No king? Sjan-dehk wasn’t sure if it was annoyance or delight that filled his heart. On the one hand, it meant that his crew’s over-hurried toil had been all for naught. On the other, it made the royal tutor look laughably foolish, and that was always something he could cheer for.

Ultimately, he decided on a mix of both emotions. The smile on his face was welcoming, but irritation laid shallow in his heart. How good of a king could this Edin be, if his royal word was only as good as sodden gunpowder? For a task as simple as a mere walk through his own city, no less. “Stand the men down,” he said in a low voice to Mursi, his eyes never leaving the two men standing on the pier alongside their small contingent of guards. Royal guards, Sjan-dehk noted. Their uniforms were not unlike the ones he had seen at the castle.

“Welcome to Sada Kurau. I am Wasun Sjan-dehk. Her captain.” Sjan-dehk called back, holding up a hand. “We ah…We thought the king was coming.” He pointed to the Celestine across from him and behind the men. “No need to come. Ship to inspect is over there. Wait. I bring you.” Behind him, Mursi barked a rapid series of commands. They were followed by plenty of grousing by the sharpshooters, but also an equal amount of relieved comments from the very same men.

“Young marcher prince, should we not invite them aboard?” The royal tutor asked in a mutter.

Sjan-dehk offered a minute, almost unnoticeable shrug in response. “There’s no reason for them to. Only reason the king would’ve come aboard was to inspect the Sudah’s goods. These–” he surreptitiously tilted his chin towards the two men. “–people said they want to inspect the Celestine.”

The tutor’s face wrinkled in a frown. “Still, it would be polite–”

“The king’s showing us what politeness gets us in this city, most knowledgeable one.” There was a bite in Sjan-dehk’s words, but in truth, he didn’t feel particularly slighted. In fact, the king’s absence saved him the headache of having to use polite speech and perform the usual courtly nonsense. Granted, it would’ve all been greatly truncated – a ship’s captain was a king of kings when aboard their vessel, of course – but it would’ve still been a trouble he’d rather go without. Even so, he would’ve appreciated it if the king could at least keep true to his word.

“They look like the king’s men,” the tutor pointed out. “We should treat them properly, at the very least.”

“And I’m our queen’s captain. We’re equally matched, wouldn’t you agree?” Sjan-dehk flashed the old man a mischievous grin before starting to make his way down the gangplank. He hadn’t been joking; the king’s men were here to inspect the Celestine, and that was what Sjan-dehk would help them do. No more, no less. Once he was closer, he gave them a slight bow of his head that could be seen as apologetic. “I must tell my men you are here. Excuse me.”

Sjan-dehk walked around them until he was at the base of the Celestine’s gangplank. Looking up, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Master Hai-shuun! The king’s men are here!”

The response was instant. “Yes, captain! The ship’s ready for inspection!”

That was quite the overstatement, to say the least. None of it was Hai-shuun’s or the crew’s fault; there was only so much they could do with the time afforded to them. Even standing on the pier, it was clear from the discoloured planking that the Celestine had seen far, far better days. Though her sails had been neatly furled and lashed to their yardarms, the gaping holes shot through them were still easily visible to even an untrained eye. That said nothing of the thin cracks appearing like vines gripping the hull which were, put simply, impossible to fix without more time and materials.

It would have to do. Besides, Sjan-dehk didn’t want her to look too good.

“This way,” he said and beckoned for the two men to follow him up the gangplank. “My men did their best, but ah…You can see she is still not good.”

---

”Well…” John gave a slight chuckle and a sideways glance as Mina took the handkerchief from his hand. ”My schedule is always welcome.” He then glanced away as she was doing her thing. His words caused Mina to give a pause in what she was doing, glancing at him with an inquisitive smirk. He crossed his hands at the back,giving any weird looks and gossips a cold glare, waiting for either Mina to finish or the carriage to arrive. Both seemed to come at roughly the same time.

”Yeah, I’d agree, though it’s probably different for me than for you.” John gave a rather faint smile, as the carriage stopped. Before the driver needed to hop down to service his guests, John already opened the door and handed the driver the destination and his payment. Before long, he was in the carriage, sitting next to Mina when she asked about the blood sample.

”Oh for sure. It’s been a while since I met your uncle, hope nothing’s up with him.”

Mina couldn’t contain the small laugh at John’s last words, trying to figure out what the best response would be. ”Well I suppose strange things have been happening with me for a while and my uncle’s condition isn’t devoid of that.” She finally said, now unbuttoning her sleeves and rolling them up some. She seemed to relax a bit more, now out of the prying eyes of the public. ”While he has good days and bad days, the bad days are beginning to happen more often. The sunlight sensitivity seems to worsen on his bad days, he becomes rather irritable, and even I rarely see him anymore when those days are upon us.” She finally said with a sigh, glancing at John with a solemn smile.

”Well, that’s never good to hear.” John crossed his arms upon Mina saying, his casual friendliness earlier noticeably vanishing.

”So I’ve begun closely monitoring his vitals on those bad days and recently have been taking weekly blood samples to examine myself. Obviously I’m no doctor, but I’ve found something curious and honestly you’re the only person, let alone doctor, I feel I can trust with this.”

Hmm, it’s back to the whole blood sample. He did tell Mina about how to take blood samples, yes, but that was a while ago when he was still living in Kolonivka. She did ask for specifics recently, which he didn’t really pay much thought over other than the thorough technical description. But now that she said it, he was the only person she could trust. He really felt honored that this was the case, especially for someone of status and connection like Mina, who had no shortage of close confidants, and that often included the person who probably should have known this info before he did.

”For sure, discretion shall be kept in my veins.” He said, tapping his index finger a couple times on his thigh. ”But your uncle’s physician, who were they…Dr. Igor, right? Do they know this information?”

A soft smile graced Mina’s lips before she reached over and squeezed John’s hand. ”Thank you John, I truly appreciate you being discreet.” At the mention of Dr. Igor, however, a scene flashed in her mind. The older man had been berating Mina for taking some matters into her own hands, despite her attempting to share it with him. Her uncle had overheard the whole thing and an unusual burst of anger overtook him.

”Ah, Dr. Igor unfortunately resigned after a small accident befell him several months ago. I’ve been the sole caretaker of my uncle since then.” She said with a sad sigh, not revealing much more than that. ”He was gracious enough to leave me with some of his medical supplies, though, since it’s so hard for us to get good doctors willing to move to Kolonivka.”

’That’s a weird way of putting it.’ Was what John thought as he heard of what happened. But he too left at that, as Igor was just a local physician and not a part of the Institute, and they didn’t meet that much, so he couldn’t know exactly what happened there.

”Well that sucks. There really needs to be more development for Krasivaya. They aren’t getting enough attention.” John said, rolling his eyes a little, but returned back to the topic at hand. ”Yeah, I’ll take a look. But the topic of importance right now is you. What were you doing in the execution arena there to be like that?”

”Agreed.” Mina said simply in response to development, she truly was all for developing her lands more and planned to focus more on that once she became countess. For now, though, she was rather preoccupied in keeping the peace and caring for her uncle.

He moved the conversation on to the execution and why she was there. She thought for a moment on how to respond. ”I was there merely out of curiosity, I suppose. An execution with no explanation of the crime, I found it quite curious. Besides, it’s always good to know what crimes other kingdoms are dealing with in case it happens in your own, wouldn’t you agree?” She explained, actually being rather truthful. She did leave out her initial suspicion of magic being involved. ”It ended up being quite a bit more intense than I’d anticipated. For one, it was far warmer than I’d thought it would be. Then there was the actual execution. The man was absolutely mad and something…nefarious seemed to be at work there.”

”I guess yeah.” In the world of politicking, it was probably so. Though for John he’d probably be fine shifting through the paperwork that accompanied these crime cases, but executions are perhaps the most obvious and exciting. He listened to her observation with a little bit of skepticism. Not for her words, her words he had no doubts about, but its implications. A warmer stage could mean a lot of things, from poor crowd control to ventilation, and a madman…well he had been a Caesonian once…

”That could mean a lot, but I guess we’ll see when we get back to the guest house.” He said, something which they were not that far away from. Very soon, the carriage arrived outside the guesthouse yard, and John, like usual, took the initiative and went ahead. He asked a maid for the usual items he’d need delivered to a vacant empty bedroom.

”Alright, let’s help ourselves.” John said, inviting her to sit on the bed. ”How are you feeling exactly? From then till now. You can be honest with me.”

Mina had a request of her own of the maid, instructing her to bring her a box from her room. In said box was the blood sample she’d mentioned to John earlier. For now, however, she needed to let John do his examination. So she listened to him, taking a seat on the bed and even getting a bit comfortable by leaning back. ”Well…” She began to ponder, thinking of exactly what had all happened. ”I felt completely fine at first, I was speaking with Leo about the execution as it began. It wasn’t until the execution began that the headache hit. I felt compelled at that moment to catch the eye of the dying man and that’s when it all went black.” She went on to say, speaking the truth…for the most part.

”After that I saw a memory of me as a little kid with a friend and my mother. Then I woke up and everyone was freaking out. I felt dizzy and weak and frankly quite parched, which is still how I’m feeling honestly.” She explained with a small sigh.

”That’s…”

Oddly specific timing...it is quite odd that it happened like that. Could that just be a complete coincidence? It better be so. It basically checked out with the other list of what seemed to happen.

The servant arrived at the room with a tray with two cups and a jar of cool water. As soon as the servant left, the doctor touched the jar with the back of his hand, making sure the water was relatively cool and not freezing. Then he poured both of them a cup, though Mina’s more full than his, considering she probably needed more of them. ”If heat is just the issue, this should help after a while.”

