As Raz resettled his duffel on his shoulder and walked up the stairs, the middle set of doors swung out and Vennir walked between them. Raz followed into the entry hall, a sea of light-drinking black marble speckled with sparks of pale crystals which looked like the night sky, surrounded by walls of the same. At the center of the sea on the floor was the crescent smile of Vennir again, once more done in silver, polished to a mirror sheen. Beyond that stood a desk, wide, of black wood, low enough for an adult of any of the races to look over the top, with three people seated behind it, two Catfolk and a Darkling Fae. The Darkling looked up as they entered, noted Vennir, then fluffed her black insect wings and went back to dealing with the paperwork in front of her. There was a dispenser with a roll of numbers for people to take on the right side of the desk and a rack with a selection of pamphlets on the other.

Vennir set out across the floor at a slight angle to pass the desk on one side. At moments he almost disappeared into the floor, the black was such a close match to his coat. Only the sparkling specks of crystal prevented it, turning him into a cat-shaped shadow slipping among the stars. The air in the room was clean, almost scentless except for a hint of riffayn tea and some baked goods. There were soft sounds, whispers and papers shuffling, but a strange stillness seemed to keep them from going further than necessary. Raz followed Vennir, his boots loud on the magically hardened marble yet making no echoes, and looked around at the vast space.

In addition to the desk, there were square arrangements of black couches on either side of the great room for people to sit on while they waited for their number to be called. Most of them were filled with people from every race to be found in Takara, with a few from those that rarely visited. Low circular shelves centering each couch square held books, magazines, puzzles and all kinds of other interesting entertainments. From the one time he had waited in the past he knew that the books were curated selections from the great library located on the floor above, covering topics as broad as science, spells, geopolitics, poetry, literary criticism, and more. Most of the people were quietly reading or working one of the puzzles, though a few were having quiet conversations. Many were drinking tea out of plain white ceramic cups, acquired from urns set on top of the shelving units and eating small biscuits in various shapes.

Soaring above at various heights were individual crystal lanterns that burned like stars against the black ceiling which arched overhead five stories up. Black balconies covered in dark-leafed plants looked down on the entry hall from every inner wall, appearing to float in space. Most of them held what looked like employees hanging out on break, eating, smoking pipes, or just looking down at the folks gathered in the room below.

Overall the effect was one of being cast out into the night sky, with nothing but the stars and the people for company. The fact that there were no echoes gave it an eerie feel, as if the darkness might be the actual night sky and go on forever. Raz felt small.

A few steps past the desk they reached a hallway that hadn’t been visible from the main doorways. It should have been, but from there it had just looked like black wall. Closer up it became a black tunnel. Raz knew it had to be illusion, but the particular enchantment was too well made for him to pick up with his low-level mage abilities. The hallway was flanked on either side by six doorways blocked by brass accordion gates, three doors to a side. Beyond those Raz could see that the hallway led to a room of open offices, but Vennir immediately turned and sat down in front of one of the gates.

A small blue gem lit up on the wall next to the gate and Raz heard the click of a latch unlocking. The accordion gate slid to the side, collapsing against the wall and revealing that there were in fact two gates, both opening at the same time. Vennir walked into the small room it revealed and Raz followed. Both gates shut. On a panel on the wall Raz saw fourteen gems in two columns of seven, each with a number carved into it. The one marked “7” lit up, and the elevator shook slightly and began to rise. Vennir sat down and waited quietly while Raz watched through the gate as each floor came down from above, then vanished below.

Six floors up, the elevator stopped and the gates opened. He saw a painting of the half-gone moon on the opposite wall, between two other gates. It was a detailed study, the visible crescent cracked and crazed from ancient cataclysm, the shadowed chasms deep and dark across the shining silver-white face pocked with craters.

