The invtation
(Prompt 8 sub) migh keep it going, not sure though
The stage coach pulled up to the manor as dusk's shadow started to creep over the horizon, and the coachman rapped on the ceiling to announce to the passengers that they had arrived at the proper destination. As the few men and women who had rode with him gathered there belongings from under seats and off top of the roof, Roland walked around to the front of the carriage and tipped his top hat to the rather dapper looking young man that sat atop the driver's bench. "For exemplary service, without delay." He spoke in a crisp British accent as he reached into the breast pocket of his suit coat and handed the young man a roll of bank notes before rejoining his companions as they made their way up to the manor's gatehouse to present there invitations.
Roland had not been entirely surprised when the invitation had arrived via carrier mail, the money lender was even a little amused at the way they had addressed him, "to The Gambler..." The letter then went on to state that he had been one of only thirteen individuals invited to attend a gathering at the manor of the anonymous sender in two weeks time, and that a stage coach would be around to collect him and any other attendees that were in his area. It also requested that he put together a costume befitting the way he was addressed in the opening of the letter. So here he stood in stark contrast to the rest of his fellows, who were all dressed in varying shades of black or dark grey, in a formal white business suit and his favorite cane, topped bya silver wolf's head with ruby eyes. As they drew nearer to the gatehouse he reached into his inside pocket and retrieved his invitation.
"The Harlot!" He heard the the doorman call out as a rather scantily clad young female walked through the door into the manor's courtyard. "The Gambler." The doorman shouted as Roland handed him his invitation and stepped into the yard. The doorman continued to call titles as Roland wandered deeper into the yard and marvel at the variety of imported plants that populated the grounds, the owner of this manor must've had a sizable fortune to spend on its construction. Roland continued to wander in wonder until he was called to by a rather pale, mousy looking young girl in a simple tan servant's dress.
"Excuse me sir!" She shouted as she jogged over to where he stood. "Are you here In attendance for the gathering master is having?" She asked as she tried to catch her breath. "If so, I must ask you to come with me, the other revelers have arrived and the festivities are about to begin."
Roland nodded as he followed the servant girl back to the front of the manor and up through its massive double doors. "Would you like a refreshment?" His guide asked, turning on a heel to offer him a goblet he was sure she didn't have before.
"Yes, thank you." He replied taking the goblet as she filled it with wine from a near by pitcher. Roland smiled at the girl as he drained the goblet, as he pulled it away to ask for another glass be caught his reflection in it's polished surface and thought for a moment that something was amiss; no it couldn't be, his skin was just as tan as it had always been, his eyes were still their sharp, crisp blue and his close cropped hair and gotee were still the same sun-bleached blonde they had been for his entire life. Roland pondered this for a moment before dismissing it as the idle paranoia of an unoccupied mind, so he decided to occupy it with meaningless chatter and make small talk with his guide and the other guests.
The rest of the night passed in a similar manner, drifting from one conversation to the next while he drank, learning what he cared to about the other guests, but not caring to remember any of it and always drifting back to the mousy servant girl who'd fetched him in the first place. Finally Roland had had enough of carousing and found a quiet place to sit with his most successful distraction, and after finally remembering to ask for her name, and being told it was Envy, followed by a gentle reprimand for not introducing himself first, opted to relax with her in a quiet corner of the main hall until such time as her master called an end to the nights festivities.
Finally a clock somewhere in th manner chimed one in the AM and all the guests were fetched to the dining room where there was a long rectangular table set for fourteen and a fine feast was being laid out. As the guests took there seats around the table a man clad in midnight robes dotted with white and a golden theater mask descended a small spiral staircase at the back of the room and joined them.
"Good evening kind ladies and good sirs, I an your host of the eve, my name is Aaron," he spoke in a powerful voice, "and my title for these closing hours is "The Gatherer." I invite you now to join me in a feast before we retire for what little of the night remains, eat, drink; if you've not already had your fill, and make marry these last few hours of unbridled pleasure." He ended his speech with a raising of his goblet in a silent toast.
Rolad did just as their host suggested, eating and drinking his fill before his weariness began to overtake him. As the rest of the revelers finished their meals each was escorted off in a different direction (presumably to dome of the guest rooms) as Roland waited to be lead off be started to feel he had seen the his fellow party goers before tonight, but that was impossible he thought to himself, surly he would have remembered them before now, he rationalized; it was the wine, he decided, the wine and his want of sleep were adling his brain and causing false thoughts to crop up. Roland sighed as Envy came to lead him to what would be his chamber for what little of the night remained. He was exhausted, and he was sure it showed, as they climbed the long flights of stairs to his room the pair enjoyed a companionable silence that lasted until they arrived at the door.
"Master Aaron, would like me to present you with this," Envey spoke in a soft voice as she handed him a sealed envelope, " he would also request that it not be opened until the morrow." She cotinued, reaching into the pouch on her dress and pulling out a small glass bell. "I secreted this away from master's quarters, if you wish to see me, ring it thrice."
"Thank you," Roland replied, taking both the letter and the bell, "I will do as your master asks, until the dawn, m'lady." He said bowing as he opened the door to his room. Roland closed the door behind him as the servant girl disappeared down the hall and stumbled over to the bed; setting the bell and the letter on the night stand, along with his top hat and cane, he crawls under the covers and was swiftly asleep.
Roland woke to the dawn sun and a chill breeze, which struck him as odd, in his half-awake state because when he had fallen asleep his room had been quite warm. Roland opened his eyes slowly and almost fainted from the shock of what he saw. Where last night there had been opulence and grandeur, now stood ruin and desolation, what had been a fine room in an even finer home was now a hovel inside a burnt out husk of soot covered bricks and worm-worn wood. His bed, which had been the most comfortable thing he'd ever lie upon, was now nothing more then rotted planks and a few threadbare sheets. Roland swiftly exited the bed and brushed off anything that might have been on his suit, then reaching shakily for the letter, broke the seal and removed the contents, hoping to glean some understanding of his situation from whatever it had to say.
Dear Roland White,
A game was played, a favor won, with your debt now gone, my task is done.
With all secrecy,
Aaron Azreal, Angel of Death
Post script: I am aware of the fact you have the bell. I'll be waiting.