[color=lightgray][table][row][/row][row][cell][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/S98vWKh.png[/img][/center][/cell][cell]
[color=#50b0f1][center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220311/27efd277073263c7d99ebe605d1cfab8.png[/img][/center][/color]
[indent][hr][/indent][hr]
[indent][sup][color=ab274f][b]Attire:[/b][/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/iiz4LB9.jpg]Party fit (one brooch only)[/url]
[color=ab274f][b]Date and Time:[/b][/color] [b]FLASHBACK:[/b] Sola 25th, Early Afternoon
[color=ab274f][b]Location:[/b][/color] His office
[color=ab274f][b]Mention(s):[/b][/color] [@Helo] Callum
[color=ab274f][b]Interaction(s):[/b][/color] 
[/sup][/indent][/cell][/row][/table]The meeting with Shahzade Farim concluded, Wulfric continued reviewing, approving, responding to, and filing documents until his next appointment.

He became so absorbed in his work that the knock, when it finally came, barely registered even as he stated, [color=ab274f]“Enter,”[/color] by habit. The doors opened softly, closed with a click just as gentle, and by the time he looked up, his guest was fully prostrated by the entrance, toes nearly touching the doorstep. 

[color=white]“Your Royal Highness, Prince Wulfric,”[/color] the man breathed his greeting with all the reverence of a prayer. Since he was on all fours, all that could be discerned was his shorter than average stature, a bony frame, straight black hair, and an unassuming gray tunic.

[color=ab274f]“You may rise.”[/color] His guest obeyed, though he did not stand up. Instead, he straightened his spine, folded his hands on his lap, and remained kneeling. His face was as thin as his body, his features delicate, fine black strands curtaining his cheeks. The flat green of his gaze was averted respectfully towards the ground.

[color=ab274f]“What do I call you, Agent…?”[/color] He was one of the people who’d been able to respond to his and Morrigan’s call on the shortest notice, but his name hadn’t been listed in his portfolio. Only his photograph accompanied by a bullet-point list of notable skills, and a summary of recent accomplishments.

[color=white]“Your Royal Highness would honour me with any name.”[/color] Now that his words were above a pious whisper, the man’s timbre was a reserved baritone.

[color=ab274f]“Do you not have one?”[/color]

[color=white]“My handlers use NI-311. Few missions require me to have an identity, Your Highness,”[/color] he explained tonelessly.

Just what kind of an organization did he hail from that an identity was considered superfluous? That a name wasn’t a basic right? He had thought his guest’s behaviour extraordinarily subordinate, but this…this was a hallmark of slavery. Wulfric’s lips thinned.

If the man’s agency was akin to his most despised form of criminal enterprise, it would have to be destroyed.

The agent’s shoulders tensed as if sensing the prince’s displeasure and assuming he was the cause. Wulfric smoothed out his expression and reigned in the spike of bloodlust.

[color=ab274f]“Henceforth, you will be known as Nicholas,”[/color] he followed up as if nothing of concern had happened.

‘Nicholas’ gasped, twitched, head jerking. He clasped his hands in front of him. [color=white]“Oh, Your Royal Highness, what an extraordinary gift! My eternal thanks to the holy benevolence of the Divine Child. I am unworthy of Your Highness’s notice, but I will cherish Your graciousness always…”[/color] A flush had overtaken him, and he appeared feverish. He bowed at the waist as he continued chanting unintelligibly. After a lengthy moment of silence – or perhaps, of prayer – he seemed to remember the prince’s first statement, and straightened back up into his kneeling posture. 

[color=ab274f]“You are welcome,”[/color] Wulfric retorted dryly. What else was he to make of it, really?

Having almost regained his equilibrium, Nicholas choked, and would have snapped his eyes up if his training hadn’t taken over, forcing him to abort the movement. In the end, he cringed awkwardly, wringing his hands before he smoothed them out. [color=white]“F-forgive me,”[/color] he hung his head even lower.

Wulfric withheld a sigh.

