Roland took a long look at Vulluin and took a sip of tea before he spoke. "Well, I am surprised that the queen has offered her condolences now, two years after the death of my sister." Roland, trying to conceal his anger. Maybe Nathan should be here, he thought, and he calmed himself down. Though, why offer a condolence now? He wondered. "But I suppose a condolence now is better than never, and I take it the items your servants have are a part of the condolence?" He motioned to them.

Roland took another sip of tea. "For my brother's actions, I cannot speak for him on why he has not been paying taxes lately and not attending the latest gala. But I can talk to him about it since it pains the queen so much." Like she deserves it, he thought bitterly.

"Though the offer to join the royal guard." Roland took a deep breath and stared Vulluin dead in the eye. "I did not expect a second offer to join, and I have to ask this. Why would the queen want someone who failed to protect their monarch? I mean, he is dead, and I am alive when it should be the reverse. So I am not quite sure if the queen deserves a failed royal guard."

---

---

Roderic gave a solid nod towards the Princess and grabbed the latter from her hand. After quickly reading the letter he smiled, or attempted a smile, it looked a bit forced. "By all means come in your highness."

Roderic opened the gate and inside was what looked like a normal village with two major exceptions. At first glance, it was very noticeable that there were no real houses, sure propped-up tents, but no houses. Secondly, there was a lot more sound going around, from smiths hammering away to the thunking of wood on wood that came from what is presumable the training grounds. Roderic guided the Princess and her entourage towards what seemed to be the main tent, as it was significantly larger and had some different rooms on the inside.

"Please have a seat, your Highness, can I offer you something to drink? I have ale, water, and tea here." Roderic himself sat down on a comfy chair adorned with the skin of a large wolf. "So what did you have to discuss, your Highness?"

@Psyker Landshark, @Irradiant, @Donut Look Now, @Click This, @Izurich, @LunarParadox

---

Vulluin kept the disgust off his face, masking it behind a thin smile as Lady Haliel whispered in his ear.

”Utinu en lokirim… (That son of a snake…)” Vulluin muttered under his breath, slipping into his ancestral language briefly.

He gave a gracious nod of his head. ”As always you outdo yourself, Lady Haliel. I'll inform her right away.”

His eyes hovered on her purple irises, before he took a gentle step to the side, and whispered in the Queen's ear. A pause, before the Wizard Queen's smile widened.

“Thank you, Vulluin.” She said, giving her wine an idle swirl, before glancing at one of the guards stationed along the wall, and gave a nod.

Moments later, the music died down as a new melody floated over the crowd from the back of the hall. Nobles looked left and right, trying to find the source of the curious tune. Until finally, they looked up.

Walking along the vaulted ceiling of the hall was a jester. Red and blue ribbons in her hair. Face painted in white with black and red. Her robes delicately floating, adorned in a variety of eye-catching colors and patterns. And in her slender fingers, a metal flute. An instrument unseen in all of Arrowfell.

She slowly walked down from the ceiling to the floor, her fingers gracing her flute in intricate melody. She curtsied deep in front of the Queen, before her attention turned to Lady Haliel. Pulling her flute to the side, she lifted up a single pearl necklace out of the many hanging off her arm, and wreathed it gently around Lady Haliel's neck. She leaned in close, almost embracing the elf, as she whispered.

“I Tári merë quetëa ólë mi cormatarya mi lómelindale. (The Queen wishes to speak with you in her bedchambers at the strike of midnight.)”

Before she leaned back, smiled, and turned around, spreading her arms out to the crowd. From her loose sleeves, hundreds of blue spectral butterflies burst forward, taking to the air. The hall was immediately struck with awes and enchanted faces as some nobles even had the pleasure of butterflies landing on their fingers or noses.

The court jester smiled knowingly, before her gaze shifted. The Duke of Rhinecliff had made their way back into the hall, and she found herself approaching his side and bowing.

“Your Graces,” She said songfully, addressing the Duke of Rhinecliff, the Duchess of Caelin, and the Duchess of Bastille. Before she conjured a small bird cage in her hands. She opened the door, and out came a small, spectral song bird, sitting joyfully on Duke Rhinecliff's hand.

“Please watch over this one for me, won't you?” She said sweetly, offering each duke and duchess a pearl necklace with a smile, before she bowed and retreated, off to frolic with the rest of the crowd.

As the court jester made merry with the nobles, music from the bards resumed, floating up through the air.

It was a few minutes of pleasant banter passing that the doors to the hall opened once more. A carriage driver, holding the luggage of none other than the Court Mage's new apprentice, Mèlisande, appeared at the door, the young mage beside him. It had been a rather quiet carriage ride to the castle, the young man seeming flustered all the while.

Now, at the end if his journey with her, he leaned down and said in a low, unsteady tone. “If it please you, I'd much rather wed in the confines of my home town. Traveling outside, or having anything to do with that traveler-snatching river, puts a quake in my boots, yes.”

But he smiled. “You've been most kind, ma'am. I hope I have fulfilled my purpose to you.” His gaze went flush for a moment, and he stammered. “And, uh, if you need further carriage rides, I'm always o-of service.”

Then he hurriedly waved a servant over, passed along Mèlisande's luggage, and quickly departed. The servant, easily hefting Mèlisande's bags, pointed through the crowd to the throne.

“Her Majesty the Queen, and the Court Mage, Lord Blackthorne, are waiting for you. Will you greet them?”

It was another few minutes before the great doors opened once more, and in walked three well-known faces, here to pay their fealty.

The first was Duchess Nephinae Ilijor, dressed in delicate white silks laced with spider-thin chains. The second was Duke Dadraek Grimhand, a heavyset dwarf laden in gold and other precious metals, a hand stroking his white beard. And lastly, there was Duke Sev Willowsteel, wearing unpolished armour with a cape, and making it straight for the food and drink.

Nephinae and Dadraek, however, did the more civilized thing, and made their way to the throne.

Nephinae approached first, bowing low to the Queen. “Nai lyenna Isil illumë ná cóna, Táriya. (May your moon always be full, my Queen.)”

She presented her gift to the Wizard Queen, a circlet of precious metal interwoven to appear as if it were a branch with leaves, precious stones taking the place of flower buds.

“This is a most precious gift, Duchess. Thank you.” The Wizard Queen said graciously.

