Early Descending Air was always a busy time at The House of the White Lotus but it seemed to Iselsi Avelle, the new and currently quite harried manager of the establishment, that all of the most rude and demanding residents of the Imperial City had descended on her little tea house en mass just to test the limits of the newly revitalized establishment.<br/><br/>There had been no small amount of gossip when Avelle, exalted barely a year and from such an<em>unfortunate</em>background, had been given charge of The Lotus. Many speculated that it heralded the end of the once-great inn, a prospect that didn’t sound all that bad to many. The House of the White Lotus was a manse, and with the great dynastic families all preparing for the civil war that seemed more and more inevitable by the day there was no shortage of powerful sons and daughters of the Realm who would have loved the opportunity to snatch up another seat of power within the Imperial City.<br/><br/>To the surprise, frustration, relief, and amusement of various Dynasts, three months later the inn seemed to be doing remarkably well. Tonight the tea house that occupied the manse’s ground floor was bustling. A pair of air aspected twins occupied the stage at the far end of the room, lit by the soft blue glow of essence-powered lanterns. One deftly plucked at the strings of a long-necked lute as her sister’s ethereal voice rose over the low murmur of conversation that filled room. The performance was quite enjoyable, but chaste and sedate enough that for the most part it was merely a pleasant backdrop to the night’s patrons’ personal discussions.<br/><br/>Numerous wealthy patricians and more than a few Dragon-Blooded Exalts filled every seat while lovely serving girls, easily identifiable by the pristine white sashes around their waists, plied their trade. Though things in the main room were all grace and poise, the scene in the kitchens was considerably more frantic. Cooks toiled away at stoves or carefully monitored steeping tea leaves while serving girls caught what few precious moments of rest they could afford away from their demanding (and often handsy) customers.<br/><br/>“Hmmmm...oh! Who’s on the Crane Room tonight?” Avelle asked no one in particular, snatching down a little note that had been pinned to the wall. Operations had been running smoothly, but the Crane Room had recently developed an annoying habit of slipping from the staff’s mind lately.<br/><br/>“I am,” piped up one of the girls, who reluctantly stood and brushed off her short, silk dress as if it hadn’t completely slipped her mind.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>A few minutes later and two stories higher up, a polite knock sounded.<br/><br/>“Sir…?” the serving girl called. (It was a sir, wasn’t it...?) "Dinner is served!"