He took a sip of water before taking out a white fountain pen to write down a few things in the blank sheet of paper he had in his pocket, seemingly a checklist of sorts. Then, he raised a hand a little bit, with a little hesitation and a request. ”If you don’t mind.”

While John was pouring the water, Mina tucked the box the servant had brought her beside her. She would wait for an appropriate time to present it to John, but for now she took the water and took a sip herself. The cool liquid was quite refreshing, not having realized how thirsty she actually was. ”Be my guest.” She responded as she leaned in a bit closer.

Gently, he laid his palm on her forehead before leaning forward and laying his forehead on the same hand’s wrist, so as to compare the temperature. It was close enough that she could feel the warmth from him as well.

Mina sat silent for a few moments, simply watching John, his closeness not going unnoticed by her. He would likely find that she was a bit cooler to the touch than he’d probably expected, but she’d always run on the cooler side when it came to her temperature. She always figured it was because she came from such a cool climate, but John didn’t share it. His brows twisted in confusion but took his time to write it down carefully…

”Well Doctor, what’s your assessment? Perhaps I need mouth to mou-” She began to say teasingly, eyes trailing over his face, his lips. She was cut off, however, by a sharp pain in her head and she sucked in a breath as she winced. ”That damn headache is back.” She said through gritted teeth, her eyes clamped shut for a moment as she waited for the pain to pass. John almost dropped the note he was writing on, as he rushed back over to her side, an arm around her shoulders.

Almost as quickly as it had come on the pain seemed to subside and Mina slowly opened her eyes. ”You know this is exactly how my mother’s so-called madness began. Headaches and fainting spells. Perhaps I am to end up just like her.” She said with a small laugh, but she couldn’t hide the moment of fear she felt at the thought.

John’s eyes drooped down as he looked away, trying to hide away the worries he had for his friend. Everything he had been suspicious of recently - the Varian nobles the previous day, this weird execution, what Mina was going through, and now her mother’s story, something she had not really talked about until now - he was trying to dance around the uncomfortable possibility. Maybe it is time that he gave it the light that it deserved.

Like she once said… “The tears only flow when the coffins are closed.”

Those close to him might be at risk at the moment…

”Give me a second.” John stood up from his bed and headed over once again to the items that he requested. Two of the things he took out were both small canisters, but one that were difficult to notice was instead coming from his chest pocket. He handed both over to Mina.

”This one helps with headaches. It’s relatively harmless to have, but save it for what happens earlier. Just brew two teaspoon with warm water, just like how we have tea.” If she were to look inside, both are powder-like, but one is very visibly red and smelled pretty spicy. That one he handed afterwards. ”If your symptoms don’t go away, have this one, three teaspoons, and three salt teaspoons. It will be hard to drink at first, but it'll dampen these fainting spells.”

”That’s pretty much what I have for my assessment…” John said with a sigh. It was still a bit hard to take, and especially more so for Mina. He knew that nauseating moment; he knew how everyone whom he treated had felt. ”Oh and…it’s not really that effective, but…”

And so he leaned in for a kiss on her forehead. A soft touch that lasted for only a brief moment.

”Everything will be alright. Sometimes…madness can be beaten.”

An unexpected warmth bloomed in Mina’s chest as he kissed her forehead and his words only furthered that. He was giving her hope, the hope that she wouldn’t end up like her mother. It was a comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. So, setting the two small canisters on her lap, she reached up and gently touched his cheek before placing a kiss of her own on the other cheek.

”Thank you, John. You’ve always been a wonderful friend and I’m happy I have you to rely on.”

Time: 1pm
Location: The Ship Docks
Interaction: @Apex Sunburn Wasun Sjan-Dehk

---

Oswald stepped onto the gangplank with hands behind his back, silently observing the ship's condition. He paced around the ship thoughtfully, inspecting the deck, the rigging, the mast, and quite possibly anything he could lay his eyes on. She certainly wasn't a ship the King would ever want, but it could function for some uses. It could be repaired and made seaworthy again, but it would take time and resources. He considered the possibility of dismantling it for salvageable parts or doing a quick patch-up and overpricing it to an uninformed buyer. However, he was still not fully convinced it was worth the investment.

After a moment, he turned to Wasun Sjan-Dehk, "Forgive my inquiry, but I was curious to know if the presentation of this vessel is intended as a gift for His Majesty, or if it is only available for acquisition at a stated cost."

Interaction: Mayet @13org Roman @ReusableSword Sadie @Potter

"Lord Ravenwood, it was a pleasure hunting with you. A shame the bear changed the mood of the outing. Mayhaps I will visit your smithy when the opportunity presents itself." Munir said to Roman as he departed the group. It was truly an experience to see someone so proficient with the weapon that Munir did not, for a single moment, fear that they would become a burden and need defending. Roman Ravenwood, it is not the last time Munir would see the man.

Turning to the Varian princess next, Munir continued "No worries. Now that I know the dagger came from the hands of a skilled user, my previous fears are all gone. It was a pleasure meeting you, I'm sure we will be seeing each other around." Munir offered another bow, as the princess trotted off with her entourage towards her own afternoon engagement.

Finally, turning to his sister, his smirk ever present. "Sister Mayet. Is that a trace of jealousy I detect? It is very unbecoming of the great huntress of Alidasht, hm, Nala?" He reached down to gently stroke the chin of the great tigress. While kneeling by Nala, he continued "And no. It is not as it appears. I find the man interesting, yes, but not in the way you find him interesting. Your little... move did not go unnoticed. You wanted to conquer him, right then and there, didn't you? If we were not here, you would have, would you not? You would have taken him down, and feasted on the well toned body of that man..." He chuckled. "But, alas, it was not meant to be. At least not yet. It sounds like you might have booked yourself some blacksmith training. While I do have to get back to the castle and catch up on the events that we missed because of the rabid bear. I feel as if I'm missing something important. Besides, I have a need to visit the clothier for a custom item." He finished, walking over to the discarded beaver and retrieved it. He made two clicking noises to summon his horse. Tying the beaver with the rabbit to the saddle, he lithely mounted the horse and spoke one last time "Sister Mayet, I meant what I said earlier. I hope to not hear you and your bear of a man being too rowdy this evening. But do enjoy yourself. Gods know you want to..." He let out a hearty laugh before kicking his horse into a brisk cant and departed.

Sjan-dehk kept a respectable distance as he followed Oswald about the Celestine. The Caesonian laid his eyes on many things with a scrutinising gaze, but said nothing. Neither did his impassive face give away much of what he felt. The odd narrowing of the eyes here, an occasional twitch of the lip there, but nothing concrete. Nothing that told Sjan-dehk about the confirmed fate of the ship.

Beside him, Hai-shuun harrumphed and crossed his arms. “I’m not trying to be rude, captain,” he began, and Sjan-dehk immediately prepared himself to give the man a muted admonishment. “But do you think he knows what he’s even looking at?”

“I’m sure the king would’ve sent an expert,” Sjan-dehk replied in a murmur. He kept his tone and words as neutral as possible, but even was beginning to question Oswald’s knowledge of naval affairs. Surely, he would’ve by now noticed the many flaws and absolutely dismal state of the Celestine, and should’ve said something about it. She was in no state to be presented to a pauper, let alone royalty or even anyone only just tangentially related to the court, and Sjan-dehk knew it. She needed more time, more work.

Hai-shuun followed Oswald’s gaze up to the sails and the ratty lines that lashed them somewhat securely to their yardarms. From a distance, they looked presentable enough. Up close however, it was clear that everything – from sailcloth to hemp rope – was in dire need of replacement. “Well, I hope he’ll get this over and done with quickly. If we’re keeping this ship, I want us to start work on her before the sun goes down.”

As if on cue, the Caesonian turned to them and spoke. "Forgive my inquiry, but I was curious to know if the presentation of this vessel is intended as a gift for His Majesty, or if it is only available for acquisition at a stated cost."

And there it was. Hai-shuun needn’t worry about fixing up the Celestine. Even with a rough understanding of the local tongue, Sjan-dehk could tell that the ship wasn’t going to be his for much longer. It was not an outcome he hadn’t expected, but it was a disappointing one nonetheless. Though it likely wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been; if Aislin’s words were to be believed, the waters further out were teeming with small-time pirates and other nautical never-do-wells. There would be more chances for his crew to catch themselves a prize decent enough to add to their little flotilla.

“Master Hai-shuun, where did you put the prisoners?” Sjan-dehk asked his carpenter quietly.

“In the hold, captain. I have them tarring minor leaks.”

“Well, have them brought up,” the captain said and tilted his head towards Oswald. “I think we’re just about done with business here.”

Hai-shuun nodded. “Aye, captain.” With that, he snapped to a quick salute and left.

Sjan-dehk shifted his attention to the Caesonian. “Is a gift.” He said those words as if they were the most obvious thing in the world. Edin owned this city and, presumably, the waters around it. What sort of captain would he be if he demanded payment for this first prize? If anyone was paying anything, it would be him paying the king for the right to keep the Celestine, but Sjan-dehk wasn’t about to do that. She was a good ship, but not that good. “No payment. Your king can ah…Have it. If it is good enough for him.”

Time: 1pm
Location: The Ship Docks
Interaction: @Apex Sunburn Wasun Sjan-Dehk

---

As Oswald stepped aside and offered his sincere gratitude to Sjan-Dehk, Marciano stepped forward with a sense of purpose. With a dignified demeanor, he addressed the leader, "If I may, I request that the individuals or objects in question be presented for my inspection. I desire to thoroughly examine what it is that we shall be working with. Are these prisoners a gift as well?"

Marciano wanted to get a firsthand look at the individuals or objects in question, to ensure that they were suitable for his plans and that he had all the necessary information at his disposal.

