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"Promise me," he demanded, and his earnest eyes caused a shiver to run down my spine.
"Of course, Dad," I promised more nervously than I had been before. "I'll just talk to Charly and spend the rest of the evening close to your side."
"Good girl," my father said with relief. The car stopped at the moment in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art entrance.
The imposing building was brightly illuminated. A red carpet lined the way into its interior, and a few guests were already milling about, having to show their invitations upon entry.
Stephan got out. He first opened my father's car door and then mine. I consciously kept my eyelids lowered. On the one hand, I didn't want to catch another glimpse of Stephan's cold eyes; on the other, I knew what was expected of me. As a woman, I had to behave discreetly, inconspicuously, respectfully, and, above all, humbly. Tonight, I would have to play my role absolutely flawlessly. Too much was at stake. Not only my life but also that of my father, my brothers, and, if I made a mistake at the wrong moment, possibly Charly.
Gently, my father took me by the arm and led me up the stairs across the red carpet into the grand entrance hall, the famous Great Hall. While Dad showed the security man his invitation, I looked around furtively. Nothing had been spared. Even the hall was lavishly decorated. The theme of the evening was written on a golden banner for all to see right at the entrance.Ice.Everything was bathed in subtle blue light; the waitpeople wore frocks reminiscent of penguins, and in the center were three colossal ice sculptures. Michelangelo's David particularly caught my eye. This choice of theme now also explained what my father's blue suit was about.
A tingling on the back of my neck made me cringe. Someone was watching me. I looked around again but didn't discover anyone looking over at us. But somehow, I could not shake off this feeling. One of the guests was blatantly eyeing me. Who? And where was his hiding place?
Gritting my teeth, I suppressed the urge to look up at the gallery that circled the hall one floor above us. After all, I had promised Dad to be inconspicuous, but if I raised my eyes now and my head at that, it would be anything but unobtrusive.
My father smiled at me with satisfaction, and we entered the Great Hall. Immediately, a chubby little man —the mayor of New York —approached us to engage my father in conversation. Apparently, the two had something private to discuss because,without further ado, I was pulled along behind one of the many columns. While they argued in whispers about one of my father's ports, I finally took the opportunity to find out who was watching me.
Carefully, I took a step to the side so that I was not visible to anyone in the hall and, at the same time, stood in the back of the two men. Then, I entrenched myself behind the pillar. Slowly, I peered past the stone into the upper gallery. But it was empty. How could that be? I had been so sure.
"Myrina. Are you coming? We're going to our table." My father stepped into my field of vision and gallantly held out his arm. The mayor was already walking across the hall toward the room where the banquet was being held. I knew the museum almost as well as Central Park, having roamed the aisles here so many times, admiring the art of the many centuries. How I missed it. Two of the halls had always been my absolute favorites. The one with the European sculptures on the first floor and then the one with the European paintings from 1250 to 1800. When we passed the one with the statues, I felt almost magically drawn to it.
Nevertheless, instead of turning left, I followed my father to the right toward the so-called American Wing, where a low murmur of voices approached us. Large, round tables had been set up throughout the hall. At its far end stood a counter, in front of which tens of these human penguins bustled about, bringing the guests the desired drinks. They transported vast quantities of glasses of whisky, scotch, or wine on unwieldy trays. The Knights of the Seals had not banned alcohol any more than they had banned intoxicants. Both made people docile and provided the pretext of death by overdose at delicate moments. It was not for nothing that I had studied a few semesters of law and saw through this shaky structure on which the new world order was built. Alcohol consumption and the number of alcoholics haveincreased immensely since then, predominantly among women, who often sought to drown their loneliness and fate in a bottle of wine. It helped to forget and was the only escape from the bitter reality for the female population.
But many men also fell visibly to this addiction. Life was easier to bear in intoxication without concerts, theater, cinema, music, or other distractions. Prohibiting any further enjoyment, any pleasure, made alcohol and drugs a successful weapon of the Knights of the Seals, which they regularly used in their favor, especially at such events. It was not for nothing that they saidin vino veritassince this stimulant loosened the tongue and had made many people talk their heads off.
Dad put his big, warm hand protectively on my back and pushed me to one of the centrally located tables. An ice sculpture holding a flag with the number thirteen decorated its center.
Excitedly, I looked through my eyelashes at the guests who would also be sitting with us. When I spotted a young woman with straw-yellow, unruly hair, I would have loved to jump up and down with joy and impatience. Charly!
She hadn't seen me yet and kept her blue eyes stoically fixed on the plate before her. Something was wrong with her. Immediately, my joy was blown away. What had become of my best friend in the last few months?
Pale, emaciated, and with a blank look, she sat on the chair, which now seemed much too big for her slender body. Painfully, my heart clenched. Charly's father had discovered us and greeted Dad, who pushed the seat back for me right next to Charly.
As soon as I sat, my friend lifted her eyes. A faint gleam passed through her eyes, and the twitching of her bloodless lips signaled a small smile. How I would have liked to have fallen around her neck now to pull her towards me and tell her, shemust not give up. But that was just as forbidden as the hope for another, better future for both of us.
The sight presented to me here starkly contrasted to the girlfriend I had known. The bright, lively, and rebellious girl with the tousled, short hair, the athletic body, and the saucy smile that made her eyes sparkle continuously.
So I just silently put a hand on her dress under the table. A twitch ran through Charly's body at my little touch, and panic stood in the blue of her irises. I quickly withdrew my hand again.
"Hello, Charly," I whispered, not looking directly at her. "How are you, sweetie?" A waiter placed a wine glass in front of me, and against my resolutions, I took a big gulp, hoping it might calm my nerves. I had been in no way expecting this. She had been quieter than usual the last time we met, but this Charly beside me, this shadow of herself, was a massive shock. Sadness brought tears to my eyes. Sadness and anger. What had these Knights of the Seals done to her?
"Good. And you?" I heard her shaky voice so quietly that I wasn't even sure I had heard her. Before I could even respond, a darkly dressed gentleman stepped onto the small platform across from the groups of tables. With an extended index finger, he tapped against a microphone.
"I welcome you all tonight to our gala here at the magnificent Metropolitan Museum of Art, which holds the history of humanity and art. The Knights of the Seals are pleased with your attendance in such large numbers and the loyalty it demonstrates." His narrow face settled into wrinkles of annoyance, and he scanned the room with piercing eyes.
"Unfortunately, the Order struggles daily against hostility, disobedience, and selfishness. There is no other way to call it when people do not want to make sacrifices for the community. For the continuation of our civilization." At the words, his voice became harsher; by now, I had the feeling he was piercing mewith his gaze. This menacing-looking man at the microphone was indeed a Knight of the Seals.
Dazed, I swallowed down the lump that had formed and almost robbed me of any air to breathe. Under no circumstances could I allow myself a mistake tonight. Charly also slid nervously back and forth on her chair. A whimper escaped her throat, and before the knight's attention could fall on my friend, I again soothingly placed my hand on her thigh. Fortunately, she stiffened and stopped making noticeable movements and noises.
"It only remains for me to wish you all a pleasant evening. Enjoy the meal, and in that sense, let us give a word of thanks to the Lord, our only true God," the man concluded the speech, demonstratively folding his hands in prayer.
The company did likewise, and I took up the prescribed posture of prayer to speak the words that each of us had to memorize as soon as the Knights of the Seals had taken over world domination.
Even with my eyes lowered, I felt the man's piercing eyes at the front of the platform roving over us to check that everyone followed him obediently. Then, he cleared his throat briefly before intoning the prayer.
"Great Lord,our only true God.
We are your most subservient servants, bound by your word, chained in our debt.
