The masks did very little to keep her identity a mystery. Not many in this kingdom of pale yetis had such a lovely complexion as hers. Where they lacked in color, she had an abundance of, so rich and dark as the night sky she had to adorn it with golden stars. A pink flower amongst the night sky is what she would be tonight. A priced flower plucked for its wavering beauty put on display for the masses to see.
A train of pink roses trailed behind her as partygoers' heads turned and eyes lingered as she did her rounds around the ball. Golden eyes scanned the crowd of on-lookers with mild interest. A few of them approached her to introduce themselves with smiles under their masks. She wondered if the masks gave them the courage to dare come close to her without bowing their heads and lowering their eyes. Still, she decided to play nice and smiled through it.
“You must be one of the princesses from Alidasht. It is an honor to make your acquaintances.” The woman said, eyes filled with awe. Rightfully so. To gaze upon Nahir was like a gift from the gods!
“Shehzadi Nahir,” Her smile widened when the two before her curtsied and bowed deeply. It seemed like not all those in this kingdom lacked brains and decorum. “And who may I have the pleasure of meeting?”
“I am Lady Mia, and this is my sister, Lady Nora, of house Woodstock. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Shehzadi Nahir.”
Nahir arched an eyebrow, The Woodstock family was one of the leading suppliers of lumber for Caesonia. “A pleasure to meet you, ladies. You two look incredible this evening.” Nahir complimented with another flash of her pearly whites. Lady Mia wore a dress that resembled Nahir’s dress from the welcoming ball, although it was far more conservative, and its colors had been flipped. Lady Nora, on the other hand, wore a more loose cream-colored dress with gold trim and an emerald mask. Very close to the design Nahir had worn to the archery competition.
“Madam Petra designed them,” Nahir smirked at that, “She said she took inspiration from you, Your Highness.” Lady Nora chimed in with a smile that almost reached her eyes. Adorable.
“I’m flattered.” The two ladies looked at each other with wide grins. “Those dresses make you look stunning, ladies.” Nahir reached out to adjust some minor folds on their masks before taking a step back to admire them both. Lady Mia certainly looked ravishing in those clothes, but she'd do better showing off some more skin.
“I’ll be going now, ladies; I am sure we'll see more of each other in the future.” Nahir watched them curtsy and take their leave with satisfied smiles. She’d have to keep their names and faces in mind; big names like those were always good to keep in her pocket. Perhaps she’d send them flowers as a thanks for greeting her. It might encourage more ladies to flock to her. But those were thought for later; tonight she was determined to enjoy herself.
Nahir wanted to dance. She wanted to spin around under the sparkling chandelier in the arms of a handsome masked stranger.
Here comes the Duke Vikena! Ooh, and there... goes... the Duke Vikena. Oh dear. That really was her best in here, wasn't it? Something seemed to have gotten under his collar, but she had little to tell her what. Stratya didn't want to disturb the man while he was already bothered. Surely, she'd see him again, and it wasn't as though her business was pressing. It felt like she'd missed her chance. She really was not dressed for beach going, either, was she? Wily feet, to bring her here while she wasn't paying attention. She'd never hear the end of it if she got a bunch of sand in her armor, either. She made a short patrol, to see how the ensemble felt to really move around in, before returning to the barracks.
Time: Morning -> Day Location: Around
She could see why things had started to transpire at this particular time. With as many events as were being held, there were so many opportunities. The chaos would make it harder to see things amiss. With so many guests, a new face was not strange. With so much unusual to be expected, that made it easier for the nefarious to blend in. Ah, but two could play at that, and a masquerade set things perfectly. The parade armor had to go. It would declare her a knight of the kingdom. She planned to let the guards on duty at the event know who she was, naturally, but such display was bound to give her away. No, she needed unmarked bits. Another chunk of time spent in the armory later and she had the start of something together. If she relied too much on armor, she'd just look like a knight anyway, right? What she needed was more fabric and under armor, like chainmail. She ended up spending the day with the tailor. She ended up going for an adventurous look, like a prominent member of the guild. She was disguising herself as an adventurer an awful lot lately, maybe she should work with the guild master to set up a fake identity. At any rate, she and the tailor were able to find something to her taste and got it fitted in time. The tailor thought the ensemble rather masculine but Stratya wouldn't hear it. If something were to happen while she was there, she would need mobility to react well.
Time: Day -> Evening Location: Barracks -> Damien Estate
She organized with the guards who were to be in attendance tonight. She was to be armed, but only with a short sword small enough to conceal on her person. She wore chainmail underneath the blue and black long coat and shirt. A little cape on her hip helped her conceal her short sword and its sheath in her pant leg. It was fit to the inside of her thigh, and she had a cord to pull with her left hand, at the back of her waist, that would pull the sword around to the outside of her leg, where she could reach into the removed pocket on her right side and draw. She put her hair up in a pony tail and fit a cloth mask to her face, covering her nose and upper face. One last look in the mirror and it was time to go. The masquerading knight approached the estate and spoke for a moment with the guard at the door of the event. A few noteworthy individuals had appeared, but nothing too interesting had happened. The Crown Prince was here, as well, and without a personal guard. Which was fine, this should be a safe event. At the same time, something only needed to happen once, and recent events did not make anything seem safe. Right, then, find the Prince. As she entered the ballroom, she was reminded of her origins. A small village in the countryside. Out of her element though she was, she had a job to do. Oh, and she'd better try to hide her accent a little bit. Ah, she forgot to ask how the Prince was dressed. Luckily for her, he had quite the air about him, he'd be hard to miss once she found him.
Time: Evening Location: Masquerade Ball: Damien Estate Interactions: Charlotte @princess Daily Misfortune: An annoyingly high-pitched voice and random fits of laughter. Predictable Costume: Leo the Lion
Whatever it was Charlotte was going to express her concerns about was lost amidst the uncontrollable giggling. Dozens of eyes from masked faces bore down on them, the heat of their collective gaze as unrelenting as the summer sun. That heat only intensified as more heads turned and Leo’s laughter only grew louder. Calculated and precise footsteps drew nearer as Charlotte’s face turned from one softened with concern to a look of true dread. The odd expression quickly vanished as she grabbed his arm and laughed along with him.
Oh no! Is this contagious?
"Oh I still cannot believe you ate that WEEK OLD CHEESE to impress those girls! Hahaha!"
A truly perplexing statement, as Leo had certainly not eaten any old cheese nor was he aware that anyone was impressed by cheese-eating, and doubly so if it involved rotten cheese. As abruptly as a startled person stops hiccuping; a confused Leo stopped giggling.
“What? Cheese? Why would that-” He again noticed the stares and the approach of a disgruntled-looking Count Damien. Not only was he making an embarrassing scene, he had managed to attract the attention of Charlotte’s least favorite count and she was now trying to pull him away from Calbert’s path. “Oh right, yes, I proved both my daring and iron stomach.” He added, loudly enough for onlookers to overhear.
Although the mask hid it well, Leo felt the warmth of embarrassment rising, reddening his face. He kept his feet planted, he would not be hiding from Count Damien, it wasn’t like he’d broken any Caesonian laws by laughing at a party.
“What’s he going to do, kick me out of his party? I’ll buy a different mask and be back within the hour.” He dared a quick glance at Calbert whose path seemed set on crossing his. “If you’d rather talk with a different count I believe I spotted Hendrix somewhere over there.” He nodded in the direction he’d last seen Fritz. “And I’d be more than happy to ensure Calbert gives you no trouble tonight.”
It occurred to Leo that not only was his face hidden behind a mask but his voice was obscured as well. Hidden behind the lion mask’s muzzle was a smirk of mischievous intent. How well did Calbert even know Leo, even remember him? Perhaps a masquerade paired with a dreadful not-quite-a-cold meant the unforeseen benefit of anonymity.
A bark of laughter escaped the prince, laced with humour and a good dose of irony. Oh, to be judged by someone so opinionated - or rather, it was an excellent way to turn his own words against him, Wulfric had to admit. “Is that so?” he drawled, amused.
Cassius leaned into his personal space, and disgruntled at the invasiveness, Wulfric shifted his body in the opposite direction to a nearly imperceptible degree. The bastard’s words were insulting, yes, and the mock toast was presumptuous, but it was the overly familiar, self-indulgent closeness of a stranger which set the prince’s teeth dangerously on edge. Having had enough, he placed a gloved hand on the other man’s chest, and firmly shoved him away. It was a move which took in account Cassius’ height, weight, position, and even his combat training. Wulfric had indeed garnered that the man must have been a warrior from physique alone. Before Damien Jr. could have any ideas, he returned the hand to his side. That preemptive movement, and his prior swift, precise, and calculated push spoke of a certain level of training on the royal’s part as well.
“How fortuitous that I have disabused you of your foolish notions,” he replied coolly. “I am just a boring prince, and you yet another seducer,” he paraphrased the accusations they’d levied against another. What exactly did the man expect when he adorned a superficial facade; to provoke a genuine reaction? “Do you take the arrogant approach to make a point? Or do you take on the guise you claim to find dull in others because your own existence bores you?” he questioned rhetorically with a shake of his head.
“No matter,” he stated, as if answering himself. “We seem to be in agreement that this interaction will only bring dreadful disappointment, so please, do us both a favour, and take your leave.” He waved a clearly dismissive hand, fully expecting Cassius to do just that.
A smile that was steeped in mischief formed across his lips as the prince pushed him.
Glad to know it’s so easy to get under your skin. Cassius thought to himself amusedly.
The shove was measured and competent. If Cassius hadn’t already clocked the man as adept, the display of skill in that push would have revealed all he needed to know. The urge to test the depths of Prince Wulfric’s expertise grew in him, but Cas knew that now was certainly not the time. Perhaps under different circumstances, this interaction could lead to some recreational sparring, but for now, it was best to keep things from growing too tense. Though a little good old-fashioned antagonism couldn’t hurt, right?
“Do I revel in the game of seduction? Of course, love. Why would I not? Life is far too fleeting not to explore its beauty when the opportunity arises. However, I find it amusing that you assume my gesture was anything less than genuine. It humors me because I was almost certain that you would be more perceptive than that. The way you carry yourself, the majesty of your wonderfully intricate ensemble, the aura of competence surrounding you…these things gave me hope that you would be more than, well, this.” He declared audaciously. “As rare as it may be, even I have been known to be wrong once or twice in my life…and certainly I was imprecise about you.” Cassius could not contain the small eruption of laughter that had been building as the prince spoke. It came out even snarkier than intended, but oh well…they were already in this space of quarrel, and Cassius loved every second of it.
“It’s not simply your obtuse presumptions that make me laugh…it’s how inaccurate you truly are.” He continued with an air of candor to his tone. “To be forthright, your highness, despite my tendency to come on strong from time to time, my words held nothing but truth. There was no ploy nor was I trying to manipulate. It was simply one beautiful man admiring another bit of allure in the room. It’s a shame that your doctrinaire keeps such a hefty stick up your backside, Wulf…oh sorry, Prince Wulfric. I know your type tend to get a bit huffy if you aren’t addressed properly. You know, that need to be reminded constantly how special you are.”
Cassius held his positioning and took another sip from his wine, taking a moment to savor it frivolously. “But...since you so wish to be rid of me, I will grant you that favor, my Prince…but only because you asked like such a good boy.” His full arrogance was on display in his smirk as he relished this little entanglement. “But allow me to give you one final bit of advice before I go. Call it an act of good faith from one disappointment to another…do not ever push me again.”
“True or false, I am not interested,” Wulfric denounced flatly. He had told the man as much at the start. Yet, Cassius persisted with his explanations. Though, he was now mixing in venomous insults along with honeyed if back-handed compliments, shifting towards a verbal spar.
The prince had nothing but disdain for the man and his words. ‘I expect you to do as I desire; if you do, you are great, if not, you are lacking’ was the essence of his message. He was putting on airs as if he were the king himself. The comparison to Edin certainly did no favours to the self-proclaimed lover boy. “I couldn’t care less what you think of me. Believing I might was one of your numerous mistakes.” He scoffed, lightly amused. “And you say you have met royalty?” Cassius acted as if he knew all, but he knew nothing, nor was he willing to look beyond the most obvious surface level of observation. Wulfric acknowledged that neither did he, not for the bastard, as he had no wish to. However, he was at the very least aware of this, whereas Cassius did not seem to realize.
A shame because you cannot fulfill your ardent desire to replace that stick with something else? Of course, the prince absolutely did not make any vulgar allusions; it would be akin to trying to douse a fire with oil. But how droll the man thought he was, how dearly he cherished his crassness. Though, he was as articulate as he was crude. Was it a waste, or strangely fitting? A born and bred bastard, yet a noble, employing bawdy remarks befitting of a backstreet whore hand in hand with loftier phrases beseeming his status. Either way, Wulfric felt the faintest temptation to take a blade to his tongue.
“Life is fleeting,” he agreed curtly. His voice had the striking quality of a frigid morning in the deepest, most haunting of winters. Cassius might not make much of his own life, but what if his games endangered that which he most cherished? But no, even wondering such a thing about an incorrigible gambler who thought solely of gains and never of losses was pointless.
“Too fleeting for trivialities.” Like you are was the blatant implication. He was denigrating the man more so than he was his hobbies. Everyone had their forms of entertainment. It was merely that the ones he favoured and the one which Cassius proclaimed as supreme did not align. Nothing more, nothing less.
Finally, the man was taking his leave, not without more unwanted comments, of course. “The first sign of judiciousness on your part,” he commented on the decision to get lost. When the bastard dared threaten him, the prince stared him down. A feat he managed effortlessly despite being shorter. He wasn’t afraid, nor did he bother with a threat of his own. “If you do not push me, I will have no need to retaliate,” was all he said.
Cassius had been more than glad to take his leave then and there; having satiated his craving for a bit of strife for the moment. He chuckled to himself as he turned to walk away. The assumptions Prince Wulfric made about him were fair…very fair, and yet they were wrong in so many ways. It mattered not, however, because the end result had been delectable to him all the same. Just as he took his first step away from the prince, the man could not seem to help himself from trying to get the last word.
Good. Cassius thought to himself, keeping his body slightly skewed and not turning to face Wulfric directly as he let him continue his denigration.
The disdain in the man’s voice was ever so clear as Cassius took in each remark, his arrogant smirk growing larger and bolder by the second. If a bit of flirtatious repartee was enough to bring out such contempt from the royal brat, Cassius couldn’t help but mull over all of the ways he could get under Wulfric’s skin if he so pleased. There was one way he could think of that was very tempting indeed…perhaps too tempting. Even he knew that it would probably be a bad idea, but Cas’s eyes lit up from the bit of chaos settling on the tip of his tongue. Finally turning to face Wulfric as the man finished his remarks, Cassius smugly looked him in the eyes.
“No retaliation necessary, your highness. We are all here to have a fun evening, after all. It was lovely to meet you, Prince Wulfric. I look forward to our next little talk.” He said, a bit of insolence dripping from his voice. “Oh…and speaking of lovely…tell my Annie I said hello. It was such a pleasure getting to know her the other night.” Cassius raised a hand to his lips, blowing a kiss to his new friend and finally began walking away without giving the prince a chance to respond.
Cassius & Wulfric become the "best of friends" in a clash of wits and egos, a dance between two formidable personalities navigating the delicate line between tension and amusement.
To say that Riona was less than thrilled about being shackled to the service of Sh*tlord for the rest of his stay in the capital would be a monumental understatement. Not that he was particularly overjoyed by the situation either. The whole arrangement, courtesy of Lady Morrigan, was “compensation” for Riona’s antics. The Varian Lordling claimed he accepted purely as a favor. Riona, however, wasn’t buying it. She knew a smug power play when she saw one.
During the early hours of the morning, Riona naively thought she could handle the new assignment without giving in to the temptation of slapping the snobbery off his face. That was, of course, before she endured a full thirty seconds in the Duke-to-be’s company, reaffirming her dislike of the pompous a**. So, when she doctored his morning brew with a botched potion, her conscience was lighter than air. Her only regret was not being there to see him embarrass himself.
For “ruining” his shoes, the Lordling ordered Riona to purchase new ones in time for the upcoming masquerade ball. Little did he know the slipperiness wore off days ago. Since he cared to check this as much as she cared to tell him (which was never), she took the liberty of rehoming his footwear collection to people who appreciated them more.
Her mission for replacements led her to Cotton & Silk, a Varian apparel and accessories shop that Sadie and she had stumbled upon just a day prior. Its range was staggering, catering to every conceivable shape, size, and style.
Which was how Riona curated the most absurdly inappropriate assortment of high heels, each more garish and flamboyant than the last, all perfectly sized for Lordling Smithwood. To add variety, she included sandals studded with fake diamonds, unvarnished wooden clogs, and fuzzy lion slippers into His Lordlingship’s new collection.
After all, he never did say what kind of shoes he wanted.
With the task done, Riona found herself with nothing else to do. The shoes were set to be delivered straight to the Lordling’s room, and the housekeeper gave her no other instructions. She had a rare pocket of time to herself, in the middle of a workday no less! Maybe this arrangement wasn’t so bad.
Unsure of how to spend the unexpected free time, Riona wandered the streets while she turned over her options. As she ambled along, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure in the crowd. “Via?” she called out tentatively, moving closer to get a better look.
After the peculiar series of events that unfolded on the beach that morning, Kalliope decided that a bit of retail therapy was in order. The beach outing had taken an unexpected turn, with Layla's dramatics and the subsequent confrontations creating an air of tension, then there was the whole situation with Sjan-dehk that left her confused and slightly upset. Kalliope was more than happy to escape. She had retreated from the scene with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, and the idea of shopping seemed like a perfect way to reset her mood.
So, Kalliope had wandered the bustling streets of the town, browsing through shops and boutiques, her vibrant gaze dancing over fabrics and accessories. She let herself be immersed in the world of colors and textures, allowing the simple pleasure of shopping to distract her from the chaos of the morning.
As she moved down a particularly charming lane lined with shops, Kalliope was startled by a voice calling out a particular nickname. The voice was familiar, and her heart warmed at the sound. She turned to see Riona, her best friend and the closest thing she had to a sister, making her way towards her.
A delighted smile broke across Kalliope's face, and she hurried over to her friend, embracing her tightly. "Riona! Oh, it's so wonderful to see you! I’ve missed you desperately." Kalliope exclaimed, her voice carrying genuine joy. It was a pleasant surprise to run into Riona during her impromptu shopping excursion. She’d planned to reach out to her as soon as she could get back to the castle and have a moment to herself.