Time: 1pm
Location: Lovers lake
Mention: @Helo Callum
Appearance:Dress, Hair style but red,shoes

Ariella let out a deep breath as the silence in the carriage was comforting. The carriage rumbled around as she peeked out the window to see the view around her start to become greener and lush with trees and flowers. Her head stuck out the window with her hair whipping back behind her as a smile spread on her face. The clean air refreshed her from the previous engagement she just left.

The prince's ball was interesting, to say the least, and she was rather surprised to find someone like Callum..she paused...Prince Callum there. She wasn't sure what to expect when she went but she was happy to have at least had the pleasure of that short and brief conversation with him. She shut her eyes as the sun beamed down on her face as bits of her hair decorations flew out into the wind.
---
The carriage came to a stop after what felt like a very long time. Ariella with swift haste opened the door and nearly exploded out of the carriage as her rather overdressed appearance seemed to draw eyes to her. She was used to the looks, her mother always overdressed her but Ariella over the years found ways to make herself more comfortable.

Reaching down she took off her shoes and tossed them into the carriage. Using the door as a shield she reached under her dress and took out the crazy amount of layers and petticoats that were stuffed under her dress. Tossing the lump of fabric the dress hung closer to her body now, as she reached down and grabbed the tail of her dress and pulled it up looping it through her waistband. Her legs and bloomers were practically visible to everyone however Ariella didn't care. She was at home in nature and she needed to ground herself.

Shutting the carriage door, she held a basket on her arm that she had packed earlier in the day. Inside was some food, drinks, and even a blanket. Thankfully she was also able to sneak in a book as well for some entertainment.

Taking off towards the lake she made her way down the trail, Her eyes wide with amazement as the lake came into view. The sound of the rushing water, all the chatter from the various visitors, and the sounds of splashing and laughter just filled her heart with ease. She walked towards a rather nice spot in the shade under some trees. Setting down her basket she pulled out the blanket and fluffed it in the air landing it on the grass.

Taking a seat on the blanket, she pulled out her book and just soaked in the beauty around her.

---

---

Arriving at the blacksmith he could already tell that some of his men were already getting to work handing out materials and making sure everyone had the proper tools and space to set up their things. There was not many people here other than what looked like a few locals he did notice the two boys that were tasked with keeping his room clean in attendance even if they looked a bit unsure of themselves.

“Alright I apologize for being a little late I had some issues come up that needed addressed. Now then I would like to remind you that I will be hosting these sessions one to two times a week for an hour or two at a time. Once you have proven you can do the basics you are allowed to use our resources and the teachers at hand to help you with your own projects.” He spoke while setting out his tools.

“Your first project is learning how to reforge metal, more precisely, turning one of the rail road spikes in front of you into small knives or daggers. The other instructors will be assisting you with this while I work with the more advanced among you.” To set a good enough example that even he was taking his safety seriously, Roman took off his shirt and put his leather apron on.

He did start off the class by giving some examples of how hot you wanted the metal to glow in the furnace and how to properly swing a hammer and use an anvil to shape the metal before stepping back to let the students work and let the three other journeyman smiths he brought with him to teach the class giving pointers here and there with a smiles and friendly demeanor.

–

Sjan-dehk stood to one side as the prisoners filed past him. Though unshackled, none of them made a bid for freedom as he had expected. Perhaps the last few days of backbreaking work had thoroughly broken their will, or perhaps they were still unaware of their fates. Either way, it didn’t matter. It made things that little bit easier for him, and that was all Sjan-dehk cared about. Besides, it wouldn’t look good on him or his crew if a troublemaker decided to cause a scene in front of their Caesonian guests.

“Damn, I forgot to tell the guards to shackle them.” Standing beside him, Hai-shuun clicked his tongue and folded his arms.

A grin flashed across Sjan-dehk’s lips. “Too late for that, now. Next time, eh?” As far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter whether the prisoners were restrained or not. Where could they go? They were practically surrounded on all sides by armed men, and the only routes open to them were the harbour or the pier. Any attempt to escape now would be tantamount to suicide.

The last man to pass Sjan-dehk was a grey-bearded elder with a vacant look in his eyes. His mouth hung open, as if trying to say something but unable to form the words in his throat. Be it fear or trepidation, something or other caused his hands to tremble uncontrollably. Sjan-dehk arched his brow as he watched the man. Whatever these Caesonians did to their prisoners must be quite something. He couldn’t recall any prisoner reacting in such a manner even after he had two of their own keelhauled to death and the third sentenced to a slow death on the open seas.

“Do not be sad,” he called out after the elderly man. “We send you home. Good, no?”

The man didn’t turn back to look at him.

Sjan-dehk’s crew lined the prisoners up in front of the two Caesonians and stepped a fair distance back with hands on muskets, axe handles, or sword hilts. If the prisoners so much as twitched in a suspicious manner, Sjan-dehk had no doubts that they would be cut down in mere moments. Perhaps they were being overly-cautious, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. He nodded his thanks to his men and walked around the prisoners towards the man who had asked about the prisoners.

“They are here.” He stepped to one side and gestured to the line men. Dishevelled and filthy, they looked as if they were one day away from being outright diseased. Yet, they still looked robust, strong, and more than capable of hard labour. Sjan-dehk knew that last one for a fact. “They are your…People, yes? So we give back to you.” He paused for a moment. To call them a gift wouldn’t be accurate; as he had said, they were simply being returned to Caesonia to be tried under Caesonian law. Most of them, at least. At the same time, Sjan-dehk wasn’t quite sure how best to put that into words the two men could understand.

And so, he just nodded and said, “Yes, gifts.”

---

When Sadie mentioned she had made the dagger herself, Mayet raised an eyebrow surprised. She truly didn't look like someone who was able to wield heavy hammers and could withstand the fire and heat from the forge... But despite what Mayet thought, the dagger was still marked with her initials... P.S.

"Surprising! I didn't think of you as a blacksmith, but I stand corrected! It is indeed a beautiful blade." Mayet said with a smile as she waved to Sadie, who was already on her way to the blacksmith. Much to her guards' dismay, it seemed like Princess Sadie still had energy to spare, despite having ran all the way here to help with the bear.

"Quite an energetic one, isn't she?" Mayet said with a chuckle.

When Munir began speaking though, replying to her teasing comments from earlier, she couldn't help but laugh.

"Jealousy? Someone as perfect as me has no reason to feel jealous." Mayet said, waving her hand with a smug smirk.

Nala, who was having her chin scratched by Munir, simply looked up, enjoying the attention and the scratches as both Mayet and Munir talked.

"My dear brother, do you really think I am the same as those vulgar women you fool around with? I was merely... provoking him a bit. It is still too early for me to make my move... You on the other hand... Might get lucky if you go visit him in his blacksmithing class, Brother Munir." Mayet replied, laughing.

"Besides, while I am interested in blades and weapons, I am really not interested in ruining my hands and my skin by wielding heavy, rough hammers and standing next to the forges' fire." Mayet said, waving her hand, dismissing Munir's idea of her going to Roman's blacksmithing class as if it was something absurd for her.

"Talking about the bear..." Mayet said, her expression changing for a moment as she turned to the other nobles and guards that slowly started approaching them, after it became clear that the creature was dead.

"I advise against using this creature's meat for consumption... Or even touching it's blood for the time being. Take it to a veterinarian an alchemist or something to examine it. No healthy animal should behave as this bear did or be as resilient as it was." Mayet said to the guards and nobles before she turned to Munir again.

"Don't overthink and worry yourself too much about it, my dear brother. It was merely one rabid bear. It was nowhere near the most dangerous creature we have already hunted." she said to Munir with a smile as he mounted his horse.

Mayet was already about to turn away and leave herself, when she heard Munir making another little 'comment' about her being 'noisy with her man' that night.


"MUNIR!! STOP SAYING THINGS THAT MAKE ME LOOK LIKE A THIRSTY, TEENAGE GIRL! If I hear any rumors going around about me because of your little teasing remarks, I WILL FLAY YOU ALIVE!" Mayet shouted, stomping one of her feet on the ground as Munir galloped away on his horse.

After taking a moment to breathe, Mayet turned to Nala, calling her.

"Let's go Nala. It's not our job to deal with the carcass of a diseased animal..." Mayet said as she gently scratched Nala's head before they began making their way back to her room to take a good and relaxing bath after the hunt.

Things were finally settling down at the bank after the lunchtime rush. The tide of decent folk—those who made money by actually working, not those who got paid in tax money for lazing around all day—slowed into a trickle as they returned to work. People who came to the bank at this hour were laborers working the lunch or night shift; people whose jobs required them to go to the bank; or well-to-do people who didn’t have a fixed work schedule to keep up. So when a carriage parked in front of the bank, and a posh-looking woman emerged from it, the guard wasn’t remotely surprised. To him, it was just another pompous family coming to do something pompous, in the most pompous way possible. Pompous.

The young woman sported a fine dress commonly worn by damsels from upper-middle-class backgrounds. She even wore one of those ridiculous hats with a wide brim that ladies wore because they were too lazy to hold their own umbrella or wanted to draw more attention to the hat than their faces.

A gust rushed past them, carrying the scent of roasted flesh along with it. The guard wrinkled his nose at the foul smell. There was no avoiding the stench while standing outside, especially downwind. It took the guard half an hour to get desensitized to it. Right when he thought it was gone from the air, the wind graciously reminded him why he hated immolations. They always spoiled his appetite for meat. Then there were the screams. Those haunting screams. At least the winds could never carry those across the city. Whatever he felt, one good look at the lady and he could tell the smell affected her threefold.

The wind drained the color from the lady and robbed her of her breath. She staggered to the side but caught herself before her carriage driver reached over to steady her.

