Her Royal Highness, Princess Ruth Greer of Dennis moved smoothly into the room, each step the picture of grace. She stepped lightly in her dress, its crimson hem sweeping just above the ground. The pleats of the loosely-hanging fabric billowed, hinting at the movement of her legs as she strode confidently through the door.

She brought one gloved hand to her cheek, her arm lifting the satin sash which was secured to a wide red detached collar at her neck, set with gold vines. The sash and the twin which hung over her other arm both swept behind her, flowing like a whisper as she gave her most powerful regal smile, the so-called 'Number Thirty-Seven, Diplomatic Series'. It was a smile which, in the right hands, was lethal at 50 paces. She smirked playfully, eyes closed and expression set in one of peaceful, amused consideration. Expression locked in, she drew her lips back ever so slightly, to reveal a perfectly calculated amount of teeth.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she announced to the room. "I must thank you kindly for extending your invitation."

Rathus stepped into the room behind her, as she gave an exact, calculating bow. A slight tip of the head, just enough to show respect, but not far enough to diminish her position with a display of deference. Rathus looked about the room.

"Who're you talking to?"

Ruth's eyes shot open. The private viewing room was ornately decorated, continuing the rich nautical theme that the theater had set. The central feature was a long dining table, set with a mother-of-pearl surfacing, long enough to seat eight, three to a side and one on each end. Matching open-backed chairs were positioned around it, carved from hardwood. Each was polished, and painted in subtle tones, with coral-shaped prongs skirting the opening at the back of the chair. Beyond the table, an archway led to the balcony proper, complete with satin curtains which could be drawn to give the room privacy.

The balcony jutted out into the air of the theater, a stone railing skirting the edge to protect the viewers from falling victim (literally) to their own drunken foolishness. A low ceiling cast the balcony into shadow, concealing from the rest of the audience the two rows of seats overlooking the stage. These chairs looked more cushioned than the dining chairs, but otherwise matched, complete with the coral-patterned open back and muted tones.

Most importantly, however, the room was completely empty, unless you counted a full-length portrait of Zetsurin Seiryoku hanging on the wall.

Ruth twitched, but recovered swiftly, turning to the Gun Knight before the blood had even had a chance to reach her cheeks.

"What did you think?" she asked.

Rathus made a quiet noise in the back of his throat. The question had caught him off guard, and as he turned it over in his head to figure out what she meant, the Dwarf who had shown them in spoke, from behind Ruth.

"Very good, Your Highness."

Ruth startled. She hadn't seen the Master of Ceremonies enter the room, nor walk around her as he would have needed to do in order to get behind her from the doorframe. She corrected her posture, nodding to the Dwarf.

"Excellent. You see, Rathus, it is always wise to practice these things before deploying them."

Regis nodded, bowing his head. Ruth was refreshed by his proper manner. Traveling with Rathus on horseback had put her in close contact with an unwashed, cantankerous beast of burden for long stretches of the road. Grue, at least, had been well-mannered.

"Being that it is a matter of practice, Your Highness," Regis asked, "if I may speak candidly?"

The princess smiled, giving a single magnanimous wave with her gloved hand, swirling with cupped fingers in a small, permissive circle.

"As one trained in these matters, and in fact, a trainer of these matters," the Harem Master declared "I would give your greeting a nine out of ten for presentation, and a seven out of ten for presence and diction."

The princess frowned, cradling one elbow with her hand, as she brushed the fingers of her other hand across her cheek, delicately supporting her head (just in case neck muscles went out of vogue in the next 30 seconds).

"A seven, you say?"

Regis walked over to stand near the table, hands still folded behind his back. "Indeed. You carried yourself with considerable grace. I can't help but notice the skilled execution of the sash wave as you lifted your hand. I assume that was the Krostian Silkweave style?"

"Indeed it was," Ruth replied, puffing up with pride. "I was educated largely in the Krostian style, although I've also mastered the Sunset Delta Petticoat style."

The Dwarf ran his fingers along his waxed mustache, which stood out above the greater mass of his beard, curved into sharp points. "Flawless in its execution, your overall bearing was excellent. However, I would perhaps correct your greeting itself. Royalty should never have to tell another that its actions are 'kindly', as such a quality should be plainly evident."

