Fiona touched down in record time on the dance floor and grabbed Jake before he could get a word out. Even this wolven could read the mood on her face. “So uh, I take it that didn’t go well–”

“Nope. That’s okay, though! I want to make sure Barry knows we’re having a good time! So let’s party like it’s 1999, fellas!” she declared with a fist pump to the air.

“It’s 1794, BE,” he replied drolly.

“What’s that stand for, anyway? You know what, history lesson later, let’s put it on the Ritz!”

“What’s a ritz–you know what, don’t need to know, it’s gonna be a fun time.” It was great how Jake was willing to roll with it, and she threw him an approving nod before skipping to the floor. Greg approached, wearing his concerned look. Which was his default expression that she desperately needed to fix.

“Fiona, what were you doing with–”

“Not important. It’s time to dance! Let’s rip up this fancy polished floor like dancing's going out of style,” she beamed. “There is so much sourness in that booth, that we need to shake up the room with a little bit of sweet and spice! Cue the music, Jake!”

Almost as if they’d been waiting for the moment to get the freak on, the band started playing a lively tune–the kind she’d heard in quite a few bawdy tavern songs. But here, this was a different crowd this was tuned for, and then she proceeded to get funky.

Cepalune had a different beat to the crowd than the clubs back on Earth. It was slower, a little more intimate, and Greg was not happy to be victim number one, because he had two left feet, while hers were barely touching the ground as they spun and twirled across the dance floor.

“Oh my. Oh dear. The human body is not meant to move in this way!” Greg said with a certain awkward charm of his, that she kind of liked about him. He always seemed to keep his guard up, except for a few times.

“Bonnie? Has he been introduced to ‘grinding’ yet?” A flash of a leering grin from Bonnie and those dazzling blue eyes is all she needed to know he had not, in fact, been introduced to a little slice of earth culture.

"I do not believe he has.” Pale, poor pale Greg never looked a rosier shade when he had two dancing, flirty chicks trying to get their funk on, and Fiona loved it when he sputtered. This poor, innocent boy had no social life outside of work, and she needed to fix that!

“Miss Swiftheart, I must insist–”

“If the end of that statement is ‘on having a good time’, then yes, you definitely should!” Fiona laughed as they spun and got their kicks flitting through the crowd. Greg was merely the first to be accosted in this way, and she and Bonnie worked through the crowd. The elf and the Kitsune, changed dance partners, with an ebb and flow of two dedicated dancers.

She had to applaud Jake and Bonnie, with the technically extra joint that was part of their ankle and paw pads. They were like an extra set of springs for their body, and allowed them a certain additional degree of flexibility. Bonnie could spring through the air, and those acrobatics were put to good use.

And Bonnie, despite dressing fairly modestly, was not lacking in the accessories department. Watching her dance was a masterclass of evolution that took place in a span of distance and time beyond counting, and Fiona took her current partner–Jake, who was grinning at the attention–and brought Bonnie into the fold again.

“Whooo! Girl, you are an utter demon on the floor!” Bonnie called out, cackling madly.

“Oy, I resent that!” someone protested with a distinct pair of horns on their head–another Darkling, perhaps?

“Sorry, she’s just excited! We are reinventing the funk!” Fiona corrected and spun to give this new arrival a spin, and got cozily close. Any objections the man had were immediately ablated, and he got into the mood as well, with everyone finding the rhythm.

Rhythm governed the mood, as she danced across the floor, and little sparks of fire were, indeed, trailing from the gold embroidered threads of her dress. they spun little pirouettes, little faerie fires that winked out after several seconds, and traced her motion across the room with her partner, who gave a toothy smirk. And he was so graceful, too, with gently guided hands as they spun, leapt, and jilted across the room.

The band switched to a rapid-fire pace with a song she didn’t recognize. But the rhythm beckoned her forward to just dance.

Somewhere, some god or goddess was laughing their ass off at an elf dancing in a faraway world, inspired by bad movies like Saturday Night Fever, or even Footloose. Or, whatever silly dance ensemble movie she’d watched, long after the shop closed for the evening, in the coziness of her old apartment.

