The Lesser One: Chapter 17: Gala

Gala

“So you’ve been operating a … Spy network?” I ask. I am standing in front of Jirgrar, next to a dumpster outside the hotel. Garage doors line the wall, and trash is piled up next to the bin.

Jirgrar bows like a butler. “Yes. Would you like a description of our methods?”

“Please,” I say.

“We have sent infiltrators into every major group in the criminal underground. They are working to keep these organizations from realizing their plans for you. We have also integrated into several world governments, using completely legitimate methods, of course.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“Perhaps an old representative wants a mistress. Or perhaps he is known for getting close to his bodyguards. He could even be convinced that a reporter has some footage of him performing an unseemly act.”

“That’s the definition of underhanded!” I say. I am almost yelling.

Jirgrar bows again. “Perhaps you would like to explain an easier and more effective way of achieving political power without being elected to an office? Elections, mind you, take years to prepare for. We do not have years. I am, at this moment, certain that as devils we could acquire power legitimately through this method. But that would leave you vulnerable for far too long. Our priority is your safety.”

I grimace. I must admit—the only reason why I am not tied up in the back of a van and knocked out by chloroform is because of Jirgrar and his methods. I can’t chastise him because he’s probably saving my life a dozen times a day.

I turn away. Emotions fill my face with a heat that I haven’t experienced in a long time.

“Fine,” I say. “But just do exactly what it takes to keep me safe. I don’t want money; I don’t want power. I just want to live my life and contribute to society. I have a gift that can change the world, and I want to protect it.” I cross my arms. “I’m tired of lying, of hiding my abilities. I know this is selfish, but I just want to see what I can do for humanity because I think it would be cool and I want to help people. Not because it gains me anything.”

“Politics is a powerful force,” says Jirgrar. “Shaking the status quo, no matter your intentions, will always gain you powerful enemies. You need to be strategic with your … Gifts to the world.” Jirgrar’s eyes bore into me.

I turn away. I have been defeated. “Fine then. But I want to make it clear. I don’t want to gain anything personally from my power or you. I just want to make the best scenario possible for how I can help the world and do things with my powers.”

“Very well,” says Jirgrar. “We shall change our modus operandi to suit your mission.” He pauses. “Anything else you need to understand?”

“I’m good,” I say. I turn to the back door of the hotel, which I was let through by a devil working as staff. “My team is probably missing me. I’m going to have to explain why I’m staying in London and contact my parents.”

“Very well,” says Jirgrar.

He stands, motionless, as I leave the parking lot and return to the hotel. Once I’m in the lobby I dial my mom’s number.

“Hey, sweetie,” says my mom. “How are you doing in London? I heard you guys won a prize.”

“We won first place in the bridge portion of the competition,” I say. “And seventh in the perfect gear competition. We’re still waiting for results from the gearbox challenge.” I pause, collecting my thoughts. “I’m going to have to stay in London for a little while. The rest of my team is going home.”

“What happened?” says my mom.

“A major company is interested in my conjured alloy. The deal could be worth a lot of money.”

“More than you make as an adventurer?” says my mom.

“A lot more,” I say.

“I’m proud of you,” says my mom. “Giving your old folks a new car and all that when you just made your money.”

I think for a moment. “Is there anything else you want?”

“Well,” says my mom. “The water heater broke and we’re having trouble repairing it.”

“Done,” I say.

“Aren’t you going to ask how much it would cost?” asks my mom.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I’ll pay for it.”

“I’m glad I raised such a generous son,” says my mom. I hear my baby brother crying on the other side. “Well, I’m going to have to go now. Please be careful, and make sure you don’t get mixed up with the wrong folk. Bye-bye!” The phone clicks.

I let my arm fall, taking a few breaths.

I sit down in a couch in the foyer and lean back. The ticking clock above the reception desk takes all my attention.

After a while, Brandon walks around the corner from the elevator hall. He sees me and waves. “Hey!” he says. “I heard you got a lung full of that sweet night London air.”

I stand up. “Hah,” I say. “It wasn’t that good. The Thames is dirty.”

“It always has been,” says Brandon. He stops in front of me. “What?” he says. “You look troubled.”

“I’m going to have to stay here in London,” I say. “For a while. Esmex International wants to but the formula for my Rearden Metal alloy.”

Brandon grins. “That’s good, right? If you can secure a job there you won’t even have to finish school. You’ll be one of those success stories about dropping out.”

“I don’t think I’m going to drop out, exactly,” I say. “I’ll just be here for a while. Besides, summer break is here. I’ll probably be done and home before summer is over.”

Brandon nods with an understanding expression on his face. “I get it. You could call it an internship.”

“Yeah, an internship,” I say. I sigh. “Do you have some advice for me?” I ask. My anger at Jirgrar has calmed down a bit.

Brandon sits in a recliner next to a potted plant, leaning back and facing the ceiling. “Sure. As your upperclassman I can probably think of some advice to give you.”

I sit down on the same couch I was sitting on before Brandon arrived. “If you have a friend, who protected you from something bad but did it by hurting someone, what would you tell them?”

