Grand Bank, Duchess Agustria's Estate, a Few Days Before the Queen's Voyage Would Meet Athius

_{@Donut Look Now, @Click This}

---

“Please allow us to escort you to her grace. It wouldn’t do if her esteemed guests were to get lost. It is, after all, a very large house.”

Mene stepped out of the carriage with his ‘sister’, greeting the staff with a polite smile. He hoped it was convincing enough to hide the squeamishness that caused his skin to feel itchy and palms to clam up.

It seemed Her Grace was very, very untrusting, due to what she saw at Duke Rhinecliff's estate. Mene should have seen this coming. He should have gotten off the carriage and walked the last ten minutes himself. That we he would have had a chance to slip through a crack and enter the estate in secret?

Now?

Now they were flying by the seat of their pants. One of them had to be free to look through correspondence or pick up whispered secrets. But how?

“If possible, could you lead my brother to a lavatory? The journey here was long, after all.”

Ah, his sister. Quick thinking as always. It truly made him admire her more, and he shot a relieved glance in her direction. Perhaps he could slip away on the way or in the lavatory.

He pretended to squirm, an embaressed flush growing over his cheeks. ”Ah, yes. It is somewhat of an emergency…”

Meanwhile, his ring glimmered. He set his intention to be able to slip away in a momentary lapse in attention, and wished for it terribly. If there was even a hint, even a possibility it could happen - he, and his ring, would take advantage of it.

Duchess of Caelin

---

Grand Bank, Agustria House\\
@Estylwen, @Donut Look Now

‘Asteria’s’ suggestion immediately drew consternation from the leading maid, who narrowed her eyes as she looked between the two young nobles, knowing well what their instruction had been from the duchess herself. The older, more experienced Vauxhall, however, did not miss a beat and nodded at the twins’ request. “Very well,” replied the older man, “If you will follow me, we will show you to a guest lavatory.”

Another of the maids gestured for Mene to follow the steward, and as soon as he did so, she and another maid fell in behind him. If questioned, they would respond they would be helping to escort an honored guest—but the presence of three people did make it difficult for him to slip away in the hallway, even with the advantages of his ring. The ring did work; there were numerous distractions along the short way—a dapper butler in the hallway that briefly drew the admiring attention of one of the maids; a sneeze the steward; but each time, one of the three covered for the others until they made it to the bathroom. This was one of the lavatories afforded to guests for the sitting room. Like any proper room on an estate as large as this, it was large and well appointed. Particularly of note was the opaque frosted window that allowed light in, but little much else.

The two remaining maids meanwhile brought ‘Asteria’ directly to Mirie in her study without her brother. Filing in behind their guest, they stood at the ready. The duchess was sitting at her desk, frowning for a moment when she noticed the white-haired girl was alone. Then she decided that it was probably for the better. The absence of panic in her household staff so far meant that whatever was going on with her brother was under control for the moment.

“Viscountess Asteria, a pleasure to see you again. My maids’ welcoming party was not too jarring, I hope?”

---

Swiftsure, At Sea, Several Days Later, Afternoon\\
@Estylwen, @Irradiant, @The Otter

Hamilton, to an extent, had expected that the Swiftsure would become the ghosts’ latest punching bag the moment the ship had engaged them. Some of the fire had shifted towards the dragon at Callum’s hollering, and a few guns on the weather deck even opened up on it. Unfortunately, they were loaded with proper cannonballs, easily missing their airborne target despite its size. Jikoryss’s reply was far more devastating. The peal of lightning smacked against its upper gundeck, cracking wood and knocking back some of the guns peeking out from their ports, snapping their rope bindings and even fully dismounting a few cannons that landed on their unfortunate crews. The ship shuddered and shook, but shouldered on.

Faith’s attack was less materially damaging, but dealt the greater proportion of injury to the men as his lance slammed into the weather deck among the ranks of shooters and mages. A few were killed outright and the rest scattered, some being blown overboard or across the deck and forcing Hamilton and some of his officers to briefly duck for cover.

“Blast it all, this wasn’t the type of battle we prepared for,” he muttered, making a pained expression at the damage to his ship and his men. His captain immediately began calling for the injured to be brought below deck as the others rallied the men and began firing back again. The guns on the weather deck were the most equipped to shoot back, and this time with grape shot as they began to fire canisters of metal pellets at both Faith and the dragon.

It wasn't a good situation, but Hamilton was hardly out of resources. He might not have an angry dragon or monster fighters, but quantity was still quality on its own. “Signal the fleet. Form up defensively around the Swiftsure and the Minstrel and fire on that dragon!”

