Prompted [Peregrine & Nemopedia]

In a party of this class and elegance, it was the job of servants to be invisible. If the servant did their job right, all the gentry saw were floating trays of food and drink.

From Adrien's perspective, navigating the ballroom was not much different from the dance of combat. Footwork was paramount, and every movement had to be flawless. The only difference was, instead of sharpened metal and fists, his opponent was the silken end of a ribbon, a carefully curled lock of hair, the curved tip of a gentleman's shoe.

Their highness' hosted these balls often enough that the servants for it were all but on the full-time staff. The only difference was there were so many of them that they didn't live in the palace itself, and instead returned to the village after the work of cleaning up the extravaganza was complete, only to return in a day or two's time when the next one was hosted.

The unfortunate thing was, even with the numbers that their highness' brought in to ensure that these balls were the most lavish affair in the land, one more servant would not go unnoticed. The attendees wouldn't know any different, and their highness' certainly wouldn't notice, but the other servants would certainly know, and they would not appreciate the appearance of an outsider who had the potential to bring the king's ire down on their heads.

But it was easy enough for Adrian to orchestrate himself an invite, of sorts. Back when he had first started this job, Adrien's method of choice would have been to pass a small bribe to the chamberlain in charge of the servants for these balls, and get his permission to slip on among the servants for a day. Back then he had been an amateur.

The Wimpffen would not let the slight that was about to be placed upon them pass. And any of the families that had the right to attend these balls also had the money and the standing to have their own people. People who would not hesitate to begin a quiet investigation into who had wronged their household. Their very first stop would be the very same chamberlain to whom Adrien had given his money. And that man would be just as willing to spill all he knew for a few gold coins as he would be to allow Adrien into the ranks of the servants.

No. It was Adrien's job to ensure that this would never be traced back to Lady Clementine, and he would do just that. The only correct solution was to choose a method that only someone as skilled as him would be able to see through.

Adrien's plan was, ultimately, quite simple. All it required was one man.

Mr. Nazaire was still single, even after 34 years of life. A failed merchant, he had been forced to retreat into his brother's house, degraded to nothing but help for his brother's wife and their children. Luckily, his time as a merchant had ensured that he had the knowhow to interact with the nobles and their ilk. This make it easy for him to get a try at staffing one of these parties. His training went smoothly, and soon enough he was one of the regulars.

There was nothing particularly extraordinary about Mr. Nazaire. But his brother had a penchant for imported olives, and he ensured that all who dined at his table acquired the taste. A small addition to the dish the night before the ball ensured that everyone in the family would be out of commission with a serious case of dizziness and a mild fever the next day. From there, all he had to do was show up at the door in the morning claiming Mr. Nazaire had vouched for him as his replacement, pass the quick training just shy of flawlessly, and he was one of the crowd.

In two days time when Mr. Nazaire returned, the worst that oils come to pass was him saying he didn't ask anyone to replace him, which he wouldn't be likely to do as long as Adrien didn't stand out. All he had to do was avoid standing out, and do his work with as little direction as possible. If anyone asked around, the most they would be able to find would be that Mr. Nazaire had been out for the day, and someone they didn't know and couldn't remember had replaced him. What was more, if Mr. Nazaire had acknowledged that he requested Adrien to be there, he would have to protect Adrien, if he did not wish to be exposed in the lie.

The only potential flaw in this plan that Adrien could see was the poison he used on the Nazaire family. Medicine and, by extension, poison were Adrien's strong suit. He had been as careful as he could be, but that one, tenuous connection still remained.

But, if the Wimpffen had been able to hire someone skilled enough to make said connection, Adrien would simply have to play the game of cat and mouse that would follow.

Across the forest of powdered wigs that filled the ballroom, Adrien made the briefest moment of eye contact with Clementine. Neither of them nodded, nor even seemed to so much as blink out of place. Adrien diverted his gaze half a second later, as was appropriate for any servant. But both of them knew.

The game, as it were, was afoot, and Adrien's weapon was the silver plate of hors d'oeuvres, and the small pile of shredded cilantro in the middle of the plate he would use to garnish each dish before offering it to the guest. Of course, one of those leaves was not actually cilantro, and would end up on mademoiselle Wimpffen's entree, as soon as Adrien made his way over.