"Of course," he continued, "it does bear bringing the notion of kind regards into note, so I would perhaps amend it to 'your kind invitation'. Further..."

Rathus moved further into the room as Regis and Ruth continued to workshop her introduction. He ran his hand along the edge of the table, passing around it to casually check behind the curtains, making sure nobody was hiding out of sight on the balcony. He moved to the railing, looking down on the ballroom. This private booth was in the center of the room, directly facing the stage. The balcony didn't extend too far into the room itself. A quick glance told Rathus that if he had to leap down, he would probably be able to land in the ballroom, or on the outer perimeter, or perhaps directly on the marble banister below if he wanted.

There were also a few chandeliers, but... no. Swinging from a chandelier usually wasn't a good idea. He did his best to ignore the siren call of the ceiling decoration hanging within a comfortable leaping distance.

"Are we the first to arrive?" he asked.

Regis glanced over at him, then shook his head. "No. However, Ser Musashi is currently touring the premises. I believe he's watching the new recruits in the midst of their Forging." He chuckled. "Well, it's not a true Forging, of course. But as close as one can come outside of the Dwarfhomes."

The Harem Master excused himself from Ruth's presence, and turned, checking a silver pocket-watch which he pulled from one of the pockets of his uniform.

"Hm. If I might take your leave, I should go check in on their progress myself."

He gave them a curt bow. "I believe that the stage show and first course should be starting in about fifteen minutes. You are welcome to wait here for Madame Seiryoku and Ser Musashi, of course. If you wish instead, you may of course accompany me to see our ladies-in-training. Even if it's merely an imitation of an actual Forging, it's certainly something to see. And a rare privilege afforded only to the Madame's most esteemed guests."

Rathus shrugged. "Sounds interesting." He looked over to the princess, who was furrowing her brow.

"You said..." she asked, "that Musashi is there?"

Regis nodded a silent affirmative, bowing at the hip to turn the gesture into a full-body movement. The princess shifted, contemplating the situation. Finally, she moved to a small sofa at the edge of the room and primly sat down.

"I would rather meet him in a more proper context, where I am not wresting his attention from something else."

"Very good, Your Highness," the Dwarf replied. Rathus looked about the room, scanning the darkened ceiling just in case it might hold a hidden assassin, or a particularly large spider.

"How's the security?" he asked the MC.

The Dwarf gave him a knowing smile. "These private rooms open only to a key held by the guest assigned to it. In the case of the Madame's private booth, only a master key can open the door."

The Gun Knight hesitated. "You don't need a key to get out though, right? Seems like it might be a problem if there were, say, a fire."

"Egress is possible without a key," Regis confirmed. Rathus nodded, wondering what a female eagle had to do with leaving the room, but the context seemed to give him his answer.

"I shall be fine waiting here upon your return," The princess replied, urging him towards the door. "Go on, now. I shall practice my diction some more, and I do not need an audience for that."

The Dwarf led the Gun Knight from the room, sealing the door behind them, and leaving the princess within.

*********

"So I told my boss, I told him 'You can't talk to me like that!'" an older Stentorian woman dictated, enunciating each word clearly as she read from a sheaf of paper.

"NO WAY~! YOU'RE SO BRAVE!" came the reply, shouted in perfect harmony by dozens of voices at once.

The woman made no response, flipping a few pages and scanning the paper quietly. She raised her voice, and dictated once more.

"Baby, has anybody ever told you that your eyes are like moonlight?"

"OH, HONEY. FLATTERY WILL GET YOU EVERYWHERE," a symphony of voices replied.

Musashi sat outside the room, in a long hallway. A long glass wall provided him a view into the room, and he was watching with interest. The instructor paced before the trainees, selecting another phrase from her packet, which was filled with hundreds of such banal lines that prospective clients might say. He stared appraisingly at the trainees, about two dozen in total, mostly women in a variety of shapes and races. All were wearing cabaret dresses, save for the few men, who were dressed in loose-fitting dress shirts, open to the third button, and long dress pants.

