Time: Morning Location: Edward's Estate Interaction:@princess Cassius, Callum, Charlotte Mention:
Surprisingly, just one of the drinks helped to take some of the edge off of Lorenzo. Though he was aware of how terrible it was to medicate himself with it, Lorenzo would be lying if he claimed it never helped sometimes. His eyes admired his glass as he attempted to keep himself from butting into Charlotte's fun with her two new and peculiar male friends. He winced.
A Danrose and a Damien⌠How did this happen? It's⌠it's not bad, I guess. Unexpected but she's having fun⌠she's having fun⌠she's having fun, Lorenzo. He beat those final thoughts into his head until he couldn't but hear Cassius baiting the others into a drinking contest of sorts. Lorenzo finally turned his head, first looking at Charlotte, then to Callum, and finally Cassius.
âShall we see who can keep up?â
âLetâs! The Duke of Vermillion could use a warm up⌠Like a rival of mine famously says, âIâm here to play⌠and win.ââ Lorenzo downed one of his two cocktails before flashing a mischievous grin at the young men.
Attire:Black/Green Coat, Black Dress Pants, and Black Shoes Time: Morning of the 25th Location: Edwards Estate Mentions: Everyone present at the party]
Drake waved his hand at the offer to join the man with his guests. âI would love to keep you all company at present. But I actually have something to tend toâŚI just wanted to make sure all is well. Do give Charlotte my best wishes, though. I think I caught wind of what she gave me and I -â He paused for a moment in appreciation. âI am very thankful.â He bowed towards the man and walked off towards the stage setup near the end of the garden.
On his way there he managed to bump into three lady servants serving cocktails. While it would normally be ill-advised to partake in drink so soon before a performance, Drake could scarcely hold his nerves together. He gestured towards them and gave a bow as he reached for a cocktail. âOh you three are life-savers. I am rather shaken by the upcoming performance and might need a slight bit of liquid courage to stave the nerves.â The man swigged a good portion of the cocktail before letting out a sigh. Immediately he felt a strong kick to his throat as the alcohol slipped down his throat and he stifled a minor cough from the pure strength of the drink he just consumed. There was no odd taste, yet he felt like this was quite the potent mixture he just drank. Nonetheless, he smiled at the three ladies. âOh thank you three very much. Erica, Vanessa, and Yellenia right? You three deserve a break from my motherâs antics. Iâm sure sheâs had you running around all day - so please help yourself to some of the food being prepared. Tell them I said it was okay.â
He gave them a bow, albeit slightly shaken, and stood up to walk back towards the stage. Once there, he read over the sheet music once more. Gah. Why canât I focus? Surely I am not so anxious that I cannot even see straight? He shook his head and gave his cheeks a light tap - his vision clearing in the moment. Once he gave it another once over, he placed it to the side and picked up the wrapped up sheet music that Charlotte had given him. It was a rather nice piece - something calm and serene, and thankfully short. He felt like if he was any longer he would forget half the notes before he made it back on stage. It was a rather large gamble to pull such a stunt - but for one reason or another he was feeling rather adventurous.
Drake made his way onto the stage amidst the bustling crowd. Once he placed the sheet music onto the piano stand he waved his hands to the crowd and gave a big bow towards the party-goers.
âDearest friends, guests, gentlemen, ladies, and everything not classified. I welcome you to this fine celebration put on by my loving family in commemoration of my Name Day.â
He gestured towards the table where his Mother sat, and then towards his Father and Ariella.
âTo you all I cannot thank you enough for making me feel like something of a somebody on this beautiful day.â
Once he had grabbed their attention he made his way to the piano and kept his voice projected, yet still moderately quiet as to not jar anyones eardrums before the performance. âI hope you enjoy this performance of Clair de Luna - and may you all have a beautiful day.â Once the sound had quieted down enough, his fingers hit the keys with grace and precision.
As the final notes filled the air - Drake could scarcely believe he had made it to the end of the performance with little hiccups. The man felt his head beginning to spin ever so slightly - but he pushed on. Turning to the crowd, he shouted out once more, more boisterously than before.
âAnd this next piece is a surprise one - gifted to me by a special someone. A spectacular person by the name of Charlotte Vikena. Thank you for blessing me with such a fine gift on such a fine day, milady.â
Perhaps in a wiser state of mind, he would have elaborated, but he chose to end it there, and began the next piece.
The notes hung in the air - a little shakier of a performance this time around but Drake felt like he more or less nailed it. Which was a miracle given how little time he had to prepare it. The lord stood up and faced the audience with a smile. He waved his hand and looked from left to right before taking an overenthusiastic bow. But that is when things would finally go wrong for the young lord. All the sensations that he had managed to ignore, whether through adrenaline or tolerance, had come washing to his head all at once. It proved to be too much - and so Drake in all his glory took a tumble off the stage, careening into the clearing in front of the tables that were closest to the stage.
Sexual Harassment, Objectification, and Degrading Behavior
The content includes themes of manipulation, power abuse, and bizarre, degrading demands that might be distressing or uncomfortable for some readers.
Time: 10:30am Location: King Edinâs Bedchamber "Someone grab a turkey leg! I need it to wave around like a scepter." Edinâs voice echoed down the hall just as the doors to his chamber were pulled almost closed.
The royal bedchamber was a chaotic display of decadence, transformed into a twisted theater for King Edinâs delusions. The air was thick with the heady scent of spilled brandy, perfume, and sweat, clinging to everything like a suffocating cloud. In the corner, a rack of elaborate gowns and accessories stood ready.
Beside the bed, a makeup artist stood silently, eyes cast downward, clutching a palette of powders, brushes, and paints. She had learned not to speak unless spoken to and to fulfill the kingâs every whim without question.
He sprawled in the center of the grand bed, his crown perched crookedly on his head, eyes glazed with drunken delusion. His royal tunic had slipped halfway off his shoulder, revealing his soft, pale, hairy flesh, but he didnât care. He was too far goneâdrunk beyond reason, completely absorbed in his own twisted world of fantasy.
Surrounded by women, Edinâs smile twisted into something smug and self-satisfied. His fantasies had taken hold completely, and he no longer saw the women before him as simple courtesans. They were vessels for something greater, for the noblewomen he believed secretly loved himâevery single one of them. To the king, courting season in Sorian should be a his spectacle, with the finest young gems of the realm vying for the privilege of his touch.
A consort knelt beside him, feeding him grapes one by one, as he slurred his words, barking commands at the women who shuffled around him like puppets, doing whatever ridiculous task he demanded.
âNo, no, no!â he growled, waving his hand lazily. âYou!â His bloodshot eyes fixed on a woman. âPut on the black wig⌠Yes, a wig! âŚAnd that gothic black gown! Darker! Gloomy!â He swirled his half-empty glass of brandy, spilling some on his already stained silk sheets. âLike a raven⌠a dark bird.â He shnorted to himself and leaned in, grabbing her chin. His grip tightened. âYouâre too quiet, arenât you?â His eyes were wide as he then spoke lowly to her, his grip on her chin tightening with every word. âAlways watching, your face buried in a book, always too good for the rest of us. But I know better⌠Youâre not sad. No, no⌠youâre something else.â
The woman scrambled to obey once he had freed her from his hold, picking a dark, raven-black wig from the collection and placing it over her head. She pulled a long, gothic gown from the rack and dressed herself quickly, avoiding Edinâs gaze as she completed the transformation.
Edin grinned, satisfied. âThatâs more like it⌠â
He chuckled darkly before his eyes roamed to another woman, a redhead with trembling hands. âYou,â he growled, his voice laced with cruel amusement. âTake off your shoes. No⌠step into the paint! Now!â He barked the order, waving his hand toward the tray of paint the artist had placed by the bed.
The woman hesitated, but Edinâs glare darkened. She stood there, frozen for a moment, before Edin barked again, âMove! Now! Walk across the room. Leave your mark. â
The redheadâs bare feet smeared the red paint across the floor as she walked, leaving dark, wet prints behind her. She wore a completely confused expression, despite the forced smile. Edin leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. ââYes⌠Your father would hate this, wouldnât he? But you donât care. No, youâre here for me. Only me. You belong in this bed, at my feet, covered in paint like the whore you are.â
His eyes flicked to a blonde woman next, her hair cascading over her shoulders.âYou,â he hissed, his voice dropping into something darker.âYour daddy just died, didnât he? Poor little daddyâs girlâbut now youâre the Varian whore, arenât you? Left to be raised by those two lesbian cunts.â He laughed cruelly, the sound cutting through the room like a knife.â âI can see it. Youâve got nothing left, but Iâll take care of you. Iâll make sure youâre well taken care of⌠I always knew you wanted it.â
The blonde woman stiffened, her face pale as Edinâs words struck deep. She stepped forward, her hands trembling, but she did as he commanded, her eyes cast downward as she moved closer to him.
Without warning, Edin flopped back onto the bed and waved another woman over. âRub oil on me! On my arms! My legs! Every inch of me must glisten!â he commanded with wild excitement. âI need to be shining, like the Gods intended!â
One of the courtesans scurried forward, oil in hand, nervously rubbing it into his arms and chest as he squirmed under her touch, basking in his own perceived glory. âYes, yes⌠now rub it into my feet. I must have the best feet in the kingdom!â He burst into hysterical laughter, tossing his head back while smearing a dollop of whipped cream across his own chest. âIâm glorious! Lick that cream!â
After some time, his attention suddenly shifted again, this time to a brunette woman standing nearby.
He sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. âYou, oh, you think youâre something special, donât you? The diva,â he spat, suddenly accusing her, waving his hand dismissively. âA duchess. Act like it! No, be rude. Show me that attitude. You love being above everyone, donât you? Announce it. Tell the world how much better you are than the rest of them.â
The brunette lifted her chin, her lips curling into a sneer as she adopted the haughty demeanor Edin demanded. âI am a duchess!â she declared, her voice cold and imperious. âAnd you are lucky to have me here. I donât waste my time on anyone else.â
âGooood,â Edin slurred, nodding with satisfaction.
But his mood shifted abruptly, his gaze swinging to a delicate blonde standing at the edge of the room. âYou⌠the sweet one. The angelic countess. Oh, youâre always so sick, arenât you? So fragile. Put on something soft⌠pale. Youâre like an angel who could fall at any moment.â His voice grew more insidious. âYou need me to take care of you, donât you? Without me, youâd die. Cough for me, Liliane, cough!â
The blonde womanâs face paled, but she complied, slipping into a pale gown and coughing lightly, as if her breath were too weak to sustain her. Edinâs grin widened as he watched her, his ego swelling at the sight of her vulnerability.
And then, his eyes fell upon a dark-haired woman standing quietly in the corner, her hands nervously wringing her skirt. He licked his lips, his mind fully consumed by the delusion he had crafted for her, âYouâŚâ he slurred, pointing a shaky hand at a woman with dark hair. âTie it back. With a ribbon. Make it neat, make it proper⌠Like her. âHis voice lowered, thick with something darker, something twisted.
âYouâre going to beg me now, arenât you? Plead with me⌠tell me to spare your imbecile of stepfather. CryâŚ. I want to hear you cry!âHis grin twisted as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper laced with sick delight, âYouâll have no one if I kill him. Only me.â
Her hands shook as she tied a dark ribbon in her hair, her fingers fumbling as she pulled her dark locks back. She approached him slowly, her voice trembling as she began to beg. âPlease,â she whispered, her eyes filling with tears, âplease, Your Majesty⌠spare him. He doesnât understand...â
The words struck a nerve, triggering a flash of memoryâthe mother, in his bed, whispering similar words. He felt both disgust and a strange pull. As the womanâs sobs grew louder, her body trembling, Edin leaned in, watching her break apart before him. There was something almost satisfying about itâseeing her crumble like that. But it was also maddening. She was too much like her.
