Force and Fury

Left Behind: Mulberry Street

@Gunther

Feel absolutely free to!

Left Behind: Mulberry Street

@Kuro Here's the map from last year. I managed to dig it up!

Mulberry Map

As a bonus, I've tossed in the Sparling family tree that I made and never used:

Family Tree

Obviously, with some changes to the cast, this map could and should change a bit as well.

Left Behind: Mulberry Street

@Gunther Yeah, I think they'd know each other! Jason still probably does those sports and, potentially the inverse. He's headed nowhere as a person, though, sadly. Any ideas for what they'd think of each other?

Left Behind: Mulberry Street

Oh no! I derped and posted mine in the Char tab to start with. I assumed I was accepted because you'd accepted them in the first iteration of this. I can make any changes you'd like if this iteration of the story requires them. Sorry about that!

Left Behind: Mulberry Street

The Sparling Family

T H E S P A R L I N G F A M I L Y
T H E S P A R L I N G F A M I L Y

"They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. They say..."

_{[ ❇ ] B R I E F F A M I L Y H I S T O R Y}

The Sparling name is an old one in Huddeen. Faded headstones in the town's graveyard bear testament to that. However, their line has been rather sparse over the past couple of decades as successive generations have left for the greener pastures of Boston, Providence, and New York. Then, a dozen years ago, family matriarch Hattie passed away and the old family house ended up in the hands of her granddaughter, pregnant young grad student and former wild child Alana, along with her growing family. Moving back from Boston to the town where she used to spend summers with her grandma after her parents' divorce, she brought her husband Devon, a stereotypically geeky storyboard artist, and her children Lila and Jason. While the grand old home was everything they could've hoped, vintage 1970s-era decor and some electrical issues aside, their first few years were difficult, as Devon had to switch jobs, Alana had to delay setting up her own practice when their youngest daughter Winnie was born, and Lila suffered an accident that confined her to a wheelchair and necessitated the installation of a ramp and extensive renovations. Things have calmed down since then, and the family has flourished... at least outwardly. While Devon's career has taken him to conferences across the country and Lila has gone off to the Juilliard School in New York to study violin, small-town star athlete Jason doesn't see much of a future, Winnie grows ever stranger and more introverted, and Alana continues to fray at the edges as she wears too many hats, commutes for too long every day, and juggles too many responsibilities in her desperate determination to make sure that her family won't go the way that her parents' did. Add to this the recent arrival of Devon's older sister Carina from Boston, fresh off of some serious controversy, as well as Lila back on holiday, and things are... volatile. Oh, then zombies. Zombies have happened too. Is there any way that this fraying family can pull itself together long enough to survive and maybe even be an asset? I guess we'll have to wait and see.

_{[ ❇ ] F A M I L Y M E M B E R S}

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "There's a pill for just about everything, but some sunshine and honest talk is a good prescription too." ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

S P A R L I N G, A L A N A || M O T H E R S P A R L I N G, A L A N A || M O T H E R _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Growing up, Alana was just about the most obnoxious possible version of a ca. 1995-2003 first-gen edgy gamer girl. She never thought she'd be a psychologist. She assumed her job would be something in a creative industry but, here she is, and there's a kind of art to patching minds back up, she supposes. She's certainly had to do more than her share of that over the course of her life. As an ex-urbanite, this mother of three commutes into Manchester for work whenever her job requires it. While she was born in nearby Nashua, Alana's parents broke up when she was small and she bounced around. She spent much of her later childhood and early teens in Huddeen with her grandmother before moving to Boston with her dad and becoming a child of the early internet. Luckily, her most absurd exploits were pre-social media and, just after her twenty-second birthday, she was a mother anyhow and her crazy days fast faded. After inheriting her grandmother's house a dozen years ago, she packed her young family up and moved out to Huddeen, with its lower cost of living and safer streets. Now into her early forties, Alana's weathered far more storms and is a lot number to it all than she imagined that she'd be at this point in life. She'll often go on about how she loves this town, and is an active member of all the relevant community organizations. Embarrassed about her wild past and her husband's at-times immature behaviour, she tries as hard as she can to fit in, never quite feeling like she manages it. Secretly, her interest in her marriage is waning but, remembering her childhood, she's determined not to let it fail. You know how they say that shrinks are as much of a mess as their clients? At least she's not abusing prescriptions... yet.

