At last, the day of the autumn ball arrived.

  Since returning from their inaugural mission, Jamie and his companions had settled into the rhythms of their new lives. Training sessions filled their mornings, the clashing of weapons and disciplined shouts echoing in the small village outside Hafenstadt. In the afternoons and nights, Jamie would tend to the tavern while some patrolled their territory.

  The routines gave a semblance of normalcy, a steady cadence in a world that was anything but ordinary.

  Yet, ever since the downfall of the Cutpurses, their new territory had been rife with unforeseen challenges. Trouble seemed to sprout like weeds in untended soil.

  At first, it was the hungry children. Ragged and hollow-eyed, they roamed the streets in search of coin or crumbs. Jamie had anticipated an influx of children seeking new means to survive, knowing that the vacuum left by the Cutpurses would leave many adrift. But the reality was harsher than expected. It wasn't just desperation driving them; it appeared that rival gangs were deliberately sending every street child into their domain, flooding the area with a swarm of small, nimble pickpockets.

  These children were cunning beyond their years, survival hardening them into resourceful adversaries. They moved like shadows through the alleys, eyes ever watchful, ears keen to whispered secrets. Often, they were willing to steal, deceive, and even inflict harm to obtain what they desired.

  It was difficult for Camille, Aldwin, and Bertram to simply rough up the children. Being mere kids made the situation complicated. Fortunately, Aldwin and Bertram had both once been part of the Cutpurses. They knew every trick in the book, every sleight of hand, every shadowed nook where small hands might pilfer an unattended purse.

  With their efforts, they had managed to reduce the frequency of thefts through their patrols. However, it was far from a permanent solution..

  Meanwhile, the tavern continued to grow. The sale of their beer propelled their fame to new heights. The more they sold, the more people clamored to buy. When other taverns or pubs ran dry, patrons would come straight to the source, filling the Golden Fiddle to bursting every night.

  This surge forced their competitors to constantly buy more and more, some even attempting to stockpile reserves. The problem was that Jamie and his team simply couldn't produce enough beer to maintain an inventory. With demand skyrocketing exponentially, they pondered how to establish another location to expand the business, especially now that they had just received inquiries from merchants eager to export their brew to the Holy Elven Empire.

  Jamie knew that such fame would soon become a problem. But for now, he had a more immediate concern to deal with.

  In his hands, he held a card crafted from thick, high-quality parchment, embossed with fine golden script. It was his official invitation to the Autumn Ball. Gazing up at the twilight sky outside his window, he fastened the last buttons on his robe.

  "Looking at you like this, one might think you're a nobleman," Jay remarked from his perch on the windowsill.

  Jamie glanced at his spectral feline companion, Jay. Jay's translucent form shimmered softly in the fading light, and his emerald eyes gleamed with admiration.

  Jamie was dressed in delicate fabric garments. Over it, he wore a robe of black and midnight blue, the edges embroidered with intricate patterns in silver thread. The robe was fastened with ornate golden buttons that gleamed against the dark fabric. His trousers were perfectly tailored, tucked neatly into supple dark leather boots polished to a shine. His hair, freshly washed, was combed back smoothly, the rich copper strands framing his sharp features. A hint of a subtle, woody fragrance clung to him, completing the ensemble.

  Anyone passing him on the street might easily mistake him for nobility. Jamie allowed himself a small, wry smile at the thought. ‘They wouldn't be entirely wrong,’ he mused to himself. ‘After all, I did come from a noble family.’

  "But you lack the wealth of one," Jay remarked, his spectral form hovering lazily beside Jamie.

  "For now," Jamie responded confidently, fastening the last golden button on his robe. He stood before a tall, worn mirror in his dimly lit room above the Golden Fiddle tavern, adjusting the collar of his finely tailored garment.

  The way the tavern and his mercenary company were flourishing, it was only a matter of time before he amassed a fortune befitting a nobleman. Each day brought new patrons and new contracts, and the coffers steadily grew heavier.

  "Perhaps I could even purchase a title," Jamie mused aloud, smoothing a crease on his sleeve. "It might grant me entry into the higher circles, a good way to gather more information. Who knows, perhaps there I can find something useful about Nytheris."

  Jay settled onto the windowsill, his tail swaying gently. "That makes sense. However, the Empire doesn't sell titles of nobility when they're not at war."

  "True," Jamie conceded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Who would have thought. You studying imperial policies."

  "Hey!" Jay protested, his whiskers twitching indignantly. "I remember that during the troll incident, I couldn't help much. So it doesn't hurt to try recalling my memories. Besides, knowledge is power, isn't it?"

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  Jamie chuckled softly. "Fair point."

  As Jay continued to expound on the nuances of imperial customs, a firm knock resonated from the door. Jamie turned as it creaked open. Thomas stepped inside, his broad silhouette filling the doorway. He had exchanged his usual attire for something more fitting the occasion. Clad in nearly gleaming black leather armor that molded seamlessly to his muscular frame. At his side hung a broadsword, a significant upgrade from his customary short sword, resting comfortably in an ornate scabbard.

  "The carriage has arrived," Thomas announced, his voice steady and measured.

  "Let's go," Jamie replied, giving a final glance in the mirror.

  Descending the narrow staircase from the second floor, the murmur of the tavern below grew louder. Patrons chatted over mugs of ale, the atmosphere warm and inviting. As Jamie and Thomas emerged into the common room, conversations hushed momentarily. Eyes stole curious glances at Jamie's refined attire and Thomas's imposing presence. It wasn't every day that the owner dressed like a nobleman, nor that his right-hand man donned armor fit for a king's guard.

