Despite what Cynwaer had said earlier that day, he hadn’t come to the tavern with the intention of causing or even seeking trouble. He wasn’t an unreasonable man, after all; trouble could wait until his second day in the city, at the very least. Unfortunately for him, trouble had other plans. What had been supposed to be a quiet evening of getting himself acquainted with the city’s happenings turned into him breaking up a fight and disciplining his unruly crew. Suffice to say, that wasn’t at all Cynwaer’s idea of a good time. To say that he had been displeased would have been quite the understatement.

Fortunately, however, trouble had it in its heart to show him some mercy. Through his misfortune, he found out more about the foreign ship – and her Captain – that had piqued his interest earlier when he first saw it through his spyglass. True, all he got were their names, but it was a start. Besides, this Sjan-dehk seemed to be – arms and armour – a decent enough person. Surely, Cynwaer could wrangle more information out of him through a simple chat.

Unfortunately, again, the two Captains were rudely interrupted by two young women before they could talk about anything substantial. Cynwaer didn’t drink when they did. Judging by the look of abject confusion on Sjan-dehk’s face, the foreigner was also at a complete loss as to what to do.

Well, Cynwaer did have something he needed to do. It had nothing to do with the girls, but nevertheless, it was something that had to be done. “Oi, lad in ta’ brown ‘at!” He twisted around in his seat and shouted at the man who had been accosting the girl in the green dress. As expected, the man in question turned and looked at everyone and everything, as if Cynwaer hadn’t noticed him trying to approach the girl even after she had left him. “Stop tryin’ ta’ pretend yer nae did a thing, lad. Yer only makin’ yersel’ look e’en more like a proper feckin’ idiot.”

The man finally got the hint. Turning towards Cynwaer, he pointed at himself. “M-Me, Captain?”

“Who ta’ feck else?” Cynwaer snapped. “Yer nae a bright one, are yer? Yer just saw three o’ yer mates get feckin’ tanner like ‘ides on a rack fer gettin’ tae ‘andsy, and yer decide yer want ta’ try yer luck. Yer saw ta’ big’un ‘at fecked yer mates?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Sjan-dehk. “This madman lookin’ like ‘e’s gae’n ta feckin’ assault ta’ castle by himsel’ is ‘is cap’n. What dae yer think ‘e’ll dae tae yer?”

An amused grin came over Sjan-dehk’s face. He sipped from his mug. “Your crew. Your problem.”

Cynwaer clicked his tongue. “Well, yer nae wrong,” he groused, then addressed the man again. “Look, lad, I’ll make it easy fae yer. I’m in nae mood ta’ deal wi’ any mer o’ this feckin’ nonsense. If yer cannae control yer ane ‘ands, get yersel’ back aboard Recompense befer’ yer dae anythin’ ta’ get yersel’ tanned till yer a pair o’ boots and gloves.”

The man gulped and nodded so quickly it was as if he would snap his own neck. “Y-Yes, Captain!” He said a little too loudly. “Sorry, Captain. I-I wasn’t myself. I’ll leave right away.”

He made a quick exit.

Cynwaer turned to the girl in green. “Dae’n look tae feckin’ thankful, lass,” he snapped. “I did’nae dae it ta’ save yer arse. ‘Twas just a good chance ta’ remind ta’ lads ta’ stay in feckin’ line an’ no gae and get feckin’ arrested fae somethin’ stupid.” He looked her up and down, not even bothering to hide his gaze. She was young, pretty, and utterly out of place. Not just here, in this specific tavern, but in this entire quarter of the city. She was far too clean, for one, something easily noticeable when just about everyone else was heavy with the scent and grime of labour. And her dress, although of a common enough cut, was clearly made of fabric that a regular person wouldn’t waste on clothes meant for daily use.

But if Green looked as if she came from a different part of the city, her friend – Pink, to Cynwaer – seemed to be of another world entirely. He couldn’t help but smirk as he turned his gaze to her. “Look, I dae’n know what ta’ two o’ yer are tryin’ ta dae, but word o’ advice, long gowns an’ ta’ slums dae’n mix. Yer look like a feckin’ clown, aye.” He shook his head and returned to his drink. These two were more likely than not just nobles looking to have some fun by spending an evening pretending to be a commoner. It was either that, or they were just stupid. Either way, Cynwaer wanted nothing to do with them, and so he ignored Green’s question entirely.

The sound of an empty mug hitting the countertop reminded everyone that there was still another person present. Cynwaer turned his head and saw Sjan-dehk wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “This drink, it taste like seawater that is boiled,” the foreign Captain remarked plainly. Cynwaer wasn’t sure if it was meant as a compliment or a very mild complaint. “It is supposed to be that way?”

“Aye,” Cynwaer replied slowly. “Yer nae supposed ta’ drink it like feckin’ water. Gods above an’ below, are yer aw’righ’?”

Sjan-dehk nodded and shrugged. “Rice wine is stronger. This, more gentle.”

“Aw’righ’ nae need ta’ boast.”

Pushing the mug away, Sjan-dehk turned to face the two women. A brief look of recognition flashed across his face, but it was quickly replaced by the nonchalance of unfamiliarity. “Cynric is right,” he said to the one in pink. “Your clothes, it is not…Good? Not practical, yes, not practical for here.” He paused for a moment, then nodded to both women in turn. “I am Captain Wasun Sjan-dehk. Of Sada Kurau.”

Cynwaer groaned. “Yer lucky our pal ‘ere’s polite,” he grumbled. True, he could simply just walk away and find a quiet corner of his own, but then he would be giving up a perfect chance to find out more about this foreign Captain, his ship, and more importantly, where he fit in the grand scheme of things as far as Sorian and Caesonia was concerned. And so, with great reluctance, he introduced himself. “An’ I’m Cap’n Cynric Fletcher. Recompense’s my ship. Now dae us a favour and feck off.”

Location: Rough Tavern
Time: Morning/Afternoon - Night
Mentions: @funnyguy Alexander @Princess Anastasia @Tae Thea @Apex Sunburn Sjan-dehk

The morning sun broke through the cracks of the slums, piercing the shadows and illuminating the sad remnants of the night before. Slumped over in a dank alley, Violet's pale frame leaned against a weathered box, her tattered cloak draped over her like a shroud. Her body lay there unmoving, in a deep state of drunkenness she fell asleep. The stench of whiskey and blood tainted the air around her, a pungent testament to her activities that night.

As the sun continued its slow ascent, its rays crept across Violet's face, revealing her shocking state. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks flushed with the lingering heat of alcohol coursing through her veins. Blood stained her lips, a macabre crimson trail trickling down her chin and onto her chest, painting a ghastly portrait for any who dared to look. Yet in the slums, compassion was a scarce commodity, and curiosity even rarer. Here, the streets were ruled by indifference and self-preservation.

The alleys, narrow and unforgiving, seemed to strive with life as the last bar patrons stumbled out of dimly lit taverns, seeking their next fix or perhaps joining Violet in the grim embrace of the darkness surrounding them. The sun's unrelenting march continued, casting the slums in harsh daylight, and the once-desolate streets began to stir.

Men and women, hardened by their own struggles, passed by the unconscious woman, scarcely sparing her a glance. Curled into a fetal position, Violet had shrunk into herself, blending almost seamlessly with the refuse and other fallen souls littering the alley. In this forsaken part of the city, she was just another piece of the broken landscape, a silent, suffering specter among many.

The streets outside the restaurant were busy. Carts and people of all manors came and went through the wet cobblestone streets. The large man surveyed the scene adjusting his wide-brim hat and trench coat. Taking in the moment to survey his surroundings and the conversations of those going about their day. A trio of passing guards piqued his interest, normally he wouldn't bother with the gossip but the thinnest guard spoke two words that gained his attention. Violet Damien.

Seamlessly Roman turned to follow them to hear more. The noise from the surroundings muffled their speech but he did manage to hear a few key words. Violet Damien, Missing, two days, information, and reward. There wasn't much to put together for that last part but the fact that she was missing after he was told she would be heading home soon. His heart raced for a moment before he calmed himself, how strong could the count be if he let one of his precious daughters just go missing? This was not to mention that he still wanted to see Violet again and the thought that she could have been kidnapped infuriated him.

Still, the guards didn't seem too bothered by the news and either were not significantly worried or motivated to find her, giving Roman some form of relief no matter how slight. If it was a kidnapping, demands would have been sent and they would be more attentive to their surroundings. So now he had to figure out how to find her. None of the reports that he was given had any mention of her or her current condition and the last he saw her was two days ago.

He checked his pocket watch, there wasn't anything too pressing for him to do for the rest of the day and she is important. Roman only needed to go over the idea in his head once to be sure of what he was going to do for the remainder of the day. Finding out where to start was the next step. He didn't have the manpower currently at hand to organize a search, well that wasn't true but it had too many risks with it to commit to that so early, so he decided on chance.

A flip of a coin every other street or so. Heads he would go left, tails he would go right, if he didn't catch it or going left or right would result in him going in a circle instead he would go straight. And so, he wandered through the wet stone paths keeping his eyes and ears open to the world around him.

Walking through the streets was actually quite comfortable and a bit nerve-wracking. He could swear he saw some of the commoners staring at him from the corner of his eye while he trekked further and further through the city. His unusual navigation drawing quick glances from some while his size deterred the more unsavory types. The giant of a man was unsure as to why some of them were staring as he walked deeper into the slums, his clothes might have been nice for a merchant but bore no house sigil or mark.

Pushing down his unease he stopped at a beggar and crouched down, he asked if the man had seen anyone in the area that didn't belong placing the large coin he had been flipping in a small cup the man had. Through the man's slurred speech he couldn't understand much of the maddening mumbles the man spoke but one constant he could pick out in the man's speech was that of Alleyways and dark areas. These were dangerous places, places where the unseen underbelly of cities like these called home and freely hunted their prey. Prey like that of a well off nobleman or woman that did not know their place.

It was a risk especially with his injury but one he would take to try and find the ever-mysterious Violet Damien. He would indeed have to ask her what would drive her to seek shelter in a place like this if he did find her here. Roman stayed on alert and began to venture into the cramped and dirty parts of the slums in search of someone he may never find. Still, he believed in chance and he believed that with what he had done the night before that some amount of luck would be on his side.

Time seemed to move slowly while he walked through the labyrinth of the slums cautious and dead eyes met him all the same from the denizens of this place. He knew all too well why the nobility did not like coming here, it wasn't just because of the inherent danger of close quarters fighting but it was damn depressing too. Through the darkness of this place there was still hope for it no matter how small.

His luck finally won out as he nearly missed it or her. The body he nearly tripped over looked almost like the piles of rubbish that littered the area or the other drunkard's that called the alley’s home. The thing that caught his eye was the fabric of her clothes, it was too fine for a place like this even if it was in tatters. He knelt down next to her, a face he almost didn't recognize but the scars on her neck gave her away. Carefully Roman cradled her head in his hand, whipping away whatever red liquid stained her face with his sleeve.

“By the gods, what happened to you Violet?” he spoke softly and with kindness while rage brewed in the back of his mind and behind his eyes.

Upon closer inspection of her face, he would notice welts around her eyes and what appeared to be a hand print on her cheek. As he leaned in to get a better look, his nose would be assaulted by a strong familiar smell of whiskey.

As her chest rose and fell, her body stayed limp and cold. She was knocked out cold.Although it was not obvious if the stench of the whiskey was the cause or the irritation along her face.

He tried to rouse her for a few moments longer but it was clear she was out cold. He couldn't just leave her there, he wanted to know what was happening to her and he would never find that out if he delivered her to the guards or her father first. The path back to the warehouse crossed right by Damien's estate; he couldn't risk another possible diplomatic issue and be sent away. Choices and consequences. If he couldn't take her back to the castle or back to their warehouse then an Inn? The tough tavern is nearby… his head turned in the direction of the tavern with a sigh.

Roman took a moment to move the smaller girl into his arms with most of her weight on his left arm. Hefting her up in a bridal carry, steadying himself on a stack of crates. He still had to try and hide her face the last thing he wanted was questions and spies as he was well aware the likelihood he was being watched was high. Still resting against the stack of crates, carefully he took his hat off and placed it on her head. This exposed him but covered her and would act to shield her face from the sun.

“Ok to the tavern.” he whispered to no one in particular.

It did not take him long to get to the tough tavern, most of the people here knew better than to ask questions or make eye contact, another pervasive truth to the downtrodden of the area. With most losing hope for something better and just going day by day wasting their lives away for cheap drinks and short lived highs. Depressing.

Roman entered the tavern walking up to the bar like he owned the place. A few patrons still lingered around with a barmaid at the bar. If he remembered correctly her name was maggie. The look she gave him was incredulous at first but it seemed she at least recognized him, “Hey maggie can i borrow one of the rooms for a bit while my friend sobers up?”

“The names Marcy not Maggie woldnt ya rater go to da inn with yer lady of da mornin?”

“I apologize, Marcy.” Roman places a sizable amount of coin on the bar which would likely pay for a week’s stay at the inn. “A few hours if you don't mind, don't tell anyone you saw me, and bring up some water and something to eat.” glancing around at the few other patrons in the bar that were also glancing at him, “you can use some of it to pay off what these other patrons owe you too.” he noticed a few raised glasses from a couple of the patrons at this statement.

“Ya ya, just done make a mess with yer Lady Friend.” she gave him a wink while counting out the money.

He knew his way around this place, it was a regular drinking spot for him and callum. A shame the first time he came here this year was for something like this. At least he knew where the spare bed was, Olga never really gave him a straight answer as to why she had the room. He knew enough not to pry.

