Rainoga

The Gildhook Parlour is more than a tea room—it's the whispered pulse of the Upper City’s true economy. Run by the elusive Gildhook Syndicate, a network of whisper-dealers, contract-holders, and “retired” assassins, it’s a place where power changes hands in quiet, porcelain ritual. Nobles with ink-stained fingers and merchants with gold-laced smiles come here not for the scones, but for influence. A name dropped in the right ear over jasmine tea might spark a war—or end one. Its reputation? Impeccable. Its clients? Discreet. Its staff? Utterly lethal. While outwardly polite, everything here is transactional. A certain table with lavender napkins is reserved for poison brokers. A specific bell chime in the backroom signals a payout for a completed job. The servers—draped in velvet and lace—move like dancers, offering infusions of rare mint or bloodroot as easily as they offer silent death. Newcomers often arrive thinking this den of velvet-draped predators is a place of elegance.

Nestled behind a high wrought-iron gate, the Gildhook Parlour features aged limestone and blackwood columns, with tall arched windows draped in plum velvet. A carved golden hook hangs above the door, and lanterns burn with flickering purple flames, illuminating a misty courtyard with gold-flecked koi.