[IC] 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

[Tpartywithzombi]

Violet Damien

Location: Damien Estate
Time: Late night
Mentions: @reusablesword Roman @Conscripts Fritz

After a night of heavy drinking with Alexander, Violet found herself engulfed in a strange mix of relief and anxiety. Alexander’s understanding of her unique affliction had brought a rare comfort to her troubled mind, but it also magnified the precariousness of her situation. The realization frightened her. The idea of making someone her continuous meal felt unsettlingly intimate. Feeding was already an act charged with closeness, and the thought of establishing such an understanding with another person was something she had never truly considered. As the carriage bumped along the cobblestone streets, she gazed out the window at the passing night, her thoughts swirling.

When she finally arrived at her family’s estate, the sight of the grand, imposing structure felt cold and distant. The air was thick with the heady scent of night-blooming flowers, but even their sweetness couldn’t mask the faint, metallic tang of blood that clung to her senses. She could smell it emanating from one of the guards by the door, her heightened senses honing in on the familiar scent with unsettling clarity. The footman assisted her out of the carriage, and she nodded her thanks, though her mind was already miles away, drifting toward the letters she knew she must write.

Inside, the estate was eerily quiet, the servants long since retired for the night. The only sound was the soft rustle of her skirts as she ascended the grand staircase to her bedroom. The room stood exactly as she had left it, plush and opulent, but the comfort it once provided now felt suffocating. Violet shut the door behind her, leaning against it as she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to push away the persistent thoughts of blood that clawed at her

She moved to her writing desk, her fingers trembling slightly as she lit a few candles to chase away the oppressive darkness. The flickering light cast long, dancing shadows on the walls. With a heavy sigh, she sat down, pulling out a sheet of fine parchment. Her hand hovered over the quill, uncertain where to begin, the weight of the words she needed to write pressing down on her.

The first letter was to Count Fritz. Violet’s mind raced as she contemplated his offer to provide her with …himself. The idea was tempting, especially given her current predicament, but the thought of drawing someone into her world, someone who would inevitably become entangled in her dark secrets, filled her with unease. She dipped the quill into the ink and began to write, her words deliberate and cautious, each stroke of the pen echoing the turmoil within her.

As she finished the letter and sealed it with her family crest, a knot of tension settled deep in her chest. The second letter would be far more difficult to write. Roman. The very name sent a wave of sadness and trepidation crashing over her. The memory of their last encounter was still painfully vivid—his kiss, the slap, the raw emotion in his eyes when he looked at her, realizing the truth. Her hand trembled as she reached for the quill again, but she forced herself to steady it, though the weight of her emotions made it feel impossibly heavy.

She had just begun to pour her heart onto the page when a soft knock at the door startled her, pulling her abruptly from her thoughts. Quickly, she hid the letter beneath a stack of papers, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Who is it?” she called out, her voice carefully controlled, betraying none of the fear that had suddenly gripped her.

“It’s just me, Miss,” came the familiar voice of Martha, the older housemaid who had been with the family since Violet was a child. “I heard you come in and wanted to see if you needed anything before I retire.”

Violet relaxed slightly, the tension easing from her shoulders. “No, thank you, Martha. I’m fine.”

The maid hesitated for a moment, then quietly closed the door, leaving Violet alone once more. But the brief interruption had shattered her fragile concentration. She stared at the unfinished letter to Roman, her thoughts now a chaotic mess, the words that had flowed so easily moments ago now tangled and elusive.

With a weary sigh, she set the quill aside. Perhaps it was best to leave it for now. The night had been long, and her emotions were too raw, too unsteady, to make sense of anything in this moment. She rose from the desk, extinguishing the candles one by one, and moved to the large window that dominated the wall of her room. Outside, the first light of dawn was beginning to creep over the horizon, casting the estate in a pale, ghostly light that seemed to drain the warmth from the world.

TDLR

Violet heads home after drinking contemplating the letters to Roman and Fritz. She arrives home and starts to write the letters. She finishes Fritz but struggles with Romans and decides to wait until she sends his.

[Tpartywithzombi]

Time: 12 pm - Night before
Location: The cells
Mention:
Interactions: @Helo Callum
Appearance: No shoes | Thin white long dress | Heavy black cloak with hood

Ariella’s ears perked up at the faint tapping on the cell bars, the sound cutting through the oppressive silence of the dungeon. Her heart leaped as she recognized Callum's voice, the familiar warmth in his tone chasing away the cold despair that had settled in her chest. She shot up from her makeshift straw bed, her movements quick and eager, a grin spreading across her face as she rushed to the bars.

When she saw him there, her smile widened, stretching from ear to ear. The sight of him, standing just beyond her reach, brought an unexpected surge of relief. As he began to remove his shoes, a small, amused smile tugged at her lips, but she bit it back. She watched intently as he sat down in front of the bars, his presence a much-needed comfort in the bleakness of her surroundings.

Her eyes followed his every move as he started to smash the wine bottle against the stone wall, using his shoe to muffle the noise. Each strike echoed in the small space, a sharp contrast to the stillness of the dungeon. “I didn’t think you would be allowed down here… I…” Her voice faltered, the words caught in her throat as she struggled to express the mix of surprise and gratitude she felt. “Thank you…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she accepted the bottle of wine he passed through the bars.

Ariella’s hands wrapped around the cool glass. She lifted the bottle to her lips, taking a long, appreciative drink. The wine was a welcome distraction, its rich, warm flavor washing over her tongue and spreading through her body like a comforting hug. “Ahh…” she breathed as she swallowed her first sip, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “Just what I needed,” she murmured, a genuine smile curving her lips.

She leaned against the bars, her eyes locking with Callum’s as she teased, “My schedule was a little busy, but I can always make some time for you.” There was a lightness in her tone.

As she took another sip of the wine, Ariella's gaze softened. “Cards and secrets,” she whispered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone as she glanced around the dungeon, aware of the prying ears that might be lurking in the shadows. “I don’t think I could think of a better way to spend my night in the cells.”

[CitrusArms]

Stratya Durmand

Time: 25th, Morning
Location: Edwards Estate
Attire: Officer’s Formal
Interactions: @princess Duke Edwards, Count and Countess Damian, @Lava Alckon Drake
Mentions: Duchess Edwards

Oooh, what a wonderful start to the day. “Who is this now?” Mm, yes. She decided to put that aside for now as Duke Gideon Edwards stepped in and greeted her with such warmth. Her positive impressions of him overrode whatever impression his wife moved to present. Perhaps the woman was stressed. Stratya was familiar with that feeling; she’d been a little particular yesterday, herself. She owed Riona a drink somewhere nicer. One where she might actually relax reliably. There was that one drinking ritual coming up. She and her squad liked to celebrate it as a way of remembering their hometowns. Perhaps she would invite Riona to it. Have a proper grieving.

Anyway! “Duke Edwarrds, I mus’ thank you f’r y’r council an’ advice. Constrruction is movin’ along smoothly, thanks tae yourr ‘elp.” She offered something between a curtsy and a bow. Tucked her left foot onto its toe, behind her right, and crossed her right arm over and bowed at the waist. As she straightened and met his gaze again, “attendin’ a parr’y on such lov'ly groun's is nae trouble.”

Flowers in mouth, check. Not that she didn't mean it, mind ye.

Drake appeared and Stratya could not have possibly missed ”they’re going to love us- you.” Mmm, mmhm. Mmhm. Mmhm. Of course, she vocalized nothing, deciding instead that it was good she brought booze. Maybe she’d dig into one of those - one loaf was gone already? W-wow..

“A blessed day, indeed, Lorr' Edwarrds. The Gods see you, I think.”

The young man of the party greeted her and Duke Vikena and Count and Countess Damian before scuttling off to the gates to greet incoming guests. Stratya turned her own attention to the Count and Countess. She still had things she’d rehearsed up her sleeve, “Coun’ Damian, yourr beau’iful esta’e is easily matched by y’ lovely wife. Coun-tess, you arre exquisi’, as always.”

Some of her servants she begrudgingly kept (she treats them very well, she's just not wholely comfortable with it yet) had overheard her rehearsals, to her dismay, and offered to help. Such sweet things.

They had their daughter with them? A devilish idea crept into her mind and, before she could stop herself, "Aah, 'oo is this, now~," she asked with interest and fascination, a stark contrast to a certain greeting she'd received just moments before. "I don't believe I've 'ad t' pleasure. Cap'n Stratya Durmand." In the same stroke as her introduction, she answered the rude greeting she'd received. Though, now she rather wanted to escape.

[princess]

Time: Morning
Location: Drakes Birthday Party
Attire:Dress
Interaction: @Lava Alckon Farim/Drake, @FunnyGuy Lorenzo @CitrusArms Stratya

---

After speaking with Callum, Anastasia returned to her room to prepare. She and Drake had never been particularly close, their personalities as different as night and day. Still, everyone in Sorian knew of the Lord’s fondness for green. With that in mind, she chose a pastel green off-shoulder gown, its bodice and skirt adorned with intricate floral embroidery. The delicate green was complemented by soft pink and rose accents. In her haste, she let her ashen blonde hair fall naturally down her back, though she did take a moment to pin one of the flowers from her dress into her hair.

Soon after, she found herself at Farim’s door in the guesthouse. Not in the mood to be alone, she especially missed the comfort of Farim’s company—he was always happy to see her. Without hesitation, she knocked on his door and impulsively invited him to the party. Thankfully, he agreed.

