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[u][b]Aliquam: La Mansión de Cervántes
The Next Morning[/b][/u]

“Oh, my aching head… why didn’t I learn my lesson…?”

Sitting upon one of the chairs resting by the lavish oaken table of the Cervantés family’s kitchen, Dylan nursed a cup of coffee in one hand, the other supporting his throbbing head as he leaned forwards and rested his weight on his elbow. He couldn’t remember how much he had drunk from the night before at Tobias’ party, but considering how terribly his head pulsed and throbbed, he could deduce that it was a lot indeed. One part of him chastised himself for the pain, the other was more concerned for what he could have done, and thankfully, from the looks of things, hadn’t. The last time he had woken up with a hangover as severe as this was at Los Paraisos, and what happened then was…

The matter artist grimaced again. As much as he enjoyed the wine, he had to put an end to it. Last night was the last night. 

He sulkily sighed and almost collapsed onto the table. Why oh why did he leave his bed again…?

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“Serves you right,” Called a gentler, feminine voice from Dylan’s side. He didn’t need to look to know that it was his sister Dalia, standing besides the kitchen table with one knife in hand, preparing lunch for her brother and his friends later in the day. Rose and Angel had all manner of staff ready to serve to them and their guests’ needs, including a cook for the breakfast, but Dalia wanted to take the extra effort to prepare their lunches herself. It was a simple case of sandwiches, but she thought it was more rewarding, and tastier, when made with such personal care. 

“Make sure you don’t move too quickly or fast,” Dalia continued. “We don’t want you to be sick, again. You need to get yourself well rested up, Dylan. You have work tonight.”

“Don’t remind me…” Dylan moaned. 

“Unless you think it’d be better to skip it, all things considering. The way you are now…”

“I’ll be fine by then, I promise. Just… talk a bit quieter?” 

Dalia tuttered and shook her head from side to side. “Dylan, Dylan, Dylan. Little brother. Let this be a lesson for you.” The Priestess said with a smile. “Anyway, I need to leave and head for the Academy now, and speak with the Headmaster and other Priests and Priestesses. You and your friends can come arrive later, your lunch is all in the fridge. Let’s not forget that tonight we need to catch a thief.”

“Yes,” Dylan replied, covering his face with his hand again. “A bloody thief.”

Dalia walked past Dylan, and exited through the kitchen door to the stately garden outside. As her feet trudged upon the stone steps, towards a carriage and waiting driver ready to spirit Dalia to the Academy, she smiled and waved, bidding a farewell to Estelle as she went past. 

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Already up, Estelle was training, in her full outfit and gear (all brought from Dylan and Dalia’s home by Dalia earlier that morning), swinging her sword about in practiced strokes, again and again. Finishing her routine exercise, Estelle came to a stop, covered in and dripping with sweat. Picking up the towel lying by the ground next to a water bottle, she patted herself down, and waved goodbye to Dalia, the gates at the far end of the driveway creaking open to permit her exit. 

Estelle turned, walking back to Rose and Angel’s mansion, intent on taking a shower and then enjoying some breakfast. Hopefully the others might be awake yet. 

Tonight, she would do everything in her power to catch the Masked Phantom, no matter what.