Varien caught the Red Wizard of Thay’s eye and drew a flask out from his tunic’s inner pocket. He opened it and then raised the flask at the Red Wizard, nodding knowingly. Then he took a swig, coughed suddenly, and said “Spicy!” The Red Wizard met Varien’s gaze as his sculpted eyebrow arched a millimetre. He gave a mock bow, then a quick appraising look at the paladin before turning his attention to the nearest comely maiden. Out of the corner of his eye, Siegfried watched as the Red Wizard glided about the lobby, bestowing his attention on the right people for the right interval of time, focusing on those who were obviously swayed by his fashion choices and thrilled at the notion of interacting with an infamous Thayan. He was obviously used to being the centre of attention and the reaction he was getting was a mixture of fear and delight. Siegfried could tell that the Red Wizard was merely pretending to be a fop and in fact was likely one of the most dangerous, well-connected men in Waterdeep. Siegfried knew that the man was named Ethur Anzim, and he was the long-serving Thayan ambassador to Waterdeep and the kind of man a noble would invite to a revel if they wanted the aura of exotic Eastern danger to become part of the event. Siegfried sent a message to Varien. That man has diplomatic immunity. Anzim’s leathery robe made a slithering sound as he worked the room. Varien checked his ticket to figure out where his seat was. Row AA , he read. You do have front row seats , he said as he made his way to the west mezzanine stairs. “He thinks I sit in the front row?” Siegfried muttered. “Those rows are for the poor!” He sighed and set his sights on Renaer Neverember. He was a dashing adventurer approaching middle age with a tousle of shoulder-length red hair and piercing blue-green eyes. A little on the slim side, he obviously kept himself in fighting trim, and was wearing stylish yet practical apparel. As he approached, Siegfried could see that Renaer shared some of the qualities of his famous father, including striking good looks and judging by the drink in his hand, a love of wine and spirits. Siegfried hoped that he lacked his father’s belligerence, ill temper, and bad judgment. Siegfried knew that bringing up his father in conversation would be a career-limiting move. Recalling that the Durinbolds had attempted to hire the Burning Dawn to spy on Renaer, he gave them a sidelong glance to see if they were watching Neverember. Sure enough, Arturo and Caith were hovering nearby, not making it obvious, but not exactly hiding their observations. The usually gregarious Kaidu Crommor strode past the pair with his nose upturned, cutting the couple dead. He struck up a conversation with Quid instead. Siegfried smiled, remembering how the elf’s eyebrow had raised at the sight of the half-orc wearing Captain Mange’s cloak. Siegfried sent a message to Lureena. Quid’s pirates sank the Redwater during the usual exchange. You might want to deal with him. His aunt did not deign to reply. Siegfried turned back to Renaer and, on an intercept course, affected a drunken wobble. Lady Hawkwinter gripped his arm in alarm. “Renny!” Siegfried called out theatrically. “I must tell you about my recent exploits at sea!” At the sound of his name, Renaer half-turned to regard the approaching Siegfried, his lips pursed. Vajra Safahr also raised an eyebrow. Renaer stood his ground. “Oh, uh, Siegfried, is it?” “Yes, right!” Siegfried said, attempting to clap Neverember on the shoulder but intentionally missing. “It’s been too long since we last caroused.” “Er, quite,” Renaer said. “I wasn’t aware you had taken an interest in seafaring, Thann.” “Well, to be honest, I never thought it was interesting, but then I decided to give it a go, and guess what? I captured a ship!” Siegfried slurred. “Might have a knack for it.” “Well, congratulations?” Renaer attempted. “Excuse me,” Siegfried said, clasping Renaer’s arm and pulling him away in an attempt to break the Durinbold’s line of sight. He belched drunkenly. “I believe I’m going to vomit,” he said. “I am not going to hold your hair back, Siegfried, if you need to cleanse yourself,” Harianna said, playing along. Siegfried smiled at that. Varien moved over to the grand staircase, deciding to keep an eye on the Durinbolds. He sat down on the stairs, watching Caith and Arturo. Lumbering towards the private box stairs with a surprised Renaer in tow, Siegfried dropped the act. “How’s your six, Neverember? I know you’re being followed.” Renaer was busy looking askance at Siegfried’s hand on his shoulder. “I’m used to it by now,” he said in a low voice. “Spies have been hounding me since