---

He didn't expect such a violent response from the Duke. He stumbled into the man whom asked him for help, but unlike the pancake this morning nor the ball yesterday night, neither John and the nobleman fell, only thrown off-balance for a moment. Hearing the pouring vomit of obnoxious self-righteousness at the doctor at his request, the nobleman got visibly angry, but the Varian doctor simply raised both his hands at the man, wordlessly letting him know that he got this. It was not a simple appeal to non-violence to the man though. His countenance were very firm, and it seemed to deescalate him quite fast.

Turning around to Lorenzo, John didn't respond at first, preferring to readjust his attire neatly first. All the while, he looked upon the duke with his head leaned slightly forward, his eyes looking upward at Lorenzo. Not a shameful bow of guilt, but rather shaming the duke back like a disappointed father to his son, a teacher to their student. He's the Duke of Vermillion, he governed vast lands, riches and people. And yet he's acting like a complete buffoon comparing to this peasant doctor in front of him, who is just trying to help someone on demand. Given, he has not been exactly in good mental state since yesterday, and John was quite sympathetic seeing Charlotte's father like that. But that didn't grant the duke any excuse of not knowing any better.

"Duke Vikena." John finally spoke after the adjustment. "I'm certain there is a misunderstanding. This gentleman here asked for my expertise. I was told she passed out all of a sudden."

John maintained a cordial smile as he explained, both his hands in front of him with full intention to deescalate, but his tone wasn't sentimental nor soft. "Thus, it's purely a checkup. It could be dangerous unattended, but as of now, you are obstructing me from doing my job."

It was authoritative. Calm, strict and commanding. Cold even...

@FunnyGuy@SausagePat

“They don’t know what true suffering is, but you do. My people do.”

Sjan-dehk couldn’t tell why, but those few words struck a particular chord with him. It resonated within both his head and his heart, the note low and baleful. Scattered memories he couldn’t recall forming washed up upon the shores of his mind. Reddened decks and stinging smoke; burning timbers and dancing flames; a flash of steel and crack of gunpowder; piercing screams and desperate pleas. All so vivid. All so familiar and yet at the same time, not. It was almost as if he was seeing the echoes of someone else’s life.

In the back of his mind, he knew what he was seeing. The minutiae of battle, the little details one could so easily overlook once taken by the raging blood. Images and sounds so gruesome and frightful that a calm and sane mind would try to forget. To pretend it never happened. To pretend that all was normal, that one was the same person they had been before the fight. To keep all these dreadful recollections locked away until some random event, some coincidental happenstance, brought them all back out.

With a blank stare, Sjan-dehk gazed out at the arena. He pondered over Roman’s words, and despite not wanting to pass judgement on anyone, he found himself agreeing with the man. Duels carried their own set of dangers – Mayet had proven that rather strikingly – but they were nothing compared to the horrors of war. At least in a duel, you knew where your possible death would come from. You would know exactly how you died. With enough skill, you could even put up enough resistance to make it an honourable end.

There was no such luck in war. One could know every stance and every move of every school of martial arts in the world; could memorise every manual-of-arms and military treatise of every weapon that existed; could cut swathes through enemy ranks, and still they would fall easily enough to a stray musket shot, be reduced to nothing by cannon fire, or simply cut down from behind by a passing foe. Sjan-dehk did his best – he really did – but he couldn’t help but wonder how the two duellists from before would fare amidst the frenetic confusion of an open battle. He found no answer. He doubted he even wanted one.

Sjan-dehk drew in a deep breath and rested his elbows on his thighs. Leaning forward, he dipped his head and rested his forehead against his fingertips. For a moment, he closed his eyes. He exhaled slowly, then filled his lungs to the brim once more.

The war was over. It was all in the past. To opine on local ways was not his place, and to contemplate the nature of peace and strife was even farther from what he needed to do. Roman had given a suggestion, and so all he had to do was to simply respond to it.

When he sat back up, stretching his arms in front of him as he did so, it was as if nothing happened. There was that usual ghost of a smirk tugging on his lips, the mischief twinkling – albeit somewhat dulled – in his eyes, and his typical levity laced his floundering speech. “That is…Very interesting. Your idea.” Even as he said those words, he doubted Lady Adiyan would be receptive to it. There were still too many unknowns to make his plan palatable.

Even so, Sjan-dehk made a note to mention it to her. “I will tell Lady Adiyan. She will, ah…Likely want to meet with…The one who speaks for your lands. All of your lands. Your kingdom. To hear and see things for herself, yes? Viserjanta, it is very far. Long journey for your cra– craftsmen. And ours. A lot to discuss before we can make decision.” He hoped that it was a satisfactory answer. As things were, Sjan-dehk felt quite sure that he had far overstepped his boundaries as far as responsibilities went. Until Lady Adiyan recovered and was well enough to receive visitors, he wouldn’t know for sure.

And that was when Sjan-dehk realised he forgot to mention one very important detail. “Ah, Lady Adiyan, it might be…Time? Some time before she can meet. Or talk. She was wounded on our journey here. Maybe a day, maybe two, before I can meet her.” He paused for a moment, trying to think of anything that he may have forgotten. Finding none, he simply added, almost apologetically, "So you might need to wait."

