Of course you are here.

A mask of chastised neutrality washed upon Shinsou’s hawkish features as Felicity Rhyolite, his young apprentice, made a rather unexpected entrance into the fray by sliding next to him out of thin air. The Brotherhood leader had no idea why she had attended a ball intended for Salvic nobility hosted hundreds of miles away from Corone, and least of all knew exactly how she had gotten on the guest list. Either way, it seemed he was stuck with her.

“Felicity,” Shinsou hooked her arm, politely escorting her away from the gathered crowd and into one of the sparse numbers of quiet spaces in the corner of the room, “What are you doing here?”

His words lacked the eloquent sincerity that would normally have accompanied them. The Neanderthal, as good as she looked in her dress, was clearly not here in any sort of official capacity and this meant that there could have only been one reason for her attendance. Being mindful of charging her emotions once more, it meant that he would have to be the one to issue discretion. There was a measure of reluctance to the Telgradian as he thought carefully about the words he would use.

“Look,” Shinsou started, leaning into her a little so that he couldn’t be heard, “I’m here at the request of Lord Farthingdale. I’m about some very important Brotherhood business that could see us get a market share in Salvar, but I can’t do that if you’re around my person all night. He won’t speak with me unless I’m alone.”

“But, if you want to help,” The Telgradian continued to whisper, reaching up from the floor to pretend to accept her proffered hand for a dance and allowing himself to be pulled upright by her, “Then look for a woman with a peacock feathered mask. I’ll explain why, later. That way I can kill two birds with one stone.”

With that, he span Felicity around and ended the waltz on a natural twist, giving her hand to another nobleman for him to continue their posturing. It was clear to him that the girl was a warrior to her core, one who was somewhat awkward in social circles but had beauty enough that she could at least fit in amongst the Lords and Ladies of court.

Serves me right, he thought to himself, giving the smouldering green eyes a rueful smile. The smile was extended to the nobleman, a belated apology.