Hidden 1 mo ago Post by Rodiak
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Rodiak đ”Ș𝔩 đ”Șđ”žĂ±đ”žđ”«đ”ž, đ”Ș𝔩 đ”„đ”Źđ”¶, đ”Ș𝔩 đ”žđ”¶đ”ąđ”Ż

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E D W A R D S E S T A T E | M O R N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s :
Fritz @JJ Doe
M e n t i o n s :





Zarai’s pulse quickened the moment Fritz’s hand brushed her shoulder. It was such a light touch—barely there—but it was enough to make her entire body tense. She wished, desperately, for the ground beneath her to open up and swallow her whole. How could he see through her so easily? It was unbearable.

Her instinct was to pull away, to retreat into herself as Fritz guided her toward a soft patch of grass, his grip firm but never forceful. She followed, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten as they sat down. She hesitated when he motioned to her shoes before finally pulling them off. A brief sigh of relief passed her lips as her mangled feet were freed.

“I may have lied about being enough competition,” Zarai replied as a blush that crept up her neck and bloomed on her cheeks. Fritz’s hands moved to her feet, his touch warm and sure, and she nearly flinched again. She wasn’t used to this kind of tenderness.

The way he looked at her—understanding, almost too understanding—tugged at something deep inside her, something she didn’t want to face. Shame. Why did she feel ashamed? Why did his gentle care make her want to shrink away instead of lean into it?

She listened in silence as he spoke, his hands working methodically over her aching feet. Occasionally, she’d wince, a quiet gasp escaping her when he found a particularly tender spot. It was a relief, sure, but it didn’t erase the discomfort gnawing at her insides.

“I think he’ll be angry for a long time,” Zarai offered in response to Fritz’s words about Peter, her voice steadier than she felt. One hand gripped the fabric of her skirts, the other pulled at blades of grass one by one, a distraction from the raw ache in her feet and the weight of Fritz’s attention. “Have you told him that you’re worried? Maybe he needs it—the anger. Sometimes it’s the only thing that makes you feel in control.” She understood that feeling all too well.

When Fritz said he wanted to help, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. The sincerity in his voice was too much. Instead, she withdrew her feet from his lap, tucking her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, her gaze locked on his hands. Her fingers traced idle circles over her knee, the words she wanted to say lodging themselves in her throat.

“I know you want to help,” she finally managed, though her voice had grown softer. She opened her mouth to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. What could she tell him? That she didn’t know what she wanted anymore? That the more time passed, the more she feared the answer? Her lips moved, but no sound came out. So, she closed her mouth again.

“I’ll tell you,” she said after a long pause, her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her. “I just... need time. I thought I knew, but
” Her voice trailed off as a lump formed in her throat. What if he hated her for it? What if he saw her for what she really was? A mess. A disappointment. Not so different from her mother after all. “I need more time to figure it out. To see if it’s really what I want and not just something I’m chasing because I’m angry. So please don't demand an answer from me now. I don't want to disappoint you."

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Hidden 1 mo ago 1 mo ago Post by Helo
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Helo Wonderlust King

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Lord Leo Smithwood




Time: Late Afternoon to Evening
Location: Sorian Gambling and Games Hall
Daily Misfortune: Leo keeps getting drunk without any alcohol


Leo swayed in place as the dealer turned over another card. Blurred vision left the card unreadable but the dealer’s face told him he’d lost this hand.

“A seven, a king, and now a five,” Martin quietly told Leo the layout of the cards.

Leo counted on his fingers, nearly dropping a glass of sparkling water that contained a few lime wedges and not a drop of alcohol. He struggled with the equivalent of a child’s math problem. He could barely stand, could smell the alcohol wafting from his breath, like some common drunkard. He’d devoured plates from the establishment’s buffet until the sight of food made him queasy. Nothing helped this inebriating curse that had been laid upon him.

And it grew worse by the hour.

“Twenty-one!” He insisted as the dealer shook his head and pulled Leo’s pile of chips away.

“Twenty-two,” Martin corrected. He led Leo away from the table counting out numbers on his fingers to prove it to the unconvinced lord.

“You’ve got
twooomany
fingers.” Leo mumbled, unable to keep track of the counting. A morning spent gambling had started off fun, an easy distraction from wondering how far his servant's betrayal might go, but as the hours stretched on it became a series of frustrating losses.

The roulette table had once been loyal, agreeing with his every bet, only to stab him in the back. The dice mocked him at every throw. The poker table was unnavigable in his stupor, even when the cards showed him favor his own face betrayed him. A small fortune, lost to the winds, scattered about the various games of chance and into the greedy hands of the most treacherous house.

Leo searched his pockets for more chips, convinced that he could yet again find himself in Lady Luck’s embrace if only he picked the right game.

“I believe you are out of chips, milord.”

“Nooo,” Leo whispered in shock. He pointed at a station, deciding they needed to get more.

“Might be best to cut your losses, head back for a bath and change clothes.” Martin advised.

Like a child, Leo shook his head. “One more.” He said slumping down onto a nearby stool.

Martin looked apprehensive about leaving the lord alone and half-conscious but eventually indulged the stubborn lord’s request. He left Leo a few paces away for only a moment.

“Isn’t that Smithwood’s son?” Amidst ambient conversation, the shouting of bets, the cheers of success, and the groans of defeat, Leo heard his family name spoken. He felt a brief sense of pride at being recognized.

“Smithwood, why’s that name familiar?” Pride became dread as Leo recognized the tone, and caught a glimpse of the eagerness in the first speaker's eyes to dredge up rancid gossip.

“The Varian Duchess that murdered her husband..” It started in his gut, a burning that rose to his neck and ears. He turned in the voice’s direction, muscles tensing at the allegation that his mother would ever, could ever-

Betray him like that. Leave her son to suffer through the not knowing. He could probably forgive a murder, but never a lie like that.

But he hasn’t been murdered, only missing. He assured himself, tried to take a breath. Don’t cause a scene.

“...shacked up with the Queen’s former lady-in-waiting
” Leo watched the haze from the two men’s cigars linger around them. Embers glowed brightly as the man’s voice paused to draw out the suspense in his slanderous tale.

She kept the machine running, took over the Dukedom without a hitch. No one ever mentions that. His mother wouldn’t want him starting fights in a casino. Bad for the family imagine. Smithwood’s are better than that. I am better than that. But he wasn’t. His thoughts devolved into knocking teeth down throats.

“And whose daughter flubbed her engagement to a prince
” The noise around him dulled. All he saw was red. His legs moved independently closing the distance between him and the man speaking. Rage ran through his veins, hot and eager to take action.

“My guess, that Prince found out he was engaged to a -” The man didn’t get to finish that sentence.

In a smooth motion, Leo spun the speaker around, and fist collided with face. He grabbed a handful of graying hair and drove the man’s face into a table. The man spat a mouthful of blood as Leo’s knuckles smacked against ribs. Leo stumbled backward, head rattling as the other man struck back. A few more blows were landed before the pair crashed against the table, breaking it. They grappled until someone grabbed Leo’s arms and pulled him away. The other man took advantage, throwing one last punch before he too was grabbed up off the floor and restrained by his friend. More guards arrived to keep them separated.

“See that, the violent son of murder!” The other man shouted to those around him.

“I’ll break your fucking jaw!” Leo snarled.

“I want him arrested!” The other man shouted.

“Le'me go.” Leo tried in vain to break himself free. Catching only snippets of Martin’s words as he held him back, tried to reason with an unreachable Leo.

And with only a handful of gambling chips, Leo had no means to pay for the damages he’d caused nor the fine for disturbance. Painful hours of boredom stretched on, trapped in a cell filled with drunkards as Martin departed to find Leo’s mother to pay the fine for her son.

Time where all he could do was stew on the mess he’d made of his day. Embarrassing his family. Disappointing them. Looking like an absolute


Asshat.

And that stupid fucking word was left haunting him.
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Hidden 1 mo ago Post by princess
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princess

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Good evening! It's now 7pm!

Regarding any unfinished business for day time, please be clear that you are writing in for the day still, or mark it as a flashback.




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Hidden 1 mo ago 1 mo ago Post by princess
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princess

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Courting Season Camping Event




With the full backing of the royal castle, this prestigious camping experience promises an unforgettable night of romance and adventure in Pinebrook, a quaint, woodsy town just a 30-minute carriage ride from Sorian.


Castle-Supported Luxury:
Thanks to the generous support of the castle for this year's courting season, this event will be an exquisite blend of nature’s charm and royal luxury. Noble guests will enjoy all the splendors of the outdoors with an elevated touch, as the castle has ensured every detail is carefully curated for a flawless experience. The royal funding has transformed Pinebrook's campgrounds into a dreamy destination featuring elegant tents, and beautifully designed communal areas, where nature meets high society most charmingly. Those of lesser status are welcomed as well! The cabins and many amenities will also be available all season!

Lavish Amenities:
Noble attendees will enjoy accommodations with luxurious bedding and decor, all covered by the royal purse. The castle has provided refined glamping setups with soft linens and comfortable furnishings, ensuring that everyone, no matter their sleeping arrangement, feels pampered.



Romantic Activities & Castle-Endorsed Events:
This isn’t just any camping trip—this is an event hosted under the endorsement of the crown. The entire evening has been thoughtfully planned to enhance the courting season and allow potential suitors and partners to bond through a series of light-hearted and romantic activities. The event will include:

Couples Cooking Competition:
Funded by the royal kitchen itself, all ingredients are sourced from the finest local farms and suppliers. Compete while chained to your partner against other teams, creating a meal over the campfire.

Scenic Canoe Rides:
Paddle along a serene lake under the moonlight. The canoes, painted in royal colors, are provided by the castle.


Lantern Release:
Watch as dozens of lanterns float into the night sky. The royal family has generously provided lanterns for each couple to release, symbolizing their new beginnings.


Dance Under the Stars:
Dance to the sounds of a live string quartet, hired by the crown, on a charming wooden stage set under the stars.

Cozy Fire-Side Moments:
Sit by the campfire with your partner and roast gourmet marshmallows, sausages, and potatoes. Pinebrook's campgrounds, transformed into a magical glamping retreat, are designed to keep couples warm and cozy as they enjoy the romantic night.

Elegant Outdoor Dining:
Savor an exquisite meal under the stars, featuring roasted sausages, fire-baked potatoes, grilled vegetables, and more. The royal chefs have ensured every dish meets the standards of the nobility, and each course is designed for couples to share.

A Swimming Hole:
Go for a swim in a beautiful creek






Link to Pinebrook, the town this campsite is in, below:






Optional Partner Assignments Upon Entry


Upon arrival at the Courting Season Camping Event, each guest can opt to be paired with a partner, chosen by one of our esteemed staff members. Should you wish to switch partners at any point during the event, simply make a request to any member of the staff, and they will happily accommodate your preferences. Below are the initial pairings:

Sir Matthias Larson and Bey Rohit Amar
Captain Stratya Durmand and Mr. Kazumin Nagasa
Lady Ariella Edwards and Prince Callum Danrose
Dr. John Williamson and Ms. Kira Mapenzi
Lord Roman Ravenwood and Ms. Riona



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Hidden 1 mo ago 1 mo ago Post by Lava Alckon
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Lava Alckon

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Drake



Attire: Black/Green Coat, Black Dress Pants, and Black Shoes
Time: Morning of the 25th
Location: Edwards Estate
Mentions: Callum @helo, Lorenzo @FunnyGuy, Cassius @PapaOso, Charlotte @princess, and a very special guest.





Drake bowed his head solemnly. ”I’m sorry, I did not know
” He signals for a toast with the Prince before continuing ”We can’t always be perfect in life. We can only be our best. Terrible friendships in the past may yet be redeemed in the eyes of those who wish it to be so.” Drake clacked his drink against Callum’s, and swished it back before lightly clanking it on the bar. ”Don’t think on the phrasing too much - what I more or less mean is don’t damn yourself for an eternity over the finite time you’ve spent with them. What matters is you recognize the bad and wish to do good - that’s all we can ever really ask of ourselves.”

Then came the talk of his sister. There was some overlap in his words versus how he would describe her - he often found her to be a joy in his life. He cared about her, so naturally he wanted to make sure whoever she would potentially be with felt the same. “Not in the slightest. Just being a concerned older brother. Plus I know nothing I said or did would stop her from going after what she wants. All I can do is make sure she’s safe.” He waved for their drinks to be topped off. “I’m sure you’ll come to see that in the weeks to come. Given how vested her interest is in you.”

“For what it’s worth. I don’t buy into all that social slack people seem to love to give you. I’ll let you words and actions speak for yourself - rather than the words of others.” It was shortly after this that Lorenzo had made the grand spectacle of presenting his own gifts. Drake had half a mind to tell him he didn’t have to present them so boisterously - but then he smiled. What harm could there be in letting him have his fun? Famous last words.

The first gift was plenty fine - Drake actually unboxed the revolver right there, took a look at the firing pin under his thumb, and nodded approvingly. “Cassius, my fellow. You know how to pick them. This looks to be
a model 1873? Very trusty work. I commend the smiths who forged the metals.” He carefully placed the weapon back in its box and turned to Lorenzo for the next one.

And when he described its contents, the young lord’s face maintained its smile with mild skepticism. But once there was mention of a “love potion” and “rubbers”, Drake fought back the immediate urge to frown. “My what a
.creative gift good sir. Did you have to include those last two though? Seems a bit, well, private to mention such a sacred act in front of a gathering.” Nonetheless he took the box and stacked it on the other.

Then came the final box. Drake’s immediate response was to swoon at the adorable beady eyes. ”Awww what precious critters they are! And twins, you say? Do they have names?” He carefully handled the furry noodles and let them get accustomed to his presence before carefully placing them back into their container. ”I suppose this year I am raising my own furry family of felines and weasels. Very exciting!”

He sat the boxes down and with a resounding clap, he looked to the guests around, some inebriated and some already making their leave. Drake saw Wulfric take his leave and was a bit disappointed he couldn’t have a moment with his friend - but after all the embarrassment he weathered today, it might be best to let that die down before Wulfric had the chance to line up a light-hearted taunt or jest at his expense.

“Esteemed guests! Lords and Ladies! Dukes and Duchesses! I thank you humbly for your patience and presence on this fine day!” Drake begins his speech as he begins walking to the stage once more. “At this hour, I will say it is officially time to wrap up the party and proceed to the final course. Should you need any other food or drink, I kindly ask you to request our help for fresh options and partake to your heart's content. You all have been wonderful patrons tonight - and I do hope that you all enjoy the day. It may be my day of birth, but it is still young and ripe with opportunity! Seize the day and make it your own!” He gave one last bow - without falling - and made his way off the stage.

From here he continued to converse with the nearby Callum, Cassius, Lorenzo, and Charlotte until they took their leave. He made sure each guest received a complimentary goodie bag* upon leaving, as well as a proper farewell from the birthday boy himself. Once the party was cleared out, and the help seemed on their way to cleaning up, he made arrangements for his study to be partially converted into a bestiary for his new family members.

“Sebastian, my good man. Fetch me a bottle of our finest red please. And two glasses.” Drake asked his trusty manservant. The young man ran off and fetched a 10-year vintage and two fancy glasses for the lord, who nodded appreciatively before sending him away. He picked up the glasses and placed them on his bedside table, sitting on the edge of his bed and sighing as he poured the two glasses full of red wine.

“If only you could have been here. That would’ve been the best birthday gift of all..” He reached for the glass and began to sip as he heard a knock at the door. He continued sipping while approaching the door. ”Comiiing.” He said in a slightly dreary tone before taking another quick sip.

As he opened the door however, he felt himself nearly choke on his drink. For right in front of him was a woman clad in a beautiful green gown, her long blonde hair tied up in just the perfect blend of careful attention and mild messiness. Her two distinctly colored eyes that reminded Drake of the earth and sky all in one beautiful woman. His mouth opened slightly, his jaw hanging as she began to blush. The woman fidgeted slightly, her hands and arms behind her back as she looked up at Drake through her lashes and shyly spoke. ”A-am I too late?”


*Goodie bags contain various generic goods. Some herbal oils, greeting cards, small chocolates, as well as any particular trinket or item your specific character may be interested in receiving. PM me for details.
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Hidden 1 mo ago Post by PapaOso
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PapaOso

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The Arrival at Pinebrook's Campsite


As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the first shades of twilight, carriages began to roll into the heart of Pinebrook. The comforting clatter of hooves against the earth and the soft murmurs of noble guests eager for the camping retreat filled the crisp evening air. As the carriages arrived, the guests were greeted by the warm glow of lanterns scattered across the campsite.

Set amidst towering trees that seemed to stretch endlessly into the night sky, the campsite was a breathtaking sight to behold. A large, circular pavilion stood at the center, its warm lights casting a golden glow over the scene. The pavilion housed beautifully arranged tables, where guests would gather later to dine under the stars. Surrounding the pavilion were elegant tents, each one illuminated by soft lanterns that gave the area an almost magical feel. These tents were thoughtfully arranged in a semi-circle around a central fire pit, where logs and wooden chairs waited to invite guests for a cozy fireside evening.

In the center of the camp, the crackling fire pit provided warmth and a rustic charm, with comfortable chairs and benches circling the flames. The air smelled of burning wood and fresh pine, heightening the serene atmosphere of the forested retreat. Above them, a full moon hung in the sky, casting a silver glow through the branches, and the twinkling stars seemed to dance in the deep night.

The guests were welcomed by camp staff, each dressed in simple yet neat attire. Among them, one particular staff member stood out: a man with brown hair, who might seem vaguely familiar to those who had known Darryn Fletcher. His features were eerily similar—especially the scar running across his neck. Some might wonder if this could be a relative, or perhaps something more mysterious, as the resemblance was uncanny enough to draw whispers from those who recognized him.

As the campers stepped out of their carriages, their senses were immediately greeted by the blend of nature’s tranquil beauty and the subtle luxury curated by the royal family for this special event. The evening was just beginning, and already, the magic of Pinebrook’s Courting Season Camping Event was in full bloom.

Soon, two senior camp staffers hurriedly approached with bright, welcoming smiles. The first, a bubbly young woman with a mass of curly auburn hair, waved enthusiastically at the guests as they descended. Her green eyes sparkled with excitement, and she adjusted her forest-green tunic before calling out, “Welcome to Pinebrook, everyone! We are so excited to have you here!” Her cheerful voice carried easily across the campsite.

Beside her, a tall, gangly young man with tousled blonde hair and round spectacles tried his best to look official while nervously clutching a clipboard. He offered a bashful grin, his cheeks flushed as he spoke up, “Yes, yes! We’ll be getting started just as soon as everyone’s gathered. In the meantime, feel free to stretch your legs and take in the beauty of Pinebrook.” He gestured awkwardly around him, clearly not as accustomed to the role as his counterpart.

The woman beamed and clapped her hands together. “Once everyone gathers 'round, we’ll start handing out your tent assignments! And,” she added with a playful wink, “you’ll be assigned your partner for the evening. So stay close! It’s going to be an unforgettable night!” The two exchanged a quick look of shared excitement before guiding the guests towards the pavilion with friendly gestures.

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Hidden 1 mo ago Post by SilverPaw
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SilverPaw

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Attire: Party fit (one brooch only)
Date and Time: FLASHBACK: Sola 25th, Early Afternoon
Location: His office
Mention(s): @Helo Callum
Interaction(s):
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, “Enter,” 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.

“Your Royal Highness, Prince Wulfric,” 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.

“You may rise.” 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.

“What do I call you, Agent
?” 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.

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

“Do you not have one?”

“My handlers use NI-311. Few missions require me to have an identity, Your Highness,” 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.

“Henceforth, you will be known as Nicholas,” he followed up as if nothing of concern had happened.

‘Nicholas’ gasped, twitched, head jerking. He clasped his hands in front of him. “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
” 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.

“You are welcome,” 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. “F-forgive me,” he hung his head even lower.

Wulfric withheld a sigh.

Patience.

“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.” 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. “Perhaps another time, then.” The prince changed topics. “Let us discuss your mission now, Nicholas.”

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.

“Heresy? By the Gods,” Nicholas clutched at his chest, wide-eyed.

“Indeed,” Wulfric drawled. “You’d best get comfortable with the idea,” he tapped a finger on the table. “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, run. There is a reason you have backup. Any questions?” The spy’s head swayed left and right.

“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.” Nicholas seemed puzzled but affirmed he would provide one. “You may leave.” The man reached for the doorknob while kneeling. “Please, stand up, and walk out.” 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.


Nicholas

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.

‘Did you really have to do this right now?’ 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.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he grumbled as he stood up. “It’s proof of my faith,” he murmured.

‘I’d rather have proof of your common sense. Or sanity.’ He didn’t deign that with a response. She exhaled audibly. ‘C’mon. We’ve a prince to track down.’ That they could agree on.
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Hidden 1 mo ago Post by ReusableSword
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ReusableSword The (not so) Mighty.

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Roman & Riona Part 1



Morning of Sola 25, 1739


After finishing her morning duties, Riona returned to the gardener’s hut to find that the supplies were running low. Snatching up a worn wicker basket, she set off for the woods.

Sunlight streamed through gaps in the leafy canopy, casting shifting patterns on the forest floor. Riona stepped carefully over moss-covered logs and through patches of ferns. Her fingers worked steadily, plucking plants and mushrooms while her mind drifted to the things that happened the previous day.

A twig snapped. Riona spun around to see none other than Lord Roman himself striding through the woods. “Lord Ravenwood,” she said, straightening quickly. Leaves clung to her skirts as she dipped into a hasty bow. “Good morning.”

This morning was busy and full of surprises. Roman had just finished getting the birthday gift for Drake Edwards finished and wrapped when their religious leader urged him to go to the forest. He needed to make sure that they had cleaned up all their ‘trash’ from the ceremony. The gift in question was one of their more delicate pieces.

A small dagger for personal defense but elegant, sharp, and light. Carved with the image of a feather in the dark wooden grip ending in a finely cut and polished emerald at its hilt. Its sheath was equally inlaid with an image of a turning page on a book. Included with this was one of their finest types of fountain pen’s, a combination of metal and marble with a hollowed emerald for the pen to sit in. The Edwards family crest was carefully placed on both pieces. This gift was one of many pre-made items made specifically for this summer, one only had to set the jewel and family crest in the item to complete it.

He would have loved to deliver the piece but that would have to be someone else. Their shaman, Astri Lund, was known to have a good sense for mysterious happenings or coincidences. She never knows what will happen but something will surely happen. Today this feeling was in the forest near where they conducted their ritual.

That was what brought him out here, not a bad day for a stroll. The forest was clear and calm. The citizens of the city didn't seem to venture off the path too often. He would have been to the ritual area sooner but made sure to circle back on his path a few times to see if he was being followed.

