Cornelius frowned. “So you're saying, customers don't care about the quality of a product?”

  Linzy shook her head, Fimmzi next to her doing the same. “Nah, nah, they do care, but there are two kinds of quality; ta actual, measurable one, and ta perceived one. Can't ya think of one of yer products that ya know is better, but somehow sells less?”

  The catkin squinted, grabbing his chin. “I... yes, the Velour nausea potion. It's a newer product, made with a new, simpler formula, which allows me to sell it for less and yet has the same, if not better effects, than the older Relieve one. We thought it was just a matter of time, as people let go of their habits, and we were able to increase the Velour sales, but it's lagging far behind Relieve.”

  Linzy and Fimmzi nodded, the older goblin speaking up. “Perfect example. No matter what ya'll tell the people, they'll think the newer, cheaper one ta be worse than ta old one.”

  Linzy clapped her hands once. “And that's why, once ya know how objectively good a product is, ya don't market fer it. Ya market for its image! Take your Velour, discontinue it, make a fire sale on it, get rid of all the stock. Wait a season or two, and then re-introduce it with a different name, maybe something that calls back to Relieve, like, I don't know, Relieve plus, sell it fer five percent more, and watch it fly off the shelf, wit' a bigger profit margin!”

  Cornelius dipped his head. “Interesting... Yes, I can see it working... We'll have to do a market test first, maybe in a town where we haven't introduced Velour yet... yes, yes!”

  He looked at the diminutive goblins. “Ladies, I do believe your idea has merit! I will forward the result to my daughter, so she can share them with-”

  Linzy held up a hand. “Not so fast, mister. We want eight percent.”

  Cornelius blinked. “Eight percent of what?”

  “Eight percent of the extra profit between Velour and Relieve Plus. It's our idea.”

  The catkin narrowed his eyes, reevaluating the goblins. “Five percent, for five years. Can't have an indefinite cut on a product for just an idea.”

  Fimmzy shook her head. “Six percent for seven years, and you'll give us marketing oversight for your next product, or for an existing product of our choice.”

  Cornelius put on his best scornful face. On the inside, he was smiling. He didn't think the wedding reception would be this interesting.

  Francis Wayman waited for the Patriarch's entourage to disperse somewhat.

  The man's youngest son, Isaac, went to the table to deposit his glass, running into a tall blonde and striking up a conversation.

  Agatha, the lady of the house, was a few paces away, engrossed in a discussion with the elf woman about the wedding dress, from what he could gather.

  Nodding, he navigated the small crowd and sidled up to the dour-looking noble.

  “Jacob.” He greeted, not looking at him.

  The noble allowed himself a glance, though he'd seen the man approaching, recognizing him despite all those years. “Francis. You're supposed to address me with an honorific...”

  “Never been one for classism.” The man replied.

  “No, I guess not.”

  Jacob observed the crowd, his eyes eventually landing on his older son, David. “I guess I should thank you for taking care of my son, although when I sent you that missive, I thought you'd find him a place to belong, not outright adopt him.”

  Francis shrugged. “The lad kept wanting to repay me for a place to sleep and some food, every day. Made it hard to find him a new family.”

  “Hmm, yes, and I'm certain this had nothing to do with the...extra security being your adopted son would afford him.”

  The Wayman chuckled. “I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. However, now that I am publicly aware of his potential, I guess it was the right decision.”

  Jacob let out a breath through his nose. “It appears it was... Have you heard about the mayor's little scheme?”

  Francis quirked a brow and threw the noble a glance. “I have. Some of the information he needed came from us. I'm surprised you're aware of it, though. For obvious reasons, you wouldn't have heard of it from us.”

  Jacob shook his head. “No, I wouldn't have, but you forget that we're the Wardenfels. Knowledge is the first step in being effective guardians.”

  “Well, that, you and I can agree on.”

  The patriarch scoffed and took another sip from his drink, something the golem majordomo had called fizzy fruit water.

  “...I wonder where my son and his new wife found this drink. It's rather delectable.”

  Francis looked at the man. “From what I gathered, Niala came up with it. I heard your wife saying she wanted to purchase exclusive rights to the recipe.”

  Jacob met the man's gaze before looking down at his cup, back up at Francis, and then stepped away, toward Agatha.

  Francis allowed himself to smile, taking another drink from his cup in turn.

  Exclusive...

  He frowned. Perhaps he should... ensure that the drink was available to the Courier network. It was so refreshing, after all.

