to Damon, releasing his hand, "We shouldn't be overheard here. What is it that's getting you so riled up?"
Damon was slow to retract his hand, instead looking at her with an expression she couldn't read. In a moment his face changed with a forceful blink, wearing a more severe expression, "I've been trying to get a word in with the Iron Council for weeks now, and they've either ignored me entirely or, more recently, given me bizarre conditions they would hear me under, and even then they're making changes to that as I make efforts to comply with their absurd demands. Nuulhammer has always been difficult to deal with, but Durhelm in particular seems to be too proud to entreat with me."
"So they've been chaining you around?"
"If that's the term for it, then yes. If they let me do what I needed to, I wouldn't care if they didn't speak to me themselves, but the Iron Council insists on going through their processes to get permissions to do anything in Durhelm."
Erica was about to ask another question when the band wrapped up the song they had been playing. The conductor, a gruff man with a magnificent set of mutton chops, turned to the assembled guests and rasped, "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming today. Up next is an experimental piece we hope you will enjoy, mixing modern tastes with classical flair!"
With that, a trio of performers entered the stage, one seating themselves behind a previously unused drum kit while the other two came on with a maiga guitar and a bass strapped over their shoulders. A set of speakers was wheeled in on either side of the stage. The conductor bowed and spun on his heel, turning back to his band and raising his baton. He aimed it at the guitarists and they opened up with a softer riff, followed by the rest of the orchestra backing them up with a swell of sound, powerful but still a danceable rhythm. Couples on the dance floor began to waltz to the unconventional sound, a bit quicker than they might otherwise have with the previous songs.
Before long, Erica noticed that most of the hall was moving in time with the band, and that her and Damon were sticking out by not joining in. She tugged on his sleeve, "We should get in there, we've already attracted enough attention by standing out."
Damon looked at her, somewhat mortified, "I have no idea how to dance, if I'm being honest."
"That's hardly surprising. I had dances back home before, though they were a lot smaller scale. Still, dancing is dancing, so follow my lead." Erica held up her left hand for him to take. After a moment's hesitation, he took her hand in his and they stepped onto the dance floor proper. Erica held her left arm out to the side, Damon's hand still there, and placed her prosthetic hand on his shoulder. He awkwardly tried to place his own hand on her shoulder, trying to avoid entangling their arms.
"No, on my side, here," Erica guided his hand into place above her hip. The feeling of contact began making her feel flustered, but she didn't let it show, as opposed to Damon looking uncomfortable and completely out of his depth. Putting her hand back on his shoulder, she continued, "Now we step back and forth, turning a bit as we do, like the others."
Damon spent a brief moment observing the closest other dancers before they started moving themselves, slowly and with missteps to begin with. At one point his foot came down on hers, and he stepped back reflexively, "I'm sorry, I didn't-"
Erica didn't let him step away entirely, still gripping his shoulder with her prosthetic, "I'm okay, you didn't stomp on me. Just keep moving with the music, like so..."
The guitar, bass, and drums blended seamlessly into the orchestra, turning from a waltz into something faster paced, and the dancing became less regimented and more free-form. A couple next to the Alteans performed a spin, the man holding his hand aloft as the woman kept her hand in contact with his and spun around once, twice, before they resumed dancing.
Erica had an impulse upon seeing this, "Can you spin me like that?"
Damon silently looked over to the other couple, then did his best to mimic the man, holding his and Erica's hands above them as Erica spun around, her gown spiraling out from her as she did so. It was on the second spin that she saw Edwin Van Geist on the gallery above them, and more notably, the pistol he was aiming at her from close to his body.
Erica didn't have time to think, she just threw up her maiga barrier as quickly as she could. She couldn't hear his gun go off, but the lightning arcing off of her arms to deflect the bullets were loud and bright enough for her. Seven shots were deflected, a scream of pain from behind her after the first, and panic overcoming the crowd as Edwin disappeared into it. People were cowering, storming for the exit, taking cover behind pillars. Erica turned to the source of the first scream, and saw that she had accidentally deflected the first shot into the shoulder of a nearby dancer. Keeping her barrier up, she rushed over and began trying to stem the man's bleeding with maiga.
After she was sure he would survive, she ordered, "Go! Get out of here! It isn't safe!"
He didn't need reminding as his dance partner helped him to his feet and they made for the entrance. Erica turned to Damon, only to notice a deep, wet red blooming from his right bicep. He hadn't seemed to notice, ushering people out of the hall.
She ran up to him and frantically shook his left arm, "Damon! You're... you're hurt!"
He looked at her before looking over his body, quickly noticing the blood soaking his right sleeve. His eyes went wide, "Convalescence, now of all times?!"
"How did you not notice you've been shot?!"
"I'm all but inured to pain..." Concern turned to rage, "I need to see the Iron Council, now. They've stalled enough and I'm not about to let them go when they're right there."
"But your arm-!"
"It can wait!" Damon made for the stairs, determined to have his audience. With little else to do, Erica ran after him, her mind grasping for next steps in the chaos.