As soon as the other woman stopped, Riona didn’t hesitate. Swift as a flash, she closed the distance and encircled her sister with her arms before Via could take more than a few strides toward her. The momentum sent them spinning around, eliciting a gleeful laughter from Riona. When the twirling slowed down and they steadied themselves, Riona’s hands found Via’s. “When did you get back? You should’ve sent for me, I would’ve come to get you!”
Kalliope’s gleeful laughter joined Riona’s as they spun, their joy eliciting odd glances from those around them. She cared little what anyone else thought, however, and even almost dared them to interrupt her and her sister’s reunion. At Riona’s question, however, Kali felt a sheepish grin cross her face as she thought of all that had transpired since she’d gotten back. ”A couple days ago. Initially I was going to send for you, but the trip back took much longer than expected. Then when I arrived I ran into an…interesting character who may have distracted me more than I’d anticipated. What have you heard of the captain of the Sada Kurau?” She felt a blush tinge her cheeks as she mentioned Sjan-dehk.
Pure astonishment turned into a blend of amusement and delight as Riona watched a rare expression cross Via’s face. “Nothing, only that apparently he’s charming enough to make you forget your sister was waiting for your safe return.”
She tried to appear stern, but they both knew Riona wasn’t remotely upset. Even though she wished they could’ve reunited sooner, their jobs made finding time together difficult. With Via’s line of work, there were never any guarantees. It wasn’t unusual for her to return from an assignment, stay in the capital for days, then leave again without ever seeing Riona. Still, the sisters always found ways to connect, leaving notes and gifts for each other or sending letters if Via’s mission would allow it. This coincidental reunion was something Riona would never take for granted. Her sister was back, safe and whole—that was all that mattered.
“Well, I guess your sister might find it in her heart to forgive you. But only if you make it up to her,” she said, linking their arms. “Her demands are simple. Tea, treats, and all the details about everything that happened.” Unable to keep up the act, Riona let her sly smile break free as she led Via down the street.
Kalliope chuckled at Riona's playful scolding, her sister's words and presence having an immediate soothing effect on her. As they walked arm in arm down the bustling street, Kali couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment.
"Tea, treats, and stories, huh?" Kalliope raised an eyebrow, feigning contemplation. "I believe I can manage those demands, dear sister. And I promise, no more distractions."
She gave Riona's arm a gentle squeeze, grateful beyond words for this unexpected reunion. Despite the chaos and uncertainty that often marked her life, moments like these with her sister were a reminder of what truly mattered.
“Welcome home, Via.” Riona tilted her head closer to Via and whispered. “I missed you. I’m glad you’re back.”
As they walked towards their favorite tea shop, Kali went on to tell her all about her trip first. She used coded words that she knew Riona would understand as she explained how she'd arrived in the kingdom she was sent to, how she met their king, found him to be absolutely dastardly and deserving of what she needed to do, and then she told her how she seduced him and rid the world of the vile being.
Once they were seated with some tea, she went on to tell her all the juicy details of the man she had met the other day. ”As I got off the ship, I noticed an odd looking ship in the harbor here and my curiosity got the better of me. I quietly made my way aboard and began exploring the upper deck without notice until Captain Sjan-dehk saw me. He seemed more amused than angry that I was there and we ended up having a lovely conversation. I discovered he comes from the same kingdom my dear friend in that horrid prison came from. He was kind and invited me to a ceremony to honor those they lost on the way here.” The smile on her face was one that might be found on a lovesick puppy, but Kalliope didn’t even realize this.
”I then told him I’d show him the city and now we’re going Calbert’s masquerade party tonight together. Which reminds me, I might be in need of your help in figuring out what exactly to do with my hair?” She said the last bit a little sheepishly, clearly a bit nervous about the date that she wouldn’t admit was a date.
“You could do anything with your hair and it’d still be perfect.” Riona meant it too. Via had the kind of beauty that made even bedhead look fashionable. “But if you’re worried, I can do your hair when you get ready for the party.” She leaned back slightly in her chair, imagining the auburn red hair in various styles. “Have you decided what you’re going to be wearing? If not, there’s a couple of stores Sadie and I went yesterday that I think you’d really like.”
After staring at her sister a little longer, Riona asked, “Are you falling in love?”
Kalliope's eyes sparkled with excitement as she agreed to style her hair. She always felt Riona did a better job than she did with styling her tresses.
"That would be wonderful, Riona," she replied with a warm smile. "I have a dress being altered to match Sjan-dehk's outfit, but I'm still in need of accessories and shoes to complete the look. I was going to pick up the dress as well. If you wanted to come with me, then you could give me your opinion on it." She didn’t even realize that she’d forgotten to call him Captain and simply used his name as if they were already quite close.
When Riona asked the question about falling in love, Kalliope's cheeks flushed slightly, and she let out a nervous giggle. "It's not like that. We just met, and he's... intriguing, that's all. Besides, I'm far too busy with work to think about love." She waved her hand dismissively, hoping to downplay any notions of romantic involvement. The truth was she didn’t really know what she felt for him, it was all quite confusing.
Riona recalled the fluttering sensations she felt when her own heart had danced to a tune she hadn’t expected, just like it seemed to be doing with Via now. At first, Dan was just another stableboy who popped out of nowhere and started working at the royal stables. Over time, he became a trusted friend, someone she could confide in and do just about anything with (even pretend to be betrothed so that “Ms. Vos” could have a bank account). She, however, had never seen him as more than that.
So when Dan confessed deeper feelings for her, it caught Riona completely off guard. But his words also planted a seed in her mind. She started looking at Dan in a new light, noticing things about him she had overlooked before. The way he made her laugh. The strength of his arms when they rode together. The warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. Bit by bit, Riona realized she was falling for Dan too. Where once he had been just a friend, now she felt butterflies in her stomach when he was near. She found herself making excuses just to see him. Her heart raced at his smile. Being with Dan made her happy in a way she had never known before. Life felt bigger, brighter, full of exciting possibilities. She, of all people, dreamed of a future. For the first time, she understood what it meant to be in love… and what it meant to lose it.
“Do you think you’ll tell the Captain?” Not Via’s potential feelings for the man; she meant her full story. Riona never got the chance to tell Dan her own. Then again, she was prepared to abandon everything—the hate and anger; her promise—for a life with him, so maybe she never had any intention of revealing her story. Even though she knew he would’ve accepted it, just as he accepted every other aspect of her.
What?! I-” Kalliope cut herself short as she realized she wasn’t sure what she’d actually do. "I don’t know, actually. I think, if the right moment comes and he’s proven himself trustworthy, I will," Kalliope replied softly, her gaze distant for a moment as she contemplated the idea of sharing her own story with the Captain. She had kept her past tightly guarded, but there was something about Sjan-dehk that made her consider opening up, letting him into the depths of her history. After all, she had already told him something she hadn’t expected just after meeting him.
“I hope he is,” Riona said. Then maybe Via would finally have a chance at the happiness she deserved.
”Either way, it takes a very special person for me to share that with and so far there’s only one person who’s gained that level of trust with me.” She finally said as she gave Riona a soft, adoring smile.
A swell of emotions rose up within her as Via spoke those tender words. To know her beloved sister valued their bond so highly, trusted her so completely, filled Riona with joy. Yet behind that joy was an aching sadness too.
”So has anything exciting happened since I’ve been gone?”
“Where to even begin!” Riona caught Via up on the happenings she missed during her absence. She touched on both the highs and lows, but at some point it devolved into venting about the insufferable snob, Lordling Leo Smithwood. How his accusation of “over-polished” floors led to the servants suffering through a two-day fast as punishment; how he viewed commoners as ants beneath his boots, his noble birth granting him license to treat them with contempt; and how Riona suspected he sent a hulking bruiser of a manservant to intimidate her in the middle of the city, a tactical show of power. Now that Lady Morrigan had specifically assigned Riona to Sh*twood, she had no doubt they intended to make her life miserable. Why else would the hag make such an arrangement?
Riona bit angrily into another cookie. “Gods, just thinking about that pompous, holier-than-thou—ugh!” She shoved the rest of the cookie into her mouth and washed it down with tea.
Kalliope couldn't help but chuckle as she listened to Riona's animated rant about Lordling Leo Smithwood. She could sense her sister's frustration and annoyance, and it was clear that dealing with such a pompous noble was a challenge. "Perhaps I should pay this Lord Leo a visit and put him in his place." She suggested with a wicked grin.
"Though you've just given me a splendid idea," Kalliope said, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Come to the masquerade ball! What better opportunity to gather some valuable information on these insufferable nobles. You can take my invitation to get in since I'll be with the Captain. I'll lend you a beautiful gown, a mask, and even help you craft a disguise that will make you nearly unrecognizable. While you enjoy the festivities, which you deserve, you can discreetly spy on the guests. What do you say?" She offered, knowing that Riona's skills and intuition would be a valuable asset at the ball.
Riona blinked owlishly at Via’s proposition. Her? At a masquerade party? As a guest? The last time she attended any kind of extravagant event as an attendee was a lifetime ago—or at least, it felt that way. Did she even remember the proper etiquette for mingling in polite society? She wasn’t sure.
Still, she considered the idea, not because she actually wanted to gather information on “insufferable nobles,” but because this could help Callum. If he wanted to prove his worth to the anarchists, he needed to gather as much information involving high society as he could for them. These glittering social events would be ripe with gossip and scandal for the taking, if you kept your ear to the ground. Problem being, the masquerade party clashed with the Summer Solstice celebration he planned to take part in. Perhaps, Riona mused, she could attend in his place and give him anything she found. Until he gains (at least) Quack’s trust, Cal was going to need all the help he could get. As a bonus, she might even learn something useful to Via too.
“There’s something you should know.” Riona set her teacup down on its saucer with the slightest clink of porcelain. She glanced around the parlor, checking that the other customers were preoccupied in their own conversations. Satisfied they weren't listening, Riona leaned in close to Via and pitched her voice low. “Callum’s joined the Thornbreakers.”
The Thornbreakers. An underground group with the singular goal of destroying the kingdom’s very foundations: depose both Crowns and bring down the peerage.
A choking sound came from Kalliope as she took a sip of her tea and then began coughing as she tried to recover. A few people looked her way and she simply gave them a warning smile that had them looking away quickly. She’d worked alongside the Thornbreaker’s in the past in certain operations, yet their methods were often too extreme for her taste. The leader, in particular, was someone she found difficult to trust completely. Their goals aligned in some areas, but in others she wasn’t completely onboard. Either way, she didn’t have anything against them, but for Callum to join them concerned her.
"The Thornbreakers?" Kalliope whispered, her voice a mixture of concern and disbelief. "Callum joined them? That's... an interesting decision." Her mind raced, considering the implications of Callum's decision. She knew he was resourceful and determined, but the Thornbreakers were a different league altogether.
"You know I have nothing against them, but will Quack actually accept Callum into the ranks? As much as I shouldn’t care, I am concerned for his safety." she added, her worry for the prince she’d unexpectedly befriended over the years.
A rueful smile pulled at Riona’s lips. Funny that the two people who shouldn’t care were more concerned for Cal’s safety than he was himself. She turned the empty cup over and over in her hands, the repetitive motion failing to soothe her thoughts. “Quack, maybe,” she said at last. “The others...I’m not so sure.” The cup stilled in her hands. “It’s why Cal needs to secure his position. I think…” She took a breath. “I think we can help him get to that point faster if we pitch in on information gathering and pass it to Cal. Give him more to offer.”
She risked a glance up at her sister. “He’ll do this with or without us. Better we stay close.” The next words curdled in her mouth even as she gave them life. “We could use this too.” The thought left a bitter aftertaste, but she forced herself to swallow it down.
Kalliope sucked in a long breath as she closed her eyes, taking a moment to think about it all. ”Gods damn it…” She sighed and then met Riona's gaze, understanding the weight of the situation. Cal was stubborn and often liked to run head first into danger. He’d used his influence to free an assassin from one of the most brutal prisons and then managed to befriend her, for goodness sakes. He was reckless, but if they played their cards right, they could provide him with the support he needed to navigate it safely. "You're right," she said softly, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and concern. "We'll assist him, gather information, and ensure he has every advantage possible. And if there's a way we can turn this to our advantage as well, then so be it. We've danced on the edge of shadows before; we know how to move in the darkness."
She reached out, resting her hand gently on Riona's, a silent gesture of solidarity. "We'll keep him safe, and we'll protect our interests too. We just need to be careful, strategic. And most importantly, we need to watch each other's backs. I care about Cal, but if I had to choose between him and you, I’m choosing you every time." Kalliope's voice held a note of quiet determination. They were stepping into dangerous territory, but together, they had faced worse. The bond between the sisters, forged in the fires of adversity, was unbreakable, and it would see them through whatever challenges lay ahead.
Riona drew her bottom lip between her teeth, biting back tears. She wouldn’t cry. Not here, not now. Instead, she squeezed the hand still clasping hers and nodded.
Although Via might be a formidable assassin, more than capable of handling herself, that wouldn’t stop Riona from doing whatever it took to protect her. If things go sideways, she’ll activate it. Even if doing so meant destroying all evidence of the Danrose’s lies, as long as she dragged King Edin and Queen Alibeth down into the Hells with her, setting Via and Cal free to live the lives they chose—then the past fourteen years would’ve been worth it.
“Always,” she whispered. Their gazes held fast, a world of understanding between sisters. “We’re in this together, Via.”
The clock struck the hour, and Riona’s attention turned to the time, smirking when she met Via’s eyes again. “Starting with this party. If we’re shopping, dollying you up to dazzle the Captain, and disguising all of this,” she gestured to herself, “we’d better hurry or there’ll only be empty wine bottles by the time we arrive.”
”You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re far more beautiful than even most of the noble women.” Kali said with a small laugh and shake of her head, but she was being honest. She truly didn’t think it was going to be all that difficult to doll the woman up and be turning heads. ”However, you’re right. Time waits for no one, not even us. Shall we then?” She said as she let go of Riona’s hand and pushed back her seat, ready to embark on their whirlwind preparations for the evening.
Time: Night Location: The edge of Lover's Lake Attire:Dress, A crown of various flowers Interaction: @Lava Alckon Farim "Oh look at you! Blue's a great color on both of us." Anastasia ran her hand down the fabric of his sleeve with intrigued amber eyes that gradually met his gaze with a subtle, teasing glint. As he inquired about her day, Anastasia's expression softened, and she began recounting her adventures with enthusiasm. "And guess what? I made a new friend! He proposed a brilliant idea for a concert at my brother's charity event. Looks like I'll need to start preparing a song!"
Taking a moment to appreciate Thara, who had captured her attention, Anastasia cooed and extended a gentle hand toward the majestic bird. "I've missed my pretty girl!" Her smile widened, radiating the genuine affection she held for the winged companion.
As the ceremony unfolded before them, Anastasia's expressive eyes widened with curiosity and awe, her playful demeanor momentarily subdued by the gravity of the moment.
She had whispered to him after a pause,"Oh, Farim, can you feel the magic in the air? I've never witnessed something so enchanting!" As the shaman and Roman chanted in unison, Anastasia leaned in, finding herself caught in the mystique of the moment
When the duo walked around the stone circle, dripping the red liquid onto the stones, Anastasia's gaze followed their every step. The air became charged with a palpable energy.
"Farim, isn't this extraordinary? The way they move in unison, the words they speak—it's as if they're one with nature..." she mused, her tone revealing her fascination.
Time: Night Location: Edge of Lover’s Lake-Roman Ceremony Interactions:
Callum arrived dressed as a shadow, having combed through his closet for dark clothing devoid of royal ornament. Intentional, because as much as he wanted to spend the night only sharing in and celebrating Roman’s customs, he needed to use tonight to search for the secrets hidden in the shadows of his home. The forest, covered in darkness, would provide cover and the majority of attention would now lay on the Damien estate. No better night to search for dark and twisted secrets to drag into the light and watch them writhe from the exposure.
In the moments before the ceremony began, he walked, followed closely by guards who hung about like preying hawks, and tried to see all the things Ari saw when she looked at the forests. He even removed his shoes and left them somewhere that would quickly be forgotten, as it seemed many here had foregone footwear for the celebration.
The attempt only morphed, as shadows cast by trees swayed and danced beneath moonlight, he only looked for the best routes of escape. A plan slowly etched its way into his mind as any attempt to find enjoyment vanished.
Soon Roman, clad in a kilt and adorned with the bones of a bear, stood high above the rest as the rules for the night were relayed. He listened and he scanned the crowd that surrounded Roman. Ana was here, and Cal took care to avoid her, not out of lingering animosity but why repair a bridge he would one day need to burn? He kept his head turned away from her; better to not have to talk, to not have to feel the burden of an unvoiced apology, and to let that connection die off naturally.
As Roman and Mina prepared for the ceremony, Callum inevitably found himself holding a red cup offered by the Varian Shaman. Of course, he wanted to see, he wanted to experience as much of this as he could and there wasn’t a drink Cal wouldn’t try at least once.
Laughter rang out in bursts, clear and sharp. He kept to himself, stayed inside his head; a better option than to risk ruining the good time of others with everything that lived inside his head with him.
A fire ragged, its warmth full and bright. Callum drank of an earthy brew that unsettled his stomach even more than what he was used to. He watched people, from all walks of life, come together as equals and wished he could feel hope in seeing it happen even if for a night.
Roman and the Shaman began a chant, conveying something beautiful that lingered just beyond his understanding but close enough to appreciate, with the simplest of words.
Time: Night Location: Damien Estate Front Entrance
Riona half-fell, half-tumbled out of the carriage with about as much grace as a drunk cow. Saved from an embarrassing introduction to the driveway only by Mr. Brisby’s work-roughened hands. “Steady on,” he murmured.
She wobbled upright, smoothed out her (well, technically her sister’s) beautiful, but frankly uncomfortable, dress with as much dignity as she could muster. So much for gliding in like a swan. At this rate, she’d be tripping over her own feet all night and leave the party more black and blue than when she arrived. “Thanks.”
“Are you sure you can manage on your own?” There was a pause, then, as if remembering himself and where they were, he added, “My lady.”