Fiddling with the door for a moment to get it open while balancing Violet in his arms. He was just about to kick the door in when he finally got it open. The room was rather spartan and simple, a small table, a couple of chairs, candles, and a bed. Ever so gently he laid Violet down on the bed then secured the door. Hanging up his hat and jacket with a sigh and finally sat down to try and rub the pain out of his shoulder.
Violet's frail figure lay motionless on the bed, shrouded by layers of heavy fur blankets that seemed to smother her presence. Time seemed to stand still in the dimly lit room, her shallow breaths barely audible against the eerie silence.
As the sun began its descent, its rays penetrated the grime-covered window, casting shadows that danced across Violet's pale face. A sudden twitch, a faint murmur escaped her lips, as if she were caught in the grasp of a haunting nightmare.
With a jolt, Violet's eyes snapped open, revealing their chilling shade of crimson. Panic seized her as she frantically scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, her memory shrouded in a thick fog of uncertainty.
The taste of copper lingered on her tongue, a grim reminder of the horrors that had unfolded in the darkness of the night. Things she was still unaware of. With trembling hands, she clawed at the suffocating blankets attempting to rip them off her body, her heart pounding with fear. Had she killed someone else?

It had taken some time for Violet to finally stir from her drunken stupor. Roman had enough time during this to reorganize the room so the table and chairs were between the door and the bed, receive the food and water, and even send a quick letter with his family crest to the damien estate. it didn't say much just that he had found Violet and will be returning her to the estate soon. Making sure to give the barmaid specific instructions to hand deliver the note to the Ravenwood merchant down the street, he knew the letter would be delivered there by this time.
Roman had a foot propped up on the other chair, the subtle red blazen cherry of a lit cigar glowed gently with a slow inhale drawing the smoke into his mouth then out again. Smoking wasn't a common sight for him yet the music and faint sounds from the tavern below continued to lure him into fond memories of the place, memories of a simpler time.
His attention was stolen from these memories as the sound of cloth being torn away filled the room. Out of a reflex long forgotten he snuffed out the cigar with one hand and clenched his fist with the other. Relaxing only when he saw that it was violet fighting with the blankets.
“Easy violet, you are safe and we are alone.” he stayed in his seat, not daring to draw closer. He had been attacked a few times from waking the wrong person from a drunken dream.Violets red eyes shot towards him her mind spinning still. Roman… “I have some food and water here, take your time and tell me what has happened that led to me finding you unconscious in an alley?” not only was he curious, he was worried. What could have happened to her to make his raven fall so far. A wave of calmness crashed over her but it was short lived until he mentioned finding her in an Alley.

Does he know?

Did I kill him…the..blood

Sucking in her breath she relaxed slightly realizing where she was and who she was with. Her eyes dropped down towards the food as the taste of blood still lingered. Offering him a forced smile “ Roman “ her forced smile turning genuine as his name left her lips. “ I just went out drinking with a friend. Got a bit carried away I guess” she lied. “ I am perfectly fine, no need to be worried” she added softly as the expression on his face gave much away.
His eyes never left hers. He wasn't asserting dominance or held any contempt for her, his eyes only held curiosity that slowly turned into determination. Roman was making his own decisions in his head. Her simple explanation would have been enough for him had it been the night prior, but today was different. This time he wasn't wearing his mask and he knew that if he wanted her then she needed to see him and know him. The real Roman Ravenwood.

Maintaining his eye contact he slowly pulled his right sleeve down. The rings on his fingers glinted in the candle light while he tugged at his cotton shirt until it passed his elbow. Muscles flexed under tanned and scarred skin with the movements of his hand, resting his elbow on the table between them so she could see.

“Trust is not earned. It’s given.” his eyes shifted for a moment to his arm, focusing on something hidden beneath the scars. He felt that she was hiding something, it wasn't the whole story so instead he would give her his. Tell her how he felt.
Her eyes moved to his arm, then back to meet his. His response catching her off guard as she shifted uncomfortably on the bed. The intensity from his eyes was not something she had seen from her friend before. Something felt wrong.

He knows…he knows what you did…

His voice was calm and collected yet, it somehow didn't have the warmth it normally did. “My feelings for you and about you have not changed since the night I found you on that balcony. I want us to be close…” pausing for a moment his eyes focused on his hand and his family signet ring then back to her.

“But I've been lying to you, to everyone. The Roman that you have met doesn't exist. It's a mask that I present to my enemies and friends alike, to give them a false sense of my abilities and intelligence.” a slight discoloration, a reddening of his skin began to form in a strange pattern. Similar to what one would get from an allergic reaction.

Violets eyes dropped back down to his arm noticing the change in his skin. Strange that it only effected his one arm but didn’t seem to effect any other parts of him.

“Not for any dastardly plan or evil scheme. I do this to perform my duty and what is expected of me. To complete it no matter the cost.” Clenching his jaw to ward off the pain coming from his arm he remained stoic even if it felt like his heart was in his chest. Not letting his discomfort show as much as he could. The pattern of red on his arm slowly became more noticeable. Roman locked eyes with her again, he would say no more until he received some of that trust in return.

She could see the veins in his neck pulse rapidly. Pain. He was in pain. She knew now what that looked like and that scared her. She was starting to notice the patterns.

Slowly, Violet pushed herself out of the bed. Wobbling slightly as she caught her balance on that table she reached out to touch his arm. Her shockingly cold hand pressed against his skin, feeling the heat that burned from his flesh. “You’re hurting..” she looked at his hand then to him.

Sitting down slowly in the chair across from him she removed her hand. It was hard to hold back that feeling she felt last night with Count Fritz. The humming of his heart, even in pain, sung to her like a sirens call. Why hadn’t Alexander warned her of this. She felt like an addict needing its next fix and as the hours went by it got worse.

The copper taste that lingered in her mouth was a reminder what she was missing, she had no interest in the food he had brought. Her eyes fell back to the pulsing vein his neck. Taking in a deep breath she returned her gaze back to Roman. “We all have secrets Roman.” she said softly.

He began to sit up when she made her way over to him on shaky legs but stopped when she reached the table. Her hands were cold, colder than they should be. The pain in his arm throbbed and he knew that he was pushing his luck with it. Her words were soothing to him. It meant at least so far that she wasn't going to run, yet.

“My secrets can get you killed.” he looked away from her for the first time since they started talking. “I can't tell you the specifics, it would probably kill me. I can't tell you when or how or why.” there was a pause, a brief moment of silence before he locked eyes with her once again. “I've done horrible things to those that deserved it and those that did not.” he grimaced and clenched his fist till his knuckles were white.

The pattern on his arm darkened and the faint outlines of what looked to be a snake wrapped around his arm shown through his scars. A strange tattoo or something more? The head of the snake bore two large fangs the outlines of which looked to be cut off as if they were buried in his hand.

She reached across the table, Violet's hand resting on his clenched fist. She gripped his hand with a strong force that someone of her size and stature would not have. attempting to release the pressure of his grip she rubbed the top of his hand soothingly, the cold feeling of her touch offering its cooling effects against his heated skin.

“Shh.” She whispered softly, seeing the pain his own words caused him. “You can't kill something that is already gone…” she replied softly, alluding to her own death. Her eyes fell to the pattern on his arm as his heart continued to race in pain. Was this his secret? Was he putting himself through this pain to show her ? But why?

When she realized that her efforts for calming him weren't working she decided to be more forward.

The idea of a woman alone with a man with their stations in life would likely cause a stir, but this wasn't the balcony so many nights ago. So much had changed, so many things lost.

She wasn't afraid. Not of him, not of rumors … only thing that scared her was herself. Unsure of what she was capable of , of what she might do next. But in this moment she set those fears aside.

Standing to her feet ,Violet quietly and slowly walked around the table. She found herself standing in front of him, between his large thighs that spread in his chair. Positioning herself between his legs, her body nearly pressing into him as her cold and pale hands found their way to his face cupping his jaw gently but with enough force to turn his head to look at her.

Her words caught him off guard. Broke him of his stoic demeanor. It was a strange response that took him time to process what it meant. “Something that is already gone.” he played the words over in his head it wasn't until she grabbed his chin that he realized she had moved at all.

Her finger tips lingered on his skin for a moment as her red eyes scanned his face. Her body tensed as she attempted to ignore the pounding sound of his heart as it continued to race in pain.

She then did something she wished had been given to her.

Her small frame wrapped its arms around his shoulders, his head would be against her chest as she embraced him. Her cold body pressing against his as she held him “ shh…” she rested her head on the top of his as the need once again attempted to consume her she stiffened in response.

She would not hurt her friend. She refused to allow it.

“Whatever it is, you are safe here…” she said softly to him. She had wished someone had done the same for her. “ You’re not a monster.” She said as if attempting to remind herself of the same thing.

Again her actions and words caught him off guard and again he wasn't sure how he was supposed to process this. He stopped everything he was doing and thinking about. In that moment he felt at peace. The pain was gone, the tavern, this city, it was just them. His arms wrapped around her pulling her closer to him. Letting go of a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding back.

Roman looked up at her and stood slowly letting his hands trace up her back causing the hairs on Violet's arms to raise in response. His right hand moved up to caress her cheek and tuck back her hair, her head leaning into his hand. “Thank you Violet.” his voice trailed off again, his eyes slowly looking back to his left arm,

He had to be quick, “it's a… Blo-od Bond.” he spoke through gritted teeth as the lines of the tattoo flared again. “Stops. Me from saying- things… from, Gah! Doing things.” he hadn't pushed it this much in a long time and it was starting to take its toll. Violets eyes opened in worry as she ran her hand down his left arm as he continued to bite back his pain.

“I… no. We are a monster.” his hand left her face to touch his chest and his necklace. “Two souls, on-one vessel.” his pain was starting to make him angry but he pushed through it with determination. “The blood we have spilled… it mmh. It flows behind us like a tidal wave.”

With that last sentence out his muscles relaxed and his arm went limp. He was sweating, with ragged breaths he grimaced at his arm. The fangs of the snake drew two trails of blood that clung to his hand. A last warning. Violet held his hand up to look at the markings, unknown to her that blood had began to drip from the markings of the snake.

As she held his hand between them, his blood dripping down her arm as she felt the warm crimson gold taunt her.The sweet scent surrounding her causing the things around her to go dark, her vision tunneling.

Moving his hand exposed his wrist. Watching as the blood continued to flow and the pulsing of his veins calling to her. Its all she saw. It was all she wanted. she was to weak to resist.

In a furry of need she moved his wrist to her lips as if to plant a gentle kiss on his skin but instead he was met with a searing fire of pain as her mouth wrapped around his skin and her teeth punctured into his flesh.

Hot liquid poured from him into her mouth, but the taste was not something she had before. This was different. It was sweet and fiery like tasting your favorite food for the first time. Her fingers gripped around his wrist as she turned primal with her need for more. His blood swelling in her mouth as it dripped down her chin similar to how he had found her. Violets red eyes opened, her pupils dilated as they fixated on something behind him. You could see the humanity escape her gaze as they rolled to the back of her head, unable to stop herself.

For a moment he thought she was just inspecting his arm and she very well might have been. He thought she was just going to kiss his arm but the grip she had wasn't right, it was tight. He was going to say something to ask her what was wrong, maybe she didn't like what he said? In the next moment he suddenly knew that wasn't the case.

Sharp teeth sunk into his flesh making him snarl in surprise and pain, “Ahh what the fuck!” he growled as a sudden urge from the back of his mind lurched forward anticipating a fight. This wasn't her, she was cursed or possessed maybe. This was a bad situation having to fight off two beasts at the same time. If he lost to the beast in his head no one in this tavern would survive the night.

Acting on instinct as the pain in his arm grew. Roman pulled his arm in toward himself trying to pin her against him and wrap his right arm around her throat. With her grip and surprising strength, he tried to take a step back to brace himself only to trip over the chair behind him making him fall and tumble over the chair onto his back with Violet tumbling down ontop of him the sudden crash causing her to unlatch from his arm.

Blood strained her lips and chin mimicking the same look he had found her in. Romans arm was still wrapped around her neck as she laid ontop of him, her body swallowed by his frame as her red eyes stared up at the ceiling. The primal hunger still rampant as the smell of blood lingered in the air. She struggled to pull herself from his grip on her but he was still much stronger and larger then she was.

As the darkness faded, crawling its way back inside her reality set in as her pale complexion turned ghostly. A gasp escaped her lips as her eyes widened with horror. It happened again…this time to Roman. Flashes of the night before triggered her memory. The screams of men as they clawed at her face, punching and kicking as she devoured them like a carafe of wine.

Drilled fighting experience kicked in taking advantage of her momentary lapse in composure. Roman rolled with her pinning her between himself and the floor. Quickly he pulled his right arm out from under her and grabbed a handful of her hair tight at the back of her head. His left hand gripping onto her arm and pinning it into her back. Quickly he rose onto his knees pinning her legs down with one leg and her free arm with the other.

“What are you doing?!” he growled at her as pain continued to pulse from his left arm.

The look on his face and the anger in his voice sent shards into her chest. Her secret was no longer a secret and his reaction although justified cemented the Monster she was. She had hurt the one person she swore she wouldn’t.

She was the Monster.

Her red eyes looked into his, soaking in the anger. She needed to run.

Leave.

Her body was pinned to the ground but she still attempted to wiggle her way out. Which she managed to do, releasing her one arm and legs as she squirmed out of his grasp, flipping onto her belly as she attempted to claw her way from under him.