Two guards waiting outside in full plate armor glanced in, saw Vennir, and immediately gave small bows. The cat nodded to them and walked off the elevator. Raz followed him into a hall with six brass gates that matched the one below, save that this one was done in white marble with a gray marble floor. Here Raz’s boots tapped on the floor and echoed back to him like normal.

Vennir led the way down a long granite-floored hallway, simple wooden doors with brass nameplates on either side and paintings in between them. The paintings varied in style and topic, but all were of captivating subjects, from a cluster of three different species of butterfly gathered on the white flowers of the same raceme, to a fireworks show out over the waters of the inner ocean. He paused at that one, taking in the incandescent peonies bursting across the night sky in a multitude of colors, the shimmering trails left by the rockets serving as stems. They almost seemed to have their own light, they were so bright.

Oh. They did. The painting was enchanted and light magic was worked into the canvas. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the technique, but it had obviously been done by a master. The enchantment work was delicate and barely visible to his mage sight. He leaned in to study the spellweaving.

As his eyes searched other details became apparent, and he realized he was looking at a wedding, with the bride and groom on a boat out on the water, saying their vows before a Counselor of Erreniya, recognizable from the wheat sheaf on his robe. Other details told him the view was from a ship in Takara’s harbor: the glistening wall of the Fang was just visible on the right side of the painting. He’d seen a few parties like that before, but the way the artist had captured this one was exquisite.

“You will have plenty of time to gaze at the art later,” Vennir said and Raz snapped his eyes away. Vennir was sitting a few feet from him, watching with a bemused expression on his furry black face.

How did a cat manage to look like that?

Vennir shook his head and set off down the hall again. Numerous doors passed, coming further and further apart. When Raz saw a dead end up ahead with a hallway going either direction Vennir stopped and tapped a door that looked like any other. It opened in at the touch of his paw, allowing a susurrus of voices to rush out. Before the wood had receded from his view Raz saw the nameplate.

Sir Jafkallinnir Intirsisrin Wekrendivtailras, Commander, Takaran Dusk Knights.

Vennir went in before Razavan could get his bearings and called Razavan in with a flick of his tail and a quick, “Come on, now.”

Raz walked into a massive wood-floored room that seemed to far exceed what should have been hidden behind the door. The bright sunlight of early afternoon poured in through large plate-glass windows centering the wall opposite the door, casting everything in the room in sharp clarity. Clean-smelling incense and the smells of three different kinds of energizing tea filled his nostrils, along with the mouthwatering scent of a box of fried pastries perched on a table just inside the door. They had to be fresh to smell that good. He almost snagged one as he passed.

Scattered among ten different desks were six scribes working their way through stacks of paper. All of them looked up and gave Vennir a respectful nod once the male Pixie at the front desk greeted him. Aside from the Pixie they were all Catfolk except for one City Elf. The Pixie, at most four-and-a-half feet standing on his toes, gave Raz a look somewhere between a scowl and an appraisal. Raz stared right back, noting Seawater Clan markings above the Pixie’s right brow as he did his own assessment. Pixies were very assertive, and would roll right over anyone who didn’t stand their ground.

After a moment and a glance at Vennir the Pixie gave Raz a faint nod and looked back down at his papers. Raz turned and followed after Vennir, who had made it halfway across the giant room, weaving between chair legs and under tables. Raz dodged around several pieces of furniture until a long wide table blocked his way. He chose to go over, clearing the empty obstacle with a hop and buttslide—without dropping his duffel. He made it back up behind the cat just as Vennir tapped a paw on the glass door of a glass walled office. The door slid to the side and Vennir trotted into a simple office centered by a vast desk half covered by neat stacks of paper in sheet metal trays.

A cobalt-blue Demon man seated behind the desk looked up from the papers in front of him as the black cat hopped up on the polished wood surface, avoiding any of the stacks, and sat down.

“Jaf. I got one,” The cat said. Raz couldn’t see his face, but he could hear the smug satisfaction in Vennir’s voice.