“Are you alright?” The older man tacked on the word ma’am when he noticed they weren’t alone.

“Y-yes,” the lady said in the least convincing tone she could’ve mustered. “I just need a second.” She drew a fan from her purse and fanned herself, smacking the odor away. After a while, she touched the driver’s arm. “I’m fine now, thank you, Mr. Brisby.” They shared a look of camaraderie before the so-called Brisby respectfully backed away. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

He waited for another person to hop out of the carriage. The lady, however, waited for no one and escorted herself to the front doors. The severe lack of male guardians accompanying her baffled the guard. It was obvious the driver couldn’t be it, that’d be inappropriate, so what was a woman doing at the bank alone?

The guard fumbled for the door, barely opening it in time for the unusual customer. The lady—who, as it turned out, didn’t have a face that only Sapreon could love—greeted him with a polite smile and thanked him before entering the bank.

“Oh!” He heard someone inside say, “Welcome, Ms. Vos! How can we be of service to you today?”

---

---

Riona “Vos” sank into the comfortable chair the bank clerk reserved for (welcomed) guests with a sigh. Not even an hour in this getup, and she felt more tired than she felt after long hours of cleaning. Say what you will about maid outfits, at least Riona didn’t feel so confined in them. Even as a child, she despised these fancy dresses, much to her mother’s dismay. Her grandmother was much more understanding, pointing out how the Caesonian aristocrats tamed their women through fashion: what trouble could they possibly get into if they could barely move? Or breathe. Gods! And pockets! Oh, what she’d give for a nice dress with damn pockets.

She brought the cup of tea close to her nose and inhaled deeply, pushing out the smoke of death in her lungs with wild bergamot and red clover. She sipped the tea appreciatively. It tasted exquisite, even more so given that she’d only been consuming water since the 48-hour fast began. At first, Riona considered turning down the offer of tea because of Lady Morrigan’s inspections, but then she remembered she had time to hide the evidence. She wasn’t reckless enough to risk eating the cardamom cookies, though. Her stomach grumbled.

The clerk looked up from the paperwork. “Please, Ms. Vos, have as many cookies as you like. We have plenty more.”

“No thank you,” color flared up in Riona’s cheeks, “I’m trying to cut down on snacks.” The clerk gave her the once over then returned his attention to the documents. He lived long enough to know that comments concerning a woman’s eating habits almost always led to trouble.

What he didn’t have was qualms expressing his disapproval with her monthly donations to charities and unions. For years, he tried to persuade Riona to invest in better business opportunities. This was Caesonia, after all. The land where power was proportional to wealth; “the weak-minded were poor.” Donations that didn’t lead to personal profit made no sense.

Riona took another sip from her cup as she watched the remnants of the clerk’s hair sway precariously in the air. One of them lost its grip and floated away when the clerk scowled at the numbers and mumbled about freeloaders. Every visit seemed to result in one less strand. Riona wondered how much hair would survive if the clerk ever found out the charities and unions were fronts.

The word “front” offended Quack. It implied that the charities and unions were scams. In all fairness, they did what they advertised: most of the money was spent to support the downtrodden. Riona argued they were still front groups because a portion of the donations funded anarchists.

A few years back, Quack approached Riona for a favor. He needed different places to stash money without raising alarms, so he asked her—and many others—to open a bank account. At first glance, it’d appear to be a bunch of people with their own bank accounts, but take a step back, it’s the havens’ treasury.

There was, however, one problem: Riona was a woman. An orphaned, unmarried woman living in a patriarchal society. Without a male guardian, it was impossible for her to create an account—a fact which, apparently, slipped Quack’s mind (or he had certain opinions about her that should remain unsaid). Thus, to solve the problem, Riona did the only thing she could’ve done. She proposed to Dan the stablehand.

Riona turned her head to the seat next to her. It was vacant, but she could see him sitting there.

She remembered how the stunned stablehand broke down into a bright red, sweaty mess who floundered to speak or move so much that Riona thought he was having a stroke. His unabashed smile when he said yes made her heart skip a beat back then, and it still did now. The twinge of guilt and confusion she felt when she clarified they would only be pretending, and saw how crestfallen he looked by her words. She remembered the rush of emotions on his face that followed when she answered his questions: the worry, the fear, and the resolve. Despite whatever reservations he had, he still said yes.

There, in the neighboring chair, Dan demanded the bank to open a joint account for himself and his future wife. True, they were merely betrothed, but they were rich (didn’t they see their expensive outfits?) and they did not take no for an answer! Dan succeeded in exuding the special kind of snobbery and elitism seen in the higher echelons of society. Combined with Riona’s haughtiness adding to the act, they convinced the bank that storing the couple’s money in their bank was far more lucrative than wasting either party’s time trying to get them to bring a marriage certificate. Besides, they had Dan’s official documents. Should their engagement or marriage fall apart, the bank had the important person on record.

At least the bank and Riona agreed; Dan was the important one. He was, in fact, one of the most important people in Riona’s life. So important that thinking about him brought her equal amounts of joy and pain, misery and longing. Every detail of him she pulled from her memories made the hole in her heart grow a little wider; hollow ever deeper.

Dan faced Riona, proudly holding the brand-new bankbook in his hand. His radiant smile blurred Riona’s vision.

The clerk cleared his throat, forcing Riona to turn to him. He held one of the many handkerchiefs he had stockpiled behind his desk aloft. Patiently, he waited. The annoyance that plagued him seconds ago vanished without a trace. It took a second to register that he was waiting on her. Only then did she realize it was the pool of tears that blurred her vision and not Dan’s smile.

She accepted the handkerchief and dabbed the tears away.
“Mr. Vered was a fine man.”
“Yes, he was.” Riona nodded between dabs. “I’m afraid I lost my only chance at happiness.”

“One of your chances at happiness,” the clerk corrected, his voice soft and kind. His gaze drifted to his folded hands. “Losing a loved one is not the end of the world, contrary to what you might feel right now.” His somberness suggested he spoke from experience. “You have your whole life ahead of you, Ms. Vos. There are plenty of fine men out there, and there are plenty of chances for happiness.”

Riona knew he meant well. But she also knew—felt and believed—with every fiber of her being that what he said was nowhere near the truth. Not a single word.

---

---

There was a knock on Wulfric’s bedroom door.

"Wulfric?" His mother’s voice called out from her spot at the door. With the way the events had been, she felt it was better to tell her son the truth now rather than later. Telling him was one thing, however. His reaction would be another.

Wulfric had just recently arrived to his bedroom, after having retrieved his sabre; especially after a spar, it really did feel more fitting to have it than not. He’d attended to some minor matters, like checking up on his appearance. But mostly, he had been considering the merits and demerits of open versus concealed carry. He had just been trying on his slimmest thigh holster and most compact dagger when there was a knock on his door. Adjusting his tunic over the recent addition, he faced the entrance.

At the sound of his mother’s voice, he replied, "Coming." He strolled to the door, and opened it. Her face told him much the same as her tone had; she was in quite a different mood from when they’d last met. She struck him as trying to be careful. "Hello, mother," he greeted, studying her expression openly. "Shall we speak here or elsewhere?" He asked because she obviously had something she wanted to talk about.

"Hello, Wulfric. I invite you to accompany me." She spoke immediately in a composed manner. Alibeth then turned and proceeded down the hall, the tap of her heels echoing with purpose. After a brief moment, she halted at the terminus of the corridor and inclined her head backward, her gaze meeting his. "It will be worth your time."

Her son quirked up a brow at her curiously, but stepped out of his room and closed the door behind him. He had intended to attend the race - and not purely for entertainment’s sake. He wished to stress to Lorenzo the importance of not messing up again. However, the man would be far too busy with announcing for a while yet. And, in the end, even if Wulfric missed out on the chance to speak to him, then he could count on Auguste to handle the man while they dined with the Sultan.

Saying nothing of his schedule to the queen, he went after her. It struck him as amusing that though she’d issued an invitation, she was clearly leading with an expectation that he would follow. And he did.

He was rather intrigued why she’d sought him out, after all.

By the time her gaze met his, he too, was nearly at the end of the hallway. "I have no doubts that it will be," Wulfric intoned. There was a very subtle hint of something which might become a smile if he allowed it to form. But he did not.

He took the remaining few steps towards her. "Let us, then," he prompted. Though there were some remnants of amusement yet, he kept it in check. His expression smoothed out into a cool neutrality. He matched the gravity of her intent; and as he continued on by her side, so too, did he adjust his pace to hers.

Alibeth escorted Wulfric to the library doors and cautiously pushed them open, scanning the room for any signs of life. Satisfied that it was empty, she turned the lock with a decisive click before making her way to a sunny corner of the room. She approached a bookcase and, after a moment of contemplation, started to fiddle with the books on the top shelves, out of Wulfric's view. Suddenly, the bookcase creaked and swung inward, revealing a hidden passageway. "Wulfric, I presume you have some knowledge of the existence of magic?" she asked, her tone nonchalant as she turned to face him.

Wulfric soon found himself at the library. He was only an occasional visitor here - he had a collection of his favourites right in his office, for one - so it had been some time. They walked among the shelves, and he idly inspected those they passed. Alibeth guided him to a section which, especially compared to its neighbours, was oddly well lit. They stopped near a shelf hosting several historical volumes; he knew those well. Adjacent to it was a bookshelf with fictional novels; he was passingly acquainted.

He watched with some curiosity as his mother reached for the upper shelves of the latter. He shifted, trying to see what she was doing. However, she concealed it. A moment later, a hidden passageway was revealed. Wulfric pondered its inky depths. He hadn’t realized there was such a thing here. Yet, there was the shadow of a memory…He felt as if he had found one of these as a child, elsewhere.

