“What in the world is going on in there…?” Noriko mumbled, frowning as she spied on the villa Misha entered. She didn’t have a clear view into it, not from the roof she was atop, but she could hear music and singing so there was clearly something going on in there. What, she wasn’t sure, but it sounded like some kind of performance? Which, yeah, that was weird.

After…everything earlier, Noriko felt conflicted. On the one hand, Misha was her friend and, yes, she did kind of have a crush on the angel, so she’d prefer things go back to where they were before; no stress, no conflict, just trying to figure out what kinds of dastardly plots were going on and solving them before they got too bad. On the other, the royal part of her balked at the idea of the gods ignoring every law both mortal and divine for their own whims, the part of her that was Anaya’s friend could tell the whole thing with Goldforge was definitely hurting her badly–to the point that it seemed like she felt Misha full on betrayed her–and the practical part of her was well aware that screwing with someone’s family was a great way to get them to hate you, as evidenced by Brascul’s hostility.

All around, the situation was messy. Tempers were high and it wasn’t really a great time for trying to infiltrate things. So sure, she did meet up with Brascul’s attendant Torna, and sure, she was already compiling some notes on the people she’d met so far, but also she kinda decided it was better to keep an eye on Misha. Just to make sure she was fine! And to make sure that Brascul didn’t decide to have her assassinated once she was out of eyeshot.

She didn’t expect an apparent musical performance though. Seriously, did that lanky guy bring her to a theater house or something?

“You know, there’s a fee for hanging around on rooftops in these parts,” said the guy who’d been standing on the other side of the roof for about five minutes since she first noticed him. Judging by the distribution of his weight, the cadence of his voice, and the shifts in the air around him and his partner who was doing a better job of hiding on a ledge lower down, he was probably a halfling while she was a type of elf. From the population distribution of the region, a nereid was most likely, but a drow or wood elf was equally possible. She could be a high elf, but that was less likely, if just because the majority of high elves were in the Furies and those guys were ostentatious assholes.

“A fee or a fine? One implies payment, the other implies punishment.”

If he was surprised by her lack of surprise, he at least didn’t show it. “I wouldn’t say it’s a punishment, exactly. Just a…warning, let’s call it.”

“Well consider this gal warned. Now shh, she’s spying.”

“Oh? And why would a Gororan shee-nobby be spying around–”

“Shinobi.”

“Eh?”

“Shih-noh-bee, shinobi. It’s not that hard, and this gal would be a kunoichi anyways because she’s female. Duh. Just say ninja if you don’t know that.”

The hidden elf audibly snorted.

If the visible one was trying to keep his partner's identity hidden, he wasn't doing a good job based on the scowl he sent their direction, before he turned back to Noriko. "Look, we can't have you hanging around out here."

"...So are you not trying to keep your partner a secret or…?" Noriko asked, deciding to turn around and face the duo since they weren’t going to be leaving.

"This is why I said to let me talk to her," commented the elf as she flipped up onto the roof proper. And lo and behold, she was a drow, her shock of white hair standing out against her dark-gray skin and contrasting with her partner’s fair skin and muddy-brown hair. Really, aside from the similar brown vests and dark pants the two wore–and even then the drow had a half-cloak on over hers while the halfling had more of a shoulder cape–the pair were a study in contrasts.

They were both lean, with figures suited for agility and gymnastics–things Noriko was more than familiar with considering her own training–but where the drow had a striking, sharp look to her, the halfling looked…really plain, honestly.

“Oh please, like you can handle talking to strangers. I can’t get a word out of you when it comes to–No, no, we’re not arguing in front of the interloper! We are focused here!”

“Sure. Was interloper on the ‘word-a-day’ or–”

“Shh! Shut it!” The halfling turned towards Noriko again, flourishing his cape with a smirk. “Now then, Gororan koh-noi-cheese–”

“If you can’t pronounce it, please don’t try. This gal will respect you more if you know your limitations,” Noriko bluntly advised.

“We’ll work on it later,” the drow commented, “So why are you here anyway, ninja?”

“See? It’s way easier to say like that. And this gal’s just trying to figure out if there’s a show being hosted at that theater house.”

“You mean Veloah’s villa?” That was a villa? Huh.

“Quiet, Carp! She admitted to spying, so don’t give her extra information!” the halfling ordered his partner, who was apparently called Carp. Which was kind of funny, considering Noriko knew at least three people who used variations of Carps for pseudonyms.

“You just called me Carp, so now she knows my name–”

“She wouldn’t know it’s your actual name if you didn’t say that–No, never mind. Well then, Gororan, you should know who you address!” The halfling swished his cape, posing with a flick of his wrist. “For the man before you is none other than Quintilio del Mastro, head of the Brown Hares Guild!”

