I swept through our simply decorated but aging hallways, looking for a servant. My father hired three for our house; two women and one man. The two women were in their late twenties. They were too old to be wanted by men for marriage, so they worked for money. The man was barely above a serf, but he needed the work.

After discussing it with my father, he decided that we would hold the party before he took Millicent to meet the suitors he selected. That way, he would be introduced to them all at once so could quickly weed some out and potentially find new ones. Inwardly, I celebrated the idea since I could try to influence who my father chose for her based on who I directed him to.

I had a list that my father put together of the invitees. He directed me to give it to a servant who would then invite them a few nights from now.

I turned a corner and found myself outside the kitchen area. Since I wasn't near any windows and candles could be a hazard, the corner wasn't well lit. I heard the clattering of kitchenware being cleaned from the dinner we just indulged in. It was probably one of the female servants; Kora or Cholette.

I needed our male servant, Matteo, in order to read the guest list, since he was the only one who knew how to read. I figured that I'd ask whichever servant was currently in the kitchen.

I stopped where I was, not in the line of sight of anyone in the kitchen. I took a deep breath and began fixing my vest collar and smoothing out the kinks in its torso.

I went through exactly what I would say in my head. Ah, Kora or Cholette. Might you tell me where Matteo is?

They would say, Of course, sir, he's in the blank.

I would respectfully respond, Thank you, and show myself out.

I felt the corners of my mouth pinch in appreciation for myself. It was so easy to speak with the servants; they would always answer in a predictable fashion. I had no social stress to be worried about.

After checking myself over one more time, I confidently walked into the kitchen room and immediately gaped in surprise.

Matteo was the servant who turned to look at me, pausing his cleaning. When his soft, deep brown eyes met mine, he politely said, "is there anything I can do for you, my lord?"

My mind immediately flew into a swarm of half-formed thoughts and wondering why Matteo was the one in the kitchen. He usually wasn't the one washing the dishes, right? Kora and Cholette always washed the dishes. Matteo never washed the dishes. I needed to give him the note. Matteo must think I'm so weird. I just need to talk to him.

"My... lord...?" Matteo's voice and raised eyebrow broke my stunning shock.

I composed myself the best I could, "Um, yes, uh, I..." My mind betrayed me. I felt my mouth blabbering unintelligible words for a moment before inwardly screaming at myself, What do you want to say?! To which I thought, 'I need you to invite these guests to a party a few days from now!' I then shouted back at myself, then say that!

"Uh, yes, um, Matteo, C-Can you invite the p-people on thi-s list for an event thr...three days from now?" With one hand I shakily held out the note my father made, and with the other, I clutched the bottom of my vest. Oh my God. I couldn't even look at Matteo. I stared numbly at the floor as I felt my ears heat with shame.

Probably giving me a confounded look, Matteo took the note and smoothly said, "Of course, my lord. It shall be done." He pocketed the note and went back to cleaning the dishes respectfully.

In the single second in which I prepared to leave, I debated whether I should say thank you. I did not decide on an answer, so I just grumbled something completely incomprehensible before swinging around and leaving.

Once I was back in the poorly lit hallways and out of sight from the kitchen I grabbed fistfuls of my hair and pressed my forehead to the wall. A painful wave of pins and needles covered my back. I squeezed my eyes shut in hopes that my embarrassment would disappear if I could no longer see my surroundings. Good lord, what on Earth was that?

I was a mess when even speaking with the servants. How on earth would I handle a party full of nobles?

The hours before the party felt much more climactic than I expected.

When I had woke that morning, a small trickle of nervousness sat deep in my gut. I participated in many activities that I did not regularly do, though I couldn't place why. Maybe it was to try to chase the seed of anxiety out of my breast or forget I would be hosting a party at all.

The granule of my fears had cultivated with every hour that passed. Now, only but one hour before the party started, it felt like a cold vice engulfing my entire chest and was crawling up my neck, threatening to suffocate me.

For a long time, I just stared at my wardrobe in antsy uncertainty. What doublet should I wear? I owned a few red ones that I never wore since they didn't go with my hair. The red ones were very expensive and I knew that I needed to make use of them eventually. The blue doublets went well with my eyes but I had used them too much. Would someone see that I was wearing the same ones every week? I owned few other colors. Green looked very nice on me, but I didn't have a clean one. If I wore blue versus red, would people judge? Would their opinion change? Red was better for impressions but my blue ones looked much better on me...

I figured the servants had finished their set up of our largest room. Since there was still an hour before the party started, it would be foolhardy to still be in the middle of setting up such a grand thing.

When I approached my father about it, I intended for him to know I wanted a nominal event. Even so, he made the guest list very long, and because of that, we required a lot of fancy set up and food. For the past few days, I had dedicated myself to learning about the guests invited to the party so I'd be well-prepared to speak with them. Unfortunately, I found myself still feeling like I knew nothing of the invitees.