Keeping her voice quiet, Riona said, “No. These shoes are going to kill me.” She didn’t know how Via convinced her to wear stiletto death traps. “At least the last thing I see before I break my neck will be my legs looking damn good.”
“Please don’t die on us. I’d hate to tell everyone you were bested by heels.”
“If anyone laughs, make them wear these and see how long they last.” Riona adjusted her cat mask and fussed with her hair one last time. “What do you think? Will anyone recognize me?”
“I think you look beautiful.”
“So no chance of being recognized then.” She flashed a playful smirk at Mr. Brisby, who just shook his head, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t plan to stay for the whole party, but if I’m not back in two hours, don’t wait up.”
Riona managed three steps up the stairs before the stilettos threatened mutiny again. Gods damn these heels. The night was young, but her feet already ached for mercy.
"They are with the gods now, be happy that they have passed and no longer need to suffer here with us. You will see them again someday."
Farim smile had faded ever so slightly at the remark, an internal monologue began to chime in. ...no longer need to suffer here with us. If only you knew... However the melancholy quickly dissolved as Anastasia had returned his meaningful attention with her own adoration. Thara initially responded by curiously poking her outstretched hand with her beak. With an extremely gentle nature, the falcon opened her beak and nibbled on her finger before pushing her head against the princess' hand. It was mainly a show of affection, as weird as it may seem. But to any bird of prey, it was an endearing gesture.
"Well she certainly has missed you too. I hope you do not mind if I share that sentiment, Annie." He had noticed her careful caress just now, and was already returning such a movement with a subtle rub of his hand against her hip while they talked. He could not help but feel curious about the new friend and her mention of creating a whole new song for this charity event. "You must tell me more about this charity event. Since you speak of your brother, I happened to have a chat with him a little earlier. Would Wulfric happen to be the one hosting or would it be Callum?" If Wulfric was the host, Farim believed it would be very matter-of-fact style of charity. But from what he observed and scarcely knew of Prince Callum, he could not help but feel that him hosting would mean a sleu of ulterior motives. Not just from him, but from other interested parties as well.
Just as the questions came running from him, the ceremony began in full tilt. There were words sung that were full of mystique, dancing motions that carried the weight of a dozen emotions, and various other activities that seemed to have a bittersweet weight to them. This was a ceremony of death, but also reconciling that within death there is life. A beautiful notion, and one Farim would find he agreed with wholeheartedly. "It is certainly going to be an interesting evening. I have seen a few ceremonies like these ones, but every tribe or clan does them so uniquely different it is like experiencing it for the first time."
Farim wrapped his arms around her while she observed the ritual. The memories of his past were certainly weighing on him, as well as the topic of death itself somewhat swaying him into a somber state. However, there was a comforting warmth to Anastasia's presence that balanced all the emotions out, causing the man to be more clingy than he intended. All the same, to her it might just seem like an affectionate hug as she gasped in awe at the surrounding ceremony.
"It certainly is, Annie. They are purely devoted to passing on the writs of their kin in the most honorable way possible. I bet they practiced this for many weeks leading up to this. Much like how you may practice your cello for a performance of your own. They are both forms of art - and I would be excited to see more of your art at this event you were speaking of you know. What day will it be?"
Aah, she could hear his voice from here. Stratya turned her head slowly, seeking out the Prince's voice as she scanned the room. She heard his voice and another's. Gingerly, she picked her way through the crowd, following the pair of voices, taking in all the various costumes and the positions of the guards as she went. As she closed in, Stratya saw the costume the Prince wore and, between his voice coming from this direction and that certain way the Crown Prince carried and presented himself, it seemed like the plague crow had to be him. She just managed to catch their parting exchange, tempered and veiled threats and all, and watched the second body depart.
As Cassius took his leave, Wulfric tilted his head, a chilling gaze following the departing figure. Had Anastasia truly had the chance to meet him? He would check in with her, just in case. But either way…It was one thing to try and provoke him, and quite another to denigrate his sister in such a way. If the man continued with his conduct, he would find himself in the dungeons sooner or later, no matter that he was Calbert’s son. Though…He may just be tempted to arrange something less official yet equally unpleasant.
However, his ruminations were interrupted by the arrival of an armoured woman.
"Uweegk. Who invited tha' fellow, anyway?" Wait a minute. What did he- Annie? Anast- Ooooh, what a vile wretch, to use such a thing as a weapon. She'd have to remember to watch that one. Alas, now wasn't the time.
The person addressing him was one of their knights, if he wasn’t mistaken. Due to the masquerade, she was in a different guise than usual. “That man was invited by his father,” he drawled, not saying who ‘the fellow’ was directly.
Invited by his "Father?" That would mean- "Nooo." Disbelief, though short-lived. "That rooster?" Couldn't call him a cock directly, could she? Nooo, no no no. Besides, having a standoff with the Prince was a very rooster thing to do. Posturing and crowing.
“Yes, the rooster,” he agreed, dryly amused. Certainly, that comment could be attributed to Calbert as well as it could to Cassius.
The knight paused, unsure. "Can't say I've been an attendee before," in an uncommon vulnerability, she seemed uncertain. "I've," she paused, thought for a second, and continued, "no idea what to do with myself and I'm not used to tha’." The knight chuckled at herself, certain her troubles with a party must seem so insignificant.
“What to do?” Wulfric rolled a shoulder. “Drink, dance, make conversation…Or use the opportunity to observe people in the role of a guest instead of doing it as a guard.”
"Oh, aye?" She took a moment to look around and see that.. it.. really was that simple. Well, as simple as it could get with this crowd. "Just a nigh' at a very fancy tavern with masks and dress code, then? I'll be. Funny, how your eyes can be clouded by even unknown expectations." Amazing, also, how similarly the aristocracy spent their free time, compared to commoners. Booze and dance and talk and music. The substance was different, but the idea was the same.
With a sigh, Wulfric drained his wine glass and set it onto a table. He hummed, unconvinced at the knight’s comparison. “I do not frequent taverns, so I couldn’t say.”
Nay, the Prince wouldn't know much about taverns, would he? And he wasn't much for being friendly, he'd been raised too strictly for that. "That who I think i'tis, under thah?" She was trying to cover her accent. To her credit, it wasn't nearly as strong as normal.
This question caused a small hidden smirk to appear. “That would depend on who you believe me to be,” he said, fully confident that the knight had managed to confirm that he was, in fact, the crown prince. “And you are…” he studied her face for a long moment. “Captain Durmand, was it?” The woman nodded in affirmation.
Since she was indeed a knight, Wulfric chose to correct her misconceptions regarding how to conduct herself at this type of an event. “If you wish to do well here, start by being more formal. You ought to be careful how you refer to someone of a higher status, especially when that person is a royal.” Strangely enough, the prince didn’t sound particularly offended. He had just dealt with the much more insolent Damien, after all. Still, he did not wish to have it said that his employees were uncouth; thus, the advice.
His advice was good, but one thing confused her, “I thought the idea of a masquerade was to conceal our identities? I'd ‘ate to spoil the surprise under such an excellent costume.”
The knight wasn’t wrong about masquerades. But though he enjoyed the mystique, he’d have to conceal more than just his features for nobles not to recognize him. “Technically, yes, but you will notice that many guests recognize each other,” he pointed out.
“Mm.. I suppose I shou’ be more formal, though. Hmm,” she gazed at the Prince, thoughtful for just a moment. “Ah! Your Corvidness.”
Somehow or other, Stratya settled on a fantastical title. That…It was fitting with the theme, yes, but Wulfric was rather taken aback by the idea. He laid a clawed finger to his temple (covered by the costume as it was), deeply exasperated, then settled on picking up another wine glass.
"Oh! she suddenly perked up. “I heard from some of the guard. You had them investigate the warehouses, yeh? I was looking for a reason to sniff around there more, though it's probably too late for what I wanted. May I inquire what led you there, your Avian Grace?"
Wulfric huffed at the query. Though there was a mild, reluctant amusement at her chosen form of address, he didn’t intend to explain his business to a subordinate. “It is general practice that knights report to me, not the other way around.” Even if off-duty, he did not intend to bend that principle much. “So, why were you seeking to investigate the area?”
When she asked him about his investigation into the warehouses, he very quickly turned the question around on her without providing any information. "Oh, no need to be like tha', Your Feathered Majesty, only suggesting we share notes, help each other out. Mine aren't very interesting, though, sorry to say.”
The bird’s mask tilted at Stratya, and there was the sense that she was being studied. “We are not in a companionable relationship, you realize?” He sounded rather baffled that she was trying to act as if they were friends. “You are the one working for me, and whatever I choose to give you will be on a need-to-know basis,” he reiterated. The prince was admittedly skeptical of a knight who didn’t seem to be aware of something so basic.
His Corvidness was a strict boss. As strict and distant as he was proper and intelligent. Nothing like her guard captain back home. More like the sergeant she served under in the army, but even he had his soft spots. She remembered his first impression of the Crown Prince, like a bleedin’ wall, he was. None of which she was allowed to say.
“I 'eard a rumor of a princess sighting at a la'e nigh' party, dug up some information about tha', sounded about right. Went check it out, but turned up naught. Either they cleaned up very well, or I got the wrong place, or.. I'll admi', I didn't look for hidd'n rooms or anything. Didn't seem wise to give more time to flimsy information, especially with how noisy things 'ave been gettin'." In particular, she was referencing the gunfire from earlier in the week.
“Hmm…” Wulfric took a moment to assess the utility of what she’d discovered. “Not entirely hopeless given you were working on a mere rumour, I suppose,” he decided. “There should be something at the warehouses,” he relayed. “The involved party is Black Rose.” Those were the pieces of information he was willing to provide. “Why don’t you show me what more you can unearth? You can even be officially assigned to the case.” It was a challenge and suggestion wrapped in one.
At least he saw fit to throw her a bone. “Thank you deeply, Your Corvidness. I will reevaluate my approach to the warehouses before I return there.” It was a tiny bone, but possibly very dense. She'd have to see if there were any records pertaining to the group. Black Rose.
There was something else the captain had investigated recently. "Have you 'eard much good information about that incident during the festival? The one with gunfire and all." Because 'assassination' was such a fun word to throw around at a high-profile party. It had been an unsuccessful attempt in this very estate. If she knew more about the perpetrator, she could take a guess at whether they would come back or not. Ever more reason for the light armor and concealed weapon.
Her line of questioning inadvertently strengthened his impression that she was a busy-body, and he wondered if she was snooping around merely to satisfy her personal curiosity. “Ah, the shooting.” It was an involved incident. “The suspect is that woman recently pictured in the newspaper.” He didn’t mind giving her that tid-bit for free. “Now, unless you have any further intel…?” The prince was clearly ready to dismiss her.
The newspaper? She could ask her colleagues, instead, but if there was a whole picture in the paper, then that might be faster. However. “I do. I was nearby when the shoots were fired, and I went to investigate the scene. The number of guards in the area was very helpful in putting the picture together.” Stratya found herself with a glass of wine in her hand, from one of the staff butling around. She sipped (ooh, it's sweet), “there are two things that bother me about that incident. First, the assassination attempt itself. From what was described to me, and from the state of the room itself, I do not believe one or even two people could have achieved what was witnessed with mundane means. Two, the perpetrator, by all counts, disappeared. In an alley. No one saw her leave the estate grounds. No one found her on the estate. For all the eyes on the scene.” The knight took another sip, and leaned in slightly, to speak softly to only him, “I smell magic, Your Corvidness.”
As Stratya continued with her findings, his attention suddenly fixed on her. Rather akin to how a predator’s did on its prey, though he was simply interested in what she was saying. “Perceptive, captain, very perceptive.” It was a compliment, yet the tone was incongruously ominous, and Stratya was suddenly wondering if maybe she shouldn't have tipped her hand. “Yet a dangerous word to utter in public…However, you are correct,” he affirmed near-silently. “I will want to know how familiar you are with the topic, but for now…Based on what was actually done during the attack, your assessment of the motive may be amiss,” he noted.
He paused for a moment as he considered something. “And, if you smell it here,” it being magic, “you will find the stench even stronger in the case of that party,” his voice was still low as he told her this. “The people who attended it can remember events precisely up until their arrival at the location. Then, it’s as if someone or something cut off their memories for the whole night. Strange, no?” he questioned rhetorically. “Mind, the attendants have been questioned on their recollections already.” It was a subtle way of saying that she needn’t bother the guests herself. “Remain vigilant,” he advised.
Very specific mass amnesia? “Your Magnificent Plumage is correct, it reeks. Hmm..” Any chemical attempt to induce such an effect would have staggering side effects and be very difficult to inflict on so many without drawing attention. It was a very precise effect, from what the Prince told her. A powerful one, too, felt by a lot of people. So how did they manage to do it? Did they just…eat whatever the backlash was? Not that she was sure that diverting it somehow was possible, but there must probably be some way. If they did just eat it, then they must be reeling.
Reeling so hard, they might still be feeling it. They likely couldn't have been party to the assault on the estate, since there were only hours between the two events. “There are two..?” She wasn't certain, she couldn't be sure how much downtime the mage behind the party's amnesia would need to fully recuperate, but she got the sense that it would be a while.
Each time the knight uttered another variation on a corvid-themed title, Wulfric felt compelled to drink more alcohol. His chalice was nearly empty once again at this point. “Two?” he prompted, and Stratya explained her silent musings to him. “Hm. From what I have heard, one assailant was seen. She broke into the building, and then an acquaintance of hers who had been inside absconded with her. No one had noticed any assistants. Since she was seen, if she had other help, would they not have been witnessed as well?” It seemed a relatively safe assumption to make that she had been working alone. Though if others had been involved, he would seriously question just how that had been overseen.
Stratya also relayed her reasoning that any party-goers would not be suspect for the attack on Damien’s estate. “Well,” Wulfric sighed. “The man who chose to leave the mansion in such a strange fashion,” meaning, with the suspect in question, “had in fact been witnessed on the way to the party.” He drank the last of his second glass. “Enough of that, captain,” he said, returning to a normal volume. “I appreciate your concerns for safety, but you are off-duty.” Mostly, the prince believed they had discussed something sensitive long enough; eavesdroppers were a concern even (or especially) when you took care not to be overheard. So, he cut the conversation short, and dismissed her with finality.
Ack, he called her rank so loudly. Had he had that much to drink? Maybe it was just because they'd been hushed. He had drained his glass rather quickly in her company. Whenever she had addressed him with a flourish. Oops. As stiff as ever, it seemed. He probably didn't want to hear any more bird-themed titles, so he sent her off. Oh, dear. But he had given her much to think about, as well. She'd let the information stew in her mind as she roamed the party.
Additionally, the Crown Prince had told her she's off-duty, so taking things too seriously at the moment would be a violation of a direct command. “Aye.” She'd just have to think about it later. “Away wiv me, then.” Off to find some more of this sweet wine, and maybe someone who's less tense. To party with, as directed.
Time:Evening Location: Calbert's Estate Interaction: @Helo Leo
Charlotte let her brows furrow as Leo stayed in place. She appreciated his bravery, especially toward Calbert. Perhaps she even would have loved to stand up to him then and there too. However, instead, she frowned at her friend, then glanced in the count’s direction.
Guests swirled around them and in between them, oblivious to the rising tension. Despite the space that separated them, Charlotte could feel the weight of Calbert's intense gaze even throughout the brief movements of obscured vision. The very air around him carried a malevolence that sent shivers down her spine.
Calbert's attention briefly wavered, his calculating eyes darting elsewhere, and for a moment, relief washed over Charlotte. But the respite was short-lived as his eyes very soon returned to them. The pause stretched, an agonizing silence that heightened the anticipation. And then, as if the silence were a prelude to a storm, Calbert's lips curled into a smile devoid of warmth. With deliberate slowness, Calbert changed direction, the smile lingering. Charlotte nervously twirled a lock of her hair, attention fixed on the count's retreating figure. When he disappeared from view, her gaze shifted to Leo, concern etched across her face.
“When did that happen to your voice?” Her voice, tinted with worry, broke the silence. “Quite frankly, Leo, I'm a little concerned. “
That laughing fit. That was so strange... Did someone use magic on him? The questions danced in her mind as she awaited her friend’s answer.
Her gaze drifted over his shoulder, attuned to a shift in the atmosphere. The room had suddenly seemed to brighten, and colors had become more vibrant, leaving her momentarily disoriented. As she glanced about with confusion, brown eyes, framed by a deep blue mask, met hers, igniting a surge of nostalgia within her almost immediately. He had brown hair that was swept back in a gentle wave and a face that held a delicate beauty. She could not tear her gaze away as her eyes followed his movements as he twirled with an unseen partner.
A haunting melody of the music added an otherworldly quality to the scene as it echoed dimly through the grand hall.
The man seemed out of place, his entire presence standing out against the backdrop of the room. His partner came into view as they weaved through the crowd and moved closer. She was a small black-haired woman in a white feather mask and a glimmering long white gown. The pair momentarily paused, acknowledging Charlotte before the man gently broke away from her.
A step back was Charlotte's instinctive response as he drew near, his hand extending towards her. A warm smile graced his face as his hand lingered, reaching out to her. Time seemed to freeze, the music pausing in tandem. The next few moments were suspended in that moment. The man unrealistically remained just where he was as they seemed to stare at each other amongst of room of statues.
She finally reciprocated, reaching for his hand.
Then, in an instant as their fingers just barely graced each other, it all vanished. He vanished. And as it all disappeared it became ever so clear that the scene presented to her had been a different ballroom and a different time, with people who were not here anymore. Yet, Charlotte stood there, hand outstretched toward the air, caught in the echo of a memory that had somehow momentarily intertwined with the present.
Time: Evening Location: Damien Estate Interactions: Fritz @JJ Doe Mentions: Attire: ???
*As for What brought me here, why, I dare say it would be the count's ravishing smile? *
The freshly spoken line flash through his mind with an unpleasant shudder slithering down his spine.* Ugh, that's your try at being coy? Come on, V. You can do better than that.* The server bemoaned internally with a slight grimace.
“My name is Fritz.”
