The hearth. The hottest entertainment club in town wasn't your typical entertainment club. Seen clearly in its ability to stay running in a town of religious men and women. With these men and women of staunch faith even finding themselves counted amongst its most loyal clientele.
It constituted a unique phenomenon if there was any to be found.
Within its walls the food served was praised as so divine the hands crafting it must have been blessed by the mother herself, the drinks were said to be akin to nectar from her holy chalice and the music praised as the echoes of the angels from up high bearing this goddess given ability to invigorate the spirit and put the heart at rest. When word of these wonders reach the ears of a first timer it would be most understandable for them to assume these wonders as the reason for the name given to the club. And it would be most wrong.
Understandable, but wrong.
The name represented neither the divine food, the nectar like drinks nor the angels' chorus that echoed within its halls. Although all these gave a sense of warmth the true warmth that constituted the secret recipe behind the success of the club was a little something on the menu called the mothers bosom.
Like a child running into his mother's bosom when troubled, all who ordered this specialty would have all their problems solved. Depending on the variety ordered at least. From a listing ear to heartfelt advice they offered it all spreading warmth to all who walked past the threshold into their establishment.
So it was not weird when a request was brought before their proprietress, the Madame, to personally handle as sometimes the girls where just not experienced enough to offer proper advice on certain cases. What was weird were the specifications of the request.
Through the VIP channel straight to the desk of the Madame, came a note of three words and a name signed at the end.
A ticking bomb of a letter delivered into the hands of the busy and borderline overworked club owner.
Now normally Madame was a benevolent business owner. A business woman usually more than willing to indulge the people who found their way to her establishment in all their willy requests.
As long as they did not cross her bottom line that is.
Even when they did cross it she'd try her absolute best to at least keep the bare minimum of civility when dealing with them. That was how her establishment kept up such a good reputation on the street after all. Well that and the great service obviously.
Today however was not the day.
Maybe it was the drunkard she spent the better half of the previous day dealing with. It could even have been the resulting pile of paper work she had had to deal with for the better half of the current day. Or the fact that she hadn't had a proper meal the entire day, not even she knew.
The main point was that for whatever reason, she was NOT having it on this fine evening.
That being said the next series of actions being both thoroughly over board on the bases of propriety and decorum and a textbook example of life endangering brashness, where but a reflection of nothing but an unfortunate mix of coinciding events and their resulting feelings. And considering this, should in no way be used as reference for the character of the honorable proprietress of The Hearth entertainment club.
Contrary to her usual calm demeanor, the Madame of today would ball up the offending note, march out of her office in an absolute rage not caring who was watching and to the absolute horror of all the little girls and experienced women who double as her workers and family. She'd with practiced accuracy and calculated force hurl the balled up note at the most pompous looking guy of the bunch (in her opinion of course) asking in the frostiest tone those who know her had ever heard her use on a person,
"What in the goddesses' good name, is supposed to be the meaning of this?"
Now let it be known that if the bearings and dressing of these men had anything to say about them it would be that they were nobles. Important nobles if the fact that they were able to get their hands on a first class VIP pass was also allowed a say in the evaluation.
And what does everyone know about nobles?
Well for starters the fact that they demand respect. Always. Even when they don't deserve any. Hence one does absolutely not attempt to take the eye of a noble out with a note they sent to one as a summons.
At all, for any reason.
Except when courting death.
If courting death is the confirmed goal, then going right ahead is advised as that would in fact be a refreshingly outrageous way to go about it. Reason being that although all the people of the present existed in "new times" and the "rule of law" reigned supreme, there was more than death available as a means for nobles like these to make the lives of commoners like them absolutely miserable.
It was these "ways" whispered through the grape vine that caused terror in the hearts of the few young and matured ladies calling The Hearth their home present at this crime scene their Madame had created in her rage.
By some strange twist of faith however, the scene of a noble man blowing his top or his guards rushing forward to accost the "offender," did not happen. Rather in a faintly amused voice said nearly blinded noble man struck up a conversation good naturedly with the currently enraged Madame.
"A note." Came his relaxed reply right after catching said note, preventing it from blinding his noble self. "A summons if you would." He also adds in a weirdly stoic yet casual tone crossing one leg over the other like a commoner had not just attacked his noble person.
Did the sun go down on the east to bring this fine evening? Is the world coming to an end at this moment? Or has yet another man fallen to the charms of their trusty proprietress? Were the questions running through the minds of the few young and matured ladies present.
While the proprietress causing wide spread heartache and wonder was busy wondering what wrong she had committed to provoke so many weirdoes to her door step these days. Thoroughly unrepentant she even had the leisure to contemplate tossing another projectile at the smug smiling face causing her and simultaneously aggravating her currently building migraine.
This man was trouble the Madame thought. Her guts said so. The look in his eyes said so. The words he dared put down in black and white said so. In fact, the weird aura he had surrounding him confirmed it. And she wanted both herself and establishment to have absolutely nothing to do with any of it.
So she showed it in her words. "And what nonsense exactly was written by your noble self in said summons?"
Demonstrated it in her actions, stalking down from her perch on the upper level like the guardian creature with which her ancestors chose to partner assimilate.
And emphasized it with her eyes, eyeing the noble trouble maker like his life and death depended on his next answer all the while fighting off the urge take off the special pair of glasses she had perched elegantly on her beautiful face and peer with her special pair of eyes right into his very soul.
Frighteningly enough, knowing the Madame, noble blood be damned, his life probably did depend on his next words.