Sailing in line formation expecting a naval threat had been a mistake. With enough people shooting at the dragon and the toadies of the Ravenfell king, though, he reasoned it would be enough to drive them off.

-

Underwater, Mirie and Minuette were having a much better time. Valor’s intervention had been unexpected, but a somewhat welcome one. In a way, she was a hindrance to the duchess’s plans, with the queen and her allies in battle further below, but Valot was also an unambiguously obvious enemy and threat for her to target immediately. Being underwater hindered communication, though, and she had to signal the countess to spread out as Valor attacked with a golden light, whipping up the water around them into a frenzied whirlpool.

Mirie countered with a storm of her own, gathering the vast quantity of bubbles and air in the churning waters into a turbulent wave to counter Valor’s swirling water. Stepping out from the turgid currents, she charged at Valor, cutting out at her with bolts of air that sliced towards the ghostly woman. At the same time, Minuette came in from another angle, slashing out with her sword while Valor was forced to dodge Mirie’s spells.

---

Oh. I'm not her secret police. I'm just her fixer. That's fantastic.

His left hand shot up, reflexively catching the very unfortunately slimy Seed that was spat his way as he already tried to forget the sight of the oversized fish trying to speak to him. It only stood to reason that something would go wrong, significantly wrong, below the suface to match what was happening above. At least the queen's preparation didn't leave anything to scoff at, giving him one of the other rings just in case for this eventuality. "Alright, then, let's—"

He ducked to the side, hand swiping another of the pearly crystals out of the air as Captain Thorne threw yet another his way.

Ah. Wonderful. Double duty. Or is it triple at this point? I'm losing track.

He shot Spirit a disinterested glare, stepping back towards the railing as the mercenary captain stepped between them. "Can't play this time, sorry," he quipped with a small wave, lazily rolling backwards over the ship's rail as the dragon and the other foreigner decided to assault the Swiftsure. Before he even hit the water, the ring he'd been given blew a skintight bubble out around him, leaving him floating perfectly dry in the water.

Before he began to dive rapidly, aided by the ring's own propulsion, cursing and narrowly evading the stray fire from Mirie, Hayworth, and the third Ravenfell intruder. Undeterred by the prospect that the ghostly people had found some way to multiply, he sped along towards the queen, slowing at the sight of the creature she had come to try and tame. "Ah, rach air muin," he grumbled looking at the momentarily-blinded Ingens. "Iasg na galla. You said these go in its head, aye?"

Where had the court mage even gone? Knocked out and sent to the depths? Surely she couldn't have sank so fast if that was the case, sank at all, even—but he hadn't seen her come floating to the top either. Eaten? Dia, don't tell me this thing ate one of us... He swallowed, pulling his dagger free with his right hand, if only to have something to try and pry up Ingens's scales with.

"...Your majesty." The honorific came late, an afterthought, manners reasserting themselves despite the beast before him. "Captain Thorne is occupied on the deck. I'll try and be quick about this." With a small salute with the dagger—slow and sloppy through the water, but hopefully the thought would count for something—he turned, and sped on towards Ingens while the beast blearily tried to right its vision. At least the tentacles should be fairly easy to see if it tried to flail about more, and easy to see meant at least some chance of avoidance...or, failing that, he supposed he could always just grab on if one should hit him and try and pull himself along it.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

Grand Bank, Duchess Agustria's Estate, A Few Days Previous

_{@Click This}

---

Mene gave his ‘sister’ a parting look before following Vauxhall down the hall. It was immediately unnerving to have two maids follow closely behind him. He could feel their stares hollowing holes out of his back. And, no matter how he wished or how his ring gleamed, there was not enough of an opportunity to slip away.

So, alas, he found himself in the lavatory, at a complete loss for what to do. His gaze immediately went to the large window. His fingers even traced around its edges, looking, hoping for a latch to open it. Alas, he had no such luck.

A part of him wanted to quit there, and simply return to his sister and the duchess to enjoy under the guise of a friendly meeting. But… Her Majesty was already upset with them. It meant that if he, if they failed one more time…

He didn't care for himself, but his sister… If anything were to happen to her, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

There was an empty stone chamber pot on the floor. It was exquisite, with flecks of gold running through the polished granite. Heavy so as to deter guests from moving it; to leave that task to the maids. But perhaps… Perhaps he could use it.

First, Mene ensured the lavatory door was locked from his side. That would give him a few seconds of a head start. Then, Mene picked up the chamber pot by its lipped rim, approached the window, coiled and held his breath… Before he slammed the stone chamber pot into the window with all the strength he could muster, ring glimmering once again to increase his chances of shattering the window.