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "He who sits on the highest throne still sits on his own bottom." ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

Z A N E T T I, D E V O N || F A T H E R Z A N E T T I, D E V O N || F A T H E R _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ If Alana eventually grew up, Devon never quite managed the trick. A storyboard artist and gig worker, he pursues jobs in the videogaming industry with particular gusto and has built up a fairly impressive portfolio. A proud nerd and daydreaming creative, he lives for his work and loves his family, very much in the mold of the 'cool dad'. He convinces himself that it's natural, but he works hard at it. Yet, he can also be a bit of an avoidant husband and father: enthusiastically there for the good times but absent for the more challenging ones. While he's certain it's only an unfortunate coincidence, he's beginning to understand how bad it looks and how much trouble it's causing his loved ones. Devon's never quite mastered the fine art of 'adulting', but he's trying. He's always been somewhat awkward but has grown socially and in confidence over the years and has become unused to failure. Sometimes, however, in his more anxious moments, he suffers from impostor syndrome. He constantly worries that his creative spark is leaving him and that he might end up embarrassing or holding back his family members, particularly his daughter Lila. As his career has finally started to take off in recent years, he's been seeing more of her in New York and they've grown somewhat closer. At the start of our story, Devon's trapped in Boston where he was attending a conference. He calls his family on the phone at every opportunity while they still have service. He's trying to get someone in the Boston Quarantine Zone to do something or, barring that, to make his way back, but he doesn't quite know where to begin.

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "Okay, right. So we can definitely go with the personal interest and inspiration angle and that's good, but - hear me out - could we maybe focus on my like... music a little?" ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

S P A R L I N G, L I L A || O L D E S T C H I L D S P A R L I N G, L I L A || O L D E S T C H I L D _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ A surprise child and the reason that Alana and Devon are married, Lila is twenty-one as the story begins, and was visiting home from university in New York when the epidemic struck. A perfectly average, if somewhat rambunctious, kid before being paralyzed in a tree-climbing accident at the age of twelve, she was forced to reinvent herself and find new purpose. Since then, with her mother's relentless support , the oldest of the Sparling children has become the sort of inspirational story that's a magnet for bursaries, scholarships, speaking engagements, and interest pieces by local new outlets. An extremely talented violinist from an early age, she has already featured in major productions and boasts nearly a hundred thousand subscribers on her YouTube channel. Living the young, sophisticated urbanite's dream, Lila has left her small-town roots behind and flourished in New York: a young virtuoso headed for success. Yet, deep down, vicious insecurities about being a burden - about being incapable and unattractive - tear at her, and the constructed world and its many obstacles act as constant reminders that she cannot just do many of the things she would like. In truth, she is much like her younger siblings, though they may not think of her as such. In her dreams, she's still a spontaneous creature, wandering the neighbourhood with Jason in tow, climbing trees and hiking in the ravine, pulling Winnie in a wagon, and playing games of tag or basketball that stretch into the night. There's a shared history with her family and she loves them, but she hasn't spent much time with them in years. She loves her mother, who pushed her hard to pick herself back up and to succeed, but there's something else as well: resentment at stealing her away from her childhood with endless practice, rehearsal, and travel, for moulding her into an 'inspiration' instead of a person. With her friends, in their little shared apartment, Lila's fun, irreverent, and vivacious, always ready with a quick quip or pithy observation. Here, at 'home', she increasingly feels like the odd one out in her family of lovable losers. Huddeen is a pleasant place full of fond memories, but it's part of her past, not her future.

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "I have never let my schooling interfere with my education. - Mark Twain" ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

