After Charlotte had departed, Wulfric had not remained at the café much longer, perhaps half an hour at most. He soon took his leave as well, making a short return to the castle. After changing his outfit into something more appropriate for business, he headed to the Merchant Guild.

It was a neat building, one which displayed the might of capital of the Merchant’s Association. Nothing compared to his family’s assets, yet that did not in any way mean they could be dismissed out of hand. The prince had recognized the importance of money at a young age. Because of that, he’d made efforts to make allies within the Guild. Occasionally even with those rare individuals and companies who were unaffiliated with it.

It was because of these connections that Delronzo’s name – and that of his company, the Black Rose – had been immediately recognizable to him once he’d heard of them. Black Rose had become quite renown in the past half a year. It had enjoyed great success, and had managed to expand admirably. Of course, he’d heard of it; a few months prior, in fact. He’d not thought much of it then, beyond the company being a potential target of investment.

However…Now, there was not only the clear possibility, but a very high likelihood that Marek had fueled Black Rose’s success via illegitimate means. Was his company simply a front? Or was it all the same to the man, as long as he made a profit? Either was plausible, and given he was so well-established already, it would be a hassle to deal with regardless.

No matter. If that’s what it took, he would simply dismantle the company itself, ruthlessly and systematically. Limit the man’s options until he had nowhere to run, nothing and no one to hide behind. Crush him as the menace that he was.

But first things first.

He wanted intel, and the Guild was simply his first chosen avenue of gathering it. Regardless of whether Black Rose was its member, the Guild no doubt had information on it. Besides, it would certainly also have documents detailing who was renting each warehouse, including that ill-fated one. Thus, he could obtain concrete evidence for who was making use of the location at the time when the incident occurred at it.

As for why he was doing this himself? Well, some things simply required a more personal touch.

Wulfric entered the premises, greeting various acquaintances as he went. It was nearing evening, but many people were here on some sort of business before dinner.

“Oh, Your Highness, we weren’t expecting you today,” a graying man with a friendly constitution greeted him; Mr. Lesueur, one of the attendants at the reception, though he often worked a shift in the archive rooms. The older man adjusted his glasses as he looked up from his work with a smile. “Did you wish to meet with the leader? I do believe he is in a meeting…”

The prince returned the smile with a polite one of his own. “I would not bother him unannounced,” he waved a dismissive hand. “I may return for a meeting tomorrow, or in the following days. For today,” he leaned a closer, and passed over a note. “I should like to know if the company and individual listed are known members here,” he confided.

Lesueur seemed intrigued. Wulfric knew that if he revealed just enough, this man could spread the right kinds of rumours. But for this moment, he’d let him wonder just why he was asking for what he was. If he let the other man’s curiosity build, the impact once he fed him his suspicions – that Black Rose was dealing with drugs, and possibly had other operations underground – would be that much greater.

“I require information as to who is currently renting each of our warehouses,” he stated. To start off, this would be enough; later in the investigation process, he’d also ask for similar information for the past few months, with a focus on Black Rose’s known activities in Sorian.

Though he knew very well where to go, Wulfric was led to the relevant offices by the Guild’s employees. He obtained several copies of documents proving that Black Rose was the company using that particular warehouse at present. Of course, there were specific dates noted since when and until when it was contracted to them. Similarly, he obtained copies for the other warehouses Marek’s company was currently renting.

“This is…quite unusual, Your Highness,” Lesueur noted. The man had taken it upon himself to be one of the employees to accompany him. They’d retreated to one of the antechambers now. By the look on the man’s face, he was eager for more details. The other personnel, who were doing a final checkup of the gathered documents, were likely listening in too.

“It is an unusual circumstance. I’m afraid there is strong suspicion of drug trade…We gathered some witness accounts from here, yesterday evening,” he tapped the document indicating the warehouse the party had been held at. ‘Witness accounts’ was stretching it a bit, but he couldn’t possibly spread rumours that nobles and royalty had been inebriated and drugged. Even if such rumours may or may not be in circulation already.

“Khm…This Black Rose company is not one of ours, however,” Lesueur noted with an awkward reluctance. The Guild’s record had been checked already, and it had been confirmed that Delronzo’s company was not affiliated; meaning the man was an independent merchant.

The prince gave a nod, as he believed he knew what the man’s concern was. “I realize the Guild wouldn’t involve itself in any illegal business.” It was in their interest to keep any such deals on their side nonexistent – or in rare cases, hidden. As this matter pertained to an independent merchant, the Guild wouldn’t be as keen to crack down on the man as they would if it had been one of theirs involved.

However, there would be some interest in doing precisely that, and Wulfric would capitalize on it. “Independent or not, there may be drug dealing activities…That is a matter which disturbs the honest trading practices we so strive to upkeep.” In other words, it wasn’t profitable for the legitimate businesses to have illegitimate rivals.

“I’m happy you trusted me with this, Your Highness…but the scope of this–” The older man was clearly nervous. Wulfric raised a hand, signifying there was no need to say any more.

“I am aware. Yet, I trust that you will relay this on as is appropriate, Mr. Lesueur.”

After receiving assurances and farewells, and having the documents he’d come for compiled, Wulfric headed for the castle.

He was found by his mother in front of his office, who was seeking him for dinner. “Evening, mother…I have just had these compiled,” he showed her the documents he’d gathered. “If the investigation teams have already been assembled, I would recommend passing this on to them – the both of them.” He wanted to show the Alidasht that their side was willing to cooperate, after all. Wulfric then briefly stepped into his study to safely deposit the evidence.