---

Present Day, Battle-Blood Minstrel, Above Athius

_{@Irradiant, @The Otter, @Click This}

---

"Can't play this time, sorry,"

Spirit growled in annoyance, watching as Callum disappeared over the ship's railing. His eyes were drawn back to the Captain, contempt in his demeanor and he drew his sword. ”You're going to regret interfering, old man.”

Captain Thorne balked, ”Old man?! I'm 29! …What, is it the beard?”

As Spirit aimed to break through Captain Thorne's shield, his dagger glowing with a gold Deshell, his shadow… well, it moved.

In the next instance, a hooded man holding a broadsword materialized out of Spirit's shadow, slamming his blade hard. Spirit turned on his heel, sword clashing. The deshell meant for the captain was instead transferred to his second-in-command, John Jones, who let out an irritated groan, now suffused with a gold aura.

”Great, see what happens when I cover for you, ’old man’!”

Captain Thorne shot back. ”Again, I'm not old!”

Spirit, rolling his eyes, prepared another spell to end the stalemate. But before he could use it, he was blown back with a wicked wind of frozen ice crystals. Vulluin stepped forward, joining the side of the captain and John. His gaze momentarily absorbed the carnage of the ship, the bodies of fallen soldiers and sailors, before his gaze fell flatly on Spirit.

”You're not escaping us, foreigner. Treason against the Queen is punishable by death.” He said, hand raised with another spell of ice.

Spirit merely smirked darkly under his mask, dagger at the ready. ”Good thing I only report to the true king.”

***

Under the water's surface, Valor could only cooly smile underneath her mask. She had gained quite a bit of attention, it had seemed. Though her target was still far below the water's surface, she would need to take care of the Queen's nobles before moving on to stopping this whole nonsense of ‘taming a leviathan.’

The blasts of air from Duchess Agustria were dodged easily enough. However, it was only the crack of a cut that alerted Valor to Minuette's sword attack. Her sword had wedged itself into her golden sphere, causing water to enter in pressurized streams. Valor looked with a lidded gaze, before a flash of light caught her eye. More than one flash, and brilliant orange hair…

Before she could do anything about Callum whizzing past her to the Queen below, one of the slices of mana had made its home in her sphere, passing through the construct to hit her square in the chest. The others did the same, and Valor hung there limply in the water, her armour shattered and clothes torn.

Before she raised her hand, an angry glint in her eye. Not needing to breathe, she clenched her fist. Specks of gold began to coalesce around Duchess Agustria, Minuette and Sir Hayworth. Each began to twist, growing like snowflakes snaking across freezing glass. They grew and grew, forming cubes that tried to bind themselves to the Arrowfell citizens and to the cubes around them. Attempting to both cage them and squish them under the pressure of golden cubes coming together.

***

Down further below, The Wizard Queen glanced over at Callum.

"Captain Thorne is occupied on the deck. I'll try and be quick about this."

It was necessary to read his lips as he spoke, the water muffling most of what he said. The Wizard Queen nodded in understanding, an anglerfish passing beside her. With a gesture of her hand, the anglerfish's massive bulk moved forward, eyeing Callum before it began to lead the way towards Ingens’ massive head.

With their speed, they made it to the massive scape that was Ingens's head with little issue, as Ingens was still recovering from being blinded. The anglerfish's bulb lit up, illuminating soft scales that could easily be pried to the side to allow for the burial of the Seeds.

However, the scales and the head suddenly and speedily shifted, illuminated by the light until Callum was looking directly down at the three massive eyes of Ingens.

”You really think I'm so stupid? …You mortals are all the same. Die.”

Water currents pulled at Callum and the anglerfish as Ingens opened his massive maw. It was like staring down a massive tunnel as one looked at the back of his throat. It was like staring death in the face.

And Ingens launched forward, aiming to swallow them whole.

***

Back on the surface, things weren't looking good for Raiden and Jikoryss. Jikoryss, suddenly having the whole of the fleet firing upon him, was flying widely through the air, trying to outrun the guns. Lightning filled his mouth as he prepared to deliver another blow to the Swiftsure.

Before he was blindsided by the blows of the Minstrel and the smaller fleet ships. Dazed momentarily in the air, Jikoryss took a direct hit from the Swiftsure. Smoke seeping from his wounds, Jikoryss began to fall towards the sea…

Faith, on the other hand, had dove into the water the first chance he got, avoiding the fire from the ships. Being spectral, he lacked the need to breathe, and his levitation made navigating the water almost as easy as the air.

He positioned himself beneath the Swiftsure, raised his lance, charged it… and threw it into the belly of the ship, hoping to create a gaping hole with the explosive shockwaves the lance would release upon impact.