Said facial cue apparently occuring at the same instant the individual (whose name to be Fritz as recently learned) offered for a handshake.* Ah, shit! As if being found by someone already and Char for some reason still a no-show and now this guy probably thinks I detest the prospect of shaking hands with them.* A small huff from his nose followed by another inner groan.* Oi! Idiot*
After an almost awkward amount of waiting; an amount of time just before Fritz might assume the handshake might not be reciporcated, did Mr. V's gloved right hand shoot out to take hold." A-Apologies, sir. Meant no offense... a server is ever busy, even on break. Not to mention, Sir Fritz, or lord, do forgive me. Keeping track of all the titles and such, an introduction undeserving towards a lowly staff." A bow of the head as expected.
* OI, chatterbox! Enough with the rambling, damn it!*
Screaming internally; all the while paying great heed to offer due respect. His grip was firm with surprising strength greatly controlled. A shared respected between two men and for a moment, he almost felt equal. For a moment, he shook hands with a possible kindred spirit.
A queer thought, no more precice to say a queer experience and one he had yet to experience since living in the seemingly gold-crusted shoes of such people in this hall.
A hall filled with vain-bloated sows drowning blind in their own hubris. Amidst the muck, were the treasured few not lost in their delusions.
And Fritz could be one (possibly more-so than first thought). Yet, for now he knew it best to not go trusting the man, but one willing to treat a staff like a person at least was owed his respect.
“Such a ravishing smile it must be, if you’re willing to venture this close to the sun.”
Releasing his grip shortly after, a small chuckle covered by his right hand." That is quite good sir." An amused grin, the calm and composed Mr. V shifted to turned his gaze in similar direction to the count." May I be so bold to answer then with this question. What would drive such a person to... risk being burned."
Saying nothing else. Letting his words linger in the air.* Now then...where are you Char?* Turning his gaze over; briefly catching view of Layla to disdain indifference before moving on to spot the fairy-dressed girl...laughing with Leo? * The heck? Did someone tell a funny joke? I mean, those slippers are pretty ridiculous but...come on now!*
“Clever.”
That singular word getting his attention once more prompting him to face Fritz." You do me too much credit." Visibly taken aback at receiving an... actual compliment? “Though, I fear you might burn into a crisp if you stay too long in his radiance... Have you given thought to how the flames might be doused?” A hint of concern on top of it.
Was almost enough to bring a man to tears. Almost.
" Best hope my cleverness, but most of all, luck can continue to carry me through the night..." Pausing after trailing off to check back on Charlotte to see what was happening. What he saw would be most peculiar.* Wha- Yeah no point bothering. Best to just wait for her to explain.*
Seeing that she would be wrapped up in.. well whatever was going on with her for a bit that his best course of action was to wait.. Not to mention, Calbert being about; strangely changing course mid-way towards the two he just checked on. What had gotten so unlucky as to draw his slimy snake eyes onto them?
As he could only wait, he thought this could prove opportune moment to try to see what he could learn from Fritz." In fact, Mr-sir-lord Fritz."He said in cheeky jest with a playful poke of his nose." If you wish for a most grand spectacle the likes rivaling such parties that might be taboo." Hinting to the mystery parties like from the previous night prior, with the hopeful assumption they knew of it.
" A night, unlike that like I assure to unforgettable, but as I am one man. Some help is needed and from you, I would ask for whatever you can/or willing to tell me about Calbert and the Damien household?" The better he understood the Damiens, the better things could proceed. Besides, no harm in trying to learn about the man so gung-ho on killing him." And one more thing, but I suppose that can wait till after."
Time: Late Morning Interactions: Mentions: Attire:
(Placeholder until I get a better reference image) Roughspun, blue trousers A shoulder belt and waist belt carrying his equipment Two swords and two pistols, one on either side A woven, conical hat wide enough to shade his entire face
Sjan-dehk didn’t linger at the beach. After Kalliope told him where they were to meet – and after he agreed to her suggestion – he bade her a short, but still polite, farewell before taking his leave. This morning had been eventful enough on its own, and he wasn’t too keen on making it more so. Between meeting a bevy of new faces – as well as learning the names which came with them – and the small debacle courtesy of the Alidashti princess, he felt he had seen and heard enough for one day, let alone just a part of it. There was already plenty for him to think over as things were.
And yet, as the crunching of sand beneath his boots gave way to the tapping of leather against stone, his thoughts were of neither new acquaintances nor of capricious royalty.
Rather, they were of Kalliope and Cassius, the man who had accompanied her to the beach. Specifically, he pondered over the nature of their relationship for the umpteenth time. He wasn’t sure what vexed him greater: that he didn’t know, or that he was devoting so much thought to a trivial matter. What did it matter to him? Both were little more than strangers to him. Kalliope less so, granted, but he still only knew her for all of two days, at best. And Cassius? The man may as well be a giant question mark. Sjan-dehk couldn’t think of a reason for him to be so concerned with how the two were linked. They could be friends, or even lovers, for all he cared.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Though he couldn’t say for why, that last thought – of Kalliope and Cassius being lovers – made his chest feel ever-so-slightly tighter, and brought a twitch of a furrow to his brow. He willed both away with a shake of his head and a growl that wasn’t quite as muted as he had intended. This was all just a result of having too much time on his hands, he was sure of it. Spending a bit of time aboard Sada Kurau and busying himself with the tasks of the day would fix that in short order. Mending sails and polishing yardarms for hours on end would numb anyone’s mind to whatever it was that plagued them.
However, the sight that greeted him as he stepped onto the dock put a quick end to those plans.
Standing near the end of the boardwalk, and right by the foot of the gangplank leading up to his ship, were two familiar faces. Or to be accurate, it was one familiar face – Iyen – and one somewhat-familiar head of flaxen hair. With how raised their voices were and how wildly they gestured to each other, Sjan-dehk didn’t know if he was witnessing a particularly animated conversation or the start of a fight, and so he proceeded cautiously, as if he were sneaking up on a skittish animal.
Iyen’s eyes found him as he drew closer, and the barely-hidden exasperation on her face melted away to a look of relief. “Sjan-dehk!” She called out over the shoulder of the other person, who revealed herself to be Aislin – the fishergirl he had met just days before – as she spun around. “Praise the Mountain and the Shadowed Green that you’re here. It’s about time, too.” Iyen rested her hands on his hips. “Any longer and I would’ve had to go out looking for you.”
“Well, are you going to tell me what’s so important, then?” Sjan-dehk asked.
Iyen shrugged. “Not a clue.” She cocked her head towards the shorter Caesonian girl. “I found her running up to every one of our people near the beach, asking about you and your ship. Couldn’t understand much more than that, so I brought her here. I was hoping that you’d know what she’s going on about.” Her eyes shined with mischief, and a smirk tugged on her lips as she leaned in closer to him. “My, Wasun Sjan-dehk of Jafi, you haven’t done anything to her that you shouldn’t have, have you?”
Sjan-dehk ignored her and addressed Aislin directly. “Iyen says you looked for me. Why?”
Worry was written plainly upon the fishergirl’s visage. She had clearly left her work in a hurry – her simple, over-patched dress and bodice were streaked with stains of red-and-brown, and there was a strong scent of the ocean – laced with that of fish guts – that clung to her hastily-tied hair and clothes. “Sorry Cap’n, but I need your help.” Fretful eyes flitted between Sjan-dehk’s face and Iyen’s from beneath knitted brows, and she wrung her hands over her chest as she spoke. “A few boats went out fishin’ early in the mornin’. They should all be back by now, aye they should, an’ most of ‘em are, but we’re still missin’ one wi’ crew an’ all, an’ I ‘eard frae the rest that they went farther out, but ‘tis pirate waters o’er yonder, ‘tis so.” She paused to take in a heaving breath. “Pa said tae tell the city guard, but if anythin’s really ‘appened tae ‘em, it’ll be too late by the time those bastards do anythin’, an’ I cannae think o’ anyone else who can ‘elp, so I came tae you, Cap’n–”
Sjan-dehk stopped her torrent of words with a gentle pat on her shoulder. He offered her a small smile and said, “It is…It will be okay. We will go find them. If there are pirates, we can fight. Will be okay.” He glanced at Iyen and nodded. “Missing ship,” he translated for her. “Sounds like there might be pirate trouble too, or not. I’ll take Sada Kurau out and see what I find. It’ll do the crew some good, either way. Nothing like a surprise journey every now and then to keep them sharp and on their toes.”
“And any excuse to step away from shore, eh, Captain?” Iyen teased with a grin. “Just as well that I’ve got nothing planned for the rest of the day. I’d hate to miss out on the fun. It’ll be just like old times.”
“Don’t you have duties?” Sjan-dehk asked. “Like looking after our Lady Adiyan?”
“She told me to take the day.” By the sourness in her voice and the brief twisting of her lips, it was clear to Sjan-dehk that Iyen was too pleased about that. Then, she shrugged. “But I guess it’s better that I take it today, when she’s safe aboard the Sudah, than when she’s able to come ashore.” She let out a breath that was halfway between frustrated and resigned. With a shake of her head, she brought a cheeky smile back to her face and playful mirth to her voice. “Anyway, there’s nothing for me to do other than to go wandering around a city I don’t know, and you know that means I’ll pay you a visit sooner or later. Might as well make things easier for us both and let me join you now, eh?”
Sjan-dehk took a moment to consider her offer. It didn’t take long for him to nod his assent – Iyen wasn’t a stranger to his ship, and her skills would be more than welcome if it came to a fight. “Alright. An extra pair of eyes is always helpful.” Then, he shifted his attention to Aislin. “You know where….You know where it is the boat can…Might? Yes, might be?”
She nodded. “Aye, I’ve got a pretty decent idea. She canne ‘ave gone far frae our usual waters, otherwise the others would’nae ‘ave let ‘er sail away, nae they would’ve.”
“Okay. You come with us. Take us there.”
“You got it, Cap’n.” Aislin smiled, but Sjan-dehk looked away. He would have preferred to leave the young fishergirl behind. Bringing her – someone unused to battle – to a potential skirmish was a risk to everyone involved, most of all the Aislin herself. But when the alternative was to wander aimlessly across unfamiliar waters for Mother-knows-how-long, what choice did he really have?
Sjan-dehk led the two of them up the gangplank and onto Sada Kurau. Her crew milled about on her main deck. Most were in the midst of returning to their duties – descending steps into her bowels, clambering up shrouds ratlines to her tops, or scuttling across the deck to their stations – and some were either sitting or laying by her gunwales, catching some hard-earned rest while they could. It almost made Sjan-dehk feel a little guilty about what he was going to do.
Almost. Sada Kurau was a warship. The crew knew what they were getting into when they joined her.
The first of Sjan-dehk’s barked orders shocked those closest to the gangplank awake. Those who heard it clearly immediately sprang into action, and with his subsequent commands, he pushed more and more of his crew to action. Before long, Azwan’s voice – along with those of the other officers – joined his in urging every sailor to their station. There was little time to waste; if there were pirates about, Sjan-dehk wanted to catch them as soon as possible. Every delay, every slight moment wasted, was simply another chance for them to slip away. Nevermind that there was only the possibility of pirates; Sjan-dehk acted as if it was all but confirmed that they were involved.
And it was that attitude of his which he spread to his crew. Like a well-maintained machine, they prepared Sada Kurau for a speedy departure. The gangplank was pulled up, and her mooring lines cut and allowed to drop into the harbour. Teams of sailors called out their cadence in unison as they hoisted her long yards into position. Crimson sails, once free from their lashings, fell in waves from them, bellowing and stiffening almost immediately as they caught the wind. With a deft hand on the wheel, Sjan-dehk guided her away from the pier.
And soon enough, her svelte hull was slicing through the water like a shark’s fin.
Time: Late morning to Early Afternoon Interactions: Mentions: Attire:
(Placeholder until I get a better reference image) Roughspun, blue trousers Lamellar Chest plate with tassets A shoulder belt and waist belt carrying his equipment Six pistols and two swords A woven, conical hat wide enough to shade his entire face
Finding the missing ship wasn’t as difficult a task as Sjan-dehk had assumed. He couldn’t take much credit for it, however – that honour belonged to Aislin. Were it not for her knowledge of local waters and her able guidance, he doubted they would have found their mark as swiftly and smoothly as they had. The sun was only just approaching its zenith when they arrived at the fishing grounds, and it wasn’t long after that when Sjan-dehk caught sight of a ship which he thought looked familiar.
The other vessel – sleeker and armed – that was with her was an unpleasant surprise, however. A tangled mess of ropes tethered the two together, in such volume and disarray that it was visible even from afar.
Sjan-dehk, Iyen, and Aislin observed the two ships from Sada Kurau’s quarterdeck – the fishergirl through the Captain’s spyglass, and the two Viserjantans with only their eyes. Ghostly whispers of a north-westerly whistled and rushed past their ears. Large, triangular sails shading the main deck ruffled, even in winds so light, as they propelled Sada Kurau through gentle waves glimmering in the bright, midday sun. The glare stung Sjan-dehk’s eyes, and made it difficult for him to see much of the unknown ship. All he could make out was that she sported three masts, and from that he deduced that she was likely a larger ship than the two-masted Celestine.
“I can’t see shit,” he grumbled beneath his breath. Using his hand as a shade did painfully little to help with his situation.
“Speak for yourself,” Iyen teased with a grin. “I see two ships.”
Aislin spoke up before Sjan-dehk could snap off a reply. “That’s her, aye it is. The Dawn. ‘Tis young Tom’s boat, ‘tis so, ‘tis so.” She had the spyglass pressed against an eye and half her body leaned out over the gunwale. “She went out fishin’ wi’ us yestermorn, aye she did.” Her lips curled into a slight smile. “Cannae say I’m nae surprised, Cap’n. Did’nae think you’d ‘ave remembered ‘er.”
“I did not,” Sjan-dehk admitted with some awkwardness in his voice. “It was only a guess.”
She waved off his remark. “‘Tis close enough, ‘tis so. I’d take the compliment, Cap’n.” She swept her gaze across to the unknown vessel, then back to the Dawn, and alternated between the two for a moment. Her grin quickly vanished, replaced by a troubled and worried frown. “I cannae see anythin’ movin’ aboard the Dawn, nae I can. An’ that other boat…There’s plenty ‘o things ‘appenin’ on ‘er deck, but she’s nae a boat I recognise, aye she’s nae.” She leaned even further out, as if doing so would get her an even clearer look at the ships far off in the distance. “I’m nae likin’ this, Cap’n. Feels all sorts o’ wrong, aye it does.”
Sjan-dehk quickly took her by the shoulder. “You lean too far,” he said. With a firm tug, he guided her back fully onto Sada Kurau. Aislin let out a surprised yelp, but did nothing apart from shooting him a glare. She returned her eye to the spyglass and her attention to Dawn. Sjan-dehk paid it no heed. “Do not worry. Just say what you see. We will do the rest.”
Aislin drew in a deep breath and nodded. “She’s got ‘er stern tae us, so there’s nae much I can see, but…I think she’s unfurlin’ ‘er sails? Plenty ‘o fellas climbin’ up tae her ratties and masts, ‘tis so. An’ they’re cuttin’ off the lines tyin’ them to the Dawn, aye. Might be they’re tryin’ tae make a–” She cut herself off, and would have leaned out over the gunwale again had Sjan-dehk not reined her in with his hand. “Her crew’s raisin’ the Black Flag,” she said in a hushed voice, and gulped. “Pirates, Cap’n, and ones dangerous enough tae be eager for a scrap wi’ a warship, aye. I’d be careful, Cap’n. Might be they know somethin’ we don’t.”
“Helmsman, two points to starboard,” Sjan-dehk called out over his shoulder. A shouted acknowledgement later, Sada Kurau creaked and moaned as she leaned into a gentle turn. “Well done. Keep her steady and maintain an oblique approach, but be ready for sudden manoeuvres at Captain’s discretion.”
He tapped Aislin on the shoulder to get her attention, then held out his hand. Reluctantly, she returned the spyglass to him, but kept her eyes on both ships. Sjan-dehk peered through the tube of polished brass, his brows knitted in concentration as he searched across the deck of the pirates’ vessel. There was prudence in Aislin’s warning; no pirate – no one, for that matter – would willingly pick a fight that they had no chance of winning. And as far as Sjan-dehk could see, the pirates didn’t have one. They were out-gunned – even looking from an unfavourable angle, it was clear that Sada Kurau carried far more guns in one broadside than their ship did in total – and unless they could untangle themselves from Dawn faster than any crew Sjan-dehk had ever seen, they would be fighting more as a floating battery and less as a ship.
So they had to have a plan. Some strange trickery that would be unleashed at the last moment, and which was up to Sjan-dehk to find before it was too late. But he found no such thing. Nothing about her seemed out-of-place. Her unfurling sails were a filthy shade of white, and her green-tinted hull could likely do with a proper scrubbing, but those weren’t anything out-of-the-ordinary for a ship like her.
Sjan-dehk huffed and lowered the spyglass. Right then, Iyen spoke up. “So,” she began, her grin so clear in her tone that Sjan-dehk didn’t even need to turn around to see it. “Can I assume that we’ll be going into a fight soon, and I can finally earn my keep?”
“Maybe,” Sjan-dehk said grimly. He tilted his chin towards the pirates’ ship. “She’s got pirates aboard, Miss Ai-shi-lehn tells me, and they’re picking a fight with us.”
“That’s awfully stupid of them.”
“Yes,” Sjan-dehk agreed. It was also convenient – it saved him the trouble of having to chase them – and if there was one thing he knew for a fact, it was that behind every convenience was likely an ambush or trap he had failed to spot. “Or might be that they’re very smart, and that they’re deliberately making themselves look stupid. Oldest trick in the books, y’know?” He glanced at Iyen, then looked back at the ship. “Could be that I’m overthinking this, I’ll admit, but nothing about this feels right to me.”
Iyen chuckled and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Be calm, Captain. If you’re able to tell me all that, then I’d say that whatever they’ve got planned isn’t going to play out in their favour.” She gave him a pat on the back and rested her arms on the gunwale. “You Jafins are the better sailors, I’ll admit, but we Sudhrayarns have better noses for battle, and mine tells me that Sada Kurau will come out of this on top, as she always does, and you’ll look like a bloody fool for worrying so much, as you always do.”
“This worrying keeps us alive, and Sada Kurau afloat.” Despite the dryness of his words, Sjan-dehk’s face still broke into a smile, however slight it was. He brought the spyglass up to his eye.
And just as he directed his gaze at the pirates’ ship once more, two puffs of white smoke shot out from her stern. Not a moment later, low rumbles – akin to that of distant thunder – reached his ears. He knew it for what it was in an instant.