All of the trainees were holding a push-up position, foreheads beaded in sweat. There was a clear distinction of training level, from the greenest of the recruits, who struggled to lift themselves with both hands, to the near-graduates, who were using a single hand, with weights stacked between their shoulder-blades.

The instructor stepped with a slow, fixed rhythm. With each footfall of her right foot, the trainees lowered themselves. When the left foot hit the ground, they raised back up. Musashi was impressed. This particular drill had been going on for five minutes already.

"Baby, you're my one and only," the instructor dictated, looking up sharply at the assorted trainees.

"I BET YOU SAY THAT TO ALL THE GIRLS," came the resounding reply.

The instructor's eyes flashed, and she gave an approving nod. She glanced towards the Gun Knight who was watching them. Her face paled, and she stood at attention. Musashi followed the direction of her gaze, turning to see a finely-dressed Dwarf approaching, followed close behind by Rathus. The Gun Knight raised his hand in greeting to the pair.

"Atten-TION!" the instructor commanded. Instantly, the trainees rushed to stand, shaking out their limbs and adjusting their clothes before standing to attention, saluting the Harem Master as he approached.

Regis nodded to Musashi in passing, and entered into the room. His demeanor changed instantly, from a respectful, servile attitude of a head butler, to a stern, powerful stride. His eyes were glowing, as if something molten were shifting below the surface, shining through his irises.

He stepped slowly down the length of the room, eyes darting from one recruit to another, sizing them up. The courtesans-in-training watched him nervously. A fog of anxiety filled the room with a miasma almost as thick as that of the combined smell of sweat and perfume already present. To the credit of the trainees, they'd learned to deal with both of these things long ago. They didn't so much as twitch as they fell under the burning scrutiny of Master Regis Priapus.

The Dwarf paused in his stride, his eyes falling on one of the more senior courtesan-trainees, an Orc woman with long red braids. She returned his gaze, mind racing. He turned on his heels, and began to stride towards her, his short legs carrying him swiftly and evenly. Her stomach sunk as she suddenly realized. One of her her braids had come partially undone during the training.

Regis came to a stop before her. Though the top of his head was about level with her underbust, his presence filled the room as he turned his fury upon her. He loomed over her, and stabbed his hand towards her disheveled braid, fingers flat, hand straight and rigid.

"TRAINEE," he boomed, "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS DISARRAY?!"

"Sir!" the courtesan replied, shouting each word back to him. "My braid came undone during the training, sir!"

"IS THIS THE SORT OF INSTITUTION WHERE THAT SORT OF THING IS TOLERATED?" Regis demanded.

"Sir, no sir!"

"DO YOU THINK THIS IS SOME KIND OF DOCKSIDE WHOREHOUSE?" His eyes blazed as he shook his hand at her. One of the newer recruits next to her shivered in sympathetic pain, but the courtesan under reprimand stood firm under her scrutiny, never breaking her salute.

"SIR, NO SIR!"

"ARE YOU A WHORE, TRAINEE?!" Regis inquired calmly, spit flying from his mouth.

"SIR, NO SIR!"

"THEN WHAT ARE YOU?!"

The Courtesan's eyes flashed, a fiery determination filling her entire being. She stood up straighter, prouder, and bellowed her response back to him.

"SIR, I AM THE WHORE, SIR."

A smile tugged at the edge of Regis's mouth, but he buried it beneath his burning scowl. He could be proud later. Now was the time to build discipline.

"BULLSHIT, I DON'T BELIEVE YOU."

"SIR! I AM THE WHORE, SIR!" The courtesan shouted, louder and more firm this time.

The Dwarf stared her up and down.

"I BET YOU CAN'T EVEN SUCK A GOLF BALL THROUGH A GARDEN HOSE!"

"SIR, I CAN, SIR!"

"BULLSHIT, I DON'T BELIEVE YOU. DO YOU THINK YOU'VE GOT WHAT IT TAKES TO SERVE IN THIS BROTHEL?!"

"SIR, YES SIR!"

"THEN PROVE IT."

He strode away from her, taking five long steps before turning. He singled out another one of the senior courtesans, a Merrow woman with a Spring complexion.

