Agents Of Time: Chapter Eighteen; A ball of fate.

The meeting with Julian had almost been in vain. His office vacant, save for the two rolls still sitting on his desk. He must have had gone to lunch, was James there too?

She looked at the two paper cylinders sitting innocently on the table, unaware of the turmoil they'd caused. She could spare a few minutes to study them more. thoroughly. Verena’s stared at them until the words started to burn into her eyes, she blinked, seeing white version of the black ink behind here eyelids. Involuntary tears wept from dry eyes, blurring her visions as she tried to look closer, searching for any other signs of information other that what else was obviously there. Anything to give her a lead, or a sign of what was false and what was true.

Where was the truth.

Verena traced a finger over the red wax seals, trailing down until they stopped at the most recent addition. The paper stopped just below the more recent addition of Benedict and Darko. This was the tree void of the archduke’s name. What happened when either son married or had children? Did they rewrite and seal the entire tree? Would be worth asking Julian, maybe whoever rewrote the trees could give them some insight. That task would fall to Julian would it not?

She glanced at her watch, she'd already spent too much time here, lunch would be over soon, she could wait for Julian to return, ask her questions, and find James. It was unlikely the staff would return to their upstairs room until long after dinner, allowing her to sneak back up before dinner to return the uniform.

Verena gently rolled the paper up and slide it back into it’s protective casing, meaning to simply set it back beside its twin. Her fingers lingered over the unopened one. Previously they hadn’t had a chance to look at the second one. The one the duke was listed on. The one that would answer all their questions and allow this mission to be completed.

She could do what she had to do, and go home, having on not failed and get on with her normal life.

Verena stared at it, something in her gut making her want to move, yet stay put. This creepingfeeling that had been crawling up her spine for days. springing from the uncertainly of time travel, to the notes, the lack of information was making her anxious. Stifling the thrill of the mission the sense of purpose and reasonability that usually came along with it. Of being something important. The hero complex that allowed her to put out a cold exterior, because if she was more valued, more chosen by the director than anybody, then nothing else mattered.

But now, now she had the never-ending dread of not being able to complete this one. The overwhelming lack of clarity and information they'd been given on what had been impressed upon them was an history defying mission, was growing like mold.

But now, Tybalt was here, with the answer, bridging the gap. So why not just send him with them in the first place? This didnt seem to be a test, but it was something else. Something, she didn’t want to consider.

She shivered, her body reading to the emotions inside. Verna rubbed her arms. Was Julian, right?

She brushed the thought away; she still hadn’t found James. The scrolls would be here, but first, she had a ball to attend and a man to find.

…

Verena clutched the skirt of her ballgown, an outrageous concoction of beads lace and fabric, a dark burgundy that made her skin look too pale. James was still nowhere to be seen, neither was Julian. She'd have to go ahead with the plan without him. Tybalt, had slunk off, not around to question her plan.

Not that she really had a plan.

She'd let Tybalt think she did. But the bare bones of what she’d told him still stood. She had no concrete evidence. Tybalt wouldn’t give her a clear answer, neither would Julian.

Ana draped a diamond necklace over her collarbones. The cold silver setting off another small shiver.

"It's a bit much, no?" Verena asked. Being so... flashy and fancy wasn’t quite what she wanted to be wearing today.

Ana sighed, feeling the same, but for different reasons. “I would think so, milady, but it is a white-tie ball, and you are in Her Majesty’s court. Not that the duke even deserves you being there. Much less dressed like this."

Verena hummed, her thoughts pulling her back inside her head. What if she did compete the mission? Did she simply get teleported back without James? How could she explain his absence? Somehow, she didn't think the agency would allow her to stay and search for him, much less want her to find him. If Tybalt’s opinion on James was any indicator, it wasn't a jump to consider how the director regarded him.

She frowned, recalling the way the director treated James with a cold contempt. Obviously, he’d hired James long after her. So she'd assumed he was simply blunt and to the point, in that his treatment of James. Less familiar with him, alongside the expectations a parent may have of a child. Impressing upon them the will to not fail, to fulfil. The same she’d been taught, and in doing so had come to earn her high status. Her skill as an agent granted her the privilege of the respect.

But had they always considered him such a disposable wildcard?

"Are you alright?" Ana’s voice broke through her thoughts.

"What-oh, yes, I'm fine." She lied. That’s all she did: lie, pretend. Was she never allowed to feel anything real?

Her maid turned her around, facing her to the full-length mirror. "Well then, you're all set."