Nephinae nodded gracefully, before she turned to Vulluin and Eirwen. “I have gifts for your advisors as well.”

She approached Eirwen with a smile, “I've given this gift in the hopes you'll come visit me in Aethera one day, Lord Blackthone.” And she presented a small silver pendant, a gem glowing at the center.

“It's a curious enchantment.” She said, “It illuminates the area around you in a range of two feet, in the direction of what you desire most.”

She gave the same pendant to Vulluin, bowed once more, and stepped back.

Dadreak presented his gift, a large silver vase engraved with carvings of mountains and rivers, bowed low to the Queen, before he retreated slightly, and found Duchess Bastille.

“My, my, what a small world it is, indeed.” Dadreak mused as he bowed to the group. “Duchess Bastille, I hope Her Majesty found our joint gift suitable?”

---

@Theyra

Vulluin nodded. “Yes, the condolence gifts are a part of it. The flowers will live for months, the pearl necklaces a fitting gift for the duke's wife, and Gold-touch Wine to aid in sleep.”

What Vulluin withheld was that the gifts and condolences were only an in for him, a way to try and soften the heart of the Duke and his brother. The Wizard Queen was tactful, but didn't care much for the destruction left in her wake as she seized a dream.

"For my brother's actions, I cannot speak for him on why he has not been paying taxes lately and not attending the latest gala. But I can talk to him about it since it pains the queen so much.”

Vulluin gave the guise of an understanding face as he sipped his tea. “Please, it's imperative that you speak to him. I wouldn't want to see the situation escalate.”

“Why would the queen want someone who failed to protect their monarch? I mean, he is dead, and I am alive when it should be the reverse. So I am not quite sure if the queen deserves a failed royal guard."

Vulluin only smiled. “Because you fell at her hand. She knew no one would be a match for her that day, but even the Queen gets tired of being vigilant. You know how treacherous orrowfell is at the moment, with whispers of uprising on the tongues of Odonfielders.”

His slender face grew serious. “This is why she's calling upon you, Sir Corrin, and you specifically. You are a powerful mage, and you know how to handle a sword. That is what the Wizard Queen needs, and she wants to rely on you as her personal guard. Will you accept?”

---

@twannyman

---

"Can I offer you something to drink?"

The princess patted down her chair as she sat in it, admiring the make. At the mention of drinks, she smiled excitedly. “I'll have tea, if it's not too much trouble.”

Her guards stood at attention, four at the walls of the tent, two outside. Princess Azalea didn't pay them too much mind; they were just doing their job of keeping her safe.

Instead, she turned her attention to the good captain. “My mother worries for the future of Arrowfell. There are those that dream of plunging it back to the warring states it used to be. House Corrin is one of those people.”

She leaned forward on her seat, hands clasped delicately in front of her.

“She understand you're one of those speciality mercenaries, where you can get things done, and know how to approach any given task. If you were to take on this task, not only would you be doing my mother a service, but you'd be doing a service to Arrowfell.”

Her head tilted. “In regards to reward, my mother said you can make any reasonable demand, and she will meet it.”

She took a breath, glancing at her guards briefly before her gaze returned to Roderic. “...She needs you to kidnap the wife of the Duke of Vaili.”

Before the good captain could give a yea or nay, she nodded at her guards. The four standing in the room stepped forward with small daggers. They cut loose heavy coin purses from their hips, the four bags making a heavy clunk as they landed at Roderic's feet.

“This is just a fraction of your reward, if you choose to accept Her Majesty's task.”

---

Laurent laughed heartily at that.

"I can certainly understand that, Lady Skybound. Though House Rhinecliff has not suffered from any crisis of succession in recent history, there certainly were still no small number of incidents where my brothers and I butted heads."

Whether it be over the inconsequential matters that oft accompanied boyhood, or matters of state and love.

Finishing his own cup of tea, the Duke stood up, and the maid within the room immediately stepped to his side. "Emilie," he spoke, "Could you let the Head Butler know that I intend on having my midday meal at the gazebo today? And could you check if our guest has arrived while you're at it?"

The maid nodded, then opened the door for the Viscountess and the Duke to exit first.

"Shall we, Lady Skybound?"

The castle-bound journey had been rather quiet, though Melisande surmised she had a peculiar sense of what 'quiet' entailed compared to most others, after all, unless she had been taught wrong her entire life, most people don't share their body with a Dremora. The Lilim could scarcely remember the last time she was truly alone... and that's fine, she hated being alone. The world could be such a cold and dark place, especially as a shivering and helpless child, then Kronos made all of those go away.

Some time later, Melisande arrived before the double doors leading into the castle's throne room when the chauffeur addressed her, "You should, the world is so much larger than simply Hathforth." The student then turned her gaze to the side for a brief moment, pondering. He still hasn't given up on me...

The coven princess quickly discovered that her earlier attempt at pushing his attention to the coven instead of herself had utterly backfired, quite troublesome but not unexpected, the "curse" she bore was simply too powerful for some folks, she could only hope the nobles and royals within the hall would prove more... resilient; they should be, considering their upbringing.

"Duly noted." She kept her tone professional, no need to fan the flames. As the charmed coachman left, Melisande turned her attention to the castle attendant instead, "Yes, I will." Only a fool wouldn't be able to discern the actual lack of choice here, and she wasn't about to jeopardize her mission by committing social suicide.

Due to the short pause with the carriage driver and castle servant, by the time Lady Melisande of the Tearmoon Coven entered the throne room, she was actually the last one to do so, tailing behind Duke Willowsteel, though unlike the gluttonous noble, Melisande actually approached the throne first.

It was at this moment that the Wizard Queen would discover something about Matriarch Jezebel's offspring, either that, or be reminded of it...



During social events, it'd be incredibly common for a Lilim to attract at least some amount of attention to her nymphet charm, and racial reputation too. However, for Evelyn in particular, either through her Seed, familiarity with shadeborne creatures, or something else entirely, she could sense an umbral presence from the ash-haired Lilim, trailing her like her own shadow, yet not quite, for a person's natural shadow would vanish without the person, while this entity merely melded with hers.

The queen and her court mage was being approached by two, not one.

