Chapter 27 VENETIAN
NARRATIVE POINT OF VIEW
Clinking glasses, exorbitant laughter and the classical music bellowed the gathering hall of the Venetian Ship. The gigantic vessel owned by the Duke hosted the Campbell's Ball. There, in a corner, was Damon Campbell. Surrounded by beautiful young ladies, he was evidently enjoying himself.
Meanwhile, the Duke walks around, conversing with everyone about how great of an idea this event was. He’d find himself chuckling, thanking Viscount Claude for the idea at the back of his head. A benefit ball for the victims of the porch collapse. He thought of a clever front for this event. Embodying the very sentiment of his highness, he ought to prove that he’s a great man with appreciation even for the lowest of the people. He however, haven’t got a clue. All he knows is this event will surely strike his popularity at an all-time high.
Just then, the Viscount arrived in a red coat embroidered with an image of a golden dragon. He wore his signature white cravat and sleek hair. Every single lady turned their eyes towards him. He simply replied with a smile which was enough to get them moved. He walked towards the Duke, lowering his head and bringing his subsidy. “Viscount Claude!” the Duke hugged him, safe to say that he already got to the better side of the man. 'I wonder what your blood tastes like?' he asked at the back of his head.
“I cannot express with words how thankful I am. You are such a brilliant young man!” he said, holding his hands in a tight grasp. “Perhaps we should grow our relationship towards a better prospect, don’t you think? Maybe you can land in my position when the time comes.” The Duke said making Viscount Claude chuckle. He shook his head.
“How about your son?”
He sighed “I don’t think he’s fit-“
“Is that so, Father?” out of nowhere, Damon appeared. Furrowing his brows with a half-filled wineglass by his left hand. He expressed distaste, turned his back and walked towards the dock, back to romancing other female attendees but with a frown.
The Duke sighed, a heavier one. He gazed back at the Viscount, “as you can see…” he joked, but he didn’t laugh.
“What if he were to die?” The Viscount asked suddenly. It made the Duke baffled, but he shrugged it off.
“Oh, he won’t die easily, the woman he’s been playing with will save that kid” They both laughed, nodding their heads in agreement. The lights dimmed, and the host stood briefly on the stage announcing the commencement of the endowment drive. The nobles kept quiet, listening to the warm words of the one speaking. Viscount Claude gazed around, watching each and everyone’s expression.
He smiled a smile of disgust as his eyes hits the pretentious gloom of everyone there. The presence of the media was a big help to their facade. The clicking of the cameras were catching the faces of these nobles. Therefore, they had to act as if they are deeply saddened by the occurrence that happened weeks ago. But in reality, even he knows it. The majority of the people in that room, was in favor of those deaths. These hypocrites who are flaunting their riches by supposedly providing donations, are the same people who’re revolted by the poor. He simply cannot fathom that fact that they hate the same people they need.
He chuckled secretly and eyed the Duke. 'especially you…' he thought. Out of nowhere, a server appeared beside him, offering red wine. Viscount Claude eyed him “no, thank you”
Quivering her feet, Agatha’s eyes hit the mirror by the roof of the carriage. The Viscount tasked her to get out in an hour, but as the time passes by, she grows more and more nervous. She eyed herself, trying to appreciate how beautiful she looks this time. Her lips were dyed the same way her cheeks do, it’s far from her usual sickly look. She stared at her dress. It was a lavish white gown, and it made her look noble enough to get in. But her hesitance is difficult to defeat, the shackles that binds her were nowhere to be found meaning she's free, yet somehow, she felt incomplete.
She stared at the door of the carriage. Once she opens it, she’s free to do whatever she wants. A treacherous dilemma envelopes her as she fails to recognize the right decision. She closed her eyes and sighed. Thinking of her next step, an image of him popped into her mind.
An unconscious smile filled her lips. She thought of it once more. His strength is her weakness. Therefore, she found herself convinced of what’s right.
Damon had his brows furrowed. For the first time that night, he chose to isolate himself. He’s on the balcony, above the ballroom. He stood there holding the railings as he watches his Father giving a speech. A malevolent smile formed on his lips as his disappointment soars. He’s never fond of his Father, but he cannot bear that he himself thought he won’t make an outstanding leader.
“For this night alone, we were able to raise £7,000,000, I can’t express my gratitude enough…” the words of his Father irked him, he wore a heavy expression showing that he’s deeply hurt by the events “I am speechless about what happened, it saddens me that people died because of one greedy move by a man planning to run for governance…” Damon chuckled, cursing the fakery of his Father beneath his mind. “And that’s why I’m thankful that I am able to use my power to generate this amount of support for the victims, and that won’t be possible with the help of all of us. We are able to set our difference aside, despite our riches, we held ourselves in their place" he pointed towards the bay. “These poor people are in dire need, and they cannot bear to take actions because of their social standing and that is why… that is why we’re here tonight!”
The people watching nodded in unison, wiping their non-existent tears using handkerchiefs made of fine linen, “We, the people who are far luckier than them, will donate this money for the sake of their future. Once again, I would like to thank everyone for inclining with my ideas. For the betterment of the world, for the welfare of the people and for the lives that were lost… I would like to thank you for this cost. Once again, I am Duke Campbell of Sordon, extending my gratitude towards your generous acts. Thank you!” he bowed and the roaring cheer of everyone blared. It was an ear-piercing hypocrisy for the Viscount and the young master. So much so that they met eyes as the both of them refused to express gaiety.