After a brief carriage ride, they arrived at the event. A group of well-dressed servants followed behind, each carrying large, elegantly wrapped gift boxes. The boxes were wrapped in deep green paper and tied with satin ribbons. The servants handled the boxes with care, though they stumbled under the weight of the gifts.

As Anatasia entered the backyard party, she approached the birthday boy first, while her servants carefully placed the gifts on the designated table. It was probably at that moment that Drake Edwards would have noticed the fluffy, mildly unclean cat in her arms.

“Yoohoo! Happy birthday Drakey!”

Without much grace, she held out an orange cat with wide eyes toward Drake. “ I got you lots of gifts but this one I wanted to personally present you—Jimmy! I saw him on the side of the road on the way here and thought that you just had to have him! He’s magnificent!”

She let the surprisingly calm feline plop onto the table before he could speak, then she haphazardly whirled around to gaze upon the group next to them.

The Edwards, the Damiens, Duke Vikena and Captain Banana Muffins.

“ Hi everyone! Wow Lorenzo nice pink suit!“

Finally she turned her attention back to Farim, “I am ready to find a table when you are, cutie.”

[SilverPaw]

	Attire: Party fit (one brooch only) Date and Time: Sola 25th, Morning Location: The castle -> The Edwards estate Mention(s): @Tpartywithzombi Ariella Interaction(s): @Lava Alckon Drake

After he had met with his younger siblings, Wulfric returned to his room to be readied for Drake’s party with the help of a servant. His attire was white and golden in colour, light and airy to accommodate the warm summer weather, yet appropriately resplendent. Though he tended to minimize jewelry, he selected a small jade brooch – a nod to the green theme he knew the young lord’s party would have.

He stopped at the stables to pick up Drake’s gift, and took a walk to the Edwards estate. By the time he arrived, his friend was already stationed at the main entrance. The lord’s positioning caused a slight congestion what with the guests stopping by to greet him, exchanging pleasantries and well-wishes while trying to engage in small talk. The Edwards heir and his servants did their best to usher all visitors in, yet there was still an undeniable crowd right outside.

Wulfric’s arrival at once resolved that problem, yet also worsened it. In their hurry to give way to him, people converged at the sides of the road, crowding each other as they goggled at the prince and his majestic steed. He was leading the young horse by a lead, its coat shining so brightly even gold paled in comparison. “Good morning, Drake, and a happy birthday.” The royal greeted the lord with a smile. “I decided that today is the day when you finally accept,” a hint of mischief shone in his gaze. In the past, he had offered the man his choice of a steed, but the lord had hemmed and hawed and ultimately oh-so graciously declined.

But this young colt, a palomino Thoroughbred of barely 2 years was so perfect no horse lover could possibly resist his charms. “He was sired by the famous Hyperion,” he named a well-known racing horse. “I named him Apollon, but feel free to rename him.” Finally, he extended his right hand for a handshake, still keeping ahold of the horse’s leash in his left. He drew the lord in for a half-hug. “I heard about your sister,” he whispered into Drake’s ear when he was near enough. He patted the lord’s shoulder, but when they released each other from the brief embrace, there was no hint of what he had mentioned in his expression. “May you and your family enjoy a blessed day,” was all he said.

Truthfully, the prince was curious about Ariella’s imprisonment. Callum had alluded that there had been no fine to pay, and only one night’s stay in the dungeon for her. That was odd, and Wulfric felt there was more to the story. He was aware that none of the Edwardses may wish to discuss it today, but he would endeavor to uncover what had happened.

“Now, if you do not mind, I should like to see this boy settled into his new home,” he patted the equine’s neck. “He can be rather choosy,” he commented. Indeed, Apollon was getting antsy, unused as he was to large gatherings. Wulfric did not expect Drake had the time to see to himself, though even if he had, the prince would have accompanied him. He did wish to say goodbye to the prized steed. So, he waited until a handler was called in, and followed them to the stables.

[PapaOso]

⛮ Milo St. Claire ⛮

Time: 8:00 am

Location:The Most Luxurious Suite Imaginable

Mention: N/A

Mr. St. Claire awoke to the soft glow of dawn filtering through the heavy velvet drapes of his lavish Victorian-era suite. The golden rays kissed the intricate patterns on the ceiling, casting delicate shadows that danced upon the walls. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, fluttered open to the sight of the women around him, their forms draped lazily over the satin sheets. Each one lay in a state of blissful repose and relative undress, their skin glowing in the morning light as their breathing synchronized with the gentle rise and fall of Milo's chest.

A small, knowing smile played on his lips as he stretched, his muscles flexing beneath the warmth of the bedding. The sheets slipped off his body as he shifted, revealing the sculpted contours of his chest and abdomen, the result of years of meticulous care and discipline. The women stirred slightly at his movement, but Milo was already slipping out of bed, his bare feet padding softly on the plush carpet.

Milo reached for the silk robe draped over a nearby chair, its fabric as smooth and luxurious as his very touch. He let it fall around his shoulders, the material cascading down his muscular frame, clinging just enough to accentuate his physique before he loosely tied it at his waist. Confidently, he made his way to the washroom.

The room greeted him with the soft scent of lavender and rosewater, a testament to his fastidious nature. A large, ornate mirror dominated one wall, its gilded frame catching the light in a manner that made the entire room feel like a work of art. Milo approached the water basin, hazel eyes glinting with the usual warmth that had earned him the moniker "Mr. Sunshine."

He cupped his hands under the cool water, splashing it over his face in a ritual that had become second nature. As the droplets trickled down his skin, his gaze lifted to the mirror. What he saw there was not his perfect face as would be expected, but instead the reflection staring back at him was... wrong.

The distortion was subtle at first, a slight ripple that made the lines of his face appear fluid, almost melting into one another. He blinked, expecting the anomaly to pass, but it only deepened. The once-kind eyes darkened, and his chiseled features warped as if the mirror had become a portal to a world where everything familiar was twisted into something uncanny.

Milo’s breath caught in his throat as he stood locked in a silent stare with whatever his eyes were seeing there in the mirror. The moments stretched out, each second laden with a growing tension that felt out of place in the otherwise serene morning. The smile he’d worn just moments ago was gone, replaced by an expression that was hard to decipher… anger perhaps, or simply just intensity.

Then, with a blink of his eyes after a long time of not doing so, the distortion faded, leaving his reflection as it should have always been; perfect, composed, untroubled. Yet, Milo found himself unable to tear his gaze away, the afterimage of that warped visage lingering in his mind.

He let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing as he forced himself to look away from the mirror. With a final glance at the water basin, he turned and left the washroom, his expression shifting back to one of serenity and confidence as he made his way back to the bed where the women, now awake, were waiting for him.

[Helo]

Time: Morning, 10am
Location: Edward’s home, for Drake’s party
Interactions: The Birthday Boy! @Lava Alckon

---

Rohit took a moment to take in the sights of the meticulously decorated gardens of the Edwards estate. A lush landscape surrounded the tables, with green standing out as the theme of the party, and soft music filled the air. A small array of servants followed behind him, continuing forward to place a collection of gifts, wrapped in shining emerald paper and each topped with a golden bow, on the table with the others. Rohit approached the birthday boy, dressed to match his gifts in golden sandals and pants with a vibrant emerald sherwani decorated with golden constellations, a fit designed to please Tārā herself.

“You must be Lord Drake, happy birthday! They say those born in Sola are aglow with the compassion and wisdom of The Emerald Star Empress, Tārā, and it is always an honor to meet those with such traits. I am Rohit Amar, son of Vali Navi Amar of Kimoon, and bring you the finest offerings from Kisoma.” Rohit spoke with easy confidence but ran through a checklist in his mind. Said happy birthday, complimented, and gave a proper introduction. Yes! Nailed it! He glanced back at the gifts of tea, jewels, and jade paperweight carved into the shape of a dragon. Rohit was especially proud of the last one, a dragon for a man named Drake, it was too fitting.

“Thank you for having me.” Almost forgot that part. But still nailed it! Rohit smiled and offered his hand to Drake, who he understood was the son of a Duke, a title similar to his father’s. “Oh, hey, is that a cat?” He asked suddenly noticing the little orange fella being offered to Drake. His outstretched hand swiftly moved to scratch the cat behind the ears. He noted another well-dressed noble leading a fine horse away, Should have brought live animals? He wondered.

[princess]

Time:10am
Location: Edwards Estate - Drake's Party
Attire: Dress, Amulet
Interaction: @PapaOso Cassius @FunnyGuy Lorenzo @CitrusArms Stratya
Mention: @Lava Alckon Drake

---

The Edwards' estate was even more grand than Charlotte remembered. As Tempestes came to a halt before the sprawling manor, her gaze slowly swept over the majestic structure with admiration. For the Vikenas and the Damiens, Sorian was a seasonal retreat, a place to visit when the leaves changed or the summer sun beckoned. But for the Edwards family, this was their main residence, and they certainly made sure everyone knew it.

The pink-hued stone of the towering structure gleamed softly in the morning light, with its turrets and spires seemingly reaching toward the heavens.

As they neared the entrance, Tempestes slowed to a gentle trot. Cassius dismounted first, offering his hand to help Charlotte down. She accepted it gratefully, her feet touching the ground with grace. She didn’t release his hand immediately, taking a moment to absorb the grandeur that surrounded them.

"The Edwards have always had a flair for the dramatic," Charlotte remarked, her tone light yet appreciative. "Duke Gideon Edwards is not simply a Duke, but the Duke of Soralia—second only to the royal family in power. Sometimes, I forget just how vast their influence is until I'm standing before their estate."

