[IC] 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

[Tpartywithzombi]

Time: Nighttime
Location: Camping event
Mention: @Potterkira
Interactions:@CitrusArms Captain
Appearance: No shoes|

Dress

m.media-amazon.com/images/I/71RjYAbtk…

Bag

i.pinimg.com/736x/59/0c/06/590c063e41…

Ariella stepped down from the carriage, her bare feet sinking into the cool, soft earth as she took in the breathtaking campsite with a gleam in her vibrant green eyes. Her long, fiery red hair cascaded down her shoulders in wild curls, almost like flames dancing in the evening light. She adjusted her green corset, her calve-length dress flowing around her legs as she moved with a lightness that came only from the joy of being outdoors. A worn, brown satchel hung at her side, carrying little more than essentials. She hoped she could find more interesting things to bring back to her altar.

The warm glow of lanterns hanging in the trees and the scent of pine and woodsmoke made her feel alive, her pulse quickening with excitement. Every detail felt perfectly crafted, a beautiful blend of comfort and the raw beauty of the wild. Her gaze traveled across the scene to the central fire pit, where the golden light flickered and danced. She felt fully at home here, more so than she had in any ballroom or parlor—this was freedom. Something strange hung in the air though, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it but as she felt the earth under her feet she felt a shift…something changed. She looked down quizzically at the ground. What is that?

The staff greeted everyone with enthusiasm pulling Ari from her thoughts, the redhead woman’s cheerfulness drawing an amused smile from Ariella, and she found herself exchanging an eager wave. There was something special about Pinebrook’s camping event; it was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

When the camp staff began organizing tent assignments and hinting at partnered activities, Ariella’s excitement only grew. She felt a surge of anticipation—this night was already turning into the best event she’d attended, a night of wild beauty under the stars, and she was ready to embrace every moment.

She looked around attempting to see anyone she knew. She noted the woman who stood off to the side she didn’t seem too excited staring at her with such a gaze Ariella couldn’t help but nervously smile at her. Attempting to find some kind of excuse to move, she noticed the captain standing off to the side. Skipping excitedly Ariella approached her with a smile nearly ear to ear “ Beautiful night isn’t it!” she said clapping her hands together and resting them against her legs as she swung on her heels slightly “ This should be quite the evening I think. How are you feeling after my brother's party? “

[JJ Doe]

Callum & Riona

Time: Evening
Location: Palace Grounds to the Camping Site
Mention(s): @princess@ReusableSword@CitrusArms@SilverPaw@Tae@Tpartywithzombi

---

Coven & Secrets

Callum paced outside the gardener's hut as he tried to work up the nerve to enter.

“You’ve been here tons of times. And it was only weird the once.” He whispered to himself. He looked at the door; dark patterns of wood grain leaked from the door. The whisps melded into twisting shadow serpents that lashed out, fangs bared and eyes locked on him. He immediately recoiled from the door. Again. He jumped in place and tried to shake the fear from his arms.

“It’s not real. You know it’s not real.” He whispered to himself. “Suck it up, Cal, suck it up.” He felt it in the pit of his stomach. Dread at being caught out here, afraid of Riona’s home, knowing it would upset her if she saw him. He thought about that deeply unwelcoming feeling he’d had the last time he was here. Felt that same heat-bearing down his neck, felt the same chill deep in his bones. Something hadn’t wanted him here before, what if it was still in there?

He closed his eyes, tired of seeing things that weren’t real. At least it’s not Darryn. He thought only to feel disgusted with himself for thinking it. He deserved to see the horrible ghost Darryn, he deserved to suffer for not helping Darryn. For getting him killed.

Finally, Cal summoned enough courage to knock on the door, a bit too softly. Part of him hoped Riona wouldn’t answer and he could avoid going inside, wait a day until he wasn’t seeing things. Maybe even avoid finding out if she was just as angry with him as she’d been with Ana. But that would only be a delay. "Riona?" He asked. "Got time for a chat? If you still want to talk to me?" He asked softly through the door.

A muffled rustling sound came from behind the door, followed by the scrape of wood on wood. The door creaked open, and Riona’s face peeked out, eyebrow raised.

“What are you knocking for, Cal? You have a key, come in,” she said, puzzled. She left the door open and retreated back to the cluttered table.

He stared at the open door for a moment before slowly closing it. "Seemed rude to just walk in unannounced?” The explanation came easily but didn’t sound convincing.

Riona gathered an assortment of papers—a copy of the now previous Royal advisor’s journal, scribbled notes on castle gossip, and a few choice pieces of information that many of the servants knew but kept quiet about. With twine, she bound the pile together.

Even though she was going to take all this with her, Roman wouldn’t get everything at once. No, she’d learn the value of each piece of information. Parse it out individually, watch his reaction, gauge what really interests him. Adjust her focus, and payment, accordingly.

As she worked, Riona’s gaze flicked towards Callum. She noticed how he lingered by the threshold, tension visible in the set of his shoulders. Her hands stilled as his earlier words finally registered, and a flicker of worry crossed her face. “Why do you think I don’t want to talk to you?” she asked. “Is everything alright? Did... something happen?”

"If you’re mad at Ana, about what happened, you should be mad at me too.” He said quietly, finding a spot on the floor and keeping his eyes locked there. It probably made him look guilty, or overly broody, but that spot on the floor just looked like floor and he didn’t want to risk seeing anything else. "And you’re right to be mad, it might not have happened if we’d left him alone.” His eyes flickered to Riona for a second before returning to the same spot on the floor.

"How are you doing? I heard you were assisting Captain Durmand with her investigation.” He asked, imagining how much worse it had to be, focusing on everything that happened to Darryn, worse than just hearing about it. "That can’t be easy.”

At first, she had no idea what Cal was talking about. But as he continued—mentioning Anastasia, Stratya, the investigation, “him”—understanding dawned. The tavern. That gods-damned argument… Darryn.

“It isn’t…” she answered, then sighed and turned back to her packing. Her hands moved mechanically, stuffing items into the bag without really paying any attention to what it was she shoved in.

After a stretch of silence, Riona said, “Gods, I’m so f**king useless. Quack and I both sensed something was off, but we…did. Nothing. About it.” She yanked on a stubborn buckle, nearly tearing it off.

"You're the last person I’d call useless.” He said, a quick glance toward the sudden sound. He wondered what all was in that bag but didn’t care enough to ask about it.

“I analyzed his remains and what did I learn? Jacksh*t. Narrowed the substance that melted his body down from ‘literally anything’ to ‘strong non-organic chemical or magic’ that aren’t accessible to the public. Brilliant work, Riona. Really cracked the case there. Like it wasn’t bloody f**king obvious just looking at… what’s… left of him.”

Her movements slowed, then stopped altogether. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a shaky breath. When she spoke again, Riona whispered. “I want to know what happened to him.”

"I think we can assume magic.” He whispered that word, afraid to speak it too loudly. "Ana talked to him after the whole carriage ride thing. Argued with him, she saw his eyes glow red. Had a whole family meeting about it this morning. Alibeth, Wulfy, Ana, and oddly enough Captain Durmand was included.” He emphasized Stratya’s presence. "The Captain must be very close with Alibeth to get hear what all was discussed.” He added making it clear that he didn’t trust anyone who shared that much trust with the Queen.

Each name that rolled off his tongue tightened Riona’s muscles. The Queen. The First Prince. The Princess. Her jaw clenched, but she held her own tongue, letting him continue his revelations.

"Alibeth mentioned she’d caught spies in the palace before. Spies with glowing eyes who seemed on the ‘brink of insanity’. She asked if we all knew of the existence of magic.” He continued, moving closer to Riona, keeping his eyes down, not daring to look around the room. There wasn’t anything he could do to make this any easier, but he could give her all the information he had and hope it shifted some pieces of the puzzle into place.

That checked out. She also saw Darryn’s eyes and how unstable he was.

Riona turned back to Cal, who still refused to meet her eyes. “He warned me, you know? Darryn said there were people other than the Danroses I needed to watch out for. He was terrified, Cal. And it sounded like he had no choice but to do as they ordered. Whoever they are, they’ve got serious pull… and access to things most people don’t.”

Closing the gap between them, she stared at Cal’s downturned face. “That’s why I need you to introduce me to your secret party host.”

Before he had a chance to say anything, Riona pressed on. “I know your first instinct is to defend your friend. I get it. But Darryn’s death is linked to that party in some capacity. Your friend might have nothing to do with the murder, but they provided the space where anyone of any background could meet and magic was used. What if Darryn’s killer is one of the partygoers?”

He said nothing, only nodded his head. Everything she said made sense, and even if their murderer wasn’t a partygoer, Marek had connections. Callum was sure Marek would want to help, that was just the kind of guy he was.

“This is your chance to get your friend off the suspect list and zero in on who actually did this.” She took his hands in hers. “Please, Cal. Help me find out what happened to Darryn.”

"Ana and I will be meeting with Marek soon. Of course, you’re invited, and whatever you need, I got you. Maybe try not to fight with Ana, she might not show it, but I know how terrible she feels about this.” Cal met Riona’s eyes. He had to make sure she knew he meant what he said. He knew it now, he could trust Ana, she was different from the rest of his family. He had real proof of that, but he’d get that later.

Riona’s face lit up, a warm glow spreading through her. His unwavering support meant everything. But as quickly as it came, the feeling soured, her expression darkening at the mention of his sister. Callum wondered why Riona suddenly looked disappointed in him.

Her hands slipped away from Cal. Spinning around, she busied herself with cleaning up the table, shoulders tense. “Then maybe she should try harder showing it,” she muttered, voice edged with bitterness. “Because she’s not convincing me.”

He wanted to challenge that comment, wasn’t it enough that he’d seen it, that he believed Ana? She doesn’t trust you. Your word means nothing. Whispered a voice in the back of his mind. Instead, he said nothing and only watched her turn away from him.

"Darryn also gave Ana drugs, good drugs, when they had their argument. Weird thing to do right? Fight with someone and then give them a gift. Might be more to that than just a goodbye gift. The Captain mentioned an executioner’s blade nearby. Whoever did this, hounds tracked them right through the main part of town, they weren’t afraid of getting caught.” He offered more, tried to think of any other details regarding Darryn that might help, he owed Riona any information he had on the murder.

Riona huffed lightly, a weary smirk playing at the corners of her mouth as memories surfaced. “You have no idea the size of torch Darryn was carrying for Anastasia do you? Even laid up in the infirmary, he jumped to her defense. I swear, she could’ve gutted him with a rusty spoon and he’d have thanked her for the attention.”

Cal did have a point about the “good drugs” being more than “just a goodbye gift,” though. “Do you know what those drugs actually were?”

"She said they were tablets that make you feel happy, ecstasy I’m guessing.” He answered, pausing before asking, "Are you mad at Ana because she asked Darryn to drive that carriage, or because she didn’t love him the way he probably loved her?”

Riona shook her head, “I’m mad that she used his feelings against him.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, struggling to articulate her thoughts. “And for all that talk about how much she cares about him…” She trailed off, exhaled sharply, and tried again. “I wish she’d put as much effort into supporting him as she does with Lady Thea.”

Her eyes met Cal’s. “This whole mess with the afterparty lit something in you, didn’t it? It got those gears turning about making changes. Real ones. For yourself and others. And that was before they found the body. I guess… I thought, hoped, Darryn meant enough to spark something in her too.”

“Maybe she just needs a nudge.” He insisted, and it almost felt wrong to defend Ana. Almost.

“But no… it was just another day for Princess Anastasia Danrose.” Brows furrowed, her gaze intensified. “What does it mean that it took Darryn getting murdered for you to trust Anastasia again?”

Her gaze wandered back to the table in search of something to do, but there wasn’t anything else to clean or pack in the bag. “She’ll continue schmoozing, boozing, and whatever else it takes to fill that hole inside her… the loneliness… And that means there’s gonna be another Darryn soon enough.” There always was.

“It isn’t how she reacted to Darryn that makes me trust her,” Callum admitted. “At the meeting, Ana said she’d seen magic used before. That as a child another girl had threatened both her and Edin. She saw this other child’s eyes glow, saw a dark energy.” Callum took a few steps closer and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“But even as a frightened child, she wouldn’t send another child to a pyre. Even now, thinking magic and its users are evil, she protects that secret. It’s a very un-Danrose thing to do. I see something good in her. I am asking you to trust me enough to look for yourself.” He added gently, patted her shoulder, and pulled his hand away. He couldn’t see Ana’s flaws as any worse than his own. Callum leaned against the table, fingers tracing familiar grooves in the table, finally feeling comfortable in the hut again.

“And you’re right, she might become someone who uses people, like Darryn, for what they have to offer and then tosses them away. Finding ways to cope until people aren’t even people to her. A lot of nobles become that, I could’ve been that. But I had you. You helped me understand that I can’t focus solely on my own suffering, but no one helped Ana. I want to try, see what chooses to be.” He looked over at Riona, hoping the next thing he said didn’t kill the conversation.

“So that’s why I told her, about me. Just the witch stuff.” He smiled as he said it, Ana’s reaction had been so much warmer than he’d expected. “And then she told me it was Charlotte Vikena she’d once seen using magic.” He whispered, he had no secrets to keep from Riona. “Not who I was expecting at all.”

There was so much to unpack—Cal’s confession to Anastasia, Lady Charlotte’s hidden magical abilities, the ominous dark energy Ana had witnessed. But one detail snagged in her mind like a loose thread. “What a very un-Danrose thing for Edin to do too… you’re telling me he didn’t send Lady Charlotte to the pyre?” It felt like there was more to the story.

“I don’t think Edin was there, and I assumed the threat was verbal. But whatever happened, Ana said Charlotte had threatened her and Edin. It was enough to scare her, and I’m the only person she’s told who her magical threat-maker was. Guess I should’ve asked for more details.” He said and Callum doubted there was anything human enough lurking inside Edin that would compel him to show mercy to even a child.

Too bad she didn’t follow through on her threat.
“Yeah… you might need to.”

Callum nodded his agreement. He’d ask Ana about it again sometime soon, and try to get a better vibe of who Charlotte really was as well. That’s what he needed, a long to-do list to keep himself out of trouble.

After a few heartbeats of silence she circled back to what Cal said earlier. “It’s not that I don’t see some good in her. Hells, I even feel sorry for her sometimes. That’s exactly why she pisses me off so much—...” She took a moment to calm her rising hackles. “... I’ll see what she chooses to be, with you. I want to believe in her as much as you do. But it’s gonna come down to what she actually does—or doesn’t do.”

Reaching out, Riona patted his arm. “You continue to be the supportive brother she needs. I’ll be the bitch who’s being too hard on everyone’s favorite princess. Maybe between the two of us, we’ll strike the right balance. And you’ll never have to be the bad guy.”

“Hey, when she proves me wrong—and I hope she does—I’ll gladly hang up my villain hat.” Worry creeped into her as she looked up at Cal. “I know it’s not exactly what you wanted, but... it’s the best I’ve got right now.”

He wondered if her answer would be the same if he were defending someone else. Someone who wasn’t part of his family. He gave a half-hearted shrug, muttered an “okay”, and let it go. After everything his family had done to her, maybe asking her to believe in another Danrose was too much. He waved a hand above her head, swatting at the empty space.

“Weird, I don’t see or feel a villain hat up there.” He teased. “You’re not a bitch either. You are a good person with strong opinions.” There was enough going on, he didn’t want to make things worse for her. “And if you keep insulting my best friend, I’ll fight you. And we both know I’ll lose.” He lightly tapped her shoulder with a fist.

To have similar words she said to him the other day being flung back at her made Riona laugh. “True. And after our last glorious face-plant with Mr. Window Weirdo, I don't think you can handle another loss right now,” she said, returning the gesture.

The sound of laughter cut away some of the tension and Cal smiled back. “I’m not going to forget about Darryn, we will find who did this. They will wish for the crown’s mercy because they’ll get none from me. Doesn’t matter who it is.” He added; and whatever pain had been inflicted on Darryn, he’d make sure the culprit got the same or worse. He paused to see if she had anything more to add about Darryn. Callum wasn’t finished sharing bad news just yet.

“Good to hear.” After a long pause she added, “And… thanks.”

Riona caught Cal staring at her intently, and for a moment, she wondered if he was going to continue to press her about the tension with Anastasia. Part of her knew that wasn’t his style—Cal had never been one to pry. But then again, until recently, he hadn’t been one for violence either. Things were changing. She hesitated, unsure if she really wanted to launch into a rant about his sister, especially now that it seemed the siblings had patched things up.

The memory of Cal’s conversation with Quack and the potential fate of his royal siblings should the rebels win the revolution flashed through her mind. … Has his position on all that changed too?

“If you need to call Ana out for how she is, you should do it privately.” He added, realizing she hadn’t agreed to his request. “In a tavern, Riona? After what you said to Wulfric? I am worried about you. That you are going to get hurt, or worse, for saying the wrong thing to the wrong person in front of the wrong people.” Callum continued, fear etching its way into his voice. He scratched at his neck but his gnawed-off fingernails offered no relief from dread.

“If I can’t do stupid self-destructive things, you can’t either. It’s only fair. I can’t handle losing you.” His focus stayed on her, wondering how she couldn’t see the added danger she was putting herself in.

Riona’s hard expression melted away, her eyes softening as she looked at Callum. “It’s only fair,” she repeated. She couldn’t promise to stop being self-destructive, but she would try to be less stupid about it. “For what it’s worth, I can’t handle losing you either.”

Her fingers raked through her hair. A long breath escaped her, carrying with it some of the tension coiled in her shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.” she muttered, more to herself than to Callum. “I used to be better at keeping it together.”

“It’s like… Like everything I’ve bottled up for years is suddenly bursting out. Maybe…” Riona paused, searching for words. “Maybe I’m just tired of it all, you know?”

“And part of me wonders if I should just... end it.”

Realizing words that weren’t meant to be said out loud slipped out, Riona forced a smile. “But,” she said, her tone lightening in an obvious attempt at deflection, “if I do end up royally messing things up... will you avenge me?”

Callum pulled Riona into a hug. “Abso-fucking-lutely.” He said before something dark crept into his voice. “Anything ever happens to you, I’ll find all the spookiest curses and ensure all your enemies receive eternal torment. They won’t know a moment of peace in this world or the next.” His arms tightened around her.

Riona’s eyes widened as Callum suddenly pulled her into a hug. Heat spread to her face and pooled behind her eyes. Letting out a shaky breath, Riona leaned into the hug. “Damn it, Cal. You’re going to make me cry.” Even though it was already too late.

There was a twisted joy in knowing someone cared enough to promise vengeance on her behalf, mixed with guilt for feeling that way. Gods, how messed up was she to want anyone to carry that kind of burden? She thought of her family, of the townsfolk, and wondered if they had felt a similar bitter comfort when she had sworn revenge over their lifeless bodies.

She tightened her grip on him.

“And if you're tired, too exhausted to keep trying, lean on me. I understand how that feels, we’ll get through it together.” He let her go and pulled a small glass vial from his pocket, setting it on the table.

“I made calming potions today. For the next family meeting. Can’t be storming out any time they say something awful if I want to learn all their secrets. You should keep one, for when you need it, and we can keep making more.” He whispered as he let her go. There was no reason not to use magic, their biggest advantage, to its fullest potential.

“Are the meetings always that bad?”

He thought about how cold Alibeth had been, how she’d looked right at him and admitted she wanted Darryn to die. He wondered how she could call herself a mother and tell two of her children she wanted their friend dead. How excited his older brother had been to paint another friend as some evil mastermind. They both got some twisted enjoyment out of hurting him. “Usually.” He didn’t need to tell her how little the rest of his family cared about Darryn. Wulfy only seemed disappointed that he’d failed to keep a promise, that loss of life didn’t seem to matter. “When I’m even invited.” He shrugged.

Although she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to use the potion without it affecting the spell she carried, Riona accepted it. Might be helpful in a pinch. “Thanks.”

The clock chimed and Riona checked the time. “I better start heading out.” She said as she shouldered the bag. “I promised I’d meet Roman at the camping event tonight.”

Roman? His head tilted at the mention of his friend, wondering what the two were meeting about. “I’ve got one more thing,” and he needed to bring it up here, where he could be sure no one was listening in.

Callum cleared his throat, “I can’t stop thinking about what you said the other night. About Roman. And Mina. You’re right, they’re probably in danger after that ritual. We’re all probably in a lot of danger and things are going to get worse. If Alibeth’s bringing up magic it’s only a matter of time before they start looking for it. Start hunting. No one’s safe from that. Not us, not Roman, Mina, Marek…Ari.” His voice dropped to a barely audible level as he named people, but his words continued to spill out at a frantic pace.

“And if they’re looking for it, they’re going to find it, any way they can. Accuse whoever suits them.” His eyes shifted, no longer looking at Riona but past her, staring off at things only he could see. Thick smoke and shadows rose up from beneath the floorboards. It coalesced into dark pillars around the room.

“We have to protect each other. Have to keep those like us, other witches, safe. Strike first before people start burning.” Smoke became flame. Flames engulfed the shadowy pillars. Everything in the hut was blindingly bright. Twisted, pained expressions of those he cared about screamed without sound from within the flames. Bruning. Suffering. Unheard. The illusion only fueled his panic. The memory of the flame spell he’d cast in Wystan’s room reminded him what that felt like, how awful a fate it was. He stared wide-eyed at the illusion as his skin grew paler.

No one was safe. No one who practiced magic. No one who the crown saw as expendable, undesirable, or dangerous. It had happened before, worked for past monarchs, and the crown would do it again. Unless he made sure they were stopped.

“I can see it, Riona. Right now, like it’s happening. Been seeing things, illusions, all day. But I won’t see this again. Won’t let it be real.” Words hissed out through a clenched jaw. He couldn’t look away from the illusion, couldn’t let himself forget the too-real possibility that it could happen.

For a heartbeat, she wondered if he was speaking metaphorically, but the haunted look etched across his face told a different story. Whatever Callum was seeing, it was all too real to him.
“Cal?” Riona reached out, grasping his hand in hers. His skin felt clammy and cold. When he didn’t respond, his gaze still locked on some unseen horror, she squeezed his fingers and tried again. “Cal… These... things you’re seeing. When did they start?” A sinking feeling settled in her chest as she hazarded a guess. “Has it been happening since we found that hidden room?” She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

“Today. After I showed Ana an illusion spell. Had to prove to her magic isn’t evil. It doesn’t have to be feared.” And she listened, Ana believed me. He relaxed a little, thinking about that. Flames flared and burned out. The smoke remained, stretching out, filling the space. Until it was only shadows, coating the walls, acting out nightmarish scenes with their ever-shifting forms. Shadow puppets performing every terrible thing he’d read about witch hunts.

“But this is payment for that spell. Probably compounded from using that curse scroll.” And probably made worse by making potions and dabbling in other spells following Drake’s party.

Riona visibly relaxed. If it was one thing if the illusions were from the side effects of using a spell from the book. It would’ve been another thing if it was the result of touching an ancient cursed object.

“But I did see things after we found that room. That felt, different from this. I don’t know what that was, maybe something to do with that tea I drank.” He added; today’s illusions felt more real, easier to pin down.

And just like that, the tension returned. “If it’s from the tea, we should ask Roman or Mina about it. But if it’s not… we should consider the possibility it’s from the objects from that room.”

He hesitated, he didn’t want to keep secrets from Riona but he wasn’t sure how to explain what happened last night without bringing up the unwelcoming presence in her home. “It wasn’t from the room, I felt it before we went in there.” He said cautiously and before she could ask where he added, “and if you’re worried about that crown I tried to put on, don’t be. Pretty sure I’m clear but if the illusions aren’t gone tomorrow I’ll let you know. We can practice a de-hexing on me. It’ll be fun.” He offered.