Verena started at the person in the mirror, unseeing through the veil of her mind. "Yes, it’s lovely, thank yo-"

Someone knocked on the door. Verena felt her heart skip a beat. James?

Ana started toward the door, but Verena called over her. "Come in."

Tybalt stepped in the door, stopping just within, forcing Ana to leave the door open as she slipped out. her maid was a little too good at reading que’s.

"You look nice," Tybalt nodded his head to her.

"As do you." Verena said. He did. His hair combed back, the black tuxedo cut a handsome figure on him. "A little presumptuous of you to come here now."

Tybalt shrugged." You're my ticket into this ball. Can't miss the fun."

She didn't know if he was referring to her mission or the drama that was likely to ensue.

"Where are you hiding it?" Tybalt said.

"What? Oh." he was referring the poison he'd assumed she had. “It’s somewhere."

He took that to mean somewhere on her person." Good. I'll trigger our return once the deed is done."

Verena didn’t answer. She let Tybalt lead her out of the room, down the hall, the stairs, into the entry hall.

She exchanged pleasantries with the other women. Comments on dresses and jewels were passed, fans were fluttered. The queen's anxiety was palatable, her hand gripping the kings in a white-knuckled grasp.

Tybalt slid into the car behind her. Car? If James wasn’t here, then who was driving? The silhouette of a hat through the window didn’t feel like James.

“A footman, I believe.” Tybalt read her gaze.

Verena nodded wordlessly.

“This won’t effect your performance, will it? You seem distracted.”

“Of course not. Verena said. Pulling every singe ounce of clarity she could muster at the moment.

And then she went back into her mind, letting her gaze fall out the window of the car away from Tybalt, threading thought after thought on a string, connecting them all.

Julian was undeniable proof that in some way shape or form the agency had sent an agent back to this time. That much she was willing to believe outright. His grudge against the agency put him with a bias, one she couldn’t verify without going back to the agency. She had no history book to tell her, no agency records to bare facts. She did have two scrolls sitting on Julians office desk she could go back to.

James’s disappearance was out of character. Occasionally he’d wander off to follow a trail, but he always came back before long. This was too long. Tybalt's appearance right after James' departure was too timely. It was clear to her that Tybalt was here to confirm she would complete the mission, which meant that the Agency had a fear that she wouldn’t. That even their most trusted agent may find reason to break that trust.

More importantly, why was this mission, this ground-breaking mission, worth the time travel, the risk, and the possible casualty of an agent they considered loyal?

The world outside stopped moving, and she felt Tybalt’s presence leave, the warm evening air swirling in. The door she'd been looking out was opened, a hand offered.

She took it, the lights from the castle washing out the chauffeur, casting him in a strange, warm glow. Before she could try to find any resemblance of James, Tybalt took her hand and led her towers the glowing castle.

"I'll be near if you need me." Tybalt said.

She didn't find the thought comforting. "Thank you."

Verena looked up at the castle as they walked up the small cobblestone walkway.

The grand duke's castle. An intimidating structure of blanched white chiseled stone, smaller than the one they'd come from, but not lacking its artisan touch. If the castle the royals lived in was a vintage piece of medieval history, this was a polished jewel taken from its treasury.

The footmen at the door took her coat, an object of clothing Verena didn't remember donning in the first place. The inside of the castle was decked to the nines, a scene out of The Great Gatsby itself. A display of crystal chandeliers, shining gold trimming just about everything, and a mix of candles and electric lights setting everything sparkling.

It was overwhelmingly impressive. Verena blinked. Tybalt gently pushed her through a set of double doors, dimming the sparkles. A footman in a white powdered wig, hands folded behind his back, nodded as Tybalt told him their names and titles.

Then the dazzling lights returned. The ballroom, spread below them like a garden set in a white quartz tub, lay at the bottom of the stairs.

"The duke certainly knows how to put on a show and a party." Tybalt leant towards her as they started down the stairs, hand in hand.

"Yes." Verena scanned the faces as they neared the floor. She recognized a handful from the gala when they'd first arrived. What level was this one? Ground level? She tried to recall the number of steps they'd come up when entering the castle itself.

Now at the floor, whatever it was, she could see that the way they'd entered was the only clear exit out. The entire ballroom was rimmed with a balcony similar to the library’s, but this one built and held with stone pillars, leaving a shady, quiet outer circle. They must have servant entrances somewhere, perhaps there?