"A Bhanríon Evelyn Keove, an Tiarna Eirwen Blackthorne, is mór an onóir é a bheith i do láthair. Is mise Melisande ó Chóbh Tearmoon, go humhal ar do sheirbhís. (Queen Evelyn Keove, Lord Eirwen Blackthorne, it is a great honor to be in your presence. I am Melisande of the Tearmoon Coven, humbly at your service.)" Melisande graciously bowed and offered a greeting in Sylvan, the ancestral language of the Fey, including Lilim.

Bolvag lat, golog. (Curse you, Elflings) And Kronos spat in Dremoran, or Shadow Speak, its own ancestral language.

"However, I must extend my humblest apologies, Your Majesty, Milord, as I was unable to bring you a worthy gift due to being summoned on such a short notice." The Lilim returned to Common as she straightened herself, "But I'd be more than delighted if you'd deign me the opportunity to send a belated offering within the short future."

And it shall be a fate worse than death for you, "Your Majesty""...

@Estylwen @LunarParadox

Duchess of Caelin

---

Hathforth\\
@Estylwen@Donut Look Now@Irradiant

Mirie, of course, knew that she was the lynchpin in the queen’s strategic planning. Without the monetary support of Caelin, and the sheer logistical strength of the merchant fleet that she influenced or outright controlled, the queen’s position would be weak—maybe even fatally weak. Privately, Mirie continued to prefer the old king and what he represented, but there was no reason not to be diplomatic to the queen and continue their relationship. Such was realpolitik.

So unlike many of the other dukes and duchesses, she tended to avoid the subtle powerplays, the little aggressions, and the probes the others liked to enjoy. When she made her plays, it spoke through money and the economy, rather than shows in court. Gifted ones aside. Everybody liked a good gift after all.

She smiled magnanimously. “Caelin is always willing to fulfill requests for any order, for the right price.” The duchess might shy away from doublespeak, but she did still make use of it. More overt support for the queen was not out of the question.

Minuette had given the queen a quick greeting, but broke off to mingle in the party while Mirie stayed. Although she was her maid, she was still a countess by right and had her own share of connections to keep up. With a crystal studded ring on her finger, she also served a secondary purpose for Mirie by attending this gala.

Historically, the dukes of Caelin had laid claim to Athius, given its proximity to the island and its remarkable appearance and legends of riches beneath its depths. Mirie continued the tradition of claiming that part of sea for herself, but she also recognized the growing innovation coming out of Hathforth. It felt likely that there would be some solution to crack the mystery of that place in her lifetime, so she was willing to accept some level of compromise on it.

“Indeed, your majesty,” she nodded. “You are welcome, as always, to resupply in the Grand Bank, although I would recommend sailing with some of my ships. Those waters can be treacherous without a proper guide.” She inclined her head at the queen’s suggestion. “Of course.”

The duchess Bastille made her greeting then. The slightly older woman was an interesting character for Mirie—she had come to power in practically the same manner as herself, with some similar hobbies to boot. She found herself disagreeing with much of the politics of her impressively tall counterpart, however, and as Mirie saw how presented herself, she found her opinions reinforced. A gifted blade was practically as thinly veiled a threat as one could give, from a martially inclined duchess like her.

She didn’t mention that as she greeted her counterpart, and then ‘Duke Rhinecliff’ as his pet shapeshifter made her return. “Ah, Duchess Bastille, and Duke Rhinecliff. You flatter us both. I’m glad you were finally able to make it to one of the queen’s little parties,” she smiled, knowing her role she was playing. Her eyes twinkled playfully, with one last mischievous complement before they were interrupted by the court jester. “You wear that mustache well.”

That strange experience left her with a pearl necklace in her hand. Minuette came by then, and she passed off the gift onto her servant. “Alas, there is but room for one necklace around my neck,” she explained, before fitting the piece around the other woman’s neck. That produced what no doubt would be a gossip-inducing eyeroll from her close servant, but Mirie just gave her a clap on her shoulder as the countess found another acquaintance to catch up with.

While Altina engaged the Duke of Rockhold, Mirie greeted Duke WIllowsteel next as she raised her glass of wine to him. Of the dukes, he was the least important geopolitically, but she did respect his scrappiness and the economic ties their duchies had.

“Duke Willowsteel! You and your wine are a sight for sore eyes,” she ribbed—but he was still a handsome man.

---

Rhinecliff Estate\\
@Estylwen@ERode

Caught in the act, Mirie had wondered if the boy was going to simply heel turn from the door, but to his credit, he opened it knowing full well that she was inside. His presence here was still entirely unexpected, though. It was somewhat suspicious, in fact—even without the obvious cloak, which was strange to be wearing this deep inside the castle, she wasn’t aware the young viscount and her sister were that close with the Duke.

The absence of Viscountess Asteria was strange, too. It was also Mirie’s understanding that the two didn’t go someplace without the other…

The duchess took a long, slow sip of her gold-touch wine as she considered the facts, even as the boy stammered at her appearance.

“Ah, it is of no import,” she casually replied, but still searching for his angle—an angle she quickly found as he tried to get out of his uncomfortable situation. The treasury, was it? Even she wouldn’t be given a tour of his treasury, let alone the boy Viscount. Odd.

By luck, or by the power of his seed, her thoughts didn’t turn to the more obvious conspiracy, even if her suspicions remained. Nonetheless, there was a play for the Duke’s finances that she didn’t have the full picture of, and the boy did claim that he was helping Rhinecliff, so…

“How serendipitous! As it happens, I have business with Laurent myself. Let us find him together.”

And that was how she dragged the Duke’s unwitting guest through his estate until they found the Viscount’s sister together with Rhinecliff in his courtyard garden.

“Duke Rhinecliff, so this is where you were hiding, entertaining the young lady,” she exclaimed, still partially making it up as she went, but phrased her language in a very particular way. “The young viscount was looking for you in the treasury room, but I see you were just entertaining Viscountess Asteria.” At that, she gave a nod and a greeting to the young girl as well.

Mirie still wasn’t sure what was happening, given she was merely here to ferry her fellow duke, but at the very least it was going to be… interesting.

@Click This

---

“How serendipitous! As it happens, I have business with Laurent myself. Let us find him together.”

”A-actually, Your Grace, I-” Mene started, sweat glistening on his forehead.

But the Duchess wouldn't be swayed, and walked away, intent on the viscount to follow. He swallowed nervously, his heart pounding in his head. Meeting the Duke, the Duke was suicide - how was he going to explain any of this? But leaving the side of the Duchess, also, would be an offense now.