His grip lightened for a moment as he quickly ripped some of the bandaging off his shoulder to wrap around his bleeding wrist. While he was quick he wasn't quick enough for her to get out from under him for a moment. A short-lived moment his teeth pulling the bandage on his wrist taught. He shifted and kicked his foot out sending the table and its contents clattering across the floor.

Holding one of her wrists he snatched the other she was attempting to crawl away from him with. She had strength he didn't expect but it still wasn't enough. He eventually was able to restrain both her arms behind her back and grip them hard with his right hand. His legs pinning hers as he straddled over her just behind her butt. Struggle all she might for now she was his.

With a loud crack his left fist protected by the makeshift brass knuckles of his rings cracked the wooden floor next to her head. “Enough!” his anger and adrenaline pumped through him. Violets eyes shot over to his fist as her head pressed agianst the wooden floor “Tell me what happened to you! Tell me who I have to kill for what they did to you!” Even in his rage all he wanted was to protect her and now he knew he failed. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to squirm again but he had her in his grip. She wasn’t able to go anywhere.

She started to realize that the look her given her, that look of disgust wasn’t directed at her. It was directed at her parents.

Her voice matched his tone, as her pain filled her words. “Let me go Roman!” she shouted at him, her head turned as her cheek rested against the floor. “I’m already dead…just let me go.” Her voice dropped to a soft broken whisper. “It’s too late…for me.” Tears began to well in her eyes as her body relaxed under him. “It’s too late..”

He felt it more than he saw it, how she gave up and came back to her senses. She almost seemed to melt into the floor underneath him. He felt heavy and guilty for getting angry like this at her, at the world. His grip on her arms loosened and he sat back. He could hear her pain, almost feel it. Unlike his outburst, Roman gently picked her up from under her arms, setting her up on her knees with her back against him. She didn’t fight him, her body limp in his arms as she allowed him to control what he did next.

She didn't need to be restrained and hunted, she needed to be held. So he wrapped his arms around her chest pulling her into him. Violets eyes dropped down to his arms as her eyes settled on his bandaged wrists as he pulled her closer into him. She was frozen. “Forgive me, my anger can get the best of me.” he didn't growl or snarl he just whispered into her ear.Violet's eyes looked forward as she listened to his words. “You died, I knew when I saw you in the park. That's what made me so angry.” he paused but didnt let her go, “you’re not a monster you’re just lost, trying to find yourself.” Violets body sunk into his arms as she wrapped her arms over his. She felt undeserving considering what she had just done to him.

Feeling safe in the moment she let down a wall she had been keeping for too long.

“I left the ball after we talked on the balcony. I just remember a sharp pain then darkness.” she paused as she pulled his arms around her tighter. “It happened so fast the next thing I knew I felt sunshine, warmth…calmness. Serenity. I was at peace.” Her mind wandered back to that feeling but it was only a memory now, like a faded dream. “Suddenly I was ripped from peace and brought back.” She took a long breath before continuing ”My body had died, it failed. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t walk…For the first while I couldn’t find a single word.” she sucked in her breath “My parents… My mother, she brought me to some wack doctor. Begged me to turn me into this…monster.” her words were filled with Venom and disgust. “ They pulled me from peace to this…They brought me back. They hid my death from the rest of the world.” she ended in a whisper.

“I didn’t know what happened, I didn’t remember anything but little by little I got some memories back, I got my mobility back….and my vision.” she shifted slightly in his arms “ but it came at a price. I tried to starve myself, ignore the cravings. I didn’t understand what they meant. “ she stopped for a moment debating on mentioning Alexanders role in everything. “ I ripped my dress the night of the masquerade, decided to go out to run an errand and locate a new one. On my way to the stables.” she stopped herself deciding to spare him even part of the details. “ I found my first real meal and everything changed. My vision came back, I was walking stronger but I did something awful to become a fragment of my old self. “

“There … there is nothing left of me Roman. Nothing to find. All you will find is a corpse with an addiction to blood.” Her eyes dropped back down to his bandaged wrist.

“I can’t go home.”

“ I went to the masquerade after getting a new dress. I couldn’t make it inside. I could pretend that everything was okay. I ran into Count Fritz. In the gardens. He took me out drinking, noticing how much I didn’t want to attend. He helped take my mind off of things. We were being followed at one point of the night, he had dropped me back off at the Manor but I still couldn’t find myself able to go back inside. I managed to push myself and change but I went back out drinking. The men they - “ she paused catching herself as she felt herself choke up. “ They followed me back from a Tavern. One of them split off and attempted to lure me into an alley and…” Images of his wide terrified eyes staring back at her haunted her. The look that he knew his life was done, as his blood decorated her lips. He looked at her like the monster she was and she fed into it. “ Well… “ her head dropped. “ He wont be following any more women into Alleys.” she said softly.

He didn't say anything, just took it all in. it was worse than he thought. He wouldn't be able to go off any of this but it cemented his distaste for her family. To pull a soul from the afterlife because you can't grieve or suffer the loss, he can see her distaste for them. Her hate. She continued and it just got worse.

Still he stayed silent and readjusted himself, lifting her out from under him and cradling her in his arms. Slowly slumping back against the wall. He was getting all the information right in his mind while he stroked her hair. “You're not a monster… you were pulled from eternal peace by someone who should have loved you enough to let you go. Betrayed by your family. And now you have taken a few lives.”

Violets eyes fell, unable to keep eye contact. There was so much power in his words as he validated her emotions. She felt crazy with these emotions, the betrayal as he so perfectly stated. She felt seen.

Again he was quiet trying to find what to say. “Taking a life feels fucking awful it doesnt matter how many you take. What you were, who you were is gone.”She turned to look away from him but with a gentle hand he held her face her eyes still unable to look at him. “Now you're a new creature, a new person with her own quarks.” a strange way to put her cravings, “you need to find yourself, find who you are and who you want to be. What we are doesn't make us who we are.”

He moved his head closer to hers as he cradled her head in his hand her red eyes meeting his . Pressing his forehead against hers his voice almost a whisper. “You don't scare me, you're still just as beautiful as the moon, my Raven.” his eyes never left hers as he remembered the first time they met on that balcony and again in the park. “I will defend and honor thee, i promise i'll get you out of this kingdom even if it starts a war. All of it for you.” he was serious about her about his words. It's going to be hard and it won't be fun but he will do that for her.

Shutting her eyes she lived in the moment with him. A moment that her older self would have relished in. He was right, she was a new person. She also knew that she couldn’t give him what he deserved, what he wanted.

She could lie, tell him that this was all a mistake. Tell him she lured him here. That she did not care for him.

..or you could kill him. You already started…finish it. Her mind cackled in the enjoyment of the thought. The twisted monster that grew louder with each person she harmed.

The darkness loomed over her decisions as of late. A spiral of madness lingered in the back of her mind waiting for the perfect chance.

No. It was Roman. Sweet, strong and kind. She pulled back slightly from him “ you can't …” she said with defeat in her voice. “ You said it yourself, I am not the same. “ She took a deep breath, her hand reaching around his newly Injured wrist.

“This is my present and my future. You're protecting something that's not even alive anymore. The raven you so desire flew away the night I was killed. I am simply a reminder of what could have been but cannot be.” Her eyes glimmered like rubies as she caught back tears. “ I cannot subject you to a life of torture and misery trying to fix something that cannot be fixed. I can handle hurting thieves and rats. I cannot handle hurting you as I've already done.”

He held her there in that room as she poured her heart out to him. The darkness within, reminded him of himself after he had his magical misfortune. For a moment all he could do was look at her, not with anger or judgment but worry and understanding. His thumb traced along her cheek to her lip pushing it up just enough for him to see the fangs that dug into his skin just a few moments earlier. Violets breath hitched in her throat as he examined the secret she held so privately. She felt exposed as his large rough finger gently stroked her soft lip. She slowly moved her hand to cover her mouth but With a quick breath, he planted his lips upon hers taking in the moment with a passionate kiss. Just as suddenly as it started he pulled back to look at her as Violet's pale complexion grew pink, her cheeks flushed as she blinked in surprise her heart raced in response as she looked at him frozen with wide eyes.

“We are different and we are the same. I fight every day to keep my demon at bay. I want to be that light for you that I never had, that reason to maintain control. You don't deserve to walk my path, to do what I have done.” his hand continued to slowly rub the back of her head with his left hand resting comfortably on her hip. Violet continued to look at him as if she had seen a ghost. Unmoving as her heart continued to race.

“You died, my life is forfeit, you have a future, my doom is set, your monster is hard to hide, my demon lurks beneath the surface.” he paused again a tear silently running down his face, “we are both monsters in this world now, neither of us chose this but its who we are. My life will always be torture, to never truly be free.” the tears began to stream down his face, Violet small and delicate hands reached for his face resting them along his cheek as she wiped away the falling tear with her thumb.“don't push me away, please. I-i freely choose you with what freedom I have.” he spoke with a shaky voice as if this was something he had never been able to express before, something that rested heavy on his heart and his shoulders. Although Violet wanted to understand more of his words, she felt the pain he shared as the large, strong man wept in her arms. She didn’t know what to say, she didn’t think there were words enough to soothe him.

To show him he wasn’t alone.

Not having kissed someone before and afraid she would hurt him, Violet leaned in, hesitant at first but her emotions took over. Her lips pressed softly against his as her hands gripped with need along his jaw. While she kissed him she repositioned herself as her leg moved to the other side of him, straddling him as she pressed him into the wall.

Violets small frame crashed into his in a powerful push as her arms pulled her into him. Her heart raced, trying to rip itself from its cage as she suddenly felt a fire. She felt alive.

Breathless she broke the kiss, unsure if she went too far. Her forehead touched his ever so softly as her lips relaxed exposing her sharp teeth again her red lips. A breathless gasp escaped her lips as her eyes scanned his for any sign of acceptance. “I wont push you away…” she said breathlessly.

This reaction was unexpected but this whole night was unexpected. He felt her passion in every hesitant kiss grow with each one. His heart was racing and he could feel hers as well. It was a rush he hadn't felt before with any of his other partners. This was what he wanted, he decided then and there that he will have her no matter the cost.

Quickly he crossed his legs, shifted them under him and stood up supporting her the whole way and not letting her go. One hand on her lower back the other on her thigh as he turned to pin her up off the ground against the wall. His left hand left her lower back to grip her wrist, pinning it above her head. Violets eyes looked above her head to see both her hands against the wall. She bit back her lip exposing her toothy smile as she couldn’t hold it back as her eyes moved to look at him attempting to anticipate his next move.

His breaths were deep and quick, his eyes locked onto hers with an instinctual need. His lips found her neck, his teeth finding skin in a fast attempt at revenge. One bite, then two, kisses traveling up her neck and back to her lips again. His face burning just as hot as it does in front of the forge. As their lips crashed together with fiery passion, Violet melted into the wall. She knew this was wrong, A lady was meant to reserve herself for her husband.

The books she read shared all sorts of details that made her blush, wishing that one day she would experience what they described. This was better.

The fire that set her skin ablaze continued to fan as she felt his weight against her. During the moment of passion, suddenly her fang stabbed his lip. The taste of copper seeping into their kiss, touching her tongue and suddenly the darkness swarmed her vision, like a nightmare consuming her.

Her eyes opened wide in fear as her foot swifty kicked up between them, shoving him with a force enough to push him back to where she fell to her knees with a thud. Her trembling hand covering her mouth as she hunched over on the wooden floor. Her fist hitting the floor with a crash of frustration as she attempted to fight back the urge.

The sudden pain in his lip and then in his chest was not entirely unexpected. Where he thought he crossed a line he was only met with a look of fear, but not of him. He could see it he knew the look. “No.” he coughed, the wind knocked out of him. “Fight it Violet, find your light and focus on it!”

Her breath ragged not just from the moment they shared but the physical torment she was fighting as the darkness continued to swallow her. She couldn’t do this… she couldn’t be near him.

Just one more bite… The darkness hissed.

“Your stronger than you know! Fight!” he yelled at her while he stood up.

Without looking at him, her hand still covering her mouth Violet sprung to her feet “ I’m sorry “ she managed to say before she swiftly left the room, rushing down the hall of the tavern as she shoved her way passed some unknowing patrons. Fleeing into the busy and bustling tavern she pushed her way through the lively crowd towards the door.

“Mam!” she barmaid called out to the women in distress but it was too late.

Violet rushing past the other patrons was quickly ignored when The giant of a man hopped the balcony splintering an unfortunate table below sending men and women tumbling. The look of the man was ragged, his shirt was torn, his lip and hand were bloody, and the look of sheer determination and anger could stop the heart of a lesser man. Such a gaze flickered to the familiar faces of Anastasia, Thea, and Sjan-dehk for just a moment.

The bear wasted little time rushing out after Violet, any attempt to stop him was met with strength and momentum that matched his speed. A runaway train on a mission. He knew he would have to pay for that but that would have to wait.

Just like that, the Raven flew away. With the bear chasing close behind.

Date: Morning
Location: Guest House

*Note: This takes place the morning of the current day*

TW: ADULT THEMES

---

Mina felt a thrill of excitement as Munir's words echoed in her ears. His promise, his threat, they both sent shivers down her spine. She watched as he returned with an armful of clothes, setting some on the dressing counter beneath the polished bronze mirror and hanging others on the backs of chairs around the room. His playful comment about the clothes looking better on the floor made her smirk.

As he walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, whispering in her ear about their mutual desire, she couldn't help but lean into him. The feel of his weight, his breath, his touch—it was intoxicating.

