The blood-red dress and makeup were doing their job. Tristessa felt many eyes on her, letting her know that with that style, she definitely looked like a cabaret hostess on her way to work. Luckily, several of the Imperial soldiers who crossed her path saw exactly the same thing as the other passersby.

"My heart won't last until I reach Roundtable," she thought, smiling shyly as a group of soldiers stepped aside from the lantern-lit stone path and all of them, without exception, bowed their heads and offered her sweet words that made her blush.

Severus's directions were more than clear due to the ease of finding the place, as there was a section of the district dedicated to cabarets and the healthy competition that existed between them. It was a street lined with venues brimming with flashing lights. Hundreds of colorful lanterns were set up to attract the attention of potential customers. Courtesans, and hostesses on the street, displaying fireworks or performing water tricks with thaumaturgy.

And they were just getting started, with the first rays of the sun setting over the horizon.

"This isn't a place for me…" Tristessa thought as she passed among so many beautiful women and customers of a wide range of ages, drawn like sailors towards the songs of sirens.

And she was suffering the same effect, given the seductive glances she received from some hostesses, luring her into their businesses with promises of a good time.

"Definitely not a place for me!"

Roundtable was one of the largest cabarets in the district, something Tristessa saw as she stopped in front of it, a two-story, pseudo-medieval-style venue. It combined the architecture of bygone eras, based on brick walls and wooden beams combined with metal supports and magical neon-like attractions.

She didn't need to understand the glyph lexicon to know that was the right place: from the large windows decorating the façade, she could see a large round table occupying the great hall, filled with high-quality and abundant meals, along with ice fountains made with thaumaturgy that prevented them from melting and containing lots of bottles of alcoholic beverages.

And surrounding the table, from the walls to a considerable distance to leave aisles in between, were booths with burgundy velvet armchairs, occupied with customers being attended by beautiful women dressed in an elegant and slightly sensual manner.

Young men taking their first steps into the world of nightlife. Other veterans seeking the ear of a lady who would listen to their countless anecdotes. Soldiers who hadn't even bothered to take off their armor to enjoy a good time. And occasional women, none of whom, as far as Tristessa could see from the other side of the window, resembled Astoria Silverthorn.

"Are you there, Knightess Silverthorn?"

A gunslinger wearing a trench coat like the one she had taken from the Mercer-Archeos house was guarding the entrance to the cabaret. Unlike Auron, this knight expert in firearms didn't wear a scarf covering his face, and his hat was hanging on his back.

"Good afternoon, miss. For entry, two argent soul-jewels, please," the man asked, with the politeness required of any professional.

"Y-yes, here you go."

Tristessa already had those two small spheres, which glowed with a little more intensity than normal soul-jewels, ready in a small bag. She still hadn't gotten used to the names, but the level of divine luminosity they emitted from within was more than evident from one type to another.

"Excellent. Enjoy our services, miss."

With a courteous bow, the gunslinger stepped aside and allowed Tristessa into the vestibule, a small anteroom filled with oil paintings and black and white photographs of the hostesses who had worked at that historic place.

Passing through two purple curtains, Tristessa could better appreciate the beauty of the grand hall, lit not only by chandeliers retrofitted with power crystals, but also by glowing, thaumaturgically crafted illusory figures of Nekrom's native creatures that peacefully floated around the ceiling.

"...she says she doesn't want to marry a soldier. I'm afraid she'll leave me for another," she heard one of the men say from his cubicle, who had removed his helmet to chat face to face with his hostess.

"This isn't the first time! I'm telling you: Lady Eramisaptor is far too young to be making such difficult decisions!" she then heard an elderly man dressed in a top hat say as his hostess lit his tobacco pipe.

"…so alone, I can't even sleep. What will I do with my son? How can I get through this for him?" She heard a woman wailing and crying, holding hands with her hostess.

"…"

Something Tristessa understood as she walked and listened, along with the fact that there are so many of these types of establishments in the city, was the need for a place where people couldn't feel alone.

It wasn't just for the pleasure of meeting a lady who whispered kind words in their ear, paying to feel good about oneself, and returning home with a smile. No, the reason went deeper, as these hostesses listened to the fears, misfortunes, and loneliness of all those people.

Everyone, absolutely everyone, was directly and indirectly affected by the Eternal War against the Shadow Queen.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

"Come on, I want those wines uncorked! Let the night begin!"

Of course, it wasn't all consolation and company against loneliness; some simply wanted to have fun, like a young man her own age, dressed formally and accompanied by two women with physiological characteristics Tristessa had never seen since arriving in Nekrom: horns protruding from the sides of their heads, abundant and braided brown hair of different styles, scaly skin as pale as snow, and beastly, yellow eyes with slit-like pupils.

The boy saw Tristessa pass by his table and offered her a glass of sparkling wine.

"Join us!" he asked, almost shouting over the music of the band of fiddlers and a pianist on the opposite side of the room. "My daemonion friend here said you are pretty, I heard her! Didn't you, Raia'zel?"

"Don't lie, Jayce!" the hostess with round horns complained, her voice guttural and her laughter was somewhat creepy, though that clearly wasn't her intention.

"I'm sorry, I have a client waiting for me!" Tristessa exclaimed, lying almost naturally. "Have a good time!"