Alarmed yells rippled down Sada Kurau’s deck as everyone dropped whatever they were doing – in some cases, literally so – and threw themselves onto the planking. Sjan-dehk did the same, grabbing Aislin and roughly pulling her down with him. The elfin fishergirl cried out in surprise, and then again in pain when her body struck the quarterdeck with a distressing thud. She squirmed on the floorboards, a hand pressing on her hip and a litany of Caesonian expletives flowing like a river from her mouth. Sjan-dehk made a note to apologise later, but for now, his mind was too preoccupied by other things.
Was this the pirates’ secret? Guns that out-ranged Sada Kurau’s? On their own, they already robbed Sada Kurau of one of her chief advantages. Combined with whatever else the pirates had hidden away on their ship? They could very well turn the tide of battle to their favour. Sjan-dehk clenched his jaw. Not knowing anything about his enemy was a grave mistake on his part, and now he could do little more than count the agonisingly long seconds and brace for impact.
Except, the impact never came.
Sjan-dehk slowly returned to his feet, but motioned for Iyen and Aislin to remain in cover. He hadn’t heard the familiar scream of cannonballs flying overhead, so they couldn’t have overshot. Neither did he hear the splashes that would have come with a near miss. Each passing second felt like a decade, but eventually enough time passed that it was impossible for any cannonball to still be in the air. “Looks like they missed us,” he called out. “On your feet, everyone, and make ready!”
Shouts and yells echoed all throughout his ship as the crew scrambled to their stations, but Sjan-dehk was still deep in thought. If the pirates’ shots didn’t overshoot Sada Kurau, didn’t hit her, and didn’t hit the water close enough to be heard, then they must have fallen exceptionally short. They wouldn’t even have value as ranging shots – shots fired to ascertain the distance of a target – and that only puzzled Sjan-dehk even more. Such an act reminded him of past adversaries who fired useless volleys out of defiance after having been thoroughly defeated. But why would these pirates, who sought battle, carry out what was essentially an act of desperation?
And then he saw it. As his eyes swept over the side of his own ship – by chance, as it were – he got all the answers he had been looking for.
He was wrong, and Iyen was right. The pirates had no trick, and he had been worrying over nothing.
Earlier, in his haste to find the missing fisherfolk, he had called for his crew to squeeze all available speed from Sada Kurau. That meant that she had been sailing with every gun retracted into her hull, giving her a sleek and smooth appearance. And with the sun directly overhead, her large headsail would have hidden her bow chasers in its considerable shadow. From a distance, anyone unfamiliar with her make – such as those native to these waters – could easily mistake her for an unarmed vessel. Given that she approached the pirates bow-on, they wouldn’t even have had a chance to spot the gun ports cut into her hull. To them, it would have looked as if an easy mark had made herself known. One, perhaps, they thought they could easily scare by simply firing their guns.
A wicked smile stretched across Sjan-dehk’s lips. Then, he bent over and laughed. Partially at the pirates whose mistake was about to cost them very dearly, but mostly at himself. There was probably a lesson to be learned here. What it was exactly, he wasn’t quite sure. Figuring it out would have to wait. For now, there was work to be done. He made his way over to the guardrail and looked over the crew below. With a soft chuckle, he shook his head; half of them would be pleased as the easy fight, and the other half would be disappointed for the very same reason.
Well, nobody could please everyone. He smirked and drew in a deep breath.
“Well, they had their turn,” he shouted. “Now it’s ours. Let’s give them a surprise. Run out the guns!”
“Are you going to say anything?”
Sjan-dehk ignored the gruff words of an impatient man and instead, took a bite from an apple. He chewed with deliberate slowness, making sure his companion could hear every crunch over the cacophonous din surrounding them. Casually, as if he were seated at a teahouse rather than on the deck of a ship that had only moments ago been an adversary, he placed the apple on the table in front of him and turned the page of a small, leather-bound book. Its cover was badly torn, and the parchment within damp to the touch. He frowned deeply, and pushed the brim of his hat up and away from his eyes, giving them the best chances they had of parsing messy sentences made worse by hasty scrawls and smudged ink.
Across from him, the man growled and slapped his hand on the table. The rickety, wooden structure shook and rattled. Sjan-dehk’s apple rolled away, but he caught it just before it reached the edge. Still, he didn’t deign to look at the man. “Oi, are you listening? How much longer is this going to take? We’ve got places to be and little time to waste sitting around doing nothing. Are you going to let us go or what?”
“Shut up.” There was no anger in Sjan-dehk’s words, or much of anything, for that matter. He said them as if the man was nought but an afterthought. A slight annoyance, at best. “Look around,” Sjan-dehk said and gestured to the deck. From quarterdeck to hold, and prow to stern, the pirates’ ship was packed with Sada Kurau’s crew as they searched every square-inch of her. Captives were hauled up through hatches at rifle and musket-point, and anything suspicious brought onto the main deck for inspection.
“Does not look like we are done, yes?” Sjan-dehk continued. “So be quiet, be patient.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” the man said with barely-concealed rage. “We haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve got no right to search or hold us. What you’re doing right now is fucking piracy.”
A tired sigh left Sjan-dehk’s lips. The upturned crate he had been using as a makeshift bench creaked with his shifting weight as he drew one of his pistols. With blithe nonchalance, and still without looking up from the book, he rested his wrist on the table with the weapon’s muzzle pointed at the man. “Last warning. Be quiet and do not interrupt me. You do again, I shoot you,” he said in a calm monotone as he thumbed the hammer into position. Only then did he peek over the edge of the book.
As far as captives went, the man wasn’t in too bad a shape. He was still whole, for one, and that was more than what could be said for most who crossed paths with Sada Kurau. Neither did he seem to be doing too badly; apart from a few cuts and scrapes on his face that were unlikely to leave any lasting marks, he was otherwise unharmed. Perhaps that was the reason for his foul mood. Had he been more seriously injured, he could have at least had the pretence of having fought hard to prevent his ship from being captured.
The man swallowed hard and slowly balled his hands into fists. Nails dug into palms, and his sinewy arms visibly tensed. He had likely intended for it to be a threatening display, but all it got out of Sjan-dehk was a derisory smirk and a wag of the pistol’s muzzle. So tightly did the man clench his jaw that veins in his neck bulged, but he soon relented. Even so, he glared daggers at Sjan-dehk from under brows so furrowed that they looked as if they were attempting to bury his eyes.
“Okay, fine. You want me to talk? I have questions.” Sjan-dehk closed the book and put it aside. “First one, you talk a lot about Yola. It is a place, yes? Where is it? I am new here, you see. Would be good for me to know more places.” The man scoffed and averted his gaze. Sjan-dehk chuckled and glanced at the book’s cover. “Captain Saellas Yent, is it? Yes. Captain, you asked me to talk. Now I talk. Do not be rude.” With a jab of the pistol, he grinned and said with dark words but a light tone, “Give me answers. Or I can pull the answers from you. It is your choice.”
Saellas glanced at the pistol, then at Sjan-dehk. With a snarl, he said, “It’s a city. Alidashti city. You’ll find it on the east coast. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I decide how much you say,” Sjan-dehk countered. He made a note of that nugget of information. Though memories of his time at the beach felt like they came from a wholly different life, he recalled meeting a few Alidashti royals and nobles there. Perhaps whatever he uncovered here would prove useful for them. “But that is enough. For now. Next question. You talk a lot about this…‘Harvest of the sea’. Every entry, almost, you write it. What is it? Food? Water? Weapon?”
“It’s slang. Just means fish,” Saellas replied quickly. A touch too quickly.
Sjan-dehk dragged the book to him and flipped through a few pages. “You move a lot of fish. And always from Yola. But I see you never write where you go.” He glanced up at Saellas with a curious gaze. “That is not good captaining, yes? You have…You have other ways to do things here? Or you do not need to know where to go?”
Saellas looked off to the side and folded his arms. “We take contracts. They always write the destinations on them, so I never had a need to note where we’re going in my logs. Some of my employers preferred to keep things that way.” By the time he realised what he had said, it was too late to do anything about it. He could only look at Sjan-dehk with wide eyes, who simply beckoned for him. “Fine,” Saellas grumbled under his breath. “I’ll admit it. I don’t ask too many questions about my jobs, but I’ve been around enough to see smuggling work for what they are. I’m not ashamed of it. They pay well and that’s what everyone needs at the end of the day.”
“Calm,” Sjan-dehk said with a smirk. “I did not say anything. I only want to ask, you said you take contracts and you use them to know where you have to go. But just now, when I searched your cabin, I found no contracts. What do you do with them?”
“Maybe you didn’t search well enough,” Saellas shot back.
Sjan-dehk shrugged and nodded. The man had a point; there was no shame in accepting that. Besides, to catch a fish, one had to know when to give and when to pull. Saellas would be caught in due time. It was a simple question of when. “So today,” Sjan-dehk asked. “You were going where?”
“Does it matter?” Saellas snapped. Sjan-dehk merely glanced at the pistol, then back at him. He scowled, but could do little else. “We were on our way to Sorian. There, are you satisfied?”
“We will see.” Sjan-dehk picked up the apple and turned it in his hand. Then, he looked at the dozen or so sacks stacked into a neat pile further down the deck. All of them had been cut open, allowing various fresh fruits within to come tumbling out. “Very sweet,” he remarked after taking another bite out of the apple and placing it on the table. “You make a lot of money like this? Moving fruits?”
Saellas looked away again, and scratched his neck. “It’s enough.” He cleared his throat. “Or it would be, if this fucking nonsense didn’t happen.” Unable to help himself, Sjan-dehk snickered, and the seething glare Saellas shot him could have set water aflame. Not only was the Viserjantan not intimidated in the least, he even broke into a scornful laugh. Normally, that would have made Saellas even angrier. Furious, even. But the sight of the pistol waving about with Sjan-dehk’s finger around the trigger only made him flinch every time the muzzle drifted over his person.
“Do not be so angry,” Sjan-dehk said between breaths as he composed himself. He holstered the weapon and looked at Saellas with a wide, mocking grin on his face. “No need to feel shame, Captain. You did not give a bad fight.”
That much was true. It hadn’t been a bad fight. From start to finish, it had been a comical farce.
Those first two shots fired by the pirates proved to be their only shots throughout the engagement – to call it a battle would be an insult to all battles. One-sided didn’t even begin to describe it. Sada Kurau’s speed allowed her to bring her guns to bear before the pirates could fully free themselves from Dawn. Unable to move, unable to turn, and unable to even return fire, the pirates’ vessel was little more than target practice for Sada Kurau’s veteran gun crews. Accurate broadsides raked them from stern-to-bow, and only became more precise when Sada Kurau stopped moving entirely, sitting well beyond the range of the pirates’ guns with sails furled. Were it not for Sjan-dehk’s orders to avoid targeting the hull, Saellas and his crew would have surely been sent to the frigid depths below.
In fact, it had been so unfair that Sjan-dehk had been tempted to call for a ceasefire to allow the pirates at least a chance to free themselves and put up an actual fight. They struck their colours, however, before he came to a decision. In total, less than half-an-hour had passed between Sada Kurau’s arrival to the fishing grounds and their surrender.
“Maybe some shame,” Sjan-dehk added with a smirk. “But we do not need to talk about that. There is one more thing I am curious about.” He turned a few pages in the book. “You also move…Livestock?” Saellas bristled noticeably, but Sjan-dehk decided against bringing attention to it. For now. “I see you write about it a few times. Not as often as ‘Harvest of the Sea’, but it is there. Two to three times a week, yes? Always to Yola, never to Caesonia. That is strange.” He looked at the other Captain, then at the ship in general. “You use this ship to move livestock? Usually it needs bigger, no? Needs more space. Unless livestock means another thing for you?”
“It’s just–” Saellas began, but choked. He coughed into a fist and tried again. “I-It’s just small thi– animals, that we deliver. You said it yourself. It’s not too often, and it’s always on our return trip to Yola so it’s really just a matter of convenience. We don’t earn much from those jobs.”
Sjan-dehk scanned down the page, and nodded. Saellas was telling the truth, it seemed. Every shipment of ‘Harvest of the Sea’ or fruits or spices or whatever brought to Caesonia was always followed by one of livestock to Yola. “I see,” he said. “Sorry. Did not read. My fault.” With a glance, he saw Saellas visibly relax. Shades of confidence and defiance gradually returned to the man’s face. “Okay. I have one last question for you. If you answer well, I let you and your ship go. Will even pay for what you lost. Is good?”
“About damn time,” Saellas said loudly. “What do you want to know?”
Turning back a few pages, Sjan-dehk asked, “Why did you attack Dawn?”
Saellas groaned. “I already told you. We didn’t attack that damn fishing boat!” With a sigh of exasperation, he leaned over the table and hunched his shoulders. “I’m going to say it one more time, so you had better listen closely. We were on our way to Sorian when we came across the Dawn. She looked like she was in trouble, so we decided to get in closer to have a better look. There wasn’t much we could do to help, and it was my opinion that she wasn’t seaworthy, so we took her crew onto our ship for their own safety. You can ask them yourself. Anyway, you showed up not long after, and my boys panicked. They opened fire, and I think you can fill in the gaps on your own from there.”
Just as Sjan-dehk had expected, there it was.
He had to give Saellas credit, however. The man did a good enough job of weaving in just enough truth to make his falsehoods that bit more difficult to unravel. For example, it was true that Dawn had experienced trouble with her rudder soon after leaving the main fishing fleet, and it was also true that the fisherfolk had been brought aboard Saellas’ ship. What he failed to mention, however, was that the fisherfolk had almost fixed the problem when the pirates chanced upon them, and that rather than being invited onto the pirates’ vessel, the fisherfolk had been herded at gunpoint into the cramped hold – which was where Sada Kurau’s boarding party found them. Coupled with Saellas’ lack of explanation for flying the black flag, and his story had more holes in it than a sinking vessel.
Aislin had said as much – in her own colourful manner, of course – before she brought her rescued people back onto Dawn. Sjan-dehk never believed a word of the story, either, but he wanted to go a step further. It wasn’t enough for him to simply disprove Saellas’ claims. Neither was it enough to prove that Saellas and his crew were, indeed, pirates. For Sjan-dehk, nothing but the total exposure of every crime the man had ever committed would do. If not for the justice done, then purely for the fun of it.
“So…You do not attack fishing boats?” Sjan-dehk asked.
Saellas clicked his tongue. “Haven’t you been fucking listening? We don’t do that.”
With that response – likely one Saellas hadn’t even thought much of – the man had sealed his fate. For a moment, Sjan-dehk did nothing and simply savoured the moment. Saellas looked so relaxed, so confident that he had secured his undeserved freedom. A shame then, that in a moment, Sjan-dehk would snatch it all away. “That is strange,” the Viserjantan began and turned a few pages of the book. He turned it around and pushed it towards Saellas. “Read this. Left side.”
“I thought we were done.” Saellas’ eyes narrowed. “You can read it yourself.”
“I cannot read.” A cryptic grin spread across Sjan-dehk’s face.
Saellas scoffed. “Who’re you trying to fool? You were doing fi–”
The click of a pistol’s hammer interrupted him. Sjan-dehk was standing now, with pistol in hand and aimed at Saellas’ head. “I pretended,” he said with a fiendish smirk. “It was good acting, yes? But that is not what is important. What is important is that you understand this. I am not asking, Captain Saellas.” Leaning over the table, Sjan-dehk pushed the pistol towards Saellas, who leaned back as far as he could to avoid it, but found himself unable to prevent the cold steel of the muzzle from touching his forehead. “I am telling you to read. Do it. Or I shoot you.” He pulled back and lowered the pistol to aim at Saellas’ shoulder. “You will not die yet, but I can hurt you in a lot of ways. So do as I say. Or suffer. Your choice.”
Saellas looked back at Sjan-dehk’s grinning face with a vicious snarl. Despite his rage, however, he lacked a counter-argument for a loaded and cocked pistol aimed at him. And so, he had little choice but to comply with Sjan-dehk’s forceful request. “Sola 11, 1739. Alif will be the death of me. That Alidashti bastard wants double of what we agreed to deliver on the 15th. How does he expect us to find that much livestock in just four days?” As he read, Sjan-dehk sauntered around the table to stand behind him. Saellas’ eyes followed him the entire way.
“I did not say to stop,” Sjan-dehk said and tutted. He tapped Saellas on the shoulder with the barrel of the pistol. “Read more. Do not stop until I tell you.”
“I’m going to have words with him when we get to Yola. Damned idiot’s always making ridiculous promises to customers without first using his brain. At least he’s paying triple the usual price, and there’s word–” The colour in Saellas face drained away in an instant, and his voice died in his throat as he realised at last just what exactly Sjan-dehk was making him read. “I–” He cleared his throat. “I think that’s enough, Cap–”
The deathly cold touch of a pistol’s muzzle against his neck stopped him short. All the strength in his limbs vanished, and his blood turned to ice. “You still do not understand?” Sjan-dehk leaned in and whispered, a deadly playfulness to his words. “Then I repeat. I say when it is enough. You only read.”
Dry-mouthed, and with a heart pumping frenetically out of abject terror, Saellas could only reply with a few silent, unsteady nods. He touched the rough pages with numb and trembling fingers. “And there’s word of a f–fishing fleet off the Vermillion coast. If we can h–hit them quickly, we might be able to…” Already weak and whisper-quiet – and without its earlier defiance and bravado – Saellas voice gave out towards the end of the entry. Sjan-dehk sighed, shook his head, and reached over the man’s shoulder to tap the next entry twice. “S-Solas 12, 1739. We managed to catch one f–fishing boat alone. Her crew put up a fight, and not all of them s–survived. We’ll have to get a–another one to make up the numbers for Alif. There are–”
“That is strange, yes?” Sjan-dehk interrupted. “Just now, you tell me you don’t attack fishing boats. But it is not what you write. So, you are liar? And if you need livestock, why attack fishing boats?”
“I–It’s slang–”
“For fish, yes?” Sjan-dehk chuckled. “So many slang for the same thing. It is confusing, no? But that is not what is important now.” Pressing the pistol against the base of Saellas’ skull, he pointed to the final entries on the next page. “Do not waste time. Read the last one.”