Even with his vigilance he was surprised by a familiar voice. A young olive skinned maiden wearing a simple dress carrying a wicker basket with many herbal ingredients in it. Her outfit matches his own simple outfit of darker and lighter greens and tans. Riona, a person he was actually going to try and seek out sometime this week. Returning her bow with a smile and a polite wave of his hand, “Riona was it?” he faked a guessing tone, “please don't bow or bother with the honorifics when it's just us. The only things different between us is a name and where we were born." He was genuine with his words.

Riona met her share of commoner-friendly nobles, but Lord Roman was the first this courting season to insist on speaking as equals. She eased out of the bow and smirked, “I see why Cal likes you.”

She closed the distance between them, basket swinging at her side, and craned her neck to meet his eyes. Damn, but the man was tall. Like trying to look a tree in the face. “What are you doing out here, Roman? Shouldn’t you be at a birthday party?”

The mention of callum gave him a slight smile as she approached. He took a moment to look her over, she looked cute in that dress. Her small stature with an almost childlike look about her that he found adorable in the light, yet he knew looks can be deceiving.

“I was reminded by my shaman that I still had to make sure that we didn't leave any refuse behind from our ritual.” pausing for just a moment, “Besides, I know what kind of parties those are, a chance for a lesser house to try and show itself off and gain some kind of favor
 it's wasteful.” his own thoughts on the matter were true to him.

Letting that last comment sit for a moment before he spoke up again. “Speaking of Callum, do you know where he has been? I was hoping to run into him these last few days but this year it seems like he's going to make me work on trying to find him.” shifting out of his frown to a small smile as he spoke of his old friend.

“Oh, you know Cal,” Riona said lightly, “probably neck-deep in trouble as usual.” She didn’t go into any further detail than that. Friendly as the man was, she didn’t know how much she could reveal to him without it coming to bite her or Cal in the a**. Still, she threw Roman a bone, mentioning Cal’s visit to Lady Ariella in the dungeons and some family meeting he was summoned to. She shrugged. “He might still be in the castle if you hurry. Otherwise
” Her lips quirked. “Try bloodhounds?”

“So what are you doing all the way out here?”

“Me?” Riona hefted her basket. “Just foraging. Market prices can be highway robbery sometimes, so I usually try my luck in the wild first.” A thought struck her so she added, “Do you need help with the cleanup? It’ll go faster if you have an extra set of hands.”

He thought about that information but figured there was more to it, with Callum there always was, “I'm sure I'll get a hold of him at some point. Mostly to make sure that he wasn't spiraling down hill again
 This was never his season. I do hope that lady Edwards comes out of this alright.” his voice trailed off while he looked into her basket once more at everything she had collected.

“Hmm” scratching his beard in a joking manner, “I guess I could use the company. I was going to search you out too in the next day or two so this gives us a chance to talk.” His words and tone did not conveigh anything unsavory at that last part. His calm and content body language didn't betray anything nefarious either, “Might just find more of those herbs for you too. What exactly are you after anyway?” he asked, bowing slightly but still in a humorous way as if he was inviting a noble lady to join him on his stroll.

Riona arched her brow. Searching for her? Why? But before she could voice that question, Roman asked his question first.

The theatrics drew a snort from Riona. “This and that. Nothing specific. Apothecary stuff.” She met his theatrics with her own, gasping dramatically and pressing a hand to her chest. Then she swept into a curtsy that would’ve made her etiquette tutor weep.

As they fell into step, Riona studied Roman from the corner of her eye. His gait was easy, relaxed—nothing in his demeanor hinted at ulterior motives. Still, curiosity gnawed at her. “So,” she ventured, “what did you want to talk about? Must be important if you were planning a manhunt for me too.”

Nodding along to her talking he did glance over his shoulder scanning their surroundings. Although he was relaxed and calm, the man didn't drop his situational awareness. “If you don't mind, do you think you could teach me about what some of these plants do?” The basic knowledge of the smaller varieties of plants was at the very least interesting.

“Yeah, sure.”

Bobbing his head back and forth as he thought about how to answer her. “Well
” he started, “I would like to talk to you about a job.” pausing for a moment to glance at one of the rings on his left hand, “it is a sensitive matter, but if callum trusts you then I will try.”

Riona’s gut clenched. Another “sensitive matter”? The last one had ended with her blowing up in Anastasia’s face and waking up with a headache.

“Well, I can’t tell you where Cal usually gets his shrooms from. But, if you’re going to pick your own, try past the city limits. The good stuff doesn’t grow around here,” she joked, buying time. Riona knew Roman wasn’t talking about mycology lessons. Whatever was about to be dumped in her lap, she needed those extra seconds to brace herself for it.

Please, she thought, don’t let this involve another death.

His gate changed slightly to a slower pace tilting his head one way then the other. It was clear he was listening or trying to listen for something but his gaze remained on her. Relaxed but studying her movements and expressions somewhat akin to an officer overlooking their soldiers for uniform infractions. It was almost like he was becoming someone else or that he was giving her a glimpse of his true self.

The weight of his stare pulled Riona’s spine ramrod straight, shoulders squared, chin lifted as if called to attention. She didn’t fidget under his silent appraisal.

“Mushrooms are of no consequence to us, we have plenty.” He paused for a moment then lowered his voice so that it would not carry into the forest, even going as far as speaking the native Dialect of Alidasht, <”I know that you can understand me.”> The words felt forced with no accent, like there was no emotion in the beautiful language at all. <”We have many eyes and ears across this city and the kingdom. We don't have very many in the Ivory tower where you work.”>

The smile on his face and relaxed posture was a strange match to the way he spoke, some may even find it unsettling. <”All I ask is that you occasionally give us information, what you see and hear. Rumors, whispers, maps, inventory, secret meetings, notable people that come and go. We will take it all.”>

Riona had seen this game before. Servants playing the spy, and spies playing the servant. Also saw what happened when the Crown’s men caught up with them. Or worse, Lady Morrigan. It always ended ugly.

But something about this request made her hackles rise. Then it clicked into place. Darryn: He was working for someone else too. Quack suspected a criminal organization; Riona thought it was the host of the secret party, or at least someone connected to them
 what if that “someone” was one of the foreign nobility?

She pinned the Varian Lord with a hard stare. “Why?”

‘Good’ he thought, ‘not a no not a yes’ he would have respected the straight no but a yes without questions is suspicious. <”To do my duty, to maintain the security and safety of the Varian citizens in this city and kingdom.”> he stated with an unflinching conviction that carried in his hushed voice.

<”you know i have been followed by four different people this morning alone? We counted eight yesterday and two the day before that. By what we can tell at least three different organizations.”> He spoke as if these things were normal and not a threat at all.

<”The guards and undercover guards are trying their best but the look in their eyes gives them away, if you know what to look for. A lot better than last year.”> It was true they had come a long way in the last few years to be very competent but some of them gave the others away. Normally by just having that look in their eye like they were better than others or had some kind of hope.

He knelt down to pick up a random shrub and lift a part of it up toward her as if he was asking her a question about it. He was almost sure they were not being followed but one could never be too sure. <”The other has used the same people on a few different days which makes us think they are unprofessional, maybe some kind of rebel faction or insurrectionist movement against the crown. Not sure why they would be targeting me but I've made it a point to upset certain individuals.”> He fake laughed, stood back up and carried on.

<”The last is professional, using new people every day, different types of people from different walks of life. They are the hardest to spot and seem to be everywhere but are more concentrated towards the slums and industrial areas. We believe this is the criminal organization in the city
”> he paused for a moment with a sigh <”and there is more.”> The last part he said with a tone that was hard to make out, some combination of anger, dread, and resolve.

“Sounds like you’re very popular, Roman.” What she assumed was Quack’s people snooping around was one thing, but multiple groups? That was something else. “Makes me wonder what you did
 or do backstage to draw such a diverse audience.” Riona didn’t phrase it as a question, but it was a question nonetheless.

There was a lot more she wanted to say, but she decided to wait until Roman finished. She crossed her arms, “You mentioned there’s more? What is it?”

Roman let out a short laugh, they were getting closer to where the ritual was performed. He could still smell the faint aroma of a bonfire in the air. “I don't do much backstage, that's not my job.” he spoke effortlessly, switching back to the common language. “I present myself as a well to do, aloof Varian noble and dignitary. Here to spread my business and attempt to raise the spirits of the downtrodden and make their lives just that much easier.”

Again he glanced at her, “I'm sure that we both know that that alone can rub people the wrong way.” another pause while they came upon the opening of the ceremony location proper. “There is definitely more I could share, but I will not do so unless we come to an agreement. We haven't even talked about payment yet.”

“... Since you’re asking me, of all people, to help you on this noble endeavor, and not the royal family, they know nothing about this, do they?” Plucking off the rose-tinted glasses that came with being Cal’s friend, Riona looked at Roman as one of the players in the game of politics.

“Look, I might not know much about politics, Roman, but I’m pretty sure what you’re asking me to do can get me tried and hanged for treason.” Riona continued, adjusting her basket, “Why should I risk my neck while you get to watch safely from afar, playing the aloof foreign dignitary?”

It really came down to that one question: Why ask her? Yeah, her mother was Varian, but he couldn’t possibly know that. There are plenty of other people he could’ve hired for this. Was it just because of Cal? And that thought spawned another—how in the blazes did Roman even know they were friends?

He didn't answer right away. She had some good points after all and he was effectively asking her to risk his life for him. Instead he kept walking silently. It wasn't for too long though until they crossed into the opening of the small field where the ceremony was held. “Give me a moment.”

It was clean aside from the charred pile of ash and charcoal from their fires. He noticed evidence of where others had come and gone the day before. Strange, none of his people reported coming back out here again, they were very careful with leaving trash behind.

Roman scooped up a handful of charred remains from the fire pit. He held the burnt wood and ash with care while he dug a small hole outside the stone ring and buried a small amount in the dirt. Standing, with his free hand clutching his necklace while he looked at the firepit. His grandfather's face flashed in his mind.

Riona tracked Roman’s every movement with her eyes, paying careful attention to what he touched.

“I know what i'm asking of you but we don't know how far up this goes
” his voice was quiet. He paused as he thought about how to answer, his gaze still fixed on the ash at his feet. “With how prevalent and organized the underworld is in this city and kingdom, it could be all the way up to the royal family or some of their top advisors.”

The answer to her second question took him a little longer to answer. His jaw clenched and unclenched as his eyes scanned her and their surroundings. “I am far from safety, Riona. I put myself in dangerous positions on purpose within what would be acceptable with my station so as not to draw suspicion.” his gaze seemed to dig into her again, brows furrowing, and a look of grim determination in his eyes.

“I am expendable. My people are expendable. The Varian citizens in this kingdom and this city are NOT. Neither are our friends or those who help us.” Each word was punctuated clearly, Romans right hand clenched as he felt his mark set ablaze in his skin, turning his knuckles white. “This is how we pay our debt, This is our way.”

Another pause but it was to make sure she understood what it was that he was saying, what it meant. “Like I said.” his voice and demeanor relaxed again, “Callum has mentioned you before whenever we were drinking. If he trusts you I can try. I can not divulge any more details until you accept.”

A flicker of satisfaction warmed Riona’s chest. She fought to keep her expression neutral, but inside, she was grinning. So Cal had been talking about her, even before their friendship got the official stamp of approval.

His eyes glanced at a nearby tree and a thought came to mind, “if you accept I can tell you that I will give you the same offer I am going to give Callum and something you can use against me if you truly need to.” A gamble? Absolutely. This entire summer was a gamble but trust is given not earned. This still doesn't mean she can be trusted with everything.

“I get it,” Riona said when she was sure that he said all that he wanted to say. “But don’t act like your status doesn’t give you more protection than those who don’t.”

She cocked a hip, resting a hand on it as she eyed him. “That was a nice speech and all, but it’s your choices when the wolves are at our heels that’ll show who you really think is... expendable.”

Her gaze dropped to the ground as she mulled it over. A teasing wind danced through the trees, tugging playfully at her skirt and the loose strands of hair that had escaped her braid. She absently tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.

“So just to be crystal clear,” she said, glancing back up at him, “you want me to keep my eyes and ears open, but you’re not expecting me to go sticking my nose where it’ll likely get bitten off, right?”

He took her words to heart and knew he would have to show her that he meant what he said. Which means he has to keep his word. Not an impossible task, still he knew that he wouldn't be able to bring everyone home at the end of the summer there would be casualties. Hazard pay helps with that.

Roman nodded at her question, his stoic posture and gaze unchanging, “Correct. I don't need highly classified information from you, I can hire someone else for that.”

Another pause as the forest moved with the wind around them. He could tell she was thinking it over. This was good, most people these days lacked the ability to take a step back and make important decisions that have long standing consequences. his left hand slowly slid to his waist to grasp something.

For another while, Riona didn’t say anything. Then, she finally nodded. “Okay, I’ll help.”
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Hidden 1 mo ago Post by Helo
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Helo Wonderlust King

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Time: Evening
Location: Pinebrook



Rohit hung halfway out a carriage window, an arm outstretched as he tried to grab leaves from the trees they passed. The few he caught were released, his grin widening as he watched them blow away behind the carriage. He grew bored of catching leaves and the remaining twenty minutes stretched on, boredom slowing time down to a crawl. There was nothing to look at outside except trees. Where are the great beasts of Caesonia’s forests? I haven’t seen a single bear!” Someone told him there had been a bear attack the other night in the woods. When do I get to see a bear? He spun his ring, sources of entertainment dwindling to the most mundane.

He hung his head out the window again. Still not a bear in sight. Not even a squirrel.

“Are we almost there?” He asked the driver. “Can we go faster!” He added, enthusiastically but not demanding.

“It’s a bit dark out,” The driver said, hesitating, but soon the horses picked up their pace. Every bump rattled the carriage, the wind blew through Rohit’s hair and his grin returned as boredom faded. It was almost as thrilling as the coaster he’d ridden at the carnival.

“You are this land's greatest driver! If bandits were on our tails they would eat your dust!” He shouted his encouragement to the driver, who in turn ensured they traveled even faster. Trees flew by, their leaves now a colorful blur of green against the night. The carriage teetered as they took a sharp turn.

Twwaaacckk!


The horses began to slow, Rohit looked over at the driver who was cautiously rubbing at his face.

“What was that?” He asked.

“A branch, must not’ve seen it.” Came the driver’s awkward reply.

“Are you okay?” He asked as another brilliant idea hit. “Maybe I should drive! Give you a break!”

“No, no, I’m fine. And we’re almost there now.” His reply was immediate, before Rohit had even finished speaking, almost like he didn’t want Rohit driving. It was just a tad bit insulting.
Rohit slunk back down in his seat, head no longer dangling out the window. “I think I’d be a great driver.” He mumbled but accepted that he’d have to find out another day.

Soon, but not quite soon enough, the smells of campfire and a glorious feast wafted their way into the carriage. They passed a small village, a series of cabins, until finally, the horses stopped in view of an arrangement of tents. Rohit found a warm greeting from the camp’s staff but heard little of what they said as his eyes wandered to the table of food, the large fire, and a crystal clear lake. Finally, something to actually do!
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JJ Doe

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Roman & Riona Part 2
Trigger Warning: Blood


Morning of Sola 25, 1739


“Good” he spoke and with a flick of his wrist a leather pouch sailed toward the girl landing with the sound of metal coins rubbing against themselves. “Now as for payment.” he stated after his test of her reflexes.

“That should roughly be about what you normally make in a month. We can pay you however you wish, jewels, fine goods, a lock box in another city, disperse it among the lower class citizens, even a buried chest in the forest.”

He gestured towards the bag he tossed her. “Every time you hand off any information to any of the ravenwood citizens or workers that carry my sigil you will be paid. If it isn't good intel you'll still get this much, you get more depending on the quality of the information." He gave her another moment to process the info. His eyes and ears still scanned their surroundings for listening ears or prying eyes.

The pouch landed in Riona’s hands with a satisfying weight, the clink of coins within unmistakable. Her fingers traced the outlines of what must have been silver pieces—a month’s wages, he’d said. Her heart quickened at the possibilities. Then, her frugal mind instantly began allocating the unexpected windfall.

With extra coin, she could restock her dwindling supplies of components, maybe even splurge on expensive ingredients and better tools she normally had to pass over. Some would be set aside for emergencies. The rest would go to the charitable works she conducted through “Miss Vos’” banking account.

Riona’s attention shifted from the coin pouch to the ceremonial fire pit, then to the small burial spot. “I have some questions,” she said before returning her gaze to Roman. “First, does the payment have to be money?”

She didn't look to have any issue catching the bag flung at her, good reflexes and an inquisitive mind. “I would be worried if you didn’t.” he responded. Turning where he stood to make his way towards a tree on the outside of the cleared meadow. Several large and small rocks piled at its base in seemingly no order.

“No it does not.” he stated, shifting his head slightly towards her. “Like I said we can pay you with anything you like however you like. But it will not be anything more or less than what you are owed.” Roman knelt down at the tree and began slowly moving the stones away from the base.

Riona nodded, filing that tidbit away for later. She offered the coin pouch back to Roman. “You should take this back then, I haven’t done anything yet.”

Her mind latched onto his earlier words. “About those details you couldn’t say until I accepted. What are they? Are they tied to the offer you said you’re gonna give to Callum? Or that thing you claim I could use against you?”

He waved off her hand when she tried to give back the coins, “that is for hearing me out and accepting the job. I have built up the guild I started, enough that I don't need to worry about coins or money.” continued to clear the stones until he got to the base of the tree. A quick look would reveal a rune carved into the base of the tree and some kind of clear crystal embedded into the engraving.

“I will make one thing clear to you.” his gaze shifting to lock eyes with her’s. “Everything I have told you, I have told only you, and I can talk my way out of any of it.” not an outright threat but a warning, a clear one.

“... I really hope this isn’t the ‘thing I can use against you’ you were talking about, then.” Riona said as she put the pouch into her basket. “Kind of defeats the purpose.”

His gaze returned to the tree and he gestured to her to look closer. There was only a moment for her to see what he was looking for before his hand covered the mark in the tree. He spoke in a low whisper but with confidence, every word punctuated followed swiftly by the sound of wood splitting, “andar vísa veginn, endurbyggja, móta, endurvaxa.”

Grimacing slightly at the discomfort, the skin on his hand shifting to match the bark of the tree without the color. He drew his hand back allowing them both to see the crystal and rune sink into the tree while the bark moved to cover the wound. A small spell but enough for his needs.

Riona felt it before she saw it. A prickling sensation crawled across her skin, raising the fine hairs on her arms. The air around them seemed to thicken, to shift, as if reality itself was being rewritten. But it wasn’t just the atmosphere that changed; the thing deep within, stirred in response. She sucked in a sharp breath, and took an involuntary step back.

Roman had just confirmed what she’d begun to suspect, and he’d done it right in front of her. Was this what he’d meant? When he'd spoken of leverage, had he intended for her to witness this? Riona’s gaze flickered between Roman and the tree.

All he did for the next few moments was rub his hand deciding how to answer her other question. “I will not give you details or tell you how we know
 we have found evidence of necromancy.” a short pause to allow her to keep up. Truth is he knew he was drawing attention to specific people and families by saying this but pressure needed to be applied and not just by him.

Yet it was still information that needed further investigation even if all he had to go on was Violet's resurrection and vampirism. “There are also somewhere between 2 to 4 vampires operating within the city.” The fact she was a vampire alone was enough information to say that there were at least a couple more without completely lying through his teeth.

Riona’s eyes widened. Vampires? In Sorian? The revelation left her momentarily speechless. “So
” She cleared her throat and tried again. “So your actual mission is to hunt down these vampires?” The words felt surreal as they left her lips. “Is that
” Her gaze returned to the tree where the crystal and rune sank into. “What House Ravenwood does? Hunt the supernatural?

“No” he stated bluntly to her question, his tone remained casual as if this was a common thing to talk about. He motioned for her to follow as he began to walk toward another tree on the edge of the field. She hesitated only for a moment before following him.

“Vampires can be reasoned with, it is just a curse after all. My grandfather worked with one before.” That part was true, one of the many secrets his father passed down to him. However, he was quickly reminded that he was again getting close to things he shouldn't be saying with the stinging flare of the mark on his arm.

“As long as they are fed and can control themselves they can be useful
” pausing for a moment as he thought of those cursed souls who were truly unpredictable. “no, it's the alter personality or twin soul curses you have to be worried about.” He knew that lesson far too well. The maid was still staring at him intently as if searching for something.

“You’re used to the supernatural.” She said. It wasn’t a question anymore, it was a statement of fact. And it brought her some comfort. “Why are you so concerned about vampire activity in Caesonia?”

“The supernatural is all around us, we just got worse at seeing it.” He answered again and began to pull stones from the base of another tree. “Vampires are solitary and territorial. They don't normally get together like this unless one is old and powerful enough to buy or intimidate their way past the inquisition or they are being paid to be here.” Some of that statement was speculation based off of what he was told by his father, but he wouldn't tell her that.

“So who would not only be able to contact them but be able to pay them to be here and why?” He asked while he was thinking through the problem and guiding her on the same thought process. “To cause fear in order to aid the employer in control? A secret weapon or disposable strike force? Perhaps some kind of enforcers in some kind of planned calamity?”

The last of the rocks were pulled away revealing another rune, different in design but built the same way. “Their presence here is a threat to everyone, a message.”

His explanation seemed plausible enough. As a noble, he did have people to take care of and Riona respected that Roman took his duties to heart. She even got the whole “loose lips sink ships” thing, but come on. “If their presence here is a threat to everyone, why are you working on this alone?” Not only did he say that Riona was his only confidant, he made it clear that he would deny everything if she breathed a word. That meant no one else knew.

Keeping people in the dark left them ripe for the bloodsuckers’ picking. “You need more backup. Real backup. Not just some random maid who’s your friend’s friend. I mean supernatural experts or someone with pull and resources that can coordinate things with you and keep casualties as low as possible.” Riona paused, realizing another reason why Roman needed a castle maid. “You think someone up top’s involved.”

Again he placed his hand over the bark and again he spoke their ancient tongue. Latin was much better at articulating spell craft and what you wanted to happen, its cost was also much more equivalent. Yet, their ancestors found their language was primal, elemental, powerful, but expensive for what it did.

His skin cracked and began to slowly weep blood as the bark disfiguration on his hand grew and dug into him. It made him grimace quietly to himself and there was still one more to go.

Riona’s hand shot out and closed around his arm before he could hide the damage. She tugged it closer, eyes narrowing as she studied the blood and wooden growth. A nearby spring could help with cleaning. But treatment? Her gaze flicked to her herb basket, mind racing through healing properties and combinations. Bandages, she definitely needed bandages. Her eyes darted to her skirt. It wasn’t exactly clean, but it beat nothing. Sorry, modesty.

“Okay, that’s it.” The question burst out of her, unable to hold back any longer. “What in the hells are you doing?”

His eyes scanned her expressions as she gripped his arm where he thought he might find suspicion or fear he was only met with a feeling of curiosity and the faintest bit or worry. “This is what I can't explain away. Those crystals will still be in these trees for a very long time. The magic we used was absorbed into them.”