But then, Mina stepped away, turning around to face him. Her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, and with a deliberate motion, she let it slip off her shoulders, pooling around her feet. She watched his reaction, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

The next words and actions from Munir had Mina holding her breath as she tried to steady her racing heart. She took a deep breath, her body still tingling from his touch. She knew he was right; their desire could wait just a little longer. Smiling, she walked over to the dressing counter, picking out one of the vibrant dresses he had brought in.

"Alright, breakfast first," she said, her voice a mix of excitement and teasing. "But I wasn't meaning to merely tease and tempt you when I said I needed help getting dressed. Why do you think I have ladies in waiting, after all?"[/color] She giggled as she slipped her chemise on and held up her corset, wiggling it as if beckoning him over to help.

Munir chuckled as she stepped away from him, slipping on her undergarments. “By the Gods how I wish to just….” Munir didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he let out a low sound that was a mix of a growl, grunt and a groan. Running his hand through his hair more in frustration than necessity, he stood from where he sat and approached Mina slowly. On his way over, he took a sip of the iced water that sat on one of the tables in the room.

“You sure you want my help? I don’t know if I know how to put on a corset… I do know how to undo one though… So I suppose it’s just that, but backwards?” Munir’s voice was slightly garbled, and Mina would soon find out why. As he took the corset from her hands, he started slowly undo and open up the lacy straps to give Mina more space to slip the constricting piece of clothing on. “I need to have a word with whoever designed these infernal things and make sure they see that their idea is flawed…” Munir said, in an annoyed tone. Meanwhile, as his hands worked, the rest of his body did not stay idle. He stood behind Mina, holding the corset out to his side as he leaned towards her and gave her neck a kiss. What Mina would feel would be different than what she was used to. Munir had snuck a piece of ice into his mouth as he took a sip of the water and he is now lightly grazing Mina’s neck with just the tip of the icy crystal, trailing it down the crook of her neck and stopping just short of the outer edge of her shoulder.

Mina giggled at Munir's frustrated growl, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, Munir, it's not that difficult. You just have to be gentle and patient," she teased, leaning into him as he fumbled with the lacy straps. His kiss on her neck sent shivers down her spine, but the sudden cold touch of ice made her squeal and jerk away, laughing. "Munir! Using ice? Really? You wicked man!"

Turning to face him with a playful glare, Mina placed her hands on his chest. "You're supposed to be helping me get dressed, not making me jump out of my skin," she scolded, eyes twinkling with mirth. Handing him the laces of the corset again, she added, "Let's try this again, and no more surprises until we're ready to face the world."

Leaning in close, Mina whispered in his ear, "Besides, save the ice for later. You might need it to cool down after all the excitement you keep promising." She gave him a sly wink before turning around and allowing him to continue with the corset, this time without any icy interruptions.

“I suppose I can be gentle and patient. But I offer that only to you, Mina al Kadir.” Munir replied, purposely changing Mina’s surname to match his own. When Mina made the comment about his little playful trick, Munir merely smiled and remained silent. He wanted to seduce her, to push her to the brink. Of course, he would respect her wishes if she told him to stop, but he has not heard that from her just yet…

Mina laughed softly, shaking her head at Munir's playful antics and his new twist on her surname. "Mina al Kadir, is it? You really are determined to make me yours in every way, aren’t you?" she teased, feeling a warmth in her chest at his words.

“Fine, no more surprises. And I suppose you and I would both need to don our armor in order to face the world, eh?” Munir quipped, knowing that there is at least some truth behind his words. Truth be told, it is so early into the courting season that Munir behaving as such, under no proper supervision no less, would be considered extremely scandalous. Now. That is not to say he is afraid of a little gossip, whispered between bored ladies of the court and curious men of high standings. Munir is in fact used to such things. Back in Alidasht, his list of nicknames, used by commoners and nobility alike, includes things like “The Sand Stallion”, “Drifting Sun” and the more direct “Lecher Prince”. The names whispered about him no longer affect him. He knows, and is confident about, who he is. But. As Mina’s reputation comes into view alongside his own, he cannot and will not allow it to be tarnished. Whatever is said about her back in Kolonivka be damned.

Mina’s sultry words snapped him back into the present. He smirked in response. “Baby, your mere presence makes me feverish. And I’m one of the desert.” Munir whispered back, gently lifting Mina’s arms so that they were above her head as he gently slipped on her corset for her. As the corset slid down Mina’s upper torso, Munir allowed his hands to follow the lacy fabric and traced Mina’s sides, giving the soft spots just under her ribs a firm but playful squeeze. He took his time adjusting and making sure the corset sat at it’s proper location, making small twisting adjustments so that it offered Mina support where she wanted and needed it. When he was satisfied with where the corset rested, he guided Mina’s slightly to allow himself just a tad more space as he began tying up each knot, making sure that they were tight but not painful.

“Does this mean you’d help me dress as well? Or am I expected to don my own armor before we head into battle, my lady.”

As he worked on the corset, she reveled in his touch, each gentle squeeze and adjustment sending small waves of pleasure through her. When he lifted her arms and slid the corset down, she closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. Once he finished tying the knots, she turned to face him, her smile soft but full of mischief. "You’ve done well, my desert prince. I feel like I could conquer the world now." She said as she traced her fingers over his chest playfully.

She then turned away from him and grabbed a white and blue floral sundress that had caught her eye. Slipping on the dress, Mina let the fabric cascade down her body, the vibrant colors complementing her complexion. She adjusted it slightly, smoothing out any wrinkles before turning back to Munir. "As for helping you dress, I suppose I can help you," she began with a playful smirk as she closed the distance between them once again, "But I can’t be held responsible for where my hands might wander…" As she said this, one hand traced its way to the top of his trousers, a single finger barely slipping beneath them teasingly.

Munir stepped back as Mina turned around to face him. His playful smirk never leaving his face. “I feel like you can conquer the world without the corset, or even, without me. For you are fierce, and awe inspiring. I’m just the luckiest one to be able to bow at your knees. He said, with a small chuckle. Munir tucked his arms behind his back as Mina walked away to pick out her dress for the day. He took in the sight in front of him, allowing the sun to glean off of Mina’s skin. He would lose himself in it. He lost himself in watching Mina doing something as mundane as getting dressed for the day. IT was mesmerizing.

“Uh. What? Oh. Yeah. Sure. Wander away. Matter of fact, I want you to wander. I want you to explore me. Munir said, snapping out of his trance. Munir would glance down as Mina tugged at the beltline of his trousers teasingly. “All this teasing. I’m just hoping you’re really up for it, because you’re positively driving me mad with desire and wearing down the wall that keeps me from acting upon my more primal instincts…” Munir said, his voice tethering between playful and lustful. Munir reached down and lifted Mina’s hand away from his beltline and brought it up to give it a soft kiss. “Alright. How do you want me to dress? I’m sure we can find something that I brought over that will match your brilliance.”

A soft giggle escaped her as Mina glanced up at him, a playfully chastising look crossing her face. ”Munir al Kadir, do you dare doubt me?” She teased as she moved to rest her arms on his shoulders. "I think you should wear something comfortable and that you enjoy the most, but also be prepared for rain as it seems to have started drizzling out there.” She suggested with a shrug. ”Perhaps a nice tunic and trousers?" She said, her voice low and sultry. "Something that makes you look like the prince you are but easy enough to remove later." Her fingers traced his collarbone as she spoke, enjoying the tension she could feel in his muscles. "Now, let’s get you dressed before we both lose control and never make it out of this room, leaving poor Hakim to wonder if we're actually coming or not." She added with a playful smile, stepping back to give him space.

“Would you want it any other way, Mina al Kadir?” Munir responded in a jest. As Mina rested her arms on his shoulders, he turned and gave them small kisses. “Mmm. That sounds good. I think we can keep clothing meant for the rain with Hakim, at least for the time being. Seeing as the heavier part of the storm isn’t quite here yet.” Munir responded again, pondering his clothing choices. “Tunic and trousers sound nice. I have plenty of that.” Munir said, looking at Mina as she stepped away with an expression that was both playful and skeptical. He padded over to his wardrobe and parted the doors. In it, Mina would see all of Munir’s clothing hung up according to color and material, a brief glimpse into how organized Munir likes to be.

“If you keep talking like that, we’re really not going to make it out of the room. Hakim will understand.” Munir said, issuing a verbal challenge to Mina in the process. Munir picked up a light blue hempen tunic, to match the color of Mina’s dress and a pair of cream-colored trousers, adorned with thin gold embroidery, subtly laid into the side pleats of the pants. “These will do I think… Munir said, pulling on his trousers but letting the tunic hang over his shoulders as he walked over to Mina. Without breaking eye contact, he slipped on his tunic, stretching his arms out and flexing slightly to allow the shirt to fall into it’s place. Munir’s clothing items all have a certain tailored look to them, as they fit in the right places and fall where they should as if on command. Adjusting the collar to his tunic slightly, Munir smirked and said “So? What do you think?”

Mina watched Munir with a mix of admiration and amusement, noting the way he moved with such confidence and ease. As he slipped on his tunic, she couldn’t help but appreciate the way it fit him perfectly, highlighting his strong build.

"I think you look absolutely dashing," Mina replied with a smile, stepping closer to adjust his collar slightly. "You always manage to look so effortlessly handsome." Her fingers lingered for a moment on the fabric before she pulled back, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"But you know," she continued, her tone playful, "you’re right, if we keep flirting like this, I might just take you up on that challenge, and Hakim will have to wait a little longer." She laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "But for now, let's show the world how good we look together, shall we?" She offered her hand to Munir, ready to face the day with him by her side. ”Besides, we could always have some fun in the carriage or find a dark corner somewhere while we’re out.” She figured one last teasing comment wouldn’t hurt as she gave him a wicked grin.

“Lady Blackwood. I am appalled. A dark corner somewhere!?, In the carriage!? Just what do you take me for? Some back alley Sally? I would require a fine dinner, candles, wine and persuasion.” Munir said with a slight huff. Not moments later, he starts chuckling and walks towards Mina, taking her hand. “I kid. I will have you anywhere.” He said, barely above a whisper as he leaned towards her and gave her a tender kiss on her cheek. Picking up two cloaks with his free hand, he led Mina out of his bedroom and started making his way towards the gates, where his loyal companion is waiting.

As they walked down the hallway hand in hand, Mina couldn't help but giggle at Munir's antics. "A fine dinner and persuasion, you say? I'll keep that in mind," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She leaned into him as they walked, enjoying the warmth and closeness.

Just as they were about to pass in front of her rooms, the door swung open, and her uncle, Sebastian, stepped out, blocking their path. Mina’s giggles died in her throat as she took in his disheveled appearance and the dark circles under his eyes. The anger in his gaze was palpable, and there was something else—an almost feral hunger that made Mina’s heart race with unease and fear caused her to unthinkingly pull her hand away from Munir’s.

Date: Morning
Location: Guest House

*Note: This takes place the morning of the current day*

---

"Where have you been, Mina?" Sebastian demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "And what are you doing with him?" He spat the last word, glaring at Munir.

Mina’s hand tightened around Munir’s, seeking reassurance. "Uncle, I—"

"Do you have any idea what you put me through? I searched the entire night for you!" Sebastian interrupted, his voice rising. He looked at Munir with pure contempt. "And you, Shehezade Munir, what have you done to my niece? Ruin her reputation more, perhaps?"

The tension in the hallway was thick, and Mina could feel the fury radiating from her uncle. She glanced at Munir briefly before turning back to Sebastian. "Uncle, please, let us explain," she pleaded, her voice trembling slightly. "There’s more to this than you know."

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. "Oh, I'm sure there is," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why don't you start explaining then, Mina? And you, Munir, you can tell me why I shouldn't drag my niece back home right now. Let me guess, you’re in love."

Munir was quiet, but smiling as the pair walked towards the gate to begin their day. He felt Mina lean into him and both stiffened his arms and softened his stance at the same time, allowing Mina to feel his support but remain comfortable.

Then the happiness in the air seems to have evaporated into immaterium, as if it was sucked away by some shadowy cloaked figure.

Count Blackwood appeared behind the doors to Mina’s room and began bombarding the pair with questions, his disdain towards Munir was palpable. As Munir felt Mina pulling her hand away from his own, Munir instinctively stepped partially in front of Mina, shielding her with his own body. “Count Blackwood. Good morning. Allow me to answer your questions. Your niece was with me the evening before. As you know, we were at the event at Lover’s Lake where Mina was performing. After, she was essentially taken against her will. I was able to find and retrieve her. It is my mistake to not have sent word to you, for that I apologize.” Munir said, his voice was calm and steady.

“I know what my reputation says for me, Count Blackwood.” Munir continued, a tinge of sorrow in his voice for what he has done with himself. “But, on my family name, I assure you, nothing untowards happened between your niece and I. Yes, she stayed in my quarters. She slept in my bed and I the floor. I know how ridiculous this sounds, given what is whispered about me. I know you will not believe what I said but I know that I can face the gods with my head held high, having not lied about what I have told you.” Count Sebestian then mentioned the pair being in love and that word sent a shockwave through Munir’s soul.

Just what is it that he felt for her? Was it love? Or was it just lust for someone he has not had? Regardless, Munir knows he cannot influence what the count is deciding to do with himself and Mina at this moment. “I cannot stop you from dragging your niece back home. But, if I may, if you dragged her back, would it not defeat the purpose of making the arduous journey all the way from Kolonivka to Sorian this season?”

Mina stood behind Munir, feeling the tension in the air rise with each passing second. She could see the barely contained fury in her uncle’s eyes as he sized up Munir as he spoke and she knew that this situation required careful handling. So she stepped in before her uncle could speak, adding to Munir's words.

