Path of Wizardry

A crescent moon smiled down upon Amy as she waited on the side of the street, alone. Nobody paid her any mind as they passed on by, all focused on the grand Clarke estate in front of her, lit up with a great crowd swarming around the front. Many people in expensive and luxurious clothing hovered around the entrance conversing with each other and making petty conversation. Three servants - who also seemed like capable guards - stood in the front gate, checking their letters of invitation one-by-one and letting them inside. Strangely, amongst everything, Amy was not out of place here. She looked the part of a noble, dressed in a long green cocktail dress, her hair dark and black and 'makeup' the best she had ever done. Except everything except her own clothes, the ones she bought not a day before, was fake. Monstrous Visage, with its horrifying Magicks dialled back, presented its immaculate facade to the world, daring anyone to look into it further and be enchanted.

I'm not ready, Amy grimaced, looking down at her feet. I had to focus on Anticipated Forgery and upgrading Monstrous Visage to just be able to infiltrate the ball in the first place. Decree and Theft of Distance fell to the wayside and... They're almost complete but it's still not enough. It'll never be enough. I could wait another two weeks; like the Pigeon said, these balls are regular things. But... That means waiting even longer, making Felin concerned and keeping even longer away from my family. And whose to say whatever information I could glean from this all will still be there in two entire weeks?

Purple eyes tracked the movements of the partygoers, watching them as they trickled in. Soon, they'd all be inside and the ball would commence. And if Amy wanted to stay discreet, she couldn't be a straggler who arrived at the last minute. She must be like the others, nothing special and completely ordinary. Suppressing the shakes the best she could, the Witch walked proudly up to the rest of the nobles, ignoring the curious looks she got from others as she practically barged in on the messy queue. Some of those odd looks lingered for longer than appropriate, whether that be some wondering who this striking new noble was, one they'd never seen, or simply leering at her supernaturally impressive appearance. Fortunately, her Monstrous Visage helped against a lot of the more aggressive ones, its new Tier helping it drive off those who stared too intently. With its broader capabilities came a better obfuscation for her face, hiding its true expression of utter helplessness and anxiousness behind a veneer of pride and confidence, just like she belonged.

Whilst progress through the queue was slow, it was too fast for Amy's liking, her time for preparation rapidly shrinking. One hand remained in her purse, fiddling with bits of magic as she prepared to cast a Spell; the other fidgeted by her side, rebelling against her wishes of keeping it calm against her side. Surprisingly, as she had recently found, cycling often helped in calming her down, the fresh mana pushing through her mind clearing it of some of its fog and corruption. Yet, in this most vital of moments, she couldn't afford to spare any attention towards something like that. All must be focused on getting through and finally into the ball.

The Spellform of Anticipated Forgery remained at the ready, hidden in that purse, ready for the mana she had coalesced to flow into and complete it. She needed to just be a bit closer, so that the guards' expectations would factor into the Spell, so that it would be an actual invitation. And more sudden than expected, her time arrived.

"Invitation madam?" One of the servants asked as soon as she moved to the front, holding out a hand.

"Here," Amy smiled, the mana finally let loose. Smoothly pulling it from her purse, a nondescript invitation similar to the ones she had seen this evening appeared: white paper, golden embellishments, black stylistic writing and a prominent symbol on the back.

The servant gave it a close look over, pausing at something strange at the bottom of it. Sweat instantly started gathering at the back of her neck, her entire body tensing and ready to run. Only, that moment passed in peace and the servant gave her a polite smile.

"Welcome to the Clarke Ball, Lady... Witch," The servant stumbled over his words, handing the invitation back to her. Rushing over the faux pas, he continued, "May your first time here with us be pleasant."

With that terrifying moment gone, she was ushered on her way, the servants moving onto the next person just like that. Amy stood there in shock for a few moments, not enough to be suspicious, but enough to process her terror. Of fucking course the name would be listed on the invitation. Of course it was... Damnit. Why did it have to be that name?

Shaking her head angrily, Amy went on through.