As they walked, the Viscount obediently in tow, his eyes flickered to the doors and windows. Perhaps he could still run, still try to escape. But at every opportunity, there were servants watching, or the Duchess had her eye on him.

Before he knew it, and to his heart-pounding dismay, they had made it to the inner courtyard.

---

@ERode, @Click This

Almost immediately, Asteria was caught up in the story the Duke wove. Was his childhood really like that? She couldn't imagine the Duke fighting with anyone, even family. He was so nice.

She watched as the Duke stood, curiosity lighting up in her saucer eyes.

"Shall we, Lady Skybound?”

Asteria blushed slightly, taken aback with his politeness. She nodded and stood, smoothing out her dress and moving to the door.

She followed the Duke through the turning halls, everything pleasing on the eye. Until, finally, they reached the inner courtyard. To say it was beautiful was an understatement. Asteria's eyes played over the fountains and flowering shrubs, a disbelieving smile on her face. She could easily see the overwhelming amount of berry bushes as well, making her think the Duke had a preference for practicality.

Her pleasant attitude maintained until they approached the gazebo, and she saw the table set for three people. Immediately, her heart felt crushed, wondering if the third was meant for her brother.

Had he been discovered?

But Asteria kept her head cool, trying to rationalize that the good Duke was expecting a guest. This extra chair wasn't meant for her brother. He didn't know.

A sigh of relief, as the smile returned to her face. Only to be shattered once again.

“Duke Rhinecliff, so this is where you were hiding, entertaining the young lady. The young viscount was looking for you in the treasury room, but I see you were just entertaining Viscountess Asteria.”

The Duke of Caelin, Viscount Skybound, her brotherly counterpart, in tow, entered the inner courtyard. A hand flew up to Asteria’s mouth, and she quickly dove into a curtsy towards the Duchess.

“O-oh. Your Grace,” She said to the Duchess, eyes lowered, “You must be the waiting guest of His Grace the Duke. It’s a pleasure to see you.”

As she stood at full height once more, she visibly paled at the sight of her brother. Her eyes glanced up at the Duke, before a shaky laugh escaped her lips, and she addressed her brother.

“M-my, what are you doing here, dear brother of mine? I… I told you I didn't want you to accompany me…”

Mene, visibly shaken and unable to meet the eyes of the Duke of Rhinecliff, lowered himself into a deep bow.

“Please forgive my intrusion, Your Grace,” he said, addressing the Duke. “I was looking for my dear sister.”

---

@Click This, @Irradiant, @Izurich, @LunarParadox

---

“Indeed, your majesty. You are welcome, as always, to resupply in the Grand Bank, although I would recommend sailing with some of my ships. Those waters can be treacherous without a proper guide... Of course.”

The Wizard Queen became quite pleased to hear this, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I will take you up on that offer, Duchess Agustria. An expert to help navigate the waters would be most welcome.”

She nodded her head at the mention of meeting soon, and made a note to reach out in the following week.

"An admirable quality, wouldn't we all agree?”

The Wizard Queen allowed herself a nod. “Indeed, a lack of fear is a trait to be admired, especially in those who wield a sword.”

"Apologies for my conduct earlier, Sir Vulluin. You know I mean no disrespect towards Her Majesty the Wizard Queen.”

Vulluin remained stony-faced until he saw the duchess bow, before he nodded, and a bit of warmth returned to his face. ”It is pleasing to hear you're enjoying the festivities so, Duchess Bastille. Do take care for next time, though.”

He then placed the duchess’ art piece on the table, gently and delicately, with all the rest of the gifts.

It was then that the Court Mage's apprentice approached the throne. Almost all the faces of the male audience turned to look, save for a few, such as Duke Grimhand.

The Wizard Queen, in particular, turned her head curiously, a twinkle in her eye.

As Mèlisande spoke, Vulluin spoke low in the Wizard Queen's ear, translating Sylvan to Common. The Wizard Queen kept her eyes on Mèlisande the whole time, her lips parting into a cool smile.

“The pleasure is ours, Lady Tearmoon, to have you here. I hope your time spent with my Court Mage will prove fruitful and enhance your studies.”

She took a sip of her wine, amusement ringing across her face, before she spoke again. “Do not worry about a gift, Lady Tearmoon. Your presence with us will suffice.”

The Wizard Queen's head turned toward Eirwen, and she spoke. “Lord Blackthorne, please escourt our fledgling apprentice to the Arcane Wing. Show her your personal study where she will be shadowing you, and please show her to the apprentice quarters, where she will be resting tonight.”

A pause, before she added. “I will expect you both in my study after the conclusion of the gala to go over your first task.”

---

@Click This

---

Duke Willowsteel turned to the approaching Duchess of Caelin, his chainmail clinking slightly. He was already halfway through his second glass of Gold-touch Wine, looking at her over the rim. He continued to toss back the wine until his glass was empty, setting the cup down a little too forcefully.

He wiped his mouth before sighing, looking at the duchess. “‘Told myself I wouldn't be attending any more of these ‘parties’. Just a fancy way of kissing up to the Queen, I said.”

He gestured to himself, defeated disgust evident in his face. “Now look at me. Here I am, yet again. Playing patty cake with the Queen, showing fealty, all that.”

He paused before a raspy laugh left him. “My gift has already been given. Gold-touch Wine, enough to drown the nobles. All the glasses here.” He patted his chest. “On the house, my House, so to speak.”

He sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “Yep, just another cog in the machine. You agree with me, right, Duchess Agustria? There's little point to these except for us to feel small and be reminded of our place here, right?”

---

@Irradiant

---

"You seem to be in good health, Duke Dadraek. From that, I can only assume all is well in your realm?”

The dwarven duke smiled heartily at this, eyes crinkling at the sight of the duchess. “My favourite Duchess, come to enjoy the festivities.”

He nodded his head, looking up at her. Before he gave a dramatic sigh. “Were you always this tall, my duchess? My neck might pop just looking up at you!”

He laughed deeply at his joke, warmth in his eyes, before he answered her question. “Yes, thank you. The mines are rich and the people are earnest and forthright. All is well in my city, and surrounding territories.”

The duke caught that dangerous glint in her eyes, and his face grew a touch more serious. He placed a hand on his beard, stroking the massive bulk, as he leaned in to whisper low to the duchess.