"Uncle, I know you’re upset, and I’m so sorry for worrying you," Mina began, her voice soft yet firm. "Munir is right. After the performance, I was taken by a woman as you obviously know and saw. It was terrifying, but Munir found me and brought me back safely. We should have informed you, but in the chaos, it slipped our minds. Please, believe me when I say that nothing inappropriate happened."

Sebastian’s eyes flicked from Mina to Munir, his expression still hard but showing a hint of consideration. "You expect me to believe that this rogue," he spat the word, "this scoundrel, did nothing untoward, as he said? After what I witnessed the other day of you two? I ran after you, Mina. I saw you being taken and I failed to save you. I spent the night searching for you, fearing the worst." His voice broke slightly, revealing the depth of his fear and exhaustion.

"I know," Mina said, stepping back around Munir and closer to her uncle. "And I’m grateful for your concern. But Munir saved me, in more ways than one. I had another episode and, instead of being frightened, he took it in stride. He showed me respect and care."

Sebastian’s gaze softened slightly, but his distrust of Munir remained evident and there was a hint of alarm hidden there upon her revelation, yet he said nothing towards thst. "And you, Munir," he said, turning his full attention to the prince. "You speak of facing the gods with your head held high, yet your reputation precedes you. You have already caused a scandal when I caught you in bed with her the other day. I am not naive, I know what happened then. How am I to believe that you have her best interests at heart and not just your own desires?"

Sebastian then sneered at the man. ”And as for our business of being here in Sorian, you know nothing about our reasoning. We aren't simply here for the courting season, in fact, before you came along, Mina cared little about courting or finding a husband. It wasn't something that interested her.” Mina winced as he spoke these words, knowing there was some truth behind them but not for how he was making it sound. A small bubble of rage began to brew in her chest then. ”I simply have business in Sorian and Mina comes along so she can learn and catch up with old friends. I do not need her here with me and could easily send her back with some of our trusted servants.”

“ And you would be well within your rights to send her home, Count Blackwood. But, in doing so, are you taking into consideration the feelings of your dear niece? You want her to learn the skill of being a diplomat, for that I applaud you. I know for a fact that Mina would make for a fine stateswoman. But, you sending her home without regards to her feelings not only halts this learning process but it also shows her that she can act on her impulses alone and not take into consideration the consequences of her actions. I am a scoundrel, a rogue, a capital R rake. This isn’t news to even me, what the common folk say about me. In truth, this persona of mine has been created by myself as a suit of armor. Mina has stripped me of that. She knows that. Yes. I know it is still so very early in the courting season and I will fully support your, and Mina’s of course, decision to keep distance between us. To let whatever rumors flying around society pass. But I must hear it not only from you, Count Sebastian, but you as well, Lady Mina.” Munir said calmly. His words were as true as they can be. However, he cannot make Count Sebastian and Mina believe them any more than he can curse the clouds to bring forth the sun. “Know this as well, Count Sebnastian. Regardless of how society sees me, I am still a prince of Alidasht. When I tell you I have not done anything untowards with your niece, know that I make such statements with the weight of the honor of Alidasht behind me.” Munir continued, his voice unusually stern and actually princely for once.

“So, what will it be? Will you allow your niece to join me and my retainer for breakfast and a promenade around town, so that I can show society my intentions with your dear niece? Or will it be that you would have us separate here and now?”

Mina listened to Munir, impressed by his words, however her uncle scoffed and pulled her attention back to him. "I need to speak with my niece alone," Sebastian declared, his voice tense and commanding. Without waiting for Munir's response, he seized Mina's wrist and ushered her into their rooms, locking the door firmly behind them.

As they retreated into the privacy of their chambers, Sebastian's demeanor shifted, his frustration palpable. "Mina, your actions have been reckless and foolhardy," he began, his tone laced with disappointment. "You're not in love with him. This infatuation will only lead to trouble."

Mina's eyes couldn’t keep from rolling as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh yes, because you know ALL about love. And excuse me for seeking some sort of enjoyment in my life for once." Her voice was thick with sarcasm and irritation.

But Sebastian was relentless, his anger mounting with each passing moment. "You're deluding yourself, Mina," he insisted, his voice growing sharper. "You're endangering yourself and your reputation for a fleeting thrill."

Mina let out a humorless laugh as she felt her own anger rising. “Well that hasn’t seemed to bother you in the past when it was to help you out.”

“THAT IS ENTIRELY DIFFERENT!” Something in Sebastian’s eyes flashed and he bared his teeth at her, causing a moment of shock to take hold of Mina.

Feeling a sense of unease settle in her stomach, she took a step back from her uncle, her heart pounding in her chest. "What's gotten into you, Uncle?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Before Sebastian could respond, Mina stumbled over something on the floor, her heart skipping a beat as she glanced down. Horror flooded her veins as she realized what she had tripped over—Sara, one of her young maids, lying lifeless on the ground.

Ice ran through Mina's veins as she looked up at her uncle, her eyes filled with disbelief and accusation. "What have you done?" she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian's expression twisted with regret only for the briefest of moments before a chilling calme came over him. ”As I said, I searched for you late into the night. It used up a lot of my strength and when I returned I was utterly exhausted and feeling…ill. Young Sara here saw me and took it upon herself to try and offer me comfort. She even dared to be so bold as to offer herself to me. And so I took her up on it…I used her to my benefit.” His words chilled Mina to the core.

Anger and disgust surged within her as she chastised him, her voice trembling with emotion. "We have a system in place to prevent this," she reminded him, her voice tinged with desperation.

But Sebastian's resolve remained unyielding, his gaze unwavering. "The thirst grows stronger," he confessed, his voice heavy with resignation. "And if you don't end this with Munir, there may be consequences."

Fear clenched Mina's heart as she realized the gravity of the situation and she stared at him in shock. Was he really threatening to do something to Munir? Blackmailing her to control her? Tears welled in her eyes as she silently weighed her options, her mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

Finally, with a heavy heart, Mina nodded in agreement, her voice barely a whisper. "Fine. I'll end it," she conceded, her voice filled with sorrow. If this would protect Munir then she would do it. “But from now on, what I decide to do with my personal life is none of your concern. I’ll avoid creating any more attachments to anyone, but who I decide to spend my time with and have fun with, you will have no say in it anymore.” Her words were harsh and final.

As she rose to her feet, Mina instructed her uncle to conceal the body until she could address it later. In her room, she retrieved a small vial and applied its contents to her lips, her heart breaking with each tear that fell. She stared at her reflection for a long while, disgusted at what she saw.

With a heavy heart, Mina emerged from her room, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Without a word, she approached Munir, her heart heavy with sorrow. She then leaned in and kissed him deeply, but soon enough she was pulling away.

"Munir," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "This needs to end.”

“Count Blackwood! Wai-” Munir called out, as the count essentially dragged Mina into her room. A sense of panic loomed over him. He trusted that Count Sebastian would not do anything wrong to Mina but he still does not like where they are leaving off. During their conversation, Munir could do nothing but pace back and forth, just outside the room. In the meantime, he also sent word to Hakim, telling him there is definitely going to be a change of plans, if nothing else due to the time this is taking.

As voices rose in the room, Munir had to fight the urge to knock or even barge into the room. This would be something untowards, as the situation dictates. Munir tried his best to stay calm, pacing the halls to a point where it feels like his feet were wearing a tread into the marble flooring.

Then suddenly, the door swung open. Mina emerged and Munir made the same approach as her, meeting her half way. They shared a kiss and Munir felt his world shatter. Mina told him that they were over. “What. What are you saying, Mina. What do you mean? Was it something I did?”

”Munir, please I-”

Turning his attention slightly, Munir continued “Count Blackwood, please explain this to me. I humbly ask for an answer to all of this…”

”This isn’t love!” She all but shouted at him as she could feel her uncle watching from the doorway. His expression was unreadable as he watched them.

Mina's heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces as Munir's pleading words played again and again in her mind. She had to protect him, even if it meant tearing her own heart apart in the process. Tearing his heart apart. Her face hardened, but inside, she was a storm of sorrow and despair.

"Munir, what we feel... it isn't love," she began, her voice steady but laced with pain. "Love at first sight is a fairy tale, a foolish dream. What we had was lust, a fleeting desire for something new and exciting." She took a deep breath, forcing herself to continue even as her chest tightened with every word.

"This isn't about something you did. It's about reality, about facing the truth," she said, her eyes momentarily glancing at her uncle. She turned back to Munir, her gaze cold but her heart screaming in agony.

"You need to understand that I don't love you," she lied, her voice barely above a whisper, each word feeling like a dagger in her own heart. "I never did." She stepped back, the distance between them feeling like an insurmountable chasm, her tears threatening to fall but she held them back, not wanting to break down in front of him.

Mina took a deep breath, steeling herself for the final blow. "This is over, Munir. It has to be." She turned away, her entire body trembling with the effort to keep herself together, knowing that she had just shattered both their hearts to protect the man she truly loved.

During this time, Hakim had returned from the gate but was standing off at a distance, not making an announcement of his presence. Munir’s breath was steady as he listened to what Mina was saying, eyes shifting from Mina to Count Sebastian and back. Munir nodded in agreement to what Mina was saying. What they felt, what they had, it was all too soon. It was all far too quick.

If hearts were to be broken today, then let them break completely.

“You say you don’t love me, that you never did. I respect that. After all, who would want a scoundrel, a good-for-nothing, rakish man like myself. You take care of yourself, Lady Blackwood. I bid you farewell. Munir said, his tone flat but determined. He took up Mina’s right hand and gave the back of her hand a small kiss before walking up to Count Sebastian and shook his hand quickly but firmly “May you find success in whatever dealings you may have, Count Blackwood.” Munir had put his armor back on, and shielded his heart once again. He was fighting every urge to stake his claim over Mina as a prince to a nation. A mere Count would hold no power over him. However, that was not the approach he decided to take. He loved Mina. Truly. Maddeningly so. If there was to be a chance at anything else in the future, this was the only way.

Mina stood there, Munir's words cutting deeper than she had anticipated. Each word he spoke felt like a knife, threatening to shatter her resolve. But she held strong, her face a mask of composure as she met his gaze one last time.

"Farewell, Shehzade Munir," she said softly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. She gave him a small curtsy, her movements graceful and controlled, before turning on her heel and heading back into her rooms.

As soon as she stepped inside, Sebastian closed the door and moved to speak, but she cut him off sharply. "You do not get to speak to me," she snapped, her tone cold and unyielding. She didn't wait for his reaction, striding further into the sitting room and then into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

The moment the door closed, the facade crumbled. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the floor, a hand clamped over her mouth as she tried to muffle the scream of anguish that tore from her throat. The sobs came hard and fast, each one wracking her body as the weight of what she had done crashed down on her. She curled into herself, her tears soaking the fabric of her dress as she wept, the heartbreak and pain overwhelming her completely.

Stratya threw the door open (but held on to the handle to keep it from anything wild) as she burst through to the Tough Tavern, grinning. “‘oo knows a good drinkin’ song?” she called into the tavern as she entered. She pivoted with a practiced, casual grace to come behind the door and close it behind her friend for the evening, Riona.

Surely, one of the patrons in the tavern would begin. Or so she hoped. There were enough sailors in the pub to sink a ship. As she approached the bar and offered up one of them good coins to the barkeep (discreetly), she noticed no one had begun. She held up two fingers to the man as she considered something. She came around often enough he knew she wanted a nice pint. “Ooh, sailors are in, are they? Mm…”

As she waited for her drink, and as she received it and offered Riona hers, she sang out a lyric of a song she'd heard from sailors in the tavern, before, “adieu to you my Dinah a thousan' times adieu
We`re goin' away from the 'oly Groun' and the girls tha' we love true
We will sail the Sout' sea over and then return for sure
To see again the girls we love and the 'oly Ground once more.”

Hopefully, someone would pick it up.

It’s been a while since she’d been in a tavern. She’d forgotten how lively it can be. And dirty. She felt her fingers twitch, itching to grab a rag and start scrubbing every surface in sight. Pushing aside the urge, Riona settled into her seat and placed her report on the table, careful to avoid the suspicious stains.

When the drinks came, Riona slid one across to the empty seat, raising her own in a wordless toast to Darryn’s memory before taking a long swig.

As she lowered her mug, Riona’s gaze drifted to Stratya. The Knight-Captain was clearly in her element, belting out a tavern song with gusto. Riona allowed herself a small smile. Let Stratya work it out of her system. There would be time for serious discussion later. For now, Riona was content to nurse her ale, tap her foot to the rhythm, and soak in the lively atmosphere.

---

Stratya pivoted her way out from the doorway to the servant quarters in the castle with a single, fluid motion. She had a bit of work to do before an evening at the tavern. First, however, she would conclude her business in the castle. That meant but one thing, and that was to report the death of Darryn to the Queen.. and ask one other question. First, she had to find Her Highness. There were a few places she could think to look, first. The Throne Room came to mind, though she wasn't sure how much time anyone actually spent in there.

Wait. Stratya must smell something awful, after the particular work she'd been doing today. Quite literally like death. No, she'd have to bathe first. She lifted her arm to her face and - yep. Having a wash.

