The Ball (Hunting Expedition) Begins

The blushing trees of autumn drop their vibrant yellow and orange leaves all over campus, creating a burning blanket across the ground; except where it has been carefully swept from the paved paths. Little lights floated along, adding to the atmosphere to paint an elegant and artful image that was supposed to encourage nobles and other wealthy individuals to empty their pockets. Or so Yew was told; she wasn’t sure of the specifics, but she agreed it was a pretty, if magically inefficient, display. Rune spells would have been better, maybe she’ll suggest that for next year’s Collegiate Patronage Ball.

Regardless, they only saw those paths on the way to the glass mansion the Horticultural department called a greenhouse. They always hosted the ball; it was the most beautiful place on campus, and nicely heated from the evening chill. It was a ridiculous construct that was more like many regular greenhouses appended to one another; there were several smaller rooms, and even a second layer with balconies built over the shade-loving plant area. The ball took place primarily in the largest central section where they kept various trees and large leafy foliage along with some species grown purely for aesthetics for this event.

The decorations this year were long ropes of fine shining threads and dangling sparkling beads, as if someone had mutilated a chandelier and strung it up across the ceiling. The combination of fire and magic light sent refractions shimmering all around the space and causing the plants to look jewel-encrusted. A central space was left empty for dancing, but every other day of the year it was home to massive planters and carved stone pots hosting even more kinds of flowers, grasses, and fruiting plants. Normally the floor was smeared with soil, but someone had spent a great deal of effort to clean and polish the expansive tiles. Yew was sure that if she laid down in the middle of one she could stretch out and still not touch every corner. She briefly wondered what set of spells they used to bring them in, or if they were carried by hand instead, when the place was constructed. Maybe Astilbe would know.

Yew leaned against one of the upper railings, overlooking the dance floor and listening to the musicians from one of the Arts departments playing a long mellow song meant to be inoffensive background noise while people arrived and greeted their friends or acquaintances. She idly fiddled with a long pale strand of hair; Salix and Viola had strongly encouraged that she wear the wavy locks down, with two fine braids pinned across her head like a delicate band. They said it complemented her face shape; they were generally right about such things, so Yew was inclined to believe them. Quietly, she would admit that she also found their eagerness to play dress up with her ever so slightly frightening. However, it made them happy, and it wasn’t too much of a bother, really, so she went along as much as she could stand.

She had only put her foot down about the material of the dress they chose; Yew absolutely refused to wear anything too stiff, scratchy, or embellished. After hours of running all over town, the two had chosen a dress that gave the impression of tangling vines of peridot green, silver-blue, and the faintest accent of gold through what must have been a tedious layering of sheer tulle fabrics but maintained a very manageable skirt silhouette. It wrapped loosely over her shoulders, leaving her neckline open for a simple necklace made of small glittering yellow stones that may have been borrowed from one of the artifact storage vaults. Yew wasn’t exactly sure what it could do, but the magic latent inside it made it feel warm on her skin.

Yew fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself and cocoon into one of the decorative drapes they’d hung up. The lack of her trusty cloak was making her feel a bit vulnerable and naked. Apparently it wasn’t acceptable ballroom attire and no one would let her bring it. Her staff and all her other tools were also deemed inappropriate and forbidden. While she understood intellectually, she really really wanted to break convention. At least they couldn’t take her magic from her too; not even death would pry the runes from her hands.

She watched the large entry doors, listening to the caller announce guests as they walked in. Normally, they wouldn’t have such a thing, but at any party attended by nobles they simply had to have their names shouted to the whole crowd. Yew thought they should wear name-tags if they want their names to be known so badly; she would forget most of them after they were said, and almost all by the end of the night. Then again, a push for notoriety is precisely what brought them to be prey for the academia’s funds hunting expedition; so, maybe it wasn’t the worst quality. Through providing funds they could get their names slapped on important accomplishments without doing anything other than opening their wallets. A relationship of give and take.

Speaking of, Yew was also keeping an eye out for her own nuisance of a sponsor. She was sure the obnoxious man would arrive any minute now and she needed all the time she could to prepare for the typhoon that was his presence. Thankfully, he was her only regular patron and thus the only one she ever had to fill any requests for. She pitied her fellow academics and coworkers that had more than one to appease and still sought out more. Unfortunately, you could never have enough money when it came to research. Yew was lucky, her expenditures were often lower just by way of her subject choice; she spent funds on travel expenses mostly, occasionally on some material component for a specific rune spell test, but overall quite little. Salix and Viola spent an astronomical amount on artifacts and artificer tools, reagents, and many other things that had made Yew go cross-eyed at the list.

Yew told them to take up adventuring and undead extermination, but they said only a crazy person would choose that over schmoozing some rich people. Yew didn’t agree, but her opinion was disqualified for being an outlier and biased.

From her vantage point, she could already see them chatting up potential sponsors. Salix had chosen a sparkling maroon dress that sat close to her body until flaring at the base with a collar that wrapped high around the length of her neck. Her own set of glittering repurposed artifacts dangling from her ears as she elegantly sipped red carbonated juice from a wine glass and pretended to laugh at a nobleman’s joke. In a different corner, Viola was entertaining a group of older women as they cooed over her and pinched her cheeks red. She was wearing a girlish baby-blue dress that stopped shorter than commonly favored by adult women, puffing wider towards her knees; it was tied around the waist with a thick white ribbon that formed a large bow at the small of her back and shined when it caught the light. She wore only a pair of lacy white gloves and heart-shaped ruby studs to accessorize; they had some sort of charm effect that made her eyes seem bigger than they were.

Yew surreptitiously glanced toward the refreshment table, wishing she had grabbed something to eat while she observed whatever bloodbath would occur this evening as desperate academics fought over limited sponsorships. She would also need the energy for dealing with her own headache, whenever he found his way to her side like the persistent hound that he was. The dancing hadn’t started yet, so she could probably sneak down and back up without being waylaid and continue hiding in plain sight as she was.

Absently, she noticed her professor being escorted in on the arm of her husband, who was a professor from one of the other departments though Yew could never remember which. Not one that needed external funding, so like her, he also spent the night mostly as a spectator. Yew had spoken to him a few times in the past and discovered the man loved to gossip. She learned things she wished she never knew, but at least she hadn’t been bored. She might say hello later, if the opportunity arose.

The only person she cared about that she hadn’t spotted yet was Astilbe, which she assumed meant he wasn’t here yet. He loved these sorts of things and tended to swan about talking to anyone that had ears. Yew had once seen him make three full circuits in a row before he took a break. She was sure she’d see him the moment he arrived or very shortly after. And like clockwork, or a compass, his eyes would find her; he had a knack for picking out the quietest spot in the room, which coincidentally, is where Yew tended to seek refuge from the overwhelm brought on by large masses of people in one place.

By the end of the night several dozen guests and academics will have drifted through the greenhouse. Some will disappear into shaded corners, leave early, or arrive late. Some sponsors don’t attend at all, despite being invited, but none can escape. Their wallets will be poached.