“There be something troublin’ me, young duchess. If you'd do me the honor of meeting after this here Gala…”

Before he leaned back, the warmth returning to his face. He looked with veiled amusement at the Gold-touch Wine the duchess skillfully offered, and took it from her fingers. “Duchess, you sing the language of our people. Forth azagh kibil gamilfith felak. (The night is gold when wrapped in song and merriment), as our people would say. Just means parties are the life in our veins.”

He toasted to the duchess. “To an excellent night in riveting company.” Before he took a long sip of his wine. Pulling the cup back, he smiled warmly.

“Gold-touch Wine, the specialty of the South. I will never tire of the delicate notes and dreams I receive after a night of drinking a few of these.”

He paused, before his head inclined toward the duchess. “And you? How fairs Agrovia?”

Roland took a moment to think and took a long sip from his teacup, emptying it. Wishing it was ale. "Well, I can say that I appreciate the gifts and I bet my brother will too. I will talk to my brother about the missed taxes and not attending the recent gala." Roland poured himself and cup of tea and took another sip.

"Though about joining the queen's royal guard..." Roland took a deep breath and put on a sorry face. "Like what I said the first time I was offered to join the queen's royal guard. I, with a heavy heart, have to say no. I just have not been the same since failing in my duties, and I do not want that failure to affect my ability to guard the queen despite the praise from you and the queen. I just do not want to fail again and I am sorry that you came this way for a no."

---

---

---

---

"Duke Rhinecliff," Altina cooed. "I am glad you've spared some time to make merry with us." She leaned in closer, noticing the clamor of the party starting to drown her out. "By the by, I appreciate that shipment of wine you've sent my way. It was my uncle's birthday, you see, and we were in dire need of good ale."

"You absolutely must allow me to repay you for your kindness in the future!"
- Altina

Nyx beams at Altina, a cheerful smile plastered on the Duke’s face as she listens to her speak. She lets her eyes twinkle as if the golden wine she holds has made her eye glossy with inebriation. She opens her arms wide, palms up as she chuckles heartily at Duchess Bastille’s words.

“Happy to help. I’m sure we can find some way you can reciprocate, but for the time being, let us be merry.” Nyx bows her head before turning to the Duchess of Caelin.

“Ah, Duchess Bastille, and Duke Rhinecliff. You flatter us both. I’m glad you were finally able to make it to one of the queen’s little parties,” she smiled, knowing her role she was playing. Her eyes twinkled playfully, with one last mischievous complement before they were interrupted by the court jester. “You wear that mustache well.”
- Mirie

Nyx smiles widely, but her eyes narrow the tiniest bit at the audaciousness of Mirie to make a joke like that. Before she can respond, the court jester nears them. Nyx tries to keep her face neutral and pleasant as the jester puts on her little show.

“Your Graces,” She said songfully, addressing the Duke of Rhinecliff, the Duchess of Caelin, and the Duchess of Bastille. Before she conjured a small bird cage in her hands. She opened the door, and out came a small, spectral song bird, sitting joyfully on Duke Rhinecliff's hand.

“Please watch over this one for me, won't you?”
- Court Jester

Nyx raises an eyebrow, but otherwise lets the bird sit on her gloved hand, watching as it chirps away happily before acknowledging the other dukes and duchesses that had come to present the Wizard Queen with their gifts. Nyx can’t help but glance at the other fae that’s entered the throne room. Of course, not many knew there’s more than one in the immediate vicinity at the moment.

A quiet chuckle escapes Nyx’s lips as she overhears Duke Willowsteel’s grumbling. He’s not wrong at all She thinks to herself as her eyes scan over the crowd. It’ll be hard to do much reconnaissance wearing the duke… I should have brought a change of clothes. She moves to join Willowsteel and Mirie in their conversation.

“Yep, just another cog in the machine. You agree with me, right, Duchess Agustria? There's little point to these except for us to feel small and be reminded of our place here, right?”
- Duke Willowsteel

”As correct as you are, Duke Willowsteel,” Nyx says in a low voice and a wide smile that’s more of a warning than anything else. “Might we share this view of the court at another time?” After all, what good would it do for a possible ally to get himself killed before he’s of use to the rebellion?

---

The Duke’s mien remained implacable at the appearance of Duchess Agustria and Viscount Skybound, but he did turn to one of the servants in attendance. A look was all that was needed for the maid to stride briskly off to retrieve another chair for the surprise guest, while Laurent himself moved to stand up to receive them.

By right, two of the three chairs were owed to the Duke and Duchess in attendance, but it was cruel to let two children stand while the adults sat and ate, especially when they both already looked like a couple of brats who accidentally broke a vase or a window. Honestly, what was dear Evelyn thinking? Laurent repressed a sigh. Then, the corner of his lips twitched into a smile as he caught Mirie’s eye.

A two-for-one show, then.

“What a devoted brother you are, Viscount Skybound,” he chuckled, leaning against the railing of the gazebo to reach up for one of the branches and pluck a ripe plum. Brushing away the dust with the sleeve of his jacket, he tossed it to the young lad. “Two days travel without the benefit of a carriage must have been exhausting, though I see that like any proper nobleman, you’ve nevertheless managed to remain presentable.”

He gave the boy a moment to try the fruit.

“Alas, if you sought your sister, I’m certain that the footman who had let you in would have informed you that she was in the guest room with me, or perhaps at the courtyard, like we are now. Which brings to mind a story I’ve heard of lately…”

Laurent lifted his head up, a jovial light glinting off the rim of his glasses, as if he was sharing trivial, comedic news. “Duchess Agustria, word is that a masterful thief has been plundering the homes of the aristocracy as of late, disdaining what measures we’ve taken to safeguard our estates. I don’t suppose any of the lords and ladies of that social gathering you’ve been at recently have spoke of such incidents?”

@Estylwen@Izurich

"As you say, your Majesty. We shall meet you at the appointed time." Eirwen confirmed the Queen's command with a regal bow before turning his attention back to his new apprentice. "Lady Tearmoon, if you would pray follow me." He waited a moment before turning on his heel towards the Arcane Wing, a subtle sigh escaping him in relief that he'd been granted an early reprieve from the gala. There would be no dancing under the snow tonight.

