[color=lightgray][h1][center][color=9354FF]Ryn[/color] & [color=ab274f]Prince Wulfric[/color] - Part III[/center][/h1]
[center][b][u][color=red]FLASHBACK:[/color][/u][/b] Sola, 27th[/center]
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Since Wulfric’s tunic had dried a fair bit while they chatted, he tied it around his waist, and the two moved on. They were in the slums proper now, the prison a dark and forbidding sentinel which overlooked the worst section of the city. Its solid drab walls marked an unseen boundary, serving as a reminder of what awaited those who strayed on the wrong side of law. It was supposed to be a warning to criminals as well as a reassurance of safety to those who were not. The deeper they progressed into the slums, the more Wulfric learned of the life there, the more he realized the prison’s intended message was an illusion at best.

The further off the Peasant Lane, the narrower, filthier, and more convoluted the alleys became. Thrash littered the streets, and in one courtyard, the royal could see people systematically picking through it to find anything of use. The buildings crowded each other, stacked haphazardly side to side, or added on top what had once been there. Many were in a state of disrepair, the wooden huts patched up with cloth and tin sheets or else left exposed to the elements. Several were too broken down for anyone to live in properly, though that did not deter squatters from seeking shelter in their ruins. 

The unluckiest folk were left out in the streets. Some resided in makeshift tents, others slept on beds of newspaper and cardboard. They were the lost, the forgotten, the abandoned. To be kept out of sight and out of mind, to be hidden or disposed of like the trash so many viewed them as.

The prince took them in, and…

…wasn’t sure that he felt anything.

But even so. Even if that was the case, he acknowledged that they [i]were[/i] his people. He might be indifferent to their suffering, might not especially care what happened to each individual. But even so…If there was a chance, if there was potential, if they could be party to change - if they were a [i]requisite[/i] for change - then it was up to him to make it a reality.

As he pondered these matters, a certain exchange perked up his ears. Peeking down a side street, Wulfric was sure he spotted a suspect gathering. He stopped, gesturing to the count. He was about to go investigate, when something [i]brushed[/i] past him. [i]A hand[/i] tried to sneak into his trousers’ pocket. The prince reacted on instinct, grabbing the offender. Their body was much lighter than expected, so he tackled them to the ground with ease. A knee pinned down their back and one arm, their other hand held in his grasp and twisted behind them, he saw that they were, [color=ab274f]“...A child.”[/color]

He glanced down the back alley he had meant to look into. Having heard a commotion nearby, the group had scattered already. Coincidence, or, [color=ab274f]“Were you hired by them?”[/color] he speculated. The small, filthy thing below him struggled with a renewed burst of energy. [color=white]“Geroff!”[/color] He supposed the protest meant his guess was on the mark. [color=ab274f]“I do not care either way,”[/color] he confessed. [color=ab274f]“Assaulting a child wasn’t on the day’s agenda,”[/color] he drawled. The youth calmed down a bit, grumbling, [color=white]“Not a kid,”[/color] before giving a perfunctory wriggle. [color=ab274f]“Mmmmhm. I’m sure you aren’t.”[/color] Spying a glint of something sharp, he lifted a shoddy shiv off the adolescent before releasing them.

The street rat scurried up, and was about to dash away when they noticed Wulfric casually twirling their improvised weapon between his fingers. [color=white]“HEY! ‘Ats mine!”[/color] they accused. [color=ab274f]“Says the thief?”[/color] He smirked, arching an eyebrow. [color=ab274f]“Don’t worry, I will give it back.”[/color] The kid stared at him with open suspicion but stayed put. [color=ab274f]“I want you to entertain a suggestion of mine. I will pose three questions to you. If you answer them all to the best of your ability, you get one silver.”[/color] He could practically see the metaphorical gears turning. [color=white]“An’ mah ‘nife?”[/color] Wulfric snorted, and held it out handle first. [color=ab274f]“This hardly merits being called a knife, but go ahead, take it now. Whether you agree to the exchange is entirely your choice.”[/color] He held out the item in question, which the youth snagged quickly.

[color=white]“H-how do I know yeh’ll pay?”[/color]

The prince shrugged. [color=ab274f]“I can give you three copper after the first question, three after the second, and four after the third.”[/color] The child took a moment to count, and nodded hesitantly.