“Oh, it’s Quintilio today?” Carp asked, prompting “Quintilio” to elbow her.

“Don’t just–Hmph, now, why are you–Wait, damn it, I already asked that…”

“So you two are from the Brown Hair Guild?” Noriko asked in an attempt to move the conversation along. Strange name for a guild, especially since Carp had white hair.

“That’s right! I see our reputation precedes us!”

“No it doesn’t. This gal only knows the name because you just said it.”

And Quintilio immediately sagged. “You do? I mean…you sure you haven’t heard of us at all? The Sixth Great Guild of Orindaco?”

“Sixth?” Feathers, Scales, Furs, Shells… “What’s the Fifth?”

“The Coral Silks, they’re the Prostitutes Guild over on the other side of town,” Carp answered.

“Courtesans Guild, Carp,” Quintilio corrected, “Use the more polite term.”

“They can’t hear me on the other side of the city, Quint.”

“You don’t know that!”

"They'd probably hear you before they'd hear me."

"That's not the point!"

"As funny as this routine is, this gal’s gotta ask where your guild is then if it's not here,” Noriko interrupted, “Like she gets the Coral Silks being on the other side of town cause that's where they do business, but your guild on the other hand…"

Carp blinked, some confusion crossing her face, but Quintilio just huffed. "Hmph, unlike these four who have to keep an eye on each other, us Hares have no need for that. We can look after ourselves without being paranoid about what the others are doing."

"And you two are just hanging out on their roofs for no reason then?"

“Obviously we have our reasons.”

“So you’re scouting these places to rob then?”

Now it was Quintilio’s turn to look confused. “That–Wait, hold on, you said you’ve never heard of the Hares before!”

“And this gal hasn’t. But also if you’re not an adventurers guild like the four over there, and you’re not a courtesan guild like the Silks, that means you’re either an official, but lesser guild, or an unofficial guild, also known as a gang with delusions of legitimacy. You could be a minor guild, sure, but that raises questions of which guild and why you’d be around here, whereas if you’re a Thieves Guild, it explains why you’re roof-hopping and acting territorial, which is funny considering you’re definitely not running this area. This gal guesses you could be a very nosy Barbers Guild, but she’s pretty sure that’s not the case.”

“...uh. Well, uh–”

“Supposing we are,” Carp said, stepping in front of Quintilio, “What’s to say this isn’t our turf? That’s a pretty big assumption.”

“Yeah, but it’s the correct one. Your pal wouldn’t be worried about the Coral Silks if you don’t interact with them at all and they’re on the other side of town, like you said, so your main territory is probably closer to theirs than the Scales here. Which brings up the bigger thing that if you were operating this close to the Adventurer Guilds, they would’ve either subsumed or slaughtered you guys ages ago.”

“No they would not!” Quintilio interjected, “They can’t! Not with Graves backing us–Wait, shit.”

The sound of Carp’s palm meeting her face echoed out as Noriko grinned beneath her mask. “Oh, so you’re not scouting for yourselves, you’re scouting for the archduchess. Are you her personal spies or is it more of an independent investigator thing? No, wait, you know her personally, you called her Graves, you two are friends?”

“That–Okay, firstly, I am not friends with that sellout–”

“Crab, stop talking,” Carp requested, “Seriously.”

The newly dubbed Crab gasped, offended. “Carp! You can’t go using my real name–”

“She wouldn’t even know it’s your real name if you didn’t say it right then…”

“To be fair, you called him Crab with the kind of exasperation someone would only use if it was his real name,” Noriko pointed out, earning glares from both thieves, “This gal’s just saying.”

“...”

“...”

“...So can this gal see your cool hideout now? She promises to keep…well, no, she’ll probably tell her friends about it later…She promises to embellish how cool it is to everyone she tells!”

“...” Carp gave her a baffled look while Crab rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. “That’s not a bad idea–”

“Crab!”

“What? It would be better for our rep if we had a fancy ninja telling people we have piles of gold reaching up to the ceiling.”

“Yeah, up until someone thinks it’s a good idea to try to rob us to get that fake gold!”

“She can embellish our security too! Trust me, this is a great idea! We need to recruit anyway, you know that!”

Noriko watched the pair argue, then took out her notebook and started jotting down what sounded like important info. Things like the guild being on the downswing due to “lack of needy orphans” and the fact that Crab wasn’t the original guild leader. Not unexpected, considering his demeanor, though it did raise some questions that Noriko was interested in learning the answer to.

Anyways, the Brown Hair Guild was apparently actually the Brown Hare Guild, as evidenced by the lagomorphs in the general decor of their hideout, which included some embroidered curtains–not actually useful for anything given their hideout had no windows–and some wood carvings in the tables and counter, because apparently they were running a legitimate illegitimate business here and needed a proper place to handle negotiations. And/or buy drinks, because their hideout was a bar.

