[IC] 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

[Conscripts]

Time: 10 AM
Location: Sorian Temple
Interactions:
Mentions:

---

Black Hole

In other parts of Varian, especially the capital, information could be obtained by almost anybody at anytime. It was difficult to do something without somebody else knowing about it and spreading the news. Things were different in this part of the world. A disaster could be taking place in broad daylight and not a single word would reach the outer public. Not because security was tight, but it was too remote, like screaming into the void.

"You are not making any sense here." John rebuked one of the doctors at the meeting.
"Let me repeat the question. In your own words, necrosis began in 36 hours after first symptoms, which has never been documented in ANY Varian disease database, not to mention as a respiratory disease, and yet you called it a common regional disease. So is this an emerging new disease or a common regional disease?"

"Doctor Williamson, it's complicated, but I can guarantee you we know how to cure the disease and we have it under-"

"Yes or no, is this a new disease?"

Things were already falling apart at the meeting. There were only 2 doctors writing that report, and it was chaos. Both of them giving contradictory answers, and under even the most basics of questions, they were like bumbling 5-year-olds. And he hadn't gotten to Hania and her 'magic' theory yet.

"...Yes." Reluctantly, the doctor answered.

"Good." John wrote on his report sheet. "In that case, the first thing we need to do, preferably a week ago already, but better now than later, is to put this village on lockdown. Any objections?"

"The nearby Alestal Village is very much dependent on our fish supplies, I don't think that would be a good idea doctor." The Baron voiced his concerns.

"Then we will supply them from the nearest town, Udeska. It will take longer, but they will survive. If inhabitants of this village really want to leave, they would need explicit permissions from me. Is that clear?"

"That would not be enough, doctor." Hania spoke up. Quite convenient, he was going to ask her now. "For the immediate future, no one can leave."

"No one? You said this is caused by magic...sorry influenced by magic." John turned to her with a neutral but authoritative tone. "Thesis please."

Once again, the so-called doctor shrunk under John's intense questioning. She was so determined to offer a cause and solution, but wasn't ready to back them up.

"A-Again, I'm not ready to explain fully at this time."

"Then how do you know to do a complete lockdown? As far as I heard, magic is something you do on an individual or a group of them, not a disease that would spread and multiply."

"There is a way, it's called a curse." She answered, the confidence back on her. "It normally passes from one individual to another at a time, but this is very much uncharted territory. I cannot say for certain if it is incapable of multiplying itself onto others, and that's terrifying..."

He sighed. At least she was giving an answer.

"What is this 'uncharted territory' then?"

"Doctor, I don't think we should take this serio-" Baroness Salovey was about to voice her usual objection, but John's index fingers shut her up. She might be the one in charge of the village, but the real power was on him.

"Let her speak." John wasn't enamored with anyone yet, but her next words would etch in his memories for the rest of his life.

"It's necromancy."

In moments of great trauma and grief, people tended to reach for the closest possible comfort drug they could to ease the pain, quite often literally. John considered it an instinctual response worth sympathy. However, he would judge those who used trauma as justification for their monstrous acts, for threatening the well-being of the innocents. That he had no sympathies for.

John paced around the room impatiently, waiting for someone. A knock soon came on the door, and after confirming it was one of the Varian servants, he let him in.

"What do you have for me?" John asked. The servant leaned into his ears.

"The snake is on the hunt today, according to the Black Cat." He said concisely. John nodded acknowledging, the servant departed quickly.

The notes left by his bedside this morning from Alina concurred with the Black Cat's information. She was telling the truth this time it seemed. No events for him today then.

John quickly wrote a note and passed it onto another Varian servant, then got himself ready. He wore his usual stuffy outfit, a handkerchief and his medicine in one pocket, a pocket watch and other essentials in another's. But today, he grabbed himself a scalpel and hid it in his sleeve. It was much smaller than a dagger, so it would be really difficult to notice.

He would be seen on the street looking completely normal, heading off towards the Sorian Temple.

[FunnyGuy]

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

Lorenzo felt his body tense up as everyone in the immediate vicinity reacted to his abrupt address. Some twisted their faces, appalled. Others covered the mouths to hide their reflexive facial expressions. Lorenzo wanted so badly to just run away but his feet wouldn't budge, even as Calbert looked as if he would snatch him away from this party and crush him in his grip.

When Prince Callum surprisingly echoed his very words, initially he felt himself saved by all it did was create a moment of pause before Victoria and Calbert bore into him. Victoria criticized him with nothing he hadn't heard before. It was just the nature of their foul relationship. Lorenzo gave Gideon a few silent nods to his suggestions as he tried to deescalate the situation like a good host should. With Charlotte pulling at him, it only made sense to just walk away and take a seat as he originally planned.

Sit at a table, eat, drink. Enjoy the morning. Enjoy this splendid party in celebration of the young Drake Edwards.

“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.”

Lorenzo frowned apologetically as Calbert finally spoke of Cassius. His eyes met the young man’s not knowing what damage he might have inflicted on him. Softy, Lorenzo attempted to ask Charlotte to let him speak to him.

“Charlotte, may I-” Lorenzo returned his attention to Calbert who was far from finished with him.

“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.”

Lorenzo gave a single nod, keeping quiet so as to not make things worse. It was his mouth that had gotten him into this after all.

“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.”

Lorenzo’s mouth parted as he could not believe what Calbert had said concerning Charlotte. Sure it was an eye for an eye but Lorenzo was hardly a man of reason when it came to Charlotte. In actuality, Lorenzo was hardly ever reasonable!

Gideon and Victoria attempted to de-escalate things further, the former with his warm suggestions and the latter with her threats of removal from the party. Regardless, Lorenzo was NOT letting Calbert escape this. It didn't matter if he had what he had on Lorenzo, he would defend Charlotte.

“Count Calbert Damien! Your words don't affect me. They don't affect Charlotte… And they don't affect your relationship with Cassius either! You can believe what you want about Charlotte and I but I raised my girl… with love and action! Cassius might possibly be a great young man with plenty of potential but your blood bears no responsibility for that.” Lorenzo briefly turned to Cassius, his eyes tearing up as he was becoming emotional. “I am sorry for what I said to you, young man, truly. And I am also deeply sorry that your father believes he can equate mere moments with you to the connection I have with my daughter.” Lorenzo let loose a sigh before finally letting Charlotte take him away to the table.

[Lava Alckon]

Drake

Attire: Black/Green Coat, Black Dress Pants, and Black Shoes
Time: Morning of the 25th
Location: Edwards Estate
Mentions: Duchess and Victoria Edwards, Count Calbert, Stratya @CitrusArms, Count Fritz @JJ Doe, Ariella @tpartywithzombi, Anastasia @princess, Rohit @Helo, Wulfric @SilverPaw, Cassius @PapaOso, and Lorenzo @FunnyGuy

---

The following events while Drake played the role of the greeter at the gate was indeed a spiral of events. He could hardly process one from the next. From new pets to extravagant gifts to offers of trades and silks - immediately followed by an uproarious cry from the city’s most boisterous Duke. Not to mention the brief commotion that followed. Drake decided he would take things one step at a time to avoid getting too flustered. The chaos, while anxiety-inducing, was actually rather refreshing than your average high society party.

Fritz

Lord Drake sighed and nodded with an almost tired smile at the man. "Last night was certainly a commodity...Glad I was able to bounce back for such an occasion like today. Thank you so much for coming, good sir." He offered Fritz a firm handshake. "Today is going to be rather eventful so I hope you'll forgive me if I am unable to converse as freely. I'd like to take you up on that offer of a spa day sometime soon. It sounds rather adventurous, no?" Drake made sure to gesture at the pile of gift bags for guests and to a nearby table with named cards across their surface.

"Everyone gets a gift bag, and a seat. There will be a live performance soon to mark the 'beginning' of the party. We have a floral garden to parous, the stables are open for passersby, and all kinds of fanciful appetizers and meals to be served today. I am rather looking forward to some of those bell peppers myself....But I must attend to my 'gate-keeping' duties for a bit longer. I implore you to get comfortable and relax - I will make sure to have a proper conversation soon with you. Perhaps even put a proper pin on that idea of yours, or something else altogether. I am rather flexible when it comes to the occasion." Drake smiled and was ready to receive any parley from the Count, not wishing to be outwardly rude but still taking time to greet and wave in people as they made their way in.

After the interaction with Count Fritz, Drake noticed that his sister was in the crowd - of course with her shoes off - chatting with a well dressed guard with an eccentric accent. He would need to talk to her later as well - it seemed with each passing moment the list of people he wished to see grew. But that was the point of a birthday party, wasn’t it? He gave the pair a wave as he made his way to the gift table to meet the Princess herself with an interesting looking man that she was entangled with.

Anastasia & Farim

As Anastasia plopped the stray cat onto the table Drake felt a rush of thoughts hit him all at once. For one - he did certainly love the cat. For two, his mother could NOT see this new addition to the family before he had the chance to introduce her to everyone. She would throw him back onto the streets in a heartbeat. He reached a hand out to softly soft him against his neck - letting the feline get used to his scent and presence.

But as his demeanor was calm he looked at Anastasia with a slightly worried glance. ”Can’t say I was expecting something like this. That is so like you, Your Highness. I shall take great care of this feral feline. Hopefully before long you can see him pronouncing about the gardens!” He half-heartedly joked. Drake waved down his familiar aid Sebastian and quickly whispered some words into his ear. The young man nodded and gently took the cat off. ”Do not worry. I am simply having him bathed and given a proper area of the house. That and I’m sure the young feline would love a few toys and treats to pick out from the pet store. He’ll have a real proper home here - thank you.” Drake smiled before being approached by the foreign man traveling in toe with the Princess.

”Hmm…your offer is quite an interesting one. If it isn’t too much trouble I would have to chat with you further on that. If anything I would love to learn about what kind of literature you have over in Alidasht. I rarely get to see books from there and I imagine they are extravagant, as you all are.” Drake playfully smiled.

Rohit

Drake heard another foreign accent and pivoted on his foot to meet face to face with another noble-appearing person that pronounced himself as a resident of Alidasht. But truthfully they all dressed so exuberantly that he felt he scarcely tell lord from lordling in such a land. All the same he offered a bow to the man. "It is a pleasure, Sir Amar. You are quite the sage to know how to present such gifts to someone like myself. How did you know I liked green so much?" Drake smirked.

