September 1971
Like most fall nights in Novrith, tonight was drizzly. A thick fog had rolled in from the sea, making the entire city appear as if it was adrift on a cloud. Considering that most Novrenes already thought they lived above everyone else, this was appropriate.
The opening of the Novrith Conference was on Monday, and though she would not be leading the conclave herself, the Sedera saw fit to organize a cocktail party for the delegates on the Saturday before. No stranger to throwing a party - as her infamous 45th birthday celebration this year made plain to all of the high society of Myroria - the doge ensured there would be an open bar in order to attract as many guests as possible.
Novor Quarrovth, a distant cousin of the doge and an influential member of the Council of Great Houses, stood at the bar surveying the crowd in the ballroom. By his side stood Gilas Quarrovth, an 18 year old Council page who, it was said, could talk anyone into doing anything - so long as he wasn't busy puffing on his inhaler.
Novor was on his third or fourth martini, but, as a man of such considerable wealth, he had attended perhaps thousands of these get-togethers and so had learned how to keep the alcohol from getting to his head - at least as far as that was possible. Gilas, sitting on a stool next to Novor, was just finishing his first - the Ivorheart, a unique cocktail made with traditional strawberry brandy. For anyone but someone with a classic case of the Myrorian sweettooth, the Ivorheart would be best described as "cloying".
"I recognize hardly any of these people," Gilas remarked to Novor.
"That's because hardly any of these people are Council members. Seems like ever since the doge got elected you have to had directed a movie, written a book, or gotten a PhD to get invited to any of her parties. I remember when Fendryn was around. Any sort of gathering was filled with Council members and disgraced Council members, just like it always has been. We never let in the - " Novor took a sip of his martini. "hoi polloi."
"Who's that?" Gilas asked. He gestured towards a curly-haired woman with legs up to here and a hemline down to there.
"Girmani Velasoth. Have you seen that new Eluvataran movie, The Myrorian Connection?"
"Uh," Gilas said, thinking.
"Two Annuminas cops chase a Myrorian heroin smuggler?"
"I don't think I have."
"She plays the heroin smuggler."
"Ah," Gilas said. "Is she single?"
"Look at that man over there," Novor said, pretending he didn't hear Gilas. "Dr. Ferele Hlaretroth. He just published quite a book,"
"Oh?"
"The Sexual Habits of Myrorians."
"Oh!"
Flashbulbs could be seen outside the hall on the street and, shortly after, there was a commotion at the door of the ballroom as a Hemlander walked in dressed in a tuxedo.
"And there he is!" Novor said sarcastically. "No party is complete without The Wolfman." Novor made sure he didn't say the Hemlander's stage name like a Hemlander. "Award winning songwriter. Personally, I can't understand a word he says." Novor reached for his martini again.
"Where are the dignitaries?" Gilas asked. "This seems like a movie premiere or something."
"Oh, if they're here yet they're around. Otherwise I'm sure they'll show up shortly. The Sedera herself is to speak at 9:00."
Gilas nodded.
"This is your brave new world, Gilas. I'm too old for this shit."