---

Meanwhile, at the The Hathforth Castle, Present Day

_{@ERode, @Psyker Landshark}

---

It was just like any other day in the absence of the Queen at Hathforth. Merchants continued their trade in the markets. The fisheries and the port were busy as ever. Carriages moved nobles from one place to another. Commoners busied themselves with the purchase or selling of produce and household items, occassionally scoffing at the prices. Coin didn't go as far as it used to, after all. Beggars ignored kept to their corners of the world, holding tin cups for alms. Walking priests stood on their soap boxes, illuminating the attributes and blessings of the All-force. Many citizens stood attentively, nodding along to the priests.

The guards of Hathforth maintained their patrols, with barracks located at the castle. Guards were positioned at the watchtowers, looking over the farmlands surrounding the walled Hathforth. Guards also carefully watched the three gates at the north, east, and south, inspecting each merchant, farmer, and visitor that entered or left.

The military of Hathforth was set up in such a way that Hathforth was always in a position where they could respond quickly. Three forts surrounded the city - Fort Crysthanamum, Fort Fern and Fort Iris. Each held about a thousand warriors and mages. Each was about an hour's ride from the capital.

When the guards within Hathforth weren't cutting it in terms of safety to the people, the capital and the Wizard Queen, military personal were dispatched to see to it that peace was restored. The last time the military had been used was, in fact, against the Queen as she had fought to ascend the throne. Now? They busied themselves with coordinating with the captains part of the Crossguards, ensuring they were prepared for an attack from the North. Or, All-Force forbid, an attack from a neighboring city.

The royal guards were a sect of their own, patrolling the castle only, and seeing to it the safety of the nobles within were maintained. They were of a higher caliber of military, and titles would often be granted to those with noble merits. Though, the royal guards were still below the Crossguards.

That left Elysabeth as the highest authority within Hathforth at the moment, overseeing the city guards and the royal guards. At the moment, she was in the throne room. The decorations from the Hearthfire Gala had since been removed, making the throne room more of a simple, majestic place.

The throne lay empty. Even she wasn't crazy enough to sit on it without Her Majesty here. No. Instead, Elysabeth stood off to the side of the throne room, neck-deep in a conversation with a merchant that no, they could not grant him a written proclamation to acquire slaves from Nordor for his fields. Slavery had been abolished, anyway. And no, Her Majesty would not reenact slavery just because Duke Willowsteel committed treason. And no, Nordorians were not considered lesser in Hathforth legislature.

Every so often, Elysabeth's gaze would be drawn to the entrance to the throne room. She was expecting the return of Lady Safina, after all.

And nothing would mess this day up.

Unfortunately for Elysabeth, she would be left waiting until nightfall. By the time she took dinner in private, a hand would reach out while she dined, pouring wine from a carafe into the Countess's goblet.

"I see everyone has decided to take a leave of absence. Had I known, I would have taken a detour until Her Majesty's return." Safina mused, setting the carafe down and striding over to sit down in the seat next to Elysabeth's while clad in her noble guise's usual finery.

"Reporting back. Is Her Majesty afield? What is our current situation?"

What went unsaid was the pointed look Safina gave Elysabeth. Ruling a kingdom from the shadows, for however long until Evelyn or that young ponce Vulluin returned, had never been supposed to be in the cards for Safina. She led only one thing: her own people. Could Elysabeth handle things here without Safina's intervention?

Hathforth Castle, Guard Tower and Barracks, Countess Elysabeth Vernon's Chambers, Present Evening

_{@Psyker Landshark}

---

"I see everyone has decided to take a leave of absence. Had I known, I would have taken a detour until Her Majesty's return."

Elysabeth barely hid the surprise flickering behind her eyes. The leader of the Concord always lived up to her name. Indeed, even for a simple touching-base, Safina ensured it happened on her terms and in secret, in keeping with her creed.

She took a breath, forcing herself to relax. It was just Safina, not an unknown assailant. Thank goodness Safina was on the Wizard Queen's side. What a foe to contend with who could sneak up on you so skillfully!

Elysabeth swirled the freshly poured wine in her glass, her gaze settling into neutrality, maybe even the hint of a smile. Incredibly amiable, according to her standards.

”Her Majesty isn't expected for another week and a half. We would have been sore without your unmistakable presence.”

It was then Safina chose to sit, moving into the candlelight shining from the table. Her noble regalia was in contrast to Elysabeth's who hadn't yet changed out of her Royal Guard armor and its cape and pin of denoting status.

"Reporting back. Is Her Majesty afield? What is our current situation?"

Elysabeth made an affirmative hum before taking a sip of the wine. She’d have good dreams tonight, at least.