“Welcome to The Burrow!” Crab declared as he led the way past a half-asleep orcish bouncer lazing on a stool and gestured expansively to the mostly empty bar, “Premier secret hideaway of the Brown Hares Thieves Guild!”

“Do you serve drinks?” was Noriko’s first question.

“Of course! We’re some of the best bootleggers around! Only the finest of stolen and smuggled ales for Orindaco’s premier Thieves Guild!”

“It’s mostly malts,” Carp commented.

“Does Orindaco have an alcohol ban?” Noriko asked, noting the bootlegger comment.

“Nah, we just don’t have a liquor license and the Brewers Guild thinks we suck.”

“An unfair prejudice against we of the working class!” Crab declared.

“We did kinda break three stills-“

“That is an unrelated incident!”

“Hm…also, hares don’t burrow, they nest in small holes called forms,” Noriko noted while heading over to an unoccupied table and taking note of the somewhat haphazardly placed plates and steins. Interestingly and impressively, the steins were actually carved in the shape of rabbits, which kind of made her want to take one. Or send one to Katsuro and Shiho for funsies.

“...the natural behavior of hares has nothing to do with our naming conventions,” Crab insisted, frowning as Carp headed over to Noriko.

“I actually carved those, if you’re curious.”

“Eh? The steins here?” Nori asked, pointing to one in question, before grinning at Carp’s responding nod, “Wow, that’s impressive! Hey, do you do commission work–”

“She’s a thief, not a woodcarver!” Crab interrupted–

“Yeah, I do commissions,” Carp answered.

“Gh–Right! Ignoring that! Let’s just get on with this interrogation!”

To elaborate, the duo had eventually decided to bring Noriko along to their base anyway in order to “interrogate” her. More specifically, Crab decided. The reasoning honestly wasn’t worth paying much attention to since Noriko was just going to follow them if they didn’t let her in voluntarily.

It was kind of fun sitting in a dimly lit room surrounded by ruffians though. Reminded her of her early days as a ninja, though usually she wasn’t on the “interrogated” end of the interrogation table. And her interrogator didn’t usually need a higher seat in order to be at eye level with her.

“So, what are you doing in Orindaco?”

“This gal’s pretty sure you asked her questions like that earlier.”

“And this guy–” Crab jabbed a thumb at himself. “–is pretty damn sure you didn’t answer any of them properly!”

“Oh, okay. Well, this gal is Noriko of Gorokiva, she’s traveling with her friends Mishi and Naya, and she has to admit, it’s pretty clever of you to put your base in a simple building like this one. Most people tend to think they should have something fancy and mysterious, completely forgetting that the point of a hideaway is discretion.”

“That’s not–wait, you really think so?”

She nodded, smiling brightly. “She sure does! You picked a good location for it too, close to the markets where it doesn’t stand out instead of putting it near the warehouses and fisheries while also making it look more bland than rundown. People heading into a clearly abandoned building is one thing but a crappy bar? No one looks twice! It does run the risk of people deciding to check things out anyways but it’ll be rare when there’s plenty of livelier businesses competing for attention and your door guard can handle any actual problems.”

“...Heheheheh, well, you know, discretion comes naturally to such skilled thieves,” Crab preened, a pleased grin on his face from even the most halfhearted of praise.

“...So, hang on, is that why we don’t get a lotta business?” the bartender piped up, which prompted Crab to wave him off.

“Leave it, Clive, the bar is serving the purpose it’s obviously meant for, right? Right.”

“Oh certainly, you can’t let yourself get distracted by making things overly complicated,” Noriko agreed, “If you did want to get more into the bar-running business though, this gal would suggest raising up funds to set up one as a full subsidiary instead of a front. Though she'd also recommended not using stolen funds to do so, it would be pretty obvious if you guys suddenly refurbished this place after someone says they got robbed."

"Huh…that is true…"

"If you'll allow this girl to make some suggestions, she'd recommend starting small first. You know, change up the menu, maybe have Carp do some of her carvings to help decorate the place."

“Those aren’t bad ideas…though we do still have the issue of the Brewers Guild and its blatant prejudice keeping us down.”

“Hmm…could you work around them? Maybe reframe the bar as a restaurant instead?”

“No, that won’t help, the issue is the sale of alcohol, not what the business is called.”

“Okay, but what if it’s something non-alcoholic? Or at least technically so?”