"Reiko will be your opponent."

She strode forward, her teal hair perfectly coiffed and falling into ringlets about her cream-colored shoulders. She saluted as she arrived, the folded fin on her forearm flaring out as her hand snapped into position.

Regis flipped a finger towards the Orc courtesan, who had quickly used the opportunity to fix her braid. She stepped forward and stood at attention, facing her opponent. She was nervous. What would the contest be?

"Miriam. Reiko," The Harem Master looked to each in turn, and the trainees nodded, signaling their readiness. The Dwarf reached into his jacket, pulling out a silver cigar case. Miriam's eyes widened, and Reiko smiled triumphantly. The Dwarf lifted a cigar out of the case and snapped the case closed, tucking it back into his jacket. Miriam was worried now. The Merrow woman across from her was undefeated when it came to this contest in particular.

The Dwarf sniffed the cigar, ignoring the contestants, and made a quiet noise in the back of his throat as it met with his approval. He held it up, and with a sudden blurred snap of his wrist, cut the tip off with his bare hand. He lifted it to his eye, scrutinizing the cut. Smooth. Even. Satisfactory. He lazily held the cigar out to his side, cut end centered evenly between the two contestants. With his free hand, he reached into his jacket pocket, and drew out a golden flip-top lighter. Reiko lowered herself, settling into a predatory stance, like a wild cat about to pounce. She even wiggled her butt in anticipation.

The Harem Master tossed the lighter up and over his head. It sailed between the two courtesans, who each tracked its flight carefully. Reiko was the first to move, lunging upwards towards it, hand outstretched.

The lighter glinted as it flipped through the air, and Reiko's fingers barely brushed it, before a sudden punch to the solar plexus sent her staggering back. She fell immediately into a combat stance, lunging forwards again as Miriam hopped up to snatch the lighter. Reiko whipped her foot forward, stepping heavily on Miriam's outstretched leg, simultaneously propelling herself upward while shoving the Orc woman back down.

She ran up and across the larger courtesan's body, reaching out, and barely missing the lighter, as Miriam yanked her back by the neck of her dress. The lighter continued to fall, and alarm ran through both of the courtesans at once. There could only be one winner of this contest, but it wasn't just about martial prowess. Elegance and poise were both at play here, and if the lighter were allowed to touch the ground, BOTH of them would be disqualified.

Miriam swept out one, foot bouncing the lighter back into the air moments before it hit the ground. Reiko seized the opportunity while Miriam was off-balance, and seized the woman by the arms before rolling backwards and hurling her off to the side. The orc woman spun as her back hit the ground, rolling to her feet and immediately charging back into the fray.

Watching from the hallway, Musashi leaned over to Rathus, who had joined him.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

"What," Rathus asked, "bein' called a whore?"

The younger Gun Knight shook his head, ponytail swaying slightly with the motion.

"Not that, the training itself. Reminds you of Basic, doesn't it?"

Rathus agreed. "I ain't ever been to any of the Dwarfhomes, but I've rea— I've heard the Empire took a lot of inspiration from them when it comes to training."

The contest within the training room seemed to come to a head, as Reiko tripped Miriam, and snatched the lighter out of the air. The Merrow exulted in her victory, stepping over to the Harem Master and flicking the lighter open. She leaned over, igniting the lighter. The Dwarven master glanced over at her, nodding.

"A good showing, and excellent form on the ignition. However... you took your eyes off of your opponent."

The lighter was suddenly smacked out of Reiko's hand, and sent flying into the air. Reiko's eyes followed it, and then her head and her torso, followed by her feet, as a pair of arms seized her around the waist and suplexed her.

Miriam snapped back to a standing position, catching the lighter out of the air, still lit. She leaned over, lighting the MC's cigar.

The Dwarf inspected it. An even burn, with a strong orange glow. He gave one succinct nod.

"Acceptable."

He put the stogie in the corner of his mouth, then checked the time on his pocketwatch. Exactly on schedule. Miriam helped Reiko to her feet, and the Dwarf dismissed the two of them, back to their positions among the ranks. He called over the instructor.