Riona narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms slowly. “Callum? … Do you want me to pretend I didn’t notice or do you have something you’d like to share with me?”

“I should tell you. I will tell you. Just not now, But what I saw after we went in that room, I felt it here first. And I don’t feel it right now but I don’t want to risk seeing it again.” He spoke as calmly as he could manage as a look of pure terror flashed across his eyes. “Please, just give me a day or two.” He asked.

What else could she say but sigh and whisper “Okay”?

He took a breath and returned to an easier topic. “In the past, witches formed covens for protection. They worked as one. Were more powerful that way.” Callum paused and smiled.

“I think it’s time we bring the old ways back, form a coven. And I’d hate to do that without you, but I will understand if don’t want to be involved. Roman and Ari should both be at Pinebrook tonight, I plan to start with them. A coven where we’re all equals. Watching out for each other. Keeping each other safe. Fighting back when we need to.” He offered, laying out the general idea of his plan for tonight.

“What do you think? It is my least self-destructive plan yet.”

“Well, well. Look who’s become a social butterfly. A few months ago you were trying your damnedest to keep everyone at arm’s length, and now you’re joining groups left and right.” Riona teased.

Her tone sobered as she continued, “But you’re right, it’s not a terrible idea. Especially if this witch-hunting thing is going to ramp up.” She met his gaze, her decision already made. “Count me in.”

“I’m so glad to hear you say that,” He gestured to the door. “Time to grab a carriage.” He added only to be hit with a puzzling question.

“What about your commitment with the Thornbreakers? Not worried if there might be a conflict of interest?”

He shook his head. “No, they’re after the crown and those that serve it, those who act to keep power in only a few hands. They’re not after witches. Not that I know, at least. If anything we share an enemy. And any witches who serve the crown, they’re on their own.” He might even be able to help Quack out more.

That was true. “Let me change the question… Say things get messy and you have to choose one or the other. Then what?”

Callum wasn’t sure how to answer that, he only shrugged. “I don’t know. Depends on why things are messy.” He answered honestly. “But nothing, no one, is getting in the way of goal number one. Rip that crown away from Danrose hands, expose every fucked up secret my family hides, and make sure Edin, Alibeth, and anyone else who’s earned it, finds retribution.” He repeated his promise, put an arm around her shoulders at that final word. Retribution, he liked the way that word sounded as it rolled from his tongue. If he couldn’t rid himself of a need to destroy something, then let his destruction be for something good. Let it be justice and vengeance tied up together.

Retribution. The fire in her blazed with excitement at his words. Yes. Yes! YES!

“You tell me whose names belong on that list, and I’ll work with whoever I can to make that happen. It’s more than a goal, it’s a reason to keep going, a purpose. And if I can do more than that, it will be tearing down the rest of this rotten system, the other houses in Caesonia, until titles mean nothing here. No one should be dying from a lack of coin.” He continued, and that was why he trusted Quack, why he believed in his vision. This kingdom didn’t need a chosen corrupted few living in excess while the rest suffered and starved.

“Magic is how that happens. It was part of the old ways. Witches used their power to lift others up. Not to control them, not to feed off them, but to help them. It was an act of mercy from the gods, their sacred gift to humanity. My ancestors tried to burn that out of the kingdom. I will restore it, but I can’t do any of that alone. Restoring magic, the way it was meant to be, is how we make this kingdom better for all its people.” Callum couldn’t see a conflict of interest between magic and the Thornbreakers, everything was linked together. His hand gripped her shoulder.

Partly overwhelmed by Cal’s passionate speech, Riona’s lips parted and closed without saying a word. It was more than obvious that, to him, the Thornbreakers and his new coven were just different hands reaching for the same prize: freedom and equality. In the world he dreamed of forging, neither could exist without the other.

“Witches, Thornbreakers, and anyone who suffers under the crown, our enemy is the same. The world’s not in our favor, our shared enemy is overwhelmingly powerful, and that unifies us. It’s going to take a lot of different people working together to overcome that, but we can. We must. Or nothing gets better for any of us.”

“Then I’ll leave it up to you to decide if you’re going to tell Quack about the coven.”

“Wasn’t planning to, unless it becomes necessary. I don’t plan to give him, anyone, any names, they don’t need to know who’s in the coven. And the coven doesn’t need to know who’s in Quack’s group. Less risk of information getting out, at least for now.”

She nodded in agreement, relieved that he decided to keep those two groups apart.

“As a co-founder though, I think we need to be careful about who you invite and who actually joins. Aside from Roman, Ariella, and Mina, who else do you plan to invite?”

“We’ll vote on new additions. Come to decisions as a group. It can’t be another monarchy, none of us should hold power over the others.”

“I like that.”

As she started for the door, the weight of the bag reminded her of its contents and Riona slowed to a stop. “Hey, speaking of Roman... has he asked you to do anything for him lately? Anything... unusual?”

“What?” That question caught him off guard. “Why? What has Roman asked you to do? I haven’t seen him much lately.” He glanced at the bag she carried. “What are you meeting with Roman about?” He asked since she’d brought him up again.

“I met him in the woods this morning. He’s actually been wanting to talk to you about something. I don’t know if it’s gonna be the same thing he told me, but since we’re all going to be at Pinebrooks tonight, it’s probably best to get the details directly from him.” Riona patted the bag. “He asked me to pass him any information and rumors that are going around in the castle.”

Cal could wonder what Roman was up to, but it sounded like he’d find out soon enough. “You’ll be careful, right? I know you’re the best spy in the city and all but-” He didn’t finish the thought, but no one made a good spy hanging from a noose.

“Don’t worry, he didn’t ask me to go dig up classified information or national secrets. He only wanted me to tell him about things that any servant working at the castle would’ve heard or seen.” She reached for the door handle, then let her head thunk against the wood with a groan. “Shoot. With all the things that happened I never got the chance to tell you about what I found in Alden’s room the other night.”

Callum made a face at the mention of Alden’s name. “Was it a list of what that guy’s been up to?” He asked. He glanced at the clock, they probably had enough time and he was too curious to hear what Edin’s advisor might be hiding.

Riona turned to face Cal. The scene in Alden’s quarters flashed through her mind—upended furniture, scattered papers, and the blood. “Alden’s room was ransacked. There was blood leading to the window and… no one’s seen or heard him. And now we suddenly have a new Royal Advisor who appeared out of nowhere.” Subconsciously, Riona reached over to cover the tear of a dress she changed out of hours ago. “Mister Alexander Deacon.”

“Deacon?!” Callum repeated the name with a mix of surprise and enthusiasm. “We’re planning a charity event together, Mina too. Isn’t he great? Wouldn’t have guessed he’d end up as advisor though.” He could only wonder why Alexander would want to work directly for Edin, but it was probably best to just ask the man himself.

“Deacon works with Black Rose and Marek, they’re all about doing more charity work around here.” He added catching her up on anything she might not already know.

Alexander Deacon. Working for Marek. The pieces clicked together with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer to the chest. Riona’s fingers went death-white around her bag strap. The party, Darryn’s warning, his murder—had she just helped them? Helped the people who might have—

No. Focus. Breathe.

“Black Rose, huh?” she echoed. “...Actually, Deacon invited me to participate in the auction.” Her voice stayed steady as bought time to get her racing thoughts in order.

“You seem less happy about this than me.” He pointed out, noticing the sudden change in her demeanor. “Did you agree to participate? It’s not a bad idea right, do some good? And looks like I’m taking my prince duties seriously, which could help me get closer to Wulfy. Be a better spy.” He asked.

“The charity is a great idea. I agreed to participate because he told me you’d be handling the donations. And I know you’ll make sure they reach actual people in need.” She added. “If joining can help raise more money, then I’m happy to help. Even if it might not be much.” Riona’s gaze drifted downward as her fingers twisted the fabric of her dress. “I’m… just not comfortable with Alexander Deacon.”

“What about Alexander makes you uncomfortable?” He asked with concern, noting the anxious movement of her fingers.

“It’s… hard to explain, but he comes off… disingenuous.” Greasy.

“I’ll pay closer attention to him next time.” He said, not knowing what she meant by that. When he’d talked to Alexander, the man seemed enthusiastic about everything.

Seeing how much Cal liked Marek, Riona thought he might get upset calling Alexander disingenuous on nothing more than a gut feeling. So his answer came as a relief. Her fingers relaxed and she nodded before asking something else she noticed.

“You don’t sound surprised about Alden’s disappearance. Was it brought up during the family meeting?”

“No, at least not while I was there. Can’t say I’m sad to see him gone.” He said with a shrug. He didn’t like Alden, he did like Alexander, and he could only assume that it would help Marek to have one of his top guys whispering in Edin’s ear. Maybe he didn’t have to worry so much about Marek being in danger, it sounded like he was already on top of the situation.

“So… you guys talked about Darryn’s murder, but nothing about the Royal Advisor? Doesn’t that sound kind of weird? How has no one noticed him missing? I mean, someone had to report his room being torn apart. The blood alone…”

“I left early, and so did Ana, I’m not sure what else they talked about. I could ask Captain Durmand, she might tell me.” He said, wishing he had stayed for the full meeting. He could’ve missed important information. “No, I will ask the Captain what I missed.”

Then it wouldn’t hurt to give him a head start. “You might want to read this. I haven’t told the Captain about it.” Riona reached into her bag, pulled out a single sheet—a copy of Alden’s journal entry—from the bundle of papers, and handed it to Cal. “I found his journal.”

Cal read the copy of a passage from Alden’s journal. “’My dear Calbert is dealing with his own struggles now, with Violet now in her own state of rest. He will be dying to know what happened exactly, and is desperately looking for answers. He will be easy to influence.’ What do you think he means by that?” He asked, reading part of it allowed. What happened to Violet?

“Your guess is as good as mine… but…” Riona thought back on the last few days, trying to remember when she saw Lady Violet. “When’s the last time you saw her?”

Callum thought about it for a moment. “She was at the tea party, same one I met Deacon at actually, talking to Wulfy.”

Having Lady Violet and Alexander mentioned in the same sentence didn’t sit well with Riona. “Did they come together?”

“Not sure, I didn’t see them together, but I was also late.” He said confused about the question. “You don’t think Deacon and Violet are conspiring together, do you?” He asked, his inflection on the word conspiring paired with a grin and raised eyebrows made it clear he didn’t mean plotting some grand conspiracy. “Ooohh, Calbert would lose his mind.”

Riona smirked wryly. If only what Alden was referring to in his journal was just that level of scandal. “How did Lady Violet seem to you?”

Cal shrugged, “I didn’t talk with her. Last time I talked to her was at the first ball of the summer. She seemed fine then, maybe a little annoyed about the “randomly paired dances” but nothing out of the ordinary. At the tea party though, she was dressed like she was in mourning.”

“Huh… I haven’t heard there being a death in the family.” Riona would have to double check on that, but she was pretty sure word would have gotten around if there was one. “But aside from that she looked fine?”

Again, all he could do was shrug. “I guess so?” He’d barely glanced at her but he hadn’t noticed anything too unusual.

A contemplative hmm escaped Riona as she chewed over Alden’s cryptic comments about Lady Violet’s “own state of rest.”

“‘Your majesty is still as dimwitted and unclever as ever’,” He laughed reading that out loud. “Any idea what he was planning? Guess he wasn’t as bad as I thought he was. ‘THEY will be necessary for the kingdom’s downfall…but they do not need to suffer. That will be reserved for “your majesty” solely.’ Guess it’s almost impossible to spend that much time around Edin and not hate him.” Cal smirked and handed the paper back to her.

She took the paper and put it back into the bundle. “I don’t know. Whatever it was, it’s possible that he was discovered.”

“Did you notice Alibeth isn’t mentioned anywhere?” Riona frowned slightly, “And the bit about the ‘sons’ being necessary for the kingdom’s downfall… what’s that supposed to mean?” Did Alden know about Cal joining the Thronbreakers?

“I didn’t…maybe Alden is… or was, working for Alibeth, kept her name out of it as a precaution?” He suggested.

“Maybe… but then why write any names at all? This could’ve been used as evidence against him.”

“Hubris?” He suggested. “Read anything else good in his journal? Maybe the answer to that question is in there, or at least a few more clues.”

“Bits and pieces, but I haven’t exactly had the chance to read the entire journal yet and—...” Riona looked at the time. “We should get going. If you want, we can read the journal together later. You might catch something I didn’t.”

Callum straightened his posture and offered his arm, which she took without missing a beat. “Would you escort me to Pinebrook, it’s dark out and the woods are very creepy.” He asked, only half joking.

“And if anyone asks, I was here tonight to get your advice on allocating funds from the charity event.” Callum said, crafting his story. If anyone saw him outside, he was nervous because the last time he’d asked palace staff for help, a carriage ride to a party, it had not ended well. He was here, for an extended time, discussing a charity project, they continued that conversation in a carriage to Pinebrook.

As they waited near the front gates of the palace for the carriage to pull around he shared another idea. “I would like to dedicate the charity auction to Darryn, if that’s alright with you.” He asked as the sound of hooves and wheels heralded the carriage’s arrival.

“Of course it is, you don’t need to ask me.” Riona turned her head towards the direction of the approaching carriage. “But if you are, can you send some of the money to his family? … If they’re around.”

“I could, if my plan to guilt my brother into making sure they’re taken care of doesn’t work. He did give me his word that Darryn would be safe, the least he can do now is make sure Darryn’s family is safe and cared for.” Cal said, it was better that the crown paid for that, and as far as Callum was concerned, Wulfric owed him that.

Riona scoffed. They both knew what a good job Wulfric did keeping Darryn safe. “Guess we’ll see how well that goes.”

“Either way, I’ll make sure it happens.” He assured.

__________________________________________________________________________

The carriage wheels clattered against the cobblestones as they made their way through the capital’s outer gates. Riona sat across from Cal, keeping her gaze fixed on the window.

With each turn of the wheels, each hoofbeat carrying them further from the city walls, something inside her began to unravel. The crushing weight of the Capital’s invisible miasma of spite and fury that had been her constant companion—began to thin.

She should have felt relieved. Should have welcomed the lifting of that burden.

Instead, its absence left her feeling hollow and scared.

The cursed fire within her, fed for so long on the city’s malice, flickered uncertainly. Riona pressed her palm against her sternum.

It was still there, quieter, but still there. And she knew it would remain as long as she had breath in her body and will in her heart.

It was a quiet carriage ride, and Cal could only attribute the somber atmosphere to the weight of Darryn’s murder. After a while, he moved from his seat and sat beside Riona. Still quiet, he didn't want to interrupt her thoughts, and there weren’t words that would make anything easier. He offered proximity until the silence became comfortable.

Sensing movement, Riona turned her head toward Cal. In the carriage’s dim interior, Riona’s eyes looked like bottomless pits and her skin had paled a bit from sudden weariness.

She gave Cal an appreciative smile before looking back out the window. “It’s been awhile since I’ve left the capital. Feels… strange.”

“Sorian, and all her problems, will still be there tomorrow. You deserve a break from it.” But Riona looked far from relaxed, so he pulled a flask from the inner breast pocket of his jacket. “Got a potion for that too.” He joked, shaking the flask.

Riona let out a small, amused sound—something between a sigh and a laugh. Her mouth twisted into a half-grin. “Really?” She shifted in her seat to face Cal fully. “You’d better be sharing that,” she said, reaching for the flask.

__________________________________________________________________________

The air became different; crisp and clean and infused with hints of campfire and roasted food. The clomping of hooves slowed to a stop and the carriage door opened, allowing them to step out into the carefully tamed wilderness. Everything at the campsite was lit by soft lanterns and moonlight, even the nearby lake seemed to shimmer. Friendly staff was quick to greet them, a handful of strange faces with familiar, mandatory, smiles.

And one all too familiar face. Callum froze for a moment, almost grateful for how lifelike the haunting image of Darryn now looked. Side effects must be getting weaker. He felt relief at the thought.

“Darryn?” The name fell from Riona’s lips in a breathless whisper that said she saw the impossible too.

[Rodiak]

_{C A M P I N G S I T E | E V E N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s :
M e n t i o n s :}

The rest of the morning had gone as Mathias had expected. After the small debacle with his fake mustache, he and Ariella spent the remainder of the party exchanging light pleasantries and laughing over the absurdity of Mary’s impromptu mustache artistry. She had, after all, won the hat-making contest during the horse race, so perhaps it was no surprise. Still, despite the humor, Mathias’ thoughts kept drifting toward Lady Edwards. Discreetly, he’d called for coffee and bread, hoping it would help sober her up. It was only the second time he’d met her, and both times, she had been inebriated. Given what he had observed of Duchess Edwards, he could understand why.

He watched as other nobles stumbled and slurred their words, which only made him want to join their drunken stupor. At least now, he understood why his get-up had gone unquestioned or unnoticed. He had to remind himself he wasn’t in Varian, and while appearances were still important for his personal goals in Sorian, perhaps he didn’t need to take things so seriously

___

Mathias climbed down from the carriage with a small huff, rubbing the small of his back before thanking the driver and grabbing his bag. He’d never quite gotten used to the jostling of carriage rides—perhaps he was just getting old. Dismissing the thought, he paused to take in the crisp, fresh air of the summer night. He could smell the trees, the grass, and the campfire nearby. It reminded him of those nights spent foraging for food when he was younger. The idea struck him again—maybe he could sneak off after the activities and see what Caesonia’s forests had to offer. It couldn’t be too different from Varian’s foraging, right?

As the camp staff welcomed them, Mathias hung back and scanned the group. He spotted Ariella, chatting with a woman who he had recently learned was Captain Stratya Durmand. Like him, she was dressed lightly but practically, ready for the outdoors. And unlike her, Mathias hadn’t brought a weapon, something he was now regretting if he planned on foraging later. He wondered if she carried a spare; she certainly looked prepared for anything.

His gaze drifted to a woman he hadn’t seen before. She stood watching the group, a smile on her face that didn’t quite sit right with him. Her posture and demeanor seemed out of place, as if she didn’t belong with any of the nobles or commoners. Intrigued, Mathias approached her, his friendliest smile in place.

“Quite an exciting night, isn’t it?” He folded his arms behind him in a gentlemanly manner. “I wonder what kind of activities the staff have planned for us. Should be fun, don’t you think?” His tone was casual and warm. “I’m Mathias, by the way. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady. And you might be...?” He dipped his head slightly in a polite bow.

[samreaper]

Kazumaki: Descent into Courtship Madness

Kazumin Nagasa

Time: 25th
Location: Carriage-Pinewood
Interactions:
Mentions:

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Clickity clackity, rickekty clack..clack..clack..clack…clack! Round and round again as the carriage wheels trudged on in growing tandem with every new carriage tagging along.

On the mundane boredom ticked on and only the sounds of nickering horses and faint chirps of bugs and insects. A lovely full moon gave the incredibly bored Kazumin, fingers drumming in attempted unison with the carriage’s rumbling.

* Errgh! I should be excited as all hell for this trip and yet all I feel is fucking bamboozled!* Gently slamming his fist against the base of the window, the curtain rustling from his frustrated grunt.* And to be stuck with Mr. uptight Mcgee over here.* The blonde slyly glared over at Hugo, who quietly sat across, arms crossed, gently across his chest and eyes closed, appearing as if asleep..

Oh, but the stingy bastard was far from doing so, the slight sting of his neck where his small dagger left its all too unpleasant reminder, and for merely trying to flick his nose. A tightwad with a lot of anger, that one.

Kazuming leaned against the window, trying to peer out for a better peek, hoping to discern how much longer to this so-called campsite. Though still seemed a decent bit to go, having only set off minutes ago, for Kazu it might as well have felt like hours, as such had him shifting and miming all his thoughts as if he had been conversing with the statue.

Once learning this, he let his body collapse back down in a defiantly angry pose. He both wanted and didn’t want to go to this so-called camping event. Camping. What peasant and least of all, what farmer didn’t love camping? Hell, it was one of the few bloody damn things men like him could do and after everything gleaned from the meeting; this had been exactly what he needed.

At least, that’s what she told him.* It was her. That blasted maid and that wicked tongue of hers. It’s thanks to her I’m on my way to a d-d-...gah, fuck! Even the word!* He had turned, body coiling away, turning back to lie against the window; ignorant of Hugo’s presence.

* To think, a gift could come with such a hidden cost. Damn you Sasha!* In his frustrations, he pulled the curtains, and the luminescent flash enveloped Kazu’s visions.

[The blinding flash fades as the location rewinds to Asteroth’s estate half an hour before departing]

Prior to departure flashback

“ Owww! The hell was that for? Bloody christ!” Kazu cried out; left hand clutching his freshly red-printed cheek, followed by a grimaced wince at having his right hand tugged at.

Sasha with an irritated huff of air, blew a strand of hair from her face as she sharply pulled Kazu’s hand closer into her lap.” If you would stop moving so much, this would already be over. Course, if you had the sense to get it dealt with when you were with your friends we wouldn’t be in this situation.” She started with restrained anger etching the lines of her face, unusual to see on the mostly calm maid while her eyes, though showed concern.

Seeing the concern deflated his anger and with it gone, left Kazu feeling sheepish and ashamed.

Her anger was justified by having to deal with him bursting in with an injured hand and some unpleasant bits of news, though given no internal details itself, simply mentioning a meeting. The less she knew the better and each of them knew that the lord would expect a proper report.

Said report that could wait for it was easily apparent that Kazumin was stressed out, seeing him fidgeting in place and nibbling at his thumb without noticing, the stings of his hand and cheek long since gone from his mind

A final tug of the freshly placed bandage.” All clean. Consider yourself thankful it was just a cut.” Her face softened, giving his hand a gentle comforting pat.” It's discerning seeing you so shaken, Mr Nagasa. It must have been a…difficult meeting.” She soothed, her once angry words now a warm balm.

Hearing them afforded Kazu the respite needed to relax, albeit if a little since bursting his way in bellowing about needing a drink.

Could be it was the shock of him just plopping onto the couch and chugging the bottle over his hand like it had been dying of thirst that warranted the slap? He thought before dismissing it with an airy wave of the mind.

A tired sigh as he turned his hand over; cleaned and reeking of scotch, the partially emptied bottle now sat on the coffee table. Just sitting there, mere inches away from him, teasing him like the decadent whore it was! * Why are you not in my mouth?!* Kazu thought pained though he dared not make for it; a feeling any attempt would only be met with further pains..” Ugh…you’re telling me. If you had to be in that room with those involved, you’d be a right mess too. And…who decided to go and show up dressed in such a manner.” Motioning at himself still very much wearing the overly fancy, puffy suit.

A stifled snicker from Sasha.

“ You got any idea the time it took putting on this blasted beard?! Two hours!” Ripping it off as he claimed so.” And for wha- yeowch! Ya fuckin git!” Hands hugging his cheeks now burning freshly anew.” Here I go and have a lovely evening with Ruby and…and well let’s just say my day has been ruined….the meal was still immaculate and Ruby looked lovely..and ravenous for meat, but besides that, ruined!” A weak chuckle, rubbing idly at his burning cheeks all the while.

“ A damn bloody fool, that’s what I was. And one of them was drunk at that!” Kazu groaned incredulously, recalling the glass-breaking incident all too well. Gods, how humiliating, who else could say their first impressions of the prince were dancing with his sister and having a cheesy moment amid it all?

Frowning, Sasha had stood up and stepped around to gently place a comforting hand on his shoulder.” Shh, let's put a pin on this for now. It is quite evident you are in no state to fret over the matters plaguing your mind.” She nodded, her gentle grip tensioning slightly.

“ In fact, I believe there is something that may be exactly what you need to help get your mind off things.”

