Cornelia was caught up in a flurry of handing out drinks and collecting empty glasses when Earl Lightfeather and his wife began to speak. A hush fell over the assembled crowd. He said something of a new mining endeavor-which Lady Enright had told Cornelia about before the ball-and his wife made a cruel, sardonic remark about proles. Cornelia felt anger rise up her throat, but she willed herself to shove it back down. Her back seemed to ache as she recalled the scars that would be there for the rest of her life. The Earl continued to speak, and Cornelia listened closely as she picked up a fresh platter of pastries. 

And then...the world exploded. The far side of the room flew inwards, completely destroyed. Shrapnel rocketed through the ballroom and screams filled the air. Dust and smoke clouded Cornelia's vision as she stumbled away. There was a slight pause before the glass dome shattered, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. Cornelia barely felt the platter of pastries that she was holding drop to the floor. She was shoved to the ground as a Technocrat man collapsed on top of her. Pushing the man away and getting back onto her feet, dazed and bleeding from a few cuts due to the glass, Cornelia blinked several times and cast her gaze around the room. The figure that strode confidently in from the middle of the debris immediately caught her attention. 

Whoever it was wore black robes and a bronze mask made of cogs and gears that never seemed to stop turning. A steamdroid attempted to attack the figure, but he-or she, as Cornelia had no idea who it was-viciously stabbed the steamdroid in the chest with three blades that seemed to come out of the figure's hands. [i]Well, I'm sure that Lady Enright would like to know about that, [/i]Cornelia thought dryly to herself despite all that had transpired in the last minute or two. Cornelia spied her mistress standing in the corner, unscathed but shaken. That was good; Cornelia still had a job and she still would be able to collect her bribe.

The robed figure began to speak. "Earl Arthur Lightfeather, I find you guilty of oppression, decadence, persecution and gluttony. Your sentence, execution!" Then, the figure stabbed the Earl as well. Cornelia felt nothing after witnessing the gruesome event; there was no love lost in between her and any Technocrat out there. But she felt her interest piqued by the declaration the figure made right after killing the Earl-"Let this be a lesson to all of you whom would oppress your fellow man." 

The figure was gone just as fast as it had appeared. He or she grappled out of the ruined ballroom, and Cornelia tried to see if she could find Anne or Lady Enright. She felt bruises forming on her side and ignored them for the time being. She'd lived through far, far worse than a couple of cuts and bruises. There were a number of people walking toward the dead Earl. Lady Lightfeather seemed to be paralyzed, immobile and gasping for air. [i]Serves her right,[/i] Cornelia thought darkly to herself. [i]Should've killed her instead of the damn Earl.[/i] Cornelia recognized one of the men standing near the Earl's corpse as the Technocrat with the young prole servant she'd heard earlier talking about the murderer. 

Cornelia found Lady Enright in the same spot she had been in before the explosion. Cornelia figured that this was such an event where the policy of not being seen with her mistress could be ignored. "Cornelia, there you are," Lady Enright said. Lady Enright was a matronly, middle-aged woman with a sharp mind and greying chocolate brown hair. "I suppose that neither of us were expecting that." Lady Enright pulled Cornelia aside, lowering her voice so not to be overheard. "I want you to find the others and tell them to immediately head back to the house."

"Yes, ma'am," Cornelia replied softly. "Would you have me go with them as well?"

Lady Enright shook her head slightly. "No. I need you to stay and find out everything you can about what just happened. Forget the steamdroids; this takes priority. You will be handsomely rewarded for your, ah, [i]services[/i], as always."

Cornelia nodded. "Yes, ma'am," she said again. Lady Enright released her and Cornelia turned around, walking back into the fray. She searched frantically for Anne; sweet, kind Anne, the only one who would even speak to Cornelia. She spied her friend lying on the ground, unmoving, and hurried over.

"Anne, Anne, Anne," Cornelia whispered anxiously, kneeling beside her. Now that she was up close, Cornelia could see that Anne was bleeding  badly. She'd had the bad luck to be directly in the explosion's path. Cornelia desperately felt for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when she confirmed that Anne was simply unconscious and not dead. Cornelia's fingers scrabbled clumsily as she took out her pocketknife from the front of her dress, disregarding all the rules of propriety, and cut a strip of cloth from her apron to staunch the flow of blood coming from Anne's chest.

Somebody abruptly yanked Cornelia's head back, and she found herself face-to-face with a Technocrat. "You," he ordered curtly, tightening his grip on her hair. "Get this cleaned." He thrusted a stained jacket into her hands, giving Cornelia once-over, his eyes pausing for a second at her chest. She recognized him as the man who almost struck a red-haired woman a few minutes earlier. Cornelia felt rage cloud her thoughts, despite her voice of reason shouting silently at her and the memories of her teenage years; who the [i]hell[/i] did this bastard think he was, assuming that his fucking [i]jacket[/i] was more important than her friend's life?!

Cornelia stared at him long and hard before dropping the jacket and turning back around. "What are you doing?!" the man demanded, pulling at her hair again. Cornelia felt herself lose control and shoved him sharply away.

"I'm trying to save my friend's goddamn [i]life[/i], that's what I'm doing!" she practically shouted. Fortunately, the other people in the ballroom were more concerned with the injured and the dead Earl than with Cornelia. She let out a breath of disgust and gingerly picked Anne up-which was not very hard to do, considering her friend's diminutive stature-and marched away.