A stable hand approached with quiet efficiency, dressed in neat livery bearing the Edwards family crest. With a respectful bow, he addressed them.

“Allow me to take your horse, my lord, my lady,” he said, his tone polite, his eyes respectfully lowered as he reached for Tempestes’ reins.

"Oh, thank you—just one moment!" Charlotte reached into one of the saddlebags secured to Tempestes. Her fingers brushed against the carefully wrapped package inside, and she gently pulled it out. The gift, wrapped in green paper and tied with a silver ribbon, was simple yet elegant. Turning back toward Cassius, she gave him a playful smile and raised her fist in the air. "Onward!"

Another servant appeared, leading them to the yard, where the soft melody of a band intertwined with the chatter of guests.

Charlotte's eyes swept across the sea of people already gathered on the lush grounds. Despite the early hour, the estate buzzed with conversation and laughter. "So many guests, and it's still early... Lord Drake is very beloved." Charlotte remarked softly to Cassius, her voice carrying a note of admiration. Her gaze drifted over the scene, pausing as she spotted her stepfather standing near a table that hosted Duke Gideon, the Duchess, and the Damiens. Lord Drake Edwards himself was seated nearby, the center of attention, as one might expect on such an occasion. Just beyond them, she caught a glimpse of Prince Wulfric departing with a striking horse.

"Your father's just over there... and Lord Edwards too," she continued, her tone warm and inviting. "We should go wish him a happy birthday." With a graceful nod, she subtly encouraged Cassius to join her in making their way toward the table.

As she approached the table of respected nobles, she steeled herself for the encounter with Calbert Damien. It wasn't her greatest desire to approach him at the moment, but it was best to get such an ordeal over with. As she neared, her gaze caught that of Duke Gideon Edwards, whose face lit up with a wide, welcoming smile at the sight of her.

"Good morning, Duke and Duchess Edwards. Thank you for the invite to this wonderful party, and good morning Count and Countess Damien."

The Duchess, appearing aloof, continued to sip her champagne as if Charlotte hadn't spoken. Meanwhile, Count Damien returned the pleasantry in a kind tone, though Charlotte couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze directly. His wife, however, offered a warm smile, whether genuine or not was difficult to discern.

Duke Gideon, on the other hand, was visibly pleased by her presence. His smile was not just polite, but sincere, as if seeing Charlotte brightened his day. "You’re always welcome here, Lady Lottie," he said, his voice rich with genuine affection and his trademark charisma. "Look at you! Walter would be so proud of the young lady you’ve become."

His words, delivered with such conviction, wrapped around her like a comforting embrace. She smiled genuinely. "Thank you, Duke Edwards."

Turning to face her stepfather, her grin widened as she caught his eye. "Fancy seeing you here, huh?" Charlotte greeted him affectionately, her tone light and teasing. "I don’t suppose you’d like to join me at that empty table in just a moment? I would like to wish Lord Drake a happy birthday first… Oh, and might I add, what a lovely suit. The color complements you wonderfully."

As she was about to approach Drake as planned, Charlotte noticed him already engaged in conversation with other gentlemen. Rather than interrupt, she allowed her gaze to wander, eventually settling on a striking blonde woman nearby. The woman’s attire immediately caught Charlotte’s attention—pants, unusually so, and apparel that suggested she was part of the royal guard. Charlotte couldn’t help but be intrigued. A smile played on her lips as she took a step toward the woman, her curiosity piqued. "Pardon me, my name is Lady Charlotte Vikena. I don't believe we've met."

[Apex Sunburn]

Art thou worthy?

“So, thou hast returned’st.”

Hushed. Delicate. Silken. The womanly voice came laced within the whispers of a gentle breeze. Its words were warm against Sjan-dehk’s ears. Motherly, almost. But he paid them little heed. He barely even heard them, so entranced was he by his surroundings. Above his head, an unblemished field of azure, the brightest he had ever seen, stretched on towards infinity. Beneath him, his feet rested upon sand so fine, and so soft that it could have been powder. A vast expanse of the deepest blue laid before his eyes, its languid waves shimmering like gemstones in the light of an absent sun.

And there, so very far away, and yet so inviting with its nearness; where sea and sky met in a fleeting, yet perpetual embrace, laid the horizon. There, scintillating waters and celestial light called to him. There, vague silhouettes of ships sailed farther and farther away from him, always approaching the horizon, but never crossing that thin boundary.

“Thou desirest to join thy forebears?”

The whispering breeze returned. It was still quiet. Still soothing. And still it rose high above the roar of crashing waves to fill Sjan-dehk’s ears. Its words sounded playful. Amused, even, as if it knew something he didn’t. But that didn’t bother him. How could it? Here on this beach, he was at peace. Here, he was in harmony with both self and world. Here, he was untroubled. Unburdened. Safe. How could he be disturbed by something as trivial, and as transient as mere words?

He closed his eyes and breathed in deep. The familiar sea-air, heavy with brine and refreshing, filled his nose. Sun-baked sand warmed his feet. A smile played on his lips. Only then did he offer the whispering breeze his response, a single nod.

Except he didn’t. Not entirely.

Hesitation tripped him at the very last moment, and his nod turned into a mere jerk of his head. The corners of his lips fell. His brows furrowed. Confusion gathered like storm clouds in his mind. From them, uncertainty rained. All of this felt strange. Alien. Wrong. To join one’s ancestors and one’s Deities on the Long Voyage towards the Eternal Horizon; to wander the Everlasting Sea for all time, such a thing was the highest honour and best reward any Jafin could hope to earn after a life well-lived.

So why had he hesitated? Why was he so unsure?

A ghostly laugh danced around his head. Coy tittering brushed against his neck. Tendrils of cold unease tightened around Sjan-dehk’s heart. His mouth dried. His breaths turned short. Fear made a nest in his gut, but what was it he feared? The whispering breeze swept over his shoulders, its touch like wispy threads of silk. Sjan-dehk wanted to turn around. His mind shouted at him to do so. But his body refused to obey. More giggles teased him. Mocked him.

“Dost thou believest thyself unworthy?”

Whispered. Elegant. Furtive. And yet, like honed daggers, those few words pierced Sjan-dehk to the very core of his being. His eyes snapped open.

And the beach he saw was a different one from before. Its sands were black, its waters churning, and its sky overcast with ominous, dark clouds. Raging pyres burned by the shorelines. Ash rained from above in large flakes. And yet, Sjan-dehk felt nothing. Not on his person. He felt no heat from the flames, and no coarseness from the grey downpour. But he did feel the pounding in his chest. He heard the thumping of his heart in his ears. And when he saw the bloodied corpses lined up before the pyres, he felt the colour drain from his face. Some were already charred. Others, wrapped in shrouds. And a few still writhing, still groaning in agony. Still gasping their dying breaths.

“Poor bastards are rotting alive. Better to just end their suffering and send them on their way. Nothing else we can do. May a kinder world find them.”

Sjan-dehk recognised the hollow, unworldly voice as his own. It came from everywhere. From the sky, from the sea, from the very sand. But not from his own lips. The words were familiar. Not by memory, and not by sound, but by movement. As if his mouth had said such things many, many times before.

He blinked. And the scene changed once more.

Shattered buildings. Torn banners. Bloodstained streets. Thick, black smoke billowed from empty windows and doorways. Desperate pleas and pathetic cries travelled with the howling wind. Behind them followed distant cracks of rifles. The dead laid where they had fallen. Slumped against walls. Collapsed upon each other in gruesome piles. Sprawled amidst their own filth on the ground. All were dressed similarly. Their clothes, their hats, their shoes, all were of the same make, in the same colours. They were in uniform, an army defeated. But Sjan-dehk could see no arms.

“We can’t afford to take prisoners, but we can’t leave them, either. So we’ve no choice. Take care of them, make it quick, and we’ll still be able to leave in time.”

Once again, the voice was his own, but not from him. Once again, the words were uncomfortably familiar, yet strange. They were firm. Resolute. Tinted with regret. Unease tightened its grip around his heart, and he swallowed the lump growing in his throat. He had condemned countless lives with those words. But he hadn’t a choice, had he? Such things happened in war.

He blinked again.

An ocean of mud, endless and featureless, greeted his eyes. Murky puddles collected in craters. Mounds of wet earth rose out of the ground like frozen waves. Rain fell from dark clouds. And just like before, Sjan-dehk could see the heavy droplets, but felt none of it on his person. He could see torn and tattered standards and ensigns fluttering from broken flagpoles, but felt no wind. Discarded rifles, swords, spears, and all manners of arms sank into the mire, but he felt nothing beneath his feet. Just like before, he felt his blood run cold when he saw corpses, half-buried in the mud. Their mouths were open in screams. Their eyes, wide in terror. And their limbs, twisted in a futile struggle without end.

“We all saw what they did. No mercy. No prisoners. Let them be a warning to their fellows.”

Enraged. Vengeful. Almost feral. Sjan-dehk almost didn’t recognise the snarling words as his own. Shivers ran down his back. The lump in his throat threatened to choke him. How many more had he killed with such words? But it had been for the best, hadn’t it? That was what everyone told him. That was what he told himself. Such warnings convinced others to surrender. Such warnings prevented battle. It had all been done to save lives. That was all Sjan-dehk had wanted.

“It’s just like you to come up with these excuses.”

This voice was new. It wasn’t the whispering breeze. It wasn’t Sjan-dehk’s. But it was one he knew. One he knew far, far too well. And one he had hoped to never hear again. He spun around to face it. Mud roiled and churned before his eyes. It rose like a pillar. Parts of it sloughed off. Parts of it moulded itself, shaped itself until it looked vaguely human. Then it squeezed, and pinched, and shifted until features appeared. A mischievous smirk. Upturned eyes. A deep scar on the left cheek.