“Shall we?” once he exited, he extended an arm to his mother, offering to escort her to the dining room.

As they entered, Wulfric’s gaze was first drawn to his sister. She did not look well. Had something happened to her? What had her guards been doing?

But then, he let his gaze settle on Edin.

“Good evening, father,” he offered a short though respectable bow. “Please excuse me for the delay; my visit to the Guild ran longer than I had expected.” His father would know that he was referring to the Merchant Guild; it shouldn’t be surprising to Edin that he’d been there. He’d frequented the place ever since he’d come of age, after all.

Technically, Wulfric was also not late, as it was a minute or so to six. However, he hadn’t managed to change, so he was still wearing his previous outfit. Thankfully, he’d chosen one which he believed just as suitable for dinner as it was for business.

“Good evening, sister,” he then greeted Anastasia, tone on the warm side of polite. Yet, he couldn’t help the minor concerned frown. However, since he was still escorting Alibeth, he first approached the seat he knew she wished to take, and politely seated her.

When he passed Anastasia on the way to his own seat, he touched his sister’s shoulder. “Are you unwell?” he asked her quietly. It wouldn’t do her any good to miss dinner, but perhaps she would prefer to eat later, or in private.

With a fist to his chest, Sjan-dehk returned both the bow and grin with ones of his own. This woman was turning out to be quite the interesting character. Few would consider sneaking aboard a warship only to be caught and placed on the ugly side of a dozen muskets to be a mere game, he wagered. Either she was a remarkable thespian putting on the most convincing act he’d ever seen, or she was – as he’d suspected as an aside earlier – no stranger to violent confrontations.

Both would’ve earned her respect with him; the first for the sheer amount of skill, and the second for being a kindred spirit of sorts. Besides, she had the mind to be considerate of his crew despite everything. That spoke of some goodness in her heart, and that had to count for something.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a wave of his hand. “There’s no need for you to apologise. They made a mistake, they have to suffer consequences. Today, they were lucky. It was just a cheeky woman looking for some fun. Next time, our visitor might not be as harmless.” That wasn’t just a hypothetical; Sjan-dehk was speaking from experience. Not every province was quick to choose sides when the war broke out. A handful tried to remain as neutral as they could, and that meant allowing vessels from both the rebels and the Crown and Court to dock at their harbours. Spies and agents stealing documents and plans from ships belonging to their enemies was the norm back in those days. Sjan-dehk had lost count of the number his crew had captured after the hundred-and-fiftieth one.

Now that he thought about it, that was all the more reason for him to punish his crew. This wasn’t anything unknown to them; they knew what they should’ve done. Cleaning the ship’s six latrines seemed like almost too light of a penalty, now. But it was too late to change anything; Sjan-dehk had already told them what to do, and he wasn’t too keen on going back on his word. Even for something like this.

“Anyway,” he continued. “Nice to meet you, Ka-” The woman’s unfamiliar name tripped on his tongue and stayed there. Sjan-dehk cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ka- I mean, Lady Arden. I am Wasun Sjan-dehk, captain of Sada Kurau and the Fourth Lesser Marquis of Jafi.” Once again, he gestured to the ship around them. “We just arrived this morning, so my crew’s busy getting her fixed up and ready. I’ll show you around, but excuse the mess.”

The Sada Kurau was a lovely vessel indeed, as Kalliope had said, but there really wasn’t much of her for him to show. Or to be precise, there wasn’t much need for Sjan-dehk to actually bring Kalliope around; flat as the deck was, they could easily look up and down the entire ship’s length from where they stood. There was a raised quarterdeck at the stern, yes, but it wasn’t particularly high. “This way,” Sjan-dehk said and beckoned for her to follow him to the prow. It was as good a place as any to start.

“Fore-and-aft rigged, three masts.” Sjan-dehk pointed to the rigging as they walked along the deck. As he passed each idle crewman, he gave them a friendly greeting as well as a reminder that Mursi was the sort to fill idle hands with difficult work. “But see the horizontal yards? She can fly square sails as well when we need speed rather than agility. The rigging is complicated, as you can see, but-” He pushed aside a tangle of dangling ropes and tackles for Kalliope to pass under. “-she’s got a bloody skilled crew. The sails can be changed before our enemies even know what’s happening.”

From the prow, the two of them could see Sorian bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Be it made of stone or wood, thatch or tile, it seemed as if every building shone in the twilight. Little pricks of flickering light marked where lanterns or candles had been lit in preparation for the night. Sjan-dehk leaned against the forward guardrail. Truly, it was a beautiful sight. Beautiful enough that he almost missed the dour, grey castle staring down at him. In the day, it seemed majestic – and it still was in a domineering way – but now in the evening? It was almost drab compared to the rest of the city.

Sjan-dehk drew in a deep breath and glanced at Kalliope with a grin. “A damn fight sight, isn’t it?” He said and patted the cannon he stood beside. “We’ve got four chasers here at the bow. They’re unlikely to finish a fight on their own, but they can slow a runner down, or give them a fair warning before we close in for a scuffle.” He pointed to a shelf fixed to the curved guardrails on either side of the guns. White bags stuffed almost to bursting sat on them, and underneath were a row of cannonballs. “Stay clear of those. We keep powderbags and shot close at hand for our guns. Always have to be ready for anything.”

He drew in a deep breath and looked out at the city again for a moment. “You know,” he started and turned to face Kalliope. “I do have a question for you. I didn’t think we’d meet anyone here who could speak our language, but here you are. You’re not doing too badly at it, too. If you don’t mind me asking, who taught you? Where’d you learn it from? Would be great if we could find any of our own living around these parts.”