So Edin turned his attention. "Fetch me a bucket of milk!" he barked suddenly, eyes gleaming with a mad delight. "I want to bathe my hands in it. It makes them soft⌠like the hands of a king!"
As someone went to fetch him milk, he swiveled drunkenly to another woman with dark red hair.
âKalliope!â he barked, though it wasnât her name. He pointed vaguely at the woman. âDress like Kalliope. Put on the tight dress. She always looks perfectâmakes everyone look, but I know sheâs doing it for me.â His words were slurred beyond recognition, his vision blurring, but he grinned widely. âYes, you want to turn heads, donât you? But in the end, you only care about me.â
The woman rushed to slip into a form-fitting dress, her face a mask of discomfort as she tried to embody the vision Edin so desperately clung to. âYou think youâre so deadly but youâre just a fragile woman in my grasp.â
But then Edinâs eyes fell on a strawberry blonde woman at the edge of the room. His face twisted with drunken excitement as he recalled the girl in the wheelchair. âYou! You need bruise makeup!â He nearly shouted, pointing wildly. â Artist! Give her bruises now! And you must wear pants. I heard she likes pants. Youâre tough⌠but bruised. Youâve been hurt. But I can fix it⌠Iâm the one who can make it all betterâŚâ
The artist applied the bruise makeup to the girl, shading her face and neck as she slipped into a pair of pants, her expression hardening as she stepped forward with a defiant look. Edinâs grin widened, his satisfaction complete.
Suddenly, his glass clattered to the floor, and he leaned back, arms outstretched, his body sinking into the bedâs plush pillows. He let out a deep, slurred sigh, completely absorbed in his grand delusion. As another consort applied whip cream into his mouth, he began to mumble something unintelligible, his thoughts drifting to another, more unattainable fantasy.
After a moment, he started up again. ââŚAnd you⌠you!â he slurred, pointing at a tall, auburn-haired woman who had yet to speak. âPut on the crown⌠and the royal robe. Youâre her⌠the Queen. Not my queen, no⌠no⌠the other one.â His eyes glazed over, unfocused as he tried to picture Queen Rosa Camilia of Varian. âStrong⌠tall⌠thinks sheâs better than me. But sheâll fall for me too. They all do. All of them.â He cackled, his voice tinged with desperation.
The consort reluctantly dressed in a royal robe and placed a crown on her head. She approached him stiffly, unsure how to act, but Edin was too far gone to notice.
He was deep in his delusion, convinced that every womanâwhether noble or queen, commoner or consortâwanted him, adored him, needed him. The reality of his kingdom, of the crumbling control he had, faded from his mind as he let himself sink deeper into the fantasy.
"Take the velvet drapes from the window and wrap me in them. I want to feel like a king in a cocoon!" he shouted like a madman with a self-satisfied grin. "Yes, tuck me in tight. Make sure thereâs no draft!"
âThey all love meâŚâ he muttered, his voice slurring as his eyes fluttered closed. âThey⌠all love me⌠Iâm the King. The only KingâŚâ As he drifted further into drunken oblivion, the room grew quieter. The consorts exchanged glances, unsure whether to stay or leave, as the powerful King Edin laid swaddled in the bed, snoring obnoxiously.
Time: 10 AM Location: Sorian Temple Interactions: The Perfumer Mentions:
John was expecting an assassin to come out of the mist to attack him, not to be misted on by the perfumer nearby. In hindsight it was rather obvious her movement was not natural, but tunnel visioning is a darn thing. It got everybody, and now he saw the abyss he had crawled his way out of.
"YOU HEARTLESS MONSTER! YOU LET HIM DIE!"
A screech came from his right, where one of the audience member had morphed herself into. He remembered her face clearly. This was the wife of a man whom by the time John had reached him, his face was gone, but he was still conscious. John could only leave him to his unimaginable fate. His wife had to be restrained, her eyes were seeing blood as her image disappeared from his vision.
Then he heard a hair-raising scream to his left. A nurse was desperately clamping on a woman's body. Her skins were blistering, red all over her body. She beat her chest and clawed her face repeatedly as her lungs grew hoarse after hours. This was the one who John thought was recovering a few days prior. She lived in agony for another few days before succumbing.
"The worst part is, they will not even get the grace of having their brain or their hearts perishing first."
A howling, unfeeling wind made him shiver in place, even though the sun was out and no wind was blowing. His hands shook uncontrollably. And this was nowhere near the actual horror he had seen that day. No horror fiction story could even come close to scaring him.
But even as terror gripped on him, somewhere inside his mind was his consciousness resisting the temptation to give in, cerebral enough to understand that this was not Alestal. He was in Sorian. Whatever he's seeing is not it.
John gritted his teeth. His eyes opened to a terrifying red, as his right hand reached hard into his left sleeve, as if he was pushing against something inside it.
Then all of a sudden, his temperament cooled, as he took several deep breaths. He stood up straight, his left hand gripping into his sleeve, hiding it behind his back, his reddened eyes staring directly into the perfumer with unveiled contempt.
"An apology will not simply cut it today." He retained some of his usual politeness, but obviously his mannerism was no longer the passive kind man that he came off as. "You've sprayed a high-ranking official Varian doctor with poisonous chemicals today. This will not be taken lightly. I demand to speak to your owner."
Time: Morning, 10am Location: Edwardâs home, for Drakeâs party Interactions: Nahir @Rodiak, Wulfric @Silverpaw
Calbert Damien, constant grumpus, hates the flashy fella in pink, Lord Vikena. He noted, and in so few words Nahir had clued him in that such drama ran rampant in Caesonia. Before he could answer her question, a man whose appearance could only be described as angelic approached. A pristine white suit? At a garden party? Ballsy. Classy. He admired the choice and how it made Wulfric stand out so easily in a garden full of vibrantly dressed nobility.
Rohit rose from his seat the moment Prince Wulfric introduced himself. He bowed respectfully, âGood morning, Your Highness. Iâm Rohit, son of Vali Amar of Kimoon.â He sat down once the prince had taken his seat and grabbed a well-crafted cocktail. A future King and the likely future SultanaâŚpicked the right seat to steal!â He thought, remaining relaxed in the impressive company until whoeverâs seat heâd borrowed eventually showed up to claim it.
âMuch to explore.â Rohit repeated in agreement sipping from his drink. Heâd seen only a fraction of the city and already looked forward to seeing more. âAs for my journey here,â He paused to think of the many ports heâd stopped at -why go on a grand journey and not make the most of it- and decided to speak of another Caesonian city.
âFelipina.â Rohit said, addressing Nahir. âBest stop of my journey, excluding the destination, of course.â He continued, nodding to Wulfric. âGreat food, even better wine, beaches filled with beautiful people, and music and romance fill the air. Casa de las Estrellas, what a way to wind down - stargazing on a private balcony. And Iâm told I must return for the Grand Treasure Hunt, how exciting! Shehzadi, I canât recommend it enough. Never dull never dreary.â Rohit gave his mostly honest review of the city, was it better than Breoven? Maybe not, but he doubted the future King of Caesonia wanted to hear how wonderful Breoven was to visit.
âBut despite the high bar set by Felipina, Sorian has already impressed. I arrived just in time to catch the carnival last night, what a wonderful surprise. Anyplace youâd recommend?â He asked Wulfric just as Drake took the stage.
Drakeâs performance was marvelous, a pair of well-played songs that showed the manâs skill off nicely. Until he went to take his bow, âOoooh, embarrassing, he muttered as Lord Drake fell from the stage.
Callum made a face of disgust as Cassius referred to him as, Your Highness. âNonsense, Iâm not high, right now.â He joked and noted the discomfort from Charlotte, and denial from Cassius, at his assumption that the two were a couple.
It wasnât obvious, but Callum had a knack for finding darkness, and there was certainly some of it behind Charlotteâs eyes when heâd mentioned his dislike for both Calbert and Edin. But what was more telling was the long moment where it seemed like Charlotte was somewhere else; her expression changed as her eyes focused on empty spaces. Like she was seeing things that werenât there too. ...And what spells have you been casting, Charlotte? He wondered, jumping on the explanation that made the most sense to him.
âPrincess, huh?â Callum repeated the nickname Cassius had for Charlotte. âDidnât realize I had a secret sister out there.â He joked as he watched Charlotte down her drink.
Callum was not going to be outdone. He grabbed a cocktail and lifted it in Cassius' direction, as he was the one to officially make this a challenge, and drank the entire drink in one go. âI donât know if youâve heard, but thereâs a reason thereâs a tavern with my name, and face, on it.â He added, slamming the empty glass back on the table as Drake took the stage.
âWhat a lovely piece, you composed it?â Callum whispered, eyes flickering to Charlotte. âItâs magical.â He commented as the song ended.
And then Drake fell off the stage.
Callum stood up, stumbling as the cocktail, and that loaf of alcoholic bread, struck him. He held on to the table for a moment then fumbled his way to Drake.
âYou alright?â He asked, offering a hand. âFrom the guy who's usually falling over at parties, best to just laugh it off.â He added quietly.
Time:10am Location: Edwards Estate - Drake's Party Attire: Dress, Amulet Interaction: @PapaOso Cassius @FunnyGuy Lorenzo @Helo Callum @Potter Olivia Charlotte turned her attention to Callum, her smile lighting up her face as she leaned in slightly, and teasingly said, âWell, maybe I am your sister. We do share strikingly similar features, donât we? Dark hair, blue eyes... Perhaps there's a royal family secret worth investigating.â
With a quick glance at Cassius, her voice shifted to a breezier tone, âA legend, huh? Well, I suppose I canât argue with that.â When he leaned closer and claimed heâd be carrying her, she raised her brows with an exaggerated tilt of her head. âOh, you really think so? Iâll have you know, Cassius, I can hold my own.â Her hand casually brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she lifted her glass, smirking confidently, âIn fact, I think I already have the trophy.â
Cassius downed his second cocktail and her brows shot up in surprise. But as he issued his challenge, her eyes widened, and she repeated, âA drinking contest?" She glanced around the table as if appalled by the very suggestion. âAt the son of the Duke of Soraliaâs birthday party, no less! And need I remind you, it is only 10 AM!â It was clear from the giggles that followed the statement, that she wasnât sober enough to deliver the logic convincingly. The warmth from the cocktail had settled in quickly, loosening her usually measured demeanor, though she had always been a lightweight.
âLetâs! The Duke of Vermillion could use a warm-up⌠Like a rival of mine famously says, âIâm here to play⌠and win.ââ Charlotte whirled to face Lorenzo, half-raising her hand to object, but before she could even get a word out, he downed his cocktail just as swiftly as she had earlier. She blinked in surprise, only to hear Callumâs voice pipe up again. Callum, too, emptied his glass. She knew she should have been exasperated with them, yet she couldnât help but grin at the absurdity of it all.
"Well." she began, raising her finger as if she had just thought of something profound, "if you boys insist on carrying on like this, I suppose someone will have to teach you a lesson in how to properly handle your liquor like a lady." She grinned, then plucked one of the shots and gulped it down with a quick flick of her wrist. The alcohol burned briefly as it slid down her throat, a sharp reminder of what a terrible idea this was. But Lottie, for once, didnât care. After all that had transpiredâthe constant swirl of drama, the weird aura around her, Calbert Damien, and those intrusive memories of her father that seemed to force themselves into her reality when least expectedâshe needed to let go, even just for a moment.
Besides, if she was going to be dragged into another one of those surreal flashbacks, better to be a little too tipsy to care.