Lifting his head from his internal cringing, intrigued curiosity grabbed his attention.” Oh yeah? Hit me?”

She started as if to speak, but hesitated shortly as if wrestling with to say it or not then gave a simple disarming smile.

That damn smile. deceptively sweet and innocent like honey, but beneath her lips hid a viper.

“ Yes, before you decided to come in, screeching like a boy whose hand got stuck in a jar. I had intended to inform you once you had made yourself comfortable that Lord ASteroth, in his generous heart, had set up a camping courting event for you.”

Every word spoken, candied sweets, an attempt to cover up the ruse, the guise.

One that had worked, at first as Kazu’s face instantly lit up with color not formed from pain as he and his cowlick perked up, his body previously lying back now sat up, hands on knees, akin to a child eager at the prospect of a trip.” Camping?! Yes! Gods yes! Getting away from all this romantical and political bullcrap, and instead go roughing it in the wild!”

Now rubbing his hands together, the fun activities he typically enjoyed like hunting or foraging and climbing around like he was a monkey; such that he has since been deprived of, his excitement was palpable.

A confirming nod from the maid.” Do keep in mind that ladies will be joining coming along as well. So do keep in mind to behave.” A small wave of the index finger as she stated such.

Letting loose a long relieved sigh.” Really? Could be fun. Guess Lord Asty isn’t so bad after all. Odd though…one could hardly expect a group of noble ladies to go to a camping event….hang on a mo…didn’t you say courting?” He asked Sasha accusingly.

At this, the maid shifted and covered her mouth playing off a small cough.” I..I don’t believe I did. Now stop fretting and go get packed.” Attempting to get him up to shoo off.

“ You did. Camping courting event..you definitely did…courting…ladies..behave? While camping?!”

Then it dawned on him and with the realization, the world spiraled around him. Now his mind whirled; lost amidst memories, searching for something, anything that could explain how he could be so betrayed, his love of camping..merely a backdrop for a d-d-d-damn it all!

With Kazumin just sitting there like a statue, Sasha had exhaled, having expected his reaction to be far more reactive.” I know that this may be upsetting, after already going through what you have, but It is time you participate in courting, to go in line with partaking in all the formalities of nobility.” She attempted to explain, but no response came from the blonde, only the shifting of his eyes on her to and fro.” But, I know how much you love camping (in thanks to their numerous chats) and this way you can have a courtship in a place most comfortable for you. This might be exactly what you need to calm that busy mind..and might find yourself a lady at that.” Folding her hands and resting them against the bottom of her chin, where she gave a cute, almost pleading expression. She seemed to genuinely just want him to find a girl to finally get this spastic young man on some restraint.

Every word she said might as well have been spoken from space with how it sounded a garbled mess. That’s what he wanted, at least. But no, he heard every word; each like a dagger jabbing into his ears for each uttering twisted the knife in his back. The knife, the camp he could not escape, his nightly fate sealed. All he could do was sit there and stare at Sasha without really seeing.

Picking up on Kazumin’s distraught about this whole situation, the maid quickly cleared her throat.” A-and since this was thrust upon you out of the blue, I think allowing two little requests of yours might..improve the night for you and the lucky partner..” Frantically suggesting in the hopes this might ease the statued peasant.

A long minute of painfully awkward silence was broken by a low faint low groan, one that might be mistaken for a dying animal as Kazu slowly leaned forward until his upper body was bent forward and hovering above his knees. His right hand rubbed at his forehead. Still trying to work out what led to all of this.

Scouring his history in his mind, but none gave the answer he sought. Fingers moved to rub at his eyes followed by the slowest nose exhale a man could feasibly do before uttering a single word.

“ Why?”

[The agitation in the eyes rubbed away and as the darkness ebbs, light brings the carriage into view]

Fingers pulled from his eyes, annoyance etched in his features.” Pretty as the moon is, got no need blinding me like that.” Groaned the cowlicked blonde.

“ The farmer has returned to reality, I see.” Hugo’s harsh, gruff voice suddenly grated at his ears after breaking amidst the rumbling wheels.

Tilting his head without actually lifting his head from his left hand holding it up propped by an elbow on the knee. Only now noticing he had been bent over similarly as before for the past several minutes or so, lost in that horrid retelling that landed him here. And all during had drawn ever closer to the campsite. A convenient distraction in that regard, at least.

The stony guard now shifted in a more upright position, hands rested on his knees; hilt bouncing idly at the left side of his waist.” A peculiar sight. I assumed you to be the most eager for such an event as this?” Casually motioning out towards the window, where the light of flames flickering could be seen.

Grumbling was his answer at first, Kazu turning away in with a disgruntled meh.” You’re telling me. I should be, damn it. How can I when it's about courting!” Throwing out his arms in disbelief and then collapsed back against the cushioned seat, hands sliding down his face, where his left hand then dropped with a soft thump onto the camping bag sitting to his left.

The touch of the old fabric against his palm and the faint chinking of the canteen and other small camping trinkets calmed him.” Kind of her to let me bring this. This bad boy’s got everything any camper with a right mind needs.” Kazu started showcasing his gear whether Hugo asked for it or not, showing off some rope, a sewing kit, a canteen, an extra pair of socks, an old mostly worn-out sleeping bag, and a small tent among other things.” If there is one thing I can say to always have on ya when camping...” Snapping his hand outward with a metallic click of his pocketknife.” A handy pocket knife. Never be caught without it, certainly not when out in the woods.” He laughed as he showed off his gear.

Raising his brow; a small dismissive snort at the dingy switchblade.” If that is your go-to weapon for hunting then I pity the game you hunt.” Shaking his head, amused.

This net him an offended gasp.” The fuck? No!” He denied vehemently; diving into the back where from deep within, he had wrested a large old and well-used hunting knife, a slip of its old cow-hide sheath soon glinted the hunting blade’s beauty.

The knife, at first glance, looked nothing special. Simple make with strong signs of wear and tear, signs it was a few generations old passed down. The blade, however still looked as sharp as it was new that showed great care.” Nah, now this. This is my hunting weapon. The nagasa’s hunting knife.”

He held it with a gentle, yet firm grip and gave a few coy slices of the air in demonstration, the agile ease he did so showed his comfortability and skill, the cherished joy overflowing from his eyes as he admired the heirloom before a sadness took his brow, for it was in his hands but only for a borrowed time, till oldest under him came of age.” Mhm, this knife has slain many a beast of all sizes. Even took out a bear…or so grandpap told me and I’m choosing to believe it.” Guffawed Kazu.

He studied the giddy farm boy brandishing said knife though it was his talk of hunting beast and bears that had unexpectedly brought the man to laugh.

An act that took Kazu by shock, but far be it from him to miss an opportunity, shifted his position until he sat in a pose reminiscent of a grumpy old coot with a glinting stink eye aimed at the guard, brandishing the knife with mock threatening.” Find somethin funny, do ya, sonny?” Snorted the kazu-coot.

Hugo momentarily obscured his face with his left hand as if ashamed of letting this bit of emotion slip.” I suppose I should give apologies. But, I cannot help but find the idea of courting a lady terrifying you more than wild beasts.” The so-called stoned knight had struck Kazu’s male pride with a boulder slight.

“ H-hey! I’m not scared of gals..er vilage ladies…but noble ladies? They’re whole different class and in my case, literally. Do I look like the kind of guy who should be mingling with all those beautiful, high-class ladies?” Asked while slouching back and leaning against his pack, the cowlicked farmhand sat wearing no fancy suit or silly get-up or disguise, he merely wore his overalls and loose shirt beneath. (Freshly washed and steamed at that, Sasha ensured that)

Hugo, stroking at his chin shook his head in response.” Surely, knowing what this event entails you would have thought to have chosen your attire more appropriately.”

An exasperated sputtering of the lips.” If I got to spend the night stuck at a campsite trying to woo some lady who is leagues above my station, at that. I will do so in **proper** camping attire and I will not be denied my requests.”

A weary sigh from the annoyed gentleman, before he could say anything, Kazu interjected.” And fair warning right now, to be clear. Anyone tries to make me wear some uptight suit on this one night…I’mma deck em on the mouth.” He stated matter-factly with a look saying just try me.

This warranted Hugo to dismiss his original words with a wave of the hand.” Fret not, I have no intention of earning your ire over a minor issue, however, I would not be remiss to remind you to behave, regardless of whatever reasons for your…overdramatic fears.” Warning in his tone.

His mood relenting as he then raised his hands in a defeated manner.” Easy, easy. Just cause I have no idea what the hell I’m gonna do, being a jerk to a lady is the furthest from my mind. Believe me, I’ve already got plenty of bad eyes on me as it is, don’t be needing to get anymore coming after me.” Knowing his luck, he doubted things would go so smoothly, to his chagrin.

“ Long as it is understood.” House Asteroth needed not more negative views and to see young Kazumin shaken up by something simple as a courting event.” I wish to state this and I say so with no offense more so to understand, but one would think that one of your status would jump at such an opportunity.” Saying it out aloud left the man visibly perplexed as he peered at the younger man queerly.” Certainly, were it any man from your village they would be rightfully beside themselves.” Finishing his vocal pondering with a small smack of the lips, eager for an answer.

The questions that hit Kazumin left him appearing as if he might hit back with a rebuke, instead let out a sigh as he slipped the knife back in the pack before leaning forward, yet again with arms resting along his knees, fingers pressed together musingly as he gazed somewhere between the floor and Hugo.” Heh, you’re definitely not wrong there.” Chuckled, a soft smile lined with sad chocolate brown eyes.

That was something he had been wondering about, himself, for as long as he could think.” If any of the fellas back at home had even an inkling of what I was doing, they’d have me sack and clobbered with filled socks.” Unable to help but snicker at the image of the sheer jealousy they would have.” You don’t even want to know what the Anastasia fan club would do. Man, if they ever find out I danced with their beloved p r i n c e s s ….” Trailing off having said the last word in a long slow process as flashes of the newspaper hit like a spun newswheel, dawning on him.” Shit! Oh fuck! You don’t think the news got to them, already, do you?”

[Quick zoom to a small run-down barn in a secluded outcropping a smidge removed from Kazumin’s village]

A group of drunk and incredibly pissed farmhands of varying ages and some gals huddled and crying around their treasured poster of Princess Anastasia. Sitting inches below, lie the poster depicting the source of their woes with mentioned newspaper scrap pinned next to Kazumin’s stupid grinning face. The image had been drawn over to look like a scummy dirtbag with crude scribbles and drawings.

Voices cried out in frustration.” Damn you Kazu!” and “ It should have been me-e-e-e!” Along with. “ Fuck him and his bouncy cowlick!” Among other jeers and booes aimed at Kazu as rocks and darts were flung, some brandishing voo-doo dolls trying to curse him.” Go to hell you blonde bastard!”

[Best mosey on back]

Scratching at his chin, pondering for a minute then shrugged his shoulders.” Ahh it will be fine. Hardly any of them can hardly read anyway….might need to ask Ani for some kind of gift to take back for them though..just to be safe.” Further chin scratching pondering at this.

“ Anywho, let’s just say for short story sake, my interests always been in other places like exploration and so forth. Hm…” Why was that so, he hoped to discern that eventually. A clap of his knees and a big huffing exhale.” Phew, welp. Not much I can do about it, so might as well try and get into the spirit. Lords knows some good old roughhousing is good for a hard reset, a break from all the drama nonsense and a chance to have the ladies experience camping could make this an interesting night.” Excitement began to fill his face anew.

A quizzical raise of the brow from Hugo.” Roughhousing? Mr. Nagasa….it seems Miss Sasha has failed to relay the full details of this camp event.” Obscuring his face, hiding an amused smirk as he had a feeling it was by no means an accident. For once, Hugo would get to enjoy a little show.

This was met with a quizzical tilt of the head from Kazu.” What? The fuck are you goin on ab-” Mouth went agape as the carriage pulled up and around to a stop at the entrance of pinewood. And with each horrific rumbling clack of the wheel, came the views of the tents and festivities. His face now pressed against the window’s glass, eyes widening in horror as he took in the disgustingly glamerous tents and lavish decorations and facilities all their fancy typical crap.

“ no……no…..No………Noo N- ooh I do like the lanterns though……NOoooo- oh god whyyy!” Face pressed further upon the glass in between each pause, forced to take in the hellish scene drawing upon him.” Oh..no..gods….what have you noble bastards done?! Is nothing sacred…oh lords, Hugo no..this..this isn’t camping? This..this sick abomination…what the hell even is this? Glamorous camping? Glamping?! Glamping Hugo!”

Sounds of immense disappointed wailing and thumping of forehead against glass could be heard. The carriage rocketed gently as Hugo was left to let the distraught fool get it all out.

Nearly five minutes passed before the door finally clicked open, where a dejected Kazumin stepped his way down, pack clutched and held to his right side; noticing the rest having gathered in the pavilion and with a defeated sigh, he trudged his way over.

Along the way as he went.” Ugh…come on, Kazu. You still got your pack, can still camp your way after…” Glancing around at the overly-indulgent set-up surrounding him, a mockery of camping; gagged from the sights, a headache inducing onslaught almost.” You can do this. Shouldn’t be that hard to do this whole..courtship thing. I can only pray its not a lady of stupidly high standing….might be some smaller house or someone I know, yeah? The uncertain blonde pep-talked with only marginal effect leaving him more nervous than agitated now.

Soon pulling up to the group, giving himself one last deep breath.” It’s all good. Just go at it like you always do without stressing so much. Just think of this as a normal camp night out and it all should go smoothly…..gods I hope so.” At the very least he could only hope this night would not get any worse.

“Once everyone gathers 'round, we’ll start handing out your tent assignments! And,” she added with a playful wink, “you’ll be assigned your partner for the evening. So stay close! It’s going to be an unforgettable night!”

The announcement by the preppy duo, the real and stark reminder of the real purpose he was here for. And he had to put up with such peppy schmucks, you know those overly preppy counselors? This campsite was starting to feel more like a hellscape.

“ There better be some damn booze somewhere in this blasted camp. Damn you, Sasha.” Glaring his disdain at the moon, swearing to see her face almost mocking him.

[SilverPaw]

	Attire: Party fit (one brooch only) Date and Time: FLASHBACK: Sola 25th, Early Afternoon Location: His office Mention(s): @princess Anastasia Interaction(s):

His next meeting started off much more normally. A tall blonde man bearing a business suit and case knocked, entered, bowed once, and greeted him with a smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” he spoke with smooth confidence.

“Welcome…Mister De Fraud,” Wulfric greeted the agent with his chosen name. “On the one hand, I appreciate the humour behind your alias, but on the other, is it not too on the nose?” he questioned mildly.

“It’s pronounced as De Froy,” the man flashed a charming grin. “But to allay Your Highness’s worry, I have plenty of names and disguises I can use when approaching any given target,” he assured.

Wulfric hummed. “Your resume is admirable. Extensive enough that I would be comfortable employing just you were this not a 24/7 job. As it is, I have hired another agent…”

The slightest whisper of wind tickled his neck. Wulfric turned in his seat, only to notice his balcony doors had been opened, and a woman stood right at his back. He blinked, muscles tensing before he forced them to relax, the only signs of his surprise. “Miss Thorne. An…intriguing way to greet your employer.”

So much for ‘normal’.

“Good day, Your Highness,” she spoke softly, and bowed in the Kimoonese fashion. She was tall for a lady, had her black hair pinned up in a bun, and wore the sort of dress he’d expect from an entertainer.

The prince gestured to a sofa. “Both of you, sit, and let us proceed to business.” When his gaze fell on the male spy after his brief talk with Miss Thorne, De Fraud appeared entirely different. His hair was brown, shaggier, and longer; a wig, surely, but he wouldn’t have guessed had he not known there had been a change. His suit had been replaced by casual attire reminiscent of a school teacher. He wore glasses, had a cheaper wristwatch, worn shoes, a pen and notebook sticking out of his coat pocket, and the suitcase had been – Wulfric assumed – hidden within a stack of papers he carried underneath one arm. His demeanour was disparate too. He was more nervous, awkward, and seemed out of place.

“Impressive, truly,” Wulfric murmured.

“Ah-hh, thank you kindly, Prince Wulfric,” he spoke with an authentic Florentin accent now when previously, he had none.

The prince chuckled. “Well, then, let us start.” Once the two were sitting down, he did so. “Miss Thorne, you specialize in assassination, but I read you have accomplished protection missions before. Can you capture your targets rather than kill?”

The woman nodded. “I can restrain myself.”

“Good. I’d prefer to have enemies questioned before they’re disposed of, if possible. Your main mission will be to follow Anastasia, see what she gets up to, and spy on any suspicious associates of her. You are also serving as additional protection for her. I will eventually hire more agents, and switch you out if I need something else taken care of. You do not mind attending to auxiliary tasks, do you?”

They both agreed that was perfectly acceptable. Wulfric went into the details of their assignment, then sent them off. De Fraud had changed into his initial guise, and Thorne had, once again, departed through the balcony.

[CitrusArms]

Stratya Durmand

Time: 25th,
Location: Pinebrook Camping Event
Attire: Very Light Armor Set
Zweihander Greatsword + Simple Leather Sheath
Swordbreaker
Family Dirk + Crest
Interactions: Ariella @Tpartywithzombi
Mentions: Kira @Potter

Stratya was just taking in the beauty of her surroundings, relaxing herself for the time being, when someone came skipping toward her. Certainly a welcome distraction from brooding, the Captain smiled warmly as she turned to face the younger lady, pushing off the pillar she’d leaned gently against. She placed a hand lazily on the end of her zweihander’s hilt to steady it as she moved, a plain leather scabbard protecting the blade from dulling against the ground. Not that a big sword like that needed to be particularly sharp. Her bundle of effects were tied around the large weapon’s handguard. As she watched Ariella approach, she noticed someone else who had occupied herself with standing aside and watching. There wasn't much time to watch or analyze her, but something about her seemed out of place. Hm. Anyway.

“Lady Arriella,” she chimed, pleased to have a pleasant face to look at, “aye, the air frrom the fahrrest is crrisp an’ rrefrreshin’ an’ t’ sky is clear. Looks like therre’ll be a lot o’ food, too. Ooh, I’m rreyt glad I came.”

“ This should be quite the evening I think. How are you feeling after my brother's party? “

“Oh, I’m jes’ fine, thank‘ee f’rr askin’, swee'earr’. It’d take morre’n a strrong drrink orr two ta ge’ me ill. Even if they were unusually strrong.” The friendly knight leaned in, lowering her voice, “t’ween you ‘n me, m’Lady, I’ve been dodgin’ t’ social even’s. I'm a figh'er, nae socialite.” She leaned back again, chuckling, “I though’ tha’ was jus’ some drrink I’d never seen, aye? Hweh! More t’ fool, me.”

Speaking of the party, the knight remembered, “you were in’errested in ‘andling a blade, aye? You mentioned somethin’ at t’ par’y, but y’r fahtherr appearred and ye seemed nae inclined tae mention it ‘rround ‘im.” Stratya hummed softly as she considered Ariella, briefly, and then she dug around for a moment before producing a plain dagger from within her bag of things. “I unduhstand most lassies are nae rraised with weapons like I was. Nae t’ trea’ ye like a child, but nae swingin’ i’ ‘rround, ey? If yerr interrested in tha’, I c’n give ye figh’in’ lessons la’er. I have boffles we c’n swing abou’ at ‘ome.” The dagger was short, only most of a hand long, with a small guard.

“I brrough’ tha’ ferr forraging, but, ah,” she paused, taking another look at the surroundings of glamorous camping. It seemed like everything was provided, “I wonder if I’ll need ta.” The Captain looked between the dagger and Ariella for a moment, before asking, “‘forre I go ‘andin’ this overr to ye, Lady Ariella, what ken ye of ‘andlin’ a blade?”

[Conscripts]

John & Roman

---

Ah, someone he could trust. He hadn’t worked with him for too long, but all the times that he had to deal with him, the man had been professional and nothing short of impressive. At this moment of this crisis seemingly crawling and seeping through the cracks beneath the earth, threatening to swallow this earth while the nobles went for each other’s throat, it was good to have allies.

”Lord Ravenwood.” John bowed firmly with a hand on his chest. Understanding the cues, he leaned in a little, and followed along with whatever Roman deemed safe. ”Sure. Long story short, you knocked several guards unconscious. Some tried to stop you. In the ruckus, their youngest went out cold.”

”You’re aware of why you went rogue, right?” He crossed his arms. ”Would save me some time if you do.”

Roman walked with John a little ways away from the pavilion before he spoke again, “No.” he said bluntly with a hushed voice. “The tonic I took alters one’s perception. I was talking to my grandfather who died twelve years ago.” shifting his head slightly to keep his ears open for anyone investigating the pair. “My instincts would have told me to protect… what happened after I charged off into the forest?” never one to beat around the bush, Roman opted to get straight to the point.

”You barged through the guards trying to hold you down, tried to pursue something I’m not sure, but then…” John gladly obliged. ”Two people joined in trying to knock you down. One is Farim, and the other is this woman who used some form of magic on you. She appeared angered that we were intervening, but I won’t deny, she knew what was going on with you, that being…”

John took a deep breath. He didn’t know how to explain it at first, as it all depended if Roman knew what was going on with his own body. He seemed to be rather well-informed to the extent that he could, so John decided to be as straightforward as Roman would have liked, but was prepared for questions.

”After you seemed to calm down, something formed above and around you, before our eyes. Literally.” John said. ”They were many, translucent…silhouettes, if I were to describe them. There’s no face I can describe, just that it looks very vaguely humanoid, to put it generously.”

From what he described, it sounded more of a fairy tale or a horror story than a situation report, but that was what he saw, and he assumed everybody saw as well.
”Those silhouettes made angry comments about us being sinners, and that we ‘stole’ this land from them. Then they disappeared, just like that.” John concluded, continuing to the princess. He sighed, knowing this was his mess.

”As for the princess.” He said, doing a brief shoulder check before continuing. All of a sudden, he noticed someone looking his way. He wasn’t sure if those were just the usual gossipers, but he decided not to take any chances. ”She ran off into the forest after you had already fought Farim and that woman, so it’s not your fault. From what I heard, she was found unconscious but only with a bruise. To me it just sounded like she wasn’t watching where she was going and bumped her head, or whoever struck her was quite soft so as to not hurt her.”

John gave as much hints as possible that it was them that did it. Whether Roman would get it was up to him. If not he’d have to arrange a different meeting later on, privately.

His brow furrowed and his eyes twitched as he searched through his mind as to what could have happened and what he was saying. “Sounds like possession.” He whispered more thinking out loud than anything. “More than a few pissed off spirits around this city,” he continued. “The presence of the other women is strange and doesn't sound like one of ours.”

Again he pressed through the information he was just given and nodded, “Farim might be an issue, you're sure no one was around or has come forward about the princess being injured?” a witness to what happened would be an issue as well but speculation could be worked around. If what he was picking up from the doctor and what he was saying was true and he had a hand in it.

The information the man provided matched up with several of the other reports he was able to look over. He still had to ask him about it earlier today but one problem at a time. Roman still had his own information to give to the doctor. Trying to investigate this other mystery woman was another thing he would have to make a report on later.

”Not that I’m aware of the contrary.” John whispered, but he was sure, because they were the only ones there at that time. So the only corroboration that could implicate John would have been Anastasia, and from what he heard, she was not known for reliability.

”As for that woman, yeah I do not know where she came from. I do know that she ‘threatened’ Mina as a decoy to get your attention. That would be something for her to elaborate further.” John said, then proceeded to give Roman a general description of Torvi.