  He stepped after the noble.

  Isaac made his way to the buffet tables, empty cup in hand, angling toward the three large auto-cooling caskets.

  Fizzy fruit water had no business being as good as it was, almost making attending this pitiful wedding in this nowhere town worth it.

  The tall blonde woman that he'd seen earlier beat him to the wild-berries spigot by a few paces. Gentleman that he was, he simply stood and waited, letting his eyes wander over the strange agglomeration of people and social classes.

  A clear, sonorous voice startled him. “Quite the collection, isn't it?”

  He turned his head to look at the source, seeing the blonde woman next to him.

  He hadn't really paid her too much attention, but now, from this close, it was hard to ignore that she was... very beautiful. And, while he knew she wasn't a noble, she held herself like one.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  No, forget that. She held herself how noble women wanted to hold themselves.

  He narrowed his eyes and turned his head back to the crowd. “Yes. My brother has an evident knack for creating absurd situations.”

  “Ah! David's little brother! I thought there was an air of familiarity!”

  He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “As if you didn't know.”

  She hummed, a twinkle in her eyes. “Hmm, isn't that how the nobles do it, though? Pretend they don't know anything, giving their better a chance at enlightening them?”

  She smirked. “And, in the process, perhaps revealing more than they ought to?”

  His lips thinned as he turned to face her fully. “Are you insinuating that nobles are easy to manipulate?”

  She blinked, and lightly chuckled. “Oh, no, not at all! It is the ego which is easy to manipulate! That, and, in my case, young men.” She explained, winking, her mouth open in a smile, displaying rows of orderly white teeth.

  He stared blandly at the woman. “If it is so easy, then do it. Manipulate my ego, have me reveal something I shouldn't.”

  She let an apologetic expression drown out her face. “Oh, young sir, I was only attempting to strike up a conversation! I can clearly see that you wouldn't fall for my tricks. Although my father enjoys showing me to his noble entourage, and I would humbly admit that I've gained a modicum of social graces, I certainly can't hope to compare to a Wardenfel heir!”

  He scoffed. “No, of course not. You are from Majestic, are you not? I have had to deal with many of my peers from that city, and they are all so obsessed with appearances. The politics in and around Amberose might as well be a battlefield if compared to the excessive displays that you are used to.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh! Is that so? I say- quite the opposite from what the Majestic nobles would have me believe!”

  “And what, pray tell, does the Majestic peerage claim?”

  She smiled. “They insist that Amberose nobles know nothing of social graces, that they are only concerned with power struggles and abusing each other's trust. They would liken your events to a collective of snakes, while the Majestic balls are where the true, honourable nobles, concerned with the advancement of society, reside.”

  Isaac narrowed his eyes. “Snakes? They would think of us as snakes? Those foppish, vaporous dandies dance the nights away while standing on top of our shoulders. If it weren't for Amberose nobles and their efforts in stabilizing the economy and our borders, they would be waltzing in crumbling estates.”

  She widened her eyes in surprise and put a hand over her mouth. “Oh dear. Is the economy so precarious?”

  He shook his head. “No, of course not. Thanks to our efforts, trade flows freely. We have renewed agreements with the Frelan estates and the Marrow kingdom, helping to ensure the brewing conflict between the Sonnel empire and the...” He started to explain, before trailing off.

  The woman was smiling brightly at him, a victorious glint in her eyes.

  And then he realized he was about to reveal that the Royal Court was expecting a long, bloody war between Sonnel and the Pakags to their south, over what the Pakag clans claimed were ancestral lands, while Sonnel wanted the rich metal deposits found in what were essentially uninhabited lands.

  He looked at the woman, wide-eyed. “...How?”

  His flabbergasted expression caught her by surprise, and she couldn't help but burst into laughter.

  A bout of laughter caught David's ears. He turned his head toward the source, finding his brother Isaac, his face a mix of incredulity and consternation, next to Angeline. The tall blonde was wiping a tear off her cheek with a finger, while Isaac said something to her that he didn't catch, making her laugh once more.

  Isaac's expression made it clear he had no idea what he'd said that was so funny.

  David put a hand on Niala's arm. She turned her head to him, ears locked forward, as he pointed with his chin toward Isaac and Angeline.