Whether he had or hadn’t, it left him with several questions.

The queen’s next words even more so.

Wulfric’s expression hardened, showing none of his surprise or disquiet. "If you were to term supposition as knowledge," he replied. There was a glint of accusation in his gaze, even as his tone and words were measured. "I thought it might have existed once. I considered it to be of little to no relevance in the present day and age." His eyes narrowed. "Clearly, a mistake," he inferred unhappily.

There was a moment in which he merely looked at her. Then, he tilted his chin at the passageway. "Go on."

"Oh, it is quite relevant." Alibeth replied, with a measured smile, as she firmly shut the door behind them. She led her son down a narrow, stone passageway to a modest room lined with shelves of books, which also housed a writing desk and a simple stool. "Your father is under the impression that all of the books in this castle have been destroyed. However, his lack of exploration belies this notion. I deemed it prudent to preserve these volumes, to serve as a reference in times of uncertainty, such as this."

Lack of exploration indeed, Wulfric thought sourly, because whether his mother meant it as an indirect criticism or not, it did seem to apply to him as well. "So, the previous king was fine having them around, but not Edin?" he asked, trying to get a better understanding of the timeline of events. "Then you preserved some of them - or had them preserved?" The idea that she might have entrusted some minions with something so vital, but not him - not until now - bothered him.

"I simply meant that I decided not to destroy the books upon discovery. I have no knowledge of their purpose or truly who knew of their presence here." Alibeth had clarified to Wulfric upon his question.

With practiced ease, she then swiftly selected a tome, well aware of its contents. "You must exercise utmost caution when handling these books. All magic comes at a cost, even those that appear innocuous." She flipped to the page of memory spells. "A plethora of options really. It’s absurd to accept logically every single one of them got too inebriated to remember not one thing that occurred…" Her gaze slid to her son, hand still on the book, "In due course, you will find yourself consulting these books as a means of comprehending situations that defy explanation. When something seems inexplicable, it is often the result of magic, and as you will discover, it can be a force to contend with." Alibeth subsequently studied her son’s reaction before commenting further.

Wulfric stepped close enough to read the book segment she indicated, since she was trying to point out something to him. He raised a brow at what he saw. "Memory…" he pondered. Yes, magic was an option, perhaps even the likelier one. However. "Is there a way to discern for certain if this - or any given act - was done by magical rather than mundane means?"

He had long thought that people had this irrational tendency to consider something inexplicable merely because they personally couldn’t explain it. Then, they attributed it to something beyond their understanding; to something supernatural. Even knowing that magic existed didn’t change his opinion all that much. One could still over-rely on magic. Rely on it as the means with which to accomplish something. And rely on it as the source of explanation for something.

"Previously, I had suspected poison, drugs, or a combination thereof. Could it not be that instead? Or what if it is also that?" Though he was being very pragmatic about it all, a spark of curiosity had been ignited within him. Wulfric turned an intrigued look on his mother. "It would be convenient if we could detect magic. It users, its victims…" He once again peered down at the page of memory spells, thoughtful. "Also…is it possible to undo or ‘cure’ magical afflictions? A way to restore lost memories, for example." He then straightened up, and blinked at Alibeth as something occurred to him. "And please, do not take this to mean that I am inclined to use magic."

Alibeth smiled at her son's inquiry, pleased with his level of intellect and inclination to consider all options. "If all the individuals had displayed similar symptoms when they were discovered, I would have concurred," she said, closing the book. "However, I took care to observe each and every one of their physical and mental states, as well as that of others who exited from the gathering. The symptoms varied greatly. You could attempt to persuade me to believe it was a drug den with a multitude of options for them, alas I have my doubts."

Her narrowed gaze fell on Wulfric as her tone grew icy with him, "While magic can be detected, it requires a spell to do so. I have a strong aversion towards casting spells and so should you."

Wulfric didn’t sigh, though he wanted to. "Did I not ask you not to accuse me of a desire for witchcraft? I am no mage nor do I wish to be one…" He went to lean against the writing desk, nonchalantly scanning the shelves full of magical knowledge. "I suppose this is why you haven’t told me until you felt like you absolutely had to." Though he’d attempted to be entirely neutral, the slightest hint of bitterness slipped through.

Alibeth smirked at his retort. However, she had more to say when it came towards the second remark. There had been another reason why she had withheld the information, although she did not speak immediately upon this.

"You know…" his gaze landed on hers. "I imagine I might prefer a world without magic." He cocked his head to the side. "But this is not that world." He paused for a brief moment. "And though there have obviously been attempts to eradicate it…It is still here, is it not?" He arched a brow pointedly.

"... I would prefer the same…You'll find, Wulfric, that there is no need for magic in order to extract a confession. Morrigan and our other interrogation tools are quite proficient in their craft. The chamber I provided them in the dungeon is protected from spell use. It was in such a state before I even arrived."

The queen met Wulfric’s eyes and declared coldly, "Our methods have consistently proven successful in eliciting confessions, after which the individuals are dealt with accordingly."

"Far be it for me to doubt the efficiency of torture," Wulfric declared with dry amusement, and his lips twitched up into a brief smirk. "But it rather requires that we capture the target first. And the one this time is already proving elusive - after all, there was neither hide nor hair of anyone or anything you could have taken back with you by the time you arrived at the warehouse, was there?" A curt nod from the queen confirmed his hypothesis.

A slightly longer exhale followed that confirmation. "I have some ideas on how to corner them, and I am certain so do you. But my point is…This enemy of ours is fully willing to use magic. And if their aim truly is sabotage? Inciting chaos? Maybe even to reveal to the world this power of theirs? That kind of damage…It should be prevented. And no, I shan’t say ‘at any and all cost’, because it would be ridiculous for us to needlessly escalate, and inadvertently create an uncontrollable situation."

He looked away, the icy blue of his irises affixing on a random tome. A fist clenched by his side. "But this idea that someone, somewhere - anyone, anywhere - could and would use magic…For who knows what aims…That they could harm us, while we all here are so utterly vulnerable, so helpless…I detest it," he confessed.

"Oh, the situation is even graver than you perceive." She had no words of comfort for her son. "I believe this mastermind may be using others to bear the costs of magic use for him more often than not…" Alibeth spoke with a clear, unwavering voice, her eyes scanning the book titles as she paced amongst the shelves.

"That does not surprise me," Wulfric noted. "Undoubtedly, those proficient in magic have found ways to bypass the cost, one way or another."

She was rather nonchalant despite the dire situation she was describing. "The man I had burnt at the stake today was one of the pawns. He was quite transparent that he would make a spectacle of himself as he met his end, much to my satisfaction." The queen paused to consider the order of the details she wanted to present to her son for a moment. Alibeth turned from view then pulled an eyeglass from a concealed area on her person. She turned back to face him and presented it for his viewing. "I have an enchanted spyglass here, Wulfric. Before I tell you what it does, I’d like to give you a foundation of knowledge."

Wulfric hummed at the brief summary of the execution. "...Let’s just keep it away from the level of a witch hunt, shall we?" he offered, tone as casual as hers.

"No need for one. They always come to me eventually."

Then, she showed him a spyglass. For one who professed to be ‘strongly averse’ to spells, she seemed to have no issue handling magical tools. Thus, he had to wonder whether she did have experience actively casting magic. And if she did, how extensive it was. "Certainly," he assented to her suggestion easily.

"Very well," Alibeth stated as she retrieved a thin book from the shelf. The book, titled "Starcatcher," featured an illustration of the sun and moon on its cover. Alibeth flipped to chapter two. "You may have already noticed a pull toward these books that cannot be explained. This is due to the idea that magic supposedly is attracted toward ambition. The more ambitious you are, the more powerful your magic may be." Her eyes met his, then she stepped aside for him to read.

Wulfric took the book, and flipped it to the beginning. The foreword was quaint and catchy. "Take too much from me; I will take everything from you," he quoted, mildly amused. Out of context, it was quite the vengeful statement. In context, he questioned if the author had meant that she, personally, would take, or that magic would, because it always took its due. Probably the latter, though the former had some uncomfortable implications too.

"With love and hope for a better world," he concluded with some sarcasm. Did you truly believe this? Or were you simply using it as an excuse? Either way… He wasn’t sure if magic ultimately could better the world. He was inclined to think it depended on how one used it, however…

"Curious individual, this one, hm?" he remarked, as he briefly glanced up at his mother. She simply smirked.

He then quickly read through the introduction in the first chapter. "Addictive nature," he said with firm disapproval.

Even more swiftly, he perused the book’s spells, just to get a feel of what magic could do. "Most of these can be accomplished by mundane means," he commented on the novice spells. "And who the hell would willingly lose a memory forever?" he exclaimed suddenly, indignant. Wulfric shook his head in disbelief, then continued going through the book.

Of the intermediate spells, tracking did appeal to him, but unless one knew the person well, one would require something of theirs regardless. Too, he wanted to know if it was possible to protect oneself from such magical spying.

"Enchantments…" he sighed, aware that it would be entirely too easy to grow paranoid thinking of the ways in which one might be affected by magic.

He raised a brow at some of the magics pertaining to the body. "Admittedly, the idea of facing and overcoming a challenge like this is intriguing," he noted.

He was drawn towards the protective spells - however, the costs were downright daunting.

Finally, he returned to the second chapter. He read this one thoroughly.

"A bond between this book, the magical plane, and your body," he quoted, baffled. This concept of a bond or a connection between oneself and magic…It seemed altogether strange. He didn’t even know what to begin to think of a ‘magical plane’.

"Calls out to the ambitious or to the addict?" he criticized openly.

"Magicae…Witchblood…Dark witches," he mouthed the unfamiliar terms, assimilating them.