For a moment, she didn’t know what he was talking about, but then she recalled the leverage; the “thing she could use against him.”

“First off, nice try, but you didn’t answer the question. Second, you can still lie about it,” she said. “And who do you think people will take the side of? The random commoner or the noble lord?” Riona shook her head. “No, you’re going to have to give me something concrete. Something you can’t weasel your way out of.”

Again he watched her eyes move from his arm to her basket, “I have what I need to bandage myself and there is still one more tree that I have to do this too. Your concern is appreciated.” it was a true statement, this was the exact reason he came out here. Well, that and to clear his head.

The man picked himself back up and began to walk to the next tree. Pulling his sleeve up to his elbow and letting the blood occasionally drip from his hand into the ground. “It is a sacrifice to our gods anyway, a price to be paid.”

His voice trailed off for a moment while he regarded her earlier words as he walked, “information on the vampiric curse is extremely hard to find, as is most curses. The only so-called ‘experts’ on these things are agents of the inquisition. Vampires are a threat but it's more of a show of power. It's rare that they are called into action but it does happen.” he paused in his ranting and looked at Riona.

“I am not alone, as I said I have plenty of eyes outside the castle but none inside. Using the inquisition as a bluff is the most ill do. Where the city guard here are a hammer in terms of their abilities to investigate and solve these issues, the royal guard is a sledge hammer. Both are equally able to scatter the rats but innocents can get caught in the crossfire.” another pause as if to strain his point.

“In those terms the inquisition is a cannon and many innocents will die while the roaches get away. The groups I work with are a scalpel, they go after supply lines and leadership, plant seeds of chaos and misinformation so that the vermin eat themselves.” he stated with confidence. “We just have to find them first.”

“Obviously the Inquisition isn’t much of an expert if all they do is make a mess and fail to get their target,” Riona said dryly, arching an eyebrow. Then she sighed, “I get it, you’re saying you guys are the closest thing to an expert. But I still think you’re putting innocent people at risk by keeping everyone in the dark about it.” It felt like sending a child out into the woods without telling them that there were wolves out there, all because Roman wanted to make sure that the pack leader didn’t notice he and his men were tracking them.

She fell silent, her eyes fixed on Roman’s hands as he worked his magic. Try as she might, she couldn’t quite puzzle out the purpose of the spell.

Stopping in his tracks he turned his head over his shoulder to look over at her with a cold stare. For a moment that's all he did, no smile barley any emotion at all. “You are NOT some random commoner Ríoghnach
.” giving her his full attention for the moment he continued, “I am telling others just as I am doing now, slowly. Spreading this information to the wrong people can get the inquisition's attention and cause widespread panic.”

That was when Riona knew she couldn’t take everything he said at face value.
“Everything I have told you, I have told only you, and I can talk my way out of any of it.”
“I am telling others just as I am doing now, slowly.”
So which is it, Roman? You can’t have both.

Clenching his jaw in thought, Roman continued, “I intend to minimize the threat of both the criminal syndicate and rebel cell in this city and this kingdom. If either of them win, many innocent people will die.” reiterating the reason he was talking to her in the first place.

Riona frowned slightly. One second they’re discussing vampires, the next he’s on about criminal syndicates and rebels again? Sure, he mentioned the vampires having a powerful employer, and maybe he thought there was a connection with the criminal syndicates, but the rebels? Really? No
 This felt less like altruism and more like a wolf eyeing up the neighbor’s henhouse.

Then again


Innocent people would die regardless of who won: the syndicate, the rebels, or the current regime. They were dying now even as they spoke. Not in battlefields or massacres... but quietly.

Absent-mindedly, his hand reached up and rubbed his necklace spreading the red liquid across its surface. His arm ached from the spell’s and burned from the inflammation of his blood bond. It was up past his elbow now with the intricate pattern beginning to flare red across his skin.

His gaze was pulled away from the ache in his arm and back to her. He could tell her of the relics they brought with them but that might kill him. “Hidden in a secret compartment in my personal chest is a book. You need a magnet to lift the bottom of the chest out. The book is magic and it's old, I've been translating the book for some time.” showing her the crystal he gripped in his hand, “I found it deep in a mountain, on a pedestal of obsidian surrounded by crystals, jem’s, and jewels growing from the surrounding stone.”

The memory of the place made him sigh, it was peaceful there. “The crystals hold magic better than any other medium I have found. They are used in these trees as they absorb the spell we cast during our ritual here
 this should make the effects of the spell last longer in this area.” should was the key word there although they understood some of what these crystals were for they didn't have a true understanding of them.

Fascination lit up Riona’s eyes. This was the stuff straight out of a novel or one of her cousin’s adventures—secret compartments, magic books, mountain crystals—each detail ignited her curiosity. “So this spell,” she said, gesturing at the trees. “What’s it actually supposed to do?” More importantly. “Can you teach me how to use those crystals?... Rune magic?”

Again she was met with silence as he regarded her. The silence continued as he removed the last of the stones from the last tree. Roman didn't even regard her again until after the spell was cast leaving his arm looking almost like the tree behind him. His breath became more strained with the use of the last spell.

“Peace, Luck, and healing.” he started as he retrieved a small bottle from his hip pouch. “A powerful ritual conducted at the same time as sixteen other similar rituals were performed across all three of the major kingdoms in hidden locations.” A sigh escaped him; he was not looking forward to what he had to do next.

Peace, Luck, and healing. The words echoed in her mind, taunting her. If true, it changed things.

Riona’s hand drifted to her chest, fingers splaying over the ever-present fire within. She thought she enjoyed her time in the forest because of the tranquility nature brought
 well, naturally. But if it was magically induced?

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She might need to stop coming here.

For all she knew, the rune’s magic could be mucking with her own. Weakening it. Hells, maybe even be powerful enough to just undo what she had been working for for all these years entirely.

Riona’s grip tightened over her heart. Would she need to destroy these? The thought of it made her stomach twist with guilt. It felt like kicking puppies—if puppies were arcane safeguards meant to protect people. People. That meant them too: the Danroses.

Why?... If this was always here, why didn’t it protect us when we needed it the most?

“It affects everyone and everything differently, but it's a slow burn spell and will take its time. Until then chaos will be a normal occurrence while the natural world shifts to realign its balance.”

Roman’s concern about the rebels suddenly clicked into place: if he followed some Druidic philosophy, one that emphasized balance between chaos and order, then of course he’d be wary of sudden upheaval. Even if he claimed to care for the downtrodden.

Surely he must know that discontent doesn’t sprout from contentment. People didn’t risk their lives, their families, for trivial reasons. No, this unrest had deep roots—poverty, oppression, desperation: imbalance.

A sharp breath in and then a grimace, “Fuck.” spoken through gritted teeth as the green slimy concoction flowed from the bottle and over his arm. Audible sizzling and the strong stench of hard solvents filled the air. Pain evident on his face while he tried to think of something else, the bleeding slowly replaced by the dripping of the ooze.

Riona visibly flinched at his pain, hand raised to reach over to him before she stopped herself.

“If the information you get me is
 good, I can teach you a
 little at a time. It would count as some of your
 payment.” Romans eyes flared and his arm shook while biting back the pain. “I
 I can arrange it so that we pair up for the
 up-upcoming camping event.”

Riona forced herself to nod, her eyes never leaving Roman. The acrid smell of chemicals made her nose wrinkle. “I’ll... see you at the camping event then,” she managed, her throat tight. “Are you done casting spells?”

The moment he grunted an affirmative, Riona didn’t hesitate. She grabbed his uninjured arm. “Come on,” she said, tugging him towards the nearest spring, her grip firm but gentle. “We’re patching you up. Now.” Her tone brooked no argument.

Glancing back, she grimaced at the ooze and blood. “First, we’re getting that off you,” Riona said, “Then I’ll whip up something for the pain with what I can. Any allergies I should know about?”

“One more thing to do.” He placed two rolls of cloth next to them and a clear bottle with an amber colored viscous liquid inside, “the honey will help with the burns
 it needs to look like an accident at the forge.” he neither hesitated or explained more.

He didn't let her respond with a flick of his hand. The lighter he had retrieved from his pouch sparked to life. A bright white and orange flash traveled across his left arm burning off the ooze and searing his flesh.

His right hand plunged into the ground as deep breaths took him over. The pain was intense but far from the worst he has been through. The fall down the mountain when the rope snapped was still his least favorite experience. At the very least his shaman would be able to get it his hand working again by the morning.

“Ok
 ok
 now you can take care of it and no, I only have issues with Raspberries.” he spoke between breaths. Many years of training and work kicked in to keep himself calm and controlled. Mostly it was getting his mind over it, physically this would just be a few more scars on his arm in a few weeks. A benefit of the curse he thought.

Riona’s stomach lurched as Roman’s flesh sizzled. The stench of burning skin hit her nostrils, memories resurfaced, and she swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat. Sh*t. This was bad. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus. Burns. She could treat burns.

“Keep your hand under the water,” she ordered, guiding his hand into the cool spring. “I’ll be right back.”

She darted into the underbrush, eyes scanning for anything useful. There—yarrows. And there—comfrey and plantain leaves. Into the basket they went. With her knife, she scored the bark of a willow tree, peeling back a strip to reveal the pale inner layer. Carefully shaving off what she needed, Riona snapped off a leafy branch, then sprinted back to Roman.

He did what he was told, the pain in his arm momentarily overpowering his train of thought. This might not have been the best idea but at least she is able to work like this. His thoughts ran over all the information he passed onto her, wondering if he made the right decision hiring her.

Back at the spring, she set Roman’s arm to air dry while she prepped. Riona rinsed the plants and her mouth before grinding them with her teeth into paste. It wasn’t exactly sanitary, but this would have to do. Her cotton skirt tore with a satisfying rip—damnit. Roman’s bandages. Could’ve used those. Ah well, waste not, want not.

Gently, she daubed the herbal paste over Roman’s angry red skin, layering willow leaves atop it before wrapping everything securely with the cloth. “Why are you doing all this?” Riona finally asked. “Out of the goodness of your heart? A sense of duty?... Why?”

Silence was all she was met with. He was obviously thinking. Either not knowing the answer or deciding how to answer. His gaze moved from his arm to meet hers, “you could say it's duty
” again silence his stare looking as if he was looking at something a thousand miles away. “My will is not entirely my own.” the confidence in his voice wavered for the first time during their conversation, his gaze shifting to his right arm.

“My will is not entirely my own.”

An unexpected, familiar ache rose in Riona’s chest. She understood—maybe not in the same way, not in the way Roman lived it every day—but she knew it through her cousin. A kind of curse that binds and hollows out a person bit by bit. Her mother had distanced them from the burden the family carried, carving out a life far from the duties that consumed those left behind. It had spared Riona the responsibility, but her cousin hadn’t been so lucky.

Then there was the more literal type of curse

“...it’s the alter personality or twin soul curses you have to be worried about.”

Her fingers slowed as she finished securing the last knot. “I’m sorry,” Riona said to Roman, but also to the memory of her cousin. “It’s not fair
”

“If you are doing this for everyone’s sake
 then thank you.” Riona withdrew her hands. “I hope there’s something or someone in your life that makes it all worthwhile.”

Again her answer was silence and a thousand yard stare. His thoughts replaying memories, quick flashes of suffering and strife, love and loss, only to end with death and rage. His gaze returned to hers, his confidence returning with a hint of anger. Not at her or the pain in his arm, no this was an anger towards the world.

... The spell fed on that anger, the hate, as it always did. And grew.

“There was once. I might be able to find someone again.” The large man stood pulling down his jacket sleeve carefully then slipped on his gloves. “I appreciate what you have done but don't thank me, at the end of this summer we may end up being enemies.” the man paused as if remembering something. “There was one other thing I have to pay you with but I'll talk to you more about it at the camping event. I wish you the best of luck in all your endeavors Riona.”
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Hidden 1 mo ago 1 mo ago Post by Tpartywithzombi
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Tpartywithzombi “Strong women are absolutely unpredictable.”

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Dear Count Fritz,

I trust this letter finds you well. I wanted to extend my gratitude for your generous offer at the masquerade. The idea you proposed was startling at first but
 perhaps with another conversation, we could discuss things further.

Given my... condition, it wouldn’t be as simple. I would appreciate it if we could discuss the matter further. Please let me know where and when would be the best to meet with you. If the offer is still available.

Yours sincerely,
Violet
Violet & FritzPart 1

TRIGGER WARNING: Talk about blood

Mentions: Roman @reusablesword Alexander @FunnyGuy

Location: Polite Inn

Time: Nighttime



Ryn savored the warmth and aroma of his tea in the Polite Inn’s grand yet cozy lobby. Dark wood paneling, lamps of various shapes and sizes, and lush plants dotting the room framed an array of strategically placed portraits. Intricately patterned rugs softened the gleaming hardwood floors, while an elegant chandelier hung above. He’d chosen this meeting place with care—safe enough for Lady Damien to visit unescorted, but not so high-end as to attract attention to the rendezvous of two nobles, a guest room upstairs for privacy, and a convenient washroom to clean up should the need arise.

Movement at the entrance caught his eye. Lady Damien glided through the arched entryway, her presence immediately commanding the room. Ryn’s face lit up. He set his tea aside and rose to greet her, one hand raised in an enthusiastic wave. “Lady Violet, I’m so happy to see you. How have you been?”
Pulling down the black hood of her cloak, Violet offered a faint smile to Lord Fritz, though it didn’t reach her eyes. She was dressed in her familiar black attire, but tonight there was something different—something unsettling. Her gown, usually high-necked and modest, had been replaced by one with a daringly low neckline, plunging enough to reveal a large scar that snaked from her chest, up her neck, like a jagged reminder of a past that refused to heal. The once-concealed mark now lay bare for him to see, each raised edge telling the story of her pain.

Her red eyes locked onto his, but they held none of the anger that once simmered within them. They were hollow, darkened with an eerie emptiness. Back in the garden, her rage had been palpable, like the sharp crackle of a flame barely contained. But now, standing before him, that fire had burned out, leaving behind only cold ashes. The vivid red of her irises felt more like an abyss, swallowing any remnants of life or warmth she once held.
There was no spark in her gaze, no anger, no passion—just an unsettling void. Even the smile she gave him felt fragile like it could shatter into sorrow at any moment.

“Good evening, Lord Fritz” his enthusiasm for this meeting didn’t go unnoted considering its topic. “I’m glad to see you in good health aswell. I’ve been alright I suppose. Surviving as we all do. Yourself?” She asked as she set her cloak down over the chair.

The smile on Ryn’s face slowly faded as he took in Lady Damien’s hollow expression. It was markedly different from the vacant stare she wore when she had just been resurrected. Where once there had been fire, now only ashes remained. “I’m surviving as well,” he replied, “though I dare say my spirits are a tad higher than yours at present.” He searched her face for any hint of the reason behind this change. The question “What happened?” hovered on his lips, but instead, he gently cupped her cold hands in his own.

Violet’s eyes dropped down to his hands grabbing hers in his false attempt at comforting her. She offered him a smile. “ I assure you I am fine. Nothing to worry over. Just a long morning.

Ryn’s dark eyes met her gaze, his concern on full display. The silence stretched between them, before he donned his cheerful demeanor once more.

“Have you eaten?” he asked. “I brought you some
 delicacies I’d like you to try, if you’re feeling up to the task.” Ryn reached for a trunk positioned beside his chair.

Adjusting herself to sit down into the chair she looked at the large trunk he seemed to be reaching towards scared of what lay under it. If it was what she thought, she was possibly in a dangerous position.

Looking around the Tavern nervously, it was nearly empty with only a few patrons who seemed to be minding their own. Turning back to his attention she leaned into the table to see what exactly it was that he brought.

With a click, the latches surrendered, revealing rows of glass bottles nestled in plush velvet. Each contained various shades of crimson liquid, from the bright scarlet of fresh-picked cherries to the deepest garnet, with every shade of ruby and burgundy between.

“As I was uncertain of your dietary restrictions, I procured an assortment of samples for you to taste,” Ryn explained, carefully avoiding any mention of blood in a public setting. “Consider it a kind of wine-tasting.”

His eyes sparkled with excitement as he looked at her like starlights on a moonless night.

Violet leaned back in the chair, her expression softening as she stared at the sealed vials before her. Though the blood inside was safely contained, preventing its scent from reaching her, she felt the thin barrier was the only thing standing between her and chaos. For now, her self-control held firm, but she couldn’t help but wonder what might happen if just one of those vials were opened.

“That is very kind of you
” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She knew the meager amount of blood in those vials would hardly satisfy her growing hunger, but she wouldn’t burden him with that truth. It had been far too long since she’d fed, and even the smallest wound could push her over the edge. A mere cut from a finger might unravel her restraint, and yet here sat an entire case of blood, taunting her, teasing her with its unattainable promise of relief.

"Early for some wine, but I much prefer it from the source," she said with a sly, toothy grin. The gleam in her eyes darkened, hinting at the hunger that simmered beneath her teasing words. The playful smile she flashed was laced with something far more dangerous, a subtle but undeniable threat lurking in the shadows of her gaze.

“Naturally,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Most everything tastes better when it’s fresh off the vine or out of the oven, doesn’t it? However, circumstances may conspire to narrow one’s options.”

Leaning in slightly, Ryn’s voice took on a more serious note. “I think it’d be for your benefit to explore the boundaries of your dietary restrictions with an open mind.”

He leaned even closer, whispering, “Who knows? You might discover a predilection for a bred heifer, heavy with her first calf, and find out you’re violently allergic to human, male, age twenty, banker.”

“These are just appetizers.” Ryn said as he pulled away. His fingers adjusted his tie, the motion drawing subtle attention to his neck. “I have something more substantial in mind for the main course.”

“ But 
 we have business to discuss first. Amongst some other things.

Ryn tilted his head to the side. “This sounds serious. Would you like to move upstairs? I have a room reserved for us if you want privacy.”

“ Should by me a drink first Lord Fritz before inviting me to your room.” she teased in her attempt to lighten the mood. She looked over at the bar raising two fingers to signal some drinks over.

He chuckled, “You’re absolutely right. Where are my manners?”

Turning her attention back to Fritz she let out a soft sigh “ I want you to understand that this conversation is not an easy one for me. I struggled to even write the letter to you in the first place. she admitted as some drinks were brought over to their table. Two glasses of whiskey sat neatly between them before the bartender hurried off.
“ What made you so interested in starting this wine business? She looked over at the trunk “ You seem rather versed in your own knowledge of it.

“Because I want to help you where I can, of course.” And it was truly as simple as that. “Whether I am versed at it, is a matter of debate,” Ryn added, lifting the whiskey to his lips. The whiskey burned a path down his throat, igniting a warmth that spread through his chest.

Violet reached for her glass as well, tossing back the glass before setting it down.

“My family and I are no stranger to
” he paused, searching for another word to replace the one he wanted to use, “the ‘unusual.’ So in that regard, I am more knowledgeable than the average person.” A smirk crossed Lady Damien’s lips.

He leaned against the back of his chair, hands clasped loosely, as his gaze settled on her. “Why do you ask?”

“ The idea of help is a foreign one for me. I suppose I am waiting for some kind of payment or expectation yet you seem to be offering it so freely. I am trying to understand why.” Her hand reached for the empty glass as her fingers idly fidgeted with it.

“If it would set your mind at ease, I could certainly attach some conditions to my generosity.” He tapped his chin in mock contemplation. “Perhaps you might be required to join me for tea in the gardens, or form a book club with me. We could gather a circle of literary minds to debate the merits of brooding heroes and swoon-worthy villains, with the losers owing the winner a dramatic reading of their choosing.”

She let out a soft chuckle, one that was truly genuine as she seemed to relax against the chair. Her eyes were still dark but there was a glimmer of light still in them. Her eyes dropped down to the glass as her mind wandered. “ I think I can make that work, book club may need to be in the evenings though” she joked “I will say that is the first time I've been referred to as unusual...”

“You,” Ryn interjected. Lady Damien’s crimson eyes looked up from the glass to meet his. “Are extraordinary.” Then winked at her, she smiled softly in return.

The silence between them simmered for a moment. " Have you ever heard of the tale of the beast?” She broke the silence with a simple question.

Oh, he knew of beasts aplenty—one in particular, he knew very well. “The Beast, you say? I’ve heard many tales of beasts. Which one were you thinking of? Do share.”

” This one is just a silly child's story, Was thinking about it today. Its no matter, kind of a silly question. She waved over the bartender with another drink as he placed it down in front of her.

” Truthfully, I am just very nervous about this agreement. She admitted. “A lot of unknowns for me. It's all feels very intimate and that is foreign territory.” She grabbed her drink, and before she finished speaking she had already finished her glass off.

Flinching slightly as it went down, she started to feel more relaxed. She held the glass lazily in her hand.

Ryn’s eyes tracked the arc of Lady Damien’s glass as it lifted, tipped, emptied. Amber liquid vanished in a heartbeat. He recognized the telltale signs of someone seeking the age-old remedy for nerves: liquid courage. “I understand,” he said in a low voice and gave her the time to gather her thoughts.

” I do have something to give you in return for helping me
 It might not be something you’ll like but hopefully, something you appreciate. Maybe if you decide to be a returning customer we can discuss that book club.”

“A customer? 
 Ah, when you said business, you truly meant business.” Ryn sat up straighter in chair. “Very well, Lady Violet, please do continue. I’m all ears.”

“ I
 Violet froze in her seat for a moment “What did you think this was?” she asked curiously her voice holding slight caution but held concern. “ I didn’t mean to offend you. The bookclub remark was intended to be a joke but I suppose my humor is rather dull. Which caused him to chuckle.

“I thought I was taking my nightlife friend out for dinner.” Ryn’s laughter faded into a gentle smile. He reached across the table, his hand coming to rest reassuringly atop hers. “Don’t worry, no offense taken.” He gave her hand a light pat before withdrawing.

Friend


She didn't have many of those. She felt the darkness linger behind her eyes but as she continued to drink its presence seemed to linger less but continued to remind her it wasn't all that gone. Just waiting for its see moment.

“ Dinner. With a friend.” She nodded “ I like the sound of that.” Smiling, she waved down another drink. “I just need this whole arrangement. I've been informed of some things but
” Her red eyes look up at him, holding its stare as the darkness that lingered made itself known through her gaze “I am afraid I may end up doing something I regret.” She omitted “ a loss of restraint. I don't seem to possess that
the last time
” her mind flashed back to the kiss, tasting Roman's blood on her lips as the darkness consumed her like a rushing wave of need. Then the slap.

“I hurt someone I really care about, I'm not sure he 
 I don't know. “ She said with a troubled mind. “he slapped me in the face
I don't know maybe it was to pull me from 
whatever was happening but the look on his face.” Violet's heart sank. “ I feel like that is what really hurts. I see this monster just looking back at me in the mirror but when I tasted him it was like I lost all control of my body and my mind. Something else took over and I'm scared it may happen here.” Her voice was soft like a whisper just enough for the two of them to hear. Her eyes wandered his face for any reaction. Maybe she said too much, but she still didn't understand it herself.

