“Please do join us,” Valena says. “We’re having a small get-together at Bernstowe’s. We’d be delighted if you could attend.”<br/><br/>“You must go, you simply must!” Wallen exclaims. “Everyone will be waiting for you with bated breath. Bernstowe’s is just up the street, two blocks away. You can’t miss it.”<br/><br/>Valena packs up her things as Wallen extols the virtues of Bernstowe’s (food, service, discretion). The two owners depart with the promise of seeing you all very soon.<br/><br/>You tell Lord Hlath’s servant that you graciously accept his offer. The servant gives you a dignified bow and departs.<br/><br/>Once all are changed and ready, you leave the theatre by the side entrance, into an alley that joins Brambles street. The streets is largely empty, the theatre crowds long since headed home, though a few guests still linger. A group of elderly patriars are boarding palanquins lined up in front of the theatre - as animals larger than a small dog or cat are prohibited within the city, palanquins are used instead of carriages. A Flaming Fist patrol stands sentinel nearby, armored in chain hauberks and heavily armed, casting suspicious stares at anyone who doesn’t look like a patriar. The group of you earn a careful look-over, but after that the patrol loses interest.<br/><br/>The fog has deepened, and one block is as far as you can see before the world blurs into indistinct shapes. In other words, it is a typical night in Baldur’s Gate.<br/><br/>You travel one block north, and see a blaze of magical lights shining through the windows of a four-story building. Wallen is right; Bernstowe’s is difficult to miss. The tavern and restaurant is open around the clock, only closing on holidays.<br/><br/>You pass through the front doors and enter the foyer, a grand affair whose walls are hung with portraits of famous Balduran rulers and citizens. Glass cases contain mementos from the city’s history, including a cutlass reputed to have belonged to Balduran himself. A group of hosts are clustered at the reception. When you mention a party for guests of the Eye, they direct you up a flight of stairs and down a hallway, and through the doors at the end.<br/><br/>You open the doors and are greeted by the sight of a grand ballroom that contains at least fifty people - Valena’s idea of a small gathering.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/eqrXIhp.jpg) (https://i.imgur.com/eqrXIhp.jpg)</div>Beyond the doors is a gallery that overlooks the vast space. To both the right and left, sweeping staircases descend to the dance floor. A corner is occupied by a group of musicians playing a sprightly waltz. Couples - some of the opposite gender, some of the same gender - glide across the parquet floor. Others watch, drinks in hand, or help themselves to the buffet. A long table is covered with delicacies from land, sea, and air. The centerpiece is a tower holding dishes of seafood over ice - lobster, crab, shrimp, oysters in their shell, and a crudo of whitefish and tuna. Serving staff circulate about the room with trays covered in glasses of sparkling mead or wine.<br/><br/>You see many notable guests in attendance. At the far side of the room, Lady Alana Silvershield is chatting with a small group of patriars that includes Lord Whitburn. Also with her are her two elven guests. Nearer the stairs, Lord Lucas Caldwell is conversing with a larger group that includes Lord Redlocks and Lady Eltan. The observant will note that there is no movement between the two groups. Is is as though someone divided the room in half and told Lady Alana and Lord Lucas to each stay on their own side.<br/><br/>Directly in front of you, by the gallery railing, stand Valena Baird and a tall blonde woman that some might recognize as Luciana Belt, a famed operatic singer. She did not perform this evening, her place taken by all of you. Luciana is glaring sullenly at Valena; she suddenly raises her hand as if to slap her, but Valena seems to anticipate the act and catches her wrist.<br/><br/>“You need me. You’re nothing without me,” Luciana growls.<br/><br/>Valena gives a small shrug. “We’ll take our chances,” she says evenly.<br/><br/>Luciana notices you, turning her furious gaze in your direction. “Oh, it’s you. Amateurs,” she sneers. “Just wait and see,” she snarls at Valena. “You<em>think</em>you’ve found your next stars. Who is to say they will last? How do you know they aren’t shooting stars, shining bright for an instant before crashing to earth? Who will be sorry then?”