Brandon seems to think for a moment. Then he faces me. “I would thank them but tell them to be more careful in the future. Well, that depends on how badly they hurt that person and who that person was.” He looks up at the chandelier. “Did this friend of yours do something illegal? Something that could get you in trouble?”

“It was a hypothetical—”

Brandon stops me. “I don’t know how you got into whatever mess you’re in, but I do know that you’re probably in deeper than you handle.” He tilts his head a bit. “Your conjuring power did upset the competition, after all. That Rearden Metal probably put more eyes on you than you realize. I think that it’s good to have some friends that can get rough with your enemies.” Brandon shrugs. “I wouldn’t worry about it unless your conscience tells you that you have to do something about it.”

I shake my head. “It’s not that bad. I was just wondering if I made the right choice.”

“If you’re still alive, aren’t in trouble, and have a future, I think you’re going to be okay.” Brandon rises from his chair. “I’ll be going to bed now. Be quiet when you enter the room.”

I sit on the couch for a while longer, staring at the clock like before. As time goes on more and more rich folk begin to flow through the entrance. These are not ordinary rich people; these are the ostentatious kinds of rich people that England, and especially London, is known for. Diamonds, furs, and Louis Vuitton purses.

One of my devils, dressed as a butler, approaches me out of seemingly nowhere and bows. He is holding a set of folded clothes in his arms.

“Master,” he says. “Your dress for tonight’s social.”

“What?” I say. “Social? What are you talking about?”

The devil presents the clothes. “My name is Togaar. But for now, you can call me Sebastian. I will be your attendant for the evening. Please, put on these clothes.”

I take the clothes. It is a full tuxedo, complete with diamond cuff links. I look at the brand. “Armani,” I say. “Where did you get this?”

“As master knows, our finances are perfectly capable of absorbing the cost of a simple party dress.” ‘Sebastian bows again.

I take the clothes. “Can you help me put this on?” I say. “I’m not sure that I’ve ever worn a tuxedo.”

Sebastian nods. He motions towards the bathroom connected to the foyer.

We enter. I undress to my underwear and place my arms through the undershirt.

“This is how you button a shirt,” says Sebastian. He shows me how to make it look neat. Then, I put on my pants, my belt, my cummerbund, my bow tie, my black socks and my dress shoes. When I look at myself in the mirror I am surprised at how professional I seem.

Sebastian hands me a tin of mousse. I run it through my hair and pull it back to look fancy. I have a slight cowlick that won’t go down, but I think it will be okay.

When I leave the room, I feel like everyone is watching me. It’s most likely just my imagination, but I can’t shake the feeling.

Sebastian leads me to the entrance to the hotel’s ballroom. A doorman is standing bedside the doors. He holds out his hand.

“Your invitation, sirs,” he says.

Sebastian duly presents a letter that, I assume, is our invitation.

“Please,” says the doorman, opening the doors for us.

I step through the door and into a scene straight from a princess movie. Beautifully dressed ladies dance around with straight-looking and professional gentlemen.

“So, what’s this party for exactly?” I ask Sebastian, who hovers behind me.

“This is the gala for the donors to the CCC foundation,” says Sebastian.

“Well then,” I say. “Why am I here?”

“You are the star of the hour. Your alloy performed so much better than the copper-steel standard that your reputation has already spread through the gentry. You are famous, at least for the moment.”

“Mr. Red!” says an elderly gentleman. “My name is Peter Worthfile. Please remember the name! If you ever have anything you need help with regarding construction materials, I’d be happy to assist!”

“You don’t have to remember their names,” says Sebastian, just softly enough so that only I hear.

“Right,” I say.

A flood of dignitaries, politicians, and philanthropists parade by me until all I can hear is a violin playing words with a posh British accent.

Crayton approaches me after the flood of bourgeoisie has abated. He is smiling with his mouth, not his eyes. “Markus!” he says. “Glad you could make it. I wasn’t aware that you were coming!”

I nod. “Um, yeah. My network arranged for me to be here.”

“Well we’re very lucky, then,” says Crayton. “This is the place to be if you want to make connections.” He shoots me finger guns. “You Americans are always up to something!”

“Haha …” I say. “I don’t really think me being American has anything to do with my situation.”

Crayton winks. “Like I’ll ever believe that. You were smart, getting a lawyer as prominent as Lacy Stevens. I’m still wondering how you did it. She’s got a really golden track record.” He puts his arm around me and leads me to the center of the room.

A gorgeous high schooler, about my age, is standing alone sipping a drink. Her beautiful auburn hair flows around her shoulders. Her dress accents her pale white skin in such a way that it appears to sparkle. Even her ostentatious pearl necklace makes her seem more lovely, in a way. Heterochrome eyes, one blue and one green, take in the world with an intelligence that is equal to the greats of science and discovery.

I never believed in love at first sight, but in this moment, I am proven wrong.

“Alice!” says Crayton. He pats my back. “This is Markus!” He turns to me. “Markus, this is my daughter Alice.”