Ryn listened intently, his expression solemn as Lady Damien’s words hung in the air between them. “I am sorry it happened that way,” he said softly. “But I’m certain he only meant to snap you out of it. Not because he thought you a monster. I feel like he would’ve done more than just slap you if he did.”

Violet seemed to relax at his explanation confirming what she had thought herself but was uncertain if she was trying to find resolve.

A chuckle escaped him, “I’ve seen it before, you know. Friends who’d sooner tackle each other into a mud puddle than let one another spiral. It’s messy and imperfect, but it comes from a good place.” She smiled softly.

His lips curved into a gentle smile. “I’m sure your special someone acted out of love, not condemnation.”

“I’d rather see myself dead before I harm him.” her voice dropped. He slowly nodded in response.

Ryn leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering. “I trust you, Violet. I see the compassion that held you back from that masquerade, the fear for my safety. These aren’t the hallmarks of a monster.”

Their gazes interlocked. Ryn’s voice carried the quiet strength of absolute certainty. “You will not kill me,” he stated.

“You can't be certain of that,” she replied taking a large sip of her whiskey it wouldn't be the first time she’s killed someone.

“True,” he said. “But I choose to trust you with my life because I have faith in you.”

“I hope you are right. “ she paused “I know that this person can handle himself with little concern but
 If he out of all people saw me as I see myself. I think that it would be safe to say I did become that monster.” Her shoulders relaxed as she leaned back, chugging back the rest of her drink. She tilted the glass in her hand “ He was the one person who always saw me
” she said softly as if remembering something.

“Anyways
 The news I have. When would you like it? I’m afraid it's not good but perhaps there is a solution.” she smiled “Before or after our wine sampling
” Her red eyes seemed to darken at the mention of it.

After studying her for a moment, Ryn answered, “When would feel right to you?”

“After
if you do die, well you won't have to worry about it, and no sense in worrying you before that.” she smirked at her rather dark joke.

Her macabre jest elicited a burst of laughter from Ryn, warm and genuine despite the somber topic. “In that case, might I ask a favor of you?” he began. “Should I not survive this ordeal, would you see to it that my remains are returned to my family?”

He paused briefly. “If that proves difficult, ensure nothing remains of my body, but let my family know of my passing. You can spare them the details.” His eyes fluttered closed, “And if you're feeling particularly charitable, tell them I’m sorry I failed.”

“You can tell them yourself when you're 90 years old
” she said with a soft smile, offering a small, but genuine, attempt at reassurance. Her voice, though calm, carried the weight of uncertainty beneath it. “So
 dinner. Friends.” She repeated their agreement slowly, as if testing the words on her tongue. “I’ve never really had a friend.” Her confession hung in the air, bittersweet. "Roman
 well, I suppose he counts. But I don’t usually go around kissing my friends...” She paused, the alcohol loosening her tongue more than she intended. The words slipped out, followed by a half-hearted shrug.

A coquettish grin played at the corners of his mouth as he added, “Is Lord Ravenwood the special someone you mentioned earlier?” The name had been a calculated guess. “Roman” wasn’t uncommon in this continent, but the strapping lord was the only one Ryn could imagine Lady Damien crossing paths with in her circles. He watched her carefully, searching for minute changes that would confirm or deny his suspicion more surely than any words she might speak. Lady Damien’s eyes widened slightly as her cheeks pinkened. She reached for her glass avoiding eye contact as she finished off her whiskey.

Clearing her throat, she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, the fabric beneath her rustling as she fidgeted. Her crimson eyes flicked back to Fritz, locking onto his with an intensity that lingered in the air between them, as if he were searching her soul for answers.

“Roman?” she echoed, her voice trying to sound casual, accompanied by a sheepish smile. The act didn’t last long. She exhaled deeply, the tension in her shoulders easing as she gave in. “I suppose I made it rather obvious, didn’t I
” Her sigh was one of quiet defeat, her gaze dropping for a moment before she gathered the courage to continue.

“Yes, it was him
 is him,” she admitted, her voice softer now, tinged with regret. “I wanted to scare him away, to make him leave before he saw the... monster I’ve become.” Her words trembled as they left her lips, the shame in her voice undeniable. “Seems it worked,” she murmured, her fingers gently folding in her lap as she crossed one leg over the other. “I haven’t seen him since, so I guess I got my wish.”

Her hands tightened slightly, her knuckles paling. “It’s for the best. I don’t know how I’d live with myself if I hurt him. It was only a small taste this time but
 what if it hadn’t been? What if I killed him?” Her voice cracked at the thought, eyes distant, haunted by a fear she couldn’t shake.

“Sorry, maybe this is too inappropriate. I guess I don’t know what friends talk about,” she admitted, her gaze drifting off as she tried to grasp the concept. Her thoughts wandered to the novels she’d devoured over the years—stories filled with dark romances, complicated relationships, and secrets. The women in those books always seemed to gossip about their love lives, their hearts entangled in someone else’s story. In those worlds, gossip was gold, a currency of connection.

“Friendship needn’t be confined by others’ definitions. It can be whatever you want it to be.” His eyes twinkled. “Be your charming self and the rest will fall into place naturally.”

She let out a quiet breath, her expression softening. “How about you?” she asked attempting to change the subject.” Did anyone catch your eye? Or maybe some new friends?” Her voice took on a wistful tone as if searching for something to hold onto. “I need a distraction.” she pleaded hoping he would go along.

After a long pause, Ryn finally said. “Aside from you?” He chuckled, “Well, it’s hard not to have my eye caught by everyone here. So many fabulous people are bedazzling me at every turn I’m practically in a constant state of whiplash.”

But even as the words left his mouth, faces flickered through his mind—fleeting images he might have dismissed as stray thoughts, had her question not prompted deeper reflection. “Even if there are a few individuals who linger in my thoughts more persistently than others, whether I can pursue them romantically is... a little complicated.”

“I think I understand complicated more than most.” She added with a reassuring smile.

Ryn’s fingers drummed an absent rhythm on his knee as he considered the question about friends. “I’d like to believe I am making some headway with new friends, but
 I cannot help feeling as though there is a barrier between us, which prevents us from becoming good friends. I’m not entirely sure how to bridge that gap,” he confessed.

“Time
 I would imagine,” she murmured, her voice trailing off as her thoughts drifted. She paused, eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation. “Sharing something with them—something you wouldn’t normally tell anyone else,” she added, her words slow, deliberate, as if she were unraveling a truth buried deep within.

Her mind wandered to Alexander, the secrets they had exchanged, the intimate confessions that felt too dangerous to share with anyone else. With him, she had revealed her darkest thoughts, her most raw vulnerabilities. He, too, had shared some in return, creating an interesting dynamic that she had yet to understand. Then there was Roman—Roman, who had also come to know her, but in a way that felt worlds apart from Alexander. Roman saw Violet in a way that made her feel human, made her feel seen. With him, she wasn’t a creature of darkness, but something almost normal, someone deserving of affection, of warmth.

But Alexander
 Alexander forced her to confront the monster within. He stripped away the illusions and made her face the darker side of herself, showing her how to embrace it, how to understand it. In his presence, she could no longer hide from the truth of what she was.

Both men stirred something profound within her, but in entirely different ways. Roman brought a sense of humanity, grounding her in a reality she longed for, while Alexander illuminated the shadows, urging her to accept the very thing she feared. It left her standing in a fog of blurred lines, unable to distinguish who she truly was, or where she stood with either of them. She struggled to reconcile the two versions of herself they had uncovered, wondering which was more real—and which was more dangerous.

Smiling, she shook off the weight of her wandering thoughts, her gaze refocusing on Lord Fritz. “You’re a very lovely person, Lord Fritz,” she said warmly, her voice soft yet sincere. A playful glint sparked in her eyes as she continued, “I’m certain it’s only a matter of time before others see that too. And, if nothing else, you’re already off to a great start—because you’ve made a new friend in me.”

Ryn blinked a few times before he returned the smile with equal sincerity, “Thank you Lady Violet.”

Her lips curved into a mischievous grin as she reached for her freshly filled whiskey glass. Her hands, unsteady from the drinks she had already consumed, trembled slightly as she raised the glass between them. “We should toast,” she declared, her grin widening, “to new friends and to the tangled web of complicated relationships.”

Ryn raised his cup. “To tangled webs and complicated relationships,” he echoed. “May they be less convoluted than a Caldwell Thornewicke novel.” Their glasses met with a crystalline chime, the delicate sound drifting above the lobby’s soft murmur like a stray note of music.

With a final appreciative sip, Ryn set his emptied glass on the table’s polished surface. “Now then,” he ventured, “shall we head upstairs? Or do you think you can maintain composure if you were to ‘wine-taste’ here?” His fingers brushed the trunk’s edge, a subtle reminder of its crimson contents. The unspoken option—to drink directly from him first, before the samples—hung in the air between them. Ryn’s raised eyebrow and slight tilt of his head made it clear: the choice was entirely hers.

Her eyes flickered towards the staircase, thoughts wandering as her pulse began to race. The creeping darkness that relentlessly plagued her mind seemed to giggle with sadistic delight, feeding off the anticipation. She glanced down at the half-filled glass in her hand, the deep red liquid sloshing faintly before she tipped it back, draining the contents in one swift motion, her throat burning as the warmth spread.

"Yes... upstairs would be best," she whispered, her voice barely audible, laced with the weight of her decision.
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Hidden 1 mo ago Post by Lava Alckon
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Farim & Wulfric

Time and Date: FLASHBACK: Sola 25th, early afternoon, before Wulfric's meeting with Nicholas



It was just past noon, and Wulfric had returned from an enjoyable time at the opera, which he had attended with Nahir. He was taking care of paperwork in his office while he waited for his invitee to arrive.

All things considered, the Shahzade was more or less on time. At a knock, Wulfric permitted entry, and the servant who had escorted the foreign prince opened the doors. Wulfric gave a single nod to the employee - a signal they were to be left alone. Despite hosting a guest, the eldest Danrose heir hadn’t had any refreshments prepared. Not even a single glass of water. “Take a seat, Shahzade.” A thin, polite smile flitted into sight, only to disappear without a trace. His gaze was pure frost, a fierce stare stabbing into the man with the chilling intensity of an ice-pick. “I believe we both know why I have requested your presence,” he said once the Alidasht prince had settled onto one of his couches. “So, I will cut to the chase.” He cocked his head to the side, studying the man as if he were a bug he would squash if it annoyed him too much.

“You expressed to me your intent to court my sister. If you were as sincere as I had thought you to be
Why. Are. You. Fooling around?”

Farim made his way inside - unaware of the predicament set before him. He unknowingly stepped into the belly of the beast, and as soon as it became apparent what the tone of this meeting was - his usual pleasant demeanor melted into one of concern and mild bewilderment.

“I suppose you are speaking of this morning. I admit - it was a bit bold of me to act so brazenly so soon. Old habits and all.” The man crossed his arms and moved one leg to rest on his knee. “But let us speak plainly. What about my actions suggest I am not sincere? What about my approach suggests I am simply fucking around?

“Everything.” He paused, taking a moment to observe Farim, and to restrain the silently seething fury deep within. “You were rubbing against my sister, no better than a dog in heat. You encouraged that lap dance for your own self-gratification. Your fingers were in places they have no business being, not until after an engagement. Certainly never in public. That so far exceeds ‘a bit’ of boldness I have to question if you are delusional,” he shook his head, disdain radiating off of him.

“And you speak to me of old habits? So, ‘fucking around’ is nothing new to you. What, then, indicates your commitment? Why would you seek to marry her, if you can fuck her for fun? Why bother courting her when you can have your fun and move on? Why would she tie herself to you when you are only one more man in a long line of playboys?” He laid his palms upon his desk, leaning forward as he narrowed his eyes, expecting answers.

The man raised his hands to eye level - as if he were facing an officer of the law. “It seems there are some key misunderstandings. About me. About my methods. And about my nature of pursuing someone as emotionally complex as Anastasia.” Farim brought his hands and interlaced his fingers over the cap of his knee. “So, allow me to straighten the record - and apologize for any misgivings.” He paused, finding the precise words he wanted to convey his message.

“A little about me to start. In my youth I was what one would call a ‘playboy’. A philanderer. Being son of the Grand Vizier, as regretful as it was, had some perks. But as I grew older, wiser, it became clear that such walks of life were not what I wanted. Not what I needed. So I set out to create the trading company you may know of called Farim’s Dream. Because I have a dream. One I can detail for you now if you so wish - but the focus right now is me and your sister.” His eyes seemed to lock onto Wulfric’s as he spoke. An equally warm yet calm demeanor to rival the icy stare that Wulfric had given him.

“Furthermore, in my homeland, such displays of affection are fairly common amongst our nobility.”

“Bullshit.” Wulfric had merely listened to the man thus far, unimpressed. The ‘cultural differences’ excuse had earned Farim a scathing response, however.

“I will admit even for our standards it was on the touchy side, but when I speak of old habits, that is what I am referring to. ‘Courting’ back home and ‘courting’ here contain two separate connotations. And it is a fine line I am walking. So I extend a sincere apology for overstepping.”

“It is not a ‘fine line’. I have been to Alidasht, and I have some familiarity with your courting procedures. The only place where your behaviour would be considered appropriate, even in your own country, is a brothel.” He looked down at the man. “But perhaps, the habits of your royalty are entirely different to the ones I’ve observed among your countrymen. I wonder, just which of your family members would lend credence to your words?” he scoffed as he questioned rhetorically.

Farim moved his legs to plant his feet on the ground - as if to take a stance both verbally and physically. “But here is where I must wholeheartedly disagree with you, dear Crown Prince.” His tone dropped, and Farim decided to match the slight disapproval in Wulfrics tone with his own.

“In what world do you think going about things ‘normally’ would be what it took to win your sister’s heart? A woman who is shielded by the very fun and thrills she seeks to escape a fear she is far too vulnerable to conquer on her own. What right do I have to bring sudden change in her life - nonetheless in the form of some stuffy, fake, dressed up image that only others find acceptable.” Farim then leaned onto the desk, still matching Wulfric’s eyes. “Forgive my assumptions, dear brother. But I am giving Annie what she wants AND what she needs. No one is going to get any closer to her heart without dancing her dance. I will make no progress trying to win her admiration through simple means. To venture out of her comfort zone - she will need someone in that very safe space in order to guide her towards something more
.meaningful. And even then...” His voice boomed at the last word. “It may still not be enough - for the final choice is with her.” Farim leaned back in his chair.

“It may not be,” Wulfric agreed. “What she wants and what she needs aren’t one and the same,” he shook his head. “I will not decide in her stead what it is that she needs. But please, do not try to pretend as if your own desires had no play in your actions. Because I do not believe for a second that all these reasonings you’ve pulled out of a hat right now were what led you to make a public spectacle of yourself.” He exhaled forcefully but had calmed down during the conversation. “I never said nor meant to imply that you ought to court her exactly according to the prescribed manner. However, throwing caution to the wind, and going to the other extreme is not the answer. I admit, I had expected better of you than to act like a two-bit manslut who can’t keep his hands - or other parts - to himself.”

“Call me whatever you like. A dog in heat. A foreign fucktoy. The next pretty face on her to-do list. I have heard it all. But do not dare suggest that I am not giving her my best and only my best.” The harsh tone in his words finally settled as he crossed his arms once more “Just because the journey is wild and strange does not mean the destination is not pure.” He paused before adding one final note. “Considering how close you are getting with my cousin - you may just learn firsthand how wild things can be with my family.” His cool and collected expression broke with a sly smirk, only to return to his neutral disposition. “Sorry. Went a little raw and untapped for a second there. But I hope that quells your concerns.”

“I am afraid not, Shahzade,” he sighed. But it was worry which furrowed his brow now rather than anger. “There is a proper time, place, and occasion for all things. I would not have approached you so forcefully had you chosen to have your fun with Anastasia in private. Mind, I would certainly disapprove of such a thing as well. But having been raised as a royal man in Alidasht, it appears you are entirely blind to the social consequences which my sister could face. It is true that she doesn’t care, but I had hoped you might.” He regarded the other man for a long moment.

Farim sighed, his shoulders dropping as he fully extended his exhale, and just as smoothly straightened his posture. “Look, Prince Wulfric. I will take the blame for being such a 
 debaucherous foreigner. It would be remiss of me to shun one for not considering my own cultural normalities while not considering your own.” He paused in his words - swallowing the pride he clung to so that he could see things from Wulfric’s side. The man had the right idea, and proper intentions - an argument over semantics would do very little. “As little as my words may mean now, my intentions are more pure than my actions. I will make it a point to-”

“Your father approached mine with a marriage offer for Anastasia. Unfortunately, my father is a colossal idiot, and he believes handing her over to the Grand Vizier would keep her safe.” He paused, letting that sink in. “We both know it wouldn’t, don’t we?” he questioned softly.

“So, you can see now why I still have my concerns,” he concluded.

The man’s face instinctively scowled at the mention of Hafiz Kadir. “Oh, how that man vexes me
” He rubbed his temples in momentary frustrated contemplation. “You cannot let that man marry her. If she does then who knows where he may corral her like all his other wives
” Farim rested his face against his hand - dragging his thumb and forefinger across his cheek bones before looking up at Wulfric. “I plan to take care of this myself - but should I prove unsuccessful, I ask - no - I implore you to not let such a thing come to pass. I am genuinely unsure of what that man plans to do. But none of it will be good.”

“You needn’t ask, Shahzade. I will never let that man get anywhere close to my sister.”

Farim, visibly distressed, huffed a short breath and tapped his knuckle on Wulfric’s desk. “I will proceed in a manner more accustomed to your nation's ways of courting - but I also will not be a fake suitor to your sister. A balance will be struck, one that is more fitting of the public image you aspire to preserve.” The man calmed himself, pausing for the time to give the prince a moment of rebuttal.

Wulfric nodded. “That is agreeable. Despite everything, your intentions appear honest. Since we have, at the very least, Anastasia’s well-being in common interest, I propose an informal alliance. We both have our fathers to deal with, after all
” A neutral statement which could have several meanings. “My family will be hosting a banquet on the 28th. Make yourself available, and express to my father your interest in courting Anastasia. It would also behoove you to step forward as a formal witness to Anastasia’s assault at Lord Ravenwood’s ceremony. Be as factual as possible, and relay when you last saw her before she disappeared, and when you found her. I would not suggest keeping to yourself the suspicious appearance of those two coated men in her vicinity soon after you had happened upon her.”

Farim raised an eyebrow. “You suspect Dr. John had a part to play?”

Wulfric rolled a shoulder. “He may have, or he may not have. We cannot know without questioning him.”

He pondered the idea for a moment and exhaled slightly. “His presence was rather suspicious and Anastasia’s account further incriminates him.” The man rubbed his chin in contemplation, then looked once more into Wulfric’s eyes. “I find these terms rather amiable. I was looking forward to meeting the family properly anyway - I shall come to this banquet, and address the two problems therein. My only concern is if this arranged alliance is of any import - my father likely wants to use the political leverage of a national alliance as means to secure this marriage. Why wage a war when you can marry a princess?” His eyes rolled so far you would swear they were in the back of his head. “So, how do we trump this
” Farim paused before posing a question. “Forgive me for asking - would your father value opulence and wealth over the political safety of avoiding war?”

“To quote Edin, ‘Having a snake as your ally rather than your enemy is advantageous’,” Wulfric drawled mockingly. “Frankly, he is also the type of man who would gladly wage a war if he thought he could win it - and he is awfully overconfident. Though, if he were to set his sights on one of our neighbors, it would be Varian. I wonder if your father guessed at that
?” he shook his head. “Regardless, the short answer is no. Your wealth will be a benefit, but he will judge you by your political sway also. Flattery works best, and he is surprisingly easy to lure in with empty promises, especially if you back it up with some showy gifts. Like throwing breadcrumbs to the pigeons,” he snarked, shaking out his fingers to mimic hoodwinking.

Farim pondered the implications behind such things - what gifts would he bring? What political sway could he offer that would outweigh his father? Not much came to mind on the latter half - but the inklings of an idea formed, and so be smiled at the prince. “Having been raised by such a manipulative snake does unfortunately come with its benefits. I believe I can offer some persuasive ideas, promises, and certainly some fine gifts for such a man. Everything from silks derived from silkworms that were read the great Edinian Gospels and where the prayers of the many gods were sung over their pupafication, to works of pottery that reflect the bright radiance of his prominence and beneficial reign over Caesonia. Does this strike a chord with you, prince?” he smirked.

A matching humourous smile appeared in response. “A good start,” he nodded.

But this face returned to a more stoic one of contemplation. “But that part is easy. What might be tricky is convincing him I am more of a beneficiary than my father - who holds the grander title. However, perhaps my chance at claiming the Sun Throne may yet convince him - if not then I will make sure to remind him of the power of a good deal
” Farim waved his hand. The specifics would have to come later, and he would think about it. “So, in conclusion, be more civil, attend your family's banquet, and convince your father to allow me the privilege to have court with your sister over Hafiz. Easy enough.” Farim extended his hand for a handshake. “To keeping our families cared for and our countries at peace.”

“Agreed,” Wulfric shook the man’s hand. “Do not forget to give my sister a heads up on what you are planning to do, and why. Wouldn’t want to give her the wrong idea that you are only doing this for the political benefit, now would you?” he questioned rhetorically.
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Hidden 1 mo ago Post by princess
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FLASHBACK TO AFTERNOON

Time: Afternoon
Location: Castle Balcony facing courtyard
Mention:@ReusableSword Roman @Conscripts John @Tae Mina/Thea @JJ Doe Fritz/Ryn @Rodiak Zarai/ Matthias @Helo Leo



The courtyard outside the royal castle was bustling with activity as the crowd gathered in anticipation. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the stone walls, and the flags of Caesonia billowed in the breeze.

From the grand balcony overlooking the courtyard, King Edin stepped forward, flanked by his guards. His usually imposing presence was noticeably dimmed by the signs of indulgence from earlier in the day. His face looked tired and slightly puffy, his eyes bloodshot and drooping. Fortunately, makeup had taken care of the dark circles under his eyes at the least. Still, he commanded attention, even as the murmurs of the crowd hushed into silence. He glanced across the sea of faces, ensuring all eyes were on him before he raised a hand to speak. As he blinked, his eyelids seemed heavy, as though each movement required a conscious effort.

“Citizens of Caesonia!” Edin’s voice boomed with authority, “Today, I stand before you to address recent events concerning our esteemed Varian guests.”

His words lingered in the air, and for a moment, the crowd stood in tense silence. He paused, running a hand across his forehead as if the sunlight bothered his eyes, then continued.

“Last night, during the ceremony hosted by Lord Roman Ravenwood, one of our own was attacked in an act of madness,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. The king shifted on his feet, momentarily steadying himself against the railing. “Though the guard lives, this cannot go unpunished.”

