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Hidden 3 mos ago Post by princess
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Good morning! It's now 10 am!
It's going to be a sunny beautiful day!

Regarding any unfinished business for Sola 24th, please be clear that you are writing in for the night prior still, or mark it as a flashback.




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Hidden 3 mos ago Post by princess
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🎉 Join Us for Lord Drake Edwards' Extravagant Birthday Celebration! 🎉

All nobles are cordially invited to the grandest event of the season: the celebration of Lord Drake Edwards' 24th birthday in the luxurious gardens of his estate. Please come to the backyard entrance, over to the large white gates between the hedges. Come inside the backyard to the meticulously manicured garden and find tables all decorated in Drake's favorite color: green! The tables will have four seats and each adorned with folded napkins in the shape of flowers, birds, or stars. A classical band will be there to entertain your ears as you feast on delicious hors d’ouerves and enjoy the atmosphere. The celebration is scheduled to begin at 10 a.m. and will continue until 3 p.m., allowing guests to enjoy the festivities throughout the day.

💎 Exclusive Ceramic Bracelet: Upon arrival, each guest will receive a beautifully crafted ceramic bracelet as a token of entry and a small gift from Lord Drake himself.

đŸ· Open Bar: Enjoy the finest spirits and liquors at our open bar. Guests are encouraged to drink responsibly while savoring the exquisite offerings.

đŸ« Chocolate Fondue Fountain: Indulge in a decadent chocolate fondue fountain, surrounded by an array of fruits and treats for dipping.

🌾 Florist's Corner: A florist will be available to make miniature bouquets for anyone interested. Each table has a vase for such a bouquet to preserve it and guests may take them home.

🐮 Private Horse Viewing: Visit the designated area where the family’s private horses are housed.

đŸŽ¶ Live Music & Entertainment: Delight in an classical outdoor band featuring woodwind instruments. The ensemble will feature woodwind instruments such as flutes, clarinets, and oboes.

Lord Drake Edwards will also perform a solo piano performance for all!

đŸœïž Delectable Cuisine & Hors d'Oeuvres: Savor a selection of gourmet dishes including Drake Bell Peppers, Edwards Risotto Milanese, and Sorian Salmon Rolls. Throughout the event, indulge in a variety of hors d'oeuvres such as seared scallops, seasoned beef jerky, deviled eggs, and stuffed mushrooms.

Drake's Birthday Song










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Hidden 3 mos ago Post by FunnyGuy
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Violet
&
Alexander

2

Time: After Midnight 🩉
Location: Back Alley in the Slums
Mention: Roman @ReusableSword, Fritz/Ryn @JJ Doe, Calbert and Liliane Damien

Violet’s crimson eyes shot over to him as realization dawned on her. She could feel the need to cry lurking as it crept forward with each second. Instinctively her hand reached for her cheek where the sting from his hand meeting her face had occurred. Although he had hurt her, she didn't believe it to be about malice; however, her condition caused him to feel the need to do something to pull her from it. How could she subject anyone to that? Even someone as strong as Roman.

“....no,” she said softly as her hand fell from her cheek, grasping her hand for comfort as she held them against her as they walked. She fell silent again as her mind absorbed all the things he said. “My Mother or Lord Ravenwood. They
I
” she stumbled on her words. “I don't think I could for anyone in truth.”

“Violet.” Alexander's voice was absent of any sharpness as he quickly moved around her so that he could directly face her. Violet's eyes met his as he caught her off guard with his sudden change. He caught her clasped hands in his own, putting a full stop to their movement just before they entered the main throughway. She looked down at her hands as he held them. “Now do you understand why I am here with you tonight? I may not be responsible or even love you, but I know this path, and we are lucky to have found each other on it. You, Violet, can live or die however you desire but if you want to continue as we are from today onward, walk this path beside me. Give me time and I will show you that death is not the only means of freeing yourself from this nightmare.”

Taking a slow breath as it hitched in her throat she squeezed his hand as her shoulders dropped in response. Something in her eased at his proposition.

Alexander scared her; she had already seen what she could only assume was a fraction of what he was capable of, but doing this alone scared her even more. “What do you get out of this?” She pushed. “As you stated, you do not love me nor are you responsible for me. I have nothing to offer except frustrations.” Her grip on his hands relaxed as she felt the soft caress of his thumbs.

“I get an ally. Someone I can come to trust here in Sorian. Someone outside of the Black Rose Company who knows my well-kept secret. I won't ask for much except your loyalty and the assumption of a particular role to make our meetings appear more natural to the public eye.” He flashed a toothy grin. “And I'll take the frustrations. I have quite a few methods for easing those.”

She matched his toothy smile as she gave him a sly look. “I am sure you do.” she added. However, the smile faded as the rest of his words sunk in. Her face expressed her thoughts as her features softened. “I haven’t spoken your name in any relation to myself out of respect for what you did for me. You don't need to offer me this out of pity or fear that I would share your secrets.” She paused for a moment as she thought about the idea more.

“Of course not. It's merely proof of the trust between us.” Alexander gave an encouraging nod as it appeared Violet had more to say.

“What kind of role would I hold?”

“My assistant.” He shrugged simply. “It's not something your parents would be fond of, especially your father. The daughter of a count in the service of some lord holding no other title
 But in theory, it would be a great way to get you outside and keep you protected while your parents focus on other matters.” His voice held a somewhat jollier tone than usual. Before he moved around her once more, returning to her side whilst placing his arm around the back of her shoulders. Violet rested her hands back in front of her as she watched his movement from the corner of her eye. As he leaned into her and with a sultry whisper she felt the hairs on her skin rise in response as he continued. “In truth, you’d perform a few tasks for me or help Lianna fetch something from a high shelf, but most of the time you'd be free to go off on your merry way without your parents sending search parties after you. Everyone wins
 except your father’s ego, but I can convince your mother, which is surely enough.” Alexander was quite aware of what drove Count Damien above all else. It was, in fact, the very thing the Black Rose Company used against him.

Violet shrugged softly “I had a conversation with my mother before this outing. She already assured me my privacy and free choice. She has little say in what I do, and she can twist my father any way she pleases,” Her tone seemed to drop when she spoke of them. “You would have little issue. Regardless of what they feel, my mother is trying to keep me safe. She will do anything to ensure that.”

Perfect.

Taking a deep breath she bit her lip as she thought. After a moment, a smile spread on her lips, exposing her toothy grin as her crimson eyes moved to greet his. “I accept, on one condition. You buy the drinks tonight.” The pair laughed together at the proposal and they finally took a step into the throughway.

“Of course, Scarl- Violet. As my employee, it would be uncouth not to.”

She looked at him with an uncomfortable expression. “Feels weird you referring to me as anything other than Scarlett at this point. Perhaps when in public for image purposes.” She smiled. “Outside of that
I can just be Scarlett,” a cheeky grin spread on her lips. “...Sir.” She dipped her head as if to gesture to his new station.

So very perfect.

Alexander would continue to lead Violet to the establishment of his choosing, coming upon a humble tavern. It lacked the popularity of the Tough Tavern, but that's exactly what Alexander wanted. Upon entering, the few pairs of eyes inside affixed to them, especially upon Violet’s form.

“Harvey.” Alexander greeted the elderly bartender with a nod whilst pointing to a vacant table close to the bar

“Welcome back, sir
 and greetings to you madam.” He couldn't help noticing those red irises of hers. Those same crimson rings inspected the man for a moment before Violet gave him a soft smile and a nod “Good evening.” She responded with a soft tone.

“Open a tab, would you?” Alexander requested as he noticed how light the tavern was with customers. “And go ahead and add the rest of the patrons here to it. Drinks are on me tonight!” He declared as he pulled back one of the chairs of the vacant table for Violet. There was a faint cheer or two after Alexander’s generous declaration.

Violet accepted the seat and made herself comfortable leaning against it and removing the hood from her hair. Normally, she wouldn’t be so open with her appearance, keeping herself sheltered from people's glances and whispers due to her scars. However, with Alexander, she didn’t feel the need to mask who she was. “I don't think I’ve been to this tavern before,” she noted, looking around.

“Really? And I'm supposed to be the newcomer here in Sorian
” He chuckled. “Then again, someone such as yourself would hardly find herself in an establishment like this one.” Alexander held two fingers up for Harvey. “The usual, Harvey,” Alexander requested, barely looking his way. “Scarlett
” He let the name float in the space between them.

Violet sat back in her chair as she rested her hands on her lap, her red eyes fixated on Alexander. Breaking the moment with a small shrug, choosing to ignore his choice of name. “Well, my nose was always pressed into books. My parents kept my sister and I under tight observation. My movements were very restricted for obvious reasons.”

“Makes sense.”

Harvey came over to the table, placing two glasses between them; he didn’t acknowledge Alexander and simply slipped back into his bar, tending to another patron.

“It’s been an adjustment” she added, reaching for one of the glasses and taking a small sip. She cringed slightly at the strength of the drink before looking back at him as he took a sip himself. “What is this?” She held back a giggle while clearing her throat from its burn.

“Gin. With a squeeze of lime or lemon. Whatever Harvey has more of tonight. Perhaps you've read a story mentioning the drink,” he teased. “I can have him fetch something else if you'd like
 or do you only prefer the warm elixir now?” He posed the question with a raised eyebrow.

Her eyes flitted cautiously around the dimly lit room, scanning for any eavesdroppers before settling back on Alexander.

“No
 this is fine. I don’t mind the burn,” she murmured, her voice low and almost a purr. “I usually prefer whiskey, but this... this is a nice change.” Her lips curved into a subtle, almost secretive smile, a hint of something dark flickering in her gaze. “As for my other tastes... if I were to sit and really consider what I'm doing, maybe I wouldn’t. But that’s like eating a steak and thinking too much about the cow.”

Her finger glided along the rim of the glass, the long, sharp nail—perfectly coated in black polish—causing the glass to emit a soft, eerie hum. The sound lingered in the air, adding to the tension that seemed to coil around them.

“Is it awful of me to admit that I do?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes refusing to meet his.

Never, but...

“The idea of a supplier is intriguing, but I think I’ve become more of a hunter in my free time.” Her eyes finally lifted, the deep crimson orbs locking onto his, searching, probing for his reaction. “The only part that I dislike is feeling like I've lost myself to it.”

“Get used to it. Losing yourself is what lies in wait, Scarlett.” Alexander delivered the harsh truth without sparing the exceptions to the mentioned fate. He raised his glass to face, preparing for another taste as he continued. There was a hint of a smile that crept upon his lips, indicating his desire to tease the girl further.

“And hunt? Seriously? You really are Calbert’s child
 Do you just aim to go out there and find the first vulnerable creature you can lay eyes on? You'll be hung in the square in a month’s time.” He scoffed and took a swig.

Her brow arched, a sinister glint in her eye as her finger traced slow, deliberate circles around the rim of her glass.

“If you think me Calbert's child, then you know I am far from foolish. Although my father has made some stupid decisions, he has continued thriving on his own for a reason.” She lifted the glass taking a measured sip. “The ones I've targeted are nothing but vermin. Though I admit, it hasn’t been easy to conceal the aftermath
 but I doubt anyone will truly mourn their absence.”

“Ah
” Alexander played along as if her words were convincing, allowing her to speak uninhibitedly for a time. A nerve had been struck.

A shadow passed over Violet’s face as her mind flickered back to the man who dared to assault her, the memory a lingering stain on her thoughts. His hands grabbing at her, tearing at her clothes. She pulled herself from the memory. “Honestly, I’m just doing the world a favor.” She took another drink, the fire in her eyes dimming slightly. Her voice dropped as she seemed to relax her shoulders. “Yet, I still wrestle with these emotions
 It feels wrong to voice them aloud, to acknowledge this monster I've become.” She finished her drink, and before she could put the glass down, Harvey had arrived with a fresh glass, taking her empty one and leaving once again. Alexander was busy looking into his half-empty glass, softly swirling the contents with the slight rotation of his wrist.

“Because you continue to lie to yourself. Do yourself a favor and stop coping. You don't do anything to help anyone. You're not on some crusade and you didn't choose this. Monster or vermin, you're just trying to do what every other fucking person in this world does
 Remain in the game and play with the hand you're dealt the best you possibly can.” Alexander took a quick swig from his glass. “Right now, you have a shit hand. So whatever you choose to do, play it smart, or else you might as well toss your cards and tie the noose yourself.”

Rolling her eyes with a heavy, exasperated sigh, she bit back with a voice laced with venom, her words dripping with disdain. “My, aren’t we on a high horse this evening
”

Her gaze was cold as she peered over the rim of her freshly poured glass, the liquid inside swirling as she moved her hand. “Don’t sit there and spew all that nonsense. I guarantee you had your fair share of justifications when you first became what you are. No matter how this life chose you, anyone would struggle with the adjustment.” She leaned back in her chair, taking a slow sip, savoring the burn as it went down. “Your ability to be empathic is truly astounding.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, cutting through the tension in the room. “Do you think I’m not painfully aware of this?” She gestured sharply with her hand, frustration etched deep in her features. “I thought I could confide in a friend, someone who claims to understand, only to be met with nothing but brash insults.” Her words hung in the air like a dark cloud as she turned her gaze to the corner of her eye, her expression a storm of barely contained anger and bitterness.

“It’s the truth, Scarlett. I spew this nonsense so that you may avoid the missteps made by those who came before you. If it’s coming off as harsh then
” Alexander suddenly winced as if he had been faced with a bright light or sharp sound. He averted his gaze before briefly blinking and shaking away whatever had befallen him. “...then I can adjust, I guess,” he said begrudgingly before finishing off his glass.

Her gaze shifted to him, cutting through the silence like a blade, just as he abruptly stopped speaking. Her brow furrowed, confusion mingling with the dim light that cast long shadows across the table. His sudden change in tone unsettled her, like a distant rumble of thunder before a storm.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” she murmured, her voice tinged with an edge that matched her frustrations. Concern flickered in her eyes, but it was quickly masked by a deeper intensity as she leaned forward with her arms resting on the cold surface of the table. Her gaze bore into him, searching, pleading with words unspoken.

“I
” she began, the word hanging in the air like a whispered confession. She hesitated, the truth clawing at her from within, but she swallowed it back, her throat tightening around the admission she couldn’t bring herself to voice.

“You..?” He slightly leaned in toward her while wisely using this time to slip his ring onto his finger beneath the table.

“I don’t wish you to change,” she finally breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with a truth that felt like a heavy burden. It wasn’t what she wanted to say, but it was all she could offer. “Life is harsh, and so is the reality of it, but
 sometimes, I just need help navigating through the darkness. Just
 someone to talk to.”

There.

Her eyes dropped to the glass in her hands, the liquid inside reflecting the flicker of dim light as she took a long, steady drink as if to drown the words she wished she had the courage to say. “To remind me I’m not crazy,” she added, her voice falling to a near whisper, tinged with a sadness that lingered in the air.

“It’s selfish of me, I suppose,” she continued, her tone heavy with resignation. “You have your wife and all your
 responsibilities. You don’t need to be weighed down by my insecurities.”

“It’s fine, Scarlett. I may have overreacted a tad. Apologies,” Alexander offered with a warmer expression. At the same moment, Harvey refilled his glass. “Much thanks Harvey,” he said as he grabbed his glass.
Violet leaned back in the chair “And what was that just a minute ago..Are you okay?” she inquired, unable to ignore it. Alexander had just finished taking a sip when he raised an eyebrow to her question. He was quite ready to gaslight her but stopped himself just before letting loose his tongue. It was a tad too soon for that.
“You caught that, huh? Observant. I truly admire those eyes of yours.” Alexander gazed into the deep red, almost forgetting to answer her question. “It’s a bothersome side effect of a
” he mouthed the word “spell” with a smile.
Blinking her eyes, Violet stared at him, her gaze sharp and probing, as if trying to decipher the dark transformation she had just witnessed. A spell? What kind of spell? His demeanor had shifted violently, morphing from the familiar Dr. Jekyll to a monstrous Mr. Hyde within the span of a heartbeat.
“What you were saying before
” The words caught in her throat, her apprehension manifesting in a stutter as she attempted to mask her confusion and curiosity. Alexander was already raising an eyebrow in perplexity as he continued to drink his gin. “Do you agree with it now? Word for word, in tone and delivery
? Or would you deliver it differently?” The question was laced with a barely concealed desperation, an attempt to uncover whether there was a hidden switch.
“What? What are you on about? I already apologized for the overreaction.” Alexander shook his head and grinned. “You can rub it in all you like if that's what you want.”
Looking at him for a moment she smiled softly in response “No, of course not. I think the gin is stronger than expected.” She looked at her cup for a moment, her mind still spinning with questions that she attempted to silence with another sip of her drink. “You don’t need to apologize, I’m sure it comes from experience.” She offered him a reassuring smile.
“It’s more like
 hmm
 how should I put it?” Alexander mused. “I had made a few observations about you that concerned me. Then I doused my worry with harshness which didn't help the situation in the slightest.”
“What exactly are the concerning observations?”
“Well, I can't be completely open about them here but I'm sure you can follow along.” He shot her a playful wink. “Based on what we've discussed, you have an almost insatiable desire for me. You seem to need me almost daily. You can't simply have just some of me. You desire all of me, yes? And-” He chuckled. “Perhaps that isn't the best example. Forgive me.”
She suppressed a smile, the humor behind his analogy not escaping her. Deciding to indulge in his game, she leaned forward, the shadows dancing across her face, highlighting the predatory glint in her crimson eyes. Her lips curved into a wicked, toothy smile.
“Yes
” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper that seemed to caress the very air between them. Her gaze locked onto his, unblinking, her eyes narrowing like a hunter sizing up its prey. “Every. Last. Inch..." she continued, drawing out the words, each syllable dripping with dark temptation. Alexander could only wear his smile.

“I know it’s wrong... but..." she leaned in closer, her finger tracing a slow, deliberate path around the rim of her glass. “I want what I want,” she murmured, her voice a velvet snare, thick with desire and a hint of something more dangerous. Every word was enunciated with a slow, deliberate precision, making her intent unmistakably clear.

“What. You. Want. Aaand that is exactly what I'm stuck on.” Her advance left him unmoved yet there was no hint of aversion to Violet. It was simply a matter of his self-control. “Does the spry mink need to feed every night or is it just something she desires? A much better example, I think.” He took up his glass once more.

Leaning forward, she dragged her glass closer, her fingers tracing its rim as her eyes drifted into the void, searching desperately for an elusive truth. How could she possibly convey the agony it brought her—the torment, the relentless craving—and yet the twisted relief that washed over her when it was finally sated?

Her voice, barely above a whisper, trembled as she spoke, "I’m not sure It even knows the full answer to that." The fleeting smile she offered was quickly overshadowed by a shadow of concern, her expression darkening like storm clouds rolling in. "It starts with this sick feeling," she continued, her voice cracking under the weight of her confession. " Then the obsessive thoughts come, the rage... the uncontrollable aggression."

Her head dipped as if crushed by the shame that weighed heavily upon her shoulders. "It feels like an affliction," she admitted, "that can only be soothed by indulging. It doesnt even want to imagine what would happen if it didn’t give in—the physical pain is unbearable."

With a flicker of despair, her gaze rose from the glass, meeting his with raw vulnerability, the walls she had carefully constructed crumbling in his presence. To think all he was doing was sitting there, carefully listening, his neutral expression unable to betray the many gears in motion within his mind. "I’m terrified this is only the beginning of its symptoms" she confessed, her eyes shutting tight as the monster within her stirred, lurking just beneath the surface, whispering sinister promises into her ear. It was a constant, haunting reminder of its presence.

She inhaled deeply as if summoning the courage to keep the beast at bay, before downing the rest of her drink in a single, desperate gulp. "It scares me," she breathed, her voice so soft that only he could hear, her eyes locking into his with a fear that mirrored that of a frightened child.

Before she could speak further, Harvey appeared beside them with another drink. She glanced at him, forcing a soft, strained smile, before retreating into her seat, the momentary reprieve doing little to quell the feeling "The bear," she said hoping he would understand her comparison of Roman, "has already fallen victim to the Affliction but thankfully it was a fleeting moment for it." she admitted shamefully.

