The next day, I woke up in the Undercity. Now that the festival was over, the town had assumed a more peaceful atmosphere. I stretched, still feeling the ache from yesterday’s dance, and decided to explore the town. First things first, I needed to replace my broken sword.

The nearby marketplace was packed with activity. Many different stalls were laid out, selling all manner of goods. The merchants had arranged their stalls in concentric circles, creating a spiralling maze of commerce. The outer rings held common goods, fruits, vegetables, textiles. But as I moved inward, the merchandise grew progressively more interesting, and more deadly.

A weapon merchant caught my eye, his stall positioned next to a potion seller. Various blades hung from hooks in the cave wall, some of them in pristine condition, some of them worn from overuse.

The merchant, a gruff man with a missing left ear, looked up from his work. He was carefully wrapping leather around a sword handle. “A virgin blade or an experienced bloodletter. Whatever you fancy, I got what you need.”

I kept my expression neutral. "I just need a sword."

He reached beneath his counter and pulled out a blade. "Aye. You want this one. An uncommon steel sword. Good steel, balanced. It hungers for fresh meat."

I picked it up. The sword was indeed well-crafted, light and sharp. But the merchant wanted three gold for it. I opened my coin purse… a sole gold coin remained.

"Something simpler," I said, keeping my voice steady despite my empty purse.

He rolled his eyes and reached for a plain common iron sword. "One gold. Sharp enough to kill, dull enough to not ask questions about it.”

My heart fell as I removed the lonely gold coin from my purse.

… I hate being a knight.

With my new sword, I turned my thoughts back to the Guide's advice: finding the Oracle. If I wanted answers on the night, she would be my best option. And so I asked around the marketplace.

“Nay, haven’t seen the Oracle in a long time. But if you’re looking for information, try the tavern; lots of rumors and gossip float around in there.” One merchant was particularly helpful and pointed me in the right direction.

The Moonless Tavern wasn't difficult to find. A massive weather-worn sign dominated the cavern intersection, mounted on what might have been the oldest building in the Undercity. Music and drunken laughter spilled from beneath its door, echoing off the stone walls.

"Watch yourself in there," warned a gruff voice. An old man leaned against the wall beside the door, pipe smoke curling around his scarred face. “Lots of hooligans itching for a fight. The kind that don't need much reason to start one.”

I nodded my thanks and pushed open the heavy wooden door. The tavern was crowded, buzzing with chatter and clinking mugs. Tough-looking folks gave me the eye as I walked in, with more than a few wearing their weapons openly. Their well-oiled blades, polished hilts, and worn grips spoke of regular use. These weren't common thugs but practiced fighters.

I squeezed through the crowd, making my way to the bar. Perhaps the bartender might know something about the oracle. As I neared the bar, I got a closer look at the bartender. He was a menacing man with tattoos all over his face, serving drinks rapidly to his thirsty patrons. His eyes flicked to me briefly. He slid a pint of beer across the counter and looked away, dismissing me before I could even say a word.

I tried to get his attention. I needed information, not ale, but it was impossible to catch his eyes. Left with nothing but the drink in front of me, I studied it instead. Dark, local brew, the kind that could clean rust off a blade. One sip confirmed that was probably safer than drinking it.

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The tavern's usual chaos suddenly stilled with the crowd falling hush.

A sensuous figure emerged from behind the curtains and glided onto the stage with grace and poise, dressed in flowing silks of red that fluttered as she made her way to the center.

When she began to sing, the remaining conversations died instantly. Her voice was soft at first, angelic, and captivating. The ballad she chose told of a fallen warrior who danced with shadows ; a tale of loss, longing, and defiance that seemed to transform the tavern's very atmosphere.

Then she started to dance. Her movements told a story that her words couldn't capture. With a graceful twirl, her skirts fanned out, and her arms moved in fluid arcs as though she were painting the air itself.

As her song reached a crescendo, she spun faster, reaching a dazzling speed that left her motion a blur. When she finally came to an end, the crowd erupted in cheers. I stood there watching and joined in the applause. It was Estella.

"You’re new here. Quite something, isn't she?" The bartender's voice startled me. He'd materialized beside me without a sound. "Darling of the Undercity. Though if you're thinking of causing trouble..." He left the threat unspoken, but his meaning was clear.

"Just here for the performance," I said carefully. The sudden shift from dismissive to threatening was interesting. Estella had powerful friends in the Undercity.

I turned back to the stage. I wanted to go over to greet her but hesitated. A popular girl like her, would she still remember me?

The applause was still ongoing as Estella gave a final graceful bow and stepped off the stage. However, three big men accosted her on her way down, blocking her path to the back room. The leader, a broad-shouldered man with an expensive silk vest, stepped forward with an entitled confidence.

"Quite the performance, sweetness." A lecherous grin formed on his face as he adjusted his vest. "How about a private show? We pay well for... exclusive entertainment."

Estella's smile vanished. "Not interested." She tried to step around them, but the tall one blocked her path.

The other patrons barely glanced up at the confrontation. Their lack of concern was telling. Either they were too hardened to care, or they knew something I didn't about Estella's capabilities.

He grabbed her wrist, the gaudy rings on his fingers biting into her skin. "Don't be like that, darling. A dancer like you must know how to... negotiate."

Estella's eyes flashed. "Let go. Now." Her voice was ice.

The third man's hand drifted to his belt. "Careful, little bird," he growled. "Down here, far from your stage, it's easy to trip and fall."

I noticed Estella's jaw clench, her fingers twitching towards her skirt where something shiny glinted. But as I pushed through the crowd towards her, it became clear she was no stranger to these situations.

Estella's gaze cut to her assailant. "I never trip. But you?" She smirked. "You're about to fall hard."

With a graceful twist, she spun and flipped the man grabbing her wrist onto the ground. She stomped on him to loosen his grip and finished him with a kick to the head.

The leader tried to strike her with a punch but was too slow. Her backflip kick connected first and knocked the breath out of him.

The last thug took out his knife from his belt.

“Let’s see how well you dance with a blade in your leg,” he threatened.

In response, Estella took out two chakrams and threw them at him. The blades danced in the air as though moving with a will of their own, curving in ways that defied physics. They were swift as the wind and inflicted multiple slashes along the man's arms and legs, not fatal wounds, but precisely placed to hamper movement. He tried to strike her back, a slash to the right, a stab to the left. But she easily dodged his clumsy attacks with her light feet.

“Sorry, but I don't follow anyone else's choreography” She yelled as she rushed towards him. Her strikes came in rapid succession, each one targeting a precise pressure point. Palm heel to solar plexus, knee to kidney, elbow to temple. The man collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.

The tavern fell silent. Estella gave a graceful curtsy to her fallen audience, chakrams still gleaming at her sides. "Next time, gentlemen, stick to watching from the crowd." She stepped over their groaning forms with a dancer's poise. "I don't do private shows."

That's when her eyes met mine. A megawatt smile formed on her face when she realized I was there. “Noctus!” She waved enthusiastically. The way she brightened at my presence made the suspicious stares from the other patrons feel distant and unimportant. She weaved through the crowd and made her way towards me. I found myself mirroring her smile without meaning to.

"We meet again. Did you enjoy the show?" She gave a quick twirl and struck a cute pose.

"Yea, it was good…” I said, glancing at the groaning men on the floor. “Both your shows. I didn't know you could fight like that.”

She shrugged. “There’s a lot you don't know about me. Now, what brings you to this fine establishment?"

“I’m looking for the Oracle.”