[color=ab274f]“There was a deal of some sort going on there,”[/color] he motioned to the side street. [color=ab274f]“What was it about?”[/color]

Even underneath the grime, he could see the youth paling. [color=white]“I dunno,”[/color] their eyes lowered, darting around. [color=white]“Drugs, maybe. Or…stuff. D-dun’ poke yer nose in it. ‘Ats how yeh meet– how-”[/color] a gesture of a knife slitting a throat followed.

[color=ab274f]“Oh, unlike you, I can take care of myself. But you didn’t finish your sentence,”[/color] he stated, attempting to pry out more information as part of the first question. But the child refused, shaking their head. [color=white]“I can’t-can’t.”[/color] Sighing, Wulfric handed over three coins. [color=ab274f]“If you poke your nose into it, that is how you meet [i]who?[/i]”[/color] he stressed. Grasping their bounty with trembling fingers, the child gulped. [color=white]“They all jus’ say it’s [i]The Gardener[/i]. I dunno who, no one's seen ‘em and lived…”[/color] Three more coins followed, and the youth shivered as they took the money, head swiveling here and there with a hunted look about them.

[color=ab274f]“Last question…”[/color] The adolescent was clearly relieved at that. [color=ab274f]“What can you tell me about the city?”[/color]

[color=white]“Huh?”[/color] A goggled stare was directed his way. [color=white]“Yeh mean [i]Sorian?[/i]”[/color] The prince nodded. [color=white]“I dunno [i]the city[/i],”[/color] the kid spat bitterly. [color=white]“Jus’ this ‘ell’ole.”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“It’s part of the city,”[/color] Wulfric asserted. [color=ab274f]“So tell me about it.”[/color]

And the thief did. They told them about which streets were the worst, where you could get food reliably, where the cheapest merchandise could be found, how to avoid danger, and a few other tidbits. [color=white]“Fer more I’ll hafta show yeh ‘round…but it’ll cost yeh.”[/color] With a comfortable topic, the youth had grown more confident. [color=ab274f]“I will keep that in mind,”[/color] the royal chuckled, and handed over the four coppers he owed for that answer.

The street rat shuffled back, gaze travelling to the count. [color=white]“Yeh got questions too?”[/color] they tested.

[color=9354FF]“Oh? Am I allowed to have a go at it too?”[/color] 

[color=white]“Not fer [i]free[/i],”[/color] they stressed, and the count nodded.

His hand found his chin, fingers curling thoughtfully against his jawline while his other arm crossed his chest, providing a steady perch for his elbow.

Then the man asked one of the simplest and most basic questions to ever exist. [color=9354FF]“What should I call you?”[/color]

[color=white]“Yeh’ll pay me [i]fer that?[/i]”[/color] 

There was a meaningful pause before he answered, [color=9354FF]“Names are important.”[/color]

They tilted their head this way and that way, but in the end, decided the count was sincere. [color=white]“It’s Jo.”[/color] The name wasn’t indicative of their gender any more than their appearance. A small, thin, dirty figure in mismatched rags, hair cut short, and voice still young-sounding enough the higher pitch could be attributed to age alone. Overall, they seemed more boyish, but it wasn’t certain. Cautiously, the child stepped closer to the count, an expectant glint in their eye as they held out their hand.

[color=9354FF]“Hello, Jo.”[/color] Ryn took the child’s hand into his and shook.

That brief touch revealed more than a dozen conversations could have. Ryn felt the story written in Jo’s hands—one of empty bellies and cold nights, of desperate scrambles for survival. The kind of tale no child should have to tell.

[color=9354FF]“You can call me Henri,”[/color] Ryn said, offering a conspiratorial wink. He knew very well that monikers, like Jo, served as an armor in this world. Not unlike titles, he supposed, but this was for a different kind of protection.

A small theater of emotions played across Jo’s face: first the fall of disappointment at the handshake, then sharp alertness when they caught the meaning behind his wink, and finally a bright flash of joy as they discovered the coin he had slipped into their palm without them noticing.

[color=9354FF]“Jo, have you ever had a lemon drop or humbug before?”[/color]

[color=white]“[i]What[/i]-bug?”[/color] They blinked up at him, confused. [color=white]“Uh, no. I didn’t. None o’ ‘em.”[/color] Hands in pockets, they rubbed the toe of one foot against the ankle of the other. [color=white]“Mister…Uh…Henri. Yeh paid a silver, so…’At’s one more question fer yeh.”[/color] They’d already stashed away the coin, of course, but it hadn’t escaped their notice that the count had paid in advance. They could have ditched. They knew it, and they saw that ‘Henri’ knew it too. But they’d decided to stick around for the last question.