"...We could play strip poker." Her gaze slid to the table next to them as they remained perfectly in earshot. As Anastasia had been speaking, she had dimly registered her words as background noise, but it hadnât been until that last bit that she felt the need to look over and spot the scandalous amount of PDA between Farim and Anastasia. Compared to that spectacle, she figured a few shots would be the least scandalous thing happening at this party.
Her eyes met Oliviaâs for a fleeting moment to check up on her, then her attention shifted entirely as Drake made an announcement then sat at a piano, the serene notes wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.
Clasping her hands together in delight, she squealed with a rare burst of excitement. âOh! This song is one of my favorites!â She idly sipped from yet another cocktail as the music filled the air, swaying slightly to the rhythm, a contented smile on her face.
Then, Drakeâs words made her freeze mid-sip.
â...And this next piece is a surprise one - gifted to me by a special someone. A spectacular person by the name of Charlotte Vikena. Thank you for blessing me with such a fine gift on such a fine day, milady.â
Charlotteâs eyes darted around as heads turned toward her. Instead of shying away, as she mightâve done before, she eventually gave the crowd a cheeky little wave.
âWhat a lovely piece, you composed it? ...Itâs magical.â
She slurped the remaining liquid from the bottom of the glass as she replied casually,"Certainly did," she said, "I suppose that makes me magical, doesnât it?" It wasnât long after that Drake tumbled off the stage, and Callum had rushed to his aid, along with several attendants. Charlotte assumed his parents would also be soon to follow as gasps filled the air.
She craned her neck to check on Drake as he tumbled off the stage. Gasps filled the air, and Callum, along with several attendants, rushed to his aid. She watched for a moment, her lips forming a faint pout before deciding he seemed alright. With a dramatic sigh, she turned her attention back to Lorenzo and Cassius, her cheeks flushed and her eyes gleaming with a giddy energy.
"Well, that was quite the performance," she giggled, playfully swinging her now empty shot glass in the air before setting it down a little too forcefully. "But you know..." she began, her words starting to slur ever so slightly, "I think I could do betterâwithout falling off a stage, mind you."
She hiccuped and blinked, her train of thought momentarily lost before a mischievous grin crossed her face. "Cassius, Lorenzo," Lottie continued, swaying slightly as she leaned closer to them, "I've been thinking... If we were all animals, you'd definitely be a... hmm..." She paused, her gaze locking onto Lorenzo as she squinted in mock concentration, leaning in as if unveiling a grand revelation." A ferret like Kier! All squiggly and sneaky. You clever little thing!"
She paused, giggling uncontrollably at her own words. Then, turning to Cassius, she poked him lightly in the chest, "And you, you'd be... oh! A peacock! Always strutting around, thinking you're oh so pretty." With that declaration, she snatched up another shot and poured it down her throat, perhaps enjoying the pleasant feeling a little too much.
Victoria snapped her fingers sharply, the sound cutting through the air like a command that couldnât be ignored. In moments, two attendants hurried over, giant feathered fans in hand, and began fanning her with almost frantic devotion. Another servant fussed over her hair, ensuring every strand was impeccably in place. Her head barely moved, her posture regal as she surveyed the party like a queen on her throne.
"Honestly, Lily," Victoria drawled, her eyes glued to the unfolding scene across the lawn. "Look at themâacting like they've forgotten theyâre in public, fawning over each other like animals. Farim and the princess, no less. Sheâs practically using him as a cushion. Whatâs next? Is she going to ride him in front of us all?"
Countess Lily forced a nervous chuckle, nodding along with a tense smile. "Yes, Duchess. Itâs... quite something."
Victoria let out a snarky laugh. "Him and Moonear or whateverâthose princes." Her tone dripped with sarcasm. "They dress as if they've borrowed their clothes from peasants. Baggy and uninspired! Honestly, do they not realize they are royalty?"
"And how is Ariella doing, Victoria?" Lily asked, eyes flicking nervously toward Victoriaâs daughter.
Victoriaâs gaze darkened instantly as her eyes followed Lily's. "How do you think sheâs doing, Lily?" she retorted, frustration biting through her voice. "Sheâs obviously terrible." She pointed dramatically at Ariella, who was wiggling her toes barefoot. "Look at herâno shoes again! Of course, sheâs decided to disgrace me at Drakeâs party."
She huffed, crossing her arms. "Honestly, every damn time," she muttered under her breath, finishing her cocktail as if that could erase the chaos sheâd just unleashed.
Without missing a beat, Victoria cupped her hands around her mouth and barked across the lawn. "Ariella! Put your damn shoes on right now or so help me, I will come over there and smack you with one!" The party froze for a split second as her voice echoed through the garden, heads turning to witness the spectacle.
A servant approached then with a tray of sparkling cocktails, a tight, fake smile plastered on her face as she set one delicately in front of the Duchess. Victoria accepted the drink, lifting it slowly to her lips. "Mmm, delightful. At least someone here knows how to do their job." Her gaze slid over the rim of the glass to narrow at the girl. "I hope you arenât expecting a thank you. Go away now." She rolled her eyes.
Her eyes slid to the next table, a cruel smile curling on her lips. "And would you look at that table?" she sneered. "Cassius, Lorenzo, Callum, and Charlotteâwhat an utterly predictable bunch. Downing drinks like common drunkards in a tavern. Have they never seen liquor before? Itâs so... undignified." She waved a hand, her cocktail shimmering as she took a delicate sip.
Her sharp gaze zeroed in on Callum, and she let out an almost bored laugh. "Should we even be surprised? Callumâs behavior never shocks me. Heâs Edinâs worst mistake, after all. Living up to that legacy every day, isnât he?" Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Victoria then flicked her eyes to Lorenzo, stifling a snicker. "And Vikena... in that ridiculous pale pink suit? Absurd. He looks like a child who wandered into his motherâs wardrobe. Pink! On him! Itâs laughable."
Bored with them, her attention drifted back to the table with Anastasia and Farim. Her eyes locked on Count Fritz. She arched a brow, disdain evident. "And that one... the short one with the dark hair. Whatâs his name again? Heâs so insignificant I canât even bother to remember it. Why is he here? Practically invisible." She let out a soft laugh before her eyes landed on Olivia, radiant with ethereal beauty. Not even one flaw on her face. The duchessâs jaw clenched involuntarily. "And who, pray tell, is that?"
She talks way too much when she drinks. Lily thought to herself, taking a steady breath before answering. "I donât know who that girl is. Iâve seen her around the Vikena estate lately."
"Really! You usually know everyone." Victoria mused with interest, though her gaze remained narrowed in jealousy.
Just then, Calbert rose from the table. "Please excuse me, ladies." He left abruptly.
Victoriaâs eyes stayed on Olivia even as Calbert walked away. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against her glass. "Lovely? Thatâs one word for it, I suppose," she replied, her voice tinged with bitterness. She took a languid sip, masking the jealousy bubbling beneath. Her smile toward Lily was sharp, devoid of warmth.
"And the Vikena estate, you say?" Her tone was dripping with fake curiosity. "Well, that explains everything. She could have been somethingâif only she wasnât mixing with that lot. Even the most polished gems can end up in the gutter."
Lily's smile tightened, unsure what to say. "Yes... quite the pity," she murmured, glancing toward Olivia, blissfully unaware of the venom being spat in her direction.
Victoriaâs gaze darkened as she sipped her drink, the taste now bitter. "Itâs like she thinks sheâs better than the rest of us, just sitting there with that face, as if she owns the room. Itâs enough to make me sick."
The only thing that broke her deadly focus was her own sonâs voice. Victoria snapped her fingers, halting the fanning and the servant fussing with her hair. Her eyes were glued to Drake as he prepared for his performance. A small, proud smile curled her lipsâtinged, as usual, with self-importance. But as Drake continued speaking, she noticed the slight stumble in his movements, the slur in his words. He even ended up playing some awful song from the Vikena girl of all people. It quickly went downhill, ending with him tumbling off the stage in front of everyone.
A fire raged in Victoriaâs eyes as she abruptly stood. Her perfectly styled dress rippled, and with a snap of her fingers, her attendants hurried to lift her skirts. She couldnât sit by idly after this disasterâher son, falling like a common buffoon! With her head held high, her features twisted in indignation, she stormed across the lawn toward Drake, her heels sinking into the grass but not slowing her determined pace.
As she reached him, her voice cut through the chatter like a blade. "Drake!" she whisper-hissed, glaring down at him. "Do you have any idea how utterly embarrassing that was? Falling off the stage like a commoner who canât hold his drink! My son, making a spectacle of himself at his own birthday party."
Her hands rested on her hips, venom dripping from her tone. "You are not some tavern drunkard, Drake. You are an Edwards. Get up and act normal!"
Before Drake could reply, her eyes flicked to Callum, who had been helping him to his feet. Without missing a beat, she sneered coldly. "Oh, look. I believe a flea just jumped out of your hair, Prince Callum Danrose. You might want to find a combâthough I doubt itâll help with whateverâs going on there."
Victoria let out an exasperated sigh, smoothing her dress and waving her hand dismissively in Drakeâs direction, forcing herself to maintain composure. With exaggerated grace, she climbed onto the stage, every step dripping with superiority. At the center, she flashed a tight, practiced smile, her voice oozing with false charm.
"Dear friends, please forgive the interruption," she called out sweetly. "It seems my poor son, Drake, is feeling a bit under the weather. Nothing to worry aboutâjust a minor spell of dizziness." She waved her hand dismissively and posed with a hand on her hip as if the entire backyard was admiring her. "Iâm sure heâll be back to his usual self in no time. Carry on!"
Victoria clapped her hands, her voice taking on a singsong tone. "Servants! Now would be a fabulous time to bring out more hors d'oeuvres, donât you think?" she chirped, commanding beneath the sweetness. "And everyone, do help yourselves to the buffet! So much to enjoy!" Her voice rose with fake enthusiasm, teetering on desperation. She gave an exaggerated bow, performing for the crowd.
As she descended the stage, the tight smile remained. This party was supposed to showcase her familyâs grace and superiority, and Drakeâs stumble had nearly ruined it. But Victoria Edwards wasnât about to let her familyâs image falter. Not on her watch.
Time: 10 am Location: Drakes Birthday Mention: Interactions: Gideon@papaoso, Captain@citrusarms, Drake@Lava Alckon, Callum@helo, Victoria@princess Appearance: No shoes | Blue summer gown with butterflies embroidered on gown
Ariella blinked up at her father, a wide, slightly dazed grin spreading across her face as his familiar voice broke through the haze of the alcohol. The flush in her cheeks deepened, both from the warmth of the drink and the surprise of his presence.
"Father!" she exclaimed, almost stumbling as she turned toward him, her hands instinctively reaching out to steady herself against his arm. She let out a breathless laugh, her eyes sparkling with an impish glint. "I didnât expect you to sneak up on me like that."
The playful air that surrounded her seemed contagious, her carefree nature at the moment reflecting the years of love and freedom sheâd always had with him. His gentle teasing only brought out a more dramatic reaction. She straightened her back, puffing her chest slightly as if to prove that she was entirely capable of handling herself. "Iâm perfectly fine," she declared, her voice lilting as she took a sip from her own drink. "Just enjoying a little...well-deserved fun after the dungeon, you know."
She flashed a mischievous grin at Captain Stratya, then back at her father, thoroughly enjoying the absurdity of their conversation about chocolate and mead. Ariella leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "I think Stratya here has the right idea. Chocolate in sweetbreadâwhat a revelation!"
As Gideonâs hand found her shoulder, she relaxed a bit, the steady weight grounding her, even if her head was spinning a little. His gentle warning about the drinks earned him a mock pout."Slow down? Me?" Ariella laughed, clearly delighted by the absurdity of the suggestion. But her fatherâs wink made her laugh even more, the kind of unguarded, bubbling laughter that only came from too much drinking and too much happiness in the moment.