  Camille, who was sitting near the counter, gave a nod before the two left. She would stay that night as the tavern's guard. Some might think she was weaker than Thomas, but they would quickly find that what she lacked in strength, she makes up for with agility and brutality.

  Stepping out into the crisp evening air, they made their way toward one of the broader streets of the Lower Quarter.

  A sleek carriage, a rarity in this part of town, awaited them. Its lacquered black exterior gleamed, and silver filigree embellished the edges with delicate craftsmanship. The sight of such an elegant vehicle drew the attention of passersby.

  Similar to Thomas, Bertram and Aldwin stood by the carriage, dressed in attire that marked them as guards. They wore fitted leather armor bearing a subtle gloss, the dark material accented by polished steel bracers and boots. Each bore the emblem of the Golden Fiddle, prominently displayed on their left breastplates.

  Bertram shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the growing crowd. His dark hair was neatly combed for once, and he tugged at his gloves nervously, his gaze darting around. The flush on his cheeks was unmistakable, highlighting his unease with the attention.

  In stark contrast, Aldwin stood tall and proud, a jaunty grin plastered across his face. The half-elf adjusted his cloak with a flourish, his blue eyes shimmering with excitement. He moved with a confident swagger, as if striding down a regal promenade rather than the humble streets of the Lower Quarter. It was clear he relished every moment, basking in the gazes upon them.

  Jamie opened the carriage door, the polished mahogany gleaming softly under the lantern light. As he and Thomas settled onto the plush velvet seats inside, Jamie reached up and rapped twice on the carriage roof. "We're ready, you can depart," he called out.

  Just as they had planned and rehearsed, Aldwin and Bertram, positioned atop the driver's bench, responded with swift efficiency. The horses whinnied softly, their breath misting in the cool evening air as they began to pull the carriage forward. Wheels creaked gently against the cobblestone streets, and soon they were weaving through the bustling avenues of the Lower Quarter.

  The city was alive with the transition from day to night. Merchants closed up their stalls, while the magical lamps were starting to automatically light up.

  Joining the flow of traffic, they made their way toward the main boulevard that led to the Noble Quarter. Around them, other carriages, some ornate and gilded, others modest but elegant, converged, all heading in the same direction.

  Ahead, perched atop a gentle rise, stood the grand mansions of the Noble Quarter, their spires and turrets reaching toward the dusky sky. The silhouette of one of the largest mansion, the venue for the Autumn Ball, dominated the horizon, its windows aglow like a hundred stars.

  As they approached the imposing gate that separated the Noble Quarter from the rest of Hafenstadt, their carriage came to an abrupt halt. Four guards clad in gleaming armor stepped forward, their expressions stern beneath the visors of their helms. They surrounded the carriage, scrutinizing every inch with a meticulous eye.

  Jamie peered out the window, his eyes narrowing as he noticed that their carriage was the only one being subjected to such scrutiny. Other carriages passed through unimpeded, their occupants spared the indignity of inspection.

  'If they're looking to cause trouble, they'll need more men than that,' Jamie thought bitterly, his jaw tightening. The unfairness of the situation ignited a flicker of anger within him, but he fought to keep his composure.

  One of the soldiers rapped on the carriage door. "State your destination," he demanded curtly, his voice devoid of warmth.

  Jamie pushed the door open and met the soldier's gaze with a cool, unwavering stare. "We're attending the Autumn Ball," he replied, enunciating each word with measured precision. He reached inside his robe and produced the gilded invitation, handing it over without breaking eye contact. His eyes were as cold and sharp as a winter's chill.

  The soldier examined the invitation, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. "Hmm," he grunted noncommittally. After a tense moment, he thrust the invitation back toward Jamie. "You may pass," he said tersely.

  As the carriage began to roll forward, the soldier stepped back but couldn't resist a final act of spite; he spat deliberately onto one of the carriage wheels.

  Jamie took a slow, deep breath, feeling the weight of his frustration pressing against his restraint. 'One day, I'll make sure they regret this,' he vowed silently. But aloud, he simply said, "Let's continue," his voice calm and controlled. 'For now, we'll keep smiling,' he reminded himself. There were bigger goals ahead.

  Moments later, they ascended the winding road leading to the mansion's grand entrance. The scene that unfolded before them was nothing short of breathtaking. The estate was ablaze with light; hundreds of lanterns hung from delicately arched trellises, and torches lined the pathways, their flames dancing in the evening breeze. Acrobats and jugglers entertained clusters of elegantly dressed guests who mingled on the sprawling lawn. Bursts of fireworks periodically painted the sky with vibrant hues, eliciting murmurs of awe from the crowd.

  Thomas stepped down from the carriage first, his eyes wide as he took in the opulence surrounding them.

  Behind him, Aldwin and Bertram disembarked, their usual bravado tempered by the sheer extravagance of the spectacle. Aldwin's eyes darted from one marvel to the next, a mix of excitement and trepidation. Bertram shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the collar of his uniform.

  "I've never been to a place so wealthy," Thomas admitted quietly, his voice barely audible. There was a touch of apprehension in his tone, as if he were stepping into a world where he didn't quite belong.

  Jamie joined them, his demeanor confident as he surveyed the surroundings. He 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."

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