[color=9354FF]“Never?”[/color] A smile took over Ryn’s face in an instant. [color=9354FF]“We better change that!”[/color] He moved his hands slowly, no quick gestures to startle. A twist, a turn, and there they were: two candies in their wax paper wrappings, appearing like wishes made real—the lemon drop in its yellow wrapper, the humbug in its striped one.

[color=9354FF]“Both are sweet, but…”[/color] Ryn lifted his left hand. [color=9354FF]“If you have a taste for sour things, you might like lemon drops.”[/color] He lowered that hand and raised his right. [color=9354FF]“If you like mint, then you should try the humbug.”[/color] He held out both candies and waited.

[color=white]“Um…”[/color] Jo’s eyes traveled from the man’s left hand to his right, and back again. They were curious about both. After one more glance at Henri to confirm it really was ok to pick and take one, they came close enough to take the lemon drop. For a while, they just admired the bright yellow wrapping, turning the piece of candy round and round in their hand, feeling it as if to confirm it was real. They unwrapped it slowly, sniffing it cautiously. [color=white]“It [i]smells[/i] nice…”[/color] Bracing themselves, they took the plunge, and put it into their mouth. [color=white]“Mmmh!”[/color] They immediately exclaimed, eyes widening. Rolling the candy on their tongue, a smile like the rise of dawn lightened their expression, slowly but surely until a full blown, bright sunny grin crested. [color=white]“Whoa!”[/color] They laughed. [color=white]“This ain’t like lemon at all!”[/color] They squished their cheeks with both hands, as if by touch alone they could channel that out-of-the-world sensation to the whole of their body. [color=white]“This is the best – [i]best[/i] – tastin’ thing [i]ever[/i]!”[/color] Closing their eyes, they savoured the candy, humming happily. Their eyelashes fluttered open, and they looked at the count dreamily. [color=white]“Thanks, Henri,”[/color] they said, soft and genuine. [color=white]“Tha’s real nice,”[/color] their gaze dropped, smile faltering. [color=white]“I-I hafta go soon. D’ya got any questions left?”[/color]

There was magic in witnessing a first taste of sweetness—the kind of magic that had nothing to do with incantations or celestial alignments and everything to do with the way joy could spill from one person into another like wine overflowing its cup. Ryn found himself carried along by the tide of that pure delight. It felt rather like being tipsy without having touched a drop of wine.

[color=9354FF]“I’ll save my last question for the next time we meet,”[/color] he said, pressing two fingers to his brow in a lazy farewell. [color=9354FF]“See you around, Jo.”[/color]

The youth gave a single nod. [color=white]“Yeah. See ya, Henri.”[/color] Then they were off.

Once the child had vanished around the corner, Ryn turned to Prince Wulfric with a raised eyebrow and a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. [color=9354FF]“And have [i]you[/i] had a humbug or lemon drop before?”[/color]

Pushing off against the wall he’d been leaning against since Hendrix had taken over the conversation with the would-be-thief, Wulfric made another cursory inspection of the streets. He had largely been observing the interaction between man and child, but had also kept an eye out at the surroundings. Huffing, he quirked an eyebrow in return. [color=ab274f]“Of course, I have,”[/color] he retorted dryly. With a singular head tilt, he indicated the alley he had initially wanted to investigate, proposing nonverbally they check it out now, despite it having been vacated.

When the prince turned his head back around, something smooth and hard touched his lips, sharp with peppermint. Wax paper crinkled as the count tucked the wrapper into his pocket, humbug held steady between them. Just holding it there, not forcing the prince to eat it and ready to pull away if he refused.

[color=9354FF]“From the finest confectioners in the country, I’m guessing? These are less refined than those and much more affordable…”[/color] His gaze dropped to the sweet. [color=9354FF]“But even this is a luxury for the poor.”[/color]

Before he consciously realized, he was grabbing yet another appendage. This time it was Hendrix’s, candy at the tip of the man’s fingers now held to his mouth. Instinctively, Wulfric’s nose scrunched, and he yanked the count’s arm away, forcefully refusing the treat. The offense that crossed his expression was so acrid, one might think he had just been smacked on the cheek with a rotting fish. Lips thinning, he took a step back, releasing Fritz’s arm, though he still watched him with a displeased slant to his features. [color=ab274f]“I noticed,”[/color] he bit out. [color=ab274f]“Now, keep your hands to yourself…And save [i]that[/i] for someone else.”[/color] The sting of peppermint could be refreshing, perhaps, but the sickly sweet, sticky nature of the candy was not something he appreciated.