Every part of Saellas froze. He couldn’t even nod, and merely gulped. “S-Solas 14, 1739. Damn it all. Two of my crew a–assaulted…” Once again, his mumbled words trailed off and faded into nothing. Sjan-dehk grinded his pistol into his flesh as a means of encouragement. “T–Two of my crew assaulted the livestock despite me telling them t–that we had to deliver them to Yola untouched and un–unspoiled. D-Damn idiots couldn’t keep it in t–their pants for just another day. I g–gave them fifteen lashes each and I–I’ll be leaving them behind next time we dock.”
“This is where I get very, very curious, Captain Saellas.” Sjan-dehk grinned and closed the book. “You see, the facts give a strange story. You take livestock to this…Alif of Yola, yes? And he sells. It is something he orders you to get, and from Caesonia, it looks like. But you do not say you got to town or city. You only say you take from fishing boats. So I am curious, what livestock is it? You say it is fish, but then you say two of your crew assaulted the livestock. I am not stupid, Captain Saellas. I know what happened. It is difficult to do such things with fish, yes? So there is only one option left. You want to tell me?”
Saellas didn’t answer. He trembled like a loose sail caught in a stiff breeze, and that alone was enough for Sjan-dehk to confirm his suspicions. The man knew he was finished, and all that was left was to simply put everything out in the open.
“Your 'livestock', it is people,” Sjan-dehk leaned in and practically whispered into Saellas’ ear. “You are worse than pirate, Captain Saellas. You are slave-taker.”
And just like that, the dam burst. Saellas’ started sobbing uncontrollably. Dripping tears and mucus formed dark spots on the book. “I-It was supposed to be only once!” He cried, not even noticing when Sjan-dehk stood back and removed the pistol from his neck. “B–But they kept asking, and th-they offered so much money just for a f-few trips, and I-I really needed it!”
“I am sure,” Sjan-dehk said with a quiet laugh. He gave the man a couple of pats – in an almost reassuring manner – on the shoulder. This was a sight he had seen many times before. “And I can understand. Life is not easy, yes? We all find ways to survive.” It was clear that Saellas, with his body wracked by sobs and a series of blubbering pleas tumbling from his mouth, wasn’t listening anymore, but Sjan-dehk continued on nonetheless. “But your way, it makes others suffer for you. That is not right, yes? It is bad thing to do. You do something bad, you need to be punished. It is only natural. So there is no need to be sad. Wise people, they say to punish crime, and not people. But now, I do not know if I can. To punish this, I must punish you also.” He took aim with the pistol. “If you talk to Gods or what it is you people pray to, now is good time to say something to them.”
“No! Please! I–I’ll go quietly with you to Sorian! Don’t–” Saellas’ desperate cries fell on deaf ears.
“You, Captain Saellas Yent, are pirate. And slave-taker. Maybe other things. I do not know. But those two, it is certain. And by Viserjantan law, you must die. So as Fourth Lesser Marquis of Jafi, of clan Wasun, of Viserjanta, and as Captain of Sada Kurau, I, Wasun Sjan-dehk, sentence you to death.” Such a statement should have been filled with authoritative grimness, but Sjan-dehk had recited more-or-less similar words so many times that the best he could manage was a half-bored, half-official tone.
“Please!”
He pulled the trigger. The powder in the pan ignited. An ear-splitting crack cut through the air. Gunsmoke, thick and acrid, engulfed Saellas’ head. Unburnt embers singed his hair, and the bullet smashed a jagged hole through the table before embedding itself into the discoloured planking underneath. Pale, grey wisps curled like ghostly snakes from the barrel of Sjan-dehk’s pistol. Saellas collapsed into a heap on the deck, his eyes wide open, a deathly pallor sapping colour from his flesh, and his quavering pants shallow. Blood dripped from a shallow wound just beneath his hairline.
Sjan-dehk squatted beside the man, a mischievous smirk on his face. “Only a joke,” he said. “You are very lucky, Captain Saellas. The fisherfolk, their ship is still here. They are not used to our kind of work. Is good for them, yes? So I do not want to show them. So you will live a little more, for now. Later, maybe, you can show them thanks.” There was no response from Saellas. It didn’t even seem like he was aware of all that was going on around him. Frowning, Sjan-dehk prodded him with the still-hot barrel of his pistol. “Hello?”
A strained yell from further down the deck pulled his attention away. “Sjan-dehk!” It was Iyen.
Looking up, he saw her and Azwan shuffling down the deck, their faces clenched in exertion and a bulging sack between the two of them. So full was it that their hands couldn’t find much purchase. They didn’t set it down as much as it simply slipped from their grasp once they were close enough to Sjan-dehk. “Look at what we found,” Iyen said cheerily, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. She drew a dagger sheathed in her boot and sliced open the sack. Rough granules, each of them roughly the size of a thumb, came spilling out. They glittered in shades of blues and greens in the sun, akin to the sea.
“There’s more, Captain,” Azwan added. “One of Master Hai-shuun’s boys, In-shah, found a false bottom in the hold. We pulled up some planks and found dozens of these. My guess is that there’s probably at least a hundred of these hidden away down below, Captain. I have the men pulling more out as we speak.”
Sjan-dehk nodded slowly. “Is that so?” His gaze drifted over to the catatonic Saellas. “Well, whatever it is, he’s not going to tell us anything anytime soon, though I think I’ve got an idea what they might be.” If there was anything at all that looked like it could be called ‘Harvest of the Sea’, he was more than certain that it would be these strange granules scattering across the deck. Saellas had been lying when he said that the term was slang for ‘fish’, and Sjan-dehk knew it for one simple reason. No one with any modicum of sense would willingly write such a long phrase for something so innocuous.
Iyen giggled. “My, Sjan-dehk. What did you do to him?”
“The usual.” He shrugged and nudged the man with his boot. As expected, there was no response. “Asked him a few questions, had a short chat, and one thing led to another. I found out that he wasn’t just a pirate, he was a bloody slave-taker as well.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t just shoot him.”
“I was tempted,” Sjan-dehk admitted. “Mother alone knows how much I wanted to kill him even during our chat. Man’s got a tongue that could make a nun choose violence. In any case, just as well I didn’t. He can answer whatever questions we have about that blue stuff.” He smirked, and Iyen responded in kind. “Have our new friend here brought to Sada Kurau, and I’ll get Dai-sehk to collect a sample of whatever it is that’s in those sacks. Get him to get certain as to what we’re looking at.”
“That should get that surgeon of yours to start smiling,” Iyen said with a giggle.
Sjan-dehk chuckled and nodded. “It would.” He looked at Saellas with an impish grin. “And we’ve even gotten him a new friend to help him with his work. He’d better be bloody thankful.”
Time: Late morning to Early Afternoon Interactions: Mentions: Kalliope @Tae Attire:
(Thanks, Tae!) A shoulder belt and waist belt carrying his equipment Two pistols and two swords A woven, conical hat wide enough to shade his entire face
As Sada Kurau quietly slipped into Sorian harbour, so too did thoughts of the masquerade drift to the very top of Sjan-dehk’s mind once more.
The setting sun, a blazing disc of orange hovering just above the horizon, splashed calm waters with hues of vibrant pinks and fiery reds, even as the skies above were cooling to shades of soft blues and enigmatic purples. From shore, a breeze swept across the harbour and washed over Sjan-dehk, its chill a welcome contrast to the gentle heat warming his back. Quiet murmurs of conversation, the occasional ruffling of his ship’s sails, and the slow rush of waves graced his ears. They were all that accompanied Sada Kurau as she returned to her berth.
It was a fine evening by any account, and a finer way of ending a day of sailing.
But it wasn’t one Sjan-dehk found himself enjoying very much. Not when the prospect of having to mingle with other nobles – and the observation of niceties that came with it – loomed over his head like a gloomy shadow. Such events rarely sat well with him. They called for someone with finesse, decorum, and at least the airs of nobility. Sjan-dehk possessed none of those. He might have the rank, but he was a sailor and a soldier through-and-through. The events of the day only made that all the more apparent; he had been so comfortable, so in his element, in leading Sada Kurau out to hunt pirates, rescue the fisherfolk, and mete out justice. But now? He felt like a lamb awaiting slaughter.
“My, you’re a cheerful one, aren’t you?” Iyen’s voice freed Sjan-dehk from his thoughts, and he turned just in time to see her join him at the starboard gunwale. The slight slurring of her words, the pale flush tinting her cheeks, and the fact that she was wearing a sleeveless tunic rather than her usual attire told him that she had been part of the victory celebrations going on below decks.
“You’d be the same too, if you’re going where I’m going later,” Sjan-dehk replied drily.
Iyen laughed, hiccuped, and slapped him on the back. “I heard from the others,” she said with a grin. “But I think I would’ve guessed anyway. The way you’re dressed, you’re either going for something fancy or your burial, and I think I would’ve noticed if it’s the burial. You look pretty good, by the way.”
Sjan-dehk tugged on the collar of his shirt. It was strange; the other day, when he had bought these exact clothes with Kalliope, everything had been well. The fit was perfect, the soft-yet-hardy fabric gentle against his skin, and the design elegant yet simple enough for his tastes. Now, however, with the masquerade less of something far away to merely think about, and more of a real thing that was happening soon, Sjan-dehk felt ill at ease. His clothes felt restrictive, as if it were a prison tight around his body.
“Think I’d prefer the burial,” he said wryly. He glanced sideways at Iyen with a little smile. “But thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Iyen replied as she tied her hair into a messy tail. “I heard that you’re going with quite a lady, as well.”
“Is that what they’re saying?” Sjan-dehk asked and chuckled bitterly. Although where exactly the bitterness came from, he wasn’t quite sure. “It’s nothing like that,” he continued with a wave of his hand. “I’m just her escort and nothing more. She's probably already got someone in her life, anyway.”
“Huh.” Iyen’s lips twisted into a lopsided frown. “Why would she invite you, if that’s the case?”
To that, Sjan-dehk could only respond with a shrug. He had been pondering over that same question, and found no good answers. Perhaps Cassius wasn’t available? Or perhaps he was seeing things that weren’t there, and this was nothing but an invitation of politeness or friendliness. “Right place, right time, if you ask me,” he said with uncertainty clear in his words. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. I gave her my word, and I’ve to keep it. The Count hosting the damn thing invited me again at the beach this morning, too. Can’t back out of something like that even if I want to, now.”
“A Count?” Iyen’s surprise was palpable, as was her concern. “Not sure I like the sound of that, Shanya.”
Sjan-dehk turned to her and patted her shoulder. “I’ll try to be careful.” He smiled, though perhaps it wasn’t as reassuring as he had hoped. “Don’t worry, Yen-yi. If there’s a way to get out of dealing with nobles and their gullshit, I’ll find it. Been doing that for a damn long time, now.” The deck beneath them shuddered as Sada Kurau pulled up alongside the same pier it had left earlier that morning. Shouts went up the masts to furl all sails and to prepare her yards for lowering. “I should probably get–”
“Iyen!” A shout from Aislin came from behind the two of them. They looked back over their shoulders, and saw the fishergirl poking her head through a hatch. By the tone of her voice, she had clearly been drinking whatever it was Iyen had drunk. “The lads want tae start another round! Are you joinin’ in?” Then, she saw Sjan-dehk and waved. “Good evenin’, Captain! An’ thank you again!”
Sjan-dehk waved back with a nod. “Look after her,” he said quietly to Iyen. “And do not let her drink Avek’s brew. In fact, you shouldn’t drink it either. Nobody should. Mursi drank it once and we found him the next morning half-naked and in the shrouds. Removes stains like nothing else, though, so I don’t want to think about what it does to your insides.”
“Aye, comin’!” Iyen shouted back to Aislin. To Sjan-dehk, she said, “Don’t worry, my dear Shanya. Azwan’s making sure nothing bad happens, and I’m keeping an eye on Ai-shi-lehn. I don’t think anyone would do a thing to her, though. She’s getting into everyone’s good graces by teaching us bits of her language.” Then, she smirked. “And in return, I’m teaching her how to fleece coin from some of your boys. And that’s where I’ll leave you, Captain. My game awaits.”
The two of them parted ways – Iyen returning below decks with Aislin, and Sjan-dehk leaving Sada Kurau for the pier. It was a strange feeling for him. All his life, he had never worn anything that wasn’t Jafin or just Viserjantan in general, and now here he was, doing just that in a foreign city. He pulled his hat a little lower over his eyes as he walked towards the waterfront, and brushed his hands against the swords and pistols at his belt. At least there were those pieces of his normalcy still with him.
He stopped at the edge of the passing crowd, and looked for a familiar face. Kalliope had agreed to meet him at his ship, but seeing as how he had only just returned, he wondered if perhaps she might have gone elsewhere upon seeing Sada Kurau’s absence. He hoped not. It would be a poor start to what he was already expecting to be a difficult night.
Time: evening Location: the ceremony at lovers lake Interactions: @Tae Mina Mentions in order:@Lava Alckon Farim @Infinite Cosmos Munir @princess Ana @Helo Callum outfit: plaid kilt in his family colors, wearing a snow bear skull headdress/ mask, bones of the bear down his arms back and rib cage, body paint in the form of runes, no shirt or shoes.
The circle was set, a barrier to keep the spirits in and the bad spirits out. This magic was small, those sensitive to its use may be able to pick up on it but roman carefully planned for it to be shrouded in the energy of the event. The entire ceremony was basically one giant spell but its draw was spread out over a wide area and between many people. It was an old way, a way to hide it in plain sight even those sensitive to this ritual wouldn’t necessarily be able to pinpoint who exactly was performing the magic but those who were strong in its use likely could. The point being made was that anyone able to recognize it would out themselves as users of magic if they reported or questioned it.
Roman remained knelt on the ground the blood dripping from his nose mixed with his red body paint then mixed again with the red liquid that they had just spread around the circle. The shaman was in the same sorts for a moment as well, digging her hands into the earth then stood on shaky legs. Roman found himself coaxed onto his feet by the woman taking the offered drink from her, drinking the entire bitter contents of the red cup. The feeling of comfort and home washed over him, his heart raced, his senses grew, nerves fired and flared leaving a burning sensation that crashed inside of him. It was time to begin.
Roman signaled the beginning of the ceremony with a loud bestial howl into the night with many others following, drums began to beat an ancient rhythm that reverberated through the earth like its own heartbeat. More fuel was added to the fires growing them ever closer to consuming the offerings left, slowly other instruments began to play slowly forming into a song of feeling without words. More howls, growls, whistling, and many more animal noises were made from the Varian people in the crowd.
Swaying as he walked the giant wearing the bones of the snow bear moved to the slightly raised center backlit from the center bon fire. He found Mia, his echo, intertwined his arm with hers outstretched in front of them. He made and kept strong eye contact before moving his head to softly meet hers. Both took a step back and bowed to one another in unison, circling each other in a counter clockwise motion three times and bowing again. The noises both animal and man grew from his people and the crowd louder and louder, the music almost loosening its beat to play louder and louder until they all reached a peak. Roman took one step forward towards the crowd lashing the giant claws out to his sides and in that moment, everything stopped to a deafening silence.
Moving with a purpose meant to emphasize his every word Roman spoke, his voice was strange and loud as if there was a hint of someone else behind the mask pretending to be the man they were looking at. “The wheel Turns, creakingly chanting, of what perished in fire and frost, of what rises from the ashes!” He deliberately paused leaving only heavy breathing and the crackle of flames, “we call to our gods to join us, to sit with us, to hear our songs! We call to our ancestors to dance with us, to eat and drink with us, to hear our stories! We call to the spirits to watch us, to know peace, to know serenity, and grow with us!” some of his people cheered and yelled at his words.
“We call to Lordisa! may her wisdom Guide our minds! We call to Rothgar! may he fill our hearts with courage! We call to Freya! may she keep our lives filled with love and beauty! We call to Helio! may his light brighten our path! We call to Valdemar! may he be just with our lives! We call to Niamh! may her muse never fail us! We call to Eirik! may his storms temper our resolve! We call to Siv! may our arrows strike true! We call to Fae! may his trickery fill us with laughter!” many in attendance repeated the names of the gods as he spoke them, “hear our prayers and our songs, may you cast your favor on these lands and its people! On your people! For our brothers and sisters come and gone! For the faces we may never see again! Grant us your favor! Your protection! Your peace in the days to come!”
Reaching into one of the smaller pouches on his belt He threw the contents onto the fire behind him. A sudden glow of color burst forth from the flames, hues of green, blue, and orange danced among the flames. Followed by several horns blowing leading into the beginning of their first song, representing Birth. He turned to Mia, the red ruby’s set in the skull glimmered in the light of the fire waiting for her to start the song before joining in as well, to sing and dance with her.
Peter took a long, slow drag on the stump of his cigarillo, savoring the woody taste as the embers burned dangerously close to his fingertips. Leaning on the fence, he watched the thin stream of gray curl up into the night sky.
The rhythmic clip-clop of heels on pavement grew louder in the dark. With a casual flick, he tossed the spent cigarillo, letting it burn itself out. He blew the remaining smoke from his mouth and straightened just as she came near.
“Well, well,” Peter drawled. “Hey there, gorgeous. Back for more trouble?” A crooked grin played at the corner of his mouth. “Persephone.”
Olivia lingered at the Vikena Estate longer than Charlotte. Due to never attending a masquerade, she had taken longer to get ready. Unfamiliar with nobility, Olivia had taken more time deciding on her outfit. Once finished, she stared at herself with shock. A stranger stared back at her in the mirror as if taunting her. Never would she have imagined herself to look noble. She longed for her old clothes, her messy braids, and the biggest concern being if she would eat that day. Now - especially now - her main concern was whether or not she’d be burned at the stake the next day. The appearance in front of her and the delights she’d adorned for the evening was a stark reminder of how much pressure she had on her shoulders. Liv finally broke away from the mirror, braid her goodbye to Delilah, and then began her reluctant trip toward the masquerade ball.
Her hair lay in an elegant braid her back adorned with a silver owl clip. The owl mask obscured the makeup over her face - a feature she reluctantly allowed Charlotte and Delilah to use. The dress and accessories were unlike anything she had worn in her life. Instead of pearls over the cape, she’d sewed feathers into it to match her mask. The walk to the Damien Estate filled her with dread. Each step in the high heels was careful and precise, and she couldn’t help but wonder why women wore these torture filled shoes. Stumbling was going to be common; Olivia inhaled as she nearly collided with a tree.