“Bear? Hmm
 that's one way to describe him, I guess.” Alexander's tone should have been lighter but Violet confirming the abnormal severity of her bloodthirst left him somewhat disturbed. He was aware it was greater than usual, but he figured it was part of some kink or just slightly off. However, her bloodthirst seemed to match someone under the curse for some decades. “And I assume a fleeting moment isn't enough. Now do you understand my concern, especially with your preferred methods of getting what you need? Why I became worried and upset?”

“I understood it from the start, but your tone doesn’t fix things. Getting upset won't fix this." She sighed "I’m not sure what will. Maybe the noose like you suggested." It was clear by her expression that it was something she had contemplated for a long time. "I did receive a rather interesting proposal from an unsuspecting party. I don't know if the proposal would be very safe considering the situation with the Bear. This would be more, scheduled. Exchange of sorts." She hoped he could read between the lines. “I denied it but the offer was left on the table. Perhaps that is a solution but I'm not sure that it would be enough. What if
.the proposal ends permanently?" She shook her head softly "Rats are disposable. This wouldn’t be the same."

“Enough dead rats create a scene, Scarlett. And I doubt you're some divine judge. Some rodents come in packs, have litters. Others might be bigger than you perceive them to be.” He leaned in with his eyes wide. “Every day means catching one of them without a witness. That will not last as a primary means. You have two. Two others who know the truth outside of your family. Use them and endure whatever pain you experience
” Alexander sighed as he sat back and readied himself to present the other option. “And if
 If you don't wish to do things that way, I can assist you in forfeiting from this grand game. It would be painless, quick. A mercy, I promise.” His voice was barely above a whisper now.

Thoughts raced through her mind as his words hit her to her core. She sat in silence taking in all that he said. She didn’t have a jab or a remark to make. His offering to end her life so effortlessly and emotionless sent another hit to her belly. She found herself in constant reminders of just how calculating Alexander was. So displaced.

In the end, none of that mattered when his words held so much truth. "Can’t have your new employee go missing on the first day..." She offered him a soft, defeated smile before taking a sip of her new drink. “I guess I have some people to reach out to.”

“Do what you must, Scarlett,” Alexander commented using a phrase he used regularly. He could only give Violet the smallest of smiles. However small, it was a warm one hinting at the small spark of optimism he might be feeling. Yet as genuine as it seemed, there was so much lurking behind it.

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Hidden 3 mos ago 3 mos ago Post by PapaOso
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Charlotte & Cassius


Part 1


Time: 8am (Earlier than starting point)
Location: Lover’s Lake



Charlotte was reclining in a hammock strung between two trees, the green fabric cradling her as she swayed gently with the morning breeze. The hammock was perfectly positioned by the water's edge, enabling her to listen to the sound of the cascading waterfalls in the distance as the smell of morning dew permeated the air.

A portion of her dark hair was braided both ways around her head and tied in the back with a blue ribbon, while the rest of it spilled over the edge of the hammock, catching the morning light that filtered through the canopy of leaves above. The pale blue fabric billowed slightly in the breeze, the lace trim fluttering. The dress, simple yet elegant, cinched at her waist with a satin ribbon, giving way to a flowing skirt that brushed against the ground with each movement of the hammock.

Beside her stood Tempestes, a beautiful dapple-gray horse, The horse nuzzled Charlotte’s hand affectionately as she offered it a handful of sweet grass she had picked earlier.

The hammock swayed slightly, and Charlotte adjusted her position to look out at the water, letting one leg dangle lazily over the side. The sunlight danced on the surface of the water, casting shimmering reflections. She watched them with a dreamy look in her eye despite the way her brain was rampant with thoughts.

Her thoughts trailed off as a sudden realization began to take shape. The visions she had been experiencing were memories. And that last one
 Walter had known she would see it. Her heart quickened at the realization.

Her gaze slid out to the water and she smiled softly after a moment. "Perhaps I could be cursed
 However, you don’t know what it means to me to see you after all these years
" she whispered, her words carried away by the breeze as if she were speaking directly to him. "I want to believe you’re still with me, guiding me, my very best friend." She closed her eyes with a heavy sigh.

Getting to see her father’s face and hear his voice so clearly, clearer than she had in more than a decade, had been a gift, no matter if it had been a curse or a blessing. Still, the uncertainty of it all gnawed at her, leaving her feeling both comforted and unsettled.

Meanwhile, the morning sun sat high as Cassius walked toward the lake, the golden light casting small shadows on the ground with each step. His boots crunched on the gravel path purposeful, yet tinged with the weight of uncertainty. He glanced around at the sprawling estates, the manicured lawns, the grandiose architecture of the manors behind him. It was just reminders and the symbols of his newfound status. Honestly, It remained strange to him, this life of opulence; formal dinners, masquerades, and the asinine expectation to behave like a proper noble.

He snorted to himself, the sound carrying a note of sarcasm. "A proper noble," he muttered under his breath. The very idea amused him. To think, how many men would kill for this? To wake up one day with wealth and power at their fingertips, to be treated with deference by those who once looked down on them. Yet, here he was, feeling restless, as if this new life of luxury would reveal itself as nothing more than a gilded cage any moment now.

Cassius had always been a man who valued his freedom, who reveled in the ability to go where he wanted, do what he pleased, and speak his mind however he wished to do so. The endless rules and expectations of nobility were a far cry from the rough-and-tumble world of mercenaries and battlefields he had known for most of his life. The formal dinners, with their stifling etiquette that he was sure he’d never grow used to, the masquerade where everyone hid behind masks, pretending to be someone they weren't
 though fun, it all felt like a grand joke, one that he was somehow expected to play along with.

But the joke, he thought with a grim smile, was on him. Because despite the humor he found in it all, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was out of place here, a wolf in sheep's clothing. What was the price of this life, he wondered? And would he ever truly fit the bill?

Cassius paused as he neared the lake, staring out at the calm water in the distance that mirrored the sky above. The calmness of the scene was at odds with the storm brewing within him. His body almost physically ached for the adrenaline of battle, the thrill of danger, the satisfaction of a hard-fought victory. The chaos and peril of his previous life had become so ingrained in him that now, in the stillness and safety of Sorian, he felt like a man out of place, out of time. This concerned him, as he had only been a part of this new world for a short while.

There was a restlessness in his bones, a gnawing need for the unpredictability that had once defined his existence. Here, everything was predictable and controlled. Even the dangers he faced were carefully measured, wrapped in the trappings of politics and intrigue. The thing that something inside of him missed was the raw, unfiltered life of a sellsword, where every decision was a matter of survival, and every day was a gamble.

He flexed his hands, the familiar calluses on his palms a reminder of the life he'd left behind. In those days, his weapons had been an extension of his will, and every scar on his body told a story of a battle won or lost. Now, his sword and his axe hung in his room as almost nothing more than a decoration, a relic of a life that seemed to be slipping further away with each passing day.

Finally, he had almost reached his destination, just in time to hear her words as softly spoken as they were.

Turning to face the sound, Cassius laid eyes on Charlotte. Confusion spread through his mind. He had not seen her since the masquerade a couple of nights ago, though part of him had hoped to. Alas, here she was. He processed her words and wondered who she was speaking to. It was surprisingly reminiscent of the way he would sometimes speak to the wind as though his mother were with him. She looked lovely there, and comfortable laying in her hammock. Cassius smiled as he shifted his momentum in her direction and adjusted the dark leather doublet that clung to his broad shoulders, its worn edges and faint scuffs betraying his reluctance to fully embrace the pristine elegance expected of him in Sorian. Beneath the doublet, his linen shirt was simple, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the hard earned scars that crisscrossed his tanned skin. A small dagger hung at his side from the belt laced through his dark wool trousers.

“Good morning, Lady Vikena.” Cas greeted her in hopes of not startling her. “What brings you out here, well ...other than talking to ghosts?” He asked with a sly smile and a glint of curiosity in his eye. He approached slowly as he did so, closing the distance and reaching a hand out to pet the beautiful mane of Charlotte’s horse as he waited for her response.

Charlotte’s face lit up and she beamed at Cassius. “Hi! Good morning!” Without a second thought, she jumped up from the hammock and she closed the distance between them. Then, she wrapped her arms around him in a brief embrace.

Subsequently, she pulled back and told him with unnecessary haste, “You will not believe it—I completely forgot to find a gift for Lord Drake’s birthday
 So I had to rise at the crack of dawn and ride to the store to find something fitting
 A bit dreadful of me, I know.”

“And once that was done, well, I simply couldn’t resist coming here afterward,” she confessed with a smile. Tilting her head in that curious way she always had, she asked, “But what about you? What brings you here so early?” Though she had initially been hesitant to trust Cassius, especially after the rather terrible first impression he had made, Charlotte had gradually come to see him in a different light. His kindness during the ball had softened her heart, and the more she reflected on her distrust, the more she realized it was in poor taste to judge him simply for his name. She had been judged enough for her name and one of her best friends had bore the same last name as him, after all.

With that in mind, she had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, but she knew she had truly made up her mind during their dance at the ball.

His lips curved into an even wider smile as he accepted Charlotte's embrace, a rare moment of warmth in his otherwise nonchalant demeanor. As they released, he returned his hand to stroke the horse’s mane, though his eyes did not leave Charlottes.

“I wasn’t aware that grown men had birthday parties.” Cassius said in jest with a slight chuckle. “But I’m sure he’ll adore the gift
it’s very thoughtful of you, Lottie. As for me
” He cast a sidelong glance at the lake, nodding towards a cluster of fishing traps partially hidden among the reeds. "You see those over there? Those are mine. I’ve come out here a few times since arriving in Sorian, not just for fishing, but it's also a good place to clear the head. This spot has a way of putting things into perspective."

Lottie immediately giggled. “It’s quite normal in noble circles, Cassius
 Certainly, your father will try to throw you one, so beware.” Lottie said as she continued to laugh, “I love birthday parties
 Though I haven’t had one in some time myself. “

Her eyes brightened with a sudden memory, a grin spreading across her face. “I remember at my parties, we used to play pin the tail on the donkey, and I always failed miserably... It was such a splendid time!”

Noticing his gaze shift toward the fishing traps in the lake, Lottie followed his eyes, feeling a slight tinge of embarrassment that she hadn’t noticed them earlier. “Oh... I suppose that’s breakfast, then?” she asked with a hint of playful curiosity.

“Oh he can certainly try
” Cassius mused. “But whether I show up, now that’s an entirely different story.”

His laugh was genuine, but his eyes softened a bit at the revelation that she had not had a party of her own in some time. “Guess we’re just going to have to fix that, aren’t we? If no one else throws you a party, Lottie, I’ll give you one you’ll never forget.” He said confidently.

She blushed and fixated her gaze on the fish traps instead.

“Oh and yes, that is most certainly breakfast.” Cassius ran his fingers through the perfectly groomed mane of the horse one final time before motioning toward the traps. “Well
are you gonna make little ol me go grab them all by myself, or are you gonna help?” His smile was both disarming and enchanting as he teased her.

“Me? A lady? Help you?” Charlotte teased with mock surprise, feigning shock, “...Oh, you poor thing. You’d be positively lost without me to save the day.” With a cheeky smile, she flexed playfully, then hitched up her skirt with exaggerated elegance and made her way toward the reeds.

“I’ll be sure to tell everyone far and wide of your heroism here today, princess.” He said with sarcasm and a wink as he let her pass and then followed behind her casually. “Such bravery, such charity from an esteemed woman such as yourself.” Playfulness laced every word as he spoke, and after a moment the two found themselves at the traps. Cassius lowered to grab one of the smaller baskets and pull it from the water, revealing it to have a healthy bounty of fish. “I hope you’re hungry, Lottie.” He said with a smirk as he reached out to hand her the basket with joy.

She took the basket into her hands with enthusiasm, however it was a little heavier than she anticipated. Charlotte wobbled on her feet as she adjusted her grip and found her balance once more. Hoping to brush off the moment with grace, she met Cassius’s eyes with a bright smile.

“So. Do you usually fish in a lake for breakfast?” She inquired with a playful lilt. “I mean, no judgment
 “ The thought simmered in her brain a little and she could not help but continue, “Well, perhaps a bit of judgment. Surely you have enough to eat at home. It’s hardly fair to waste these poor creatures' lives.”

Cassius stepped closer, ready to catch her if needed, but Charlotte quickly regained her footing and met his eyes with that bright smile of hers. He himself smiled at the way she wobbled. He couldn’t help it, it was just too damn cute.

“Not all the time, but often, yes.” Cas admitted. “Just a piece of my old life that I can’t let go, I suppose.” He nodded at her point, understanding the concern.

“Besides, whatever I don’t eat at home goes to the staff, so I feel like it balances out all things considered.” He looked down to his other traps, which were most likely full as well, and continued, “Don’t worry, though.” He said, turning back to her. “I only take what I need.”

Cassius then moved to open the other baskets, letting the majority of the fish escape. “I wouldn’t want you to think I’m some heartless brute.” His smile softened with his words, a mix of teasing and genuine affection in his eyes.

“I assure you my impression is quite the opposite.” Charlotte told him warmly and smiled. She considered his words before adding, “ It’s lovely you think of your servants
I often forget mine are paid to live with me as they’ve become so dear to me
” Her look grew far off and her smile grew as her mind wandered to the faces of their staff. “Delilah has always been my attendant and maid for the household, but I suppose I have always seen her more as my big sister
 Or perhaps even like a mother.”

After a pause, she giggled and said, “And Gilbert is our darling chef. He is a liiiittttllee grumpy, but goodness do we love him. Then, Nathaniel is more my stepfather’s employee but he has a wonderful heart. “ Charlotte had then approached closer to assist if needed. Though, she forgot her hands were already quite full. Her expression shifted with enthusiasm as she proclaimed in a hushed voice, “And we have a secret handshake!”

Listening to the way Lottie spoke of her servants filled Cassius with a sense of ease. Not all nobles felt the way she did about their staff. Having gotten to know her a bit, he wasn’t surprised by her sentiment, but still
it was a comfort to confirm she was the kind of person he thought, and hoped, her to be.

“You really are as sweet as you seem, aren’t you?” Cassius asked with curiosity and a playful grin. “Most people wear kindness like a pretty necklace to be shown off, but you
you just
care, don’t you?” He smiled at her once more. “It’s honestly refreshing. And I bet they adore you, don’t they?”
As he finished releasing the fish that he wasn’t going to use, Cassius took a moment to reset the traps for next time, gently took the basket from Charlotte, and began leading them back over to her horse and hammock.

“Hopefully I get to meet ‘em
Delilah, Gilbert, Nathaniel, and the rest. They sound lovely.”

“You really think so?” Charlotte had asked with genuine curiosity as she came to a halt beside Tempestes, who nuzzled her hair affectionately. She smiled and gently hugged the horse for a moment, then turned on her heels to meet his gaze once more. “Of course you will! I live right next door, silly. You can just come over.”

“I do.” Cassius said simply, kindly, and with full conviction.


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Stratya, Riona, Anastasia, Cynwaer and Sjandehk





Stratya was just leaving her swordbreaker with the barkeep when - Ooh, a response, someone continued the song! The knight turned to locate the source of the responding voice excitedly, especially after the response had been so lackluster before his rescue. Was the song not as known as she thought? Well, no matter. Someone had picked it up.

”Oye, ‘ere's a ‘earty response! ‘at's t’kind’o crowd we need, Rriona,” her accent had gotten a little stronger since coming into the bar. She rolled the r just once. A flip, if you will. “Singin’ and drrinkin’ is best with moar, ye ken. Shall we?” The Knight looked for a response more than waited for one, and she was already on her way to stepping toward the voice she’d heard.

Riona shook her head. “You go on ahead. I’ll stick around and guard the fort.” She patted the report in front of her.

Stratya stopped and pivoted about, swinging just so that her beer didn’t spill, “oh.. aye?” She glanced at the report briefly, but decided that this report, itself, wouldn’t be all that sensitive. Riona seemed sharp enough to not bring it otherwise, too.

Her gaze flicked to Darryn’s lonely drink on the other side of the table. “Someone’s gotta make sure that beer doesn’t walk off.” Not that his ghost was about to materialize and chug it down, but hey, she’d paid for the damn thing. If anyone was going to drink it, it’d better be her. “Just don’t forget, you and I still need to talk. So don’t get too crazy out there, okay?” Riona managed to throw a smile at Stratya.

”Alrigh’, ‘hen. Trry not to drrink too much on yerr own, nao.” She heard the Local Sea Captain call out for a response. The Noble Army Captain grinned and drew a breath to give it, ”A fine lass ye be!” Stratya gave Riona a friendly grin before popping on down the bar. They’d hardly known each other and already shared a round of forgiveness. Where she was from, that was a sign of fast friends, and no small feat, either. It felt strange to leave her new friend to drink alone while she went to find a party, but.. maybe Rinoa could be pulled into something a little heartier in a moment. After her first or second beer, perhaps.

Stratya was in earshot of the party she sought just in time to hear the Foreign Sea Captain turn down the Local’s request for a song, and her joy was doubled, ”oooh, but luck is a lady tonigh’, friends! Or three, as the case may be - weeeeell, we rreally arre lucky, arren't we? Hah, I’ll sing ye som’in’ frrom ‘ome.” Stratya hadn’t looked too closely at anyone in particular just yet.

“Oh, ken you my love Johnny, he’d doon on yonder lea
He’s lookin’ and he’s joukin’ and aye he’s watchin’ me.
He’s pu’in and he’s teasin’ but his meanin’s nae sae bad,
Gin it everr gaun tae be, tell me noo, Johnnie lad.“
She drained a good half of her pint as a response rose from the pub. She set it down on the table as she slid into a seat, “Min’ if we join ya? I’ll even buy a rround. Though, per’aps some of us ‘ave ‘ad enough.” She caught herself eyeing Annie, finding her familiar. And drunk.

Very drunk.

The princess in the pink gown had been guzzling drink after drink without a care in the world, as if consequence itself was a foreign concept to her. Her gaze found Stratya, feeling her eyes on her. Through messy blonde locks, Anastasia looked her up and down and smirked. Finally, she rose from her stool and made her way over, stumbling at times as her steps unsteady.

Annie then paused before her with a bright smile. Now that she was closer, the woman was much more familiar, but there was something rather comforting in not knowing exactly who she was just yet.

"Oooh, you're sooo pretty!" she slurred.

That grating, cloying voice stabbed into Riona’s ears like an ice pick. Her fingers clenched around the cup as every muscle went rigid. What is she doing here?

”Ohh hoh, arren't you just a darrlin’. Steady, now. ‘ere, lay y’rr ‘and on m’shoulderr, nae tippin’ ova now.”

Cynwaer’s eyes shone and his brows arched with amusement as he watched Anastasia totter her way over to the singing stranger. Credit where it was due, that the girl was still able to stand up – even if she was about as steady as a newborn foal – and that she still had enough control of her faculties to string a sentence together – even if her words were almost slurred to the point of incoherence – was impressive. Cynwaer had expected her to be face-down on the bar about two or three cups ago.

He looked over to the newcomer, and right away his amusement turned to guarded curiosity. He had heard her speak long before seeing her, and so had assumed her to be someone like him; a foreigner to Sorian, hailing from somewhere in the rural countryside. Deep within it, even; her accent was far thicker and far more pronounced than his.

But that wasn’t what her attire, or the way she carried herself, told him. Did she perhaps hold a title of some sort? The distinctive symbol on the back of her gloves – distinctive enough to catch Cynwaer’s eyes – suggested just that. Or maybe he was reading too much into things, and she was just a particularly well-dressed commoner.

“‘At’s quite a voice yer ‘ave,” Cynwaer remarked to the stranger. “Reminds me o’ a
Well, just a fella I know, aye.” He turned around fully in his seat to face her and gave her a grin. “Where yer fae? It’s nae e’ryday I run intae a lass wi’ words like yers, nae. That said
” He waved a hand in Anastasia’s general direction. “Don’t think we’ll be needin’ mer rounds, not unless we’re wantin’ ta carry our wee lassie ‘ere ‘ame, an’ I’m nae dae’n any o’ that, aye I’m nae.”