Despite Anastasia's words, it was clear that she was in no way ‘okay’. Something must have happened between when he had last seen her and now. But what?

However, Wulfric let the matter rest, and sat down. “My day has been…eventful, to say the least.” By his tone, there didn’t seem to be anything troubling him, though several concerning matters had occurred throughout the day. It was also true that it had been a packed schedule till now.

“Things are going quite well at the Guild, father,” Wulfric answered Edin. He kept up the pleasant politeness as he was wont to do when interacting with his father. Even those who knew of his dislike for the king (such as his mother) would see nothing amiss in his expression or demeanour. He had years and years of experience tolerating idiots and imbeciles on a daily basis, after all…his father the prime culprit among them.

He chuckled at his father’s words, as if in affectionate agreement. “Of course; the Guild knows perfectly well who holds true power. Why; we are at the heart of economy, not just Caesonia’s, but the world’s. It is precisely because of the connections you have established and empowered that we enjoy this position,” he flattered, taking a page out of Calbert’s book.

And why not? The man was good at what he did. Wulfric did not enjoy feeding the old man’s ego trips, but there was something he wanted.

The prince raised a wine glass in a pre-dinner toast. “As you say, father…To a strong and thriving kindgom.” He hid a smirk behind the glass as he took a sip. His finely crafted smile didn’t falter even at the utter nonsense that he should follow his father’s example. The idea that he wasn’t yet ready was even more ridiculous. “Of course, I will.” He would succeed; he’d ensure it.

He turned to mother when she expressed concern for his youngest brother. “He should have guards with him,” Wulfric noted, eyes narrowing minutely.

He ignored his father’s habitual denigration of Callum. Besides, the arrival of unexpected guests caused an interruption. “You,” Wulfric made no effort whatsoever to conceal his displeasure as he turned a look of frosty disdain upon Ezra.

Not only had he formed an instinctual dislike for the man upon their first meeting, this fool was once again ogling Anastasia. He had also disrupted the angle Wulfric had begun to establish with Edin as to the direction he’d wanted to lead their conversation in.

Ezra and his helpers had brought both food and gifts. Thankfully, there were plenty of their family's loyal servants nearby. Wulfric motioned for one of theirs to come closer, and ordered for the gifts to be thoroughly inspected and the confectionary to be taste-tested. It wasn’t only because he happened to mistrust the baker; it was the standard procedure. After all, the prince – having once been poisoned in his childhood due to his own carelessness – was cautious enough to even have his family’s daily meals regularly inspected.

“Father,” he turned to the man with a note of concern in his voice. While he was genuinely wary, he modulated his response so as to appear both respectable and reasonable. “I realize you esteem this man enough to have invited him. It is certainly very thoughtful of you to have prepared such a surprise for us, and these creations of his seem fitting enough to grace our tables.” Not that he intended to have any, as he had no fondness for sweets.

“But is there truly a need to keep him at hand while we dine? I admit, I have not formed a particularly good impression of him last night,” he complained mildly. Wulfric was well aware food was quite the weakness of his father’s. But at the very least, Edin usually respected his opinion enough to take it into account. Hopefully, the man’s food and gifts would be inspected, he and his employees thanked for their work, and then, Ezra would be promptly dismissed.

However, the prince had the unhappy suspicion that he would be forced to endure this impudent baker’s presence far longer than the peasant deserved.

Time: 5pm - 6pm
Location: Guest house
Mention:Farim - [@LavaAlckon]
Appearance:Dress, Hair style but red,

Ariella felt a rush of confusion hit her, her mind was still stuck in the woods and she hadn't fully integrated back into her social abilities yet. She couldn't wait to go back and start her practice of magic. Everything else felt trivial at this point.

The room was filled with so many beautiful people she couldn't help but stare at many of them. Ariella smiled and nodded to the ones she was introduced to. She was taken aback, however, by the show of the Grand Vizier and his attention to Lorenzo and where he sat. She tried to hide the surprise in her face as she continued to smile perhaps looking a little foolish with the altercation happening.

She smiled at him as he pulled the chair out for her. She had sat and smiled at Nahir "Thank you, I really appreciate that. I-" She paused as Nahir turned her attention to Mayet. There was so much going on that she didn't even know what to do or how to think. She took the napkin from the table and set it on her lap.

As she was about to turn to Farim when she caught the eye of a new arrival. She was about to say hello when he took it upon himself to give her his own hello. She felt Munirs hand run against her bare back and over her shoulder, her smile faded as he moved to the table. She was in a bit of shock as she watched him take his seat and wink at her. She just returned a smile.

Leaning over to Farim she whispered " Are all your family gatherings like this?" she asked softly with a smile on her face that said "help.."

△△△ emerged from the confines of the psychiatric institution, his gaze fixed upon the copy of Duke Vikena’s medical notes cradled in his grasp. His eyes honed in on the diagnosis scrawled across the page: narcolepsy. The doctor’s notes indicated that the affliction had manifested within the duke in the past year, a consequence—they conjectured—of the profound trauma wrought by the loss of his beloved wife.

With trepidation, △△△ inquired if the medical staff recognized the list of herbs and, perhaps more importantly, if they had prescribed the opium found in the duke’s room. Unfortunately, his fears were confirmed as they shook their heads in response. The pharmacist explained that the list of herbs included a mixture of seasonings and a handful of medicinal herbs, the effects of which were known to induce an altered state of mind. As for the opium...well, the implication hung heavy in the air, left unsaid.