Crab raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Well in general, soft drinks have gotten more popular in recent years because of the syrups trade, but there’s also low-alcohol drinks like amazake back home, which is basically made by fermenting rice but has such a low alcohol content that it’s not actually legally considered such by the shogunate. Or, well, the imperial mandate now, considering…either way, there are similar drinks out there, like must from wine-making. It might be tricky to set it up, but once you know how to do it yourself, there’s not much more to it.”

Clive the bartender suddenly took a seat beside Crab. “Alright, so say we do use this workaround, wouldn’t people consider it a lesser version of–”

Only for Crab to shove him out of the seat. “Seriously!? We’re doing an interrogation here!”

“Back home, amazake is considered more of a health drink and even a hangover cure, so you could market it like that,” Noriko offered, before glancing at Crab, “By the way, what’s your typical revenue stream coming from? You said before you were scouting for Brascul, so do you work by commission?”

“Technically, we’re salaried employees–”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Carp!” Crab barked, frowning at her, before looking back at Noriko, “For your information, she pays us a protection fee, not a salary!”

“And the bigger jobs get a commission fee on top of that?” Noriko noted, quite literally noting that down in her notes, “Are you usually hired to rob people then? Or is it more of an independent thing wherein thieves bring goods to you and you act as fences?”

"Hey, we aren't anyone's fences!” Crab insisted, before giving a shrug, “But well, if someone wants to pawn something off to us, we do offer some trades."

"Think of it more as a pawn shop than a fence."

Noriko just decided to write down that they were a fence. "So you just take whatever anyone wants to pawn off here?"

"Hey, if someone needs money they need money, we don't ask questions. Just, you know, nothing with a name on it. Lowers the resale value you know?"

"No, yeah, this gal understands." Nothing engraved then, Noriko wrote down. It wasn’t a bad policy; the more recognizable an item was, the more likely someone could track it down. “So you’ll accept stolen items otherwise, or at least items people are willing to sell to you, while the guild members, such as yourselves, take on specific jobs you’re hired for?”

“Basically,” Carp agreed, “We here in management assign jobs and stuff, but if it’s something important, we tend to handle it ourselves. Lots of experience and all that.”

So these two were the senior members then, not just newbies running things. Considering they were familiar with Brascul, to the point of referring to her as “Graves”, they might be around the same age as her, though it was tricky to tell. Elves always had that “ageless” vibe to them and it could be tricky to tell a halfling’s age too, depending…ah well, lower priority than finding out more about the guild as a whole. “Do you have restrictions on the jobs you take? For instance, if this gal wanted to hire you to spy on a guild, would you do so?”

“That depends on how much you’re willing to pay. Graves gets a discount on account of being a former member, but we’re up to negotiate our rates.”

“And stealing from them?”

“Ehhhh…” She glanced at Crab, who grimaced.

“The guilds are off-limits to our ‘standard jobs’. It’s not unusual around here to just, say, pay a guild a protection fee to make sure they won’t take jobs against you. The Black Shells do that as a big thing, right?”

Carp nodded. “For sure, for sure, they run a whole protection racket around the Night Market. That’s the one on this dock, Dock Four, by the way. Dock Three’s the main market, but we usually call it the ‘day market’ since Dock Four has the–You get the point.”

“Day market on three, night market on four,” Noriko noted, nodding.

“Yeah, and we usually operate more on Dock Three, despite having our base over here. A lot of our revenue comes from pickpocketing unwary folks carrying too much coin because they want to shop at the ‘Merchant Dock’ or just lifting items from the various businesses taking up that whole area. Lots of international business flows through Orin so it’s easy to have a few pricey items go missing.”

“And you put your base one dock over because sleeping where you steal is a bad idea.”

“Basically, though a big reason we don’t operate as much on Four here is because the Shells are dicks.”

“Exactly! We’d be running this entire dock if it wasn’t for them!” Crab insisted.

Carp shared a look with Noriko, neither of them believing that for a second. “...Anyway, like I said, we don’t really rob businesses on the fourth dock. Not because we’d be ‘running things’, but because the people who do run things basically set up a, ah…‘tier system’ for buying protection. So say if you’re a random shop-owner, you can hire the Shells to protect your business by murdering anyone who robs you. And that’s tier one, by the by. Tier two is that they kill the ‘problematic element’ and any direct accomplices, tier three they wipe out the entire affiliated gang if the ‘problematic element’ is part of one, and tier four was one where they’d kill the families of the ‘problematic elements’ too, but Graves shut that one down hard.”

“One of the few right decisions she’s made,” Crab grumbled, “Though she could stand to get rid of the assholes entirely.”

“She could, but she’s not gonna because they’re more convenient under her thumb than working outside of the city.”