Her house was furnished and well, but felt foreign to her. And, while hadn’t exactly forgotten she had a house, she sometimes fell into old army habits or felt tired enough that she didn’t care to walk the extra yardage to her proper abode. She didn't have many possessions in the capital, as things went, the furniture in her home didn’t feel like hers, to her. Perhaps that would come with time, and perhaps really settling in to her house would help her feel like the noble she’d been made into.

~~~

One wash later, Stratya found herself a little more relaxed. She at least smelled decent, now, after the day's activities had been rather odorous. Clean enough, it was time to find the Queen.

Alibeth was situated in her study when Stratya came upon her at last. Sensing her presence, the queen raised her gaze from her writing to the captain and gave her a nod in greeting, “Captain,” She greeted. Despite the woman remaining home for much of the day, she was still dressed in finery as she always was.

No opportunity to mentally prepare at the threshold. Stratya could not think of a time where the Queen had not been sharp as a tack. Being the Queen, the woman likely had precious few opportunities to let her guard down completely. The knight stepped beyond the threshold of the doorway and into the study. “Your Grace. Ill tidin’s, I'm afraid. Best to get right to it.” she glanced at the door and elected to close it behind her. “I foun’ Darryn, the stable boy, murdered this mornin’. Behin’ th’ stables.”

Queen Alibeth's eyes widened slightly, a rare visible reaction.

Stratya drew a breath, still a bit stressed by it. She was dealing alright, and she came away from the door a few, slow paces. “I've go’ evidence bein’ processed. ‘is ‘ead was severed, and lef’there with an executioner's blade t’be found. Due t’the rain, I coul’nae confirm tha’ i’ was th’ blade nor site used. Any blood tae indica’e tha’ th’ murder had taken place at the scene ‘ad also been washed away. I believe the bo’y, specifically, was moved through to the other side of town, and intae th’ forest be’ind the train station, because an ‘ound was able to fahllow the scent from t’castle. Bot’ stank of ro’, poor pup. Somebody bea’ ‘im, too, poor lad. Darryn, not.. _{not the dog.}” She cleared her throat. “It seems to me that someone meant to send a message with this? A message I..” The Captain chewed her words for just a moment, “cannae, myself, find the position to interpre’. Such meanin’ could be crucial.”

Queen Alibeth sighed deeply, her eyes narrowing in contemplation as she absorbed the information. “It does indeed appear that a message is being conveyed,” she mused, her voice calm yet laced with an underlying intensity. “I suspect Darryn might have divulged more than was appreciated during his questioning the other day.”

She tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the desk before stepping forward with grace, “Thank you, Captain. Your diligence is commendable. I require an update as soon as more information becomes available regarding the evidence. “

Ah, yes. The questioning. The knight had heard about that from Riona. An invitation-only after party.. then, the chauffeur was murdered after a related “questioning”.. as the Queen said. Darryn said something too much. The Queen, of course, wasn't like to let the word “torture” pass her lips in polite company. She didn't need to press for information there.

Stratya did her best not to let the knowledge of Darryn's questioning pass on her face, but she let the question pass. The Queen had already ended that particular discussion. “Yes, Your Grace. I'll begin processin’ the evidence immediately. Oh, ‘fore I go.” It was odd that she hadn't run into him, wasn't it? “‘ow fares the Royal Advisor?”

Alibeth gazed upon Stratya thoughtfully, “I have yet to see him today… I will send someone to his room.”
“Troubling. Normally, I would like to think I’d ‘ave run into ‘im, by now.” That the Queen had not seen him, either.. “Well, I’ll nae trouble ye further, Your Grace. I’ll ‘ave a repor’ on tha’ evidence as soon as it’s ready.” Stratya paused, considering the task and her discussion with Riona. She’d been sent here with a question for a purpose, “I lied, one further trouble. Please, allow me t’ check The Advisor’s room. If somethin’ is amiss, I’d like to ‘ave my own eyes on i’.”

“Very well.”

Stratya offered a bow, solemn, “I’ll inspect ‘is quar’ers immejiately. By your leave,” the knight stepped back with one foot and pivoted to the door in a practiced, casual movement. At the door, with more casual, effortless pivots, she spun through the door and let it softly swing shut behind her before moving purposefully to Adelard’s Alden's room.

Thea felt a flicker of confusion at Cynwaer’s brusque attitude, but quickly brushed it off. She wrapped her arm around Anastasia's waist, supporting herself with a giggle. “Annie, you're right, sailor boys are the best!” she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement.

She turned her attention to the captains, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Yes, please! Tell us about your wildest adventure at sea. I love a good story!” she said, her enthusiasm matching her friend's. She leaned against the bar, ready to immerse herself in whatever thrilling tales the captains had to share.

She then briefly leaned into Annie and whispered, louder than she intended, “Did I do something wrong? Why does the red haired one seem so angry with me?”

“He’s probably just very attracted to you and doesn’t know what to do with the energy.” Anastasia whispered back.

Cynwaer smirked. If Thea was trying to be subtle, she had failed spectacularly. Not even the din of the tavern could keep her attempted whisper from his ears. Letting out a sardonic chuckle, he shook his head and took a long sip from his mug. “Oh, dae’n yer worry yer pret’y wee ‘ead, little lass. ‘Tis nae yer person I ‘ave trouble wi’,” he said without looking at her. It wasn’t entirely a lie; at least three-fifths of it was the truth. In fact, between Thea and Annie, Cynwaer had to say that the former was more palatable. She was, at least, sharper than her butterknife of a friend, if she could so quickly gather that Cynwaer wanted them gone.

A shame she was a noble girl. “‘Tis yer entire sort I’m dae’n like,” he said after another sip. This time, he shot a piercing glare at Thea, his green eyes narrowed and filled with disdain. “Whether yer jus’ a pair o’ bored lasses, or yer treatin’ this like some adventure instead o’ ta’ lives o’ folks who cannae ‘ave bet’er, I dae’n care.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. A fire was starting to grow in his chest, and he extinguished it before continuing. Riling himself up now would be a mistake. “If yer quick enough tae get that I want ta’ twos o’ yer gone, then dae’ us aw’ a favour an’ get ta’ feck–”

“Captain Sjan-dehk,” Sjan-dehk suddenly interrupted. He leaned over the counter and looked at Annie with a friendly smile, at the same time pushing his empty mug away. “Captain Wasun, that is not how we say. Captain Sjan-dehk is better.” Cynwaer twisted around in his seat, a mixture of exasperation and annoyance colouring his rugged features. Sjan-dehk merely cocked his head and raised a brow. “They are no…They are not trouble, Captain. The two of them, I do not mind if they join.”

“Captain Sjandehk!” Anastasia repeated excitedly and smiled, “ That sounds even better!”

“Well, I dae,” Cynwaer grumbled. “An’ word o’ advice tae yer, Cap’n. Lasses like ‘em are always trouble, nae feckin’ exceptions. Either they’re ta’ trouble, or they bring it tae yer.”

Sjan-dehk’s eyes narrowed momentarily, in an act so quick that even he didn’t realise it himself until after the fact. That Cynwaer was so aggrieved by the mere presence of these two girls was very curious. Suspicious, almost. Was this merely an aspect of Caesonian society that he failed to understand, as had so often been the case? Or was there indeed something off about the two girls? Or even off about Cynwaer, for that matter? The questions that swam through Sjan-dehk’s mind were endless, and most annoying of all, there wasn’t much he could do to answer them. It wasn’t as if he could just start questioning his current company just like that. Not without looking suspicious himself, in any case.

And so, he did what he had learned to do rather well over these past few days. He pushed such thoughts aside, and resigned himself to merely waiting and seeing.

Thankfully, Annie had asked a question he could answer. “It is…Not good, yes? To ask a sailor about storms,” he replied slowly with a grin. “It is like…Like asking you about your most bad and most painful day. That thing, not good to talk about, yes?”

“Aye, the Cap’n ‘ere’s nae wrong,” Cynwaer added. There wasn’t much of a bite in his words as compared with before; he sounded matter-of-fact, as if this was common knowledge. “Storms’re terrible things, an’ frae ‘ow yer askin’, I dae’n think yer e’er experienced one, lass-in-pink.”

“Oops… Sorry!”

“But,” Sjan-dehk continued. “You ask, so I answer. There was one.” Cynwaer let out a long sigh, but didn’t stop him. He instead beckoned the barkeep over to refill their mugs.

Sjan-dehk nodded his thanks to the burly man behind the counter, waited until Cynwaer placed another two coins into man’s shovel-like hands, and sipped from his mug. “Storms, they are like dance, yes? Between Mother-of-the-Waves, Storm-gull, and One-that-dwells-below. The Gull, it makes the wind strong. The One-that-dwells-below, they find…No, they collect the ones that do not survive. And the Mother, she challenge us with her Sea. She makes sure we are strong.” He drank from his mug again, wetting his lips. Vivid memories flashed in his mind. The cacophony of lashing winds, crashing waves, and shattering hulls echoed in his ears. Dark skies and darker waters filled his mind’s eye. He could even taste blood and salt.

“So there is one place. We, Jafins, we call it Yahk-peh Huun. It means…It means ‘Where storms are born’, I think. It is violent place. Mother, Gull, and Dweller all play there. It is the Way, that all Jafins sail there once before they become Captain.” He shook his head slightly and wrapped his hand around the mug, but didn’t lift it. Instead, he just stared at it. “Anyway, not that story. This is when I sail there for second time.”

“Tempestes’ feckin’ tits, what possessed yer tae dae that?” Cynwaer asked.

“It was war. Sada Kurau, we were being chased.”

Cynwaer nodded slowly. “Must be a feckin’ grand story.”

Sjan-dehk looked at him, then at the two girls with an inscrutable look on his face. “It was war, it is never good story,” he said, voice suddenly dark. “Four ships chase us. Strong ships. All have many guns. Sada Kurau is good, but against so many, she cannot win. But the sea, we knew it very…We knew it very good. So we lead them to Yahk-peh Huun. That time, there was a storm there. Our enemies, they followed. That time, skies were dark. Very dark. And rain very heavy. I could not see. My crew could not see. We sail like blind. And the sea, it was strong. The Mother, she tested all of us. Three times, she almost took us to sail to Unending Horizon.” He paused to take in a deep breath. “Sada Kurau, she lost people. Some fell into water. But we cannot save. It would kill us. So we must leave them. And our enemies, they did not know Yahk-peh Huun like us. So they suffer. Their ships, all destroyed. All sank. Their people, some survive. They beg us to save them. But how can we?”

Cynwaer could easily tell where Sjan-dehk’s story was leading. It was a story anyone who plied their trade on the waves knew all too well. To attempt a rescue during a storm – especially one as powerful as described by Sjan-dehk – was both insane and reckless. Callous as it was, there was no point in risking an entire ship to save one, or even a handful of people. A Captain’s first duty was to their ship and crew, and thus had to prioritise their safety. [color=DC143C]“Yer cannae,” he said in a firm tone. “Yer cannae e’en feckin’ stop in a storm, aye, or yer’ll be fecked by waves an’ shite.”

“Yes, it is that,” Sjan-dehk said and took a long drink from his mug. “So we do what we can. The ones that fall and float in water, we sent to the Dweller. By bullet, death is quick. That way, it is a kinder death.” He let out a long sigh and shook his head. In a quieter voice, he repeated, “It is a kinder death.”

He paused for a while, then looked at Annie. There wasn’t any sadness on his face, just a slight hint of wistfulness. As if he had just recalled something that pained him, but also something that he had long since accepted as inevitable. “There. Your story. Now, take advice. Do not ask any other Captain same question. Okay?”

Anastasia frowned and crossed her legs as she sat on the bar still. “That’s fucking depressing.” She bluntly commented once silence filled the air. She tapped her chin as her eyes fell on Sjandehk. “ Yeeaaaaah I will probably take that advice…. Anywaaaaays….” She gazed between the two captains. “You cuties wanna do some shots with us? Totally on me.”

Thea felt a pang of sadness as she listened to Sjan-dehk's harrowing story, but her gaze remained fixed on Cynwaer. His earlier disdainful words echoed in her mind. What did he mean by "her kind"?

As the story concluded and Annie asked about doing shots, Thea took a deep breath and addressed Cynwaer directly. "What exactly do you mean by 'my kind'?" she asked, her tone firm yet curious. "I can only assume one of two things. Either you mean blonde women, which I find unlikely and silly, or you're referring to what you perceive us to be—rich and spoiled."

She straightened up, her heterochromic eyes locking onto his with determination. She had dealt with jealousy and hatred for her wealth all her life and she was tired of it. "It's curious for you to judge me for something I had no control over, being born into a certain life. You wish for me to stick with 'my kind,' yet who does that help in the long run? If I were to only frequent bars for the rich, wouldn't that just put more money into the pockets of those who already have plenty?"

Cynwaer couldn’t stop the grin which spread across his lips as Thea spoke. Not that he had any desire to, in the first place; she was proving to be the most entertaining person he had seen or heard all evening, albeit unintentionally. And with each successive word, his grin grew wider and wider, until it was a veritable smirk, filled with equal amounts of amusement and mockery. There wasn’t anything new in what the girl slung at him. Indeed, it would have been boring were it not for her fervour, and how she seemed to truly believe in her own speech.

He sipped from his mug as she spoke, and said nothing. Let the girl have her moment of glory; it would make his response all the sweeter. Peering over the uneven rim of the mug, his piercing, verdant eyes gazed into her own, mis-matched irises.

She gestured around the tavern. "But coming here, spending my family's money in places like this—doesn't that benefit those who need it more than the rich? Isn't that a better use of my resources?"

She leaned forward slightly, her voice softening but remaining resolute. "I may not fully understand your world, but I'm trying to do something good. And if that makes me 'trouble,' then so be it.”

