Janaxia looked at herself in the mirror, trying to decide. It was unfortunate that Stathis hadn’t offered any opinions regarding her preference of outfits – she was always so unnecessarily reticent about such matters! She focused, feeling the power seethe within herself, the familiar whispering susurration and promises of power, just out of hearing. Her clothing changed, skirt shortening until it was well above the knee, white lace peeking out from underneath, garter straps holding up stockings, black dress dipping low at both the front and back. The white frill of the head-dress did contrast well with her black hair, but Stathis had grown up with servants, so such things likely held little appeal for her. And while Janaxia did enjoy baring the elegant curves of her back, between the backless dress, the low neckline in front, and the shortness of the skirt, it was honestly a touch chilly, despite the general warmth of the manor.

Maybe something a touch more militaristic? The frill changed into a shiny military dress cap, her dress lengthening and tightening into black and glossy leather, trousers hugging her curves, a smart tunic, black fringed with gold. Maybe that would be more to her taste? High black boots, long gloves, a riding crop to complete the look. A little too harsh, perhaps, although maybe for the next time she visited the Khem’s as Anef seemed to enjoy such spectacle.

Something a little more formal, perhaps? A long dress, covering her from neck to ankle, although much of it elaborate lace, made to entice, and dark, but not so dark that her skintone wouldn’t stand out, completely concealing yet seductively hinting. Although it definitely needed more accessories; some colour at the eyes, and some jewellery at the wrists and neck, to break up the colour of the dress a little. She tried shortening the skirt in front, showing off her legs (one of her best features, in truth), trying to find a balance between modesty and display, while retaining the dignity of the long skirt from behind.

Her mind flashed to some of the show-armour worn for performances – farcical for combat, but how would that look? The fabric shifted, becoming shiny and bright, curves of metal over her chest, a loincloth of bright crimson between her legs. No, that was just silly, and overly cold; she would need rather more toned muscles before attempting such a thing. Although there was always the classics – the metallic bustier changed to cloth and whalebone, a corset forming tight around her slender waist, bows and ribbons down the front, with a gap to leave the delicate cleft of her navel visible, a gem catching the light. Elbow-length gloves were a simple addition, but adding some refinement to the raw sexuality, and a plain, black choker, to emphasise her slender neck and throat. She twisted, admiring the shape of her body in the mirror, teasing her hair into a more tousled shape, more obviously worked than her usual single tie. Overall, entirely inappropriate for a social gathering, but definitely appealing, even from her admittedly biased position.

Would something maybe slightly more sacred in appearence work? The long dress of a holy maiden, although tighter than was traditional, the cloth far finer than most priestesses would wear, or could afford (Carissia being an obvious, and most pleasingly striking, exception). Some embroidery around the hems and edges, and she summoned up a wimple, just to see what it looked like. While the plainness of it was certainly distinct from her usual preferences, it was entirely too plain, without drawing attention to any of her finer features. Outside of entirely that were maybe appealing to those with excessively specific predilections, it was very much not to her style, although the habit, if tweaked sufficiently, was an intriguingly severe mixture of coverage and show, clinging tightly to her body. She much preferred lace and satin, personally. When they next chanced to meet, she would have to ask Carissia for some advice – her priestess’ robes were always highly styled, while remaining decorous.

She heard a shout from downstairs. ‘Food’s comin’ out!’

Janaxia sighed, altering her outfit to one of her standbys; a dress of red silk, falling to the ankle but cut to her thigh, with a high collar above a cut-out, displaying her tattoo to advantage, as well as her collarbones. Although her tattoo wasn’t currently visible – she focused and tapped her chest, the design obediently moving into place and settling down. And some heels, adding a vital few inches to her height – being able to properly look down on Semari did have a certain satisfaction, although Stathis was still taller. With a final look to check her makeup, that her eyeshadow was appropriately matched to the dress, she deemed herself acceptable for company, adding a fringe of white around the neck, in deference to the season. And stockings, suspender belts running down her legs, laced bands around her thighs that would show when walking or sitting, if she cared to. Not that her efforts were likely to be noticed, but it wouldn’t do to do less, even for an uncaring crowd, and there was the chance that Carissia might show up, or some other dignitary. There was another shout, and, with a final toss of her hair, Janaxia left, heading for the dining room.