“Lord Vennir,” The Frigidi said, reaching up to adjust a pair of spectacles hooked over his long, mobile ears and stretching his large wings from where they hung down behind the low back of his chair. “One what?”

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Vennir swept a paw at Raz.

“Guess.”

The Frigidi turned black eyes with irises like gold coins toward Raz and studied him. Raz returned the gaze warily. Full-blooded demons weren’t too uncommon in Takara, but they had a reputation for unpredictability, and the least of them had dangerous elemental powers. Frigidi were the most predictable, ferociously logical, but they also had a frightening reputation for ruthlessness. Raz knew that he wasn’t going to get attacked in the tower, but survival instincts learned on the street were hard to suppress.

With closer observation he noticed wrinkles in the rich blue skin of the Demon and gray in the black hair on top of his head between the black horns that twisted back from his brow. Without doing an inspection Raz could feel that he was high tier, maybe seven or eight, which meant that he was old. Raz would have bet money on not less than a century and a half. He was wearing a simple two-button suit, a buttoned high collar office shirt with a gold silk cravat under a sleek gray coat, but the fabric for the coat was very high quality. Easily several month’s pay for the typical scribe.

The gold eyes gave him the same regard, checking from his boots to his ears to the duffle on his shoulder. Raz realized he was still carrying the thing and carefully set it on the floor.

“You can’t mean that he’s a Carcali or a rich merchant’s son,” the Demon said. “We have plenty of those. Carries himself like a bit of a rapscallion, but that’s normal for anyone you’d pick up.” He studied Raz’s face again. “He does look a little familiar…” The demon’s eyes narrowed, then dropped to his dagger again. “You’re an Issistran. We have a wit from your family right now, so that’s not it. Hmm…”

His eyes went wide. “Oh. You’re her son.” His gaze switched to Vennir. “He’s a dancer, isn’t he?”

Vennir looked smug as he cleaned one of his paws.

“He is,” The Demon said with a flick of his ears. “And by your disgusting self-satisfaction he must have something more than a standard primary class.”

“Graceful Claw,” Vennir said. “A Felinar Greater Elemental Battledancer class.”

The Demon nodded. “I doubt anyone but Tislora has even seen one of those in a century.”

Raz sighed and pressed his ears out to the sides. “Must you be so proud of it?”

The Demon snorted and gave Raz a smile.

“I assume our lord and master has you in some kind of contract. He tends to collect things, and he’s been looking for a battledancer forever. He claims Tislora hoards them all for herself.”

“She does,” Vennir said.

“Well, since you brought him here I’m assuming you want him trained as a Dusk Knight. I take it he doesn’t know how significant his class is?”

Vennir glanced at Raz and gave him a clear scowl complete with raised lip and a pink tongue sweeping a foul taste off one canine. “No. He has no idea.”

The Demon nodded. Raz was not completely immune to sarcasm and began to feel that there was something going on with his class that he was missing.

“Well, since you’ll be staying here, introductions are certainly in order,” the Demon said. “I am Sir Jafkallinnir Intirsisrin Wekrendivtailras. I command all the dusk knights in Takara, as well as the surrounding region. You may call me Sir Wekren.”

Raz gave him the quick, shallow bow expected at an introduction.

“Razavan Ississtran,” Raz said. “Sir Wekren?”

Sir Wekren nodded. “That is correct.”

“May I ask why you both think being a battledancer is a good thing?”

Sir Wekren nodded again. “Of course. Vennir is being tightlipped because it costs him to share useful information, but I am under no such binding. You are aware that combat is affected by rhythm?”

“Yes. Battlerhythm is used by every serious army.” Raz had paid attention to history, especially the exciting portions.

“Good. Well, did you also know that music affects combat?”

“I know bards can amplify others in and out of combat. Most militaries don’t use more than a few bards at once, though.”

