The couple had followed Raymond through a series of corridors, listening to a silent instruction to follow him. As he opened double doors and entered his office, closing them behind the two of them, he let out a heavy sigh.

“This is her?” he asked, looking at Bertaut with a cocked eyebrow.

Bertaut simply nodded with a smirk.

“I told you she was good at what she does”, he said, breathing a sigh of relief as well.

“Well, as much as I want to agree, that was a bit much”, replied Raymond, crossing his arms and laying against his desk.

“Elliot has always had trouble minding his manners, hasn’t he?” said Bertaut, sighing.

“Indeed. If I may, you two are not actually married, right?”

“God no. I’m not willing to shave that many years off my life.”

“I’m taking full offense to that”, interjected Keela, feigning being vexed.

“Well she’s certainly changing you, you smile a lot more than you used to”, said Raymond, smiling.

The last comment made Bertaut quickly go back to his usual stern visage.

“You still rent out that basement, right? The info you gave me still stands?” asked Bertaut, looking intently at Raymond.

“Yes. If I may, you should simply enjoy the party for a while. Here, take this”, replied Raymond, handing Keela a well crafted key.

“It goes to the basement I assume?” asked Keela, looking at every angle of the key.

“You would assume right.”

“Great.”

She quickly slipped the key in the same band that had her dagger, causing both the men to avert their gazes. The two invited went back to the party silently, attracting as little attention as they could. They spent the hour mingling with guests, having drinks and a minute amount of fun. After a while, Keela headed to the ballroom alone. It was a long room, the sides higher than the middle which served as a dance floor. The elevated sides were roughly two meters higher than the middle, a hip height marble barrier circling the edge. The center had an intricate mosaic floor, undoubtedly made by a renowned artist. Three windows stood at the end of the room, colored motifs embedded into them, casting colored shadows from the soft moonlight. One of them served as a door that gave way to a balcony. The guests were mostly on the upper part, mingling and enjoying the view. A few couples were dancing to a slow waltz played by the band of musicians who sat in the corner of the room on a slightly elevated platform. Gazing about, Keela noticed a man who, although was wearing a high collar, could still be seen having a slight mark on his neck; two parallel scars travelling for an inch diagonally -- the mark of the Ivory Razor. She casually strolled up to him, laying against the wall next to a window, changing the finger her ring was on to her index, sipping a cup of wine casually while shooting a few coy smiles his way. He bit the bait like a hopeless hungry fish in an empty pond, coming up to her.

“Good day ma’am, my name is Jeremiah the Sentinel. May I humbly request a dance?” he asked, bowing his head respectfully.

“But of course. My name’s Keela, pleased to make your acquaintance Sir Sentinel”, she replied, half a smile on her face.

“Please, call me Jeremiah.”

Taking his extended hand, Keela was led to the middle of the room amongst the other guests and danced with him. The song picked up in pace and so did the intensity of their dancing. At the culmination point of the song, she leaned in close to his ear, whispering in the sultriest tone she could muster.

“Get me into that meeting tonight and I’ll make it worth your while.”

Jeremiah frowned for a second but quickly changed his expression as Keela’s teeth grazed his ear. Leading her off the dancefloor, he brought her to an unoccupied room, Keela grabbing two cups of wine on her way there. As he closed the door, she handed him a cup, smiling. He downed it and pounced on her, unbuckling his belt. Grabbing him with her legs, she threw the dynamic around, getting on top.

“Meeting first. How does one get in?” she said, biting her lip.

“You’ll need a ring like this one”, he said showing the ring on his finger.

It was a gold ring with an intricate pattern of cuts carved into it.

“I don’t think I had this much wine, did I?” said Jeremiah, grabbing his head.

“Go to sleep sweetheart, you’ve done more than enough”, replied Keela, getting off him and taking the ring as he failed to protest.

“What…?”

The last word he managed to get out was in a quizzical tone as he fainted from the poison she had put in his cup. It would cause his lungs to cease functionality within the hour. Putting her silver ring back on her ring finger, she put the gold one on her thumb as it was a bit big for her other fingers. She sneaked back to Bertaut’s side and tapped his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asked, turning around.

“Honey I’ve had a few cups of wine too much, could you help me get to a room?” she asked, adding a wobble to her tone.

Bertaut sighed and excused himself to the other patrons, lending an arm to a fake drunk Keela. After a few minutes of walking in corridors, when they were both confident to be out of sight, she turned to Bertaut quickly.

“I’m headed for the basement, I got the ring I needed”, she said, showing him her hand.

“You were faster than I thought on that one. Good on you”, he replied, showing actual surprise on his face.

“I only had to act like a whore to get it and--”

She was interrupted as she saw a servant turn the corner. Quickly she dragged down Bertaut to her level, kissing him intently and intensely. The servant noticed them and quickly excused himself, turning heel and hurrying out of sight. As soon as the coast was clear, Keela let go of Bertaut’s collar, checking around nervously.

“Sorry about that”, she said, wiping the lipstick off his face softly with her thumb.

“I… uh… no worries”, replied Bertaut, averting eye contact.

“As I was saying, cover for me while I’m gone. If anyone is looking for me, I’m asleep and not to be disturbed.”

“Got it.”

Keela thought she saw a moment where Bertaut blushed but ruled it to being her imagination as he was already back to his usual stern expression. She gave him a nod and headed off to obscure corridors, acting drunk if she was noticed by anyone. After wandering for a while, she reached the basement door in an empty corridor. Opening it with the key quickly, she slipped in and locked behind her. The stairs going down were long and winding. Taking off her shoes and holding them in her hand, she strutted down with a fair pace. As she reached the bottom, a guard stopped her in front of a heavy metal door, claiming not to recognize her. She raised the hand with the gold ring and raised the other in a surrendering stance.

“Relax, I’m here to join.”

The guard frowned but opened the door, letting her in to the smoky dark interior.