Then the cat was mentioned and he let out a slight cough. "That it would be. Quite the nice gift - a companion and new member of the family! I just need my good friend Sebastian to take care of the smaller things like bedding, cleaning, food, and such so that he can get adjusted into his new home." Pausing for the moment - he thought of what to say to this newcomer to the land of Sorian. Had he moved here recently? Was he someone he had not yet heard of? Drake thought he kept tabs on the words and news of the city, but perhaps something had slipped by him.

"For now I shall free you up to enjoy some festivities. If you have any questions or concerns you may let me or any of my family or the staff know. I'd like us to chat after people have settled in. Maybe catch up about what it is that brings you to this fine city?" Drake ushered his hand motions towards Sebastian, who finally swiftly took the cat into the manor for the time being - feeling a slight aversion to the cats mild protest at being held and carried. With that, Drake bowed and pointed towards a mountain of gift bags that his family had prepared for guests. "Take your pick of a goodie bag and find your seat. I'll make sure to come say hello more personally once the guests have fully arrived."

Wulfric

Shortly after the previous exchange, the familiar clopping of hooves graced his ears, prompting Drake to turn around and be met with Prince Wulfric and a rather large majestic equestrian beauty. Drake looked the stallion up and down, nodding in approval as the Prince declared that he would not be refused a tenth time. Countless times had he offered and now, if only by society’s standards of birthday giving, would he finally accept the sizeable gift.

”Apollon is a fine name. For a fine horse. I shall make sure he too is taken care of. And naturally you are welcome to undergo any ceremonies before you part. I know he meant alot to you so I do appreciate this gesture, Wulfric.” Drake leaned in and returned the handshake - a solemn nod following in understanding of the statement about his sister.

”I shall give you both some privacy - but I would like to catch up in due time. Perhaps once you are properly settled in you can find me for a little whiskey or wine. The famously devious Ws as they say.” Drake chuckled. His hand grazed along the side of the horse as they made their way back to the stables. The young lord made sure to give the backside of the stallion plenty of space to avoid giving the creature the jitters, and moved onto the next bout of commotion that graced his ears.

“Count Calbert’s bastard?!”

Cassius

Drake rushed over with brisk footsteps, doing his best not to cause anymore concern than was already present. By the time he made his way over to the group of Dukes and Duchesses now debating over the nature of the words shared. Once there he greeted everyone with a friendly disposition - as if to attempt to ease things off.

”My my, such colorful words and tense expressions around! Perhaps some space is needed between parties or even a drink or two to ease the nerves?” He waved at Duke Vikena and Lady Charlotte as they were making their exit. He would make it a point to see them later and make sure they were well, but for now his attention turned to the Damiens. ”If any of you need anything in particular - I lend an open ear.”

”And I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of meeting you just yet. But I’ve seen your face at a few of the most recent happening events. And based on some…recent exchange of words you must be Lord Cassius?” Drake extended his hand out for a handshake. ”I do hope that outburst didn’t upset you too greatly. Care to share a drink at the bar and talk about how things have been since you’ve joined the scene?”

[JJ Doe]

Ríoghnach "Riona"

Time: Daytime, Sola 25th
Location: Royal Guest House
Interaction(s)/Mention(s): @Helo@Lava Alckon

Riona wheeled the cart out of the kitchen, the extra breakfast Lordling Smithwood had ordered balanced atop its surface. It had been some time since she'd delivered his morning coffee and croissant, laced with her “special seasoning.” Now, summoned again, she made her way to his guest room.

As she walked down the hallway leading to his room, Riona found a cluster of Smithwood’s servants huddled by the door, whispering to each other. She arched an eyebrow. “What’s going on here?”

The servants exchanged uneasy glances. “It’s... well,” one began, then turned to the half-open door. “you'd better see for yourself.”

Curious, Riona edged closer and peeked in. The scene inside was... not what she expected. At all. There, caught in a fit of near-hysterical laughter, was Lordling Smithwood struggling to extricate himself from one of the chairs Shehzade Farim had selected the day before.

He seemed to have skipped right past merry and landed smack in the middle of tavern-drunk territory. Riona wondered if the powder she’d slipped into his earlier meal was having the same effect as the potion she gave the other day. Well, his laughter sounded normal, enough. So maybe not exactly the same.

Riona rapped her knuckles on the door frame and pushed the cart inside, acutely aware of the other servants’ eyes on her back. "“Good morning, milord. Your extra breakfast, as requested.”

Smithwood’s only response was another burst of hysterical giggling. She waited, watching quietly. When enough time passed and it looked like he was getting no closer to freeing his butt from the chair’s clutches, Riona stepped forward. “Would you like some assistance, milord?”

As she came closer, a sharp scent assaulted her nostrils. The unmistakable reek of alcohol, heavy on his breath. Riona’s brows knitted together. “Are you... drunk?”

[PapaOso]

---

Time: 10am
Location: Edwards Estate / Drake’s Party
Interaction: @FunnyGuy Lorenzo, @princess Lottie, @Helo Callum, @Lava Alckon Drake

---

And there it was, as if the universe itself had a grand flair for theatrics…The drama.

Throughout it all Cassius remained unperturbed, completely unbothered. To him, being labeled a bastard was merely water off a duck’s feathers. The man had been called worse, much worse, in his time, and honestly he was humored by the boldness of Lorenzo, or perhaps the stupidity, whichever was more accurate. The way the man so blatantly disrespected his name in such a public display was almost too good to be true. Initially, Cassius was impressed by the audacity, but his curiosity quickly shifted to his father…he was eager to see how the old man would react.

Cas simply stood there with his patented smile, watching the events unfold like a play before him. However, even before his father could get up from his chair, his attention shifted to Charlotte. She, clearly, was not as indifferent about it all as himself. He could almost feel the discomfort radiating from her as her eyes studied Lorenzo with concern. She tried to deescalate the situation, feigning ill as she urged Loreno to sit with her.

While others around him also attempted to calm the situation, their efforts proved futile. Much of the chaos became mere background noise to Cassius as he pondered ways to alleviate Charlotte’s discomfort. He had numerous strategies in mind, but he knew himself well enough to understand that most of them would only exacerbate the situation. His contemplation was abruptly interrupted by another man vigorously declaring him a bastard, nearly eliciting an audible chuckle from Cassius. The sheer chaos of it all was, in a strange way, quite delightful. The man extended his hand in greeting, and Cassius shook it with a smirk, his amusement evident in his expression. Immediately he could tell, even from that briefest of interactions, that he would like this man

Before he was able to properly respond, the dramatic way that his father slid from his chair to confront the Duke drew his attention. The confrontation only added to the entertainment and spectacle of this debacle, yet despite that fact that the man’s words themselves were not disrespectful of her…the tone in which his father used to speak about Charlotte stirred something within Cassius. For the first time since this chaotic little fiasco began, Cas’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, and his smirk fell into a more neutral expression.

Despite his initial recklessness causing the commotion in the first place, Lorenzo’s defense of himself and Charlotte was admirable. As Lorenzo moved to leave, Drake, the birthday boy himself approached to make introductions. Cassius matched the man’s enthusiasm as he shook his hand and greeted him in kind.

“It’s my pleasure to meet you, Lord Edwards. And don’t worry too much my good sir, it takes more than just some careless words to antagonize me. Plus, the Duke apologized so all is well in my book. I just hope the whole thing hasn’t put a damper on your celebration.” His charm was effervescent as his words flowed, and he paused to consider the man’s offer before continuing. “I’d love the chance to grab a drink with you at some point, but for the moment I need to ensure that Lady Vikena gets somewhere she can cool off a bit. I don’t believe she’s feeling well.”

As Cassius continued speaking to Drake, his arm slipped effortlessly around Charlotte’s waist, drawing her closer. With a smirk, he added, “Feel free to join us if you get a moment.” His gaze then moved to Callum. “And you, stranger... consider yourself invited.” There was a slight pause as his smile turned playful. “In fact, I insist on your presence.” Sealing the invitation, Cassius flashed the man a teasing wink.

His neutral expression then returned for the briefest of moments as Cassius found himself turning to look his father in the eyes just as he gave Charlotte’s waist a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Shifting his attention fully to her, his voice dropped to a soft, calming murmur that existed just above a whisper. “What do you say, Lottie…shall we escape this circus for a moment and get back to the fun we’ve been having all morning?”

[Rodiak]

_{dress ♖}

_{D A M I E N E S T A T E | E V E N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s :
Olivia @Potter , Anastasia @princess , Farim @Lava Alckon
M e n t i o n s :}

Zarai's unfocused gaze swept over the decorated yard of the Edwards estate. She spotted Anastasia chatting with Farim and birthday man Drake, Wulfric presenting a horse as a gift, and—Fritz—

Damn. She’d forgotten a birthday present!

“Sir Barrios, we must leave immediately and find a gift for Lord Drake!” She pushed her chair back to stand, only for the knight’s gloved hand to halt her mid-rise.

“Her Grace sent a birthday present this morning. She did not wish you to trouble yourself.”

"How unpredictably thoughtful of her,” Zarai muttered under her breath, catching the sharp glint of warning in his eyes before she sighed and sank back into her seat.

With nothing else to occupy her but the wait for food, Zarai’s gaze wandered across the scene again, though her mind began to drift elsewhere. Memories of the night before—of Olivia and Charlotte’s bright, laughing faces, of the perfectly roasted turkey leg she had enjoyed—began to cloud. Those once-joyous images were now tainted, dark tendrils creeping in, twisting and wrapping around them like thorned vines. The thorns punctured her thoughts, turning warmth and laughter into something ominous, injecting each memory with shadows.

_Clink

”Good morning Ms. Rai! Is this table full?” A familiar voice broke through the surface of her thoughts, pulling her back to reality.

Zarai blinked, her eyes refocusing as Olivia approached the table. The darkness receded instantly, retreating like slithering shadows back into the corners of her mind, leaving behind half-faded memories. A smile lit her face as she met Olivia’s gaze.