the Lords of Waterdeep decided a change in regime was required.” “And the lords below?” Siegfried asked. Renaer squinted at him. “The Order of the Burning declined an offer to spy on you on behalf of the Durinbolds,” Siegfried continued. “And the Margasters were tasked by the Devil Behind Thrones to mark you as well. Something about this business with the Cassalanters.” “Are you going to drop any more names, Thann?” Renaer asked wryly. “I’m not trying to warn you,” Siegfried replied. “I’m trying to confirm what you already know.” “Hmm,” Renaer said under his breath. “I do know there are spies keeping eyes, shall we say. I thought perhaps they were working at the behest of the Lord Protector of Neverwinter, but perhaps others are keeping tabs.” Siegfried nodded. “Okay, shove me off, and have an ear at the Lord’s Court tomorrow.” Renaer smiled and pushed Siegfried away. “Go home, Siegfried, you’re drunk,” he said, stalking off. “I’m not home, you’re drunk!” Siegfried called after him as he took a nip from a flask that he prestidigitated into his hand. Then he sobered up and walked back towards a waiting Lady Harianna. “So, how are you enjoying all this subterfuge?” Siegfried asked Lady Harianna. “Siegfried, I had no idea you were such fun at parties!” Harianna replied sweetly. Varien watched as the two Durinbolds faded back into an alcove, painfully aware that they were being ignored by most members of Waterdeep’s polite society. The man spoke. “Lord Buldos would turn over in his grave if he knew what had become of us.” The woman next to him barely acknowledged the man’s utterance, hissing something that Varien couldn’t make out. “We cannot fully blame Lady Laeral for our diminishment,” the man said in reply. “No, no. The blame is squarely at the feet of Dagult Neverember. That fool. And your mother was just as foolish to fall into his orbit.” This brought a glare from the thin woman as Renaer Neverember strode by towards his private theatre box. “And there he goes, the spitting image of that scheming idiot,” the man continued. “But, we will soon find out whatever monstrous secret his father is trying to keep from the people of Waterdeep.” “You talk too much, Arturo,” the woman said, stalking off. Arturo waited a moment, sighed, and then followed at an appropriate distance. There was a soft chime that suggested that it was time for the curtain to rise on the performance. Arm in arm with Lady Harianna, Siegfried made a show of taking off Captain Mange’s cloak and draping it over his shoulder. He winked at Quid on his way past. The party made their way up the stairs to their seats on the mezzanine level. Helpful ushers showed them to their seats, and overhead, magical lights hovered above the crowd finding their seats below. Siegfried scanned the bank of private boxes opposite his seat. He could see Lady Lureena holding court with the Headmistres of the New Olamn Bard College and Kaidu Crommor, with Renaer Neverember taking a seat with a female escort of stunning beauty who seemed to have materialized from thin air. The angle of the boxed seats on his side of the mezzanine afforded him no hint of their occupants, though he suspected the Cassalanters would have prime real estate. Scanning the floor seats, he noticed that the Durinbolds had taken seats near the exits – yet another insult handed down on the shunned nobles. There was a thaumaturgy-enhanced announcement from the stage. “Performing the lead in tonight’s performance is Aria Cavatina, replacing Margo Verida.” There was an unsettled wave of disappointment that rippled through the crowd. Siegfried knew that Margo Verida was known as the Siren of the Dales, a singer without peer by reputation. Famous in theatres, festhalls, and venues across western and northern Faerun. Her landing the lead role in this opera was seen as an inevitability, and the fact that she was not present this evening was likely making a number of audience members regret paying through the nose for their tickets. Conversely, Aria Cavatina was considered an up-and-coming soprano famous for her angelic singing voice, although as an Aasimar, anything less than angelic would have been suspect. Though new on the music scene, she came from a long line of Aasimar bards, and was known to imbue her music with magical enchantments, much to the delight of audiences. Siegfried leaned over to Lady Harianna. “In that case, we got a bargain. Aria Cavatina promises to be the next Margo Verida.” Lady Harianna patted Siegfried’s knee. “Milady,” Siegfried whispered, “did you bring protection with you this evening?” Wordlessly, Lady Harianna moved aside enough of her dress folds to expose