So that was how Brascul preferred to operate…handy to know. Especially since it meant she likely wouldn’t try to hurt Michael. If she’d prefer to keep them in sight, “under her thumb”, then she probably wouldn’t actively go after the angel. Though that supposed the angel wouldn’t cause enough trouble to piss her off anyway…what was she up to right now anyways?

…

Eh. More importantly. “By the way, what was that thing earlier about orphan labor?”

----------------------------------------

Meanwhile, across the city, back at the Villa Veloah, the curtains rose on a makeshift stage as the gathered cast of actors and dancers stood in a row. The accompaniment still played, a simple ditty for the crew to take a bow to while their sole audience member stood from their seat and clapped vigorously, their singular and enthusiastic applause ringing out through the dining hall with enough force to match a fully crowded audience.

What in the world did I just watch…? The clapping did not slow down, for Michael was not one to take back an action once they committed, but also dear gods was the angel confused.

They had to admit, the choreography and music was quite frankly fantastic–at least to their admittedly limited theatrical experience–and Veloah himself certainly had more skills as a performer than they would expect from an apparent pirate-turned-guildmaster. Though they also felt a need to point out that the story itself was self-congratulatory garbage with plot holes a mile wide and extremely flat characters with confusing motivations.

The angel tamped down on that impulse though, if just because the show was still enjoyable despite that point.

“Alright, fantastic work everyone!” Veloah declared, stepping forward from the line and turning to his crew, “Good job as always with the accompaniment, Giacomo, very on point, and excellent improvement on the dancing, Tayvis, you were great as my partner!”

The slender, pale-skinned elf who had played the female lead dropped her proud smile in favor of an annoyed grimace as she pulled her blonde wig from her head, unveiling short, spiky, silver hair. “Yes, fantastic, do we get paid more for this or what–?”

“Though I did notice the table was somewhat low on your side when everyone was lifting, Colma,” Veloah noted, ignoring her question–while Michael idly noted her voice had something of a frostlander accent to it–in favor of glancing at a muscular nereid, “Is something up?”

“Ah, well…yeah, actually, I kinda busted my wrist, boss,” the dark-haired worker commented, lowering his sleeve to show a bandage there, “I did get it checked out with the healers, I guess it’s just more tender than I thought.”

"Make sure to take it easy then, Colma. After all, I need my crew in tip top shape at all times." Veloah said, patting him on the chest.

"O-Of course, Boss! Uh, should I take some time off–?"

"Now then, as for our audience!" Veloah once again ignored a question as he swiftly approached Michael. "What did you think?"

"Oh, well… I thought the performances were amazing, and the music accompaniment was fantastic as well."

"I'm sensing a but."

"...Hm, the story was a bit…convoluted and hard to follow?" They shrugged. “Characters weren’t really introduced so much as they just showed up after a point and a lot of them were not particularly interesting. Your character was, certainly, it’s just the rest felt more like fluff, and the conflict with the archduke felt somewhat contrived given it wasn’t anything Avilio did to set it off, but, ah…’Grace’ and her previously unmentioned younger brother.”

“I hear your critique and I fully understand. However, there are reasons for those issues, all because this story is coming from life itself! It’s very true to reality, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“...Right, but reality doesn’t have narrative cohesion, things just kind of happen without explanation, or at least without reasons an individual can perceive. For a story meant to be conveyed to an audience though–”

“I understand your critique, and I will be using that information going forward, thank you. Now then! I believe you need somewhere to rest!”

“Ah…yes, I suppose–”

“Great! Giacomo, show our guest to a spare room, one of the nicer ones, while I work on some rewrites, which means the rest of you best be ready for more practice tomorrow!”

There were no groans or complaints from the crew, just some resigned acceptance from what Michael could see, though they noticed that Tayvis woman gave them an irritated glare. They shrugged in reply, largely because they didn’t particularly care for her opinion and had no investment in whatever Veloah was doing, then followed Giacomo up to the bedrooms while listening to his chatter about the musical production.

Nothing of particular interest to them, as one could imagine, though he was at least enthusiastic about his role as a musician. Nice to see, they supposed. One should enjoy whatever vocation they take up, though they were fairly certain the Blue Scales were meant to be an Adventurers Guild instead of a Theater Guild. But ah well. The only thing they really had to say on the subject as they laid down in the overly soft bed of Villa Veloah was that the songs were stuck in their head now. To the point that they could still hear the echoes of the last big number in their mind as they woke up in the morning.

Wait, no, that’s actual music. Michael blinked, somewhat blearily as they stared at the overly blue decor of their current bedroom. Sapphire seahorses were painted into the ceiling, winding snakes were engraved into the wood of their four-poster bed, the blankets and pillows were all shades of blue and even the human maid standing by their bed was dressed in–What.