Sjan-dehk stumbled back. The figure’s flesh was the colour of mud. His eyes, blank. The bones of his destroyed chest, little more than sticks of earth. But with those few details, and that voice, Sjan-dehk knew exactly who he was. The strength in his muscles disappeared. Terror rooted him in place. And as the man of mud stepped towards him, Sjan-dehk could only think of one thing.

He was already dead. And it was Sjan-dehk who had killed him.

“Did it make you feel better brother? To kill me twice?”

The figure’s mouth didn’t move, but Sjan-dehk’s heard his voice in his head. Every word, every syllable echoed endlessly. More than anything, he wanted to run. He wanted to flee from this place, but his body wouldn’t move. It couldn’t move. A shout, a scream, just a cry for help, for mercy, grew in his throat. His lips quavered, and just as they were about to part, he felt a pair of ghostly hands on his shoulders. They pulled him back sharply, knocking the breath from his lungs.

And then, he was back on the beach. The first one. The one with calm waters, and blue skies. The one which had granted him peace. Peace which he now didn’t feel. His shoulders heaved with his breaths. His legs gave out, and he dropped to his knees. Soft sand cushioned his fall, but he didn’t feel it. The breeze returned, brushing over his shoulders. It swirled and coalesced, until they felt like cold fingers resting upon him, but he didn’t feel them. Another breeze swept across his back. It tickled like wispy threads of silk. But Sjan-dehk didn’t feel it.

All he could do was stare at the horizon, which was now shrouded entirely in mist.

The whispering breeze cooed into his ear.

“Dost thou believest thyself worthy?”

Sjan-dehk swallowed hard. He tried to steady his breath as best as he could.

“I don’t know,” he rasped.

And then he awoke.

---

Time: Morning
Location: The Range
Interactions:
Mentions:
Attire:

Hider

(Placeholder until I get a better reference image)
Roughspun, blue trousers
A shoulder belt and waist belt carrying his equipment
Two swords and two pistols, one on either side
A woven, conical hat wide enough to shade his entire face
Lamellar armour: Cuirass, tassets, armguards

A sharp, resounding crack sliced through the cold, morning air. Solid wood kicked against Sjan-dehk’s shoulder. Off in the distance – roughly a hundred paces across the field of Sorian’s range – the upper-left corner of a rectangular, wooden slab burst into splinters, matching it with the other three. The painting of a person brushed haphazardly on its centre, however, was markedly untouched.

Sjan-dehk huffed, his nostrils flaring. He clicked his tongue and brought the rifle in his hands down to his waist, its smoking muzzle still pointed towards the target. “That makes three,” he groused.

Beside him, Mursi peered through a spyglass. He hesitated for a moment, then grimaced. “Maybe the sights are still misaligned. I can–”

“Don’t bother,” Sjan-dehk interrupted and shook his head. He had enough experience with such things to know when a weapon was at fault, and when fault laid with the person using it. In this case, he knew for certain that it was a case of the latter.. A muted and frustrated sigh left his lips, and he stood his rifle upright on the ground, hand wrapped around the forestock and still-warm barrel. “Just one of those days, I guess, where I’m especially terrible.”

And the reason what that was so, was clear to him

He had been awoken by a nightmare earlier that morning, one which had shocked him so much that he had almost fallen out of his cot. And while he couldn’t recall every detail, and what little he did remember wasn’t anything more than vague sounds and scenes, the feelings that nightmare had evoked – the unease, the discomfort, the disquiet – stubbornly clung to corners of his mind. Sjan-dehk had tried to clear his head of them, of course, but even after busying himself far more than he needed to with Sada Kurau’s morning routines, they refused to leave. Preparing for a morning of rifle practice failed to serve as a distraction as well. Even now, as he looked at the results of his poor marksmanship, those lingering traces of his nightmare whispered to him from where they hid in his mind.

“Captain,” a voice called to him.

Sjan-dehk shook his head, blinked a few times, and turned around. Kai-dahn, the commander of Sada Kurau’s detachment of Seaborne, stood before him. Dour-faced, with severe features and a demeanour to match, Kai-dahn was an anomaly amongst Sada Kurau’s crew. Still, Sjan-dehk considered him to be a welcome presence. No matter how skilled, or how experienced the crew, a disciplinarian who believed in doing things by the book was always good to have. That Kai-dahn was a capable leader, good soldier, and fierce fighter was simply a bonus.

Kai-dahn snapped to a salute. Sjan-dehk responded in kind. “I’ve already addressed the men and given them their orders. Do you have anything you wish to say to them?”

“Yes,” Sjan-dehk replied, then looked over to the two dozen men assembled in neat ranks. All of them were dressed for battle – lamellar cuirasses over blue tunics, leather pouches and satchels hanging from waist belts, wide-brimmed hats tied securely to their heads, and rifles behind their shoulders. Each of their faces was a strange mix of young and old. Their complexions spoke of youth, but the depth in their eyes, and the way they carried themselves, betrayed their status as veterans of countless battles. Be it at sea or on land, they had followed Sjan-dehk into battle time and time again.

“Dost thou believest thyself worthy?”

A quiet, ethereal voice whispered in Sjan-dehk’s head. He quickly pushed it away and did his best to pretend he hadn’t heard anything. “I suppose you all saw that?” He asked and jerked a thumb towards the target at which he had been shooting. A few nods went through the ranks. “Try not to do that, and you’ll be fine for today,” Sjan-dehk added with a smirk. Some of the men laughed, but a stern look from Kai-dahn silenced them. In turn, Sjan-dehk glanced at the Commander of Seaborne, and he relented. “But just to be absolutely clear, whether we like it or not, we’re representing the Commonwealth while we’re out here, so I expect everyone to be on their best behaviour.”

A memory of the previous night popped into Sjan-dehk’s head. Stratya had told him that firearms weren’t as common here as they were in the Commonwealth. “There might be locals curious about what we’re doing, but don’t worry about them. Just do what you’re supposed to do. If they try to talk to you, you don’t have to reply if you don’t want to, but just try to be polite. I’d rather not clean up after one of your messes today like I had to last night.” He looked at one particular man. “Isn’t that right, Yehn-tai?”

“Don’t worry, Captain,” Yehn-tain called back. “We won’t understand what they’re saying, anyway.”

Sjan-dehk nodded, then looked at Kai-dahn. “All yours, Commander.”

Kai-dahn saluted once more before barking orders at the men. As they broke ranks to get into their firing detachments, Sjan-dehk hefted the rifle in his hands and looked at the target once more. He clenched his jaw, and returned to the firing line. He didn’t have to try again. There was no need for him to; he could just sit back and let Kai-dahn and Mursi handle everything until it was time to return to Sada Kurau. But he couldn’t leave things as they were.

With deft actions that came with practice, Sjan-dehk reloaded the weapon. He half-cocked the hammer, swung open the breechblock, took out a cartridge, pushed the paper cylinder into the breech, swung the block back into place, and clicked the hammer into position. Simple. He barely even needed to think about it, and it was done in less than a quarter-of-a-minute. He shouldered the rifle, and lined the sights up with the target in the distance. It blurred and sharpened. He drew in a deep breath.

“Dost thou believest thyself worthy?”

The voice whispered again, and only now did Sjan-dehk recognise it from his nightmare. He clenched his jaw and held his breath. Whether he was worthy or not – whatever that meant – was unimportant. The things he had done, he did not because he wanted to, but because he had no choice. Did it make him a bad person? Maybe. But what did it matter if he was? He did his duty, he kept himself, his crew, and his ship alive. That was all that mattered. Everything else was irrelevant.

He pulled the trigger. The rifle cracked and kicked against his shoulder. Through the dissipating smoke, he looked at the target.

Dead centre.

[PapaOso]

---

Time: 10am
Location: Edwards Estate / Drake’s Party
Interaction: @princess Charlotte, @FunnyGuy Lorenzo

---

As Cassius dismounted from Tempestes, he extended his hand to Charlotte with a natural ease and offered her a charming smile. She took it, her touch warm and delicate, and for a moment, he found himself lingering in that simple contact as she did not release his hand immediately. He certainly had no reason to complain.

He followed her gaze as it swept over the Edwards' estate. It was far grander than the places he'd called home over the years, and even more impressive than the mind-blowingly beautiful Damien estate he was only just beginning to get used to.

Charlotte’s admiration for the place was evident in the wonder that painted her expression as she explored it with her eyes, and that spark in her gaze told Cassius more than words ever could. It was as if she was drinking in every detail; the marble statues standing sentinel along the walkway, the vibrant gardens bursting with color, the way the sunlight danced off the fountain's crystal-clear water…almost like each element was weaving its way into her very soul.

"The Edwards have always had a flair for the dramatic..." Charlotte remarked, her tone light, drawing him back from his thoughts. He smirked at her words, the corners of his mouth lifting in response to her observation. She was insightful, something he was growing to appreciate about her. She understood the grandeur, but there was no detectable trace of envy or insecurity in her tone, only an appreciation of what it was.

“It’s quite stunning.” Cassius exclaimed simply as he handed the reins of Tempestes to the stable hand and watched as Charlotte retrieved a gift from the saddlebag. She turned to him with that playful smile that always seemed to soften the edges of his mind. "Onward!" she commanded with a gentle lift of her fist. He chuckled, the sound a touch softer than usual, as if her infectious energy had already worked its magic on him. Plus, she simply looked adorable as she did so.