The crowd was hushed, sensing both the gravity of the situation and the king’s clear frustration. Edin exhaled slowly before speaking again.

“We will not rush to judgment,” he continued, his voice slightly more hoarse, “but instead, grant Lord Ravenwood a trial—a public one.”

He sighed deeply, almost as if the effort of the speech was beginning to weigh on him. “Let it be known that our kingdom remains strong, even when challenged.”

“In addition to the trial, I wish to inform you all that on the 28th of this month, a grand banquet will be held within these very walls,” Edin declared, his tone taking on a more celebratory air. “This banquet will honor all our esteemed guests for the Courting Season. All members of noble houses are invited to feast at the grand table, as we celebrate the continuation of this season.”

However, his expression hardened as he shifted to the next point. “As for our Varian guests, their attendance at this banquet is not merely a matter of invitation but of obligation. I mandate that all Varian nobles present in our kingdom are required to attend this feast as we would like the brief opportunity to speak with them and hear their side of the story.”

“Let this banquet be a testament to Caesonia’s resilience and unity,” Edin continued. “We will dine, we will toast, and we will stand together as one. But know this—our strength will never waver.”

With that, the king gave a final nod to his people, signaling the end of the address.
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Hidden 1 mo ago Post by FunnyGuy
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Riona & Alexander

Time: Mid-Day (After Edin’s milky hands)
Location: Castle Gardens

“Finally.” Alexander sighed out into the empty garden of the castle, taking his first true breath outside the view of King Danrose and his royal guard. I should have worn it. Alexander dug into his breast pocket to retrieve the ring he had removed during his conversation with Violet Damien. Holding it up, he narrowed his eyes. I should have worn this damned relic of a ring. He had a mind to toss it across the garden so he'd never think of needing it ever again. The idea was tempting indeed, but instead, Alexander slipped the ring onto his left hand. He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath as if he were taking in all that the garden had to offer.

And just like that, like magic, Alexander appeared to relax. His brow unfurrowed, his shoulders slightly dropped, and most obvious of all was the pleasant smile he wore upon his face.

“Ahh, much better.”

That was when a dark-haired woman wearing a simple dress with a noticeable tear along one side appeared from behind a towering hedge.

Riona froze, eyes wide as she locked gazes with the well-dressed stranger who reacted with raised eyebrows. She ducked her head in a half-bow. “My lord,” she said and tried to scurry past before things got awkward but Alexander was too swift. He performed a quick side-step to impede Riona’s advance while wearing the warmest of smiles. A flash of annoyance tightened Riona’s jaw for a heartbeat before her face smoothed back to neutrality.

“Alexander Deacon.” He placed a hand on his chest with a slight head bow. “I respect the formality, I do, but I would much rather have a proper introduction with one of the staff considering my presence here will be a normal occurrence.” Alexander was guessing the woman was a servant of some kind judging by her attire and initial behavior in greeting him. Olive complexion, tall, long black hair, dark eyes
 Striking. His gaze upon her spoiled his thoughts of admiration and wonder concerning her exotic appearance compared to most. “Your name?”

Riona’s eyes narrowed to slits. An “Alexander Deacon” hadn’t come up in any of the staff meetings, and something about him set her nerves on edge. His gaze crawled over her, lingering like he was appraising livestock, making her skin prickle.

She eased back a step, angling her body to keep the torn portion of her dress out of sight. Her fingers curled tighter around the handle of her basket. The slight defensive change in posture was but a mental note for Alexander. “Pardon me, Mister Alexander Deacon,” Riona said, her voice steady despite the wariness inside her, “but who exactly are you, and what is your business here?”

“Apologies. Sometimes I'm much too modest. I should have opened with my newly given title.” Alexander exaggeratedly straightened up his posture, chin held high before he continued. “As of this morning, I am the Royal Advisor to the king,” he announced before flashing a toothy grin. “That is my only business here, milady, I swear.” He raised a hand in oath. What began as a playful admission would soon stir the pot of conspiracy.

Her eyes widened, shock plain on her face. “... What?” Riona breathed. Alden’s ransacked quarters pressed into her thoughts—and the blood. Gods. “... What happened to Sir Plannington?”

“Alden, you mean?” Alexander rubbed his chin in thought yet his face showed slight discomfort. There was reluctance but it was a simple facade. “I can't say I know for certain but I did hear a rumor or two, though they're not worth mentioning. What I know for sure, is that the position was left vacant by him.” He furrowed his brows with feigned concern, breaking away from his playful attitude “Is everything alright? Is there something I should know?”

Not worth mentioning, huh? “... Nothing that you don’t already know, I’m sure,” she replied, her tone carefully neutral. As the newly appointed Royal Advisor, Riona found Alexander’s apparent ignorance... convenient. At the very least he should know the state Alden’s room was left in
 right?


 But how much did he really know?

Her gaze swept across the garden as if she was about to reveal something that she wasn’t supposed to.

“Your predecessor vanished without a trace,” Riona stated in a hushed voice. She watched Alexander intently, hunting for a tell—a twitch, a blink, anything that might betray his true knowledge. His eyes widened slightly before narrowing as if Riona had offended him.

“Of course. One of the rumors. ‘Sir Alden Plannington vanished without a trace. Stolen in the night. By whom? For what? No one knows.’” Alexander shrugged before he leaned in close. “I personally believe he just couldn't handle working with the king and lacked the courage to formally resign. Things like this happen
 Unless there's more to it than what I’m aware of.” Alexander, leaning away now, crossing his arms. “Do I even want to know?” He asked aloud to himself.

“Considering he’s your predecessor, you should. The fact that you seem unbothered in the slightest concerns me.” Even if Alexander didn’t know about Alden’s disappearance, his blatant disregard for the whispers of the castle staff told Riona a lot about the new Advisor.

“And given how quickly you stepped into his shoes,” Riona continued, “I’d wager the rumor mill is just getting started. So, brace yourself.” She straightened, smoothing her dress. “It won’t be easy settling in as is.” Not when you had to deal with Edin every day. “Good luck.”

“Luck?” Alexander hated any mention of it to the point where he briefly furrowed his brow with disdain. “Listen, milady, as far as I know, and as you mentioned, Alden Plannington simply vanished. Perhaps the worst happened to him, perhaps the best.” Alexander turned slightly from her. “I wonder about it, sure, but I can't simply allow rumors to deter me
” He sighed deeply, almost defeatedly. “I’m not unbothered but I
” He winced as he seemed to fail to find the words but quickly collected himself. “Just know the risk is necessary. I aim to make the best of my life. To thrive and not simply survive, my nameless friend.” He was still looking off into the garden as he spoke.

Watching Alexander flounder, his earlier smoothness crack, Riona felt the tension in her muscles ease. “The risk, huh?” she mused.

“Yes, the risk.” He repeated softly while peering at her from the corner of his eye.

“I can respect ambition, as long as you’re not making other people pay the price for your ascension and you don’t see people as expendable pawns.”

“Oh, and since you seem to be allergic to luck? May the winds of fortune steadfastly ignore you.”

“Thanks.” Riona managed to return his smile as she humored him.

Her tone was light, playful even, but Riona’s instincts remained on alert. Did she trust the man? Not by a long shot. But if he was going to be the next Advisor, he’d find out a name soon enough. Might as well beat him to it. “You can call me Riona, Mister Alexander Deacon.”

“Riona,” he echoed smoothly. “It’s unique, which makes it perfect for you, I’d say.” He turned slightly to face her. “And now that I mention it
 Hmm
” He parted his lips to speak but stopped himself and just managed to smile before quickly backtracking to another subject Riona had brought up. “I don't believe anyone could be a pawn for my ambition. I’d rather have as many allies and partners as possible.”

Riona caught the sleight of hand in his words and she didn’t hesitate to call him out on it either. “Pawn, ally, partner. Still expendable, aren’t they?” Her arms folded across her chest and she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze head-on. They mirrored each other in stance, though; their expressions couldn't be more opposing. A bittersweet combination.

“Well, Riona, some might consider that but not me. An expendable ally or partner just feels like an oxymoron.” He winced, showing how strange it would be to waste a connection with someone who could support him in the long run. “I could
 show you.” He leaned in slightly “Show you how I deal with a partner,” he said with a smirk.

Arching an eyebrow, Riona leaned back, putting a deliberate inch between them. This conversation took an unexpected turn. “Care to elaborate, Mister Alexander Deacon?” Alexander stifled a chuckle.

“I, Mister Alexander Deacon, have a charity event planned with Prince Callum Danrose and Lady Mina Blackwood. I believe your participation would be the perfect opportunity to experience something I helped put together and at least have a little fun.” Alexander spread out his hands welcomingly. “But!” He raised a finger. “I must be transparent and admit that this event happens to be a dating auction, so I will understand if you decline the invitation, Ms. Riona.”

She just
 stared at Alexander. He stood there, practically preening, as if he’d just delivered the deal of the century.
Seconds ticked by.
And then more seconds.
When it became clear that was all he had to say, Riona let out a slow breath. “Right,” she said. “And this proves that your allies and partners are indispensable, how, exactly? Because from where I’m standing it sounds more like you’re fishing for brownie points and scraping the bottom of the barrel for more meat to toss on the auction block.” Riona was just a commodity for the event, not a partner or an ally. Maybe he was talking about Callum and Lady Mina, then.

“Fishing for brownie points and scraping the bottom of the barrel? In other words, I am desperately attempting to impress others with an undesirable.” Alexander appeared disagreeable to this, squinting his eyes at her. He briefly looked away. “Maybe it’s just me.” he said himself with a shrug, alluding to something he decided to keep to himself.

“As far as partners and allies go
” He returned his gaze to her. “This event has its moving parts with the goal of aiding those in need. All while keeping up the theme of this year’s courting season to attract those who’d normally never think of sparing a coin to the impoverished. Your part in it would be just as important as my own, a team effort. I only wish to show that I’m not one of these pompous nobles who seek to use you for their needs and take all praise for your contribution. I’d even let you help host the thing.” He shrugged again and sighed. “I will admit, it’s not the most tasteful event to inquire of you on our first meeting, so if you have something better in mind, be my guest Ms. Riona.”

Again, Riona couldn’t help but feel like Alexander was dodging answering her question. “To what end?” she asked instead. “You said you want to show that you’re not ‘one of these pompous nobles.’ To. What. End?”

“That was simply for your own assurance that I mean well for those I work with and that I have no pawns. But if you're talking about the big picture
” Alexander walked around Riona's rear looking over her once more. “It could be dangerous to reveal that so openly.”

“That answer doesn’t do much to inspire confidence, Mister Alexander Deacon.” Her eyes narrowed as she tracked his movement, her body pivoting slowly to keep him in view. “And I believe you can’t be allies or partners if there’s no trust.”

Appearing on the other side of her, he continued “True. Trust must be built after all. Let's just say I seek to make necessary changes here, and the success of the auction is just one small step toward that. I don't need you but I’d love to have you.” Alexander made an obvious glance at the tear in her dress. Though he raised an eyebrow, he didn't choose to comment on it.

Instinctively, Riona’s hand quickly reached over to hide the tear. “And why is that?”

“Well, for one, I find you to be quite the beauty. I only wish you'd smile a little more. But besides that, there's something else. I can't quite put my finger on it but something about you draws me in. Maybe it's your wit or those dark eyes that seem to peer so deeply into my own. The third reason
” He briefly averted his gaze playfully. “I’d get to make a better second impression than this one.” He chuckled lightly.

A sliver of anxiety snaked through her when Alexander mentioned her eyes. Riona kept her expression stern, hoping her skepticism of the man overpowered the unease. And yeah, she was definitely still suspicious of him. But aside from his sudden appearance as Royal Advisor, his evasive answers, and a simple gut feeling—she had nothing on him.

“I see,” Riona said, “your first impression might not be great, but you can salvage it by being transparent about the allocation for the charity funds. And don’t give me vague platitudes about ‘helping those in need.’ We’ve all seen and heard too many stories of coins meant for the needy somehow finding their way into lining other people’s pockets. So tell me, where exactly each coin will go?” Then she could verify later to see if he was telling the truth.

“Unfortunately, I don't have that answer. Apologies if that further ruins your impression of me.” He smirked. “It's Prince Callum Danrose who will decide the allocation of the charity funds. I don't know your opinions on him but judging by what I know of him and his views, I think he’ll ensure the contributions are provided to the poor in some form or fashion. If anything, I can give him a few ideas during our upcoming meeting based on my humble upbringing. Shelters and orphanages in need of proper beds, soup kitchens, or perhaps even tailoring an event for those of less affluence for once.”

If Cal was overseeing the allocation of funds, at the very least, Riona didn’t have to worry about the money being misused. More participants meant a larger pool of donations, regardless of how much someone bid on her. Even a little money could go a long way.

“Alright,” Riona said with a nod, her decision made. “If it helps raise more donations, I’ll put myself up as one of the auctioned dates.” Then with a smirk, added, “And I suppose this means you get another shot at impressing me, Mister Alexander Deacon. Let’s see if you can do better this time around.”

Alexander raised his eyebrows, surprised by Riona’s answer after how he had replied to her last question. He could only guess that she had some faith in the young prince. That or she just enjoyed playing with him like a feline with a ball of yarn.

“I look forward to it, Ms. Riona. I'll add you to the list of participants and I'll ensure you're informed with additional information and any changes to the event. You shouldn't be too difficult to find
 Oh and before I forget.” Alexander retrieved his black notebook and pencil from his jacket. “Your measurements. So you don't have to worry about finding a dress.”

Measurements. Right. The last time anyone had bothered measuring her for clothing, she had just been officially accepted as a maid. The dress Riona wore now had started life three sizes too large before she’d taken a needle and thread to it. “That’s considerate of you, but a large cotton dress and a belt, or anything that could serve as one, should work.”

“Modest,” he commented while jotting in the notebook. “I’ll ensure you have some options to choose from in terms of style and color. For hearing me out, and making a good first impression. Now, I’m afraid I may have stolen enough of your time. Thank you, and
 I’m sure I’ll see you around plenty on the grounds, Ms. Riona.”

“... I’m sure we will, Mister Alexander Deacon. Goodbye.” Riona bobbed her head and started down the garden path. She glanced over her shoulder once, getting one last good look at the new Royal Advisor, before disappearing behind the stone archway.

Until we meet again.

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Charlotte, Olivia, Kazumin, Leo, Fritz, & Wulfric Part 1

Time: Evening - 5pm - 2 hours before timeskip at 7
Location: Vikena Estate

In the cozy glow of the drawing room, Charlotte and Olivia sat comfortably on a red leather couch. The dark wood-paneled room, with its grand fireplace flickering softly, had always been one of Charlotte’s favorite places to seek refuge in. On the mahogany coffee table before them was an array of delicacies, prepared by Gilbert. Warm meat pies and flaky pigs in a blanket were available, finger sandwiches filled with cucumber and smoked salmon, slices of sponge cake, and scones with raspberry preserves.

Still in the elegant lace dress she had worn to the party, Charlotte sat comfortably, holding one of the pigs in a blanket. She took a bite and suddenly giggled, "You know, I think I could eat these little things all day. “

Olivia sat beside Charlotte in a white blouse and tan pants. Her boots laid idly on the floor near her. Any food provided to her was immediately eaten. She struggled to slow down eating still– usually, if she didn’t finish it, a stray animal or nearby homeless people would. Besides the food being the best thing she’d ever tasted, Liv had to keep pausing so she didn’t make herself sick. She nodded in agreement to Charlie offhandedly and smiled widely.

“My girls,” Delilah’s affectionate voice broke through as she came up behind the couch, wrapping her arms around both Charlotte and Olivia with a warm smile. “I am going to make some more tea before the guests arrive.” She placed a gentle kiss on Charlotte’s head before letting go and heading toward the kitchen.

“Thank you, Delilah!” Charlotte called after her, then turned to Olivia with a reassuring smile. “I hope you’re not too nervous. I know it can be a bit daunting that Prince Wulfric is coming, but truly, he’s not as intimidating as he seems. “ She then leaned in closer, her eyes wide with mock seriousness, “And if he is, well, I shall distract him with one of these. ”

Olivia smiled at Delilah and moved her hands up to hug the woman’s arm back. ”Thank you so much! You’re the f
 fricken best!” She giggled and turned back to Charlie. Upon Wulfrics name being mentioned, she averted her gaze. She swung her legs a bit more rapidly now and glanced at her. ”....I’ll take your word for it. I’ve never really spoken to him so I’m going to be quiet if possible
.” She quickly began eating as the idea of meeting the future crowned king consumed her thoughts. The spell came to mind and in her haste, was unable to speak due to food in her mouth. She glanced at Charlie and unexpectedly voiced the thoughts telepathically. Her nose became red at the tip and she brought a napkin to her face to hide it.

What if I embarrass myself? Or Charlie and the Vikena estate? What if he thinks I’m a pig?

Charlotte gave her a warm, comforting smile, then gently took the napkin in her hand. She then dabbed at the corners of Olivia’s mouth, giving her nose a friendly boop at the end. Olivia smiled warmly back at Charlotte and giggled. She managed to clean up the remaining dribbles, tossed it out, and then busied herself with food rapidly.

A knock suddenly filled the air cutting through their moment like a knife through butter. Hastily, Charlotte got to her feet and made her way over to the door.

Said knock would come in a thunderous, yet rhythmetic and energetic pattern of tat-tat-tat
tat-tat-tat-tatatata-..tap! A knock too sharp for knuckles, but of harder material. Drawing closer to the door, Charlotte could hear a muffled jolly hum. A foreboding sign almost telling her turn back.

For, upon the door’s opening, the poor unassuming lady would receive a smackful of some kind of fluffy cloth and for a brief moment, one might have mistaken the smiling figure as a grinning orange with the overwhelming bright orange exhuming off the man’s rather..interesting suit.

And what a gloriously dazzling suit it was at that! With such impeccable design and intricacies of the large flashy bow which only further illuminated the mustachioed individual’s wide toothy grin. Appearing manic almost for a second beneath the betraying tricks of the shadows on those familiar bright chocolate almond eyes twinkling with knowing cheeky delight.


He merely stood posing, looking to the right as if noticing something on his shoulder, in that sea of fluff. Loud visible rustling from a quick dusting flick of the shoulder from his left hand, right gingerly clutching the hawk shaped cane. A gentle craning of the neck, turning his attention to the lady at the door; doing so causing the huge crown of feathery fronds to bounce atop the towering hat somehow staying put, nearly slapping any who dared ventured too close.” Gr-r-r-r-r-eetings and salutations
” A twirling pause of the mustache. “This may perchance be the detective meeting, yes?” He asked with boisterous enthusiasm matching the suit.

Charlotte was flabbergasted,eyes widening as she took in the sight before her. Kazumin's outfit was beyond anything she had ever seen. Her hand instinctively flew to her mouth to stifle a laugh, but the mirth in her eyes was unmistakable.

“Oh wow...” she managed to breathe out, her tone full of awe. Her gaze lingered on the extravagant hat, the feathers practically begging for attention. Without thinking, she took a small step forward, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“May I... may I touch the feather?” she asked, her tone almost childlike in its wonder. Her fingers hovered just above the flamboyant plume, the urge to feel its softness too strong to resist.

Charlotte’s childlike reaction widened his grin, who, nary a response bowed his head forward “They would be delighted to tickle our sweet hostess's hands!” Chuckled Kazu, holding the pose while his friend had her fill.

Once finished, he stood back up, where he would take a big whiff, drinking in the aroma of delicious treats just within. “Ah, with such fetching delight, one can already feel the mind whirring. Mystery and murder afoul!” Spinning in place shoving the cane skyward in dramatic flair. Lo, to such dismay, his stomach rumbled in a volume pushing comfort. ”ahem *cough* apologies. Much is to be discussed, but on an empty stomach, I’m afraid not (foregoing the need to mention having had pudding prior). If I may, miss?” Motioning towards the doorway, requestion permission; faints sounds of snickering just beneath the mustache or perhaps just the hair tickling his nose.

“Please make yourself at home
” She stepped to the side to allow him entry and added with a giggle, “There’s some snacks in the drawing room. Liv is standing guard as our snack protector!” Charlotte had been about to follow suit inside, however, it seemed someone else was approaching the Vikena estate as well.

Leo and Fritz stumbled up to the door next. Or rather Leo was stumbling and he kept such a tight grip on Fritz’s shoulder that he kept dragging the Count around with him. The several cups of coffee he’d been given during his short stint in a holding cell had done little to sober him up. Leo was in an unusual state of disarray; his suit was wrinkled, his shirt half-buttoned with a light splatter of blood, his jacket torn at the sleeve, and a black eye. The scent of the smokey Gambling and Games Hall clung to him, but the scent of alcohol was overpowering.

“Defec-detect-DETECTIVE VIKENA!” He half mumbled, half shouted once he spotted Lottie. “Reportingferinvestigatshuns.” Leo added, offering no explanation for his sloppy stupor. He let go of Fritz and threw himself, stumbling, into the doorway. Leo clung to the doorway for a moment, waiting for things to stop spinning, before making it inside.

Charlotte had initially beamed when she saw Fritz and Leo approaching. Her arms opened wide, ready to greet them with a warm embrace, but her joy quickly gave way to concern as Leo’s disheveled state became clear. Her heart leaped into her throat as her eyes caught sight of the blood splattered across his shirt. Her steps quickened, and she rushed to his side just as he stumbled forward, wrapping an arm securely under his to catch him.

“Leo!” she gasped, her voice filled with both shock and worry. “Is that blood?” Her eyes widened in alarm as she shot a bewildered glance toward Fritz, silently asking for some kind of explanation. Without waiting for an answer, Charlotte’s focus shifted back to Leo, her voice softening but her actions still urgent. “What happened? You’re scaring me.” She gently but firmly tried to guide him toward the drawing room toward the couches. She then called out, “Olivia, can you please fetch some cold water from the kitchen?”

“I think
maybe
I’m drunk.” Leo said, like it was a shocking revelation, as he was corralled into the drawing room. A room that contained the most extravagant hat he’d ever seen. “Whoa!” Was all he could muster as his eyes widened at Kazu’s outfit. His hand reached out to swat at the feathers and he nearly toppled over at the sudden movement. He looked at Charlotte again, “I didn’teven drink today. Pranked! I like this-un.”

The mustached Kazumin had been comfortably partaking of the delightful snacks with cookies dipped in cocoa when all the commotion began. The sudden noise nearly made him jump in shock as he unknowingly dipped faster, the panicked excitement hitting him as he witnessed Charlotte help another drag what seemed to an injured gentleman.

A ruffling upper tilt of the body as all the frills and feathers did partially obscured his view; surprised to find the two familiar faces.

As Olive had been tasked to fetch water, he had downed his drink and gobbled the cookie before attempting to get to his feet to aid. Only to feel hands fluffing with his feathers and heard the drunken Leo’s comment towards them. A quick wiggle of the nose to hide a covered snort, wishing he could laugh, but even this chaos-loving imp wasn’t that inconsiderate, certainly not with blood evidently involved.