I am stupefied. I cannot speak. I want to say something but am unable. Tongue-tied only begins to explain my inability to do more than hang my mouth open.

Sebastian leans close to my ear. “Master, do you want me to take over?”

I nod. I don’t trust my voice.

Sebastian bows to Crayton. “My master has informed me that he wishes to dance with you daughter.”

Lightning passes through me. Dance? No, um, I can’t dance! I haven’t ever danced with a girl! I skipped all the proms and school dances I ever had a chance to go to!

Instead of saying something, I leave my face plastered with an idiotic grin.

Sebastian nods with a knowing expression. “Though I must warn you, Mr. Blanche, my master has not had formal training in ballroom dance.”

Crayton laughs. “No matter! It’s normal for a Yankee to bumble around the dance floor!” He gently pushes his daughter forward.

Alice curtsies. “I hope to cultivate a wonderful business relationship.”

Um, business? Relationship? Uh …

“Okay,” I say.

“Extend your hand,” says Sebastian, in my ear. He then takes out a small ball of magic and places it in my ear like an earplug.

I will give you instructions. Please follow them.

I make eye contact with Sebastian. Thanks, I mouth. I hold out my hand. Alice takes it.

Her hand is cold, almost icy. An electric shock goes up my arm. I can’t stop staring into Alice’s beautiful multicolored eyes. How does that happen, anyways? I don’t know, but whatever the case is, it makes her twice as beautiful as she would be otherwise.

Alice stands still.

Sebastian: She is waiting for you to take the initiative. Lead her to the dance floor.

I take Alice’s hand. She slips her arm between my elbow and shoulder—the same kind of hold I see the rest of the pairs in the party using. The pit of my stomach is turning over and doing gymnastics.

Sebastian: Put your right hand around her back and hold her arm up with your left hand.

I do as I am told. It’s the closest I have ever been to a girl. I feel weird about it, but she smells like a million good things. Wow, I am thinking weird thoughts.

Sebastian: Focus. Step forward slow, quick-quick slow. Weight on your left foot. Forward right-left-right.

That’s too complicated!

I take the steps as directed, and somehow I manage to keep it up—it must be because my physical stats were doubled after I absorbed that ring. I would never have been able to do this before.

Sebastian gives me more instructions. I pick up quicker than I thought I was capable of.

“My father says you have a valuable ability,” says Alice. “Where did you get it?”

“I, um, killed a balrog,” I say. “Then I absorbed its ring.”

“Wow!” says Alice, in a posh British sort of way. Her accent is really getting to me. “I myself am a water spirit. I once absorbed a fifty-year circle, and I hear that is rare among non-adventurer types.”

“I, well, I think so?” I say.

Sebastian: Be more confident. No verbal fillers.

Okay, okay, I get it.

“My father is interested in you,” says Alice. “There are not many people who he respects, especially people your age. My entire life he has been pushing away suitors after my hand, and now he tells me to get close to a boy.” She puts on a devilish smile. There is a depth to her dialog that makes me think she operates on the same wavelength as her father. It is obvious she is planning ten steps ahead.

Sebastian: Mention that you think she is beautiful.

Wait, what? How the hell am I supposed to say that without screwing up? I’m not that confident! I’m a bumbling idiot! I frantically make eye contact with Sebastian.

Sebastian: The statement is not to advance your petty infatuation. You need to appear confident and experienced in front of the gentry. Many eyes are on you.

Oh. I gather my strength.

“You …” I pause. “You look very beautiful tonight.”

“Why thank you,” says Alice.

Sebastian: Twirl.

How the hell am I supposed to do that?

I lift my hand. Alice twirls. It is the most natural thing I have felt all evening. I hear some chattering flow across the room. Everyone really is watching me.

“My father has told me that, as a high schooler, you are already a millionaire,” says Alice. Her eyes are glinting.

“Er, yeah,” I say.

Sebastian: Mention your donation to the Foundation For Endangered Species.

Uh … What? Donation … Donation?! How much?

I clear my throat. “Yes, well, I have donated much of my, um, finances to various, uh—”

Sebastian: Confidence!

“I like to spread my money around to places that need it,” I say.

“Like what?” says Alice, her eyes gleaming.

“The Foundation For Endangered Species, for one,” I say.

Alice’s eyes show surprise for a split second. Then her face is back to its pretty mask. “My,” she says. “And why did you pick that particular foundation?”

Sebastian: Because you care for pandas.

What? Um …

I take the leap. “Because I like pandas and don’t want them to die off.”

This can’t be right. I look like a buffoon right now.

Alice’s eyes light up, and she appears to be considerably happier than she was when we first started dancing.

“Oh, pandas?” she says, her eyes softening. She giggles with a British accent, covering her mouth with her hand.

Cute, cute, cute!

Another man, maybe twenty, taps me on the back.

Sebastian: He’s cutting in. Disengage.

I let go of Alice.

Alice curtsies. “It was nice dancing with you.” She then takes the hand of the man who cut in.

Wow. As my world twirls around me, I sit down in a plush chair at the edge of the ballroom.

This, I imagine, is going to get very interesting.