The count tilted his head, seemingly oblivious to what just happened and continued the conversation. [color=9354FF]“No? Your loss then.”[/color] Plopping the humbug into his mouth, he hummed in delight and began to make his way down the alley. [color=9354FF]“It’s not as sweet as the ones sold to higher society. Closer to horehound drops, actually. And much more refreshing. I think you would’ve liked it.”[/color] 

The prince only scoffed. [color=ab274f]“I [i]might[/i] have considered it, had you not tried shoving it into my mouth.”[/color] 

The count halted sharply, his expression shifting to one of pity as he regarded the prince. [color=9354FF]“If that is what you believed was happening, I am sorry. It’s no wonder you were so terrified.”[/color] Each word came soft, careful, as if reaching toward a wounded cat. [color=9354FF]“How are you feeling right now? We could stop here for a while, if you need a moment.”[/color]

An uncomprehending stare was turned Fritz’s way. [color=ab274f]“What…are you on about?”[/color] Shaking his head in befuddlement, he answered if only to move past this strange moment. [color=ab274f]“I was exaggerating to make a point. I do not appreciate sudden intrusions into my personal space, especially not from a blind spot…”[/color] he thought the count knew as much, and waved a dismissive hand. [color=ab274f]“I was annoyed, but there is no reason for concern. Come on, let’s go,”[/color] he pressed, because the pity was even more off-putting than what he had perceived as an ambush.

Deep stillness held the count in place, his gaze boring into the prince with an intensity that made the air thick and close.

[color=9354FF]“Your reaction might’ve been disproportionate to the situation,”[/color] the count’s words settled like ash. [color=9354FF]“But when a touch makes you flinch like that, makes your body cry out—”[/color] His eyes drifted to the prince’s throat, where pulse betrayed what pride concealed. [color=9354FF]“That’s old pain talking… Don’t be so quick to dismiss what your body’s trying to tell you.”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“I know why I reacted the way I did. Don’t assume you do,”[/color] he retorted cooly, gaze as hard and chilling as a glacier. It was akin to trying to scratch through a thick, solid wall of ice; even a layer removed revealed more of the same. [color=ab274f]“If you are so worried, stay out of my space. But please, don’t treat me as you would a helpless child.”[/color] As if he needed the soft handling that unfortunate street rat Jo had been provided. [color=ab274f]“Your sympathy is misplaced.”[/color]

The count met that glacial stare with a smile that held all the quiet warmth of hearth-stones in winter. Ice might make a fine fortress, yes, but what the little prince inside had not learned was that pure ice had a tendency toward transparency. How it magnified rather than masked what had been locked away inside, preserved like insects in amber.

Gently, he set his hand on the boy’s head. [color=9354FF]“It is not,”[/color] he said, voice quieter than before. [color=9354FF]“... I hope there comes a day when you can overcome that hurt, Adelard.”[/color]

He saw it coming this time, but it was such an incomprehensible gesture, Hendrix was able to lay a palm on his head before he could block or evade. [color=ab274f]“I [i]have–[/i]”[/color] Indignation scorched his throat, but he wasn’t fast enough to slap away Fritz’s hand either.

Their gazes locked, held, released. The count ruffled the prince’s hair and continued down the path. Wulfric felt a veritable growl clawing its way up his chest, an animalistic snarl emerging into existence. [color=ab274f]“For someone so keen on preaching how I need to ‘listen to myself’, you are awfully hellbent on dismissing what I’m [i]saying,[/i]”[/color] he spat.

He marched after that infuriating man into the backstreet, and they went right up to where the presumed drug trade might have happened. Despite the anger still coursing in his veins, he could see this was a strategic location. He surveyed all the exits, the angles which were useful both for hiding and surveying, and the shaded areas created as a result of messily constructed buildings.

[color=9354FF]“Adel,”[/color] Ryn called out, [color=9354FF]“look at this.”[/color] He directed Prince Wulfric’s attention to a small rose symbol carved into the very stone of the building. 

[color=ab274f]“Ah.”[/color] The royal approached, inspecting the symbol. With all the other damage to the building, it was difficult to notice unless you were looking for it. He touched the faded etching, tracing it. [color=ab274f]“I see.”[/color] He knew how widespread Black Rose’s influence was, so this was not entirely surprising. But then, if he had noticed the obvious before…Well, what was, was. [color=ab274f]“Say, how many others do you wager we can find?”[/color] a smirk slid into place.

