Masquerade [Kuskovo Estate]

[Ascendancy]

Despite being well aware of Mr. James’ miraculous powers, Myshelov had never had the opportunity to meet the man face to face. It was an encounter he had anticipated for some time, though more out of curiosity than reverence. Now that the moment had come, Myshelov found himself slightly underwhelmed. The man before him was diminutive in stature, lacking the imposing presence Myshelov had expected from someone whose reputation carried such weight. He bore little resemblance to the magnetic speaker seen in old videos—charisma radiating from the screen with a power that could sway crowds. In person, however, Mr. James seemed altogether unremarkable. And yet, the knowledge of what he was capable of—what lived inside him—kept Myshelov from dismissing him entirely.

“The Ascendancy has asked the guests to gather,” Myshelov said, his tone direct and free of embellishment. He saw no need for fanfare; his words alone carried the authority of someone who expected to be obeyed. He studied Jensen with the same penetrating gaze he had turned on countless others, a look that could ignite a fleet of men into action with little more than its weight. It was a gaze honed over years of command, calculated to test the composure of anyone standing before him. Now, it lingered on Jensen, not with hostility, but with something akin to scrutiny, as though Myshelov were trying to peel back the layers of the man before him to glimpse the creature within.

Jensen would, no doubt, find it odd that someone of Myshelov’s stature—a Patron of the Custody—would concern himself with something as seemingly mundane as rounding up guests. It was a task more suited to a subordinate, an attendant, or even one of the Vasilev hosts. Yet Myshelov had chosen to handle this himself, and for good reason. He preferred to see things done correctly, and there was no substitute for firsthand observation—particularly when it came to someone as significant as Mr. James.

Amusement flickered in Myshelov’s focused gaze as he gestured for Jensen to follow him. There was something deeply paradoxical about the man standing before him. Jensen looked so small, so insignificant, like a man who might slip unnoticed through the margins of a crowd. And yet Myshelov knew the truth—that this seemingly unremarkable figure held the power of life and death in his hands. Power on a scale few could comprehend, even among the gifted elite of the Custody.

How extraordinary, Myshelov thought, that someone so unassuming could carry such power. But perhaps that was the point. Power, after all, didn’t always roar; sometimes it whispered. Still, it was difficult not to wonder. What kind of man did it take to wield such a talent? Myshelov’s curiosity stirred, though he kept his expression carefully neutral, his pace steady as he escorted Jensen toward the grand hall.

As the final notes of the music faded into the ballroom, Nikolai bowed his head to his dance partner. “Thank you,” he said softly, his voice laced with a politeness that was practiced but sincere enough for the moment. He released her hand and stepped back,  his mind already turning elsewhere.

He steeled himself as he prepared to depart, forcing his gaze not to pass over Noemi, who was still across the floor. Her presence was a gravitational pull he could not entirely ignore, though he willed himself to maintain control. Instead, he let his path carry him close to her dance partner. The man, one of Konstantin’s offspring, barely drew Nikolai’s attention beyond the necessary acknowledgment of proximity in the past.

He vaguely recognized the face but could not place the name—a detail he would rectify later. Still, as he passed, Nikolai locked eyes with him, the weight of his gaze deliberate and assessing, sharp as a blade held under candlelight. It was not a glance of polite curiosity but one of measured judgment, as though sifting through the man’s soul and finding it wanting. Without breaking stride, Nikolai passed him by without remark.

The murmurs of conversation swelled as the music faded, and the guests began to gather as instructed. They returned to the space where the evening’s opening toasts had been given, clustering in groups beneath the ornate chandeliers. Nikolai moved through the room with quiet authority, his presence parting the crowd like a tide. He noted Myshelov’s arrival, the man appearing as though he had dragged Jensen with him by invisible reins. It was a calculated entrance, of course, one that didn’t escape Nikolai’s notice. Scion and Valentin stood nearby, their expressions composed, stoic in the face of what was to come. Both men understood the gravity of this moment, though their reactions were as different as their paths.

Nikolai’s hands flexed slightly at his sides, his fingers almost imperceptibly curling as he reached into the ether itself. With practiced ease, he summoned the threads of power that lay waiting at his command, weaving spindles of ether and essence into the air. Chimes rang out—soft, crystalline notes that drifted above the murmur of the crowd like the breath of a distant bell. Coils of firmament and flame followed, the chandeliers’ lights flickering gently, casting dancing shadows across the grand hall. It was a subtle display, but one that commanded attention without need for words.