"Run them through an hour on the Shoulder-Rub Gauntlet, then split them up by specialty. I want Domino to lead the hosts through Advanced Flattery, and I want you to head the Battle-Ballet course for the dancers. Standard scheduling for the rest. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir!" The instructor saluted, before hurrying to address the trainees.

Regis left the room, his posture immediately diminishing back to his friendly, charming persona.

"What did you gentlemen think of our training programs? As you can see—"

"Kate!"

A voice broke from down the hall, and Regis's expression darkened. A young man was running down the hall towards them.

"This area is for employees only," Regis said firmly, turning to face the young man as he approached. The intruder came to a staggering halt, out of breath. He braced himself on his knees, leaning over and panting. He was wearing laborer clothes: sturdy, slightly baggy, and with the faded shades of color that came from months spent working in the sun, or from overzealous designers marketing shoddy products as 'pre-faded'.

The man looked up at Rathus and Musashi. "Are they employees?"

"No," Regis began, "They—"

"So we're all good then, cool." The man stood, peering in at the courtesans-in-training as they left the room and headed further down the hallway. "Is Kate free? Or does she have more training?"

The man looked hopefully at the crowd of trainees, running his hands through his hair, which was a deep red, and slicked back into a smooth pompadour. Regis stared down his nose at him (figuratively, as the Dwarf was about a foot and a half shorter than the man). His expression was cold, his nose wrinkled in barely-contained disgust. It was like he was looking at walking garbage.

"Miss Kate is working tonight, Lucas. She is not available to entertain you."

Lucas froze. "Working? Tonight? She told me she still had another two weeks!" Lucas reached out, grabbing Regis by the shoulders. "Reggie, buddy, you gotta get her off the floor."

'Reggie' slapped away the young man's hands, shrugging out of his grasp. His expression remained professionally neutral, but his eyes were blazing once more.

"For the last time, young Lucas, my name is not 'Reggie', and I am not your 'buddy', friend. You may call me Master Priapus, although it would be my preference that you do not call me at all. The Madame has a special VIP client tonight. She wanted one of our finest graduates to make her Debut on his behalf, and I recommended Kate. She was near enough to graduation."

Lucas paled. If Kate was Debuting tonight, then that meant that...

He lunged forward, grabbing Regis by the lapels of his suit.

"You bastard! Why would you pick Kate?! You knew that I was going to... to..."

The Dwarf pointedly looked away, disinterested in the engagement, although his eyes were still glowing with molten fury. Lucas was pulling on his suit, but not with enough force to lift him from the ground.

"It's because of me, isn't it?!" he demanded. "You don't think some 'filthy sailor' is good enough for her, do you?!"

The corner of Regis's mouth quirked into a smirk.

"You son of a—"

A weight settled over Lucas as a hand clapped down on his shoulder. It didn't strike him with any force, but the young man froze nonetheless, feeling an intense weight from its placement. He looked over to see Rathus giving him a stern glare. The Gun Knight's eyes flicked up to Lucas's right hand, which had somehow formed into a fist and drawn back. The Gun Knight shook his head once.

Shocked, the young sailor dropped both his fist and the Dwarf, stepping back. He turned on his heels, shooting one last betrayed look back at the Harem Master, before quickly fleeing the way he had come. Musashi watched the man as he ran, inarticulate sounds of frustration slowly fading into the distance. The Gun Knight turned to his associate.

"You know, Rathus, that sounded much like a matter of love. You shouldn't interfere in these kinds of things."

Rathus shrugged. "We're Imperial Knights, Musashi. It's our job to keep the peace. I'm not gonna sit by and let somebody get thrashed within an inch of their life."

Regis scoffed, pulling out a fine-haired brush and dusting his lapels off. "I appreciate the concern, Ser Knight, but I don't believe I was in any danger."

"Nah, you weren't the one I was worried about," Rathus replied, "I saw the look in your eyes. That Luke kid got off lucky."

"Perhaps," the Master of Ceremonies replied. "But this wouldn't be the first time that young Lucas has made a nuisance of himself. During the later stages of their training, our new courtesans-to-be can perform as escorts to select clients. You would be surprised how many men will pay for nothing more than a pretty face that knows how to listen to them, and say a few choice words."