Just before turning back around to face the bar, he nodded towards the stranger’s gloves. “Oh, an’ that’s a pair o’ fancy gloves yer ‘ave on, by the way. ‘Ope yer don’t mind me sayin’ sa’.”

”M’ gloves? Ooye, thank ‘ee for no’icin’! I got ‘em as a li’tle gift for m’self, afterr I wer knigh’ed. Me mot’err w’soo su’prrised when I wen’ and tol’ ‘er all abou’ i’. It werr news enough me li’tle village, not even on most maps, called for a festival, of all t’t’ings. T’ese gloves ‘ave been ‘elpful, too. Got me the drop on a crooked tax man or two. ‘Ooh, she’s just some bonnie lass’ - k’pow, a bonnie lass with authori’y and brawn, than’kee.” She had herself a satisfied chuckle before taking another swig. Having something that looked (and was) so official and could be shown so readily was a real ace.

The real purpose of her tour of the kingdom, and the purpose she wasn’t mentioning, was Inquisition. Magic hunting. She’d made the tour with her gloves in her pocket, figuratively and literally. It was easiest to hear things when you were assumed to be unimportant. “.. I wondah if t’ey still fea’ me. It’s been a while.” Sip.

Cynwaer nodded slowly. The woman’s slurring voice and her thick accent didn’t make it easy for him to understand all of what she said, but he caught enough to know her as an enemy. “So yer a soldier, eh?” He remarked, keeping his voice as light as before. There wasn’t any point in him making the woman an open adversary at this point in time. Not when Renegade and Songbird had yet to arrive. “One o’ ta’ King’s lads– Well, I mean, King’s lassies, are yer? Cannae say yer look ta’ part, but I dae’n look ta’ part o’ a cap’n, either, sae who’m I ta’ say anythin’, aye? S’pose it does work out in me favour sometimes, like what yer said.”

He looked over his shoulder at Sjan-dehk. If the foreign captain had felt left out thus far, he did a good job of hiding it. If anything, the man seemed more interested in reading – at least, that was what Cynwaer assumed he was doing – the faded labels plastered across the bottles sitting on the shelf across from him. “See anythin’ yer like, pal?”

Sjan-dehk shook his head. “No. Only reading. Learning.” He turned to Cynwaer, casting a quick glance over the man’s shoulder at the new woman. She didn’t look like a noblewoman – at least not what Sjan-dehk assumed Caeonian nobility to appear – but she did carry herself with an air that he mostly associated with someone of a military background. Something about the way she spoke and her boisterous mannerisms. That said, Sjan-dehk found her words to be completely incomprehensible, so he was hardly overly-confident in his assessment.

He tilted his head back towards the shelf. “You people like this
Beer? What is it?”

Cynwaer almost laughed. A man who didn’t know what beer was? That was certainly new, and something he found both amusing and enviable. “It’s feckin’ pisswater, that’s what ‘tis,” he said and allowed himself a chuckle. “Be glad yer dae’n know much about it. Aye, there’s good ones out there fae sure, but most o’ it may as well be ta’ king’s evenin’ piss served in ta’ mornin’. Dae yersel’ a favour an’ ‘ave a good whiskey or scotch if yer can.” He nodded towards the barkeep, who had moved further down the counter to serve another customer. “E’en the shite ‘e brews wi’ ‘is wife’s and maw’s draw’rs ‘ave a bet’er taste if yer ask me.”

“Oi, I heard that! Shut your fucking gob!” came an annoyed, but not entirely angry, shout.

“Aye, yer s’posed tae, and ‘tis a compliment!” Cynwaer yelled back with a smile.

Sjan-dehk, although not quite understanding what was going on, nevertheless simply nodded. It was oftentimes the best thing to do, he had come to learn. Sensing that it would be best for him to change the topic, he tilted his chin towards the new woman. “This new woman, you know who she is?”

“Oh, ‘er?” Cynwaer followed Sjan-dehk’s gaze. A look of contempt flashed across his face, and he turned away from her. “She tells me she’s an army lass. One o’ the kings
Folk. Personally, I’m nae a fan o’ any o’ them. All me run-ins wi’ ‘em all tend ta’ end terribly.” He decided against mentioning that his encounters with soldiers typically ended poorly for them. The bodies of the taxman’s escort from days ago were likely still laying in tatters on that very same road as proof of that very fact.

“Army?” Sjan-dehk repeated, a tinge of interest in his tone. That would make the woman one of the few members of the Caesonian military he had met since arriving to Sorian. Before he could ask her any of the questions he had in mind however, her attention had already shifted towards Annie. Sjan-dehk merely shrugged, and busied himself with getting another drink.

The knighted knight glanced at Annie. She was.. distressingly familiar. Stratya was determinedly unphazed, set on drinking and having a good time. But, somewhere in the back of her mind, there was a thread of thought, putting it all together. “Oooh, shall we see jus’ ‘ow drrun’ky’are, swee’eart? Only if you’rre keen to play along, y’ken. All goo’ fun.”

With a grin, Stratya cleared her throat and began, “she sells sheshells- aw, shite. Kyahaah, hoo, coul’n’ even do it sober, fuck. Aahh. She sells she- mmn!, she sells seashells by the sea shoar’. Aack, did it. Thaa’ took way too much focus. Ba’s low, bu’ can ye do i’?” She finished her mug.

Wait a minute. Reminding herself of etiquette lessons put her in the right headspace, suddenly that thread of thought found all the pieces it needed. The young lady she’d had lean on her shoulder was Princess Anastacia! Going back over Annie’s face confirmed it.

Stratya klunked her pint back to the bar, “oye, barrkeep! Anot’er, and drrop a dram in it! The goo’ stuff, thank ye.” Her diction was just slightly more deliberate as she gave her honest thanks.

Suddenly, princess-sitting. The position she found herself in demanded it. She’d be damned if it stopped her from enjoying her trip to the tavern, though.

As Stratya's words finally registered, Anastasia squinted her eyes, attempting to focus. "Ooo, you sing songs about... seas and... shells?" Her voice trailed off, clearly confused but trying to keep up. She giggled, leaning closer to Stratya as if sharing a secret, "I don't know any sea songs... but I like how you say 'sea-shells.”

Riona’s jaw clenched as Anastasia’s laughter cut through the tavern. The princess was having a right jolly time, cheeks flushed with drunken glee and zero f**ks given. Another night, another bender. Dodging accountability with the ease of someone who’d never had to face them. Forgetting.

Her eyes darted to the empty chair beside her, a hollow ache spreading in her chest. What would he have wanted her to do? The question hung in the air, unanswered.

To hells with it. Before she could second-guess herself, Riona snatched up Darryn’s tankard and knocked it back in three swift gulps. Liquid courage, or liquid stupidity? Only one way to find out.

She slammed the mug down and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. One deep breath to steady herself, then Riona scooped up the report and stalked across the room. She didn’t stop until she was toe-to-toe with Anastasia, close enough to smell the alcohol on her breath. She fixed the princess with a glare that could’ve frozen hellfire. “Having fun, Your Highness?” Each word dripped venom.

Anastasia whirled on Riona and beamed, “ Hi cutie! So nice seeing hereee!”Though innocent on the princess’s part, she made matters worse by trying to hug the castle servant. “ I am having SO much fun!”

Rage simmered beneath Riona’s skin as she bristled from the touch. Her fingers twitched, itching to wipe that infuriating smirk off that face; to crush her windpipe; to slam that pretty head into the pockmarked bar top again and again. Riona inhaled sharply. Her nostrils flared and her eyes snapped shut. The world narrowed to pinpricks of pain as her nails bit crescents into her palms, knuckles white as bleached bone. “Don’t. F**king. Touch. Me.”

Hoo, Riona was pissed. Honest-to-goodness, sober, melt-your-face-with-my-eyes pissed. Well, maybe she weren’t sober anymore, but being drunk had nothing to do with it. The cat was out of the bag, now, too. Maybe that was best? Stratya took a hesitant sip of her new pint. She had been planning on nursing this one a bit slower than her first, but it seemed like their original plans for the evening were going out the window. Not that Stratya had planned on discussing Riona’s report at the tavern. She glanced between the two of them as she sipped her pint slowly, and..

Turned to the bar with the other two captains. ”I s’ppose it’s all th’ same, rreally - I serve t’Crrown - but I w’re knigh’ed by ‘er Grrace Th’Queen, no’ t’King.” The Knight glanced over her shoulder at Riona, eyeing her fists, specifically.

She turned to Sjan-dhek with a soft smile, ”Yer askin’ on my time wit’ t’ arrmy? Heh, much o’ me time’s nae excitin’, which is.. good, jus’ borin’ t’ talk on. Peaceful days ‘n all. Bandi’s were an occasional pain ta deal wit’, bu’ ‘ey’re usually pret’y poor on teamwork. I’m nae patrolin’ much, these days, though.”

It took Sjan-dehk a moment to realise that the woman was addressing him. Firstly, because he didn’t think she was done with her current conversation. And secondly, because it took him more than a few moments to even vaguely grasp the gist of what she said. He nodded slowly; as far as he could understand, the bulk of her service had been during times of peace. Good for her, he supposed, but that also meant that she was unlikely to possess the information he sought.

“I sail,” he said and placed a hand over his chest. “That means I am
How your people say, part of navy? Yes, navy.” He paused, drumming his fingers on the counter as he thought about how to phrase what he wanted to say next. “Was in
No, was at war. Five years. But have sailed for many years. Started when I was very young. Fought in many battles. Mostly pirates. During war, I fought other captains. Some easy, others difficult.”

He cleared his throat, and changed the topic to something he felt was lighter. “Your guards, the ones in the city, I notice most carry swords. Not a lot of guns. You do not use them? Or you do not like them?”

A flash of emotion briefly swam in Anastasia’s gaze and she let go of Riona as if her skin had been hot as lava. Still, she giggled. “Aww seems like everyone isn’t having a fun time. If you want a carriage back to the castle, let me know, Riona.”

She moved from the girl and looked toward Thea, who had been drunkenly laying her head down. “ Maybe I should take Thea home. She looks like she might pass out.”

“What are you even doing here?” Before Anastasia could give some smart ass reply Riona snapped her hand up. “And before you try to be cute, I know you’re at a tavern to get sh*tfaced. That’s not what I’m asking and you know that. Why are you out here?” The princess was supposed to be grounded.

“Cheering up Thea, Riri!” Anastasia enthusiastically replied.

It would be rude of Stratya to shift her attention from the captain she’d just started talking to, especially after he shared a glimpse of such experiences. ”We dunnae fin’ firearrms tae be terribly reliable. A gun migh’ be useful if it werks, bu’ a sword will werk. Do.. ye nae ‘ave that problem wit’ firearrms?” She had to admit, she fancied the idea of a pistol at her side, but couldn’t get over the nagging fear of losing her hand to a malfunction.

Sjan-dehk blinked once, a look of surprise colouring his features despite his best efforts. Surely he had misunderstood something? Surely the woman wasn’t telling him that Caesonian firearms were that far behind what the Commonwealth considered to be standard? “No, we do not have that problem,” he began slowly. “We did, long time ago. But we fix. Now guns are
They are the normal? No, the standard for guards. And soldiers. And sailors. We also have swords, still, and bayonets if need to fight close. Some places, they use spears and bows, but only for
For rites and ceremonies, I think.”

Well, he supposed that he wasn’t one to judge Caesonia too harshly in this regard. Although he never saw it himself, he did hear of incidents during the early weeks of the war when local lords fielded armies in the traditional style of massed spear-armed militiamen, archers, and only a few guns. That swiftly changed once it became clear that even a hastily-trained force of musketeers, backed by cannons, could easily destroy such an army. And as technology marched on over the years, and improved locks and powders of better composition became commonplace, rifles and artillery became the new kings and queens of the battlefield.

“Now we have new guns, also,” Sjan-dehk added. “Load faster. Fire
More straight. Maybe one day can show you.” Although Sada Kurau had left the Commonwealth before she could take on the new breech-loading rifles that were fast becoming standard-issue, Mursi had been working hard to cobble together a makeshift version that could be retrofitted onto Sada Kurau’s existing stores of muzzle-loaders. From what Sjan-dehk had seen, the man had succeeded.

At the same time, however, she didn’t think it wise to ignore the conversation between Riona and the Princess. If you hadn’t heard Riona’s greeting, you’d be forgiven for being unable to tell who the Princess was. Thinking back on it, Stratya would forgive someone for thinking that greeting had been sarcasm, too.

Either way, it didn’t sit properly with her to let the princess go on her own like this. Or with her friend. They were both very drunk. If she tried to leave, Stratya could not let her go in this state. Even from here to the castle ground was too far, considering the morning’s revelation.

Cynwaer had been watching the exchanges between Riona and Annie with interest and a good amount of amusement. Resting an elbow on the counter, he braced his cheek against a closed fist. Should he say something? It would certainly add to the fun, he imagined, but he felt that this Riona was just one wrong word away from ripping Annie’s head clean off her shoulders. And as interesting as that sight might be, Cynwaer would rather have a bloodless end to this night.

Anastasia met Cynwaer's gaze suddenly as her eyes wandered and she smiled. " Friend.” She declared.

“Cheering up Thea, huh? With the Crown’s blessing, I’m sure. Because you couldn’t possibly be that godsdamn stupid or callous to pull this sh*t again without guards, could you? Not after the last clusterf*ck that got a stablehand tortured and nearly put to death as a scapegoat. Remember that? What am I saying, of course you do. It’s only been a few days. No chance in any hell you forgot that quick. Clearly, you’ve taken those hard-learned lessons to heart and wouldn’t dare risk getting another lowborn beaten and killed just so you can keep having fun with your friends, right?”

The knight thought this had gone on long enough. They didn't need a scene. Stratya didn't need the drama when she's at the tavern, trying to relax after a long day. They didn’t need to bother their foreign guests with outbursts like this. She sighed with resignation, ”thank’e fer t’ inforrmation, frrien’. Per’aps I can buy ye a drink anot’er time. Excuse me.”

Riona looked about, searching for any sign of the Princess’s guards she doubted were actually here. “So where are they, your guards?”

She spun around on her barstool again, to face Riona and Anastasia, her mug in her hand, ”’ere I am~,” she chimed. ”Nae bet’er escor’ fer a pint a’ th’ pub, if I do say so, m’self. Drink like an ox, I do, ‘n I’m always the las’ standin’.” Even when there’s a brawl involved. Especially when a brawl’s involved. Stratya gave a cheery motion with her mug before taking a swig. ”Now, ‘fore we star’ a brawl, le’ me finish this here second pint.”

“I’ll nae ‘ave a brawl tae’night,” Cynwaer piped up. He pretended that he hadn’t quite understood what Riona had said – there wasn’t much he could do with such information now – but it at least confirmed to him what he had suspected earlier. Annie, and by extension, Thea, were indeed a pair of noble girls who seemed to have acquired a taste for common pleasures. And judging by what Riona had said, said taste didn’t always turn out well for those who served beneath them.

He reached across and snatched Annie’s mug off the counter. “Yer’ll ‘ave none o’ that. Any mer an’ yer’ll be get’in’ in trouble I cannae be fecked ta’ deal wi’, sae either find somewhere else tae ‘ave yer poison, or ‘ead on ‘ame, lass.” He glanced at the woman – Annie’s guard, as she had so proudly proclaimed – and gave her a slight nod. Enemy that she may be, for now they were hopefully both on the same side of defusing tensions and getting Annie and her friend away.

Anastasia’s eyes initially watered and she clenched her fists. Everyone was always blaming her. Darryn had done it. Callum. Her mother. Even her father. And there was no forgetting that costly ransom, after all.

Anastasia’s expression darkened, narrowing her unfocused gaze on Riona. “Are you seriously blaming me?” she began, her words still slurring even as her voice was low and trembling with restrained fury. “I’m the one who defended him in front of everyone. Where were you? What have you done for Darryn? You’re all talk ! So go ahead, blame me! Blame everything on me!” Her voice grew louder, tinged with bitterness as she took a step back staggering as her arms spread wide in a mock display. “Everything wrong in the kingdom is my fault because I dared to step outside!”

She glared at Riona, glassy eyes blazing with anger. “You want my guards?” She snapped her fingers sharply. “Guards!” Rather quickly, three figures detached themselves from the shadows, moving toward her side. “No matter where I go, no matter how hard I try to escape, they’re always there, Riona. So don’t worry about me.” With a dismissive wave of her hand, she sent them away, her gaze turning icy. For the first time, she looked at Riona with pure contempt. “Don’t you ever bring up Darryn to me again
 And stay away from me. I’ve been nothing but nice to you, and I don’t need this. I am done with you.” She turned on her heels and stumbled as she made her way to Thea.

Riona breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted the guards. Good. At least torture and threats of execution were off the table. For them, anyway—she hoped the same courtesy extended to the guards who were supposed to keep people out of Anastasia’s room. The way these guards skulked around, though, made Riona wonder if the Princess had snuck out without permission. She just knew she’d be followed.

”Hoh hooh, you lads are good at tha’” Stratya eyes the Princess Guard, keeping in mind how they seemed to emerge from the shadows. That didn't sit right. ”Guess I’ll nae ‘ave to fill in, after all..” An eye still on the scene, she turned back toward the bar slowly.

“Darryn’s dead.” Riona announced simply. “Murdered.” The word hung heavy in the air. “Given the circumstances, I’m not buying it’s unrelated to the afterparty you snuck off to.”

Anastasia’s pupils dilated.

She strode towards the Princess, ignoring the guard’s blade hovering an inch from her neck, and leaned in close.

“You think everything’s about you? That all the kingdom’s wrongs hang on your shoulders?” She scoffed. “Gods, you’re so full of yourself. No, I’m holding you accountable for your own actions and inactions. Deal with it.” Riona stared into those royal eyes, past the Danrose name, the title, right to Anastasia, the person.

“I don’t think anything’s about me.”

“I believe you could’ve done more to help Darryn. At any point in time. But you picked your mysterious party friend over him. A mysterious party friend who has enough resources and influence to host secret parties with nobles, erase memories, and vanish without a trace. Versus a stablehand who got... what?” She showed her empty palms to emphasize the point. “Who needed you most, Anastasia?”

After taking a deep breath, Riona’s voice softened just a bit. “Even though your dad acts like you don’t exist most of the time, you’ve still got more sway over the outcome of things than any commoner.”

Anastasia’s eyes watered. [color=E77298] Why say such a thing to me about my father? Why tell me my friend is dead then put the weight on me as if I killed him? Is she evil?

Unshed tears stung her eyes. “So, what was I doing? While you were off partying, I was getting lashed. Because the nobles needed someone to blame for their own screw-ups at the ball. Just like Darryn. The Crown couldn’t punish one of their own or another noble in front of esteemed guests, so they made him pay the price instead. More than he should’ve. You stopping his execution was the bare minimum you could’ve done for him.”

Sorrow crossed Annie’s expression hearing that Riona had been lashed, but she did not have time to interrupt.

Riona couldn’t help but add, “And don’t f**king act like you were the only one who defended Darryn.” Though Riona hadn’t reached the entrance in time to see it all, she knew Cal and other nobles like Farim and Zarai had pleaded for Darryn's life too. Anastasia was rewriting history to paint herself as some kind of martyr. Gods, she is a Princess Edin.

“I didn’t say that!”

Pushing away her disgust, Riona went on, “After all that, what did I do? Nothing that mattered in the end. I helped patch Darryn up and tried to talk sense into him, to get him to leave all this behind and start over somewhere far away.” She swallowed hard. “I failed him. Now he’s gone.”

“I should’ve tried harder, searched for him sooner. I keep thinking, what else could I’ve said to make him accept my help? Or at least tell me what had him so scared.” Her slumped shoulders straightened as she stood tall, but kept her voice low so the last bit couldn’t be overheard by others. “I can’t turn back time. But I can damn well help find out why he died and make it right.”

“What about you, Anastasia? Knowing that Darryn was killed, possibly because of the afterparty, will you keep wallowing in self-pity? Or are you finally gonna prove that you’re not the self-absorbed, manipulative, fake-nice, hedonistic brat that I think you are?”