A heavy-hearted sigh escaped △△△ as he carefully tucked the notes into the depths of his coat pocket, feeling their weight against his chest before he set off down the bustling city street and to Sorian Park. The throng of people excited for the evening festivities quickly engulfed the raven-haired wayfarer. Bodies coalesced around him like a thick fog.

---

---

The Lost Traveler & The Guide from the Other Side

Once upon a time—or perhaps in a time yet to be—, there was a traveler lost in a dense fog. The traveler roamed aimlessly, disoriented and unsure of how long or far they had been wandering. They had been walking for what seemed like an eternity, with no clear direction or destination in mind. As they stumbled through the misty veil, they chanced upon a mysterious guide who appeared suddenly before them.

“Are you lost, traveler?” the guide asked. When the traveler replied with a desperate nod, the guide offered to take the traveler across the veil as long as they paid the price: one gold piece.

The traveler eagerly handed over the coin. “I want to go home,” they pleaded. “Take me back home.”

The guide’s lips curled into a smile, though whether it was one of sympathy or malice was uncertain. “Oh, I am sorry, poor traveler… you will need to pay more than that if you want to return home.”

---

---

“What was the price to bring you back, Violet?”

The fog of people thinned as they parted around the two wanderers with pallid complexions and dark hair. △△△ leaned in, peering intently into her face. In the black mirrors of his eyes, a profound hollowness stared back, creating a loop of infinite nothingness that seemed to swallow all light and life around them.

To say that △△△ was utterly taken aback at the sight of the late Lady Violet Damien drifting about as though someone had not axed her in the head was an understatement. Initially, he thought she was a figment of his imagination, for her apparition seemed too otherworldly to be tangible. Yet as he continued to observe her ethereal form, the truth became undeniable. The ghost of Lady Damien was not a mere apparition, but a tangible presence, firmly rooted in the realm of the living.

Well, that throws whatever Peter’s plans were out the window. △△△ wondered if his companion was aware of Lady Damien’s unexpected resurrection.

“Are you lost, Lady Damien?”

Violet's eyes shifted to the speaking figure that at some point in time appeared in front of her. Her eyes appeared to be unable to focus on him, moving around the shape and color of what appeared to be a faceless man.

Her eyes darted like that of a blind person, glazed over and didn’t seem to focus on anything. One thing that the stranger would likely notice would be the large gash from the center of her forehead moving down her face as it traveled over the bridge of her nose and settling under her eye. It would likely be distracting and send a sense of fright to anyone who may see such a nasty looking wound, but Violet was unaware of it.

When Lady Damien did not respond, △△△ tried again, “You don’t look too well… are you all right? Do you need help going home?”

Her face remained blank as an untouched canvas, devoid of any discernible emotion. However, as her eyes drifted towards a certain direction, he thought he caught a flicker of light, a hint of life, in the once vacant countenance.

A burst of color again shot up into the sky, exploding the tiny sparkling stars that caught Violet's eye. Looking back up and over to display she felt a sense of draw being pulled over to it.

△△△ followed her line of sight and saw none other than Lord Ravenwood standing some distance away. “Or perhaps you’d like to join the picnic dinner? Princess Sadie invited every Varian who attended the ball, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind other people joining.” The golden cuff buttons shone like coins as he offered his hand to guide his fellow wayfarer past the crowd.

Violet looked down at the gold flicker from the cuff of his button as she stood there for a moment. Her mind slightly confused as to what was expected. She could see his arm gesturing towards her as she reluctantly held up her own.

She rested her hand on his arm accepting his offer. Violet felt some sudden relief as her balance was steadied better then her cane. Falling slightly into him as her balance shifted, he would feel her weight pressing into him for support as their first few steps it would become apparent that she was struggling to walk. Her legs would still shake slightly, almost buckling at times as the once elegantly moving lady resembled that of a toddler just learning how their legs worked for the first time.

While it may not have been the most socially acceptable comparison to make, likening a lady to a toddler seemed to him to be the most fitting analogy. If it had not been obvious before, it was clear to him now: this was a new woman, taking her first tentative steps in a world that was both new and achingly familiar. △△△ watched her carefully, observing every move she made as she struggled to adjust to this unfamiliar existence.

A surge of protectiveness welled up within him, an urge to guide her through this strange and uncharted terrain. Though △△△ was aware that she would need much more than just his assistance to navigate this new life, he resolved to do what he could at the moment. At the very least, he could help her reach the picnic safely. With a gentle touch, he rearranged their positions, making sure that she had a secure grip on him and that he could catch her if she were to lose her balance.

Violet was largely unaware of her issues until she was walking alongside the stranger. Her slow pace and issues with her legs became frustrating and that frustration was very clear on her expression even though she had said nothing to him.

Trying to take one step at a time she tried to mask her struggle as much as possible. To the eye it may just appear that she was strolling with a gentleman enjoying the festivities.

What should have been a relatively short distance from their current position to the picnic site stretched out into a trek as they ambled along at a leisurely pace. Every step was slow and measured, with △△△ offering words of praise and encouragement to her. Whenever she seemed tired from the exertion, they paused for a break, soaking in the surrounding festivities while he made idle commentaries on this or that. Although he was not entirely certain if Lady Damien comprehended any of it, she would have to become accustomed to people conversing with her.

“You’re doing excellent, Lady Damien. At this rate, you’ll be speed walking in no time.” He did not expect to receive a response, so continued his one-sided conversation. “Are you enjoying the fireworks?”

