"Thanks to Ventus's efforts, we finally got Fitzherbert to tell us more about the Baron." Lauriam told them during their evening meeting. "With all luck, we'll be able to infiltrate his hideout in the following days."

"Maybe our warnings for the Baron will stick this time." Brain smirked. "That old coot knows this area belongs to The Unions."

"Great work Ven." Ephemer then congratulated, reaching over to pat the youngest of them on the back. "I know you don't like going out for the dirty work."

Ven likewise gave a rather sheepish laugh.

"It wasn't really me," he admitted. "If Brain hadn't gotten that tip about the Baron visiting some local stables, then we were fortunate that the horse he saw even felt like talking that day…"

"It was all you Ven," Skuld affirmed, also reaching over to pat his back, "Give yourself some credit."

Ven laughed again, a bit softer now. It was moments like this that made him wonder why he was even here. The Unions were a mafia group where Ventus himself one of the five leaders. The leaders before them -the ones who chose their respective replacements- used to control different sections of the city. After their rather bloody fallout, the new leaders decided to control the underground world in unison. It worked out well. Lauriam, Ephemer, Skuld, Brain, and Ventus were able to create one of the most tightly fisted (and secretive) crime groups of all time by combining their fae blessings.

"Either way," Lauriam said, bringing them back to their meeting at hand, "Now we can focus all our resources into getting into the charity ball next week."

"Which is just going to be recon, right?" Brain asked.

"Yes." Lauriam nodded.

"Should be." Skuld mildly corrected. "Most everything will be silent and under control with the Baron's interference gone. There would also be less need for other foot officers if we personally go. I've thought about it, but I need a new dress."

"I know I'm going." Brain grinned. He pulled his fedora over his eyes some as he reclined in his chair. "The hors-d'oeuvres at those kinda shindigs are to die for. It's why the ticket price is so high. Besides, Sigurd would appreciate a classier lifestyle for awhile. He's got a flare for dramatics."

"Strelitzia wanted to go, so that means I have to as well." Lauriam agreed.

"I think I'm going to stay behind," said Ephemer. He folded his arms in deep contemplation before adding, "The Unchained project has been sidelined for too long. I can send a few representatives from Vulpes if you need them, but otherwise we're holding back."

The other four gave nods to show they understood, along with various verbal affirmations as well. Their attention all turned to Ven now. He still hadn't confirmed he was going yet or not too. The attention made him idly scratch the tip of his nose so he wouldn't have to look at them.

"I should probably help with the Unchained too," he admitted, "But…"

It was Brain who finished his sentence with, "We just sent you to bag a man."

Ven nodded. "Yeah…"

"Very well then." Lauriam agreed. "We're sure to discuss more later. For now, let's remain focused on the Baron, but keep the ball in our agenda. Perhaps we could get some intel to follow while we're there."

The other four agreed without much effort. Ven sat back in his seat a bit. Going through current matters was always more draining than discussing what to do moving forward. For now, he tried to think over what he'd need for the charity ball. A new suit would be nice- maybe he could go with Skuld to the dress atelier later. Not that there would be much planning for the event, even if they were just doing recon. Nothing important ever happened at big parties anyway. It would be a breeze.

. . .

Around the same time, in a heavily commercialized zone on the other end of the city, sat a moderately sized mixed-use building. The three story building boasted one store front, an office space, and an apartment large enough for two families. The store -called Dark Beauty- was on the first floor, and it mostly sold little knickknacks and things for tourists. It was operated by the sweetest little couple you could imagine. They deeply adored each other and (most) of their immediate family.

Above them were the offices of a lone private investigator; the nameplate on the main door decisively labeling her as Sabrina L. Sidney, BA in Criminal Justice and Political Science, Investigator of Personal and Private Matters. The couple downstairs had given her the space the moment she asked for it. She had almost been raised by them, after all. It was the least they could do. Right now she was even having a meeting with her most recent client- a short man named Lawrence who had a face like a monkey, complete with large round ears. He had sought her out in an effort to blackmail his employer- who apparently lived a life so high and carefree that he never once considered being nice to paid staff.

Their twice-a-week meeting was not going well. Lawrence's employer loved spending money on jazz instruments and hefty luncheons, but his record was pretty damn clean. No hookers or drug deals- not even a minor police complaint or two. He was being desperate when he suggested his employer would be at the charity ball next week. She could see it in his eyes. Regardless, the young woman looked over her whiteboard as she considered just what he had proposed. Her dark eyes flitted over various pieces of information that was gathered for this case so far. Going to that thing would be a waste of time. None of the current facts could justify it.

"I'm not going." she decided. She turned to face her client, replacing the cap of her white board marker in the process. "Not unless you're willing to pay for it."

This did not seem to be the answer Lawrence was apparently expecting.

"W-what do you mean?" he asked. His hands were wringing each other so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. A quick wonder of how bad his arthritis was crossed Sabrina's mind before quickly shaking the thought away. She had to stay focused.

"Did I stutter?" she shot back. "The charity ball declared its tickets were sold out days ago. Scalping is the only option to get in now. If you want me to go, then I have to raise the commission rate."

"What?!" the fat old man stammered. Yep, he definitely didn't expect this turnabout. Not that she was necessarily lying about the ticket availability, truth be told. But that was beside the point. "You can't do that! W-we already agreed on-"

Sabrina slammed her hand down on her desk, succeeding in making Lawrence jump a solid foot in the air. She hated to admit it, but it had been pretty amusing. The stinging in her hand made it a tad less satisfying.

"No?" she questioned, putting on a voice she knew would make him flinch. "Do you have any idea how much it costs to even get a ticket on a normal day? Let alone find a dress for the event? Like hell you don't. My price is doubled or we're done here."

Lawrence watched with a slack jaw as she sat down. The poor wooden desk chair squeaked a bit at being moved. Oswald had promised he'd fix it for her, but she was always using it in some way or another to never part from it. Not that the noise was ever much of a bother. She didn't even let it distract her from glaring her client down as he made up his mind. According to the time on the desk clock, he didn't have long.

Something about having a blessing that made good use on predicting people was both ridiculously boring and incredibly helpful.

"H-how much?" Lawrence finally asked.

Sabrina smirked. Reclining a bit in her chair, she started to muse, "Well, the starting price for the tickets were originally about 2,000 munny. We can start there." As she pulled out some extra paperwork for the commission change, she added, "Perhaps we could aim a bit higher than that due to the costs of travel and other business expenses? About 150,000 munny should cover it."

Another sense of amusement crept up on Sabrina as Lawrence flinched at the price. She was sure that some part of this was considered scamming, but she wasn't lying either. A good ballgown could cost anywhere up into the hundred grands. God knew how she was going to get the tickets, though. That would take up most of her week right there. Social media could help, but it wasn't a cure all. It would be just her luck for something along the line to be a bust anyway. Hopefully the fee could cover the costs- and maybe a few nights of eating out after.

Besides, she was basically getting paid now to sit and look pretty at a charity event. As long as she tossed a few of her own coins into a collection bin every now and again, no one would be none the wiser. It was going to be a long, boring night, but otherwise? This was going to be a breeze.