Anastasia glared hatefully at Riona.

The fire shivered excitedly. Yes, more.

“Because you can make a difference.” She let the silence settle between them.

“You know where to find me, if you ever decide to be a real friend to Darryn and help solve his murder. You can go now.” The maid dismissed the Princess, turning her back and walking over to Stratya and the two men.

“
It’s not my fault Darryn is dead and it’s not your fault either, Riona. If you ran into Darryn, then you know as well as I do that something way weirder was going on than him! And, I don’t care what you think about me. You make judgments on me, my family, and everyone like you’re above people. You don’t even know me! You sound like the manipulative one framing it as if the only way to be a ‘good friend’ to Darryn is through you and putting such crazy expectations for me to have known what was going to happen. Get a grip!” Once Riona was out of earshot, Anastasia beckoned her guards to help collect Thea, and then the two girls left.

“Sorry you had to see that,” Riona said to them. “But I had to get at least some of it off my chest.”

Cynwaer let out a low whistle as Riona finished her tirade against Annie. He made space for her and nodded his approval as she approached. “Nae bother,” he said, looked for the barkeep, and beckoned the man over. “Sounds like yer ‘ad plenty o’ shite tae get out o’ yer. An’ if e’en ‘alf o’ what yer said’s ta’ truth, then our pink lass o’er there might’ve ‘ad it comin’, aye?” Before either of the women could give him a response, the barkeep approached with an outstretched hand. A look of false indignation crossed Cynwaer’s face as he dug a hand into his trouser pocket. “If yer keep this ol’ game up, folks’ll start tae think I’m some sort o’ nae good scunner who’s nae good fae ‘is tab, y’know?”

“You don’t have a tab, Cyn,” the barkeep said pointedly. Cynwaer chuckled and placed a couple of scuffed silver coins into his open palm. “And we’re all scunners here.” The man snapped his hand into a fist as soon as Cynwaer’s fingers left the coins. “What d’you want?”

“Whate’er that lass asks fae,” Cynwaer said and pointed to Riona. [color=DC143C]“Think she could dae wi’ one or twa good ones, aye?” He then addressed her directly. “‘Eard yer say yer got lashed? That’s a feckin’ terrible punishment if I e’er ‘eard o’ one, and I’m a sailin’ man, aye.”

Riona’s eyes lingered on the door Anastasia and her entourage left from before she turned to the freckled man with a weary smile. “Thanks, uh
” She glanced at the barkeep, jerking her thumb toward the abandoned drinks. “I’ll have what the girls were having.” She faced her unexpected benefactor. “What can I say, some noble’s tantrums could put a hurricane to shame.” With a sigh, she shrugged. “But I need the work at the castle. So I weather the storm and carry on.” And it helped, in its twisted way. To keep the hate and anger burning.

And it was delicious.

The barkeep nodded, filled a glass, and slid it Riona’s way before stomping off to deal with yet another patron who had clearly had more drink than they could handle. Cynwaer nodded to the glass, then looked at Riona. “Well, bot’um’s up, lass,” he said with a friendly smile. “Aye, castle work pays well, I imagine, but if yer e’er in ta’ mood fae a change o’ pace, workin’ a ship’s nae a bad choice. Might e’en ‘ave a spot fae yer on Recompense, but I know enough folks who’d nae mind an extra pair ‘o ‘ands aboard.”

Riona raised the glass in salute before tossing it back in one smooth motion. “I’ll keep that in mind.” But even as the words left her lips, she knew the likelihood of her ever setting foot out of the country, let alone the capital, was low.

”And ‘ere I was, bein’ paranoi’ b’fore.” Stratya scoffed into her pint as she went for more. She looked to the two sea captains. ”I’m nae Princess Guard, for clari’y's sake. Not exactly a thing you want missin’, though. What were we talking about, guns? Faster loadin’, straigh’er shootin’?”

“Yes, we were. Can show next time, but not important now,” Sjan-dehk said and gave Straya a quick bow of his head. His attention had been stolen by Riona’s words, and he had listened with keen interest. They told him quite a few things about the relationship between Caesonian nobles and their subjects, none of them good. To lash someone – or to punish them in general – for no good reason was simply unconscionable as far as Commonwealth sensibilities went. There had to be proper processes and rites for these things, and they had to be fair, otherwise why even bother with a system in the first place?

Stratya followed his attention and nodded softly to herself, ”aye, righ’ you are.”

He cleared his throat. [color=1E90FF]“Cynric, he is correct. Lashing is
Bad. Me, I try not to use it too much on my crew. Only for very bad crimes.” There was a practical reason for that as well. A lashed man needed time to recover, and could do very little during that time. Better to simply punish them in a way that was productive, such as giving them more to do.

[color=DC143C]“That’s respectable o’ yer, Cap’n,” Cynwaer remarked. [color=DC143C]“I try tae dae ta’ same. Pret’y sure some o’ me degenerates might start tae learn tae enjoy it if I use ta’ ol’ lash o’er much.”

“Your wounds,” Sjan-dehk said to Riona. “I as–I assume you have them, yes? You have doctor to see them? Otherwise will take long time to heal. If it heal properly.” Sjan-dehk tilted his head towards the tavern’s doors. “If you do not have, then my surgeon can look at them. He is good at healing.”

Riona squinted, brain fumbling to place the foreigner. Then it clicked—the guy from the restaurant. Huh. “Oh, thanks, for the offer. I know some herbalism so it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.” Though, maybe she should have a proper doctor check her and not whatever it is that Quack did. Her body had been through the wringer lately—Cal’s concoctions and her own remedies could only do so much. And who knew what that intruder had dosed her with? “But
 I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

”We'll talk abou’ our b’sness in t’ mornin’, Rriona. Tomorrah, anyway. Y’need the evenin’, lass. Shite, go on get smashed, y’ wan’. I'll tell ‘em I need ya fer somet’in’, getcher a sneaky day off, ‘n make banana brea’ for yer bot’le ache. It's a hi’ a’ Drunkard's Week, back ‘ome.” Yes, she said week.

Her pint, on the bar, was the perfect target. The knight was looking away. Frrmp. The fuzzy little beast jumped up to the bar and slinked forward, toward the tall glass it had its eye on.

Something tipped Stratya off, her gaze snapping to her pint to catch a cat, trying to sneak a drink. Her hand left the handle of her pint and snatched the creature by the scruff, standing it up on its back legs, “nae, y’ may no’ ‘ave my ale. Aren' ye a lit’le small fer i’? Wee t’ing like you, c’merre.” The cat seemed awfully placid as she scooped it up and laid it in her lap. Must be used to being handled. She took her glove off to give it chin scritches and belly rubs, which it lavished in. ”Ooh, wha’ a baby.”

Riona nodded along absently, thinking that getting wasted sounded pretty damn good right about now. But then a jolt of panic snapped her back to reality. “Wait, no. Stratya, we can’t let this sit until tomorrow.” The report crumpled in her grip as she drew closer, straining to keep her voice low. “We’ve gotta solve this before another Darryn happens. Unless Anastasia decides to cooperate and help us get to the bottom of this, you’ll need to question her. Or tail her. Maybe both.”

Realizing she was all up in the Knight Captain’s face, Riona took a quick step back. “Sorry, I just
” A sigh slipped out. “I don’t think Anastasia fully grasped what I was asking her to do. I was too pissed off to explain it right. But the thing is, Anastasia knows who hosted that afterparty. And I think Darryn’s death,” at this point, the Knight Captain pulled the servant in closer again, giving her a flash of wide eyes to keep it quiet. Her eyes turned to the cat, trying to signal diversion, “is tied to more than just escorting her and the others there. He was terrified of someone, or maybe a whole group of someones. Point is, whatever Anastasia knows about this host could crack the case wide open.”

Riona gazed down at the cat in Stratya’s lap and reached down to scratch behind its ears, gathering her thoughts. Too much detail might be lost on Stratya, if she was two to three sheets to the wind. So Riona gave her the short version in a hushed voice pitched for the Knight’s ears alone. “Quick and dirty on the analysis: that substance? Not organic. I couldn’t find out anything more than that with what I had. If it’s a chemical, it’s potent, most likely synthesized, and not something you can pick up at the market, at least not in this country. Or
” She hesitated, then plunged ahead. “It could be magical.”

Riona watched Stratya’s reaction. “Either way, it’s not something you can normally get without money or connections. Just. Like. The mysterious host.” She emphasized the point. “That’s why I have my suspicions about Anastasia’s more important ‘friend.’” The friend she valued more than Darryn.

“So, if Anastasia keeps protecting this ‘friend,’ even though I said the afterparty could be connected to Darryn’s murder
 Guess that proves I was right about her all along.” The thought stung, and Riona sagged as a heavy sigh gusted out of her.

Cynwaer buried his nose in his mug, pretending that he hadn’t caught snippers of what Riona’s hushed whispers. There wasn’t enough for him to paint even half-a-picture of what exactly was going on, but coupled with her earlier outburst, there was enough for him to know that there was some sort of intrigue going on with the pink girl. And for Cynwaer, noble intrigue was something that was always welcome. He never knew when such information would come in handy.

And so, he made a note to keep his eyes and ears open and sharp for anything that might give him a better idea as to what was going on, and stood up from his seat. “Well,” he said. “That’s it fae me. I’d bet’er start making tracks fae me ship.” He glanced at Sjan-dehk with a grin. “Us folk o’ the sea ‘ave early starts tae ta’ day, aye?”

Sjan-dehk nodded in agreement. “Yes. I should go also,” he said and quickly got to his feet. He had already lingered for far more time than he intended, or should. Working a ship, as Cynwaer had said, called for early starts to a day. Unfortunately, there were not nearly enough early ends to balance things out. “Will have to start training crew tomorrow. Keep in practice, yes?”

“Runnin’ the ropes, eh?”

Sjan-dehk blinked once, then nodded when he more-or-less grasped what Cynwaer meant. “Not so much. My crew, they can sail. But weapons, too long did not fire.” He paused, the memories of his brief skirmish with pirates from just a day ago returning to his mind. That had been such a minor incident that he had almost forgotten all about it. “Too long did not fire with
With drill and command, yes,” he corrected himself. Being able to fight in a real battle was well and good, but it was a poor captain who used that as a full substitute for training. There was merit in drilling a crew until every action was second nature, and battle – where tensions were high and nerves could fray – was a poor place to foster such.

“Gunnery practice?” Cynwaer asked, interest in his voice. “Now that’d be a sight, aye.”

“Mayne not cannons. Rifles. Tomorrow, will be sure.” Sjan-dehk shrugged. He would have liked to do both in a single day, but his other, diplomatic duties wouldn’t allow him the time for it. “You, Ri–Riyo–” He tried to address Riona, but kept tripping over her name. He paused, breathed in deeply through his nose, and tried again. “Ri-oh-na, you still want to see doctor? You can come with me.” With that, he turned and started to follow Cynwaer out the door.

Stratya almost expected more magic to be at play. Either way, it was no surprise. She eyed the servant curiously, though she wasn't concerned. Anyone could think to blame magic for something, and all the better for her assistant to know more about it than not.

More immediate than that, however, ”Rriona,” the knight began, considering how she might speak concisely, ”if I woulda known y’ wan’ed t’ brring business tae discuss over drrinks, I woulda just taken us to me ‘ouse. Much more prrivate?” She lowered her voice further, ”no’ as likely to go paintin’ ourselves to t’ shadows we're pokin’?”

Riona met her gaze steadily. She’d thought her intentions about talking business was clear—mentioning that the analysis would be done by the time they met up and again after they arrived at the bar. Even proposed a cover story. Though, thinking back, it wasn’t like she said out loud that “Just two colleagues on a night out” was going to be their cover story. She kind of just assumed Stratya got it. Guess not. Damn. Her fault for not double checking.

“You’ve been acting like you don’t know who to trust.” She continued to keep her voice at a whisper while her eyes searched the other woman’s face. “I thought that’s why you didn’t want to outsource the analysis. That you’re worried about somebody tampering with the evidence.”

She tilted her head towards the rowdy tavern. “If you’re as spooked as I think you are, maybe you weren’t even sure your own house is secure. Could be ears in the walls.” Riona shrugged. “So I figured you thought the tavern might be just loud and chaotic enough to give some cover. You know, make it harder for prying eyes and ears to pick up on things?”

”no’ as likely to go paintin’ ourselves to t’ shadows we're pokin’?”

Did she mean becoming targets themselves? For investigating Darryn’s murder? Something about that struck Riona as a little odd.

She angled herself away from the bulk of the patrons. “A severed head, belonging to someone mixed up in a recent royal scandal, was left behind on purpose, within castle grounds, a territory where a knight or a royal guard would likely be called in. Whoever did it wanted it found, would’ve known there’d be an investigation. If they wanted to avoid that, they’d have disposed of it with the body.”


 Unless there was something Stratya wasn’t telling her. Had the Knight Captain been ordered not to investigate? Was she the only one on the case?

“You’re involved in looking into that afterparty incident too, right? If these people got eyes and ears everywhere, like you suspect, they already knew about you before this. You were and still are a potential threat to them.”

Riona cradled the cat in her arms, using the motion to cover passing off the analysis report into Stratya’s hand. “But hey, if I end up face-down in a gutter, at least you’ve got a tavern full of suspects to round up,” she said, a hint of dark humor in her voice.

The sea captains were leaving, including Riona’s opportunity for medical attention. She looked past Riona and shook her head, ”aack, go on, then. Seein’ tha’ doctor soun’s like a good idea. Even were we t’ jump intae action righ’ now, we nae ken what we need. It'll be bet’er for us t’ take a stea’y pace. I'll see what can be done come mornin’.”

She lifted a hand to wave to the departing, ”’ave fun shoo’in’ ‘em guns, frriend.”

Riona followed Stratya’s line of sight and raised a finger before gently returning the cat back onto the Knight Captain’s lap. “Sorry that I misunderstood why we met up. And I’m sorry if that outburst gave away something that wasn’t meant to be shared. I didn’t consider the possibility that this was an unofficial or not a public investigation yet. But like I said, I don’t think you’re any more or less a target now than you already were.”

Stratya sighed and rubbed a hand over her face, “”Eeh, you're prob’ly reyt.. maybe I jus’ nee’ some shu' eye.”

Taking a step back, she spoke at a normal volume. “Don’t take time for granted Stratya
” She paused, then added, “And... thanks. For agreeing to talk to her. Good night.”

Riona had taken two steps when she halted, turning around. “What did
 ‘your lady boss’ say?” The question to the Queen, about the Royal Advisor.

”Nothin’. That she ‘adn’t seen ‘im.”

Riona nodded at the answer thoughtfully. “Thanks, see you later.” And with that, she darted after the dark-haired captain.
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Duke Gideon Edwards,Duchess Victoria Edwards, Count Calbert Damien, and Countess Liliane Damien


Time: 10am
Location: Drake Edwards Birthday Party at the Edwards Estate Backyard

Setting the party further for: @Silverpaw @Lava Alckon @Rodiak @PapaOso @Potter @Helo @FunnyGuy @CitrusArms @JJ Doe @Tpartywithzombi @Infinite Cosmos




As the clock struck ten in the morning, the celebration of Lord Drake Edwards' birthday had begun in the opulent gardens of his estate. Guests had already started to arrive, filling the garden with the rustle of fine fabrics and subdued conversations. Noble birthday parties were always all the rage; attracting huge crowds, especially an Edwards party. Notoriously, the Edwards were always over the top, and their gatherings were often described as art to behold.

Everything was already lavishly setup, the tables, the specially folded napkins, the air was alive with the sound of a classical band and the servants were walking about with appetizers and drinks
 All that was needed was the birthday boy himself.

Duchess Victoria commanded the space immediately upon entry in extravagantly detailed attire. Dressed in a gown of shimmering green silk with golden embroidery, she exited from her home with a parasol, which had been turned into a statement piece with its embellishments of lace and crystals. She smiled and waved to onlookers, but the smile did not last long at all as she came upon a table with forks and knives on the wrong side of the plates.

She paused right by the table, her heels sinking into the dirt beneath the grass and her seething expression decorated by the shadows of lace cast by the sun through her parasol. Finally, she grabbed the wrist of a servant girl walking by, who she knew had been one of those tasked with table set up.

"This arrangement is simply unacceptable! Look! The fork’s on the wrong side! We're hosting nobility, not farmhands. Fix it! Ensure everything is demure." Duchess Victoria commanded and clapped her hands in her face. "Be. very. mindful.”

It was then Duke Gideon approached with a smile, his attire equally splendid though more subdued, complementing the Duchess's vibrancy. "Victoria, everything looks marvelous. Let's enjoy the fruits of your efforts, shall we?" he suggested gently, guiding her away. " Please do not upset Drake, this is a very special day for him, and it’s in the midst of his courting season as well.”

Gideon had been leading her to their table, but Victoria paused to look upon the gift table, elegantly set under a canopy and draped in velvet. Duchess Victoria scrutinized the mountain of gifts that had already built up, adjusting a ribbon here and a card there.

"Look at them, Gideon. They are dazzled, as they should be. This day must be perfect," Victoria whispered, a hint of pride lacing her words.

"It is perfect, Victoria. Just like you envisioned. Now, let's enjoy the party," Gideon replied, his voice reassuring as he led her to their table, where Count Calbert Damien was seated already with his wife and daughter Crystal.

"Good morning, Count Damien
 Thank you for coming. Do you know if the Monets and Duchess Petit will attend?” " he inquired, his voice echoing genuine curiosity and a hint of concern for the completeness of the guest list.

Count Calbert Damien, adorned in his finely tailored suit, responded with a charismatic smile and a firm handshake. “Good morning, Duke Edwards! Truly a lovely party thus far. Ah, no, I believe they are returning home this morning.”

Turning to Countess Liliane Damien and her daughter, Gideon and Victoria extended their greetings. "Duke, Duchess, it's wonderful to see you both. This garden looks like a dream under the morning sun,” Liliane greeted, her voice soft and melodious.

“ Where’s the wonderful Lord Drake Edwards? I’d love to wish him a happy birthday personally.”

"He’ll be sitting at the table just right by us. Right there.” Duke Edwards pointed at a large table adjacent to theirs. The layout was thoughtfully designed so that even though each table accommodated only four seats, they were positioned close enough to allow for easy conversation across the tables. Meanwhile, many guests took the opportunity to stroll about anyway, mingling, enjoying Hors d'oeuvres, and admiring the scenic views, as the meal service had not yet begun.


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Charlotte & Cassius


Part 2


Time: 9:15am (Earlier than starting point)
Location: Lover’s Lake




Cassius had moved swiftly after that, cutting and cleaning the fish he had caught. Charlotte could tell easily from his technique that he was skilled at the task as she watched on.

Luckily, there had already been some gathered wood once he had finished preparing the fish. Soon, a small fire was crackling to life beside the water and the smell of smoke mingled with the breeze. The fish crackled as its skin crisped over the flames.

Charlotte had taken the opportunity to lay a napkin over a nearby log, creating a makeshift seat for herself. She sat gracefully, her skirt carefully arranged as firelight played across her features.

He glanced over at Charlotte out of the corner of his eye, taking in the sight of her perched elegantly on the log. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than intended, a soft smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Look at you
" he teased, turning back to the fire as he adjusted the fish over the flames. "Sittin' there like some proper lady out for a picnic." He shot her a playful look, those storm-gray eyes glinting in the firelight. “I’m beginning to wonder if I’m underdressed, princess.”

With another blush, Charlotte laughed, “Do you usually dress to the nines when you invite others to join you for some fish roasting?”

Cassius chuckled, the sound of his voice was low and warm as he kept his firelit eyes on her. "When they’re as pretty as you are, maybe I do." he replied smoothly.

With a statement as direct as that, she couldn’t quite ignore it. With a nervous giggle, she lowered her gaze and smiled at the ground. “Thank you
 That’s really nice of you to say.” Her voice lowered in tone and the smile on her face turned a little lopsided. Admittedly, Charlotte wasn’t so used to receiving compliments as much, especially as her reputation had soured.