With the quiet efficiency of someone accustomed to managing drunks, Ryn gently took Lord Smithwoods’s elbow and steered him towards the plush couch. “Easy there, my friend,” he murmured. “Let’s get you settled, shall we?” The lord mumbled something incomprehensible but allowed himself to be steered. Ryn eased him down onto the cushions, carefully arranging Lord Smithwood’s limbs so he wouldn’t slide off.

Once the man was safely horizontal, Ryn straightened up and met Lady Charlotte’s worried gaze, questions clearly dancing on the tip of her tongue. He stepped closer. “When I went to collect Lord Smithwood, he wasn’t at the guest house,” he began. “So I asked around and traced him to the Gambling and Games Hall, where I discovered our friend had taken up temporary residence in their holding cell.” Lady Charlotte had cast Ryn a bewildered glance at that.

What Ryn left unsaid was the utter chaos Lord Smithwood had caused at the hall and that he had to bail the inebriated lord out because the nobleman had gambled away every last coin on his person.

It was at that moment the prince made his entrance. Having caught Count Hendrix’s briefing, he took one look at Leo, and declared: “Concerning.” He approached Lady Vikena, and offered the hostess a courteous bow, as he greeted with a, “Good evening.” Ignoring issues of lesser concern, he relayed several instructions. “If you have not yet, I recommend procuring for Lord Leo cold water, to be applied to the head with a towel, an ice pack for the eye, and a bucket just in case,” he recited, familiar with the general procedure from his younger siblings’ drunken stints. “Do you employ a physician or shall I call on one?” he inquired.

“Fizzishun?” Leo barely repeated the word but his expression made it clear he found the suggestion ridiculous. “Nah.” He added, shaking his head.

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Hidden 29 days ago 28 days ago Post by Conscripts
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Conscripts An Atom Trying to Understand Itself

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Time: Evening
Location: Pinebrooks
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For the rest of the day, John never left the guest house. While he would greet guests and interact normally, and the official excuse was because of a staff's medical conditions, he laid low while his staff went through what went wrong. While they were right that the assassins were striking, they didn't really expect it to be a scare with magical properties. John was a little bit to blame too for being so brazen, but everyone had a progressive mindset. No blaming, focusing on solutions. They worked on finding who this perfumer was. They should hopefully get a lead soon.

In the meantime, there were other troubling news. Roman was being summoned for a trial for what happened, along with other Varian nobles. This had the potential problems with what Frederick did the other night. Farim had said to him he wasn't going to be quiet about it. The Society was now beginning to link up with other Varian institutes and even some Caesonian entities to discuss the solutions to this. They reassured John that things will be fine, and that while it had the potential to cause massive problems, this would be a good show of force to the Caesonian nobles. John found it difficult to be so relaxed though.

Throughout the entire carriage ride to Pinebrooks, he kept thinking about Roman's trial. But once he was there, his tension got off a little bit. Maybe they had it under control after all and he was overthinking it. He was supposed to be here to have some peace and quiet, maybe to be courted, but that seemed far fetched. He even doubted his own seriousness when it comes to finding women of his love, but that was the least of his concern.

When the camp staffers welcomed him and offered to be optionally partnered up, John nonchalantly gave a yes to that. He didn't really care. He wandered off to enjoy the mesmerizing blanket of orange. The glowing light went a long way to make John less worried about what was to come.
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Hidden 28 days ago Post by Apex Sunburn
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Flashback: That Noon and Afternoon





Time: Noon -> Late Afternoon
Location: Sorian Waterfront
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It wasn’t easy being a privateer in the Commonwealth. Becoming one, as Sjan-dehk had heard from a few former associates, was even harder. Prospective privateers, from what he had been told, were subject to a litany of checks into their histories and characters that left few stones unturned right from the moment they submitted their applications for a Sea Marque – a document which sanctioned its bearer to take offensive actions on the Commonwealth’s behalf. If they passed that, they would then have to undergo a barrage of tests and interviews – and pass them – before they were accepted into the Commonwealth’s service.

From start to finish, the process didn’t actually take much time. It was simply very taxing on a person. Little wonder, then, that most of those former associates whom Sjan-dehk had known were former privateers, or those who gave up on their applications. Joining the actual Navy, they had told him, was quicker and much more straightforward.

Sjan-dehk could see the sense behind such measures, however. A privateer, after all, was someone who was given the same powers as a Navy ship, but without any of the training. The Commonwealth would be if it didn’t properly vet those who wished to sail under the Braided Dragon as private individuals. The seas would be awash with unruly mobs flying the Commonwealth flag, otherwise. Such a thing simply could not be allowed to happen.

Caesonia, Sjan-dehk assumed, would be no different.

And so, soon after dropping off most of his weapons and all of his armour aboard Sada Kurau – and while he was there, he collected a few documents he thought would be useful – Sjan-dehk set about looking for whatever place it was that handled the recruitment of privateers in Sorian.

That didn’t take him long, or much effort, to achieve; a few stilted conversations with the dockworkers who serviced the ships adjacent to Sada Kurau directed him towards a two-storied building that was wider than it was tall. Nestled within a row of blocky, brick-built warehouses and workshops, the walls of white plaster, the shingled roofs gently sloping towards the waterfront, and the well-furnished veranda stretching before a pair of carved, wooden doors made the building stand out like a tree amidst an ocean. Sjan-dehk would never have assumed it to serve any sort of official purpose, if he had to be honest. If anything, the building looked more like one of the homes he had seen lining the streets closest to the castle.

“Fancy seein’ you here, Cap’n.”

The voice that called out to Sjan-dehk as he stepped onto the veranda was that of a girl, and was one that was familiar. It was also one that he hadn’t expected to hear. He stopped, and looked to his left. Aislin, the flaxen-haired fishergirl, looked back at him from her seat at a round table towards the end of the veranda, right by the waist-high fence which wrapped around it. She waved to him, a friendly smile gracing her lips but not quite reaching her eyes. Curious, Sjan-dehk made his way through the sparse crowd to her.

“Ai-seh-lehn, good afternoon,” he greeted with a nod. The fishergirl was dressed in more-or-less the exact same manner as she usually was whenever Sjan-dehk saw her: an off-white blouse blotched with the red and brown stains of her work, a laced bodice, and skirts with frayed hems. She had tied her hair into a pair of loose, messy tails trailing down her back. Wispy strands tickled her cheeks and brow.

There were three others with Aislin at the table: one woman, and two men. Sjan-dehk didn’t recognise any of them, and they seemed more interested in whatever game of cards they were playing, than him. “This is a
This is place for fighting ships, yes?” He continued to address Aislin. “Why are you here?”

“Thinkin’ o’ a change in careers, ‘tis so,” Aislin replied drily, but quickly shook her head. “‘Twas a joke, aye ‘twas so. Some o’ my folk ‘ave been runnin’ intae more pirates as of late. More than the usual fare, aye ‘tis so. So I came ‘ere tae put in a report an’ see if I can get any ‘elp, aye I did.” She let out a long sigh. “‘Twas a bloody waste o’ my time, as always.”

Sjan-dehk frowned. Something didn’t feel right. Barely two days had passed since Sada Kurau and he had sailed to the rescue of one of Aislin’s fellow fisherfolk. At the time, nothing – neither anything he had seen or heard, nor anything Aislin had done or mentioned – had indicated to him that whatever he experienced was beyond the ordinary for these waters. And yet he was to believe that, within the short span between then and now, there was enough of an increase in pirate activity to be noticeable? Sjan-dehk couldn’t help but find it a touch implausible.

But, he didn’t have much reason to distrust Aislin. She had no reason to lie to him; not over something like this. And it wasn’t as if she was even asking for his help. Besides, he knew nothing about how Caesonian pirates behaved or operated. For all he knew, their escalations were far more sudden and violent than that of those who prowled Viserjantan waters.

“How many more?” He asked. “Maybe I can help?”

“Enough tae be worried about,” Aislin replied. Then, she looked up at him with a mirthless smile. “Cheers fae the offer, Cap’n. An’ I really appreciate it, aye I do, but you’re still just one boat and one man at the end o’ it all, ‘tis so, ‘tis so. I cannae keep askin’ you fae ‘elp every time Young Tom gets ‘imself in trouble, nae I cannae.” She paused, her eyes widening slightly as if she recalled something important. “Oh, an’ speakin’ o’ ‘im, Young Tom asked me tae pass on ‘is thanks. ‘E says ‘e owes you and your crew a drink, aye.”

“Not needed. It was not trouble,” Sjan-dehk replied with a wave of his hand. He didn’t think that his actions that day deserved so much praise. He also had more pressing questions he wanted to ask. “So you come here, you ask for help
” He trailed off, brow furrowing. “And they will not help?”

“I’ll tell you what I told Ash,” the woman at the table cut in. Her words were clipped, and her voice carried a sour tinge to it. Though the lower half of her face was hidden behind the fan of cards she held in her hand, Sjan-dehk could easily picture the frown that must be on her face. The tattered, dark coat she wore was in stark contrast to her fair complexion and soft features, though the sternness in her frigid, blue eyes as she gazed over the tops of her cards spoke of anything but softness. A single, red streak ran through her hair, its vivid hue bright against her loose, mahogany tresses.

The woman plucked a card from her hand, leaned forward, and tossed it onto a pile of similar cards in the middle of the table. “It’s not that we won’t. We can’t. Not without getting into trouble, at least.” She lowered her cards, revealing a scowl cutting across her sun-spotted face.

That only left more questions in Sjan-dehk’s head. And once again, the woman spoke before he could get a word in. “Anyway,” she continued. “Are you going to sit or what? My legs are getting tired just seeing you standing there all statue-like.”

It was only then did Sjan-dehk remember that he had come here for a reason. He hefted the small stack of documents he had tucked under his arm. “I am here to join–”

“To join up with us eclectic lot?” This time, it was one of the men who interrupted him. Sjan-dehk drew in a deep breath and pursed his lips. He wasn’t too fond of this emerging pattern. Nevertheless, he responded with a nod. The man looked at him with a friendly smile across his face, and a shine in his dusky, deep-set eyes. His boyish countenance and unkempt head of sandy curls gave him a youthful air, but the prominent lines around his cheeks, the crow’s feet pulling at his eyes, and the hints of grey tinting the ends of his hair betrayed his age. “I would advise you wait for a while, stranger,” he continued, using the cards in his hand to point towards the building. “The staff of our Privateer’s Office are an industrious lot, but even they would be hard-pressed to see you right now with the deluge they’re facing.”

Sjan-dehk followed the man’s gesture with his eyes until he looked through the Office’s doors. Or at least, he tried to. The dense crowd within had started to trickle out onto the veranda, and all he could see was a forest of people, packed so tightly that it was a wonder any of them could even fidget. Frustrated murmurs and angry grumbles filled the air. Sweat clung to skins in glistening sheens, and glued clothes and matted hairs to bodies.

“Poor chaps are probably working themselves to the bone trying to keep up,” the man went on. He placed his cards face-down on the table, twisted around, and dragged an empty chair over to the space between himself and Aislin. The rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt revealed forearms covered in faded tattoos from wrist to elbow. There were pictures of animals, of cards not unlike those on the table, and various numbers and words which Sjan-dehk recognised as Caesonian. Their meaning, however, remained a mystery.

The man patted the seat of the chair. “I suspect you might be waiting for quite some time, stranger. Better to wait whilst enjoying this fine summer’s day with company, wouldn’t you agree?”

“‘E’s right, Cap’n,” Aislin chimed in. “I cannae see the office folk gettin’ tae you anytime soon.”

Sjan-dehk hesitated, looking at the crowd once more with a frown. He would have much preferred to settle this privateering business as quickly as possible, but that wasn’t likely to happen. Nothing about the crowd had changed. If anything, it had gotten even worse as people tried to squeeze and force their way into the Office, and newcomers continued to arrive. Why anyone would see such a mess and choose to join it, he didn’t know, but he did know that he had no desire to suffer such discomfort. And so, with a resigned sigh, he pushed his hat back to let it hang by its chin-strap on his back, and took the offered seat. His weapons clattered loudly against the chair as he sat down.

“My, you’re a well-prepared chap, aren’t you?” The man quipped with a grin. He wiped a hand on his dark trousers and extended it to Sjan-dehk. “Olivier Bellamy,” he introduced himself. “Captain of the Heyday. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister
?”

“Wasun Sjan-dehk,” Sjan-dehk picked up where Olivier trailed off. He accepted the man’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Captain of Sada Kurau.”

Olivier beamed. “Charmed, Captain. Do pardon me if I’m unable to properly enunciate such exotic names, however. My Caesonian tongue is far less travelled than my person.” He grinned and picked up one of his cards, barely glancing at it before flicking it onto the pile. “Allow me the pleasure of introducing my fellows, Captain,” he said and gestured towards the woman with an open hand. “That fair maiden over there is our dear Evelyn Vane–”

“Call me that again, Ollie, and I’ll cut your tongue out,” she interrupted, her voice perfectly nonchalant, as if this was something she said daily. She didn’t even look up from her cards. “And Evie will do.”

“–Captain of the Stars at Dawn.” Olivier continued as if she hadn’t said a thing. He swept his arm across to the other man, seated to the right of Evie. A brown eyepatch sat over this man’s left eye, covering much of a deep scar that cut like a jagged valley from his brow to the middle of his cheek. A tangled mess of black hair, scraggly and coarse like dried seaweed, concealed much of his face from view. The cards he held up to his nose hid the rest. “And last, but far from the least, we have our venerable Innokenty Suchik, Captain of the Summerdream.”

Innokenty grunted. He added a card to the pile, but did or said nothing more.

“Don’t mind Inno,” Evie piped up, shooting Innokenty a glare as she flicked a card onto the pile. “Getting a full sentence out of him is harder than pulling teeth.” In a quiet mumble that Sjan-dehk wasn’t sure he was supposed to catch, she added, “I’d know.”

Sjan-dehk ignored the mumbled words – perhaps he had misheard? – and nodded slowly. “Thank you,” he first said to Olivier before looking to the two other Captains in turn. “It is my
No, it is good to meet you. All of you.” Evie met his gaze briefly and shrugged. Innokenty barely reacted.

Placing his documents on his lap, Sjan-dehk tucked out of sight beneath the table. Even if few – if any – of them had sensitive information written or printed on their pages, he still thought it best to keep them away from as many prying eyes as possible. As he waited, his fingers drummed an erratic beat against the hard, coarse paper. Despite himself, he kept looking over his shoulder at the Office’s entrance. And each time, he was greeted by the exact same sight. He saw the same crowd, still dense and static. He saw the same faces, all clouded by annoyances and storming with discontent. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and it felt as if this wait was truly interminable.

“All this people,” Sjan-dehk began and waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the crowd. “You have so many coming here everyday? All of them, they talk
No, they complain about pirates?”

“It’s usually pirates, yes,” Olivier replied with a nod. “You do have the odd fellow coming here complaining about the weather and the waves and such, as if they were under our control, but those entertaining chaps are rare, sad to say.” He looked up from his cards and at the crowd, his expression darkening slightly. “But these numbers are a few steps above the norm, I would say, even for a noon crowd. Yesterday wasn’t any better, and neither was the day before.” He turned back around to the table. “From what I hear, it all mostly reports of sightings, and not many actual attacks, thank the Gods.” He added a card to the pile. “It’s all so very peculiar. So, so very peculiar, indeed.”

Sjan-dehk nodded slowly, half in understanding of what Olivier had said, and half in agreement. There was at least one piece of good news Sjan-dehk discerned from his words, however. The surge in pirate activity hadn’t been as sudden as what he had initially thought. Also, it seemed like everyone had been caught by surprise by this drastic escalation. It didn’t make the situation any better, but it did bring it back to familiar waters for Sjan-dehk. Caesonian pirates weren’t special. Like those that prowled Viserjantan waters, they couldn’t simply escalate their violence overnight.

From experience, Sjan-dehk knew that most pirates acted either alone, or in small gangs. That meant that it could take weeks or months for news of a good hunting ground to spread, and during that time someone would surely notice that there were pirates congregating in any one specific region. And as much as what some Captains wished to believe, pirates weren’t stupid. They knew that if they were to get too violent, too blatant in their criminality, they would only attract far more attention than they could handle. A good pirate, a pirate who wanted to survive long enough to enjoy their ill-gotten gains, would be one who knew when to strike, when to cower, and when to go on a rampage.

For these Caesonian pirates to act in such a brazen manner was – as Olivier put it – highly peculiar. There were only two reasons Sjan-dehk could think of for their actions. Either they were acting in desperation, or someone was controlling them. Neither were any better than the other. Anything that could push pirates to resort to such drastic action would almost certainly be something that could threaten all of Caesonian. And anyone – be it person or organisation – that could corral the chaos that were pirates into any semblance of an organised force would be someone powerful enough to similarly be a dangerous threat.

Desperation and organisation. Sjan-dehk leaned his head back and huffed, staring at the turquoise awning overhead. Such reasons were behind just about every pirate raid suffered by Viserjantan, be it when it was still a kingdom, still an empire, or now, as the Commonwealth.

Suddenly, his plan of privateering to earn money for Sada Kurau’s upkeep became more complicated than what he would have liked. And yet, it was that very complication that made his heart race with anticipation and excitement. Figuring out how to combat pirates; how to seek and destroy an enemy on the open seas, those were things he knew how to do, and how to do them exceptionally well. He had no business fending off a fleet of pirates – certainly not for Caesonia – but he would be lying if he said that the thought of it, the expectation of the thrill and rush of it, didn’t tempt him.

But, before anything else, there was one question he needed to ask.

He sat upright and looked at Evie. “Just now, you say it is not because you will not help, yes? You say you cannot. Why is that?”

Beside him, Aislin leaned forward with a catlike grin on her face. She rested her elbows on the table, chin on the back of a hand, and a finger entwining itself in one of her tails. “Aye, Evie,” she said with mischief in her eyes. “Please enlight’n myself and the Cap’n ‘ere. Why cannae you lend us smallfolk a hand?”

Evie slapped her cards onto the table and fixed Aislin with an unimpressed glare. “Oh, don’t you start this nonsense again, Ash. I already told you once before, and if you still don’t get it, then it’s not my fault you’re deaf. Or stupid.” Despite the acidic bite of Evie’s words, Aislin continued grinning at her. She even cocked her head, as if she were listening to some interesting story. Evie scowled at her, then shifted her attention to Sjan-dehk. Her gaze softened, and she sighed. “But I guess I’ll repeat myself for your benefit, since it’s clear to even a blind man that you’re not from around here.”

She paused. “Where’re you even from, anyway? I thought you were Kimoonese, but you don’t sound like any Kimoonese I’ve met.”

“An’ ‘ow many o’ those ‘ave you met?” Aislin asked cheekily.

Evie cleared her throat. “A few,” she replied, her voice markedly not as strong as earlier. She then shot the girl a withering glare that evidently had little effect. “Shut up, Ash.”

Sjan-dehk resisted the urge to smirk. The interaction between Evie and Aislin reminded him plenty of how his third brother, Shim-sen, and his first sister, Idah, would speak with each other. Plenty of barbs, burning words, and all laced with cutting undertones, but devoid of any real malice. Sjan-dehk could almost see it now; Shim-sen arguing with logic, Idah slowly driving him mad with nonsensical words. Hara-tahn trying to keep the peace whilst enjoying the show, Sai-jom trying to hide his laughter and failing in the attempt. And Shi, the youngest sister, sitting by the side with words ready to ease the tension should they get too high.

“Well?” Evie’s sharp voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Apologies,” Sjan-dehk said quickly. “You are correct. I am not Kimoo– Whatever you thought I am. I come from Jafi. Viserjanta.” He made a note to find out more about the people Evie had mentioned. It would be interesting to see just how similar the Kimoonese were to Jafins, if Evie could mistake Sjan-dehk for one.

Evie nodded slowly. “Right,” she began, dragging out the word. “I won’t insult you by pretending like I know any of those places, so let’s move on.” She leaned forward, and for a moment appeared pensive, as if she was carefully considering her next words. But then, she shrugged. “There’s not much else to it, if I’m going to be very honest. We can’t help because our higher-ups won’t let us help. Gods below, we can’t even piss without getting permission from them these days.”

Sjan-dehk furrowed his brow. Evie’s answer only gave him more questions. “They will not let you? I do not understand. Why?”

“See, that’s what ticks me off the most,” Evie said, her voice getting more of an edge. “They didn’t give any of us a reason. They just came in one day and told us everyone ranked five and above has to stay in port and await assignment. Can you bloody believe it?” The confusion on Sjan-dehk’s face told her that no, he couldn’t even if he wanted to. “Ah, right,” Evie continued and scratched the back of her head. “Look, don’t take my word for it, okay? You’ll probably learn more later with whoever you talk to inside, if you choose to join us, anyway. But all of us here have a rank, from one to ten. Everyone starts at one, but it’s not difficult to climb your way up. They’ll even let you jump ranks if you’re good enough.”

Evie paused to catch her breath, and Olivier took the chance to interject. “The ranks don’t mean anything, if I may be so honest. We’re all still equals. The ranks merely help the Office determine what contracts we can take, and what contracts would be either a waste of our abilities, or tantamount to suicide.”

Sjan-dehk nodded, a hand on his chin. From what the two of them told him, Caesonian privateers seemed to be more akin to Commonwealth mercenaries than Commonwealth privateers. The latter, upon acquiring a Sea Marque, would more-or-less be left to their own devices. They might be tasked with assisting a fleet or asked to act in the capacity of an auxiliary ship on occasion, but those were rare exceptions rather than the norm. It didn’t seem like that was the case here, based on what Evie and Olivier were saying.

It was all very interesting information, but just as before, it only led him to more questions. “Your work, the contracts, what do you usually need to do?” He probed.

Evie shrugged. “You name it, we’ve done it. Protecting people like Ash over there, patrolling the sea lanes, escorting merchantmen, hunting pirates, ferrying important people
There was even once Inno over here had to fetch some nobleman’s daughter from a cruise that got a little out-of-hand.” She smirked and jerked a thumb towards the man. As Sjan-dehk had learned to expect, he didn’t react. It didn’t even seem as if he heard Evie’s words. “But yes, we do just about everything.”

“I see.” Sjan-dehk’s face tightened in thought for a brief moment. “Then your navy, what does it do?”

“What do you mean?” Olivier asked.

Sjan-dehk cleared his throat and straightened his back before continuing. “You say that you patrol the sea, you protect ships. You fight pirates, you defend people. You have rank. Your work, you say that it can be assigned, yes? Your superiors, they can order you to stay in port.” He paused and looked at Olivier, then at Evie. He hazarded a glance at Innokenty, who surprisingly met his gaze. “From what you say, it sounds like you do the work of a navy. You are
Arranged? No, organised, you are organised like a navy. So I am curious, your actual navy, the one of Caesonia, what does it actually do, if you do all this work?”

