The following weeks consisted of preparation reminiscent of, but altogether distinct from the exercises they undertook to prepare to raid the White Light camp. Delilah drilled them relentlessly on proper decorum, responding to Bruno`s cheek with stern lectures underlaid with such fierce desperation that teasing her soon lost its charm.

　　Perhaps to reassure Delilah of his commitment to the cause, Bruno volunteered to help Jeremiah procure appropriate clothes for the ball. Jeremiah found himself standing on a wooden platform, a dozen versions of his reflection looking back at him from jigsawed mirror fragments. Bruno had stepped out on a different errand, leaving Jeremiah alone with Bab, the young gnomish seamstress who flitted about, taking Jeremiah`s measurements, and gossiping about the goings-ons of the dock slums.

　　"So Grodo drops to his knees in front of Seelia`s house and just starts hollering drunken love declarations. Tears his shirt off right in the middle of it! Seelia starts throwing rocks at him from her window, says she`s going to kill him. Gordo starts yelling that he`s going to kill her! Next thing you know their donkey Christopher is trying to kill them both! What colors were you thinking, love?"

　　It took Jeremiah a long moment to realize she had asked him a question. "Oh! Actually, I was thinking something a bit brighter. I`ve had enough of black, to be honest."

　　"Really!" Bab shrieked with delight. "Wonderful! And here I thought I was going to have to drab you down to match the whole necromancer` aesthetic. No, we`ll find the perfect shades for you." She began to dig through a chest of fabric swatches, holding them up and rejecting them in the same breath. "No, far too serious. Looks funny with your hair. No&no&no&how about this?" She considered a silvery swatch just a bit longer before declaring it "Too on the nose," and diving back into the chest. The discarded swatches accumulated around Jeremiah`s ankles like a flamboyant snowfall.

　　Finally, she brandished a blue silk that had just a whisper of purple. "Yes, yes! It`s perfect! Do you love it?"

　　Jeremiah grinned at her enthusiasm as the swatch vibrated in front of him. "Yeah, actually. I think that`ll do just fine."

　　Bab bounced and giggled like a trill of chimes. "Perfect! This is so exciting, I can`t believe actual nobility, maybe even royalty will be seeing my designs!"

　　Jeremiah glanced around the shop again. It was well-kept but tiny, crammed with textiles and sewing equipment. Each piece of furniture looked as though it had been reclaimed from the gutter. "Bab, do you need help with anything? Like&money?"

　　Bab froze, the first time he`d seen her still. "Obviously I need money. Everyone down here needs money. That`s why I`m working. We`re not looking for handouts, Mr. Necromancer, we just want the opportunity to craft the life we want to live."

　　"Sorry," said Jeremiah, shifting on the platform. He wasn`t sure what else to say.

　　"Don`t you worry," said Bab, clapping her hands together. "You`re all set! I`ll work out payment for the outfit with Bruno and send it over just the moment it`s done." She ushered Jeremiah off the platform. "Now shoo, I have work to do. A royal ball! Don`t forget to tell Bruno how great I was!"

　　Bruno met Jeremiah just outside the shop, eyes scanning the dilapidated roofs. "Have fun?"

　　"Yeah," said Jeremiah. "Can I ask something, though? How come we came to this shop?"

　　"Because Bab`s the best in the city, that`s why," said Bruno. They began to wind their way home. "I could have taken you to Matelli`s in the south end. They`re not bad, but everyone knows their work, and your job is just another drop in the bucket for them. But you wear Bab`s work to a royal ball, people get to talking. Maybe Bab gets a little more of the business she deserves. Maybe she gets the chance to buy some real mirrors. Hell, maybe even a damn rug."

　　Jeremiah thought back to the small pyramid of gold bars. He could have retired off of it if he chose, but instead he`d gone on to spend more money than most of these people would ever see in their lives. "Bruno, how much are we going to make off the bandits` stuff?"

　　"Don`t worry about it."

　　"I`m serious. Are we talking as much as last time? More?"

　　Bruno sighed. He glanced around and ran a hand through his hair. "Enough that you`re not actually going to see it. There`s not going to be a division of gold like last time. It`s theoretical money now. At least, that`s how Delilah described it to me."

　　"Theoretical?"