Regis gestured ahead as they walked. "This Lucas was a freight-worker, and I suppose had saved up some money to visit our establishment. He had the fortune of speaking to Madame Seiryoku herself, but I feel her presence was too much for him to handle, and he, so to speak, chickened out. He wound up simply asking for an escort service rather than a, ah... full service package."

Rathus and Musashi exchanged a glance, but said nothing, as they made their way back into the central hall, and headed towards the stairs. Rathus whipped his hand up as they passed the alcove containing the Makka's restaurant. He grabbed a hamburger out of the air, which had ricocheted out of the restaurant after hitting a catching tray that a customer was holding at an angle. The Gun Knight tossed the burger back to her in an easy underhand pitch.

"Unfortunately," Regis continued, "it seems that he found himself rather taken with young Miss Kate."

"Does she feel the same?" Musashi asked. He snapped a coin out to the Goblin working the register in the burger joint, and was rewarded with a double-cheeseburger hurled at subsonic speed. He winked at the cashier, and turned to follow the Harem Master up the stairs.

"I certainly hope not," Regis snorted. "I'd consider it a personal failing if her standards were so low after all the training she's undergone." He sighed. "A sailor. Boats are bad enough, but to go from port to port, spreading who knows what manner of illness..." The Dwarf shuddered.

"Ya don't like boats?" Rathus asked. "That's kinda surprising on account of..." He gestured around them, from the hallway magelights ensconced in scallop-shaped glass fixtures, to the wave pattern on the wall runners, to the painting of a stormy night at sea hanging from the wall.

The Dwarf shivered slightly, his expression deadening, like that of a veteran retail worker on Black Friday, when the gates were lifting, and the people were pouring in, and you had a shred of hope that maybe this year would be different, and this year was different; this year they put you next to the "Slappy the Singing Holiday Bass" display, and you are caught between the howling maelstrom of two grandmothers knife-fighting over the last air fryer on one end, and a rubber fish singing "Feliz Navidad" on the other end, like some kind of fucked—up cashier equivalent of Odysseus navigating between Scylla and Charybdis.

"It was not my decision," he said (of the decor, in case you forgot). "Madame Seiryoku was very insistent on the branding. She said that it would be wise to 'play to peoples' expectations'. I can't say that I necessarily disagree, however..." He trailed off, leaving his thoughts unsaid.

"I leave the decor to her discretion, and focus mostly on the training and administration of staff. I've no intention of dealing with the sea, thank you very much."

The Dwarf said nothing more on the subject for the short remainder of their journey back to Zetsurin's private room. Rathus elbowed Musashi as the younger Gun Knight unwrapped his burg.

"Y'should really save your appetite. Aren't we here for a fancy dinner?" Rathus chided him. He doubted that Musashi would be able to put down a burger, and whatever meal they'd be serving, and still have room for Ruth's pies.

"Burgers are food for the soul, not the stomach, Rathus," Musashi wiseposted back to him.

They arrived to Madame Seiryoku's booth, with Musashi finishing off the burg in a worryingly short amount of time. The sound of conversation reached them, and Rathus was surprised to see a familiar face speaking with the Matron and another woman, in the hallway just outside the door.

"Ah!" the portly fellow called out, raising a hand in an awkward wave as the Gun Knights approached. "If it isn't Ser McGaff!"

"Mr. Crumpet," the Gun Knight replied, raising an eyebrow at the official he'd met previously. "I wasn't expectin' to meet you here. Especially what with how busy things must be down at the Astral Well."

The official chuckled, gesturing to Zetsurin. "Well, Miss Seiryoku was kind enough to invite me for dinner. We had some business to discuss regarding her contract with the Astral Well."

Zetsurin smiled, her half-lidded eyes sparkling as she waved him off. She was dressed ornately, wearing a full kimono in the West Sea style, its long sleeves sliding up and down her arm to intermittently cover her hands, or reveal a scandalous amount of bare arm as she gestured. The pattern was a deep, royal blue, with a red sash, and a white floral pattern cutting its way up one side. Her earrings chimed as she shook her head, a set of silver dangling rings carefully punched through the fins that swept back from either side of her head.

