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London was a fascinating city full of dreams and nightmares aplenty, bustling with innovation and intrigue, and yet even such a gem lost its luster over time.
This was to be expected. The Manager had been around for years upon years, had seen the rise and fall of the cities of the Neath, witnessed powers come to fruition and be strangled out just as quickly, and experienced more in his long lifetime than most others in London today. Experience tended to rob one of the joys of discovery and whimsy, to make what once shone brightly dull and uninteresting. And he had a dirth of distractions these days, with his companions on the council dreadfully busy and the Marvelous concluded for the time being.
Yet a bored temperament was an irritable one, and he knew that too would get old quickly. He needed something to entertain himself with, and having not encountered any particularly interesting dreams, he was forced to find some sort of alternative. He'd tried a jaunt down the tracks to Balmoral, but no one of interest or consequence had been about, and his visits to the University had been much the same. It was as he was returning to the Royal Beth, however, that he had a real epiphany. Staring at a months old flier for some play in Veilgarden, the idea came to him: he had so many fine guests with real creative talents. Why not have his own little production? It would certainly cure his boredom.
Pleased with this idea, he was quick to put the pieces into motion. As soon as he returned to his hotel, he flagged down one of his many employees. This one was of little importance; he could hardly even recall her name, though he was certain she'd been around for a while now.
"I have come up with a fantastic little diversion for the day. Will you fetch me... Room 216, Room 232, and Room 417? And do not tarry. I will know if you become distracted and it will come out of your payment for the day," he instructed her, ignoring whatever drivel she was attempting to interject with. She was probably just aiming to complain about 'guest instructions being impossible' or 'the wallpaper trying to eat her' or some nonsense. Where had all the good, hard-working people run off to? It was impossible to find good help these days.
When she'd finally scurried off, he distracted himself by making another drink. Organizing was thirsty work, after all. Why, he'd be drier than a desert if he didn't keep a pitcher always to hand when he was working in the hotel!
Finally, his employee returned with the guests in toe. A little late for his liking, but he supposed one could not expect perfection unless one undertook the task oneself. "Excellent. You... Eleanor, I believe it was? You are dismissed. The rest of you, I have a proposition in mind," he began, waiting for the employee to trundle off, muttering to herself. Which was rude, but he supposed he'd have time to correct her attitude later. For now, he had plans to set in motion. "I would like you all to organize a performance for your fellow guests. I think the mood around here could do with some improving."
The guests chattered amongst themselves, a mix of emotions bleeding from them, anxiety and curiosity and a strange undercurrent of confusion. It seemed Room 417 had not yet gotten over the unfortunate misplacement of his reflection and was busy staring open-mouthed at a doorknob. Well, as long as the man could still read lines, he'd do fine.
"When will this production take place?" Room 216 asked, practical as ever. He supposed in the domain of actors and their quirks, the master of the stage had to strip themselves of whimsy. Otherwise, nothing would get done! Certainly the starry-eyed actress amongst them now was too preoccupied reciting lines from her last performance to provide any input.
"Tonight. There is a small stage on floor sixteen that you will have to make do with. You have my full permission to pull any guest you'd like to perform, provided you do not let anyone from the Veils' wing out and that you do not allow anyone to wander out without checking out," he said. He took the resulting silence as anticipation for the task ahead, and cheerfully stepped away.
"You have precisely six hours. To work with all of you! Feel free to inform my employees that they are to help when needed. They certainly get paid enough for it," he said, departing with a tip of his hat. Perhaps a bit rude to keep it on indoors, but the rain was hardly going to let up anytime soon, and he preferred to keep his hair dry.
Leaving them to their work, the Manager retired to his own rooms for a quick meal and a game of chess. His chameleon was working quite hard to learn the game, and he suspected it would soon be ready. August would find the whole thing amusing, and if it could beat him? He'd never hear the end of it. Just imagining his face made him chuckle, buoyed by the whimsy of it all.
When the six hours were at last up, time unspooling rapidly with his mind occupied, the Manager left his chambers. As he made his way to where the stage awaited him, he was fortunate to catch a familiar face milling about in the lobby.
"Ah, Captain Thorne! What a surprise. I was not expecting you for at least a few weeks," he called, greeting her with a tip of his hat. "I thought you were away on a zee expedition. I take it things did not go as planned?"
The Dauntless Captain turned to him, expression obscured by a sudden shadow cast over them all. Clearly someone had broken another lamp. Another headache for later."Ship got eaten by a crab," he answered, before his attention was yet again pulled away by whatever he was seeing in the wallpaper. He really ought to get someone to scrub the blood off of it before it soaked in. The walls got testy when they were left with human blood for too long.
"How unfortunate. But no matter! You are just in time to join me for this wonderful production," The Manager replied, sweeping her away from the middle of the lobby and off to their destination.
Captain Thorne made a small noise in the back of his throat, and began to speak up once more. "I was actually going to ask you-"
"No time for that! Come along now," he insisted, guiding her down the winding halls to their destination. The lift was just on time, as it always was for him, and within mere moments they were on the third floor where the stage awaited them. It was remarkable how quickly things had been put together, and he couldn't help but admire the handiwork.
