Stathis picked Carissia up in her arms, trying to carry her comfortably, ignoring the tutting sounds Carissia made as her outfit was upset. Clambering out of the window was awkward, as she scraped her shoulder against the stone, before managing to get fully outside, hoping no-one was watching. The red of the setting sun matched the red stone of the town, shadows lengthening over the buildings, a warm breeze blowing up over the town. A few of the streets were already lit with lanterns and flags, clearly marking the festival. On the open fields outside the walls, fences had been erected, bulls angrily flicking their tails.

Stathis stood on the window ledge, trying not to notice how far down the drop below was. She gulped and then jumped, wings flaring from her back as she fell, springing forth just in time to break her fall above a tiled roof. Her feet scrabbled for purchase, as she managed to skid to a stop just shy of the edge. A loose tile teetered then fell, crashing to the ground several stories below them, narrowly missing a group of revellers.

Getting the rest of the way down was much less easy, clambering down guttering and windows into a dank back-alley, a cat staring at them indignantly before licking itself. Carissia drew her hood up, a plain cloak hiding a fancy dress, elaborate braids wound with divine jewellery (all lightning bolts and storm clouds, her previous love hearts already replaced) spilling out from underneath the hood, some spell already cleaning the muck and grime from the climb down. Stathis was dressed more plainly, although had persuaded into letting her Carissia twist and bind her hair into crown braids.

Out in the street, celebrations had started quite some time ago – music was spilling into the warm night air, along with shouts of festivity, the pops and bangs of firecrackers as well as the rich odours of street food. Every balcony was filled with revellers, most already drunk. Scented torches had been lit to ward off the insects, and to ensure everyone could see. A drunken elf gestured at them, hands surrounded by swirling magic energy, using it to convey goblets of wine through the air into their hands.

Stathis took a sip. Compared to the fine wines she was normally served, the taste was stronger, and far rougher, even watered down, but she could feel the warmth settling into her stomach.

‘Compliments of the Ivory Scroll Brigade!’ The elf tried to wink at them, but was so drunk he closed both his eyes, staggered into a table and disrupted his own spell, making several other cups, as well as the bottle itself, falling to the ground. Cheers and curses rang out, his companions bringing more wine to replace it. Every window was open, revellers enjoying themselves, large banners bearing the symbols of various organisations that were paying for the food and drink – nobles, merchants, guilds, and so on. The banner above them had a white scroll on, stylised and decorated with squiggles, crossed swords beneath it just in case anyone mistook them for scribes or something.

A whisper of darkness slid through her, a cold draught of ice making Stathis twitch nervously. She glanced around, catching a glimpse of a robed figure, face invisible in the dark void beneath a hood, staring at her before retreating from sight. She shook her head, trying to shake off the sensation, before following Carissia. Grand buildings surrounded an open square, different groups mingling and flowing together, everyone in their finery, all celebrating in style. Carissia steered them straight towards one of the buildings, a large hall, banners bearing a white scroll-case hanging down the walls.

The area around the entrance had been roped off, a few well-armed individuals standing around, although none were paying much attention. Carissia took the simple expedient of walking to one corner, glancing around, and then ducking underneath the rope, gesturing at Stathis to follow. Feeling vaguely guilty, Stathis followed her, sticking close behind as they entered the guildhall – inside was a large, open hall, an inside balcony overlooking the main floor, side-doors locked to visitors. The walls were filled with trophies and trinkets; horns, fangs and tusks from various creatures, broken fragments of weapons and armour, odd items she couldn’t recognise likely scavenged from ancient tombs.

‘That’s Carhael Flamefang, and Tirisa of the Broken Knife!’ Carissia gestured at a pair standing at the centre of a larger group – a large, tattooed man, intricate marks of red and black twisting and curling around his arms, a burning gem embedded into an oversized gauntlet. His companion was equally tattooed, some of the symbols matching, silver jewellery strung through her hair and along her arms, metal spiked through her flesh, chains linked rings in her eyebrows and ears. Stathis recognised the names, recalling deeds of bravery and profit.

Carissia wasted no time in confidently striding over to the group, Stathis trailing along in her wake as her sister shouldered her way into the group, just as Tirasa finished some anecdote, the group erupting with laughter.

Seeing them, Carhael spread his arms wide in an expansive gesture, splashing drink onto the wall behind him. ‘Strangers! Eat, drink and be welcome here!’

Carissia smiled back at them. ‘I thank you for your courtesy, Master Carhael. I was actually interested in joining your group.’