As they walked toward the yard, the sounds of the party reached his ears, a soft melody intertwining with the hum of conversation. Cassius wasn't a stranger to gatherings like this, but they usually involved more drunkards and ne'er-do-wells and fewer distinguished guests. He felt the weight of eyes on them as they moved through the crowd, his presence, especially so close to her, undoubtedly drawing attention. But it was Charlotte who held his focus, her graceful demeanor an easy draw for his eyes and thoughts.

"So many guests, and it's still early... Lord Drake is very beloved," Charlotte said softly, her voice carrying a note of admiration. He glanced at her, the way her eyes lit up as she took in the scene around them. It wasn't just the admiration in her voice that caught his attention, it was the way she saw these people, the way she always saw something good in them, and in places, and even in moments. It was a perspective so different from his own in many ways, so untainted by the bitterness and cynicism he carried so deep. But it was just so her.

As he continued to process her words, Cassius's grin faltered for the briefest moment. For some reason, Drake’s name on her lips tasted bitter, a sharp edge cutting through the easy charm he wore so well. He quickly smoothed his expression, but the feeling lingered like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch, and a single...slightly petty, thought crossed his mind. dRaKe iS vErY bElOvEd. Cas thought to himself with a sly grin.

When she mentioned his father, Cassius felt a familiar but brief tension coil in his chest. Calbert Damien stood among other nobles at the table and Charlotte led them over. “Father…Countess.” He said in greeting to Calbert and Liliane, his patented smirk playing on his lips.

The Duke of Soralia greeted Charlotte with genuine affection, which warmed his heart considering how the man’s wife didn’t even seem to acknowledge her presence. "You’re always welcome here, Lady Lottie." Duke Gideon said, his voice rich with warmth. Cassius noted how Charlotte seemed to brighten at his words, her smile softening into something genuine. It was more than clear that they held one another in high regard. He then stepped up to the Duke and Duchess with a subtle bow.

“I’m glad we can finally be formally introduced.” His words were absolutely brimming with charm as he spoke. “Cassius Vael, or rather Damien. Lovely to meet you both.”

With that, he watched as Lottie moved to the next person at the table. His eyes lingered on her as she spoke with her stepfather. She moved through this world with such grace, navigating the intricate social dynamics in a way that only further endeared her to him. Her kindness was not a facade; it was as much a part of her as her striking blue eyes or her inquisitive nature.

As she spoke, Cassius found himself captivated by the way she interacted with others and how she bridged the gap between formality and warmth. It wasn’t her words alone, but also the way she leaned in just a little, as if the person she was speaking to was the only one who mattered in that moment. There was a sincerity in her gaze that made even the most guarded souls drop their defenses, and Cassius found himself marveling at it, wondering how she managed to turn every encounter into something so... real. She seemed to have the gift of making people feel seen and valued, and it wasn’t a manipulation or tactic...It’s just how she was. There was a strength in her gentleness, a power in her kindness, and he couldn’t help but smile when he was around her.

For the briefest of moments, something about that realization gave him pause. However, he brushed it away as quickly as it came. Stepping forward, he properly introduced himself to Lorenzo with swagger and panache.

“It’s not every day that a man like me gets to meet a Duke, let alone two at one table.” He jested. Cassius leaned in, a mischievous gleam in his storm-gray eyes, his voice dropping to a soft whisper that was laced with playful reverence. “But between you and me…” He murmured, his words like velvet. “There's no contest. The award for the most impressive Duke at this gathering…well, it’s a foregone conclusion, my good sir. That ensemble of yours? Simply flawless. Every detail, immaculate.” His eyes flicked over the Duke’s attire, appreciating the rich fabric, the finely tailored lines, and odd yet wonderful shade of pink as if he was savoring a fine wine. After giving the Duke a moment to drink in the compliments before continuing. “I’m Cassius Damien, your Grace. It’s an honor to meet you”

[CitrusArms]

Stratya Durmand

Time: 25th, Morning
Location: Edwards Estate
Attire: Officer’s Formal
Interactions: @princess Charlotte
Mentions: @Helo Callum, @SilverPaw Wulfric, Annie, James

The Captain felt a little underdressed. She decided she was fine, but the finery all other attendants were wearing made her feel underwhelming. Even the estate itself felt done to the nines. Duke Vikena's attire was particularly fabulous, the color a fine contrast with his surroundings without being overstated.

Someone who was not done to the nines was - James, did she hear his name was? Such a scruffy cat, to be given to Lord Edwards as a birthday gift? Herself, she'd not complain, but she had the suspicion her standards were, ooh, slightly different. She fought the urge to kidnap the cat aside for a quick grooming. Check for fleas, comb out any matts, like she'd done for so many barn cats. Ooh, but, surely the princess knew what- is that the same cat I pet on my way here? Surely she knew what she was doing? Aah, this was probably something better left to - there he is, Wulfric, bringing a stately horse. Yes, she'll let Prince Wulfric worry about that.

Just the distraction the knight needed, she heard a voice next to her introduce herself. One foot moved and the other pivoted, she turned to face the daughter of the Duke she had yet to greet. Charlotte. “Lady Charrlotte, a pleasure. Cap’n Stratya Durrmand.” The woman offered a warm smile, and then took a somewhat theatrical look around before coming back to the young lady and looking her over once, “an’ ‘ere I though’ ‘is uniform was sharp. Well, ’s sharp enough, I s’ppose. Though, I think even the groundskeeper ‘as outdone me,” there was a bit of humor in her voice as she took in her surroundings for a brief moment, and added softly “what fine work ‘as been done ‘ere. 'Ere mus’ be a few skilled pairs of ‘ands abou' it.”

Her attention turned to the gifts Anastacia’s servants were struggling with. She wanted to help somehow, but resisted the urge. She’d been told to mingle, so here she was mingling, here she would stay mingling. She let her attention shift to the gifts themselves, and the sheer amount of them. She touched a finger to her lips sheepishly, and asked quietly, “should I ‘ave brrough’ more gif’s..? I made a baske’ abou’, oh, yae big,” she motioned with her hands, “full o' swee' brreads, and brrough' some good mead. Oh, an’ I made tha’ alcoholic brread, there,” She gave a nod of her head in the direction of what remained. ”Someone rran off wit’ a 'ole loaf, I think.” The Knight looked about and, before very long at all, found her loaf. And the absconder. She took a sharp breath through her nose, “_{and there ‘is ‘ighness is..}” To be devouring that so quickly, so early in the day, had her concerned. She enjoyed a drink, herself, but she didn’t usually start the day with booze. She found him in the slums the other night, too. There could be other problems with that matter in particular, but this overindulgence on alcohol had her concerned. She made a mental note to talk to her sergeant about the location she found the Prince. And.. Wulfric, on the matter, as well.

Stratya turned back to Charlotte, deciding it best she divert her attention for now, back to the matter at hand, rather, the young lady she was speaking with. One hand raised next to her face and she clapped the fingers of her other hand lightly into the palm, “so, how’s t’ day find you, luv?” She settled her chin into her palm with her fingers. A beat, she cleared her throat briefly and said deliberately, ”Lady Charrlotte.” She found herself blushing just a bit for the second time that day.

[FunnyGuy]

Time: Morning
Location: Edward's Estate
Interaction: @princess Gideon, Charlotte, Anastasia, Cassius
Mention: Wulfric, Calbert

So many pleasantries had been exchanged in such a small space in the shortest of times. As poor as Lorenzo’s tact may have been, he made sure to let the words of his enemies fall by the wayside. He told himself that he wouldn’t ruin things here and would try his damndest to keep his word. Besides, he had plenty of people to whom he was happy to give all his attention. So far, there was Gideon, who he embraced with a warm half hug to avoid staining him with salmon, and Princess Anastasia, who had ecstatically complimented his outfit after gifting Drake Edwards an orange cat that he couldn’t help but stare at.

“What an honor.” Lorenzo said, slightly caught by surprise due to his fixation on the gifted cat. Nope! Not my problem! The duke quickly shifted all of his attention onto Anastasia. “I-I find your dress equally as impressive. Pink is no stranger to either of us this morning, Your Highness.” Lorenzo pretended to adjust his collar for a little dash of flair.

The disadvantages of age… The thought trailed as he noticed Farim, giving him a friendly nod before finally considering Calbert’s words. Sure, the count wanted to see him scurry off, but right now, there was just too much traffic near this table than he was comfortable with. He had made his presence known, so it was best to find his seat and enjoy some of the free food and drink.

There was also the fact that he had just spotted Wulfric… as well as his outfit. Lorenzo raised a brow as walked away, taking in the white fabrics adorned by gold trim. Only royalty could pull off such a look of heavenly purity. Then there was the green! A message of humility as if to say “I am who I am but… I guess I could wear this at your expense today.” Lorenzo released a low sigh as he continued walking, not daring to look back at his competition. The outfit excluded, I don’t think I can face Victoria, Calbert, and Wulfric all at once.

"Fancy seeing you here, huh?" Lottie’s sweet voice stopped him in his very tracks. Lorenzo could not help but smile wide upon facing his dear stepdaughter. "I don’t suppose you’d like to join me at that empty table in just a moment? I would like to wish Lord Drake a happy birthday first…”

“Of course, Lottie. I’ll save you a seat at my side,” he said feeling warmer than ever, yet there was still more to come from the only person dear to his heart. He got ready to step off once more but Charlotte’s voice held him yet again.

“Oh, and might I add, what a lovely suit. The color complements you wonderfully."