Her eyes followed his as he glanced down at her bare feet, and she let out a small, sheepish chuckle. "You know me too well," she said, wiggling her toes with a grin. "Shoes are a torture device."
For a brief moment, the whirlwind of the party faded away when she heard her mother shouting towards her "Ariella! Put your damn shoes on right now or so help me, I will come over there and smack you with one!"
The chatter around them grew silent as they all stopped to look at Ariella and back towards Victoria. The whispers erupted as the crowd continued to look towards Ariella as she felt a flush of embarrassment as her eyes darted nervously between her father and the captain. Her eyes landed back on her father, filled with disappointment and sadness she masked it with a soft smile and a squeeze of her father's arm.
âIâm sorry, I hope you both can excuse me,â she said softly, her voice nearly cracking as she decided to leave the table.
A server noticed Ariella leaving empty-handed and shuffled over offering her another drink. Without much thought she took it and threw it back, putting the empty glass back on their waiterâs tray before attempting to shuffle around the tables.
While her bother was giving his speech she hoped she could just sneak out and avoid this mess, already feeling like it was a mistake. However, suddenly she heard a gasp and the sounds of crashing. She looked over to see Drake falling into the tables.
Grabbing a fist full of her skirt she ran over to her bother but Callum had already intercepted it, she watched him offer a hand out to her bother. Knowing how Drake felt about Cal made this situation all the more interesting for Ari âNot such a bad guy after all, is he DrakeâŚâ she thought. As she reached his side she offered Cal a smile before her attention turned to her brother.
âYou alright?â Callum had asked, whispering something to him she didnât catch.
â Drake!?â Ari added. â Are you hurt?â she looked at him with a concerned expression as Cal attempted to help him up. She felt her mother's presence moving towards them as her body slightly stiffened.
"Drake!" she whisper-hissed, glaring down at him. "Do you have any idea how utterly embarrassing that was? Falling off the stage like a commoner who canât hold his drink! My son, making a spectacle of himself at his own birthday party."
Ariella's eyes narrowed in on her mother as she bit back a remark but she continued.
"Oh, look. I believe a flea just jumped out of your hair, Prince Callum Danrose. You might want to find a combâthough I doubt itâll help with whateverâs going on there."
Ariellaâs smile faltered as her motherâs biting words filled the space. Her initial concern for Drake was quickly overshadowed by a simmering irritation, the familiar sting of her motherâs sharp tongue aimed first at her brother and now at Callum.
Her hand instinctively tightened around the fabric of her skirt, the warmth from the moment before disappearing as tension settled in. She glanced at Callum, who was helping Drake up, her heart aching at the cruelty of the insult tossed his way. Her eyes flicked to her mother, and for a moment, Ariella debated whether to let it slide, to simply keep the peace. But she couldnât.
Taking a deep breath, Ariella stepped forward, her posture calm but her voice steely with liquid courage. "Mother," she began, her tone firm but measured, "I donât think this is the time or the place for such... comments."
Her eyes darted back to Drake, offering him a quick, reassuring smile before her gaze settled on Callum, her expression softening. She couldnât stand to see him treated so poorly, not when heâd done nothing but try to help.
Turning back to her mother, Ariellaâs tone sharpened slightly, though she kept her words controlled. "Perhaps we could focus on making sure Drake is alright, instead of... embarrassing anyone further." Her eyes flashed with a hint of challenge as she stood her ground, unwilling to let her motherâs venom go unchecked.
âIt's not very Lady likeâ she added as she took a step closer to her mother. Something she continuously reminded Ariella whenever she did something unapproving
She felt a little out of place. Perhaps she should have stepped apart, when Gideon had come to speak to his daughâer? Too late now. She paused her speaking to take a sip from her cocktail when she heard it. Like there had been a lull in most conversations except hers, perhaps.
â...we could play strip poker.â
She stopped halfway through her cocktail, controlling herself from spitting it out from surprise. The knight managed to swallow it properly. What a wild idea! That was the princessâs voice, alright. That young lady kept surprising Stratya with her free spirit. However, the Princess also seemed to be a bit, ah, danger-prone, perhaps? She could recall hearing of two separate instances. She didnât want to ruin the Princessâs fun, and besides, Anastacia was an adult. She was old enough to make these decisions for herself.
Yet the knight felt torn. It really didnât seem like a good idea to let the princess do something like this with people who were ultimately only just new acquaintances, known for days at most. Her safety had to take priority.
Duchess Victoria shouted across the party at her daughter. What a fantastic parent. As Ariella excused herself, Stratya spoke to her before she could leave, "Lady Ariella, le's talk when there's nowt alc'hol involved." She gave the young lady a warm smile and nodded, before downing the rest of her cocktail and turning to Gideon, âI believe I âeard a matâer I âad besâ tend to, Duke Gideon. Please, excuse me, as well.â As she turned to put the cocktail on the table, she leaned against the surface to steady herself as things spun a bit. âOoh, âatâs strong. Heehee.â And tasty. Clearly, she had to take a closer look at the alcohols available to her. On the other hand, getting drunk too quickly took some of the fun out of it. You couldnât play beer ball with this stuff, youâd be on your ass after one round.
Lord Drake began his performance as Stratya crossed to the Pricnessâs table. Heâs quite good.
The knight came to stand besides the Princess and her Royal Cushion, and spoke softly to the Princess. It wouldnât do to disrupt Drakeâs performance, âI am sure you arre awarre I simply cannae leâ you play such a game, Prrincess Anastacia,â she looked as a cocktail was placed into her hand, causing her to pause. She brought the cocktail in front of herself, watching it, before continuing, âwitâouâ a.. suiâable perrsonal escorrâ. I cannae leave you unprrotected forr such an even', aye? Iâ seems nae tasteful to âave a man for tâ job.. Sâppose Iâd be tâ woman for iâ, then, eh?â
She sat herself at the table and listened as Lord Drake continued to play, âooh, heâs quiâe good.â She let the performance dance in her ears, and looked over to Lady Charlotte as she heard Drakeâs proclamation. She could make a joke about her being popular, but it was more impressive that sheâd written a piece of music to be played, and that it was such a pleasant thing to listen to! âLady Charrlotte surre is somethinâ. A sweetâearrt and talented, too? Hoo.â
Sheâd just turned back to the table when she heard everyone gasp, and a body go âthumpâ to the ground. She turned quickly, but found that so many other bodies were already responding, including Prince Callum and Ariella. What she saw happen next was very interesting, though.
Victoria. What a vile woman. So vicious to her own children. She watched her body language as she berated her son for being drunk off the drinks at the party she arranged. She remembered Victoria's berating of her daughter, just moments ago, for enjoying being a free spirit. Perhaps it was the drink, but Stratya turned in her seat and leaned back on the table, crossing her legs as she held her cocktail up in her hand away from the table. She cupped her other hand to her mouth and shouted up, at Victoria,
âTake off yerr shoes!â
She watched Victoria, waiting to make eye contact and stare her down, as she sipped her cocktail slowly.
Lorenzo was grinning ear to ear as the festivities escalated between the members of his table. The tension between himself and Cassius was beginning to dissipate in the presence of competition. Whether or not it was healthy could be left up for debate. Everyone being in good spirits was a great sign, so Lorenzo would persist. A few drinks could never ruin him, right?
At the same time, he tried to remain mindful of Charlotte who was already slurring and swaying about. Sheâs happy, he mentally assured himself. They were all having funâa good olâ time. There was even a live performance from Drake Edwards, the birthday boy!
Lorenzo raised another glass.
âTo the young and talented Drake Edwards!â Lorenzo announced before downing his drink. âI must have the recipe for these drinks!â He exclaimed.
âAnd this next piece is a surprise one - gifted to me by a special someone. A spectacular person by the name of Charlotte Vikena. Thank you for blessing me with such a fine gift on such a fine day, milady.â
Lorenzo gasped as he looked at Charlotte in amazement at discovering her music would be played in front of such an audience, in front of princes, princesses, dukes, and duchesses from all over the world! To find that Charlotte was so beloved made him feel so proud of her. To think she did it on her own and despite his many follies.
âLottie thatâs your song!â Lorenzo shouted listening in awe. âThat deserves another!â He tapped a nearby servant without having to leave his seat. âHey, just set the whole tray down here. You deserve a much-needed break,â Lorenzo insisted as the servant reluctantly set a tray of cocktails down at the table. With a stupid mischievous grin on his flushed face, Lorenzo turned to face Cassius and winked. âLooks like I brought the bar to us, huh?â He giggled with amusement before grabbing a glass and setting it as close as he could to Cassius. A bit of it spilled over in his unsteady hands, a strong indicator for him that these cocktails were hitting him harder than he initially believed they would. The Duke nearly thought he might be off his game when it came to consuming alcoholic beverages but hearing Drake slur just before he took a tumble off-stage informed him something else was afoot. He should have put more thought into figuring out what was happening but his and mostly everyone elseâs focus shifted to Drake. The young man was being helped by several attendees, including Prince Callum which may have narrowed the competition to Lorenzoâs dismay. Defeating the sons of Edin and Calbert would be a legendary tale to tell his grandchildren someday!
Drake had fallen but Lorenzo was sure the young man would pick himself back up and push on. It was his very own personal holiday afterall. It appeared things would smooth over⌠at least until Duchess Victoria marched across the grass to ridicule her son only moments after ridiculing her daughter, Ariella. To think such pleasant children had to tolerate that abhorrent woman their entire lives. Trying to slow down on his drinking and keep his mind off of one of his sworn enemies, he took a sip of yet another cocktail⌠a small one. Really.
"Servants! Now would be a fabulous time to bring out more hors d'oeuvres, donât you think? And everyone, do help yourselves to the buffet! So much to enjoy!" That might have been the last of her but Ariella stepped up to her challengingly. âIs there going to be a fight? Between mother and daughter? Hmm⌠I would love to see Ariella smack the ego off her face.â Lorenzo did not attempt to keep the thought to himself while his attention remained fixated on the two women.
âTake off yerr shoes!â Lorenzoâs eyebrows raised upon hearing the heckle toward Victoria. He craned his head to see none other than Knight Captain Stratya Durmand with one hand cupped around her mouth and the other holding one of those impressive cocktails. There were several chuckles and stifled laughs amongst the crowd, and for once he was not at the center of it. Of all people who could have a turn at being laughed at, he did not foresee a chance to mock Duchess Victoria ever coming to pass. This⌠This was an opportunity Lorenzo could not pass up. With no inhibitions holding him back, Lorenzo took a deep breath and pointed toward Victoria.
âShe wonât do it! It would be a crime Knight Captain! Victoria knows she has the stinkiest feet in the Kingdom! Trust me when I say it would be easier to bury your face in WEEK-OLD ROYAL CURD CHEESE left in the blistering heat than to be subjected to the hell of her removing her shoes!â
Time: 10am Location: Edwards Estate / Drakeâs Party Interaction: @princess Lottie, Victoria @Helo Callum, @FunnyGuy Lorenzo
The lovable bastard smirked as Charlotte giggled and bantered with Callum, her light-hearted mood was contagious to him. Sheâd been sipping on her drinks steadily, and he could see the alcohol loosening her up in ways he hadnât seen before. The usual kindness in her eyes remained, but that barrier of caution seemed to be gone, replaced by a playful energy that was almost magnetic. He leaned back in his seat, watching as she teasingly suggested she might be Callum's sister. When she turned her gaze to him and claimed sheâd already won the trophy for his suggested drinking contest, he couldn't help but grin.
âOh, have you now?â His voice was low, teasing, his eyes dark with amusement as he leaned in slightly. âIâd be careful about making claims like that, Princess. Iâm not one to be underestimatedâŚThen again, perhaps neither are you.â He winked, letting his storm-gray eyes traveled over her face, studying the way her cheeks flushed as she sipped more of her drink.