Time: 3pm
Location:: Edin Theater
Interaction:: @Conscripts @FunnyGuy


Clouds in the sky… here an eye, there an eye.. The cloud looks like a fry! A fry with great big eyes! Ruby was looking up at a partly cloudy sky, focused in on a particular one. She used to do this for hours at a time when she was a child– just lying down on the ground with her brother Jack, looking up as the clouds drifted off to their new place in the world. She had quite the imagination when it came to simple pleasures, mostly out of necessity. As she was enjoying her cloud-watching session, her body felt a sudden jolt move through it. Whoa! What in the heavens above? She looked down at her sprawled out figure and observed her hands as she turned them side to side. She seemed to be okay. Back up toward the clouds she brought her eyes, but suddenly they started to fade and so did everything else.

A rough tapping on her cheeks struck her awake. Her dream felt so real that she had to take a moment to come about. After that, she fixed her wide eyes on the man kneeling in front of her. Good afternoon to you.. she gazed with admiration at the young man. What was he doing there? Should she ask? Or shall she accept the opportunity that has been presented to her? Ruby sat up in her seat, abruptly noticing that the play had begun. Did I fall asleep? Oh! The hat contest.. Waffle-man… I think I just won an argument? she thought, attempting to put the pieces back together. She looked over her shoulder to Lorenzo next to her, whose face looked rather vexed, and then turned back distractedly to the man. Ruby assumed that he was a high-class man judging from his tidied appearance, and great head of hair.

“Hello! Did you come to join a gal in viewing the inner workings of people’s minds?” the words came out of Ruby and she was not sure that what she said made complete sense, but it was an effort at mimicking a classy woman. She brought her hand over to the empty seat to her right, patting it. “Don’t worry, there’s a seat for you.” she smiled, nodding her head at the man. He looked a bit familiar, and for a second, the thought of a sharp knife came into her mind. But Ruby’s mind was in a bit of a fog still. The fact that he was handsome and presented without a foul smell was enough for her to welcome a stranger to join her.

Location: Secret Location
Time: 4pm

Farims escape plan seemed to work without a hitch. Ariella and Callum had exited the tavern with no issue. Jumping into the carriage and heading off toward the gardens. She was grateful for Farim, he didn’t even seem to hesitate when she asked for his help, They likely wouldn’t have been able to sneak out if it wasn’t for him.

Some time had passed since they left the Tavern and after a good trek, the pair arrived at a wooded area behind the youth education buildings.

The woods were lush and thick, appearing to be untouched by any human hands for a very long time. Large bushes of various berries and smaller plants littered the forest floor alongside multiple logs and branches that had fallen off the surrounding trees.

Ari and Ana had come here during their younger years, Ana would sneak boys back here while Ari tended to just hide with her books and drawings. Some of her best memories were shared in this forest. It took them almost a year before they even found their little spot but when they did it was the most magical place Ariella had ever seen. Still to this day, she felt like she was stepping into another world when she walked through the gate. Ana and Ari made a pact that they would only bring people who would appreciate this place, respecting it for what it was and hopefully, they could keep it as their special oasis forever.

Picking up the hem of her dress she trekked over and around the large logs and sticks, moving in and out of them like an expert. After another short walk, the two ended up at a gate. The gate was made of overgrown vines and flowers that had taken over an old wooden structure. The woods had grown over any existing man-made object covering everything but the door. Normally this would be where Ana and her would remove the top layers of their dresses, hanging them off some branches that grew from the sides of the fence. However, with the prince being here she would just need to be extra cautious with her dress.

Callum followed quietly but couldn’t help but wonder why there was a fence and a gate in the middle of nowhere. Had someone lived out here before? The denseness of the forest and the amount of overgrowth made it clear that this area had not been maintained in a while. The air was less irritating than he’d initially thought, though he could still feel the tingle of pollen aggravating his nose and eyes, it was not nearly as overwhelming as the botanical gardens near the palace.

Ariella turned back to look at Callum with a pure and genuine expression on her face. " You are one of few now who know of this place, it's top secret. I ..." she paused for a moment holding back a giddy smile " I just hope you like it as much as I do. " Ariella turned back around and pushed open the gate, the wood scraping against some old concrete stone that seemed to create a path inwards.

“Sometimes the place matters less than the company, but this place is beautiful. And not like anything I've seen before. More like, something from a fairytale.” Callum offered a nod, he understood; places and things that were kept secret deserved reverence when shared. He understood from the way Ari talked about this place that it meant as much to her as magic did to him. He already planned to be properly respectful and to try very hard to only see the positive side here. And it was much easier than he truly expected.

Walking through the gate she let him take the lead, She after all had seen everything before. Falling back slightly she held her hands up around her face, the expression of an overly excited child on her face.

Walking further into the woods the path would lead them to a ravine filled with crystal-clear water. Inside the ravine, small fish can be seen swimming up and down hiding under small lily pads that sat on top of the calm water. The water cut across the stone path wrapping up around a very large gazebomade of beautiful marble that also was covered in vines, ivy, and flowers.