“Good morning, Miss Livy! Sit next to me.” She patted the empty chair beside her with enthusiasm. “I’ve already ordered food, if you don’t mind sharing with Sir Barrios and me.”

As Olivia sat down, Zarai scooted closer with a conspiratorial grin, leaning in to whisper, “Did you enjoy yourself yesterday? It was the most fun I’ve had in months. I couldn’t sleep a wink from all the food we ate!”

”The party is here! How are you fine ladies doing today?”

“Oh!” Zarai rose from her seat, slower than usual, and curtsied gracefully toward the newcomers. “Mi princesita and…” Her gaze flicked over Farim, sizing him up with playful scrutiny before a wide grin broke across her face. “Farim Hafiz Kadir,” she said with mock seriousness, then broke into a laugh. “Nice to meet you! Wow, you and your cousins are all so pretty!”

She sat back down with the subtle aid of Sir Barrios, motioning for Anastasia and Farim to join them with an eager smile. “Have you two had the pleasure of meeting Miss Olivia?"

[Helo]

Time: 10am
Location: Drake’s Birthday Bash
Interactions: Cassius @PapaOso, Drake @Lava Alckon, Calbert & Gideon @princess
Mentions: Charlotte, Wulfric

---

Callum watched Lorenzo as he spoke; rather, he watched the warm pink glow that engulfed the Duke as he spoke about Charlotte. It was another illusion, but that didn’t make it fake; Lorenzo shone with a captivating confidence. Whether or not he was worthy of the title of Duke, was beyond Cal, but it was clear he was more than worthy of the title of father. So, as Lorenzo led his daughter to a table, Callum softly applauded the man.

A wide grin spread across Cal’s face as Cassius addressed him merely as stranger,, not your highness, not prince, no pompous title. For a second, and it wouldn’t last more than a few seconds, Callum was just some guy getting invited to sit at a table. “I’d love to join, but I’ve got a few more words left.” He said with a shrug, before turning to look at Calby. Callum cleared his throat, let go of the brief moment where he felt like just some stranger, and tried to look princely.

“Count Damien, I feel the need to remind you that a Duke likewise deserves your respect. If you take issue with the conduct of a Duke, then bring your concerns to one of your betters for consideration. It is rude to do so publicly.” Callum addressed Calbert with a hand raised, signifying that he did not wish to listen to the Count. And why shouldn’t he? He was a Prince, it had its benefits, and smugly chastising Calbert Damien was even more fun than ordering knights to leave their shoes behind.

“Drake, Duke Edwards, my sincere apologies for adding to any discomfort at your lovely party.” He gave a standard polite smile before lifting his wine glass. “To Lord Drake, the reason we’re all here to celebrate. Happy Birthday.” He said before taking a drink. Then Callum followed Cassius and the Vikena’s to a table. He glanced around for Wulfric as he walked. Shit, did Wulfric miss this? He needed his brother to see him making an effort.

That was the new plan, how he was going to help Riona, Quack, and the Thornbreakers. He’d be more useful if his family trusted him and a better relationship with Wulfric was his best chance at that. Earn some trust, keep getting invited to secret meetings, and know the things they knew; there was no reason Callum shouldn’t be doing that. Other than he didn’t want to, and if he was going to stop holding back it couldn’t just be when he felt like doing things.

It hadn’t gone well this morning, he’d have to fix that. Cal mentally added making an elixir with a relaxation charm to his to do list. He’d use every tool at his disposal to do better.

But right now was a good chance to get to know Charlotte Vikena, whose eyes once glowed red, who once brought a dark, dreadful, energy, as she threatened Edin and Ana.

[princess]

Time: Morning
Location: Drakes Birthday Party
Attire:Dress
Interaction: @Lava Alckon Farim @Rodiak Zarai @Potter Olivia

---

"My, my, my," Anastasia purred in response to Farim, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. Without missing a beat, she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper meant just for him. "I can think of one place, and one place only where my beautiful self really, really wants to sit... But I suppose you're right. At the table will do... for now." She gave him a wink that was a little too suggestive for polite company, clearly unfazed by any potential onlookers. With her hand still intertwined with Farim’s, she swung their arms playfully as they approached the table. Anastasia’s face brightened the moment she saw the lovely Zarai, and with an excited squeal, she dashed toward her, exclaiming, "My little Rai of sunshine!" She kissed both sides of Zarai’s cheeks, then affectionately kissed her forehead. "How I’ve missed you, beautiful!"

After Farim had taken a seat, Anastasia casually, and without a second thought, perched herself on his lap, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "I don’t believe we’ve met before, Miss Olivia!" Her amber eyes sparkled with interest as she looked at Olivia, then gasped dramatically. "Wow, you're stunning! Your face... it's like the Gods sculpted it themselves! Well, I suppose in theory they supposedly carved all our faces, but you know what I mean... Can I touch you? I mean, your cheeks!"

[Tpartywithzombi]

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

Ariella took a moment to study the woman who introduced herself as Captain Stratya Durmand. The warm smile on Stratya's face put her at ease, and she returned the gesture with a bright smile of her own, her curiosity piqued by this new acquaintance.

“Well, Captain Durmand,” she began, her tone light and playful, “I think you might be onto something with that bread idea. Strawberries and chocolate… sound like a bit of heaven in every bite.”

Ariella leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. “ My name is Lady Ariella Edwards, It’s a pleasure to meet you. I haven’t tried strawberries and chocolate together but I'll take your word for it" she smiled.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she added, “And if you do end up making that bread, I hope you save me a slice. Sounds like it’ll be unforgettable.” She sat back in her seat as she noticed her brother wave at her with a smile. She was still truthfully mad at him for his comments towards Callum but knowing her mother was keeping a keen eye Ari smiled and waved back to her brother.

[JJ Doe]

Flashback: Night Sola 23, 1739

Callum & Riona Part 8

---

Everything hurt again. He couldn’t get back up, the most Cal could manage was to press a hand against his side where a knife had been. He had definitely gotten blood on Wystan’s floor. He’d lost the scroll. He should’ve cast that curse again. He should’ve kept a better grip on the enemy. He should’ve tried to strangle him. He should’ve- he’d messed this all up…failed, again.

Cal closed his eyes. He felt the flames return. He felt chills rack his body at the same time. Is this what dying felt like?

The air was full of screams, they kept growing louder. Fire crackled; that awful smell caught in his throat mixing with the frothy bile. His hands moved to cover his ears and the screams only grew louder.

Something bad was happening. Pain that wasn’t his own coated the air as an immense sorrow bore down on him.

And Callum remained as useless as he’d ever been. Can’t get up. Can barely move. Useless. Failed. He tried to mumble an apology to Riona but couldn’t even get the words out. Can’t give up. He opened his eyes, moved his hands away from his ears, and slowly the room began to come back into focus.

“Ira.” He whispered as he pressed a finger into his stab wound, twisting it and hoping it made for a worthy sacrifice for the first spell that came to mind. His pain quieted to a murmur as pure rage filled him. Doubt melted away.

The rage spell gave him enough fight to half get up, just enough to launch himself at the red-headed man’s knees.

Irritation boiled over. Without releasing his chokehold on Riona, the man struck out in a vicious kick, single-minded in his determination to end her before turning on the prince.

The blow slammed Cal’s eyes shut. When they fluttered open he saw…

Something that shouldn’t be, couldn’t be, yet undeniably was. A being. A horror. A nightmare given form.

It towered over them, an entity with two monstrous heads built from countless writhing bodies. Men, women, children—all sizes, all ages. Some appeared almost normal. Others bore the marks of their demise. All were bent and twisted into impossible angles, crammed together to give the monstrosity shape. Their eternal screams and moans filled the air.

The two-headed thing gorged itself on the miasma that oozed from Callum and the redhead. With each wisp it devoured, the creature grew. Infinitesimally, but enough to make its components scream anew as their tormented bodies stretched and warped beyond all limits. Never allowed the relief of breaking.

“More…” the twin heads rasped. “More!” As the horrors pressed closer, Cal could make out the faces in pitiless detail.

Cal tried to cover his ears again. But he still heard it; a cacophony of suffering. Final screams and death rattles echoed and filled the room.

“Shut up!” He forced out a raspy command, eyes never leaving the demonic apparition, its skin bubbling with faces of the dead.

Near him, a cluster of faces fell suddenly silent. Recognition dawned on them. Pain gave way to sheer hatred. They roared. Thrashed against their prison of flesh. Hundreds of hands grasped for the prince, teeth bit at the invisible contours of the entity, straining to break free and tear him apart.

Several eyes moved as one and focused on Callum. Hands grabbed for him even as tried to crawl away. His hands reached out for the sword, his thoughts focused on an obsessive desire to destroy something.

Among the legions, Cal saw his own face. Familiar eyes burned with loathing. A cacophony of condemnation battered him from all sides, but it was his voice that rose above the din. “I hate you.”

Cal’s hands found the hilt, his arms shook as he lifted the blade and swung wildly. No form or precision behind his strikes, it was the wild fury of a child’s tantrum fueled by rage that only intensified and expanded with each passing moment. His attention split between the apparition that had added his face to its quilt of faces, and the redheaded stranger.

The stranger twisted, using Riona as a human shield against Callum’s wild flailing.

“The burning smell intensified. Small streams of smoke rose from the tips of Riona’s shoes as if they were about to catch fire.

“Stop.” A voice cut through the maelstrom of hate-fueled noise, firm yet gentle. “Alaric.” Then came a soft touch.

A hand, callused and strong from years of hard work, broke through the flesh cage and grasped Cal’s arm.

“Shh, easy now,” the voice murmured, conjuring images of a stablehand calming a skittish horse. “It’s okay, everything’s going to be all right. Just breathe. Close your eyes and focus on breathing.”

Something grabbed his arm. Called him Alaric. And he could think of only one person called him that. He threw an elbow back, dropping the sword in the process, hoping to hit hard enough to silence the voice.

“That is NOT my name.” Aggravation only flared at being told to breathe. Being talked to like an unruly child. It reminded him Morrigan snooping around his room, her constant backhanded comments, how she walked around acting like she knew everything, how she only ever called him by his middle name. His rage burned brighter. “Do not tell me what to do!” An impetuous command flew out, and he flung his elbow again. All he saw was a confusing blend of smoke, twisted faces, and a blanket of red.