S P A R L I N G, J A S O N || M I D D L E C H I L D S P A R L I N G, J A S O N || M I D D L E C H I L D _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Three and a half years younger than Lila, Jason was always playing keep-up with her when they were kids: in school, where teachers went on glowingly about her; for attention, where she seemed to lap up their parents' love with her musical talent and witty remarks; and in the little pencil marks measuring height on the doorframe, where he could never quite catch her. Then, after she had her accident, he won the third of those battles definitively, and lost the others. As his parents' and, especially, his mother's attention reoriented itself toward Lila, and his playmate returned home less able to... play, the boy found other ways of entertaining himself. Where his father is a genuinely creative person, Jason merely aped and dreamed. Instead, his talents lie elsewhere. A natural athlete and good with his hands, he is a mediocre student at school, but well liked by both teachers and other students, co-captaining the basketball team to the state's final four in his junior year. Yet, the scholarship offers from major universities haven't exactly been flooding in. He enjoys shop class, gaming, and skateboarding more than anything else, and is just able to dunk on the basketball hoop in the driveway. In between occasional games of Horse with his dad or his sisters, it takes relentless punishment while the curbs and railings in town see similar treatment from his skateboard. At the end of the day, Jason is pretty edgy, with a mohawk, a couple of tattoos, and a fondness for music that would make his once-rebellious parents blush. This, he blasts out the window of his 2007 Buick, recently purchased from an estate sale for $1700. While nothing academic really interests him, he can play shooters and survival games for hours and, yes, he has a (very humble) sword collection. With little to no direction in life, a secret part of him is... weirdly kind of excited that the apocalypse is nigh. He's already constructing traps and barriers and he practices with his knockoff katana in the backyard. Perhaps the dire nature of the situation just hasn't dawned on him yet, so the question is: when will it?

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "Life isn't boring if you know where to look, but I think - like - most adults lose that somewhere along the way." ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

S P A R L I N G, W I N N I E || Y O U N G E S T C H I L D S P A R L I N G, W I N N I E || Y O U N G E S T C H I L D _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Six years younger than Jason, Winnie was - like her sister - an 'accident'. Her parents hadn't intended to have a third child, but her older siblings were thrilled. At eleven years of age, she's a quiet, socially awkward, and very active girl who doodles, explores, and daydreams as much as her father ever did growing up. He'll never admit to it, but she's the child he understands most and he spoils her with new games, art supplies, and the sort of long solo father-daughter days out that Lila never had the chance to get. Lanky, gangling, and much taken with idiosyncratic fashion and scary things at a young age, Winnie is greatly enamoured with Minecraft (and Roblox... and Fortnite). Both in-game and out, she tags along with her older brother when he lets her and tries to recreate that sense of adventure in real life. He's become a more reluctant partner in crime lately, though, as he heads toward adulthood, and she's started playing more mature games in an attempt to keep up with the person she most admires and wants to be like (though she'll never admit it, of course). While not actively disliked or bullied at school, the youngest Sparling daughter is definitely not one of the popular girls either, and she catches some flak for spending as much time with the boys as she does with her assumed tribe of rambunctious pre-pubescent girls. A characteristic of both ADHD and autism, Winnie goes through intense monthly obsessions, gobbling up every bit of knowledge that she can on random subjects of interest. A cultural magpie plucking greedily from the fertile environs of tiktok, discord, reddit, wikipedia, and YouTube (where she's dutifully subscribed to her sister's channel), she is almost uncannily knowledgeable about random trivia and it is the one thing aside from minecraft that she will reliably and enthusiastically speak at length on. Out of necessity, she has now set her mind to the task of zombie apocalypse survival and relentlessly marshals her family to do the same.

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "To me, 'bossy' is not a pejorative at all. It means somebody's passionate and engaged and ambitious and doesn't mind leading." ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

Z A N E T T I, C A R I N A || P A T E R N A L A U N T Z A N E T T I, C A R I N A || P A T E R N A L A U N T _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Carina never set out to live up to her name. She never wanted to be a 'Karen' and she cringes inwardly (and outwardly, for she can do nothing with subtlety) at the thought that people might consider her one. Three failed marriages, a circle of friends as superficial as they are materialistic, and repeated run-ins with the glass ceiling pushed her to the edge. One ill-advised incident broke her. As a girl, Carina was always the favourite child, and quiet, awkward, artsy Devon ever her shadow. Popular in school, she looked out for him, she protected him, and when he was getting his start as an artist, she let him surf her couch for months on end. More than one potential boyfriend was scared away in that manner, but she never said a word about it. Carina loved her little brother. Rather, she loves her little brother, and her nieces and nephew. She just wanted a family of her own, but she fell for jerks: handsome jerks, badboys, rich jerks, and just, well...pigs. She'd seemed never to make a bad choice growing up and, even as her career advanced and she made all of the right connections, everything seemed to go wrong outside of ever-fancier job titles. The men in charge said that she was bossy, but was she really? The first time that she was passed up for a promotion, she held it in, waited, and didn't jump to any conclusions. It happened again, though, and again, and she took her story to the media. Not much happened except a couple of articles and a horizontal move to a new firm. Again, she was passed up, despite giving her all to the company and sacrificing her marriage for it. A third job and a third marriage ensued, and then came the fateful day when she'd just had too much and a Starbucks employee gave her this smug little smile as he knowingly shortchanged her on her Venti. There were cameras but they didn't pick up any of the nuance and she went viral. She was publicly released from her job. She was doxxed. She was divorced. She was canceled. Carina was even sorry at first, but not after how vicious they all got. So, she bought herself a gun for self-defence, sold her apartment, and moved out to Huddeen to lick her wounds once the worst of it died down. She will see if her brother is as generous with her as she was with him.