* * *

Every corner of the estate was drenched in opulence, no corner untouched by garish fortune. Led by servants through the halls, Amy got a good look at it all, the rough layout of it forming inside her mind. Eventually they were guided into the grand ballroom, countless tables and seats filling the space that wasn't the wooden boards of the dancing floor itself, a cylindrical shape in the middle of the room. At the far back, past the chandeliers, mirrors, and ornate pillars was a stage, ready for someone to walk out and make an announcement. Food and snacks were laid out about the edges of the room, people already moving towards them. Others were simply making small talk, or perhaps scheming behind other's backs as nobles often do, as Amy so imagined.

Isolated from it all, the Witch decided to sit near the corners, though not before deciding to grab a glass of wine and a pastry. The food was delicious, and the wine nothing like she had tasted before, but she mostly paid heed to those entering the room, where they sat, who they talked to, and to see if they spoke to anyone of apparent importance. Amy had never met or seen the person who was hosting this ball, so she had to track social cues if she wished to identify them. Assuming they don't make loud announcements about it anyway.

During her musings, several young men and women wandered past her, the intentions on their faces easily read. Many ambitious nobles wanted to make connections with this newcomer, a possible new noble to Harth who had yet to form many relationships. As such, they wanted to get in early, to forge alliances and work them to their own political desires. Amy, of course, had no interest in any of that. Accordingly then, she felt the mana drain from her Visage intensify at moments, focusing the Unknowable aspect of the Spell towards those who seemed intent on actually talking to her. Driven away by some strange fear that welled up in them, they all usually kept away. Yet Amy knew that she couldn't keep this up much longer.

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If any more experienced nobles actually wished to talk, they would push past it and do it. That's even ignoring the Mages she had spotted among the crowds, those who'd recognise that magical effect and investigate. And, if Amy wanted to stay nondescript and fit it, she had to at least make it seem like she was talking to someone occasionally. Even if that meant mingling among the groups and not saying a word, it would at least give something of an illusion to those who didn't look too far into it. When the ball actually begins, then I'll do it. She decided, taking another sip of the wineglass. After that, I can try sneaking out. Getting a servant to escort me to the toilet would be easy enough and I can wander off from-

An outrageous crash sounded through the entire ballroom, putting Amy on edge as she searched for the cause. There, she discovered the massive doors at the entrance closed shut, yet nobody there had seemed to be the ones to close it. Almost as if it was by magic. Slowly, as to be imperceptible at first, the lights in the ballroom began to dim, until bright spotlights appeared, all focused on the man who was now on the stage.

Dressed in an extravagant red suit with long coattails and a black rose at the front pocket stood a man Amy could only assume to be the enigmatic host.

An easy smile plastered on his face, Harrison Clarke announced, "Welcome, one and all, to the Clarke Ball!"

Claps echoed from everywhere in the room, all the nobles who had been standing somehow having seated somewhere during her surprise, knowing what was to come next.

"It pleases me to see many familiar and new faces here among us today," His smile widened as he looked carefully over the crowds beneath him. "Tonight is a night of celebration, of fun, of dance, and of friendship. Every person invited here today is someone who has made our city of Harth better.

"Councillor Grave," He nodded to someone seated nearer the front, someone Amy couldn't quite get a good look at, "She petitioned earlier this month at parliament for a bill that would greatly improve the quality of life here in the city, enriching our business and industries we all cultivate, and uplifting the poor and homeless towards newer enterprises. It is our hope that this new bill will make poverty less prevalent in Harth, and we already see signs of its success. Many thanks for Councillor Grave!"

Applause deafened Amy's ears, applause that felt just a bit fake in sight of what she had seen not even a week prior.

"Countless others like Councillor Graves sit among you today, so be proud! Recently, I myself have taken part in an operation with the Mage association to catch a dastardly criminal who has plagued the streets for too long; another is Baron Schader who recently created a charity fund for schooling in the city, enriching the future prospects of its children. Look around and see yourself among the crown jewels of this city and celebrate. Indulge in the fruits of today's ball, dance, eat, and enjoy!