A glance outside the window confirmed that it was still miserable weather outside; thick, wet slush falling from the sky, the tiny patch of wilderness visible blanketed in snow. Picturesque to look at, but terrible to navigate in. Given the sudden snowstorm, It had been fortunate that Semari had remembered the location of this manor, once home to a magus clan (explaining how it had endured years of desolation intact), and now apparently something of an open secret amongst certain echelons of the criminal fraternity.

Which explained their fellow guests – Kethys and several members of her gang were also present, making full use of the facilities. Which had been something of an unwelcome surprise when they had staggered in from the cold, to be greeted by a group of armed ruffians. Fortunately Semari had been able to calm matters down, admittedly via a certain level of brute force.

A shimmering aura gleamed in front of her, coalescing into a humanoid form before speaking with polite, well-phrased tones. ‘Lady Janaxia, the others are waiting in the dining room. I have taken the liberty of cooling a bottle of Nicathan white, I trust that meets your approval?’

‘Yes, excellent. Thank you, Domus.’ Having a house-spirit made matters far easier, the ethereal entity entirely glad to help, and with excellent taste befitting the setting and surrounds. Another extension of his will was currently preparing a meal for everyone, raw ingredients coming from a magical vault, the original residents having seen fit to stock it well, with nothing but the finest ingredients, preserved through the ages since the original residents had left or died. Fortunately, it had acknowledged Janaxia as a distant descendent of the creators, once they had sat down and compared genealogies, with the torrent of murderous houseware finally ceasing.

The place was certainly welcoming now, with fires roaring in the hearths, sufficient heat to keep the leeching chill of the snow away. Stathis had made herself comfortable, very much the image of a noble at their ease, a chair close by the fire, reading a book, her weapon and armour neatly stacked and cleaned, one leg over her other knee, a simple shirt and trouser combination. Simple, but she made it work, the white shirt complementing her blonde hair well, and without any of the battle-damage or crude repairs that was present on most of her clothing. Parth was in the adjacent conservatory, running fingers over a variety of mage-grown plants, most of the fruits obviously unnatural, glowing bright colours, or having far sweeter scents than was naturally possible.

Janaxia approached, as stealthily as possible, curious as to what Stathis was reading. The thick carpet swallowed any sound she made as she moved behind Stathis, peering over the top of the seat, casting her eyes over Stathis’ choice of reading material. It seemed to be a book of ancient history and myth, of the destruction of the Elven empire by the Heralds. It seemed a strange thing to read, considering that Parth was present, even if not the easiest to talk to. Or, more accurately, not the easiest to get a response from, at least of more than a few words. From what she could remember, the period was mostly depressing and tiresome, with the Elven empire reduced to a few staggering holdouts, the lands lying desolate for centuries until the human kingdoms had risen from the wilderness.

She became aware that she was being looked at, one of Kethys’ minions eyeing her up, obviously appreciating the view. She favoured him with a brief smile – he was clearly beneath her, but it was nice to have her efforts appreciated – before delicately coughing, drawing Stathis’ attention. ‘Domus informs me that the food has prepared, if you would care to come through?’

Janaxia winced as Stathis folded back a corner of the book to mark her place, before standing. ‘Smells good! Thanks, Domus.’

The air rippled slightly. ‘Your thanks are not necessary, Lady Stathis. It is a pleasure to serve.’ A glass of beer appeared just above Stathis’ hand, a band of light holding it there until Stathis took hold of it, taking a long drink. ‘Good stuff.’ She turned, fully looking at Janaxia. ‘I’m surprised you’ve not added some green, to go for the whole “festive” look. Although I suppose red is your colour. Have you done something with your hair? It’s a bit messier than usual.’

