Death of an attendant

The attendant stared at him oddly for a moment, before letting out a sigh.

"First timer?" He spoke softly. His voice was a bit gruff, yet quite deep and soothing. Even hearing it, Lumière felt his tense nerves relax. It was like he was the peaceful transition between the outside world and the world of mysteries that awaited Lumière.

Lumière simply nodded his head in turn, and the attendant let out a sigh. The attendant raised his hand, and short pitch-black claws spread out of his fingers. The attendant took Lumière's hand in his own, and with a quick swipe, he clawed a gash into Lumière's arm. He winced and attempted to stagger back in pain, but the attendant held his arm tight, and his gaze had moved to Lumière's wound. Thick red blood oozed out of the gash, dripping onto the ground off of Lumière's arm.

Suddenly, the attendant's expression grew surprised, and a maniacal smile crept up his face. The thick red blood had begun to flow upwards, and a shadowy black colour seeped into it. Waves of midnight erupted inwards, immediately turning his blood a black colour. The black blood began to drip in reverse, rising back towards his arm before twisting into a thin illusory mark on his skin. The mark quickly burnt itself into his skin with a harsh searing pain, but Lumière was forced to bear it as the attendant held him in place with immense strength. When it had finished, Lumière glanced at the symbol that had appeared on his arm with exhausted pants. It looked like a sharp-edged black coloured eye with an upside-down cross piercing through it, acting like a slitted pupil. Besides the pupil, a serpent-like line crept up the cross in a spiralling fashion. When Lumière looked at the mark, his heart seemed to beat with intensity, so he looked away and glanced up towards the attendant, who had let go of his arm and began to smile with sincerity.

"Welcome to the House of Cards, Mr. One of Spades." The attendant spoke softly.

'Eh? What was that all about? That black blood… I've seen it before, haven't I?'

Lumière tried hard to recall, but he couldn't bring up the memories of his past experiences. In the mist, his head felt foggy. Although, despite the horror of the experience, in the face of the attendant, he felt oddly calm, and so he didn't exclaim too much. He just nodded towards the attendant and watched as he opened the large ornate door before him. As Lumière stepped inside, the chill of the spring morning air gave way to a rich and invitingly warm atmosphere. Dozens of individuals moved carelessly about a regal ballroom. They were dressed in many fashions- in rags like Dwindlers, in outfits like adventurers, and in fanciful attire like magnates.

There was a bar to the right side of the ballroom, where large countless shelves housed hundreds of bottles with glimmering coloured liquids inside them. The ceiling was several floors high, and the walls supported countless verandas held up by polished marble beams. Red curtains hung from atop the verandas, and a few people were seen looking down at the processions of the guests from above.

A large red carpet stretched across the wooden floor, which in turn led up a dozen marbled steps, and settled at the foot of an ornate regal red-and-gold high-back chair. It was empty, and so the guests of the House of Cards paid it no mind. As he eyed the passerbys, he noticed that they too had marks on their arms. They all took the shape of eyes. One had a five-pointed star in place of the pupil, and another had a pupil like a sword. He noticed a mark like a wand- and another like a chalice. All those that wandered about the ballroom had some sort of minor variation of those four. They were all different from the one that Lumière received.

Not like Lumière's mark, they were either an illusory silver, blue, green, or golden glow. Since they were nothing like his, he instinctually pulled his sleeve over his lower arm and kept walking forward. He saw a man with long and straight white hair in a light-brown long coat standing at the side, the one he had seen enter the House of Cards before him. Beside him, there was a woman with stark black hair with violet highlights and dark purple eyes. The two of them seemed to stare in his direction, their gazes moving across all the participants of the House of Cards before settling on Lumière. He tried to ignore the gazes of the two and took a seat at the far end of the ballroom, failing to participate in the warm sense of comradery as he quietly tried to gather information.

Suddenly, a man with curly brown hair and green eyes dressed in an attendant's outfit stepped out beside the regal high-back chair at the end of the hall. Immediately, the gazes of every member of the House of Cards turned towards him. The jestful conversations and laughter had ceased in an instant, and an eerie silence spread throughout the ballroom. It was reverent silence.