Staring thoughtfully at the symbol, Ryn spoke. [color=9354FF]“Counting just the ones we walked past today, five. Eight, if you include those shipping crates down at the docks.”[/color] His fingers ghosted over the grooves of the symbol, remembering identical marks scored into salt-stained wood that morning.

Wulfric clicked his tongue. [color=ab274f]“Aren’t you observant.”[/color] A competition lost before it could even begin. How annoying.

[color=9354FF]“That’s just what I happened to spot.”[/color] He straightened, gaze sweeping down the narrow passage between buildings. [color=9354FF]“I’d wager there’s a whole web of these threading through the city. We just didn’t know to look for them before.”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“Oh, no, [i]you[/i] knew. After the second or third one, at least. So, what [i]else[/i] did you notice?”[/color]

[color=9354FF]“That you’re still charming when you sulk.”[/color] he offered, earning himself a sharp look that only widened his grin. Ryn gestured to Prince Wulfric to follow him back to the alley’s mouth.

[color=9354FF]“Here,”[/color] he said, tapping a copper downspout. A simple mark had been scratched into the metal—three short lines arranged like a bird’s foot. A 130 degree spin and five steps away, barely visible beneath a window’s crumbling ledge, someone had drawn what might have been an eye in fading chalk.

[color=9354FF]“There are marks and symbols everywhere if you look carefully. Different hands, different meanings.”[/color] Ryn returned to the rose-marked wall. [color=9354FF]“I just remember seeing eight of these. And now that we know what they might mean…”[/color] He glanced at the direction of the docks. [color=9354FF]“We can be confident those crates weren’t just carrying tea leaves.”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“Of course, they weren’t. That fishmonger practically announced the smuggling. I did not think it would be Black Rose related, however.”[/color] 

[color=9354FF]“They definitely weren’t the only people smuggling things in or out.”[/color]

The prince hummed in affirmation. [color=ab274f]“If that is a sign of rival factions, it means they do not have a monopoly, at the very least.”[/color] Then again, it made for more targets to eliminate, so it was a scant silver lining.

Wulfric inspected the one mark they had stopped by. A fading eye…a sign to watch out? He peeked through the window, but it was a derelict building. [color=ab274f]“I am fairly certain I have seen similar markings here and there, but I assumed they were senseless graffiti.”[/color] he remarked. [color=ab274f]“No doubt some of it is nothing more than defacement, which makes the ones with a specific meaning blend in quite well,”[/color] he reasoned. [color=ab274f]“Anyhow, I shall be more mindful of these.”[/color] He gazed up at the sky. Late afternoon was transitioning into early evening. Sunset was a few hours away, but there was already a gradual shift in the activities taking place outside. [color=ab274f]“Let us explore some more, shall we?”[/color]

The slums were extensive. It took but a glance at the city map to realize so. Altogether, this derelict neighborhood was approximately as sizable as the noble district sans the castle. However, so many more people were packed in here, hidden out of view by strategically grown greenery. Rather than protecting those inside from the outside, as the castle area’s fortification did the nobles, the wall of shrubbery was meant to protect the delicate sensibilities of all the other citizens. One could get lost in here for a day, and not see all there was to see.

The prince certainly gave it his best attempt. He and the count traversed the labyrinthine alleys, meandered down winding streets stretching across the slums, people-watching as much as they were surveying the land. Wulfric was on alert for any strange symbols this time around, keeping track of emerging patterns.

Curious about why so many people were stuck in circumstances so deplorable, the royal sought individuals who were willing to impart their sorry tale. A veteran turned alcoholic who didn’t care where he lived, haunted by memories of war. A single mother left alone to take care of several children. A farmer who had been forced to sell his animals and lands to cover a predatory debt. A young woman who had been thrown out for her strangeness. There were quite a few of these so-called ‘rejects’, people who didn’t fit into society at large. Several had been met with misfortune, unable to crawl back out of the pit of poverty they found themselves in. Many of them had long since given up trying. But the majority of residents were simply people who had been born in the slums, had lived there their whole lives, and expected to die there as well. Whoever had ambition for more, regardless of the reason, they were likely to end up tied in with crime.

After the sun set, gloom encroached upon the area, shadows and darkness taking over. Lightning was poor, with scant oil lanterns in proper working order. Those still out and about mainly converged at streetside stalls or in dingy establishments, drinking and smoking in groups. The people still out in the streets at this time were those who were homeless, struggling with addiction, prostitutes – some far too young to be selling their body – or common criminals. Hours of wandering behind them, the pair eventually made their way to the Seafarer’s Slop Shack.[/color]