But the hand didn’t let go. “Even knowing that will kill her?” the man’s voice asked. Although the mass of bodies covered the owner, Cal sensed the man’s gaze turn to the two heads that continued their feast. “Continue to feed that, and it will kill Riona.” The pressure on Cal’s wrist increased slightly. “No one has to die here tonight. I don’t want anyone to die. Not you, not Riona. I’m begging you.” The man’s voice cracked on the final word, “Please stop.”

He struggled to no avail to free his hands. Even knowing that will kill her. It sounded like a threat. A voice that belonged to someone he couldn’t quite see. Threatening him, his friend, in his house. He stared at the two-headed beast, a ghoulish illusion he could only assume had been cast by the intruder.

Callum wanted to fight. He needed to hit somebody, hurt someone, destroy something with his own hands. An urge that consumed and burned away any other thoughts. It felt righteous, justified, to unleash all that on a man who’d come here to ruin all of his and Riona’s work. To snatch their small victory from them and turn it over to Edin.

But the strange voice broke as it uttered, please. “He needs to die.” Callum whispered, with single-minded focus, as he tried again to jerk his hand free towards the redheaded man. “He’s trying to kill her.” He argued with a voice he wasn’t even sure was real.

The owner of the hand didn’t reply right away. None could deny the lethal intent in the stranger's eyes.

“This spell feeds on the very things that birthed it. Rage. Hate. The purer, the stronger it becomes… which is rarer than you’d think. There’s plenty of anger and hate around here, but they usually contain ‘impurities’ of other emotions that the spell has to sift through.”

Cal pulled and thrashed against the force that held him back. Break free. Kill the stranger. Break free. Kill the stranger. His mind was sharply focused, he grew increasingly desperate as each wild attempt to free himself and charge forward was continuously thwarted. Break free. Kill the stranger.

The unseen gaze left him to look at the two heads again. The energy it drew from him and the redhead seemed the same, and yet… “There’s more fury coming from you than him.”

Yes. Yes! I am fury. My rage is pure. My wrath is justice. The voice understood. His rage was pure, it was perfection. No mercy to dilute it, no other desires to pollute it, only pure and perfect wrath with a single target in mind. And his mind thought of what he could do once his arm was freed. Fingers digging into eye sockets, teeth gnawing through flesh, fists and skull used like a battering ram. He wanted it. Needed it. Break free. Kill the stranger.

The mass of bodies shifted violently, accompanied by piercing screams and a stifled grunt from the hand’s owner. Fumes seeped from the writhing tangle of limbs, coalescing into the unstable, flickering form of the redheaded stranger. It was saying something. A lot of things.

Callum’s knees buckled as a symphony of shrieking rattled his bones, and pounded against his head. “Stop doing that.” He half hissed, half whined. No beating or hangover could compare to the pain those screams left writhing inside his head. He wondered if a sound could crack a head open, he wondered if it already had.

His ears strained to make out the fragmented sentences. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” the voice that wasn’t quite the same voice as the redhead said. “Why couldn’t they just leave the f**king sword behind?” Other details escaped Callum’s understanding, but one name stood out: Riona. The redhead wished they had contacted the maid, believing she could have helped them.

Cal’s eyes flickered from the redheaded to the distorted doppelganger. A confusing mix of words came from one of them but he wasn’t sure which. “My sword. Mine. I’LL KILL YOU! You. You! Here to steal. Here to spy. A thug with cheap tricks.” His violent thrashing came to a sudden halt following a faint pop.

—the entity vanished, along with the others.

Callum sunk to his knees, his arm hurt too much to move it. Riona is going to die because I can’t be useful, not one godsdamn time. Not now. Not ever. The cold thought blew through him. Despair turned Callum into something so cold and hollow that the rage couldn’t burn. It was suffocated out of him. “Just take it. Take the stupid sword and let Riona go. Please, kill me, let her go. She’s just a servant.”

Silence stretched. Then, a single word: “What?”

The redhead stood motionless, amber eyes boring into Cal. “What... did you just say? ‘Riona’?” His gaze snapped to the maid in his chokehold.

“F*ck.” He let go. Riona’s body crumpled to the floor, lungs heaving for air. “F*ck,” he repeated, the word gaining heat. “F*CK!” The third time, he punctuated it by slamming his boot into a nearby chair and sending it skittering across the room.

Minutes ticked by, marked only by the sounds of “f*ck” and wall kicking. Finally, spent, he braced himself against the table, chest heaving. “F*ck,” he whispered, the fight drained from him.

There was another pause while the redhead seemed to weigh his options. With a grunt, he shoved away from the table, fishing a vial from his pocket. He uncorked it with his teeth and knocked back the contents in one swift motion, then tugged his mask back into place. A second appeared in his hand. Carefully, he knelt beside Riona, cradling her head as he tipped the liquid past her lips.

Callum continued to sink onto the floor, his good arm moved to press against the wound in his side. He heard the stranger swearing, shouting, and a body dropping to the ground. The gasps of air that followed told him Riona was still alive. He heard furniture and the wall being kicked at, he recognized the irony that their best chance of getting out of this was for the guards to hear and show up.

As the room grew quiet he turned his head to look at Riona and saw the stranger forcing her to drink something. Poison! He lifted his leg enough to stomp his foot against the floor. “Help.” He tried to shout but his voice came out faint and tired. He stomped his foot again. “Riona. Sorry, I let you down. Again.” He whispered as he tried to stop his foot once more only for his heel to slide weakly against the floor.

The ginger-haired man huffed as he lowered Riona to the ground. He strode over to Callum and just splashed the rest of the liquid over his face. It seemed to dance across Callum’s skin, knitting together the gashes, soothing away the discolorations, and shifting cartilage until his nose realigned itself with a muffled pop.

Rough hands fisted in Callum’s shirtfront, yanking the fabric up. “Why’d you have to pull it out like an idiot?”

Fresh agony lancing through his midsection as something brushed against the raw, aching hole. But soon after, the peculiar sensation followed. Sinew and skin crept together, sealing the ugly puncture as the pain ebbed to a distant throb.

The redhead released him and rocked back on his heels. “Let’s make a deal,” he said. “We both weren’t here tonight.”

“I’m not making a deal until I know who, and what, I’m dealing with.” Callum answered, sounding more confused than anything. The stranger had won, so why had he stopped and given them healing potions? “You get your rocks off sneaking into windows are starting fights? Can’t say that makes you seem trustworthy.”

“I didn’t kill you even though I coulda, still can, I really want to, and,” he pointed at himself, “I asked nicely first.” He then pointed at Cal. “You started it.” As if to remind Cal what he was thinking before the man kneed him, he patted the boot that contained the spell scroll. “So, we both weren’t here tonight. Agreed or should I just finish you off for good?”

“Nicely? You broke in through the window, looking like an assassin, and threatened to tell Edin I was up to something. Not nice. You started it.”

The redhead made an exaggerated show of rolling his eyes. “Wow, well excuuuuuuse me, princess. So, I’m ‘not nice’ because of my clothes? Shame on you.”

“And yeah, considering how I let you talk and continue to let you talk? I’m a holy saint.” On cue, two blades appeared in his hands, one was the knife that stabbed Callum, the other belonged to Riona. He tucked his own weapon away but held onto Riona’s. “Course, I’m happy to fix my mistake if Your Royal Highness would prefer.”

“Maybe later, for now, let’s start with tell me why you’re here…Is it to kill Wystan?” Callum asked, curiosity stronger than any concern for himself. “And give me back my scroll.”

“Tell me your business first and I’ll think about telling you mine.” The stranger propped his chin on his free hand. “Sure, but only if I get to take her.” He flicked the dagger in Riona’s direction.

“Try it and I will shout for the guards.” Cal glanced toward Riona, only turning his attention back to the redhead once he was sure she was still breathing. “Isn’t my business obvious? I’m snooping, digging around the palace for secrets. And forbidden reading materials.”

“What a coinkydink, me too.” The words came muffled through the stranger’s mask. His amber eyes locked onto Callum, unblinking and curious. A heartbeat passed. Two. “Why?” he asked.

“Because I’m a spiteful goodfornothing shithead? Because I felt like it? Because I know they hide things that shouldn’t stay hidden. Pick one.” Cal offered. “If I ask you why, are you just going to copy my answer again?” He asked.

“Ha! Maybe. Wanna have a go at it?” The man waited for Cal’s response, clearly amused.

When Cal asked why, he answered. “I’m a grade-A a**hole with an ax to grind. See, there was this one scumbag I never got to settle up with, so I’ve been taking it out on every other scumbag I can find.” A humorless chuckle escaped him. “And these types? They’ve all got skeletons rattling around in their closets. Dirty little secrets they’d rather keep buried.” The stranger leaned closer to Cal. “I’m the spiteful-good-for-nothing graverobber who’s gonna dig ‘em up and use ‘em as clubs.”

Callum laughed, hard enough that hurt his sides but especially the side that had recently been stabbed. “You should’ve led with that. I think we’re more alike than you think. I’d be more than happy to help you dig up every skeleton in this place if you club my old man with a rotten femur.” His laughter turned to wheezing.

The stranger scoffed. “Don’t go insulting me now, obviously I’m more good looking.” He stood, brushing dust from his pants. “So, are we keeping this powwow off the books or what?

“Off the books, but I’ll curse you with boils if you harm Riona again.” He said with a smile and offered his hand for the man to shake on it.

A weary sigh left the stranger as he reached down, clasped Cal’s hand, and hauled the prince up to his feet. “I’m already going to get an ear full for this.” His gaze traveled down to Riona, who looked to be stirring. “If you’re not full of sh*t,” the stranger said, strapping the sword onto his back, “tell Riona: ‘Remember what the giant said in the alley.’ She does that, she gets your scroll back. Play nice, and the sword might find its way home too.”

“Weird request, but sure. Deal.” Cal agreed, it wasn’t like he had another option anyway, no way was he up for round two.

The stranger gave a curt nod. Then, in a blink, he ghosted across the chamber, vaulted through the open window, and melted into the summer night without a sound.