“Oh Lottie…” he blushed.

Lorenzo couldn’t help but become giddy from the compliment, so much so that he stayed his feet long enough for Cassius Vael to greet him with more than just his best foot forward. Lorenzo almost couldn’t believe he deserved this much praise but he could not deny the strength of his outfit. He nearly glanced at Prince Wulfric but refrained so that he could maintain his pride. Lorenzo would not ruin this moment! He dared not while riding this high without the assistance of any drug! This moment! This very moment…

…was far from his control.

Cassius introduced himself…

Did he just say… “Damien” Lorenzo’s smiling face morphed to one filled with caution. Cassius Damien. Ca- Calbert Damien. The buttered words were beginning to twist in all the wrong ways. This must be… The charismatic charm with the ability to disarm so many. No, this IS…

“Count Calbert’s bastard?!” Lorenzo’s voice carried far and wide as if he had been tasked to announce the appearance of King Danrose. He quickly covered his mouth, his eyes wide. Nooooooo… gods spare me

[Rodiak]

_{dress ♛ hair ♛}

<sub>D A M I E N 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 :

M e n t i o n s :</sub>

From the moment Nahir awoke, something felt off. Her arms ached as if she had spent the night lifting rocks, and her legs dragged with every step. The steaming hot bath she took helped to ease some of her stiffness and fatigue, but she still felt as though she was moving at a different pace from the rest of the world.

Lady Miha and Lady Suhasini bustled around her, frantically preparing her for Lord Drake’s birthday soiree. Nahir had instructed Ece to organize a suitable gift for the lordling that morning: a crate filled with Alidashtian animal pelts, gold, and an assortment of spices and tobacco. It wasn’t a personal gift, as she didn’t know Lord Drake Edwards well, but it was substantial enough to leave a lasting impression on both the birthday man and his family.

When Nahir and Ece arrived at the Edwards estate, she graciously accepted the gifted bracelet, passing it to Ece for safekeeping. She offered her greetings to both Lady and Lord Edwards, adhering to the proper etiquette as per Caesonian customs, and did the same for Drake before excusing herself to find her designated table.

Once seated, Nahir observed the mingling nobles and royals, her gaze drifting over the crowd. Lady Charlotte wore a simple but lovely dress—something Nahir might have criticized on another occasion, but today she found herself appreciating the shade of blue. Beside Charlotte stood a man dressed in the most pink garment Nahir had ever seen, more pink than even Lord Smithwood's pink-washed skin the last time she’d encountered him—though she quickly dismissed that thought. Lorenzo wore his pink attire with unapologetic flair, easily making him the most vibrantly dressed man in attendance. His ensemble featured elegant designs that earned him a few brownie points in Nahir's eyes, but Leo still held the top spot as the pinkest man in Caesonia.

That seemed to be the extent of her energy for the moment. She leaned back in her chair, shoulders slightly hunched, and continued to observe the crowd with a detached curiosity.

[princess]

Time:10am
Location: Edwards Estate - Drake's Party
Attire: Dress, Amulet
Interaction: @PapaOso Cassius @FunnyGuy Lorenzo @CitrusArms Stratya

---

Charlotte's eyes widened slightly in realization, her mind racing as she inwardly chastised herself for not immediately knowing someone as important as a Captain in Sorian. Nonetheless, she recovered and greeted Stratya with a warm smile, "Captain Durmand, it's truly an honor," she began, "And I must say, your uniform is exceptionally sharp. You look not only lovely but also... powerful. And if you ask me, there's nothing more beautifully feminine than that."

She couldn't help but let her imagination wander as she considered what would it be like to wear such an outfit; She had never worn pants like that in her life, and the thought alone made her feel both curious and daring. She glanced down at her own dress, the delicate lace and soft fabric so different from the Captain's attire, yet in her mind, she imagined herself in such a commanding ensemble. The woman's voice seemed to lower in volume, so she lifted her head to find the captain's attention had shifted. Her gaze followed hers, landing on the servants as well. She frowned and immediately called over, "Hello! Does anyone need help over there?" The servants dismissed her rather hastily with awkward smiles.

Her attention slid back to the Captain, her words registering in her brain. "Your gift sounds absolutely scrumptious!" she commented with delight. With a giggle, she added, " And it seems Prince Callum is certainly enjoying it! It must be really yummy."

When the Captain addressed her as love, Charlotte blushed faintly. "I'm having a rather splendid day so far, and I can hardly wait to discover all the lovely treats this party has to offer. "

“Count Calbert’s bastard?!”

The smile she wore fell. She spun around swiftly, her eyes darting between Lorenzo and Cassius. Her stepfather now had his hands over his mouth.

"Oh dear." She murmured. This time, she dared to look at Calbert, and she almost wished she hadn't. He had rose up from his seat and for once, Charlotte saw him drop his facade in the light of day before all. His brows were furrowed, and his expression was one of unbridled fury, as though he was moments away from lunging across the table to strangle Lorenzo.

"...Please excuse me." She said softly to Stratya.

Deliberately, she hurried to Lorenzo's side and looped an arm through his. "Let's go sit please." she announced, her tone just shy of pleading. "I feel a bit overcome by the heat, and I could use your help finding our way to the table." Her gaze then found Cassius, and she bit her lip, an apologetic look filling her eyes. She hoped he wouldn't be too angry as well; they had just started becoming friends after all.

[Potter]

Olivia

_Persephone

Time: 10am
Location: Damien Estate
Interactions: @Rodiak Zarai
Mentions: Everyone at the party
Aesthetic: Aesthetic: Dress+Hair+Earrings &Flats

---

The prior night was a haze or rather, a dream come true. Had she truly visited the festival with Charlotte and Zarai? Had she rode the roller coaster? The food tasted as delicious as it smelled. No longer was she watching from outside of the carnival. There wasn’t any noble taunting her mother and her for being too poor to afford tickets, or for her getting caught sneaking in.

The next morning, it seemed that sleep had taken over Olivia. Delilah had knocked on her door and startled Olivia out of her sleep. Bamboozled, Olivia quickly rushed to get ready. Charlotte had gone to buy a gift for Lord Drake by herself–a feat that caused Liv’s nerves to run. With reassurances from Delilah and breakfast from Gilbert, Olivia’s worries eased. Due to being underweight as herself, Delilah always ensured she ate more food. Olivia ate so fast that Gilbert hardly made it back to the kitchen and back to her to ensure her plate was filled again.

Afterwards, Delilah helped her get ready and pick out a dress–something she detested picking out or wearing, and therefore needed assistance. The dress was selected by Delilah, however the maid was merciful and allowed her to wear flats instead of heels. She shuddered at the thought, but entertained the idea of her hair being braided. Once ready, Olivia stared at her reflection; she was unrecognizable from her old self to now. What would Kazumin think? A deep ache in her chest caused her to momentarily pause. She took a deep breath and moved forward once Delilah called her name to collect her gift. She moved forward, although the morning itself still felt like a dream. If it was, she didn’t want to wake up from it.

Once at the Edward’s estate, Olivia inhaled. All the money they had and the extravagant birthday party they were throwing made Olivia’s stomach churn. While the rich partied and enjoyed their luxuries, the poor were starving. The morning indulgences she participated in caused guilt to rise. However, once she left her carriage with assistance, she pushed it out of her mind.

She entered the birthday party and stared with awe. She set her gift on the table and turned to see the attendees. Birthday boy Drake, Shehzadi Nahir, Princess Anastasia, Shehzade Farim, Prince Callum, Duke Lorenzo, Charlotte, Cassius, Knightwomen she didn’t know, Lord Leo and Ms. Zarai! Her mind raced as she struggled to process the information, and moved towards those she found familiar; however, a servant blocked her accidentally, or was it on purpose? The chaos near Calbert, including Cassius, Charlotte, Lorenzo and others, was enough to make her stay clear unless Charlie needed her.

With a sigh, she noticed Zarai sitting by herself and close enough to the others. Her heart began to race as she swiftly moved towards Zarai. Her stomach fluttered and her nerves returned. ”Good morning Ms. Rai! Is this table full?” A sly and mischievous smile crossed her face.

[Helo]

Time: 10am
Location: Drake’s Birthday Bash
Interactions: Cassius @PapaOso
Mentions: Wulfric, Ana, Jimmy the cat, Drake, Ari, Farim, Stratya, Barry(Ryn), Zarai, Roman, Lorenzo, Charlotte, The Damiens, The Edwards.

---

As Callum walked the garden he watched his brother lead a horse to the stables. He ate a mouthful of bread. He watched his sister hold up a scruffy orange cat. He ate another mouthful of bread and wondered if that was real. Where did Ana even get a cat? He didn’t see Ari anywhere, Drake was busy talking to many people, so Cal continued eating and wandering. He almost went over to talk with Farim but didn’t want to crash what might be the man’s date with Ana, that was way too awkward.

He caught Stratya looking at him, so held up the half-eaten bread loaf and waved it at her, followed by a thumbs up. He saw Count Damien and his wife, but neither wanted to talk to or even acknowledge them. He felt the same way about Duke Edwards and the Vile Dutchess. He saw some of the other Alidasht royals and nobles but didn’t know any of them well enough to want to talk to them right now, so instead he filled his mouth with more bread.

Is that Barry!?!? Cal spotted a man who looked exactly like the man he’d talked to in an alleyway but he couldn’t remember if Barry was real or if he’d imagined him that night. Hadn’t Barry mentioned Marek might be aligned with Edin? He almost approached Barry, but he didn’t want to take the risk that he might also be an illusion and he wasn’t going to start talking to imaginary people with Wulfric around.