With a groan, she pushed away from it and ignored the stares she was receiving. As she neared the Estate, visions of her assault filled her mind’s eye; the guard’s faces had been sown with fear and surprise; the looks of anger on Calbert’s expression, and the gun at Kazumin’s head… Butterflies rose inside her stomach as did bile; if she had been minutes later, would Kazumin have died? What would have happened to him? The unanswered questions, the dread and fear, coursed through Olivia as if it were a tidal wave coming to knock her down. A voice interrupted her reverie and forced all other thoughts out.
“Well, well,” The man drawled. “Hey there, gorgeous. Back for more trouble?” A crooked grin played at the corner of the stranger’s mouth. “Persephone.”
For a moment she paused, as if she’d been punched in the gut and the air had been lost. Olivia whirled around to find a man with ginger hair staring at her. Her gaze flickered to the cigar on the ground then back up at him. A scowl accompanied her expression, and then a sneer.
”You must have confused me with someone else.” She replied curtly. Then, she drew in a deep breath, not realizing she’d been holding it. Her lungs screamed for air as she pondered her next response. A dry laugh escaped her. ”You normally wait around to pick up women and call them by the wrong name?”
Peter chuckled a rough sound. “Nice try, Olivia,” the name rolled off his tongue with a touch of sarcasm. “But I’d recognize those eyes anywhere, no amount of makeup or costume can hide that spunk.” He took a step forward, the lamplight casting an uneven glow on his face. “I’ve been a fan since your first spat with Calbert at the castle. Remember? All that bread.” He took another step.
Olivia scowled at his chuckle. Why was this funny? How did he know about her? Though she was unarmed, she thought of different spells she could use. When he took a step forward, Olivia held her ground, and glared venomously at him. Her mind told her to run, yet she was captivated - upon why the hell he was interested in her.
“Gotta love how you broke into C-Bert’s house to save your pal. Ballsy move.” He shaped his hand into a pistol, pressed the finger-barrel to his temple and pulled the trigger, mimicking the dramatic recoil that followed. “Paid off though. How’s living with the Vikenas?”
Liv flinched at his recoil to the gun. In her mind’s eye she saw Kazumin’s head being blown off and shuddered. Questions raced through her mind, all vying for her attention. She glanced around to ensure they were alone. The less who saw her do magic, the better. Was this a prank from Calbert? She shook her head and took a step back. Her heel clicked on the ground and she knew she could not run from the madman in these devil shoes. Maybe she could knock him out with it?
He paused to let all that sink in. “But now you and cowlick are back. After all that sh*te. Why?” Peter leaned in a bit, voice dropping lower. “Come to finish him off?”
”You’ve done enough talking, stalker.” Olivia finally replied. ”Why do you know so much about me? Are you stalking me?” Olivia scowled at him and continued. ”Do you work for him or something? Get out of my fuckin’ face.” She attempted to side-step him to the left toward the estate. Maybe this was a bad idea, and it would be wiser if she went back to the house - then the thought of Charlotte being alone there caused her chest to ache. How could she leave Charlotte in that lion’s den? Was Charlotte being harassed by one of these pests too? What would that poor girl do, Liv wondered. She had to go find her. ”Stay out of my fuckin business.”
Peter scoffed. “Or else what? You’ll zap me with a spell? Do me in? Go ahead, give it your best shot. But don’t think I’ll make it easy on you.” He let “Olivia” slip past him and shadowed her closely, jamming his hands into his pockets.
Olivia glared daggers at the man. She watched his hand movement and was prepared to act if he had ill intent. With her back now to the estate, she folded her arms and scowled. Why was she wasting her time on him? Despite it, she found herself rooted to the spot; this man could be dangerous to Charlotte and her, and who knows who else. She couldn't let him leave with these memories.
“Let’s just say you do get rid of me,” he went on. “And let’s pretend I was working for C-Bert. What’s the point? I’d have already tipped him off about you, your magic, and your pals. He’d be ready and waiting to spring a trap when you prance right in there.”
”What the fuck do you want?” Olivia inquired. Her temper now flared and she was no longer playing his game. She slipped her devil heels off and assessed the man. In the back of her mind she wondered how much magic he knew, if any, and how prepared he was to fight. ”You have a fuckin minute to tell me what the hell it is you want or need and then you’ll get the fuck away from me. And why the hell are you stalking me - get a life.”
Peter watched Olivia intently, his gaze following her movements. She stood straight and steady, shoulders back, feet planted. Ready for a tussle. He didn’t blame her. The smart play was to come clean, explain everything. The kind of thing a reasonable man would do.
But when has Peter ever been accused of being reasonable? And he was itching to see what she could do.
A wolfish grin split his mug as he rolled his neck, and then his shoulders, to limber up. “Short answer: you.” He relaxed into an easy stance. “The longer version is gonna take more than a minute. So either extend that deadline or show me whatcha got.”
Olivia narrowed her gaze at him. Why was he beckoning her to fight? What the hell was going on? She growled her displeasure and glanced at the dress. Charlotte paid for this against her wishes and now she might muck it up? ”You are not worth this.” Liv sneered, but didn’t back down.
”You’re not a coward, Persephone. Why don’t you fry him? You do enjoy playing with fire…” ”Do it, Seph. Make him pay for stalking you.” ”We didn’t raise a fuckin coward so quit acting like one you little bitch.” ”He’s obviously a threat so why play games?”
She ignored the voices, much to her displeasure; her head was beginning to throb. Pain flickered across her expression but she didn’t move. The reasonable option was to hear him out; the shorter route? Kick his ass. Lottie and Delilah hadn’t gone through this much trouble to make her look presentable or house her to have her fuck it up the next day. She growled again with fury. ”Fine. You have five fuckin minutes before I rip your throat out. Start talking, stalker,”
While waiting for a response, whispered an incantation: ”Communicare in mente.” She focused on sending the message to Charlotte telepathically. ”Will be late. Do not worry. It’s Liv.” Then in the back of her mind, she thought of the next spell she’d use in case he didn’t fulfill her wish: Obice.
A whisper passed her lips. Communicare in mente. Who was she contacting? Had to be Lady Lottie or cowlick. What did I tell you, Udo? She’s not reckless.
The memory of Udo chortled. “Are you sure about that?”
Peter regarded the fugitive. Not completely reckless.
While Olivia sent out her message, Peter scooped up the heels she tossed. “Free tip, better not face someone directly when you’re casting. They might read lips,” without glancing back, he started down the road, “time how fast you can cast, and narrow down which spells you’re gonna use next.”
Olivia scowled at Peter. If looks could have killed, he would have died. This man was on her shit list and he was soon going to surpass Calbert if his shenanigans continued. Fury rushed through her veins, egging her on; however, the sense of whom she portrayed and her friend’s lives, kept her grounded.
He turned over his shoulder to see if she was following. “What are you standing there for? Your pals are expecting you. Or… Can’t you walk and chant at the same time?” He shot her a playful, taunting look. Always fun to poke at the dangerous ones.
Rooted to the spot, Liv didn’t move. She couldn't show up barefoot, and those devil shoes were expensive. With every ounce of patience and sheer will, did she begin reluctantly following the nuisance.
“So, introduction. Name’s Peter. No family name. I’m a bastard and a son of a whore… Literally. Pops was a noble who liked sampling mum’s wares. Left us high and dry, as they do. A**hole.” He spat the word out. “Anyways, I grew up hustling around the streets. Would’ve joined the Woodsmen given the chance, but that didn’t pan out. Found similar work in the end.”
Peter. Olivia glared at him as she hiked up her dress and soon fell into step beside him. She clamped her jaw shut stubbornly. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of caring, so she stared ahead with a scowl. So he had a bad background - boo hoo.
She would have remained silent - until he brought up the Woodsmen. Her gaze shot to him and nearly gave her whiplash in her hurried response. Realizing she’d given in emotion, she resumed her scowl and narrowed gaze at him while she continued holding her dress up so it wouldn't be dirty.
”What?” she inquired incredulously. Then she started to chortle once he mentioned ‘finding similar work in the end.’ ”So you're telling me you’re some kind of rat? Fits you. You are a rat for who now?” She tried to grab her shoes, but he evaded her and she let out a frustrated sigh. I will murder this man.
Peter barked out a sharp laugh as Olivia scrambled to snatch her shoes back. They danced around each other, nimble as cats, until she gave in.
He considered his words to her question carefully, then abruptly stopped to face Olivia. He met her gaze straight on, all smugness gone. He couldn’t reveal every detail, not unless she was on board, but she deserved the truth.
“... For folks who have a bone to pick with the Danroses,” Peter said. “That family hurt a lot of people. Ruined lives, taken lives. Then pretended that they had nothing to do with it. And they’re still at it. My employers are going to end their lies, drag the truth into the light.”
“They want justice, but they’ll settle for revenge,” He held her gaze a little longer, before turning away to continue down the road.
“To be clear, I was stalking C-Bert, not you. It looked like he has King Edin’s ear so we figured it wouldn’t hurt to find out more about him. You just kept popping up around him.” He glanced sidelong at Olivia, a brief smirk returned, “And each time, you impressed me. So much so I want to recruit you.” Peter sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Not that the others agree. Given your record so far, they think you’d be more of a liability than an asset. Me, I think with a little training you could make a damn fine scout and thief. Maybe even more, with your magic.”
“Boss didn’t want to get you into deeper sh*t than you already are in, but he did say to help you when necessary. Like, say, throwing the hounds off your scent after your first big escape.” Which hadn’t been as easy as Peter made it sound, not with two people leaving a literal blood trail to their hideout.
Olivia sighed loudly when he relented on giving back her shoes. A smartass retort made it to her lips, but she let it slide. He seemed like he would finally open up. Coldness enveloped her and it wasn’t from the night. The injustice the Danroses inflicted onto her family caused rage to boil to the surface. If she could have caught fire right then with it, she would have. While he spoke, she glanced around to ensure they were alone. Her eyebrows rose at those two words: scout and thief. Two things she was proud to be good at.
Once he finished, Olivia stared at him and then smirked with amusement. ”Well damn, I’m flattered.” She teased and then bit her lip. Could she do both and maintain her fake nobility status? What if it endangered Charlotte and Kazumin? Her heart couldn’t take losing either of them.
"However – with this new persona, I am trying to turn over a new leaf and blend in. That doesn’t mean you don’t have my attention. I am interested in helping take down the Danroses; in fact, they ruined my family’s life.” Bitterness weaved its way into her voice.
Then, she half-smiled kindly, offering the first sign of no longer wanting to murder him… yet. ”Thank you for your help so far, and your praise.” She chuckled and rubbed her arm and glanced away.
”I’ll think about it, how's that?” Olivia glanced toward the Damien Estate and then back to Peter. ”Maybe we can continue discussing our… arrangement at a certain masquerade? And who is your boss anyway?” Olivia shivered slightly, now aware of her bare feet on the dirt ground beneath them. ...Unless of course, you’re here for that specific reason and want to run off now?”
Peter leaned in close to Olivia, trying for a bit of charming roguishness. He didn’t have the allure that came naturally to Udo—the priest could’ve picked his damn nose and it still would’ve made people thirsty for him. Even Karl got more than a few appreciative looks without trying. Life just wasn’t fair that way. But a guy’s gotta try, right? He cocked a half-smile, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You asking me to be your date?”
Olivia tensed as he leaned closer, but couldn’t help but smirk. His eyes up close, were nicer than she had initially thought. Realizing she was thinking this, she scolded herself, and then focused elsewhere instead. ”Well, my fellow rogue, where else would we be going?” Liv mused and batted her eyelashes at him. ”I didn’t get dressed up to meander the city, did I? We’ll have access to C-Bert." Her voice dropped to a mysterious hush as she waited for his response.
“And looking fine doing it. Even avoid giving a straight answer like a proper noble.” Which, with the ladies, usually meant they were trying to let a guy down easy. Especially if they got all tense like that when you leaned in. So much for roguish charm. “I can take a hint.”
Peter pulled away, answering Olivia’s other question. “What I can’t do is tell you who the boss is. Not until you say ‘yes, I’m in.’ You get where I’m coming from, right?” He figured she wasn’t the type to rat Fritz out, but sometimes stuff slipped out at the wrong moment and suddenly details were out that couldn’t be taken back. Long as she was on the fence, he said all he could and he already said too much.
Olivia stared at Peter and a frown slowly encompassed her face. She recognized how her words had sounded, and her chest panged with guilt. She approached Peter again and gently took his hand. ”I understand.” Her voice was quiet and sincere, and Olivia stared at him long and hard for a minute. She was silent briefly, with the wind being the only noise and rustling of leaves disturbing the peace. Charlotte’s and Kazumin’s expression swam into her mind, but another one filled her too: her parent’s. Liv bit her lip and then took a deep breath. A weight lifted off her shoulders and she let out a relaxed sigh, as if she had her corset loosened.
”I accept your offer. You’re right that they ruined too many lives; including my own and who knows what Calbert’s up too and what else he might do.” Olivia then took his hand and grasped it loosely, allowing him the chance to let go of it if he so pleased.
”Yes, I do want to date. I’m not good with shit shit, I didn’t mean it to come off as though I didn’t, although I only did just meet you so it must be fate. Besides,” she smirked as she gazed at their reflection in a nearby puddle then back up at him. ”We may be the best-looking damn gingers in the room. Why deprive them of beauty?”
Olivia’s touch sent Peter’s heart racing. He watched her watching him, unsure what she was thinking. With little else to do, he indulged in the chance to admire her up close. He fought the urge to remove her mask for a better view.
Her “I accept” almost slipped right by. Peter blinked, digesting her words, then it clicked. He smacked his forehead. “Ah, sh*tf**kf**kdamn.” Crouching, he let his head droop but kept his other hand in hers. “Sorry, should’ve been clearer. Didn’t mean you had to give me your answer right now. It’s a big decision and it’ll be dangerous working with us.” He peered up. Even from this angle, she looked good. “Think about it more. Only if you’re sure, leave a copper piece by your window.”
Grin back, he said, “But for now, my fair maiden, we have a party to crash.” He wiped the grime from her feet and eased Olivia’s shoes back on.
“Give me a sec.” He swapped the bowtie for an ostentatious lace jabot and matching cuffs. The glinting jeweled cufflinks he nicked off some highborn fop completed the transformation from just another waiter to a nobleman who thought bibs were high fashion. With the weasel mask in place, he was ready.
“Let’s wow these stuffed shirts with our beauty.” Peter bared his gap-toothed smile.
”Oh - right. Yeah… I will think about it. I just... Never mind.” Her voice dropped and then she giggled. She shuffled her feet and adjusted her mask in the awkwardness that followed. Despite it, Peter grinned and the offer to go to the ball was back on. With a sigh of relief that the decision could be paused, Olivia relaxed.
Then as he wiped the grime off her feet and slipped her shoes back on, Liv was now glad for the mask. It covered the majority of her blush and she had to bite her lips to keep from grinning.
Next, she watched as he completed his costume and started laughing; a high-pitched musical laugh. ”A weasel?” She exclaimed with shock and amusement. ”Did you purposely try matching my costume?” Olivia shook her head. ”Stalker.” Olivia fought back a grin as she stared at him and offered him her arm. Together, they headed off to Calbert Damien’s Estate.
Time: Evening Location: Masquerade Ball: Damien Estate Interactions: Charlotte @princess Daily Misfortune: An annoyingly high-pitched voice and random fits of laughter. Predictable Costume: Leo the Lion
“My voice? Sometime this morning, hardly worth worrying about, like any cold I’m sure it’s due to pass soon enough.” The sooner the better. Leo wasn’t entirely sure if he was attempting to convince Charlotte or himself that his symptoms would clear up soon. And what if it doesn’t? The worry slithered about. What if it’s permanent? These were useless thoughts, it wouldn’t matter, if it didn’t resolve on its own he would just find some way to fix it, he was not without means.
He watched as Count Damien strutted about, making an entirely ridiculous display meant to intimidate. It did not work on Leo who found himself wishing the man could pause the dramatics and instead walk a little faster. But Calbert did not, in fact he only slowed his pace and flashed a sneer their way. Leo rolled his eyes,
“See, the Count is a coward, show him no fear and he turns the other way, off to attempt to intimidate some lesser noble no doubt. But we are not lesser nobles are we?” Leo whispered, grinning, as he watched Calbert disappear into the crowd. The Count drew further away from earshot and Leo felt the only thing left to do was alleviate the tension Calbert had tried so hard to build.
“I’m surprised he even has the guts to parade himself about; Mr. Family man, can’t keep his home safe, he’s got some bastard running around town, and have you seen Lady Violet recently? Absolutely ghoulish and -” He glanced at Charlotte who was no longer seemed present, her eyes held an odd distant look as her hand reached for something unseen.
“Charlotte?” She couldn’t really be this bothered by Calbert, could she? “Now I am concerned, are you alright?”
Time: Evening Location: Damien Estate’s Ballroom Interaction(s): Mr. V @samreaper
“If you wish for a most grand spectacle the likes rivaling such parties that might be taboo.”
Black Rose’s afterparty crossed Ryn’s mind. Udo’s report had mentioned Baron Hugonin’s ward taking part, however, he had been absent at the group reprimand the following morning. As an attendee himself, Lord Smithwood must have known about Mr. V—though his poor opinion of commoners may have rendered Mr.V’s presence less memorable. Had he or Lady Vikena questioned him already?
“A night, unlike that like I assure to unforgettable,” Unlike the afterparty, Ryn hoped. “But as I am one man. Some help is needed and from you, I would ask for whatever you can/or willing to tell me about Calbert and the Damien household? And one more thing, but I suppose that can wait till after.”
Intrigue and concern wrestled briefly before curiosity gained the upper hand. While prudent enough to feel some disquiet, he could not deny the spark of excitement at Mr. V’s cryptic hints of bold, likely illicit, mischief to come.
“Certainly, if it helps, I’ll gladly share what I know. And maybe you could enlighten me on a few points as well.” Ryn opened with what was common knowledge to any Erwynn citizen as one of Montauppe’s closest Varian neighbors. He then recounted his own brushes with the count since coming to Sorian. Mindful of boundaries, Ryn withheld details he had no right to divulge, but he did relay the tension between Duke Vikena and Count Damien, including Lady Vikena’s views on the count.