TLDR

As the fight against the mysterious figure continues, Callum sees a nightmarish entity appear, burning Riona from her feet with its arrival. The entity seems to feed off the volatile energy in the room, and while it speaks, and shrieks, with many voices, one voice stands out and attempts to reason with Callum. As the entity vanishes just as suddenly as it appeared, the fight ends once the intruder hears Riona’s name. Callum and the intruder come to a begrudging agreement before the man leaps out the window.

[JJ Doe]

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Time: Sola 25, 1739; Daytime Hours
Location: Edwards Estate, Drake Edwards’ Birthday Party
Interaction(s)/Mention(s):@Lava Alckon@princess@Potter@Rodiak

Ryn smiled sympathetically at Lord Edwards, the weariness already settled on the lord’s shoulders and the hint of anxiety flickered behind his eyes. The party had scarcely begun, yet the birthday boy already bore the weight of a thousand pleasantries.

“Lord Edwards, I thank you for your gracious welcome. But please, do not trouble yourself over me. I’ve already taken up more than my fair share of your attention.” Ryn gestured with a sweep of his hand towards the crowd. “Your admirers await.” He paused, then added gently, “Do remember to pace yourself, my friend. It would be a terrible shame if the man of the hour couldn’t enjoy his own party.”

With a final, cordial pat on Lord Edwards’ arm and a promise to speak again soon, Ryn released the lord to attend to his other guests.

Ryn’s gaze wandered the expanse of the garden, a sea of color and movement, until it settled on a familiar silhouette.

Luz.

She was some distance away, engaged in conversation with Peter’s not-so-secret infatuation. A flutter of something unnamed stirred in his chest. Despite crossing paths here and there, they had not properly spoken since the morning incident a few days prior.

Drawn as if by an invisible thread, Ryn found himself gravitating towards her. Before he could close the distance, however, Shahzade Farim and Princess Anastasia reached the two ladies first. Ryn waited, giving the others a chance to exchange greetings before joining their circle. “Good morning, everyone.”

“Shahzade Farim,” Ryn intoned, bowing low in the traditional Alidasht style, “peace be upon you.”

Then, turning to Princess Anastasia with a grin, he exclaimed, “Annie!” In one fluid motion, he took her hand, bowed, and twirled her in an impromptu dance move. Their hands met in a playful clap at the end of the spin. “How’s the music practice coming along? Only a few more days until the concert! Exciting, isn’t it?”

To Miss Persephone, he offered a courteous bow, his lips kissed the air above her knuckles. “A pleasure to see you here, ‘Miss Olivia.’ Are you settling in alright?”

Finally, inevitably, Ryn’s attention fell on Luz. His hand rose of its own accord, paused—a heartbeat’s worth of uncertainty—before fingers brushed across the apple of her cheek with feather-light tenderness. “Hello, My Lady,” he said softly. Ryn’s lips formed silent words: Are you okay?

[CitrusArms]

Stratya Durmand

Time: 25th, 10 am
Location: Edwards Estate
Attire: Officer’s Formal
Family Dirk + Crest
Interactions: Ariella @Tpartywithzombi
Mentions:

Hmm. Another, similarly pleasant, young lady. Must be the high-class upbringing. Of course, she’d only spoken to Lady Charlotte briefly, and only just met-

Ariella.

Stratya did a fairly good job of hiding the flash of recognition as it crossed her face. Only have a slightly sharp inhale of mild surprise, which she blended into a deep, slow breath.

Defaced the King’s painting, apparently. Somehow, the Captain had a hard time being upset. If it had been the Queen’s, she’d probably be actually a little upset, but the King? She’d seen enough glimpses of what that man was like to not care too much.

She’d just conveniently forget about that, for now.

“When I do make tha’ brread, I’ll be surre ta send ya an ‘ole loaf. But, if you’d like to get a taste before tha’, there’s tha’ choc’l-,” she stopped suddenly, canted her head briefly, letting out an “hoo.” She took a moment and shook her head, “choc’la’e foun’ain - sorry, I.. I saw i’, I used i’, I ate from i’, but only now tha’ I’m sayin’ i’ am I..” her body and head turned to look at the fountain again, “wooo, ‘choc’la’e foun’ain', ‘at’s lavish. _{If I don’t stop sayin’ it, it’ll stop soundin’ like words,}" Stratya slowly turned back to her new acquaintance, "every once in a while, i’s like I go back ta bein’ a wee lass from ‘t village. Like my eyes ‘ave gone back to what they were before an’ I see things like I would ‘ave then. Y’ken me meanin’?”

Having been about to take another sip, Stratya stopped and assessed herself; feeling a bit buzzed already, and the drink was only half gone, “‘is drink’s pret’y strong for t’ taste. Think I’ll change off i’ for t’ momen’.” Stratya caught the attention of a nearby servant as she set the cocktail glass down a short distance separate from herself, but still in front of her seat. She glanced at the place that had previously been an argument as the servant approached, “would you break out t’ mead I brough’? The Durmand mead, aye, aye. Let’s..” another short glance over, “let’s ‘ave a tastin’ wit’ everyone to set’le things down, shall we? Make a wee birt’day trea’ ou’ o’ it, ‘ere a’ t’ par’y.” If she could get tasting notes from some of the guests, or critiques, her brother would be over the moon.

The servant, having listened intently to decipher the Captain's accent, bustled off, and Stratya turned back to Ariella, leaning in to admire the other. “I love your hair, by t’ way,” the first part of the sentence was delivered with a deliberate pronunciation rooted in honesty, “like a campfire, i’ is, warm and invitin’. Have y’ been? Campin’.”

[princess]

Time:10am
Location: Edwards Estate - Drake's Party
Attire: Dress, Amulet
Interaction: @PapaOso Cassius @FunnyGuy Lorenzo @Helo Callum @Potter Olivia @Rodiak Zarai @JJ Doe Fritz @Lava Alckon Farim/Drake

---

”CASSIUS VAEL, THE DAMIEN BASTARD?”

Charlotte’s hand had flown to her mouth to stifle the laugh that bubbled up. However, by the time he had completed speaking to Cassius, she had taken ahold of herself. She smiled at the youngest prince and greeted him, "Good morning, Prince Callum."

The tension in the air quickly became suffocating as the conversation continued but when Calbert rose from his chair, he had made things a little worse as he always did. Her hands trembled slightly as she kept a steady grip on Lorenzo’s arm. But as Calbert's remark about her being an orphan came forth, Charlotte's expression darkened briefly.

Yes let's remind the girl who just lost her mother and the man who just lost his wife about such scenario as much as possible, shall we, Calbert?

It felt like an eternity away, yet like yesterday since her mother had been standing just beside them.

Emina had always insisted they attend each and every event when in Sorian. She could imagine her sharp gaze hovering over the two of them as the tall woman tucked every stray hair in place on their heads and chastised her and Lorenzo about giggling like children. Charlotte could practically feel it in that instant, the way her mother's gaze would shift over nook and cranny of her dress yet would never quite find her eyes.

The truth was that Calbert's words hadn't cut as deep as she thought they would. Though it had only been a year since her mother died, the woman who had died might as well have been a stranger to her. She had always been the ever-elegant and poised Duchess Emina Vikena, yet never did she ever seem like the sweet mother who had once littered her face with kisses. Still, Charlotte found herself missing both those women as the word orphan sunk into the depths of her mind.

However, her brain was set on a different track as Lorenzo spoke up. As he had begun speaking, the grip on his arm tightened slightly as if that may prevent the possible trainwreck on its way. Fortunately, this time, he handled the situation rather maturely after all. She found a smile growing on her face and she relaxed.

"Proud of you," She leaned over and whispered. Charlotte had tugged at her father's arm gently, her feet moving as she began to lead Lorenzo to the table, but she stopped after a few mere steps as someone else joined the fray.

”My my, such colorful words and tense expressions around! Perhaps some space is needed between parties or even a drink or two to ease the nerves?”

Charlotte turned her attention as Lord Drake Edwards' voice reached her ears. She observed for a moment as he spoke to Cassius, hoping to greet him as well. That was when she felt an arm drape around her waist. Charlotte's brain seemed to momentarily short-circuit. The sudden closeness made her breath hitch in a way she hadn't quite anticipated. She dimly registered Cassius inviting him and Callum to sit with them at the table, though she was too busy malfunctioning to speak up as she may have wanted. But when Cassius smirked down at her and gave her waist a reassuring squeeze, her heart leapt, and her mind blanked entirely.

“...What do you say, Lottie…shall we escape this circus for a moment and get back to the fun we’ve been having all morning?”

"I— I, um..." she stammered, her usual grace seemingly deserting her as she stared at the ground with flushed cheeks, "Y-yes, let's..."

Charlotte cleared her throat and straightened with a smile, averting her gaze to Drake and Callum rather hastily, "Happy birthday, Lord Drake. It would be wonderful if you and Callum joined us... I do hope you do not mind I threw in some sheet music I wrote into your gift. I thought the melody would rather suit your taste."

She then glanced around the yard, sudden enthusiasm crossing her expression as she caught sight of a table consisting of Fritz, Olivia, Farim, Zarai, and the princess. An empty table was situated right next to theirs. Without realizing it, Charlotte gave a little hop of excitement, tugging at Lorenzo’s arm as she started toward it, despite Cassius's arm still comfortably resting around her waist. "This way!"

As they approached the table, Charlotte waved warmly, her smile lighting up her features. "Hello, everyone!" she greeted cheerfully. Letting go of Lorenzo, she stepped behind Olivia and Zarai, wrapping her arms around them in a gentle hug. "It's so lovely to see you both again," she said affectionately.

Her gaze drifted across the table, catching the eyes of the others, and her smile widened. "Good morning, Shehzade Farim, Count Fritz! And of course, you too, Princess," she added with a friendly nod to Anastasia.

Turning back to Cassius, she excused herself with a gentle smile before moving to greet each of the men with a hug. When she reached Fritz, she leaned in slightly, her voice soft as she whispered in his ear, "I’ve invited Prince Wulfric and Lord Smithwood over tonight to discuss some matters. I’d love for you to join us, Fritz." Though she had considered offering Anastasia a hug as well, the princess's energy gave her pause as it always had. Instead, she simply offered her a friendly smile, deciding to leave it at that for now.

