"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances." - William Shakespeare, As You Like It

Half a dozen men wearing leather armor held out torches, the firelight dancing across the walls of the underground hall. The man in the front was not holding a torch, but instead a feather that was floating right above his palm. The feather would move a little to the left or right, but it continued to point in the same general direction. It was a magically enhanced compass that was meant to lead the group to the heart of the caverns. Only time would tell if it was going to get them to their destination, or if this was all a trap meant to bury them in an early tomb.

"Are you sure they're gonna be here?" A man in the back whimpered. He looked around the darkness that seemed to be slowly getting closer to him. He held a dagger close to his body. It was meant to protect him, but he trembled so much that he was lucky the blade didn't cut into his own flesh.

"If you question me one more time, I will cut you down," The man in the front of the group said, turning around with a sharp glare. He let his gaze continue over the rest of the group. The one hand that wasn't holding up the feather reached down for the hilt of his sword as a means of threatening the members of their little faction. When he didn't receive any complaints from his subordinates, he continued to follow the ebony feather that guided him forward.

Eventually, the cave opened up into a large cavern. The large room was illuminated by large crystals embedded into the roof. While the multi-colored gemstones were beautiful to view, all the attention was trained on the ground of the cavern. Huge beasts of dark black and purple energy that barely resemble any earthly creature were scattered around the ground. Even the smallest of these creatures was the size of a house, and the rest were soaring skyscrapers that were only dwarfed by the sheer size of the cavern. The men held out their weapons, but the intense trembling that overtook their body was enough to guarantee that they weren't going to win this fight.

A humanoid figure dropped down from the roof near the back of the cavern. The figure had short, almost-bronze hair with starry eyes that seemed to glow even brighter than the gemstones in the roof. The figure was wearing a blue overcoat with gray buttons and white pants. The only reason the figure was not immediately recognized as a human being was because the figure had a potent silver aura surrounding them, a thin white mist that resembled a warm breath on a winter day.

"Is that one of the Chamberlains?" The man with the dagger spoke cautiously. The only thing he knew about the Chamberlain Troupe, the investments of Shakespeare, was from rumors about them. The one soaring in the sky resembled a figure from one of these rumors. They looked like Arwyn, more commonly referred to by the nickname bestowed upon them by Shakespeare: Pasquariello. The rumors implied that Pasquariello was a beautiful dancer, but most people could admit they had never seen a single performance. It was strange considering that Pasquariello followed Shakespeare, a Modern god who wanted to turn everything into a show.

"What the fuck are they intending to do?" The man in the front said. He tried clenching his fist around the ebony feather that led him to the monster-infested cavern. When his fingers snapped shut, the feather floated above the skin, barely missing his hand. He stared at the feather as it continued to float upwards. It remained near him, for now, but he knew that it was seconds away from zipping away to whoever had sent it. The person who had demanded his group meet the Chamberlain Troupe was going to arrive soon, and he was ready to demand answers.

Pasquariello started to fall towards the group. As they passed the monsters, the sword at their side swung out in quick motions. Pasquariello even kicked their legs and flung their arms with grace and precision to make sure their blade broke the skin of every monster. When they finally landed, they had the composure and beauty of a Fae creature. Pasquariello's eyes were closed as they held a pose. The tip of their sword touched the ground while they puffed out their chest to create an illusion of strength. In a single second, their blue overcoat melted into a black breastplate carved with the image of a mask. Their bronze hair lightened into a sickeningly bright snowy white.

"You fucking woke up those monsters!" The man in front said. He lifted his sword up with hand, and he tried grabbing the feather with the other one more time. He needed the person who sent the feather to arrive quickly to help him clean up the mess that Pasquariello had created.

Pasquariello's eyes opened wide. As soon as the blue light filled the room, the monsters behind them were ensnared in ice. The monsters were hidden behind glass cages that seemed to hold them back decently well. The cavern was filled with a sudden chill, and the white mist that came from the ice formed around Pasquariello's body to create a thick, fur cloak that protected them from the cold. The rest of the men were left defenseless against the chill.

"That was so impressive!" The man with the dagger said, stumbling forward to get a closer look at Pasquariello. The blue of their eyes faded to reveal a warm brown that sparkled like topaz. Pasquariello looked at the man with the dagger with a smile as cold as the glaciers behind them. The man took a single step back, but he refused to completely abandon his goal. He wanted to know what it felt like to be a powerful player in this game. Pasquariello had proven they had powerful skills.

"The monsters are still alive," The man in front said dismissively. Pasquariello raised an eyebrow, and in that instant, another figure walked towards them from in between the icy statues. The new figure was not holding a weapon, and their black cloak covered whatever outfit they could have been wearing. They did not have an aura around them like Pasquariello. In fact, they seemed a little less impressive compared to the winter show that Pasquariello had put on.

