Marcus guided them through the salon with the proprietorial confidence of someone showing off his prize collection. Conversations paused as they passed—not from rudeness, but from the sort of curiosity that expensive oddities attracted at gatherings where most entertainment came pre-approved and predictable.

"Lord Pemberton," Marcus said, stopping beside a portly man whose jeweled rings caught the lamplight like tiny suns. "May I present the Fragmented Flame? Ladies, Lord Pemberton owns extensive mining operations in the eastern territories."

"Charming," Lord Pemberton replied, though his attention focused on their identical faces rather than their own individual reactions to his scrutiny. "The resemblance is remarkable. Are you actually related, or is this some sort of elaborate illusion?"

"Related," Ember said carefully.

"Fascinating. And you all possess identical magical capabilities?"

"Yes."

"Demonstrate," Lord Pemberton said, as if requesting them to perform was as natural as asking for the time.

The four exchanged glances. Marcus's smile encouraged compliance with the warmth of a blade pressed against skin.

"Perhaps a small display," Marcus suggested. "Nothing dramatic. Just enough to satisfy curiosity."

Pyra held out her hand, allowing orange light to dance across her fingers like liquid sunlight. The flame cast warm shadows across Lord Pemberton's face while generating enough heat to make the air shimmer.

"Remarkable," he breathed. "And the others?"

Cinder, Ember, Kindle, and Ash each produced their own variations—crimson spirals, golden ribbons, azure sparks, and smoky wisps that moved with their own mysterious currents. The combined effect painted the surrounding area in shifting colors that made jewelry sparkle and silk gowns gleam.

"Extraordinary," Lord Pemberton concluded. "Marcus, you've acquired quite the prize."

"Acquired," Kindle repeated under her breath.

"House Brightblade recognizes exceptional talent," Marcus replied smoothly. "We're fortunate to support such remarkable individuals."

The conversation continued with Lord Pemberton asking questions about their techniques, their coordination, and their background. Ember politely but firmly refused to provide personal details, redirecting the conversation towards their adventuring experience, while the others chimed in occasionally with observations or relevant anecdotes.

The conversation eventually turned towards Lord Pemberton's mining operations, which were apparently experiencing logistical issues. Marcus noted this with interest, promising to "make inquiries" about potential solutions House Brightblade might be able to offer.

"We'll keep that in mind," Marcus said before any of them could respond. "Though of course, House Brightblade's obligations take priority in any scheduling arrangements."

"Of course," Lord Pemberton agreed with an obsequious air that belied the appraising look in his eyes. "But the offer remains. Consider it a gesture of friendship and mutual regard." He looked at the five with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Mutual regard is always useful, don't you think?"

Marcus guided them away from Lord Pemberton toward another group, then another. Each introduction followed the same pattern: demonstration, evaluation, and discussion of future opportunities. By the evening's end, they'd performed for a dozen different nobles who'd each suggested ways their unique capabilities might prove useful.

"Profitable evening," Marcus said as they prepared to leave. "Several promising connections established."

"Profitable for whom?" Cinder asked.

"For everyone involved," Marcus replied. "Your reputation grows, House Brightblade's influence expands, and potential clients understand what services might be available."

"Services," Ash repeated.

"Professional services," Marcus clarified with false patience. "The sort of high-value contracts that justify sponsorship arrangements."

They rode back to their quarters in House Brightblade's carriage, lost in thoughts that had become increasingly complicated in light of the night's revelations.

"What did you think?" Ember asked.

"We were a commodity," Cinder replied flatly.

"A resource," Ash agreed.

"Wasn't the best party we've been to," Pyra chimed in. "But also not the worst?"

"They're sizing up our value," Kindle said. "Seeing what we're worth." She frowned with unusual ferocity. "I don't like it."

"Well, we're here now," Ember said. "Let's get some rest and figure out where to go from here."

The next morning brought a schedule delivered by messenger that covered their week with appointments, performances, and social obligations that left no time for Guild missions or personal activities. Each entry included detailed instructions about appropriate dress, expected behavior, and specific individuals they were meant to impress.

"Tuesday afternoon," Pyra read from the parchment that felt expensive beneath her fingers, "demonstration for the Merchant's Council regarding trade route security enhancements. Thursday evening, private performance for House Carlinford's debutante ball. Saturday, participation in Lady Montague's garden party exhibition."

"Exhibition," Kindle said with growing alarm.

"We're the entertainment," Cinder observed flatly.

"We're the attraction," Ash corrected.

Henrik arrived before they'd finished processing the schedule, carrying additional documents and wearing the expression of someone delivering news that might provoke violence.

"Lady Cordelia sends her apologies," he announced, "but pressing family matters require her attention for the remainder of the week. Master Marcus will oversee your social obligations to ensure proper representation of House Brightblade interests."