Finally, Charlotte took her seat at the nearby table, offering a reassuring wave to the group. "I’ll be right here!" she chimed and gestured for those who had followed her to join her at the table.

[princess]

Time: 10am
Location: Nearby Sorian Temple
Interaction: @Conscripts John

---

In the shadowed alleyway, a figure leaned casually against the stone wall, hidden from view. The rays of the sun painted the cobbled street, though none of that light reached the figure’s darkened corner. From there, he could observe the bustling street unnoticed, his presence silent. Only the gleam of his eyes hinted at the anticipation within.

The crowd moved about in its usual rhythm. Merchants called out their wares, the clatter of carriages filled the air, and citizens hurried about in search of breakfast. Among them walked a man that they had been tracking: Dr. John Williamson.

Alejandro grinned as a woman positioned herself ahead, leading a group after her. Her voice was lively as she demonstrated a bottle of perfume to a few passing ladies. She held the bottle aloft as any other perfume seller would, but there was something almost too casual about the way she moved, too deliberate in her actions.

Luckily, as far as Alejandro could tell, John had a destination in mind, and might not have picked up on such a thing. Just as he passed the woman, a fine mist sprayed out—not toward the women she was demonstrating for—but directly into John's face.

“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry, sir!” the woman exclaimed, her voice flustered, her eyes wide with feigned shock. “I didn’t mean to—oh no, the bottle! I must’ve aimed it wrong!” She fluttered about, apologizing profusely. The scent was strong and dreadfully overwhelming.

Back in the alley, Alejandro allowed a small, satisfied smile to curve his lips. From across the street, a second figure appeared, moving silently to join him in the darkness. “What was the point of that?” the second man asked. Alejandro's eyes gleamed with dark amusement as he kept his gaze fixated on Dr. Williamson. “Patience,” came a quiet reply. “The good doctor is about to give us a very enlightening performance.”

[princess]

TRIGGER WARNING: Abuse!

Time: 8am → 10am
Location: Castle Corridors → Drawing Room
Mention: @Helo Callum @SilverPaw Wulfric @CitrusArms Stratya @Inertia Auguste(Has given me NPC rights), @ReusableSword Roman

---

King Edin strode through the corridors. The rising sun filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow that brushed against his skin and scattered light from the jewels in his crown. He had been on his daily morning mission to descend to the dining room for breakfast when the soft murmur of voices from within made him freeze. His gaze fixated on the nearby tea room.

It was Alibeth, speaking in her usual composed tone. Wulfric and Callum's voices followed. He could make out Anastasia’s light hair through the window of the door. But what infuriated him most was the voice he didn’t recognize—some random woman speaking in some accent from Gods knew where… As if she belonged there among his family!

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as anger began to bubble inside him. My family, meeting behind closed doors—without me… Again… Even inviting some unknown woman into our inner circle? It was as though they had willfully excluded him from whatever conversation was happening, whatever decisions were being made. And this hadn’t been the first time. Lately, Alibeth seemed to be habitually gathering their children to speak to them unsupervised.

His hand hovered near the door handle, but he stopped himself. No, he thought bitterly. I won’t go in there like some fool, begging for answers. Let them have their little meeting. Let them think they can scheme without me.

Edin clenched his jaw, muscles tightening as his mind raced. He had always known Alibeth was capable of things like this—behind that perfect wife facade, she was clever, too clever. And Wulfric, he had the same calculating mind, but it stung to think he might be conspiring with his mother. But this stranger… She was the final insult, her very presence a reminder that they thought they could do whatever they wanted without his say.

So this is how it’s going to be? His thoughts festered as he then marched down the hall.

He stormed into one of the drawing rooms down the corridor, slamming the door behind him. The loud echo reverberated through the castle, but no one dared come near him. Edin paced, running his fingers through his hair, seething with frustration.

They think they can have meetings without me, the King? he snarled to himself, his mind spinning with thoughts of betrayal. I’ll show them who holds the power in this family.

His hand reached for a decanter on a nearby side table. It wasn’t wine, not this time. He needed something harder. His fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle, pouring himself a generous glass of brandy. He downed it in one go, the burn doing nothing to soothe the storm brewing within him.

What are they talking about in there? His thoughts twisted darkly. Is Wulfric telling Alibeth about Marek?

He set the glass down harder than intended. His heart raced with the thought. After their conversation at The Royal Curd, Edin had shared far more than perhaps he should have.

Did I trust him too much? The idea that Wulfric might be sharing that knowledge with Alibeth ate away at him. He poured another drink, slower this time, trying to quiet the paranoia that gnawed at him.

He sipped this one, pacing once more. "I should have kept it to myself," he muttered under his breath. But what was I supposed to do? Wulfric will step into my shoes one day. The Black Rose will put strings on him just as they had me.

He turned, expecting to find his own reflection in the ornate mirror hanging on the wall. But it wasn’t his reflection, not at first. A stern face framed by messy black hair stared back at him, eyes full of the same intensity that Edin had tried so hard to forget. His brow was always furrowed in displeasure and deep lines were etched into his forehead from years of scowling. His piercing blue eyes held no warmth, only the cold, calculating gaze of a man who demanded perfection. His thin lips, often pressed into a hard line, had rarely broken into a smile.

_{"Everything must be perfect, Edin. The Gods demand it. If we falter, if we slip, everything will be ripped from us. Do you understand?"}

The glass in Edin's hand trembled. His throat felt tight as he stared at his father in the mirror, the weight suffocating him. "Perfect… It all has to be perfect," he muttered, feeling the familiar fear claw its way up his spine.

Wulfric has to understand, Edin thought, He has to know that everything depends on him. Not just the kingdom… our very lives. If we lose control, if we don't keep this image…We’ll lose everything.

The Black Rose had its claws deep in their family, and no matter how much power or control Edin thought he had, they were always there—pulling strings, watching, waiting. They couldn’t escape it. Not now. Not ever.

The image in the mirror shifted, his father’s face blending back into his own reflection. “...Wulfric will understand if I tell him the whole story. He has to… Right?”

<sub>His mind wandered back to a moment in his past. He had been around ten years old as he had stood trembling in a cold stone room. The floor beneath him felt like ice, but the real chill had come from his father’s gaze. King George sat in a high-backed chair, staring down at his son with the contempt reserved for a dog that had soiled the floor.

"You think crying will fix this?" George’s voice was sharp, each word sinking into Edin’s skin like a knife. "You disappoint me. You are weak. Pathetic."

Edin’s tears stung his eyes, but he dared not let them fall. George hated tears; he saw them as the ultimate sign of weakness. "I—I tried, father," young Edin stammered.

CRACK!

The sound of his hand slapping the boy’s face echoed in the room. The boy recoiled, the fear overwhelming him, but he remained frozen in place, terrified of moving, terrified of what might happen next.

"Trying isn’t enough," George spat, standing and towering over his son. "In this world, in this family, you succeed or you die. Understand?"

Edin nodded frantically, but it wasn’t enough. George sneered and grabbed his son by the collar, lifting him off the ground with one hand. His strength was monstrous, and Edin felt utterly powerless, like a ragdoll in his father’s grasp.

"You are nothing without me. Do you hear me? Nothing! If you fail again, I’ll show you pain you couldn’t even dream of existing." George whispered, his voice lowering to a menacing growl. "I will strip away everything you are, everything you could have been, and I will make sure you wish you were never born."

George slammed him back down, the boy crumpling at his feet, gasping for breath. He didn't cry. He couldn’t.

"Clean yourself up. Tomorrow, you’ll do that speech again, and this time, you won’t fail. Or so help me, Edin, I will break you."</sub>

The memory faded from Edin’s mind as he stared into the mirror.

You are nothing without me.

"Wulfric has to be perfect," he said darkly. "Just like I had to be. If he fails… if he doesn’t understand…" His voice trailed off as he saw the image of George once more in the mirror, mocking him, always there, always watching.

Our family will lose everything.

As the minutes stretched into an hour, Edin’s paranoia grew. His head buzzed, his body swaying. Every shadow in the room seemed to twist into George’s figure, looming over him, silently judging him.

Then the door creaked open, pulling Edin out of his thoughts. He turned his bloodshot eyes to see Auguste standing in the doorway.

“Father?” Auguste began cautiously. “Is everything alright? I heard the door slam.”

Edin’s jaw tightened at the sight of him, a sudden surge of anger boiling to the surface. He’s always so soft, Edin thought bitterly. Just like George said I was. Always so kind… too kind.His hand clenched into a fist. That’s what makes him weak.

“Come here, Auguste,” Edin commanded, his voice sharper than intended. He poured another glass of brandy and gestured for his son to sit.

Auguste hesitated but obeyed, sitting across from his father with a wary expression.

Edin stared at him, the alcohol fueling the fire in his veins. He could see George’s sneering face in his mind, could hear his father’s cruel words echoing through the years. If you don’t fix him now, he’ll be worthless. Just like you were…

“You think being soft is going to get you anywhere, Auguste?” Edin spat suddenly. “You think this kingdom will respect a prince who spends all his time doting on his sister and letting random people eat from our kitchen?”

Auguste’s eyes widened, taken aback by the sudden aggression. “Father, I—”

CRACK!

The sound wasn’t real, but Edin felt the ghost of his own father’s hand echoing in his mind as if he were back in that cold room all over again.

“I don’t care about your excuses!” Edin snarled, standing abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “Do you know what it takes to be a Danrose? Do you understand the weight on your shoulders?”

Auguste stood as well, frowning deeply. “Of course I do, Father. I’ve trained my whole life—”

“Training isn’t enough!” Edin roared. His hand shot out, grabbing Auguste by the collar just as George had done to him so many times before. “You succeed, or you die. You hear me?”

Auguste’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t resist. He knew better than to fight back when his father was like this.

“If you fail… If you even think about failing… I will break you.” His voice dropped to a low growl. He subsequently released Auguste, shoving him back slightly, who stumbled but kept his balance.

Edin turned away, unable to face the look in his son’s eyes. “Leave,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “Just… leave.”

Auguste hesitated for a moment, but then he turned and left without another word, the door swinging behind him.