Then, he once again faced his mother, and turned the book towards her, still open on the second chapter. "Try not to take this the wrong way…But did you test out this…magical affinity?" he asked, a bit awkward since magic and terms associated with it were still unfamiliar to him. "Or were you suggesting I should?" he tagged on. Though she’d already scolded him once for proposing use of spells, he was getting some strong mixed messages here.

"I have performed magic before." Alibeth admitted without batting an eyelash. "As I said, I do not prefer to. I have dabbled foolishly in my youth and I have also cast protection spells on my children when they were born. Much of the rooms within the castle are already imbued with magical protections, however, it was done so long ago that it would take an expert practitioner to spot the magic."

"Hm, well, it is a relief to know that our fortress enjoys such protections," he commented as he closed the Starcatcher book and set it on the table.

"I do not suggest you should unless it is important. Though I do suggest understanding magic as much as you can." She held up the spyglass again, "My sister and I came upon a number of trinkets one day. This was one of them." She came to stand at her son’s side and held the spy glass up to his eye. She moved her arm out in front of him. He would see a thick green aura of light and moving energy around her arm.

"Your sister," Wulfric repeated curiously, as he looked through the presented item. He noted the green colour, and the density of the energy, and supposed it was indicative of his mother’s magicae.

"Mutatio." A cloth on the table began to change from yellow to white as Alibeth cast the spell with a mere touch of her finger. As Wulfric observed through the spyglass, he would see the energy grow and then shrink, signifying the loss of energy during the spell's casting. "When someone casts a spell or takes from their magicae reservoir, it causes a shift in their energy that can be perceived through this eyeglass. When many spells are cast in one area, it can even create a pull effect towards those who are particularly active in their magic use, as if their energy is drawn to the spell casting. At the execution I attended today, I was able to witness such an effect with Cameron's magic use. Some even feared him and cast protection spells."

"So this is that widespread," he commented. Though, he could hardly fault anyone for wanting to protect themselves from magic.

He peered through the spyglass inquisitively, trying to detect if any trace of magic remained within the bespelled tablecloth. He then brought up his own hand in front of the enchanted item, wanting to see his own magicae. His was also green.

Then, he regarded his mother. "Are humans the only ones in the natural world with magical energy?" he wondered.

"I suppose even animals have their desires." After a moment of reflection, she added, "One need not worry excessively about the possibility of an apocalypse. Magic has been a part of our world for as long as we can remember and yet, here we stand. Even those who send their proxies, such as Darryn, seem to have limitations. If the mastermind behind such actions holds as much power as we fear, one may wonder why there has never been a large-scale move made. Why are we still here?" These questions, though asked aloud, seem to have a rhetorical tone to them, suggesting that Alibeth may already have an inkling of the answers.

"I am not worried about an apocalypse…more so about the political implications." He didn’t like her allegations against Darryn, but was momentarily distracted by thinking about her last question. It was quite philosophical, in a sense, though he was sure she’d meant it practically. "It must be because they couldn’t have…" he eventually settled on.

Then Wulfric pinned her with a look. "You say Fletcher is a proxy?"

A frosty laugh escaped Alibeth's lips as she sneered, "You mean to say you thought your sister was a master seductress…?"

Yes, yes. So hilarious, mother. Shall I bow down to your no doubt superior understanding? He kept the sarcasm to himself, lips pursing. "She has, in fact, seduced numerous individuals," he stated neutrally. Moving on, he prompted, "So. Fletcher?" And, because he did want more information, "What all do you know about this case?"

Alibeth grimaced at Wulfric’s initial words. The topic of her daughter was not one she wished to address, but her thoughts turned to the matter at hand. Being no challenge to men does not always mean one is alluring. Something must be done to rectify her revolting behavior.

"Darryn showed signs indicative of overuse of magic during the period of his interrogation. His behavior had been atypical before anything had even been done. His eyes did briefly glow as well. Furthermore, he confessed to working for someone, however, we were unable to obtain the identity of this person." Alibeth explained. "I figure he’s attempting to flee about now. Certainly, he will be pursued by not only us but whoever his master is. I reckon we’ve seen the last of him."

"Us?" Wulfric was clearly disapproving. "If we are chasing after him, it shouldn’t be to target him, but whoever is after him." Their priority wasn’t a runaway stableboy, but whoever he could lead them to. Besides, he had a promise to keep, even if Fletcher was more of a risk than he’d thought him to be. Then, because it was relevant, he added, "If the person he is working for and the party’s host are one and the same, then it might be Marek Delronzo. According to that meddler Hendrix, anyhow…But it should not be too difficult to confirm this."

She placed the eyeglass in his hand and turned to leave. Though she had obviously heard him, she had not verbally acknowledged anything he said. She did, however, pause for just a moment. "If you plan to attend the horse race, keep an eye out for me…Oh and also, keep your other eye on Lady Mina Blackwood. Something’s strange about her."

Wulfric seemed as if he were about to say something, but closed his mouth, accepted the item, and pocketed it. "Very well."

---

The aching from her midsection had faded into numbness by the time Anastasia found her. The air felt light and her head spun pleasantly as she turned her head to face the person she had been searching for the past half hour.

”Mi princesita!” Zarai called back, quickly shifting the direction of her steps and began her way to Anastasia, a toothy grin on her face. ”I could not bear to be out in the battlefields without you!” Behind her, Sir Barrios tried to follow the lady’s unexpected quick movement but the steel wheel caught on the dirt.

”Your faces bring such joy to me and fill my heart with hope!” She brought her hands up to her chest, her movements exaggerated enough to rival a theater drama. A few of the bystanders shot her looks but she seemed completely unbothered by them.

Anastasia gasped vehemently and ran toward Zarai as she had been approaching, ”My little love! My sweet blossom! My angel!” She leaned down to put her arms around her and give her a careful hug. “Well your face lights up the dark, dreary world with color and raaadiance!” Her voice took on a theatrical tone as she rubbed her cheek against the shorter girl’s soft strawberry blonde hair. She made sure to give the girl a long enough hug to make sure she knew she was missed. She broke it off and touched her shoulders at an arm's length.

”Lady Zarai.” Wystan greeted her with a light bow.

”Wystan.” Zarai greeted with a smile and finger guns.

”Sooo… We don’t have much time to stand around here… “ She began.

”To sum it up, I heard gunshots coming from the south down by the Calby house. We are gonna go check it out but don’t worry. “ She gave her a wink, ”I will keep you safe, Rai-rai.”

Before Zarai could probably process the last few statements, Anastasia gasped and spoke again, ”But before we do anything… I gotta know: Which of my brothers are you marrying? Auguste or Callum?”

During the course of their exceedingly bright introductions, Wystan trailed alongside the princess and simply kept to himself. Other than a slight raise of the brow at Ana’s vow to keep Zarai safe, he did not attempt to interject into their conversation too much, even if the last question did perplex him quite a bit in regards to the second prince.

There was too much to process as Anastasia explained their current situation. Zarai quickly glanced at Sir Barrios, still struggling with the wheelchair. If Wystan and Anastasia were there with her, he’d be a bit laxer. However, the princess’s question threw her off. She blinked, unsure how to really answer her question and it looked like Anastasia wasn’t the only one waiting for an answer. However, she didn’t fully trust herself right now to respond truthfully.

”I’d rather marry you,” Zarai finally answered, ”How could I marry them when you are standing here?!” Like the princess, Zarai gave her little time to fully answer. ”I’ll go with you and Sir Barrios too.” She wouldn’t mind walking, and if she grew tired, there was always the chair. ”Adventure awaits!”

Anastasia initially looked a little surprised by her words, but she figured perhaps Zarai had been platonically affectionate as the conversation carried on in a manner that suggested so. She smiled and took a moment to turn to her guards as they too had joined them.

“We’re all going to go south to make sure nobody is bleeding out on the beach. Can one of you please let the man with the big hat and pretty face over there that I have an urgent matter to attend to but I would love to hang out with him and his family later on? ” The female guard nodded and turned around. She quickly ran over to Farim to let him know before returning back.

Wystan internally took note of this character. It was important to remember faces that the princess deemed herself familiar with, after all.

She turned her attention back to Zarai as they all began walking. After a thoughtful pause, she commented softly to Zarai, “The idea of eloping with you and running away from it all is fun to think about. We could take on new identities. Two cute girls with mysterious pasts on the run....” Anastasia grinned as she raised her head and proclaimed, ‘I call being the sexy pirate captain with a dark past.”

The watchdog narrowed his eyes at this concept, unable to tell if it was a joke or not. ”If you were to be on the run, then I would have to be as well.” Even though he said this, he himself was not sure how he would fare on the open seas.

A huge grin formed on Anastasia’s face and her eyes glazed over.

”I’ll be your first mate-wife obsessed with shiny things!” Zarai spread her fingers in the air with a toothy grin, arms stretched over her head like she hadn’t been on the infirmary bed that morning.

"And I would quit this job." Sir Barrios retorted behind them, completely bewildered by the princess’s willingness to go along with Zarai’s nonsense. No princess should marry a lady, especially not one such as Zarai. Besides, Sir Barrios was afraid of open waters and what might lurk in the depths of them. The thought of it alone sent a shudder down his spine.

”Nonsense, Sir Barrios. You and Wystan would be our trusty crew as we sail across the world. Defeating other pirates and exploring islands for buried treasure.” Zarai’s smile only widened when she saw the defeated look on the knight’s face. If the summer didn’t work out and she didn’t find a tolerable husband, she might just become a pirate. Captain Zarai, no, Captain Luz! She could drag Fritz and Udo along, too, take them far away from this continent, away from their problems, away from anything that might harm them. Her smile began to dwindle as their faces flashed through her mind. She had to force them back out.

