Why does the King want me here? I wondered, as my carriage pulled up to the club. I was fairly sure he did. The little game he’d played with his Fool was transparent enough that I thought he’d expect me to see through it. He might have done it that way just so that I’d be unable to ask him why.

The question was actually in two parts. Why did he want me to meet with Finley, and why here? Was it just because Finley was going to be here, or did it have to do with the nature of the place? I couldn’t help but think this was all part of an elaborate joke. At whose expense, I couldn’t tell.

I cast an eye on the front of the place. It looked expensive. There was heavy use of opalime, something I was a little tired of, but at least the statues in dark marble broke it up. They were lit up, with enchantments no less. Lighting things up with enchantments was the province of the rich, of course. Using them outside, where they could be stolen by passers-by gave the impression that this was a place the riff-raff were kept well away from. As for the statues themselves, well…

“Curious?” my companion asked mischievously. “Don’t worry, they’ll have one of you soon enough.”

I glared at her, but my escort was at the door, so I let myself get helped out of the carriage. Since this was practically official royal business, I’d helped myself to a palace carriage to go with my escort. Anyone watching should be in no doubt that I was a guest of the King.

I thanked the guard as I stepped down, and then looked over the statues. Seven statues made for an awkward arrangement if you wanted to have a door in the middle of your building. The architects had gotten around it by placing one of the statues in the middle, flanked by two identical double doors. Three statues were on each side of those.

I couldn’t help looking over the three that we passed on the way to the doors. Nine feet tall, they were impressive, if slightly cringe-inducing. I’d heard the names, and could make a guess as to which statue was which, but I didn’t need to because each plinth held the name and most notable deed of the dead Champion.

Tilly Osborne, Rishi Laghari and Peamanh Medaraasel. The marble didn’t show skin tone, but I knew that Tilly was English, Rishi was Indian and Peamanh was a Persian from Turkey. They’d brought down the empire, and founded the successor kingdoms. Four of them had died in the process. We were going to get to the doors before passing the middle statue, but I figured that would be Arthur Alexander, the one who’d stayed in this kingdom until his death.

I suppose it was nice that they were remembered, but it was a little embarrassing to think that I might be remembered in the same way.

“The Founders aren’t generally revered in Latorra, though they are more well-known than most Champions,” my companion continued. “But there is a faction of the nobility that feels the Founders' acts need to be remembered, lest the nobility be considered ungrateful. And so, this place exists.”

There was a certain amount of amusement in Manuela’s tone, as if the Ebon Order envoy appreciated the irony of a Champion attending this place incognito. She’d told me that they had tried very hard to get Isidre to attend on her first visit to the capital.

I’d much rather have visited this place with one of my friends at my side, but I only had an invitation for one guest, and I needed a guide. Not for getting here, but to navigate once we were inside. I knew that finding Duke Finley wouldn’t be a matter of wandering about. He’d be winkled away in some private room, so getting to him was going to take a certain amount of effort and clout.

“Start by asking if the Duke is in", she murmured as we went in the doors. A man was there to inspect our invitation, so I started up [Conversation].

[Conversation] was an interesting skill — I’d been levelling it without realising I was even using it. It wasn’t confrontational like [Intimidate] or [Bargain], it just let you direct the conversation in a natural manner. It didn’t sound like much, but in a social situation, there was a lot that someone could tell you if they weren’t on guard against it.

Striking up a conversation with the man while he examined our invitation, [Charm] quickly put him at ease. We could probably have gotten in even if the thing had been fake. When I asked him if Duke Finley had arrived yet, he must have thought that we were a part of his entourage, because he answered without a thought.

“Oh, no ma’am. His private room is ready, but he hasn’t arrived. Shall I have word sent once he does?”

I glanced at Manuela, “Yes, that will be fine,” she said. “Have them look for us in the Sapphire room.”

“Of course, ma’am,” the man said. Manuela giggled, and led me off, presumably to the Sapphire room.

“I do love working with high [Charisma] types,” she said. “He should have asked for your name, so he could let Finley know you were here.”

“I wanted us to be a surprise,” I admitted.

“And so the question never came up. Priceless.”

She led me down a corridor and then opened a door marked Sapphire. Music, conversation and laughter floated out.

“Come on,” she said and went inside.

Inside was… something like a cabaret club. It wasn’t a terribly large room, and a lot of the space was taken up by a stage in the centre. Some musicians were playing in a cramped space in one corner, and the rest of the room was taken up by a small table. The air was hazy, but not with smoke.

“Is that… incense?” I asked. It smelled sweet and musky.

“These rooms never get aired out enough,” Manuela replied carelessly. “They clean them, of course, but a smell can build up… they cover it with the incense.”

