Pacitus' main source of income was its tourism, as well as the annual subsidies provided by the administratum to the local administration and nobility that kept the planet in pristine condition. There was no small amount of pride being one of the most beautiful worlds in the imperium, and the local nobility considered themselves the old guard of its near divine beauty. As Emmaline and I entered the venue, it was immediately apparent who was of the local nobility and who was visiting for business or pleasure. Almost every pacitus noble, as well as the various financiers and politicians, wore dark green and bold blue, with a delphinium sigil worn proudly somewhere on their person. The men wore finely cut suits, slimmer than the usual imperiam fashion, with a propensity for stylish embroidery, but otherwise relatively tame. The women wore blue and indigo, with old fashioned ballgowns and bodices of resplendent quality. The tourists and off-worlders sported various different styles and colors, as did a few of the more rebellious members of local houses to stand apart. I spotted the Svoboda family in their satin and urban finery, chatting casually with Gotz Dorn, my prior investigations informing me he acted as the head of a lucrative banking conglomerate. I recognized over a dozen faces, in fact, having familiarized myself with the world and its main players before I concluded this was to be my base of operations when not on the hunt. 

Giulio and Milena Chazalettes sauntered off the terrace, their interest in forbidden texts of note to my predecessor, albeit the investigations concluded it was a harmless fancy, more for the thrill of collection than any arcane use. Dark haired Milena waved to Franscesca Maazel, a fashionably dressed brunette, and the widow of the late Lorin Maazel, who had found solace in dabbling with politics and various male concubines. No doubt the broad muscled man at her shoulder was one of them. It was not nearly as scandalous as Master Voglebaun's first born, who eloped with a scullery maid not months ago. The wealthy merchant was making his first appearance tonight, after that lengthy debacle. Much to my amusement, I also noticed Hans Rysnatek, the city judicial officer who preferred his drink to his job, idly chatting with an off-worlder I was not familiar with. No doubt for some ulterior motive, no doubt. 

Despite the expected manner of company, the room was expansive, with dazzling gold filigree along the old theater balustrades and scintillating colors of jewels along the soaring arches and aerial grottos of the dome.

"How eclectic," Emmaline admitted, gazing upwards. "I was expecting less." 

I looked at her. Out of all the rejuvenat treatments, the biological implants and reshapings, even the moasics that towered above us, I had to admit she was the most beautiful thing in the room. It was not often I was struck speechless for a moment, but despite her impetuousness, her slothful pleasures, even her penchant for the occult, I was truly in love. I chuckled at myself for my schoolyard musings, and she turned to look at me quizzically. 

"Do I amuse you?" She asked with an arched eyebrow. It only deepened my smile, and I took her hand in mine. I squeezed it gently, and drifted closer to her. 

"Tonight is going to be an act, but let's begin with something genuine." I said, cradling her neck and sweeping her into a passionate kiss. It was so fervent, I can still remember it to this day, as if I had just tasted her. The adeptus sororitas would have been jealous of the zealoutry I displayed. Despite her normally salacious attitude, when I pulled back, her cheeks were flushed and she was out of breath. I glanced around, and noticed half the ball had deigned to watch, as well. I turned back to her and grinned. "Now let's dance, shall we?" 

"I suppose we ca-" She said breathlessly, cut off as I pulled her to the central floor. There was a suggestive whistle from our left, by the open bar. A quick look showed it was Edward Hornsgun, the leader of the PDF forces. I had personally invited him, and despite his low class upbringing and lack of financial acumen, he had just enough of a reputation to make admittance. As I led her to the dance floor, a few other couples and family that were casually waltzing and the like instinctively made way. I stopped abruptly, Emmaline unwittingly bumping into me, her hands now in mine. 

"Estallen," I breathed to her, and she nodded, catching up quick. My voice rose above the din. "Something more lively, eh!?" 

Cheers and clapping followed by a few of the more prudish lord's dirty looks followed. A number of them involved in byzantine schemes glanced in our direction with distaste, and I did not hide my satisfaction at ruining whatever mischief they had planned, however brief it was. The music lagged for a moment, the band unsure if they should halt their original banal tune, until a man hurried on stage and whispered into the lead man's ear, and they abruptly shifted songs seamlessly. Swiftly they brought out a pair of bongos, and the guitar followed the rhythm of the beat, a piano adding zest to the music as we began our dance. Emmaline placed her right foot back and stepped right as I moved forward with my left, stepping faster than the other dancers who found themselves too bewildered to catch up, and we had only gotten started. The guitar thrummed and I pirouetted my lover, Emmaline spinning before stopping, her hips gyrating suggestively as my feet began to snap against the floor in a blur. Moments later I swept her into my arms again, and we spun. I caught the glimpse of a scope in the vacated viewer boxes, noting the arbites waiting for any foul play. I doubted we would be attacked during the party, but right after? That was when the trap would be sprung. 

Women scoffed or gasped as we danced by, and men watched with jealousy. I was second to none when I danced, and Emmaline had been trained well, my confidence in her keeping her stamina up.