　　"Yeah, like it`s numbers, not coins. And it`s held by a bank. A real one, not just a safe under the floor. Please don`t ask me to explain more because that`s all I understand."

　　Jeremiah stayed silent as he followed Bruno through the slums, shadowed by a vague guilt he couldn`t quite explain.

　　The palace of Dramir stood as a monument to indulgent architecture. As their hired carriage passed through the outer palace gates, Jeremiah had to stop himself from gawking at the scale of the building—countless rooms, halls, and barracks stretched across the main estate. Gargoyles larger than men loomed over doorways, each one a work of artistic mastery. Painted reliefs and mosaics of historical victories adorned the palace`s white stone construction like gilded coats of arms.

　　The carriage rattled through a gate in the secondary defense wall, the only entry point to the palace proper. Allison tugged on the high collar of her parade uniform. Her hair had been straightened and rolled up into a tight, professional bun, and her eyes were still slightly puffy and red from the endeavor. Otherwise, she was every bit the heroic soldier.

　　Jeremiah admired the way they all looked. Delilah had chosen to effect a regal elegance with a scarlet fur-trimmed gown. Golden accents glittered across her eyes and a complex braidwork framed her face. She embodied the essence of a noblewoman as though she`d enjoyed the title from birth.

　　Bruno was sulking next to Jeremiah, his ego bruised after a long fight with Delilah. She had forced him into clothes that completely concealed his tattoos, had vetoed his shoes adorned with tinkling bells (Jeremiah hadn`t realized before that footwear could be sarcastic), and had confiscated a set of lockpicks that Bruno swore he`d only brought by force of habit. In the end she had practically dressed him herself. He wore a simple charcoal gray hooded tunic over black trousers, along with a pair of white gloves that Jeremiah suspected were intended to keep Bruno`s hands easily visible and were likely to be misplaced quickly.

　　Jeremiah was even proud of his own appearance tonight. The outfit Bab had delivered was resplendent— a vibrant blue doublet that caught the light with flashes of violet and glinting golden fasteners, complemented by simple cream-colored trousers. She had even included a jaunty yellow cap to complete the look. Allison had said he looked like a foppish poet, but Delilah had praised the way the outfit would subvert everyone`s expectations of a necromancer. More importantly, Jeremiah loved the way he looked. He couldn`t remember ever feeling so confident while out in public.

　　They joined a procession of carriages approaching the main entrance. Footmen strode up and down the cobblestones, providing refreshments. Delilah fidgeted as their turn approached, reaching over to fuss with increasingly minute details of everyone`s outfits. "Everyone needs to be on their best behavior. You are to make no promises, offer no unsolicited advice, no bawdy stories, no jokes—"

　　"No rants about hypocritical disparity!" said Allison directly to Bruno, who cocked a half smile.

　　"Yes, none of those either!" said Delilah. "And no nicknames. If someone has a title, you use it every. Single. Time. Most importantly, if the king shows up you are not to speak unless spoken to, approach him at all, or even move."This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

　　"How do we know if the king shows up?" asked Jeremiah.

　　"Oh, you`ll know," said Allison. "King Hector is HUGE! When he stayed with our unit in Jalberta, we all had to eat outside because he didn`t fit in the dining tents."

　　"I&really? You never&Anyway, there will also be an announcement," said Delilah, eyeing Allison oddly. "Just, please nobody ruin this for us."

　　"I`ll be on my best behavior," said Jeremiah. "No promises, no jokes, no nicknames."

　　"Neither will I do none of the things you said not to do," Bruno said.

　　"Don`t insult me with double negatives," said Delilah. "I mean it, you guys! The way you compose yourselves tonight could mean the difference between a lot of doors opening or locking. Which for Jay also means life or death!"

　　Bruno held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, I`ll be good. I know there`s a lot riding on this."

　　"Delilah, try to relax." Jeremiah worried her nerves would become contagious.

　　"This has to be perfect! Does everyone know what foot they`re going to lead with to step off the carriage? I was thinking my left foot, but is that too expected?"

　　"Lady Fortune! This is just another royal function. I can`t see why you`re so excited for yet another night of dancing and mingling. Surely you`re used to them by now?" Jeremiah said with a wink.

　　Delilah froze at the use of her new title, but then melted into a cool, merely amused affectation. "I suppose you`re right. Just another day for a lady of the realm." Delilah forced her attention out the window to other goings on. Allison tapped Jeremiah`s foot with her own, giving him a surreptitious thumbs up.

