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[color=F8CFF0][sub][i][b]The Supreme Commander's (rather unimpressive) ballroom[/b][/i][/sub][/color][/center]

[color=F8CFF0]𝓣he most fashionable time of year is about to begin, and what better way to start it than at a masked ball hosted in the Supreme Commander's lavish home? Granted, Supreme Commander Phillip Osborne isn't well-known for his balls (he's more famous for, you know, keeping the city safe and other trivial matters like that), but it is sure to be great fun (if you are fond of drafty ballrooms and bland decor, that is). Captain Adrianna Kingsford will be there, too, tasked with a more secretive endeavor...rumor has it that she's been calling on some old classmates from Madame Geraldine's lately. But [i]why[/i]?

𝓣hat, my friend, only time (and perhaps a bit of rudimentary inference-making, or maybe even [i]reading[/i] the invitation, which provides a few details about the impeding investigation and respectfully requests the invitee to confirm their interst during the ball) will tell.

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"𝓣o the esteemed lord, lady, mister, miss, doctor, et. cetera:

𝓨ou are cordially invited to Supreme Commander Phillip Osborne's estate for a masquerade ball being held in honor of his daughter's twentieth birthday, to be hosted on the twenty-fifth of March, in the year eighteen-hundred and ninety-two. 

𝓨ou have been invited because you have accepted an offer to work with some of the city's most talented individuals. We humbly request that you confirm your acceptance by attending the ball. The library should be of particular interest.

𝓢incerely,
𝓢upreme Commander Phillip Osborne, Minister of the Legionnaire Guild"

𝓣he invitation comes in a creamy envelope with a plain red seal. The return address is listed as the Supreme Commander's residence.

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𝓐s expected, the masquerade ball hosted at the Supreme Commander's estate is...not spectacular, to put it mildly. His daughter, the honorable Corporal Olivia Osborne, is rather unpopular amongst her subordinates for various reasons. She stands to the side, dressed in an austere royal blue gown, receiving the guests' words of congratulations with a tight-lipped smile.

𝓑eing the Minister of the Legionnaire Guild, Supreme Commander Osborne must [i]try[/i], of course. But the fact remains that he is more suited to directing an invasion than planning a ball, and so the musical accompaniment is mediocre, the food a tad bland, and the decorations almost nonexistent. A single sad crystal chandelier hangs over the ballroom, and despite the good Commander's best efforts, even a common street urchin would have been able to tell that this was the first time that the ballroom had been used in ten years.

𝓘f one was to exit the sorry excuse of a ballroom, the unfortunate soul would find that the parlor, drawing room, and card room all seemed to be just as dull as the ballroom. The library, however, was a different story.

𝓑eautifully polished rosewood doors opened up into a well-lit, comfortably furnished room filled with mahogany bookcases and plenty of plush velvet chairs. The place is a veritable labyrinth; indeed, both the Supreme Commander and his daughter are avid readers, and as such, Supreme Commander Osborne has a library that rivals the official library of the Scholar Guild itself. Ornate gas lamps are placed at every table, and handcrafted rugs are spread out along the gleaming floors. The books themselves are in wonderful condition, the covers decorated with intricate metal designs-the work of master Craftsmen. 

𝓒aptain Adrianna Kingsford was seated on an innocuous settee near the entrance of the library, a half-empty glass of sherry in her hands and a half-eaten cheese pie on the side table. She was reading a decorated book; an antique, from 1854, titled "Dark Magic for the Curious Soul". For those who knew her, it was quite a strange choice of literature (Adrianna is known to prefer purely factual scientific and historical volumes), but the title is well hidden from view. The only thing that would give away the nature of the book is its ornate cover, which is embellished with swirling strands of bronze and silver in a way that causes the book to appear more decorative than, well, actually useful. 

(𝓖raduates of the Polytechnique Institute of Arts and Science may remember from their history classes that decorated books were all the rage during the Wasteland Wars. It was quite fashionable to own one of them, as they provided (inaccurate and romanticized) information about "dark magic", accompanied with flowing calligraphy and exquisite illustrations.)

𝓣he night promises to be long, dull, and hopelessly boring. Perhaps a perusal of Supreme Commander Osborne's extensive library is in order?

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