'This man… he's powerful. I can feel how the air in the room grows thick and heavy in his presence…'

Lumière grimaced slightly as he waited for the man to speak, but he didn't part his lips to say a single word. Instead, he stood patiently at the side of the high-back chair and stared idly down at the audience that had gathered before the marbled steps. Instead, his hand rose and gestured towards the ornate wooden door he had emerged from to his side. Another attendant stepped out from the door and held it open as they stepped aside.

A man then emerged from the polished ornate wooden door. He was wearing a black suit jacket with gold trim over a striped white shirt, and a pair of white trousers. He had gold cuff-links and shoulder-length curly black hair that fell in long locks past his ears. Even being in the same room as him made Lumière feel incredibly anxious- as if a primal instinct to be wary had kicked in. It was clear that the man who made his way to the golden high-back chair at the long end of the room carried a strength that Lumière could not reasonably comprehend- as if a deity had stepped foot onto the mortal plane.

He looked over the House of Cards with pale yellow eyes and a calm smile that radiated confidence. As he sat down in the regal red-and-gold high-back chair, he leaned his head on his hand before crossing his left leg over his right, and with his other hand, gestured for the processions to start. He exuded an air of arrogance as if everything was at his leisure. With his power, it surely was. Who could tell him to act otherwise?

The people who had acted leisurely and friendly around him immediately abandoned their air of comradery. In an instant, the mood in the House of Cards grew tense. Lumière could feel greed and bloodthirst in the eyes that darted around the room- as if everyone had sensed an opportunity arising in that moment. Without hesitation, a man with black hair and tinted glasses stepped into the centre of the room, before proceeding to climb the red-carpeted steps to face the man who sat in the high-back chair. He held reverence in his expression, yet despite approaching a being who looked as if he could erase the man's existence with a snap of his finger, there was no fear emanating from the man. As he stood before the being in the high-back chair, he put a hand against his chest and bowed slightly, speaking aloud as he raised his head.

"Greetings, Mr. Joker. I've come to you with a formal request today."

Lumière's eyes widened immediately, his gaze shifting to look over the being that sat leisurely. His mind immediately began to race with countless thoughts as he recalled the murmurs that erupted in his dreams.

'House of Cards, Orulinde Street… Joker. So this was it. This 'being' that sits before me is what I heard previously. But what connection does he have to all of this? As soon as he appeared, the casual atmosphere dissipated and grew serious, as if business had started. Is he the leader of this organisation? No… this man came to him with a request… so is he more like a convener?'

"And that would be?" The being called 'Joker' replied casually.

"I am the 'Five of Clubs'. If the man 'Six of Clubs' is present, I would challenge him formally to a duel.'

"Woman. You'd be fighting me." A voice immediately called out from the crowd that watched carefully over the processions. As the voice echoed through the hall, a woman wearing a furred cloak stepped out from the crowd. She had long black hair, of which the left side had been braided in rows against the side of her head. Her eyes were a dull grey, and she carried a broadsword at her waist.

The Joker's calm smile curled upwards into a wider grin, and he exclaimed curtly.

"Wonderful. Then, what will your choice be, Six of Clubs? Will you pay the penalty, or will you fight the man? You have ten seconds to decide before I kill you both."

'Kill them both? No… he can't be considered a 'convener' in this case. He's more like a game-master… so, like his namesake, perhaps this entire ordeal is like a 'joke' to a being like him. What's the flip side to this? Why would people choose to willingly participate in his game?'

"I don't have the money to pay him, and I'm not yet ready to pay my portion of flesh in place of gold. I've no children to sacrifice, nor any wares to barter. I'll fight the man." The woman sighed hesitantly.

"Alright." The Joker spoke softly. "You may proceed with it, then."

The two 'club card' holders stepped into the middle of the ballroom, which was devoid of carpeting. It was a polished stone square with intricate red markings, with positions for two people to stand opposed- as if the express purpose of the stone platform was for duelling.

Suddenly, the woman who called herself the 'Six of Spades' extended her palm straight outwards. Thick, dark shadows began to curl around her arm, and Lumière began to shiver fiercely. In an instant, the shadows around the room began to tremble, and Lumière was reminded once more of the horrific sight he had seen prior.

"Hold on." The Joker called out suddenly, holding up his hand towards the two of them to signal them to stop. "Well, we have some little doves present here today. You have to consider that you've been allowed to borrow a greater power and could bring harm to those who just want to watch the entertainment. How could you even think to rob them of that joy?"