Off to the right of the gazebo was a Swing that Ari and Ana had put up years and years ago. Just behind the swing in the far-off distance was also a fountain that too had been grown over by the various foliage.

The air here held more than pollen and tiny creatures that buzzed about. Something almost sacred, almost exactly the same feeling the air within the god's temples held. It was entirely serene, with none of that frantic energy that encapsulated the rest of the city. Here everything was calm and at peace, that feeling was so easily taken in with the air here. As he walked, and breathed, in the silence he better understood the magic of this place. He continued to follow the stone path, which flowed as smoothly as water, as it twisted its way around the ravine.

She gave him a moment to soak it all in but while he did so Ari had already started pulling off the murderous shoes she had just trekked in to get here. Letting out a soft moan as her bare feet touched the cool ground she let out a long sigh of relief. Standing back up she smiled at him, " Shoes off, it's the rules. "

“I am a known rule-breaker so if I abide by this one you’ll have to keep this secret as well or my reputation will be ruined.” He joked as he went ahead with the removal of shoes and socks. He didn’t entirely understand the need for this step, how the addition of feeling slimy rock with his feet added to the magic of this place but seeing as he’d made everyone uncomfortable at the tavern he could stand to be uncomfortable for a while.

Ariella chuckled at his comment “ Your secret is safe with me. Plus, anything done or said here doesn’t leave beyond that gate.” She smiled at him. She put her hands on her hip as she looked around “Well..this is it. I know the shoe thing might be sort of weird but…” she paused looking down at her wiggling toes on the dirt “ Not only do women's heels create a lot of damage to the ground from walking around but so do men's shoes digging rivets into the path it just keeps the places more true to nature, we are the guests here.” She looked back up towards the Gazebo “ We tend to spend a lot of our time in the Gazebo, it's great for keeping any sun off of us or any stiff winds that may break through.”

Callum only nodded to indicate his understanding, this was respect for the earth. Fair enough. “Is there anything inside that gazebo?” He asked.

She was a bit taken aback by his question. She should have figured he would have been curious, it's not unusual to ask such a question being in a new place but the gazebo certainly had a lot of things inside of it. If he hasn’t judged her yet, this may be the moment he does.

“ There are..things,” she said softly her voice trailing off as she felt a bit shy omitting what was in there. “ Easier to show you I think…” Ariella started to walk towards the Gazebo. Stepping over the ravine to the other side where some marble steps lead up into the large structure. Standing near the door she grasped her hands nervously. “ Ana doesn’t really come here that often anymore so I’ve kind of taken over the space. I have never shown anyone this so I'm strangely nervous for some reason” She laughed nervously as her fingers played at the fabric of her dress.

“I think you’ve already seen me at my wo-,” No not his worst, not even close, he pivoted his words. “Well not my best and you let it go so unless this gazebo is where you murder unsuspecting princes I think I can do the same.” Callum said, grinning. As the door to the gazebo opened he felt the familiar presence that was Starcatcher radiating from inside. He hesitated before he even set foot inside, he avoided even looking in the Book’s direction, and he said nothing, keeping his attention fixed on Ari.

Ari felt his eyes fixated on her, she looked over at him feeling his reluctance to go inside. “ I promise no murdering of unsuspecting princes takes place here. “ She offered him a friendly smile. “At least not yet “ she joked.

Callum didn’t have to look at the crimson grimoire with its pages lines in golden text to know it was there. The Book held a force more powerful than anything else he’d ever experienced. More than drink, more than drugs, It called out to every part of Callum; body, mind, spirit, and blood. He would have expected the secret prince murdering room before ever guessing to find the presence of this very book.

Inside the Gazebo were tons of books along the edges and floors, stacking so high in some areas they would be up to his knees. Many of the books were various romance novels, herbology books, greek tragedy stories, and mythology books. Alongside, the books were homemade wax candles, dried leaves and flowers, little trinkets, and rolls of twine. The center of the gazebo was clear except for a large plush fabric cushion where an opened book sat comfortably on it.

He may notice a familiar book sitting amongst her pile with a red binding and gold lettering. The title read star catcher, with a tassel hanging out the side of it. Around the book were some recently burnt candles, twigs, and a lock of hair that matched similar to Ariellas. She had nearly forgotten it when her eyes noticed the book open from the other night. Her eyes widened slightly as she hoped he wouldn’t take notice, that he would just see it as another one of her books since there were so many.

she looked around nervously as she started to ramble “I spend a lot of time here, I don't like being at home. A lot of my books I’ve collected over the years, read them all but couldn’t seem to get rid of them. Each and every one of them here is important in its own way. Lots of lessons to be had in this room” she joked laughing nervously again.

“I don’t really have a home, I have a palace I live in but don’t belong in and there is none of the warmth that makes a building into a home. Last night our Queen who calls herself my mother found her two youngest intoxicated enough to worry we might not wake. But what she really cared about was how it looked to the rest of the world. So today she thought executing Darryn, the man who drove our carriage, would be an appropriate punishment. She thought her embarrassment and our disobedience were worth innocent blood. That is the sort of family I come from, and that is why it is nearly impossible to put my faith in anyone who shares my blood.” For the second time today he offered up an explanation for why he acted in all ways he did. He began to walk the perimeter, taking in the titles of a variety of books that lined the room. Many he recognized, some he did not. But he was still thinking of only that Book.