"Let the Clarke Ball commence!" The supposed Archmage finally finished, bowing deeply for the nobility beneath him. A standing applause followed, so typical and rehearsed that Amy wouldn't be surprised if this same routine happened every time. And as the Clarke walked off-stage, the nobles around here stayed standing, some moving to the dancing floor, others indulging in the feasts, and some simply chatting the night away.

In spite of the joyfulness of it all, the perfect face it presented to her, Amy had doubts. These are the same people who claim to be saving the city, uplifting its citizens? Have they actually seen what it's like in the slums? It's just... all so fake. That bill doesn't sound like it'll actually solve the problems they said, it's more likely to line their pockets as they get more workers for their factories. And that charity fund? I bet that's just a way to write off some of their money, rather than actually investing into something good. And catching a 'dastardly criminal'? Beatrice kept a lid on the criminals of the city, and now with her gone it's only going to get worse with people like Harrison moving in. Unless... they could be good people. Harrison Clarke could be a good person. They were supposed to be catching a criminal, right? So did that make what they did better? The way they killed Brooke, or hurt my hawks, or destroyed Janice's shop. Why? Am I... actually going after what seems like a good man? He has a bad reputation, yes, but... did that matter? If what he's saying is true, that'd make him a better person than the majority of people in the city. Yet here I am, chasing after him because I believe he's wronged me. I just... don't know anymore.

Before Amy knew it, she had wandered towards one of the servants, almost unconsciously set on the goal she had come here for when she bumped into someone. She had to move past some of the noble groups, of course, but had she really been so distracted to bump into someone? No. Reviewing her memories of this moment, even as distracted as she was, Amy could tell that this wasn't an accident. A conclusion supported even more when the man she bumped into turned around to face her, already apologising.

"Sorry there, I didn't see you," Harrison Clarke smirked, an unnecessary hand slinking around her waist to support her. Amy wasn't even close to falling and yet he had done it. Well, he was a playboy.

Pushing the hand gently away, trying to get as much attention away from her, Amy nodded at him, "No problem, Harrison Clarke. I didn't see you either."

Just as she was about to move away, the Archmage took a step in front of her path, his gaze staring directly into her eyes. "You know, I don't believe I recognise you. Are you new to Harth? My organisers always do send invites to newcomers here as I doubt I'd miss someone as unforgettable as you."

"Why, yes, I am," Amy returned the smile cryptically, while she internally screamed. Her mind scrambling for some random nobility-sounding excuse, she answered, "My family decided to buy some land here and as such I have moved in to occupy it before they arrive."

"I see," Harrison leaned in, his eyes gaining a fiery quality to them. "It's not often that Mages come to Harth like this, so I would love to get to know you afterwards. May I be graced with your name, madam?"

An idea creeping into her head, Amy moved on past him, leaving him with his head inclined in respect. Then, whispering something close to his ear as she walked off, she said, "You may call me the Witch."

Ignoring the look of jubilant surprise he gave her, Amy rushed off the best she could, asking the nearest servant for help. It wasn't long before she was off with an escort, heading deeper into the estate, her plan finally coming together.

Meanwhile, Archmage Harrison Clarke stared at the direction the mysterious lady walked off in, her name ringing out inside his head endlessly. That woman seemed so dangerously magnetic in his mind, irresistible and venomous all at the same time. He could see the Magicks that drenched her as clear as day, marking her a Mage, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what they were. It wasn't anything he had been taught to spot, whether that be by his own experience or from the brief time he spent under his father's direct instruction. A part of him suspected that her appearance was enhanced, maybe even filled with some strange esoteric Mind effects, yet none of his Spells seemed to detect interference of that sort from her. Either this Mage had snuck something beneath his nose, to make him so utterly beholden to her, or, far more likely, she was simply that good. All Mages were granted entry with their own Spells left unmolested as it was only polite. In spite of that, Harrison almost wished he could strip it all away, to see what lied underneath. Would that Witch be as calm and confident as before? Or would that enchanting figure crumble? The Archmage was eager to find out.