‘It is rare to have a simple chance to relax.’ A loud moan came from upstairs, followed by a rhythmic shaking, as someone was slammed against a wall. ‘A somewhat more casual ensemble seemed in keeping with the atmosphere, although I try to maintain some standards.’

Stathis glanced upwards, towards the sound. ‘I guess Semari was glad to see Hadric?’

Janaxia raised her voice, trying to drown out the sounds of loud lovemaking coming from upstairs. ‘Yes, I believe they are currently getting reacquainted. Although I would rather they do so much more quietly. I wonder if Hakara knows any silence spells; I assume she is still in the library?’

‘Think so, yeah. Domus, could you let Hakara know to come get some food as well?’

Janaxia took Stathis’ arm, guiding her through the house. With the fires roaring, it was festive and cheerful, holly and ivy wrapped around the polished wood, shiny baubles and other decorations catching the gleaming firelight. The dining room was luxuriously appointed, paintings of ancient grandees, wearing the raiment of power and majesty, staring down at them. Decorations hung from the walls, trophies taken from defeated enemies, or tokens of past achievements. And protected, of course, magical wards engaging against anyone foolish enough to try taking one.

Kethys was waiting for them, somehow having managed to find a dark corner amongst the blazing firelight, idly playing with a knife. She was dressed rather more smartly than last time, a rather chic black shirt that drew out the darker tones of her skin and the white of her hair, a few swirls of gold adding a touch of class and expense to the otherwise plain colouring. The dark elves were reputedly possessed of amazing craft, but their regrettable tendencies towards treachery and murder made them rather unreliable trading partners.

‘The kids still playing upstairs? I’ll go drag them down. I know they’ve not seen each other for a while, but it’s rude to keep others waiting when there’s food around. You should go get that elf of yours as well, and wherever your wizard has gone.’ She moved smoothly, tossing the knife into the air and catching it, before flinging it outwards. There was a yelp, one of the minions shrinking back around a doorframe, the knife sticking into the wood. ‘Keep your eyes in your head, Challas! This one would eat you alive and shit out your bones.’ She gestured, the knife flying back into her hand. ‘Sorry about that. This lot are pretty raw still, not used to people like you.’

Janaxia chose to interpret that as a compliment – although they were rather young, unpolished and decidedly rough, they clearly had some level of discernment and taste, sufficient to appreciate her charms. Kethys left, and moments later her voice could be heard shouting at Hadric and Semari, swift thuds and crashes echoing as she stopped them engaging in whatever sordid activities they were indulging in. Shortly after, she returned, dragging Hadric and Semari with her, both looking slightly tousled, although they had made an attempt at dressing up for the occasion, with Semari wearing a shirt that mirrored Kethys’, although was rather more rumpled. Her cheeks were somewhat flushed as well, sign of her rather shameless behaviour. According to etiquette and decorum, such things should be kept for after dinner, just in case the result was disappointing; at least that way a meal had been enjoyed!

Hadric himself didn’t seem particularly worth the effort – he was slender and lean, but a touch short, his hair was utterly unkempt, his clothing bland, and his face bore obvious signs of his profession, with a nose that had been broken a few times, one of his ears nicked at some point, a gash cut along one cheek. Even for scars, they were decidedly plain and dull, not romantic or dashing at all! Kethys ran her fingers through Semari’s hair, trying to brush it into some form of order, fussing over her, taking a hairpin and stabbing it through the resultant knot of hair, with more force than was needed, to judge by Semari’s quick hiss of pain.

The rest of the gang filtered in – for a dark elf and a thief, Kethys seemed to make at least a token attempt at civilising her charges, as they were in clean clothing, even if with rather more injuries and weapons than might be considered standard.

Everyone took places around the table, Stathis taking the head, Janaxia sitting to her right. Semari lounged in her seat, her chair tilting on two legs, shifting her balance to keep from falling over. ‘So, you must be used to stuff like this, right? All family and food and fire, nice and happy?’