”I’m still a little unsure of how this possession works, but just from the big picture, this seems like 2 unfortunate events - you drinking the tonic and the princess being injured - unrelated but the crown is connecting the dots.”

A sigh escaped him, roman took a glance back towards where everyone else was being dropped off clenching and releasing his jaw. “We will look into her more at another time right now there are more pressing issues.” He stepped in closer to his friend, his voice again lowering to a hushed whisper.

“I had multiple physicians that were tasked with subduing me should I lose control given the nature of the tonic specifically made for me. Two of them went beyond what was ordered and took it upon themselves to remove anyone out of my way by any means in order to protect them. Unfortunately Ana was one of them.” His mind was racing as he spoke remembering what was discussed at his earlier meeting with his people. They would have to fabricate at least two other statements from their people to support this claim if it was pushed.

“Those two have been stripped of their positions and will be returning home within the next two days to receive punishment, prison, and reeducation.” A pause to lock eyes with john. Making sure he understood what was being said for all of its gravity. “I will take responsibility for this. It plays into my own plans.”

John made a note to tell the Society this. This would be something they could likely help with. They maintained records and licenses of physicians across the country (a relatively new thing in Varian society). He knew Roman. The man enjoyed seeing a well-oiled machine work, so if there were any pebbles John could remove for him, it would benefit both of them. They could probably make the case better too.

As for Roman’s plan…

”You sure?” John furrowed his brows a little. ”Caesonian laws are not known to be fair, even for Varians.”

John trusted Roman to have a plan, but the doctor still had some trauma over Caesonian treatment of him many many years ago. Inside, he didn’t want the man to be subject to the same thing.

“Agreed, but here the king is the law. I plan on giving him an opportunity he won't want to miss.” he couldn't risk telling him everything. Not that he didn't trust him but drugs and magic could get you to divulge information you would rather not and there may be listening ears nearby still. “No matter what happens, stick to that story and don't stray from it.” a thought came to mind as he spoke.

“If you and yours come across any evidence of rampant magical use or sickness pass those reports onto me or Erik, if you think something needs to be paid for our misdirection.” He didn't know that physicians without kingdoms organization would see this as him trying to pull favors but at least this way it would definitely pull some scrutiny away from them so they can continue their work.

With that settled it was time to bring up the other thing, “can you give me a bit more detailed report on what happened to you this morning?” there was a hint of something in his voice and his posture. Anger but at who or what?

John gave much of what Roman said a firm nod, and left it at that. Until he brought up the attacks earlier today. John’s teeth gritted. He was of the same temperament as Roman, but for a different reason.

”It was near the Sorian temple. A perfumer outside the shop Lasko sprayed something on my face, making me see…unpleasant things from my past.” He spared Roman the description. ”I managed to keep myself relatively in control, because I’ve been under magic influence before, but I had to flee.”

That was what he knew at least. What came next was speculation. ”I don’t think she was the shop’s oblivious employee. And while I’m not sure who’s the people committing the attack, I’m pretty sure I know who calls the shot: Calbert.”

“Hmm” was the only immediate answer from him as he mulled over the information. What he said matches up with most of the information that was in the report. Like with Riona he couldn't give him all of the information but there were a few things he could tell him to at least get him on the same page or close enough to it. John was, after all, very intelligent and careful.

Again his voice was but a whisper, “Calbert is definitely connected but our intelligence points at him working with the criminal syndicate in the city. Our sources believe it's the same one that's running most of the black market dealings in Varian as well.” again it was speculation for him as well but given what Violet told him and what he has observed, that man has his schemes. Getting his hands dirty directly didn't seem like his way.

He paused as he considered his next words, this time leaning in to whisper in the Dr.’s ear. “Your lot needs to proceed with extreme caution, we have found evidence of between two to four vampires operating within the city. Possibly under the employment of the syndicate or someone very powerful.” he stepped back to gauge the man's reaction while he remained just as serious and stoic.

”That sounds about right.” Somehow the idea of a criminal syndicate targeting him didn’t phase him that much, but several vampires running around the city did.

”Vampire…” John planted his lips on his palm, pondering. Was that Violet girl one of those vampires? She didn’t seem like the type, but human hearts are difficult to predict. Or…

Was Mina’s uncle a vampire too?
That certainly fitted the description. His blood gained life when other people’s blood were added. He always seemed pale and lifeless. It was a good hypothesis worth investigating, but he wasn’t sure if Mina should know. For all he knew, the guy could be part of this syndicate too and John would be walking into the cave there.

”That’s valuable information to have, thank you. Let’s see if we have any sort of countermeasure against those creatures.” He nodded. ”We’ll go around only when the coast is confirmed clear.”

John pondered a little bit further. ”I won’t make any conclusions yet, but I have a feeling one of us Varians at home may be one too.” He whispered back.

The way John mentioned creatures as a description for the afflicted people made him involuntarily squint his eyes into a glare. Yet he was right to be worried about them just as he was. “Cursed people not creatures. And yes we are aware but we are more worried about the ones we don't know about. The last thing we want is the inquisition of this kingdom investigating.”

Rumors always circulated about the medical conditions of some of the nobility. His father made him aware of several issues with several nobles and that we were not able to move against them or confront it. Surely there was some deal put in place between his father or the crown and these nobles. Either way it currently wasn't his problem.

“Do you have anything else to report?”

”No…” John finally let out a sigh, knowing he had not much else to pretend.

He would pat Roman in the shoulders, but again, he wanted to keep the image of a lord and a commoner, so he bowed his head lightly.

”People don’t know it, but we’re in dangerous times.” John said, smiling with a tight lip. ”I hope what you’re doing works out. Stay safe. Don’t get killed.”

“Likewise, remember I take the heat, you and yours just pass along any magical use you come across to us.” He sighed. He could only wish that their lives didn't have to be like this, that they could relax and enjoy what time they had. There will always be work to be done, and so they must go to work.

Roman plastered the fake smile and body language he has been using for most of his life and bellowed out a hearty laugh. Stepping around the tree and back towards the others, “and that's when I told her, "That's not me you got a hold of that's my hammer.”” another laugh to really set in that he was just telling John some off color jokes.

It takes two to tango, and John filled in the steps well. He replied in fake cackling. ”Like…what part of you did she mistaken for your hammer, my god?”

[princess]

Charlotte, Olivia, Kazumin, Leo, Fritz, & Wulfric
Part 2

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

---

He was very much trying to behave and maintain the role, but then the prince walked in, bringing with him a most unexpected opportunity. Now it was clear why he had truly donned this outfit today; his tasks in this moment formed. The dashing gentleman strolled over to the couch, the gentle thump of his cane followed by a light thunk as he placed a chair beside Leo’s. He then sat upright, his hat nearly slapping Leo in the face in the motion, now giving him unlimited access. “My dear Lord Prince! What an honor to be graced by such a distinguished presence. A shame the rest aren’t appropriately dressed for one so imposing. Apologies for the lack of a proper greeting, but Sir Leo is in need of distraction… Would you like to try, my lord?” He gave a light nod, nearly knocking off his majestic hat, offering it to any in need in this tense situation. Wulfric denied the silly man with a curt shake of his head.

A cold dismissal, but not surprising with this icy prince’s stubborn wall. I will get you to ruffle my feathers by the end of this meeting… I promise you this, dear princy. He thought, bemusedly twirling the tip of his mustache.

A cacophony of voices in the background made Olivia’s stomach drop. Nonetheless, she did as Charlie asked and left to get water.

Olivia returned from the kitchen with two full pitchers of water in her hands. It seemed impossible, yet she set them both down with ease. Once settled, she looked up and stared with bewilderment at the group in front of her. Her gaze slid to Fritz, and she offered him a courteous nod. He waved back with a smile, but tilted his head when she moved on without saying anything to him.

Next, her gaze fell on Prince Wulfric, and she bowed politely. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince Wulfric. My name’s Olivia.” She smiled at him, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Pleasure,” he retorted, uncertain why someone who appeared to be a servant was introducing herself to him. Or why, if she was a guest, she had taken on a servant’s duties.

Afterward, she turned to Leo, and her brows furrowed. “What happened to him?” She quickly poured him a cup of cold water and handed it to him.

Her gaze shifted to Kazumin, her eyes widening with awe. Then she smiled with amusement and waved at him. “Hi! You’re Kazumin, right? Nice to meet you. That’s, uh, quite the outfit!” A pang in her chest reminded her how difficult it was to act like strangers in front of others, but she hoped he’d understand.

Briefly, Ryn wondered why these two were acting like strangers, then remembered that the other men were not aware of the situation. “I agree, it’s truly eye-catching, My Lord.”

Kazumin's smile gleamed as he waved gently, the feathers atop his glorious hat bouncing with the motion. He bowed lightly. “Indeed, lovely miss! I’m glad you approve, for I feared my attire might be too much, or perhaps too little in this case.” He shot a sly, cheeky glance in the prince's direction, thinking of even bigger flourishes. “And you are Lady Olivia, yes? I’ve heard and seen your kind deeds for this unfortunate fellow.” He paused to let her tend to Leo.

“I’m fiiiine,” Leo insisted, clumsily accepting the water from Olivia. “Fisticuffs. You should see the other guy,” he said, nodding as if what he said made sense. “I win.” He boasted, even though it was a draw and his best hit had been a sucker punch. “No more Leo talk. We dis-dis-cuss the invest… the spooky magics and bad rose.” He grimaced at the water, holding the cool glass to his blackened eye, spilling some of it as he did so.

Kazumin moved fluidly to Leo’s side, gently placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him, his grip firm yet hardly felt. “This lad is fortunate to have such kind and thoughtful ladies tending to him, an act so seldom seen in… these kinds of parts,” he said, gesturing broadly to the noble district.

Charlotte straightened gracefully as Wulfric entered, offering him a polite bow. Her voice was steady but carried a hint of nervousness. “Your Highness. Good evening… Thank you, I-uh. We’ve made it as far as cold water, at least.” She gestured to Olivia, who had entered with the pitchers.

From behind them, Delilah's gentle voice chimed in. “I’ve got it! I’ll return with everything in a jiffy and ask Gilbert or Nathaniel to call for a doctor.” As she delicately set down the tea, her eyes met Wulfric’s for a brief moment. The prince smiled politely, and her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. She quickly exited the room with a bright, flustered smile.

Ryn raised his hand in greeting, only for it to fall unnoticed. He chuckled. “Well, Your Highness, it seems you’ve charmed yet another admirer into your circle.”

“A natural by-product of my existence,” he drawled, amused.

“Ah, the burden of being irresistible. How do you manage?”

Wulfric’s lips twitched into a smirk. “With ease, of course.”

“I noticed,” Ryn winked.

Charlotte sat beside Leo, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, worry in her eyes. “I don’t think this is something he’d normally do. This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed something... strange.” She paused, searching his face as if she could find answers beneath the surface. Her eyes trailed down his torso, checking for wounds.

“Just the other day, you were speaking in that high-pitched voice and having giggle fits,” she said softly, “and then you turned... well, pink. And now this?” Her brows furrowed in concern. “What’s going on, Leo? We can get to everything else, I promise, but I need to know.” Without waiting, she carefully took the glass and pressed it to his eye.

“...Maybe you should stay in one of our guest rooms tonight,” she suggested gently, her tone insistent. Her gaze shifted to Fritz. “Fritz, do you still have those spectacles? Is this…”

“Drug-induced? It’s possible,” Ryn replied, mindful of their company’s unknown views on arcane matters, the prince among them.

He had checked Lord Smithwood’s magicae, but the energy suggested a strong magicae imprint rather than a residual hex. The idea of a cursed object crossed his mind, though the effects seemed inconsistent and short-lived. Drugs, mundane or magical, seemed a more plausible cause.

Lottie’s brows knitted thoughtfully. “Maybe…”

Wulfric eyed the count, intrigued. Charlotte’s mention of ‘those spectacles’ caught his attention. He had seen the man wearing them twice, despite having no apparent need for glasses. He didn’t address it but said instead, “We cannot hold a discussion with Leo in this state. I suggest we postpone.” He turned to Charlotte, indicating his departure. “This was brief, but I appreciate the invitation. Please list all expected guests next time.” He bowed.

“Pranks,” Leo said, focusing his words. “Silly voice, pink skin, now water drunk. Always fine after.” He set the glass down. “I’m handling it.” Speaking slowly, he added, “Gonna deal with it tomorrow.” He suspected who the prankster was but held back, recalling his talk with Morrigan after the Alidasht dinner.

Leo found his notebook, flipped a few pages, and tore one out, placing it on the table: Hendrix: ugly glasses, why? Trying to look smarter? He looked at Fritz, expecting an answer.

Ryn chuckled. “Did it not work?”

“Wait, Prince Wulfric,” Lottie objected, frowning. She squeezed Leo’s hand before rising. “Your Majesty, if I may, Lord Smithwood, Count Hendrix, and I questioned attendees of the Black Rose’s party. Could we share our findings, if you can spare a moment, please?”

“If you have anything to share, then by all means.”

[princess]

Welcome to the Camping Event!

@ReusableSword@JJ Doe@TpartywithZombi@Rodiak@samreaper@CitrusArms@Potter@Conscripts

The campfire crackled and hissed as the gathering of nobles drew near, drawn by the inviting glow of lanterns and the fragrant scent of pine smoke. A man stepped forward to address the crowd. He wore the uniform of a camp host, but the resemblance to Darryn Fletcher was uncanny, even if there was something subtly wrong about it.

With a practiced smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he began, “Welcome, friends, to Pinebrook’s Courting Season Camping Event.” His voice carried a hollow, echoing edge to it, as though coming from just behind a mask. “I am your host for the evening, Quinn,” he introduced himself, “And I am here to ensure your night under the stars is one to remember.”

Quinn’s gaze swept over the gathering, and for a moment, his face seemed to shimmer, as if the heat from the campfire made his features waver. He gestured grandly to the elegant tents, the beautifully illuminated lake, and the moonlit woods. “Tonight, we leave behind the comforts of Sorian and embrace the wild beauty of nature—though with the royal touch, of course.”

He stepped closer to the fire, casting shadows that danced in odd patterns across his face. “They say these woods have seen much through the ages, that they remember what has been lost and what still lingers,” he continued, his tone low and conspiratorial. “But worry not—tonight is a celebration of life, love, and the connections we may find in the most unexpected of places.”

With a raised silver goblet, Quinn offered a toast. “To all of you” he declared, “and to the bonds forged under these stars, may they lead us true through whatever trials and triumphs await.”

The crowd responded with polite applause, though some guests exchanged uneasy glances. Quinn’s eyes roamed the group, lingering on anyone who did the same toward him.

Quinn lowered the silver goblet, his smile still in place. “Now,” he said, his voice carrying over the crackling fire and murmurs of the crowd, “before we dive into the night’s grand events, I invite you all to relax, explore, and mingle. There’s a spread of delightful snacks waiting for you, carefully prepared to please even the most discerning of palates.” He gestured toward the elegantly arranged table nearby, the lanterns above casting a warm glow on the array of food.

“But do pace yourselves,” he added with a playful lilt, his smile twitching slightly. “Save room for the main event, for soon, we’ll begin our Team Cooking Competition! You’ll be working in teams with your assigned camping partner.” His eyes scanned the crowd, noting any reactions of curiosity or excitement. “If you’d like to participate, or if you have any questions about your partner or the competition, do come to me. I’d be more than happy to assist.”

Quinn clasped his hands together, and the firelight seemed to shimmer around him for a split second. “Until then, enjoy the company of your fellow guests, the beauty of Pinebrook, and perhaps a moment of peace before the friendly competition begins.” He stepped back, his eyes still keenly observing, as the guests began to disperse toward the refreshments and each other.

[princess]

Time: Evening
Location: Her bedroom --> Castle Hall

---

The party in Anastasia’s lavish bedroom was already in full swing, though the night had only just begun. Her room had morphed into a whirlwind of delightful chaos. The intoxicating aroma of expensive perfumes mingled with the sharp tang of spilled wine, while silk cushions and velvet throws were strewn about haphazardly. Beautiful trays overflowing with delicate pastries, fresh fruits, and gleaming goblets of wine adorned every available surface.

There were perhaps six guests already, a motley crew of men and women who had all been drawn into the revelry. It had been easy to sneak them into her bedroom; convincing the guards to let them in was far simpler than getting permission to step outside. They were under the impression that a silly sleepover was occurring, though a few had raised brows at the “women”—men struggling to breathe in dresses, some spitting out locks of wigs they had clearly borrowed for the occasion.

Now, as the night began, she was the center of attention, the life of the party, exuding a charisma that lit up the room. Draped in a dress that would have made her mother faint, she laughed and joked with her guests, cheeks flushed with the thrill of it all.

“Gods, princess, how are you so perfect?” she lamented. “I wish I looked like you.”

Anastasia waved her hand dismissively, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, stop it,” she teased.

A young man on her left, already shirtless, leaned in, his gaze drinking her in. “You’re more than perfect,” he whispered, his words slurred but sincere. The heat of his body radiated toward her as he leaned in a little too close for comfort.

_{"...Do they know the real Princess Anastasia?”}

Her pupils dilated, and for just a moment, she hesitated. “...Careful, or I might start to believe you,” she flirted back, leaning slightly toward him.

_{Darryn's dead. Murdered.}

With each round, more clothing was shed, laughter bubbling around the room like champagne. Anastasia felt the energy surge, the excitement intoxicating her more than the wine. But just as she reveled in her role, the young man beside her leaned closer, his hands wandering in a way that felt more demanding than playful.

A woman ran her fingers gently down her arm, seemingly drawing a line from freckle to freckle on her skin. She whispered, “You’re the real prize of this party, you know?”

Anastasia feigned innocence, giggling as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, darling! I thought you were here for the pastries!” she teased, but her laugh held a slightly brittle edge, a flicker of something deeper momentarily crossing her face.

_{"...Do you?"}

It was at that moment she realized she had been dealt a bad hand. “...Oh no! I lost!” she exclaimed dramatically, her heart racing. The guests cheered, and Anastasia felt a rush of daring. "This must be some sort of rare event, like a solar eclipse! Someone grab the parchment; we need to document this historic occasion!”

“Your turn, Princess!” one of the girls cheered.

Anastasia couldn’t help but play up her role, throwing her hands up in mock despair. “But what a tragic fate! My reputation will be tarnished forever!” She rose up and spun around, her dress flowing dramatically, drawing gasps and giggles from her guests.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Princess,” the man at her side practically purred like a cat.

A familiar feeling rose in her stomach. The same feeling that gnawed at her as she woke up in the middle of the night in a stranger's bed, somewhere she didn't recognize. That feeling of being utterly alone in the dark that prompted her to lay back down and clutch the stranger close.

“Do you think they'll still like you once they realize how fake you are?”

The laughter around her felt distant as she forced a smile, the joy of the moment fading into a dull thrum. The room spun slightly as she caught her breath. With a cheeky laugh, she recovered quickly, “Alright, alright!” she called, her voice bright but trembling slightly. The moment hung heavy around her as she wrestled with the shadows that threatened to pull her under. She climbed up and stood on her side table. Standing atop the table, she felt both powerful and exposed, her heart racing as Farim's face formed in her mind.

_{Did you think I really loved you? Do you really think anyone would? That anyone would want you for anything other than to take you to bed?}

…Maybe that’s why you've been living your life like a whore instead of a princess…

And she continued to stand there.

Clearly, you’ve taken those hard-learned lessons to heart and wouldn’t dare risk getting another lowborn beaten and killed just so you can keep having fun with your friends, right?

Perhaps she hadn't quite shed the dress off her body this time, something she had done countless times with no regret, but it was only now as she stood above them all that she had ever truly felt the feeling of being naked.

In a sudden rush, Anastasia bolted toward her bedroom door, throwing it open with fervor. Without hesitation, she sprinted down the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest, the guards' startled protests echoing behind her as their armor clanged and rattled in their frantic attempt to catch up.

Behind her, the party guests stared in bewilderment, their laughter dying down as they tried to comprehend the abrupt change in the atmosphere.

"Oh, poor princess.”

[CitrusArms]

An Enjoyable Duel

Wulfric & Stratya

Year 1737 - Two Years Ago

Outside, the sun peeked over the horizon.

The passage of time, marked by the skies’ changing hues. Pitch black night gave way to the light blues of twilight. Soft pinks crept in, intermingling with fiery orange-reds and bright yellows.

The city was slowly waking up after having fallen asleep the eve before. The squires, and other knights-to-be had been given no such luxury. An hour before midnight, they had to present themselves at the grand cathedral. Each of them had donned a humble ceremonial vesture. Each of them had been cleansed in a pool of blessed water. Each shivering wet body had been led to the main hall. They dispersed among the statues of the seven gods – Triumpheus, Aquena, Imperis, Amora, Tempestes, Vena, and Duedon. All had knelt throughout the night, praying. Standing up was permitted only when changing their positions at the altars, as each candidate had to pray to each god.

The lone woman among the candidates stood out. She’d asked to wear ceremonial warrior robes, an old tradition from her village. It had been made with the fur of the boar from her first hunt, nine years ago, and with other furs gathered that year, so it would be large enough to fit her always. It was a good fit, and kept her warm.

If it wasn't for a hunt, or there wasn't immediate danger, the huntress wasn't one to hold herself so still, nor was she in the habit of praying. She found the mental and spiritual exercise settling, as she found herself in front of the statue of Vena. Thoughts of her first hunt entered her mind. Had the Goddess smiled on her at that moment?

Raynor had taught her about the Pantheon, but she could only remember so much. As she prayed, however, she remembered more, slowly. What each God or Goddess stood for, how they had once warred with deities Raynor hadn’t spoken as much of. That they’d all been created and united by something yet higher that was gone now.

The leader of the gods, Zivitas, was depicted in a grand statue at the front. Throughout the vigil, the crown prince had stood there to observe the rites, so still and silent, he may as well have been a sculpture himself. He wore a ceremonial armour of fine make, proudly bearing Caesonian colours, the royal crest engraved upon his breastplate. He moved only when strictly necessary; when it was time for the knight candidates to move from one of the god’s statues to another, he clapped once, paced a few steps to one side, then to the other, then returned to his station as a silent sentinel.

As the person who was considered to have been handpicked as the next divine ruler and placed on this world by the God of Light, the crown prince’s sheer presence was sublime. He exemplified virtue, radiated holiness, and embodied perfection.

Or so the tales sayeth.

But with him standing there by the altar, overseeing his worshipful supplicants, it was all too easy to believe it. An instinctive response when one gazed upon him: the surety that they were in the presence of the divine.

As she prayed, the lone woman found her eyes wandering, though the itch to move had gone. The church was an amazing structure like she’d not seen before. It was so grand, and the statues so awe inspiring. Her eyes went to the Statue of Zivitas at the front, and then down, to the Prince before it. Oh, they’d done him up marvelously. The armor was beautiful and glimmering, clearly glamored with the Glory of the Gods. And the man, Stratya could have mistaken him for a divine statue, himself.

The warrior had to admire his control. It wasn’t everyday you saw someone who could control their impulses and muscles so well to stand so still, not even sway or shuffle. Her father had always shown her understanding, and knew that she could listen just fine, even if her hands or eyes were busy, so he'd never bothered to force her to stay still when she didn't want or need to. What kind of training did the prince undergo, she had to wonder?

She caught herself staring and looked instead to the statue she was in front of. Surely, he’d noticed her staring. It wouldn’t do to give the wrong impression, like she was some star-struck bumpkin or something. No, she was just impressed. She’d been dubious whenever she considered what they said about the royal family and the Gods, but seeing the crown prince like that made her think it might not all be hogwash.

