"Welcome, everyone! Thank you so much for gracing my home with your presence tonight. It is an absolute honor that Officer Mandragora chose my estate to host this gathering for all of you. I..."
Once most of the invited guests had filtered in, a round, corpulent Feline stepped into the center of the hall. He launched into a winded, self-important opening speech that meant very little to the crowd, though he seemed immensely proud of himself as he beamed at the lavish spread around him.
Behind him, several high-ranking officers of Dublinn watched the bloated host with unvarnished irritation. From their glares, they looked ready to tear the man's tongue out on the spot.
"He talks even more than you do," one officer muttered under his breath. "What do you say we hand your title of 'Orator' over to him? Seems far more fitting, don't you think?"
"Shut your mouth, Immolator!" the second officer snapped through grit teeth. "Comparing me to a self-aggrandizing fool is a direct insult! Say another word, and I'll show you what my Arts can do beyond mere debate—I'll break those clumsy hands so you never spark a flame again!"
While the rotund host droned on, the Dublinn officers exchanged 'friendly' banter behind his back, their smiles masking murderous intent.
These high-ranking operatives shared little love for one another. They had joined Dublinn for their own selfish ends, making genuine unity impossible. The only force keeping them from tearing each other apart was the terrifying power of their leader. The sheer scale of her Arts struck fear into the hearts of these lawless cutthroats, and it was that overwhelming force that bound them to the cause.
"Most of the people in this room are local nobles," Horn whispered, navigating the crowd beside Bagpipe as she surveyed the hall. Her brow remained furrowed in a tight knot. "The rest look like officers from that shadowy unit. What in the world is the local garrison doing? How could almost all the local nobility side with the enemy like this? Is this how they serve Victoria?"
Horn found it horrifying that Dublinn had quietly rooted itself so deeply into the city. What promises had they used to sway these soft-willed aristocrats? What kind of dark dealings were happening behind closed doors?
"And stop eating!" Horn added, catching Bagpipe reaching for another slice of cake. "Don't you think you stand out a bit, being the only one stuffing your face at a gathering like this?"
Bagpipe paused, a forkful of cake hovering near her mouth. "But isn't the food laid out for eatin', Cap'n?"
She was famished. Between lugging her heavy breaching spear around, sneaking past guards, and hiding her gear in a nearby alley, she was completely drained. If a brawl broke out later, she needed fuel in her belly just to swing her weapon!
"It is food, yes, but nobody actually comes to these events to eat—" Horn cut herself off, turning her head only to spot another figure at a nearby buffet table, eating with even greater gusto than Bagpipe.
Horn stared, wondering if something was wrong with this city. Were oddballs always this common here? She briefly questioned whether her time away from society had left her hopelessly out of touch with high-class Victorian etiquette.
"Look, Cap'n! It's Jeanne!" Bagpipe exclaimed softly, slipping a small pastry into her mouth while Horn was distracted.
"So it is," Horn murmured. She wasn't surprised to see Jeanne here, given the note left at the safehouse.
Hoping to gather intelligence, Horn stepped toward the table to greet her acquaintance. "I see you made it inside."
"Oh, hey there," Jeanne said, chewing on a savory delicate pastry. "I saw you two come in earlier. Did you really drag all your heavy combat gear inside? That stuff isn't light..."
"Aye, it nearly broke my back, it did!" Bagpipe chimed in instantly, nodding in agreement as she shuffled closer to Jeanne's side of the table to keep snacking.
Horn felt a dark line cross her forehead. Should she smack her squad member on the head first, or remind her that they were on a crucial reconnaissance mission? Was now really the time to be filling their stomachs?
"Don't worry, those officers won't make a move anytime soon," Jeanne advised, sensing Horn's tension. "No one is going to spot us here. You might as well grab a bite so you have the energy to fight later! Trust my instincts on this—I sensed trouble in County Hillock using this exact same intuition."
Horn looked into Jeanne's sincere eyes, then glanced at Bagpipe, who was happily munching away. Taking a slow breath, Horn walked over, sat beside her squad member, and said coldly, "Bring the whole tray of cake over, Bagpipe. If we're doing this, there's no need to sneak around."
What followed was a display of military efficiency. Horn began eating with refined grace, yet at a speed that left both Bagpipe and Jeanne staring in awe. She cleared her plate faster than either of them!
"Well, now I know why I could never beat you to the mess hall back during trainin'," Bagpipe muttered once she recovered from her shock.
"It's a habit from my academy days," Horn replied calmly between bites. "My family held a respectable title, so I attended functions like this all the time. If I didn't want to starve, but also wanted to avoid a scolding from my parents for bad manners, I had to learn to eat fast. It was purely out of survival."
While casually chatting, the three of them quietly rotated from table to table, taking a few bites at each location so as not to draw suspicion. None of the noble guests noticed anything amiss—though the catering staff grew increasingly bewildered at how quickly the platters were emptying. Were the high and mighty aristocrats here just to gorge themselves tonight?
Though confused, the servants kept refilling the empty dishes, only to find them cleared again moments later.
Halfway through the evening, Jeanne finally set her plate down. She looked across the room at the cluster of nobles and Dublinn officers, who were drinking heavily and laughing boisterously, acting as though the city—and perhaps all of Victoria—already belonged to them.
Horn narrowed her eyes, intending to slide closer to listen in on their conversation. However, her sharp senses quickly picked up on a subtle defensive ring surrounding the core group.
Whenever a guest tried to approach and strike up a conversation, several burly men would interject, using petty excuses or starting minor arguments to steer the outsiders away.
There were no physical walls, yet an invisible boundary kept the uninitiated at arm's length, ensuring Dublinn's secrets remained unheard.
Horn crept as close as she dared without drawing attention, straining her Lupin ears to pick up any scraps of dialogue over the loud music and laughter. Yet despite her keen hearing, the ambient noise muffled most of their words into meaningless drivel.
"Now then! Let us invite our Great Leader out to meet everyone!"
The voice belonged to the corpulent Feline host. He made no effort to hide his declaration; in fact, he boomed it across the hall for every guest to hear.
The chatter in the ballroom died down instantly. Guests turned toward the central dais, their eyes glued to the host as they waited for what was to come.
As the crowd leaned forward with eager anticipation, Jeanne noticed subtle, contemptuous scowls flicker across the faces of the Dublinn officers. They were mocking every single person in the room—amused by how easily these aristocrats were being danced like puppets on a string.
"Very well," Mandragora said, stepping forward with an air of smug authority. "I shall check if our leader wishes to grant you an audience."
With a sweep of her coat, Mandragora turned and strode out of the hall, signaling the start of the next phase.