Nikolai ascended the first step of the grand staircase, the murmurs of the gathered crowd softening into silence as the room turned its full attention to him. The faint flicker of the chandeliers and the soft, otherworldly chimes he had conjured lingered in the air like an invisible hand guiding their focus. He paused, allowing the weight of his presence to settle over them, his expression calm but commanding. From this height, the ballroom stretched out before him, glittering with Moscow’s elite, their masks and jewels glimmering under the golden light. This was his world, his creation, and every eye was on him. It was in that moment that he removed his mask, handing it to a servant who soon disappeared into the shadows.

He began, his voice smooth and resonant, carrying effortlessly through the vast hall. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight is a celebration. Not only of the loyalty and unity of those who have gathered here, but of the traditions that sustain us and the evolution that drives us forward.”

He allowed the silence to deepen for a moment before continuing, his gaze sweeping across the crowd with deliberate steadiness. “We are here to honor dedication, to recognize excellence, and to embrace the future of our Custody. It is fitting that we do so in this magnificent setting, among those who have devoted their lives to building and safeguarding our world. Let me begin by expressing my gratitude to our hosts, the Vasilev family, whose loyalty to our cause has always been unwavering.”

A ripple of polite applause followed, and Nikolai let it die down before speaking again. “It is no small thing to dedicate one’s life to the service of our Sphere, to be a pillar of leadership and strength, shaping the destiny of millions. For decades, Valentin Sulteev has served with unwavering dedication as the Privilege of Dominance I. His wisdom and guidance have been invaluable, not only to me personally but to the Custody as a whole. Throughout the 2020s, Valentin stood as both an ally and a friend—someone whose counsel I relied on as we forged a new world together. From our days as founding members of a cooperative in high-profile real estate outside St. Petersburg to the halls of Dominance I, Valentin has left an indelible mark on our history.”

He turned slightly, gesturing toward Valentin, who stood with a quiet dignity nearby. “Tonight, we honor Valentin Sulteev’s legacy as he retires from his position as Privilege of Dominance I. Please join me in thanking him for his decades of loyalty.”

The applause rose, stronger this time, a wave of sound that filled the room. Nikolai waited, nodding slightly toward Valentin, whose stoic expression betrayed a flicker of gratitude. As the applause faded, Nikolai spoke again, his tone shifting subtly to one of renewal.

“With every transition, there is an opportunity for growth. It is my great pleasure to announce that the role of Privilege of Dominance I will pass to a man whose hard work, vision, and determination have made him one of the titans of an industry—a self-made billionaire who has reshaped the steel industry through his relentless drive. Scion Marveet will now serve as the new Privilege of Dominance I.”

He gestured toward Scion, who stood proud and composed, and another round of applause followed. Nikolai allowed himself a faint smile, a calculated display of approval, before raising his hand to quiet the room.

“While this transition may not come as a surprise to many of you, tonight we also celebrate something truly historic—the creation of a new Dominance.” His voice deepened slightly, the weight of his words settling over the crowd like a velvet curtain. “The Custody expands to include Dominance IX, which will serve from the new capital of Mexico City. This expansion is a testament to the strength and reach of our Custody, and it is with great pride that I announce Damien Oakland as the Patron of Dominance IX.”

He paused, letting the name hang in the air before continuing. “And, as every Patron knows, the strength of a Dominance lies in its leadership. It is only fitting that tonight we welcome another new Privilege to the Sphere, one who will stand among you as a representative of this new chapter. Please join me in welcoming Jessika Thrice as Privilege. There is no better group to welcome her than you gathered here, in Moscow, the city of power.”

The applause swelled again, a chorus of approval for the announcements. Nikolai’s gaze swept across the room, lingering briefly on key figures.. This was not just a celebration—it was a reminder. The Sphere was his creation, and those who rose within it did so by his will. The power of the Custody was rooted in reciprocal relationships, yes, but ultimately, it flowed through him. It was in that moment that Jessika herself emerged. Faces and attention shifted to her entrance as she came forward to shake Nikolai’s hand and stand at his side, albeit one step below.

As the applause began to wane, Nikolai offered a final, subtle smile. “Tonight, we honor those who have come before, and we embrace those who will lead us forward. Together, we continue to build a world of unity, strength, and progress. Thank you.”