The ceremony ended and the banquet began, bringing lighthearted fun and serious politicking. Looking over the baroness's company, Darlac was certain that she'd made a mistake with the dress code after all. Not that she didn't look amazing. Quite on the contrary, she looked a little too amazing for comfort. By choosing the dress over the blue and orange Varnling uniform, she'd unwittingly decided to present herself as Baron Varn's decorative paramour, not his dauntless second-in-command. She told herself the two were not mutually exclusive, but she increasingly felt this was not necessarily true. Not in the eyes of others.

There was not much to see in the retinue of Hannis Drelev, the third baron. He'd come alone, or probably with a few nigh invisible servants to cater for his personal needs. However, the baroness's entourage offered Darlac plenty of people to get acquainted with, and she did her best to use the occasion for networking. But the wicked little voice at the back of her consciousness was hard to silence. She was drifting past the point of no return, towards one of the darkest pits of a woman's mind: comparisons.

The young half-elf woman named Octavia was dressed quite elegantly for a fugitive slave, which meant the future ruler of Nightvale strove to promote social mobility and cared for her companions. That was commendable. However, Octavia's almost exclusive interest in chocolate éclairs, wine and men (not necessarily in this order of priority) felt like a dire warning for Darlac. Was a pigeonhole taking shape here, meant for low-ranking but all the more pretty ladies, socialites, attachments to important men? Was she being sucked into that hole?

Her bad feeling increased when she was introduced to Amiri of the Six Bears and her sword Ginormous. Sadly but understandably, the barbarian girl was unwilling to let Darlac try to swing the astounding weapon. However, the sight of the numerous scars Amiri put so proudly on display made Darlac congratulate herself on not choosing a more revealing dress. Looking at Darlac's perfectly smooth skin, nobody would believe she had five tough years of mercenary service behind her back. Her skin's uncanny ability to heal without scars, likely a side effect of her celestial ancestry, now felt like a curse rather than a blessing.

Then she spotted Valerie, and things began to get unpleasant.

Darlac had made the acquaintance of Valerie about six years ago. Back then, she'd had a mane of honey-coloured hair reaching down to her bottom and a reputation of having been blessed by Shelyn herself with extraordinary beauty. As Darlac readily admitted, the truth was not far behind. Accordingly, Valerie was being trained by the Order of the Eternal Rose. By Darlac's calculations, she must have finished her studies already. However, now her glorious hair was gone, replaced by some terrible haircut she was probably maintaining herself. Darlac had trouble imagining how Valerie's tutors could allow that to happen within a beauty-focused paladin order in service of a beauty-focused goddess. Valerie was not wearing the traditional gear of Shelyn's paladins, either. Instead, she had simple but perfectly polished full plate armour on, and her face reflected a mild annoyance with the world in general. Judging from the natural ease she carried herself with, she must have put on a lot of muscle as well. Checking her out with a recruiter's gaze, Darlac could imagine her as a decent tank, provided that any foe would ever want to hit someone so beautiful.

Valerie was immersed in a conversation with Kesten Garess, Lady Jamandi's guard captain, and didn't seem particularly happy when Darlac joined them.

"Ah, it's you, Felicia," she said coldly, eyeing the paladin with disdain. "Long time no see. But alas, not long enough."

Darlac couldn't help but feel kinship with any woman who preferred a bottle of good quality weapon oil to a bouquet of flowers, so she was determined to keep things friendly. But that didn't mean she would allow a random acquaintance to call her by her first name.

"Darlac, if you don't mind. Good to see you, too, Valerie. How are things in your order?"

"I quit."

"Oh," said Darlac. That kind of explained the haircut. Perhaps Valerie had been kicked for what she'd done to herself? "How come?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Not tonight, and not to you, of all people."

Darlac frowned, but forced herself to ignore the insult.

"Perhaps you were in the wrong order to begin with," she remarked.

"Indeed. You, on the other hand, would be a perfect fit for the Eternal Rose. You have the looks to be eligible and also the willingness to exploit your charms for a quick climb up the ranks."

It felt increasingly hard for Darlac to stay civilised, but she had to persevere. She wouldn't be the person to spoil her beloved baron's inauguration banquet by making a scene.

"Best of luck blazing your own trail, Valerie," she said as a farewell, preparing to leave in search for a more agreeable conversation partner.

"Are you mocking me?" asked Valerie sharply.