Only now that morning broke could the applicants approach the central altar. They knelt once again, arranged in a neat row. The final stretch of their night-long prayer was dedicated solely to Zivitas. At the very least, the knights would have company. Scarce guests had attended the vigil, but now that morning mass approached, more and more people began trickling in. Nobility in their finery, members of the militia, and curious commoners alike were in attendance.

Once the bell tolled quarter to nine, the queen appeared, her royal visage thoroughly dazzling. She walked in through the side entrance, an entourage of attendants following her. Prince Wulfric, who up until then seemed to have been frozen in place, finally moved. He turned to her with a courteous bow, awaiting her to join his side. As he rose smoothly to face the crowds once again, a servant announced, “Greet Her Majesty, the queen, and His Royal Highness, the crown prince!”

At once, the congregants rose, men bowing, ladies curtsying. The squires instead changed their kneeling posture, rising to one knee while bringing a fist to their chests.

The head priest entered from an adjacent chapel, and the guests sat down. The candidates who awaited the moment they would take their oaths returned to both knees.

“We are all gathered here to observe the knighting of these fine gentlemen – and lady – celebrating the virtues of honour, loyalty, and courage. He is no knight who is not ordered nor virtuous…” A long-winded sermon began, elaborating on the nature, conduct, and duties expected of knights.

Stratya Durmand, at first, listened intently, but as the words arriving at her ears began to resemble the similarly long-winded lectures from the village elders, her attention began to slip. By the time she was fifteen, she'd become quite accustomed to only giving them half an ear, and picking up on their questions and cues.

Stop that. Pay attention. This is an important day. It won't do for you to mess it up by being inattentive.

An hour later, the speech was finished, and the queen began calling up the applicants to knight them. She did it in alphabetical order, so there were a few people up before the lone woman. The procedure was the same for each person, the variations only in what the queen said to them, and the pledge they gave.

When it finally came time to be knighted, the woman in ceremonial furs had approached the Queen as those before her had, and knelt. The Gods had offered her mind respite from her previous years of trouble. She was presented to the queen by her sponsors then gave her pledge.
“On my ‘onor, I pledge to up’old the Virtues of Th’ Gods within t’ lands o’ t’ Kingdom. I vow ta always perrsuue Peace and Prrosperri’y for i’s people. I will defend t’ lives supporr’ed by t’ Kingdom’s borr’ers, and conduct myself wit’ digni’y and compassion. I will respect th’ lives I take in hunt, and the lives around me ev’ryday. I pledge my feal’y tae you, Yourr Grrace, Queen Alibeth Danrrose. May th’ Light guide my blade.”

“A fine pledge,” the queen proclaimed, cool satisfaction colouring her tone. “Stratya Durmand. You have cleared out a scourge plaguing this kingdom. At a young age, you have shown exemplary dedication and ability to protect Caesonia. I expect great things from you.” She subtly gestured to the woman’s sponsors, who respectfully passed her the weapons and the shield with its coat of arms. Alibeth took the sword first, ceremoniously raising it only to lower it into a tap on the woman’s shoulder. She tapped her other shoulder, then passed the equipment to the kneeling commoner. “Accept your new station,” the queen commanded. She kissed her own knuckles - a strange gesture, if one didn’t know what was coming - then backhanded Stratya across the cheek. It was a swift, resounding strike, stinging her skin red. “I dub thee ser Durmand. Arise.”

When Stratya did so, she was presented with the armour she now had the right to wear.

“Welcome to the ranks, Captain.” The first prince acknowledged her the same as he had everyone else. He inclined his head, and locked gazes with her. A moment passed, and then she was sent off. Now, the newly minted knight could enjoy her well-earned perks.

The queen gave her a home within the interior walls on the castle grounds. And land. Her mother, brother, and sisters, who had come with her for support, didn't want to move from their ancestral home, and she understood that, but herself, the new city she found herself in was refreshing. No painful memories. No thoughts lurking around every corner that made her question herself and if there hadn't been more she could have done to save him.

She had only a few hours to appreciate her shiny abode, however. She was supposed to mount her steed, and go join the parade. All knights were to ride around the city, then gather in the athletic stadium for a day of feasting and games. King Edin opened the event, the watchful queen in attendance at his side. The second prince Auguste joined the fresh knights, welcoming them along with his very own Knights of Dusk. The men - and woman - of the hour had food, drinks, and plenty of fun. Jousting tournaments, horse races, swordsmanship duels, boxing matches, and more. Hundreds of people gathered to watch, cheering them on.

Late in the afternoon, the crown prince joined them again. He had disappeared after the mass, and it was anyone’s guess as to what he’d been doing. He had changed armours, now donning a more practical leather armour. The celebrations had winded down, but matches were still ongoing. After catching up with his brother, Wulfric went into one of the arenas in the stadium. Without further ado, he joined in, challenging the occasional knight to a duel.

One of the ones he was interested in was the lady knight. So few women ever did make it to knighthood in Caesonia. Unfortunate, but it was what it was. When she caught his gaze, he nodded at her, and beckoned her closer.

The knight in question had been having a bit of fun competing. Well, not that she was very focused on how well she was doing. While her showings in jousting and horse racing had been, say, lack-luster, her abilities with her own two feet on the ground shone much brighter. She’d been a notable contender in the boxing matches and had a fair showing for archery, but she’d not lost a set of three in swordsmanship spars.

Though she’d been in that heavy iron and steel stuff for the parade, Stratya had changed into a set of hardened leather armor supplemented with chainmail, and a buckler on her forearm. Both lighter and cooler, though just a little worn. Since she had, her record had only strengthened. She bore a short sword and her dirk on one hip, and a dagger with a prominent hand guard on the other. The crest on her dirk matched the crest on the metal piece, on her chest.

“Good day, Captain. Auguste told me you have an unusual fighting style. Care for a match?”

“Prince W’lfrric,” the lady knight studied the Prince a brief moment, “I only ‘ope y’ve nowt rreservations o’ losin’ tae a woman, y’r ‘ighness. Some o’ these po’ lads take it a wee bit ‘arrd, y’ken.”

“What a boastful knight you make for,” he smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant. “Talking about winning before we have even done anything? I do hope your confidence is merited,” he drawled.

No, the prince didn’t seem like the kind of man who would challenge someone and then back down for much of anything. That wasn’t the sense she got of him when they locked eyes at the ceremony. “Well, Your ‘ighness backin’ oot now seems worrse’n losin’, don’it. I accept y’ challenge. Bes’ two o’ thrree? Morre?”

“Best two of three is fine.”

As Stratya took her starting position for their duel, she turned to face the prince by altering her stride and, instead of planting her foot and turning with her joints, she used the swing of her leg for momentum to spin on the ball of her foot and turn to face the prince, and land smoothly into her ready stance. She led her stance with the buckler, which she slid down onto her left fist, and drew the short sword into her right hand, to the back of her stance, pointed forward across her body.

Perhaps this fighting style was plain. Prince Wulfric had mentioned he’d heard from Prince Auguste she fought unusually. There were more interesting ways of fighting she’d shown today, but he'd have to hit her first, same as all the other knights who had seen more than this.

Wulfric withdrew his sabre, shifting into position as he did so, left foot to the back, right to the front, hips angled so his body presented less of a target. His first slice was swift and powerful, no announcements made. He had an impeccable sense of distance, showcasing his awareness that reach was to his advantage, striving to keep his opponent out of her optimal range. He had great control over his footwork, born of years of practice. Given each of his movements was measured, he was a surprisingly fierce combatant.
The prince was no slouch, she could see from his stance. Good, he'd make a fine opponent. This wasn't a confined alley or the woods, either. There was only the dirt, herself, and the prince to consider. He was likely more used to fighting in an open space, and he certainly seemed like he'd be ready to face real combat, if the need arose.

The knight noted Wulfric had brought a saber to spar with, something with more reach than her short sword, and leather armor. He understood speed, then? He wouldn’t be easy to overcome with maneuverability, but that was also how she understood how to fight. Metal armor was expensive, and the Barony of Encia had better things to do with their steel. The leather armor, gifted to her by then-Lord Raynor Lancaster during her investigation over the previous years, had been plenty good.

The crown prince opened their spar with a slice. Like second nature, Stratya's body reacted to the incoming blade. Her buckler swung out to meet his blade and knock his stance open for her opportunity. She took a step forward with her right, changing her stance to put her sword arm forward. She came back with her own forehand slice, attacking the flank she opened, a quick strike. He’d called her boastful and given her a smile she didn’t quite like. She had to earn her boasting, then.

The knight parried, and Wulfric withdrew his blade back before it was knocked too far away. He edged back slightly, inviting…Suddenly, the edge of his sabre was sliding along the short sword’s, shifting the course of its path. He drew the point of his sabre towards the woman’s chest. If she continued advancing for her strike, all she would manage was to get stabbed.

Watching her movements, her body, the sword, and the buckler. He knew she would not get so easily skewered, and prepared a follow-up slash. Since they’d ended up a bit closer together than was convenient for him, he aimed a quick kick at her abdomen, only to transition into his planned sabre maneouver.

Stratya flicked her wrist and tucked her blade under the incoming sabre, then raised her arm across her body, forfeiting her own strike to carry the prince’s sabre away from herself. When Wulfric kicked her hip, it forced her to step back again, but didn't break her stance. The arm she raised in deflection continued the motion from its follow through, to a chop aimed for his upper torso - his chest or pauldron - but the distance had become too great. Her attack missed and she took another step back, finishing her absorption of his kick. His blade was poised, but she saw his movements. Her sword arm was forward, but she needed to be closer. She couldn't slip for a moment, a fine opponent!

She sprang forward from her rear foot again, her buckler guarding her hand as she swung for another body shot, from low on her left side.
His sabre glanced off the knight’s buckler when she guarded his strike. The captain lunged towards him. She was quick and persistent. But so was he. He sidestepped, guiding his sword diagonally across his body, prepared to intercept her attack. He angled his body just so, repositioning in a way which led her further into his space. A prime opportunity for her.

He was ready to block, of course, but that wasn’t all. He let her sword slide against the false edge of his weapon. He wove the sabre’s tip craftily, as if seeking to bind her blade. While her momentum still carried her towards him, and when she was near enough, he grabbed her left forearm. It was a quick and unexpected pull, striving to disbalance. While she was recovering, his stance was such that he easily stepped past her. His next strike was targeting her exposed back!

There wasn't time to think about why the prince drew her in with his movements, she was already moving toward him. She saw the opportunity, but realized quickly that she had gotten greedy when she found her momentum being used against her. With his sabre, he'd carried her attack up and over him, and used the opening in her stance to grab her forearm from under her buckler and pull her through. It forced her to take another step to keep her feet under her, and still she was off balance. As she stumbled, he was moving behind her! Damnit, she couldn't turn and stay upright like this!

Stratya maneuvered her sword over her shoulder to block but felt the tell-tale impact of a sword against her armor as she chose to regain her footing. Her attempt at a block had missed, and she couldn't tell by how much - he'd hit her in the first bout. Her head turned to peer over her shoulder as she caught her breath, absorbing the fact. If she had pivoted as she fell to block, the distance could have been used to roll back up and ready again.

One bad decision. Ooh.

The knight grinned. This was exciting! She'd been pleased he wasn't a slouch, but this! She laughed as she straightened her posture, “Haha haa! You arre a fine figh’er, Yourr ‘ighness!” She tossed her buckler up and grabbed it out of the air by the edge, before giving it a short toss aside like a disc. Her dagger with the handguard came from its scabbard on her right hip, into her left hand, as she turned to face the prince again.

It was mostly a normal, if perhaps somewhat wide, dagger, except for the teeth along the back edge. It was deep between them, beyond simple serration, each hooked over the gap to catch things leaving. A swordbreaker, she held it as though the toothed back of the blade were the edge. She took her stance, her right foot only slightly back and her short sword held out to the side, edge to the prince and point angled toward him like the curved wing of an eagle. Her left arm and the swordbreaker were kept close to and in front of her body, like a folded wing, and she approached slowly.

There was the briefest appearance of a feral smile at his first victory. “That’s one,” he remarked. He watched eagerly as she took a different stance, changing out her buckler for a swordbreaker. A more aggressive approach, then.

If she was like a bird, a flurry of bladed wings fierce as a whirlwind, he was as fluid as water, a raging, twisting, serpentine torrent when on the attack, yet receding as surely as the retreating waves when evading. He had picked up speed in response to the captain’s two weapons, sabre weaving into a dizzying dance meant to overwhelm his opponent. His footwork remained grounded, and steady, but the knight could see - and knew from experience - that he wouldn’t be able to keep up this pace. Not for long, not long enough to have the first strike again. Stratya let her royal opponent wear himself down for a moment, waiting for the right movement from him as she focused on stepping past or deflecting his strikes. The inevitable moment when he faltered, the split second when he slowed down, she was ready.

Had the prince been emboldened by his first point, or had he been provoked by her posture which gave an air of superiority? Perhaps both. The knight saw her chance, the kind of movement she'd been waiting for. The swordbreaker flashed out, the toothed edge catching Wulfric’s sabre in its traps. With a quick twist, the teeth ensnared the blade, capturing it and robbing the prince of control over his sabre, the short length of the parrying dagger giving it leverage. Stratya pulled him closer by the blade as she lifted it over her head, spinning herself on her front foot, coming under his sword as though he were spinning her for a dance. She stepped to his side and, as she did, her blade slashed across the chest of his armor.

“And one f’rr me.” She released his sabre and twirled away on her momentum, taking two such spinning steps before landing in the same stance. If he wanted to be cheeky about it, “was mine easierr?”

“We shall see.” He appeared utterly unfazed at her comment as he readied himself for the final match. His approach was similar in essence - aggressive, opportunistic, flowing - yet it was almost like facing a completely different combatant. If he was akin to a deluge before, forceful yet quickly passing, he was now like a snaking river full of hidden depths. His sabre flashed as he wove it in circular motions, attacking, parrying and evading. This time, he was patient and well-paced. He dealt with her swordbreaker by aiming for her wrist in retaliation, or evading into a counter-attack from a tricky angle.

The first time those jagged teeth brushed against his blade, on the verge of catching it, he aimed a kick at her head, disentangling the blade as he whirled around, following up with a strike.

His approach had changed. It was subtle, but he’d learned from the point she’d scored on him. There was something lurking, waiting - Stratya was finding out the prince liked to kick. She abandoned her attempt to grip his blade as she buckled her knees and dropped her stance under his kick.

His left leg swung across the empty space her head had been in. He used the momentum to carry his body into a spin. By the time he had both feet on the ground, he was nearly turned around, his sword-hand extending towards the knight’s thigh, aiming for a diagonal slash from below. However, the captain had been faster. His sabre was inches away from the woman when he heard the clink of steel on steel.

That kick had been aimed for her head! As he spun about for a counterattack, her short sword thunked against his back plate in a sound hit.
“’at’s two,” Stratya reflexively, calmly blocked for the prince’s follow through with both her weapons. Combat experience had taught her that a blow would not necessarily stop her enemies in one, and though the prince was not an enemy, nor had she done anything to injure him or stop his counter attack.

Though it took a lot of strength to suddenly exert the necessary amount of counter-force to stop himself from completing his attack, Wulfric stilled his blade. If he hadn’t done that, the attack might have gone through before the knight had moved to block. Regardless, the fight was over.

A grin painted her face as she sheathed her weapons and straightened herself, “I am impressed, Prince W’lfrric. You figh’ wit’ a ferroci’y I nae anticipa’ed. T’is good tae know ye c’n ‘old yerr own, serr.” She felt like she might have seen something not many were privy to. “’at was fun, we shoul’ sparr again, sometime.”

Wulfric nodded, sheathing his sabre. “It was; my brother was right. You make for an enjoyable opponent. I often spar with the knights, so I am sure we will see each other in due time.” As he tended to do with people who he had had a fun match with for the first time, he offered her his hand. He shook firmly, and professionally. “See you around, Captain.” Without further ado, he went on, to observe and participate in other matches.

Stratya watched the Prince take his leave after sharing a handshake with him, a certain melancholy brewing in her mind. That had been a very satisfying, very enjoyable, fun duel, but there was someone she wanted to have seen it. She lifted her face and gazed up at the sky for a moment before she took her leave of the arena. The captain would go to her new home, and break in her new kitchen to comfort her spirits.

Stratya Durmand, Rural Vermilion, 1737, a week prior

Stratya awoke in the Baron’s infirmary, opening her eyes to the sunlight streaming in through the billowing set of sheer white curtains. She felt a little tired, still. Her dirk was there on the nightstand next to her. Good. She filled her lungs slowly and carefully while taking stock of her memories of the previous night. It had been an absolutely terrible evening, but it also didn’t feel real, the events that had transpired yet to fully settle in her mind. She groaned softly as she adjusted her stiff and sore body, her joints happy to move. She heard feet shuffle quickly from the room, and another pair of feet entered later at a calm, steady pace.

“You’re finally awake.”

Stratya recognized the voice, though he sounded tired. She turned her head over and looked only briefly for the source, “Lord Raynor.”

“It’s Baron, now.” It was just a fact to Raynor Lancastor, at this time. He didn't really care about correcting her, but she should be aware of the results of her actions. He had much to do, and could not dwell on the tragedy. He just knew not to blame Stratya. He could mourn and lament later.

“.. aye.. rrigh’.” Yes, that was right. Baron Maximilian Lancaster and Heir Lord Donovan Lancaster had been killed. Stratya propped herself up to better face Raynor, but he motioned her to relax and lay still, not to strain herself. She lay back down. “... ‘Finally awake’?” Stratya watched as Raynor produced a book from his garments and examined it.

“You slept the entire next day. News of your deeds has already reached the Royal Family. You didn't have any obvious wounds, so the most we knew to do was let you rest.” The man approached her nightstand with the book in his hand, gazing at it thoughtfully before he let it down to rest the edge of it on the piece of furniture.

“Wha’ abou’ t’ crown?” Stratya avoided the question of why or how she'd needed so much rest.

The Baron looked at his friend with confusion and concern; he’d spoken quite clearly, “you must be tired, do get some more rest, Stratya. The Crown has already been informed about-”

“Nae, nae, no’ the Rroyal Family, the- Maximilian ‘ad an iron crrown or.. circlet. It was plain, with a little nubbin’ at the frron’. Must'a been magicked, the way ‘e trea’ed t’ thing.”

“Oh.” Baron Raynor seemed surprised, then perturbed, “right. The circlet McLeary mentioned. There was nothing like that in the manifest; I reviewed it myself. Books, mostly. Some scrolls bearing crests. Nothing like an iron crown or circlet.”

Stratya was silent for a moment, thinking about the weight of the thing she'd felt on her head, before changing the subject, “Analise?”

The Baron was silent for a moment before offering, “we have not seen my mother, no.”

“I’m sorry, Barron.”

“It's not your fault. I know that.” He took a sad, slow breath, finding it his turn to change the subject. “I managed to squirrel away one of the books looted after the raid.” Raynor held up the old grimoire he’d been looking at, “I've read its secrets. I've not the nerve to try anything.”

“Burrn i’.”

“I thought you’d say that. I read it, so I can say confidently I don't think it's the one you're looking for,” the man studied the book for a moment, turning it over but not opening it, “but, I think you've earned the right to see for yourself. I will leave it here, with you.”

Not the right one? Stratya watched the book for a moment, like it might get up and wander off on new legs.

Raynor gave her a moment before protesting, “Stratya, you never used to call me with a title.”

Stratya gave a single, soft scoff with a sad smile, “I'm par’ o’ t’ army, now, y’ goof.”

The Baron chuckled softly. He needed a nice little laugh, and managed a weak smile, “I've received word you are to be knighted, and moved to the capital. Please, Captain.”

The woman looked at the Baron suddenly, “Captain?” She stared at him for a moment, feeling well enough to prop herself on one arm and point at herself with the other. Raynor nodded and Stratya sighed, sitting herself up properly..

“.. Gwen?”

“I shoul’ be t’ one comfortin’ you.”

Raynor came to sit at the side of the bed, “McLeary told me about your father, though we could not find his body. I will arrange for the service. You are to be knighted in a week, you'll go by train. There is time to bury him and be with your family before you go. Travel by train is quick, less than a day. You focus on resting, I'll have food brought to you anon.” The Baron picked up the book from the nightstand and put it inside the drawer. “This room will be yours privately to recover in, so you don't have to worry about intrusions, except meals. They'll knock.” The bloody conclusion to the past few years had left them both hurting, but he had been safely at home. She had put herself in danger to see things end.

There was a silence between them. At last, Stratya spoke, “I’m sorry, Rraynorr.”

“Don’t be. You did what had to be done. I only wish I did more, sooner. Maybe then, things wouldn’t have come out like this.” They comforted each other with an embrace, and the Baron left the new Captain to her thoughts.

[princess]

Charlotte, Olivia, Kazumin, Leo, Fritz, & Wulfric
Part 3

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

---

Charlotte gestured to Kazumin, “Kazumin here attended, so I was hoping maybe he could provide further insight if he recalls anything…And this is Olivia.” Lottie glanced at her and smiled warmly, “She is staying at my house this season. Friend of the family… I apologize for the surprise guests, but certainly if need be I can ask Olivia to step into the kitchen a moment.” Though, she knew Olivia would find a way to listen regardless.

As fun as this strange grouping was to see in perspective, this was also meant to be important. His attention turned to Olivia and Charlotte momentarily; the prince was someone who could help. Why, getting him as an ally was certainly important; all his info he must have and Leo, while in his current predicament, was a friend of Wulfric, so his support would go with him too.

Pondering over what had been discussed up to now. “Yes, very true! As Lady Charlotte has eloquently put it, an honor again to have you with us this night, my lord.” A proper bow of the head. “Your discouragement to continue any further is understandable considering-” A wide wave of the left hand holding the cane to indicate the gathering. “Poor timing on both that of sir Leo and my own, for I had a previous affair where said letter found me.” He held up the folded-up letter in his right hand, as proof this suit situation wasn’t intended for this meeting; even he knew this. Worse yet, this suit was both suffocatingly hot and heavy.

“And it is true, I was indeed with the group. I can remember the faces of all those in the cart quite well, but details of the party, sadly, save for fragments, I cannot say the same.” Frowning as he said this, he held up a finger. “But! Though they are hazy, there is one thing I wish to suggest, far-reaching as it may be, yet as a person very experienced with drunks,” he motioned, clapping Leo on the shoulder as he stated this, “that while booze has inhibited, it was booze that was the focus of this party’s mystery, it seems, and perhaps…could be the thing to help dislodge some memories.” Miming his mind scrambled beside his head.

“Absolutely not,” the prince immediately refuted. “Nagasa, I shan’t stop you if you wish to test your hypothesis on yourself, but we are not drugging someone who is already under the influence, and in a plainly troubled situation.” Though reluctant to continue this, he stepped further inside, away from the temptation of making a prudent retreat through the nearest exit. “Leo, it seems you are somewhat capable of sharing the results of your investigation.” He indicated the piece of paper the lord had passed to Count Hendrix. “So, let us get on with it, shall we? As long as we are merely discussing the accounts of those who have attended the after-party, I do not frankly care who hears it. But for all of you who wish to involve yourself any further than that, you best consider very carefully what your stakes in this are, and at what risks. So far, I am convinced only for one of you,” he nodded at Fritz, who returned the gesture, “that you are committed.”

Leo tore two more pages from his notebook, detailing the information he’d gotten from speaking with Ana and Nahir. He set them on the table, then picked up the paper about Fritz’s glasses. He crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it at Hendrix’s face. “No secrets,” he insisted, still expecting a real answer about the glasses, especially given how interested Charlotte seemed in them.