Perfect… It all has to be perfect…

“Your Majesty,” A voice cut through the silence. Edin raised his gaze to find one of his three new advisors standing in the doorway. “I’ve come to inform you that we’ve scheduled the royal decree regarding the Varian guests for this afternoon. As per your orders… the Varian attendees of Lord Ravenwood's ceremony will be mandated to attend the upcoming banquet and then be questioned afterward one by one.”

Edin’s head lifted slowly, his gaze focusing on the advisor with bleary eyes. The memory of his conversation with Wulfric came rushing back along with the conversation he had with his new advisors earlier this morning.

“Good,” he pushed himself up from the chair, steadying himself against the armrest as the room tilted slightly.

The advisor hesitated for a moment, concern evident on his face. "Your Majesty, Lord Roman Ravenwood is a noble from Varian," he began carefully. "Direct consequences against a noble of his standing, particularly without a diplomatic discussion, may provoke a response from their royal court. Given the precarious nature of our relations with Varian, perhaps... it would be wise to proceed with more caution. The Varians are already be spinning the incident in their favor. Any direct action might escalate tensions further."

Edin’s eyes narrowed, irritation rising at the thought of having to tread carefully with someone who had assaulted his guards. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the arm of his chair as he considered the advisor’s words. “Then what do you suggest, hmm? Let him off without punishment?” he growled lowly, “We cannot afford to appear weak.”

The advisor cleared his throat, treading carefully. "Perhaps… a trial, Your Majesty. One where we can publicly hold Lord Ravenwood accountable for his actions without directly condemning him ourselves. It would give the Varians a chance to defend their nobleman, but it would also make clear that we demand justice."

“A trial…” Edin mused, leaning back in his chair, the idea slowly settling in. Wulfric had also mentioned the notion of a trial. “Yes… yes, that could work. We’ll hold a public trial for Boman, and even let the Varians have some say in it... Make it clear to the Varians that we demand justice for the attack on our guards. If they defend him, then let them. We’ll see how well they spin it when the facts are laid bare before the court.”

He stood abruptly, the alcohol in his system giving him a renewed burst of energy. “Prepare the necessary arrangements for the trial. We will not do it immediately as we need to gather evidence and witnesses. I want everything in place before we send word to the Varian court. Make sure Wulfric is involved and kept informed. Send word for him to receive after he’s done with the Edwards’ stupid birthday party that the Varians will be spoken to tomorrow night after the banquet.”

The advisor nodded. “At once, Your Majesty.”

As the advisor bowed, Edin raised his hand. “I also require that you bring me as many beautiful women as possible. Now.”

[FunnyGuy]

Time: Morning
Location: Edward's Estate
Interaction: @princess Cassius and Charlotte
Mention: Leo, Kazumin,

As Charlotte led Lorenzo to their table, he remained quite put together on the surface but the man was slightly panicked inside. Although he was initially glad to have stood up to Calbert, a part of him was deeply terrified of the count. It had been a long time since Calbert mentioned his knowledge regarding the night of Emina’s death, but Lorenzo would be foolish to think that knowledge couldn’t be used to wring him like a wet rag and see him discarded. Even if proof was lacking, Calbert was in the good graces of King Danrose unlike himself and Lorenzo was aware there had been rumors spread about him murdering Countess Emina Vikena leading to his and Charlotte’s year-long absence from public events.

I must be more careful. His brows furrowed only slightly from his thoughts only to furrow greatly upon spotting a hand firmly on Charlotte’s waist. With his eyes now landing on Cassius and that devilish charm that seemed to be affixed to his face, Lorenzo wondered if he had been holding his daughter in such a way since the three of them had set out toward the table. Confusion and anger suddenly became acquainted in his very being but making yet another scene would have been a terrible gamble. He had just walked away from an incident unscathed after all. Despite his reluctance, Lorenzo knew he had to do something. Protecting Charlotte was one of the few things left for him to live for, and no matter how she might feel, Lorenzo could not remain idly by and allow his daughter to continue picking up strays…

Keeping his head forward, Lorenzo continued to the table, distracting himself by granting a few familiar faces a nod and a warm smile. However, his mind raced uncontrollably. And why does it have to be his son? Of all people… I mean, where in gods is Sir Smithwood? I was sure he and Lottie would match splendidly… Two mothers-in-law would be a difficult thing to deal with but… gods. Maybe the strange boy who slept in the basement? Eh… Gilbert did not have good things to say about him... An Alidasht is out of the question. They’d gift Lottie with a pet bear and murder me as their way of giving their dowry. Ughhh.

Lorenzo took his seat, his expression now worn and unexcited. I have to protect her… but I can’t be like Emina. He let out a light sigh, making peace with that thought just as Charlotte left the table to greet the guests at the table beside theirs. With a single nod, Lorenzo mentally decided it was time to confront Cassius Damien.

“Ehem!” Lorenzo scooted his chair as close as he could toward Cassius until his chair bumped up against Charlotte’s vacant seat. “Cassius, a word? I must request that you not hold Charlotte in such a way in public. I- I understand what it means to be a young handsome lad, trust me, but my daughter... My Lottie, is not a hors d'oeuvre to fancy for a fleeting moment.” Lorenzo wasn’t quite comfortable with this topic to make eye contact, but he persisted regardless knowing his daughter’s honor was on the line. She’s far more than that. Far more. And I suggest- No. You must treat her as such.” Lorenzo swallowed hard before his eyes stared right into Cassius’ with not the face of the foolish inept Duke of Vermillion. “Treat her with dignity and respect or I fear I may have to treat you like someone who deserves not an ounce of it.” His visage was that of a father who could do whatever was required to protect his daughter.

Then something unnatural gripped Lorenzo. His right hand closed into a fist as the same anger that burned so fiercely on the night he snapped at Charlotte began to surface. As if to tear away any sense of civility he desired in the brief exchange.

“Don’t fuck with my family, Damien. I will not warn you a second time, child,” Lorenzo threatened before his expression softened again as Charlotte made her way back to the table. Scooting his chair back to its place, Lorenzo smiled warmly with his task of confronting Cassius accomplished.

“Now that Lottie is back, let’s enjoy this birthday celebration. I think we should start with some spirits to loosen up some! Any suggestions? A shot and an informal toast perhaps?” Lorenzo inquired as if he hadn’t just threatened someone only seconds ago.

[Helo]

Flashback: Night Sola 23, 1739

Callum & Riona Part 9

---

Riona floated, suspended somewhere between dreaming and awake. Worn cotton sheets felt soft against her skin. Sunlight spilled through the windows, turning the inside of her eyelids a reddish-gold. She breathed in crisp sheets and traces of woodsmoke from the hearth.

A gentle touch pulled her closer to consciousness. Fingers combed through her sleep-mussed hair, then skimmed down to cup her cheek with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

In that drowsy moment, she couldn’t tell who it belonged to. Not until he whispered her name against her temple. “Riona.” Her chest tightened.

As his warmth began to pull away, her hand shot out to catch him. Needing to make this last just a little longer. “D-dan…”

Her eyes fluttered open and the blurry shape in front of her swam into focus. Callum.

“How you feeling?” Cal asked, grabbing Riona’s outstretched hand, figuring she wanted help getting back up. “Just missed our friend’s dramatic exit. He claimed he was here looking for secrets, like us. Oh, and I’m supposed to tell you to ‘remember what the giant said in the alleyway.’ Have you been having clandestine meetings with giants in alleyways?”

His words washed over her, something about a dramatic exit and secrets. None of it made sense. Riona blinked, just laying there awkwardly holding hands with Cal, as she tried to unscramble, scrambled thoughts. Dan was here, wasn’t he? No, he’s gone. Has been for a long time. A flash of red hair, violence—

Clarity slammed into her like a fist. Her gaze snapped to Cal, zeroing in on the dark stain across his side. “Sh*t, you’re bleeding!”

She tried to scramble up, only for pain to shoot up her feet. Glancing down, Riona saw her shoes had been reduced to blackened husks. What in the hells? She shook it off. There were more pressing matters.

With Cal’s help, she stood up. “We need to get you to a physicker. Now.” Fingers fumbling, she yanked at her apron. It wasn't much, but it would have to do to stem the bleeding. “Hold still,” she ordered, her voice steadier than she felt as she pressed the makeshift bandage against his side.

“I was bleeding, got a healing potion. And so did you. From the window man.” Callum explained slowly. He gently pushed the apron away and lifted his shirt to show the healed-up stab wound. “See, all better. No royal physician, I don’t even know how I’d explain this one. What happened to your shoes?” He asked.

Riona’s jaw dropped as Cal lifted his shirt. Where she expected to see a gaping mess, there was smooth skin. She leaned in closer, her eyes squinted in disbelief. Hesitantly, she reached out to brush her fingers over the spot. Warm. Whole. Not even a hint of a scar. If it weren’t for the blood, she’d have sworn she’d dreamed up the whole attack.

It looked... completely healed. That was... amazing. Despite their best efforts, Riona and Cal never managed to create healing potions or salves this potent or fast-acting. A mixture of awe and skepticism swirled in her mind.

“Does it hurt anywhere?” she asked, just in case. Something stank about this. No way their would-be assassin gave them such a valuable potion without a catch.

When Cal mentioned her shoes, Riona’s eyes dropped to her feet. “Funny, I was hoping you could tell me,” she replied. She carefully removed what remained of her footwear, wincing slightly. Parts of the charred remnants crumbled in her hands, still radiating a peculiar, unsettling warmth.

As she examined the damage, Riona realized, with a grimace, the cause of her pain—tiny bits of the material had worked their way into her skin when she put weight on her feet. Lovely.

She turned her attention back to Cal, she asked, “You didn’t start a bonfire while I wasn’t looking, right?”

“Only the illusion kind, but that wouldn’t have included you? Weird.” He tried to remember if anything the intruder had done could’ve caused this. “Mr. Window Lurker did something, you saw the…thing with all faces right? The thing that kept screaming? Maybe it was when he summoned that?” He asked, he’d have to ask if he ever ran into the scroll thief again.

“Faces?” Riona echoed, brow furrowed. “Cal, it was just us and that creepy window guy…” She paused to think about it, “But if he had magical healing potions, maybe he used illusionary magic too?”

