Percival de Rolo stood at the edge of the grand ballroom, his posture rigid, eyes scanning the sea of lords and ladies dressed in their finest. Chandeliers cast a golden glow over the polished marble floor, and the soft hum of conversation was occasionally punctuated by boisterous laughter. His fingers idly traced the rim of the wine glass in his hand, the rich scent of the drink doing little to settle his nerves. He should have expected this — a lavish ball, filled with nobility, was Scanlan’s ideal playground. Already, the gnome bard was at the center of attention, strumming his lute and belting out an improvised song that had the crowd roaring with amusement.

"Ah, Scanlan," Percy muttered under his breath, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile as the bard leaped onto a nearby table, his small frame barely towering above the guests even with the added height. Scanlan winked at a trio of noblewomen, his lyrics becoming more suggestive with each verse. While the ladies blushed and giggled, Percy could feel a pang of secondhand embarrassment. The night was still young, and it appeared his friend’s antics had only just begun.