Thick tendrils of mist were sneaking through the nightly street. Tall, Victorian buildings loomed down on it, and soft, orange light flowed out of arched windows to be diffused in the vapours. The occasional cloaked figure would make its way through the street, leaving a trail of roiling mist in their wake. Currently, Roland was following one of these trails.
Like everyone else around, he wore a long black cloak over a suit, clutched a cane in his left hand and topped it all off with a hat. While top-hats were the norm, Roland felt like being a little different and wore a slouch one. Of course, that wasn't the only way he differed from most of those around him. But Roland's other differences would have to wait, as the one he was following had reached a destination.
A door slightly beneath street level led into a low-ceilinged basement packed to capacity by men in black hats and coats and ladies in their long, more colourful gowns. Immediately upon en