“Charming,” I said. Fortunately this world — or at least this country— hadn’t discovered the dubious joys of tobacco.

“Shh, the show is about to start.”

I looked at the stage, where a young woman was walking out. Not Issey. While she was working tonight, it was either at a different time or in a different room. This lady was dressed in a fantastical costume — not that different from something you’d see in a stage production or cosplay event. A tightly fitted leotard showed off her curves, while a poofy tutu emphasised them further. Her arms and legs were left bare, for freedom of movement — and for display. Glittering glass — according to [Identify] — beads covered the entire costume.

I glanced over the audience, mostly male. They were enjoying the show before it had even started. At least they weren’t being overt about it. This was a reputable establishment. As the dancer started, I thought about what Issey had told me that meant.

A reputable establishment meant that the dancing girls weren’t for rent afterwards. In a less reputable establishment, the dancing was really only an advertisement for the real wares. That was how the lower-class places made enough to keep going after the economy dropped off in Dorsay.

It was only the nobles, with more money than they knew what to do with, that would fund a place like this. And that meant that the dancers had to deal with the most entitled form of drunken patron. Jumping on stage to paw at them, sneaking into the dressing rooms… it wasn’t allowed, the perpetrators were punished, just not seriously.

No turning offenders over to the law. Just a fine or a ban for a month. I forced down my anger and watched the show.

It was something to see. Why isn’t music like this? I wondered. There were people playing right now that must have had skills. It was fine, it was music, but it wasn’t… this.

We all had enhanced strength, agility and dexterity. That didn’t seem to mean so much when playing an instrument. After all, if a normal human could play a lute perfectly, what was superhuman dexterity going to add? It must make such a feat easier, sure, but perfect is perfect.

It seemed that there was no such limit on [Dancing] and seeing it for myself was breathtaking. She moved… impossibly. Like some kind of animation where the only connection between the frames is artistic inspiration, she moved in a way that was only loosely guided by physics.

It was over way too soon — it felt like only a heartbeat before she took a bow and walked off the stage.

“What was that?” I asked wonderingly. Manuela laughed.

“She’s good, isn’t she?” she said. I looked over at her, and my mood soured. From ecstasy to irritation in a moment. Why can’t anything last? I asked myself, as the man I’d seen behind her moved forward.

Lord Aubert. He was moving forward like he actually wanted to talk to me, and so it proved.

“Kandis — Councillor Hammond — I need to speak with you.”

“You were looking for me here?” I asked.

“No, I just saw —” he broke off, looking at Manuela and then doing a double-take as he registered her clothes. “I — need to speak in private,” he said, giving a little twitch of his head in her direction.

I wasn’t happy about the idea of blowing off Manuela to speak with Aubey, but for him to bring himself to talk to me, it must have been important. I was about to reluctantly agree when I was saved.

The pause while I was considering it was enough for a servant to sidle up and say “Ma’am, the Duke has arrived at his room.”

“The Duke?” Aubey asked, his face darkening.

“Finley,” I answered, and got to watch his face go all the way red. “I’m afraid a Duke takes precedence. Why don’t you visit my rooms tomorrow?”

I nodded to the servant, and he led the pair of us off.

“That was hilarious,” Manuela giggled, once we were out of earshot. “I thought he was going to explode — or even cause a scene. Do all nobles hate you that much?”

“Only the ones that know me,” I admitted. Given the nobles I had met, it wasn’t surprising so much as depressing. “And here comes another one.”

“Just walk on in like you own the place,” she murmured in my ear, too softly for our guide to hear. “They don’t know that you weren’t invited.”

I took her advice, ignoring the servant posted in front of the door, and walked right in. As the door opened I wondered if I should have knocked. Too late now.

If I’d been hoping to catch the Duke with his clothes off (I wasn’t) I would have been disappointed. He had decided to start his evening off with a meal. He looked up from it, clearly irritated at being interrupted. The irritation grew when he saw who had interrupted him.

“Duke Finley, what a coincidence that we should run into each other like this!” I said, striding forward. From behind me, I heard the door close hastily, the servants outside choosing to make themselves scarce.

“Hammond,” he said rudely. “I said I was going to send another message.”

“Your previous messengers were so rude,” I said, affecting a casual demeanour I did not feel. “Disappearing on us like that. I wasn’t sure if the next lot would be so polite.”

“So you decided to barge in on my meal. Bringing… this along with you.” He glanced sourly at Manuela. “Just what is your master up to, girl?”

“Many things, my Lord,” Manuela said serenely. “All of them are, alas, a secret.”

“Manuela offered to show me around the city,” I said. “We’ve been taking in all the top night spots.”

I sat down at the table opposite him. “Now, I believe that we had some business to discuss. I’m sure it won’t take long.”