Clementine would then have approximately five minutes to lead the mademoiselle wherever she saw most suitable before that entree, and anything else she had consumed that evening, abruptly and violently found its way back into fresh air, much sooner than intended.

Adrien bowed slightly as he approached, before presenting a dish first to Wimpffen, and then to Clementine. It was the smallest of slight to his mistress, but it would make the dish that much more appealing to Wimpffen, and all but guarantee she ate it.

Of course, if she didn't, Adrien had plans in reserve. But this would execute mademoiselle d'Uzès payback the cleanest, and would see Wimpffen humiliated out of the party at best, or completely losing any trace of favor from their highness' at worst, of Clementine staged the following moments just right.

As for what Wimpffen had done to deserve such humiliation, Adrien did not think about it. None of the people in this court deserved his pity. His job was to serve the whims of his mistress, nothing more and nothing less.

Adrien dressed the dessert with care and accuracy, transforming what had been, moments before, nothing but a simple pastry into a weapon of destruction. However, the courteous smile he offered both ladies after they had taken their treats was polite, smooth, and gave nothing away.

And that was it. Four days of near constant work, for that single, simple moment. Adrien's job was now done.

Well, done at least as far as mademoiselle Wimpffen was concerned. But Adrien's work wasn't really ever done. As had already been proven, Adrien's mistress was far from forgiving, and her behavior, both in public and in private, had earned her more than a few enemies. The d'Uzès empire had been built on the former glory of other families, and those families would not be quick to forget the slight to their person.

Parties like these always carried some measure of risk, but Clementine would not have been able to maintain her high social standing if she was unable to counter such attempts. However, with her attention now turned to ensuring the Mademoiselle Wimpffen's social execution went off flawlessly, it fell to Adrien to make sure that no other family took advantage of her slight inattention to turn some ploy against the lady. As mademoiselle d'Uzés and mademoiselle Wimpffen wandered off, Adrien melted back into the crowd. Aside from the few moments where he had to pause and offer one of his hors d'oeuvres to a guest at their covert signal of interest in his dish and go retrieve another, Adrien circled the party incessantly, ensuring that Clementine was always in the corner of his vision.

This allowed him to watch the rest of the party with a carefully trained eye, and it wasn't long before he spotted another servant, standing only a couple groups of people away from mademoiselle d'Uzès. He probably thought he was quite clever and covert, because his current position meant he was out of Clementine's direct line of sight, but he was easily able to keep track of her through a mirror. However, his intense gaze made it more than obvious to anyone else who might be watching that he was far from a servant's ideal.

Adrien was almost certain this kid also thought he was clever for wandering the party with only a single drink on his tray. It didn't take any of the servants long to learn that no noble would ever take the last offering from a tray, not if they wanted to show any level of import to the surrounding people. Only the freshest and the best would be suitable for them, and how could the last of anything be either the freshest or the best. All the servants quickly learned to keep their tray completely full, and while his actions might have kept the nobles away, it also meant that several of the other circling servers were covertly shooting him dirty glances. His own "cleverness" had made it more than easy for Adrien to ensure he'd never get to the next step in his plan.

And, just like it didn't matter to Adrien what Mademoiselle Wimpffen had done to earn her humiliation, it didn't matter to Adrien what this young man was planning. The simple fact that he dared to turn his gaze towards Clementine was enough for his own execution.

Adrien circled the party a couple more times, eyes carefully peeled for any other indication of people turning their attention towards his mistress. However, if there was anyone else out there, Adrien hadn't been able to spot them in the last couple laps. It was doubtful they'd be able to do anything before Adrien returned.

With quick feet, Adrien turned around, moving towards the servant's passage, timing his steps so that he would round the corner out of sight of the ballroom a couple of moments before another servant would also duck out.

As soon as he was out of sight Adrien slumped, a look of exhaustion crossing his face. He leaned against the wall, lifting one foot as though to relieve the pressure on aching feet, before casting a longing glance at the treats remaining on his plate. It was at that moment the other servant, an older man whose hair was as carefully powdered as a noble's wig, rounded the corner. Adrien pretended not to notice his approach, until the man spoke.

"Doing alright?"