The Hourglass Order

A C T S E V E N : P A L A P A R

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Chapter One: A Restless Slumber

Once upon a time, Ceboyan had been a small place. Thatch-roofed huts had perched upon stilts in the tidal flat and fishing boats had been the only traffic through its harbourmouth. As night had fallen, hearths and bonfires had winked out until there was only the faint twinkling light of the stars and the five moons.

There was nobody save, perhaps, for the very oldest among the residents of the sprawling, ramshackle city who remembered those times anymore. They fell increasingly within the realm of cultural myth, a fraying thread traceable to a distant and disappearing past: before the Virang had come.

And so it was that the sun set over this vast metropolis of some four hundred thousand souls, muted and moody behind a shoal of softly mumbling clouds. The bray of stray dogs traveled through the narrow winding streets and the clank and groan of cranes carried from ships being unloaded - even by night - at the docks.

One by one, the lights winked out and a soft rain began to fall. Yet, not all disappeared into the newly brooding darkness. There remained thin bands of light along the city's few large avenues. Within the port district, in particular, torches flickered amid the gloom as crews continued to work. Liveried security - the gleam of their brass buttons made mute in the prevailing conditions - hunkered in their guardhouses. Others grudgingly patrolled around the Royal Palapar Trading Company's warehouses, clinging beneath the awnings wherever possible. Back and forth swung the tremulous orange lights of their whale oil lanterns, greasy smoky spots of light that wavered as they walked.

The soft rains became a downpour and the torches began to falter. The arteries of light that snaked across the city and up the hillsides toward Mount Bantay retracted until they laid bare the truth of the this place. The docks remained lit - tentatively - and, now, one might behold, even as they disappeared for the night, where those veins of light had led. High up on the hills, overlooking the city, were palaces of a distinctly Virangish architecture. These roosted there, illuminated with magical light, defiant to the wants of nature. From more than one could be heard the sounds of music, conversation, and laughter. Ladies in fine dresses, too drunken to walk with grace, were helped into waiting carriages under umbrellas. Gentlemen, fancying themselves possessed of more daring stuff, made a dash for it in the rain, sliding in beside them. Others stood out on covered colonnades and verandahs, the tiny orange glows of their cigars lost amid the glow of the palaces. It was these events and the conversations held here that moved the city, after all.

Yet, there was two more places of note. The first was lower down, within the city, an oasis of greenery, garden, and light: the Royal Palace of the Queen of Palapar. If it was sleeping for the night, well-accustomed to the monsoon rains that had not quite yet come to a close, it retained some light for practical reasons. This grand old building, however, was rendered impotent by the second.

This loomed above even the retreats of that foreign aristocracy. Further up the mountain that the locals had always considered - and named - a guardian, lay the headquarters of the Royal Palapar Trading Company, who were not from this country but owned it in all but name. Though they had named their complex the Beacon Centre for its great domed tower and constant illumination, the locals had another name for it: Masamang Mata - the Evil Eye.

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Introductions

Homecoming (Kalingnan, Palapar)

How long had it been? The rains continued to drench Mahal as her anxiety rolled off her. Her eyes rested on the main house wedged firmly between the coffee fields and native jungle. Like a jewel set in the center of a green crown. One built of stone, ironwood, and hand crafted tile. Yet underneath its surface, Mahal knew the beauty to be skin deep. She remembered the screams and blood she shed within its wall and across its grounds.

