The Magistrate's hatred for Alaric and his companion was growing. He had been called in the late afternoon yesterday and told to speed up the party. Speed it up to the next day.
The Magistrate had scrambled around, sending hasty invitations and burning money to repair the castle. He didn't know what Alaric was planning but he approved.
Because Alaric dared to invite Lord Percival Montague and Apostle Ken. It was stupid, irrational but the thing that the Magistrate fared the most was that Alaric had something planned. Something dangerous. Something he might pull off.
He had cheated death after all.
Which was why the Magistrate was here tonight, under the gentle moon, dressed in tailored clothes, styled to his form. He was standing in front of the main building door, smiling as he greeted his guests. In Lord Alaric Keenreaver's name.