Janaxia shuddered. ‘Mother ensured that family events were usually rather… colder. We each had to present our growth and development, with… repercussions for those deemed to be failing.’ She looked down at her palms, remembering past injuries. ‘It was generally unpleasant, with the wounds often taking quite some time to heal.’ She flexed her hands, thankful that the scars had long ago healed to invisibility, and without any lasting effects. ‘And, of course, blood is rather hard to wash out of the finer fabrics.’

‘Sounds rough. What about you, Stathis? Bet you and Sarissia had fun.’

Stathis considered, Janaxia leaning forward, interested to hear.

‘Well, Mother tried to be around, but always had a lot of stuff going on. And there would generally be big festival things as well, and all sorts of religious stuff once Carissia started on the god-stuff. Actually, most years, I think we ended up having a small private thing, after everything else was done. It was almost a relief, to be honest. Or there would be some demon attack, or bandits, or cultists or whatever, so all the planning would go to hell. This might be the quietest one I’ve ever had, actually. Especially once Carissia started getting into the god business. That was normally a mess, once she started switching gods. They don’t really like it when you do that, especially at this time of year.’

Janaxia leant back, relaxing into the comfortable chair. ‘Well, this place is certainly an unexpected treasure. I’m sure it will be a restful break. There’s even a bath, if anyone wishes to join me later.’ She looked at Stathis hopefully. ‘In this weather, I’m sure it will be delightful.’

One of the minions opened his mouth, before Kethys cuffed him around the head. While the youth was far too scruffy to be considered, dark elves were traditionally lax about such things. Kethys appeared to have quite broken with the traditions of her people, although that was probably for the best. Semari had turned out better than might be expected for a street urchin raised by a dark elf thief.

‘Maybe. This is an enchanted mansion in a snowstorm though, I wouldn’t be surprised if something happens. Any idea what’s behind that giant sealed door in the lobby?’

‘Domus assures me that it is simply the laboratory and sanctum – while I daresay Hakara would be interested, given the length of time since the residents passed away, I doubt that anything would be a threat still.’ Stathis still looked doubtful, as Janaxia reached out and stroked her hand. ‘I’m sure everything will be fine. After all, this place has been used as a hideout for quite some time, and no-one has reported any monsters, have they?’

Kethys spoke up. ‘Well, there’s a few groups that have vanished. I always found the place a bit creepy, but it’s this or the blizzard, and I hate sleeping in caves.’

The air shimmered behind her, Domus putting in an appearance. ‘There are protective spells still in place. Although if you doubt my sincerity, you are free to leave, of course. Now, Lady Janaxia, here is the wine you requested.’ A bottle materialised, properly presented in an ice bucket, settling neatly onto the table. ‘The usual family traditions will be respected, of course. I have attended to the preparations already.’

‘Thank you, Domus. You see, there is absolutely nothing to be afraid of. Ah, Hakara, glad you could join us.’ Hakara was late, but had actually dressed up, a surprisingly nice dress, if a little loose at the bodice, and possibly with too many gems. It was nice to see her expressing herself a little more, but there was no need to perpetuate the stereotype that all wizards were poorly-dressed and prone to far too much glitter and shine, with style reminiscent of a cross between a glitter-obsessed magpie and an overstuffed parrot. She’d have to have a word with her later – she meant well, but did show her upbringing at times. She was at least amenable to advice though, unlike Semari, who was utterly uncaring of such things.

Food began to appear on the table, a feast for everyone. Janaxia turned to Stathis again. ‘Would you say a few words before we begin? You do hold the highest rank amongst us.’

Stathis stood, holding her tankard high, the background chatter going silent. ‘In the darkness of winter, we shall remember the light. As the light once defeated the great darkness and sealed the ancient chaos, so to shall this darkness end. As the three Heralds were defeated, then the promise of the light shall be met. Until the words are broken, until the blade is cooled, until the bell is rung, then shall the light endure, and the darkness fade.’ She raised her tankard. ‘Cheers!’

Kethys had her hands pressed together, looking oddly pious for a dark elf as she murmured something, too softly to be heard, as everyone else chinked their glasses and tankards together, before settling in to eat.