Cassius watched her closely, noticing how his compliment seemed to have struck a chord. The way her gaze dropped and her smile turned a little shy only made him more curious. He finished up the fish, letting the silence hang in the air just long enough to keep the moment alive between them.

“You’re welcome.” he murmured, a bit softer than before as he took a piece of the perfectly cooked fish onto a fork. He brought it to his lips, blowing on it gently to cool it down before turning his attention back to Charlotte.

With deliberate slowness, Cassius leaned in a little closer, holding the fork out to her. “Here, try this,” he urged her, his voice inviting, the hint of a smirk still playing on his lips. “Tell me how it tastes.”

Charlotte hesitated for just a moment, a bashful look on her face. Then she leaned forward slightly, taking the bite off the fork. A rich and smoky flavor filled her mouth, and she let out a pleased hum as she chewed. “That’s better than I thought it would be!” She exclaimed enthusiastically, and added teasingly, “I understand the reason for the slaughter now.”

He watched Charlotte’s reaction closely, his smirk broadening into a genuine smile as she hummed in delight. Seeing her enjoy the product of his effort made the endeavor all the more worthwhile.

“I’ll take that as a massive compliment.” He teased right back.

As he turned his attention to the fire once more, tending to the rest of the fish, his mind wandered back throughout the time they had spent together thus far that morning. Something about it all had felt so
easy. However, it was the memory of when he first arrived that found him curious. She’d been talking to someone
or at least that seemed to be the case.

He glanced over to her, his expression gentle. “You know, Lottie
when I first saw you this morning, it sounded like you were speaking to someone.” he remarked lightly, trying not to pry too much. “Perhaps you were simply praying
but I’m not sure I buy that.”

Her gaze lifted to meet his briefly before falling back to the flickering flames. “I was talking to someone,” she admitted, her voice softening as her smile turned bittersweet, tinged with both sadness and nostalgia. “I lost my father some years ago, and when I find myself missing him terribly, I like to believe he’s still somewhere close, listening to me.” The corners of her mouth curved slightly, though her eyes remained fixed on the fire. A gentle, almost wistful laugh escaped her as she added, “It’s rather silly, I suppose, but sometimes I even sing to him, just as we used to. We would sit by the fire, much like this, with his guitar, and we’d sing together for hours.”

Cassius paused for a long time, almost long enough to make Charlotte worry. His eyes too fell to the flames. Finally, he spoke. “I would spend what felt like little eternities with my mother as she played piano for me. I remember nights like those that would last until the sun came up. Just us, the piano, and the sound of her voice as she sang to me.” His words carried a hint of sorrow yet were full of earnestness. “I can still hear the songs in my dreams.” He paused again, but this time only for a moment before his eyes found her face once again. “I’m sorry for your loss, Charlotte. It’s hell, isn’t it?”

Charlotte hadn’t met his gaze again until the very last words. When she did, her eyes were warm with understanding as she offered him a small smile. Gently, she reached out to take his hand tenderly, “It sounds like she really loves you.” She sincerely told him. “Music, at least to me, is a language of the soul for us musicians—a way to express our deepest emotions, our passions, our dreams, our love
 For her to spend hours at the piano, playing through the night just to see you smile
 Well, I don’t need to have met her to know that she absolutely adored you.”

As she spoke, Cas’s eyes dropped to take in the sight of her hand in his. The gesture was kindness in its purest of forms. He could feel the connection of that kindness from her touch alone. He hung there, at that moment for an instant
seemingly going elsewhere in his mind as he processed the weight of her words. A weight that perhaps he was not yet prepared to burden. Acknowledging her reassurance with a nod, his eyes slowly climbed up to meet her gaze.

“I can tell you adored him by the way you honor him with your words, and I would die on the hill that your father felt the same.” He spoke honestly. “And you’re not alone, sometimes I find myself talking to my mother much the same as you were to him. There is a comfort there that I understand deeply.”

“I know he did.” She agreed with a smile. “It is rather comforting
 I sometimes talk to my mother too whenever I’m alone
 Our relationship wasn’t as good as it used to be in her last years, though I do miss her very much.”

“You lost them both? Lottie
I’m so very sorry.” He replied solemnly, his own grip on her hand tightened in hopes of comforting her. “How old were you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Her expression softened as she felt the warmth of his hand, “Not the best hand to be dealt, huh?” She replied gently, with an almost teasing tone. “My father passed when I was ten years old, and my mother just a year ago
” She put a hand over her heart and smiled with fondness, “But don’t worry, I’m not alone. I have my stepfather Lorenzo.”

Cas nodded with a warm smile, his eyes still tinged with weight. “I mourned the idea of having a father when I was still a boy. It still feels odd to think that all this time, he was right here living his noble life in the lap of luxury while we
 He stopped himself with a strategic little chuckle and turned back to the fire and after a small pause, he continued. “As for my mother
tomorrow will be a month.”

Charlotte’s smile faded. Cassius hadn’t needed to finish the sentence for her to fill in the blanks. She wondered if Calbert had known all that time. With how dreadful of a personality he had lately, it was hard to give him the benefit of the doubt. Finally, she spoke sympathetically, “I’m so sorry. That must feel so fresh still
 If you ever need anything, as I’ve said, I’m always right next door.”

Cassius nodded slowly, appreciating Charlotte's sympathy. “Thanks, Lottie.” he said with a soft smile. “And the same goes for you. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

Aware of the time, he shifted the conversation, not meaning for the wonderful mood to grow too heavy in the first place. With a glance at the fish, he let out a light chuckle. “But enough about that! No point in roasting these beauties if we’re just gonna let ‘em sit.” His tone was casual, but there was warmth in his words, a gentleness that not everyone got the opportunity to see in him.

“ You’re right. Let’s dig in!” Charlotte responded enthusiastically. After that, she ended up kebabing some of the fish on a stick to enjoy. As time passed and the two finished their meal, she stole a glance at the sun rising in the sky. “I suppose I better make my departure for the party
”

He thought about the party, and how his father asked him that very morning to attend, but he could not help taking the opportunity to be a bit cheeky. “Well, if I’m to accompany you to this grown man’s birthday party
it would indeed be wise if we left soon.” Cassius teased playfully, his words caked with charm. “Can’t have us being late for our second date now, can we?”

Charlotte arched a delicate brow, her smile softening into something both sweet and teasing. ”Date?” she echoed with a playful lilt, though her action betrayed her as she rose, then led Tempestes over to him. “Well then, we mustn’t keep everyone waiting, must we?”

Cas approached Tempestes with a calm and steady presence, his hand reaching out to slowly stroke the horse’s mane one more time. “Hey there, big guy.” he whispered. Carefully, he leaned down, bringing his forehead to rest against the animal. It was a brief, almost instinctual gesture, but one filled with genuine respect. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the horse get used to his scent and energy. He could feel the warmth of the animal’s breath against him and the subtle shift of muscle under its sleek coat as he petted it in a calming motion.

Turning his head to look up at Charlotte, he smiled. “He’s a beautiful horse.” Cas stated with reverence. Shifting away from the animal, Cassius allowed room for Charlotte to take her place on the mount and offered his hand to help her up. “Shall we?”

Charlotte watched Cassius interact with Tempestes, her heart warming at the gentle way he approached her beloved horse. There was something so endearing about the way he quietly connected with the animal, a tenderness that she hadn’t quite expected. When he looked up at her and smiled, complimenting Tempestes, her own smile grew soft and genuine.

“He is, isn’t he?” she replied. As Cassius offered his hand, she took it with a graceful nod, feeling a slight flutter in her chest. “Thank you,” she uttered softly, allowing him to assist her onto the mount. Once she was settled, she looked down at him and it finally registered in her brain.

Cassius would be sitting right behind her, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his presence. Her cheeks flushed at the realization, and she found herself momentarily flustered, her hands fidgeting with the reins.

Her gaze flickered to Cassius, who was preparing to mount behind her, and she quickly looked away, her heart beating just a little faster. They didn’t have another horse, so it made sense, she told herself.

Without hesitation, Cassius swung himself onto the back of the horse behind her. As he settled in, his hands naturally found their place around Charlotte’s waist. He could sense the subtle shift in her posture, and could almost feel the flutter of her nerves as he did so.

His own heart rate began to rise ever so slightly at their newfound proximity, and with a playful little grin worn proudly on his face, he leaned in just slightly, his breath warm against her skin. "Comfortable?" he asked, more than satisfied with himself.

“It’s as if I’m in a bed with hundreds of pillows.”

And with that, they departed to the party.

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Queen Alibeth, Princess Anastasia, Prince Wulfric, Prince Callum and Stratya Durmand


Part 1


Time: 8am
Location: A Tea Room in the Castle

Mention: @TPartywithzombi Ariella @JJ Doe Riona




The ticking of a clock permeated the air as Alibeth sipped at her morning tea. She and her daughter were seated in the upstairs tea room, awaiting her two sons’ arrival. A small crystal chandelier hung overhead, its crystals twinkling in the morning sun and the air was fragrant with the smell of the hot raspberry herbal tea.

“Tavern again?” Her tone was calm but carried an unmistakable edge as she observed Anastasia, who rested her head on her forearm sprawled across the table. With a resigned sigh, Alibeth swept a few stray blonde strands from the tabletop. Alibeth brushed her blonde hair off the table with a sigh.

There was no retort from the princess. “Do lift your head and sit up. I need you to pay attention to this conversation.” With a groan, Anastasia pulled herself up to lean her elbow on the table and her chin in her palm.

Callum arrived surprisingly punctually but looked expectedly unpresentable. The scent of the dungeon clung to his close, wine clung to his breath, and he had clearly not slept.

“Good morning, Ana, fun night?” He asked with a forced overly pleasant tone but a sincere smile. “And good morning, Your Highness.” He added without emotion or a glance towards Alibeth. He took a seat next to Ana and lightly kicked her to get her attention. “Elbows on the table? Problem child.” He teased.

“Good morning Callum. I’m happy to see you.” Anastasia turned her head to smile sincerely at her brother, but there was no hiding the sadness within her gaze. “... Cannot fault me for fulfilling my role in the family.” She teased back and reached out to touch his hand, leaning in as she whispered, “Are you okay? Did something happen last night?”

“Last night Edin and his infinite wisdom sent Ari to the dungeon for artistic expression-” Callum looked up as footsteps approached the tearoom. Anastasia had scowled immediately upon Callum’s words.

The sting was a sharp pain in Alibeth’s chest. Callum’s deliberate avoidance of a more familial greeting sliced through the composed atmosphere. As Anastasia spoke, Alibeth’s gaze lingered over her son. She swallowed the reprimand rising in her throat, choosing her battles wisely in a moment already thick with unspoken grievances.

“Good morning,” Wulfric arrived shortly after, impeccable as ever. He studied his siblings closely; both were in an awful state. “Why were you in the dungeon, Callum?” he questioned, recognizing that scent and finding it odder than if his younger brother had also been in a tavern.

“So I spent the night in the dungeon too.” Cal glanced at Ana with a shrug. “Am I not allowed to visit with wrongfully imprisoned friends?” He asked, turning to Wulfric.

“Who?” his older brother sought clarification on who had been imprisoned.

“Ariella.”

“Ah
” he acknowledged as he settled into his chair, recognizing Edin’s involvement in the imprisonment. He decided to move onto the next topic, however, and gave his mother a deep nod. “What is today’s business? The Black Rose?” That was certainly the subject he wished to discuss, so it was convenient that three of the people he wished to speak to were present.

“Good morning, gentlemen. I apologize for the early summoning.” Alibeth glanced at Wulfric and nodded. “I would very much like to speak about The Black Rose, however, there is another grim topic I wanted to speak with you all about as well
 We are just waiting for-” The doors opened at that moment.

Stratya arrived next with a wicker basket on her arm, a plaid cloth laid over its top. She'd made sure to wake up early enough to prepare, though this meeting wasn't something she'd planned on. The servant that had brought her summons to her had caught her on her fife, sitting outside her house, waiting for the muffins to cool.

Conveniently, the princess was here, too, as the knight had hoped she might be. She and her basket smelled of sweet bread as her voice chimed softly, “A good morrning to The Rroyal Family. I jus’ finished baking, this morning, as luck would ‘ave it.” She lifted the cloth to reveal her banana bread had taken on a muffin shape, this morning. Her eyes settled briefly on the disheveled half of the room, “T’is a popular rremedy for bot’le ache in the region around my ‘ome village. Verry sough’ after durring ‘is week's festival.”

“Good morning, Captain Durmand. Your kindness is appreciated. Please help yourself to freshly brewed tea.“ Alibeth greeted her and gestured to the empty seat. Allowing a brief pause for her words to settle, her gaze swept across the room “I called you all here with bad news. However, I want to first acknowledge something. Callum, Anastasia—I am aware that there are times when you feel distanced from me, perhaps even distrustful. I regret the shadows that my decisions might cast on our relationship, especially concerning recent events
” Her gaze settled on Callum, “However, my hope is that Wulfric would have you two at his side when he becomes king and I’m no longer here
 Please, all of you, continue to love and trust each other. My decisions are rooted in my desire to keep you safe, and for you all to have each other for support. Going forward, I would like the two of you present for serious deliberations, so that you are not kept out of the loop.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “With that said, I fear you may blame me for the next thing I say, however, I wanted to be candid and tell you all as soon as I can
 “ Alibeth opened her eyes and finally announced, “Darryn was murdered.”

Her gaze slid to Stratya, “Captain Durmand found his head behind the stables. I've summoned her to provide further details as we have initiated an investigation. Considering that a murderer may be at large and capable of breaching castle grounds, we must treat this with the utmost seriousness. Callum, Anastasia—if either of you spoke to Darryn, saw him, or know anything that could be relevant, I need you to share it here in Captain Durmand's presence.”

“I saw him the other day
” The words felt numb on her tongue. Anastasia looked at Callum, a tear streaking her cheek. “Before I went into the tavern we both went to
 Him and I had an argument. He was mad at me for what happened
 And he gave me some drugs.” She paused, her brows furrowing as she added, “His eyes were glowing red by the end of the conversation.” She could tell by the look on her mother’s face that she wasn’t surprised at all by such a thing.

Callum put an arm around his sister, who leaned into his shoulder, and tried not to react to the last thing she said. His eyes were glowing red, only meant one thing. He’d have to tell Riona that, oh gods, he’d have to tell her Darryn’s head was found in the stables. Just his head? Where was the rest of him? He suddenly felt very sick and acutely aware that Alibeth and the Captain seemed to think this was a good time for tea and banana bread.

“Last time I talked to Darryn, you were the one that wanted him dead.” Cal’s head gestured towards Alibeth but he didn’t look at her. Instead he watched Wulfric’s reaction, unsure if he’d be able to tell if his brother had anything to do with the murder but not wanting to miss anything. “Guess I should’ve specified how long I wanted Darryn kept safe for, huh?” He gave an equally bitter response to Wulfric.

“Fletcher was
?” Wulfric had initially responded to the revelation with surprise, then fell deep into thought. Upon being referred to by Callum, he turned towards his younger brother with a nod. “I should have never let him out of my sight.” That had been one of his many mistakes, to let Darryn run free without confirming for himself what he had seen at the after party, and how he had been involved. “Since I made that promise to you, I should have made damn sure I could keep it. Moreover, by now I do wish I had handled that matter entirely differently,” he confessed. “I was wrong.” As he said so, he met Callum’s gaze head on, calm and with genuine intent.

“I understand you suspect our mother, Callum, but if she had insisted on killing Darryn, it would have happened in the form of a public execution. Not a murder such as this,” he reasoned. “While you two may blame her, I believe the one behind this case was Marek Delronzo and his organization,” he sneered at that last word. “In case you three do not know,” he nodded at his siblings and the captain, “Prior to when he was brought out to be executed in the morning of the 21st, Darryn had been questioned. He revealed he had been working for someone else, that he had taken you to the party on another’s orders. Whose else but Marek’s then, whose party it had been?” he questioned rhetorically. Callum said nothing but made no effort to hide his eye roll at the mention of Marek and his evil plans to host parties.

“However, let us forgo our suspicions for the moment, and focus on the facts. Captain Durmand, if you will?”

Stratya had set her basket on the table, poured herself some tea and grabbed a muffin. She waited patiently as the royals discussed, and learned some very interesting things as she did. The identity of the party host was known, which certainly did cast a suspicious light on the man. She could see why Prince Wulfric didn't tell her previously. Still, though, having a name to put to all this helped her mind orient itself and find good footing.

When the Crown Prince addressed her, she set the tea cup she'd just been sipping from down and nodded, “Of course, Your ‘ighness.”

She took a breath and began, “As sta’ed, I found Darryn's ‘ead behind the stables. I found i’ with an executioner's blade nearby. The poor lad ‘ad been bea’en before ‘e’d been done in, too.” She shook her head, “I ‘ad an ‘ound follow the scen’ from t’ scene. It led me through town and intae t’ woods, where I foun’ wha’.. remained o’ the poor lad.”

The next part was going to be rough. She glanced between the two younger siblings and then to Wulfric. This was causing a lot of drama among the Royal Family. “I found ‘is body, to pu’ i’ briefly, melted. There was an inorganic substance foun’ in wha’ remained tha’ coulnae be identified.” She thought about having more muffin, but found her appetite lacking, just then.

While his mother turned to address his siblings, Wulfric engaged the captain in a private discussion regarding the murder’s details. “When did you find him? When is the estimated time of death? Have you assembled an investigative team already, or are you going at it alone?” He paused.

“Yesterday morrnin’, ser. Folks were complainin’ about a stench, and it led me rright to ‘im. Due to unfavorable conditions, time of death will be ‘ard to determine. The ‘ead is with the corroner, which woul’ be the best be’. The body, as you may guess, ser, is limi’ed in use. I ‘ave recrui’ed Riona, for the analysis.”

“Riona
?” he prompted. There was a sense of vague familiarity at the name, but he was uncertain who she was referring to.

“Oh, apologies. A castle servant with apothecary skills.”

After she answered his initial questions, he continued. “Has the sword been dusted for fingerprints? Was the scent the only tangible track which could be followed? Exactly which streets did the hound lead you through?” It was mystifying that the perpetrator had gone through the city. Then again, this was someone who had been able to enter and leave the castle’s premises undisturbed.

“Aye. Nae prints, and the rain had washed much evidence away. I was lucky to find anythin’ left of the body. The route, though, was quite bold. Right through town. Flora to Priscilla and right into the woods. Right past the enforcement centers. Insultingly bold.”

“By inorganic substance, do you mean that it was an unknown synthesized one? Or
” he trailed off, but did not mention magic.

“Unknown, and synthesized. Otherwise inconclusive. I've brough’ the report.” Wulfric extended a hand, and once she passed it over, read through the document detailing the analysis with rapt attention.

“Thank you, Stratya.” Alibeth began, and let her gaze slide to Callum. “I did want him to die.” She confirmed. “After he was interrogated, it became clear that his presence was very dangerous, and that he was betraying us to someone else, as Wulfric explained.”

“I will always prioritize the safety of the kingdom and our family
 However
” Her gaze softened. “When you and Wulfric requested that I spare him, I fully intended to keep that promise. You may doubt my words, and I understand that. But if you truly care about Darryn, then you will acknowledge that gathering all the facts is the only way to reveal the truth. Evidence will clear my name more effectively than anything I say, though I want the focus to remain on finding the killer.”

“... You swear you had nothing to do with it, mother?” Alibeth glanced at her teary-eyed daughter.

Alibeth said sincerely, her gaze fixed, “I swear on all of your lives, and my own, that I did not kill Darryn.” Then something dawned on her. “You did not seem as surprised by the news as I thought you might. Did you know?”

Anastasia nodded. “Riona told me last night
 She was really angry with me as I’m the one who asked him to take us to the party.” Her gaze saddened, “If I hadn’t done that, he’d still be here.” Callum glanced at Ana, a concerned look in his eyes but he didn’t say anything.