Ariella listened to her friend, and Callum certainly seemed to need one. She felt her back press up against the cold marble pillar as she looked over at him. Ana had told Ari about a lot of what happened in her family, all the things that her parents did..or didn’t do. As she got older the stories dwindled but so did Ana, drowning herself in whatever she could find to keep the smile on her face. She started to realize that while Ana drowned herself Callum wore a lot of guilt and anger on his shoulders.

“ My mother, although she would never execute someone mainly because she really doesn’t have the power to I assure you that if it made her look better or put fear in her station she would. She forces me to treat people a certain way, put on beautiful lush gowns and expensive jewelry, and parade myself around like a circus animal. She belittles and treats people like they aren’t anything more than a cockroach under her shoe and how dare they mess up her pretty little shoe. If I don't comply, then I am locked in my chambers with guards posted at my door day and night. “ Her eyes dropped to the ground, and she focused on her feet planted against the cold stone.

“ You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Our situations are slightly different but our burdens are very similar. I will never judge you, you don’t need to explain.” She shrugged her shoulders softly “ In a lot of the books I’ve read it's common for the misfits, the forsaken, or the misunderstood to find their family with others who don’t share their blood. Finding people you trust and making your home with them instead. You have a home here..if you want it” she said softly looking up at Callum her face unable to provide anything more than a look of understanding.

---

---

Roman listened to the man as the arena started to calm down. Apparently it was a short intermission or possibly the end of the matches for the day he wasn’t sure but everyone seemed to be getting refreshments or chatting happily with their neighbor about the two fighters and who did the best at what including some not so savory comments from some of the on lookers. The man next to him went quiet for a moment before he continued to speak.

Roman nodded along with the other man’s words. He had a few good points but it seemed that roman once again wasn’t entirely too good with explaining the situation but decided to roll with it. This was still a good way to learn about each other as well as each other’s customs and courtesy’s when it came to social interactions. This would be more than enough information to tell Erik so that he could relay it to the queen and prepare for a better and more understanding encounter.

“Ahh yes I agree, the craftsmen trade is something we do after trade routes are established and friendly relations are gained on both sides. No need to worry about our sailing capabilities, Sailing is just as much of a second nature to the Ravenwood clan as crafting. I am personally better at crafting then sailing, my sister Sasha Ravenwood, is much better at sailing then I am.” He paused for a moment before continuing.

“As for our leader, her majesty Queen Rosa Camilia and his majesty King Alixandre Camilia of the Varian kingdom and all of their territories, is who you speak of. I do believe they will be leaving soon but I will make sure that a message will reach them about your Lady Adiyan. We do have some of the best doctors in town as well if you believe that she needs further medical care.”

He was being honest about his words, even if he was unsure if there was enough time for the king and queen to possibly meet with this Lady Adiyan or at the very least one of their advisors may be able to stay behind. Roman would make a point to notify them of this to hopefully gain a new trading partner one that would likely value them more than the kingdom here.

“By landmass Varian is a little smaller compared to the Caesonia and Alidasht kingdoms but our populations are about the same. I find that the royalty and people in charge of Varian tend to treat our people with a bit more respect than the people who have the same roles here but I am a little biased. Yet just like us our country is always looking for ways to grow and build new partnerships with other far off kingdoms.”

Roman turned from him and back to the crowd, he knew dam well he was biased if it came down to it he knew that he could and would burn this city to the ground if they were ever at war. It was a scenario that he had gone over before in training, war games meant to test strategies and defenses even during peace time with the hope they would never have to be used. They even had similar strategies for Alidasht and Varian cities if they ever fell into the wrong hands or turned against the crown. It was a depressing thought as he did genuinely enjoy this city and the common people in it.

Such abundant variety for the capitol city, he liked the people he had come to know as friends but knew that if duty calls for it he wouldn’t hesitate. Now that the giant was thinking about how much he missed this place and thinking about the people of this place, he realized he may have been a little rude to Crystal earlier today. The lord still didn’t believe that it was that bad but an apology may be in order, would give him a chance to pick on the big guy again.

As Roman spoke, Sjan-dehk did his best to commit the man’s words to memory. It was unlikely he could remember or even understand enough to reproduce them with any sort of coherence later, but to sate his own curiosity and as a brief, first day’s report to Lady Adiyan, it would suffice.

His brows arched in pleasant surprise when the larger man mentioned his people’s – and in particular, his sister’s – affinity for the sea. Immediately, he began to wonder what their ships were like. Were they quick and agile in the water, or did they favour a slower and steadier approach? Did their hulls bend and roll with the waves, or were they solid beasts that ploughed through all with strength and determination? And their sails; did they billow in the wind as a net would fill with fish, or were they battened things that would clatter as they corralled and bent the ocean gusts to their will?

Of course, none of them were questions pertinent to the matter at hand. They were, however, enough to almost distract Sjan-dehk from the fact that Roman had misinterpreted his concerns. Any sailor with a map and some level of bravery would certainly find their way between their lands. It was the physical distance Sjan-dehk had been trying to talk about. After all, a distant heart ached the hardest, as it was said, and the distance between Viserjanta and this new continent was definitely vast.