“I-I’m dancing with the heroine of Fiefdala!” the man exclaimed, as if he he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Nah, on the dance floor, I’m just Miss Swiftheart,” she added with a coy smile, and tapped a finger on his vest ever so gently. The exaggerated motion caused the poor young man with the ochre-colored eyes to wobble and land on his rump–and tail, judging by his howl of pain. This was met with laughs–and a few cheers–from his wingmates, who all waved to Fiona, who gave the prone man a little curtsy.

“Gotta work on your moves there, kid! Come find me when you can keep up!” She helped him to his feet, where he gingerly rubbed his backside. He gave her a firm salute.

“I–I will!” he shouted out, but she was already working through the crowd, and the rest of the night blended away.

She did get to give one smug smile up to King Barry, who leered at her from his perch on the second floor. She figured the guy just didn’t know how to have a good time, and that blonde beach bunny was also staring at her. She just gave her an enthusiastic wave. She got a two-finger salute from her–oh, the bunny had teeth, huh?

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Bitch. Just wait till I finish up. She knew that woman might be even more trouble than Barry. She could feel it. It was like there was a hanging weight in the heart on her wrist, when she gazed at her. Fiona had a term she coined for it:

A heart filled with lead.

The night waned on, and eventually, even Bonnie ran out of energy. Greg had to prop both of them up, even as Fiona giggled from just a tad too much excitement, and they took a seat back at the table. Greg sat in the middle of them, talking quietly to Bonnie, who was getting quite flirty with him. Where that went, was Fiona’s guess.

“So, Greg, I was thinking…” Bonnie said as she put a hand to her chest–and goodness, the valley was broad on this girl's dress, at the moment. “I think we should get out of here, and go finish up this party over at Fi’s place. What do you say, dear?”

“My goodness, have you ever run out of energy?” Fiona laughed and took a sip of water from a pitcher at the table. Ice mages must have been working overtime to get all the beverages chilled like this.

“Nope! I have plenty of energy for another round, just need another five minutes,” she giggled, and leaned on Greg’s shoulder. It was adorable to watch Greg get all flushed, and not have the daring to move a muscle. “Say, Greg. what do you think?”

“I think it’s late, aaaaand…perhaps we should retire for the evening. If I know Jake, he’ll have this grand ball going all night. In no small part, due to Miss Swiftheart’s ‘sick nasty moves’ on the floor. In her own words.” Greg’s lips finally creased into a smile.

Finally, this guy cracked! He can have a good time, after all! Fiona leaned in. “We could go back to my place, borrow a bottle of wine I’m sure no one will miss here, because my goodness, there’s so many of them,” she added. She pointed to a few opened bottles on the other side of the table, where a few guests had been having a very good time. They must have departed earlier, and there was one corked bottle, untouched. “Oh, by the way, I have a proposal! Completely slipped my mind, but I'm hanging out with Darla tomorrow at my apartment. You guys wanna come?”

“Wait. Coffee girl Darla?” Bonnie recalled with a snap of her claws. “Oh my gosh, behind those shark teeth is a heart of gold!”

“I know, right?” Fiona edged in, and Greg got all flushed while she talked to Bonnie–also practically draped over him. “I decided to go for it!”

“Are you…um…” Greg trailed off, as if unsure how to finish his sentence.

“Greg, this might surprise you, but I do have interests beyond striking studs. Actually, I’ve been so busy the past six months, that I really haven’t gone on a date! I mean, not one that wasn’t a casual one-off,” she added as an aside.

“I think you treat them as conquests,” Bonnie teased, looking as sleek as ever.

“Careful, dear. I might break my rule where I take interest in the people I work with,” Fiona cracked, though her friend’s eyes did light up a bit at that mention. “Key things to know about me, I sleep in on weekends, I will steal all the covers on the bed, and I will make breakfast in the morning! I’m a classy kind of girl.”

“You are truly, one of a kind,” Greg admitted, before peering at an unopened bottle of wine on the table. “Tell you what, let’s save these couple of bottles for tomorrow night. What plan did you have with Darla?”