“..Fireworks..” she repeated, her voice slightly hoarse and raspy sounding. “The explosion of stars?” she questioned as she looked up to the sky to see it void of any at that particular moment. “ As much as I am able I suppose “ Violet continued to put one foot in front of the other as the strolled to their destination. Her mind seem to start playing catch up “ I was lost..” she said responding too his question “ I think I am still …” she wasn’t sure what those words meant but they slowly seemed to just slip out. “ You know my name Sir, but I am afraid I am unfamiliar with yours.”

△△△ smiled, pleased to hear Lady Damien’s voice. He was ready to introduce himself like he had done many times before, only to come up short. A haze obscured his name from himself, and his throat constricted as if something was ready to choke him out if he dared to utter a name he could not even recall. This time, △△△ was the one who needed to take a break.

Violet stopped in her steps as the man appeared to be struggling himself. Her eyes looked in his direction, not fully making contact but she seemed to relax when he spoke.

After taking a few breaths, he turned to Lady Damien. “Apologies. I’ve been having trouble thinking today.” He cast a quick glance around them before leaning in to share a secret that he felt she would understand. “Truth is, I can’t recall my name or face right now. When I try to, it just comes up as a jumbled mess. I know it’s there somewhere. I just can’t retrieve it. So I mean no disrespect when I say that I cannot give you my name. Hopefully, someone will say it when we reach our destination.” His gaze fell upon the remaining distance they needed to cover, and he noted with satisfaction that they were getting very close. With a nod to Lady Damien, △△△ signaled that they should resume their walk.

Feeling him lean inward, his breath tickling her ear. It felt like a cool mist that got caught in the wind while the tide was pulling in. She felt the hairs on her skin rise slightly in reaction as she tried to listen to him carefully. She was a bit surprised at his response, but she trusted in the fact that he knew her name and that was enough for her to continue walking.

“Maybe you’re still lost in the fog.” △△△ said once they took a few more steps. “Are you also having trouble thinking?”

“ Was I lost there before?” she asked curiously. How could she still be lost somewhere when this is all she really knew. “ I …” she paused for a moment. She still didn’t understand herself what was going on , she had no prior memories only feelings. Still, she felt like she was on a wooden boat, sailing in the middle of blackened waters—the sky above her was black, void of any stars or signs of life. The water reflected the dark sky as the mist formed around the boat, floating above the black liquid as she continued to move forward. Or was she moving at all? She still didn’t really know. Her legs were moving but she felt stuck. “ It’s hard to explain, I - Today is…” she stumbled on her words “ I don't remember “ She finished.

△△△ gave her a reassuring squeeze to pull Lady Damien away from the murky beyond. “Don’t worry, you’re still here.” His voice was crisp, in an attempt to anchor her to the here and now. “As long as you keep going, you’ll find your way.” He urged her forward—a breeze pushing a boat along calm waters. “At your own pace.”

“What’s been done, cannot be undone. I don’t know if you had any choice in the matter or if you even wanted this, but… please, wake up, enjoy your second chance at life, for those who had to pay the toll for you, if not for your own sake.” He knew not if Lady Damien would ever comprehend the meaning behind his words or if they would fade from her memory, but he spoke them nonetheless, praying she would keep them close to her heart.

Violet stared down at her feet as they walked, his words sounded muffled and inaudible too her. The only thing she was really able to make out was “Please, wake up..” Everything else just seemed to be words strung together in an incoherent sounds. She felt a sudden stop as she looked up to the unusual stranger.

Once they reached the picnic area, △△△ brought Lady Damien to a halt and stood directly in front of her before lifting his palms. He rotated his wrists a few times, showcasing their emptiness. Suddenly, a glimmer caught the light and a gold coin materialized out of the ether. △△△ twirled the coin between his nimble fingers and, as he did, the number of coins multiplied—once, twice, thrice. Just as his hands threatened to overflow with gold, he flipped his hands over in a fluid motion and the precious metals vanished.

Raven-black tresses swayed against her as △△△ raised a hand and sought for something nestled behind Lady Damien’s ear. The sharp chime of a bell rang when he withdrew his hand, revealing a solitary coin. Taking her hand with great care, he pressed the gold piece into her open palm, its metallic surface catching the light of the fireworks above and shimmering with a muted glow.

She felt the cold metal place in her hand her eyes catching the glimmer as she raised her other hand to feel the edges of the coin. Her touch painting an outline in her mind of what the coin looked like.

“For luck,” △△△ smiled. “May this journey be kinder to you than the last, and, when you depart once more, may you leave with as little regret as possible.”

She closed her hand around the coin and held it tightly in her grasp as she looked up at the stranger. Her eyes were still void of anything, they were glazed over and bright red very different from her eyes prior to all of the events. No longer did they show any sign of the beautiful green they once held.

The reflection of the fireworks exploding off her eyes as they tried to focus on the blur of the man but still couldn’t. Looking back down at the coin in her hand Violet finally spoke after some time of silence. “ Mortem Theloneo..’ she said softly. She didn’t know what that ment or why she even said it but she could feel some kind of significance of the coin.

He chuckled weakly as his mind’s eye drifted to the scattered heap of corpses that lay strewn across the path of time. “If only coins were enough,” △△△ said, more to himself than to Lady Damien. “But if ‘every coin counts,’ I’m glad this helps.”

Looking up at the stranger again she nodded in appreciation “ Thank you.” She couldn’t find the ability to smile, it was as if her face was frozen in time. She couldn’t seem to manage it however she hoped her words were enough. “ It’s lovely.”