The laughter stopped, as they both looked Carissia up and down. Stathis watched as, with perfect poise and self-control, Carissia removed her cloak, to reveal the priestess attire she wore underneath, albeit customised to be both rather more fashionable, and with more armour and pockets than was traditional. Although still rather tightly fitted, Tanika apparently had less rules about what his worshippers wore, as the outfit looked like it could turn a blow or two, although still bore more lace and silk than seemed sensible for combat. The mace hanging from her hip was decidedly non-ceremonial, showing the dents and scrapes from past training sessions.

‘Aye, we’re always on the lookout for good people. So, a priestess? Who you sworn to?’

‘Aph… Tanika of the Storms.’

‘Hope that mace is for more than just show! Well, let’s get this show started.’ He raised his hands, the gem flaring brightly, a man-sized pillar of fire flickering into existence, shaping itself into a rough humanoid form, as black runes sprang forth and embedded themselves into it, binding the summoned creature to his will. ‘Get going!’

It lurched forward, arm-tendrils reaching towards Carissia. Stathis jumped backwards, not wanting to get caught in the brawl. The mace licked out, having little impact on a being made of elemental flame, its counterattack singing a trailing silk ribbon, material turning to ash. Carissia incanted, lightning sparking around her weapon, blocking another attack.

Stathis turned away, looking for more food and drink – there was a table piled high, and she helped herself, a variety of preserved meats and pies, washed down with beer. When she looked back, Carissia was looking less smug, her clothing now somewhat more singed, an ethereal mace floating next to her and aiding her attacks. The elemental was still there, it’s health impossible to tell, as bets were exchanged between onlookers.

‘Hey, who’s getting toasty? She shoulda worn something less fancy. Seems a shame to burn something that musta cost a bundle.’

The newcomer was a woman, her build slight, a good head or so shorter than Stathis, dressed in a motley array of armour and clothing, with a sleeve of shining chainmail peeking out from beneath a bright green shoulderless tunic, jewellery bright on their ears, a jewelled stud on their nose. As they moved, there was a tinkling sound, drawing Stathis’ attention to metal bells woven into their long, brown, hair, every step accompanied by their sound.

‘They tryin’ out? Gods, please let her be another scout. Tired of gettin’ my sweet little ass scorched every damn time there’s a damn trap or some guardian bastard beastie. Although dressed like that, guessin’ she’s a chantling.’ A divine light burst forth from Carissia, momentarily pushing the elemental backwards. ‘Eugh, goddam caster, ain’t she. She’s gonna sit at the back zappin’ stuff, all pretty ‘n safe, leave the real work to us at the front ‘o the party.’

She grinned, eyes gleaming, oddly miscoloured – one brown, the other green – stopping long enough to let Stathis give an answer. ‘She’s a cleric. Of Tanika of the Thunders. Well, at least at the moment.’

‘A Thunderer? Huh, she’s prettier ‘n most, they tend to be more plain ‘n simple. Guess that’ll be a lotta blastin’ from her, at least. Looks like it might take her a while though, so you wanna come have some fun?’

Stathis looked at the fight again – the elemental was now surrounded by a miniature firestorm, while Carissia had warded herself with some form of protection magic, the two unable to reach each other, the onlookers protected by Carhael’s spells as the floor smouldered faintly.

‘Sure, let’s go.’ Carissia was a skilled priestess, but was a frankly boring fighter, staying back and slowly grinding her enemies down, or relying on others to actually deal damage.

‘So, you a squire or something, up at the castle? Sounds borin’, no offence! Probably better ‘n getting your head eaten’ by some hell-monster, although less money. Or you that fancy miss’s guard for the night?’

‘Something like that. But I’m sure she’ll be fine. So, up there?’ Stathis pointed up at the balcony.

‘No.’ She shook her head emphatically, bells tinkling. ‘Well, not unless you’re in the mood for a bit of swordin’ that don’t involve steel, you get my meaning. There’s a fair bit goin’ on up there. No-one I’m interested in though, more’s the pity.’ She yelled at a group of other adventurers, clearly the apprentices, trainees and the like from their younger ages, all looking about the same age as Stathis. ‘Oi, Terin! Get your butt out here, we’re goin’ dancin’!’

A skinny young man, hair deliberately and attractively tousled, a tight shirt mostly unbuttoned to reveal an intricate tattoo of dancing, knife-edged shadows on his smooth, lean chest, stepped out from the group, eyeing Stathis up and down before grinning. A long knife hung on each hip, both battered and in need of maintenance. She smiled back, slightly wary as he spoke to the other woman.