She felt Tybalt’s leave, blending himself into the crowd, to do who knows what. Watch her, maybe.

Verena stepped to the side. Letting the next couple in line behind her, enter the ballroom. People were still arriving. The orchestra playing a tune that simmered amongst the chatter that filled the hall. There was a buzz in the air, an electric tension that drew her senses up, making her hyperaware of everything and everyone.

She took another stock of the faces nearby, many of them new. Relatives or allies of the Duke, perhaps? It would make sense to invite more of the people who looked at you favourably, especially in a situation like this. Did he have secret supporters in his claim to the throne?

She quietly filed the possibility of a coup in the back of her mind, just as the rest of the ladies-in-waiting floated up to her. She'd assumed their majesty would enter last. Was the duke already here?

Fiona said something to her, her lips moving, but Verena just started at her. Forcing her mind to shut out the thoughts to hear. "Did you say something, Fiona? It's rather loud in here."

"Is it? Oh. Well, I said we should stay here out of the way, their majesties should be entering any moment."

"Is the Duke here?" Verena looked around.

Fiona’s answer was lost in the sound of another shout from the announcer.

"Introducing their majesty’s of Belacruv. Queen Cordelia and King Aldrick! and their highnesses Prince Benedict and Prince Darko."

The crowd didn't go wild. Instead, everyone stared as the couple descended the stairs hand in hand. They looked good despite the circumstances. Heads held high, matching in their outfits. Smiling ever so slightly. Like they were pleased to be there, and it wasn’t part of a terribly frustrating situation.

Behind them Benedict and Darko walked, arms at their sides, in similar suits, Benedict's pinned with the medals he'd been wearing upon their first introduction. Both men smiled, not widely, but contentedly, as if out for a stroll ona sunny day. Not walking into a preverbal lion's den.

"Do we need to accompany them for the whole ball?" Verena said quietly to Rodina.

The countess shook her head. “No, but it won't hurt to linger around. Who knows what’s going to happen."

"What’s happening?" A new voice, male, tickled Verena’s ear,

"Julian!" Verena hissed. She turned, pulling him back behind the other women, who looked half amused.

"Hello to you too," he let himself be pulled. “What’s this about.?"

"Stay away from me!" Verna said.

Julian frowned. "Is that a command?"

"No-yes, okay, look," she paused, may as well let him in on the situation, maybe then he'd stay away from Tybalt." There's another agent here-”

"Anoth-you haven't found James yet?"

"No! I-” Her voice broke, and she choked on her words

"Okay, look. Don’t worry, I'll see if I can find him. Now, what about this other agent?"

"Tybalt, his name is Tybalt. The agency sent him after we found out James was missing. I didn’t tell them, I think they've just sent him to help me complet-"

"To keep an eye on you, to make sure they don’t end up with another me. They don’t trust you."

Verena didn't answer. She wasn't sure if she liked that truth.

"Do you trust them?" Julian tested the waters.

"I don’t feel trusted, let's stick with that."

Julian took the que to step back. "What does this Tybalt look like? He's not dressed as a Shakespearian character, is he?"

"He’s about as tall as you, bright red hair, black suit, brown eyes, medium skin tone."

Julian nodded. "Rings a bell."

"You know him?"

"I’m not sure. I’d have to see him to know."

"Good, so don’t. I don’t want him seeing you

Julian scoffed. "I’m sure I can take him in a fight."

"That’s what I don’t want to happen."

"You want me to get beaten up?"

"No, you kno-" she paused half-way through and glared at him. "Behave."

He cocked an eyebrow but didn't say anymore.

The orchestra started again, and the crowd shifted, parting to clear a circle in the middle. Verena briefly saw Aldrick lead Cordelia out to the middle, opening the dance floor.

The ball had officially begun. So where was the host? He liked glory, so why wasn’t he visible?

When she turned back to Julian, he'd disappeared. At least he was staying away from he, she just hoped she wouldn’t find him again next to Tybalt.

Verena sighed and looked up, If she could find her way to the balcony, maybe she could get a better view.

Wavering her way through the crowd, declining waiters’ offerings of plates of champagne and d’oeuvres, which left her with a strange sense of déjà vu. She found a set of stairs that lead up to the balcony.

Up here the air felt fresher, and she felt a little freer. Of course she was still trapped in a ballroom, with the expectation that she was going to orchestrate a murder, or something. There had to be some loophole to fulfill here. Her brow furrowed, lost in thought again, she didn't realize she'd stopped in the middle of the hall until a voice spoke, breathless and all too familiar.