Then, as Drake took to the piano and began his performance, Cassiusâ gaze shifted to the stage. Drake introduced the next piece, and when he mentioned that the song had been composed by none other than Charlotte Vikena, his brows shot up. His attention snapped back to her, impressed but somehow unsurprised.
âWell, well⌠a legendary drinker and a composer. Is there anything you canât do?â Cas teased, his voice carrying a note of admiration. He watched as her eyes darted around the room when Drake mentioned her name, a cheeky wave following as the attention turned toward her. She wasnât shying away from the spotlight this time, and Cassius felt a swell of pride in her confidence.
He raised his glass. âTo the talented Lady Vikena,â he exclaimed to their table, giving her another wink before downing the rest of his drink.
As the music played, Cassius found himself appreciating the beauty of the piece, though Cas could not help but wonder what it could have been if she had played it herself. However, as the last note of the song faded, things took a sudden turn. Drake stumbled, his words slurred, and the next thing Cassius knew, the birthday boy was tumbling off the stage, much to the gasps of the crowd. Cassius took it all in, his eyes narrowing as he glanced over at Drakeâs mother, Victoria, who was already striding across the lawn with all the grace and fury of a storm. Cassius let out a low sigh as he watched the way she handled the situation.
âDoes that one always make everything all about herself?â he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Victoria's hissed reprimands at Drake and the look on her face as she addressed Callum, who had gone to make sure Lord Edwards was alright, told him everything he needed to know about her. He couldnât make out what exactly was said to the Prince, but honestly her expression was more than enough to understand that it wasnât friendly.
The moment eventually settled and soon, Charlotte, her cheeks flushed and her eyes gleaming, turned back to him and Lorenzo, comparing Lorenzo to a ferret and suggesting that Cassius was more of a peacock. He couldn't help the laughter that escaped him. She was clearly tipsy, maybe even a little drunk, honestly so was heâŚwhich surprised him, but regardless, the way Lottie leaned closer, poking him in the chest with that mischievous grin, was too charming to ignore.
âA peacock, huh?â Cassius matched her energy in closing the distance, his voice dropping low, teasing her as his eyes locked onto hers. âSo youâre saying Iâm strutting around because I know Iâm pretty?â His lips curled into a roguish grin. âWell, itâs nice to know youâre paying attention, Princess. Canât say Iâm surprised you find me beautiful.â
He held her gaze for a moment, the teasing edge in his voice softening slightly as he added, âBut, if you think youâre the only one that can play this game youâre wrong.â He gave her a once over, studying her with his eyes inquisitively before continuing with confidence. âIf Iâm a peacock, LottieâŚthen that means that you are most definitely a swan. More than your share of elegance and grace, not to mention truly beautifulâŚbut there's more to it than just that."
His expression shifted, becoming a bit more serious, though still laced with his signature charm and disarming smile. He took another sip of his cocktail and leaned even closer, this time his words were meant for her and her alone. He was so close, in fact, that the warmth of his breath could be felt on her neck. "Most people donât realize just how fierce swans actually are. They're not just the most beautiful birds in the world, no, they will defend what they care about with everything they've got. Thatâs you, isnât it? Underneath it all youâre the sweet girl everyone that matters can seeâŚbut thatâs not all you are, is it Charlotte? I see more than that.â
He lingered in the moment before easing back into his seat, his eyes still locked on hers as if he could peer into her very core.
Farim curled a smile at Zaraiâs declaration. He searched his mind for the words - not having spoken this tongue in some time. Once he gathered the right meaning, he leaned in while still holding Anastasia in his arm. âNo dudo de tu encanto. No soy tĂmido cuando se trata de desafĂos, porque puedo ser bastante... persuasivo.â The man let the words hang with a pleased expression on his face before leaning back in his seat. He meant no ill will of course - this was all part of the fun and he was rather enjoying his banter with the fine woman.
The next sequence of events definitely stirred a fire within the man. Back home he would definitely be far more brazen if a woman such as Anastasia doted over him so fondly - but this was a much more refined atmosphere. Full debauchery would not do. NoâŚthis required a delicate dance between two flirtatious souls in the midst of both fun and not-so-fun onlookers.
âWell, Anastasia my sweetheart, are you suggesting you need to find a place to let off some steam?â His voice rolled off the tongue with a sensual whisper into her ear followed by a chuckle. Her shifting in his lap did not go unnoticed, prompting him to shift in an equally promiscuous manner. At this point, Farim could hardly contain his own behavior - but as his hands glided along the front of her bodice, an announcement rang through the air from the birthday boy.
The performance was beautiful to Farimâs ears. His appreciation for music lended him the chance to fully immerse himself in the tones that this grand instrument played. âI do wish we had many pianos back home - they sound so lovely donât they?â He spoke to everyone at the table this time - simply enjoying the moment. Then the second piece was announced, tied with a pointed thank you at a certain âCharlotte Vikenaâ. His head shifted to eye the table across - a jolly group of individuals who seemed to be getting their drink on. Oh my, an admirer perhaps? But is she not already with that man there? This is certainly interestingâŚ
The second piece continued with a similar level of grace and quality. Farim enjoyed listening to a live performance from one of the nobles of Caessonia. He considered it a treat, yet even as the second piece played his playful nature still persisted with the woman perched so perfectly on his lap. The same hand hovering on her midriff gently rubbed her dress with the ball of the manâs fingers. This continued throughout the piece and even as Drake went to give the crowd a bow. What happened next however - gave the Trade Prince quite the impression.
A young man tumbles, followed by the hushed sighs and oohs of the crowd. Then a young man, Anastasiaâs brother Farim recalled, offered some reassurance - which was quickly dashed by a shouting woman who he could only presume was the young lordâs mother. Finally another fair lady approached which Farim immediately recognized as Ariella. That is right! This is the man who whisked her away the other nightâŚso this is Ariellaâs family? Explains why she likes to run off.. His heart went out to the pair of siblings. Seeing the way their mother tore into the pair both currently and just earlier as Ariella was berated for her lack of footwear.
But the ensuing chaos and heckling brought a smile to his face. Farim decided to act on his chaotic impulse and wrap a hand around the chin of the Princess. He was deliberately moving in such a way that she may even think heâd pop a kiss right there. But he slipped just past her ear to softly whisper to her. âI must confessâŚas fun as it is to dance our little dance - decorum says I must behave myself. But perhaps later, we can work out some of theseâŚ.frustrations.â He coyly suggested with a wink.
A quick flip of his hand snuck its way beneath the silky waves of her dress to rub the soft skin of the womanâs calf - all for but a fleeting moment as everyone's attention was drawn to the Edwards drama broiling in front of them. Then, as everyone began to look back to their own tables, the Shehzade wrapped his arms around her waist and rested then calmly in her lap as he smiled deviously at the Princess. âStrip poker sounds great, so long as it is in the interest of everyone present.â Farim said with a nod towards the Knight Captain who had protested moments before.
Attire:Black/Green Coat, Black Dress Pants, and Black Shoes Time: Morning of the 25th Location: Edwards Estate Mentions: Victoria, Callum @helo, and Ariella @tpartywithzombi
A lot had happened in such a short time. To Drake, the world simply dimmed as his senses dulled and the dizziness took him over - some would call this âthe spinsâ. He would call it the weight of the anxiety or the performance taking over his motor skills - but this is an argument for another time.
While he gathered himself, the berating and shouting had been a slight buzz in his ear. He had however heard the biting comments from his mother - they held some truth, but she could have at least phrased it better. It was his birthday after all.
Drake stood on his own and brushed any grass or dirt off - taking a moment to fluff his hair and with that all-to-charismatic smile he held both his hands aloft ar everyone speaking to ask for a moment of silence. Once the pause we poignant enough - Drake said his piece.
âWhat a way to conclude a performance, am I right? I am sorry to frighten you all so much - you see Iâve been worrying about that performance all bloody week and I fear my jitters finally got the better of me at the end. But I assure you I am well! Just as all of us Edwards do, we handle such hiccups with elegance and grace.â
He gave his coat jacket another purposeful fluff and turned to his mother. âHors d'oeuvres sound lovely! I am rather famished too. Perhaps not the best idea to perform on an empty stomach - but I wanted to give Sorian a real proper recital.â He waved to everyone around, giving a proper non-addled bow this time. The man then let the crowd return to whatever conversations they may have had and turned on his heel to face Victoria. âSuch little faith, mother. Iâve had a five scotch breakfast and still gave a speech at that charity event last month but today I suddenly canât hold my liquor in?â He chuckled and gave a slight wag of his finger âI promise tis not the booze that made me fall. Iâve just been so very nervous about today. So please refrain from all thisâŚyellingâŚâ He shot his mom a look like that of a begging puppy for a moment - something only she and Ariella would really recognize.
Then he turned his attention to the young prince and his sister. âYou two! I am glad I caught you both. Would you both perhaps like to share aâŚ.â He paused as he likely felt the scowl of his mother as he suggested his. âLiiiighter beverage over by the bar? I ought to thank you for coming to my aid Prince Callum - and I have been meaning to catch up with the two of you.â Drake motioned to the bar for them to continue if the two of them wished. Once his mother finished berating, lecturing, or chastising the trio - he would guide any interested parties over.
Callum pulled his hand away once it was clear Drake didnât want the help. Or maybe Drake didnât want his help. So he turned to Dutchess Victoria,
âA flea? Dutchess, are you sure? Shall I ask for someone to inspect the royal locks?â He asked with a pleasant smile. âSlander against a prince is a crime, so if you think you might be wrong, nowâs the time to admit it. Iâd hate to make a spectacle of this.â Cal continued, still smiling. He gave Dutchess Cheese Feet some time to think on that, turning his back to her.
âDuke Vikena, please letâs not embarrass the Dutchess by informing everyone of her foul foot odor.â He loudly replied to the Duke who remained at a table several feet away. He hoped echoing the Duke kept that rumor sticking in peopleâs minds; let the Dutchess skip the hors d'oeuvres and enjoy some just desserts instead.
âLady Ari,â Callum offered an awkward, drunken, bow. âLord Drake.â He made the same gesture towards her brother. âIâd love to have a drink with the two of you.â
Time: Mid-morning Location: The Range Interactions: Mentions: Attire:
(Placeholder until I get a better reference image) Roughspun, blue trousers A shoulder belt and waist belt carrying his equipment Two swords and two pistols, one on either side A woven, conical hat wide enough to shade his entire face Lamellar armour: Cuirass, tassets, armguards
Keeping a warship up and running, as Sjan-dehk was quickly finding out, wasnât exactly cheap.
That said, however, he did have some inkling of his Sada Kurauâs running costs. As her dutiful Captain, he made it a point to keep track of everything she used â in battle or otherwise â lost, or needed replacement, repairs, or restocking. He knew, for example, that since leaving Viserjanta for Caesonia, Sada Kurau had expended fifty-eight shells of various types. Two-and-a-half rolls of sailcloth had been used to maintain her sails. Roughly a mile of rope, to replace rigging that frayed from wear-and-tear.
And that was just what the ship herself had used. Her crew had consumed almost three tons of provisions of various sorts, and those would have to be replaced sooner rather than later. Similarly, the rifle and pistol cartridges that had been fired â five hundred-and-sixty-eight in total â would also need to be replaced in as short order as possible.
So, yes, Sjan-dehk had known about what it took to keep Sada Kurau operational. What he hadnât known, and what he was now discovering, was the amount of money needed to purchase all those things.
