Mulan and the Comte

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.