“Yer done, then?” Cynwaer asked and placed the mug on the counter. Before Thea could reply, he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and said, “Ah, feck it, ‘course yer’re. Yer’d still be mouthin’ aff, otherwise.” Casually resting an elbow on the bar, he turned to look at Thea, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything, and merely looked at her with that same, condescending grin on his face. “Tell yer what, lass, I was’nae gae’n tae say yer type was ‘rich an’ spoiled’, but now ‘at yer’ve gone an’ said it, I like ta’ sound o’ it. Cheers fae that, I’ll be usin’ it frae here on out.”

He leaned back slightly. “Now, where dae I begin? At ta’ start, I s’pose. I’m sorry–” he said it in a way that didn’t sound like he was apologetic in the least “–that yer’re offended, but I’ll dae be fair tae yer and tell it tae yer straight. I don’t really feckin’ care if yer feelin’ are ‘urt. Aye, mayhaps I was mean tae yer fae somethin’ that’s nae yer fault, but yer know what’s fecking worse? Gettin’ killed ‘cause yer unlucky enough tae be born wi’ ta’ wrong blood, or ‘avin’ tae work yersel’ to ta’ point o’ death, or bein’ treated like a feckin’ slave ‘cause some other fecker ‘ad the fortune to be born tae’ a fortune. If yer don’t believe me, then gae take a gander through yer own villages an’ see ‘ow yer people live. Gae ‘ave a look at what yer King’s lads dae, and maybe yer’ll start tae understand why folks like me might nae like folks like yer.”

Aware that he was getting far too close to giving himself away, Cynwaer quickly stopped himself and took a long drink from his mug. It was difficult – close to impossible, even – for him to avoid going on a rant. Not when he had witnessed just about every possible injustice in Caesonia, due in no small part to his work with Kidelaut and Sioridann. And not when he had experienced such injustice himself.

“Anyway,” he continued and glanced sideways at Thea. “Yer got one thing wrang, lass, an’ aye, ‘tis me fault fae makin’ yer think what yer think, and sae I apologise fae it, but I’ve really nothing’ against yer type comin’ down ‘ere. An’ I’ll gee’s it tae yer, rather yer spend yer ma and da’s coin ‘ere than up near ta’ castle.” He let out a short chuckle, one that was almost derisive. “But don’t gae thinkin’ yer dae’n anyone a grand favour. Unless yer buyin’ out ta’ ‘ole feckin’ place each an’ e’ery night, the coin yer spend’s just a drop in ta’ ocean.”

Sjan-dehk had been listening to the exchange with a growing sense of discomfort. Part of it was because, between Cynwaer’s accent and the ambient cacophony, he understood just enough to be drawn into the conversation, but not enough to fully comprehend what was being said. It was as unhappy a balance as it could be.

The other part was that as much as he didn’t like how Cynwaer was treating Thea – and as little as he understood – he couldn’t quite disagree with the parts he did understand. For all his vitriol and unnecessary aggression, the other Captain did make sense; if Thea was trying to frame her coming to this tavern as an act of kindness, then she was wrong. Of course, that was if that was truly her intent, and Sjan-dehk wasn’t about to place too much trust in his ability to comprehend what was going on.

And so, he simply said, “Yes, but many drops make ocean, no?”

Cynwaer threw Sjan-dehk a look over his shoulder, then shook his head. “Aye, but that’s only if ‘tis a drop o’ wat’er we’re talkin’ about.” He turned back to Thea. “Lass, yer’re a customer, that’s all yer are. Don’t get me wrang, there’s nothin’ wrang wi’ that. I’m sure our pal ta’ barman’s mer than ‘appy tae take yer ma and da’s coin, but let’s nae lie tae oursel’s, aye? Yer jus’ ‘ere fae ta’ same reasons as anyone else. Yer ‘ere tae ‘ave a drink, and maybe a change o’ scenery, an’ I’ll nae’ say anythin’ about that fae now.”

Then, after emptying his mug in a long swig, Cynwaer finished with, “An’ come now, if yer really want tae ‘elp the common folk, there’s easier ways than ‘avin’ a drink at this hour. I’m sure a lass like yer’ve got coin, status, maybe e’en influence tae spare. Nae shor’age o’ poor folk needin’ a donation tae get food in their bellies, or fisherfolk needin’ tae repair their boats, or people–”

That was about as far as Sjan-dehk allowed Cynwaer to go. He stood up and physically inserted himself into the conversation by standing between the red-haired Captain and Thea. “I think you say enough already, yes?” He said to Cynwaer, and although his tone was calm, the displeased look in his eyes made it clear that he wasn’t seeking an answer to that question. “This thing you talk about, you are…You feel strong for, yes? That is good. But she–” he gestured to Thea “–is a young girl. Your feelings, they are not directed correctly, yes?”

Cynwaer’s lips turned into a frown, and he shook his head. “Trust me pal, I want tae believe yer, but I’ve seen enough tae know I cannae.” He let out a sigh and hung his head for a moment, his eyes closed in thought. Then, he looked around Sjan-dehk at Thea. “But I’m man enough tae be able tae know when I’m barkin’ up ta’ wrang tree. ‘Tis yer ma or da I should be rantin’ tae. Nae a young lass, e’en if she’s a mouthy one. An’ besides, I’m nae lookin’ fae a fight.” He smirked, this time a mischievous one rather than one meant to annoy. “Come find me a night or two frae now, if yer spoilin’ fae one. I’ll let yer ‘ave it well and proper, then.”

Sjan-dehk smiled at him, then at Thea. “Good. Now we can do important thing,” he said, looking at Annie. “Sorry. You wanted something to drink, yes? Rude of us to…To not pay you attention, I apologise for that. You order what you want. I can pay for it.”

Anastasia had been watching the exchange, her gaze fixated. Despite her outward behavior, she had been well aware deep down that their presence hadn’t been welcome. Frankly she just hadn’t really cared. Out of Cynric’s vision, she made a puppet with her hand, opening and closing to indicate blabbing. She gave Thea a comforting wink. “ Redhead sailor boy, her point was that it only benefits the tavern to have her business, silly. Doesn’t matter if she came here with that intention or not, just matters you should thank your lucky stars sexy ladies with loaded pockets are here instead of bitching about it.”

She then took out her coin purse and gazed at Sjandehk, “ No worries babe, I can buy us all drinks. Super sweet of you though. “ Anastasia then whistled to beckon the bartender.

Sjan-dehk looked at Annie for a moment, blinked once, then shrugged. If the girl wanted to pay for their drinks so badly, then who was he to stop her? Of course, Sjan-dehk knew that were his father present, the old man would have probably disapproved, vocally and physically. But as far as Sjan-dehk was concerned, he had already paid his dues to courtesy by offering. That the girl turned him down had nothing to do with him.

Thea let him go off, keeping as neutral of an expression as she could as she did so. She wasn’t quite surprised he was reacting in such a way, had actually even wondered if she’d get a similar reaction. She couldn’t entirely blame him, she wasn’t blind to the injustices around her, but she also knew that she herself had little influence in helping fix it. If she were in better standing with her mother and others with higher authority than her, perhaps she could use that to help in a more effective way, but the truth was that she wasn’t. So here she was, trying to do what she viewed she could.

With all his words, however, she actually accomplished something she’d actually been after. She wanted to determine more of this man’s character, as his reactions were much more harsh than the other man’s. So when Sjan-dehk stepped in, she simply continued watching Cynwaer for a moment. Just the slightest hint of an accomplished smile crossed her face just before she turned away from the redheaded man and turned to address Annie instead. [color=o35e7b]”Oh Annie, I’m so sorry! I haven’t given you the attention you deserve! Shots sound like a lovely plan!”[/color] She said to her friend, back to her bubbly self once more.

Anastasia smiled and pulled her friend into a hug. “Aww my Thea baby!”

Cynwaer caught the look on Thea’s face, but said nothing about it. Instead, he let out a resigned sigh, shook his head, and went back to nursing his mug. There wasn’t any use in continuing this little spat any further; quite clearly, the girl merely wanted a rise out of him, and he wasn’t going to give her any more of that than he already had. And besides, there wasn’t any use in talking to her about these things. Either she didn’t care, she didn’t understand, or she wasn’t in a position to do something about it. Cynwaer would just be wasting his breath.

Better for him to leave such things to Kidelaut. That former knight knew how nobles worked and how nobles thought, and knew how to speak their language. Or Sioridann; the question mark of a person could convince anyone to do anything. The peasantry, disenfranchised workers, the oppressed commonfolk, Cynwaer always did work better with those groups.

Just then, the barkeep returned, thick arms crossed over a chest that was just as broad, and his lips turned in a slight frown. He looked down at Annie. If he recognised her for who she was, he didn’t show it. It didn’t seem like he would have cared, even if he did. “First things first, girl. Don’t whistle. I’m not your damn dog.” Though his voice was level, its gruffness accentuated the hints of displeasure in his tone. “Secondly, what d’you want? We don’t have any of the fancy stuff, so don’t even ask. Your choices are mead, shine, or whiskey. Some of it’s legit. Some of it’s brewed out back.”

“Word o’ advice, lass,” Cynwaer piped up, leaning over the bar to look at Annie. There wasn’t a trace of his earlier belligerence or annoyance on his face. “Unless yer tired o’ ‘avin’ a brain that’s able ta’ string mer than twa thoughts together, dae’n touch ta’ ‘ome-brewed shite. ‘Tis feckin’ like lantern oil on some days, an’ I’m pret’y sure it’s actually lantern oil on others. Yer could light ‘alf o’ Sorian wi’ that shite, aye.”

Anastasia first smirked at the barkeep, “Shine sounds good, puppy.” Her gaze shifted to Cynwaer and she raised a brow, “Think I can’t handle my booze? …Sounds like a challenge to me.”

The barkeep’s eyes narrowed, and he drew in a deep breath. “Listen here, girl,” he began, voice a low growl. “I told you once already, don’t treat me like your fucking dog. If you can’t follow that one simple rule, then you and your friend should fuck right off before I do it for–”

“Aw’righ’, easy, easy,” Cynwaer quickly interrupted. The barkeep’s threat wasn’t an empty one; it had taken a handful of painful lessons for Cynwaer to find that out firsthand, and as amusing as it would have been to see a pair of noblegirls tossed out by the mountain of a man, he wasn’t in the mood for what would almost certainly be a huge commotion. “Just gee’s ta’ lass what she’s after, aye? I’ll e’en pay fer ‘er.” He cast a sidelong glance at Annie and smirked. “An’ besides, if yer still servin’ that sort o’ shite, then she’ll be payin’ fae ‘er wrangs in nae time at aw’.”

The barkeep huffed through his nose, but reached under the bar for a pair of glasses. He placed them on the counter, then turned around to pluck a mottled and clearly overused bottle from the rickety shelf clinging to the wall. “I s’pose you’re right, Cyn,” he groused and popped the cork off the bottle with a finger. Right away, the burning scent of strong drink filled the air.

Sjan-dehk wrinkled his nose. “What is that? Whale oil?”

Cynwaer grinned. “Nae that fancy, pal. ‘Tis ta’ drink o’ the masses.” He took the bottle from the barkeep and poured a generous amount in both glasses. “There yer gae, lass,” he said to Annie and nodded to Thea. “One fer yer, an’ another fae yer pal o’er there. Dae’n force yersel’s, I’ll tell yer that now.”

As the hours passed and the drinks flowed, the atmosphere in the bar grew more lively. Anastasia, now visibly drunk, swayed slightly as she clung to Thea. Her voice grew louder and more uninhibited with each passing moment. “You know what we need to do?” she slurred, leaning heavily on Thea for support. “We need to find the mafia! I need my revenge!! They’re out there, and we can totally take them down! Who’s with me?” Her proclamation drew a few amused glances and chuckles from the other patrons, but Anastasia seemed utterly serious, her eyes gleaming with inebriated determination. It was then a lovely little tune cut through the air, drawing the attention of many nearby.


Anastasia had no idea just what song was being sung, but she decided to sway with Thea with a pleased smile as she listened.

Amusement had long since given way to concern as Cynwaer watched Annie empty glass after glass after glass of the barkeep’s brew. By the fact that she was still conscious, it was clear that she could hold her brew better than the average man. By the way she rambled about looking for and fighting a mafia, however, it was clear that her mind was on its way out. He reached for her glass. “Aw’righ’, I think yer’ve ‘ad enough fae one night–”

The song that interrupted him also distracted enough that, for a moment, he forgot what he was doing, and he simply listened. He recognised it as an old sailor’s song; one that was unknown to a younger crowd, but very familiar to a seasoned man of the sea such as he. There were a few scattered attempts to carry on after the unseen songstress stopped, but either the singers were too soft or the lyrics too garbled for anyone to join in.

And so, Cynwaer took it upon himself to get the job done right. He drew in a deep breath.


He paused and looked around the tavern. “Come now lads, yer know what tae dae, aye?”

“A fine girl you are!” came a roared chorus.

Cynwaer chuckled, shook his head and turned back to the bar. Behind him, the crowd carried on with the song with vim and verve. “Tell yer what, pal,” he said to Sjan-dehk. “I miss these sort o’ songs, aye. Most lads these days prefer ta’ sort wi’ aw’ that bawdy shite and what ‘ave yer, but these ones?” He let out a long sigh and patted his chest. For a moment, a wistful look came over his face, but he quickly pushed it away with a rueful chuckle. “They get yer righ’ in ta’...” He trailed off and shook his head. “Well, I think yer get what I mean, aye?”

Sjan-dehk nodded. He supposed it was the same everywhere; a sailor only ever sang about one of three things. The ship, the sea, or a woman. Sometimes it was about two of the three, or all of the three at once, but it was rare to find a shanty that sang of some other thing. He couldn’t say he didn’t understand, however. Anyone who sailed the open sea became intimately familiar with both their ship and the waves, and thoughts of home, well, those always lingered in any sailor’s mind, whether they wanted them to or not.

“It is nice song,” he remarked.

“Aye, ‘tis sae,” Cynwaer replied. “Yer ‘ave any good ones tae share?”

There were plenty of songs which Sjan-dehk knew. There were eulogies to the dead, prayers to the Mother, or even ones bemoaning a lover who had absconded with another whilst the singer was out at sea. Whether Sjan-dehk cared to share them, however, was a whole other matter. He didn’t think of himself as a capable singer, and even here, in a place where most would likely not understand a single word he sang, he was still reluctant.

“You would not understand them,” he said. “Let us enjoy what we have, yes?”

---

Roman had elected to wander the town after the earlier events of the day. He had given his report detailing everything to Erik, who for the first time in a long time was equally confused and concerned about the whole ordeal. Then he changed his bandages, his clothes, and put an order in to have a few new tables and chairs sent to the tough tavern to repay damages done. With that last bit off his conscience he needed to clear his head and a walk was the best thing he could think of.

