The air in la Lune et Sixpence was warm and thick, the scent of aged whiskey mingling with smoke that curled like ghostly fingers.The light was neither dim nor bright, but fleeting. Amber glows of overhead iron chandeliers and pale flicker of LED candles painted shifting shadows on the stone walls. A living band blasted waves of metal music across the dance floor. Cheers, laughter and all kind of noises of merry-makers buzzed in the air, punctuated by the occasional clinks of glasses. It was another night for the eclectic night owls of Paris—but tonight, the Lady of the Nightborns graced them with her presence.

'A cup of tea in a nightclub.' Alinna mused, then chuckled, curling her fingers around the mug. Nestled in a shadowed corner of the club, the lady of Nightborns cast languid glances at the passing patrons. Her golden-amber eyes gleamed like molten metal, catching fleeting attention before slipping back into the darkness. A navy-blue long coat draped elegantly over her shoulders, and her hair—black as midnight—was tied high, accentuating the silver tiara perched atop her ponytail.

The Nightborn's moment of peace fractured when the door swung open. A burst of cold air swept in, along with loud voices and the clatter of boots. A group of young men stumbled inside, their laughter too bright, too jarring even against the lively hum of the nightclub. They claimed a large table, their presence stuck out like a sore thumb. Drinks were ordered, rounds cheered, and their antics grew louder with each passing moment.

Alinna paid them little mind at first, though she caught the staff casting uneasy glances in her direction. She lifted a hand in a subtle gesture of reassurance. Mihaly, stationed near the entrance like a sentinel, stayed alert but unmoving, his red eyes fixed on the newcomers. The staff knew better than to intervene without her word.

But then, one of the men—a lanky blond with an air of reckless confidence—stood up, waving something in the air. "Check this out!" he crowed, his voice cutting through the music.

The object, a pendant, glinted under the artificial candle light. The shape of a golden sword entwined with ruby rose vines was unmistakable: the insignia of the Order of Rosenschwert.

Alinna's hand tightened around her mug, her amber eyes narrowing as a cold chill settled over her. Around the room, tension rippled like a suppressed storm. The bartender, Magda, paused mid-pour, her eyes squinting. Mihaly straightened, his broad shoulders taut with readiness. Even Chagall, usually jovial, set down his tray with deliberate care, his smile fading into a grim line.

Another from the same group, a dark-haired man, grabbed at the pendant. "Where the hell did you get that, Hugo?" He demanded with a low and raspy voice.

"Found it," Hugo drawled, yanking the pendant back with a smug grin. "While you chickens were busy running away."

The ill comment was not received well. The dark-haired companion reached for Hugo's collar, Hugo pushed the man aside. Soon the shoves escalated into a full-blown scuffle, chairs scraped against the floor, and glasses tipped dangerously close to spilling. Mihaly moved like a shadow, his imposing form cutting through the chaos. In a single motion, he seized both men by their shoulders, his deep voice rumbling. "That's enough. Outside. Now."

Hugo yelped, struggling against Mihaly's iron grip. "Hey, let me go! We were just..."

"Quiet," Mihaly growled, hauling them toward a hidden door.

With a sigh, Alinna rose from her seat. She signalled a nod towards Magda then followed the three down the long and empty hallway behind the door. By the time she reached the office, Vlad was already there. Leaning casually against his desk, cladding in black leather, Vlad locked his crimson gaze on the pendant now lying on the polished surface. He looked up when Alinna entered, dipping his head as she took her place a short distance to his left. Hugo and his companion were now seated, pinned in place by Mihaly, in two chairs in from of the club owner.

"Where did you get this?" Vlad's voice was deceptively soft, each syllable laced with steel.

Hugo squirmed, the bravado from earlier melting into unease under the intensity of the burning coals of Vlad's gaze. Before he could stammer out a reply, a sharp knock broke the tension. Chagall poked his head in, his face tight with worry.

"My lord," Chagall said hesitantly, his usual cheer dimmed. "You have visitors."

"Whoever they are, tell them to wait!" Vlad snapped, his voice cold and clipped, his patience already worn thin.

Chagall flinched but didn't retreat. Instead, his gaze flicked toward Alinna, silently pleading for intervention. His lips parted, words hanging on the edge of indecision. Alinna, catching the nuance in his demeanour, stepped forward, her frown deepening.

"Chagall," she said, her tone measured, "what is it?"

"My lady..." Chagall grimaced, glancing over his shoulder toward the dim hallway. Two figures loomed there, faintly illuminated by the club's distant lights. Though their faces were shrouded in shadows, one of them, his tall and broad build immediately sparked recognition in Alinna's eyes.