This was until they lifted their gloved hand. A blood red glyph spun in tight circles beneath all the monsters. It glowed brighter until the icy prisons were washed in the deep color, looking as if Parquariello had frozen blood instead of water. The new figure closed their fist, and thousands of red glowing strings shot out from every edge of the glyph to wrap around the monsters. The figure snapped their fingers, and the strings pulled taut. The ice cracked. After a moment, every one of the ice prisons shattered into thousands of pieces with the monsters inside receiving the same treatment.

Pierrot was the more commonly used name, but they could also be known as Nhi. Pierrot was renowned for being one of the most skilled mages in the new world. Pierrot had more rumors about them than any of the other Chamberlain because Pierrot was known for showing off to prove that the troupe was not worth messing with.

"You must be the one who sent this!" The leader said, gesturing towards the feather. Instead of floating towards Pierrot, the feather launched backwards like an arrow flung from a bow. The arrow stopped when it was the hands of a young man with dark blue hair that began with purple roots. He was wearing rust colored armor with the image of a hairy monster sewed onto his sleeve. He was surrounded by shadowy creatures with indiscernible forms that were a quarter of his size, each one holding one of the weapons of the group of men. The one standing right beside the man was holding a golden key that had been stolen from the leader of the group.

"I was the one that sent the feather. I was hoping you could join us," The man said. The man who used to have a dagger shivered uncomfortably. The person before him was Magnifico. Despite having an impressive title, there weren't many things known about him. The rumors placed him on both extremes. He was either the leader and mastermind, or he was a servant that carried out the orders of his fellow Chamberlain Troupers. His title either referred to his hierarchical position, or it could simply be in reference to his most famous skill: Shadow Puppets. It allowed Magnifico to create and manipulate little humanoids formed from sentient shadows that would do his bidding. Was his title talking about his control over his puppets, or was Shakespeare putting him in charge of the troupe?

"Wait... if these three are here... is she here, too?" One of the men whispered, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. He was terrified to utter the true name of the remaining member of the troupe. Pasquariello was known for their beautiful but deadly sword dances that brought down shimmering ice. Pierrot was known for being a world-class mage that could perform high-powered spells one after another with little consequence. Magnifico was known for his impressive skill and being the target of much speculation. There was one final member of the troupe who was known for an entire different reason than her colleagues.

"Don't worry. She won't join us unless you tell us what we want to know," Pasquariello said, shaking their head. As they did, the white dripped out of their hair. It was replaced with a soft brown, a stark difference from the color it was before. When Pasquariello looked at the group of men, their eyes were a pale, pastel pink that throbbed with a pleasant light meant to put the entire group at ease.

"That's why we need you to be honest. If you aren't, we'll be forced to call the Hellhound to devour you," Pierrot said. All Pasquariello's efforts to calm the group's nerves were rendered useless after that name was spoken. Unlike her fellow troupe members, the Hellhound's nickname was not officially known. People only called her Hellhound because she had a reputation for dragging people down to hell. She was not as graceful or mesmerizing as her companions, but she was twice as brutal and efficient in a fight.

"Where did you find this key?" Magnifico said, picking the key up out of the outstretched hand of his puppet. The key twinkled in the light of the crystals. Magnifico stared at the key as he raised it above his head. His eyes narrowed at it. After a second of observation, Magnifico closed his fist around the key. He looked down at the leader of the group.

"I found it on the street," The leader said, his voice far quieter than it was earlier. It seemed that a realization had dawned on him. When he first arrived, he was certain that he would make it out alive. He thought that he could kill the Chamberlain troupe if worse came to worst. He was even willing to sacrifice his group to do that. He no longer had the same beliefs. Pasquariello and Pierrot had both proven that they could take him down easily. He had no doubt that those puppets Magnifico controlled could give him a run for his money. The mention of the Hellhound being involved is what truly terrified him. Anyone who thought they could kill that girl was found dismembered as if she had torn their flesh apart. Most knew that she had not done that herself, but she carried a weapon with her that could take down even the highest class monster. He was not a high class monster. He was a relatively low leveled human. He was going to die by her hands, and it would not be a clean, quick death.

"You did not," Magnifico said with no reaction passing over his face. The man took a half-step back, but he could feel the chilling aura of Pasquariello keeping him where he was standing.

"I did. I swear. I found it on the street. I thought it would be of some high value. I thought I could auction it off somewhere," The man continued to plead.

"Stop lying," Magnifico reiterated, calling the man's bluff.

"Fine! I saw a guy wearing it around his neck. I thought it was an important item that would attract the attention of investors, so I beat him up and took the key," The leader admitted.

"You were the one that stole it from our courier?" Pasquariello voiced their opinion. When the leader looked over his shoulder, he saw that they had their bronze hair back with dark colored eyes. It seemed that all helpful pretenses had been dropped the moment that the illusion magic dissipated.

"You don't look like much," Pierrot chuckled.