Michael stared at the maid–maids, there were multiple–who bowed to them upon noticing their attention. “Good morning, Lady Paladin. Shall we assist you in readying yourself for the day?”

…Well that was new. Aren’t handmaidens for nobles? Why would they be here for me? “Ah…I do not require aid in…what would you aid me in?”

“Bathing, dressing, and cosmetics, primarily, milady.”

“I don’t need help with those things.”

“Don Veloah would prefer you enjoy the full amenities available to you within his villa, milady.”

“…” They glanced over the gathered maidservants, noting their stony, professional gazes, rigid posture, and the tattoo of a blue eel curling up the olive-toned neck and cheek of the lead maid, who probably wasn’t normally a maid. “…I prefer to dress myself. If you want to hang out in my room and act like you did help me, I wouldn’t say anything.”

One of the stiff maids behind the leader visibly relaxed. She didn’t outright sigh but her relief was obvious. The rest were more professional, though they did start to relax too as Michael went about readying themself for the day with the overly azure attire provided to them.

“So why doesn’t Veloah hire actual maids?” Michael asked as they slipped on a blue tunic embroidered with three serpents across the front.

“Real maids are guilded,” one maid, currently relaxing on Michael’s bed, answered, earning a huff from the lead maid.

“For all intents and purposes, he did. While our typical duties as employees of the Sapphire Serpents are meant to be as ‘adventurers’, the definition our guild uses is that of ‘workers for hire’.” The human gave a wry smile as she came up to fix up the collar of Michael’s shirt. “So eh, it could be worse. Our boss is still paying us and at least we don’t have to do all the dancing he does for that play of his."

“Yeah, what’s with that?” asked the bedmaid, “It’s like a play, but an opera also? But then there’s dancing, and it’s like–”

“It’s a musical,” another maid chimed in from her place on one of the room’s lounge chairs, “You know, a play with music. And also dancing, I guess. You know, the triple threat.”

“Triple what?”

“Hey so is that stuff actually based on a true story?” the third extra maid asked, glancing up from the book she was reading. One she’d brought along, apparently.

“Probably? The don is old, so…hey Anguilla, you’re old too, right? Is the don’s story true?”

“I’m not even forty yet–ugh.” The lead maid, Anguilla apparently, sighed in annoyance. “Yes, it’s largely accurate, at least as far as I know. I wasn’t there for most of it, but I remember the city being in an uproar after the Archduchess’s brother stabbed the ex-archduke.”

Ah, so “Grace” is indeed Brascul–Hm. “Julius Goldforge stabbed the archduke?”

“Wait, the hero?” bedmaid asked.

“Yes, that Julius Goldforge, and before you ask, yes, he’s Lady Brascul’s brother,” Anguilla explained, “From what I remember, the heroes went to the archduke so they could get into the Water Temple, getting his permission and all that, and the archduke was overly insulting towards Lady Brascul so Goldforge stabbed him.”

“Huh. Surprisingly reasonable,” Michael admitted, “I was expecting him to have a worse reason.”

The other maids were staring at Michael in some alarm, but Anguilla nodded along. “One needs to defend their family. At any rate, it did cause the domino fall that resulted in the archduke being ousted, so it worked out in the end.”

Well I wouldn’t go that far. Still, Michael could understand retaliating to slander against a family member. It wasn’t like the archduke even died from it, apparently, so the retribution sounded entirely proportionate.

Thoughts of Goldforge aside though, they were apparently in Giacomo’s care again for the day, given he was waiting for them when they made their way downstairs.

“Buongiorno, Sister Isha!” he greeted, promptly moving to fall in step with them, which was somewhat awkward given the angel didn’t know where they were going–Okay, apparently they were leaving the villa, alright. “Don Veloah sends his regards, though he’s going to be busy with events today.”

“More theater work?”

“Ha! Ah…probably. Ah, though I think he does have other things to do with the wedding. The royals being around means every guild boss is on alert, especially in case–”

“Jack!”

Giacomo paused at the harsh tone, before turning with a practiced smile as that woman from the previous night, Tayvis, marched up to him, a glare on her pale face. Which Michael noted had some more blue undertones to it now that they were looking closer. “Ah, Signora Levik, how can I–”

“Can it with the sunlander speak,” the snow elf ordered, suddenly wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him down to her level, “Your brother, where is he?”

“Ah…not sure? Asher goes where Asher wants to go–”

“And you are his brother, da? So tell me where he goes. Veloah is cheapass, so I am talking with him instead, get it? Or, as you say, capeesh?”

“Right, right, io capisco, but! I do not know what I do not know, so I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”

Tayvis narrowed her eyes but released Giacomo with a scowl and stomped off. “Fucking newt…”

“Nice to see you too!” he called out after her, before turning back to Michael with a grin, “So, as we were?”