A mirthless smile spread across Olivier’s lips. “You hit it on the head, Captain,” he said. “Now, I don’t claim to be well-versed in matters of law, but to my understanding, the Caesonian Navy considers only external threats to be within their purview. Pirates, as I am sure you will discover, are considered internal threats as far as the law is concerned, and thus given to us privateers to handle.”

“They’re just lazy feckers, ‘tis so,” Aislin grumbled. “Even the city guard’s bet’er than them, an’ that’s sayin’ plenty comin’ frae me, ‘tis so, ‘tis so.”

“But if you ask, they still will not help?” Sjan-dehk asked. “From what you say, it is
It is very possible that there will be a lot of pirates coming soon. Then they, the navy, they must go fight them, no?”

Olivier chuckled and shook his head. “Captain, perhaps it might be easier if you thought of them less as a Caesonian Navy and more of a Royal Navy,” he suggested. “Now, I will admit that it would be remiss of me to imply that they would never sally forth, but it does appear that they are loath to do so unless the King or his family are imperilled, or if it’s the King’s property that’s under threat. Of course, if Caesonia were to get into a proper spot of trouble, then I suspect they would perform their expected duties. But I would imagine that in such a situation, pirates would be the very least of our concerns.”

Sjan-dehk didn’t know how to feel about all that. He didn’t even know where to begin listing everything that was wrong with what Olivier had just said. First of all, the idea that the King had the Caesonian Navy as a personal retinue of sorts was odd. Not unheard of; such a practice had once been common throughout the Viserjantan islands, back when the Commonwealth had been an Empire. But it was certainly strange that an outdated, centuries-old custom could be found to be still alive here, on the other side of an ocean.

Secondly, Sjan-dehk wasn’t too sure what to think about the Caesonian Navy. His immediate reaction was one of revulsion, for what navy – and the people staffing it – would allow themselves to be reduced to such a state? But then he remembered what Kalliope had told him a few days ago, that most sailors in the Navy didn’t even know how to swim, and he added that Olivier’s implication that they would refuse to fight even if asked, which – to Sjan-dehk’s mind – suggested inexperience at best. Cowardice, at worst. Put together, and it gave him a picture of a navy which was really more for show than anything else.

Or perhaps this was merely his Jafin sensibilities being overly-harsh on the Caesonian Navy. A Jafin, after all, was nothing if not a fearless sailor who would always be fain to meet a challenger on the open seas. A fleet that shirked from battle was, therefore, antithesis to Jafin ways. Had this been a Jafin fleet, Sjan-dehk felt certain that his father would have seen its commanders dismissed and its ships scrapped as a mark of disgrace. Sjan-dehk couldn’t say that he would have disagreed with such a punishment.

But amidst all this speculation and guesswork, there was one thing Sjan-dehk felt quite sure of. “So to the people like her–” he gestured to Aislin “–you are the navy.”

“I suppose you could say that,” Evie said with a shrug. “But that’s sad in and of itself, if you ask me. We’re sailing brigs, sloops, snows, and schooners at most. I’m pretty sure Inno’s Summerdream is probably the biggest ship we’ve got, and she wouldn’t even be considered a corvette by the Navy.” Then, she released a long sigh and shook her head. “Well, it doesn’t bloody matter now, I guess. With us high-ranked people stuck in harbour and waiting for fuck-knows-what, the only ones out there doing any work are just kids with gunboats and armed cutters.”

Sjan-dehk nodded slowly. That was indeed a rather dire picture. Gunboats and cutters were single-masted vessels. Small, quick, and easy to use. But they weren’t built for fighting. In many ways, they were maybe just a step up from a typical fishing skiff or dinghy. Hardly the sort of thing one would want when taking on pirates. “Then I can help,” he said, a grin slowly forming on his face. “Sada Kurau, she has thirty-four guns total. That is a good number to have, yes?”

Evie let out a low whistle. “That’s a light frigate right there, I’d say. She’d definitely be welcome,” she said approvingly. Then, she smirked. “And while I like your confidence, your ship’s still no Edin Danrose. Unless you’ve got another seventy guns hidden away somewhere, I’m not going to expect too much from her. Or you, for that matter.”

“Edin Danrose?” Sjan-dehk echoed. “That is your King, yes?”

“Nae, she’s talkin’ about the other Edin Danrose,” Aislin said, drawing his attention to her. “The one that’s the flagship ‘o the Navy. Big ship, wi’ o’er a ‘undred guns frae what I’ve ‘eard, aye.” Sjan-dehk arched his brows. A ship carrying that many guns must be quite the devastating force on the battlefield. But before he could say anything, Aislin turned to Evie and continued. “An’ aye, you’re right that this Cap’n’s boat’s nae Edin Danrose. She’s bet’er, if you ask me. At least she sails out tae do things. I cannae say I’ve ever seen the Edin Danrose do anythin’ but sit in ‘arbour an’ look pretty.”

Evie thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, you’ve got me there.”

“We even ‘ave a joke about it,” Aislin went on. She looked at Sjan-dehk, a cheeky grin on her face. “Know why they call ‘er Edin Danrose? It’s because she’s only impressive tae look at, but she’s really just a big ‘ol fecker that’s good fae feckin’ nothing, aye. Just like ‘er namesake, ‘tis so, ‘tis so.”

Sjan-dehk choked on a barely suppressed laugh. He covered his mouth and tried not to show too much of the smile on his face, for Evie looked anything but impressed. “Hey, try saying that a little louder,” she said in a quiet but harsh hiss. “I’m not sure any of the guards heard you.”

“I thought it was quite amusing, really,” Olivier remarked, chuckling.

“Don’t encourage her!” Evie snapped at him. “I don’t want any of us to get into trouble.” Glaring daggers at both Aislin and Olivier, she picked up her cards and looked between them and the pile on the table a few times. With each successive glance, the scowl on her face grew larger and larger, until it became a growl as she threw her cards onto the table. “Oh, come on,” she grumbled. “There’s no way I can lose thrice in a row.” She turned to Innokenty. “And all to you. You’re up to something, I can feel it.”

Innokenty looked back at her, his face blank and expressionless.

“Don’t give me that,” Evie said, as if he had given her an actual reply. “The only one who’s been doing the shuffling is you.”

“I am good at the game,” Innokenty said plainly, his first words since Sjan-dehk sat down. He spoke with a heavy accent – though not so heavy that Sjan-dehk couldn’t understand him – and his voice was gravelly, hoarse, and quiet. It was as if it hadn’t been used for a very, very long time. “And you are bad at it. That is all there is.” He placed his cards on the table and pushed them towards the pile.

Evie narrowed her eyes. “Alright, listen up, you little Varian shit–”

The two quickly descended into an argument – or more accurately, Evie argued, and Innokenty merely sat there and listened. Olivier took the chance to quietly collect the cards. As he shuffled them, he said, “Don’t mind them, Captain.” He glanced sideways at Sjan-dehk with a slight smile on his face. “I’ve known them for years and this is simply how they are. I find it rather entertaining, in fact.”

Sjan-dehk chuckled and nodded. “Yes, I agree. This sort of thing, I am familiar with,” he replied and leaned back in his seat. The various sounds around him, discordant as they might be, were surprisingly soothing, and lulled him into a warm sense of comfort. He closed his eyes, taking in the rush of crashing waves; the buzzing murmurs of a busy waterfront. The cooling touch of a gentle breeze against his face; the ruffling of the tarpaulin awning overhead. The smell of the ocean brine; the chirps and squawks of singing birds. And of course, Evie’s rapid banter and Innokenty’s sparse replies.

Pleasant memories surfaced in his mind. He saw faces that had been rendered vague by time, and people whom he would never again meet. And yet, through the wistfulness, he remembered their laughs and their smiles. He remembered fighting alongside them, celebrating victories with them, and inevitably, mourning losses with them. But more importantly, he remembered the senseless fun he had with them. Things that, at the time, had seemed so inconsequential and pointless, but now he saw as good times.

Well, as good as it could be during a war, at least. Perhaps they were more of islets of good times amidst a sea of dark, terrible times.

Sjan-dehk drew in a deep breath, and opened his eyes just in time to see Olivier distribute the cards to all at the table. Evie had stopped ranting at Innokenty, and Aislin was joining in for this round, it seemed. “Ah, Captain,” Olivier said. “Pardon me, but I thought you were resting. Would you care to join us?”

“Do it,” Evie cut in. She leaned back and kicked her boots onto the table. Innokenty looked at her from the corner of his eye and clicked his tongue, but she either didn’t hear him, or didn’t care. “I think I’ve got Inno figured out. His tricks only work if there’s three of us. The more of us there are, the harder it’ll be for him to pull something funny.”

“An’ you’ve still got a bit o’ a wait, Cap’n,” Aislin said and held her cards close to her chest. “Bet’er tae wait while ‘avin’ a crack, aye?”

It all felt silly in a strange way. The dissonance between their early conversation – about a possible pirate threat – and what they were doing now was heavy and stark. And yet, it felt natural. What else was there for sailors like them to do? The pirates may be on their way, they may not. They might suddenly decide to be violent tomorrow, or they may wait a month, or they may simply quieten down. None of that was set in stone, but what was certain was that they weren’t here yet. And if the war had taught Sjan-dehk anything, it was that a good captain knew how to seize every chance they could to unwind and relax.

“Okay, I will play,” he said to Olivier with a grin. “But you know, I have
What do you people call it
I have beginner’s luck? Yes, that. I have that.” The others at the table laughed, and once again, Sjan-dehk’s mind returned to his memories. Those days had been the best. But the bitterness they left, that was something he could do without.



For a place that called itself the Privateers’ Office, the interior looked remarkably like that of a tavern.

It smelled like one, too. From the moment Sjan-dehk stepped through the doors, he was enveloped by the heady whiff of strong alcohol, and the unpleasant odour of stale sweat. Parting gifts from the earlier crowd, Sjan-dehk suspected. The scents were reminiscent of those in the tavern – where he had met Cynric and the two noblegirls – from just the night before. In fact, he swore he could smell the exact same spirit which Cynric had drunk like water.

That was where the similarities ended, however. Where last night’s tavern had been rough in both airs and appearance, this place was much calmer and more well-kept. The furniture – from tables, to chairs, and to the bar which spanned half-the-length of the wall to his left – boasted fine craftsmanship, even if they were simple in design. Their wooden forms were sheened in layers of varnish that were surprisingly free of both scratches and blemishes, a feat that Sjan-dehk knew from experience was hard to accomplish, especially when – as he assumed – the furniture were used on a daily basis.

Unlit lamps hung from the ceiling, and dimmed sconces lined the walls. Their metalwork – along with that of the fittings holding the very building together – had been burnished to a dull shine. Sjan-dehk could only imagine how laborious it was to keep them free of rust and salt damage. If the building was close enough to shore to hear the crashing of waves, then it was certainly close enough to suffer the same briney air as ships on the open sea.

The more Sjan-dehk looked around, the more he was reminded of a well-maintained ship. All this attention to cleanliness was the same as what any Captain would expect from their crew. And while there was still a touch of disarray to how things were placed, it was the same sort of disarray that Sjan-dehk expected from a living ship, and not one moored for display. The good kind of disarray, in other words.

A smirk played on Sjan-dehk’s lips. It seemed as if this Office was everything but what it was supposed to be. And perhaps that was the intent of its designers and builders, for there was painfully little that hinted at its true purpose and identity. There were a few counters sequestered away into an alcove at the very back of the building, with a couple of noticeboards on the walls around them, but that was about it. They looked like they had been added as mere afterthoughts, and had Evie not told Sjan-dehk about them, he felt more than certain that he would have missed them entirely.

Polished floorboards creaked under Sjan-dehk’s boots as he marched towards the counter. Groggy faces turned to glance at him with drink-addled eyes as he passed. Only for a moment, however, before they fell back onto the tables where they had been resting. Half-empty bottles, half-full glasses, and the sunbeams streaming through ajar windows were all that kept them company.

These early drunkards were all that was left of the earlier crowd. Much of it had dissipated roughly an hour or so after Sjan-dehk joined Aislin and the three privateers. Not many left peacefully however, with many a vexed expression on faces, and vicious words thrown over shoulders. Sjan-dehk didn’t understand what it was they were saying, but he did understand their displeasure. It hadn’t seemed as if many had their pleas for help heard. A significant number of those who had waited outside didn’t even manage to take one step into the Office before they had to return to their jobs.

“Toil waits for neither man nor tragedy,” Olivier had mused.

However, it seemed as if toil had completely forgotten about the lone man behind the counters, for he was the very picture of idleness as Sjan-dehk approached. Granted, the soles of his shoes had been ground to little more than smooth leather, likely due to being on his feet a great deal. But then again, the only reason Sjan-dehk could see those soles was because the man had reclined so far back in his chair that he could kick his feet up onto the counter.

His arms were folded tightly over his slowly rising and falling chest, and he had an open book covering his face. Dark ink stained his sleeves, the dots stark against the pale blue fabric. Pens, pencils, and all sorts of stationery were tucked into the pockets of his black waistcoat. His peacefulness almost seemed comical amidst the chaos that were the stacks upon stacks of files and papers surrounding him. They teetered on his desk, cluttered the floors, and overstuffed the cabinets behind him.

“Excuse me,” Sjan-dehk called out politely.

The man shifted, but otherwise there was no response.

Sjan-dehk cleared his throat and tried again. “Hello?”

Nothing.

Sjan-dehk frowned, then rapped his knuckles loudly on the counter.

That startled the man awake. “Bloody fuck!” He exclaimed, his voice loud enough to surprise Sjan-dehk as much as Sjan-dehk had surprised him. The man bolted upright, and would have thrown himself clean from his seat had he not shot his hands out to grasp the desk in front of him. Pages ruffled, stationery clattered, and the book fell from his face, striking the floor with a muted thud. The man slowly relaxed, his shoulders still heaving as he recovered from his shock.

“I swear by every fucking God there is out there,” he began breathlessly, pressing a hand to his chest. He swallowed before continuing, still hunched over in his chair and looking between his feet. “It’s not going to be pirates that do me in, it’ll you fucking cunts. Haven’t you bastards heard that rousing a man this quickly can be dangerous? Gods above, I swear.”

Sjan-dehk resisted the urge to laugh. He didn’t know what it was exactly, but something about the way the man spoke, and the entire situation in general felt amusing to him. “I am sorry,” he said, keeping his tone as level and neutral as possible.

The man looked at him. Irate eyes turned to surprised ones, then to sheepish ones. “Oh, you’re not one of us,” he murmured awkwardly and averted his gaze. Clearing his throat, alternated between running fingers through his tawny hair and tidying up the desk as he continued, “The name’s Reilly. Kerr Reilly, though it’s not like you’ll have much reason to remember it. If you’re here to report sightings of pirates, or attacks by pirates, or any pirate-related activities, I’m going to be honest and tell you that there’s not much we can do about it for now.”

He sighed, picked up a stack of papers, and placed them heavily onto a different corner of the desk. “You can still leave your request with us, but I can’t guarantee that it’ll be handled anytime in the near future. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Sjan-dehk blinked. “I am here to join you.”

That got Kerr’s attention in an instant. His head snapped up. For a moment, he remained silent, a pensive expression on his face. He swept his gaze over Sjan-dehk, up and down, and nodded. “Well, fuck me,” he said, a tinge of approval in his voice. He teased a few more knots out of his hair and looked over the desk, muttering to himself as he looked for something. “You have a ship, I assume?”

“Yes,” Sjan-dehk replied and placed his documents on the counter. “Her plans, I have here.”

Kerr shook his head. “Normally, I’d take them, but
” He swept a hand over the disorganised clutter on the desk. “With all the shit we’ve to deal with right now, and all the shit we haven’t even fucking looked at, your docos are just going to get lost without anyone ever looking at them. Better that you keep them.” Pausing, he pulled out a folder from a stack, looked at it, and promptly shoved it back into the stack. “But I’ll ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“I do not,” Sjan-dehk replied. “Ask.”

Kerr chuckled. “Well, fuck. Here I was thinking that Inno was terse enough.” He turned around and looked through the items on the cabinets. Without looking around, he asked, “Number of guns?”

It took Sjan-dehk a moment to realise that he was asking about Sada Kurau. “Thirty-four,” he answered.

“Yeah, I think I can just stop there,” Kerr remarked with a laugh. “Thirty-four guns? Bloody fuck, that makes your ship one of the most well-armed we’ll have.” He removed yet another folder – Sjan-dehk couldn’t see any difference between it and the one Kerr had discarded earlier – and looked at the title. With a nod, Kerr brought it over to the counter. “How soon can you sail?”

Sjan-dehk picked up his documents and tucked them under his arm. Kerr gave him a quick word of thanks before placing the folder on the countertop. “This evening, that is earliest. But if emergency, we can sail as soon as needed.”

“If there’s an emergency, those three cunts out there would be the first I call,” Kerr replied with a wry smile on his lips. Very carefully – as if he were opening some ancient tome – he flipped the folder open, turning the pages until he reached one which contained a list of what appeared to be the names of both ships and people. Sjan-dehk counted at least three dozen entries, and they barely filled half the page. And not every entry was written in the same way. Some were crossed out, others had been erased and rewritten in deep red ink, and a few had several circles around them.

Before Sjan-dehk could ask anything, however, Kerr spoke. “Anyway, that’s all the questions I have. If you still want to join us
” His brows furrowed as he shifted a few things about on his desk, eventually picking up a pencil and placing it on the page. “I’ll just need you to jot your name and your ship’s name here. It’s just for administrative purposes, and so we know who’s still with us and who’s not.”

Sjan-dehk hesitated. That was it? Just two simple questions and he was cleared to be a privateer? It felt a little too straightforward – careless, almost – to be true. He picked up the pencil, but merely held it over the page. “That is all?” He asked, his words slow and incredulous. “Things like experience, background, that is not
You do not need to know?”

Kerr drew in a deep breath and sighed. “Well, we used to ask about those,” he said, then pointed to one of the noticeboards. What Sjan-dehk had assumed to be bare cork was in fact layers upon layers of posters, each of them a separate call for help, pinned and plastered over each other until it was impossible to know where one ended and another began. “But we’re not in any position to be picky. Everything on that board’s just from the past two days, and we have more from today to process. We’re going to need every privateer we can get, and then some.”

“Anyway,” Kerr continued and tapped the page. “Personally, I gave up on asking that question because no one with a brain between their ears would ever own up to having no experience. Would you bloody believe it if I told you just how many supposed Varian veterans or Alidashti corsairs have come our way?” Another sigh left his lips, and he shook his head. His eyes gazed wistfully at the crossed-out names, and the ones in red ink. “Damn idiots probably thought they’d never end up as another notch on a pirate’s mast.”

It was only now did Sjan-dehk take a proper look at the man behind the counter. Kerr had the sort of face that was impossible to age; a pale complexion, full head of hair, and unblemished skin made him appear a youth, but the haggardness about him, the wrinkles around his eyes, and the jaded bite in his words were that of a grizzled and perhaps overworked elder. But what was unmistakable was his haunted visage. The regret that clouded his gaze; the slight downwards twitch of his lips, the setting and unsetting of his jaw as he looked at the page. All were things that Sjan-dehk had seen on many others, many times before.

They were the mark of a man who knew that he had sent countless others to their deaths.

Sjan-dehk could only imagine just how many of those crossed-out and reddened names had been people whom Kerr had known. At least with Sjan-dehk, he could fight alongside those who followed his orders. He could at least tell himself that he had done everything possible to keep his people alive, and it was simply a matter of fortune – or misfortune – as to who survived and who didn’t. Someone in Kerr’s position didn’t have such a luxury.

Sjan-dehk cleared his throat. “You do not have good
I mean, capable sailors who want to join?”

“Nah,” Kerr replied. “Our veterans have all been with us for years. Anyone who has their skill and wants to get into privateering now would rather try their luck in Varian or Alidasht. Can’t say I blame them. I hear the prize money is twice or thrice of what they’d earn here for the same sort of work. I'm honestly surprised that the likes of Inno, Evie, and Oli are still sticking around, to tell you the truth.” He shook his head. “But yeah, we don’t exactly have experienced sailors lining up to join us. I’d be happy enough with a fisherman who’s strapped a gun to his fucking skiff.”

Sjan-dehk nodded slowly. The bleak picture painted by Olivier and Evie had been accurate; the Privateers’ Office simply didn’t have the ability to keep up with the rise in pirate activity. Not with the inexperience and under-equipped privateers they were sending out. It all reminded Sjan-dehk of a particularly terrible type of battle; a meat-grinder. It was all the Privateers’ Office could do, to send ships and sailors one after another into the fray, and hope that eventually one of them would emerge victorious.

That thought didn’t just sit poorly with Sjan-dehk. It disgusted him. And whatever lingering doubts that still remained in his mind about becoming a privateer vanished. This was where Sada Kurau, her crew, and he were needed most, he felt sure of it. He picked up the pencil and swiftly added both his name, and that of Sada Kurau, to the list.

“Then it is good I am here, yes?” He quipped, grinning.

Kerr chuckled and spun the folder around. “I like that confidence, but you better make sure you can back it up with action. It’d be fucking embarrassing otherwise,” he said. Then, his face scrunched up in confusion as he saw the pictographs Sjan-dehk had written. “What’s this? Some Kimoonese script or something?”

Once again, Sjan-dehk found himself wondering what the Kimoonese were like, if he could be mistaken as one of them so many times. “No, it is not. I am not
That. I am Jafin. Viserjantan.”

“Right,” Kerr said, dragging out the word. “I’ve no idea where that is, but I guess it doesn’t really matter. As long as we can tell which names are yours and your ships, it’s good enough, and those pictures you drew sure are distinct, I’d say.” As with earlier, he handled the folder with great care as he brought it down onto the desk, placing it in the only corner that was relatively clear of mess.

“So, that is all?” Sjan-dehk asked.

“Almost,” Kerr replied as shuffled over to the cabinets behind him. “There's some stuff I need to give you.”

Sjan-dehk nodded and leaned against the counter as he waited. The only sounds which filled the building were the scraping of wood against wood as Kerr opened drawer after drawer, and the colour expressions he used when he failed to find whatever it was he sought. Soon, however, Sjan-dehk decided to seize this opportunity to ask him a question that had been weighing on his mind all this while. “Just now, I heard that you have some ships that are not allowed to sail,” he started. “Why is that?”

Kerr shook his head. “Trust me when I say that if I knew, I’d tell you. Bloody fuck, I’d tell Evie just so she’d stop moaning about it every damn time she sees me.” He squatted, opened a small cabinet, and then shut it just as quickly before moving on to the one directly beside it. “I just relay whatever the higher-ups tell me to tell privateers, and all they told me was that we had to keep our experienced crews in harbour as much as possible. Bloody hoity-toity cunts always throwing us the tough jobs. I’d love to see them keep a bunch of veteran sailors happy with that sort of news.”

Sjan-dehk furrowed his brow. That was almost the exact same as what Evie had said. “Then do you have any
Any guesses?” He pressed.