Alibeth stared at her a moment, and though perhaps there was sympathy in her eyes, she kept her voice firm as she spoke, “Your actions were impulsive and you did not think your choice through, Anastasia. A lot of important individuals followed you, trusting you to lead them somewhere they would be safe.” She told her. “Things could have ended much worse, for you, for your brother, for all those young women and men who made the choice to follow you
 As a princess, you may not feel you are important, but to many you are. People look up to you. I think perhaps even Darryn did as well
 However.” She reached out to touch her hand briefly. “We have reason to believe that Darryn would have led many to the party regardless. No one expects you to have foreseen that your decision would result in everything that followed, including Darryn’s death
 No one could have predicted that
 I’m certain Riona is just pained by the loss as you are. Grief often leads to a phase of anger.”

Anastasia lowered her gaze and a brief silence followed, before Alibeth’s gaze found Wulfric, as if to indicate she wanted to address his concerns now. “I take it everyone here is aware of the existence of magic?”

“Darryn’s gone and you want to talk about superstitious nonsense?” Cal mumbled, studying a single spot on the floor. There was no reason to admit to anything he knew about magic. “This meeting is a sick joke. Neither of you cared about Darryn, you just want to find a way to pin this all on Marek.” He kept his voice quiet, waited for Alibeth to tell him he was wrong about magic being nonsense, waited to get a glimpse of how much they knew.

Anastasia’s gaze darkened and she said to Callum softly, “Magic is real, Callum. I have seen it. ” Unease filled her expression as she quietly declared, “It’s
 It’s evil.” Callum froze, his chest tightened. She’d said with such resolve, and it felt she was calling him evil in that same breath.

“A way to pin this all on him?” Wulfric’s laugh was as abrupt as it was dark. “Brother, you know as well as I do that if it were that simple, we wouldn’t bother with evidence, we would simply do away with him,” a mocking smile twisted his lips. “Do you know what the sickest joke is?” There was a strange glint in his eyes as he leaned closer to Callum.

“I spoke to Edin yesterday morning, and managed to drag out a kernel of truth from him. He told me I should leave your dear friend Marek well alone
” he sneered. “Because Delronzo and his Black Rose are an entrenched part of the criminal underworld. People forced to fight for the amusement of others, drugged out of their senses willingly or not, abducted, abused, enslaved, all of it for his sake,” he laughed again, a tad unhinged. “He believes your precious criminal lord of a friend is useful, helpful even.” As if an unknown switch were flipped, all expression leached from him. “So, if Edin finds him as someone good to keep on your side, and so do you, what does that tell you, hmm?”

Callum flinched. “Like I believe anything Edin says. Prove it.” He mumbled, not looking at Wulfric now either.

“Would that I could,” he shook his head. “But ask yourself this: What kind of evidence would you even believe? What reason would Edin have to lie to me?” Callum wouldn’t see it, but Wulfric was looking at him with a rare emotion: pity. “If you are so convinced in your own right, how could you ever see past your own preconceived notions?”

Anastasia couldn’t believe Wulfric’s words. If any of them had met Marek, they’d have seen how nice he was. Nothing made sense and at this point, she did not know what was true. Still, for some reason, she felt sorry for, and even a little protective of Callum, so she pulled him into a side hug.

Callum pulled his arm away and crossed both of them over his chest. “So what you’re saying is, you’ve got no proof? Got it.”

Stratya nodded to the Queen’s question to the room, and despite Callum’s apparent ignorance (feigned or otherwise), she would answer, “I am.”

Somehow, the knight’s mind had been dancing around the deeds they were looking at. Murder was just the tip of the iceberg, and she knew that. And she remembered why. To hear the misdeeds of their quarry laid before her set her into a thoughtful mood.

Alibeth’s eyes widened with genuine shock and she gripped her knees a moment. She had suspected something was very wrong in the way Edin turned a blind eye to so much. The more she considered it, the more she realized that it made a lot of sense. However, she had a feeling Edin wouldn’t be in cahoots with Marek just for the fun of it; there had to be something Marek had on Edin, and there was no telling if that would affect the rest of them as well.

There was also no telling what would happen if the information left this room.

Alibeth looked to Stratya suddenly, “...Captain, please confirm that you are insinuating that all that was left of Darryn Fletcher was a puddle
 Because if that’s all that was left, then I doubt there is any way other than magic to reduce someone to such a state...“ She said firmly and looked to Wulfric, “Let Callum be. I want to divulge into your statements further with you, Wulfric, but for now keep the focus on Fletcher.” She held Wulfric’s gaze as if to warn him to be careful of what he spoke about in front of the company they had. Her son, who had already said what he had meant to, merely gave a curt nod.

Stratya considered the question just briefly, “Aye, tha's accurrate.”

“This is not the first time that I have caught little spies teetering on the brink of insanity with glowing eyes. Someone is sending them and it is evidently clear that someone is Marek.”
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Hidden 3 mos ago Post by FunnyGuy
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Time: Morning
Location: Vikena Estate → Edward's Estate
Interaction: @princess Victoria, Gideon, Calvert, Liliane, Crystal
Mention: Drake, Charlotte, Wulfric, Edin, Waffle Guy, and of course the Alidasht

Duke Lorenzo Vikena would be bound for Drake Edward's grand birthday party but before he could step foot out the door, he required a moment to himself. He stood tall in his party outfit, staring hard into the eyes of his reflection. The house staff had been informed he needed an undetermined amount of time in private so there would be no interruptions. In a swift motion, Lorenzo pointed at his reflection so strongly he almost thought he'd cause it to flinch before him. Instead, his visage matched his move. The moment briefly brought on the possibility that another Lorenzo was experiencing the same ruination of his reputation due to his inability to manage himself.

“You! Yes you, with the scars and that- that handsome face! No! This is serious! You! You, Duke Lorenzo Giuseppe Vikena! You and your dastardly antics! Every other event results in something awful!” Lorenzo began to scowl at himself as he gained momentum. “And fix your face, you know it to be true! Or should I remind you? Should I? The Alidasht, remember them? The ‘circus performers’ with their lions and their tigers and their heavy perfumes! Utterly disrespected! Completely! And let's not bring up the fact that you were late! I could continue with just that very evening for hours but we mustn’t ruin another gathering due to tardiness.”

Lorenzo dropped his pointed finger before he started pacing a short distance. However, he kept his eyes on his reflection, grilling himself up and down. He wouldn't say it to himself right now but he was impressed with his attire for the occasion. Instead, he shook his head with disapproval.

“Do you understand that you turned breakfast at the park into fighting at the park?! You love waffles, Lorenzo! You love them, and you made a nemesis of a man who provided them for free! Then you let that pretty prude prince who probably can’t even grow HALF the scraggly beard his father has
” Lorenzo stomped his foot and pressed his finger right up against the surface of the mirror. “You let him bully and intimidate you!” He nearly hissed the words from his mouth as he wanted to violently grab hold of his reflection. “Duke Lorenzo. Hear me now
He may be the crowned prince
 but you are a grown man Lorenzo! You are his senior! And most of all, you dress better than him AND YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE KNOW IT TO BE TRUE!”

Backing up from the mirror Lorenzo nodded his head a few times, satisfied with the delivery of his words. He was finally looking away, his eyes stopping at a blank space on the green-tinted wall.

“Then you went to that dinner
 I can't believe you ate that awful peanut butter and insulted that young princess. That angry young woman. She had every right to be so upset with you! To threaten you after you denied her advances! You were wearing red and sitting at the head of the table, Lorenzo! What did you think would happen when you, as a widower duke, put the color of passion on full display?! Sure, you learned from your mistakes with Morrigan, but you're the reason that the princess was sent back home and might never court again. And don't-”

There was knocking on the door! Lorenzo, startled, whipped his head toward the sound.

“Sir
 is everything alright in there.” Nathaniel's voice was lathered with concern. He had tried to ignore the shouting at first due to Lorenzo's request but it almost sounded as if there was a physical altercation happening in the room.

“Eh... Everything is fine. I was just about to leave.” He said as he glared at his reflection as if to indicate that it was not off the hook and that he'd continue this rant at a later time. “Inform Benjamin that I will be at the carriage in a few minutes and ensure all of the gifts are loaded.” Lorenzo ordered through the shut door.

. . . .

After some time, Lorenzo was finally arriving at the Edwards’ estate by carriage with Drake’s gifts ready to be delivered by his very hands! Lorenzo was beaming as his eyes caught sight of the splendid decorations and attendance of many. Not only would he have options for socializing but he could also use the crowd to avoid certain people such as Count Calbert Damien and Dutchess Victoria Edwards.

“Perfect driving as always Benjamin! Be so kind as to stick around so I can give Drake the last gift. I don't want to spoil it too soon.”

“Your request is granted, sir. I shall ensure I am available for whence the time comes.”

“Good man!” Lorenzo commented as he grabbed two boxes, one under each arm, and exited the carriage wearing his usual grin. One box was wrapped red while the other was wrapped white. Both boxes were tied with pink satin, ending in a clean bow knot that complimented his pink-hued attire. Lorenzo marched to the garden with confidence, giving a firm nod to whomever met his gaze until he was able to deliver his gifts to one of the servants who took them off his hands and added them to the growing collection. Before he could truly join the party, he was given a ceramic bracelet for simply being a guest at the party. Sadly, Lorenzo stuffed the bracelet in one of his pockets to prevent it from crashing with what he was wearing. He could probably re-gift it to someone else on a separate occasion

Though he focused on looking for friendly faces, even if the man was blind, he'd know where to find his enemies. Lorenzo didn't want to have to even look at them, but this event required the courtesy of addressing the hosts, and Duke Gideon Edwards, despite his wife, was always friendly and kind to him. Besides, greeting them all together might make it easy to come and go. All he needed to do was say “Hello” and then he could go search for Charlotte.

With a half-bitten Sorian salmon ball in hand, Lorenzo approached Gideon and Victoria in the midst of the Damiens while still chewing from the bite he took. Stopping in front of Gideon, Lorenzo gave a silent nod as he gulped down the fish.

“My dear Crystal! You look absolutely wonderful this day. You never fail to make your family look splendid!” He smiled warmly before quickly turning his attention back to Gideon and Victoria. “Oh and Gideon and Victoria! My old friends in our fellow dukeness! I am very honored to be a guest at your son’s party and I aim to make sure this is a birthday he shall never forget! I promise!”


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Hidden 3 mos ago 3 mos ago Post by CitrusArms
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Stratya Durmand

Time:
25th, Morning
Location: Stratya’s House → Edwards Estate
Attire: Officer’s Formal
Interactions: @princess Duke and Duchess Edwards, Count Damian, @FunnyGuy Duke Vikena
Mentions:


Stratya had been fussing over how to dress herself for the event. That, and being unarmed always left her feeling naked. Like she was forgetting something. Nobility was such a fussy thing, as if being an army officer weren’t complicated enough. Aah, but she shouldn’t complain. Things were quite well for her, she should be thankful her duties weren’t as dangerous, anymore. Instead of raiding bandit camps, she was going to parties. It was hard to argue, when you put it like that.

When she did finally get something good together, the knight took a look in the tall mirror in her armory and had to pat herself a few times, as though confirming that was the image of herself. She didn’t often take the time to look in a mirror, so she was still caught off-guard when she did, sometimes. A far cry from the village lass she’d been ten years ago. The uniform was sharp and flattering, and it was an opportunity to wear her antique dirk with the family crest on it.

At last prepared, Stratya left her house with what she appropriately called “The Big Basket”. Despite its physical size, the task was familiar. Nostalgic, even. Walking in the sun with a basket on her arm took her back to her village, and the gently rolling landscape she’d walked so many times.

There was enough for the party and the birthday boy. It was filled with cinnamon rolls and strawberry-banana muffins and chocolate-chip cookies, and large cheesecloths between each layer of sweets to aid with distribution. Over the top had gone her family tartan, making for quite the picturesque bread basket.

One servant drove a horse-drawn cart behind her, loaded with two crates of bottled Durmand Mead - one original, one berry flavored - and a couple loaves of alcoholic bread. Her brother was quite the passionate brewer. Ever since she's gotten proper brewing equipment for the village, the quality had grown like a fern.

”Alrrigh’, wait ‘ere, Stewar’. I’ll ‘ave someone come ‘n collect t’ mead anon. Once she’s unladen, take ‘er ‘ome and ‘elp yourself ta some owt’s left.”

As she entered the Estate grounds, a servant collected her basket of baked goods and a brief explanation that, oops, all sweet breads. As well, Stratya gave the direction to collect the crates of mead and boozy bread, though perhaps it was yet early for drinking. She would leave that decision to someone else. She slipped the ceramic bracelet over her wrist when given it, finding it charming.

Her burden relieved, Stratya reminded herself that she’d been told specifcally, by The Queen, not to wallflower herself. It couldn’t be worse than marching into combat, right? Right. You've read enough etiquette. In you go.

She caught sight of the hosts and some guests, already gathered. She was part of the first to be here? At any rate, she approached with a smile, ”Duke and Duchess Edwarrds, Duke Vikena, Coun’ Damian, good morning! Wha’ exquisi’e weather forr a par’y, trruly the Gods ‘ave blessed this day f’r celebrration.”
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Queen Alibeth, Princess Anastasia, Prince Wulfric, Prince Callum and Stratya Durmand


Part 2


Time: 8am
Location: A Tea Room in the Castle

Mention: @TPartywithzombiAriella





“Any success with counter-spying?” Wulfric inquired casually.

“No. They return either with nothing useful or they do not return at all.”

“Then we will have to change our approach,” he commented. Next, he turned to Anastasia, as what she had said regarding magic had caught his interest. “You have seen it? What do you mean that it is evil?” he wondered honestly.

Callum interrupted his brother’s question. “Captain, doesn’t it make sense to not focus on one, unverified, suspect? Better to keep options open?”

Stratya lifted her head from her thoughts, though she had been listening. She took a moment to consider just how she wanted to answer, before offering a deliberate reply, “While I agree, i’ would be best no’ tae ignorre otherr possibili’ies, I also nae think i’ wise tae ignorre such strrong suspicion. While action would be ‘ard to justify at this stage, as it soun’s, a deeperr, unbiased investigation into such an individual seems apprroprria’e. Alas, it soun’s like this ‘as also been frui’less. Therein lies the rub, huh.. hm.” She considered something over a sip of tea.

“Sometimes, ye jus’ have to rely on someone’s slip-up.” In an odd mirroring, in the investigation that lead to her knighting, her own old man had said something that had tipped her off, and had ultimately led her to making her hometown a safer place. She looked to Wulfric, empathetic. “His ‘ighness said something ye cannae ignorre, Prince Wulfrric?”

“Indeed,” he confirmed simply. She nodded slowly.

“Stratya has a sound mind.” Alibeth complimented with a nod. “Perhaps we do not have full proof of Marek’s involvement but we would be fools not to investigate with the evidence we do have all leading back to him.”

Meanwhile, Anastasia leaned back in her chair, her discomfort visible within her body language. Her gaze lowered as she took a muffin in her hands to pick apart. “When I was a child, I got into an argument with someone. Their eyes started glowing and then all this weird dark energy hugged her frame
” She shuddered as if it were happening before her in that very moment. “I felt so much dread standing near them. It made me feel sick and I had never been so afraid.” Wulfric hummed, intrigued.

“Who was it?” Alibeth demanded.

“I can’t say. It doesn’t matter.”

“When did this happen, then? Was it only the once? Have you ever seen anything similar anywhere else?”

“I was like eight years old, and it was once. Only ever saw something similar with Darryn.”

“Did this individual spontaneously manifest magic? Or did it seem as if whatever they did was purposeful?” It hadn’t escaped him she had mentioned an argument; it was likely the person had been another child. A woman around his sister’s age, then. A noble, perhaps.

“It formed as they yelled at me. They were threatening the King and me. I am sure purposeful or not, they were happy to frighten me.”

“And father didn’t execute her?”

“I did not tell father; he wouldn’t have believed me. I was the only one who saw, I think.”

Alibeth looked between Callum and Anastasia, then she scowled. Her temper was barely contained as she asked coldly, “Why do you two insist on defending random people and so easily turn on your own blood? Tell us who did it, Ana.”

At this point, Stratya turned her apparent attention to her muffin and tea, happy to blend into the furniture.

“Gonna torture me if I don’t?” Anastasia blurted back defensively. “Why not give Darryn a fair trial? Why did you lock our friend Ariella up last night?”

“Your father had Lady Ariella locked up for defacing his painting.” Alibeth said and rubbed her temples.

“For improving a painting.” Callum corrected, glancing towards his sister. “If you think it’s best not to name them, I support you.” He added, mostly to spite his mother. He wondered if he could get that name from Ana later, sounded exactly like someone he should talk to.

Captain Durmand hummed thoughtfully, washing down a bit of muffin with her tea. She held the cup thoughtfully in front of her, “I wonderr ‘ow much time t’..” she paused, glancing at Callum briefly, “firrst ar’ist spen’, crreatin’ tha’ pain’ing.”

“Exactly,” Wulfric agreed with the captain. “Regardless of how you feel about the subject of the painting, Callum, the piece itself must have required painstaking effort and hours of time to create. Nevermind the years it had taken for the artist to perfect their craft,” he added. “Now, as for a fair trial
” he leaned back in his chair. “Let us consider the first example: Darryn Fletcher. Even disregarding his involvement with the Black Rose, he was negligent in his duty. Specifically, he abandoned his tasks as a stable boy to go on and do something which he knew his employers would never approve of, and it endangered you all. Granted, so did the two of you, so if by ‘fair’ you mean treating each individual equally, then perhaps all of you should have been whipped. Or no one should have been,” he rolled a shoulder languidly.

“As you are aware, nobles and royals are treated differently, whether rightfully or not. Compare with the second example: Ariella Edwards. I do not know if due process was followed with the investigation itself, but she wasn’t put to trial, was she? I am certain her family would sooner accept a punishment kept in secret than risk anything so public, however. Regardless, had a peasant been suspected, they would have likely faced execution on the grounds of having destroyed royal property,” he finished, and let his siblings draw their own conclusions.

Anastasia listened to Wulfric’s explanation with a furrowed brow, her frustration building as he spoke. When he finished, she let out a sharp breath. She wanted to defend Ariella, but she knew little of what happened and she did not have a solid retort ready.

When it came to Darryn, she wanted to know what happened, but she had little faith that anyone here knew anything yet. Truly, she just wanted to get away from the conversation at that point.

“I have to get ready for that party.”

She pushed her chair back abruptly, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. As she stood, she glanced at Stratya and forced a small smile.

“Your muffins are really good. Thank you.” Before anyone could stop her, Anastasia hurried out of the room, the door closing softly behind her.

“You think the punishment for doing one’s job poorly, or failing at one’s duty, should be lashings, beatings, or torture? You failed to keep Darryn safe, should we have you lashed, Wulfric? No, because you’re royal. That wouldn’t be right. But somehow it’s right to do it to Darryn, even though no one died when he failed his duty. Ari, she ruined a painting, sure. So have her pay the artist not toss her in a rat infested cell for the night. It’s not like these stupid rules are beyond our control. It could be fair, we could rule justly, you just choose not to.” Cal made no effort to hide the bitterness in his words, his disdain for how his family ruled. He stood up, still making no effort to look in Alibeth’s direction. “I also have to be not here.” He said and followed Ana out of the room.

“Just so,” Wulfric affirmed with a pleased smile. But his brother was already hurrying out of the door when he said, “We should change.” Unfortunately, Callum wasn’t listening.

Stratya smiled, thankful for the compliment but also tempered with concern, “Thank you, Prrincess.” She watched Anastasia, and then Callum, leave, taking a deep, slow, weighty breath.

Alibeth fixated on a random spot on the wall as a silence followed. Finally, she glanced at the others and announced, “I have some processes already in place as well as plans I would like to share.”

The Knight’s attention turned, she nodded once, “Then I will ‘ave more tea,” and poured herself another little cup of tea. Tea cups are so small.

“The murder of Darryn Fletcher is only one symptom of a larger disease, one that we must root out before it destroys us. I’ve already taken steps to ensure our safety and the security of this castle, but more must be done.”