The Joker let out a soft sigh and looked casually over towards the attendant who stood beside him.

"Abaddon. Take care of it, won't you?"

The attendant nodded slightly, before stepping forward. He quickly raised his hand, causing the countless golden bands around his arm to create 'clinking' sounds against each other. A dark, malevolent energy radiated from his fingertips, pooling against the surface of his palm before shooting out in small beams towards the man and woman in the centre of the room. Immediately, the stone platform in the centre was enveloped in a thick black smog that crystallised and became a clear barrier around the two.

"Now you can fight to your heart's content." The Joker smiled calmly, before leaning his head onto his hand once more. "You may begin whenever you wish."

Although, as soon as they were to begin, the woman immediately lowered her hand. Staring at her opponent, she realised that the man named the 'Five of Spades' had eyes that had already glossed over. He had fainted standing up. Moreover, the woman felt her legs give out underneath her as she fell to her knees, her vision growing dark and her eyes heavy.

The Joker made a 'tsk' and glanced with an annoyed expression towards his attendant, Abaddon. He had raised his hand, lifting his head as his attention moved towards the duel.

"You're supposed to restrict the powers to a thin access, you fool." He sighed. "You let your ambit wash over him like a wave. That's why he fainted- he could barely handle your foolishness. You can see the effects, can't you? That woman is barely conscious. If I hadn't done anything about it, they would have died. Deaths not at my hands are rarely entertaining."

Abaddon bowed apologetically, but the Joker just shrugged it off exasperatedly. The Joker instead stood up from his seat, straightening his jacket as his gaze shifted towards his attendant.

"Abaddon." He spoke calmly, a grin curling up his expression.

"Yes, Lord Joker?" Abaddon spoke in response, his demeanor growing slightly nervous. He shifted his standing position to weight his back heel, as if he was preparing to flee at any moment. Abaddon subsequently eyed the other attendant beside him, as if begging for assistance, but none came, and the other attendant kept a calm, unmoving expression about him.

"What is rule one, Abaddon?" The Joker asked of him.

"It is 'Do not, under any circumstances, harm or in any way inconvenience the guests of the House of Cards', sir." Abaddon replied. His voice had grown slightly shakey, and it was clear that fear lingered in his eyes, despite the Joker's genial expression.

"Abaddon, what did you do just now?"

"I harmed a guest, Lord Joker."

Abaddon's calm expression had vanished, and sweat formed on his skin.

Lumière watched from the crowd as the figure known as 'The Joker' stepped close to Abaddon. He watched in horror as the Joker lurched forward, catching Abaddon's head with his hand. The Joker threw him forward, and as his attendant cried out in pleas for mercy, Abaddon was embedded in the wall behind him. The Joker, now standing apart from the attendant begging for mercy, lifted his hand up slightly.

With a single snap of his fingers, Abaddon's eyes began to bulge. As if they were filling up with gas, they begin to emit a harsh leaking sound, and as Abaddon cried out in pain, his skull too began to swell. Abaddon grasped at his head, and unable to beg any longer, all he could do was cry out and gargle as if he were suffocating. Then, his head burst open. Blood and grey brain matter stained the floor and walls, and the staircase that led upwards to the high-back chair was carpeted in a further shade of crimson. The Joker looked on at the sight disdainfully, his clothes having been coated in his attendant's blood. The entire ordeal had taken only ten seconds, but Abaddon's screams still seemed to ring throughout the House of Cards, as if they had been etched into the hall itself.

"Inconveniencing the guests is my job, dear attendant." The Joker smiled softly, wiping the blood off of his hand with a handkerchief provided by his other attendant, reeling back before sitting back down in his seat.

Lumière's eyes shook with a sense of fear and horror, and apprehension clung to his heart, but as he looked at the violence of the grand being standing before him, he felt the sudden urge to walk forward. It felt once again as if a fire had ignited in his heart, fueled by the memories of Elise, who had died in his very arms. He wanted to abandon all of his cautiousness in search of immediate answers. He wanted to know if the being before him knew of, or was responsible for her death.

"Clean him up." The Joker spoke to the other attendant beside him.

The Joker turned towards the audience that had gathered, and with a genial smile, spoke out once more.

"My apologies for the disturbance. If any other matters are to be presented, they should be voiced out now. Feel free to proceed."