"Marcus will oversee our obligations," Ember repeated with dangerous calm.

"Master Marcus has extensive experience managing sponsored individuals," Henrik continued with diplomatic determination. "He'll ensure you understand expectations and perform appropriately."

"Perform appropriately," Pyra said.

"Present yourselves in ways that reflect well on House Brightblade's reputation," Henrik clarified. "Master Marcus will provide specific guidance for each event."

The conversation continued with Henrik explaining transportation arrangements, dress requirements, and behavioral guidelines that treated them like expensive equipment requiring careful handling. By the time he departed, their week had been organized around appearances that left little room for personal choice or discretionary time.

"We need to talk to Lady Cordelia," Ember said.

"Lady Cordelia is managing pressing family matters," Cinder reminded her.

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"Then we need to create pressing family matters that require her immediate attention," Ember replied.

The discussion was interrupted by Marcus's arrival, announced by a knock that sounded more like a demand for entry. He entered their sitting room with the confidence of someone who owned everything he surveyed.

"Good morning, ladies," he said, settling into their best chair without invitation. "I trust Henrik explained this week's arrangements?"

"He mentioned you'd be providing oversight," Ash said carefully.

"Personal attention to ensure optimal results," Marcus corrected. "Your debut performances require careful management to maximize impact."

"Debut performances," Ember said.

"House Silverwood represents important political connections," Marcus explained. "Your presentation tonight must demonstrate House Brightblade's superior judgment in selecting sponsored associates."

"Superior judgment," Kindle repeated.

"Quality always recognizes quality," Marcus continued with satisfaction. "House Silverwood will understand immediately that your capabilities exceed anything their sponsored individuals can provide."

"You're using us to intimidate rival families," Cinder observed.

"I'm using your exceptional talents to demonstrate House Brightblade's commitment to excellence," Marcus replied smoothly. "The intimidation is merely a pleasant side effect."

"The family is sponsoring us," Ash observed. "Not just you."

"I represent our family in this matter," Marcus replied, reaching down to scratch the salamander behind its horn ridges. Spark hissed, shifting closer to Pyra's legs as if seeking protection from this unwelcome invader.

"Pretty sure your mother's actually the head of the household," Pyra said, gently nudging Marcus's hand away from the salamander. "Which means we still answer to her."

"Mother has placed the matter in my hands," Marcus confirmed. "That makes you my responsibility, at least for now."

The conversation continued, becoming increasingly tense as Marcus detailed his expectations for their performance that evening. After he left, the five looked at the salamander, whose tail thumped the carpet with a sound like the world's smallest drum.

They arrived at House Silverwood's manor dressed in matching gowns selected by Marcus based on his family's colors. The fabrics were expensive and cut to flatter their athletic builds, but also limited movement. Their hairstyles had been coiffed into elaborate updos that required more time and effort than felt strictly necessary.

Ember, in particular, couldn't stop trying to touch her hair as if it were a poorly balanced stack of fruit.

The Silverwood manor occupied a walled compound set amid park-like grounds filled with manicured gardens and sculptures that were definitely statuesque. House guards greeted their carriage with wary respect before directing them to a secondary entrance marked by heavy brass doors.

Marcus preceded them into the hall with confident steps, forcing the five to follow like obedient ducklings swimming behind an extremely over-confident mother duck. Servants appeared to assist their arrival and direct them towards what was apparently the gathering for "notable guests who don't quite warrant formal reception".

The five exchanged glances at this pronouncement, but Marcus seemed content with the arrangement. Perhaps that meant Cordelia's approval rating among certain segments of the upper class was not universally accepted.

"Remember," Marcus said as they entered. "Mingle. Engage in conversation. Demonstrate why House Brightblade is the superior patron." He handed each of them a delicate champagne flute filled with sparkling liquid. "Present yourselves professionally."

The hall was a study in understated elegance: marble floors, gold-trimmed wallpaper, and elaborate chandeliers that cast warm light on silk-clad guests. Laughter and conversation filled the room like musical background noise played to cover more important conversations in intimate corners.

"House Brightblade's newest acquisitions," announced Lady Silverwood as she approached with the sort of smile that suggested she was about to enjoy herself at someone else's expense. She was tall, with silver-white hair swept into a complicated style that required either magic or an entire box of pins.

Marcus offered a smooth bow, then took Lady Silverwood's hand for a kiss that felt more like a power move than a polite gesture.

"A pleasure as always, Lady Silverwood," he said with practiced charm. "I believe you've been introduced to the Fragmented Flame."

The women's names were ignored. Marcus gestured at them with his champagne glass as if introducing another decorative statue for the gardens outside. They smiled politely but inwardly bristled with growing annoyance at being treated like expensive toys.