“My place, and dinner. Just casual. I’d hate for King Beardless to be creeping in on me in public somewhere, and if Tucker didn’t maul him alive at the apartment, Granny would,” she added with a confident laugh. “Alright guys, let’s go say our farewells!”

She did manage to snag back the arcane amplifier, and Jake let her, and she was filled to the brim with the confidence of the evening, and her voice carried sparks of it. “So guys, here’s the deal, thank you, everyone, for coming out, it's been a pleasure to celebrate this fine evening with the real heroes who beat up that big bad dragon!” she called out with an electric spark. The crowd cheered, and a few of the younger guild members swooned. When was the last time someone swooned for her?

“Anyway, as a reminder, come Lunesday, go drop by Perrier Way at our new shop! Tell your friends, tell your families, tell your work friends! We want to show that we honor the roots of our success, and we want to dedicate that day to them!” Fiona called out to raucous cheers.

She peered upward, and saw Barry in his little crow nest, leering at her. She smiled widely, and pointed to him. “Also, be sure to thank King Barry, wave and say hi, so that he knows the guild’s got the Kingdom’s back when times get tough!” she shouted, and the crowd went wild with applause. Barry’s eyebrow twitched at this ‘being killed by kindness’ strategy, and Fiona laughed. “Swiftheart, out guys! We’ll see you then!”

“Always bringing the house down, Fi,” Jake said with a hearty laugh before she hugged him. “I’ll be there for the opening. I’ll see how many others I can scour up. Bound to be a few.”

“Aw, you’re too kind, Jake. Don’t worry, I won’t be a stranger after I’m running a business,” she assured him, before departing out the hallway–and grabbing more of those sausage sandwiches on the way out.

She did want to stay a little longer, but she knew they’d have plenty of work to do, soon enough. After saying farewell to Nick, Cita, and a few others, she noted all the coaches were gone. She glanced at Bonnie and Greg, with a scuff of her shoe. “Well, guess we’ve gotta walk. Man, I’m so glad I don’t wear high heels, I’m tall enough now that I don’t even need to bother. Thank you, sprightly long legs!” She called out with a small skip and a roar of triumph.

“Fi, where does all this industrious energy come from?” Bonnie queried as they walked along the stone walkways, underneath the glow of arcane lanterns and the overhead moons, and the city skyline was visible to them, with the palace towers just barely visible.

“An upbeat attitude, and shedding regrets, Bonnie. Or is it a medical condition? I dunno, jury’s out on that last one,” she shrugged. They reached an intersection where Bonnie would normally head back to her shared apartment, and Greg took a shared shoulder with Bonnie, who cooed at this gentlemanly grace and professionalism.

“I believe Fiona would also do the honors, regardless of what one was brought up to believe was ‘gentlemanly’, Miss Revere,” Greg responded to her with a quiet smile, and Fiona gave him a tap on the rump to get him moving. Bonnie took the hint and led him along, skipping and humming, while Fiona worked her way back to her apartment, upbeat and looking forward to tomorrow.

After tomorrow, it was working time, and plotting to put eggs on the King's face. And maybe literal eggs, but that might require a fair deal more effort to not get caught at it.

But, a nagging thought entered her head, ever since her tense chat with Barry. It bothered her more than his smug attitude. Why had his father not returned her calls? Rikkard had to know she would be pissed, had he known about it. She played out the possibilities in her head, her apartment in sight.

One, Barry stuffed him into an early grave and was now trying to cover his ass, before the truth came out.

Two, Greybeard was hoping to raise a proper successor, and was willing to let Barry fail, as a teachable moment.

Three, she'd read Greybeard utterly wrong for months, and he was an utter jerk, and she should just go give Douglas back his treasure. Then she'd bounce out of town with her friends and cat, as an utter rebuke. Douglas might make a better friend, at least he'd been honest, though that might require a slight apology for making him a dragon pinball.

Four...

She stopped mid stride for a second. What if Rikkard screwed up something badly, and was willing to let his son take the fall for his own misdeeds? Or worse, his son was his only winning move?

She had to get answers. That last possibility had dire implications, if it were true. The amount of liquid assets was astronomical. Only two types of people involved would ever need liquid assets that high:

Bankers, or mage criminals.