¶ The Harlequins
Completely Unhinged. Painfully Colourful Puppies. Know what you did last Solstice.
Slogan: "We offer comfort and companionship."
Unofficial Slogan: "Where secrets sparkle and consequences sting."
Motive: To entertain, protect, and gently extort, in that order. To make Calad Bar more beautiful, more honest, and less awful — using glitter, gossip, and one very well-dressed Rottweiler.
Unofficial Mascot: A silky-coated spaniel wearing a theatrical mask and a leash that doubles as a truth spell.
¶ Overwiev
The Harlequins are Calad Bar's premier purveyors of entertainment, indulgence, and inconvenient truths. They run the Alehorn District's finest theatres, clubs, brothels, spas, and the occasional "wellness saloon", which offers everything from scented oils to licensed emotional breakdowns.
They are not a guild. They are an institution — equal parts cabaret, confession booth, and counterintelligence agency.
Their public face is one of lace, laughter, and lavender-scented linens. But behind the velvet curtains and mood lighting lies a surprisingly efficient network of spies, seductresses, informants, actors, dancers, and disapproving grandmothers with notebooks.
¶ Activities
When people relax — be it with wine, romance, or interpretive mime — they tend to talk. The Harlequins listen. Very politely. Very quietly. Very thoroughly.
Information gathered is filed, catalogued, and occasionally sold, though only under two conditions:
- It must benefit the community.
- It must amuse Malicia the Just.
Sometimes this information is used to blackmail corrupt officials, nudge smugglers back under quota, or gently but firmly convince certain visitors to stop kicking their dogs. Because the Harlequins like dogs. A lot.
They never target the poor — only the greedy. And while their methods are... unorthodox, their results are remarkably civic-minded.
Those caught lining their pockets too much — say, by smuggling just a little too successfully — may find themselves invited for a "chat" with a Harlequin representative, who smiles sweetly and predicts that one of the following things will happen:
- A generous donation will be made to the Harlequin Benevolent Fund for Lost Pet Toys.
- A sealed letter will arrive at the Khelda's desk, marked "Urgent" and "Oh dear".
The Khelda, of course, knows exactly what's going on, but she has never asked and would rather not be told, thank you. This way, she doesn't have to act like a tyrant. Which, clearly, she isn't. Obviously.
¶ Support Animals
Beyond velvet and secrets, the Harlequins also care deeply for the city's well-being. For those experiencing grief, loneliness, or the crushing dread of a midlife spellcasting failure, the Harlequins offer emotional support dogs — available for walks, cuddles, and passive-aggressive growling at bad exes.
These dogs are lovingly cared for, impeccably trained, and often know three languages and local tax codes.
¶ Mistress
Malicia the Just is Calad Bar's unflinching moral compass in silk, heels and glitter eyeliner — a reformed succubus turned matron of the Harlequins who swapped hellfire for high society and now delivers justice with a smile, a song, and the occasional enchanted stiletto to the shin.
Armed with impeccable taste and a glare that melts lies like cheap wax, she runs a network of salons, clubs, and confession booths where the cocktails are strong and the performers stronger.
She knows everything — because people either tell her or because she already knew — and she ensures safety, glamour, and fairness with the help of her loyal dog Fluffy, who wears tailored dresses and judges souls by ankle proximity. Malicia doesn't run the Alehorn District. She simply ensures it runs well — or else.