His evening wanderings eventually led him to the sights, sounds, and smells of the local circus. Roman opted to wear some simple comfortable clothes for the evening, a simple lighter green cotton shirt and tan-colored loose pants covered with a dark green cloak. The dagger on his belt and his tan wool suit vest being the most elegant pieces of his attire. Matching what he found to be similar to clothing worn by merchants of the area. The turkey leg vendor was the first thing that caught his eye.

Off from to the side of Roman, Charlotte approached, her raven-black hair cascading behind her in loose waves, partially secured by a delicate blue ribbon. She gathered the skirt of her dress as she hurried toward Roman. "Lord Ravenwood, She greeted as she drew closer. "...Good evening! I didn't expect to see you here," she said, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “I had been hoping to catch you today.”

She glanced at the turkey leg vendor that had caught his attention and then back at him, "Hungry, I see?... It's wonderful to see you out and about… How are you feeling?"

The sudden call of his name brought Roman out of his thoughts and towards the sight of a beautiful young lady with long black hair and a blue ribbon. The sight of a familiar face was enough to make him smile. “Lady Vikena, a pleasure as always.” There was something about her that always made him relax, which he always found strange with her family’s penchant for finding trouble.
“Ahh yes, I had some things on my mind and I seemed to end up here. Maybe it was the food.” Moving to offer her a place next to him in line at the cart. “I'm feeling fine, just a little sore. Right now I'm more interested in why a beauty like you would be looking for an old man like me.” He said with a teasing tone.

She strolled beside him and smiled, “You’re certainly not old, Lord Ravenwood.” Charlotte said. “Truth be told, you’ve been on my mind today. Seeing your name in that dreadful paper this morning troubled me. I wanted to make sure you were alright and I am delighted to see that seems to be the case.”

The short line moved closer towards the wonderful smelling comically large bird legs pulling the duo closer. Roman smiled and couldn't help but let out a small giggle at the mention of the newspaper. “Oh I'm not worried, in fact I like being in that paper. It means that my guise of being a..” He gestured with his hands in a circular fashion as he found the words, “Muscle bound mindless brute is working.” Quickly he scanned their surroundings and leaned in close to whisper, “I would hope that you wouldn't fall for this, but I like catching people off guard with my intelligence despite my animalistic nature.” Standing back up straight, stretching his shoulder, “Oh.” He said as if he just remembered something, “You don't have to address me by my title. I do consider you a friend after all.”

“I can relate in a sense, though not sure I enjoy the paper’s representation of me just yet… What’s important is we know who we are at the end day. ” Charlotte replied thoughtfully. “Hope your ceremony went well despite any intrusions.” There were certainly more questions given the nature of what had been written about him, but as long as he was alright in the most important sense then she would mind her business.

“ Of course neither do you, Roman. Lottie suits me just fine.” She told him with a smile that faltered ever so slightly as she recalled there had been something she wanted to bring up to him. However they reached the front of the cart and the man at the vendor asked, “What can I get for you?”

“Well Lottie.” Pronouncing the shortening of her name with a smile, “It's a pleasure to meet you as always.” he phrased it like it was the first time they had met. In truth he didn't think he had ever referred to her by that name. Before he could answer her question the vendor asked what they would like and he was quick to answer. “Evening good sir, I'll have Three of those magnificent legs.” placing a few more coins on the counter to pay for the food than was needed, obviously intended as a tip.

“As for the ceremony?” looking back at his friend with a shrug. “No idea, I don't remember… much. Don't think anyone died so that's good. Messed up my shoulder and my arm though.” Reflexively rolling his shoulder at its discomfort. It was the truth, the drink he took did affect his memory slightly but the magic was also to blame. He could only guess as to the lasting consequences of that ritual. That thought made him smile. “What about you? I heard you went to that party with all the politics or masks? I guess It's the same thing.” he was assuming she had gone to it, why else ask about the ceremony.

Charlotte’s brow raised subtly at Roman’s choice of remark, but his next statement made her frown with worry. “Is your arm quite alright? When you get home tonight, perhaps try a warm compress to relax the muscles. If it’s inflamed turmeric or ginger could possibly help…” She drew off thoughtfully, “I’m sure a massage at the spa could also do wonders, but of course, if the discomfort persists, please do see a doctor. “

She clasped her hands together in front of her as he inquired about the party. “Yes, I attended Count Damien’s Masquerade.” Charlotte confirmed, her voice soft and thoughtful. She hesitated for a moment before continuing, “...It was quite lovely, I must admit. It’s always rather a treat to dress up in a pretty gown and feel like a princess for a night…However, there was an unfortunate incident—Lord Smithwood’s watch was stolen. I promised to help him find it, but I’ve had no such luck so far. It weighs on me, and I do hope to speak to him about it soon..”

His smile grew as she spoke about remedies and concoctions he could use on his shoulder. “You know, that's one thing I've always liked about you.” Shifting his posture to face her, “You're always looking out for the people around you. It's one of the traits I admire in you.” He stated, then sighed content in his words. “Just try not to get too caught up in it. Trying to keep up with my antics is a big ask. Wouldn't want to give that newspaper the wrong idea.” Again a tease but also a small test. Watching her facial features to see if there was anything peculiar in her reaction.

Charlotte's smile brightened at his compliment. “Looking out for each other is simply what should be done. It’s no big ask for me to check up on you. ” she replied, her voice gentle yet firm.

He couldn't help himself but give a quiet laugh and a smile when she spoke of Leo’s misfortunes. “Ahh Lord Leo Smithwood, he is becoming quite the character.” The last few interactions he had with the man were in passing and it would be unfair to judge him based on them. Still, he was unlucky and unlucky Varian nobles tended to find trouble. Making the jobs of his people just a tad bit complicated sometimes. “Knowing his luck I'm sure it will pop up somewhere.” He guessed but it was likely true, they would probably find it in the window of a back alley shop.

“I certainly hope so.”

His attention turned back to the vendor who handed him the large juicy looking turkey legs. “Thank you.” His mouth watering slightly at the sight of the three legs. He had every intention of eating all three but being the gentleman he is. Roman held one out towards Charlotte, offering her the food. “With the right suitor, you could feel like a princess every night.”

Her brows lifted in surprise, and she hesitated before taking it. "Why, thank you. I appreciate this very much," Charlotte said, holding the turkey leg in her grasp and gazing over its massive size. She could almost hear her mother chastising her for being unladylike by eating something like this in public. Her gaze shifted back to Roman at his final comment, and she replied with a hint of humor, “A girl can dream.”

Charlotte took a tentative bite, her teeth sinking into the succulent meat. The smoky, savory flavor exploded in her mouth, and she couldn’t help but let out a small, delighted hum. The meat was tender, almost melting against her tongue. She took another bite, savoring the rich taste. “It’s so good!” She enthusiastically told him. After dabbing at her lips with a handkerchief briefly, she spoke again. "Roman," she began softly, "...I was wondering… if I might ask for your advice on something."

He took a few bites of the delicious meat. The small meal was sure to hold him over till the next food cart caught his eye. Eating these kinds of food likely wasn’t the best way to cope with his current mood but it felt better than drowning in a mug of ale. At least Charlotte’s reaction gave him a quick snicker. “You're welcome.” He muttered between bites of the turkey leg. It wasn't very gentleman-like to speak with your mouth full but he was long past caring about manners.

Walking slowly while enjoying the food, it was well roasted and taken care of. Either a testament to the skill or the new cooking techniques and technology that continued to flood the market. Spotting a bench that was out of the way but not out of sight of the carnival goer’s seemed to be a good place to sit and talk. “Oh?” He asked, casually tossing a leg bone in a nearby bin.

“What kind of wisdom are you searching for tonight Lottie?” Quirking an eyebrow, “Could it be dark and dastardly? Maybe some ancient mystery? A lovers quarrel?” he teased but still had a welcoming tone to his words. “Though I might tease you, trust is not earned, it's given. Anything you ask I'll keep between us.”

Charlotte sat beside him and giggled at his suggestions, “Fortunately nothing of that sort… I…” She rubbed her arm and smiled sheepishly.

Her gaze dropped as she collected her thoughts. “I don’t want to make any assumptions, but I know you have a large family. I was hoping you could advise me on how to become someone who can better protect those I care about.”

Not the question he was expecting. Shifting on the bench slightly allowed him to prop an arm up on the back of the bench, “Ahh, an important question.” The tone of his voice lost the teasing that it held earlier, replaced with a genuine sense of solemn thoughtfulness. “I have sixteen brothers and sisters, a number that pales in comparison to the numerous aunts, uncles, cousins, and the odd niece or nephew here or there.”

The smile on his face disappeared for a moment, his eyes locked onto something in the distance that only he could see. “I'm the oldest, it's my job to protect them right?” He wasn't expecting an answer, just a short pause before he continued. “Four of my siblings have passed away… Iduna, Reka, Sven, and Egor. I could have saved three of them. I could have done a lot of things to save them.” Taking a deep breath, Roman turned to refocus his attention on her.

His eyes held pain, a glimmer building in them threatened to run down his face. “It would have done little, the skain of our lives were woven a long time ago and our doom is set.” Blinking away the moisture that threatened to pull his night in the same direction of the earlier events of the day, he pushed on. “I would love to tell you exactly how to protect the people you love, to keep them safe forever. But that will only pull you down into darkness few can escape.”

In this moment of vulnerability with a topic he clearly struggled with himself, Roman kept talking. His subtle smile returned as he looked into her eyes, “So my advice… What i do? I tell them the truth… The truth about the darkness that awaits them in this world. I tell them and teach them how to fight it. Mind, soul, and body. The more you know the danger, the enemy, and yourself the better your odds.”

Charlotte’s heart ached for Roman as she listened to his words, feeling the weight of his loss and the burden he carried. “Roman, I am so sorry for bringing up such a sensitive topic, and I am sorry for your losses,” she said softly, her eyes reflecting her worry. “Your pain is palpable, and I wish there were words to ease it.” She reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you for sharing this with me… You’ve given me much to ponder.

Her words were comforting and her touch of his arm was unexpected, giving her a somber smile in return. “I appreciate your kind words. Death is a common occurrence in the north, everything is more dangerous. So we focus on the good, on their reputation.” Letting his hand drop the untouched turkey leg next to him and place his hand on hers.

“Reka passed away very young. Iduna was kind, like you, she knew of the dangers of this world but it did not stop her from helping. Egor was a trickster and never had the best timing with his jokes, but they could always make everyone laugh and was very good at taking care of the younger children." The smile on his face grew the usual upbeat personality of the giant swiftly returning with fond memories. “And Sven was curious beyond measure about everything and everyone, although sometimes he could get on your nerves he could answer almost any question you asked him.”

“So thank you, I've had an off day and remembering them really helps.” A deep sigh followed his words, “So Lottie, is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Oh, goodness, they sound absolutely delightful…” Charlotte commented dreamily, momentarily lost in her imagination. “They remind me of my nieces and nephews. They all have such distinct personalities like your darlings. My dear Aunt Diana has two children of her own, yet she also adopts orphaned Krasivaya children… “ She paused, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she continued, “She always says she feels like she’s herding cats!”

Her eyes lowered, a tender smile playing on her lips as she added, almost to herself, “You may know her as Countess Diana Crisitian, but to me, she’s always just my Auntie.”

It took her a moment to recall he had questioned her and she quickly shook her head as she told him, “Oh. No dear, that was my only question. Thank you so much. ”

Nodding his head with a smile, “Well I'm glad I could help.” Trailing off for a moment. His eyes looking back out to the other people enjoying the evening air. “Just remember, don't shoulder the burden alone. Find someone that you trust to confide these worries in, someone to share the burden. Not even I can carry the world on my shoulders.” He said with a snicker, “If you ever need any help all you have to do is ask and I'll do what I can. If you can't find me, just let one of my merchants around the city know and I'll know shortly after.” He was sincere about his words to what end and what kind of trouble that would bring him? Well, at least it would be fun in some respect.

She held his gaze thoughtfully before replying, “ Thank you, Roman… The same goes for you. Whenever you need help, I will always do my best for you.” Charlotte rose from the bench and she smiled at him. “I must return to the two ladies who are currently accompanying me here tonight, but it was truly wonderful to chat and thank you again for the turkey leg.”

"Anytime Lottie. I do hope you have a lovely evening with your friends." He said with a smile. Eyeing Olivia and Zarai that he just noticed were watching them, "Do tell your friends they look fabulous tonight." Speaking up for her to hear and giving the duo a wave and a smile. He sank back into the chair to relax, ponder the conversation they just had, and watch the people coming and going around him.