an expanse of thigh, to which was strapped a sharp-looking blade. Now it was Siegfried’s turn to pat a knee. Varien was squinting at the opera’s program. ““The Fall of Tiamat?” by Harvo Caulminster? What sort of show is this going to be?” “Ladies and gentlemen,” the disembodied voice of the announcer thundered throughout the building. “We ask that you refrain from using evocation and illusion magic this evening for the comfort of our performers. Tonight’s production features pyrotechnics and animated constructs, but don’t worry, it’s all part of the show.” Mostly seated now, the audience murmured in anticipation. The lights began to dim, a simple enchantment to the building’s crystal globe lamps. Softly at first, music began to swell from the orchestra pit, where Harvo Caulminster, the Maestro himself, was conducting. The libretto and songs were performed in Giant, a tongue unfamiliar to most. The actors playing Giants were mostly humans and elves, so in order to keep the scale, the "human" characters in the story were played by halflings and gnomes. Playing the lead was Aria Cavatina, who came out on stage in an elaborate costume to great applause. Aria was beautiful and statuesque, with vivid red hair that contrasted her silvery-white skin. When she sang, her eyes glow a mesmerizing sapphire and shimmering wings sprouted from her back. Her male counterpart was the famous bard Landon Rigolo, equally dashing and attractive. Varien leaned across and spoke to Siegfried. “What are they saying? I don’t understand Giant.” “You’re not supposed to understand,” Siegfried said. “It’s fancier if it’s in a language you don’t understand. A whole lot of what it means to be a noble in Waterdeep is making a show of enjoying things that are intentionally worse, so you can boast about being fancier and more sophisticated than the common men who do not appreciate such inaccessible cultural products.” “Ah, I see,” Varien nodded sagely as he settled in to watch. The opera’s story was hard to follow, but it appeared to involve a group of adventurers allying with storm giants and metallic dragons to defeat the Evil Queen of the Chromatic dragons. Through the lavish costumes and what the party could glean from the actors’ body language, the plot unfolded as follows: The Cult of the Dragon gathered up treasure taken from people all across the western heartlands and sword coast. The plan was to use the treasure to summon Tiamat to the world. Some good dragons helped the combined forces of the Sword Coast to stave off the dragons while the heroes confronted the cult. Heroes fought the Dragonmasks, the cult leaders who wanted to summon Tiamat. The opera dragged on for 90 minutes. Throughout the first act, Siegfried provided a commentary to his companions that drew as much from the actors’ body language as it did from the lyrics. The climax at the end of Act I was the reveal of "Tiamat," a huge set piece that dominated the stage and breathed actual fire from one its 5 sculpted heads. Each head appeared to be animated individually, and if the program was to believed, featured a different actor within. The scene ended with ensemble piece sung by all five heads at once. Out of the corner of his eye, Siegfried could see an usher at the end of the row discreetly trying to get his attention. In his hands was a small envelope. Siegfried stood and made his excuses to the others seated in the row. As he extricated himself, he accepted the letter from the usher. Inside was a small scrap of paper upon which were printed four words. Private Box ‘C’. Intermission. Siegfried pocketed the note and smoothly took his seat. A few moments later, the lights rose for intermission. “Milady, won’t you escort my friends to the bar so they can have a refreshment?” Siegfried asked, passing Varien the note. “After 90 minutes of listening to Giant, I’m sure they need a stiff one.” Varien slapped Alec on the back and said, “let’s go outside for a duel.” “No duels in the street,” Siegfried said. “Even if it’s friendly, they’ll still arrest you.” “Awww,” Alec said. “Check the Code Legal,” Siegfried said. Varien stood and stretched. “Fine then, a drink it is!” He followed Lady Harianna downstairs to the bar. Umpok the minotaur bartender asked Varien what he could pour him. “Surprise me,” Varien replied. The bartender did just that. “Enjoying the show?” “Not really, to be honest,” Varien said. “The music is good, I guess.” Umpok snorted. “There’s no accounting for taste, but hopefully your taste buds are in better shape,” he said with a wink as he pushed a glass towards Varien. “Well, I don’t speak Giant,” Varien said. Umpok shrugged. “Who does?” he said.