There was a terse silence, followed by a slow, faint clapping that swelled into a moderately supportive chorus of clapping. Nobles weren't exactly the most brave sort, at least when they did not really know whether what had just occurred was socially acceptable or would later make them a subject of scorn. Only one rotund man with a thick red mustache guffawed and hooted, an island of exuberance in a sea of laodicean support. The good baron Marius did look relieved that the crisis had been solved, though Beren imagined he would be less excited to aid them in the future if they were to cause problems at every social gathering. It was well known the two of them stayed at his residence by way of prior service.  

Jocasta took Beren by the arm, and she smiled up at him and whispered "victory!" with a grin. 

"Poor girl, she had no idea who she was messing with," He replied with a posh accent. 

"Now let us all go back inside and enjoy our refreshments," Marius said. Across the crowd, the Duke gave a nod in approval, before he cleared his throat and ushered everyone back inside with a call that dessert had been served. The lords and ladies filtered out one by one, chatting amongst themselves and trying to hide their amusement or glee, and in some cases, horror, at the scenario they had just witnessed. As they fled the balcony like sand tumbling down an hourglass, Beren glanced behind them over the gardens far below, illuminated by the full moon.

"So when do you think we should leave?" Beren asked. 

"The city or the party?" Jocasta asked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

"We'll bounce from here whenever you want baby," Beren joked with a voice like liquid gold. "But I mean, with the Dwarves." 

"Whenever they get the paper work ready." She shrugged. "I think the bitch might try and weasel her way out of it, but hopefully within the week. We'll talk to the baron of it, later." 

"If she tries to get out of it you could always joust her," Beren shrugged. 

"You can be my squire." She said imperiously, patting his bicep as if she were doing him a great favor. "Of course you'll have to feed the horse and fetch my things, but it's an honorable station. A man of low birth can only rise so high."

"And yet you two seem to be doing quite well for yourselves." A voice said, drawing their attentions to the curtain. A tall man with a hawkish nose had decided to remain, concealing himself by the shadows of the drapes but stepping out now that the last of his peers were gone. He was well groomed, with a red coat embroidered with gold and long white breeches. His hair was cut rakishly short, and he bore handsome grey streaks along his temples. "What do you plan on doing now that you two are bona-fide adventurers?" 

"I'm sorry, my lord. Have we met before?" Beren temporized, trying to remain polite though the mood had grown a bit soured. The man tried to hide a smirk. 

"I am lord Vandenhartd, one of the proprietors of the city. Forgive me, I merely saw the commotion from earlier and your theatrics here and it piqued by curiosity. Have you been in Iskura long?" It was a harmless, innocuous question. Though there was a weight of intrigue behind it Beren didn't like. 

"We have simply fallen in love with your lavish city. They say it was built by giants long ago, is there any truth to that?" Jocasta asked with a thespian flair so thick it was almost stilted. Beren wasn't slow on the uptake. Her question for a question was bypassing his query without engaging in it. Lord Vandenhartd's face was unreadable, but eventually he gestured passed the balustrade with a manicured hand. 

"Yes, so the sages say. Though rumor has it men were enslaved by such beings millennia ago. I suppose human workers still might have had a hand in making this bastion of the north." He explained with a nonchalance. "Perhaps now that you can go into the wilderness with a letter of marque, you can find out just how many secrets this land has to offer. Just be careful. There have been many who have marched past Torm's Gate to find their fortune and instead were left in unmarked graves." 

"Thank you for the warning, my lord. Now if you would excuse us, I believe the Duke himself would be sorely missed of your presence." Beren said. 

It wasn't clever, but Jocasta placed a hand over her mouth and Vanderhartd looked taken aback. To asked to be excused was one thing, but Beren telling him to go himself was something else. Anger briefly flashed in the lord's eyes, but it was replaced by a vile mirth that he seemed to always have in abundant supply. "As you say. I leave you to your mingling. Perhaps we will have a chance to meet again soon." Beren and Jocasta watched him make his leave after that, and he glanced over his shoulder one last time before disappearing into the ballroom. 

"Well that was ominous." Beren observed, crossing his arms. 

"I would say he sicced the redhead on us, but maybe that's too obvious." Jocasta reasoned, rubbing her chin and pinching her lower lip as she considered the idea. 

"Well, even if she was his, it backfired on him at least."

As fate would have it, the two were interrupted once again. Sudden bursts of sound that reverberated off the walls of the stone spun Jocasta around and had Beren about to leap on her for cover, thinking it was stolen dwarven artillery. Instead, dazzling flashes of coruscating colors erupted across the sky arrays polychromatic light. Red, green, blue, yellow, all of the colors of the rainbow light up the darkness above the city, illuminating every shadow for brief flashes of an instant. Beren and Jocasta placed their hands on the balustrade and watched as firework after firework launched up into the air in sizzling arcs before exploding in a cacophony of dazzling colors.