"Your associates are certainly... eye-catching," Lady Silverwood said, scanning their faces like she was appraising matching tea services. "I hadn't realized that quintuplets were a thing outside of fairy tales and naughty novels."

"They are an extraordinary find," Marcus agreed. "My mother's excellent taste and talent for acquiring exceptional talent continue to set standards for all of Amaranth's families."

"Indeed," Lady Silverwood replied, her tone frosty. "Your mother's impeccable judgment is renowned among Amaranth's social set, especially regarding individuals whose reputations might require... remedial support."

"We all do what we can to offer charitable opportunities," Marcus said with a forced smile.

The conversation continued with Marcus and Lady Silverwood exchanging increasingly barbed remarks while their audience offered polite smiles that failed to conceal growing tension.

"How delightfully confident. I understand they've agreed to provide entertainment for this evening's gathering?"

"Cultural demonstration," Marcus corrected.

"Of course. Cultural demonstration." Lady Silverwood's smile sharpened. "My guests are quite eager to witness capabilities that justify House Brightblade's recent... enthusiasm."

The word 'enthusiasm' carried implications that made Marcus's jaw tighten slightly. Political undercurrents flowed between the noble families like invisible currents, and the five were clearly being positioned as weapons in conflicts they didn't understand.

"Your guests won't be disappointed," Marcus replied with confidence that sounded forced.

"I certainly hope not," Lady Silverwood said. "Disappointing performances can be so... awkward... for everyone involved."

The threat was subtle but unmistakable. Marcus had committed House Brightblade's reputation to their performance, and failure would have consequences that extended beyond mere embarrassment.

They were ushered to a raised platform that had been constructed specifically for their demonstration. The audience—three dozen nobles from various houses—arranged themselves on comfortable seating that afforded excellent views of the upcoming show, drinks in hand and expectations high.

"Do not disappoint," Marcus murmured before they entered the makeshift stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lady Silverwood announced, "House Brightblade presents the Fragmented Flame—quintuplet adventurers whose identical abilities offer a symphony of magical wonders for your cultural enrichment."

The introduction felt like being announced at an auction, as if they were awaiting the opening bid. Laughter and chatter quieted to anticipatory silence as they prepared.

"This is awful," Kindle murmured.

"Get it over with," Ember replied. "Play the part."

What followed was fifteen minutes of choreographed firework displays: spiraling flames, swirling patterns, and displays of individual skill that made the audience gasp and applaud. Cinder's final crimson explosion drew cheers that filled the room with sound.

They received a standing ovation from their assembled audience, though Lady Silverwood's gaze held the cool calculation of someone tallying the impact on their status among Amaranth's social hierarchy.

"That went better than expected," Marcus said, joining them as they stepped down from the platform to rejoin the party.

"I noticed," Ember replied.

"You noticed," Marcus repeated with amusement. "That sounds almost resentful. But of course you're not. You're too valuable for petty feelings."

"Of course," Ash replied for all of them.

"Indeed," Marcus smiled. "Now go—mingle. Engage in conversation. Demonstrate why House Brightblade is the superior patron."

Marcus melted into the crowd of guests with ease that spoke of long experience navigating these social circles.

"What now?" Pyra asked.

"We do what he said," Ember said, "but not for the reasons he thinks."

They spent the remainder of the party mingling among the guests, answering questions about their abilities and offering vague descriptions of their adventuring career. Interest in their individual skills was high, but even more popular were the questions about House Brightblade's patronage and what it implied for Amaranth's social hierarchies.

"Play the part," Ember had said. "Show them the prize, but let them wonder about what's beneath the wrapping."

They adopted subtle flirtation with individuals who seemed most intrigued by their talents. Ash exchanged winks with a matron seeking a flame-haired governess for her children's evening fire safety instruction, while Pyra performed small feats of fire manipulation for an elderly nobleman interested in private performances.

Cinder's attention remained focused on potential sources of useful information, like the young duke who mentioned rumors of House Brightblade's expansion plans and the dowager duchess who hinted at scandalous details about Marcus himself. By evening's end, they'd collected a treasure trove of gossip and innuendo that was as valuable as actual gold.

The return carriage ride was filled with weariness bordering on exhaustion, broken by occasional bursts of conversation comparing notes on their social endeavors.

"That went well," Pyra observed.

"Better than expected," Ash agreed.

"Almost enjoyable," Kindle conceded.

"Marcus looked smug," Cinder noted.

"Being ogled isn't high on my list of job responsibilities," Ember said. "But we're building connections. That has value." She paused, staring out the carriage's window into the passing streets. "We need to build influence of our own before House Brightblade swallows us whole."

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