He decided against correcting Roman. It wasn’t a big issue and besides, he’d more likely than not simply make things even more confusing for the two of them.

Only when Roman was done did Sjan-dehk begin to formulate his reply. The first order of business was to politely and respectfully decline the generous offer of the services of his people’s doctors. “Lady Adiyan, I think she is…Alright.” That ran a little too close to being a bold-faced lie for Sjan-dehk’s liking, but he didn’t know how else to say that even though she was likely to lose a leg and had more shrapnel in her than a loaded canister, she was stable and out of any immediate danger. “For now. Healers, we have. But I will see her later and know more. If we need help, will let you know.” He paused. “Thank you.”

Now all he had to do was to talk about Viserjanta. A task easier said than done.

Had he known more of the local tongue, he could’ve waxed endlessly about the history – both distant and recent – of the Commonwealth; of how it had once been a kingdom, then empire, governed by rulers both wise and wicked. He could have spoken about the rich histories of the myriad of people and cultures that called the scattered islands home, left behind by sagacious scholars and dutiful courtiers. If time allowed, he could have even touched on the various schools of philosophies founded by great thinkers and worldly visionaries, their words and deeds recorded for posterity by their loyal students.

Unfortunately, Sjan-dehk didn’t know enough of the local language.

And so, he had to settle for something a little more basic. “Viserjanta, it is a land of islands. Many islands, big and small. Also many ah…Ways? Different peoples, different ways, yes? Viserjanta has a lot. I-” He patted his chest. “-From Jafi. We are…Ajadi.” His brows knitted together as he struggled to think of a way to describe a march. “Viserjanta, the…West? We protect. So they call our land Ajadi. Many types of lands, but all bow to the High Queen.”

There wasn’t much Sjan-dehk could say about Daraya the Second. He had met her once – personally, no less – when she had paid Jafi a visit after the war to convey her appreciation for the march’s loyalty and its services to her cause. She seemed nice enough; not at all the stuffy aristocrat Sjan-dehk had expected, and more of a soldier-queen with a temperament that reminded him of his sisters. They had shared a few words – mostly over the Far Western theatre of the war, and Sjan-dehk’s extensive experiences – before she had to be called away to meet with his father, and he had to return to his ship for duty.

“The High Queen, she rules all. Queen of kings. With her…Damasaang. It is many nobles, they meet and decide Viserjanta’s…Path.” Crown and council, that was the cause Sjan-dehk had fought for. It was still a cause he believed in, even if their decisions sometimes frustrated him. “Jafi, and other islands, we have own Damasaang. It is…The Way. Harmony.”

He stopped and drew in a deep breath. Translating his thoughts into the local tongue had taxed his mind a lot more than he had thought it would. He could feel his head throbbing from just behind his eyes to the back of his head. That was enough sharing about Viserjanta; if Roman wanted to know more, Sjan-dehk could offer a few books and maybe volunteer one of his crew to help translate. Or confuse. It was really a toss-up between the two.

It was only then did he realise that while the ring had been empty for the entire time the two of them had been conversing. He nodded towards the empty arena. “More? Or finished?”

---

---

The tantalizing aroma of various delicacies hit △△△ before he set foot in the kitchen. The sounds of bubbling, roasting, and cutting were gentle and calming as a lullaby. Chef Gilbert moved deftly around the kitchen, effortlessly taking on the tasks of multiple cooks, a true one-man kitchen brigade. Yet, even from the eyes of an amateur, △△△ could tell there was still quite an amount of work left with how much it seemed the chef wanted to impress the soon-to-arrive guest.

The incredulity etched itself into Chef Gilbert’s face when △△△ volunteered to help. After all, what use could this pampered man possibly be in the kitchen? Chef Gilbert spent years honing his skills, and he was not about to entertain the notion of a greenhorn intruding upon his domain, especially when Lord Smithwood was due to arrive soon. With a curt answer, Chef Gilbert initially dismissed △△△’s offer.

However, after some back and forth, Chef Gilbert relented, albeit with caution, and assigned △△△ to simple tasks. △△△ proved to be more than adequate for the job and the chef promoted him from kitchen hand to apprentice chef. By the time the dishes were ready to be carried into the dining room, △△△ had climbed the proverbial ladder to Chef Gilbert’s sous chef.

When asked where the count learned how to cook, △△△ spoke of a small town his Caesonian relatives lived in. There, everyone pitched in on the daily chores, including cooking. He remembered the fun he had in the kitchen as he worked together with others. He also mentioned how his distant cousin had a natural talent to turn every dish into a visually and olfactorily unpleasant mess, no matter what. The food was, fortunately, still edible, incredibly bland, but edible. Everyone reassured his cousin that he’d get better one day. He never did.

“Where’s this place?” The chef asked.

“It’s gone now. Bandits raided the area and torched it.” According to the papers, that is. Before Chef Gilbert formulated a followup question, △△△ continued. “We still keep the tradition alive back in Varian, though. I think cooking is a useful skill to have regardless, but even more so if you travel. One time we got shipwrecked in…” He regaled the chef of his food-related adventures abroad.