”Yes, she's afield. Her Majesty wrote by raven, it reached earlier the morning. From it, she was three days from Athius. Now, I suspect she's made it and has engaged in her ‘weapon retrieval’ mission. If we're lucky, we'll be able to tax Athuis after this.”

Elysabeth took another bite of her basted fresh catch, coupled with greens. Chewing politely and swallowing, before speaking again, leaning forward.

”We've had a… change, in the court. Court Mage Blackthorne was found guilty of treason after my men tore apart his mage's study while in his absence. Many incriminating parchments were found, old correspondence indicating he was involved in buying and selling of royal secrets… All mainly surrounding the improper use of his Society of Young Magic.

“I imagine he's been sentenced to death by now, and that sentence has passed. That young Lilim, Lady Tearmoon, will be taking over the position. I wish her well.

“I've also been made aware that Viscount and Viscountess Skybound of the Orphan's Matron will be visiting Duchess Agustria in an effort to find anything incriminating on her.”

Elysabeth was about to take another bite of her food, before she lifted her bell and gave it a soft ring. ”Here, it doesn't look good if only one of us is eating.”

A servant was within the chambers within a minute, bowing low at the edge of the table. Elysabeth nodded to the servant. ”Lady Haliel will be ordering something.”

After Safina ordered something and the servant left gracefully, Elysabeth waited a beat before asking the question that had weighed heavily on the castle all week.

”How did your mission go? How fairs Odenfield?”

Elysabeth would listen and relay back to Her Majesty via raven. However, she could also act on it, if necessary. It was true that Safina held authority over her when it came to ruling in the Queen's absence. However, it was more of an honorary position, to be taken and left at Safina's discretion. Safina did prefer to tent to her Concord, after all. And Elysabeth had been trained and disciplined well in the ways of nobles, court, and province.

"Two sirloins, pink in the center. With roast capon, and some greens." Safina ordered without a hint of shame. If there was one perk to the guise of nobility that she had no hesitation in abusing, it was access to fine food.

With that finished, she settled onto the topic of business after the maid had left.

"If Rhinecliff has liquid funds at his disposal, they weren't in any nook or cranny of his estate. We found geas-contracts. Dozens. One for each guild in Odonfield, and with several businesses in other duchies as well. It seems the good Duke has his fingers in no few pies. We took them, of course."

She reached for the wine and a spare goblet, pouring herself little more than an ounce or two at most.

"My people are holding them for now. Once we're finished here, I'll be overseeing the scrolls' transport from headquarters to the castle here. Too many for us to move them discreetly all at once."

The elf's ears twitched, and she deliberately said nothing further as the maid returned with Safina's rather large meal. A wave of her hand dismissed the girl before she tested each portion for toxins with an alchemically-treated needle. When satisfied, Safina took up fork and knife and started to set in on the platter of meat and greens, dining with impeccable table manners despite the rapid pace at which she was eating. One wondered where she put it all, considering her figure.

The winds blew northerly that day.

Blue skies promised better days, even when things seemed to only be getting worse. The marks of the dragon, of the interrupted execution, remained on people’s minds, even as they busied themselves with the pulling of the nets, the gutting of the fish, the transportation of goods off merchant vessels. Makeshift stalls crowded the paved, slippery streets, hawkers working to feed themselves off of the food they sold, while better-dressed folks had their guards push through the crowds as they reached those elusive auction houses that carried Seeds. Mundane Seeds, with nary a hint of true potency, but Seeds nonetheless, a status symbol of power and wealth.

No one knew what caused the fire. Perhaps a clumsy cook knocked over a portable stove. Perhaps a barrel of whale-oil had leaked during transportation. Perhaps an apprentice’s enchantment went horribly wrong. Perhaps a smoking hedonist had tipped the ashes in their pipe somewhere they shouldn’t have.

But there were sparks, and then there was smoke.

A cooking stall, made of wood and canvas, was set ablaze. The two workers scrambled away, rolling on the stone to put out their burning clothes, howling for help. An enterprising adventurer answered the call. This close to the waterfront, any fire could be extinguished with minimal magical effort. Seawater coalesced upon their staff, and then a jet of water was released upon the stall at the apex of the incantation!

The flames exploded in response, flaring up as the oil that it had fed upon sparked and burst when introduced to water. People screamed, clothes catching fire, skin scalded by hot oil. Stalls caught and combusted, a thick, heavy smoke rolling along avenues as the fire spread further, burnt ever hotter.

By the time the bells began to ring, the marketplace was ablaze, and the boutique stores were in danger, as that pleasant wind pushed the flames to the next district over.