Chapter Eight: First Campaign

The ever-increasing number of fancy dresses spoke volumes of the occasion. The men were dressed in tuxedos and fancy suits, each with mopped-up women adorned in long fancy gowns and expensive heels dangling from their hands. The soft tunes playing from the piano in one corner of the room breathed a regal nostalgia into the atmosphere. The criteria for the invitation were already a highlight of what was to be expected in the stone-walled edifice, tastefully furnished with the most exquisite set of chandeliers and polished floors. Famous paintings from the godfathers of the art, Pablo Picasso and Leonardo Da Vinci echoed the artistic taste that resonated with this already breath-taking architectural spectacle. The waiters and waitresses, all dressed in immaculate white shirts and black trousers served the guests with wide smiles on their faces. They kept their voices low and their greetings courteous and curt. There I was, rooted in a corner of the room, dressed in a red gown that