She placed her teacup down, then continued, “First, I have been calling upon magicae hunters to be utilized within castle processes, including our hiring process. They will ensure that every servant within these walls is free of magic use, and they will be making improvements to our documentation process. I already have four in use in the castle, and more are on the way from upper Caesonia. If either of you have met Torvi yet, she is also working closely with me, investigating
 Furthermore, these hunters will eventually be dispatched throughout the city and placed at major events to secure our interests and root out any magical threats. I also hope to purchase enchanted objects from them and disperse them amongst our own guard as well. ”

Alibeth’s gaze shifted to Wulfric, her eyes sharp with determination. “Wulfric, you will be vital in this effort. The spyglass I gave you, do you still have it? I need you to use it to identify anyone with red, black, or large, erratic auras. Report any purples directly to me. You must continue to integrate yourself into the social circles of this kingdom as if you are simply looking for a wife—attend events, flirt when necessary, and keep your eyes open. Collect information, even if it seems trivial.”

“When it comes to the Black Rose directly, I want you to employ our spies and other trusted individuals to target the consumers of the criminal enterprises associated with the Black Rose. Sending individuals directly to their doorsteps has proven ineffective, so we will instead catch them at choke points. There are undoubtedly wealthy individuals enabling this system, and it is through them and these events that we may secure someone high enough to extract valuable information. ”

She paused, letting her words sink in before delivering the next set of instructions. “Stratya, I expect you to attend Drake’s party and other large-scale events, monitoring the situation closely and reporting any suspicious activity and collecting information just as I’ve asked Wulfric. Instead of sticking to the wall, socialize, become close to people
 I have a feeling our enemies are closer than we think, just among us. In fact, if you would like, I think I’d like to inquire about providing you with some magicae hunting objects and a source of information. Do not fret as they are objects whose prices have already been paid
 Using magic itself will remain strictly forbidden.”

“As for dealing directly with Darryn Fletcher, I suppose we could try to obtain information on what led up to his death, who he spoke to, and perhaps even inquire with this Riona if she knows if the substance she found could be used to trace back to someone potentially.”

With a sigh, she looked between them and asked, “Do either of you have any concerns, questions or suggestions?”

“Several,” Wulfric stated. He poured himself a cup of tea, for the first time touching one of the refreshments. “Firstly, let me address the Black Rose. You are correct that the enemy is in our midst, and of course, wealthy patrons are supporting the organization. Edin does, and unless we handle that, how far could our efforts possibly lead us?” he questioned rhetorically. “Calbert Damien is one suspected associate. Alexander Deacon is a known one. Then there are their connections to the Merchant Guild; the legitimate cover they use under an individual named Marciano Giordano,” he relayed. “So, we must establish alliances. We must seek all who would be willing to work against Delronzo. The more the better.” He paused to sip at his tea.

“Secondly, I wish to state that as far as I am concerned, if there is a ‘disease’, or corruption if you will, it is the festering criminal underworld. It is the fact that so many influential members of our society are enabling crime. I do not view magic as evil, to use Anastasia’s descriptor.” He looked from one woman to the other, then addressed his mother. “You are willing to use enchanted items, so you do not absolutely reject magic. Why not go a step further? If we were to train individuals who would judiciously and sparingly use magic when mundane methods fail us, we could more effectively combat the true enemy. The people who would spread unimaginable suffering for enjoyment and profit. People such as Delronzo,” he stressed.

“I am afraid we do not have the leeway to create more enemies. You would destroy those we could use, why? You would purge individuals based on the nature of their magicae? You would indiscriminately target magicals no matter their actions? Regardless of their potential for good?” He laid his palms on the table, leaning closer to the queen. “If so, you are overlooking far too much.” He shifted back into his chair. “I believe you should rethink your anti-magic agenda. Against criminals like Delronzo, who gleefully abuse magic, how can we prevail if we are never willing to so much as use a single spell? Where will we get if we keep tossing people aside? People who he would be more than happy to recruit for his cause,” he concluded.

“Then again,” he sighed, and drank the rest of his tea. “My idea is based on deplorably superficial knowledge of magic. So, why not share your experiences if you are convinced I am wrong?”

The Captain was glad to find she agreed so much with the Crown Prince. “Your Grrace, I must agrree with Prrince W’rrfrric. Things arre, themselves, scarcely evil. Any tool c’n be used wit’ ill inten’, c’n be used f’r evil. Guarding the tool c’n be tricky, ‘at’s true, but I'm nae keen to be givin’ ourselves such a disadvantage as choppin’ off the ‘and our opponent still ‘as.” She touched her hand to where a small scar adorned her chest absentmindedly. She'd saved her own life with one, once. A small, but fatal, injury.

Alibeth’s gaze sharpened as she weighed Wulfric and Stratya’s arguments, her voice steady but imbued with a cutting edge.

“Wulfric, let me clarify. I never suggested we indiscriminately destroy every individual associated with magic. However, those with black and red auras must be dealt with severely. Black auras indicate a deep entanglement with dark magic and cruel intent, while red auras often signify a loss of control that poses a danger to everyone around them. These individuals will need to be executed. As for purple auras, they signify witchblood—these people should be brought to me for evaluation.”

She paused, allowing her words to sink in before continuing, her tone deliberate.

“But you still intend to eliminate individuals because of the colour of their aura. I am not sure about those with a black one, but a red aura signifies only an increased likelihood of addiction, does it not? No matter the colour of the aura, however, it does not necessitate that the person in question is even aware of or using magic. That is why I claim we ought to judge individuals based on their actions, not because of a hypothetical risk they might represent. Regarding witchbloods, if any are willing to serve us, that would be helpful, but if they are not, I would understand.” However, Alibeth didn’t comment. Lips pressing together, she moved onto the next point.

“You’re correct that the Black Rose festers like a disease within our society. Alliances are indeed necessary, but we must tread carefully. Aligning ourselves with individuals solely because they wield power, without considering how they obtained it is a dangerous path.”

“You speak of magic as if it were a neutral tool, something that can be wielded for good or ill depending on the user. But this isn’t simply about tools, Wulfric; it’s about the consequences of their use. The Black Rose doesn’t merely use magic—they compel others to bear its cost. Should we do the same, merely to avoid the erosion that magic causes to those who wield it? You propose training individuals to judiciously use magic against such threats, but consider this: who will train them? Who will oversee their actions? And how will you ensure that they do not become the very monsters we seek to eliminate?”

“Either we find those who can use magic and seem trustworthy, or we will have to oversee such efforts ourselves. There is no ‘ensuring’ anything - even the current system did not prevent Black Rose from taking root, did it? We simply have to implement as many fail-saves as we reasonably can. Since we cannot remove magic from the world, we have to find a way to work alongside it,” he argued.

“The current system is one created by your father, so that explains that
 I agree with most of your points, but minimizing it as much as possible will remain my prerogative.”

Alibeth straightened, her voice firm and unyielding.

“Magic, particularly, isn’t just another tool—it’s a force that corrupts, that seduces even those with the best intentions. You may believe you can control it, that you can use it sparingly and wisely without succumbing to its allure. But history has proven otherwise. Time and time again, those who have sought to harness magic for the ‘greater good’ have ultimately been consumed by it, becoming the very evil they sought to combat. This is why magic is outlawed.”

“My stance against magic is not born of fear, but of understanding. I have seen firsthand how it corrupts, how it destroys lives and, more importantly, souls. I watched as it slowly devoured my own sister. I will not allow that to happen here—not to this family, not to this kingdom.”

“It is already happening. We should prevent ill-use of magic, even strive for overall minimization of its use, but would not a rigorous system which predicts its limited use as a last resort solve the problems you mentioned?”

“Magic nullification spells can assist in solving the problems
 However I hope to eliminate it on a large scale.”

The words were quite a blow to the Knight in the room. Decays the soul? Devoured the Queen's sister... Stratya had known magic was not without a price, but, this
 she sat back in her chair, gazing at her teacup.

Alibeth softened her tone slightly, though her resolve remained clear.

“That said, I recognize the complexities of our situation. My witch hunters, who are often witchbloods themselves, are trained from a young age to control and use magic discreetly. They follow the strict philosophies of their familial ancestors and are allowed to use a limited set of spells within this kingdom, spells I have personally approved. As a compromise, I am willing to share this list of authorized spells with our most trusted guards
 ”

Her gaze slid to Stratya and she offered her a conservative smile, “To you, Stratya, if you so consent,”

Her name lifted her mind from itself, she drew a breath to steady herself, swallowed the lump in her throat. “Sorry, ma’am. I..” She didn't really want to get into it, and it didn't seem like discussing that old business had any real bearing on the current discussion. More importantly, she'd been asked something. Captain Durmand shook her head once and cleared her throat, resolving herself, “I was rrememb’rrin’ someone I.. think I los’ ta t’ same. I accept, Y’ Grrace.” A sip of tea, then the last bite of her muffin went into her mouth.

Alibeth rested a hand supportively and briefly on Stratya’s shoulder and simply nodded.

Wulfric nodded. “That is a reasonable compromise. And you mentioned that there is a way to train individuals to be responsible with magic? Is this method effective for adults, as well?”

“Witch hunters seemed to have perfected a way to use minimal magic; however I am not well educated on the matter. If you can find Torvi, she may be better able to answer that. Or perhaps if you encounter one of the hunters in the castle or a witchblood at all.”

“I will.” He would find the answers he was looking for. “One more thing. When you find any magicals, whether amongst the servants or elsewhere, will you try to recruit them first? Let me do so, even. We needn’t rush any executions. For those who are too dangerous, we may even find a way to seal their magic instead.”

“Very well, Wulfric, however you must think with your head and not your heart. If I deem them to be stable, I will send them to you to deal with.”

With that, Alibeth rose.
“I will dismiss you both for the Edwards party now
 Regarding the King Edin dilemma, I do not know much just yet myself. I plan to confront my husband. Please keep things on the down low until more information is available, as I want to find out if Marek has any blackmail, and if it involves any of us.”

“I am sure he does,” Wulfric sighed. “Father did mention it is ‘too dangerous’ to oppose him. The more pertinent is the information of how we will mitigate those risks while dealing with him as we must.” He stood soon after the queen did. “As you say, however, it is time for the party.”

Ah, the party! The now-somber young lady had almost forgotten the event she was due for. It had been the first reason she was baking today, though she would have happily made bread just for the Princess’s (or anybody's) bottle ache. “I wouldn't dream o’ speaking of i’, ma’am. Ooh, speakin’ o’ t’ par’y, I think the cinnamon rrolls shoul’ be on t’ rrack by now.” Thinking about baking helped her find a smile, but also, “I'm gon’ ‘ave ta be verry rrestrrained.. I c’n ‘ave one.” She was telling herself, of course. She caught herself and her self-directed instruction and blushed just a bit before rising from her chair to excuse herself, ”I mus’ check on t’ rest o’ my bakin’. Prince W’rrfrric, I ‘ope you will ‘ave some o’ my breads at t’ par’y. They're delicious~”

He nodded, and took his leave as well.

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Hidden 3 mos ago Post by Lava Alckon
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Drake



Attire: Black/Green Coat, Black Dress Pants, and Black Shoes
Time: Morning of the 25th
Location: Edwards Estate
Mentions: Duchess and Victoria Edwards, Count Calbert





6:45am

The events of last night from the Cabaret were a bit of a blur. From what Drake could immediately recall as he rose groggily from his bed-sheets, there was a short card game amidst some cheeky banter that lead into a rowdy duel of sorts - the events at other tables were muffled but faded into the background as Drake tried to recall who may have been there. ”Perhaps my mind needs a light breakfast to clear things up
”

Drake spent some time doing some early morning stretches - making sure to ease every ache and pop every joint he could reach until he felt his usual limber self. A quick morning hygienic routine followed by an in-depth application of a few skin and hair products made for a rather dashing young gentleman so early in the morning. In his morning loose shirt and linen pants he strode into the dining room and had the butlers cook up an exemplary breakfast of toast and eggs - which were consumed in posthate. Drake would make sure to stop by and give some last minute instructions to the cooks in charge of the upcoming party preparations and would wish his parents a proper greeting before returning to his chambers.

8:00am

After some breakfast, and some greetings and happy birthday wishes he would politely return with “Thank yous” and customary bows of gratitude - Drake made his way back to his chambers to prepare for the day. He looked through his closet, thinking of who would attend and what he should wear, and finally decided on a rather ordinary yet stylish green jacket with a black undercoat - paired with black shirt, pants, and shoes to match. A gentle spritz of his favorite scent of cologne, cedarwood, and Drake felt ready to take on the day.

The young lord grabbed a nearby folder, fitted with sheets of music he had been on and off practicing for the past several weeks. He steadied his nervous breath and began making his way to the study, where a replica piano was currently staged in the absence of the normal grand piano that was there. Drake had requested another one specifically so he could practice in seclusion on the day of any events should the need arise - and he definitely feld one last practice run would do him good. He sat himself at the seat and began to perform several quick exercises memorized over countless years of practice, and once his fingers felt warmed up to his liking, he began to play.

9:45am

What was supposed to be one quick practice run became several. The man’s frantic mistakes here and there were beginning to pile up, and Drake wondered if he was truly ready to perform today. But he steeled his nerves and gave it a few good tries and began to finally nail the performance properly. Once he managed to play his piece from start to finish three times in a row he finally had that surge of confidence to stop practicing into the ground. Drake looked over at the clock and jumped from his seat. ”Good heavens - I better get going!” The man quickly dashed out of his study and made his way towards the courtyard, ready to receive the guests that would be attending his party.

10:00 am

He made his way over to his parents who he spotted almost immediately - he can tell his mother had been fussing with the help, based on how everyone who happened to walk towards her opted to take the very long detour around the visibly stressed woman. ”Good morning to you both, Mother and Father!” He extended his arms out for brief hugs with the two. He briefly whispered to his Father’s ear, ”Please tell me Ari can make it
and that no one forgot about her
” before returning to his regular upright posture in front of the two. ”Everything looks so immaculate! The tables are so well cleaned and the flowers and decorations are perfect.” He let out a satisfied sigh and smiled at his parents from ear to ear. His gaze wandered over to Count Damien whose presence he was surprised he even missed in the first place.

”Count Damien! What a pleasure to see you in good health!” Drake offered a bow to the man followed by an offer of a handshake. ”I thank you so much for your attendance today - and if anything is desired feel free to let myself or the others know. Today is a day I want us all to enjoy as much as myself.” He made sure to exchange proper pleasantries with the Count - giving ample time for interactions before he would take up his post at the entrance to the estate. There, the man would greet any and all party guests enthusiastically - thanking them for their support and wishing them a good time while they see the beautiful home he’s grown up in.

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Duke Gideon Edwards,Duchess Victoria Edwards, Count Calbert Damien, and Countess Liliane Damien


Time: 10am
Location: Drake Edwards Birthday Party at the Edwards Estate Backyard
Interaction: @Lava Alckon Drake @CitrusArms Stratya @FunnyGuy Lorenzo




As Lorenzo approached, his presence did not go unnoticed.

“Oh, for the sake of the Gods...” Victoria’s eyes narrowed. She exaggeratedly sighed as she murmured under her breath, “Who on earth invited him? ...And is he seriously wearing pink?” Her gaze zeroed in on the salmon ball in his hand, a look of disdain flickering across her features. Barely containing her irritation, she rolled her eyes dramatically and turned slightly away from Lorenzo, as if his mere presence was too much to bear.

Gideon, on the other hand, was pleased. His smile widened as Lorenzo approached. “Duke Vikena, welcome! I’m so glad you could join us today."

"I invited him, Victoria,” he added lowly, with a subtle glance in her direction, hoping to pacify his wife's visible discontent. “It’s always a pleasure to have you here.”

Calbert, meanwhile, masked his irritation. A smooth, almost too-perfect smile graced his lips. “Duke Vikena,” he greeted. "Please, why don’t you find yourself a comfortable seat and enjoy the party? There’s plenty to indulge in today.” Calbert’s intention was clear—he was eager to redirect Lorenzo’s attention elsewhere. Beside him, Countess Liliane gave Lorenzo a sweet smile that could melt even the coldest hearts. Their daughter seemed pleased to see him as well. “Oh, Duke Vikena, how delightful it is to see you,” she cooed, “I do hope you enjoy yourself today. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

As the countess had greeted Lorenzo, Victoria had been the first to notice Stratya’s approach, “Who is this now?” She asked a little too loudly and irritatedly.

Gideon quickly stepped in to smooth over his wife’s rudeness. “Captain Durmand, welcome!” he greeted her warmly, his smile genuine and friendly. Both Calbert and his wife greeted Stratya with equal friendliness as well.

“It’s wonderful to see you here. Your presence is most appreciated. Thank you both for coming to celebrate my boy.”The duke said sincerely to Stratya.

Speaking of the birthday boy, he finally arrived just at that moment.

Victoria, despite her earlier stress, visibly relaxed at the sight of her son. “Drake, darling! Look at you, so handsome today,” she exclaimed, returning his hug. As he had been close, she reached up to straighten his collar. “I’ve been making sure everything is perfect for you. You know how these events are. They're going to love us-...you!”

Gideon embraced Drake with a firm, reassuring hug. “Good morning, son. I’m glad you’re pleased with how things turned out,” he said warmly. In response to Drake’s whisper, he nodded slightly, “Ariella should be here soon, don’t worry.” He then patted Drake’s shoulder, his pride evident.“You’ve grown into a fine young man, Drake. Enjoy your day—you deserve it.”

Subsequently Calbert accepted Drake’s handshake with a charming smile. “The pleasure is mine, Lord Drake,” he replied smoothly. “Have a splendid birthday, young man. My Lily and I have had the pleasure of watching you transition from a boy to a man and it has been an honor to be part of your audience.” Meanwhile, Liliane, with her usual warmth, had rose and walked over to greet Drake with a loving hug and sweet greetings.
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Hidden 3 mos ago 3 mos ago Post by princess
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Princess Anastasia, Prince Callum and Prince Wulfric


Time: ~9am
Location: Danrose Castle




Anastasia had leaned against the wall with a huff above exiting the tea room. She wanted to be more useful, to go do something to figure out what happened to Darryn instead of going to some party. The first thing she wanted to do was try to find Marek again.

If she could just talk to him, he’d set the record straight and maybe he’d even help find out what happened. However, Marek wasn’t usually around during the day anyway, so perhaps it’d be better to try to distract herself as usual. It would be comforting to converse with people who cared about her, like Farim and Zarai, after the harsh night she had endured with Riona.

“Ana, can we talk? Just us?” Callum asked as he spotted his sister as he left the tea room. He continued walking toward his room, assuming his sister would follow, and wanting to get away from both Wulfric and Alibeth as soon as he could. “First off, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you of snitching on Marek. It was a dumb thing to think.”

She turned to face Callum and smiled, then followed after him as she spoke. “Of course
 And it’s alright. It made sense given that we were the only ones that seemed to know that she would ask. But according to mother, somebody else snitched.” Anastasia shrugged, then added sincerely, “...I would never snitch on Marek. Even if I thought he was the evildoer they think he is, I would always tell you first; I know you care about him too.”

Callum matched his pace to Ana’s. “I don’t believe Wulfric. I mean, I think maybe he believes what he said, but it can’t be true. I mean, what makes more sense, that Marek is secretly some evil criminal mastermind? And then he decided to blow his cover to murder a stableboy? When he could’ve liquified all the evidence?” He shook his head, there was nothing he believed about that story.

“Marek isn’t that dumb or obvious. You know what does make sense? A queen sending a lackey to kill someone, she admitted she wanted him dead, and using the murder of our friend to frame Marek. It’s exactly what she wants, make this all look like her and Wulfy are saving us from big bad evil Marek and solving Darryn’s murder.” He rambled on, outlining his own theory of what happened and only pausing to take a breath once he’d finished. “We should meet with him, let him know what’s going on.” Cal whispered.

“I don’t even know what to think.” Anastasia began earnestly. “But talking to Marek could be a good step. I at least want to know his side of the story and see if he knows what happened. Maybe he has evidence that could clear his name.” She frowned as a realization kicked in. “I stopped by his office near the warehouses the other night, but they didn’t let me in
” She sighed and glared up at the ceiling as if it were the root of her problems. “I don’t even know if he was in there.”