"This isn't the first time you have stolen from someone else, and it certainly isn't the first time you beat someone into submission. That alone can't be forgiven. But the reason you will be punished today is because this key is very important. That courier was assigned this task by Shaxpar himself, and he is very upset that this key didn't get where it needed to be," Magnifico said. He took a few steps back. The leader of the group heard someone snap their fingers. Pierrot and Pasquariello appeared right beside Magnifico. Pierrot threw their hand up, and a glyph appeared beneath their feet that encompassed their friends. The dull glow of the glyph brightened until the trio was surrounded by a golden yellow forcefield. Magnifico looked the leader right in the eyes before calling out, "Covielle."

A murderous aura filled the large cavern. Most of the men hit their knees, gasping for air. The leader was able to buckle his knees together. He remained upright, but he wished he could have gone down when he saw the figure slowly approaching him from the other side of the cavern. It looked like a young woman. She was wearing black armor, a series of interlocked scales that used to belong to a sea monster. She was wearing a three-fourths mask that only revealed her left cheek and half of her lips. Her brown hair had been pulled into a ponytail, a few strands left to frame her face. She had icy, stark blue eyes. They were bright when everything else about her was dark. If that wasn't terrifying enough, she was holding a dark colored spear. It seemed to be forged from the same material as her armor, but the craftsmanship was leagues above anything the woman could ever be. The black spear was ensnared in vine-like barbs that all converged to form a thorny spearhead.

"That's the Hellhound," One of the men said, bringing his hand to his bleeding nose. Each step the Hellhound- Covielle- pressured the air even more than the last. Even the leader had fallen to the ground. His eyes were pinned on Covielle in some magnetic trance. She stopped walking. He wanted to believe that he would be safe, but he knew that he wouldn't be.

He watched as her lithe arm rose up to hold the spear in the position of a javelin. Her eyes met his as she took a giant step forward. The ground cracked beneath her armored foot. As her arm came slinging forwards, she yelled out the name of her weapon and the attack that she was launching. It was a name that he knew only from rumors. The spear of mortal pain. The notched spear. The belly spear. "Gáe Bulg!"

The spear came right for him. He could do nothing to move out of the way as the spear made from scales pierced through his heart. He choked out a breath, his hands coming up to touch the wound. Before he could, however, the real reason Gáe Bulg was terrifying activated. The leader screamed as thousands of brambles as strong as iron and twice as sharp shot out from the spear. Most shot out from his body, coated in his blood. The thorny wires entered into the bodies of the five men all around him. The wires, like live snakes, crawled and squirmed in their bodies, tearing flesh and shredding organs. All the men screamed, blood pouring out from thousands of holes that were tearing open their skin like a scissor blade shreds paper.

Gáe Bulg spanned out of the first man's body, bringing all the wires out with it. All the men released a second scream as the wires that fought so hard to carve out a place in their bodies were torn out without any thoughts. The brambles were gone by the time the spear landed back in Covielle's gloved hand. True to the rumors, she was the last thing they all saw before they dropped dead to the ground, their bodies torn like they were a dog's chew toy.

"Very good, Covielle," Magnifico smiled, looking down at his friend instead of the bodies he had just sent to die in such a bloody way. Covielle smiled back at him, wiping away the blood from her spear. "We got the key back. Now, we have to go tell Shakespeare."

"I have to go talk to Cu Chuliann. That mangy mutt is probably upset that I used Gáe Bulg for such a petty reason. Make sure that you donate all the extra Fame we earned to Angel of Assassination!" Covielle called out, turning away from the group as she brought up her status screen. She tapped a few buttons, leading her to the option of messaging her investors. She found the one labeled 'Hound of Ireland'. Covielle, like everyone in the Chamberlain Troupe, had a secondary investor who gave her most of her skills. Covielle had signed a contract with Cu Chuliann, or if she was going by his modifier, Hound of Ireland.

Pasquariello had signed a contract with Mab, Queen of Air and Darkness. This gave Pasquariello the skills that allowed them to perform the Sword Dance of Winter, and skill that guaranteed each cut would create magical ice. It cost a lot of mana, so Pasquariello also gained a few skills that allowed them to use their sword offensively.

Pierrot signed a contract with the Lady of the Lake, Vivian, known as Ondine Weaponsmith. This gave Pierrot access to a vast amount of mana to power their spells, and it allowed them to create structures out of mana that were far superior than what anyone else could do with the same amount of mana.

It was Magnifico that no one knew the secondary sponsor of. There had been many guesses, but he would never reveal who was also investing in him.

"I guess the rest of us can go," Pierrot said with a shrug, leaving Covielle behind as she argued with Cu Chuliann. Pasquariello followed their friend, the two of them disappearing. Magnifico remained, staring down at the bodies. He clenched the key in his fist with a dark look passing over his face.

"Hey, are we leaving or what? I'm starving. And I wanna know if Charlotte saw what I did! Do you think she was impressed?" Covielle said, looking away from the open chat between her and Cu Chuliann. She waved the screen away with her hand, staring over at Magnifico with a smile rising to her lips. Magnifico nodded, and the two of them left the cavern behind.

She had seen that look, though. He knew that she had. This was just the first crack.