Chapter 755 - Culling Ⅴ

Earlier that evening, in a concealed alleyway in one of the many corners of Diagon Alley, there is a quiet, but a rather elegant establishment. The softly spoken about enterprise is called, "Madam Zenarie's, Emporium of Fine Delicacies, Treats, and the Exotic." The well-known establishment was frequented by those belonging to the upper crust of the wizarding world or those with great wealth. For even a single night with the cheapest of Madam Zenarie's flowers and herbs was at least worth one hundred galleons, never mind the more expensive flowers, the most popular, and rarest of them all.

Madam Zenarie had an impeccable selection of flowers and herbs having once herself been one of the most famous flowers of London in her younger years. Even now despite her age, she still turned many a man's heads. And if she elected to lay with any it was for own enjoyment and p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e, most certainly not for earning any coin.

The classy establishment is filled with many voices, some belonging to gorgeous young women in silk gowns that utterly charmed and captured the patron's attention. Then some herbs walkabout in elegant robes and suits, while other herbs resemble the flowers, pretty and feminine, and the other's strong, attractive, and muscular. Overall a wide variety of flowers and herbs to choose from, a flavor for every patron to be found and enjoyed.

A group of patrons simply lounge about chatting as they rest in chaises and catch up with old friends or acquaintances. While others are led upstairs to the private bedrooms to be serviced by their favorite flower or herb of the day. Excluding those that already selected a flower or herb for the evening, there is a chandelier-lit dining hall filled with fine food, and exotic delicacies for the patrons to enjoy a meal, before or after the main course.

This select group of patrons solely attended Madam Zenarie's Emporium for the cuisine and not even for viewing nor partaking of the many flowers or herbs that resided in her establishment. Though smaller in number, these patrons were prominent members resulting in the fact that she hired only the best of cooks that the wizarding world had to offer. More than a few squibs retired flowers, and herbs were openly employed in her kitchens and were cherished as a most valuable commodity that they in fact were.

Laughter could be heard from this group of wizards as Madam Zenarie entertained with her wit. She a beautiful, middle-aged witch with cream-colored skin. Her kohl-lined eyes drew man's gazes to her light-colored eyes and make-up with lush, plumb-colored lips. Her figure still caused many a man to flush with d.e.s.i.r.e despite her age. She was still slim and properly curved in all the right places showcasing her taut flesh. There are light silver tracks in her wheat-colored hair, but her face nary had a wrinkle nor blemish regardless of her age.

Madam Zenarie after some time she elegantly excuses and sashays away to make her rounds of greeting other guests. She had not yet even traversed the length of the hall, when a pretty, but the scarred figure of Tamara urgently emerged from a side hall rather than the kitchens. Frowning, Madam Zenarie pauses as Tamara urgently hands Madam Zenarie a note.

"It is from one of Sanderson's owls, Madam Zenarie," Tamara quietly whispered as not to be overheard by any curious ears that lingered nearby.

Madam Zenarie's face drastically blanches for a moment, before she takes the letter from Tamara's hand. Unfolding the note there is only one single word written, "Tonight." Her youthful hand trembles, before hastily turning to one of the candles and setting the note ablaze. The letter quickly crumbles up under the heat as she waits for the note to crumble away to dust.

Gathering her reserve, Madam Zenarie straightens up and rolls her shoulders back with self-assured poise. "Has Mr. Mulciber arrived yet?"

"Mr. Mulciber just arrived and was taken into a parlor to waiting to be served," Tamara respectfully answered as her hands tightened into fists within the folds of her skirt.

Although Mulciber Sr. lacked his younger's son obvious twisted, cruelty, Mulciber Sr. was far from being kind. He was rather rough with the flowers that he took to bed leaving them painfully sore afterward. He had been known to send a flying slap or fist when he was not properly accommodated to his d.e.s.i.r.es. Mulciber Sr. only restrained himself from further damaging the girls due to the backing of Sanderson to the establishment and not out of concern for the flowers nor their Madam Zenarie's sensibilities. Then again, the apple never fell far from the tree, and father like son was a phrase that was very applicable to the two Mulciber men.

"Send Ada to serve him," Madam Zenarie replied calmly without even a furrow of distress nor her inner turmoil showing on her.

Tamara moves to explain that Ada is already serving another guest, but Madam Zenarie's expression hardens. "Your concern is understandable, Tamara, but Ada will understand. And you would do well to remind her, who is her backer."

Tamara turns rigid, before murmuring, "My apologies, Madam Zenarie, it was my intention to questions your instructions."

Madam Zenarie's face softens for a moment. "Your concern is understandable, Tamara, but Ada will know what to do, I have already spoken to her before. Tell her that it is time, she will know exactly what to do."

"As you wish, Madam Zenarie," Tamara stiffly replied as she bobbed in a curtsy, before moving to deliver the message to one of the most highly sought out flowers of the institution.

Whirling away the rustle of her skirt is heard as Madam Zenarie confidently walks away. Yet her concerns are not hidden away though a small twinge of tension can be seen on her lower back betraying her inner most thoughts. However, she had no choice for even she walked on the knife's edge. If Ada failed there would be severe consequences with Mulciber being the lesser of the two problems. The Potentate of London did not accept failures, and he would not be merciful to her.

Gulping, Madam Zenarie put on a confident practiced smile as entered the front hall. With a charming smile, she greeted the arriving guests and those already present in the hall choosing from her flowers and herbs. With trained ease she smoothly navigates the various currents of power found within wizarding society as she moves from patron to patron. No matter the final result she was a businesswoman. And she would gamble that her investments be returned to her tenfold. For that is what all businesses truly are; a gamble, nothing more and nothing less.