Lost in the memories, a soft whine drew her attention. The girl twitched to life and looked down. She saw both her young dogs studying her intently, their tails drooped and ears perked. Their forms waiting impatiently for her next words. Something wet slide across her neck causing her eyes to look at her shoulder. The familiar red skin of Diyablos clung to her shoulder and seemed to touch her cheek. This broke the spell over her. She turned her head forward, inhaled then walked toward the house. Shortly all four slipped under the wooden roof.

"Ipte-Zept's Blessing." A burst of heat flushed her body and evaporated the water into steam. Meanwhile the dogs shook themselves, scattering droplets across the floor. Supok yawned then half bowed, stretching down upon her front legs. As she rose back up, her head glanced about causing Mahal to click her teeth. "Stay with me. Don't go wandering off."

The pup stared at her before something caught her attention. Noticing the distraction, Mahal followed her companion's gaze. It rested on the farthermost corner of the room. Slowly, one by one, the shadows began to detached themselves from the darkness and stalked into the light. Goma cats, about six them, circled about the intruders. Mahal tracked each one before the largest, a male, drew uncomfortable close. He waited for something. Cautiously, she stretched her palm outward. The feline purred then rubbed his whiskered cheek across it.

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Impossible Dream (Ceboyan, Palapar)

"Forgive me in advance for this question, Imam," said the recent convert, "but I wonder why you are showing us yourself when you certainly must have much else of great importance to do." He was a younger man, local and properly pious. He bowed as he spoke, though it was not necessarily the custom here. Old habits died hard.

"You are not wrong," the holy man replied with a soft smile. There was none of the air of judgment about him that most of the locals had come to expect from the Virangish. In any event he had made this place a home for over two decades. "I have much else to do." He nodded slowly as he took them past the Silver Gate. "But none of it is nearly so important as welcoming new brothers and sisters." He spread his hands. "Others can do the paperwork and it will be done all the same. I wish for you to be welcomed as a brother deserves."

From the distant Sky Dome, echoed the soft sounds of a hundred or more prayers. Natural light filtered in from the east and people greeted each other and caught up away from the holier areas, among the columns and alcoves. Imam Tikli led them past the Chamber of Sleep and onwards, further, into the Chamber of Giving. There were no questions asked here. People left what they did not need for others. Those others took what they needed. A fountain burbled softly in the middle, hundreds of silver coins shimmering beneath the water's surface. Branching off of the main chamber were hallways, secondary chambers, and guard stations. One of the first cohort, in particular, was strongly gated and watched over by six janissaries. What could possibly have lain down it?

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Candlelight Conspiracy (Arangal, Palapar)

Not all of them were Palaparese. This was unusual.

The Thirsty Bull was infamous as a place of rough sailors, dockhands, and general labourers. The booze was cheap, the location was convenient, and it was almost clean. If there was often gambling, fistfights, and drunkenness, there was also a sort of code here. Nobody took - or was allowed to take - their squabbles further than a single night... at least, not with each other.

Two outsiders were among them, however. One of these men was masked in the way of the Revidians some had heard of. One or two had tried to get him to take it off. Others had forestalled their efforts before he'd had to so much raise his voice, let alone a hand against them. The other had come in a hooded cloak, for such was the rain this night.

It came down in torrents on what was likely Ceboyan's darkest night in years. From the sprawling terraced farms of Bundok to the squat stinking warehouses of Arangal, the vast city hunkered down against the onslaught, shutters drawn, doors closed, embers glowing faintly in hearths. It was a place of ghosts for the time being.

The men inside were more than the usual rough sorts. There were merchants and skilled craftsman as well, even a handful of farmers. All had been pouring out their anger with their drinks when the two interlopers had arrived: cheap wages, high prices, draconian law enforcement, and double standards for the Company's men. Worst of all, there was no way out: no ability to form their own companies or undertake any enterprise that could rival those of the Company and Virang. It had reached a boiling point and tonight, perhaps, the fury of these men matched that of the heavens.

The arrivals did not seem to be Virangish, at least. They seemed cut from an altogether different cloth, though it was hard to tell. The guard station was not so very far away, and they had resorted to underhanded plays of late. It would pay to be cautious.