"Please, Oliver," she replied, her tone professional, but oddly affectionate. "We can discuss that business later. I want you to enjoy yourself. After all, that's what this establishment is all about.

Zetsurin turned to address the third figure, a Stentorian woman in a blue sundress that ended just below the knee. The light color and white stripes matched the white ribbon tied into her hair, which only served to intensify the darkness of her chestnut hair. She looked relatively out of place among the exorbitant decor of the bordello. Which was not to say she was unattractive by any means, but to Rathus, her outfit, physique, and indeed overall bearing seemed more like a pretty farmer's daughter than the sort of thing you'd expect of a courtesan.

She flicked her eyes to Rathus and Musashi, sparing them a wide, honest smile that instantly stabbed Rathus through the soul. The earnest, heartwarming nature of her smile, combined with her wholesome outfit and bearing filled him with a sudden and violent surge of love-sickness and nostalgia, as if he had Recalled all of his foolish boyhood crushes at once. He staggered back a step, and saw that Musashi was similarly affected, although he seemed to be bearing it better. Out of the corner of his eye, Rathus caught the unrepentant look of triumph and superiority that Regis was shooting him as the Harem Master grinned a smile. So... was this the power of Dwarven training?

"Kate," Zetsurin commanded, "Please accompany Mr. Crumpet to VIP room three."

Kate nodded to her Matron, and skipped over towards the official. She moved with a certain fluid grace, which was completely shot to pieces as she stumbled forwards, tripping over something. Musashi shifted to catch her, but Regis was already there, supporting her and carefully setting her back onto her feet.

"Careful, dear," he said, reaching into his jacket pocket and dusting her with his brush before sending her on to the official, who looked on in surprise as Kate hooked her arm through his.

"She will see to your every need, Oliver. All you have to do is ask. Dinner will be served shortly, and our first show is set to begin." Zetsurin lowered her voice to a purr. "I do hope you'll enjoy your stay."

"Well," the official said, as Kate led him away, "I am looking forward to dinner. I could do with a nice hamburger."

Zetsurin opened and closed her mouth, before expertly feigning a friendly smile to the official. "Of... course. There's nothing like a hamburger after a long day, after all. However, I do hope that you'll sample the dishes from our... actual... kitchen."

The official's eyes opened wide, and he rubbed his hands together. "Ooh. I like the sound of that!" he replied, as if the idea of food cooked in a kitchen was something exotic and fanciful.

"We can discuss the contract details afterwards," Mr. Crumpet promised, his voice jovial. "I'm always happy to discuss contracts. Hopefully you're not looking for more Mana, what with the shortage and all. Haha."

"Haha," Zetsurin echoed back, emotionless. "I'll save the contract talk for later."

Kate shot Zetsurin an uneasy smile behind the official's back, and led him away. Once he was out of sight, the ex-Adventurer sagged, rubbing at her temple with one perfectly-manicured hand.

"Ugh... that man..." she groaned. Rathus shifted and looked in the direction Kate had taken the man.

"So, that was the famous 'Kate', huh? I can see why Lucas fell for her." he noted, taking a stab at changing the subject. He glanced over at Regis, who was silently shaking his head, his eyes bulging. Rathus frowned. Was it a sore subject or something? He looked back to Zetsurin, who had frozen at his words.

"...Lucas?" she asked quietly. The lights in the hallway flickered, and Rathus felt a pressure settle upon him as the Matron's battle aura slowly condensed around her. Rathus settled his hand at his belt, a little put off by the reaction. He must not have had the full story on something, but in any case, it was probably a good idea to de-escalate. He gave her his most charming smile, making a motion to tip his hat, even though it was hanging around the back of his neck.

"Just some kid we saw earlier. I think we scared him off."

Madame Seiryoku stared at the Gun Knight for a long time, billowing with a menace despite the sleepy expression that still dominated her eyes. She looked to Regis, who rubbed at his beard, thinking on it.

"He may be back," the Dwarf admitted. "He seemed rather distraught when he found out that Kate was seeing a client tonight."