“It doesn’t make sense, to make such a spectacle.” The details were driving him crazy. “I feel bad, for the knight, she had to see that.” He added, once they reached his room he changed the subject. “What drugs did Darryn give you? Did you take them?” He asked, unlocking his door.

“The little tablets that make you feel really happy... Dunno the name, but yeah I did.”

“Was that out of the norm for him?” He asked, wondering why Darryn never gave him any drugs. He gestured for Ana to follow him into his room, he didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing what he actually wanted to talk about.

“What exactly happened with you and Riona?” He asked once the door was closed.

“No. He used to get me stuff all the time.” She hopped onto a couch. “Riona approached me at the tavern, and right away she started accusing me of being selfish and not thinking about Darryn or the consequences of my actions. She said I was only thinking about myself and didn’t consider how my decisions would affect Darryn, and she also told me that he was dead
 It felt like she was blaming me for everything that happened, without even trying to understand my side of things so I got defensive. We both left the conversation unhappy to say the least.”

“If you’re blaming yourself at all, then you’d have to blame me too. But I don’t think his death is on us.” Callum didn’t sit down, he paced anxiously about the room, unsure of how to bring up magic. “Do you think, as a favor, you could not mention Riona during any family meetings. Or, really to anyone.” He asked.

Anastasia nodded and even parted her lips to voice her agreement. But he didn’t wait for an answer, “Magic isn’t evil.” Cal blurted out. “Unless you think I’m evil.” He paused, glanced at the fireplace as an idea formed. He had to prove it, and barely above a whisper, “Mutare ea quae videntire,” he summoned an illusion. His eyes glew red as an array of brightly colored butterflies flew down from the fireplace and filled the room.

Anastasia's jaw dropped in astonishment. She stood abruptly, her breath catching in her throat as she watched the butterflies. For a moment, she was lost in their vibrant colors. Slowly, a smile spread across her lips, her shock giving way to a sense of wonder. She reached up toward the butterflies overhead, her fingers brushing through the illusion. “Whoa
” she breathed, her voice full of awe.

After a brief pause, she turned to Callum, her expression softening. “I could never think you’re evil, Callum,” she assured him gently. “Even if you did decide to become an evil mastermind with a big top hat and evil twisty mustache, I'd still be on your side. You'll always be my little brother, and nothing will ever change that."

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good, I was thinking about growing an evil twisty mustache.” He watched the butterflies for a moment. “It’s like me, people don’t get magic and they just assume something’s wrong with it. But it’s not evil Ana, it just is. Sometimes bad people might use it. Someone else here uses it. There’s a secret room in the library, I found a spellbook there, it had a spell to make the caster not get sick so much. You know how I was always sick as a kid, I thought if I was stronger he wouldn’t hate me so much.” He didn’t say who he meant, but it wasn’t hard to guess. “Now I don’t get sick all the time. It fixed me. And that’s a good thing, right?” He asked, finally taking a seat across from his sister.

Anastasia’s expression softened, “That makes sense... I am glad you feel better now.” She sighed, “I guess maybe there was just something wrong with her.”

“Who?” Callum asked. “If you still don’t want to say, I won’t ask again, but I wouldn’t turn them in or anything. I could help whoever it is, or they could help me.”

“... Charlotte Vikena
”

“Vikena? 
And she threatened you and Edin? Huh, that’s not who I would’ve guessed.” There was no hiding his surprise. “Thanks, I’m glad we can trust each other. See you at Drake’s party?” He added as he got up and opened the door for Ana.

Only to be stopped by the sight of Wulfric, who had been about to knock on the door. “Ah, I am glad I caught you both.” He raised a palm, a request to stop them from leaving or protesting. “I am aware you might not wish to speak to me, but I only ask that you listen. Please.” He studied them carefully. “I see you have come to a resolution,” he commented. “If you are keen to solve Darryn’s murder on your own, or to investigate Marek even,” he guessed, because that is what the topic of their previous conversation had been, “then that is good. You are both adults, after all,” he acknowledged.

“Try to be careful, will you?” He had his own precautions in mind, but it would be helpful if they acted with forethought and caution. As unlikely as that was for either of them. “If you are ever willing to discuss your thoughts on how things should be, how we could rule more fairly - or on anything else, really - I will gladly hear you out. I do not think that my or our parents’ perspective is necessarily correct, and I would prefer to incorporate yours,” he concluded. He gave a final nod to each sibling. “Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to speak to you.” That said, he took his leave.

Anastasia watched him go and glanced at Callum. “I guess that was a good thing, right?”
“If he means it, yeah, good thing. I just
how do you think he’d react if it does turn out Edin or Alibeth are the real evil here? Not just Darryn, things even worse than that.” Callum asked, but he was already sure how that conversation would go; Wulfric would protect the family no matter what. His brother had basically told Riona that already. “We can’t tell him about magic. About me.” And then he mouthed or Charlotte.

“I believe that Wulfric would stand up against something like that... I mean, he’s well
Wulfric
 but he does cares about us,” she said with a sigh, a wistful tone in her voice. “Sometimes, I just wish we could be a normal family.” She paused, then nodded with quiet resolve. “I won’t say a word to anyone
” With that, Anastasia gave Callum another brief hug and took her leave. “I am going to go get ready, I’ll see you there, Callum.”

“I guess we’ll see. I’ll give it a shot at least.” He said, it wasn’t a confident statement. Wulfric had given him a good opportunity to at least fake some cooperation. It was clear to Callum that he needed to keep getting invited to these family meetings, if only to get easy access to the information he needed to help his friends and the Thornbreakers.


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Hidden 3 mos ago 3 mos ago Post by Helo
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Helo Wonderlust King

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Time: 9am to 10am
Location: Danrose Palace to Drake’s Birthday Bash
Interactions: none



Callum got ready for Drake’s birthday party, a quick shower to scrub the scent of the dungeon off him. He dressed entirely in black, it only felt right, after hearing about Darryn. Beaten, beheaded, the body turned into a puddle. Why? It didn’t even feel right to be going to a birthday party right now.

He stared at the words carved into his wall for a moment. He took the knife from his desk and underneath Alibeth’s name, in a small font he carved ’I did want him to die.’ Proof that his mother was the monster he thought she was. Once he’d finished he returned the knife to his desk and grabbed a bottle. He paced and drank and stared out the window, wondering where the sun got the nerve to be so bright on such a dark day. He opened the window and let a long pour of whiskey run down the side of the palace.

“Sorry I let you down, Darryn. You deserved better.” He said. “Gods, I wish I could stop say that to people.”

He left for Drake’s party shortly after. On his way out of his room, he saw Darryn watching from a corner. His skin a pale gray and covered in bruises, blood flowing from a wound around his neck, and his body melting into the floor. Callum met the gaze of red eyes, glowing and angry as they watched him leave. The price of the spell he’d used to show Ana, a day spent seeing things that weren’t real. “And here I thought I’d just be seeing imaginary butterflies all day.” He mumbled as he locked his door.

He was followed by guards, who stayed a handful of paces behind him before he even left the front door of the palace.




Callum made his way to the Edward’s backyard, everything entirely too bright and green for his liking, and a bracelet was placed on his wrist. Staff walked around with plates of food, and thousands of tiny spiders crawled out from an array of deviled eggs, swarming the plate. Callum hoped that wasn’t real either, but if it was he hoped that plate got dropped on the Dutchess. He took a risk and grabbed a spider-covered egg and stuffed it in his mouth. It didn’t taste like spiders at least but something else grabbed his attention. A table with loaves labled ‘alcoholic bread,’ grabbed his interest. He grabbed one, breaking off pieces and stuffing them into his mouth as he wandered around, avoiding taking to anyone he didn’t normally talk to, and wondering when he’d last eaten real food.

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Hidden 3 mos ago 3 mos ago Post by Helo
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Helo Wonderlust King

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Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: Morning
Location: Spa to the Guesthouse
Interactions: none
Mentions: Count Hendrix, and summons for Riona @JJ Doe
Daily Misfortune: None! Leo’s feeling great! For now...


A well-rested, and no longer hot pink, Leo awoke in an extravagantly comfortable room at the spa. He bathed and dressed for his return to the guesthouse, checking himself before he left. Nothing strange with his voice, appearance, or anything else he could detect. Today he was problem-free so far, which only added to his suspicion that it was something, or someone, in the guesthouse causing his issues.

Despite Count Hendrix’s desire to use Leo as a step to fling himself further up the social ladder, Leo did find that the Count was growing on him. Like mold or fungus, growing where it wasn’t exactly wanted, but there nonetheless. At least Hendrix had amusing stories when they weren’t about extra cookies. Still, he avoided the man, if even he still lingered around, as he left the spa. Count Hendrix ranked low on Leo’s list of potential pranksters, but Hendrix wasn’t fully ruled out yet.

Instead, he returned to the guesthouse, more than willing to bet something strange would occur to try and ruin his good day. He was cautious to touch as little as possible as he made his way to his room.

Or what he thought was his room, and for a moment he thought he was in the wrong room until he saw his lion slippers. The furniture had not been moved more desirably, no, it was replaced with the most ridiculous collection of items he’d ever seen. A toddler bed shaped like a boat, a terrible ugly and bizarre armchair, tiny end tables with tiny lion-shaped lamps, and
was that a potty training chair in the corner??

It seemed he was plagued by two pranksters, one who acted with stealth and one who intentionally failed at any task assigned to her in the most aggravating ways possible. Riona, of course, was the latter. He picked up a few of the objects and waited for something to happen. When no strange alignment popped up he helped himself to the coffee and croissant that waited for him on a tiny pink table where his desk should be.

A few bites and sips later and still nothing strange had happened. In fact, he still felt great, almost giddy even! He found himself softly chuckling about the furniture, including a candle that looked exactly like one of the hideous shoes Riona had previously filled his closet with. At least her intentional incompetence was creative. Eventually, he poked his head out the door, requesting more breakfast and for Riona to be sent over immediately.

Leo ended up taking a seat in the only chair that came close to being ‘adult-sized,’ an ugly, cheap-looking, chair that flared out at the top. It was too narrow at the seat, uncomfortable so, but a determined Leo continued to wedge himself in the chair as he drank the rest of the coffee. He only realized he was stuck when he went to go sit the coffee cup down and the chair remained attached to his butt. A roar of almost drunken laughter filled the room.
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Hidden 3 mos ago Post by JJ Doe
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JJ Doe

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Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Ryn kept a watchful eye on Lord Smithwood after they left the Gentlemen’s Grill and Cabaret and made their way to the spa. Though the lord’s sudden pinkness was the result of nothing more than a dye job, the enchanted glasses revealed a familiar magicae imprint—one Ryn recognized from the day Lord Smithwood’s voice had climbed to a squeak and sudden, uncontrollable laughter overtook him.

Thankfully, the imprint was far less strong or menacing this time, reduced to wisps of tiny, surprised-looking faces swaying at the edges of Lord Smithwood’s magicae like stalks of ryegrass in a gentle breeze.

A field of
 tiny little faces... Eerie, but harmless. Even a little adorable, as it turned out.

With every contented sigh and blissful groan elicited from Lord Smithwood by the masseur’s skilled hands kneading away the knots of tension, the heat of the sauna’s steam seeping into his weary bones, and the scented bathwater cleansed the day’s troubles, the faces faded away, their expressions softening into something almost resembling smiles.

Long before the dye washed clean from Lord Smithwood’s skin and hair, all remnants of the magicae imprint had vanished. Still, the count lingered at the lord’s side, until the deepening creases in Lord Smithwood’s brow warned Ryn he teetered on the brink of overstaying his welcome.



Time: Sola 25, 1739; Daytime Hours
Location: Edwards Estate, Backyard
Interaction(s)/Mention(s):@Lava Alckon@princess

Just as he had done for the Damien’s masquerade party two nights ago, Ryn arrived early to Lord Edwards’ fĂȘte with the intention to catalog the unique traits of each person’s magicae as they filtered in.

Not to toot his own horn—though a small toot might be forgiven—he became rather adept at identifying the hosts of each magicae. He circulated the garden with an easy smile, exchanging pleasantries while continuing his observations.

At last, the birthday boy made his entrance, resplendent in his fine clothes and immediately surrounded by well-wishers. Ryn crossed the garden to pay his respects, greeting those who surrounded him politely before turning his attention to Lord Edwards himself. “Happy twenty-fourth birthday, my lord,” he said warmly, clasping the man’s hand. “I trust you’ve recovered from yesterday?”
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Rodiak đ”Ș𝔩 đ”Șđ”žĂ±đ”žđ”«đ”ž, đ”Ș𝔩 đ”„đ”Źđ”¶, đ”Ș𝔩 đ”žđ”¶đ”ąđ”Ż

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S I R R O D R I G O B A R R I O S
S I R R O D R I G O B A R R I O S

E D W A R D S E S T A T E , B A C K Y A R D | 1 0 : 0 0 A M

_____________________________________________________




Sir Barrios extended his hand to assist Lady Zarai as she stepped down from the carriage. He quickly raised a hand to shield the delicate fabric of her sage-green gown from the carriage’s dirty wheel. She hissed a quiet "thank you" as she carefully set foot on the cobblestone path leading to the Edwards’ gardens.

After gathering Zarai’s bracelet, their walk along the cobblestones to the garden was slow. Lady Zarai complained about her new shoes, which were a size too small and painfully tight. Sir Barrios couldn't fathom why someone of her status would endure such discomfort. The Lesdeman family, after all, had wealth beyond measure; they practically pissed gold.

To make matters worse, Lady Zarai showed no sign of propriety. Instead of paying her respects to their generous hosts and the birthday celebrant, she hobbled straight to her designated table and sat down. Without missing a beat, she flagged down one of the servants assigned to attend to her needs for the rest of the morning.

“Can we get
” Lady Zarai began, her tone light and seemingly inclusive, as if Sir Barrios would partake in the banquet she was about to order. But he knew better; this was her feast, and hers alone. “...and a plate of sorial salmon rolls. Oh, and can I get a mimosa with that, please? And some tea for my lovely knight here.” She closed the menu with a satisfied snap and set it aside. “Thank you, sir!” she added with a cheerful wave, dismissing the servant who hurried off to fulfill her lengthy order.

“Wow, look at this place. It’s so lovely! Gods, even the forks are so
” the lady picked up one of the delicate utensils, tilting it this way and that in the light, “
demure and mindful of the theme! It really is love
ly
” Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, her animated expression faltered.

Sir Barrios rolled his eyes subtly, his attention wandering. He knew that look—a fleeting glimpse of dissatisfaction. She was probably comparing these forks to the ones in her summer home, deeming them inferior. The momentary flicker of disdain in her eyes was as telling as if she’d voiced it aloud.

How pretentious.

He shifted his gaze to the crowd, scanning the clusters of noblemen and ladies. They mingled in their little groups, no doubt whispering about someone's choice of attire or dissecting the latest scandalous rumor. The social dynamics of these gatherings were as predictable as they were petty. Who was the current target of the ton’s gossip, the unlucky soul under the nobility’s relentless scrutiny today? Duchess Lesdeman had likely spared no expense to ensure her daughter stayed out of the papers this time. There hadn’t been a single mention of Lady Zarai or the scandalous incident involving her sudden outburst and two unsuspecting victims.

The more Sir Barrios thought about it, the more it seemed to him that Lady Zarai was unfit for her station, much less deserving of becoming the next Duchess of Brustad. The mere idea of it felt like an insult to the title.

“
Do you think I may have scared off August? I haven’t seen him since that morning. Or perhaps Wulfric has him locked away in some tower
” Lady Zarai mused, leaning back in her chair with a relaxed air. Her gaze drifted lazily over the new arrivals to the party, a slight smirk playing on her lips. “I suppose I wouldn’t want me as a sister-in-law either,” she added with a chuckle, her voice tinged with self-aware humor.

Sir Barrios raised an eyebrow. Her candidness often surprised him, her humor a sharp contrast to her usual airhead demeanor.

"Let’s leave as soon as we eat. I can’t wait to take off these shoes," Zarai continued, twirling a fork between her fingers with practiced grace. Her smile returned, but her eyes seemed distant, lost in thought.

Sir Barrios nodded, though more to himself than to her. He shifted his attention back to the crowd, silently contemplating the company he might have served instead of the woman seated before him.

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Hidden 3 mos ago 3 mos ago Post by CitrusArms
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CitrusArms Space Spatula

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Gale McLeary and James Clearwell


Time: 9:50 am

Since her knighting, the captain had done much for her men. One platoon had been ordered out to her land to construct a village specifically for her soldiers to keep their families in and retire to, should they choose. From sharing drinks with the young lady, he knew she planned to build a second brewery and bakery there, in her family name.

Her personal platoon had more interesting orders. The rest of the platoon was to work with the Adventurer’s Guild and maintain a positive relationship with them. They would then use that positive relationship with the Adventurer's Guild to receive support the Army could not provide, like the cover of working for the Adventurer’s Guild when they really weren’t.

The squad’s standing orders were to blend in, and keep an ear and eye out in the places where the city enforcers did not tend to go, and even, sometimes, in places where they did. To ingratiate themselves to the slumfolk, but not so much they'd draw unwanted attention. Try to draw in the troubles of the slumfolk by gaining their trust. The men of the squad were comfortable with this strategy.. It boiled down to act natural and listen, pretty simple, and pretty lenient. They could even drink reasonably, whatever they needed to make the act a convincing one. After all, a genuine act was also a convincing one.

This is how the three men came to that particular place in the slums. They were idling about, chatting, keeping an eye out for anything while they did. The sergeant grimaced as his nose caught a whiff of something that reminded him of a certain head space. That was the smell of a fresh, dead body. It was faint, though. “Anyone smell ‘at?” One man said no, but the other confirmed after a few sniffs. “Hmmn. Mac, wha’did you say you ‘eard?”

After a brief explanation of what MacGregor heard, which wasn’t too much, the sergeant nodded. Someone hadn’t been seen for a day or two. Well, that was enough for the sergeant to poke around, as per orders. With enough snooping, one of the two men with him found blood and a rusted grate. Great. The sergeant and the other man went in to check it out. The man up top passed down a torch and lit it as he did.

The light let the sergeant see well enough to find something interesting. Two puncture wounds on the neck. “Mac, go tell the Lieutenant we’ve found a body. It’s interesting.”

~

Time: 10:00 am

The Lieutenant was at the desk he had in the space outside Stratya’s office. He often intercepted paperwork headed for her desk. He knew she would avoid it, and had resigned himself to completing what he could for her. For all her accomplishments, written language and etiquette were two battles she seemed to fear, or at least avoid. He supposed he had to understand. He felt similarly about combat, but she seemed so cavalier about that sort of confrontation. So confident.

There were, of course, papers he could not do for her. He had to track her down, sometimes, or tell the sergeant to relay the message. He always seemed to have some luck finding her, usually at the tavern. This time, luckily, she came to him when she delivered a basket of her baked goods to the knight's barracks, and he was able to inform her of some paperwork that needed her specific attention. She was on her way to a social event, and mentioned she was under direct order to mingle. The way she said it, the way she looked at him when she told him.. there was more to it she shouldn’t discuss openly.

A member of the squadron approached. James straightened up from the paperwork he was going over, nodding to the man, “MacGregor, what is it?”

“Lieutenant, we’ve found a body. Someone bothered to dump the bloke in the sewers. The Sergeant says its, ‘interesting’. Whatever that means.”

Lieutenant Clearwell leaned back in his seat, considering the information. The sergeant was not a fool. If Clearwell had been sent for, then clearly McLeary had something that was, indeed, interesting. To start with, hiding a body in the sewers in the slums was an fascinating move. Just hiding it in the slums might have been effective enough, but he could see why the Captain had her platoon doing what it was doing. To find things that would normally not be found, she was doing things that would normally not be done. “No name yet?” No. Hm. Well, then, there was only one course for it.

He put the papers on his desk away and locked the drawer before standing, “I’ll go. Bring a cart from the hospital to carry the body. We’ll take it to the morgue.”
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