Without hesitation, Salima scurried over to the window and partially opened the curtains. "That will be fine, Salima. You can leave now." Being dismissed by Duchess Verona, Salima shuffled out of the chamber.

After picking over her breakfast, the Duchess began her morning grooming ritual. It would take her at least two hours to get ready to go out. Part of that time was spent admiring herself in the mirror. Her fluffy locks had to look just perfect.

The Duchess wore a long, elaborately decorated dress that was made of fine imported silk from Shenkuu. She looked graceful and ladylike as she climbed into the carriage that had been waiting outside.

Today she would be traveling from her estate in Brightvale all the way to The Neopian Bazaar. She frequently went shopping at Unis Clothing and the Grooming Parlour. After all, she had a certain reputation to uphold, and she quite liked the finer things in life.

As usual, Salima would be accompanying her on the trip. The green Acara was not enthusiastic about this task, but someone had to carry all of Duchess Verona's shopping bags.

Ah yes, Salima. What a good and loyal servant she was -- rather, what a good actress she was. She'd concealed her true identity as well as she'd hidden her greedy intentions. She was brimming with anticipation due to the notion of wealth and power being within reach...

"Simply beautiful!" Salima simpered, plastering on the sugary smile that she had perfected a long time ago. The Duchess looked at the dress again, wrinkled her features, and threw it back on the shelf. She continued to the next rack, and Salima followed without missing a beat.

With Duchess Verona distracted again, Salima once more turned her attention toward the carefully laid out plans she had set. If all went well tonight, then more wealth than she could ever want would be hers before the sun rose the following day.

What if something goes wrong? a small voice asked in Salima's head. She silenced it at once, just as she had many times before. No, tonight would be perfect. Tonight, Duchess Verona would be hosting a surprise birthday for her dear friend, Lord Motesolin.

And what a surprise it would be...

Salima's reverie was again broken by the Duchess. They were on the carriage ride home and the Cybunny had pulled all of her new gowns from their bags, leaving them carelessly strewn across the cabin. Just another mess for Salima to clean up.

"How could you think this one was right for the party?" she shrieked, holding a particularly shimmery blue gown in the air and then throwing it to the cabin floor with such melodrama that she could have been on a stage. "Nothing off the rack ever flatters my shape! Alina will just have to make one for tonight."

"My Lady, with respect, surely you can't expect the girl to have a new gown made by tonight."

"She can and she will," the Duchess replied with tight lips, sticking her nose slightly in the air, a signal to Salima that she'd best keep her mouth shut.

Poor Alina, thought Salima. If there was anyone more abused on the Duchess's staff than Salima, it was Alina, a tenderhearted Mynci seamstress. Alina could work magic with a needle, fashioning gowns that could make a fairly chunky Cybunny -- the Duchess did love her bonbons -- look like the royal celebrity she fancied herself to be. The Mynci even handmade the lace for all of the Duchess's gowns, but the miserable girl was constantly ordered to create such intricate works in such little time that she'd probably go blind before she turned thirty.

No matter, Salima thought. This is the last gown Alina will ever have to make for that wretched Cybunny.

When finding allies amongst the staff to help with her plan, Salima had hinted around to Alina about it, but the Mynci was so guileless that she hadn't even picked up the hint. Still, Salima planned to leave her with enough Neopoints so that she'd never have to work for anyone again.

After a long and silent ride, they finally arrived at the estate. Duchess Verona stormed off without a word to find Alina, leaving Salima to pick up and carry in all of the new gowns that she had bought but would never wear. The Acara did so quickly, thinking all the while that this was her last day of servitude, that soon she'd be the one ordering servants around. With the gowns haphazardly stuffed into a closet, Salima ran downstairs to the kitchen chamber while she still had a bit of time away from the Duchess.

In the drab kitchen, a tired old Blumaroo, Smundrik, stood over an enormous cauldron, stirring and mumbling to himself. Smundrik had been the first of the staff to jump onboard with Salima's plan, and the most important. He brightened up a bit at the sight of Salima.

"Is it ready for the party?" she asked, gesturing at the cauldron. A malicious grin spread across the chef's face.

"Darling, I can almost taste that gold..."

"Certainly," the old Blumaroo confirmed. "I've checked the guest list twice to make sure, and both the Kings of Meridell and Brightvale will, indeed, be there."

"Perfect," she murmured to herself. She then glanced toward the concoction, looked back at the cook, and allowed the edges of her mouth to curl up in a small smile; Smundrik's reply -- a knowing smirk -- was enough to assure her that the plan was underway.

She found Duchess Verona in her bedchamber, slathering on face powder as though it were paint. The Cybunny looked as silly as ever, wearing a towering silver wig, a dress that was more a mess of purple lace, and at least a dozen pieces of gold jewelry, but Salima forced her face into a sugary smile anyway and said, "You look lovely, my Lady."

Verona squinted at her reflection in the mirror. "I do, don't I, Salima?" she purred. "I'll be the belle of the ball tonight!"

Maybe not the belle, but you'll certainly be standing out tonight, Salima thought to herself, snickering silently at the brilliant piece of double-meaning.

As she had expected, Lord Motesolin was the last guest to arrive at the party. While she understood the concept of being "fashionably late," she couldn't help but grow impatient as the hands on the clock ticked the time away; the sooner her arrived, the faster she could put her plan into action. The Kings, Skarl and Hagan, had already arrived and were spooning punch into cups. Both of them proved popular among the guests -- which was understandable, considering who they were -- but they ignored Salima, which worked out only too well for her.

"Psst," someone hissed. Salima jumped at the voice, calming down only when she saw Alina's face emerge from behind the curtain. "Is he here yet?"

"Motesolin? No," Salima replied.

Alina sighed and slipped back behind the curtains. Lord Motesolin didn't arrive for another half hour, and by then, most of the guests had already finished their finger cheeses and first glasses of punch. He arrived in style, though, bursting into the hall with a trumpet fanfare and then promptly going in search of Duchess Verona.

Out of the corner of her eye, Salima saw Smundrik carrying the tureen of soup that he'd been making out to the table...