"Verena?"

Reality came snapping back, and she turned so fast she nearly sprained and ankle.

A man, dressed in a suit, dirty blond hair slicked back, a splattering of facial hair, but with a pair of deeply familiar eyes and a cautious expression, stared back at her. He repeated his question. “Verena?"

"You," verna said. Her emotions fighting between something like embracing him in a hug and knocking him down or berating him for abandoning her.

I’m so sor-" James started

"Where have you be-" Verena interrupted.

They both stopped. James tiled his head as if to say. Go on.

"Where have you been!" Verena pulled him over to the wall. "You just dissapeared! You had a concussion, and now Tybalt’s showed up- Why did you leave!"

James didn't answer her right away, trying to process the words she was throwing at him as he assembled his own explanation. "I didnt disappear." He said slowly.

Seeing Verena's confusion, he pressed his hands together. "I mean, I did, but it wasn't my choice. The agency forced me back, some sort of reverse time travel teleportation."

"So, you didnt, abandon the mission?"

"What? No! I- Wait. Did you say Tybalt is here? I thought he was dead?"

"Yes, and well, has not. They didn’t tell you? Why did the-"

"Collateral, or something. They wanted to make sure you completed the mission, and I think we all know at this point that I was not helping that objective. But Tybalt would. But they never told me anything about him." He paused, inhaling slowly before raising his next question. “Is this, the ball?"

"I don’t know."

"Oh, okay. That's good, good because, well, to put it in a Shortway, Julian's right. This, this is all for the director. It's personal. It's Benedict. He’s Aldrick's son, the one who inherits the throne, and you know what, his decedents become the Torin."

"The Torin? You mean our enemies.”

"Our enemies? Or the directors' enemies. He’s sent us all the way back here to make sure that the tarin never is established and instead, Darko gets put on the throne, allowing the duke to manipulate him for his own gain. Which happened anyway, and it's this whole other thing-but point being." He stopped for a breath. "The duke’s line of descendance is inline wit the directors. This is a grudge, Verena, a centurylong grudge that we have been sent to- to-"

"To ensure that one party never exists in the first place." Verena finished for him. "It's that important that the Torin don’t exist? The organization that sabotages and seeks to disrupt all the Agency stands for? Is that not at least a positive?”

“I don’t know. All we’ve ever been told about the Torin is that they are our enemies. But at this point, is what we’ve been told the truth? If the director swilling to go to these lengths to preserve his line, what else is he willing to do. What does he stand for.”

“I don’t know. All we’ve ever been told about the Torin is that they are our enemies. But at this point, is what we’ve been told the truth? If the director is willing to go to these lengths to preserve his line, what else is he willing to do?”

Verena didn't answer. Everything was getting louder, the sound of the music swelling, the air swirling around as people walked, talked and danced grew warmer.

The agency had lied. Lied to her. She grasped for some sliver of anything that remained true.

But what did she know? She was part of the elite, the best she was- worthless - priceless the flagship for the agency’s missions. She'd been chosen to help define history, and now. She was just a pawn. Like everyone else, she'd pawned.

That couldn’t be possible.

"Hey, hey." Jame’s soft voice somehow drowned out the surrounding cacophony. She saw his hands go to either side of her face, but she didn't feel them. "Hey, Vee, it's, it's going to be okay. I’m sorry."

"I don’t want your pity," the words came out sharp. Jame’s eyes sparked, but he didn't flinch.

"I know. I’m not pitying you, I’m just, I’m here. we're going to, figure this out."

"Figure out what, James? I don’t…there’s nothing."

"No, we do know things. I know that you're the worthiest woman I know, and you're smart and cool. We know that we have Julian on our side. We know, or at least I think I know, how we can get back home. "

"We can't go back. Not unless-"

James's hand fell. “Let’s just take it one step at a time. Where is Julian?" James stepped away from herand looked over the balcony. “Oh, well, that’s oh dear." He didn't finish his sentence.

Verena pushed herself away from the wall she’d slumped back on. The music had stopped at some point, and now the crowd stood in a circle, surrounding a group of people standing as if ready for a duel.

The duke stood opposite the queen and king, his arm wrapped around Darko in what at first glance seemed like a friendly, fatherly gesture, but Darko’s stiff posture led her to think otherwise. Benedict stood between his parents. Both stood as if frozen.

At least she wasn’t the only one whose world had been rocked