The cooking-centric conversation seemed to warm Chef Gilbert up to △△△, just enough for him to share a little about himself and the Vikenas. He had been under the Vikenas’ employment for several years. Despite their dwindling reputation, Gilbert remained loyal as they had treated him with a kindness that he had never experienced from his own family. With the Vikenas, he was a part of the family, not just another staff, and they were Chef Gilbert’s most avid supporters. It was why he followed them wherever they required a chef, even if the place was the dreaded city of Sorian, where so many belittled and ridiculed the Vikenas; a place that was even more difficult to stay after the Duchess's death.

The death of Dutchess Vikena struck a devastating blow to her family, leaving their hearts shattered. Lady Vikena withdrew further into seclusion, and Duke Vikena was pushed into a dark place that seemed impenetrable to anyone’s reach. The chef described the duke as “a poor soul who can’t run away from the destiny of failure.”

“They must’ve loved each other deeply,” △△△ commented.

“He does.” Chef Gilbert answered. This time, △△△ refrained from commenting.

The chef seemed to respect the late Duchess, but there was a certain undertone he had when talking specifically about her and not the Vikenas as a whole. As it turned out, this was not mutually exclusive to the chef.

Miss Delilah appeared in the kitchen to offer her assistance and was surprised to see that everything was moving along smoothly. Chef Gilbert told her how △△△ helped him expedite the process, and △△△ mentioned how he enjoyed the time spent talking and cooking with Chef Gilbert. Miss Delilah showed a sudden interest in the details of the conversation that took place between Chef Gilbert and △△△.

“He was giving me tips on how to leave a good impression on a particular maid,” △△△ said, full of cheer. “On a completely, absolutely, unrelated note, I’d like to know more about you, Miss Delilah.” For a moment, he saw the beginnings of a warm smile bloom on the woman’s features when a flash of suspicion cut it short. She quickly hid that expression with the kind of “friendly” smile △△△ knew all too well.

Which was why Miss Delilah’s confession that she was the secret love child of a maid and a baron caught him off guard. As soon as the baron discovered his fling was with child, he left the picture, leaving Miss Delilah’s mother to raise her alone. Together, Miss Delilah and her mother worked at Sorian Castle until her mother passed away when she turned sixteen. Despite her efforts to handle the workload of two people on her own, it became overwhelming because of the heavy demands and horrid work environment.

This was the point when △△△ interrupted her. Although he did not intend to, he found himself taking her hands into his and closing his eyes tight. He felt her muscles tense from the sudden contact and slowly relaxed as he just stood there. “I’m sorry,” was all he said before releasing her. “Now you have sauce all over your hands,” he added in a more jovial tone.

“You’re not touching anything in this kitchen until you wash your hands,” came the stern voice of Gilbert.

△△△ saluted the chef. “Yes, chef.”

As they washed their hands, Miss Delilah reassured him it was not all bad. When it became increasingly obvious that she could not live up to King Edin’s standards, he got rid of her by sending her away to Duke Vikena—Duke Walter Vikena—as a present for his newly born daughter.

Miss Delilah talked about the late Duke Vikena with pure admiration, praising him for his kindness and compassion. He had enough love to shower Lady Vikena with adoration and act as a father figure to Miss Delilah. While she did not speak overtly ill of Duchess Vikena, the undertone in the chef’s recounting of the duchess was present in the maid’s voice as well. No, it was something more... △△△ sensed an accusation.

Both Chef Gilbert and Miss Delilah seemed to agree on one thing: Duchess Emina Vikena was a proud and ambitious woman whose love for her daughter rivaled her obsession to restore the Vikena reputation, and leave behind a great legacy of her own. However, this obsession, combined with the pressures of the royal court, weighed heavily on the late duke. The fissure that formed between the Vikenas grew into a chasm as more issues piled up. When the title of Duke Vikena passed to Lorenzo, echoes of that chasm remained. No matter how hard he tried to fill his predecessor’s shoes, he only brought further embarrassment to the duchess, driving her to fight even harder to restore her family’s reputation. That was why Duchess Vikena’s supposed suicide came as a shock. It was inconceivable that a woman so scrupulous about her image would end her legacy in such a way. Perhaps they did not know their duchess as much as they thought they knew. Lady Vikena, in particular, became obsessed with uncovering the truth behind her mother’s death.

“I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable, Miss Delilah.” △△△ said once he and Miss Delilah returned from the dining room back to the kitchen.

“No, no. I’m fine.” Delilah had told him with a smile. “I know… the story seems rather bleak but I have hope perhaps both the Duke and Lady can find a sense of stability.” Delilah's smile faltered slightly as she then carefully chose her next words. "I do hope Lady Vikena can find happiness in more ordinary pursuits," She said softly, her gaze fixed on him. "The season for courting is a time for simple joys, and I wish for her to experience them fully." Delilah's tone carried a hint of concern, and her eyes held a flicker of worry.

“One not involving magic.” △△△ said as he collected the scraps of food into a bowl. His dark eyes softened at her reaction, “I’m a big boy. You can speak your mind… I can’t promise that I won’t be crying in the corner later, though.”