He saw Zarai seated, talking to someone else he didn’t know, so he avoided her too. Callum wasn’t in a meeting new people mood. He chewed obnoxiously on the bread, wondering why Ari wasn’t here and he looked around for Roman but didn’t see him around. He made his way over to the bar just as he finished the last mouthful of bread. He left moments later, a glass of red wine in hand. Well a second glass of wine in hand, the first one had been gulped down in front of the bar, untasted and just something to wash all the bread down with.

Duke Lorenzo’s voice cut through the music, heard over the rest of the softly spoken conversations, and louder than Callum’s thoughts. Count Damien’s bastard His mind echoed the words as he turned to look. Standing next to Sorian’s best-dressed noble was a man who had to be the Damien bastard and Charlotte as well. Oof, Calby looks pissed. He smiled a little, might as well draw some heat off Lorenzo and see if he could turn Calbert’s face a shade darker than the wine.

”CASSIUS VAEL, THE DAMIEN BASTARD?” Callum shouted matching the Duke’s volume as he headed in their direction. ”I can’t believe we haven’t met yet!” He added, his voice still inappropriately loud but not quite shouting. He was going to have to relax his stance on meeting new people today but he’d make it worth it.

Once he made his way over to them he smiled and offered a hand to Cassius. ”I’ve heard the most delightful rumors about you, sir. Nice to match a face to the man, the myth, the legend! And how fortunate for you that ya don’t look too much like your pops.” He spoke, grinning, and giving a wink to Calbert. Maybe this party wouldn’t be too bad after all.

[Tpartywithzombi]

Time: 10am
Location: Drakes Birthday Party
Mention:
Interactions:
Appearance: No shoes | Blue summer gown with butterflies embroidered on gown

Ariella arrived at her brother's birthday party feeling a mix of anticipation and weariness. The path to the backyard entrance led her to the large white gates nestled between towering hedges, their pristine surface gleaming under the late morning sun. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before pushing the gates open, the sound of cheerful chatter and classical music spilling out to greet her.

As she stepped inside the backyard, she was immediately struck by the beauty of the meticulously manicured garden. The grass was a perfect, vibrant green, and the flowerbeds overflowed with blooms of every color, their fragrance filling the air. A sense of tranquility washed over her as she took in the scene, the chaos of the past day momentarily forgotten.

The tables, set up in neat rows across the garden, were all adorned in Drake's favorite color. Rich green tablecloths draped elegantly over each one, and the napkins, folded into delicate shapes—flowers, birds, stars—added a whimsical touch to the decor. Ariella couldn’t help but admire the attention to detail; it was exactly the kind of celebration her brother would have wanted.

A classical band played softly from a small stage at the far end of the garden, their music mingling with the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. The melodies were soothing, a perfect backdrop for the elegant gathering. Guests in their finest attire were mingling, sipping on champagne, and sampling the trays of hors d’oeuvres being passed around by attentive servers. The atmosphere was one of refined joy, the kind of quiet, cultivated elegance that made every moment feel special.

Ariella made her way through the crowd, exchanging polite smiles and greetings with familiar faces. As they returned to conversation she found herself sneaking behind a large shrub and ripping the shoes off her feet. As her feet touched the ground she felt the connection bind her back, the feeling had grown stronger since the last spell she had cast in the forest for Callum. Feeling more relaxed she ditched the shoes under the shrubs before casually walking towards and empty table. Sitting down she tucked her feet under the table, wondering if she would run into Mathias.

Her mind fluttered with thoughts as she sat there, resting her hands on the table she couldn't help but think about what her mother or brother would say when they saw her after her stint in the cells.

TDLR

Ariella arrives at her brother's birthday, quickly removes her shoes and stashes them under a bush before sitting off to the side anticipating the fallout of her stint in the cells.

[Lava Alckon]

Farim

Location: Primitus Church of Sorian
Time: Morning of the 25th
Attire: Robes
Mentions: Anastasia @princess, Zarai@Rodiak, Olivia@Potter, and Lorenzo@FunnyGuy

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A Night at the Carnival

Farim moved from his conversation with Riona with quite a bit to think about. He pondered what the fate of her particular lord of interest may be - as well as the various nature of his trip to this far off land. He really had gone into detail about his particularly nasty relationship with his father, something he might have to be careful of in the future. But for no reason other than pure instinct he gave his trust to her - and so he continued thinking on just what might be next for his stay in Caessonia.

Farim wandered into the carnival, eyes aglow with wonder and joy as he looked at the various stalls and rides. His first day here he had been to a similar style of faire and found it quite enjoyable. This was one custom he would certainly become attached to, the art of playing games, riding rides, and being generally silly and whimsical in the moment - to forget about the troubles of the day and just live for a while. He took his time to enjoy everything the attractions had to offer, and even won a few small trinkets he may fashion into gifts for friends and family alike - he still had those back home to send well wish to after all.

But the night eventually did come to a close, and so Farim made his way back to his chambers and sauntered through the door. A tired Thara was leaning into Farim’s head as he walked over to her cage and gently placed her onto her roost. The falcon almost seemed to sigh with relief to simply lay about in her usual home. The man gave his pet some light scratching and a few earnest shows of affection before draping the veil over her cage and changing into more night-worthy clothing.

From there he sat at his desk, responding to various letters and recording his signature over ledgers that his work back home had sent him. After the better part of an hour, Farim found himself finished with everything and heaved a gentle sigh. There was simply one matter of personal business to attend to first - a letter to write. On an envelope he wrote the words “For the Grand Vizier” and pulled aside a piece of parchment.

“Father,

It is time we spoke upon some rather important matters. I know what you did - and I would like the finer details before I cast any harsher judgment.

I shall come and see you at sundown tomorrow - I promise to make it as brief as our cadence will allow.

Signed,
Farim abn Kadir”

It was vague enough to not give out his intention but still firm enough that hopefully Hafiz would see he would not be ignored. He ushered the manservant by the door and bid him to deliver the letter with posthaste. From there, Farim could do nothing but await the fated time with anxious theories and what ifs. Was his mother really gone? What had he done to her? Was this all his doing? Or perhaps his negligence that ended her? A swarm of questions came to mind as he went to bed - with some slightly restless sleep to follow. And then - a knock at the door.

Farim jolted awake to the sound of knocking, and the familiar voice of Anastasia calling out to him through the door. He hurried dressed himself - as much as silken morning gowns do - and answered the door enthusiastically. His ears did in fact not betray him, and the darling sight of the Princess graced his view. She invited him to a celebration of the birthday of one “Lord Drake”. He had never met the man but Annie seemed rather excited to go - so he donned a fancy gem-laden sash with some more suitable linen garments embroidered with a fine golden thread.

The pair then journeyed in the assigned carriage - catching up about the days events. Farim could not help but notice a distinct makeshift package with pristine holes poked into it, as if to provide air for something. The princess had stated she found it before she came to fetch him, and after a few jolts and a couple stirs within the container - Farim had a feeling just what she had gotten this stranger for his birthday.

Once they arrived, Farim took in the pleasant views and the grand decorations. It almost reminded him of how extravagant and exuberant his parties were back home. It intrigued him to know that such customs were not lost. The idea of gift giving crossed Farim’s mind, but he had such little time to prepare that he instead would try and have something sent post-party - or perhaps even offer something to be shipped from his home country for the man. With the birthday boy in sight - he and Anastasia approached and delivered some well wishes - including that of a new pet!

Thara reacted rather strongly seeing the feline creature - and instinctively clung to Farim’s shoulder as the creature began assessing its new surroundings. ”Well I suppose introductions are in order. I am Farim Kadir of Alidasht. I hope I find you in pleasant conditions this fine day.” A standard formal greeting from back home - nothing crazy. ”I do apologize for not having anything physical as of the moment - but I tend to want to offer a more personal touch to such things for such special occasions such as this.” Farim approached and offered a bow. ”You see, I run a trading company that spans far and wide across my homeland - should you require anything exotic…silks, pottery, gems, perhaps even another beast-like companion for your new friend?” Farim smiled while motioning towards Jimmy. ”You need all but ask - may this day bless you, my Lord.”

There was a pause for any conversation between the two to continue - the Lord clearly becoming overwhelmed with each passing moment - before Farim casually swept his arm around Anastasia’s. He met eyes with the Duke shortly before he became surrounded by other party-goers. "I agree, good Duke. I think your suit is quite marvelous - ah but it seems you might be a touch busy. We should catch up later!" With the rising commotion, he could swear he heard a distinct shout about someone being a bastard - but at this point he chose to not participate in whatever it is that chaotic man had begun to unravel.

”I can think of a few places that deserve your beautiful self sitting on - but for now I think that table over there might be just the right spot for us.” Farim gestured to the table where it seemed someone had already begun a conversation with another woman. He vaguely recognized the one who was already sitting, and the one standing that seemed to have just arrived he recognized as Olivia from his short visit to the beach. He confidently strode with Annie in toe next to him and proclaimed robustly to the table. ”The party is here! How are you fine ladies doing today?”

[CitrusArms]

Stratya Durmand

Time: 25th, Morning
Location: Edwards Estate
Attire: Officer’s Formal
Family Dirk + Crest
Interactions: Ariella @Tpartywithzombi
Mentions: Anastasia’s servants, Callum, Charlotte

Aah, what a lovely young lady! It didn’t seem like she was just being flattered, the compliments were genuine and thought out. Her uniform wasn’t grand or extravagant, but it was very sharp and powerful. She hadn’t thought of it like that, distracted by all the finery and jewels. The compliment brought an appreciative smile to her face. Beautifully, powerfully, feminine. Ooh, goodness, she could get used to this. ”Y’ think so? Ooh, ‘at’s good to ‘ear. I’ve been yet shy o’ these even's. Hearrin’ such sincerre complimen’s is rreassurin’, thank you.”