　　Finally, their carriage pulled alongside the plush river of red leading to the festivities. A footman presented a hand to help Delilah down the step. She managed the transition with poise.

　　Inside the manse, they followed the red carpet toward the melodies of vibrating strings and the rumble of chatter. They were stopped at a set of doors by a herald who took their names. Delilah`s nerves returned all at once, and she smoothed her dress and hair over and over. Jeremiah squinted through the masterwork stained glass door at a shadowed sea of movement beyond. The music and talking had grown into a dull roar. They were only a few steps away from another world.

　　The herald positioned Delilah at the threshold and gave a smart rap against the frame. The door swung open and a wave of perfume scents and rhapsodist music washed over them.

　　"Presenting for the first time!" announced the herald. "Lady Fortune and entourage!"

　　Delilah`s knees went weak just for a moment, but she composed herself and stepped into ballroom with grace. Heads turned to take the measure of the newest addition to their ranks. There was polite applause, which Delilah acknowledged with a gentle nod, and they made their way into the party.

　　Jeremiah was out of his depth almost immediately. He lived within the trappings of wealth, he owned gold bars that represented more money than his family had ever seen. But these people had mastered their fortunes and dealt in the currencies of influence and power. He felt like a stray dog who had snuck into the house.

　　They followed Delilah`s lead at first, greeting lords, ladies, archbishops, and commanders, so many names, ranks, and titles that Jeremiah forgot them immediately. Fortunately everyone was far more interested in speaking with Delilah, asking her what she`d be doing with her new lands and the fortress that she would be overseeing. Jeremiah detected some subtle jabs at the quality of her holdings, implications that the land was useless due to being in the middle of nowhere, but Delilah to navigated these veiled criticisms with an unflappable ease born of the courtroom.

　　The group split apart when Allison recognized a general she had served under and broke off to speak with him, Jeremiah spotted a waiter carrying a tray of tarts that he had to chase down, and Bruno simply disappeared into the crowd.

　　Jeremiah knew that taking three tarts was perfectly acceptable. He was pondering the exact cutoff of good taste when he was approached by a slim man with hard angular features. Liver spots were just beginning to appear on the man`s balding head, and the friendly smile he gave Jeremiah didn`t even glance against his calculating eyes. "Mr. Thorn." The man`s voice was as soft and rich as caviar. "I`m glad to see you in attendance tonight."

　　Jeremiah, suddenly aware that Delilah was nowhere nearby, gave the man a courteous nod. "I don`t believe I`ve made your acquaintance, sir."

　　"My name is Gordus Wren. I hope the name is familiar to you?" Jeremiah shook his head. Gordus`s smile didn`t falter, but his eyes twitched just a bit. "No matter. I am a prominent businessman of Dramir, and a man of great influence and wealth. My reach is broad, my fortunes vast, and my patience limited. I will not dally with pleasantries or flattery, Mr. Thorn. I have sought you out for a singular purpose." His eyes burned into Jeremiah`s as he spoke.

　　Jeremiah placed a tart into his mouth and mustered what he hoped was an expression of suitable concern as he chewed.

　　Gordus continued. "I am man of mastery, Mr. Thorn. Once I have set myself on the path to perfection of an art, I am relentless. Unstoppable. You have a skill set I wish to master. Accept me as your pupil in necromancy, and I will elevate you far beyond your station. Together we will reshape the economics, the politics, the very soul of Dramir. You will find yourself rich beyond your wildest dreams. There is no vice I cannot access on your behalf, no wish beyond my reach. You need only agree, and your life will change. No need to ans—"

　　"Oh wow. No." Jeremiah had found the first tart quite enjoyable and began on the second.

　　Gordus`s smile crashed into a solid sneer. His eyes bulged. "Please understand that I have many boons to offer you, but the banes that are at my disposal are as wick—"

　　Jeremiah laughed in his face. "In what world would I give up my only bargaining chip? Not to mention you don`t exactly give the impression of a man that would use such powers responsibly." It was easy to imagine Gordus Wren clad in hooded robes, leading an undead cult. Jeremiah saw a man drawn to power for its own sake, saw how he himself might look on a slightly different path. It was a glimpse into another timeline and it was painfully banal.

