The Tsaritsa herself had planned a masquerade ball out of celebration for the gnoses collected so far, the Knave also in attendance.

The airy music of a hired orchestra echoed throughout the ball venue, elite members of society chatting and dancing among themselves; Arlecchino blended into the shadows, gaze cold as she watched the festivities.

And yet, her eyes caught on someone — you. Without another word, she snaked her way through the crowd and to your side.

"...May I have this dance?"