No further explanation was necessary. Alinna turned toward the club owner with a meaningful smile. "Vlad," she gestured toward the pendant on the desk. "Regarding this matter, you may want to see them."

Vlad arched a brow, his crimson gaze narrowing thoughtfully. He followed her line of sight, his lips curling into a faint sneer. "Chagall," he said finally, his voice dripping with cold amusement, "let them in."

Chagall exhaled audibly, relief washing over him as he flung the door open. The two figures crossed the threshold in manners of literature heroes walking into a dragon’s lair.  

The man in front was in his early sixties. His brown hair—streaked with grey—was combed neatly. His sharp blue eyes scanned the room with clinical precision, lingering briefly on each face before moving on. He wore a simple brown trench coat, but the golden emblem pinned to his chest—a sword entwined with rose vines—marked him unmistakably a member of the Order of Rosenschwert.

The woman who followed was shorter and younger, perhaps in her mid-forties. Her dark skin gleamed faintly under the dim light, and her short, curly hair framed a square face marked by quiet determination. Like the man, she wore the emblem of the Order proudly on her chest.

"Vlad," The man nodded curtly then inclined his head, "and Lady Alinna."

"Archmagister van Helsing," Vlad drawled, his crimson eyes narrowing into a predatory squint. "And company."

"Albert, do come in," Alinna said smoothly, her lips curving into a faint smile. She beckoned them forward. "To what do we owe this honour?"

Albert cleared his throat, momentarily looking uneasy. He opened his mouth, but his sharp blue eyes caught the pendant on the desk, halting him mid-thought. His expression darkened.

"I assume it has something to do with that?" Alinna pointed towards the pendent, her smile became lopsided.

Albert straightened, regaining his composure. "I'm here on behalf of the Order of Rosenschwert's French branch." He gestured to the woman beside him. "This is Magistrix Innocente Magoche, deputy director of the dispatch centre. Two nights ago, the Order lost contact with a team of hunters. Their last known location…" He hesitated, exchanging a glance with Innocente. "…was in Paris."

"In the catacombs, to be specific." Alinna bluntly revealed what was left unsaid. Albert's brief flicker of surprise gave way to a nod of reluctant confirmation. "Indeed." He admitted.

"You owe me an explanation, Archmagister," Vlad's lips curled into a sharp, humourless grin. "How did your hunters wander into my domain without so much as a courtesy knock?"

"And you owe me an explanation as well, Vlad," Albert countered smoothly, sidestepping the accusation. He gestured toward the pendant. "I believe that belongs to the Order."

"Then it seems, THEY own us all an explanation." Alinna nodded to Hugo and his companion, folding her arms. The two men shivered visibly under the intensity of her golden-amber gaze. "Our brave young friend was brandishing the sacred emblem like a big 'shoot me' sign in the main hall. I believe the hunters of Rosenschwert are far more... sensible than that."

The tension in the room turned sharp as all eyes fell on Hugo. He shifted uncomfortably, his earlier cockiness crumbled like sand. "Look, I don’t know what you're all talking about…" he began weakly.

"Where did you get it?" Vlad's voice cut through the air like a blade, silencing Hugo's protests.

Hugo hesitated, his gaze darting between the room's unforgiving stares: Vlad's glowing crimson, Alinna's piercing amber, Albert's icy blue, and Innocente's stern hazel brown. Finally, he swallowed hard. "We… we found it," he stammered. In the catacombs."

Albert leaned forward, his voice sharp. "Where in the catacombs?"

Hugo flinched. "Near the… the old tunnels. The abandoned ones," he said, his words spilling out in a rush. "We were just exploring. For fun! We didn't think..."

"You didn't think," Alinna cut in, her voice cold like a frost-laden wind. "Those tunnels are dangerous, especially for those who don't know what they're walking into."

The young man shrank under her gaze. "We didn't see anyone else down there, I swear. Just some weird markings on the walls..." He stopped, his face paling.  

"What kind of markings?" Albert pressed on.

"I don't know..." Hugo shook his head. "Like some cult shit. There were candles and bones...and..."

"And?" Vlad prompted, flashing his fangs.  

"There was…a smell," Hugo whispered shakily. "Like…decay. But worse. We grabbed the pendant and got out as fast as we could."

Albert exchanged a grim look with Innocente before turning around, his jaw tightening. "By the Accord of the Nine," He addressed Vlad and Alinna with subtle authority. "High Lord Vlad Sighisoara of the Court of Miracles, the Order of Rosenschwert formally requests access to your domain for the investigation of our missing personnel."

Vlad's crimson eyes glinted with something between amusement and menace. He straightened his back, his fingers drumming against the desk as a sharp laugh escaped his lips, echoing in the room like a crackle of ice. "Now you are asking, Archmagister," the vampire unsheathed his fangs in a wide grin. "But I need a bit more of explanation, what happened exactly?"

