Snippet #2127942

"Master Remiel, you really should consider hosting a party so that you may associate yourself with the lords and ladies of Europe, should you ever hope to build solid international relations in case foreign affairs should arise."

A man with golden blonde hair rubbed his forehead as he sat at a sleek, massive grand piano in front of tall, narrow windows that flooded the room with pleasant sunlight. He had lost count of how many times he had been urged by his faithful servant to hold a social gathering at the Ambrosius Estate, something he was not entirely too fond of these days. People normally bore him, and he would much rather be off doing other things, like composing his latest work on the piano or going on a long flight. He just would not be able to do those things with others around. Lord knew they would be begging him to perform a piece upon the ebony and ivory keys that he sat himself by now, the word of his musical talents having spread through Europe like the Black Plague.

Chiseled face taut with vexation, he exhaled a breath in a heaved sigh, shoulders falling as he did so. He took in another breath, and then turned to face Remington, his loyal butler and an old family friend. His blue-green eyes settled on the fellow, his brow ever so slightly furrowing as he did so while his wings fanned out. "Remington, you know how I am when it comes to these things. They have more interest in my social class and wealth rather than just myself," he stated in a flowing British accent, finding it hard not to be harsh with his tone.

"You know your father would not be pleased to find his eldest son unwilling to better his status do to some social anxiety," Remington replied, though after he spoke, he lowered his eyes. He didn't mean to insult this Lordship, but he knew that he had a point and Remiel knew it too.

"I am not socially anxious," Remiel asserted, the aggravation surfacing in his tone. "I just do not want to waste me time dilly-dallying with the headache of politics, or who is planning on marrying who. I understand that it is part of playing the show of Duke. It just gets so tiresome and monotonous.... but," he held his hand up, palm facing outward. "You have a point. My father would not be too pleased upon hearing about my refusal to improve my social standings, and I'd rather not deal with that. As much as I hate to admit, our family is in need of new investments in European royalty."

"So you'll hold the party then?" the butler asked.

"Yes, Remington," Remiel said through his teeth. "Invite every count, princess, baron and their brother to parade through the halls of the Ambrosius Estate to the most elegant Masquerade ball you will ever attend." His words were loud and heavily laden with sarcasm. "Because they all hide behind a mask anyway." His last words were muttered under his breath.