… Unlike the man before her who smiled with practiced ease, a countenance as familiar to him as breathing, for better and for worse. “You’re very welcome.” His eyes lingered on hers for a beat longer before spinning around to face those who assembled for the picnic.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! I apologize for the late arrival.” He accompanied Lady Damien for a few more strides until their path led them to the royal siblings. △△△ bent at the waist in deference to their hostess, Princess Sadie. “I offer my sincere gratitude for the invitation, Your Royal Highness. I am elated beyond measure to be present in this gathering.” With a graceful turn, he addressed the prince, “Prince Felix, it’s a pleasure to meet you here.”

He twisted his frame and directed a subtle gesture towards Lady Damien. “By chance, I crossed paths with Lady Damien en route, and found myself unable to resist extending an invitation for her to join me. I pray an additional guest is not an inconvenience to your hospitality.”

Violet stood beside him her appearance resembling that of a apparition. Her pale skin contrasting sharply with her black gown her hair hung limply around her face, framing her features.The red orbs that were her eyes stood out like they were rubies in the night sky. However they weren’t as promnate as the large partially healed wound on her forehead that traveled over the bridge of her nose, landing under her right eye would likely startle the group.

She placed her weight back onto her long black cane. Scanning the group of colors and blurs unable to distinguish one from the other. She could tell by the words of the stranger that there were at least both men and women in the group.

Violet simply smiled back but it seemed to hold no true emotion behind it. “Yes, if my presence this evening is too much I dont mind taking leave.” Violet said her voice still void of any tone, sounding as if she were reading from a book.

Her blood colored eyes moving over towards Roman. She couldn’t make out his face or who exactly the person she was looking towards was but something told her she knew him in some capacity. “I don't want to be a bother.” She stated simply.

“Did you know that most of their navy can’t swim?”

Sjan-dehk could see the humour in Kalliope’s words. Really, he could. A navy which hired – and a captain who accepted, for that matter – men who were helpless once thrown overboard? Just the very thought of it invited derisive laughter and bemusement. Had this been the Sjan-dehk of half-a-decade past hearing that piece of information, he would’ve done and felt just that. He’d been a proud sailor, then. One that could be considered a veteran of countless actions, but a complete stranger to the savagery of open war.

The Sjan-dehk of today merely kept the polite smile on his face. It faltered momentarily, but it recovered in a flash. Perhaps Kalliope caught it, perhaps not. It didn’t quite matter. His mind was already dragging him back to devastated seas of old.

Recruiting landsmen – those uninitiated by the sea – was a sad but necessary reality of war. Or any navy that reached a certain size, in fact. His Sada Kurau, considered a small ship by Viserjantan standards, had a complement of a hundred-and-fifty men. The true warships, those which could fire around thirty guns per broadside, were crewed by close to three hundred. And the numbers only got higher from there. The huge two-hundred gun flagships – vessels slightly smaller than the Sudah but built for battle – needed close to a thousand men. It was simply impossible to expect everyone from cabin boy to gunner; from marine to carpenter; from helmsman to steward, to be an able man-of-the-sea. Not every position needed such men, in any case, and so landsmen were perfect choices for work that took place on or below decks, where it was less likely that they would fall into the sea.

But as the war dragged on and ships were lost with their crews, the more desperate the navy became for manpower. By the latter half of the second year, it wasn’t at all uncommon for newly-commissioned ships to be crewed largely by landsmen. Such vessels would sail as well as any other, of course, but it was only when they sank did their deadly shortcomings become apparent. Sjan-dehk could still vividly remember the aftermaths of some battles, where the sea was filled with despairing men either clinging to flotsam or floundering as they drowned. The decks of his Sada Kurau would already be packed with survivors, and they’d be unable to rescue any more lest they founder amidst rough waves.

And so there was only one thing they could do. Between a slow death by exposure and predators, and a quick one by bullet, it was clear which was the merciful option.

Sjan-dehk breathed in deeply through his nose. That was simply the nature of war. Some would live, some would die. And for the latter, not all had the luxury of dying well. Sjan-dehk could consider himself lucky for avoiding an inglorious end.

And in any case, the war was over. There was no point dwelling on it. No point at all.

“I haven’t actually seen any ships of your navy, actually,” he said after clearing his throat. “So I’m not going to say much about them or their crews, but I can say with confidence that everyone aboard Sada Kurau is able to swim. She wouldn’t accept anything less.” The cheeky grin returned to his face. Thinking about the endearing quirks of his ship always did that. A wild and unbridled sailor, she didn’t treat those who weren’t on good terms with the sea kindly. The few landsmen that had been amongst his crew had quickly turned themselves into able seamen under her less-than-gentle tutelage.

He was about to apologise for his extended silence – if she’d noticed it – or suggest that they move on to another part of the ship when Kalliope started explaining how she’d learned his language. Although to be quite honest, he was a little lost at the start, when she spoke about the ship she once owned and the lover she once had. Whatever questions he had, however, quickly went flying from his mind when she started to disrobe. He didn’t even care about the glint of blades or the fact that she had them on her this whole time, he just held his hands out in front of him, as if ready to pull the jacket back over her shoulders.

Then, he saw the wounds, and he instantly recognised them for what they were. He’d seen more than his fair share of them. “Who-” he began, but he needn't have bothered. Kalliope soon continued with her story, and he fell back into silence as he listened with rapt attention. With each word and each recollection of the turbulent life she’d had, his natural smile faded until it disappeared into a deadly serious expression. There was nothing in what she said that was new to him. He’d seen it all before. It was the unjustness that made him irate. Yes, Viserjantan sentenced convicts to labour as well, but as far as he knew, any good justiciar worth their name would’ve revealed a framed suspect for the innocent that they way long before a case even got to a magistrate’s table.

