Jamie offered Thomas a reassuring smile. "Better get used to it," he said lightly, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder. "This will be the first of many times."

  Thomas returned the smile, a flicker of confidence in his eyes, though words seemed to escape him. He nodded, accepting Jamie's encouragement but still appearing slightly overwhelmed by the grandeur unfolding before them.

  They continued toward the mansion's grand entrance. A path of smooth, white stones led the way, winding through the expansive, meticulously kept gardens. Lanterns hung from wrought-iron posts, their warm light illuminating beds of flowers that bloomed defiantly despite the season. The estate's grounds were a marvel; ornate fountains danced with sparkling water, and statues of marble and bronze stood sentinel among the hedges. Even in the heart of autumn, not a single leaf showed a hint of fading; the foliage remained lush and verdant as if untouched by time.

  At the convergence of the path, a circular drive allowed carriages to deposit their passengers before moving on to the stables. Jamie chose to walk alongside their carriage, using the moment to speak privately with Bertram and Aldwin, who were managing the horses with practiced ease. Both young men were dressed in attire befitting their roles, uniforms bearing the emblem of the Golden Fiddle Company.

  "Do not rise to any provocations," Jamie advised, his tone firm yet understanding. "Keep your composure at all times. After you stable the carriage, remain near the entrance. When we are ready to leave, you'll see us and bring the carriage around. If you're unsure of anything, observe how the others are conducting themselves."

  Bertram and Aldwin nodded earnestly, their expressions a mix of determination and nerves. "Understood," they replied in unison.

  With a final nod, Jamie and Thomas parted ways with the young men, turning toward the opulent main entrance of the party. The sound of the carriage wheels faded behind them as they ascended the path.

  As they walked, Jamie took in the spectacle around him. Attendees clad in extravagant gowns and tailored suits moved gracefully toward the mansion, their conversations a gentle hum of laughter and cultured accents. The glow of torches and lanterns cast a golden sheen upon the scene, creating an atmosphere that bordered on the ethereal.

  Despite his usual focus on the city's underground, Jamie was well-versed in recognizing the influential figures of Hafenstadt. Magnates, nobles, and dignitaries dotted the crowd, their status evident in their bearing and the subtle intricacies of their attire. However, the recognition was not reciprocated. As Jamie passed by, he offered polite nods to those who met his gaze, but his gestures were met with indifference. Eyes slid over him like he were invisible, and conversations continued uninterrupted.

  ‘So, it'll be like this, then?’ Jamie mused silently, amusement curling his lips into a sly smile. A spark of determination ignited within him, and his challenging grin only widened. ‘Very well. By the time the next Autumn Ball, each and every one of you will know my name. Mark my words.’

  "Words heeded," Jay responded, floating a few feet above Jamie's shoulder. The spectral cat was adorned in attire mirroring Jamie's own. The sight was, at the very least, peculiar, and at most, undeniably comical. Jay's miniature cloak billowed ever so slightly as he hovered.

  Together, they strode forward with purpose, bypassing the opulent gardens and the grandiose entrance where guests lingered to admire the lavish floral displays and ornate fountains. Jamie had no interest in such distractions tonight. Instead, they made their way directly into the heart of the festivities, the grand ballroom of the Hafenstadt manor.

  The ballroom was a marvel to behold. Hundreds of elegantly adorned tables were arranged in a sprawling oval, encircling a polished marble dance floor that gleamed beneath the light of countless chandeliers. At the far end of the hall, a majestic double staircase curved upward, reserved for the hosts to make their grand entrance. The air was alive with the murmur of refined conversation, the clinking of fine glassware, and the soft strains of a string quartet playing.

  ‘I could do better.’ Jamie thought while hearing the quartet.

  Jamie scanned the room, his keen eyes searching for a familiar face. 'No sign of Maria,' he noted inwardly.

  Beside him, Thomas moved with silent efficiency, ever the vigilant companion. Catching Jamie's gaze, he gave a subtle nod toward the opposite side of the ballroom. Following the indication, Jamie's gaze landed upon two figures of particular interest.

  Near one of the servants bearing trays of ruby-red wine stood Thorgrimm Ironbrew and High Priestess Lysara. Thorgrimm, the leader of the Dusters, was a dwarven man of broad stature, his braided beard shot through with strands of silver. He exuded an aura of rugged strength, his piercing eyes ever watchful beneath bushy brows. Beside him, Lysara was the embodiment of ethereal grace. Clad in flowing robes of crimson adorned with intricate gold embroidery, the High Priestess of the Crimson Veil commanded attention with her mere presence. Her raven-black hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face marked by sharp cheekbones and eyes that seemed to hold ancient wisdom.

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  The two conversed amiably, their laughter intermingling as they sipped from delicate crystal goblets. It was a curious sight, his next two adversaries enjoying a cordial exchange.

  "It's time we made their acquaintance," Jamie remarked softly to Thomas, a sly smile playing upon his lips.

