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[img]https://i.imgur.com/d18QHyE.png[/img]
[h2][color=#fcba03]Callum Prosser[/color][/h2][/center]
[hr][center][@Estylwen][/center][hr]

[color=#fcba03][i]Not my[/i] pie, [i]come on![/i][/color]

Callum looked blankly on at the talking man as he licked his finger clean of the gravy he'd so brazenly helped himself to. His expression was [i]intentionally[/i] so; being so suddenly accosted, his horse shying back from the wolf almost instantly, and with the roguish man almost immediately talking about the late duke and his family...Something about it all added up to an assumption that he'd been watched and followed, at least as soon as he'd arrived at the estate. Perhaps even earlier.

Regardless, this 'Raiden' didn't talk like an aristocrat. Not entirely like a peasant either. Some high ranking servant, maybe—and if one to the Corrin family, then there was a decent chance that he'd been expecting Callum the entire time. Friendly or not had yet to be determined.

[color=#fcba03][i]But why not meet me just outside the estate, then? Worried more than the guards?[/i][/color]

[center][color=#fcba03][i]I can't believe he just dipped that glove right into my pie. I have no idea where that thing's been, and he just stick it straight into the middle without a thought.[/i][/color][/center]

[right][color=#fcba03][i]What's with the whole pretty-boy act, anyways? Going to flutter your eyelashes at me next?[/i][/color][/right]

[center][color=#fcba03][i]Down three copper pieces for the pie—too generous but the baker was nice—so I've got nine left. Easy if I run straight back home, but if I take the long way, I'm going to have to visit a money changer for any of the better coins, and I[/i] know [i]I'll lose out on that deal...[/i][/color][/center]

[color=#fcba03][i]Wait, did that gravy drip on my trousers? I hope it's just some dirt, or a drip from my water. I'll lose my mind if that's a stain from this pie...[/i][/color]

Whether there was anybody present that might want to pry inside his head or not, he wasn't going to take any chances after being so suddenly confronted. Even without working his bit of magic the constant flow of thoughts would make it hard to pick up on anything useful—let them come as they would, he was more than practiced enough to actually keep his focus on what was important even while letting his mind wander so.

He glanced over as the wolf growled, his horse shying back further yet, as another person joined what was turning out to be a more eventful lunch than he'd planned. Clearly the pair knew each other—their mutual disdain was palpable enough he could about pluck it out of the air and wear it like a scarf—and the girl didn't shy away from bandying insults about with abandon. Clearly someone of the gentry from the outset, and Raiden's own recognition cemented the assumption.

Lady Furino. He knew of that one, even though he'd never met her; one of the youngest enfeoffed nobles in the province, bar some few titular lords, children of knights who held their own manors who perished in the new queen's ascension. The sole member of her family who had abandoned pride in favour of life, his eldest brother had said at one point. Likely, they [i]had[/i] met, and even if they hadn't, the Dinbevin Viscountcy wasn't exactly an unknown factor in local politics, even if the reputation was rarely a great one.

[color=#fcba03]"You both seem to have me at a disadvantage,"[/color] he said coolly, after the pair had finished their own sparring and Baroness Furino turned to address him directly once again. [color=#fcba03]"But, my lady, if you know who I am, then I'm sure you know better than to call me [i]lord."[/i][/color] Had he been his eldest brother, they would have been of the same rank—the eldest son of a viscount stood shoulder to shoulder with a baron, after all. But Callum was the fifth child, a squire whose education in that realm was incomplete, foiled twice over by sudden death.

She was being even more generous calling him [i]lord[/i] than he'd been with the baker.

The danger sense that had been prickling the back of his neck the second Raiden arrived was only growing stronger with every passing moment in the company of these two obvious enemies, with himself the least prepared for any such politics as he was now forced to engage with under their gazes. One, another noble, close to the royal court, and obviously experienced at this whole game...groomed by the queen herself, if he had to guess. The other, a commoner, yet one known to a member of the royal court, willing to stand toe to toe against her. Less composed for an instant, but she followed suit.

Nobility always had to be careful with each other. Commoners, too; they were oftentimes even more important to court than your peers. Dangerous in numbers at all times. But here, these two...[i]exceptionally[/i] dangerous, and both alone. Not for the first time he began to wish he'd accepted his eldest brother's offer to accompany him to Tarin and see him off. 'For safety,' he'd said; it was known that there was little love lost between Duke Nathan's family and the queen, second only to the dukes of Odonfield and Nordor, the latter of whom had recently been taken prisoner, as he'd heard said in the city square.

[color=#fcba03]"...But, maybe, you mistake me for Allan? My father's heir and I are of a height, while our other brothers seemed to have inherited more of our grandfather's size. He's only recently started growing out his beard, without it we do look [i]remarkably[/i] alike."[/color] Yet another reason that their father had hoped he would take the path of merchant and advisor for his eldest brother—unlike the rest, he could always operate as a stand-in and leave most people none the wiser. He gave the girl a smile, shrugging off Raiden's hand on his shoulder.

Leaning too obviously to one or the other would be worse than if he messed up a negotiation with any adept traders. Those would lead to a metaphorical knife in the coinpurse, perhaps a literal one if they were affiliated with any of the criminals that always followed the flow of money. Choosing either of these two too quickly...he doubted he'd survive the week. [color=#fcba03]"I'd hate to cut this friendly reunion short by agreeing to anything too soon, something I'm sure you both understand. I need some time to get my wits about me, anyways—finding out the fate of those who were to bear my charge was quite a shock. Maybe we can all discuss it further through the day...or, perhaps, over dinner, once I satisfy my need of lodging?"[/color]