RFC-Mini Arc 4: Night Life-07 (Patreon)

I continue trading barbs with Cloud while fending off Alana’s dissatisfaction until we come to a stop. My future saint is the first one out, practically jumping off the bench to escape the charged atmosphere. I slide out after her and graciously offer Cloud my hand. She chuckles as she allows me to help her out but immediately pulls me against her chest. “Your hands are rather soft, honored sister. Unexpected.”

“Yours feel like they need a sander but that’s not a bad thing.”

“Sign of one who works for their dinner.”

“You trying to say something?”

“No. I know you have no problem getting dirty.”

I could go back and forth with her al night but the sound of another carriage brings me back to the moment. “Go and relax,” I say to Gajin. “We’ll let you know when we’re ready to go.”

He dips his head. “Thank you, my lady. Have fun.”

Oh, I plan to.

He drives off and I study our destination. Like most buildings in Quest, it’s a squat, blocky, ugly thing that lacks visual appeal. Someone tried to pretty it up with a coat of paint. That must have failed because on top of the chipping paint is a mural depicting a party, indistinct figures engaged in all forms of making merry. Well, the forms that wouldn’t offend people’s sensibilities.

The entrance is a pair of large, wooden doors with heavy metal bars instead of doorknobs. They’re currently wide open, two large men acting as doorstoppers. Their faces are stern when customers approach but alone, they chat amicably, their good humor ruining their intimidating bulk. Upbeat music pours out, infecting the whole street with its energy.

The second carriage rolls to a stop. Kierra is the first to descend, the two other instructors following. I smile as I watch her take in the building, her face a mixture interest, curiosity, and mild disdain. Her little frown eases as she comes toward me. She makes a twirling motion with her index finger and I show her my back. She leans against me, resting her chin atop my head.

Ah, how nostalgic. I remember there was once a time when I struggled with this burden. Now, I hardly notice. “What do you think?” I ask her.

“Mm. The voices sound lively, at least.” I have to agree. I can hear the hum of over a dozen conversations under the music.

“Oh, I haven’t been to one of these in years,” Lady Oriole says, coming up beside us, a grumpy Miss Alyssa trailing her. “Ally, you remember that gathering in Rosentheim? What was it again?”

“The Rosefields were petitioning to open a secondary Hall. We told they could do whatever they could gather as many caster as they want and teach magic in the streets but they better not try to put the Hall’s name on it. Then they tried luring teachers away.”

“Ah, yes! A charming young man took us to a dancing hall, one of the firsts. Much better looking than this place. Then again, Rosentheim is a beautiful city. Quest hardly compares.”

“Quest will be here centuries after that glorified garden is a pile of rubble spotted with weeds.”

“You think? It is the seat of power for the traditionalist faction. The old nobles wield considerable power.”

“What power? Their private armies have been replaced by knight orders and guilds. Their scions no longer venture out into the few remaining wilds to suppress monsters so their talents are going to waste. The only real power they have left is their considerable fortunes and the Guiness has firmly kicked all of their asses on that front.”

“While the lesson is interesting,” Kierra says slowly, “I would like a chance to experience this place myself.”

“Of course.” Cynthia drags Miss Alyssa forward.

“This is such a waste of time,” the redhead grouses. “We should’ve just stayed at the house. There was good drink, good food…decent company. These places are always loud and smelly. Plus, the food is crap and they make you pay out the ass for the pleasure.”

“Oh shush. You had plenty at the house and we can have dinner a little later. And don’t think you’re getting away without dancing with me.”

“They’re your toes.”

I chuckle as I follow them, the rest of my group crowding around us. We step into a new world. White curtains over the windows reflect the glow of numerous wall torches, brightly illuminating the room. The large ballroom is familiar. At the far end is a small stage for the musicians and the opposite end has a walkway separated from the main floor by a waist-high rail, which several people are leaning against, drinks in hand.

The group on stage look more like the professional musicians kept on retainer by wealthy families as opposed to the peasant types singing a ditty for a few coins but their music is closer to the grungy, tavern bards who drink and sing alongside their drunken patrons. Its fast and chaotic, not lending itself to the formal dances the ballroom would suggest. The crowd doesn’t even try, everyone seemingly doing their own thing. It’s a mess but the crowd is happy, laughter echoing off the high ceiling.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see Maxine at my side. She leans toward me, her breath hot against my ears as she whispers to me. “That door leads to the attached tavern. It's too small to have seating but they serve everything from small snacks to dinner, and of course drinks. Bathrooms are through that door but I wouldn’t recommend them.”

“Bad memories?” I ask.

“Mm. My cousin invested a portion of his profits here. I evaluated it while checking his accounts. To be fair, it is rather difficult to keep a place with hundreds of people passing through it clean to any acceptable degree, especially with mundane help. I recommended hiring a water caster but the owner is unwilling to accept the expense and the Guiness Company doesn’t have a controlling interest.” She huffs in displeasure.

“Ah. Well, shall we dance?”