Anastasia: Ana & Callum have gone to many secret parties, same host (a male friend, identity unknown), all ended with memory loss. Party was in a basement, we both remember going down a staircase—then memories get fuzzy. Ana remembers cupcakes on the floor. Next to the word “cupcakes” he’d written Ezra? and circled it. I remember a cloudy blue sky. We both remember cocktails—seems likely they drugged the drinks. Ana describes her memories as hazy and dreamlike. I agree these memories seem almost unreal, and the more we try to focus on these memories, the worse the headaches get.

Nahir: Remembers flashing lights and floating colors, bright and blinding. Something about two hands, unsure if this is a clue, but it seemed important to Nahir, almost as if she might be hiding something. I remembered the music, as we spoke, strange thumping like machinery at the warehouse. None of these clues make sense; none of them seem to fit together. Nahir suggests an odd answer—magic, the more I think on it, the more it makes sense.

“Already drunk,” Leo commented, thinking about Kazu’s suggestion. “Your idea makes sense. Re-question me, dislodge memories.” Leo patted Kazu’s shoulder in agreement.

A tad bitter at the prince’s cold, albeit expected, rejection, though he held his tongue. Wulfric had chosen to remain; in the end, that was what mattered. He decided to listen for now. For as outlandish as his appearance was, his dedication to the case was real. Unfortunate timing and all that.

The mention of fists and fighting momentarily caused flashes and glimpses in his mind. A flurry of images he could hardly make out. Quick as a blink, they were over, leaving his head pounding and his breathing a bit elevated. Most unsettling was the flash of a heavily bruised woman’s face… and… cupcakes? Why did he suddenly feel a rage towards cupcakes?

Then a clap on his shoulder snapped him out of it, and hearing him praise made him glad and nearly had him saying, “that’s rad!” “Pleased to see someone approves, and know I suggest so not out of jest. And mind, it would be foolish to have me attempt it as it would take too much, and my usefulness is… unreliable the more I imbibe. And as you have put it, good lord, they’re drunk. Easier, but risky still…comes down to the mettle of your gut. Think it can handle it, Lion?” He asked with a quizzical brow, giving a playful pat to Leo’s stomach, his form of jesting.

Leo replied to Kazu’s statement with a nod and a quiet, “rawr!”, before stuffing one of the pigs in blankets into his mouth.

An amused smirk and respectful nod. Sir Leo was not all too bad, or at least the drunk lion showed there was humor in him yet.

Charlotte moved toward a small board covered in a sheet in the corner, her fingers grazing the edges of the sheet as Leo finished speaking. She hesitated just slightly, biting her lip, before pulling it off. Beneath the cloth lay a meticulously arranged display of everything they had gathered so far on a chalkboard. She wheeled it over to position it before the group. Fritz clapped enthusiastically. “Oh, it came out wonderful, Charlotte!” And she smiled warmly at him in turn.

Her eyes flitted nervously around the room, and she glanced down, almost shy, her fingers tapping against the edge of the board. "Um… I suppose I will now… add to that,” she began softly. Her voice wavered slightly, but she took a deep breath, and her mind began to race through the details.

Her gaze lifted, a bit more focused now, and she picked up where Leo left off. "To add to what Leo has already mentioned, I can confirm some similarities from what Shahzade Munir and Shahzade Farim told me. Both of them, like Princess Anastasia and Shehzadi Nahir, remember descending the stairs into the basement where the party was held, but their memories quickly become fuzzy after that."

Her hand hovered over the board as she spoke, pointing to a section that highlighted these scattered recollections. “Shahzade Munir, for one, was adamant that something was amiss. He knew his own limits as a man who often indulges in drink, yet he blacked out almost immediately, Farim’s recollections were similarly scattered—fighting, dancing—and he also said that people were ‘drooling over one another.’ She added with a slight quirk of her lips, “I’m not exaggerating.”

She cleared her throat awkwardly, then continued, “He remembered that things ended abruptly, with people being rushed out of the venue, and noted that he hadn’t consumed enough alcohol to account for his blackout as well. And what’s particularly valuable is that Farim provided an address for the warehouse: 420 Wicker Street.”

Charlotte paused, stealing a glance at Wulfric, her nerves momentarily bubbling up again before she forced herself to focus. “Your Highness,” she began once more, turning to face him, “though I wasn’t present at the party, I’ve been able to piece together a few critical elements from what was shared with me thus far. If this Marek Delronzo is indeed the perpetrator, then his confidence is very alarming, especially if we have enough evidence to deduce our foe is intelligent.”

Her voice lowered, yet her tone sharpened with more conviction. “...We cannot tiptoe around the idea that magic is very real and was most likely the culprit, given not only the accounts presented, but because some of us here have even stood witness to the presentation of magic… And as fascinating, and perhaps terrifying, as a magical party sounds, it doesn’t quite sit right with me. If someone as potentially well-versed in magic as Marek wanted to erase everyone’s memories, he certainly could have in theory. So why didn’t he?”

She cast her gaze over the group before announcing, “I believe this was deliberate. Marek left enough traces—invitations, an address, these fleeting glimpses of the event—because he wants them to remember just enough. This is not carelessness; this is confidence.”

“He’s sending a message—he wants us to know that he can manipulate us, that he can host an event like that and get away with it—I think he’s mocking us. The idea that he is able to manipulate high-profile individuals at multiple parties and escape without consequence suggests a deeper rot within this system… However, magic or not, if Marek is bold enough to leave clues, then he must have blind spots. If we can identify those weak points—whether in his operations or among his associates—we can use them to our advantage.”

With a quick, steadying breath, she pressed on, “...We also need to be wary of how deeply Marek’s influence runs. If he has connections within the highest levels of society, there’s no telling who else may be under his sway. The safest way to assume is that Marek has eyes and ears everywhere… That said, I think we need to investigate the warehouse, but carefully. Marek’s boldness suggests he has protections in place. And If we can uncover Marek’s associates, we can begin unraveling his entire network.”

Ryn observed Prince Wulfric carefully as the other two spoke, particularly noting how the prince responded when the word magic entered the conversation. His displeasure was evident, but there was no repulsion nor denial.

Olivia glanced away from the mention of magic, directing her gaze down to the table of food to distract herself.

The investigative board was filled with the group’s findings, every detail neatly written out and organized by Lord Smithwood, Lady Charlotte, and Ryn himself. The interviews—including testimonies from Luz, Dr.Williamson, Lord Ravenwood, and Prince Callum—all corroborated the existing information. A small notation about the Varian royalty conducting their own quiet investigation was also on the board.

When Lady Charlotte raised the question of just how far Mr. Delronzo’s influence reached, Ryn caught the slight tension in Prince Wulfric’s jaw. …Oh. Well, that’s not good. “He may already have control over this country.” If true, this complicated matters exponentially. …Or perhaps, for Ryn and his kin, it simplified things quite nicely. “Judge them.”

Picking up a piece of chalk, Ryn added a new section to the board labeled “Possible associates.” Beneath it, he scrawled “People who received invitations during the annual ball.” “During the annual ball I saw a man wearing a black mask handing out envelopes to select people—a good number of whom later attended the after-party.” Ryn turned to Mr. Kazumin. “I believe you saw this man when you were with Her Royal Highness?”

Having settled himself into a chair, absentmindedly rubbing at the ache in his forehead, Kazumin muttered under his breath, “Were we fighting over it?” before noticing Fritz addressing him. “Pardon? Black ma—I mean, yes! The man who approached An—I mean, Princess Anastasia.” He quickly corrected himself in front of the prince with a small bow of the head and a pull at his mustache. “I was, to be clear, an add-on merely. And to further add to this whole magic affair, I can attest that magic tomfoolery was afoot.”

Shifting to place the cane down in front of him to prop himself up, he still felt a bit lightheaded and woozy. “With my experience in liquor, to knock me out is a simple matter; a barrel or two is just a morning for me. But, to assuage me of my memories? Trickery… devious trickery, could only manage such a powerful feat. This Marek, Lord Prince, and Lady Charlotte must certainly wield it as I dared drink two and still my gumption holds stout!” He pumped his right fist up partly in defiance of Marek, only to immediately feel ill, forcing him to sit back and cover his mouth. “Apologies…need…need to catch my breath.” Memories of that night came rushing back, his head feeling fuzzy.

Charlotte’s gaze softened as she watched Kazumin struggle, her concern evident. “It’s all right,” she reassured gently. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

Olivia leaned over and patted his shoulder, wishing she could say or do more to help.

“Nagasa, stay put until the physician arrives.” These were Wulfric’s first spoken words since Charlotte had begun her summary. There hadn’t been much of a reaction from him aside from a frown here and a nod there. Now that the unofficial investigative team had elaborated on their discoveries, he strolled to the chalkboard. He borrowed a piece of chalk and picked an empty spot to add his notes. “In addition to their strange recollections, their symptoms were quite varied.” He created a column, writing “hemoptysis, arrhythmia” in the first cell, “deep coma” in the second, “hysterical sobbing” in the third, “rambling” in the fourth, and “dehydration” in the fifth. “These are the disparate side-effects I recall witnessing.” He created another column, this one with only two cells, labeled “lust” and “extreme aggression.” “The known active effects of the drugs we know so far,” he commented.

“Just as strange is the duration.” He noted the estimated times of when the party started, ended, and how long the ‘hit’ and ‘crash’ of the drugs had lasted. “Then, of course, there is the obvious.” He wrote “memory loss” and circled the phrase. “Every single person we know of so far exhibited it. Nagasa, you mentioned having had two drinks. What shape were you in when you woke up?”

The pause and bit of concern helped Kazumin gather his composure. Brief as it was, Wulfric’s simple question reminded him all too well of his… state.

The mere word “dehydration” left his mouth suddenly feeling immensely dry as if a handful of ash had just been stuffed down his throat. A sharp inhale followed by a struggled gulp, his mustache contrasting the paleness of his skin. “Dry…b-barely coherent.” He managed to wheeze out before stopping; any further he feared might elicit a coughing fit, so he quietly mimed for a drink.

Wulfric nodded at Kazumin’s recount. “So, we can assume the effects were more severe with more drinks, generally speaking. Yet, the memory loss remained consistent. I believe it is safe to assume there would have been the rare few guests who did not consume any drinks. So, Delronzo would have needed a different way to knock them all out, and to erase their memories.” He traced a large question mark on the chalkboard. “A separate substance or an alternate method…At this point, we may as well call it a spell, I suppose,” he noted, his lips thinning as he acknowledged the magical nature of this particular crime. “Unfortunately, there are too many unknowns. Was it an area-of-effect wherein anyone entering the premises was targeted? If so, did he specifically safeguard his employees? If it was a substance applied, when, where, and how was it done? If I were the culprit, I would consider deploying a smoke bomb at a predetermined time or signal, so my allies would know to use masks. But perhaps, that is too mundane for Delronzo.” He gave a slight twitch of a shoulder.

“To tie in with what you have mentioned, Lady Vikena, the warehouse in question has been searched twice so far. Shahzade Farim’s memory of people being rushed out lines up with actions from the crown—the queen led a group of knights to fetch the missing royals and nobles. The warehouse was searched for the first time then, but nothing incriminating had been found. Clearly, these criminals are capable of making themselves scarce at a moment’s notice. The area was searched in the following days as well.”

He used the remaining empty spaces on the chalkboard for a number of sketches. One was a scaled-down representation of the warehouse area, rows, and columns of squares neatly lined up. He crossed out a number of them. “These are the ones Delronzo has rented at the moment.” He circled one of them. “This is where the after-party was held.” He followed it with a detailed drawing of the interior. “All warehouses have this same layout. Basement included.” A final sketch followed, one that indicated the location and floor plan of the office. “Delronzo’s office.” He added several cross marks, interspersed in the whole district. “These are the watchtowers. He has security checkpoints at each entrance to a given premise. All are well-guarded. The security increases at night time.” He did not draw the next part, pointing it out instead. “The patrolling routes are fairly standard—efficient and with good coverage. Sneaking into anywhere is difficult, to say the least.” He twirled the chalk between his fingers before setting it down.

“Delronzo has good reasons for his confidence. I would not assume that a total memory wipe was easily possible—unless, of course, you are secretly an expert on magic?” he quirked an eyebrow at Charlotte, who shook her head to indicate she was not. Olivia restrained herself from answering. “Otherwise, the character analysis is sound. I am sure he enjoyed sowing all this chaos.” He paced around the room, holding his audience captive, assessing each of them intently. “I do not have concrete evidence, but I am convinced he is an influential underworld lord who is in charge of much of the organized crime within Caesonia. He is the sort of man who will blackmail, manipulate, threaten, torture, and kill. He will use your loved ones against you. He will make you suffer, whether by targeting you directly or inflicting grief on those close to you. Moreover, he possesses magic, so you may even end up unaware of all that is happening. If you do not yet understand the severity of my words… You. Will.” He looked from Charlotte to Leo to Kazumin to Olivia. “If you choose to remain involved.”

Olivia’s chest tightened, and she clenched her fists. What the fuck had they unintentionally gotten into? What was the world becoming?

After a tense silence, Wulfric glanced at Fritz. “Count Hendrix, add to the list the following names: Alexander Deacon, Marciano Giordano, and Calbert Damien.” He turned to regard Charlotte. “Is it true he threatened you?”

“Prince Callum, too,” Leo suggested once Wulfric had listed off the names of Marek’s known associates. “Heeeeissss planning charity with bacon. Deacon. Deacon and Black Rose.” Leo rewarded himself with another snack.

“Pigs in blankets wrapped in bacon!” he added once he’d finished chewing, struck with a genius idea. He softly punched Kazu in the arm. “Best idea!”

After the tense exchange, Olivia couldn’t help but snort with derision.

With swift, decisive strokes, the names Alexander Deacon, Marciano Giordano, Calbert Damien, and Callum Danrose appeared on the board. Anastasia Danrose, Liliane Damien, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Violet Damien joined the list. To the side, Ryn drew a silk hat atop a full-face mask with ornate patterns.

Violet, but not Crystal. Curious. So was the sketch. If it wasn’t just a whimsy, it might be an allusion to the masquerade ball. Had he missed something there?

[Potter]

Time: Evening
Location: Camping Event
Interactions: @Rodiak Matthias
Mentions: @Conscripts John ☁ [@ReuseableSword] Roman ☁ @CitrusArms Straya ☁
Aesthetic:
☁ Hair
☁ Necklace
☁ Bandanna, Outfit (ignore the shoes))
☁ Boots

---

Kira turned at the sound of the male voice. She allowed her gaze to flicker over him swiftly and subtly. There was never a hint of malice nor mischief. What a treat stood before her; the eyes, the body, the hair? Were the Sorian Gods granting her this gift? Kira didn’t allow her thoughts to be reflected in her posture nor her gaze. She remained friendly, but not overly; smooth like butter.

”So exciting, I think they might run out of room in tomorrow’s newspaper.” Kira mused and stood up in order to meet his gaze. Shyly, she looked down and then back at him, as if she were having trouble meeting his gaze. ”A handsome name for a likewise gentleman. I’m Kira. An honor to meet you, My Lord.” She accepted the bow and returned one with perfect poise. In her peripheral vision, she noticed John and Roman had finished their chat, and the two women were conversing. She caught the word ‘swords’ and her curiosity was piqued. Nonetheless, she remained focused on Matthias and went to speak, when the camper staff stood up to make some announcement.

She turned and listened as the staff member, Quinn, began rambling. Kira listened idly and met his gaze. Kira felt amusement boiled inside of her at his commentary. The touch of royalty amused her for the camping event; did any of these privileged men and women ever experience a touch of inconvenience? What it was like to be treated like filth and looked at that way? To feel the rush of danger and peril and stare directly into death’s eyes? To feel hunger clawing at their insides like a caged wild animal? Kira allowed the amusement to burn her throat and extinguish.

Finally he quit rambling and now Kira could go back to mingling. Her gaze met Matthias, never betraying the thoughts or emotions. ”A cooking competition? I do wonder what else they have in store for us,” she commented and chuckled. ”Sounds like a busy evening, don’t you think?” Kira leaned against a tree and waited patiently for his response, remaining relaxed, poised, and confident.

[princess]

Charlotte, Olivia, Kazumin, Leo, Fritz, & Wulfric
Part 4

Time: Evening - Ends at about 6pm
Location: Vikena Estate

---

Charlotte felt a shiver ripple down her spine as Wulfric's words settled in, their weight pressing against her chest. Her mind raced back to Lorenzo, who had uncharacteristically abandoned her at the ball that night and proceeded to go missing. He hadn’t said anything to indicate he had attended the party, yet given his reaction to her other accusations, she wasn’t sure what to think, but she knew she could not back down. Not with her friends, and potentially even her stepfather, in such grave danger. However, she was beginning to consider the fact that this was not the situation she had intended to rope them all into. The goal had initially been to gain experience so they could solve the mystery surrounding her and Leo’s parents’ deaths.

Her eyes rose suddenly at the mention of Calbert Damien.

… He’s connected to Marek Delronzo? To the Black Rose? Cassius, Violet and Crystal’s faces subsequently swarmed her thoughts.

Too many strange mishaps all in that night alone. There had to be a connection, she could feel it in her bones. She shifted in her seat, not certain how to begin to imagine herself in a situation as extreme as torture. As it registered in her mind that Wulfric was addressing her, she quickly lifted her head. Her gaze moved to Leo briefly before she spoke. "Not directly in words," she finally admitted, "He didn’t directly threaten me with violence, but the way he spoke, the things he said... It was as if he was warning me that he could do something, that he would do something, if I didn’t listen to him and keep my stepfather from attending events…"

“What exactly did he say?” he pressed.

"Calbert approached me on the parapet of the wall around the castle grounds after the ball, and backed me into the edge… He… reminded me that Lorenzo wouldn’t have come if it weren’t for me, that I should have kept him away,” she explained slowly, recalling the unsettling conversation. "He made it clear that if anything happened to him, it would be my fault. He didn’t need to say it outright… but it was there, the implication that if I didn’t keep Lorenzo in line, there would be consequence,“

She clenched her fists in her lap, trying to stop them from trembling, and asked, "Count Damien’s linked to the Black Rose?” Her eyes locked onto Wulfric’s.

“The night following the after-party, my sister sought out Marek. She was guarded, of course. He turned her away with the excuse that he was busy. Yet, he witnessed a cloaked and hooded man visiting. She told me she thought she recognized the voice as Count Damien’s. She cautioned she might be wrong, and this isn’t strictly conclusive. However, I intend to move forward with the assumption that Count Damien is involved.”

“Dastardly,” Leo whispered at the revelation that Calbert was heavily involved in all this.
"...I see.” Charlotte felt a sudden sense of dread. The words washed over her like a frigid wave, her blood turning to ice.

With water to nurse his parched throat; listening as the Prince demonstrated his skills and all that he had gathered quite well. The man certainly had the knack for a leader, just too cold and rigid for the casual crowd, but impressive nonetheless. His words, on the other hand, made this whole situation more harrowing with each detail and fact learned. And while his stomach felt full before, was replaced with a pit that the water only served to slosh around like acid. This Marek, whoever the bastard was, did not matter to him or even mad about the party (people letting off steam drunk all too common) no, Kazu’s ire towards the man came from a point of disappointment.

Then to learn he was also connected and possibly working with Calbert as well? The prince’s painfully artful described image of Marek’s methods? This could mean having both targeting him now, but more worrying was the fact both were likely to be after Percy too. A rush of emotions hit him with the realization, unintentionally breaking the glass in his right gloved hand.

He merely blinked at the small splash and could little else but laugh as his mind was forced to recall Calby holding the gun to his forehead making him laugh more, water trickling or tears.

Olivia listened to everyone and ate her food quietly. She knew she couldn’t comment on anything, particularly the evidence. She tensed as the information was revealed, particularly regarding Kazumin at the party. His behavior at Count Damien's house now made sense. When they asked about him threatening Charlotte, she nearly spoke up then had to stop herself. The memory of her first time meeting Calbert remained vividly in her mind.

The revelation that Count Damien was possibly associated with the Black Rose caused her to inhale too sharply and nearly choke on her food. She collected herself and paled drastically. She was wrongfully blamed for the murder of Violet and with him being part of the Black Rose, this terrified her. Her mouth went dry and she had to stuff her face with more food before drawing too much more attention to herself. Her reactions at his house had not been wise, she knew that, but seeing him threaten Kazumin that way? What would have happened if she hadn’t intervened? She didn’t want to know.

The terror she felt was mirrored in Charlotte’s eyes. Olivia took a deep breath to steady herself. She had to focus on the others. First she pulled Charlotte into a hug, who had hugged her back albeit a bit limply. She squeezed her back gently but apologetically, though nobody else would notice.

A thought was on the tip of her tongue, then disappeared when the glass broke. She jumped and noticed Kazumin broke his glass out of fear. She inhaled and moved over to him. ”Kazu! Are you all right?” She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the water on his face, regardless if they were tears or not. She examined his hands and frowned at him. ”Are you hurt? I-” Liv stopped herself before saying I could heal you. Olivia took a deep breath and fell silent.

The overwhelming shock of the situation had been a lot with everything discussed, which only elaborated just how deep he was in this now. And it started with a story of a hamster damn it! How could he not laugh at something so harmless leading to both Calbert and Marek targeting him and his friends? Worse yet, his family. They were innocent and completely removed from all this fucking nonsense. They’re just farmers damn it.

How frustratingly small and useless he felt sitting in this room. Unable to remember anything of actual significance while dressed in such a manner. Damn himself for not changing or putting more effort into helping both Percy and Charlotte.

Now to find this situation had gotten so much bigger than any peasant had any right being in. His mind whirled with such thoughts before finally noticing Olivia trying to tend and talking to him; saw her mouth moving but her words hardly registered, still struggling to get his scattered mind together.

“ H-hm? Yah, I’m fine. Just…just a lot to take in and…and the side effect trying to remember is all…” Trailing off as he tried to gingerly shift the gloved hand free intending to express he was fine, that the glove did its job (anything to keep her from using unnecessary magic), only to feel a small sharp wince doing so. Seeing her so worried for him when she was marked publicly as a criminal and had to hide her face. Her face…how he missed Percy’s sweet smile, instead looking at the face of Olivia; a stranger’s mask. He found that his hand was squeezing hers, and even as pain flared through he refused to stop till he put as much of himself into it, wanting and wishing to tell her he was sorry.

Ryn crouched before Mr. Kazumin, careful to avoid the glittering shards scattered across the floor. His gaze settled on the gloved hand, then moved upward to meet the man’s eyes. “May I remove the glove to see if any of the glass cut through it?”

Fleeting the moment with Percy was; she was Olivia now and reluctantly released his grip when Ryn joined in on the checking.“ Y’all are worryin' too much, really, I very much appreciate your concerns. It’s just a scratch anyway and besides, we farmers are made of sterner stuff.” Gripping the hand into a fist to give a small pump to assure them he was well; smiling through gritted teeth followed by a faint groan played off with a laugh and wiggling of the fingers.

Ryn rose, his eyes meeting Mr. Kazumin’s with a mixture of understanding and sadness. Perhaps, were it only Ms. Persephone and Lady Charlotte present, Mr. Kazumin might unburden himself more freely. There simply was too much distrust amongst the group. So many secrets. Almost of their own accord, Ryn’s eyes sought out Lady Charlotte. By chance or fate, when he tore his gaze away from her, his reflection caught his eye in a nearby mirror. The visage that stared back at him seemed accusatory. Hypocrite. The irony was not lost on Ryn.

Meanwhile, Wulfric remained watching. That had been three people alarmed at the mention of Count Damien. Two of whom were supposedly strangers, yet they acted familiarly. A connection, then.