My eyes were null to the details of my room, and my ears rang softly. My tingling fingers slowly fastening the doublet I had decided on. It was one of the finest ones I owned, so I only wore it at important events such as this, though I couldn't shake the worries in my head insisting that I would spill wine on it. It was blue.

I was not ready at all. The choking veil of invariable fear had a tight, unshakeable grip on my body. My hair was combed as nicely as it could possibly be, having spent hours on making sure it was knotless and smoothed in the exact perfect way. After spending time making sure it was impeccable, I was not sure whether I wanted to wear my superfluous hat.

After I made sure my doublet was perfect in the long mirror before me I began slowly slipping a jerkin on top of it. A big part of me was concerned that I would appear too extravagant, but the bigger suffocating anxiety of spilling something on my doublet overruled those thoughts. A jerkin was more replaceable.

My fingers were starting to visibly shake and twitch as I arduously pulled my lower hose up my leg to my mid-thigh. As I slowly prepared myself, I thought of how this was my first time ever participating in an event like this. My first official party, where I would be the one inviting guests instead of my father... the thought only caused the cloak of dread to constrict my breathing further.

I pulled the round hose over the lower hose so it would fit around my waist, covering the area from my hips to my lower-thighs. I observed it in the mirror, straightening out the bottom so it would optimize the effect of making my thighs appear broader.

Facing the mirror again, I looked my reflection in the eye. With my nicest doublet and stockings on, I really did look like a young, high noble.

I let myself stand immobile for a minute or two while I nominally straightened my jerkin. The room was stiffly silent, though my ears held a slight ring. I took a deep breath through my mouth, but I felt it stutter a few times before I closed my eyes and let it out. I could barely hear my own staggering breath through the ringing in my ears. I prayed to God that I would not visibly sweat.

This event was important to my father. I was his only son, and this was the first time I would experience something like this. He had gone through great measures to make sure nothing could go wrong, which I appreciated. He assisted me in so many ways, including inviting the guests, so naturally, he would expect a lot from me in return. I loved it when my father would smile at Millicent or I more than anything, though it had been a while since he had done so. I desperately wished that perhaps, after tonight, he would smile at me with pride.

You can do this, I told myself, not believing it one bit.

The first few guests had arrived, and I greeted them as kindly as I could. I was stuck with three other nobles to entertain with conversation for a few minutes, since my father had decided he'd enter with Millicent later into the party, trusting me to keep the first guests happy.

After a stressful interaction with the first guests, about half of the invitee list seemed to arrive at once. I assumed that most nobles came in big groups in carriages. Matteo announced them as they entered the room, reading everyone's names and ranks from little name cards they handed to him.

As the party room began to fill up, it became much easier to interact with other nobles. I could easily slip away when I sensed a gap in the conversation, and I usually wasn't left alone for too long.

The room filled very quickly. I observed Cholette and Kora quickly rushing in to take away empty plates and fill them with more food. When I found a spouseless nobleman who seemed respectful enough to be a kind husband, I'd think of some reason to direct him to my father and Millicent.

I felt my head tilt when I heard Matteo call out a name I remembered. "Arodath Sevodaire." It was a name from my meager research on the most popular nobles. He was one of the closest nobles to the king; he was very loyal, and therefore very wealthy. I knew that he planned to host a party soon, but the only other information I had about him was from my father. According to my father, Arodath was "very rich and preferred by the king, so you'd better converse with him."

The two other noblemen I was discussing with were conversing amongst each other, so I told them I was off to get a drink and slipped away.

As I headed toward banquet table, Arodath was the one who found me. I quickly pretended not to notice so we wouldn't make weird eye contact so he'd call my name if he wanted to talk to me. Approaching from the side, he called, "Why, is this my gracious host Benevento?" I pretended to just notice him, turning my head, wearing a warm smile.

The nobleman was superfluously dressed. He wore a large red doublet that puffed up more at his shoulders, causing his body size to look larger. His round hose was similar to mine but clearly more expensive. His forward-combed blonde hair fell on his forehead.

"Lord Sevodaire, it is a pleasure to welcome you to my humble event," I responded as smoothly as possible, despite the small quiver in my voice. Usually, I would pretend not to know the nobles beforehand. When a noble knew who I was before I had met them, it made me very self-conscious about what they thought about me without getting to know me. Even so, Arodath was such a popular noble I was sure that he'd be offended if I didn't know who he was (I've made the mistake before).

Arodath took my extended hand and shook it politely. "It's a pleasure to be here!" He said with a smile. "You have a very nice atmosphere, Benevento."

"Thank you sincerely, Lord Sevodaire." I replied genially with a soft smile.

Arodath chuckled heartily. "Please, young lord, call me Dath!"

I kept my smile and nodded, having no intention of doing so. As Arodath swept us into a conversation about recent popular arts, all could think was 'this will be an exciting evening.'