Count Nicolae Kane didn't take reports of the Red Death seriously at first. No one did. But as news of the plague spread far and wide, so did the disease.
First, they had called it "a petty peasant's sickness". The only real threat to the counts and dukes was the diminishing of their primary workforce. Most felt, as long as taxes to the king could be paid, the world would live and life would go one.
All knew the serfs worked in lowlier conditions than did the nobles or even the soldiers who protected them, but such was the price paid to stabilize the economy and balance the entire kingdom of Vaamtomae.
Then, more news came—news of the gruesome death of Duchess Veronica Kallmeera at the Samthenon Chateau. Her face, speckled in red dots, and blood, streaming from every orifice. Both the tell-tale signs of the red death.
The chateau was burned, but there was no way to know if the disease would continue its advance. Another few days later, almost a hundred soldiers were found dead at their training grounds.
The last Count Nicolae heard, the death toll rose by the day. Suspicious that the messenger could transmit the disease, he barred any outsiders from entering his fief and waited a few more days. With no symptoms from him or any of his staff, servants, or other workers, he knew he needed to make his move.
Count Kane rode deep into the mountains, almost an entire day's journey, until he arrived at his secret castle, Villa Apsconditum.
Only built a few years prior, Villa Apsconditum was made to be Nicolae's escape, during summer or winter, whenever he needed a break from the humdrum world of nobility, politics, and courtly traditions.
But now, it would be his place for escape and salvation. Because his actions and foresight, Count Nicolae would protect those who remained untouched by the Red Death's carnage.
He sent his most trusted messengers and spies to gather news on the other nobles, as well as the royals in the King's palace. In the meantime, his staff would prepare to host guests. By the end of the week, Nicolae had his information.
It turned out, the king was compromised and locked in his palace's tower, infected. Many dukes and counts were already dead or showing symptoms. But from the reports, Count Nicolae compiled a list of all the nobles untouched by and quarantined from the Red Death, one hundred and fifty-seven people in all.
When he sat down to pen his invitation to all these nobles to join him at Villa Apsconditum—which would stand as the kingdom's last bastion against the harrowing plague—his advisor warned him.
"My count, if you reveal the state of this manor and your peers, if the invitation fell into the wrong hands, I fear for you life. What if word got out? Well-meaning peasants who might not even know they're infected will come straight here, and your efforts will be in vain."
And that's when Count Nicolae had the idea. "I will not invite my peers to a quarantine; rather, they will join me in an everlasting masquerade party. Only those untouched by the disease will receive an invitation, and the custom invitation must be presented at the door for admittance. They will travel in their masks and party in their masks so the identities of the party's attendants will remain secret from everybody. Though I will write the invitations, I won't even know who hides behind each mask. This is the safest way to protect the kingdom!"
Five days later, the partiers arrived, all wearing masks, except for the count's four closest friends. And for the first time, they all got to see Villa Apsconditum in its glory, decorated lavishly for the masquerade. And—
"Robert!" yelled Count Nicolae Kane. "Please, stop with your narration, or I might go mad. Will you let me finish the tour for my 'four closest friends'?"
The minstrel Robert Thissler paused, his mouth still open, his fingers still plucking on his well-worn, dark, oaken lute. He wore a bright green tunic and mischievous smile, a smile suspiciously white and full for his age of forty-three. Finally, he said, "Certainly, Count. I was just wanting to lighten the mood and start the party right. After all, I see no orchestra, and—"
"The orchestra will begin soon," interrupted Kane. "You are not here as a musician but as a friend. You have no need to explain yourself or apologize; just allow me to finish showing you all my pride."
Robert nodded but still played his lute.
Duchess Jemma Walters put her hand over his strumming fingers. "You can stop playing too. It's very distracting."
Robert quipped, "And here I thought you were the distracting one."
He added a wink while his open eye quickly scanned the duchess. Beneath her blonde locks, she wore a form-fitting, low cut turquoise dress that rippled down to just above her ankles, which sat exposed above her emerald encrusted high heels.
And now, she also wore a blush.
She stepped away from Robert and closer to Count Kane, who shook his head.
"May I continue?"
The four others all nodded and followed Kane from the entryway into the ballroom.
The table, the plates, the utensils, the walls, the tapestries, the brick fireplace, the couches and chairs—all various shades of blue. Even the window—the expansive, stained-glass masterpiece at the center of the wall to the outside—emanated an angelic, cobalt light from the noonday sun.
Nicolae's third friend, Nikita Shellanze, said, "Count, I didn't know you had such an affinity for blue." Wearing the magenta robes of a sage, she was also adorned with bright gold jewelry and a gold-encrusted belt.
"It's more than blue, my dear sage. You will see."
He led them straight through the room to the far end and a door to the right, a sharp turn. The second room was also a lush, luxurious dance hall, but instead of blue, everything including the gleaming window shone with a deep, royal purple. They walked to the end of the room to a hallway on the left that led them to a green room, and from the green room to an orange room, from orange to white, and from white to violet.
They lingered in the violet room when Count Nicolae Kane's fourth friend Doctor Kenneth Johns spoke.
"Nicolae, your decorations are lavish, yes, but really quite bizarre." Johns wore a gray suit with a light red bow tie. His hair slicked back with grease, the doctor pulled a monocle connected to a chain out of his suit coat's breast pocket, and he started to twirl it.
Count Nicolae said, "I admit, the decor is unusual. I let my designer take artistic liberties. But, no one can deny the beauty, the luxury, and the dazzle of my castle. What a perfect place to wait out a plague!"
Duchess Jemma Walters pointed and said, "Count, what room is that?"
There was an archway at the end of the room, but within they could perceive nothing but a glow of red from an unseen source.