“Calbert, wife, and creeeeepy daughter; all suspichhious.What about the bastard?” Leo asked, studying the names Hendrix had written down, unconcerned about the broken glass. “Weird to ssssslither out the muck as all this starts.” He suggested.

Charlotte’s gaze rose, her lips parting as an immediate defense instinctively surged up from within. But the words faltered, caught in her throat before they could escape. Cassius hadn’t done anything to suggest he had any link to any of this, yet, even as her emotions urged her to protect him, the rational, sharper side of her mind whispered that they couldn’t afford to overlook anyone—not now, and especially not Calbert’s son. Her fingers tightened slightly, nails pressing into her palms.

It was then Delilah burst back into the room with a spring in her step, carrying an ice pack, a damp towel, and a small bucket balanced in her arms. She flashed everyone a bright smile.

"Alrighty, everyone, I’ve got the royal orders here," she teased, laughing lightly. "You’d think I’d have a third hand hidden somewhere, wouldn’t you?" With a cheeky wink, she set the items down carefully on a nearby table. Charlotte was quick to then pick up the ice pack and hold it to her dear friend Leo’s forehead.

Her gaze fell on Count Fritz, and her smile widened. Without missing a beat, she swept over to him and pulled him into a warm hug. "It's such a delight to see you again," she greeted, her tone dripping with affection. She lingered for a moment, squeezing his shoulders gently before pulling back. "You always look so dashing, it’s unfair to the rest of us." She gave him a playful nudge with her elbow, her eyes dancing with amusement.

For a moment, he stood frozen in Ms. Delilah’s embrace. He had half-expected to see a flicker of reproach in her eyes regarding Lady Charlotte. But there was only warmth, leaving him perplexed. Remembering himself, he returned the hug with a gentle pat on her back. “Thank you.”

As she pulled away, Ryn’s lips quirked into a teasing grin. “Alas, not quite as dashing as His Highness, no?” He returned her playful nudge, his eyes darting briefly to the Prince, who arched an amused eyebrow in response.

Delilah giggled, " Aw hush. The two of you are both dashing!”

His gaze then fell upon the crystalline carnage scattered across the floor. “Forgive me, but could you direct me to a broom and dustpan?” He gestured toward the sparkling mess. Ms. Delilah’s expression shifted to one of understanding, and she provided directions to a cleaning closet nestled in a nearby corridor. With a grateful nod, Ryn set off towards the door.

Then, she turned back to the group, her tone shifting to one of importance but still carrying that infectious energy. "Oh, and I almost forgot! I brought someone who can help with our little patient here." She gestured toward the doorway, her smile unwavering. "Everyone, may I introduce the doctor who was kind enough to come on such short notice!"

As if on cue, a tall, handsome man with golden-blond hair and a warm smile stepped into the room, his eyes gleaming with a friendly expression. He bowed slightly to everyone present, his gaze lingering on each person.
He had been lost in thought and flexing his hand; testing the depth of the ache. Thankful for the glove covering his action; finding the pain to be minor so likely a small cut at most, if he had to guess. Wanting to leave it be, having made enough of a mess as is with the glass, further fueled by his inability to give better information.

Delilah’s upbeat presence came at the right time and did help bring some energy back to him. Though it was the doctor that got him hopping up to his feet, where he bounded off after Fritz.

” Hold on, there Fritz! Seeing as the mess’s mine, no sense in leaving it to others, only, yeah?.”

Ryn greeted Dr. Hayes with a bow of his own and was just about to excuse himself out of the room, when Mr. Kazumin came over to him.

A friendly pat on the back upon catching up in the hopes of showing his thanks for the concern earlier, feeling bad for denying the help but for guys of his stature, showing weakness was especially bad, more so with the prince’s presence. One’s usefulness was all that mattered to such men. His hand clenched briefly at the thought. He refused to just be a burden to them, to his friends.

"Good evening, everyone," he greeted smoothly, "You can call me Dr. Julian Hayes, at your service. Your lovely housemaid here has already informed me of the situation, and I must say, I’m more than happy to lend my assistance." He glanced toward Leo with a sympathetic expression, a touch of concern furrowing his brow as he approached. "Ah, you poor thing, you’ve certainly been through quite an ordeal, haven’t you?" His tone was almost paternal as he knelt down to assess Leo's condition. "But don’t you worry, my friend, you’re in good hands now. We’ll have you feeling right as rain in no time at all. Now, I do see some blood on you. Are you wounded, friend? Let’s see here."

At the maid’s announcement, and before the doctor entered, Wulfric positioned himself strategically before the chalkboard, covering the bulk of it. It was apparent something was behind him, but not what. His forbidding, no-nonsense gaze should deter the stranger if he even cared to try rubbernecking in the first place.

Olivia jumped when the door opened and spun around to find Deliliah and the doctor. She watched the exchanges between everyone, including the Prince. Wulfric moved to block the board and she let out a sigh of relief. The less who knew the information the better. She also stood up and positioned herself nearby him as well as an extra deterrent. With her wild mane of red hair, she also helped block some of the information.

Olivia hesitantly glanced up at him and offered a small smile, then let her gaze move away. She wished she could use magic, although the risk was not worth it. In the back of her mind, she realized she had been too familiar with Kazumin and therefore was avoiding him. There was a doctor here, along with Fritz and Charlie. Her gaze moved to Charlie’s, and she looked at her as if saying: What do I do…? Though she had said nothing in reply, Charlotte had given her a reassuring smile.

“No fizzishun!” Leo repeated the objection, certain that he’d been clear he neither wanted nor needed to see a doctor when it was brought up. He stumbled up from his seat on the couch, gripped the back of the couch, and moved to Olivia’s unoccupied seat. His condition wasn’t medical but likely influenced by magical trickery, what use was a doctor in that?

Ryn strode back into the room, hand broom and dustpan at the ready. His eyes darted to Dr. Hayes and next to Ms. Delilah, careful not to linger too long lest his scrutiny become obvious.

The doctor’s aura gleamed with an unnaturally pure white light, too pristine and flawless. Its edges flickered subtly, revealing an eerie stillness. Meanwhile, Delilah had a simple pink aura.

Kazu followed suite from behind with small trash bag in hand, in a better whistling mood. A bit of air and walk had been what he needed and avoiding getting the blasted doctor’s attention if possible too.

As he turned away, intending to clean up the shattered glass, another color snagged his attention. Lady Charlotte’s magicae—

He almost did a double-take, but Ryn mastered the impulse and began to sweep up the shards as if nothing was amiss.

Lady Charlotte’s magicae had changed colors. While not impossible, to have magicae change that drastically in such a short amount of time was highly unlikely.

He stole another glance at Lady Charlotte, but the lenses’ enchantment had run its course, revealing nothing more than what ordinary sight could perceive. As he deposited the last of the glass into the dustpan, Ryn decided that he needed to speak with Lady Charlotte, and soon.

Hummed along as he knelt down carefully picking up whatever bits Fritz missed, hopping back to his feet to tie the bag. During so, he good it a good twist to have it spin in his grip.“” Talk about a crazy outing and a lot still to discuss and pieces need workin out. Good thing none of us have to do it alone, though.” Nodding to the man while trying to give his usual smile though as he looked at Charlotte and Olivia, the corner of his lips faltered.

Ryn followed Mr. Kazumin’s gaze. “... I certainly hope everyone also believes we’re all in this together,” he whispered.

Turning his gaze to Leo, who clearly was not one good at handling their booze in such an inebriated state and his mentioning of Violet reminded him all too well of what Charlotte told him, and she had given no reason to not believe her. Still, that was something he needed to see and if that tiny splotch of blood he saw was anything to go by…at the next chance he would be sure to aid her in convincing if needed.

Dr. Hayes paused as Leo stood up, clearly intent on avoiding any medical attention. With a patient smile, the doctor stepped back, his hands raised in a gesture of respectful surrender.

“I understand, Lord Smithwood,” he said kindly, his tone gentle yet firm. “If you feel fine, I won’t press the matter.”

He then shifted his attention to the rest of the group. “For anyone else,” he began, “if you find yourself needing anything, or if Lord Smithwood changes his mind later, I live just a few houses down. It’s no trouble at all to return.” His smile remained warm and inviting, offering the group a clear out if anyone decided they required his services later.

With a courteous bow to Wulfric, Dr. Hayes added, “Your Highness, Lady Vikena, and everyone else, feel free to call on me any time. I’m always happy to assist.”

After giving a final nod to the room, the doctor turned toward the door, moving to quietly make his exit while leaving the group to their conversation.

Delilah stared after the man with a perplexed look. She wondered for a moment why she had gone running amuck looking for a doctor only for them to dismiss him immediately. She put her hands on her hips as she declared, "Well I certainly hope you aren’t injured Lord Smithwood. I did spot blood on your shirt after all mister!”

“Everybodiesadetectivenow!” Leo joked, all his words slurring together. But since it appeared that everyone thought he was mortally wounded, Leo stumbled up from his seat, lifted up his shirt, and spun around. “Ta-da!” He exclaimed, smacking a fist against his chest, and collapsed back into his seat, dizzy from the spin.

Charlotte glanced over, her foot tapping anxiously as she waited for the doctor to leave. Once the door clicked shut, she shifted her focus back to the group, the silence she'd maintained for some time now hanging heavily around her. She exhaled softly as she finally spoke up. "About Violet…" She paused, her hands clenching lightly in her lap as she tried to collect her thoughts. Her gaze stayed fixed on her knees, clearly still unsettled by the memories of their last interaction.

"I visited her the other night and it was like... she was a different person. She looked haunted, shattered in a way I can’t explain, and she wouldn’t even let me near her without pulling away." Charlotte’s voice faltered as she recalled the dark, ominous presence she had felt in Violet’s room.

"It was how she carried herself that upset me most—like something had broken her spirit, and she was trying so hard to hide it, even from herself." Her voice grew quieter, laced with sorrow."She wouldn't tell me exactly what happened, but I could feel she was in pain."

The prince raised a brow at Lady Vikena. If she had seen Violet at any point after her attack, it was odd she hadn’t mentioned her physical state. Shaken about her friend’s state? Naturally. But it still struck him that Charlotte was possibly glossing over important details for some reason. “Might have something to do with her new scar,” Wulfric retorted dryly. Leo chuckled at the prince’s joke but had nothing to add about Violet.

"Yes, Prince Wulfric, glad nothing gets past you.” She smiled at him. "Yes, it seems someone hurt her. …My point was that she is a whole different person. Her eyes were red as blood…However, as her friend I am shaken that she is no longer the Violet I knew. I want to know what happened. “

With the doctor gone, the tension had lessened somewhat. Not that he bore the man any ill will, just a symptom of the setting and Prince Wulfric’s presence and his directly blunt manner towards this Violet situation did little to help. The guy had a good head but lacked tact when a woman was clearly distressed over it. The pain and sadness in Charlotte’s words made it undeniable, any hints of doubts burnt away. Her friend was very likely dead.
His chest tightened as he peered over Char and Olivia, momentarily picturing them undead, the thought it could be them or..or his family. This prompted him to turn to the board, and with it he came closer to understanding what Char must be feeling though what he dreaded most was not the fact Violet was a vampire. But what might they have to do were she to… deciding to cut the thought process short, too unpleasant for the time being. Besides, that was only one possibility.

Wulfric merely shrugged. “She should be dead,” was what he could say to people uninvolved in her murder investigation.

“Death does have a way of reshaping us.”

An unpleasant topic to discuss and while it was hardly much to add. Now felt the best time as he stepped forward, dusting off his shirt and hands having disposed of the trash back recently. ” There is something I need to add. It isn’t much, but I…well paid a visit to the alleyway and checked it out.” He gulped, feeling nervous, due to the prince and Percy, whom he had dragged out there to do so. He covered a hint of guilt in his posture, shifting to idly scratch at the back of his head.”Found it spotless. Was pretty impressed by it…not the bit I want to say, but interesting.” A quick dismissive shake of the head.

” I did, though spot a speck of blood on the wall, hardly strange in itself but it was the distance from the supposed…spot which I found peculiar.” He explained in a slightly restrained voice, struggling to handle it without offending Violet or have the two feeling worse from all these reminders.”” J-just thought to bring it up..littlle as it might be.” He finished with an awkward shrug of his shoulders.

“No, thank you for bringing it up, Mr. Kazumin. Any information is helpful.” Ryn reassured. Lady Charlotte, Ms. Ruby, and he had also visited that alleyway and found the crime scene more or less spotless… except for that vial. “When we searched that area, we found a vial containing small amounts of wine.”

Olivia remained silent as the others left and the conversation continued. She quietly moved back to Charlotte’s side and avoided eye contact. The mention of Violet caused her to tense, and she reminded herself to relax. The memory of Violet’s pale face stained with blood and the ax buried into her face caused her stomach to churn.

Olivia busied herself by eating food and drinking water to avoid any reaction that might be suspicious. She glanced at the Prince after his dry retort with a side glare. She didn’t care who he was, nobody disrespected Charlie. Nonetheless, she bit her tongue for peace’s sake and set the glass down sharply unintended.

“Eye’s change color? Weird.” Leo said in response to Lottie, he was sure that wasn’t a normal occurrence. He looked at Olivia who seemed more interested in the food than anything else. “Here for snacks!” He half joked, half accused. Leo grabbed one of the small salmon sandwiches and stuffed it into his mouth. “Beshschacks!” He added with a mouth full of food.

Olivia chuckled at Leo and didn’t confirm or deny her answer. She giggled at him and took another bite of food.
Ryn observed Lord Smithwood's remarkable demonstration of stuffing his mouth full of food like a hamster, and Miss Persephone giggling, with a faint smile before turning his attention back to the subject of Lady Violet.

“Lady Violet might not be who she used to be, Charlotte. Still, I believe there’s a piece of your old friend left in her.” He drew a measured breath. “I hesitate to add to our already considerable collection of concerns, and I cannot say if this pertains directly to our present investigation. But…” His gaze found Lady Charlotte’s face and held fast. “Before I went to collect Lord Smithwood, I met Lady Violet. She kindly informed me that there will be an attempt on my life on Drunkards’ Day.”

Kazu remained by the board, going over it. Too stressed and sober to eat, as horrid as it was to find, and as much as he desired to join those eating. Yet, seeing Olivia left him feeling too awkward; not to mention already having humiliated himself enough kept him back. Hard to get an appetite knowing some psychos were possibly going after his family. His fingers might have been digging into his crossed arms were it not for the gloves and injured hand, opting over for nibbling on his tongue just to keep himself distracted with something, anything minor to keep his imaginative mind from assaulting him with unpleasant scenarios. Percy being Olivia right saved him from the worst of it, thankful though bitter for it, he was.

Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat, her hands beginning to tremble slightly as Fritz revealed the threat on his life. Panic surged through her chest, making her heart race and her voice come out unsteady.

“An attempt on your life…?” she repeated softly, her blue eyes wide with fear. She swallowed hard, her gaze flicking between Fritz and the rest of the group, her mind reeling with the implications. “Fritz, that’s—no, we can’t let that happen. I-I won’t let that happen,” she declared, her voice gaining strength despite the quiver still present. Her hand reached out, gently but firmly clasping his arm. “We’ll protect you,” she promised.

Leo nodded his agreement, accentuating his point by smacking a closed fist against his chest and then holding both fists up. He’d have Hendrix’s back as well, it was the honorable thing to do.

The surprise in Lady Charlotte’s countenance gave Ryn pause. He patted her hand gently, offering a reassuring smile that masked his thoughts. Either Count Damien had threatened her with some other manner of harm during their private meeting, or she had not expected him to make so bold a move, so soon.

Wulfric’s eyebrows shot up, and his head swiveled over to Hendrix. “Someone’s after you?” he murmured. A connection between Violet and the Black Rose was possible, then. The count was apparently aware Violet had been dead - was the same true for Charlotte? There was a lot being unsaid here. Perhaps it couldn’t be helped, since this group of people had little trust established between each other. More importantly, they had a known ‘hunter’ who could be turned into prey. A smirk appeared as he plotted using the assassins’ ambush against them. “Did she say who would attack you, at which time, and when? Anything about how she learned of this at all?” Only if Violet and the source of her information were reliable could they expect the attempt to unfold as had been said. Otherwise, they had to be prepared for the attack at any given opportunity…Maybe even Violet herself would end up being involved somehow. “I will increase security at the guest house, at the very least. Aside from that, how are your anti-assassination measures, Count Hendrix?”

Charlotte considered Wulfric’s line of questioning, a ripple of confusion passing over her features. She had been wondering the same things after all. It didn’t make sense—or at least, not yet. Why would someone want to kill Fritz of all people and why would Violet know that? And who would have told Violet?

Her thoughts spun back to the encounter with Calbert in his study. He had said he wanted to scare them all, however, she hadn’t imagined the use of death threats. If he was indeed connected to the Black Rose, and she was going to hold onto the possibility that he had been involved in her mother’s death, then they had to take the assassination attempt seriously.

“Lady Violet didn’t wish to reveal her source,” Ryn answered, “however, she did share this much: a group known as The Bloody Thorns were hired, and they intend to strike at night.” Charlotte’s expression twisted in confusion.

There were other whispers too, of a certain Duchess and her increasingly suspicious behavior of late. But that particular spider seemed content with a single fly in her web, so there was no reason to burden the others with it. The Bloody Thorns, on the other hand...

“Death and I have danced many times before,” Ryn continued, allowing a hint of grim amusement to color the words. “As you can see, I’ve proven myself quite the capable partner. I shall think of something.”

Then his voice dropped, “My continued breathing, while personally preferable, isn’t the heart of this matter. Lady Violet also mentioned there being a list—targets they mean to harm in days to come. Unfortunately, I was unable to get the specifics, names or the kind of harm they intend to inflict.” His eyes swept across the gathered faces, measuring each one against the shadow of what might come.

“Prudence suggests we consider everyone in this room a potential mark on that list.”
“A list,” Wulfric’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. Were all the people in this room endangered? Perhaps. The better question was, who all had been marked?

“I know it’s… probably not my place to say, but I feel we all need to be extremely careful, especially avoid walking alone at night.” She took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady and calm, even as the fear twisted her insides.

“Please, if any of you ever feel unsafe or need somewhere to stay, my home is always open to you, even tonight if you need.” she offered, sincerity shining in her gaze. “ I would much rather know you’re protected than have anyone taking unnecessary risks. Oh and, Prince Wulfric,” she added, turning to him, “you’re always welcome to seek sanctuary here as well, should you ever need a reprieve from the stress of castle life.”

For a heartbeat or three, Ryn simply nodded at Lady Charlotte’s words. The gesture would have sufficed—should have sufficed—had not some niggling whisper of conscience compelled him to speak. To remind her. To remind himself. To make abundantly, achingly clear to the assembled company about one thing.

“Sometimes,” he began softly, “the hardest part isn’t offering help—it’s accepting it when offered.”

His eyes met Lady Charlotte’s across the space between them, their previous conversation echoing in the glance. As their exchanges had met, she had offered him a gentle, comforting smile.

“Our demons may wear different faces,” Ryn went on, “but we needn’t stand alone against them in the dark.”

His gaze moved to the others, his tone lightening just a bit. “After all, what’s a gathering like this for, if not to remind us of who we can rely on?”

“Should any of you find the night growing too deep, too dark… remember that we are here for you.”

Having quietly been listening; taking in the conversation which only continued to further elaborate this whole situation’s complexity with more complications tossed into the proverbial secret plot pot. To find several parties involved that now painted big targets on each of the group member's backs and for slightly differing reasons. Had Calbert just left it between them, he would have left it be but bringing in Percy and the awful things he must have subjected Charlie through.

He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all but kept nibbling his tongue to bite back his usual tendencies. How frustrating it was for what to say normally came easy to him while thinking merely left him more confused and stressed (the current company not helping) on what to do or say after hearing the inspiring words from the group.

Leo waited until Fritz and Lottie had finished speaking. “Someone,” he said slowly, eyes falling on Wulfric, “Should interrogate Violet.” If Calbert’s daughter knew of a list of targets, one which included a Varian noble -Count Hendrix- then someone ought to be getting as much information about that out of Violet as possible. Not wishing to reveal her sources shouldn’t even be an option for something like this. Certainly, the crown had people for that kind of questioning.

A big breath before forcing his body to finally move with an idle rub of the face, stepped over clapping Leo on the shoulder.” Interrogate? Whoa there, sir Leo. That’s hardly the way to treat any lady and all of what Lady Violet has already gone through, might only serve to pi- anger her, think she’s had it plenty rough as is. Best to leave such a task to someone she trusts enough to open up to.” Nodding with another pat, his voice and smiled strained at first though became more relaxed as he spoke.

“If she does,” Wulfric interjected. “If she does not, and her choice to withhold vital information leads to harm, she will have to be questioned.” Perhaps even sooner.

“ I’ve never met Lady Violet, but sounds like to me, she could be needing help too.”

Turning to Charlotte, his expression softening. ” And Char..what happened with her…” Pausing and gulping, forced to imagine Percy in Violet’s place, his stomach coiled in

revulsion.” …so, just as you offered sanctuary, I offer to help with anything you need.” His gaze shifted between her and Olivia as he stated. Smile returning to his briefly stoic expression.” And Fritzy, looks like we’re targeted men, who better to have at your back then a fellow man fightin to survive, right? Hm…think we might want a call-sign or..ooh a whistle for signaling said help or so…” Muttering the last bits of his thoughts aloud, the distraction much needed.

“I’m certain if she had more to share, she would have done so with Fritz. I concur with Kazumin that we should be gentle with Lady Violet.” Leo responded to both Lottie and Kazu by sticking out his tongue and blowing a raspberry at their suggestion.

“She said she did not wish to reveal her source,” he reminded Lady Vikena of what the count had relayed. “Someone she trusts, I wager. In which case, it is only a matter of determining who, and detaining the person in question.”

Leo nodded his agreement with the Prince, at the very least Violet was holding back where she got the information. Given that Hendrix, and possibly a whole list of people, had their lives threatened the least she could do is share where and how she learned this.

Olivia listened to everyone quietly. She continued munching on food and not interjecting. As an supposed outsider, she had to be careful of reacting or responding. When Fritz mentioned an assassination attempt though, her eyes briefly widened and a frown appeared–then disappeared as quick as it had come. Whoever had murdered Lady Violet, and then brought her back to life had undoubtedly access to dark magic. She had only read about it and hadn’t tried delving into it.

With a sigh, she shook her head, and looked down. This was so much information and it was weighing on her heavily. She hoped it would end soon because she was eager to go outside at night, despite the previous information. It was the only time safety seemed possible. Due to the mafia threat looming, Olivia was determined not to lose anyone, and determined to do whatever it took to bring these assholes down.

It wasn’t long after that the group began to disperse after final glances.

[Apex Sunburn]

Myaatyun Kidelaut

(Character sheet)

Time: Evening
Location: Redwater

Kidelaut knew Redwater as how one might know an old friend – with fond memories of their past together, and a wistful longing to experience those times again.

He still remembered the day he first laid eyes upon the town. He had been a mere youth of fourteen back then – a recent arrival from Kimoon with nothing but dreams of making a name for himself in these foreign, Caesonian lands. And Redwater, unburdened by infamy in those good old days, had been a quiet town on the outskirts of Felipina, barely half-a-day’s ride from the city. Kidelaut recalled making the trip on foot – he hadn’t the coin for a carriage – with apprehension gripping his heart the entire way. After all, he hadn’t any idea what to expect. He hadn’t even known much about Caesonia as a whole.

And yet, when he saw the town rise into view, saw how it straddled the River Vermelleuve with its series of bridges and waterwheels, and saw how idyllic it looked sitting peacefully beneath the snow-capped peaks of the majestic Sans Pareil Mountains, the worry and anxiety melted away, replaced by awe. Kidelaut had, up until then, never seen a sight quite like it. The Redwater of that time had looked as if it had been pulled straight out of a fairy tale, and planted in the Caesonian countryside.