  With measured strides, Jamie approached the pair, exuding an air of confidence befitting the finest of nobility. Thomas followed closely, his presence solid and reassuring.

  As Jamie drew near, he observed the subtle transformation on their faces. Conversations dwindled around them as Thorgrimm and Lysara took notice of his approach. Their expressions shifted fleetingly, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, smiles tightening, as if they'd bitten into a lemon unexpectedly. The moment passed quickly, but not before Jamie had taken note.

  High Priestess Lysara was the first to recover, her features smoothing into a practiced mask of serenity. Only the slightest arch of her finely sculpted brow hinted at any disturbance. Thorgrimm, however, made no effort to disguise his reaction. His lips curled into a faint grimace, and his grip on the goblet tightened visibly.

  "Well, look who it is," Thorgrimm drawled, his voice carrying the rough edge of the mountain clans. "The great bard himself graces us with his presence." The words were laced with sarcasm, his gaze unwavering as it met Jamie's.

  "A pleasure to meet you at last, Thorgrimm," Jamie replied smoothly, offering a respectful nod. "It's good to see you in good health." His smile was polite, composed. A mask honed through years of navigating delicate social terrains.

  "What is an amateur like you doing in a place like this?" Thorgrimm demanded, his gruff voice laden with irritation.

  Jamie met his gaze steadily, a cold smile playing at the edges of his lips. "An amateur? Is that truly the best way to describe me?" he replied smoothly. "If I'm an amateur, then what does that make you? A man who couldn't eliminate a faction as weak as the Cutpurses?"

  [The God of Mischief is laughing at this.]

  [The Goddess of Dwarves was angered by your retort.]

  Thorgrimm's jaw tightened, the muscles in his face clenching visibly. Jamie continued, his tone deceptively light. "Or worse yet, you failed in your attempt to poison someone. Next time, you might want to steer clear of blueberries."

  As he spoke, Jamie casually plucked a glass of wine from the silver tray of a passing servant. He swirled the crimson liquid thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving Thorgrimm's. The dwarf's knuckles whitened as he balled his fists, a storm flickering behind his eyes. In another setting, a shadowed alley or an empty tavern, Thorgrimm might have let his fists speak for him. But here, under the watchful eyes of the city's elite, decorum held him in check.

  With a dismissive huff, Thorgrimm raised his own glass and downed the contents in a single gulp. His voice was edged with the slight slur of intoxication as he retorted, "I find I have no further interest in this gathering. Be careful, boy. That territory was mine by right. You don't want to stand in my way."

  "I didn't see your name or any documents saying it was yours. I conquered it. It's mine." Jamie replied.

  "We'll see," Thorgrimm retorted.

  Thorgrimm set the empty glass down with a sharp clink and turned abruptly, his heavy boots thudding against the marble as he departed. Jamie watched him go.

  Nearby, High Priestess Lysara observed the exchange with a composed demeanor. Though her expression remained serene, Jamie sensed a subtle amusement beneath the surface, as if she were entertained by the verbal sparring.

  With Thorgrimm's exit, she stepped forward, her gaze meeting Jamie's with a measured intensity. "It appears I've lost one of my finest to you," she said softly, her voice smooth as silk. "I trust you know how to make the most of her talents."

  Jamie arched an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "One of your finest?" he echoed.

  "Indeed," Lysara affirmed. "Her company commanded a hefty sum, several silver coins for a single night. Perhaps I should have increased her debt. But, alas, it's in the past now."

  A sly smile curved Jamie's lips. "Ah, you're referring to one of your treasured companions. I wouldn't have paid gold for just a prostitute." He chuckled lightly. "No, what I wanted was one of the most gifted witches. A shame you never took the time to discover her true potential."

  For a fleeting moment, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed Lysara's face, quickly masked by her composed facade. "A witch?" she inquired, a hint of curiosity threading through her tone.

  "You never uncovered her class?" Jamie mused. "Understandable, perhaps. The elves are known to conceal much. But in the end, fortune smiles upon those who are attentive."

  Lysara's smile remained, but it had lost some of its warmth. Her eyes reflected a shadow of displeasure as if she had tasted something bitter. "Good work," she said coolly. “She will undoubtedly serve you well. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have matters to attend to with more engaging company."

  She inclined her head ever so slightly before gliding away, her robes whispering softly against the floor. Jamie watched her departure with a sense of triumph, his remarks having achieved the intended effect.

  "Well played," came a familiar voice. Glancing upward, Jamie spotted Jay perched atop a nearby ornate pillar.

  ‘Enjoying yourself?’ Jamie thought, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

  "Immensely," Jay purred. "It's always entertaining to see pompous facades crack."

  Just as Jamie prepared to rejoin the flow of the soirée, a subtle shift rippled through the crowd. Conversations hushed, and all eyes turned toward the grand staircase that descended into the ballroom.

  Maria von Hafestadt was entering the ball.

  Click here to join