An annoyed huff blew from Sjan-dehkâs nose. The fingers of one hand drummed an erratic beat against a gnarled, wooden tabletop. In the other, he held a brush with such force that it started to bend. Beneath the cooling shade of his hat, his eyes scanned the numbers and notes scrawled across the crumpled sheet of paper before him. With each row he looked over, his brow pushed closer and closer to each other, and his expression grew darker and darker, as if the paper that was somehow at fault for showing him calculations that were less than satisfactory.
He sighed and dipped the brush into an inkwell. âYouâre a demanding lady, arenât you?â he muttered under his breath as he scribbled another line, adding another item to the list; five barrels of gunpowder to replace the roughly six tons that had been used up.
Sjan-dehk clicked his tongue. None of this would be such a headache had he been in the Commonwealth; replenishment there was a simple matter of listing down everything Sada Kurau needed, bringing that list to the local Naval supply depot, and then waiting until the requested items were loaded into her holds. The monetary cost would be a problem for the Commonwealth Navy to handle, not Sjan-dehk.
But here in Caesonia, there was no such luxury. Sjan-dehk chewed on his lip. The final amount he arrived at for Sada Kurauâs approximate expenses didnât look wrong, but neither did it look appealing. It was much larger than he would have liked, and he couldnât see a way to make it any smaller without giving up things which he felt were utterly essential to keeping Sada Kurau fighting fit. Sjan-dehk wondered if this was why the Navy had entire offices dedicated to managing its finances.
âI donât like this.â Kai-dahnâs dour voice came suddenly, and as a distraction Sjan-dehk welcomed.
He looked up at Sada Kurauâs Commander-of-Seaborne. âNeither do I, Commander,â Sjan-dehk said and tapped a finger on the paper. âBut shit workâs still work, and someone has to do it.â
Grass crunched beneath sturdy, lightweight boots as Kai-dahn approached the table. Tall and well-built, he stood with his back ramrod-straight and hands folded neatly behind his back in front of Sjan-dehk. Despite the heat of the ascending sun, Kai-dahn looked immaculate in his uniform, with barely a crease of either of his tunics out-of-place, and his leather equipment sitting flush enough against his body to look tidy, but not so much that it wrinkled his clothes. His helmet â a conical hat made of hardened leather and steel â hung from his waist belt.
âMy apologies, Captain,â Kai-dahn said with a bow of his head. âI should have made myself clear. I wasnât talking about Sada Kurauâs expenses.â He threw a quick glance over his shoulder. When he turned back to Sjan-dehk, his lips were turned downwards in a severe frown. âIâm talking about whatâs going on there.â
Sjan-dehk leaned to one side to look around Kai-dahn, the rickety folding chair beneath him creaking with his shifting weight. At a glance, Sjan-dehk saw nothing out of the ordinary. Sada Kurauâs crew were where Sjan-dehk had left them, gathered at the firing line. Granted, most of them were in some state of undress, with a handful having undone their sashes and opened their tunics to their waists, and most had taken off their webbing and helmets, leaving them stacked in neat piles on the grass.
But that wasnât anything Sjan-dehk thought to be alarming. If anything, he was pleased to see that, despite having been given leave to rest, none of the crew had left their rifles unattended. They had their weapons either cradled in their arms, or slung behind their shoulders.
âYouâre against them resting?â Sjan-dehk asked, looking at Kai-dahn with a raised brow.
The Commander frowned. âCaptain, theyâre fraternising,â he said pointedly. âThatâs strictly prohibited under section twenty-eight of the Commonwealth Naval Book of Laws.â His face darkened, his usually impassive features cracking ever-so-slightly to reveal some modicum of displeasure. âI also caught some of the men exchanging arms with local troops.â By the tone he used with that last sentence, one could be forgiven for thinking that to be one of the gravest transgressions possible.
Sjan-dehk furrowed his brow. For a moment, he was confused; just who was Kai-dahn talking about? But, he soon remembered the dozen-or-so Caesonian soldiers who had arrived at the range not too long after Sjan-dehk had finished addressing his crew. He hadnât paid them much attention â the Caesonians mostly kept to themselves and went about their business on their side of the range â but now as he examined the crowd once more, he did notice the neatly uniformed Caesonians mingling with the less-than-presentable crew of Sada Kurau. They communicated mostly with exaggerated gestures and stilted conversations, but that didnât seem to get in the way of them getting along amicably, as far as Sjan-dehk could see.
Coincidentally, he also saw them swapping firearms, as Kai-dahn had mentioned.
Right away, Stratyaâs words from the previous night surfaced in Sjan-dehkâs mind. From what little he had seen of the Caesonianâs shooting this morning, it was clear she had been telling the truth. Muzzle-loading and smoothbore, the muskets used by the Caesonians were wholly inferior to the rifles arming Sjan-dehkâs crew. In the time it took the former to load and fire a single shot, the latter would have already fired off five, or even six, if the shooter was skilled enough. And at a range of a hundred paces, each of those five or six bullets could be guaranteed to strike a target the size of an average person. A Caesonian musket couldnât match even a third of that accuracy at half the distance.
With all that in mind, Sjan-dehk could see why Kai-dahn was concerned. Allowing the Caesonians to study and possibly replicate Viserjantan rifles would be, at the very least, irresponsible. At worst, it could be akin to surrendering a powerful battlefield advantage for no reason whatsoever. However, as much as he could understand Kai-dahnâs perspective, Sjan-dehk couldnât say that he agreed with him.
âFraternising only applies if theyâre with the enemy, if Iâm not mistaken,â Sjan-dehk started, bringing up his elbows to rest on the table, and supporting his chin with the backs of his hands. âUnless something terrible happened in the time it took me to put this abyss-forsaken list together, weâre not going to make enemies of the Caesonians. And as for the riflesâŚâ He trailed off and nodded towards the crowd. âI donât think they can understand each other enough to tell each other anything important. And besides, Mursi is there with them. He made the damn things, heâll know what should or shouldnât be shared and act accordingly.â
Kai-dahn didnât look entirely convinced, but nevertheless, he nodded. âAs you say, Captain.â
âWeâll have them back in action soon enough, anyway,â Sjan-dehk said, picking up the brush and twirling it around his fingers as he reluctantly returned his attention to Sada Kurauâs expenses. Kai-dahn remained standing, still as a statue, and eyes gazing dispassionately at his Captain. Sjan-dehk glanced at him from under the brim of his hat. An exasperated sigh left his lips, and he gave the empty chair beside him a hard nudge with the tip of his boot. âMight as well come help me with these fucking numbers, if youâre just going to stand around.â
Kai-dahn immediately marched himself around the table, coming to a stop directly behind Sjan-dehkâs right shoulder. The Captain shook his head. He didnât doubt that had he said nothing, Kai-dahn would have just stood in front of the table until it was time for him to return to the firing line. âSit down,â Sjan-dehk ordered and jerked a thumb towards the empty chair. âI need you to tell me how many cartridges weâre expected to use by the end of practice.â
âAs you say, Captain.â Kai-dahn nodded, pulled the chair out, and sat down. Even with an action so simple and mundane, the Commander managed to make it seem like a military drill with the deliberateness and sharpness of his movements. He took a moment to straighten out invisible creases on his uniform before turning his body to look at Sjan-dehkâs list. âThe men donât seem to have much trouble with the new rifles, other than reloading the reloading drill, but that will come with use and practice.â
âThey canât reload properly?â Sjan-dehkâs brow creased. âSounds like trouble to me.â
Kai-dahn shook his head. âApologies, Captain. Itâs nothing as major as that. They simply fall back on their old drills under stress. Thereâs no need for concern, Captain. I can assure you that all of them would be as capable on these new rifles as they were on the old ones by noon.â A pensive look came over his face and he looked at the firing line. âWith your permission, Captain, I will have the men carry out a second round of familiarisation shooting before we move onto snap shooting and battle drills and commands. That should iron out most of the problems the men have with reloading.â He paused. Sjan-dehk turned his head to look at him, prompting him to continue. Kai-dahn cleared his throat. âThat will be another twenty-four cartridges on top of the two hundred-and-fifty Iâve set aside for today, Captain.â
âThatâs all I needed to know,â Sjan-dehk muttered and made the necessary amendments to his list. He sat back, holding it in his hands as he scanned through the rows of items and numbers. Then, with a grumble, he dropped it onto the table and made another change. âBetter get another eighth-ton of powder to be on the safe side.â As he scribbled, he waved a hand towards Kai-dahn. âDo whatever you think is best for the crew, Commander.â
âAs you say, Captain,â Kai-dahn replied. He glanced over the list, and frowned. âCaptain, thatâs not a list of our expenses for the day, if Iâm not mistaken.â
âNo, you are not,â Sjan-dehk muttered. âItâs for everything since we left the Commonwealth.â
Kai-dahn didnât say anything immediately. For a few moments, the only sounds that reached either manâs ears were the vague chatter of soldiers, the quiet rustling of grass in the breeze, and soft birdsong coming from the trees just behind the range. âIf I may ask,â the Commander began, clearing his throat. âIs there a reason you are doing this?â
âBetter to get it over and done with, than to leave it and let it become a nasty surprise.â
âI understand that, Captain,â Kai-dahn said with a nod. âBut we donât have to calculate the exact costs, do we? I was under the impression that Sudah has people for this sort of work.â
âNo, we donât,â Sjan-dehk admitted, but continued scribbling nonetheless. He tapped the end of the brush on the table as he formulated an explanation. Even so, when he eventually spoke, his words didnât sound as convincing as he had hoped. âBut itâs better for us to know how much weâre spending. Especially when weâll be stuck in this city for however long itâll take for Lady Adiyan to become well enough for us to move.â
Kai-dahn grimaced. âThat shouldnât take more than a week. Master Sahm-tehn returned to duty in half that time after he lost his arm.â
âMaster Sahm-tehn is a sailor like you and me,â Sjan-dehk replied drily. âAnd heâs likely made of the same wood as Sada Kurau. You canât compare Lady Adiyan to him.â He drew in a deep breath, releasing it as a long, resigned sigh. âWe should be prepared to stay here for at least a month. Maybe two. Either way, weâll be here for much longer than planned, so weâve to be ready for when Sudah can no longer sustain both us and herself with her supplies. Best we start finding ways to be at least somewhat independent.â
âBut as you said, Captain, we still have a few weeks before supplies will become an issue.â Confusion was clearly written across Kai-dahnâs visage. âWhile I understand the need to be prepared, surely it would be a lot easier to come to a decision when weâre closer to that stage, and after we have exhausted all austerity measures as outlined in section thirty-one of the Commonwealth Naval Book of Laws? It would be wise to first consult with Sudah as well, to know their supply situation before coming up with our own plans.â
Sjan-dehk waved off Kai-dahnâs last sentence, but his own response died on his tongue. The Commander did have a point. Naval regulations provided Sjan-dehk with a list of possible actions to take when the risk of a supply shortage became a distinct possibility. He could, for example, enforce rationing to stretch what provisions they had left for as long a time as was physically safe. He could also keep Sada Kurau moored at harbour to reduce damages from sailing. Those were just two of the suggestions Sjan-dehk recalled out of a list that spanned pages. He felt almost certain that, if he cared to look through the Book of Laws, there would be at least a handful of suitable actions he could take.
Alternatively, he could â as Kai-dahn suggested â check with Sudah to see if he even needed to take such measures.