‘Now you wanna go dance? Booze getting to you? Who’s your big blonde friend?’

‘Stathis. Hired to get that Miss Fancy here, and now she’s off duty, so we can go have some fun together. Now come on, let’s go ‘fore the olds send us on another booze run or some shit!’ She grabbed each of their hands, tightly enough that Stathis could feel the sword callouses across her palm, and started dragging them towards the door, while Terin craned his neck to look at the fight – Carissia was still slowly wearing away at the elemental, although the sweat streaming down her face and body was making her make-up run, and her outfit was starting to look obviously singed. She didn’t seem in any obvious danger (well, other than the fire elemental, and that was entirely her own fault), so Stathis let herself be dragged outside.

As she dragged them both, bells jingling with every step, the woman introduced herself. ‘I’m Brina Silversoul, apprentice ‘venturer workin’ with the Ivory Scroll Brigade. Got started by a bunch ‘o wizards, but they’ve all quit or died, so got a fancy name, but none ‘o the fancy learnin’ to go with it. Though that means we get to have a lot more fun than when some book-twiddlers were in charge. So, Miss Stathis, looks like you ain’t from ‘round here? Travelled far?’

‘I’ve come from Iristanar.’ She couldn’t think of a lie in time, but no-one had recognised Carissia, never mind her, so it should be safe.

‘Oh, you escort that Miss Fancy all the way here?’ Brina was dragging them through the street, head twisted so she could talk, not looking where she was going and simply trusting others to get out of their way. ‘Although their boss-lady’s here as well, guess you hitched a ride? She’s meant to be a piece ‘o work, worked her way up to the heights from nowhere. Pretty scary, way I hear it, she killed some demon prince few years back, just straight up stabbed ‘em in the face!’

Stathis sighed, remembering. It had been a vaguely tedious ceremony to start with, when a summoning circle had suddenly appeared, disgorging a monstrous demon lord, all teeth and fangs and acid. Which had, mercifully, been swiftly dispatched by Mother and assorted guards, and at least livened up proceedings a bit, but then an investigation had revealed a demonic cult, and that had needed weeding out. It definitely hadn’t been Stathis’ favourite birthday party, although at least she’d managed to persuade her mother into letting her properly train with sword and armour afterwards.

‘Yeah, that one’s true. I don’t think she’s that scary, though. Well, she can be, but is normally pretty fair with her subordinates.’

‘Heh, sounds like you mix with the fancy at lot? Watch out, can get nasty if you get sucked into their games. Although can be good to earn a lotta coin, if that’s what you’re after. And some of ‘em can be good for some fun times, if you’re careful to bail right!’

They’d been dragged to outside another building, open doors revealing an open hall inside, vibrant music playing. Two burly guards glared at them, before stepping aside to let them in. Stathis glanced upwards – the ‘building’ was actually an empty shell, four walls with no roof, now appropriated as a dance hall, drinks prices scrawled onto the wall. Tables had been shoved together to give the band somewhere to stand, as dancers twisted and spun, a bar set up in one corner.

Brina sighed. ‘Man, those guys need to step it up!’ She shouted, managing to make herself heard over the background noise and the music. ‘Play “Bonnie Jennie”! Enough of this slow crap!’

The violinist paused long enough to shout something rude back, but then took a deep breath and started sawing away, a fast-paced tune, the band rapidly switching and catching up themselves. The audience responded immediately, hooping and cheering, feet striking a rapid beat against the floor, as partners were grabbed and flung around with vigour.

Terin shook himself free and grabbed a partner, as Stathis let herself be dragged onto the dancefloor, Brina sliding an arm through hers despite the awkward height discrepancy. They spun in a tight circle, shifting and changing directions as they spun faster and faster, Brina jumping and spinning, barely touching the floor as Stathis spun as fast as she could. As it slowed, everyone switched partners, linking with someone different and starting again.

Several partners later, she linked up with Terin, hooking arms with him, both wrestling slightly for control, before Stathis’ greater strength and weight proved victorious. As they stopped, he staggered against her for a second, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body. Then they were broken apart, whisked away by their next partners, until the music finished, leaving Stathis dizzy, drunk and happy.

She moved off the dance floor, looking for Brina, unable to see her in the darkness. She headed towards a side-exit, coming out into a side-street, gulping in the cooler air, looking for her new friends.