The aforementioned Arcane Wing was the very pinnacle of elegance and magical progress, every room filled with shimmering trinkets, tomes of ancient scripts, or runic symbols drawn out in most precise detail. Though it was not particularly bright in terms of natural light, there was an otherworldly shimmer to it all that gave one the sense of being blinded if one was not accustomed to the long-term effects of magic exposure. It made no difference to Eirwen, of course, and he doubted Lady Tearmoon would be bothered by it either.

Pausing outside of his main study, he opened the door to show her the contents. It was much like the other rooms in the wing, with a darkwood desk in the corner that presumably Blackthorne used when he was not up and about during his research. Several crystalline objects were held in various states of craft; these, clearly, were seeds, in the midst of some experiment or another. Across from the advisor's desk was another, smaller and untouched, as if it had recently been moved in.

"This is where we will be conducting much of our work. As you can see, I have been focused on exploration of seed structure as of late," he remarked, pausing before a hand-drawn chart that detailed the inner workings of a seed. "The desk in the far corner is to be yours. Please use it as to your liking. There should already be supplies within the cabinets, but if anything is lacking I shall put in a request."

After giving his apprentice whatever time she needed to inspect their now-shared study, he would then lead her to the apprentice's quarters. This room he did not enter, instead simply showing her the door to a well-furnished living quarters. Even these rooms were quite luxurious; such was the benefit of living amongst the Queen's favored, after all. "These are your private rooms." From some hidden pocket in his robes he took a small key with a rose-gold shine. This was offered to Melisande. "I believe they should be already furnished, but again, inform me should anything be lacking." Despite his cold demeanor and tone, the court mage seemed quite invested in ensuring his apprentice lacked nothing.

---

---

Roderic smiled at the notion of tea. He'd get up and grab what seemed to be a neatly decorated wooden box, as he opened it the aroma of fresh tea leaves covered the tent. Roderic took out some tea leaves, a boiling pot of water, and a slightly large brewing pot. In went the leaves and the boiling water. Afterwards, Roderic would lightly blow on the leaves, this would drop some of the ingredients and allow for a more spread-out flavour. Roderic then grabbed a cup and poured the princess a cup. This entire process might have been a bit odd, a mercenary brewing tea like this?

Anyhow Roderic turned towards the princess.

“My mother worries for the future of Arrowfell. There are those that dream of plunging it back to the warring states it used to be. House Corrin is one of those people.” -Azalea

"You seem to misunderstand that as sellsword an era of warring states is great for business so purely coin isn't going to be enough. You mention any reasonable rewards does that include a fief?"

As the guards grab their daggers Roderic puts his hand on his blade, however, he does not draw as he sees them cut a purse. "Hmm an enticing offer, we shall consider it, however, as I mentioned we'd like to have a fief included in the deal." Roderic smiled, not giving a definitive answer as of yet. He know the situation and was not sure yet who he would like to be employed by. "If you wish you can stay the night here, we can make accommodations."

@Estylwen

Even as she continued conversing with the Wizard Queen and her Court Mage Advisor, Melisande did notice the presence of the one and only Duke Laurent Rhinecliff out of the corner of her eye; many male nobles turned their gaze at her when she entered the throne room, but only the Duke of Odonfield was given the courtesy in return.

Veritably, the Lilim failed to notice the Changeling masquerading Laurent's likeness, though they were both technically Feykin, it didn't mean Melisande had any particular skill to discern Nyx's nature, and Kronos could only detect other Dremoras. Thus, what went on in Melisande's mind was a slight tinge of concern, wondering if the Duke would take offense at her entertaining the Queen's requests. After all, they had a deal, but... she assumed Laurent knew her mother well enough to be aware of the Matriarch's opportunist streak. Well, in the end, court intrigue was anything but simple, this display didn't necessarily spell doom for future cooperations.

For the moment, the now-royal apprentice focused on more immediate matters. "Considering Lord Blackthorne's reputation, I can only be certain, Your Majesty. I shall see you later in the study." She then gave a final bow to the monarch before departing from the throne room, following her new mentor as instructed, "Please lead the way, Milord."

The apprentice dutifully followed her mentor deeper into the castle, her eyes taking curious glances at the magical marvels of the aptly-named Arcane Wing. She had to admit that this was where she belonged, far more than the throne room. To the surprise of no one, the wing's mystical shimmer didn't blind Melisande at all, otherwise she'd bring great shame to her coven's name, though they definitely piqued her curiosity.

She followed the dark-haired Half-Elf into what appeared to be an arcane workshop, just like the one she worked in back at the college, except grander, befitting royalty, and understandably less spacious considering the other one was designed to accommodate a whole classroom's worth of students. "Fascinating, Master." Since she's his apprentice now, might as well use the appropriate title, "Understood, thank you, and I shall do so should I need anything not yet available."

However, the tour wasn't yet done so as much as Melisande wished to begin preparing her personal workshop right away, they had one more place to go, her new quarters. The Lilim turned toward the door, then, after noticing Eirwen's cue via the key offering, decided to unlock and open the door herself to peek inside. Well, safe to say, she expected no less from royalty. "It's... far more than I could ever ask for, Master," The apprentice curled a small appreciative smile, "Rest assured, I will not fail you."

Meanwhile, in the theater of the mind...

You seem to have gone quite silent, Kronos, is something the matter?

Hmph. Your fraternizing with the abductor and her minion is revolting.

Are you perhaps... jealous?

How dare-... silence, Feyling!

@LunarParadox @Estylwen @Donut Look Now

Duchess of Caelin

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Hathforth\\
@Estylwen@Izurich

Duchess Agustria nodded in acknowledgement of the Wizard Queen’s words. “Indeed. But for now, I shan’t take up all your time.” She raised her glass of wine in toast, before stepping back to mingle and allow the Queen to speak with the other guests, happy that she seemed amenable to allowing her to attach some minders to the expedition.

Although Mirie continued to mingle among her fellow dukes and duchesses, her attention was momentarily taken when the Court Mage’s apprentice approached nearby. She gave an interested glance in her direction. This was certainly an interesting development in court—and there was something about the young woman that had a certain pull to her. No doubt this Melisande would be someone to keep an on later. Blackthorne did not take random apprentices, after all.

