Opening The night began with preparation; potatoes and vegetables were chopped and peeled, meat braised or roasted, pears caramelised, and the cream, clotted and stood waiting in the pantry. The ladies bathed, smoothing creams and potions into pale and fat flesh, make-up applied painstaking layer by painstaking layer, moles carefully hidden only to be drawn on in the final stages, hair tousled and clipped with a thousand clips and finally dresses tied around monstrous forms pulled tight with rope to create imaginary waists. The gentlemen drank ale after ale filling bilious guts with noxious gas, burping and farting and shouting, grabbing the unwilling arses and breasts of the serving girl unwitting enough to pass close enough by. The musicians stood on stage carefully removing instruments worth their #life savings from velvet lined cases, painstakingly checking each peg and key for tune and tone, gently polishing or cleaning, concentrating on nothing but the music playing in their own heads. Servants lit candles on every table and the torches held on the walls, they added extra logs to the fire in the centre of the room, and set places for all their master's guests. Their master stood above it all in a room that overlooked the hall. He watched the preparation with nervous anticipation. His closest friend's wife slipped out of the bed behind him, and began to pull on her clothes. He let her go, he was tired of her anyway. The clock began to chime and the master sighed before slowly dressing, buttoning his silk waistcoat and jacket, he combed his hair tying it with more silk and curled his goatee around his finger. He took one last look in the mirror and headed for the hall, a charming smile painted on his lips. "Master Torin," said the maid outside the door, "I didn't realise -" "Don't worry," grinned Torin. "I didn't know until late." Torin winked and slapped her arse as she went past. "Has the Mistress of Rainthorpe arrived yet?" "You're mother arrived half an hour ago, she awaits you in your sitting room as per your instructions," Sofi replied looking her master, defiantly, in the eye. "Thank you Sofi, continue your work." Torin practically skipped to his sitting room, and nearly threw the door open with unconfined glee. He swanned into the room kissing the hand of the boney woman with thick auburn hair that did not match her haggard and withered appearance. @blueblotts @jhall