"Ah, yes," the count said, "the seventh and final chamber of our party experience. I suppose you should see it. I'll warn you, this is the strangest of them all."
They went into the arch, which led to a short, five yard hallway. At the end of the hall, they crowded into the doorway, but none of them fully entered the room.
The seventh chamber was filled with shadow and an overwhelming blackness. Every chair, every wall, every curtain, every thing was a colorless black, so black it was difficult for them to even make out everything in the room. Only one thing in the room wasn't black: the blood red window bathing the room in an atmosphere of ominous crimson. Beside the window stood a tall grandfather clock.
Count Nicolae said, "The clock is actually made from pure onyx. A family heirloom. I think the designer used it as inspiration for the room."
Robert backed away from the doorway. "Right, Count. Very artistic."
Suddenly, the clock chimed, and the five backed away and trembled, as the whole room shook with each ring, a deep Dooonnngg! Dooonnngg! Dooonnngg! Dooonnngg! Dooonnngg! Dooonnngg! Dooonnngg! Dooonnngg! Dooonnngg! Dooonnngg! Dooonnngg! Dooonnngg!
Jemma broke the silence with a laugh and they all giggled.
Doctor Kenneth said, "What are we even scared of? It's a clock!"
Nikita said, "It appears to be noon, Count. Is it time to let the guests in for the party?"
"Indeed," Count Nicolae said. "They all wait in the courtyard. Let us go to them."
And off they went, joy returning to the proceedings. Count Nicolae instructed the guards to inspect each guest's invitation. As an extra precaution, he also stationed Doctor Kenneth in the entry hall to quickly inspect each guest for any visible symptoms of the Red Death. And within only a few hours, all the guests were inside and the party was in full swing.
Nicolae willed himself to relax and enjoy the party, but just as he poured himself a glass of red wine in the blue chamber, Doctor Kenneth approached with Jemma, Robert, and Nikita.
"We need to talk," the doctor said. "In private. It's urgent."
The count saw the solemnity in their faces and led them down a side hallway to his personal study. They each sat in plush chairs by an open window.
"What's the problem?" Count Nicolae asked.
Robert said, "We think someone's crashed the party."
Nicolae chuckled. "Impossible."
Jemma said, "It is possible, and it's very, very serious. If this peasant is contaminated, we are all in danger." Tears started welling in her eyes.
"Fine," Nicolae said. "I'll tell the guards to throw him out. Simple."
"Not simple," Dr. Johns said. "The party crasher is masked with the rest of them."
"Well, he's the one without an invite, right?" the count asked.
"I checked with the guards," the doctor said. "They received one hundred and fifty-eight identical invitations. Somehow, our intruder forged one."
Nicolae said, "But doctor, you checked all the partiers for symptoms, right?"
"Yes, and no. I quickly examined all who briefly took their masks off. But there were some who insisted on keeping their mask in place because your invitations promised anonymity."
"Jemma and I were with Doctor Johns while he checked everyone," Nikita said. "We identified everybody as legitimate people you personally invited—everybody but the ones who kept their masks on."
Nicolae said, "And we know who these are based on their costumes only?"
"Yes," Jemma said.
"Alright, then. Why not just cast them out of the party?"
The sage Nikita said, "The unrest caused by such an action...I do not recommend it. You must maintain control of the situation. Your guests are trusting you. If you toss a bunch of them out based on nothing more than suspicion, you risk losing their trust, and they will turn against you. We need to find a way to identify and eliminate the intruder without eliminating yourself."
Nicolae brought a hand to his chin and nodded. "How many are refusing to remove their masks?"
"Twenty," Doctor Kenneth Johns replied.
Nicolae said, "But we have no way of narrowing it down further, correct?"
Kenneth, Jemma, and Nikita nodded.
Robert put his pointer finger in the air. "I have idea, Count Nicolae. We take the twenty, and we compel them to participate in a game. We can make it look like we planned it long in advance before any of the revelers arrived. With the game, the penalty for losing is to take off the mask."
"This is a ridiculous idea," the doctor said. "I don't see how it would ever work. What self-respecting intruder would voluntarily participate in such a thing?"
"Actually," Jemma said, "self-respect is the key. It needs to be something that most of them don't want to get out of, so those who do feel the social pressure to remain in the game."
"And what kind of a game would that even be?" Nicolae asked, standing to his feet. He started pacing the room.
Robert said, "I already have it figured out. It'll be a singing competition."
Nikita laughed at first, and then she paused. "Maybe..."
The doctor wagged his finger at Robert. "Typical minstrel. This is serious!"
Duchess Jemma Walters jumped up, "But the nobles can't know that! They need to have fun."
Robert said, "Now, Duchess, you are more intermingled with this crowd than I, so you tell me: Is it not true that most nobles are envious of the minstrels' opportunity and encouragement to sing? Does not everybody secretly dream of singing in front of others? This can be their only opportunity to sing in a place encouraged for them to sing without undermining courtly law and dignity."
The duchess nodded. "You're right, Robert, you're right! This will work; I know it will."
Count Nicolae stopped and looked at his four friends. "Tell me: Can you make this work to track down the intruder and protect my friends from the Red Death?"
Doctor Johns started, "I don't know, it still sounds to me—"
"No, it will work!" Jemma screamed. "Us four will be your esteemed judges—a musical expert, a peer, a doctor, and a sage. And while we pretend to judge the singing, we'll really be guessing the singer's identity."
"Even better," Nikita said, "we can make the intrigue part of the show. In front of the guests we'll follow the clues to guess the singers' identities."
"Then," Count Nicolae said, "we will unmask someone after each round of singing. This can work! I'll tell my servants to set everything up, and I'll have the orchestra be prepared to play any song. We'll start after the clock strikes six."
And so their plan commenced for the unmasking of the Red Death...