”Perhaps there are pirates on the beach.” Zarai tapped her index finger against her chin. ”What do you think might have happened?” She turned to Anastasia and Wystan.

Anastasia had been daydreaming for a moment about the idea of Wystan, Zarai and Ser Barrios in pirate costumes. She smiled pleasantly as if she had seen something beautiful before being called back to Eromora by Zarai’s direct question. “Huh. Oh. I dunno! Very unusual for there to be trouble in that area.”

They were crossing the road over to the residential area. The distant sound of waves from the beach could be heard. It had initially seemed tranquil, but as they approached, they noticed more guards, known as Edin Enforcers (EE), patrolling the area. She tilted her head with curiosity as she watched one of the men start to look through a bush. As they got closer, they would notice a few more of the EE walking around the perimeter of the Vikena Estate. She paused her walking to continue taking in the scene.

Finally, she noticed Count Calbert outside speaking with a few men. He was very expressive with his arm movements and he seemed to have a permanent angry expression on his face.

“There’s ol’ Calby…. He doesn’t look too happy… But the good news is, I don’t see any dead bodies.” She folded her arms thoughtfully. “Still think maybe we should ask what’s going on.”

”Please allow me, Princess.” The watchdog took initiative and stepped in front of the princess and Lady Zarai. Perhaps he was on his heels, but the situation was increasingly becoming more concerning with every development. On top of this, Wystan found the man suspicious but could never quite understand why; needless to say, such an individual was one that he would have to keep an eye on.

“Okay. It’s just Calby though.” Anastasia had said in reply then followed on his heels.

Wystan led them to the group of guards being yelled at. ”Remember, we are only going to inquire about the situation– not meddle in it.” The tone he spoke in would let Ana and Zarai know that he was not leaving any room for jokes.
“But what if they need help? Shouldn’t we meddle then?”

”I will be in charge of that along with Sir Barrios.” The watchdog stated simply. ”You and Lady Zarai have to be kept safe– please don’t do anything you are not trained to do.”

”Looks like they have yet to catch the ones who fired the gun,” Zarai ignored Wystan’s warning as they approached the group, to which the bodyguard narrowed his eyes but said nothing about. Despite the heaviness of her eyes, they wandered around the bushes and around the building. People had begun to gather around trying to catch a glimpse of what had happened as well but were not willing to much closer afraid that the perpetrator would emerge again. ”Ghost pirates.” She arched her eyebrows at Anastasia.

Anastasia nodded fervently to Zarai. “Definitely ghost pirates.”

It did not take long for Count Calbert to notice the three coming toward him. His brows lifted and he tilted his body to face them. The guards followed his line of sight then bent down on a knee seeing the princess. Some of the aggravation melted from his countenance, but not all. “Princess Anastasia, Lady Zarai Lesdeman and…Sir Wystan Blackmane.” He began to greet them, his eyes falling on Wystan. It had taken him an extra second, but he had taken some care to remember his name. The man had frequented Prince Auguste’s side enough to deem himself worth remembering.

”Count Damien.” Wystan tipped his head in respect to the man, then towards the guards.

“Yes... I do hope you’re here to help… Though I’m concerned to have you all in the area right now…” He let out a frustrated sigh. “I am in quite the crisis though.”

”Such is understandable. ” The watchdog affirmed the Count with a solitary nod, browsing the perimeter himself before speaking. ”The Princess herself and a number of folk nearby have heard a commotion involving gunshots. Perhaps do you mind specifying the crisis?”

Zarai studied, or try to, the way Count Calbert acted. He was angry, rightfully so, what kind of person would do this to a man’s home? An enemy of his? The count looked like he would have a few here and there. A break in? No, it was the middle of the day, no one smart would do that. The more Zarai thought about who could have done this the heavier her eyelids became.

”I must offer the help of my knight; Sir Barrios is at your disposal if a need for him arises, Your Excellency” She greeted the older man with a slight bow, blinking away the drowsiness.

“"Thank you, Lady Zarai, for your concern," Calbert said, “But as a guest in our kingdom and one who is injured, I must insist that Ser Barrios take care of you first.”

Zarai made a face at him when he looked away from him, and quickly replaced it when Sir Barrios shot her a look.

Then he looked at Wystan. After a heavy sigh, he began to elaborate, “A man by the name of Kazumin Nagasa was invited over to my house for a discussion. My daughter had accused him of stalking her and that had been my initial reason. “ His irritation was leaking slowly into his tone. He did not harbor his usual restraint.

“My next reason would be that he was seen with an alleged murderer, the one whose face was in the paper this morning. Kazumin was apathetic towards my grievances and even found them to be humorous…. The same woman then attacked me and my home with deadly weapons during our meeting and the two of them ran away from the guards, practically vanishing from thin air!” His aggravation became more and more palpable with each and every word

Calbert pinched his nose with stress. Wystan on the other hand was deep in though. He took his time to listen intently and scour the many shelves of information he had stored in mind for the princes’ use. Though his expression was vague, he had plenty of thoughts regarding the supposed perpetrator— especially after seeing a fresh copy on Auguste’s table that morning.

Anastasia’s mouth had been covered for the majority of Calberts explanation. She had been attempting not to interrupt. As soon as he had finished talking, she freed her lips and blurred out, “Kazoo!?”

The count’s gaze fell on her. So did the watchdog’s. Zarai simply blinked in mild confusion.

“I danced with him last night. I remember Crystal ran away from him upset and he had seemed really sad that he had hurt her feelings. To be honest, I think it’s a misunderstanding ! Kazumin’s super nice.”

Zarai was about to jump in and inform Calbert that Anastasia was right. She met Kazumin last night as well, and he had seem quite sympathetic to her own grievances while on the roof. Not at all to what he was saying right now. But the count dismissed the princess’s words quickly.

Calbert felt that the princess’s words were useless, given her reputation, “ With all due respect, your highness, you did just meet him last night…It takes more time than that to have a solid judgement of someone’s character.”

“Exactly. So you don’t know him well enough either to know he’s a bad one.” Anastasia retorted.

A look of exasperation crossed his face. “ Princess. He was amused at someone’s murder…Do you doubt me?”

Anastasia tapped her chin then bluntly answered, “Yes!” Zarai stood next to her, nodding in agreement to show her support.

It was then that the watchdog cleared his throat and adjusted his collar while giving the princess an unassuming look. After spending long enough together in the same household, however, she would know that it was his signal, telling her to reign it in.

Anastasia caught his look and involuntarily bit her upper lip to prevent herself from pouting. Her eyebrows did furrow slightly. Surprisingly enough perhaps, she did shut up, to which the bodyguard nodded satisfactorily and internally breathed a sigh of relief.

”We understand your distress, Count Damien. Especially the concerns regarding both your daughters, it’s only reasonable for you to be worried.” It was the watchdog’s job to acquire information where possible. After all, given the situation, it was definitely going to be hard to convince the man of anything, especially after the two supposed perpetrators had up and gone without much of a word. Either way, it was not his issue to handle unless ordered to do so.
”Was anyone in your household injured during the commotion? Property damage?”

Count Damien appeared unfazed by Wystan's attempt to calm him, his posture relaxing only slightly. "No one was hurt, thankfully, but there was significant property damage. She shot arrows that broke my glass windows as well as an exorbitant chandeleir." He crossed his arms over his chest and drummed his fingers thoughtfully, his expression revealing his clear dissatisfaction with the situation. Then, with sudden intensity, he turned to Zarai. "Pray tell, Lady Zarai, why were you nodding in agreement with Her Royal Highness? Have you also had dealings with that scoundrel, Kazumin?"

Almost immediately, Wystan shot Zarai a steely glare. “Watch your mouth”, it said.

Zarai brushed her hair behind her shoulder as a response to the watchdog’s glare, ”Not dealings, per say, he did make me drop all of my lovely grapes yesterday at the ball.” She paused, tapping her pointer finger on her cheek as if in deep thought. In reality she was trying to come up with someone to say that wouldn’t get her in trouble with the count, and her mother. Or get on the Damien’s bad side.

Anastasia gasped in disbelief in the background. She muttered to herself, “ Just when you think you know somebody… Who are you Kazoo…”

”I was simply agreeing to the princess’s statement of not knowing him.” Her eyes felt heavy now, but she still continued, staring at the spot between his eyebrows. ”Still, it does not excuse his behavior and potential involvement with a criminal, that woman tore through your lovely home! She not only caused damage to your property, but potential trauma to your household.” Her words were genuine, for the most part. Zarai shot Wystan a look, “Bitch, I got it”, it said. He simply rolled his eyes in return.

Anastasia, inspired by Zarai’s words, raised her fist in the air and proclaimed, “Justice for Calbert!” She then opened up her hand to offer Zarai a high-five, “That’s my girl! Nailed it!”

Zarai laughed, returning the high-five with a toothy grin.

Calbert glanced at the princess with a raised brow. She sensed his gaze and momentarily forgot Wystan’s command. “Have you considered ghost pirates? There is a ship by the docks down the beach. It’s totally spooky too-”

“Thank you for your honesty and sympathy, Lady Zarai. It clears he has a trend of unappreciated behavior.” Calbert quickly cut her off, redirecting his attention to Zarai. Subsequently, he then addressed Wystan, “Blackmane. I sincerely hope you let the Princes know about those two hooligans. I also implore you to keep the princess away from that Kazumin Nagasa as he seems to be a dangerous man.”

”Duly noted.” The bodyguard nodded assuredly. ”The Princes will hear of this at once. And as usual, the Princess will be kept safe.” His eyes darted to Ana before looking back at the Count. ”Though I must ask for prosperity’s sake… Given the situation as it is, what are your plans in dealing with this matter?”