The angel raised an eyebrow, glancing from the testy elf to the smiling human. “What was that about?”

“Eh, Levik mislikes how Don Veloah assigns duties. She’s a good fighter, good killer too, but the Serpents aren’t too interested in assassins right now and she’s done well enough in contracts to get promoted high in the guild. It’s just that being in a high position means more playing along with what Don Veloah likes to do and I think it’s chafing her. She’ll get used to it.”

Michael frowned at the mention of assassins, but elected to ignore it for the moment. “And the ‘newt’ comment?”

“Oh, that’s because according to her, I’m too long to be a toad.” He laughed to himself, before peeking around Michael. “Alright, she’s out of earshot, wanna go meet my brother for breakfast?”

“...So you knew exactly where he was this whole time?”

“Completely, but Levik’s a dick so fuck her.”

Michael didn’t have much to say to that, so it was back to following Giacomo while he played tour guide on a winding route through the first dock of Orindaco. “–over there’s Villa Mediama, they’re some of the biggest bankers this side of the Orisalic, lots of investment and insurance flows through them, lots of their friends hold villas around here, and they even got family all the way back in Audabero, and across from them is Strozzino Savings and Loans, technically theirs but actually under the management of Signore Vorco, who does a fair amount of business with the Serpents. Frequent guest at Villa Veloah, that type of guy. He’s a sea elf like the Don, so I think there’s some kinship there, maybe?”

“Audabero…the city by Bolero?” Michael asked, glancing around the mix of marble buildings, many of which seemed to be displaying either flags or frescos showing off the familiar logo of a sapphire serpent.

“The sister city, yep! Well, little sister city. Bolero is the city-state everyone thinks of when they think of Casidola, but Audabero’s a decently big port too, and a lot more influenced by old Adunca due to immigration while Bolero’s more a mix of–Ah, I’ll save that for later.”

Michael glanced at Giacomo, noting the sharp-toothed human’s change in tone and sudden straightening of his posture before they turned to look at what caught his attention. And, instantly, they fully understood why he was on guard because ugh.

Swaggering towards them was a gold-skinned high elf with coiffed, ruby red hair that matched the crimson jacket he was wearing. One that really did look too hot for the weather, especially given it appeared to be fully leather. His boots clacked across the ground with a jingle of spurs while his hand rested on a sparkly ruby pommel, itself resting on the gilded hilt of his overly decorated cutlass. Really, all the decoration made the sword, and by extension its bearer, looked far less threatening than the pair of daffodil-blonde…humans? Following behind him. Two women, specifically, both standing shorter than their apparent employer, maybe about Anaya’s height, yet carrying themselves in a way that raised Michael’s hackles despite their lack of visible weapons.

There was just something off about the pair; a lack of imperfections that a natural human would have, a cold, lifeless look to their crimson eyes, and a strange sensation of threat they carried with each perfect motion. Combine that with the scarlet dresses, headbands, and gloves they were wearing and honestly, Michael was getting ready to maybe fight a pair of vampires, at least until the elf started speaking.

“So the lesser Belsito is off his leash. What a shock.” Michael hated him immediately. Well, maybe hate was too strong a word for someone they just met, but he really hit all the “unpleasant Centola” points they’d– “And this must be the wayward sister slumming it with the sea elves. What, do you like the reek of dead fish?”

“Hey Centola,” Giacomo greeted while Michael raised an eyebrow at the far too familiar sound of sneering condescension coming from the high elf, “I’m surprised your nonna let you out of the roost. Ain’t you supposed to stick to your territory for your protection?”

“Like anything in this filthy city could even touch me. So? Why are you slumming it with the fish?”

It took Michael a second to realize Centola was talking to them. Once they did, they shrugged. “Margrave Brascul suggested it.”

“You’re taking suggestions from a human?” he asked as though they’d taken a suggestion from a rat, “You should know the Furies are open to anyone of Zeman blood, same for all businesses under our protection. So? What’s with this disloyalty to your home nation?”

Michael’s eyebrow raised again, particularly when they noticed more people in red began walking up behind the apparent leader. Mostly elves, though they noted a few humans and harpies in the mix. “...I don’t recall swearing fealty to the Order Centola.”

“Is that so? Then are you just pretending to be a paladin? Because impersonating a warrior of the faith is a crime. The kind that, in the old days, would get you executed.”

Michael couldn’t help it. They outright snorted. “And what old days are those supposed to be? Tell me, when was execution outlawed in Zemava? Before you were born? Before your ‘nonna’ was born? Before your entire family line even existed?”