But, despite the doubt growing in him as he looked at the paper, Sjan-dehk said, âThe Book of Laws was written with the assumption that weâd be in Commonwealth waters and not elsewhere. Its suggestions only account for things like food or water, and not money.â He paused, his eyes still glued to the list, seeing the words and numbers, but not reading them. âIt assumes that we would only have to hold out as long as we need to either reach a harbour, or be resupplied by another ship. Moneyâs not an issue, there. But here, it is. Weâve to pay for everything we use, and while rationing and keeping Sada Kurau docked can avoid that issue for a while, itâs still an eventuality. I donât want us to have a lack of local currency if and when weâve to start relying on ourselves to keep Sada Kurau supplied.â
The more Sjan-dehk spoke, the less he felt like he was convincing Kai-dahn. If anything, his words felt like they were meant for himself. He shook his head slightly and continued. âIâll send word to Sudah about our intentions, though. Let them know what weâre going to do.â
âAnd what are our intentions, Captain?â Kai-dahn asked.
Sjan-dehkâs answer came quickly. A little too quickly, surprising even himself. âCould try privateering.â
More surprising, however, was how easily Kai-dahn agreed to the idea. âA bit of action every now and then would keep the crew in practice, yes,â he said with a nod, his usually flat voice carrying the barest hints of excitement and approval.
A strange mix of uncertainty and hesitation stormed in Sjan-dehkâs heart, and he knew that it was certainly showing on his face. Had he hoped that Kai-dahn would be opposed to the idea? That someone would tell him that he was being rash with his plans? But that wasnât the case, was it? This wasnât something that he thought up on a whim; many considerations had gone into his decision to give privateering a go. It wasnât as if there was much else a warship could do to earn her keep, and Sada Kurau wasnât the sort of vessel which could be anything other than a warship.
And yet, Sjan-dehk couldnât say anything until Kai-dahn called for him. âCaptain?â The Commander asked with some concern. âAre you alright?â
âYes,â Sjan-dehk replied even as he admonished himself. What was he, Sada Kurauâs Captain, doing? He couldnât afford to be so indecisive. His crew would follow him no matter what choice he made, there wasnât any question about that. And so he had to choose, and he had to be resolute about it. âThink theyâve had enough rest,â he said and nodded towards the firing line. âLetâs not waste any time. Get the crew back on the line and get them shooting. And get me the runner. Need him to send a message to Sudah.â
Kai-dahn got to his feet and saluted. âAs you say, Captain,â he said with a nod. With that, he marched over to the disorganised crowd, barking orders along the way.
Sjan-dehk looked around the table and grabbed the first blank sheet of paper he could see. It didnât seem as if anything important was written on the other side, and so he started writing his message for Sudahâs Captain and Lady Adiyan. With each painted stroke and each completed logograph, the doubts that had been in his mind faded. It was as if by writing this message, he was setting his decision into stone. It was no longer something to be questioned, but something to be acted upon.
And if there was one thing Sjan-dehk was good at doing, it was taking action.
Time:10am Location: Edwards Estate - Drake's Party Attire: Dress, Amulet Interaction: @PapaOso Cassius @FunnyGuy Lorenzo âLottie thatâs your song!âl
Lottieâs eyes sparkled, her tipsy grin widening as Lorenzoâs words washed over her. Was he proud of her? Perhaps even impressed? She held a big, stupid smile on her face, soaking in the warmth of his praise without even registering the tray of drinks he had requested. For a moment, everything felt light and easy, and she reveled in it.
When Cassius spoke, closing the distance between them, his teasing tone returned. His gaze was locked on hers, and she could sense the arrogance creeping back into his demeanor. Without missing a beat, she fired back, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. âWell, you certainly make sure no one could miss you with all that âsubtleâ strutting around.â
As Cassius went on, labeling her a swan, the dynamic shifted. For a moment, Lottieâs gaze softened. The warmth of his breath brushing against her neck ignited a subtle flush in her cheeks, though the alcohol buzzing through her system helped her maintain her composure. Her heart quickened, but her boldness only grew.
âA swan?â she mused, her voice smooth and unhurried, savoring the compliment as if it was her due. âWell, I canât say I mind the comparison.â Her eyes held his, a playful glint returning.
âAnd it seems in your world, we are both birds. They do say birds of a feather flock together, donât they?â Her smile deepened as she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a low whisper.
âI suppose youâre alluding to that night you were... less than charming, and I had to get cross with you. Oh yes, I have not forgotten misterâŚâ she continued, her words pointed but still playful. Her gaze sharpened slightly, though her smile never faltered. âNow, tell me, Cassius, youâre clearly not a man unaware of how to speak to a lady. So, was there a reason for it? Were you mocking me because of the rumors?â
With a smirk, she reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair from his face, ensuring he saw the look in her eyes before she leaned back into her seat, folding her hands elegantly in her lap.
Just then, Stratyaâs outburst caught her attention. A giggle slipped from her lips, âOh dear, that was quite funny, wasnât it?â
Before she could think further, Lorenzo chimed in, adding fuel to the fire, as he so often did. Normally, a rush of anxiety would bubble up inside her, worrying over him. Instead, she found herself doubling over with laughter, covering her lips as she giggled uncontrollably.
In a sudden burst of spontaneity, Lottie kicked off her shoes and stood up to approach Lorenzo, wobbling slightly. She then told him as she took hold of his shoulders, âSheâs got⌠cheesy toes!â
She spun around after the declaration, giggling to herself, only to stumble moments later. She hit the grass with a thud but erupted into laughter, the ridiculousness of it all making her laugh even harder.
Time: 10am Location: Edwards Estate / Drakeâs Party Mentions: @princess Lottie, @CitrusArms Stratya, @FunnyGuy Lorenzo
He couldn't help but be drawn in as Charlotteâs sharp tongue stoked the fires of his flirtation. Her playful wit, paired with the confidence to brush that lock of hair from his face, ignited something deep within him that caused his charming grin to widen. Even her teasing jab about "birds of a feather" made him chuckle, but her next question lingered in the air, stirring uncomfortable memories of the night they first met... a night when he had behaved more like a cad than a gentleman.
That soft inquiry about his behavior back then caused him to vividly recall how brash and flirtatious he had been. Seeing Charlotte at that door, her distress wrapped in beauty and melancholy, had sparked his reckless side. And, in his inebriation, he had thrown tact to the wind, letting his arrogance do the talking.
A subtle regret twinged at him now as he remembered her stiffening under his gaze, the way her eyes had cooled after his crude remarks. He knew well enough that in their world, such behavior marked a man as a rake, but had he truly been that out of line? Had his advances really crossed into the inappropriate? Part of him wanted to explain, to tell her that it had been a bad night, that he was too far lost in his own chaos to consider the impact of his words. But even he knew that wasnât entirely true.
In his previous world, that kind of behavior had been commonplace. More than that, reallyâŚit had been rewarding to a debonair man of his caliber. Though he meant no harm by his crudeness it was clear that to her it had not been the best lookâŚnor anything even resembling a good look at all. And that mattered to him, for some reason. The difference in the way she looked at him that night compared to how she looked at him at the masquerade, and even here nowâŚfor whatever reason, it meant something to him.
Was it simply one of the bad habits heâd picked up during his mercenary days, a part of the man heâd been but could no longer afford to be? Or was it something deeper, something ingrained in his nature that would rear its head again despite his best efforts to tame it? Even he, with all his self-awareness, didnât know the answer.
But before he could even begin to form a response, the chaotic energy of the gathering shifted when Stratyaâs outburst interrupted the moment, followed by Lorenzoâs own rebelliously absurd display. The air buzzed with laughter, and he had to swallow his words for the moment. His focus diverted as Charlotte kicked off her shoes and joined the raucous fun and defiance of that Duchess bitchâs demands.
Cassius grinned, watching her stumble and fall into the grass, her laughter light hearted and infectious. His heart warmed as he saw her embrace the levity of the moment, allowing herself to be carefree.
"Well, well, Princess." He muttered under his breath to himself, shaking his head with amusement. Taking a swig from his drink, he tipped it back until the last drop was gone before setting it down with a bit more force than intended.
Standing up a little too quickly, Cassius found himself stumbling, a sharp reminder of just how potent these cocktails had been. âShitâŚâ He chuckled, his balance betraying him for a second as he wobbled on his feet. With a mischievous grin, he kicked off his boots, following Charlotteâs lead, and let himself tumble right into the grass beside her.
The cool earth beneath him felt oddly comforting, and as he landed, laughter bubbled up from his chest, escaping in a devil-may-care moment of pure bliss. He turned his head toward her, eyes glimmering with clear affection mixed with a handsome dash of mischief.
"Iâm not entirely sure what weâre doing, but whatever it is, Iâm all in, Princess." He teased lightly, his voice warm as he let the moment hang between them...for the moment free of past regrets and brimming with shared joy.
The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows across the stonewalls of the underground chamber. Crates and barrels were stacked haphazardly throughout the space as a group of commoners, young and old, worked to organise the supplies. The scrape of wood against stone and murmured conversations echoed off the walls, punctuated by the occasional giggle or shout from the children who darted between the adults, more interested in their games than the work at hand.
Sexton âQuackâ Cryer stood hunched over a sturdy wooden crate, his brow furrowed in concentration as he examined its contents, comparing them to the list he held. He scratched his quill against parchment as he tallied each item.
Suddenly, a commotion near the entrance disrupted the steady rhythm of work. Excited voices steadily grew to a crescendo and the children abandoned their mischief and scampered towards the newcomer. The young women beside Quack began to titter and grin, smoothing their hair and adjusting their skirts as they shot coy glances towards the approaching figure.
But Quack ignored it all. Even when Cynwaerâs rich voice called out a greeting, he continued inventory-taking.
Quack hadnât been an easy man to find. He never was, which â all things considered â Cynwaer took to be a good thing. It was hardly appropriate for a man of Quackâs line of work to be easily found. But then again, Cynwaer hadnât tried particularly hard to find the man. It had just slipped his mind, thatâs all. Getting reacquainted with a city as sprawling as Sorian took time for anyone, what more for Cynwaer, who hadnât stepped onto its streets in ages?
Surely, it had nothing to do with Cynwaer dragging his feet. Or with him having a few drinks with that foreign captain the previous night.
He shrugged to no one in particular as he walked between stacks of crates and barrels. It didnât matter, he supposed. If Quack was as good as he was supposed to be at what he did, he would already know that Cynwaer was in the city as soon as Remembrance slipped into harbour. And if Quack had really wanted to see him, then surely he would have sent for him.
With smiles and waves, Cynwaer greeted the children that ran up to him before advising them to return to their work, lest they draw the ire of their crotchety overseer. Similarly, he flashed winks and grins to the ladies who looked his way. âMorninâ lassies,â he said politely with nods to each of them before pointing to whatever it was that required their attention. âBest youse get back tae yet work, aye. Wouldânae wanâtae make yer boss lose âis âead, would we nae?â The ladies giggled and nodded in response.
That Quack didnât even acknowledge his presence bothered Cynwaer little. He had expected as much from the man. Instead, the Remembranceâs Captain merely sidled up to the man, taking his time to lean against a stack of crates before pulling out a sack of coins and jiggling in front of Quackâs face, almost teasingly. âRegards frae Renny, Songbird, and meselâ,â he said and placed the sack on top of whatever it was Quack had been examining. âCheers fae sendinâ us taâ word. âAtâs one less taxman and a dozen or sae less oâ the kingâs lads.â
One... two... three beats of silence passed, broken only by the rhythmic scritch-scratch of Quackâs quill. The ladies fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot and casting uneasy glances between Cynwaer and Quack. Cynwaer cast reassuring glances at them over his shoulder. This was just part of their banter; there was nothing to be worried about.
Finally, a petite blonde cleared her throat. âErm... Sexton?â
Quackâs head jerked up, his eyes widening as they landed on the sack of coins. âCor love a duck! Where in the bleedinâ âells did this come from?â The manâs brogue thickened noticeably, as it always did when he was irritated.