　　"Do not take my ire with triviality, Mr. Thorn! You are only a single piece of a larger game. With but a word I could bring a great deal of misery on you&or your friends." He stepped forward, now uncomfortably close, and spoke with a venomous hiss. "The reputation of a new Lady is oh so fragile, and the military record of many a decorated soldier has tarnished after service."

　　"Now you`re trying to threaten me into teaching you?" A flush crawled up Jeremiah`s neck. He was aware of a few people near them tilting ears in his direction. "I have an alternative proposal for you, Gordus. You are now responsible for those particular friends` reputations. I now hold you personally responsible for any downturns that might befall them, regardless of circumstance!"

　　Gordus Wren was taken aback by the change in Jeremiah`s tone and volume, which had departed conspiratorial whispers and was heading toward shouting. "Mr. Thorn, be mindful of how—"

　　"No! No! Here`s what you`ve signed on to. Any misfortune, any rumor, any snide remark about my friends that reaches my ears, it`s your fault now. I am not a man that dabbles in games of intrigue, so if I hear something that requires my attention, I will deal with you in the only way I know how."

　　Gordus Wren fixed Jeremiah with a threatening glare. "Violence is well within my—"

　　"Violence?" Jeremiah leaned close to Gordus, fists clutched tight. "What I do isn`t violence, Gordus. It`s human butchery! I won`t tarnish your reputation or damage your business prospects. I`ll have you eaten alive by blunt-toothed monsters. If I need to make an example of you and dress your ruined corpse in motley to prance behind me forever, I will!"

　　His anger was blooming out of control. He didn`t see Gordus`s veneer splinter into fear or the other guests staring openly at the confrontation, he saw gore strewn hallways, faces streaked with tears as people died, desperate and terrified.

　　An iron grip closed on his arm. He was being pulled, the crowd parting for him. Allison guided him to a far corner of the room. She put a warm hand on the back of his neck and pulled him against her. "You`re okay. You`re okay. Calm down. You`re okay." She repeated the mantra, holding him close, and her secure grip and soothing words began to smother the rage that burned in him.

　　Jeremiah took a shaky breath. "I`m sorry, I don`t know what happened. He threatened us. I`m sorry." He returned her embrace, fighting a sob that had appeared in his chest.

　　"It`s okay. It`s called bloodlust. It happens to adventurers and warriors sometimes, anger that comes out of nowhere and you can`t control it." It wasn`t a question, but he still nodded against her.

　　Bruno appeared at their side. "That was awesome. I want your autograph. Delilah`s publicly raking the guy across the coals, the feeling in the room turned against him hard. Apparently threatening the necromancer is considered poor taste. Or just stupid."

　　"Is there going to be a problem?" asked Allison. "Delilah okay?" Jeremiah found comfort in her voice vibrating through his body when she spoke.

　　"I think she`s having her debut moment right now siphoning clout off this guy. But I`m going to make tonight worse for him, just for fun. You okay, Jay?"

　　Jeremiah pulled away from Allison. "Yes, I`m okay. I think I`ll just hang back for a while, though. Tell Delilah I`m sorry."

　　"I will. Two gold says I can break this guy`s ankle by the end of the night and make it look like an accident." Bruno left.

　　"If you need to go home, we can. There`s no shame in it." Allison kept a comforting hand on his neck.

　　"No, I`m fine. Just going to avoid that guy. I saw someone with a plate of shrimp, and I need to find out where he got it."

　　"You have a problem with food, but okay. Be safe." She gave him another squeeze and returned to the crowd.

　　Nobody else bothered Jeremiah. In fact, the other guests turned away when he looked in their direction and stepped out of his path. He was alright with that. Delilah found him again after some time, her cheeks gently flushed from wine.

　　"We`ve been summoned to an audience with Colonel Valen and a few other military leaders. This is what we were waiting for. Are you good to do this now?"

　　"Let`s do it. I`m sorry about—"

　　"Hush. That man is a creep and he got humiliated. Don`t expect any more trouble from him."

　　Allison and Bruno were waiting at the back of the ballroom. A servant let them into a narrow hallway. The door closed, and the party behind them faded to a murmur. Jeremiah heard a distant crash followed by a cry of pain. Bruno nudged him with an elbow.