The Comte d' Aurore

Mulan hadn't felt this out-of-place since the days of her youth.

This was torture of a special kind. As she stood among these noble men and gorgeous ladies her confidence took one blow after another. Didn't help that she herself had made certain to stick out like a sore thumb among the guests, but she could never wear one of those frilly, constrictive dresses. The mere thought of a bodice made her skin crawl. So instead she brought the only remnant of her past life, that she had chosen to hang onto. The years of travel hadn't been kind to the fine, chinese silk. Her gown was scruffy, the colors had faded and worst of all: It had seized to fit her properly. This was the robe of a lanky teenage bride, not of a battle-hardened mercenary. It was especially tight around her back and the shoulders. If she wasn't careful in her movement, she'd put too much stress on the seems and pop out of it like an overcooked bean out of a pod. Of course her state of dress made her the talk of the party, but not in a good way. So much for keeping a low profile and scouting the company. She should have never come here to begin with, but it was too good a chance to pass up.

She had worked out that her mark would have to be of a high social rank. Many of those that claimed to have been attacked by the creature moved in circles that no peon could ever hope to infiltrate. The lavish fest of this Comte d'Aurore was a perfect opportunity: both for her and for her vampiric friend. Well, so much for that. The vampire probably had ample hunting grounds and she couldn't move anywhere without the entire ballroom taking note.

This was worse than the time she had to brawl her way through Jim Hawkins pirate den, stark naked.

A fanfare made her start up from her ruminations, her hand immediately going for her absent sword handle.

>>LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOUR HUMBLE HOST: THE COMTE D'AURORE

Under strong applause a man entered the scene. He wore a white dress uniform with a red sash. He was young, handsome, pure confidence. With an easy smile and occasional nods he crossed the room and took a glass of that sparkly, alcoholic beverage, which Mulan had been downing non-stop since she arrived to make the situation more bearable for her. He flicked at the glass, producing a high ting. Immediately all noise in the room died down.

>Honored guests, good friends. It's a pleasure to have you all before me on this special occasion. As you all know, it is my 21st nameday today.

Some excitable whispers were heard, coming from the girls of marriageable age, mostly.

>But it is to my dismay, that I must announce that our cherished ruler Maleficent has once again declined my invitation.

A sigh of relief went through the entire crowd. The Comte laughed amiably.

>I hope you can all still find it in you to enjoy yourselves, non the less. So then, drink, dance, general merriment! Be on with it.

The party resumed immediately, but with a big crowd of congratulators still surrounding the aristocrat. Mulan turned her attention to the buffet. She should be getting a good meal out of this, at least. She opted to have her plate loaded with all that would fit and find some corner, where she could stuff her face without too many idiots gawking at her.

She was in the middle of scoring a particularly fat piece of pheasant, when she noticed a presence at her back and spun around. The Comte was standing before her in all his glory.

>You should really try the chanterelle sauce with that. I hear it's quite good.

Mulan hid her surprise

>I shall consider it, milord.

He chuckled, his long golden curls bobbing ever so slightly

>You carry yourself like a field marshall even during smalltalk.

>My apologies. These classy social events aren't really my area. I really shouldn't be here to begin with.

>Oh? Why not? As far as I can tell you're the most interesting person to set foot in my chateau, Fa Mulan.

>You know my name?

Mulan tensed. She didn't actually have an invitation, nor had she disclosed her identity around town. How did he-

>Certainly, I've heard tales. Your reputation precedes you. The Terror from the Orient, The Queen of Carnage, the Jade Tigress, the Bride of War… I believe you have more titles than I do. What brings a mercenary of your calibre to my humble fiefdom?

>Well I…er-

Mulan was at a loss. She didn't know what she could disclose about her assignment and she had neglected to prepare a convincing lie for this occasion. The Comte laughed once more. He scanned the surrounding, noticing that all eyes were fixed on them, before turning back to Mulan.

>Perhaps a dance?

>A dance?

>If you would do me the honor.

>I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with your western dancing.

>It's just a waltz, I'm sure you'll manage. Just follow my lead.

>I'm afraid I must decline.

>I'm afraid I must insist.

Without further ado he snatched the plate out of her hand and dragged her to the dancefloor. He signaled to the string quartet, which immediately launched into something loud and fierce. Then he grabbed Mulan by the waist, pulled her close and began pirouetting across the room with her. The mercenary made several observations: She had graduated from looking vaguely out of place to being the primary source of entertainment for the guests. Also the chance of bursting out of her dress had just increased tremendously. But first and foremost: The Comte had a very punchable face.

The waltz however was surprisingly simple. All she really had to do was to mirror her partners steps and stay with the rhythm. No comparison to some of the maneuvers Shang had made her memorize in basic training.

> I do not see any point in this!

Mulan failed to keep the venom out of her voice.

>Dancing? Well, it's a form of social interaction, art and exercise.

This man was begging for a bludgeoning.

>Shouldn't you be fending off all the eligible bachelorettes that are stalking you, rather than fooling around with a middle-aged mercenary?

>You're not doing a good job at selling me on the alternative. Besides, I wanted to use this opportunity to talk to you more privately.

He spun around with her, allowing her to observe the scene.

>We're still at the center of everybody's attention.

>Yes, but the music is too loud and we move too fast for anybody to make sense of our conversation.

The Comte was starting to intrigue Mulan, despite herself.

>And what might we conspire about?

>Well, for one thing I know why you are here. In fact, I've been expecting someone like you to appear.

>How?

>I try to keep up to date. Information comes cheep to the likes of me. All these supernatural occurrences in the area. It's rather exciting, isn't it?

>The villagers don't seem to think so. They were rather tight lipped, if not openly hostile to me.

>Ah yes, I paid most of them not only to talk to me, but also to keep quiet afterwards.

They nearly bumped into another couple, but the aristocrat managed to maneuver them around all hazards, with ease.

>So you tried to keep this under wraps. Why?

The Comte sighed and gave her a worried look.

>Because I didn't wish to garner attention from a certain dark fae. The only reason I can live such a charmed life is because Maleficent takes no interest in this inconsequential neck of the woods.

It was true. The territory held no strategic value whatsoever. It was farmland and woods mostly and Maleficent couldn't care less if the people went hungry. She hadn't even bothered to appoint a governor here. She was seeking to extend the boarders of her realm, to the ancestors know where, not secure that which she already possessed.

And I could be the one to overlook these expansions, thought Mulan, at least that's what she had suggested. She buried the thought for the moment.

>Well, it seems like someone talked. Otherwise I wouldn't be here.

>I'm not so certain. I have the suspicion that Maleficent just has a way of knowing these things. That means my best bet is to corporate with you, provide you with everything you need and generally be a charming host.

>How collaborative of you. There are quite a few things I could use.

Mulan cracked a smile. The Comte raised an eyebrow.

>Such as?

>Accommodation for one thing. The local tavern isn't all that bad. But I had to beat up the innkeeper twice now. Once for trying to steal from me and once for getting a little too familiar with me. I'm sure you have a spare bedroom somewhere, if not I saw some very comfortable looking carpets, on my way in.

The Comte's playful expression dropped. The Waltz was reaching its final tacts.

>I can't possibly house you. I have to decline.

>Oh, I'm afraid I have to insist.

Mulan bowed deep and made note of the man's sudden exasperation.

>Now if you'll excuse me, there's some pheasant waiting for me… with chanterelle sauce!

she added triumphantly, leaving him standing in the middle of the dancefloor. In fact she was in such a good mood, she didn't even notice that the seem on her back had ripped wide open until later that evening.

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