Kidelaut closed his eyes. Even now, everything was still vivid in his mind, as if his memories were of things that happened a few days ago, and not well over a decade in the past. He could still smell the crisp, alpine air, invigorating and refreshing; hear the chirping songs of birds unknown to Kimoon; sit beneath a sky that was never overcast, be it day or night; and see the eponymous red-tinted waters, courtesy of the riverine mosses which the locals used to make a distinct, crimson dye.

He exhaled slowly through his nose. For the better part of a year, he had called Redwater home. In return, the town had carefully etched those pleasant memories; those bucolic moments that brought him comfort during dark times, onto his mind.

And those etchings were now all that remained of the old Redwater.

“‘S’cuse me, this seat taken?”

A man’s voice shocked Kidelaut out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open, and he blinked a few times to clear his mind. Still, he possessed enough mental clarity to notice that the man spoke with an accent, one that was just thick enough to identify him as a Varian northerner – someone who hailed from the eternally snow-covered lands beyond the Krasnivaya Mountains.

“No, not at all,” Kidelaut said and shifted further to his side of the bench, until he could rest his arm on the scrollwork of its armrest. He cast a sidelong glance at the man. Like most who ventured onto the streets of Redwater, he kept the lower half of his face covered. The upper classes had a preference for comfortable masks made of soft, layered fabrics. This man however, dressed as he was in garb that marked him quite clearly as a sellsword – drab, earth-coloured clothes beneath a cuirass and short tassets, and a sword by his side – wasn’t of such a class. And so, he instead had a thick scarf wrapped up to his nose.

“Please, do have a seat,” Kidelaut continued. The sight of the man’s scarf, and his attire, made him aware of his own. Just like the man, Kidelaut was dressed as a sellsword. Though his suit of half-plate might be a touch shinier, and his forest green shirt and trousers a little less frayed, he nevertheless looked every part a blade looking to be hired.

Such attire, coupled with the muggy air, made for a very discomforting experience. The scarf Kidelaut had pulled up to the bridge of his nose didn’t help with matters. Every breath felt like a chore, one that couldn’t even adequately fill his lungs. But Kidelaut also knew that without that strip of fabric, the air he would invite into his body would be little better than poison.

The man said a word of thanks, his armour clanking as he sat down heavily with a grunt. Then, he reclined with an arm stretched over the top of the bench, the hand of the other running through a head of straw-like hair which had the appearance of short and pointed grass. Kidelaut responded with a simple nod, his gaze fixed on Redwater’s main square, directly ahead of him and just beyond the point of his boots.

He sighed and hung his head. Here, he had no better view of Redwater’s sordid fate.

Gone were the clear skies; the light of the evening sun could barely pierce the thick smog which blanketed the town in clouds of dusty brown. Street lamps struggled to provide illumination, but their lights were little more than vague, yellow glows through the hanging filth. Gone was also the fresh, clean air; so pervasive was the scent of iron that it was palpable even through Kidelaut’s scarf. He felt the metallic tang creep into his nose, and could even taste it upon his tongue. And gone were the birds and their songs; it didn’t seem as if there were any living creatures in Redwater apart from the people who called it home. The only songs that remained were the droning hums and angry grumbles of distant machinery.

But worst of all was the river. Kidelaut couldn’t see it from where he sat, but he could hear it. One couldn’t escape the rush of water here in Redwater. Once, he would have enjoyed the noise, but now all it did was remind him of the sorry state of the Vermelleuve. It still flowed red, but it wasn’t the rosy pink of Kidelaut’s memories, and instead a sickly orange, as if the water itself had rusted over. Dam and dam exploiting the river for more and more power slowed its flow to a gurgling trickle as it meandered through town, staining desolate riverbanks and sapping life from all that it touched.

Kidelaut shook his head. If the Redwater of years past had been a setting from a fairy tale, then whatever it had become was surely a victim of a Kimoonese cautionary story. One that cautioned against the sins of rampant industry with all of the subtlety of a brick to the face, he noted.

Beside him, the man cleared his throat. It was an awkward, unnatural sound. “I hear that Veirmont is a fine place to visit in the spring,” he said.

“Not as fine as Vayansk in the summer, however,” Kidelaut replied. Under his scarf, he grinned. “It is good to see you, Jaakko.”

“Likewise, Renny,” Jaakko replied. Neither used the other’s real name. Both had done this exact thing too many times, and knew far better than to make such elementary mistakes. Jaakko glanced at Kidelaut from the corner of his eye. “Frostbite take my fingers, Renny, you look like someone just took a steaming shit in your dinner. What’s going on?”

“Do I, now?” Kidelaut chuckled and shook his head at Jaakko’s strange choice of words. “That is very, very strange of you to say, especially since our faces are hidden.”

“True, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happy whenever you visit Redwater,” Jaakko replied, the grin on his face clear in his tone. “Call it my gambler’s instinct to bet on whatever’s most probable, eh?”

“As you wish,” Kidelaut said. “And you said it yourself. If I do appear morose, it is because of this place.”

Several years ago, when Kidelaut visited Redwater for the third time since moving to Hartworth, he hadn’t been just morose. He had been furious. The sight of a forest of chimneys spewing plumes of black smoke into the air; of sprawling refineries dumping their refuse onto dying fields; and of the mines burrowing deep beneath the Sans Pareil allowing their toxic run-off to drain into the Vermelleuve, had enraged him. Dutiful knight that he was at the time, he had raised his concerns to his then-master, only to be told that although such things were ghastly, they were ultimately inevitable along the path of progress.

And like a fool, Kidelaut had allowed such a flimsy excuse to placate him. Such moments, such memories made him wish for a temperament closer to Cynwaer’s. That seafarer was brash and overly-quick to resort to violence, but at least he would have fought hard for what he thought was right. He wouldn’t have simply taken a noble’s word at face value.

Kidelaut drew in a deep breath. The scarf flattened against his nose. “In any case,” he said. “Do you have what we asked?”

“Sure as the springmelt, I do,” Jaakko replied. He paused, eyes narrowing as he took a quick look around them, disguising that action with the pretence of stretching his neck. Apart from a handful of people quickly crossing the square, and a few hurrying past a row of squarish buildings to their left, there wasn’t much in the way of a crowd. Kidelaut had expected that. Redwater only truly came to life at night, well after sunset, and after the refineries closed for the day. Only then would the smog be at its least dense.

Satisfied that nobody was watching, Jaakko quickly slipped a hand between his cuirass and shirt, carefully pulling out a thin, stained, and slightly bent folder. It had no markings on it. No names, no labels, not even a scribbled drawing. To anyone else’s eyes, it would have likely appeared to be something mundane, of no particular import or significance. That was if they even noticed it in the first place.

And that was exactly what Jaakko and Kidelaut had intended.

Jaakko placed the folder beside him, as if he were simply putting it down for a moment. Without looking at Kidelaut, he slid it towards the middle of the bench.

Kidelaut waited five heartbeats, then pulled the folder towards him. He picked it up, peaked at its contents, and slotted it between his own cuirass and shirt.

And that was it.

“You have our thanks,” Kidelaut said with a nod.

Jaakko chuckled. “I’ll need more than that, considering the trouble I had to go through to get that,” he said with a shake of his head. “Tell Songbird they owe me more than just a drink, this time. Giving me less than two days to dig up all that information on His Iron Lordship, what were they thinking?”

“You managed it, however,” Kidelaut noted.

Jaakko nodded. “That, I did. Don’t make it a habit, though.”

Kidelaut tapped a finger on his thigh. “I do admit that I am curious, however,” he said, turning his head fully to look directly into Jaakko’s chilly, azure eyes. “You are rather forthcoming about working against the man who employs you. Is there a reason for why that is so?” He paused. “Oh, I mean no offence, and certainly no suspicion. Please, do not misunderstand. Your loyalty is without question. I am merely intrigued.”

He grinned, and his words took on a more teasing – a more Sioridann-like – hue. “Unless, of course, there is reason for us to be suspicious.”

Jaakko regarded him with a strange look in his eyes for a moment before shaking his head. “Frostbite take my– no, take your fingers, Renny. Songbird’s rubbing off on you,” he said with a chuckle. Then, he sighed, eyes gazing out towards and beyond the square. “But, to answer your question, my contract with that little bastard ends this week, and I’m not planning on signing another one, so he’s not going to be my boss for much longer. I’m sure as springmelt not going to care about whatever befalls him.”

He adjusted his scarf, pulling it further up the bridge of his nose. “And besides, it’s about time that bastard paid for all the shite that he’s done. By summer’s thaw, I’d even bet that it’s not just you and Songbird who have plans for him. Half of Redwater probably wants His Iron Lordship gone.”

Kidelaut nodded slowly. That wasn’t the answer he had been expecting, but it was certainly an interesting one. One of which he wanted to hear more. “That is news to me,” Kidelaut began, his voice low. For once, he found himself thankful for the scarves they had to wear. The fabric muffled their words, and kept them close. Conversations didn’t drift far in Redwater. “Please, do elaborate.”

“Come on, Renny,” Jaakko said. “Surely as snows will melt, you’ve heard of all the shite he’s done?”

“Only as much as what little I hear from beyond Redwater’s borders, I fear,” Kidelaut admitted.

‘His Iron Lordship’ was the moniker by which the people of Redwater – both high and low – knew a certain Gratien Wesschler, a captain of industry and mining magnate. That much, Kidelaut knew with certainty for a fact. He also knew that the moniker was a misnomer. Wesschler wasn’t an actual lord, for one. As far as Kidelaut knew, he wasn’t even of noble birth, even if he did act to the contrary. And secondly, it wasn’t just iron in which Wesschler dealt. Coal, bloodstone, silver, and even gems; if it came out of the ground, and if it came from Redwater, Wesschler likely had a hand in its extraction, refining, and sale.

All that made Wesschler a very, very rich man. It wasn’t a secret as to how he spent such wealth; even the lowliest miners were aware of the generous bribes he handed out like sweets during a festival, or the gifts he lavished upon the local nobility. Such acts bought him influence; bought him power; and perhaps most importantly, bought him the ability to have his way in just about every matter in Redwater. Indeed, Kidelaut had never heard of Gratien meeting trouble when he bought almost a third of all the mines in Redwater, or when he took over one of the larger and more productive refineries.

Kidelaut’s stomach turned at the mere thought of such corruption, but even so, he could admit that Gratien hadn’t done anything particularly reprehensible. True, his actions likely didn’t endear him to anyone – and had likely achieved the opposite – but Kidelaut didn’t think that a hostile takeover here, and a bribe to get his way there, were enough to antagonise half-a-town, as Jaakko had said.

“Well,” Jaakko continued. “Where do I even fucking begin?”

His shoulders heaved as he drew in a deep breath. “Maybe from his love for women? And I’m using ‘love’ very fucking loosely here. We’re both– Well, you were a sellsword, Renny, but I’m sure you’re no stranger to fellows who think with their cocks more than their heads, right?” Kidelaut nodded. “Well, this rat bastard lordship takes that to the bloody extreme. Frostbite take my fucking head if I lie, but I swear I’ve seen him with one girl in the morning, another in the afternoon, and maybe three others by evenfall.”

“Sounds like some people we’ve known, Jaakko,” Kidelaut noted.

“Yeah, well,” Jaakko said, his tone darkening slightly. “The people we knew had standards, Renny. At least they left married women alone, and didn’t…” He stopped himself and looked away. “Let’s just say that he’s not used to being rejected. I’ve heard from some of the local sellswords that if he can’t get what he wants by throwing money at it, he’ll use force.”

Kidelaut’s hands balled into fists, and he set his jaw. “And those sellswords, they don’t stop him?”

Jaakko turned to look at him with a flat expression in his eyes. “Renny, the bastard could sign a confession to every crime known to man and beast, and he’d still be a free man by sundown. Anyone who’s got family in Redwater knows better than to cross him.” He paused and leaned back onto the bench. “I guess that’s why he doesn’t pull his nonsense when me and the other North Varians are around. We’d cave his fucking head in with a hammer.”

“So, this…Iron Lordship is a vile lech in addition to being corrupt,” Kidelaut said. “Songbird is going to love playing with him, of that I am certain.”

Jaakko chuckled mirthlessly. “I hope they make it hurt,” he said. “By the long winter night, Renny, if he was just a corrupt, perverse bastard, that’d be enough for me to want him dead. But no, he has to go the extra mile and be involved in some shady horseshite.” He looked around once more. There were only the two of them around the square; everyone else had likely scurried into some building and away from the smog.

“I’ve written it all down,” Jaakko said, nodding towards the folder behind Kidelaut’s cuirass. “But since I’ve already started ranting about the bastard, I might as well continue.” He cleared his throat, coughing into a fist, before continuing. “Look, Renny, I don’t know much about mining and how it works, but I think I know enough to be fucking sure that you don’t need to bring in close to three hundred new workers every other week, and all of them from just about every corner of Caesonia. Either something in those mines is eating workers, or that bastard is up to no fucking good.”

That caught Kidelaut’s attention in an instant. What Jaakko was saying was eerily similar to the rumours of missing – or abducted, depending on who you asked – persons that had brought Sioridann and his paths to Redwater, and to Gratien, in the first place. “I know Wesschler owns a number of mines,” Kidelaut said, reaching under his scarf to scratch his chin. “I do not doubt that he is involved in some criminal enterprise or other, Jaakko, but I will ask this to be absolutely clear. Is it possible that his mines and his refinery are just that dangerous? Enough so that he would need that many fresh hires regularly?”

“Not a damn chance.” Jaakko’s response was immediate. Evidently, he had already considered – and then rejected – such a possibility. “That bastard treats his workers worse than dung, don’t get me wrong, but it’d take him actually, actively killing them to lose a few hundred every two weeks.” He paused to breathe. “I’m not even sure that they’re actually workers, to be honest. I’ve patrolled the mines and refinery many, many times since he started bringing in these people and I can’t remember ever seeing a new face at work.”

Kidelaut chewed on his lip. “That is indeed very troubling.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Jaakko said. Then, he sat up straight, clenching and unclenching his hands. “You know what, Renny? Now that I’ve said everything out loud, I’m not sure I can just walk away from that little bastard without giving him a piece of my mind. The North Varians listen to me, mostly, so if you need extra muscle for whatever you and Songbird have planned, you let me know.”

Kidelaut looked at him and grinned. “Ah, finally decided to fight the good fight, have you?”

Jaakko chuckled. “Just this once, Renny.” He stood up and stretched his arms. “Though I’ll definitely need new work once we’re through with that bastard, so who knows, eh?”

“Then I shall endeavour to make this operation of ours one that is spectacular enough to convince you and yours to join our cause.” Kidelaut stood up as well.

“I won’t deny that I’ve thought about it,” Jaakko said. “Especially after seeing just how people like that rat bastard treats the lower classes.” He looked off to the side, then back at Kidelaut. “Anyway, I should return to my duties before they miss me too much.”

“Very well,” Kidelaut said. “Be safe and be discreet. We would hate to lose a friend such as yourself.”

Jaakko waved his words away. “Eh, I wouldn’t worry, Renny. If anything happens to me, the North Varians would probably riot, and that bastard might be a bastard, but he’s not a stupid bastard. Not stupid enough to want a small band of very, very angry North Varians on his property, at least.” He nodded, and Kidelaut returned the gesture. “But I’ll be careful, and I hope your path is true as the autumn frost, Renny.”

Kidelaut said one last word of farewell before the two men parted ways. Jaakko stalked off northwards, to where most of the town’s workers had their quarters, and the part of the city that was closest to the mines and refineries. Kidelaut remained where he was for a moment longer, looking up towards an obscured sky, listening to the gurgle of a poisoned river, and tasting the tainted, metallic air.

He looked down and shook his head. An industrialist, hm? He mused. It felt almost poetic. Here he stood, in the midst of an old friend ruined by industry. And in his mind, he still clung onto memories of an old love, murdered by a soulless profiteer. Kidelaut made it a point to never take pleasure in ending his marks – he did what he did because there was no other option.

But for Gratien Wesschler, corrupt industrialist and exploiter of suffering, Kidelaut supposed that he could make an exception.

[SilverPaw]

	Attire: Party fit (one brooch only) Date and Time: FLASHBACK: Sola 25th, Early Afternoon Location: His office Mention(s): @Rodiak Lord Monet Interaction(s):

Wulfric stretched, filed the agents’ documents in a secure location, relocated to a couch, and ordered some tea. After it was brought in, and he begun to sip on it slowly, he called out, “You may join me, Jackal.”

The sliding doors leading to his reading nook opened, and a servant walked out. Well, he was disguised as a servant, but even the prince, who knew he wasn’t quite that, couldn’t discern anything that gave him away. Jackal had a light brown complexion, warm brown eyes, short trimmed black hair, an aquiline nose, and an affable demeanour. He had the remarkable skill to make only so much of an impression on a person that they noticed him as an expected part of any given environment, and promptly forget about him.

“Before we move onto your report, how were they?” Wulfric asked, curious of Jackal’s opinions on the new agents.

“Oh, that Thorne lady noticed me for sure. The others? They were degrees of suspicious,” he waved a hand in a so-so motion. “You’ve got some oddballs, Your Highness, but they’re professionals, that much I could tell. But, hmm,” the man hedged, and the prince motioned for him to go on. “If there’s really magic involved,” Jackal tapped his chin. “Might need folk trained in that, too, Prince.”

“Don’t I know it,” he sighed. With a shake of his head, he moved onto the next topic. “You have the photographs?”

Jackal smiled, crossed the room in a few steps, and carefully deposited an envelope on the coffee table. Having handed that over, he moved away, standing at attention like any other servant would have done.

Opening the envelope revealed a day’s worth of work: dozens of photographs of mundane happenings involving Lord Monet, from the moment he stepped a foot out of bed to the moment he returned to rest for the night. A few to confirm he had slept throughout the night, even.

On the 24th of Sola, Monet started his day with breakfast at the guest house. He met with the Duchess Lesdeman, and was with her for several hours – not because of anything titillating, though. Business only. Afterwards, he went out and about with an old friend, and the two dined together. Next, he had dealings at the bank, where he met with Duchess Lesdeman yet again. Parting ways with her, he wrapped up his evening with a visit at the brothels, where he remained well into the night.

Leafing through the pictures, Wulfric began constructing a picture of the man Lord Monet was. His frequent dealings with Duchess Lesdeman were unlikely to be related only to the marriage offer for Zarai. He and the Duchess must have deeper connections. The lord had no compunction about visiting the brothels, either; he hadn’t taken any precaution to hide his activity. A sleazy, unscrupulous man, he was sure, even if he had no concrete proof for the latter.

“Continue observing him. See if you can position yourself within eavesdropping distance. I want something incriminating, the worse the better. If he doesn’t show the appropriate initiative, feel free to lure him in with appropriate bait.” Jackal gave a single nod, and bowed with a sly smile. Before leaving, he left Wulfric with an irritating piece of news. Alexander Deacon had been hired by Edin as his temporary advisor. With a long sigh, Wulfric thanked the man, and dismissed him.

[Tpartywithzombi]

Time: Nighttime
Location: Camping event
Mention:
Interactions:@CitrusArms Captain @helo Callum @JJ Doe Riona
Appearance: No shoes|

Dress

m.media-amazon.com/images/I/71RjYAbtk…

Bag

i.pinimg.com/736x/59/0c/06/590c063e41…

Ariella’s expression brightened at Stratya’s warm greeting and the mention of fighting lessons. Her natural curiosity and playfulness were piqued as she looked at the dagger in the Captain's hand, her fingers itching to take it.
“Well, I must confess, Captain, my experience with blades is... minimal at best,” Ariella admitted with a sheepish grin. “Though, I can say with certainty that my embroidery scissors have seen their fair share of battles. Thread, mostly. Vicious stuff.” She let out a light laugh.

Her emerald eyes flicked back to Stratya’s, sparkling with excitement. “But, truly, I’d love to learn. It sounds much more thrilling than discussing trade routes or marriage prospects.” She grimaced at the thought of the latter, then quickly shifted back to her earlier enthusiasm. “If you’re offering lessons, Captain, consider me your most eager—albeit clumsy—student. I promise to be diligent. Mostly.” She grinned

Ariella’s gaze lingered on the dagger once more, her hand hovering near it as if seeking permission. Her eyes lifted from the dagger as she caught a glimpse of Mathias, Cal, Riona, Roman and The Doctor. “ It’s a full house now” she smiled her eyes lighting up.

She turned to listen to the instructions from the camp instructors who interrupted Stratya’s and Ari’s conversation. Her shoulders fell as she let out a sigh, the last thing she attempted to cook she burnt so bad it could have been considered a chunk of coal. Smiling she looked around unsure who her camping partner was but catching a glimpse of Cal’s and Riona’s faces they seemed to pale as if they saw a ghost. Looking concerned she turned back to Stratya “ If you’ll excuse me I’m just going to say hello to Cal” she smiled before skipping off.

“CAL!” she shouted attempting to distract them with a large smile. She reached Cal and Riona’s side “ Are you two alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost” her voice dropped to a whisper.

[princess]

Dahlia Fletcher

Time: Nightfall
Location: Sorian Waterfront -> Sada Kurau
Interaction: @Apex Sunburn

---

The night was a fickle ally. On the one hand, it cloaked Dahlia’s movements as effectively as her worn cloak and provided comfort with the sweet sparkle of the stars above.

...On the other hand, it amplified every creak of wood and the faintest scuff of her boots, each sound striking like a gong in her ears.

Dahlia crouched behind a stack of crates near the pier, her warm brown eyes scanning the Sada Kurau like a hawk sizing up its prey. The warship loomed before her, intimidating even in the dim glow of moonlight. She tucked a few unruly strands of wavy brown hair back under her hood, muttering under her breath, “Just another day in paradise.”

Dahlia’s heart pounded furiously as she slipped into the cover of darkness near the Sorian docks. Seraphina’s threats still echoed in her ears, rattling her more than she cared to admit.

Just get in, do what they want, and get out alive.

Dahlia adjusted her cloak, pulling it tighter around herself as she skirted a cluster of crates. So Dahlia, what’s the game plan if you're caught? Charm the crew with my winning personality? Yeah, right. Her gaze swept the hull until it caught on a dangling rope. “Guess I’m climbing. Great."

The sounds of the crew working aboard the Sada Kurau filtered down to her ears. The deck was alive with activity, and while the chaos was intimidating, it was also an unexpected advantage.

She moved swiftly and silently. Years of slipping unnoticed through city streets served her well now. Reaching the rope, she tested it with a firm tug, her fingers brushing against its rough surface. It held firm.

Dahlia took a deep breath, the scent of salt and sea filling her lungs. “Alright, Dahlia, just don’t look down,” she muttered as she began to climb. Her hands worked quickly, gripping and pulling as she scaled the ship’s side. The strain burned her arms, but she pressed on, her freckled cheeks flushed with effort.

Halfway up, she paused to catch her breath, clinging to the rope. The water below looked impossibly far away, “Fall, and it’s game over,” she whispered. “No pressure.”

Finally, she hauled herself over, landing softly on the deck. She dropped into a low crouch, flattening herself against the shadows as she scanned her surroundings. A quick glance confirmed what she had hoped—the crew remained preoccupied, their focus entirely on their tasks. Dahlia bit her lip, her breath held tight.

For a moment, she simply sat there, her knees pulled to her chest and her back pressed against the wood. Her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, the weight of her situation sinking in. Seraphina’s words played on repeat in her mind once more, but she pushed them aside.

One problem at a time.