"I will, you too!"

The two demi-human hosts looked in confusion at Tristessa -obviously not recognizing her as a coworker-, who hurried toward the stairs and went up, having already confirmed that her target wasn't on the ground floor.

She didn't need to attract any more attention than necessary.

The second floor itself was a large terrace, providing a privileged view of the great hall. In the Age of Kings, the feudal lord would use this place to observe his guests having a good time and would retreat to his suite if he had to deal with certain private matters. Nowadays, that suite didn't exist, and the remaining area was a miniature version of the great hall, with a much smaller round table and a few armchairs along the walls for customers seeking a quieter experience without the influence of music.

"Oh, there she is!" Tristessa mentally shrieked as she spotted, at the end of the left row of tables and armchairs, the silver head of Astoria Silverthorn. She was alone, just as Severus had predicted. "Calm down...relax..."

To avoid giving in to the nerves of a teenager about to deliver her first love letter, Tristessa sat down inside the nearest empty cubicle and closed her eyes for a moment to calm her racing heart.

Belatedly, she realized that she was being swept away by the sensation of being enveloped in a damp mist, a darkness that guided her into her mind palace.

"It seems I still don't quite have a handle on whether or not I want to use my [Divinity of the Dark Room]," she said aloud as she crossed the threshold of the black door in that blue-lit imaginary hallway.

The reddish light of the unreal place welcomed her, her ears embraced by the raspy music coming from the speakers. Her assistant, Lenore, sat at a table against the wall, storing recently developed photographs in an album labeled Entrana: Society. Her charred eyes were partially hidden by the few strands of black hair falling down the sides of her face, and her lab coat was pulled to one side, revealing the bareness of her long, sensual, white leg…

"Welcome, (master/mistress/madam)!" Lenore rose from her chair and bowed with deep respect to Tristessa. "How may I help you?"

"Actually, I don't… No wait, you can help me. What do you have on Astoria Silverthorn?"

"(Right away/immediately/certainly.)"

Lenore retreated to the Room of Knowledge and returned with a photo album with a bright red cover, a reflection of Knightess Silverthorn's eyes color.

"If you (allow/approve/condescend) me, I'll tell you what you know about Mrs. Astoria Silverthorn." Lenore opened the album and showed her the photos: snapshots of her view of that woman, every appreciation, reflection, and thought. "The most beautiful woman alive…"

"Oh, shit…" Tristessa was grateful for that epitome of privacy that was the Dark Room, letting her suffer for embarrassment alone.

"…respectful and inflexible toward the rules, but with a soft and charitable side for those in need. Skilled with the longsword. She doesn't hesitate to take a life; it's a possibility that she is quite experienced in the art of killing…"

Suddenly, Lenore's voice was tinged with uncharacteristic malevolence, and the reddish light in the room dimmed.

"…unwanted by society, humiliated, hated. Root cause: the Silverthorn family. Valthiel Silverthorn. She holds the title of Blackguard, reason and meaning unknown. Incomplete information. HIDDEN BY UNNATURAL DARKNESS."

As she finished recounting the information and showing the photos of the impassive blonde knightess receiving the laughter of her colleagues and the hatred of the homeless, Lenore closed the album. And Tristessa noticed new tears burning her skin, flowing from the red-hot gaps of her charred eyes.

"I also brought Severus Malak Drakan's album, if you wish to..."

"No, thank you!" Tristessa interrupted her before she could continue. She already had enough conflict and chaos in her heart to add fuel to the fire. "Then I shouldn't talk about her family and focus on her exploits. I just hope she doesn't recognize me… If she does, it'll be a toss-up between being arrested and getting her help."

Opening her eyes, Tristessa returned to the real world, with no obvious change around her. Peeking her head out, she spotted her target again, beyond five tables filled with customers who did have a hostess serving them drinks, food, or chatting peacefully.

Astoria was the only one there alone. Avoided, as if carrying a disease…

"Well… Here I go."

Holding her breath, the girl dressed in red, with both hands clasped and resting at the height of her stomach, walked to the back of the room, attracting the attention of those present. No one knew her, and even the hostesses were wondering if she was a new coworker who had not been introduced.

And when she stopped in front of Astoria Silverthorn's table, she let out the breath she'd been holding and sighed.

That silverly haired woman was enchanting, even dressed in her light white armor and black cape. Her hair was tied back, braided, revealing her beautiful face. That small nose, cheeks red from drunkenness. Her slightly fleshy lips that seemed to have never formed a smile, her red eyes staring at the wall, lost in thought…

And she was clutching her second bottle of beer, already half empty, while the first one laid empty inside a metal ice bucket.

"Knightess Silverthorn?" Tristessa found the strength to get her attention, feeling herself beginning to sweat. And when the woman glanced briefly out of the corner of her eye, she felt her heart stop dead in its tracks. "…!"

Leaning back against the couch, Astoria looked her up and down, her expression impassive and thoughtful. Then their eyes met, those beautiful rubies focused on her, making Tristessa fear she might recognize her from outside the city wall…

Astoria opened her mouth, and some words came out in a slightly hoarse voice, her tongue tied:

"You're so fucking cute."

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