He thumbed through his papers, âAinât no mention of this âere.â Scooping up the bag, he tossed it at a buxom brunette. âOi, Moll! Take this to Bess, will ya? âAve âer count the brass.â
âRight away,â Moll replied, hesitating. She glanced at her friend, then at Cynwaer, clearly at a loss.
The blonde stepped in. âSexton, love, itâs Cynwaer. Heâs here.â
Quack spun around, his face a mask of exaggerated shock. âWot? Cynwaer, ye say? The same galoot wot couldnât be arsed to send word âeâd be two days late? Left us wonderinâ if âeâd gone and got âimself scragged? The same cheeky bugger wot thinks a manâs time ainât worth a fleck of dust and can just waddle in whenever âe bloody well pleases? And donât even âave the decency to beg pardon? That Cynwaer?â He made a show of scanning the room, gaze sliding right past Cynwaer. âI donât see âide nor âair of âim.â
Cynwaer rolled his eyes, but allowed Quack to carry on.
âNah,â Quack added, returning to work, âour Cyn might be a rude git, but âe ainât soft in the âead. âE wouldnât dare show âis fizog âround âere without a peace offerinâ fer âis tardiness. Like a few bottles of the good stuff âeâs plundered, maybe.â
âSorry pal, but if I âad any oâ the good shite, Iâd âave drunk it awâ meselâ,â Cynwaer said, shaking his head and chuckling. He hovered around Quack like a fly buzzing around honey. âCome now, thereâs nae need tae be sae upset, aye? I âad me reasons tae be late this time.â The lilting tone in his words and lightness of his voice betrayed his amusement with the whole situation. âAnâ itâs awâ good ones tae, aye.â
When that still failed to get Quack to respond, he sighed. âThe last ship I âeld up âad nothinâ but a few tuns oâ blastinâ powder, nothinâ yer cannae get on yer ane wiâ less trouble, I reckon. Besides, I used most oâ it tae turn our taxman anâ some oâ taâ kingâs lads intae butcherâs work.â
He looked over his shoulder at the blonde, giving her a smile, a nod, and a small gesture for her to leave them for now. âCheers, lass,â he mouthed to her before returning his attention to Quack, a serious expression hardening his features. âIâm nae here fae a social visit, pal. Iâm just âere tae dae a favour fae Renny anâ Songbird. Taâ twa oâ âem tell me that folks âave been gaeân missinâ, anâ obviously in enough numbers tae make âem worried, aye. Yer probably taâ best man tae ask fae somethinâ like this, but yer know âow itâs like. âTis always best tae get yerselâ stuck in before daeân anythinâ else. So now Iâm âere, awâ stuck in anâ lost, anâ offerinâ yer a trade. If yerâve any bit oâ information on these missinâ folk, Iâll take âem in exchange fae a favour done yer way.â
This was a risky play, Cynwaer knew. For all he knew, Quackâs price could prove to be far more trouble than it was worth, or Quack might not even have what he wanted in the first place. But it was a risk Cynwaer considered worth taking. Investigative work had never been his strength, or even something he liked; he simply hadnât the patience or aptitude for it.
Quack let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head. ââPon me life, Cyn, yer tighter than a duckâs arse in water. Canât even shell oot fer a wee dram, can ye? Bloody cheapskate, ye are.â
With a sharp whistle, Quack summoned a lanky young lad who rushed over to his side. After removing a sheet of paper, he handed the rest to the lad along with the quill. âFinish this âere fer me, will ye? Thereâs a good lad.â
Turning to Cynwaer, Quack jerked his head towards the entrance. âRight then, ye great lummox. Letâs âave us a proper chin-wag. Come on, shift yer arse.â
As he led Cynwaer through the twisting passages, dodging barrels and crates, he continued, âNow then, gie us the particulars, Cyn. Ye might nae believe it, but thereâs mair folk gone missinâ than ye might reckon. Only reason it ainât common knowledge is âcos itâs rarely the toffs what vanish, ye ken?â
Cynwaer grimaced. He understood perfectly. A noble goes missing, and the entire city would be up in arms. Perhaps even the entire kingdom. But a commoner? Whole streets of them could up and disappear, and few would care. Fewer still would even notice.
They stopped in a quiet alcove where the torchlight barely reached. Quack fixed Cynwaer with a shrewd look. âSo, oot wiâ it. Who exactly are ye lookinâ fer?â
âNaeâdy in particular,â Cynwaer replied. Neither Songbird nor Renegade had told him anything in that regard, and Cynwaer hadnât expected them to. People were going missing, and that was all the pair â and Cynwaer himself â needed to know. And besides, if someone they knew had truly gone missing, Renegade and Songbird wouldnât have bothered with sending Cynwaer ahead to investigate. The two of them would have likely torn Sorian apart brick-by-brick themselves.
Cynwaer scratched the back of his head. âKnowinâ Renegade and Songbird, theyâre nae after just rescuinâ one or twa. Theyâre gaeân tae wanâ tae take the âole damn operation down anâ tear it up by taâ roots, anâ to tell yer taâ trutâ, thatâs what Iâm thinkinâ oâ daeân meselâ.â He paused, hoping that the weight of what he was saying was sinking in. He didnât know about Quack, but he had no illusions that this would lead to anything other than major â and very violent â actions.
âSae if thereâs anythinâ yer know about whatâs gaeân on, itâd be real âelpful if yer could dae us a favour anâ share,â Cynwaer continued. âEspecially if yer âave any idea whoâs behind it. I daeân wanâ tae walk intae a fight when I daeân eâen know who taâ feck Iâm fightinâ, yer ken?â
Quack kneaded his forehead, exhaling forcefully through his nostrils. âBlimey, thatâs about as useful as a lead balloon, innit? Ye can pass that on to yer Renegade anâ Songbird mates too. Might as well be tryinâ to nail jelly to the wall.â He fell silent for a moment, his eyes taking on a distant look as he seemed to rummage through the cluttered attic of his mind. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, a glimmer of recollection sparking to life.
Cynwaer chuckled. Quack wasnât wrong; Renegade and Songbird had pretty much tasked him with seeking for a needle in a haystack. Only in this case, he wasnât even sure if it was a needle which he sought, or even if he should be looking in haystacks. âWell, yer can tell âem yerselâ in a week or twa when they get âere.â
âThereâs been mutterinâs makinâ âround in the rookeries âbout some crew whaâs been climbinâ the greasy pole right quick in Caesonia. Bunch of wrong âuns, they are.â He leaned against the stone wall. âWord is, theyâve got their fingers in more pies than a bakerâs dozen. Every dodgy deal, like human traffickinâ,â Quack emphasized, âand honest trade from âere to the bleedinâ horizon, theyâre in on it. Buildinâ a right proper empire, they are, right under our very noses. But âereâs the rubâŚâ The man hunched forward, âThey got the backinâ of toffs.â Slowly, he lifted his finger to point upward, âMaybe even the Crown.â
That was close to what Cynwaer had guessed. He hadnât believed for a moment that something as brazen as the abduction of dozens â even if they were of commoners â could go unnoticed in Sorian without the involvement of influential, powerful, and rich people. âWell, awâ empires âave a lifespan,â he said with a grin that wasnât as cocksure as he had hoped it would be. And could anyone blame him? To call the task ahead daunting would be an understatement. Especially if Quack was right, and the Crown was indeed involved.
Cynwaer shook his head slightly. There was no point in fretting over that now. He had to focus on what he could do, and worry about the rest later. Otherwise, the anxiety would surely render him paralysed. âI reckon theyâd âave tae smuggle folk by ship anâ nae sae much by land. Itâd be a litâle hard tae drag sae many unwillinâ folk out taâ gates, aye?â He mused aloud. It was a gamble, and one that seemed more and more like a longshot the more he thought about it. But it was at least something with which he could work.
âIâll take olâ Remembrance out tae sea taenight anâ see if I can catch ânybody tryinâ tae slip awaâ frae Sorian âarbour. Reckon theyâd try tae use cover oâ dark.â He looked at Quack. âMight âave taâ trouble yer, pal, tae âelp disappear ânyone I might end up rescuinâ. Think itâs betâer if they leave Sorian entirely, or go tae ground, aye?â
âAye, ye can count on us, Cyn,â Quack replied without hesitation as he clapped a hand on Cynwaerâs shoulder, a resolute fire burning brightly behind his eyes. âWotâs a bunch oâ rabble-rousers like us good fer if not fer the common folk, eh?â
âAs fer wot to do wiv âem after... well, thatâs a pickle, ainât it? Reckon weâll âave to suss it out as we go along. Some might need to scarper right quick, others might do better layinâ low âere fer a spell.â His expression grew grave, his brow furrowing. âThinâ is, mate, thereâs summat else ye ought to know. When I said this lot is involved in every dodgy deal, I werenât just flappinâ me gums. I mean every bleedinâ deal, includinâ magic.â
âIf these bastards are nabbinâ folk left, right, and centre. whoâs to say they ainât usinâ some hocus-pocus ta make it easier? Could be turninâ their victims into mindless puppets, or wipinâ the guardâs memories clean as a whistle. What if we do take âem in and the bastards âave got âem under a hex and sniff out our hideaways? Or worse yet, the poor sods just go off like a powder keg, blowinâ us all to smithereens?â
Cynwaer grimaced. That was something he hadnât considered. âAh feck, âtis times like these Iâd rather âave Songbird around. Theyâve a good nose fae awâ this magic shite. But I sâpose Iâll âave tae think oâ somethinâ when it comes tae it. Fae awâ I know, I might end taâ night with notâinâ tae show fae it.â
He planted both his hands on Cynwaerâs shoulders, his tone deadly serious. âYe best be ready fer anythinâ, Cyn.â
âAye, daeân worry yer head about me,â Cynwaer replied and pulled away from Quack. âYer might âave tae worry mer about taâ taxman we blew up, though,â he said as he made to go back the way he had come. âReckon taâ kingâs gaeân notâice saen that âeâs nae getâinâ awâ âis coin, anâ eâs gaeân start lookinâ fae answers.â
Quack shrugged, âAye, anâ we know nowt âbout it, do we? Nothinâ but regâlar folk doinâ regâlar commoner stuff.â
He ambled after the other man and jabbed a finger accusingly at Cynwaerâs face. âWot you need ta worry âbout is âow ta make up fer beinâ a tardy stingy bastard.â When they reached a junction, Quack made to turn off, waving. âIt better be good too, ya âear? Summat I can share wiâ the uvvers.â
A low chuckle rumbled from Quack as he disappeared around the corner, wondering how long it would take the poor sod to discover the crudely scrawled note heâd left stuck to his back.
Time: Sola 25 1739; Daytime Hours Location: Edwards Estate, Drake Edwardsâ Birthday Party Interaction(s)/Mention(s): Everyone around the tables
The lordâs birthday celebration took an unexpected turn. The once refined atmosphere quickly gave way to something rowdier, more reminiscent of a tavern at night than a noble gathering. Inhibitions loosened, voices grew louder, and hands wandered with newfound boldness.
A frisson of worry threaded through Rynâs thoughts. The last party involving nobility and alcohol had ended with collective amnesia and a surfeit of unanswered questions.
He plucked a glass from the nearby table, held it up to the light. Through his spectacles, he examined the liquid, shimmering innocently within, then brought it to his nose. The pungent aroma made him wrinkle his nose, but small relief softened his features. âHmm. And here I thought this would be a family-friendly party,â he remarked as he placed the glass back down.
Smiling, Ryn addressed the group, âI suppose this means the scheduled debauchery has been bumped up to brunch time, then?â
From an inner pocket, Ryn produced a well-worn deck of cards. âShall we play out here where everyone can admire the gradual unveiling of natureâs finest sculptures, or shall we move somewhere more private?â He chuckled, âIâm equally open to playing games that donât involve disrobing.â