Delilah held his gaze and gave a curt nod after some thought. “ I wish the same stability for you as well… Please be careful.”

“...You’re very kind.” With the food in hand, △△△ exited the kitchen and requested Miss Delilah’s assistance in setting up a basic trap for the rooster. He was lining the floor with a trail of food when he returned to the subject. “Truth is, Miss Delilah, I worry if it’s even possible for my clan to obtain stability. We tried, of course. We lived as peacefully as possible, avoided conflict when we could, and looked after our friends. But sometimes… existing is enough of a threat to some, regardless of what we did or didn’t do.” The jolly conversation between Lady Vikena and Lord Smithwood echoed through the foyer. “And when those people happen to be someone of great influence and they’d do anything to eliminate us… it feels as though the world itself wants us gone.” He looked up at Miss Delilah, “How do you protect yourself from something so… absolute?”

Delilah’s eyes downcast thoughtfully. “I have days where I’m afraid the baron will come to either claim me, or maybe he’ll decide I’m too much of a loose end. My mother had warned me he could decide to come for me any day… He’s a dreadful person.” She looked up, her eyes straying toward the direction of Lady Vikena and Lord Smithwood’s voices. “But I don’t let that fear control me. I have my family here with me now and I want to cherish that… Lady Charlotte, Duke Vikena, Nathaniel… I’m happy to be here.”

She smiled to herself before meeting eyes once more. “We’re not the only ones at fate’s mercy… Terrible things happen to good people all too often. You deserve to be in this world just as much as anyone else. Cherish your time and don’t let the fear of threat take it away from you, Count Fritz.” She paused then gave him a friendly grin. “A handsome man like you should be out enjoying the courting season. Anyone who’s threatened by your existence can kindly deal with it.”

△△△ barked a laugh. This was not how he envisioned the conversation going, but he appreciated her words. “Well, if this baron drops by and you need a little extra help dealing with him. You know you can count on me. Strength in numbers, yes?” After ensuring that the sizable wicker basket was secured, he offered his arm to Miss Delilah, “Now then, lovely madam. May I have the honor of escorting you back to the kitchen, where piles of dirty pots and pans await us?”

“Thank you.” Delilah smiled and looped her arm through his, “Of course, you may.”

The deafening roar of the crowd’s cheers blended and morphed into screams of terror and agony. Flames erupted from every direction, devouring everything and everyone in their path. Their fiery tongues licked the night sky in attempt to eat the moon and stars too. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning wood and flesh. Blood spread out, pooling beneath the fallen bodies that littered the ground like discarded dolls and stained the ground a deep, dark red. Amidst the raging inferno, a group of figures stood outside the once-beautiful castle she called home—a place of safety and comfort reduced to a charred, smoldering ruin. A silver streak, followed by a spray of blood, added more red to the portrait of Hells on earth.

Familiar faces turned to the girl. Dread drained the color from them, the last wisp of hope was snuffed out from their hearts as the golden aberration, and its amber-eyed bride next to it, fixed its piercing blue gaze onto her. Slowly, it began to move in her direction. Each step sent ripples across the red carpet that expanded with every swipe of its blade.

The girl stood frozen,

fear

her father’s body weighing her down

the weapon embedded in her

everything that was supposed to stay inside a body, spilling out

childish bravery

… rooted her to the spot as she watched the creature draw closer. She couldn’t run. There was nowhere to hide. No one to save them.

More blood splattered across the canvas. The abomination’s face twisted into an expression of unadulterated pleasure. Its lips curled upwards, baring rows of pearly whites. Its eyes glinted with a predatory hunger as it took in its prey before it.

Ríoghnach opened her mouth, but she no longer had the strength to breathe. So Hatred urged her to take a breath. Ríoghnach gasped, but she couldn’t speak. So Rage gave her a voice. Her cries were drowned out by the spectators’ frenzied uproar of cheers, whistles, and clapping.

Through the holes of the headgear that masked her face, Riona watched the offspring of the abomination stride offstage with feigned innocence. Just as he was about to continue past her, she spoke up, “You’re a monster.” Both of you are. All of them are. Prince Auguste stopped midstride. When his insidious yellow eyes landed on her, she was already facing him straight on, arms crossed.

“I am sorry, Ser, I didn’t quite catch that.” Came his voice, tone friendly and polite as always. His expression is a mix of genuine confusion and a tad bit of hurt; he may have actually caught her words but it was as if he wanted to be certain.

She scoffed, “You heard me the first time, Danrose.” Riona pointed her chin in Altare Remulus’s direction. “He saw you for what you are.” Even from a distance, she could see how shaken the fight with Prince Auguste left him. “Most people do once they see how hot and bothered you get when you beat people up.”

“Ah, Lieutenant Altare?” Auguste replied candidly, brushing past her initial words- luckily Wulfric wasn’t within earshot. “A fine knight. He is a man of mettle.” The Prince simply raised a brow at her following words. His duel with Altare certainly wasn’t a one sided beat-down, atleast he believed so. Of course, Auguste himself is dreadfully unaware of his presence whilst fighting. “Saw me for what I am? Apologies, perhaps it is due to my exhaustion but I don’t quite follow your words, Ser.”