Charlotte, perhaps for the best, did not pick up on the Captain’s trepidation regarding the Prince. Yes, it wasn’t anything she needed to worry about, ”’e cer’ainly does, tha’ ‘ighness, him,” Stratya supposed she should just take the compliment, for now. Callum waved to her with the bread and she couldn't decide if he was being saucy or not. It seemed like a plain enough motion. ”I didn' expect anyone ta eat t' 'ole loaf, though.”

A voice shouted something rather scandalous.

At the same time as Charlotte, Stratya and the lady offered under their breath, ”oh dear.” It was, of course, Duke Lorenzo. She nodded as Charlotte turned and excused herself, ”g’on ahead, darlin’.” She eyed the Count, who seemed.. incredibly furious.

Callum blared in next, repeating the scandal. Just as she had been considering how best to distract the Count, the younger prince did something, himself. Maybe not the way she would have hoped to distract him, but it was interesting to note that Callum had done something to deflect from Lorenzo. Perhaps he meant to irritate the Count? Whatever the case, the Count would watch himself doubly so when faced with the Royal Family. Right? The Queen’s Knight caught herself watching the Count and turned her attention away, back to the servants carrying Anastasia’s presents. She sighed softly, deciding this was the least troubling to deal with. Right, let’s organize that mess.

“A’rrigh’, lads, ‘ere I come.” Stratya strode toward the gift-burdened servants, struggling with the crowded bottleneck at the gate, and wondered about how to organize this when she saw her solution just there. Stewart was taking his time, having a leisurely drive on his way home. He must have gone down and come back around. What luck! ”Oye, Stewar’! You faffin’? Bring y’sen hence ‘n ‘elp these lads with ‘at car', put 'er," Stratya took a moment to choose a place, "there. You lads stage there once Stewar’ stops aroun’ and take those ‘eavy ones in two- or three-man teams from there.” She stood by for a moment to see that her orders were working out and nodded, before going to the bar she'd spotted.

She’d been about to get herself mead, but stopped, ”Gods, maybe I shoul’ go ta nice liquorr ‘ouses morre, ‘old on.” Brown eyes scanned over the bottles behind the bar she leaned on with deliberation, ”Oooh, mix me a surrprise, barrkeep. Some’in’... sweet.” When handed a drink, she took a sip and her eyes lit up.

The next thing she saw was the chocolate fountain. What in blazes? The Captain approached the fountain, sipping her drink and looking over the fruits. She settled on a strawberry, sticking it with a toothpick and running it under the chocolate. She let any spare chocolate drip off for a moment before walking away, or so she thought. She saw some about to drip off as she lifted the fruit to her lips and quickly caught the drop on her tongue before taking a bit.

Ooh, she’d tasted fresh strawberry before, but good chocolate was another matter. This was incredible. It was so rich yet so balanced, the way the richness of the chocolate complimented the sweet lightness of the strawberry, she.. had to put this in bread. Stratya had herself a seat with a young lady who, herself, had just sat down to a table alone. The knight had yet to meet Ariella. “Strawb’rries and chocola’e go very well. 'At gives me an idea f'r brread, i' does.” The woman gave a soft ”mmm,” she sat as she finished her strawberry, a pleased smile on her lips, and swallowed before she spoke ”think I’ll ‘ave ta ‘ave morre in jus' a minu'e.” She turned her attention to Ariella, smiling warmly, ”I don’ believe we’ve me’. Cap’n Stratya Durmand.”

[princess]

Duke Gideon Edwards,Duchess Victoria Edwards, Count Calbert Damien, and Countess Liliane Damien

Time: 10am
Location: Drake Edwards Birthday Party at the Edwards Estate Backyard
Interaction:@FunnyGuy Lorenzo @Helo Callum @PapaOso Cassius

---

“Ah, so this is the infamous younger Damien!” Duke Gideon exclaimed, his voice full of warmth and enthusiasm. “Your father has been speaking highly of you, and I must say, I’ve been eagerly waiting to meet you.” He then turned his head back to Calbert with the kind of smile that could light up a room, before adding jovially, “And look at that! A striking resemblance, indeed! You’ve certainly inherited your father’s good looks and presence.” Meanwhile, his wife Victoria’s eyes swept over him, her gaze moving slowly from his feet to his head, taking in every detail with a critical eye. Her lips pursed slightly, and there was a barely perceptible arch of her perfectly groomed eyebrow.

Finally, Victoria deigned to speak with just a hint of the cutting edge she was known for. “Still in shock that you have a son, Calbert,” she remarked, her voice dripping with veiled disdain. Her gaze remained fixed on Cassius, assessing him. “Fortunate enough to inherit your father’s looks, at the very least,” she added, the compliment so thinly veiled it barely concealed her true thoughts. Her eyes lingered on Cassius for a moment longer, as if weighing his worth in the balance of her judgment, before she finally turned her attention away.

Even before Calbert could properly greet his son, Lorenzo's voice rang out across the gathering, much to the horror of those within earshot. “Count Calbert’s bastard?!” The exclamation echoed, turning many nearby heads.

Victoria’s eyes flared with anger, her patience suddenly snapping as she turned her full attention to Lorenzo as she hissed immediately, “Duke Lorenzo Vikena, must you make a spectacle at every gathering! This is my son’s birthday, not a stage for your theatrics!” She huffed as her gaze honed in on Charlotte with disdain as she made her way to her father’s side as she always did when he made a mess.

Gideon had initially looked over with brows lifted, his calm demeanor masking the concern growing within him. However, the moment his gaze shot back to Calbert, any semblance of ease faded. It was clear that Count Damien was not taking it well at all. Calbert's brows were furrowed deeply, and the look in his eyes was one of barely restrained violence. His protective instincts were flaring as his son was publicly labeled a "bastard" in front of the Duke and Duchess and the entire gathering. His normally controlled demeanor cracked, revealing the fierce father underneath who would go to any lengths to protect his children.

The duke sighed inwardly, recognizing the dangerous tension brewing between them. He knew he had to intervene before things escalated further.

“Ah, Duke Vikena…” Gideon began as his eyes found Lorenzo’s once more, his tone smooth and a smile still on his face, “I understand your surprise, but let’s be mindful of our words, especially in such esteemed company. This is, after all, a celebration of my son, Lord Drake, and we wouldn’t want to cast any shadows on this joyous occasion.”

Before anyone could respond further, Callum’s voice rang out loudly, “CASSIUS VAEL, THE DAMIEN BASTARD?” matching the volume of Duke Lorenzo’s earlier exclamation.

“What an absolute mutt that Prince Callum is!” Victoria lamented angrily to Countess Liliane, who simply seemed concerned.

Gideon’s gaze shifted back to Callum and he felt his face twitch. He allowed the Prince to speak before greeting him kindly, “Hello Your Highness! It’s an honor to have you attending today.” His tone then took on an encouraging note as he addressed them all, “Why don’t you all take a moment to sit at a table, as Charlotte suggested? The heat can be overwhelming, and I’d hate for anyone to feel uncomfortable. ” With a bit of uncharacteristic edge underlying his words, Gideon added, “After all, Duke Vikena, it’s important to take proper care of those who rely on us, especially our young ladies.”

Victoria cast a withering look at Lorenzo, her voice dripping with icy contempt as she added, “Yes, perhaps some time seated will do you both good. We wouldn’t want any more… outbursts to mar the occasion.” She turned her attention back to the gathering, clearly eager to distance herself from the Vikenas as much as possible.

The soft sound of Calbert’s chair sliding back across the grass drew immediate attention.

His wife, Liliane, sensing the storm brewing within him, gently placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. But Calbert, his jaw set and eyes dark, subtly brushed her hand away as he rose to his full height.

When he spoke, his voice was calm, yet it carried a seething undercurrent of fury that was impossible to miss. His gaze fixed on Duke Lorenzo with a look so piercing it could have frozen the man in his tracks. “I would advise you to choose your words with more care in the future. To address my son—my blood—with such a term is not only a grave insult but also a testament to your own ignorance.”

He paused, allowing the silence to hang in the air. “Cassius, regardless of the circumstances of his birth, is every bit a Damien as I am. He bears my blood, my name, and my respect. You will do well to remember that.”

Calbert’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing with a chilling intensity as they bore into Lorenzo. “And let us not forget, Duke, that while you so freely label my son a ‘bastard,’ you have long played the role of father to an orphan girl who isn’t even your own flesh and blood. Yet, I don’t see you making that fact public at every opportunity. Perhaps, out of respect for her, you should refrain from using such terms when speaking of a man who carries my lineage.”

A tense silence followed. It was Victoria who finally shattered the quiet, her patience worn thin. She waited impatiently for a mere five seconds before blurting out, “Alright, that’s enough. You all can go sit far away now… And Lorenzo, don’t make me have you dragged out. You know I’d do it.”

Given the intensity of Calbert’s reaction and the growing attention this confrontation was attracting, Gideon decided it was best to defuse the situation. “I must insist as well, Lorenzo. After all, Lottie mentioned she wasn’t feeling well. Perhaps it’s best to find a seat and let this matter rest for now.” Putting back on the warm smile, he added enthusiastically, “I do hope you all enjoy the party! I am so pleased you’re here!”