  She frowned and looked in their direction, her face freezing as Angeline, one arm around her stomach and slightly bent forward, with a laughing smile on her face, lightly touched Isaac's arm with three fingers. The woman said something to the young noble that made his face crinkle up as he turned his head toward her and glared in her direction.

  Angeline burst out laughing once more.

  David looked at Niala. “What's going on?”

  She slowly shook her head while keeping her eyes on the scene. “I'm not sure, but it looks like Angie found a new toy.”

  Afternoon turned to evening, and the guests were directed by Jordo up to the second story, where the dining tables had been set.

  Sitting arrangement had been predetermined, but Angeline somehow ended up sitting next to a rather confused Isaac. She kept talking to him while he answered her with some frustration, or simply made indignant faces when words failed him, which more often than not resulted in Angeline having to clamp down on more laughter.

  David shook his head as Niala's words rang true in his head. It really looked like a cat playing with a mouse.

  As everyone sat down, Jordo and Papo brought out the dinner itself, serving the guests without them noticing, refilling cups just as they were about to ask for it, and generally offering a superior service.

  For all of his inability to show facial expressions, Jordo still managed to look fulfilled, while Papo, being a rat, was unreadable. Mostly due to people having no idea how to judge a rat's expressions.

  People profusely praised the food, making Niala's cheeks flush pink, as alcohol loosened tongues and relaxed social cues, leading to discussions flowing freely.

  Stories were recounted, jokes were shared, Leviathan was asked questions about what he was exactly, to which he answered that he didn't know. Linzy tried to get Karline drunk, while Leandro tried to keep Marshalla from getting drunk. Hodge gave everyone a wood chip. Anaakendi kept asking for and drinking Old Womans. Cornelius had Mahala write a contract in triplicate on napkins, before he, Fimmzi and Linzy signed on it, keeping a copy each.

  Isaac gave up, slumping in his chair, and kept answering Angeline's questions, as her chair somehow found itself shuffling closer and closer to him. Batty stuffed her face with food, while Samuel, Annette and Annabelle played with Lychee, who was having the time of its life running around and slurping up all the spilled drinks. Agatha and Martha tried to pry tailoring secrets out of Yrlemagne, who used the traditional elfish tactic of acting superior, only granting them crumbs while securing pledges for orders.

  Before anyone realized, the dinner had ended, the cake was brought out, portioned and devoured, and the day had fled into the night. Final wishes were exchanged, and the reception ended.

  Angeline offered the non-Wardenfels a room aboard the Alchemical Star for the night, making sure that, barring Jordo and Papo, the shop would be completely empty.

  Sybil and Sammie were given a pack with a sampling of all the food and drinks, as promised by Niala for their attendance, and, finally, everyone was gone, except for him and her.

  As the door closed on the last departing guest, they exhaled at the same time, looked at each other, and chuckled.

  He smiled. She smiled.

  He looked at his wife.

  She looked at her husband.

  He bent forward for a kiss, only to be stopped by a finger to his lips, as she averted her gaze, her face flushing red.

  “Let's... get into something more comfortable, first?” She suggested timidly.

  He smiled once more, grabbing her finger and kissing it tenderly, before ensconcing it within his hands, letting it go a moment later.

  “Do you need any help getting the dress off?” He asked.

  She shook her head. “No. Just... go wait for me in the bedroom. I'll be there soon.”

  He nodded and watched her grip her dress, lifting it off the floor as she darted up the stairs. He heard a door slam closed.

  He climbed up to the second story, to their bedroom, and got out of his wedding suit, carefully folding it and packing it away in one of his cargo cloths, dressing down to his undies.

  He patted the bed, dimmed the light down to that of a few candles, bathing the room in a warm, soft glow, before lying down, arms under his head, and waited.

  A few minutes later, he heard a pair of feet shuffle up to the open door. He looked down to find Niala's head leaning in, her face red as a tomato.

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Everything ok?”

  She bit his lips and looked him in the eyes. “Promise not to laugh?”

  “I... promise? Why would I laugh?”

  Her ears wiggled limply. “Because... I might look ridiculous.”

  He smiled, his heart beating a bit faster as his mind began imagining... things. “You won't.”

  She kept her gaze on him for a few seconds, before nodding once and stepping out of cover, and into the room on uncertain legs.

  His eyes went wide as his heart attempted to jump out of his chest.

  To David, his girlfriend, his wife, had suddenly evolved from an angel to a goddess.

  His mouth was dry as he managed to push out a few words. “Is that... is that a garter-belt?”