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”Look, if it’s my destiny to save the world, that means it’s gonna happen no matter how little effort I actually out into it. And right now, my effort is going into this Potluck Dinner.”
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‘Vitson Gyles, House Agent for Cannith West, defeated by....’ The raven-haired man sighed in frustration as he looked over the charred hunk of meat. ‘Lamb Roast.’
“What is that?” a feminine voice gasped behind Vitson. Already dressed for tonight’s Masquerade, Lady Wynn Roslin d’Cannith strode into the kitchen, a look of disgust on her face.
“My attempt at a meal for the dinner.” He sighed as his half-sister stood next to him. “I’m a spy for Lady Abigail, not a cook, Lady Wynn.” Vitson looked down at her with a smirk, adjusting her slightly crooked mask a little. “My spying has also lead me to believe you’re going to try and charm a certain bookkeeper at tonight’s dance.”
Wynn turned from Vitson in a huff, crossing her arms indignantly. “Well, your spying is wrong. Everyone knows that he’d rather stay locked with his books and work than attend any kind of social gathering.” She grabbed a knife carving away part of the charred lamb shoulder, inspecting the meat underneath. She cleared her throat, discarding the knife on the table. “Don’t you have business in Sharn to attend to? To keep our... Beloved cousin from destroying the world.”
Vitson looked over the lamb shoulder, taking the knife Wynn discarded into his hand. “If it is my destiny to save the world, Lady Wynn, that means it will happen no matter what I do... Right now my goal is to make a meal so Moth- Lady Abigail won’t strangle me for...” He blushed, busying himself with carving off all the charred sections of lamb. “Certain deeds I did on my last mission.”
“Getting into trouble with that rude Tabaxi again?” Wynn sat on a stool, glancing up at her elder half-brother. She didn’t particularly mind the Tabaxi, Axcillia, but the woman was a bit rude to her whenever Wynn saw her. “I don’t know what you see in her.”
“Adventure, Excitement... The occasional possibility of being stabbed.” He carefully carved the salvageable lamb into slices, laying the sliced meat onto a bed of greens. “Clerical fees to heal the stab wounds.” Admiring his work so far he continued talking. “Axcillia wasn’t with me this time, she had other business to attend to. I, uh, happened to stumble into a... Private meeting between the Mayor and his assistant.”
Wynn doubled over as she burst out loud with laughter, almost toppling from her stool. “A ‘meeting of privates’ you might say?”
Vitson snorted as he tried holding in his laugh. “One might say if they weren’t a noble.”
She lightly punched his thigh. “I don’t have to be so serious with my brother all the time.”
“Good, cause that means I can embarrass you when you try to get Mister Miller to dance with you.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Wynn stood, blushing from under her mask.
He chuckled taking the tray of lamb in his arms. “Watch me.”