The actors upon the stage were dressed rather fetchingly for such short notice. Someone had clearly put thought into the makeshift stage, and though he was not fond of the aesthetics of Hell, the flowers were a nice touch. He could almost smell the honey from his seat.
"So they're... putting on a play?" Captain Thorne asked, squinting at the stage.
"Yes! I do not know which one. It may be something unique or it may be a reprisal of an old classic. Either way, it will hopefully be interesting," The Manager replied. "Let us get you a seat, my dear. I'm sure you must be quite tired from all that time at zee."
"Eh. I'm used to it. I'll take that seat, though," Captain Thorne replied. The two took seats in the small collection of chairs before the stage. He was so looking forward to the whole thing. And with his arrival, it seemed the few people scurrying about increased their pace, as within moments someone was tugging makeshift curtains closed and Room 216 was running around barking out directions in between coughing up a storm.
With a small puff, the lamps at the sides of the room went out, casting the stage in naught but a red glow. The Manager leaned forward to ensure he got a thorough view of the stage, and so he could watch Alexandria's reaction out of the corner of his gaze. Why else did one invite someone to the theater if not to pry into their unschooled, unfiltered self, after all?
The first reaction he got to truly appreciate was during the opening scene, when Room 232 (oh, would that he could recall her name!) announced, "We must uncover who is behind this string of murders most foul!" His face contorted, a quick frown and then raised eyebrows. Interest, perhaps? That would make sense. A good murder mystery could be quite entertaining, although he'd seen it all before. After the thousandth one he'd seen, it took an exceptional performance to truly sway him.
The beginnings of the play went as he would have expected, with the gaggle of guests participating doing a passable job. Room 232 was clearly the star of the show, though her performances were a bit over-the-top in places. She was clearly trying to dazzle the crowd with her experience, though the material certainly wasn't doing her any favours. At least the attempts at comedy were passable, enough to get the occasional huff or chuckle out of his companion.
It wasn't until the second act that things became truly exciting. In an extremely drawn out scene, the two principal characters had a protracted fight about who the killer was, only for the charismatic butcher to stab the other in the back. Room 232 collapsed to the ground with a wail, and silence followed. Brilliant, artistic silence. What a wondrous portrayal of betrayal and an exciting turn of events for the show! Perhaps a bit overdone, but a good heel turn always made him enjoy a play that little bit more.
Then his companion leaned over to whisper to him, and despite his usual irritation at anyone speaking during a performance, he put it aside. For now, at the very least, he could excuse the rudeness in favour of seeing where things were heading.
"I think that person is, uh, dead?" Captain Thorne said, eyes flitting back to the corpse on the stage.
He could not help but chuckle at her expression. Ah, to be young again. He could hardly recall the days where a sight like this would be anything other than mildly inconvenient."Almost certainly! He'll be back soon enough, though. No need to worry,” he said. The only item of concern was whether all that blood would come off the stage. Hopefully the stage master had planned for this outcome in advance. He’d be cross if he had to pay for another cleaning crew to come through.
"No, seriously, I don't think that was part of the production. I think someone was actually murdered on stage," Captain Thorne stressed. On stage, the traitorous butcher was ducking behind the curtains, only to be bowled over by Room 417 rushing onstage, screaming at the top of his lungs. What an odd choice.
"I'm aware. What commitment to the role!" he responded, clasping both hands together. He hadn’t seen a production this exciting in… perhaps a few decades? Perhaps it was a bit gauche, but it was pushing boundaries, and these days that was more than welcome.
Captain Thorne stared at him for a moment (or tried to, at least, given his eyes continued to become fixated on the brass buttons of his coat). Then with a halfhearted sigh, he returned to hunching over in his chair. “I... I don't know what I expected your reaction to be. Why do I even bother, knowing this place?” The Manager shook his head; ah, the youth and their discomfort with death. This hadn’t even been that violent. A tad melodramatic, perhaps, and the blood really was getting everywhere, but it was nothing to kick up a fuss about.
Still, the production did seem to be coming apart at the seams. The stage manager was running around herding the guests-turned-actors away from the seemingly unplanned murder. What a thrill! An annoyance for the stage manager, perhaps, but as an audience? This was a night to remember. Although it seemed it would have to be relegated to memory sooner rather than later.
"I suppose I must intervene now. All that weeping will over-water the floors,” he said, standing up with a soft grunt. He’d have to navigate carefully to avoid blood on his cane, since he’d just cleaned it up after last time, but it shouldn’t be too difficult to find someone to cart the body off to their room to recover. And afterward, he might even give a firm handshake to the playwright. Before it had gotten off the rails, it was shaping up to be a wonderful mystery, even if the killer was quite obvious. (Why else would the paper-boy have gotten so many lines?)
Captain Thorne responded only with another heavy sight, head hanging low. "I have to stop visiting you here," she groaned. Which only made him chuckle further to himself. Really, this hadn’t been terrible at all.
Though perhaps for the next production, he’d choose different actors. Just to be safe.