Adrien started, but smiled internally. It would probably come to no surprise to the nobles to learn that the servants always kept a very watchful eye on each other. How could they not, when a mistake for one of them meant a punishment for all of them.

Straightening his back, Adrien looked away from the tray and offered a strained smile. "I'm fine."

"I won't tell anyone if you eat one," the man continued, as though he hadn't heard Adrien's answer. He gestured towards Adrien's platter with his free one. "Their highness' don't save anything. No one will notice if one goes missing."

Adrien offered a grateful smile to the older man, before carefully picking up a treat with his gloved hand. He popped it in his mouth, before a look of relish spread across his face as he chewed slowly.

Before he could finish his mouthful the older man smiled tightly, something hard in his gaze. Adrien knew full well that this act of friendliness was nothing but a cover to dig a little bit of information out of Adrien. "You're new, right? My name is Oliver."

"Allain," Adrien offered fluidly once he swallowed, supplying the fake name he'd provided when he first showed up. "Thank you for the… well."

"Not a problem." The two set out in step, and Oliver continued to speak, finally getting to push on the reason he'd stopped in the first place. "Are you keeping up with everything?"

"I've been doing... well," Adrien agreed, sliding the smallest of twinges into his voice that made it sound like he was just trying to stay strong. "It's just... "

"Yes?" Oliver prompted. Adrien pretended not to notice the intensity in his gaze. The servants would do many things to make sure another servant didn't have the chance to ruin it for the rest of them.

"There's someone out there wandering around with a single glass on his tray. He has been the whole time I've been out there."

There was no need for Adrien to pretend to ignore the grimace Oliver gave at those words. The man certainly gave no attempt to hide it. "I've noticed," he spat out, teeth slightly gritted.

"Who is he, anyways?" Adrien asked.

"No clue. The chamberlain always introduces a few 'new hires' when a major ball like this rolls around. If it wasn't for the fact that Leon vouched for you, I would have thought you were another one of these… people." It sounded like Oliver wanted to pick a much less subtle word.

Adrien nodded in understanding, before he suddenly slowed his step, turning to face Oliver. The man unconsciously slowed as well. "What do you say…" Adrien began, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Oliver leaned in slightly. "We teach him a lesson in proper manners? Make sure he never comes back?"

Clementine wasn't the only one who could orchestrate a social execution.

It turned out that Adrien had gotten luckier than he expected choosing to step out only moments before Oliver. Age was no indication of experience when the palace's party staff rotated so regularly, but in this case Oliver's age was a mark of experience. He had been working the balls for their highnesses for well over five years ago, and, although he had never been promoted in that time, his familiarity with the wide range of situations that could arise when a group of nobles gathered together in a ballroom made him both a valuable worker and a well-trusted colleague. This combination made him respected, sometimes even more so than the chamberlain, who was only interested in lining his own pockets and was perfectly willing to let people like the young man watching Clementine into the staff as long as they paid enough money for the new position.

Adrien and Oliver lingered in the hallway for a few more moments, concocting only the most basic of plans, which would ultimately resolve in the unfortunate young man brought out back behind the palace, beaten until he couldn't stand straight, and having his pinky finger chopped off. Even the chamberlain would not allow someone with such an obvious physical deformity to participate in a ball of this standing, no matter how much he was offered.

Both of them refilled their trays, and while Oliver lingered in the back to speak to the kitchen staff about the man, Adrien picked up his tray and covertly walked out.

He liked plans like this. Plans where something he needed done was executed without him ever having to do more than spread a couple of words here and there. Plans like that could almost never be traced back to their source. If anyone asked, it would be Oliver who had come up with the plan. He certainly wouldn't want to give credit for the idea to some no-name server who had yet to even work a full ball. And that suited Adrien just fine.

He returned to the ballroom, tray carefully balanced on one hand, the other arm tucked into the small of his back, coat perfectly straight, and no indication that he'd just condemned a man to a very dismal fate. It didn't really matter who the man worked for, no nobles in this age were forgiving of failure. Especially not such an obvious and public one. He would be dismissed from his position at an absolute minimum, but it was more likely he would be killed instead of being allowed to return to the world, so that his employers could protect any family secrets that he might have gained in the time of his service.