At this point, a tipsy Kesten Garess took the initiative to ease the tension between the two ladies.

"Never mind her, Darlac," he said with a grin. "She has challenging weeks behind her. You have no idea. Hic. Guess what, now we both belong to Baroness Guelder's entourage. Hic."

Darlac raised an eyebrow.

"That's kind of reassuring, Kesten. And here I was worried you've been drinking on the job. How did this happen?"

"Well, I'm part of the barony starter kit Guelder received from Lady Jamandi, so to say," explained Kesten. "As to Valerie, well... she sort of got herself involved in bad company, and ended up imprisoned by some kobolds under a big tree. Or mites? Was it mites? Hic. Nasty little buggers, the lot of them. Never mind. Suffice to say, Guelder rescued her and also the other elf lady over there. The creepy one with the bored face. I still wonder how she and Valerie could end up on the same team, led by none else than an agent of Pitax—"

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Valerie blushed with shame.

"Kesten, you're drunk," she said, with a shade of menace in her voice. "And also full of hot air. How about you refrain from wagging your tongue for the rest of the evening?"

"And how do you two find your new liege?" asked Darlac with a pinch of second-hand embarrassment.

"Not too bad," said Valerie. "At least she is not one to rub your past mistakes into your face, like some people here."

Her glare at the guard captain told the rest.

"Of course," explained Kesten, unfazed by Valerie's scowl, "compared to Tartuccio, even a mangy fox qualifies as a person of honour. But Guelder is sound, she really is."

"You're right," said Valerie. "With the appropriate checks and balances in place, she will make an acceptable ruler."

Darlac was left with some food for thought. Judging from the followers and support the baroness was getting from Lady Jamandi, she must have been more open to the idea of making alliances than Captain... erm, Baron Varn, who was either paranoid in this regard or just unable to assess the importance of diplomacy. He had already angered Her Highness Natala Surtova, sister to the King of Brevoy, and Lady Jamandi was also wearing a disciplined-but-not-very-happy expression on her face. Darlac found that a little disturbing. She was well aware that the Aldori of Restov were not a charity organisation, and that they had their own motives in creating vassal states in the Stolen Lands. As to Darlac, she would have been happy to support their efforts to claim independence from the royal house. Maegar, however, was obsessed with Varnhold's independence instead, and that could well lead to isolation.

Darlac took a glass of dry Chelaxian wine from the tray held by a servant, just for the fruity, acidic taste.

"You've become a real lady, Darlac," said someone behind her. "You even choose your drink to match your hair."

She turned around and found herself face to face with Kassil Aldori, Lady Jamandi's stepson.

"You can't complain yourself, Kassil," she said with a grin, looking him up and down. "I never thought you'd turn out such a distinguished gentleman, but here you are."

Indeed, the time they'd sat together at their tutors' boring classes seemed far away. A half-orc urchin of shady lineage, adopted from the streets, and an orphaned noble scion who'd lost his father in Lady Jamandi's ill-advised incursion into the Stolen Lands. Back then, they had been close friends, or maybe a little more than that. Now they would be politicians. Darlac warned herself to stay alert and not to indulge completely in nostalgy.

"To be honest," said Kassil, "as an emissary appointed to one of the nascent baronies, I hoped I would be able to work together with you again."

For a moment, Darlac perked up with enthusiasm. Then she mulled over his words once more, and her joy evaporated.

"So you aren't coming to Varnhold, are you?"

"Nope. Your baron flat-out refused to take an emissary, at least from the Aldori. I'll be heading to Nightvale."

"I'm sorry. Not that I know anything about Nightvale, but it would have been good to have you around. Still, please reassure Lady Jamandi of Varnhold's loyalty. I guarantee that personally."

Kassil laughed.

"Indeed, you're as good an Aldori emissary as myself. How did my mother not think of that? Anyway, enjoy the party. I'm sure we'll bump into each other again!"

He bowed his head and touched Darlac's hand to his brow as a gesture of respect, then disappeared in the crowd.

So, while Darlac was mingling with the other guests, her baron had committed serious mistakes. The elf lady was apparently a smarter diplomat, or at least more appreciative of the Aldori's generosity. Her Highness Natala Surtova was having a long conversation with her right now, but she seemed to be undaunted by authority... or too dense to see the danger. Like Baron Varn probably was. Ever so slightly, Darlac began to dread the future.