And there was also the case of Izahn. A Viserjantan – no, a Jafin – imprisoned and executed by Alidashti hands. The Commonwealth’s approach to their people in other nations was simple; they were responsible for their own actions and were subject to the laws of their gracious hosts. But to be sentenced to what was essentially an eternal sentence for petty theft seemed unreasonable. So what if the victim was of high and noble blood? Kings and queens governed the common folk, but before the law, all were equals. Such was the Way of the Great Harmony.

By the time Kalliope was done, Sjan-dehk’s jaw was set and he could feel the indignation simmering in his heart. When he looked down and into her nervous eyes, however, it all vanished. Replacing it was naught but deep shame. Just what sort of person was he? That after she shared something so personal, all he could think of was his own feelings? That was certainly not becoming of him. His cheeks flushed from the embarrassment, and he glanced away.

For a moment, he said nothing as he tried to think of the perfect thing to say. Then, realising that no such thing existed, he settled for something that was merely suitable. “This Izahn,” he began and placed both hands on the guardrail, looking down at the gnarled wood. “I don’t know how he lived, and I won’t speak on his character, but I can say he died Jafin. He died Viserjantan.” He paused, wondering how he was going to explain that in a way that didn’t sound too dismissive or flippant of the matter. “By our ways, there is no difference between blood and adopted kin. You were, to him, as true a child as those he had with his wife, and how can a father simply sit and watch as his daughter’s abused?”

He looked up at the city for a moment, and let out a long breath. When he spoke, his words came out with a touch of exasperation despite his best efforts. “It’s small comfort, I know, and damn do I wish I could say something better, but all I’m saying is that Izahn died well.” That was definitely not at all proper. Now he had one more thing to clarify on top of what he was already trying to put across. He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Sorry. What I meant to say is that we Viserjantans, especially Jafins like us, we all wish to live and die by the Way of the Great Harmony. It guides us in life. Points us towards the truth and helps us stay moral in an immoral world. When Izahn saw you beaten, the Way gave him a choice, and he chose to do what a father should, and protect his daughter despite the risks.”

Pushing himself off the guardrail, he looked at her, and bowed his head. “For what it’s worth, I think it was the bravest of choices. Can’t say I know many people who’d do the same in that situation. I don’t know if I could, myself.” Looking back up, he offered her a little smile. Not a cheeky grin or mischievous smirk, but a genuine, emotive one. “Izahn’s soul rests with the Mother of the Waves now, as will all Jafin souls. May he find calm waters and verdant shores.”

Sjan-dehk had never really been a devout person. Temples and shrines were simply places he went out of ritual and custom. But now? It just felt like the right thing to say, and he silently thanked his old court tutors for making him remember those simple words. He nodded at her pendant. “We’ll have to make sail for Jafi eventually some day. If you’re free and able, you’re more than welcome to join us when that day comes. It would be my pleasure to assist you in some way with such a virtuous quest.” It would by no means be an easy task – the march of Jafi consisted of several islands, each of them with their own cities, towns, and villages – but it was the right thing to do. The man’s family deserved answers. His name, at least, had to be returned to his familial temple.

Sjan-dehk gestured in the vague direction of the Sudah anchored off-shore. “We have a custom, that upon reaching harbour, we’ll remember those we lost along the way. The crew of that other ship's doing it tonight. I wasn’t going to attend since Sada Kurau lost no one, but now that you’ve told me about Izahn, it’s only right that I send him off properly. If you want, you're welcome to join me.” He looked out at the horizon. “He probably paid my family homage at some point, you know? Clan Wasun, protectors of Jafi and whatnot. We all have our obligations. He did his, so I must do mine.”

And he would, to the best of his abilities. If there was one Viserjantan held in Alidashti captivity, then it was reasonable to suspect that there were more. Sjan-dehk had been dreading the prospect of having to meet with more foreign dignitaries, but for those particular nobles? He couldn’t wait. He had so many questions to ask.

Her question proved to be harder to answer than Sjan-dehk had thought. Diverse as Viserjanta was, it was impossible to give Kalliope any set of specific guidelines. Every province, every island, and every race had their own unique practices. From Izahn’s name, Sjan-dehk guessed that he belonged to the same people as Azwan. Then again, he could very well have lived amongst another culture and thus adopted their ways instead. That wasn’t exactly something unheard of. Sjan-dehk, however, didn’t want to make any silly and unnecessary assumptions, and so he gave the safest answer there was.

“Just come as you are,” he said with a smile. That wasn’t entirely wrong. He hadn’t heard of a culture that required mourners to wear specific colours. Sure, some would say that white or black were appropriate for such sad occasions – not yet, at least – but they were really just guidelines more than anything else. It was more important that a mourner showed themselves truly and without masks. “Wouldn’t want Izahn to not recognise you. Besides, this is really more of a navy tradition. Minor details aren’t important. What is, is that we pay the dead our respects and bid them a safe journey to wherever they go.”

By now, the sun had dashed beneath the horizon. Sjan-dehk swore that there was at least half-an-hour or even more of light left in the day, but the twinkling light of the first stars overhead told him just how wrong he had been. “We should move,” he said to Kalliope before gesturing to the raised lantern hooks hanging over the guardrails. “My men will soon be lighting the ship for the night. Should’ve been earlier, but I doubt anyone suspected that it’d get this dark, this fast. I’d suggest that we get out of their way.”