“Also true. They tend to get attacked even faster than mages. There are ways around that, such as the frontline battlechanters many of the Iron Dwarves field, but any full bard on the battlefield has to take great care.” Sir Wekren leaned back in his chair, spreading his wings in a light stretch again. “That’s besides the point, though. Simply put, rhythm and music are both present on the battlefield, and they both affect the outcome of the battle. Battlerhythm helps armies move together and strike to maximum effect, while bardic music actually amplifies their actions. The more closely the soldiers move in time to the bardic music, the greater the effect for them. Striking in time to the music can be particularly devastating.”

Raz nodded. He had heard all of that.

“But how does being…” Raz stopped, realizing a few things before he had to ask. “Battledancers move better to the music than anyone else, don’t they? But not every fight even has music. Most adventurers don’t even have a drummer with them.”

Sir Wekren nodded. “Yes. But a battledancer would have a drummer with them. Battlerhythm amplifies their damage even without a full bard getting involved. But that’s not all. Most soldiers are only amplified by their own bards, and only benefit from the battlerhythm of their own side. Battledancers can benefit from any battlerhythm, and any bard.”

Raz’s eyes went wide.

Sir Wekren smiled, showing long white canines. It wasn’t a friendly smile.

“That…” Raz went perfectly still, even his tail stopping, and ran through everything he’d heard about music in warfare and combat. Neither of the other two said anything while he just thought for a minute, examining the implications of being able to dance to an enemy’s music. He knew of at least one group that wouldn’t like that.

“The Angeli nations must hate my class.”

Sir Wekren snorted and Vennir laughed out loud.

“I tell you, Jaf, this is a smart one,” Vennir said.

“You see it clearly,” Sir Wekren said to Raz. “Battledancers have assassinated kings, and they can turn the symphonies of the Angeli against them. They are the masters of moving to music and battlerhythm, and they aren’t slouches in combat without those. If you haven’t already learned, any dancer can have a rhythm all their own, even without instrumental help.”

Raz nodded. He knew it.

“Good.” Sir Wekren leaned forward again. “It is a sad thing for someone to undervalue their class. We can’t have a dusk knight doing that.”

Raz nodded again, and straightened up. People who hated their class always performed poorly. It was just the nature of things.

Vennir turned around on the desk and faced Raz directly.

“Jaf knows what to do with you. I have other things to get into. However,” his tone changed, becoming softer, “Before I go I would like to apologize for the near miss with the mast. I have great difficulty seeing under the water, and my plan almost turned into disaster because of it. A deal is a deal, but I think my end fell a little shorter than I promised. I will make it up to you.” His tail twitched. “Another challenge, and some more advice. First, I will flesh out your Tinker class to something a little more appropriate if you can figure out who would have given you a better deal than me. That’s with all your considerations in mind.”

Raz winced at the knowledge that he could have gotten a better deal and his mind immediately began to spin.

Vennir waved a paw. “Slow down. No. Bad padawan.”

Raz dragged his thoughts to a stop and directed his attention back at the cat.

What was a padawan?

“Now for the advice,” Vennir said. “It is always wise to give thanks when something might be owed. It is far cheaper than offending through ingratitude. Ancient, powerful beings can take it very poorly when they extend an act of kindness and it is ignored. I should know. Do you understand?”

Raz felt the same chill pass through him again as Vennir acknowledged that Raz had been saved by a random gust of wind. A very well timed gust of wind that moved against the prevailing breeze.

“Yes, Lord Vennir.”

“Additionally, I encourage you to put full effort into everything Jaf here sets before you. I believe you will find fifteen years with my knights a far better foundation for your life than more of what you were doing.” The cat smiled. “Ta-ta.”

In the next instant he was gone.

Raz stared at the space where he had been for a long moment, then panned his vision over to Sir Wekren, who was watching him with a small smile.

“I assume from that you have a fifteen year contract?” The Demon asked.

Raz nodded.

“Well, no point wasting time,” Sir Wekren said. “I’ll find out what you can do, then we can get you started on your training.”