Zetsurin sighed, her battle aura dissipating, the pressure lifting from the back of Rathus's mind. "This is the last thing we need," she moaned. "I can't have him scaring off Crumpet."

"We could take care of him, if you'd like," Musashi suggested. "If he shows up and harasses you again, I could escort him to the jailhouse."

The Matron shook her head, dismissing the idea. "Thank you for the offer, but you two are also guests. And the last thing I need is him causing a scene and making more work for the guards. If I'm not mistaken, the Sheriff is here with his wife tonight for the stage show. We can't afford to make a bad impression."

"Indeed he is. Speaking of," Regis noted, "I believe there's about a minute until curtain. Shall we?"

He gestured to the door of Zetsurin's private booth. The Matron nodded, and drew a wooden seal from within her sleeve, holding it up to the door. There was a click as the door unlocked, and she pushed it open, entering into the booth.

Ruth stood in the room, framed and positioned perfectly such that the various sources of light highlighted her features without casting her into shadow or flooding her with light. She bowed her head slightly to Madame Seiryoku as she entered.

"Madame Seiryoku. On behalf of the throne of Dennis, and on mine own behalf, I thank you for your kind invitation." The princess bowed her head, before shooting a meaningful look at Rathus, who was pre-empted by Regis. The Master of Ceremonies cleared his throat quietly and announced the princess out loud.

"Her Royal Highness, Ruth Greer. Princess of Dennis, Imperial Sovereign."

Zetsurin's eyes widened in surprise, but she swept low into a curtsy.

"It is a pleasure and an honor to have you in my humble accommodations, Your Highness," she declared, her voice low and respectful.

Ruth nodded and waved a hand, acknowledging Zetsurin, as she turned to face Musashi. The princess gulped once as she locked eyes with the Gun Knight, shivering slightly, but continued on with practiced ease.

"Ser Musashi. Your fame precedes you. Your deeds are known across the land, and your praises sung from every city. And yet, those stories of prowess and bravery pale in comparison to the man himself, as he appears before me. It is our great pride and honor to make your acquaintance."

She extended her hand to him, and the Knight fell to one knee, gently kissing the back of her hand. Ruth shook visibly, but recovered before the Gun Knight looked up at her.

"I am humbled in your presence, my princess." he spoke, voice low and sultry. "My service is yours to command, as sworn by the Vow of the Gun Knight."

Ruth stared at him for a second, unblinking, before she quickly remembered her gift, and reached out to snatch it, somewhat less than gracefully. She handed the basket to Musashi, who took it, looking at it in surprise.

"These are...?"

"A gift, Ser Knight. I've been told that you are particular to Blue Helmet mushrooms, so I present to you some pastries made by mine own hand."

Musashi lifted one of the pies from the basket. "By your own hand, truly?"

Ruth nodded in satisfaction. Musashi rubbed at his chin, turning the pie over and inspecting it thoughtfully.

"Truly amazing. Few of the Nobility can claim such skill. Most say it is beneath them, like fools." He looked up at the princess and winked. "Don't tell them I said that, of course."

The princess shook her head emphatically, and the Gun Knight continued. "But you... you are skilled, intelligent, well-spoken, and of course transcendentally beautiful. You are certainly the whole package, my princess."

Ruth colored, her composure cracking. "Y-you speak such praises, Ser Knight, but my qualities are nothing worth bragging about, when held up to your own package."

A half-beat passed, long enough for Ruth to turn a bright scarlet as she realized what she'd said.

"T-that is to say—" she began, but thankfully, it seemed that Musashi had not noticed her turn of phrase.

He held the pie up. "May I?"

Ruth nodded emphatically, glad to hurry past her faux pas. She watched, holding her breath, as the Gun Knight slowly took a bite of the pie. He chewed it thoughtfully, crunching the flaky crust and shifting it around in his mouth as if he were a professional food critic.

He stared the princess in the eyes, unblinking, and wiped a crumb from his cheek with a single thumb, brushing it against one lip to deliver it to his mouth.

"Delicious," he said.

The princess broke, letting out an incoherent noise as she melted onto the sofa. The Gun Knight turned and shot a cocky smirk to Rathus.

"Two for two," he chuckled.