[color=ab274f][i]Patience.[/i][/color]

[color=ab274f]“You have done nothing to upset me, nor have you committed any wrongs or sins. There is nothing to forgive. But if you still want it, then you have it: I forgive you.”[/color] Nicholas swallowed. Were those tears gathering at the corners of his eyes? “I wouldn’t mind even if you looked at me,” Wulfric reassured. Given how the agent froze, breath stuttering then stopping for a moment, that was too much. [color=ab274f]“Perhaps another time, then.”[/color] The prince changed topics. [color=ab274f]“Let us discuss your mission now, Nicholas.”[/color]

Nicholas nodded meekly.

Wulfric proceeded to explain that the agent was to trail after, spy on, and protect Callum from a distance. He revealed the pertinent details, including his youngest brother’s demeanour, the involvement of the Black Rose, and the possibility he’d be faced with magic.

[color=white]“Heresy? By the Gods,”[/color] Nicholas clutched at his chest, wide-eyed.

[color=ab274f]“Indeed,”[/color] Wulfric drawled. [color=ab274f]“You’d best get comfortable with the idea,”[/color] he tapped a finger on the table. [color=ab274f]“If someone makes an attempt on Callum’s life, capture is preferable. If trying to do so would endanger him or you, killing will be fine. If anyone discovers you, [i]run.[/i] There is a reason you have backup. Any questions?”[/color] The spy’s head swayed left and right. 

[color=ab274f]“Good…I will expect regular reports. Speaking of – when you are able, I would like a more thorough account on the workings of your organization.”[/color] Nicholas seemed puzzled but affirmed he would provide one. [color=ab274f]“You may leave.”[/color] The man reached for the doorknob while kneeling. [color=ab274f]“Please, stand up, and walk out.”[/color] It was the first order that gave the man some trouble. Trembling, he stood up, opened the doors with shaking fingers, and left only after performing another low bow as he excused himself.
[hr][hr][center][h2][color=white]Nicholas[/color][/h2][/center]
It took all in him not to collapse straight outside the Godly Emissary’s Haven. To think he would stand in a divine’s presence and remain alive…Nicholas grasped the fabric of his tunic, fingers clenched tight, knuckles white. A wide grin spread across his features despite the shivers racking his frame.

What a Blessed day it was! 

Ooooh, it must have been when His Radiance had claimed him by granting him a name that he received His protection. Surely, his transgressions would have had him burnt to a crisp by now otherwise. To think he had dared, dared! To catch a glimpse of His visage. A hand, maybe? He wasn’t sure. It was like gazing up straight into the sun, a pure blinding light. It’d felt like his eyes were burning. He was glad they’d not boiled straight out of his head. He couldn’t serve if that happened. Lord Zivitas must have plans for him that were more important than his offences. Still, he’d better punish himself to show his repentance. 

Nicholas nodded firmly. Having reached a segment of the hallway where no one was present, he opened a window, scaled up the wall, and continued his journey across the rooftops.

An hour or so later, a fellow agent found his prone figure at a secluded forest shrine. He received a kick to his uninjured flank, and stirred with a groan. The tiny campfire he’d created had been reduced to lazily burning embers. His knife, its edge blackened, lay where he’d dropped it. The scent of charred flesh permeated the air. Breathing heavily, he traced his ribs. The valleys between the bones bore two new scars he’d branded with his own hand. He had sweated profusely, and was quite damp. It was an unnoticed discomfort compared to the phantom lick of flames he could sense devouring his side. Every movement was a reminder of his new burns. Even so, he was at peace.

While he was picking himself up, his coworker crouched down. She was taller than him, her musculature better developed, her complexion darker. She wore her thick brown hair in a braid, frowning down at him heavily.

[color=white]‘Did you really have to do this right now?’[/color] she signed to him. Her vocal cords had been severed as a child, before she’d been saved by their leaders. One side of her face bore damage from acid. It did not hinder the legibility of her facial expressions; she was clearly put out.

[color=white]“I wouldn’t expect [i]you[/i] to understand,”[/color] he grumbled as he stood up. [color=white]“It’s proof of my faith,”[/color] he murmured.

[color=white]‘I’d rather have proof of your common sense. Or sanity.’[/color] He didn’t deign that with a response. She exhaled audibly. [color=white]‘C’mon. We’ve a prince to track down.’[/color] [i]That[/i] they could agree on.[/color]