This time Riona laughed. “HA! Wow. You’re either delusional, f**king oblivious, or more two-faced than I gave you credit for. … Or maybe you’re trying to avoid the truth?” Riona sighed and mumbled typical under her breath. “Can you read people’s expressions?” She pointed at the Lieutenant, who noticed the gesture. At first, he appeared puzzled by the attention, then as his gaze shifted to Prince Auguste, so did his expression. Fear flickered across his features, betraying the unease that took hold of him. “Tell me, what emotion is that?”

Auguste kept his expression neutral, having had more than enough practice navigating the mire of the political court. He disregarded the discourtesy of the masked swordsman as he wasn’t naive enough to believe that the entire kingdom had liked the Danroses. Still, a certain unease bubbled within him, it couldn't only have been from her blatant rudeness. “Of course.” He replied, “It appears to be one of fear or consternation. It was harder to ascertain such when he had his helmet on.”

“A hardened veteran is frightened of you, even though the fight is over. Strange, right? There shouldn’t be a reason to be scared of you now.” She watched the Prince’s expression carefully. “Remember the fights you’ve been a part of? Doesn’t matter if it’s just training.” She paused to give him time to dig up his memories. “You recognize that face, don’t you? You’ve seen it more than once. And not just on your opponents either, you’ve seen it on people who were just watching too.”

Internally Auguste had always picked up on that look that many of his opponents wore after a duel with him. This time he stayed silent, internally ruminating the words that she had given him. He didn’t see a reason why they would display such fear.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure why she was taken aback by his blatant lack of self-awareness. Suppose that was one of the perks of being born into a powerful and filthy rich family—the luxury of not needing to be self-aware. Those around you went to great lengths to shield you from the ugliness, covering your eyes with rose-colored lenses and playing beautiful symphonies of distraction. “You smile when you fight.” Riona said frankly, “and it gets wider the longer the fight lasts, the bloodier the fight gets… the more terrified your opponent becomes.”

“You like to hurt people, Auguste Danrose. You love it when you overpower them and they can’t fight back anymore.”

“Just like your father.” A wide grin spread across King Edin’s face as he watched them struggle in vain. A carnal smile that grew impossibly wider when they begged him to stop.

“Like your cousin.” Lady Morrigan’s expression melted into that of ecstasy. An impassioned moan escaped her lips, mingling with her heated breath, while her victim lay irreversibly broken beneath her.

“And your brother.” Prince Wulfric’s dilated pupils stared at the marks he inflicted on Sir Mathias with a thirst so palpable, as if there was nothing else in the world he desired more than to lick the cut, widen it, and create more.

“Just like a monster.”

The realization hit Auguste like a ton of bricks. Have I really been doing that? He always enjoyed duels. It was one of the scant ways he destressed after particularly taxing days that come chained with royalty and politics. He covered his mouth with his hand; what she had said contained truths. He certainly did take pleasure in duels, one where his life was in true risk. He himself recalled the times he had fought, he always made sure to never go through if the enemy could not continue, but perhaps it was simply to ease his guilt.

There were a few opponents that had given him trouble who showed no such fear- Wulfric, Wystan, and a few others. But they seemed to be an exception rather than the rule. They were all exceptional swordsmen, one who could hold their own against him.

Would he really have been able to give up one of his ‘vices’. Did he even have the strength to?

“I see…” Auguste finally said. “While I don’t agree with everything you’ve said, you have made me aware of a fault of mine albeit brusquely, for that, I give you my sincerest thanks.” He bowed lightly to her. This was certainly an issue that stung, he reminded himself that it should be an issue one must ponder through logic rather than emotions.

“While I thank you for your candidness, Ser, please avoid such talks if possible. Anyone hearing of such would consider it treason.” Auguste said, a small smile rose on his face despite her words, “Not many would say such brutal and honest remarks towards the Danroses, and I like you for that, Ser, so I’d prefer if you were alive.” Although it was likely Callum would laugh alongside her and proclaim his agreement. Still, his words weren't intended as a threat but rather a cautionary warning.
“I am sure my words won’t mean much,” Auguste had an inkling that she did not like the Danroses one bit, he had met more than a few in his jaunts pretending to be a commoner, those who… disliked royalty to say the least. “But I apologize if I’ve offended you in any way.” He couldn’t bring himself to apologize for his family, it wasn’t his right… It likely would have festered wounds rather than close them.

Riona’s glare remained firmly in place, but she could feel that fire inside ebbing without anything to stoke it. Part of her expected a much stronger reaction from him. “You’re right. Your words mean nothing. It’s always easy to say things. If you were even half as sincere, you would’ve actually done something by now and not be just another dog waiting to follow the crowns’ orders, desperate for their approval.”

Riona turned her head away from the Prince when she heard the announcer summoning Reohg Knock. She approached the weapon rack on the side to pull out one of the swords provided by the arena. “Your opponents aren’t a substitute for your father. Why don’t you beat the living sh*t out of him for a change?”

Auguste's eyes momentarily turned stony. “Best of luck to your match, Ser.” He replied before turning away, walking to the observer's stands.

The fire belched, emitting plumes of smoke and embers, as it consumed the new kindling.