The walled Iversted manor, on the outskirts of Knife Edge, often played host to a variety of functions for the nobility. Tonight, though, was something of an exclusivity.

On this particularly cold Salvic evening, Shinsou Vaan Osiris arrived through the large ornate doors and took pride of place in the foyer. His usual scraggy attire was replaced with newly issued Brotherhood military dress – a navy green tunic with silver buttons, laced with golden cord and a black leather parade belt that sat diagonally from his left shoulder to his right hip. Across the breadth of his waist the Telgradian wore a red sash, and the outfit was completed by navy green trousers and freshly polished black boots that had not even been broken in.

Fit for high society, at long last. Shinsou remarked with his tongue firmly in his cheek, Well, if I want the Brotherhood to get a foothold in Salvar, there are going to be some necessary evils. This being one of them. It also seemes there will be some neccesary distractions.

The Telgradian plucked a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket, and unfurled it carefully.

My dear friend,

Our lives are different now, and we must live them separately due to the paths we have chosen. Yet we are connected by bonds so strong that they will effect us even after death.

I write to tell you of two things. First, that the child I wrote to you of has now been born. Aderyn has the brown hair of his mother and sister, with the nubs of horns, and humanoid feet. He is remarkable, beautiful and I am determined to give him the life I could not give to my daughter. Celandine, as you may know, has deemed it right to go into the world herself, for despite her young age her maturity is that of a young woman.

I have, by method and careful politics, obtained an invite to the Ball of the Lord Iverstead, of Salvar. If you are bidden to go there also, whether by your own power or using my connections for your benefit, I ask that you seek a young woman who will be wearing a mask made of peacock feathers. She will be most keen to meet you, having heard much about you, and will be able to serve as a contact between us going forward.

My fondest regards,

Philomel
He put the note back and scanned the room quietly. Other attendees quite literally packed this lush estate from embellished wall to embellished wall, imported beams to mirror shine floorboards. The main hall could be seen beyond the reception area, allowing the gay revelry within to escape and mingle with the polite conversation being had by those waiting admission into the ballroom. Guests faced each other and regaled in tales of their fortunes whilst a frugal platter of horderves, consisting mainly of the finest fish and vegetables available to the Salvic Lords, were served on legged trays of polished silver and accompanied by crystal glasses of liquor.

There was no-one, yet, that Shinsou could match to the description in the letter.

Whilst the patrons of the ball pranced, danced and made high cockylorum, Shinsou’s eyes looked beyond the masses to individuals. For starters, the guard detail placed at the door. It seemed that they were to let no-one out unless at the Lord’s behest, a command that felt particularly ill placed at such a function; especially when such powerbrokers as the Ethereal Sway were seen to be peacocking around. More interestingly, through the doorway, the Telgradian noticed someone who particularly stuck out. The man was grimly resplendent in dour demeanour, wearing a black tunic and displaying some sort of trinket around his neck. He was hardly diminutive, and seemed out of place entirely at such an event.

“Shinsou Vaan Osiris?”

Shinsou turned solemnly on his heels to meet the blonde haired lady’s voice, which had travelled a short difference across the hall. Her heels feet rasped on the polished wood as she walked; her blue eyes locked on him from afar as her curvaceous body fielded intrigued stares from the men she passed.

“My name is Lady Farthingdale,” The woman curtseyed slightly, the ruffles of her elegant white dress fanning out in time, “Wife to Lord Farthingdale, one of Knife Edge’s more prominent men. It was us that invited you here.”

The Telgradian was not well versed in the order of high society, but realised quickly that it seemed to be an honour to be able to speak to this woman, such were the whispers around him. With some deliberation, he dipped at the waist.

“Your servant, ma’am,” The polite behaviour he had to put on display was both charming and sickening to him in equal measure, “I’m obliged to you for the invitation. Although, I must confess, I am unsure as to the circumstances surrounding it. ”

“Yes, I imagine you would like to know what the Salvic nobility would want with a young, hot blooded upstart from Corone?” She spoke formally, but in a way which left Shinsou unsure of whether her tone was intentionally demeaning or not. He ignored the derisive snorts that echoed on the edge of his hearing. “That will come later. For now, why don’t you enjoy the party?”

“Ma’am,” Shinsou bowed again. Who knew why Lady Farthingdale had invited him in to such a ball and left him dangling so far out of his depth? “I do have one question. Do you know who that gentleman is in the black?”

Her eyes stirred towards the end of his index finger, and beyond to the propped man beyond.

“His name is Tobias Stalt.”

He didn’t know why, but something in the back of his mind itched about the name. There was another itching too; one further into the bowels of the ballroom. As Lady Farthingdale exchanged parting pleasantries, Shinsou’s senses played merry hell.

There's a few strong magical presences here, The young spellsword to himself, Mr Stalt is one, for definite. The others, I’m not sure, but that tinge of power I'm feeling is familiar.