Her interaction with the Duke Willowsteel had about as much intrigue, but not in any pleasing way. He was an attractive man when he wasn’t too deep in his cups—but it was apparent that the man already had too much to drink. She grabbed the pole of her cane at the midway point, and then, with some force, but not violently, smacked it against his chest. “Get a hold of your senses, Willowsteel! There is more to these parties than whatever you intimate.” She swirled the cup of his gifted wine in her other hand. “Sitting down to arrange a very fruitful renewal of some deals, for example.”

She gave a nod at Nyx in her Rhinecliff disguise. That was more backbone than she had expected from the duke’s shapeshifter, but it was what she needed to say. Willowsteel still had value as a card on the table of the great game, no matter how sodden down the man was these days.

---

Rhinecliff Estate\\
@Estylwen@ERode

With some amusement, Mirie led the young boy down to the courtyard, who followed along as if he were going to the gallows rather than a pleasant garden tea service, which was what awaited. The hidden panic between the two twins, caught up in whatever scheme they were attempting, no doubt for the queen, was as plain as day.

She smiled lightly at Viscountess Skybound. “Indeed, Viscountess. Likewise,” she greeted pleasantly, as if there were nothing suspicious afoot at all. With the four of them now sitting at the table, she set the wine glass from the Queen’s gala down on the table, and plucked at a piece of fruit.

Delicious. Rinecliff’s eye for quality was as sharp as usual.

Meeting his eye, she smiled back. As delicate and unplanned as this was, this could still play in her favor, and how amusing it was at the same time! Given that this was his house, she would defer to him and allow him to take the lead, here.

“Impressive indeed,” she followed on the Duke’s words, giving an appreciative nod at the boy even after hearing his whole spiel from earlier.

“Oh?” she inclined her head at Laurent’s tale. “That is a frightening tale! The other lords and ladies shared many stories, and I did myself, but this is new to me,” she responded, making a small show of pondering. “What a curious tale…”

@Theyra

---

"Like what I said the first time I was offered to join the queen's royal guard. I, with a heavy heart, have to say no.”

Vulluin nodded understandingly. “It is, of course, within your right to decline. Though, I will regret having to inform the Queen of such saddening news.”

His eyes glinted as he shifted his gaze. The tension that settled into the room could be cut with a knife. “There wouldn’t be… another reason you would feel so inclined to refuse… is there?”

Before he leaned back in his seat, and some of the tension dispersed. “I have another request, then. Perhaps you could humour me, Sir Corrin. I have further business to discuss with the duke, and I’m willing to wait until he has a moment to see me. I understand it’s late, but it is, of course, urgent.”

He continued, “There’s an unsettling rumour of body snatchers within your walls. I need to speak with His Grace on what Her Majesty proposes as a solution…”

---

@Donut Look Now, @Click This

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”As correct as you are, Duke Willowsteel, might we share this view of the court at another time?”

Sev watched silently as Duke Rhinecliff approached them, carefully eyeing that glint, that glare hidden behind that wide, dastardly smile of his. His eyes slowly narrowed, before he turned abruptly. “Hold on.”

Sev proceeded to down one, two, four glasses of Gold-touch wine, wiping his mouth and staggering slightly as he turned back to Duke Rhinecliff. His face grew a hint of rose at the cheeks; he was rather inebriated.

“There. Now I’m drunk enough to deal with you. Yes you, Duke Rhinecliff.” He growled, standing there with the slightest sway, back and forth.

His hands extended to the crowd, speaking to the room as a whole now. “Tell him, he’s the most perfect of all of us here. Ain’t he? Huh? That perfect hair, that kept mustache, trim, dapper clothing.”

Before a hard grin spread across his face, showing off teeth. His tone dropped, inclining his head towards the duke.

“But we know better, don’t we?” His eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you tell them, Duke Rhinecliff?”

He took a step forward, gesturing to the crowd of nobles. “Why don’t you tell these good people what you’re hiding!”

That’s when he received a smack from none other than Duchess Agustria.

“Get a hold of your senses, Willowsteel! There is more to these parties than whatever you intimate. Sitting down to arrange a very fruitful renewal of some deals, for example.”

“Duchess Agustria.” He said coldly, using a hand to pointedly push away her cane. He put on a smile, shaking his head at her.

“A duchess with her own share of secrets, aye. You have the wealth of Arrowfell at your fingertips, and for what? Is everything a business exchange for you? Do you see us as pawns, not people? If that’s the case, you would fit side by side with Her Majesty!”

The spectral bird on Duke Rhinecliff’s hand squawked, wings flapping furiously as it took off, spooked by Duke Willowsteel’s words. In the next instant, Court Jester Jax was behind Sev, a hand on his shoulder, trying to console him. It was her job to keep the party light and merry, after all.

“Now, now, we should be enjoying ourselves, Duke Willowsteel, not-”

Sev shook off the court jester’s hand, spinning, turning his fury on her. “And you. Don’t get me started on you. You have all these fancy spells, all these tricks. But I’ve figured out the dark secret behind your powers.”

He pointed a finger at her, “Court Jester Britesong uses human sacrifices to fake her illusions!”

Jax’s jaw dropped at that. An accusation like that was enough to get someone blacklisted and exiled from society, given enough evidence. But even the mention was enough to tarnish a person’s reputation. Almost immediately, whispers erupted from the nobles, eyeing Jax with suspicion and disgust.

Jax was stunned, at a loss for words, before she gripped her flute and said as steadily as possible, “It’s not true!”

Vulluin was about to speak up, watching the group from the throne, before the Wizard Queen held up a hand. She held a finger up to her lips. “Let the man dig his own grave, Lord Urimyar…”

---

@twannyman

---

Princess Azalea grimaced as she watched him put a hand on his sword, and she glanced at her guards. They were looking a bit shy, eyes glancing about and, notably, the daggers were once again sheathed.

“My apologies for startling you,” She would say.

She watched as he prepared the tea, head tilting curiously like her mother’s would. With an excited smile, she accepted the cup from him, blew on it gently, and took a small sip.

“Fragrant. Quite nice on the tongue, I say. Thank you.” She said politely.

As he mentioned war was actually to his benefit, she pulled a face. “W-well, I’d really rather there wasn’t full-out war…”

"Hmm an enticing offer, we shall consider it, however, as I mentioned we'd like to have a fief included in the deal."

She considered his proposal for a moment, before she nodded seriously. “A fief can be included. I know of a place my mother has set aside for such an occasion. A nice plot of land at the edge of Hathforth, with tillable land and a large home already built upon its soil. It would suit you perfectly…” There was veiled excitement in her eyes as she spoke.