Sjan-dehk led her back down the ship, although much slower this time. The faint, orange glow of lanterns and lamps illuminated hatches, racks and buckets of arms, stairs, and anything else that might prove to be a hazard in the dark of night. “Anyway,” he began and stepped aside to get out of the way of a man racing towards the bow with an unlit lantern in hand. “I wouldn’t worry about anyone getting offended. Mourning is for everyone. Anyone who does is obviously a pedant and I for one take joy in their anger. Maybe one day one of their heads would actually explode as they keep saying.”

There was a touch of dry mirth in his voice towards the end. He was, of course, referring to all the people of high status aboard the Sudah. Aside from Lady Adiyan, of course. She wouldn’t care too much about the specifics of the ceremony, but the rest? They were slaves to rites and rituals. They’d likely want things to be as by the book as possible. If there wasn’t a book – as was the case with most navy traditions – they would simply take guidelines as rules.

Well, not like Sjan-dehk cared much about what they wanted or liked. They could moan and complain and whine all they liked, but as far as he was concerned, Kalliope had a good reason to be there. Whether she was a Viserjantan like them was irrelevant. And despite his misgivings, Sjan-dehk was certain that if he simply explained what was going on – and if they cared enough to listen – they might even agree, even if begrudgingly.

He led her up the steps to the quarterdeck, where his men had already placed lanterns at regular intervals along the guardrail. They bathed the wooden deck in flickering, warm light. Overhead, the canted yard of the mizzenmast swayed gently in the breeze. “The rudder’s right below us,” Sjan-dehk said and tapped his foot on the deck. “We use a more complicated system to get it turning. It’s a lot more ropes and tackles to maintain, but it shifts faster. Makes us a harder target to hit when we’re moving, and makes it easier for us to get our guns to bear. That’s saved all our lives more than once.”

Looking off in the direction of the Sudah, he could see her almost fully illuminated, with her furled sails and hull and deck bathed in light. The lanterns at the very tops of her masts were like lamps in a lighthouse amidst the darkness. She certainly was an impressive sight. It was just a shame that her crew wasn't as impressive. Now that it was truly night, it likely wouldn't be long before her captain called for her crew to start disembarking for the closest beach. Sjan-dehk hoped that there wouldn't be too many people there; to say that it would make for an awkward encounter would be an understatement. "Don't suppose we had to ask anyone's permission before using the beach?" He said in a half-joke, glancing sideways at Kalliope with a grin. Then, realising that he should probably explain, continued with, "We usually have a small ceremony on a beach whenever possible. It shouldn't take too long. It's really not that big, but it's the meaning behind it that counts."

The prince observed Ezra with mild curiosity. The baker’s act was quite good, but Wulfric had already noticed small discrepancies in it when they’d first met. There was also the fact that the man had gone on to drastically change his appearance for some reason.

Somewhat surprisingly, the man left of his own accord. That in itself was almost enough for him to wish that he’d kept the peasant around for observation for a while longer. Almost.

Wulfric supposed the baker would attempt to ingratiate himself to his father and sister while he wasn’t around.

In fact, based on their reactions, he’d already managed to do as much – to an extent.

At his sister’s comment, he turned to her with a serious countenance. “Seeming is not the same as being, Anastasia,” he stated, giving her an intent look.

To his father, he directed a confused frown. He didn’t like the idea that Ezra was considered as an option for their personal cook. But even stranger was that his father – the man who was only ever capable of appreciating people for what they provided him – was so quick to show regard for this baker.

He had even called him by his name, twice. Without getting it wrong. So, he’d genuinely remembered Ezra as someone noteworthy.

“I apologize father, I wasn’t aware that you were quite so fond of him.” A slightly odd tone entered his voice at that inadvertent yet subtle emphasis. Edin could be so fucking easy; he didn’t even realize how many of those who earned his like were playing him. And this, the man who had been so afraid of his heir showing genuine regard to someone, he had even–

Wulfric reigned that line of thought in, making no show of his minor distraction, and returned to the matter at hand.

No, he hadn’t realized the baker had nearly won over his father. And now Edin was in a poor mood. How bothersome.

This was an opportunity to sway him from the idea of hiring him, however. At the very least, if there was an attempt to be made, the man needed to be investigated. Though, Wulfric would certainly prefer it if he simply kept to his own bakery.

“His skills notwithstanding, I find his character dubious,” he decided to address his concerns. “The previous evening, he made a whole show of advertising his establishment, even using my siblings for it,” he summarized.

What else? Wulfric had been wary of him at the range…Ah. “From what I’ve observed, he had likely said something rude to Lord Smithwood before their archery match.” He was glad he’d remembered having seen something off there. It had mostly been an assumption on his part, but he did know Leo well enough to have surmised as much from body language alone. Admittedly, Wulfric didn’t consider this an especially valid reason, but his father might.

“I also do not like how fixated he is on my sister.” Now this, this did bother him. He was sure Edin would dismiss it out of hand, but it had to be said.

“Besides, he is entirely unknown. His background, his business…I merely advise for him to be comprehensively screened in the event you are considering hiring him,” he concluded by voicing support of his mother’s sentiments.

He went to his dinner then, but kept an eye on the servants who were to examine those desserts that had been brought in. When they began, Wulfric subtly turned to watch them. He was curious if they’d find something. If by some chance there happened to be any tampering with the food, that would be most convincing. However, Ezra hadn’t appeared worried at all that his goods would be tested.

So, the baker was perhaps going for some other angle…He would have to be watched.

Too, he waited for his father to eat enough for his mood to be restored. Once Edin put behind his sourness at his pet baker leaving, Wulfric would try to guide the conversation back to Guild matters.