That earned a scowl as the crowd bristled. “Do you have any idea who–”

“You’re Icilia’s grandson, aren’t you?” That brought him up short, and Michael felt a sigh coming on as it became exceptionally obvious who the arrogant idiot in front of them happened to be related to, because of course it would be the most annoying of the deacons. “Of course you are…right, turn around, take your friends with you, and I’ll leave things here.”

The crowd behind him didn’t like that, jostling as they called out indiscernible insults, but the Centola looked unnerved before he recomposed himself. “And what’s that supposed to–”

“Stop saying that. Take a hint and leave.”

But the aggravating elf didn’t back down, stepping closer with a sneer on his face. “And who’s going to make me?”

“You should be careful with phrases like that, Cent.” Oh what now?

Michael glanced to the side, towards the new voice, then paused and looked lower, because the man speaking was maybe about up to their chest in height. He carried himself with confidence though, his bare arms–displayed by a sleeveless navy-blue shirt–rippling with muscle and visibly covered in tattoos that nearly dyed his tanned skin a mix of blue and black with how dense they were.

“Fratello!” Giacomo called out, raising a hand to the approaching man. His brother, if Michael understood the dialect right, though they honestly didn’t see much resemblance between the two.

Where Giacomo was lean and lanky, his brother was stocky and muscled, with a short but thick beard of reddish-copper hair. The hair atop his head was also noticeably better combed and a silver ring hung from his left ear; not especially relevant, but they were details to be noticed.

“Giacomo, are you starting trouble with the neighbors?”

“No no no no, of course not!” Giacomo insisted, waving a hand, though he was still smiling as cheerfully as he had been the moment he noticed his brother approaching, “Darius wanted to greet Sister Isha here, right Darius?”

“Is that so?” Asher Belsito smiled as he looked at Centola, and Michael confirmed in that instant that this was indeed the man who murdered every last Blue Scale guildmaster in Gorokiva. There was violence in that smile. A promise and a guarantee. “Come to pay your respects, have you?”

“...” Darius slowly nodded. “Only right to, to a visiting ‘paladin.” He turned towards Michael, though his eyes lingered on Asher. “...Allow me to extend an…invitation. Because we should talk again. And I would dearly appreciate it if you would enjoy my hospitality.”

“Sure. After breakfast.” Michael turned to Giacomo, then paused when they noticed they were being backed up by a number of people in blue, primarily nereids and humans. “...What? This isn’t a public show. Shoo.”

That earned a blink from one of the nearby Blue Scales, with the rest making some noises of confusion as Michael frowned at them. Asher laughed faintly there, a low sound that still managed to echo.

“You heard the paladin, people! Get back to what you were doing!” Giacomo said to his fellow guild members, clapping his hands for emphasis before turning back and tipping his hat to the Centola, “Darius.”

“...Belsitos,” Centola sneered back, before turning and shoving one of the other elves in red behind him, “Out of the damn way!”

Giacomo huffed in audible amusement as the Feathers scampered out of their leader’s way, quickly hurrying back to their apparent “territory”, before he nodded to the pair of blondes with the lifeless eyes. “Suvi, Rapi.”

Curiously enough, that earned a surprisingly cheery wave from the leftmost blonde, whose expression didn’t change. The rightmost nodded back too, before both followed after their employer.

“Hm. What’s with those two?” Michael asked, glancing to their guide and receiving a shrug in reply.

“No idea. The best I’ve heard is that they’re maybe from Dangduro in the Sun Lands, though they don’t really have the look for it, do they?”

“You’re one to talk,” Asher commented, his smile carrying less of a threat of violence. The fact that it was still there was…concerning.

“True, a man’s guaranteed to break things in a glass house. And who knows with the Madriguese these days, ah?” Giacomo didn’t seem to mind though, his own smile as careless as always, “The Sun Lands have always been very diverse, coming from the old days of Pahseinala, so as I say, eh.”

Michael caught maybe half of what he was referring to there. “Sure.”

“How do you know old Darius’s nonna anyway?”

They blinked at the non-sequitur, then sighed irritably. “I’ve had to be her bodyguard before. She’s demanding.”

“Ahh. The pear doesn’t fall far, eh?” He chuckled again, before clapping his hands. “Well never mind all that! Asher, we were looking for you!”

“Well you found me. And here I was, going to get breakfast.” He glanced at Michael, his eyes a shade of blue dark enough to be black. “Could I trouble you to come along, Miss Red-Wing?”

“It wouldn’t be any trouble,” Michael replied, mostly out of curiosity for the man in front of them.

“Great! We can get beignets!” Giacomo declared, cutting off the potential staredown before it could begin as Michael turned towards him, an eyebrow raising in confusion.

“What’s a ben-yay?”

Somehow, that question just made him all the more gleeful. “Oh this is gonna be a treat~!”