“I am going to report everything high up as well to make sure that the attention is kept on this… Gods forbid they hurt anyone else.” Calbert answered Wystan.

Zarai remained close to Anastasia, leaning in to whisper, ”Can we get something to eat after this? I am craving something sweet.” A tint of rent had begun to cover her corner of her eyes. ”Or should we ask the Count? Doesn’t look like his kitchen was affected by the attack.” She hummed, rocking on her heels now unable to stand still. ”No it would be rude.” She gave no time for the princess to answer her.

“Of course!”Anastasia exclaimed, not bothering to whisper. She smiled at her and took her hands, ” I know a great place for breakfast food and also know an amazing bakery. What’s more your speed, Rairai?”

”Gods, I could go for some amazing baked good right about now.” Zarai grinned, swinging their hands between them. ”Se me antogo una concha y un cafesito.”

A man with slicked back hair and a large mustache could be seen at that moment approaching from the south. He calmly walked over from the front of the house and stood before them. “Sir, Baron Asteroth has returned and wishes to speak with you.”

“Thank you Henry…” Calbert then tilted his body to address the three with a humble bow. “Thank you all for listening. I appreciate your assistance. Take care of yourselves please..” With that, he followed Henry back towards the front of his estate.

Anastasia watched the two men leave, the sound of the waves crashing once again filling the silence. After a moment, she continued the previous discussion, “Soo… Everyone’s hungry right?”

Time: 1pm
Location: The Ship Docks
Interaction: @Apex Sunburn Wasun Sjan-Dehk

---

Marciano inspected the merchandise checking for any signs of illness. He did not speak as he circled the line of men like a vulture, eying them up and down thoroughly. He had an experienced eye for this; anyone could tell off the bat. It was most interesting to him hat they had been brought up unshackled. Had this man expected him to parade them through town? Even if this crew was confident that the prisoners would be submissive, Marciano was not. They were pirates after all.

” Shackle them, Get them to the holding area.” Marciano had an air of authority unusual for someone of his standing. A few of Edin’s men broke off and climbed aboard, dragging shackles that they had been holding the entire time. Marciano knew better than to not come prepared.

As the guards moved in to shackle the prisoners, Marciano stood back and watched with a cold detachment. Time and time again, he had been in such a position, gathering new toys for the playroom. It had been a long time since he had felt sympathy for them. It was not as if he had felt hatred toward them. All kinds of circumstances could force even the best of men to piracy. Moreover, he was not one to stand on a moral high ground. Marciano felt nothing for them, as if they were simply objects.

The clanking of the metal restraints echoed as the entire line had finally been shackled together. Marciano looked towards Sajan-dekh. “I thank you for the gifts. I assure you they will be well taken care of.” He stated neutrally. Without another word, Marciano turned and walked away, snapping his fingers and signaling for everyone to follow. The guards exchanged a wary glance before one of them stepped behind the line of prisoners, while the others flanked them, prodding them forward.

Sjan-dehk would be able to watch the group move north toward the warehouses. Meanwhile, Oswald and some of the other guards remained to take care of the matter of the ship.

Interactions: @Conscripts Dr. Williamson

---

Munir, having brought the beaver back from his hunt, handed the dead creature to the royal clothier, leaving him with an order of “Please, use this pelt to create a pair of gloves fit for winters in Kolonivka. The glove should be elegant, but durable, fit for a royal lady. For the cost of any additional material and labor, my retainer Hazim can see to it you’re provided for. Hazim?” Munir gestured to a quiet man standing next to him and the man sprang into action, making contact and conversing with the clothier. “Hazim, spare no expense. Come to my quarters with a report after you are finished. I would like to catch up on events that took place while I was gone on the hunt.” With that, Munir gave the quiet man and the clothier a nod and briskly walked off.

While making his way back to his quarters, another of his retainers filled him in on the day’s events that he missed. When the man got to the point of the execution, Munir was rather aloof and seemingly uninterested. Public executions, while rare, took place in Alidasht and Munir has attended them since he was a young child. But, as soon as Mina’s name came up, Munir perked up and started paying attention. When the man mentioned that Mina was taken to the infirmary, more than likely due to a heat stroke, Munir put up a hand to gesture for the man to stop speaking, “Take me to her, at once.” A simple, yet direct command from Munir was all that was said for the next several minutes while the pair made their way to the infirmary.

Upon arrival, Munir gave the same hand gesture as before for the pair to slow down and quiet down. “Wait here.” Munir said as he gently reached for the doorhand, pulling the door open as gently as he possibly could have. Having made very minimal noise up until this point, Munir peered in through the door that is now slightly ajar, and saw that good Dr. John placed a kiss on Mina’s forehead. Munir remembered some words being exchanged between John and Mina, but he did not remember the exact words. He then witnessed Mina placing a kiss on the doctor’s cheek. Munir pondered for a moment, surely this is some sort of odd Northern tradition, to kiss your doctor in such a way…

Right?

Munir cleared his throat to announce his arrival. “Lady Blackwood. I heard of your medical emergency and I made my way here with haste. I hope everything is better? Dr. Williamson, is there anything you should require to provide the lady the best care in your abilities?” Munir said, working to stay calm and treat the scene in front of him as merely a professional one, and nothing more.

A professional kiss on the forehead returned with a professional kiss on the cheek…

Mina’s eyes shifted from John’s to fall on Munir now, a confused smile spreading across her face. She hadn’t been expecting to see him here, but it certainly wasn’t an unwelcome surprise. ”Munir! What a surprise to see you here. I’m quite alright, I assure you. Dr. Williamson is quite skilled at his craft.” She said happily as she turned her attention back to the doctor and her friend.

”Thank you John for coming to my rescue. I think I’ll take this to my room now and take it easy for the rest of the day. I’ll be sure to stay out of the heat as much as possible as well.” She said as she took the things he gave her and began getting up. She then slid the box with her uncle's blood sample over to him before continuing. ”I’ll leave this with you to examine. I might also suggest adding a drop of a similar substance after examining it initially and then watching it. I assure you that you’ll find something very intriguing.” She said, being careful not to state exactly what was in the box yet knowing John would understand what she meant. She then turned her attention back to Munir and walked towards him, forgetting about the state of undress Mina was currently in.

”Would you be so kind as to walk me back to my room?” She asked as she gave him a small bow.

John? His name should only and ever be Dr. Williamson. Munir merely observed Mina as she said some words to seemingly calm him. He noticed that she slid a box over to him. Surely that was a professional gesture as well, nothing more. With his mind clouded by the brief scene in front of him, Munir had not noticed the state of Mina’s undress either. “Uh. Sure. I would be glad to.” Munir replied quickly, unclasping the light shroud he wore to his hunt and draping it over Mina’s shoulders. He turned to one of his retainers, and said softly “Bring buckets of ice, iced water, iced mead and a plate of soft stone fruits to Lady Blackwood’s quarters.” The other young man nodded once and shuffled off.

Munir offered Mina his arm, turning his attention briefly to John. “Dr. Williamson, I very much appreciate the things you’ve done for Lady Blackwood. I’m in your debt.” Offering a small nod, Munir pushed the door further open with his free arm and began supporting Mina back to her room.

At last, some progress.

Sjan-dehk watched in silence as the prisoners were herded off the Celestine. Each heavy, trudging step brought them further and further away from the ship, and ever-so-slightly lightened the weight which had been resting upon his shoulders. Where were they going? What would happen to them? Such questions lingered far in the back of Sjan-dehk’s mind, and he made no attempt to pay them anything beyond the most cursory of heeds. If the Caesonians were anything like the Viserjantans, it would be a simple matter of putting the former pirates to work. Under their past victims, if at all possible. Let them pay off the debts incurred by their actions through labour, and redeem themselves through blood and sweat.

But really, how the Caesonians dealt with the prisoners was none of Sjan-dehk’s concern. This was their land and their city, and so their laws were all that mattered. Surely, they had a system of justice that could dole out fair and appropriate punishments. At least, Sjan-dehk hoped so. He couldn’t imagine King Edin lasting too long otherwise.

He mentally shrugged those thoughts away. True, Edin was a colourful man to say the least, but it was still inappropriate – rude, even – to think ill of him whilst a guest of his, even if only tangentially. Instead, he turned his attention to the last of the king’s men still aboard. “Master Hai-shuun,” he called out with a quick glance to his carpenter. “Stand the men down. If there’s anyone still working, tell them to stop what they’re doing and come up on deck. Let’s not disturb our guest while he’s having a look around.”

“Understood, captain.” Hai-shuun snapped off a quick salute before marching off.

Compared to the wreck that she was just days ago, the Celestine as she appeared now was an absolute gem. Even so, it didn’t take a trained eye to tell that she still needed plenty of work if she was to ever take to the seas as a proper ship-of-war again. Or just as a proper ship in general, even. Fresh planks nailed over gaping holes in the hull could only do so much, and that said nothing of the severely damaged mast that needed replacing. Of course, the former was far more obvious than the latter, miraculous as it was. It wasn’t an exaggeration when Sjan-dehk thought that they were only a day or two’s sail away from the tall piece of timber cracking under the strain of sailing and coming crashing through the hull like a butcher’s cleaver through a haunch of meat.

That was all the more reason for this Oswald to see the damage below decks.

Sjan-dehk offered the man a friendly smile. “Please ah…Feel free to look.” He stepped to the side and motioned for Oswald to come through, vaguely gesturing towards the narrow flight of steps leading into the ship’s dark interior. “We are not yet done…Fixing the ship. Only fix enough to sail here. Bottom decks is where we ah…Damaged her most. You should see. Know what you need.” He paused for a moment to give Oswald a chance to parse his halting speech, and also to consider his next words. “To fix, yes? If the king wants to keep her.”