"What is the meaning of this, High Lord Vlad? By the honour of Rosenschwert, we do not take the lives of our own lightly!" Magistrix Magoche clenched her teeth, her voice rang like the clink of steel.

"Honour comes from deeds, not words, Magistrix. And I need more than empty words." Vlad tilted his head, regarding the huntress in the way a cat looks at a tiny mouse.

Albert nodded towards Innocente. After a measured pause, she reluctantly reached into her coat and withdrew a device that resembled a pane of tinted glass. A flick of her fingers traced a glowing sigil on the screen; with her fingerprint, the device unlocked to reveal a map of Paris. Three flickering dots moved across the screen and then vanished near an old sewer outlet.

"The Parisian police requested the Order’s help in the investigation of a surge of recent disappearances. A small team was dispatched. This was two nights ago," Innocente explained. "We lost their signal afterwards."

"Then why should I say yes?" Vlad narrowed his eyes, his voice was even, uncaring.

Albert stepped forward, undeterred by the dropping temperature and darkening shadow in the room. His sharp blue eyes locked onto Vlad's glowing red ones. "If you have nothing to hide—which I do not believe you do—then this matter is better resolved between us. You've spent decades building this underground kingdom of yours, and I know you value its peace."

Vlad leaned forward slightly, his grin widening to something more sharp and dangerous. "Is that a threat?"

"It is a reasonable proposal, one that will benefit us all." Albert said evenly, his presence never flinched.

"And one that avoids unwanted conflicts." Alinna's voice cut through the tension like a fine thread. She stepped in, her lips curved upwards into a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Her manner was calm and smooth but edged with razor, like a sword sheathed but ready. "I have no doubt in the Order's prowess, but deploying unnecessary force in what appears to be a simple missing-person case might invite...misunderstanding. And such misunderstanding will not be received...kindly."

Innocente's jaw tightened, her hand slipping under her coat with practiced stealth. Her fingers brushed against the hilt of a concealed weapon, her movements almost imperceptible. But Albert raised a hand, stopping her. His gaze never left Vlad's, but the subtle gesture spoke volumes.

Albert placed a hand over the emblem on his chest, the solemnity of his word evidenced in his unwavering gaze. "You have my word as an Archmagister of the Order of Rosenschwert. I will enter your domain alone. If the hunters are alive, I will bring them back. If they are beyond saving, I will leave by dawn with whatever information I can gather. No disruption, no interference."

"Archmagister van Helsing will not go alone." Alinna, again, drew all attention with her effortless grace. "If the Order please, I will accompany the Archmagister in the descent and ensure his safety personally."

Albert blinked in surprise, his blue eyes widening slightly as he turned to meet the Nightborn's gold-amber gaze. "Lady Alinna…" he began, but she gave him a firm nod.

"Alinna, why?" Vlad's displeasure was evident in the sharp crease of his brow. His tone dropped to something akin to a plea, but she raised a hand in a gentle gesture of reassurance.

"Albert will need more than his sword down there in the catacombs. And you Vlad, you will need a pair of eyes."

Vlad's shoulders tightened, he held her gaze for a long moment, then with a slow exhale, he nodded. "Very well. You may enter my domain, Archmagister," Vlad said with reluctant agreement. "But you will not go alone."

Albert opened his mouth to protest, but Vlad raised a hand to silence him. "I will accompany you," Vlad continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. "If the Court of Miracles is to grant access, it will do so under my watch. Additionally, Magistrix Innocente Magoche will remain here as my guest." His gaze flicked to Innocente, a faint smirk curling his lips. "My staff will see to her needs until our return."

Albert bristled, "Vlad, this is unnecessary..."

"Archmagister van Helsing," Innocente interrupted firmly, her eyes shone with resolution. "You go. I'll manage here."

Albert hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line, but Innocente reassured him with her unwavering gaze. He turned back to Vlad, nodding stiffly. "Very well. But let me be clear: the safety of my people is non-negotiable."

"As is the sanctity of my domain," Vlad replied, his grin returning with an edge of dark humour.

"Then I suggest we waste no more time." Alinna stepped between the two men. "If the hunters indeed descended into the tunnels, time may be already against us."

The two young men, Hugo and his companion, were escorted out by Mihaly. They were given a firm warning to keep their tongues behind their teeth. Judging from the petrified looks on their face, they will make the right decision. Shortly afterwards, Magistrix Magoche was guided out by Chagall to her temporary accommodation.

When the three, Vlad, Alinna and Albert, were left alone in the office. A shadow seemed to lift from them. They exchange glances, and smiles began to surface upon their lips.