Social status was never something that could be escaped. In some ways, the military served to level the playing field--but only in some ways. The nobles were always a little better, their training often having begun as children, daddy's coin capable of hiring the best private trainers. Their gear was the same quality, only nobles would return home and have blacksmiths recreate the exact item with higher quality metals and more skill, maintaining the general presentation while increasing the value and overall quality. Bunk in the military wing should have been equalizing, but the influence of a nobleman often resulted in his bunk being in the better location or being the more sturdy piece of furniture. Life was just like that, Octavius had found, and while he didn't necessarily exploit it, there was undeniable perks.

That is, unless you were a commoner in a nobleman's title.

When the invitation for the casual party landed in his hands, Wolfbrand assumed it was a mistake. Parties were for nobles. He was...okay, technically a noble, but practically a commoner. Still, this particular newer recruit didn't seem to care. If you had the status and fell within his specific preferences for guests, you got an invitation.

The estate was close enough to Skia to make it easy to attend. So why not? The size and general ambiance conveyed that they weren't the wealthiest nobles, but they certainly weren't like Octavius. He attended in formal brown robes that had seen better days, lent to him by a friend from a bar he frequented. His hair was slicked and his face groomed. He looked as good as he ever would, and kind of poor, but he had the invitation in hand and so he was allowed to enter.

He immediately discerned that this was a military noble ball. Not all military, of course, no one of any significant rank was present. In fact, he even saw a few individuals who were no longer in the military. There was much talking, much laughter, and much alcohol. It was cheap, he concluded from his first sip, but tonight it was free so he had no complaints. There was food, but not much and not a large selection. The musicians were mediocre and a little disorganized. Some attendees trickled up the stairs to who knew where.

Octavius stood by with a broad, friendly smile, looking for a familiar face. He found one easily and moved in for the greeting and conversation. It was while he was engaged that his eye jumped to a dark, familiar face. He was caught mid sentence.