This inevitably led to his little conversation with Ms. Olga from The Tough Tavern. Prior to stumbling upon Prince Callum sprawled on the ground in the alley, Ryn had paid a visit to the tavern to ask the one question that had been bothering him since his first visit: What did Ms. Olga owe Count Damien for? As it turned out, a great many things—enough to win the tavernkeeper’s loyalty.
By her account, he was a good man, no matter what others said.
As Ryn spoke, two masked figures, an owl and a weasel, slipped into the ballroom. Inwardly he sighed, recognizing Peter, openly defying the crew’s decision; there would be words about that later.
For now, Ryn angled his body towards Mr. V and nodded discreetly at the red-haired pair. “Do you see that striking couple over there? The gentleman wearing a weasel mask has been keeping a close eye on the Damiens for a few days now. His insights may better serve you.”
Consciousness returned in fragments as the world came into focus. Ryn lay prone on the carpet floor, his body struggling to move a muscle. Echoes of pain pulsated through him and his skull pounded relentlessly.
He blinked several times before he could make out the figure kneeling in front of him—Peter, with his trademark bright red hair seeming ablaze in the dim light.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Boss,” Peter said, a hint of relief lightening his tone. He slid a supportive hand under Ryn’s shoulder, eased him into a sitting position.
Ryn attempted to speak, to ask how long he had been unconscious, but his throat felt parched and swollen, his tongue like sandpaper in his mouth. All he could manage was a hoarse croak before launching into a bout of coughing that made his head spin.
Peter tightened his grip to keep Ryn upright. “Here.” He grabbed a glass of water that he had at the ready. “Small sips,” he advised, as he brought the cup to Ryn’s lips. The cool water was a balm to Ryn’s ragged throat. Clarity returned to his groggy head.
“Lots happened,” Peter said to fill the quiet. “Remember C-Bert’s dead daughter? Well, found out she’s not so dead anymore and a helluva lot more bloodthirsty, too.”
Ryn nodded mutely and continued drinking. Though by pure chance, he learned of Lady Damien’s resurrection from their encounter in the park during the fireworks.
At this, Ryn’s brow furrowed. There was so much to unpack in that single sentence, so many questions to ask. He did not even know where to begin.
“Didn’t you know? C-Bert has a bastard son! Another noble who pumps and dumps random girls cause he can? Shock! Gasp! Tell me it isn’t so!” Peter’s disgust was evident, and not without reason. After all, he too had been born out of wedlock, cast aside and forgotten.
“Think C-Bert was off screwing some side piece behind wifey’s back? I hope so—imagine the scandal.”
Ryn shook his head. Having witnessed the love Count Damien had for his wife and daughters, he doubted such betrayal.
“Eh, doesn’t matter I guess.” Peter shrugged. “I can live with him being a privileged jacka**, taking what he wanted from a commoner, then ditching her when things got inconvenient. Cause duty or some bullsh*t like that. Never checked on how she was doing, I bet.” A dangerous grin spread across Peter’s freckled face.
His lips peeled back to bare teeth clenched tight enough to crack. Though the resulting smile was wide, it never reached his eyes. They remained hard and pitiless like flint, glittering with malevolence in the dim light. Sunken shadows darkened the dimples that usually lent him an impish charm. It was the smile of someone who had suffered injustice, nursed grudges, and now sought any outlet to unleash that pent-up fury.
“You’re projecting.” Ryn rasped out. Peter leaned in close, hackles raised. “And that’s none of your f**king business, now is it?” Ryn gave a weak smile. “Just a little.”
With a derisive snort, Peter turned away. Something caught his eye, and he froze. Ryn followed his gaze to the shattered remnants of what was once a blue figurine scattered on the mantelpiece. A different kind of pain bloomed in his chest. A fist seemed to close around his heart, squeezing until he could scarcely draw breath. Grief rose in his throat, sharp and burning as bile. He swallowed against the lump, doing his best to suppress it from taking over.
“Wayra moved his body to a safe place,” Peter related flatly. “Karl’s taking the equipment over there now.” He stood and extended a hand down to Ryn. “We better get a move on if you wanna harvest fresh organs.”
While “want” was far too strong a word for such a grisly task, Ryn knew he could not allow Udo’s remains to go to waste—as much as he preferred granting his friend a proper sea burial without disturbing his corpse at all. With effort, he shoved aside his distaste, took a deep breath to steel himself, and accepted Peter’s outstretched hand.
Having imparted all he could, Ryn redirected the conversation to Mr. V’s mysterious “one more thing.” “What else might you need from me?”
Ryn tells Mr. V what he knows of Count Calbert and the Damiens, but points out that Peter (who just walked in with Olivia) might have more useful information. He asks what else Mr. V might need Ryn for.
Flashback: After being unconscious for an indeterminate amount of time, Ryn wakes up in the guest room. As Peter waits for Ryn to recover, he mentions Calbert, Violet, and Cassius. They leave the guesthouse together to carve out Udo’s body.
The night unfolded like a tapestry of dreams as Kalliope stepped out into the Sorian evening. The sky was a mixture of deep velvet hues, the darkest bits beginning to be studded with stars that shimmered like diamonds against an inky backdrop. The sea whispered its ancient secrets, and the sounds of the bustling dock added a melodic layer to the enchanting symphony of the night.
Her dress, a masterpiece of craftsmanship, draped around her in cascading waves of blues and teals, reminiscent of the ocean depths. It hugged her form in a mermaid silhouette, a siren's attire that whispered of mysteries hidden in the ocean's embrace. The dress played with the light, the golden accents reminiscent of sun-kissed waves glistening in the setting sun. Her hair, a flowing cascade of fire, was artfully arranged over her right shoulder, courtesy of Riona. The strands wove into intricate patterns, held in place by delicate pins that sparkled like stars in the night sky. It framed her face, leaving the other side open to the night, creating an illusion of untamed beauty.
The masquerade mask she held in her gloved hand was a delicate creation, an ethereal extension of the ocean theme. Gold filigree adorned it, and a hint of mystery lurked behind the azure and white mask. Kalliope, the siren of the night, was ready to immerse herself in the dance of shadows and secrets.
As she strolled toward the waterfront, she marveled at the exquisite surroundings. She gave little attention to the array of looks she was receiving from those she passed. It surely was unusual for someone so dressed up to be strolling down the Sorian harbor in the evening. She cared little what they thought, however, and anyone stupid enough to give her any trouble just might meet Hubris and Avarice who were artfully hidden beneath her dress against her leg.
Her steps quickened with a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and curiosity. The rendezvous with Sjan-dehk promised an intriguing evening, and the blend of sea breeze and anticipation stirred something enchanting within her. She wondered how he would react to her after the slight awkwardness from earlier in the day. She wasn’t naive enough to not notice the slight change in attitude towards her, but if she were honest she wasn’t sure what had caused it. She only hoped that whatever it was she could make up for it this evening.
Spotting him at the edge of the passing crowd, she approached with a grace that echoed the rhythm of the waves. The dress swirled around her ankles as she closed the distance, and a playful smile graced her lips.
"Captain," she greeted, her voice a velvet murmur infused with the melody of the night. "I hope you don't mind a siren's company for the night's festivities." She offered him a curtsy, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Shall we dance in the realm of arrogance and pompous asses?"
Time: Evening of the 23rd Location: Edwards Estate Mentions:@FunnyGuy Lorenzo @Helo Callum
Ariella peeked from under the bottom of the scrapes from her dress, the dome of her skirt still erect in its full glory in the center of her brother's room.
The knocks at the door had alerted her, and she took a breath of relief at the voice on the other side of the door. She crawled out of her prison and walked shamefully towards the door before slowly opening it. Her red and swollen eyes greeted Drake as she just stared.
Drake looked at his downtrodden sister with concerned eyes. He quickly looked around to make sure no one else would see her hiding spot and quickly shuffled in before locking the door - stopping any prying eyes from finding her like Sebastian had done earlier. Moving backwards, Ariella pressed her back against the wall as she watched her brother with her swollen and red eyes. He began working to clean up what he could while still keeping most of his attention on her. Ariella looked away as their eyes met as she took in a deep breath listening to his attempts at picking up the graveyard of scraps.
”I think it should go without saying that I won’t be telling Mother about any of this.” His first idea was to offer comfort, and as he gathered the storm of scraps and pieced them into a pile for a trusted servant to come clean later. ”Why don’t you start from the beginning and air out some of your frustrations to me, Ari? I think you deserve a chance to be heard instead of being yelled at.”
Her eyes moved to look at him again with pain behind them “ I panicked… I couldn’t breath. The corset was too tight.” she looked down towards the large heeled glass shoe ”and she really out did herself with the shoes Ariella slouched her shoulders ” Brother… this whole situation…mother and father.. The titles..the balls..the courting..I can’t do it anymore Ari breathed as if releasing the air from her lungs after holding it for so long. The sense of relief she felt as she spoke was clear on her face as she continued “ I want to live in the woods, in a secluded little cabin…living off the land that I help grow and build. All of this…” she gestured towards the pile of scraps ”It’s fake Brother…none of this is real! Do you think that these events, that the women or the men are here for anything but climbing titles and statues? Their words are just as empty as the thoughts in mothers head!” her tone raised in frustration.
His face turned and he looked at her with a somber expression. She was genuine in her declaration and he knew that in all honesty, she was right. He didn’t really care for this farce that they all played in trying to gain power and prestige amongst one another, but he was one who was willing to dance the dance of nobles. His sister didn’t deserve to be forced into such monotony. ”Well, everyone should have a right to live the life they want to live. As much as our parents would see it other ways, I at least agree with you on that.” After doing a sufficient job of cleaning his study, Drake walked over to her and offered a hand to help her up, guiding her to a nearby chair where she could properly rest her weary body that had likely felt immense emotional, physical, and mental strain these past few days. His voice lowered as he spoke, pulled a chair of his own to sit across from her with a sincere look on his face.
” But one thing I will say is that sadly, it is all very real. While the emotions and the faces we see are fake, the game we all play is very much real. Some may find enjoyment of it, however perverse they may be. Some, like me, simply accept it as it is to be. Finally, there exists a group of people like yourself who find themselves fed up with the charade. Frankly, I don’t blame you one bit.” He leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment before speaking out.
Ari sat back in the chair shifting around uncomfortably as her discomfort and anger became more and more clear.
”So I won’t sit idly by while my sister is tormented by the degradations of our society. How can I help?”
Ari slammed her hands on the arms of the chair, gripping onto them for support as she leaned forward with furrowed brows “ You are just as bad as them!” she said angerly “ Do you think a play is real? You think the actors on the stage believe themselves to be us as they prance around mocking the very society you are so happy to participate in?” Ari scoffed before falling back into the chair with her arms crossed. “You’re a fool to think any of this to be real.” she said under her breath.
Drake calmly took in her words, and with a thinking gesture pondered their meaning. His eyes moved down in thought before he met her sulking gaze once more. ” Well, I would suppose I am a fool then. But does an actor not get their enjoyment from committing to their role? To be so immersed in a role that you can hardly mistake it with reality? It’s hard to say if such dedication to the arts is healthy or prosperous. But the fact of the matter is it all exists. Therefore it is real, in my book.”
Ariella let out a drawn-out sigh as she continued to sit back in the chair with her arms crossed. Her brother really had a knack for twisting words to make his point.
Standing up, the man walked over to his cabinet and began to prepare a few glasses and some aged whiskey from his personal collection. No matter their quarrels, he knew his sister would need a drink. In all honesty, he could use something to lighten his mood as well. He popped the top of the bottle and poured the contents into two clear glasses, with two nearby ice cubes plucked from the tiny ice box that was hidden away. Ari looked up and took notice of the commotion, taking note of the rather full and large crystal decanter. She watched her brother move towards her as he handed her the drink and sat back down. ”If I am as bad as you say I am, then I hope you do not find this entire interaction pointless. I have my own reservations as I’m sure you guess, but I still want to offer my support where I can.”
Accepting her drink she held the glass in her hand smelling the rather harsh fumes coming from the glass as she swirled it around. Callum seemed to find comfort at the bottom of the glass, perhaps it couldn’t hurt to indulge. Taking a rather large sip, Ariella finished off her glass in one quick motion. Her shoulders buckled up as her face contored into a funny expression as she felt the burn of the liquid as it may its way into her belly creating a warm and comforting heat. “ If this is what makes you happy Drake then I am happy for you… I just…I need a break. Mother has been following me around ever since she found out about Cal-...Prince Callum and I would have really hoped she would have dropped the stuff from the forest but it seems to be a constant concern of hers. I just wish she would forget about it and leave me alone. “ Ari looked down at her glass with a disappointed expression before placing it down onto the nearby table. “ Can you cover for me? Lie and say I left to the ball…I heard about something going on in the woods today and I really wanted to check it out.” she looked at him with a hopeful expression “please?”
Almost immediately Drake had noticed a particular reaction from Ariella that came with some regrets. Perhaps it was a bit bold to introduce such an emotionally unstable woman to one of the first strong drinks she’s had. Nonetheless, he let her finish and promptly hid the bottle back in the cabinet.
”Happy wouldn’t be the word I’d choose. It’s more like I’m…fulfilled. I guess it is just nice to feel like I serve a purpose.” It was then Drake took a moment to reflect on the face staring back at him in what remained of his glass. The man couldn’t help but wonder for a moment. Was this his purpose? What would make him happy? Power? Women? Companionship? Solitude? Many such questions to be asked, but now was not the time.
He took a quick swig of his whiskey, remaining stoic as the liquid smoothly burned along his esophagus. He placed his glass on the counter and returned to his seat across from his sister. ”Very well. I shall tell them you plan to attend as a complete stranger. One who wishes to remain mysterious to fit the theme of the gathering, and that you will behave despite Mother’s misgivings. But you must promise me…” Drake leaned in and with a mixed expression of concern and seriousness, continued. ”Don’t get into any trouble. I know you really like the Prince, but something about him seems….off. Like he’s hiding something beneath the surface. I don’t want you to be caught up in something dangerous. So promise me you’ll be safe.”
Her eyes widened with surprise as she couldn’t believe the words coming from her brothers mouth. Standing to her feet Ari looked down at him “Off!?” her voice raised as she looked around hoping no one heard them. Returning her attention back to her brother as she forced her voice to lower but the frustrations she held were clear on her face. “ I shouldn’t be surprised that you really are just like everyone else. Prancing around like your better then everyone. Sitting here claiming my friend to be off just because he doesn’t fall into the norms of everyone else is rather laughable. Just like how mother believes Lorenzo to be off. Maybe if you actually took a moment to get to know these people you’d see that they are actually very kind and misunderstood. “ Ari marched off towards his desk grabbing his cloak while very carefully grabbing the entire crystal decanter of whiskey and slipping it under the large black heap of fabric. Tossing it over her arm, careful to hide the bottle she turned back to her brother. “ Perhaps you and Princess Camilia are perfect for each other, you both can sit in each other's miserable company. Just as quick as the words left her lips, Ari had already slipped out the side door that led towards the balcony exit.
Drake stood up and paced quickly to the door she just walked out of. In a slightly louder voice, he spoke to her. ”The man was found drunk and beaten in an alley this morning. I know you like him, and I will support you. But don’t blame me for holding reservations.” Then as he thought over those last words, he simply had this to say.
” That’s right. Your miserable older brother who wants to make sure you make it to sunrise without some strange would-be ne’er do well causing unwarranted hatred and mischief to come your way! Powerful people hate that man, Ariella. Like it or not. And if they hate you too there is little I can do to protect you. I do not wish to control your life. I do not wish to control your choice of companionship. I just want you to be safe and happy!” With a slight explosion of volume, the man simply sighed and crossed his arms.
” Go and seek danger if you must. I merely made a request. But it seems no one likes to listen to those nowadays.” He turned and shut the door, leaving his sister to her devices. Drake rifled through the cabinet to pour himself another glass, only to see his whiskey bottle missing. With furrowed brows, he reached instead for some bourbon and poured it into his empty glass. His hands rested on the counter, and all of his weight shifted forward as the emotions from the day began to swell to the surface. All he could do was sit in contemplative silence as the feelings ran their course.
Time: Evening Location: The woods Mention: Callum @Helo Drake @Lava Alckon Roman @ReusableSword Interactions: Appearance: No shoes | Thin white long dress | Heavy black cloak with hood
Ariella huffed down the steps that connected to the balcony, wrapping the large and heavy wool cloak around her, and throwing up the hood over her head. Her brother's words circled her mind as concern hit her when he mentioned that Callum was found beaten in an alleyway. The idea of her friend being hurt let alone left in an alley on his own pained her. Knowing Callum he would bounce back and likely act like nothing happened, the thought giving her some comfort however she still felt concern for him and anger that her brother only brought it up during an argument, failing to inform her of her friend's condition.
Grabbing the lid off the decanter in her hand, Ari took a large mouthful of whiskey. As the warmth of the drink hit her belly she could already feel the world around her start to feel lighter. Her cheeks reddened as she felt them warm as a result of the few drinks she had consumed. She was not someone who could hold a drink having drank very little before but she wanted to try and see what all the hype was about. Perhaps it would give her some sense of peace, even if temporary.
The walk took a while. Ari’s feet were thankfully built for the type of terrain from all the times she trekked through the wooded area of her not-so-secret spot. She had enjoyed enough of her whiskey that she had already forgotten about the cold air.
Taking a wobbly step into the woods Ariella giggled to herself as she nearly tripped over her feet into a tree. Bracing it for support she leaned against it seeing some light off in the distance deeper into the woods at lovers Lake. Taking another swig of the bottle, she felt a small stream of whisky on her chin as she wiped it away with the back of her hand before sauntering towards the light. As she came closer, she could hear Romans's voice and a burst of fire and sounds of crackling erupted around her.
Nervous, Ariella stopped at the edge of the wood line. She looked down at her bottle of whiskey that had certainly worked its magic on her as she was feeling great. No wonder Callum enjoyed drinking, it had already helped numb a lot of the anger she felt and now she just felt…drunk.
Giggling to herself she took another sip of whiskey before turning her attention back to the bright red and orange light that bursted through the trees, creating a sort of painting of color around her. Still feeling wobbly, Ari attempted to sit down on the ground. As she reached the ground she lost her balance and fall over to the side finding herself laying on her back, sticks and leaves poking her back as she let out another soft giggle at her situation. She gave in and just continued to lay there staring at the fiery lights as they danced over the leaves.
1x Thank