Kerr shrugged and pulled out a small, palm-sized book from a box. “Some rich and important bastards felt nervous hearing about all these pirate sightings, I guess, and they want to make sure that they’ll have our very best escorting their ships at a moment’s notice.” With a grunt, he stood up and grabbed what seemed to be a rolled sheet from the top of a cabinet. “They’re the only ones I can think of who can bribe– I mean, convince my higher-ups to push out such a fucking stupid order. I’d give it a week, maybe two, before they pull their heads from their arses and lift the restrictions.”

He returned to the counter with a few items in hand. There was the book from earlier, and the roll of cloth, as well as a yellowed, folded sheet of paper. “But you don’t have to worry about any of that. The only ones confined to harbour are our veterans, and you’re not one of them yet.” He placed the items on the counter, one on top of the other with the roll of cloth at the bottom. “Anyway, here’s everything you need.”

He held up the book. “This is the Caesonian Privateer’s Code of Conduct. It’ll tell you what you should do when you take prisoners, when and how you should engage targets. You can read it on your own time, but it's honestly worth less than the paper it’s printed on. Everything in there’s written by someone who’s quite obviously an idiot who’s never spent a day of their lives at sea. I’d personally use it as kindling.” He placed the book on the counter. “But I’ve a legal obligation to give it to you, so here it is.”

Sjan-dehk resisted the urge to laugh, and tried to keep his face as straight as possible. This was certainly a departure from how things were done in the Commonwealth. He wasn’t quite sure which style was more to his liking just yet, however. “And this is
” He prodded the cloth with a finger. Its once-vibrant green had faded to a pale shade of olive from age, and wisps of dust clung to its rough threads. “This is the flag?”

Kerr grinned. “You catch on quick,” he said with a nod. “That’s the Caesonian Privateering Jack. The letter of the law’s pretty clear on this. You should fly it before getting into a fight, otherwise your enemy could get you in trouble by accusing you of piracy.” He lowered his voice before continuing. “But don’t worry about it if you can’t. I’m sure you’ll have situations where you either can’t fly the Jack, or you’d rather not because of some reason or other. Just do your job, and we’ll take care of the rest.”

Sjan-dehk nodded. He could understand that. “And this?” he asked and picked up the sheet of paper.

“Oh, that’s a map of Caesonian territorial waters,” Kerr explained. “It’s maybe four or five years out of date, but our borders haven’t moved in fucking ages so it should still hold up. It’ll at least let you know whether you’re straying into Varian or Alidashti waters.” He took a step back and looked at everything, lips moving in a quiet mutter for a moment. Then, he nodded to nobody in particular. “Looks like that’s it. You’re all set, Captain. Anything else?”

“Yes,” Sjan-dehk said, picking up the items and tucking them under his arm with his documents. “Anything for me to do?” Kerr started to point towards the noticeboard, but Sjan-dehk cut him off before he could get a word out. “I mean, is there work no one takes?”

Kerr regarded him with a strange look for a moment. “You’re a strange one,” he said with a chuckle before sifting through some of the papers on his desk. “Most people avoid jobs that others avoid, but if you’re set on taking an undesirable job, I’ve got one right here.” He picked up a poster and scanned through it before holding it out to Sjan-dehk. “Someone came in two days ago with word of pirates picking their way around the Felipina coast after sunset, just two to three hours south of Sorian.”

“I just need to see what they are doing, yes?” Sjan-dehk asked and took the poster. Kerr didn’t let go.

“Yes, and no,” he said, a serious look on his face. “I sent a privateer out to have a look that very same day we got the report, and we’ve heard nothing from him since. No one’s seen his ship, either. Whatever’s out there is probably dangerous, and that’s why nobody’s taking this job. I’m not too keen on feeding whatever bastard of a pirate that’s out there any new blood, either. But if you’re certain you can handle this job, then you go ahead. I have to hear it clearly, however. Now that you know the risks, are you certain you want to take this job?”

Sjan-dehk grinned. Kerr didn’t return it, and instead tightened his hold on the poster. “Yes, Sada Kurau can do it. It will be no problem.” Kerr didn’t look convinced, and so Sjan-dehk went on. “She, her crew, and me, we fight many, many pirates before, and in battles with many, many ships. This is not something we never do before. Do not worry.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not the first to tell me that,” Kerr said darkly, but nevertheless let go of the poster. “Truth be told, I can’t actually stop you if you want to take the job. My higher-ups would have my fucking head if I ever got found out.” He sat back down and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Don’t do anything too stupid out there, alright? Just go, have a look, and come back. I don’t care if all you get is a bearing on where they’re going, or just a description of the ship. If you don’t have to fight, don’t fight. If you have to, well, then I trust that you’ll be smart about it. Run if you have to. Nobody will say a thing about it.”

“There is no need to worry,” Sjan-dehk said, this time in a firm tone and with a serious look on his face. He had a rather good guess as to why Kerr had said all that. The man had likely lost so many new privateers under similar circumstances that he now wanted to err on the side of caution. Sjan-dehk could understand that. But Sada Kurau wasn’t just any ship, and her crew were far from inexperienced sailors. He had every confidence that they would make short work of these pirates, whatever they may turn out to be.

“What they do, I will find out for you,” Sjan-dehk said. “And your missing privateer, I will find out what I can about them.”

Kerr sighed. “Wish I could share your confidence, Captain,” he said. He turned his head to look at a clock hanging next to one of the noticeboards. “Well, fuck me. There goes my noon break,” he grumbled. Then, he looked back at Sjan-dehk. “Time for me to get back to work, I guess. Good luck out there tonight, and I hope to see you with news of success.”

Sjan-dehk grinned. “Do not worry. You will.”

With that, he quickly left the office. He stopped briefly at the veranda to bid Aislin and the three privateers farewell before continuing on to Sada Kurau’s berth. He strode through the streets with purpose, and with head held high. It was time for him, his crew, and Sada Kurau to do what they did best.



A stranger stood on the pier.

Dressed in markedly non-Caesonian clothes, they paced about in circles right by Sada Kurau’s gangplank, wringing their hands and throwing surreptitious glances at the ship every now and then. Sjan-dehk wasn’t quite sure what to make of them as he approached. And judging by the confused faces peering over and down the ship’s gunwale, neither did his crew. It was a peculiar sight to see upon his return to Sada Kurau after spending the better part of the morning away from her, but Sjan-dehk couldn’t say he was concerned by it. If anything, he was amused.

Because for one, the very fact that he could leisurely stroll up to the stranger, until he was close enough to hear their mumbled ramblings, and without being noticed, was proof enough that this person was no threat whatsoever. If they were a spy or some other clandestine agent, then they were a lousy one.

And for two, the stranger’s attire – while not Jafin – was certainly Viserjantan in nature. Sjan-dehk knew of only two places in all of Sorian where one might find Viserjantans, and since this stranger was very clearly not a member of Sada Kurau’s crew, they had to be from Sudah. Although Sjan-dehk didn’t get along with Kaizahn, Sudah’s Captain, it was purely a professional rivalry. He doubted that the man would do anything malicious towards him or his Sada Kurau.

SJan-dehk cleared his throat loudly. “Good afternoon,” he called out, a mischievous grin on his face and a curious glint in his eyes. “Want to tell me what you’re doing in front of my crew and my ship?”

The stranger yelped and visibly flinched, spinning around so quickly to face Sjan-dehk that he thought for a moment that they would fling themselves into the lapping waves. “C-Captain!” They squeaked. Flushing from the embarrassment, they quickly composed themselves, straightening out their skirts and tunics, and clearing their throat. “I-I was sent–” They tripped over their words almost as soon as they began speaking, and the reddish hue of their cheeks deepened.

“From Sudah, I know,” Sjan-dehk completed for them.

Now that Sjan-dehk took a closer look at the stranger, he realised that they were, in fact, a
Well, his first thought was ‘man’, but really, this youth looked far too young to be called that. Mousey and with all the airs of an academic rather than a sailor, Sjan-dehk couldn’t imagine the boy to be older than twenty. With long hair tied into a tail that sat high on his head, high cheekbones, and upturned eyes, Sjan-dehk would have almost certainly mistaken the boy for a woman had they simply passed each other on the street.

The boy’s complexion was that of freshly-baked terracotta, a marker of someone hailing from the southern reaches of the Commonwealth. In fact, based solely on his clothes, Sjan-dehk could even name the exact province he likely came from. The round-collared tunic, worn tight around the body and secured just below the collarbone, and the thigh-length skirt which flowed from it like tassets, were the trademarks of only one specific province.

“So, what brings a Sedarahan to a Jafin ship?” Sjan-dehk asked, his grin still plastered across his face. He was serious about the question, however. The province of Sedaran was known for two things: religion and magic. And while a sermon was the very last thing he would ever need or want, the idea that Sudah would send an arcanist ashore to meet him, after he had specifically written to them about Caesonia’s unfriendly attitude towards magic, felt almost insulting.

“We’re all devout children of the Mother of the Waves here,” Sjan-dehk continued, his tone teasing. “So if you’re here to preach, I’m afraid you’re going to be very disappointed.”

“Oh, no! That’s wrong,” the boy replied. Sjan-dehk raised a brow, and the boy’s eyes immediately widened in realisation, and a bit of fear. “N-No, I did not– I didn’t mean–” He planted his gaze at his feet, and wrung his hands so hard that Sjan-dehk wondered if he was trying to snap his own fingers. “I-I find you Jafins– I mean, I find Jafin beliefs fascinating, actually, and I-I don’t actually know how– Well, I do, but it’s only what I’ve heard from the priests when I-I was very–”

“Alright, alright, calm down,” Sjan-dehk said and chuckled. “Relax. I’m just joking. Why don’t we start over, and you can give me your name, and tell me why you’re here?”

The boy hesitated, then jerked his head in a clumsy nod. “I-I’m Aijah Yasawen of Sedaran. I am– I mean, I was one of Sudah’s apprentice healers.” He fished out a crumpled, folded note from a pocket. Holding it in both hands, he bowed slightly as he extended it to Sjan-dehk. “I came here to pass on Captain Kaizahn’s reply to your letter. The one from earlier.”

Sjan-dehk took the note. “Like I said, relax,” he said. “We don’t stand on ceremony here. Too tiring.” Then, he carefully unfolded the sheet of paper and scanned through it.

To the Fourth Lesser Marquis of Jafi, and Captain of Sada Kurau,
Wasun Sjan-dehk,

I write to you regarding the concerns you have raised in your last missive. Those of us aboard
Sudah share them as well. You are right in assuming that our finances will be in dire straits if we are to stay in this city for a period any longer than two months. I would also rather not enforce austerity measures when we are so far from home, and the men are liable to homesickness.

As such, I, on behalf of the Expedition Council, applaud you taking the initiative to shoulder some of our financial burdens. You are therefore approved to engage in privateering activities on behalf of the Caesonian Kingdom, provided that you abide by the following rules and restrictions:

1. Under no circumstances are you to engage in any acts of war against another sovereign state whilst flying Caesonian colours.

2. You are to take no actions that would negatively impact the well-being of the expedition and its constituent members, both people and material.


Sjan-dehk barely repressed a laugh. He didn’t recall asking for permission to do anything. Rather, he had simply informed Kaizahn and the relevant people aboard Sudah of a decision he had already made.

Well, he supposed it was good that they approved of his plan. Having to explain himself – of everything he had done this afternoon – would have been a hassle.

As your ship will likely enter combat, we have taken the liberty of reassigning some of Sudah’s crew to aid you in your venture. The first will be the messenger possessing this letter. He is Aijah Yasawen, one of our junior healer apprentices. We believe that you will make good use of his abilities. There will be more sent to Sada Kurau once we finalise our duty rosters, so I suggest that you start making the necessary arrangements to add more crew to your vessel.

In addition,

In light of your report about local attitudes towards magic, the following guidelines must be adhered to for any arcanist or otherwise magic-user going ashore:

1. Under no circumstances are they to display any magical abilities

2. They are to be escorted by at least one non-arcane crewmember at any given time

3. Should they be arrested by local authorities, a report should be made to
Sudah immediately regardless of the time of day. You, as Captain, are to also begin negotiations for their release as soon as possible

That will be all for now. Any new updates to the rules and regulations that have been outlined in this missive shall come in the form of official standing orders.

Good luck,
Sehseh Kaizahn
Captain of
Sudah


Sjan-dehk looked up from the note and at Yasawen. “So, you’re a healer, are you?”

Yasawen nodded. “Yes, but only a junior one,” he said, then quickly added, “B-But I studied at Sakaka! At the Institute of Arcanology. I-I specialised in both healing and geomancy, and although I’m definitely not as good as Mistress Sehja, I’ve been told that I-I’m quite talented and–”

“Like I keep saying, calm down. I believe you,” Sjan-dehk said and held out his hand. The Sakaka Institute of Arcanology, a school – well, more of a university – located in the capital of the province of Sedaran, was said to produce some of the best arcanists available to the Commonwealth. Then again, every school of the arcane made the exact same claim. But then again, again, Sedaran had always been known for the natural ability of the arcanists born in their lands, and only the best out of those would even get to smell the air of the Sakaka Institute of Arcanology.

In other words, Yasawen was likely plenty more skilled than he appeared.

“Healing and geomancy, huh?” Sjan-dehk said, sounding genuinely impressed. “Can’t say I’ve met many arcanists with that unique mix of skills. Though I’m not too sure you’ll be using much geomancy serving on a warship.” He grinned. “We don’t really like sailing into land, you see. Doesn’t do Sada Kurau’s hull much good, and would probably get us in a shitheap of trouble.”

“Oh!” Yasawen chirped. For the first time since Sjan-dehk met him, he looked eager. “If that happens, I can just move the earth to get us free.” His face fell slightly. “I-I never tried it, though. It’s all theory so far, but if I know the depth of the water, and know how far away earth is, I-I can move it.”

Sjan-dehk chuckled. He walked past the boy and stepped onto the gangway before turning around to look at him. “That’s good to know, but if we ever run aground, I’d probably ask you to just fucking bury me. Iyen would never, ever let me hear the end of it.” He tilted his head towards Sada Kurau. “Anyway, looks like you're one of us, now. Get yourself aboard, and go find Master Avek. He’ll get you sorted out and show you where you can berth yourself.”

Yasawen scrambled to follow behind Sjan-dehk. “W-Wait! Who’s Avek? Where do I go?”

“Consider that your first task as part of Sada Kurau’s crew,” Sjan-dehk replied over his shoulder. “Figure it out on your own. Explore around. Get yourself acquainted with Sada Kurau." He paused as his feet returned to the familiar planking of his ship's deck. "I mean, I could show you around, but there's no fun in that. Besides, she's a special ship. She'll want you to get to know her on her own terms."
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Hidden 28 days ago Post by ReusableSword
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ReusableSword The (not so) Mighty.

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Time: Evening
Location: Pinebrook
Interactions: Dr. John @Conscripts
Mentions in order: Riona @JJ Doe
outfit: white long sleeve shirt with dark green vest, silver pocket watch, brown comfortable pants, leather boots. left arm in a white sling, dark brown leather duster and wide brim black hat for wet weather.





Roman was quiet for the carriage ride to Pinebrook. His mind lost in thought while he watched the world go by outside. Going over the meeting with his people just before and all the pieces moving across the board, hiring Riona, sharing intelligence, and information and the report of some kind of assault on John Williamson. He knew what he had to do and he would see it done one step at a time.

The next step was to find either John or Riona. He needed to talk to john to confirm the reports he was given about their involvement the other night and get their stories straight. Then talk to Riona to see if she remembered anything from what he requested of her. The news of his impending trial was surprising. If anything, the king jumped the gun so to say, giving them time to get there information straight before questioning them. Maybe he saw it as a gift or mercy of some kind, this was something he would have to think about later.

What was strange was the reported severity of the injury to the guard that he assaulted. The reports he was given said the mans armor took the brunt of the attack and his injuries were light. Yet, they said the man’s injuries were significant enough to have a formal trial. Roman smelled foul play of some sort, character assassination was still an attack even if it was a subtle one. He knew the crown here wouldn’t outright come after him due to his families high standing with his own crown.

A benefit few truly new as to why but rumors circulated around the stronger Varian noble houses as to why the smaller Ravenwood house had such a high standing with the royal family. Rumors he did not care to think about currently. All the rumors did was make some of the other Noble houses wary of them. He didn’t blame them, there was good reason as to why many high-ranking military personnel where from his family. Fewer still knew why he was not among them being the oldest and heir to the family name.

What seemed like barley any time at all the carriage started to slow and his driver knocked on the wood to let him know they had arrived at Pinebrook. He glanced at his arm and frowned, it was still painful to move but with the help of his shaman and what Riona did it will be able to be used again soon. Until then it would remain in the sling hidden under his coat. At least it was a good spot to hide a blade if he needed it.

He didn’t fail to notice a few others looking at him a bit longer than the other occupants as he stepped out, plain clothes guards perhaps. He wasn’t going to disappear; it would be easy but out of character for Roman Ravenwood to try and run from the upcoming trial. However, he did spot one other man a little ways Infront of him, Dr. john just the man he was looking for.

Roman nodded towards the camp hosts and returned their smile as he approached his friend. Greeting the man with a simple nod and a smile. “Good evening, Doctor. Do you have the time for a private word?” stretching out his good right hand away from the rest of the departing nobles and their entourages. His voice lowering to a whisper for a moment, “I would like to know your recollection of events during the ritual.” He was sure that they both knew that he wasn’t asking the man to step away with him given their history. John was one of the few people here that had a grasp of who Roman really was.
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Hidden 27 days ago Post by CitrusArms
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CitrusArms Space Spatula

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Stratya Durmand

Time:
25th,
Location: Carriage and Pinebrook
Attire: Very Light Armor Set
Family Dirk +Crest
Interactions:
Mentions:

Stratya had a basket of baked goods left over from that morning with her in the carriage. She’d been sharing with Stewart on the ride over. She had been informed that there would be a great many accommodations available at the campsite, and that she wouldn’t need to be prepared to rough it. The news had been somewhat disappointing, but perhaps that was best, as Clearwell had given her a nice stack of paperwork that she needed to put her own eyes and pen on. She’d probably end up doing it just before bed.

She had, however, brought her zweihander, stowed with a small bindle of personal items and a bow and arrow. Her dirk continued to decorate her hip, and it had been joined on her other hip by her swordbreaker.

There was something specific, as well. A report from that very morning, in fact, while she had been at Drake’s party. It had her own seal on it, so James must have written it, himself. Handed directly to her. Clearwell had discussed the incident with her very briefly, and she’d furnished him with the means to do what he needed, and a fine payment for the aid they’d managed to secure. He hadn’t said much more, only enough to impress on her the need to pay the aid.

The carriage came to a halt and Stratya gathered her basket and bindle and sword and disembarked. The cord rested in her hand at her shoulder, with the basket held effortlessly in her elbow like she’d done it a thousand times before. The large sword was tied up in the bindle cord to keep it secured, and fit well on her back. She had no intention of drawing it just then, of course. If a bear showed up, she could handle it. Unlikely, but possible. As an army officer, she felt responsible for the safety of those she was with. That feeling doubled when she laid eyes on him.

That’s a dead man.

The scar at his neck. She couldn’t tell easily if it went all the way around or not. It sure seemed like it did. That was his head on top of that body, moving, speaking, looking. Was he thinking? Or did it just look that way, was he a puppet of some kind? Wait, his head. What had she done with his- the morgue.

Puzzle this out later. You're obvious when you're alerted.

She snapped herself out of her thoughtful daze and excused herself as needing rest from a busy week. Not a total lie. Was she the only one here that would notice? She didn’t see anyone she could confirm this with here, yet. Captain Stratya Durmand felt a familiar dread creep into her mind as she let herself be herded into the pavilion. She leaned herself against one of the support posts, resting her zweihander on the ground and leaning similarly into herself. The basket of bread still hung on her arm.
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Hidden 26 days ago 12 days ago Post by Potter
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Potter

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Time: Evening
Location: Pinebrook
Interactions:
Mentions: @Conscripts John ☁ @ReusableSword Roman ☁ @CitrusArms Straya ☁

Aesthetic:
☁ Hair
☁ Necklace
☁ Bandanna, Outfit (ignore the shoes))
☁ Boots


Go camping, he said, it will be fun, he said. Kira hardly retained her groan when she was told she’d be going to the event. Kira let out a deep sigh and stared out the carriage window. The grimey, bug-filled woods, with these people. While she waited to arrive, an advisor recapped the recent events to her- there would be a trial against Roman Ravenwood, and the Varians were all under scrutiny. This bode well for her because they would all have to be on their best behavior. Additionally, the odds were in her favor; Varian Doctor John Williamson and Roman, the beast himself, would be at the event.

For the event, it didn’t matter if she was from an infamous line of pirate nobles, would it? The details didn’t matter, as long as the right strings were pulled. Kira could sleep anywhere, in any situation, but she preferred the pristine and rich decor of the Black Rose. Her stomach churned when she thought of her pets, waiting for her in her room, likely asleep and not knowing when she’d be back. Kira pushed it out of her mind–she needed to focus.

Finally, the carriage arrived at the camping event. There was gentle nudge on her arm and she opened her eyes with a scowl. Jesse flinched and muttered an apology she barely heard. She ignored him and turned to stare outside. She inhaled sharply at the magnificent beauty. Even she couldn’t deny it. A smirk crossed her lips briefly when she noticed John had arrived.

Kira sauntered off the carriage with Jesse’s assistance. She bade him goodbye and waved kindly; if this confused Jesse, he did not show it like the good toy she had taught. The carriage disappeared back the way it’d come and she turned to face the festivities. Her senses were assaulted by bright lights, smell of fire, aroma of food, and the melodious chirping of crickets. The food table looked delightful and her mouth watered. Kira could almost taste the food, and she restrained herself from moving toward it. Her gaze moved to the lake and a ghost of a smile sparkled in her eyes. Everywhere she looked, there was some magnificent detail. This did not look so bad after all, and she hated to admit it.

With confidence in every stride and a sweet smile on her face, Kira moved over to the check in area. With her hands clasped together, she bounced her leg to appear anxious, as she introduced herself. She was given her optional partner, which she agreed to. When she thought the lady would finally be done, the bumbling idiot rattled off more information. Kira feigned listening to her and nodded and smiled at the appropriate times. When she finally finished, Kira thanked her. She turned and walked over to the fire pit and waited for others to arrive. Quietly, and indiscreetly, Kira kept an eye on the Doctor. Then, she noticed a bear of a man join him– none other than the now infamous Roman Ravenwood. Her trademark stoic expression remained and did not betray the emotions inside.

At the same time, another woman appeared with light brown hair and eyes, and she wore light armor. A Sorian Knight? Wonderful. Kira glanced in her direction for a moment and curiosity kindled inside of her and a smile crossed her face from ear-to-ear. However, she hung back, and decided to observe everything first and gather intel that way.


Let the games begin...
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