Of course, his best bet was to flee as soon as he failed. Maybe then he would be able to live out a life in exile.

The smallest trace of a smile of satisfaction flickered across Adrien's lips. The young man's fate only served as a reminder to him that he was a master of this deadly game, where even one slip-up could spell destruction.

Oliver worked quickly. It didn't take more than another minute before two servants appeared, their eyes quickly roaming the ballroom until they saw the young man with the single glass on his tray. They glanced at each other and exchanged covert nods before heading off.

Moving in tandem, almost as though they had practiced it, one of the servants bumped the young man from behind, causing his tray to start to topple forward. The other, faking a startled look, swooped in to snag the tray before the glass could shatter across the floor. Holding the tray, he quickly exchanged a few sharp words with the boy, before walking away, tray still in hand, the young man unable to even so much as protest.

Now, no matter how much he might wish to stay in the ballroom, he had no choice but to head into the back to pick up a new tray. The nobles might ignore a servant who was carrying a tray with only one item, but they would never forgive a servant seen doing no work.

Adrien could guess that there would be several big dishwashers waiting for him just out of earshot of the ball, and that they would drag the protesting young man out back. His preferred method would probably have been slipping the man some kind of drug in a drink offered out of apparent kindness. Considering the strain put upon the servants in these balls, it was improbable he would refuse. But, ultimately it didn't matter how it got done, so long as it got done. And Adrien had enough confidence in Oliver's irritation with the young man that it would get done.

If he did return, Adrien would have to take matters into his own hands. But as more and more time passed, that possibility became less and less likely. Adrien smiled, and politely offered one of the dishes on his plate to a passing lady.

Adrien made his way back to the d'Uzès manor separately from the mademoiselle. Not only was this done to ensure that no wandering eyes might make the connection between Clementine and a server, but also because a servant's work did not end when the ball did. This wasn't the first time Adrien had covertly slipped in to one of Their Majesty's balls at Clementine's order, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. If he wanted to make sure that none of the servants remembered him, Adrien would need to rely on more than his average face. He would need to make sure he was as unremarkable as possible outside of the fact that he was new. Disappearing before the work was done was one of the quickest ways to make sure he would never be forgotten.

That was why the dark haired man did not make it back to Clementine's manor until two hours after his mistress had already returned, his hair disheveled and his hands smelling strongly of alcohol and soap from cleaning the ballroom. He slipped in through the back door, making sure none of the d'Uzès servants would spot him, before hurrying up to the mademoiselle's room, slipping noiselessly past her father's study.

Adrien could tell immediately that something had his mistress in a foul mood. He doubted his delay in getting home had helped matters, but there was nothing he could have done about it. The job hadn't been finished, no matter what Clementine might have believed. He bowed upon entering, hands clasped behind his back, silent and obedient, and held a similar posture as Clementine dew close to him and made her displeasure known to him. As his mistress spoke, Adrien remained perfectly silent. He did not remind the mademoiselle that it had been her plan to see Mademoiselle Beauvau caught with a servant in her arms, just like it had been get plan to see the lady Wimpffen vomit at the Count's feet. Adrien had merely been responsible for seeing the plan executed. He had done his job exactly as ordered, and the mademoiselle had been more than satisfied with his efforts at the time. The fact that Clementine's execution had not been potent enough to permanently drive Beauvau from the court was not his fault.

But it was, Adrien knew full well, now his responsibility. If the mademoiselle had ever been willing to admit her own faults, Adrien would likely have been out of a job. Then again, that might have been preferable to the task he had just been assigned. Mademoiselle Beauveu's reappearance in court had made it abundantly clear that no scandal was going to her driven from her place in court, and any minor blow attack would only see the conflict between the two grow. There were only two ways to see Beauvau permanently driven from the court, and therefore unable to bother Clementine again; assassination, and the complete collapse of the Beauvau household. But there would be serious repercussions to both course action, and it went far, far beyond the petty games d'Uzès had played thusfar.

But perhaps Adrien had misunderstood Clementine's request. Her words had been vague, and surely even she understood the dangers of this game she was playing.

"Of course, Mademoiselle," Adrien replied, his misgivings hidden behind a mask of professionalism. "Your instructions."