As he mentioned staying for the night, she nods. “The road home is long. If we wouldn’t trouble you, staying here for the night would be rather gracious of you.”

---

@ERode, @Click This

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As little Viscount Mene Skybound stood there across from Duke Rhinecliff, perhaps it was a trick of his eyes; perhaps it was his feelings manifest. But he increasingly felt smaller and smaller, while the duke seemed to loom over him like an imposing obsidian tower. Every word seemed to weigh down his soul like a chain. Another and another, until he was certain he had lost the ability, or even the will to run now, even if his life depended on it.

As the good Duke tossed a plum his way, his hands slipped once as he tried to catch it, following it from one finger to the next until he caught it again, sweating profusely. His gaze watched the duke carefully, waiting for permission to try it, before he took a small bite.

The overload of sweet ripeness filled his mouth, and he had to suppress a surprised moan. Being hidden in the back of the carriage for the past several hours meant he hadn’t had much to eat that day. Such was the sacrifice of trying to enter Odonfield invisibly.

But his momentary reprieve didn’t last.

“Which brings to mind a story I’ve heard of lately… Duchess Agustria, word is that a masterful thief has been plundering the homes of the aristocracy as of late, disdaining what measures we’ve taken to safeguard our estates. I don’t suppose any of the lords and ladies of that social gathering you’ve been at recently have spoke of such incidents?”

Both twins' jaws dropped at that, breath catching in the throat, eyes darting to Duchess Agustria instinctively.

“Oh? That is a frightening tale! The other lords and ladies shared many stories, and I did myself, but this is new to me. What a curious tale…”

Viscountess Asteria Skybound could have died right then and there, making her peace with the world and withered away to the All-force’s Pasture. Duke Rhinecliff was recounting her story in perfect detail, and a story it was. In grotesque terms, a fib. A big fat lie. And now he had a trustworthy source to confirm her story, her misdeed.

Well, it wasn’t entirely a lie. The twins looked at each other in realization. Duke Rhinecliff had figured it out. Had figured everything out. The proud plunderer was among them, wearing an obscuring cloak and a ring.

Immediately, both twins dropped to their knees where they stood, hands on the ground.

“Please forgive me, Your Grace,” Mene said in a trembling voice. “I meant you no harm. Please forgive my trespassing.”

Trespassing on a duke’s estate. His mind reeled with all the possible and appropriate punishments. Being hung upside down, thrown in a dark cell, and, at worst, beheaded.

Asteria raised her head slightly from where she knelt, glancing from her brother to the duke. “It’s not his fault. Please, if you’re going to punish someone, punish me. I convinced him to do it!”

Mene stiffened, his eyes watering. “My sister is innocent, please put all the blame on me, Your Grace!”

Both twins knelt there, shivering and shaking rippling over their forms. It would seem they had never been caught before. Terrified was a good word to describe them at that moment.

---

By rights, this was a confession with a duchess as audience. He had the right too to slay them with impunity, for though they were children, though they were nobles like himself, an affront to his estate, even at the behest of a Queen, was simply that grave an offense. If they begged for clemency, then they had proven already that they knew what lines they had crossed and could not claim ignorance.

And perhaps a swift death now would be preferrable to what was to come.

Laurent gazed off to the side, seeing the arrival of his servants once more, and gestured for them to continue as they were. Another chair was brought in, as were platters of food. The autumn harvest was underway, and the bounties of a summer’s labour were now presented before the lords and ladies in attendance. Platters of fruit, steaming bowls of soup, and fresh-baked bread served to accompany the venison that was brought from the kitchens as a centerpiece. One of his butlers had retrieved a bottle of wine from the cellar as well, distilled from the batch of blueberries from four years ago. The aroma was sweet, the taste was light, all serving as more of a palate cleanser than anything else.

He pulled a chair out for the Duchess, then sat down himself.

“The weather’s too fine and the company too fair for such dreary topics as crime and punishment,” Laurent spoke. “The late Lord Skybound was a dear friend to me back when we remained yet unfettered with noble duties, and it would be a disservice to our friendship to treat his kin as lawbreakers. Raise your heads, Asteria, Mene, and join the table.”

As all participants seated themselves, the Duke moved to pour tea for all involved.

“So, how has Hathforth been of late? I've not yet opportunity to make it out there myself, but I hope that the taxes have been put to good use?"

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Nyx tries her best to replicate Duke Rhinecliff’s carefree demeanor as Willowsteel demands the duke to tell the court what he’s hiding. Inwardly, Nyx rolls her eyes and sighs as she thinks to herself. This brutish oaf does not know how to hold his liquor. When he steps closer, Nyx puts her hands up and chuckles awkwardly.

“I can see you have enjoyed the libations plenty tonight, Duke Willowsteel. However, I have no idea what you could mean.” Nyx shows the crowd of nobles an easygoing smile. “Surely, this is the gold-touch wine speaking, my friend.“ The crowd starts to whisper, nodding their heads in agreement with Rhinecliff’s words.

It’s Altina’s reaction that makes Nyx want to flee this gala, the tall woman challenging the drunkard to a duel. The changeling slinks their way over to Duchess Agustria and stands by her side while eyes are on the growing tension between Willowsteel and Altina.

Oh, what fresh hell was this? Safina had been doing her best to keep largely out of the way at the gala, content to merely observe. And then, Duke Willowsteel. That backwater idiot deigned to open his mouth and have nothing but pure idiocy come out. Normally, she would have dismissed everything the man said, but...

Rhinecliff was "hiding something"? Convenient, especially considering his general suspiciousness tonight. She needed to know more. The crown needed to know more. Unfortunately, he was rapidly approaching borderline suicide. Safina couldn't do overly much in her current position and cover, but a few well-placed words could tip this one way or another.

Lady Haliel, if that even was her real name (it damn well wasn't), let a thin smile creep over her face as she stepped forward, though not within striking distance of the upcoming duel.

"Duchess Bastille, perhaps you ought to sweeten the pot a little. Say, allowing the crown to take custody of the Duke should you prove victorious? These are rather serious accusations he's making, and I'm quite certain that many people would care to have their names cleared of this slander."

How this drunken sot was still a duke was beyond her. Oh, that was right: his realm swore off the use of magic, of all things. Unbelievable.

@Irradiant