“Yeah, I figured, I guess…” He trailed off, wishing he hadn’t been the only one who’d seen the creature but not wanting to sound afraid of an illusion either. “He must’ve melted your shoes too.” Cal added.

“Anyway, it still feels like I’ve been in a fight, but nothing hurts as much as it did before the potion. Except my head but that could be my fault. How about you?” He asked, the shoe thing was weird, not the weirdest thing that had just happened, but still. “Did you catch what I said about the giant?” He added.

“Aside from this,” Riona held up her shoes and wiggled her foot, “same. We might want to use our stash of healing stuff before we go to bed, just to be sure.”

Her gaze swept the room, taking in the aftermath of the brawl. Nothing looked broken beyond repair, but it was pretty damn obvious there’d been a fight. They couldn’t just leave the room like this.

Cal’s question pulled her back. “Uh, giant? Um…” The words trickled back: ‘Remember what the giant said in the alleyway.’ And with them, another memory surfaced. Karleen. The hulking figure. ‘My master wants to meet you.’

“Right, the alley, got it.” Riona said. Was Mr. Window Lurker working with Karleen? Even though Karleen denied it, Riona thought Karleen was one of Sh*tlord’s servants. But… if he was his ‘master,’ why the need for a reminder? Didn’t she meet him on a daily basis now?

Mulling it over, Riona started straightening the room. “Did Window Lurker say anything else? Because honestly all I remember the giant saying is ‘meet my master’ and that master being Varian.” She asked, shoving a chair back into place. “Oh, and can you check for blood? You can use my apron to wipe it up.”

Callum grabbed the apron and worked on wiping away any traces of his blood. “He said; If you’re not full of shit, tell Riona; remember what the giant said in the alley, she does that and she gets your scroll back. Play nice and the sword might find its way home too.” Cal said, repeating the words and using an accent best described as ‘generic dumb henchman’ as he spoke.

“Of course, if you got a bad vibe from him or the giant, ignore the message. And I guess I should mention he did offer to trade the scroll for you, which, not a point for him being trustworthy.” He added, readjusting some of Wystan’s furniture until the room looked the way it should.

That was when Riona finally noticed that the sword was missing. The only key they had to that room. Taken. Fan-freaking-tastic. “Well,” She quirked a wry smile at Cal, “good to know I’m worth more than a priceless magical scroll.”

Turning to the secret entrance hidden behind the wall, she said. “If we want back in there, we’ll need to get the sword back or find another way in, somehow.” But maybe, a little voice whispered, staying out of that creepy cursed treasure trove was the smarter move.

Wait. Riona patted herself down, alarm spiking. Dagger, gloves, journal—where...? She paced the room, checking behind and beneath furniture. The gloves and journal turned up, but she couldn’t find her dagger. “My dagger’s gone,” she announced, and she had a pretty good idea who took it. “That guy didn’t take the compass from you did he?”

“Nope still safe.” Callum patted the pocket the compass rested in. “So how tall was the giant?” He added, gesturing to the door. Time to leave before they caught, they were already pressing their luck.

Riona swept her eyes over the room one final time before nodding to Cal, signaling that she was ready to go. “Lord Roman’s height give or take. Maybe a little more. Pretty beefy looking too… So yeah, intimidating, but… Didn’t give off that ‘I eat kittens for breakfast’ vibe, you know?”

Trust wasn’t on the menu for Karleen or the stranger, but the fact remained: either could’ve killed them and they chose not to (in the end). Which meant they—their master—really wanted something from her and/or Callum. The question was what, and if they could use that to their advantage. “I’ll try to get the scroll and sword back.” Riona eased the door open a crack, peering into the hallway. Empty. For now.

“Try not to get eaten by the tall but not-really-giant-tall-guy over it.” He reiterated, sounding disappointed that giant didn’t mean as tall as a house in this instance. Callum retraced his steps back through the hallway and back to the portrait, retrieving the burnt matchstick he’d left behind. “Need anything before you head back to the hut?” He asked Riona.

Glancing at her bare feet, she answered, “Shoes.”

“I’ve got plenty of shoes if you want a pair.” Cal offered.

Riona snorted as Lordling Smithwood came to mind. “Guess the shoe’s on the other foot now.”

TLDR

Riona briefly sees a ghost from her past before regaining consciousness. Callum and Riona discuss what happened, including the message from the intruder; to remember what the giant told Riona in the alleyway, while they clean up Wystan’s room and leave.

[PapaOso]

---

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

---

“Cassius, a word?

The man’s tone was enough to convey exactly what was about to happen, but it wasn’t only the tone that Cassius picked up on, it was the Duke’s body language, his expression, and the subtle cues of rage that were bubbling juuuust beneath the surface. Predictable, really. It was a pity considering the way he found Lorenzo’s defense against Cas’s own father to be rather brave and poignant just moments ago. All the same, Cassius turned to the man with practiced politeness and listened to what he had to say.

He had been here before. Another father, one of many he had encountered over the years, giving him the speech. It didn’t take long for the corners of his lips to slowly begin curling into the arrogant smirk he was renowned for. The wolfish nature of his grin only expanded as Lorenzo’s little request shifted into a not-so-well-veiled threat.

The audacity of Lorenzo was amusing, at first, but this…this was more akin to hilarity. To question his intentions was one thing, but the man had displayed the sheer impudence to threaten him moments after insulting his honor and his family name. Plus, what had he done to conjure such a harsh response? Nothing. His arm around Lady Vikena’s waist had been nothing more than a gesture of reassurance among the chaos that Lorenzo himself had caused.

But fine. If the man insisted on painting him as the villain…

“Are you finished?” He said, his tone unhurried, almost bored. He casually reached out, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from Lorenzo’s shoulder, an excuse to lean in just a bit closer to the man as to ensure his words were for him alone. “I’m truly not sure what I’ve done to earn such ire, your grace, but you are fortunate that I am a man forgiving of such…outbursts. Insults, threats…all in the span a moment, really. Is that how a man of your status…a father...should conduct himself?” A bemused, haughty little laugh accompanied his words as he let them hang in the air long enough for them to settle before he continued. “How amusing, the thought of a street-rat bastard such as myself lecturing a Duke in the art of decorum. I mean look at you…”

Cas’s eyes glanced up and down at Lorenzo’s attire. He moved his hands to straighten the lapels of the man’s audacious and honestly ridiculous jacket. “What comes next, are you going to strike me? No? Then I suggest you pull yourself together and act like a real father for a moment.” Leaning down further, Cassius dropped his voice to a full-fledged whisper. “And to suggest that your own daughter may be nothing more than an hors d'oeuvre. How belittling. Plus, maybe I don’t want just a little taste? Maybe what I want is the full meal?”

It was at that fortuitous moment that a waiter arrived with a tray full of cocktails. “Wonderful!” Cas exclaimed with excitement. “This table is in desperate need of some drinks, wouldn’t you say so Duke Vikena?” He leaned away from Lorenzo to watch the waiter place a finely made cocktail down upon each of the table's placemats. Cassius then addressed the woman. “In fact, love, why don’t you go grab us some shots as well?”

As the waiter was departing, Cas could see Lottie returning from her greeting the nearby group. Standing, he pulled her seat out for her sweetly with a little bow and as they sat together, he turned his charming gaze to Lorenzo and smiled at the Duke as his arm found itself around the shoulders of Charlotte Vikena, pulling her closer once again.

[Helo]

Time: 10am
Location: Drake’s Birthday Bash
Interactions: Charlotte @princess, Lorenzo @FunnyGuy, Cassius @PapaOso

---

“Did I hear shots? I know I’m at the right table!” Callum said, taking a seat shortly after Charlotte, as if merely mentioning shots had summoned him. He glanced around but once his eyes settled on Charlotte he stared for a few seconds longer than what was considered polite. He tried to imagine what Ana had described, but nothing about her gave Cal a sense of dread. She really threatened Ana and Edin??? That was even harder to picture, but then again he didn’t know her all that well.

He realized he was staring and shifted his attention to Cassius. “Sorry if the bastard comment was out of line, I didn’t mean it as an insult. I think the name Vael suits you better than Damien, but I’ve never cared much for your father. Or my own.” Cal said before finishing off his glass of wine. His attention shifted back to Charlotte, studying her reaction to how he spoke of the king. Searching for any sign that she might be an ally.

“Yours seems great.” He said to Charlotte before smiling at Lorenzo. “It’s an honor to sit with the best-dressed Duke in Caesonia.” He added nodding to Lorenzo. “Oh, look! Shots are here!” Callum’s attention was immediately drawn to a server carrying a tray of spirits.

“To the two of you,” Cal said standing up and gesturing to Cassius and Charlotte with the shot glass he’d picked up. “A stunning couple. And to Lord Drake, of course.” He added before downing the shot.

From out of the corner of his eye he saw the same ghastly image of Darryn he’d seen back in his room. Red eyes aglow with judgment, watching as Cal celebrated just hours after learning of Darryn’s death. It made that shot sit in his stomach like curdled milk as Cal tried not to focus in on the illusion.

[Helo]

Time: Morning, 10am
Location: Edward’s home, for Drake’s party
Interactions: Nahir @Rodiak

---

"How did you know I liked green so much?"

“Lucky guess.” Rohit replied, smiling before bidding the lord adieu. It was an easy guess, written in the man’s stars, but Drake had other guests to speak with and it was not the time for long conversations about the Astral Arcana. He spun the ceramic bracelet around his wrist a few times as he walked and grabbed a couple of the hors d'oeuvres. He quickly grew bored of fiddling with the bracelet and spun his far more satisfying ring around a few times.

He collected a glass of mead from a servant, a bright and refreshing drink that went well with the atmosphere here before noticing Shehzadi Nahir at a table. Rohit headed in her direction and quietly took a seat in a nearby chair for a moment.

“People watching?” He remarked. “Ooof, that guy looks mad.” His head nodded in the direction of Calbert. There was a crash in the distance as a servant tripped and a platter of stuffed mushrooms littered the ground. “And I’m betting that guy’s wishing he was on present stacking duty right about now.” He added with a light chuckle. Rohit bowed his head respectfully to the Shehzadi.

“How’s Caesonia, and more importantly, how are you, Your Highness?” He added.