There are five crucial things that one should know about Ambrose Ramsbury. Well, technically there are many things, many lovely things to know about the man, but at this current moment, there are five things in particular that really matter.
- Today, in the grand scheme of “Terrible days,” is taking the top spot in Ambrose’s personal rankings. The reasons behind this are… irrelevant. Okay… not irrelevant to Ambrose, but irrelevant nonetheless. Suffice to say, today, is exceptionally, impressively terrible. What is that saying? Today takes the fcking Cake.
- Speaking of “cakes,” the thought of such (even out of context) suddenly ignited a raging hunger within the man. Damn it. Ironically, however, it did entice the man to want to go to the ball far more than he had wanted to previously.
- At this very moment, Ambrose Ramsbury is barefoot. No questions will be answered at this point in time, thank you. Unless it’s about food… those questions might be answered. Again, Ambrose is starving.
- While initially looking forward to today, recent events have cast a foreboding shadow over Ambrose’s disposition, changing his outlook significantly. Suffice to say; besides the food, he truly did not want to attend the damn ball.
- As for the fifth point, well, perhaps that’s a tale best experienced rather than explained. Let me recount what happened at exactly ten past nine-o-clock.
“A week’s worth of wages, my good man”
“I… I cannot, sir”
“Oh, come now, do you truly believe His Highness remembers every piece of clothing in his vast wardrobe? He can scarcely recall the names of all the ladies he dallies with. Have faith in my discretion, for this arrangement benefits us both. Two weeks of wages.”
“S…Sir…”
"Indeed, everyone’s attire in this place is rather uniform. I’m not inquiring after the finest garments. Merely select something that would go unnoticed. Three weeks of wages. "
“Three… Weeks?”
“Accept my offer, or decline it. The choice is yours.”
“Oh, I don’t…”
Ambrose had already retrieved the payment, presenting it to the servant with a flourish before transferring half of the amount into the man’s hesitant hands.
"And you shall receive the remainder upon your successful retrieval of the garments… including the shoes.
Ambrose released the softest of sighs, his gaze falling downward to his bare feet, which were now covered in mud.
“… Very well. Please… wait by the oak tree on the southern side of the Garden. I… I shall return with the requested items…”
So yes…
- Ambrose Ramsbury was currently in the process of changing into the Prince’s clothes, and surprisingly, they fit him quite well—well, everything except the shoes, which appeared to be a size too big. Nevertheless, one had to make do with what was available.
The outfit consisted of a finely tailored coat in deep regal blue, complete with intricate gold embroidery along the lapels and cuffs. Beneath the coat, he wore a pristine gold waistcoat, a stark contrast to the white trousers that clung to his legs. The ensemble was completed with a silk cravat neatly tied at his neck, providing a touch of elegance to the overall appearance.
The benefit of the garden in the cloak of night was that he was alone—well, almost alone, as the servant boy nervously waited nearby to retrieve Ambrose’s old clothes, which he intended to discard. Ambrose had chosen to retain the topcoat from his original attire, a rich crimson red piece that offered a striking contrast to the deep regal blue of the Prince’s ensemble he now wore. It had a subtle rip near the hem, but it mostly remained unharmed, and for the moment, it would have to do.
The Prince’s attire, though fitting quite well, bore an air of misplacement. It was evident that the garments had not been tailored expressly for his frame, and subtle distinctions in the way they hung upon him were discernible when compared to how they would grace the Prince’s physique. But Ambrose was willing to set that concern aside for another time. Collecting the discarded clothing, which included the Prince’s topcoat, he handed them over to the servant boy, along with the remainder of the payment he owed.
“Your assistance is greatly appreciated,” he murmured in a hushed tone. With that, Ambrose Ramsbury made his way to the dance. His mood was tinged with slight frustration due to the day’s events and the discomfort caused by his oversized shoes. Yet, there was also a peculiar sense of intrigue, wondering if the night held more than just respite from the hunger that had gnawed at him throughout the long day.
Within minutes, Ambrose had quietly slipped into the ballroom. Any fleeting hopes he might have harbored were quickly dispelled by the stark reminder of his purpose for this season. Like countless other men, this was a season of matrimony for Ambrose Ramsbury.
But first, he could at least sate his hunger. Ambrose made his way toward the refreshment table. Perhaps he had underestimated his ability to walk in shoes that weren’t his size. Damn you, Prince Magnus. For a brief moment, his gaze drifted downward, checking to see if his discomfort was evident. However, in the midst of his scrutiny, he collided with a lady who had just left the dance floor.
Great. Another checkmark on the list of reasons why this day continued to get “better.”
However, his reaction was immediate. He quickly reached out to steady the girl in front of him, ensuring she didn’t stumble or fall. As he held her, he expertly concealed any traces of discomfort that might have shown on his features. Once she was steady, he gracefully removed his hands and executed a polite bow, followed by a gallant kiss on her hand.
Moving his body back up so that he could look towards her, he maintained a sincere apologetic tone as he said, “My apologies for the collision, my lady. I hope you are unharmed, for it would be a travesty if such a lovely presence were marred”
@CrazyCaliope - Phoebe