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Crossroads (Kalingnan, Palapar)

It was late in the darkness, the rain that lay over Ceboyan and Arangal only now starting to make its way to neighbouring Kalingnan. Dogs, left out in it, howled in protest, and drops pattered against thatched roofs. In the great manor house that roosted on the hill, servants were bustling about, bringing furniture and plants in, locking up sheds, and closing shutters. In rapid succession, the lights winked out. The great evil eye that gazed over Aziz Mesud was closed.

"Dali?" whispered a voice. A moment passed. "Dalisay!?" It came back louder.

"Yesss, Bato. I'm here. Are you trying to wake the whole farm?"

"Well, you could answer the first time and I wouldn't have to be louder." A teenage boy could be seen slipping into a large hut. He was wearing a wide straw hat and loose canvas pants patched a few times.

"This takes focus, you know." A girl, perhaps a year or two older, could be seen sitting cross-legged on a bed made of planks and some hay. Presently, she opened an eye to glare at the boy.

"Can you sense them yet?"

She nodded. "But only one," she admitted, with some consternation. "Gani said we'd have real help." Dalisay opened both eyes and leaned back, posting her weight on her arms. Long greasy black hair was draped over one shoulder. The boy bore a striking resemblance to her as he joined her sitting on the bed, though his hair had a slight wave to it.

"Maybe he's just that good," Bato suggested, pausing for a moment. "Or 'she'." He tried a hopeful smile.

"It's a man," Dali corrected. She furrowed her brow. "A mage, I think." She nodded after a second.

"He must be some mage!" Bato enthused, only to be shushed by his older sister. "Oraf only gave you loud and mute, didn't she?" the girl chided, and the younger of the pair grimaced by way of apology.

Dalisay glanced about warily and her eyelids fluttered shut for a second. "Well, I sure hope he is. It's a mad idea."

Bato was already rising, but some of the simple cheer faded from his face for a moment. "If you ask me, doing what they did to Alad was the mad thing." He began to walk away.

Dali's eyes opened. "I know," she sighed. "I'm sorry." She took a deep breath and glanced down. "We all wish it hadn't happened. We all wish that things could be different." She shrugged.

"And they will be, Ate, once this man comes and shows us what we need." He turned on his heel and crouched down before where she sat on the bed. "Then we can do the rest ourselves."

"Would a healer not be better for Alad?"

"How long until the next Alad?"

Dalisay sighed and nodded glumly, but she made sure to flash a smile for her little brother. They were but a year and a half apart, though sometimes it felt like more and, other times, she felt the younger of the two. "As usual, wisdom from the mouth of babes."

Bato winked and she blew a raspberry. "I meant his head, as well." She shook hers. "You know he's never been quite right. Anyway, go now," she urged him. "Tell Gani and Kidlat that he's coming along the west road. He's tall and has a pack and some... kites." She estimated his walking speed. "He's about two miles away. Hurry and you three can pull him into the old shed."

For a moment, Bato's eyes flicked to the wheelbarrow in the middle of the hut. "Do you..."

Dalisay smiled and shook her head. "Go, totò!"

---

Sultan's Lament (Gandacar, Virang)

They would find him there, every morning, on the same bench in his garden. It was not a new behaviour, but not an old one either. One day, about a year and a half ago, he had started doing it. Now, it was part of his routine.

Osman III, called 'Prudent' by allies and enemies alike, was eighty years of age and had reigned for sixty-one. That all men of wisdom and decency respected him was a given. That many of those same men - and women - whispered in secret that he was not the man he had been five years ago - or even two - was also true. Did their whispers reach his wizened ears, or had time rendered him deaf to them?

Dorrad and Hundri were very much alike in Gandacar, and bees and hummingbirds hovered between the delicate blossoms, some cultivated by Osman's own hand, some as old as his reign itself. He sat among them, and who could say if he found his peace there?

Yet, this day, the tranquility of the garden was not to be his. This day, his viziers - the two of them - approached, and a gaggle of others. "But if only they could see what I have grown here," the old sultan murmured to himself before they arrived, "they would not be so quick to urge me to war."

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The Scorpion's Sting (Lake Albadón, Torragon)

"The young conqueror surveys his new empire and crows that it is vast, like Lake Albadón, but he knows nothing of its depth."

- Firrazene Proverb

The road west from Torra Corda stretches on into inner Torragon, straight as a line in some places. To one side is Lake Albadón and the sparse greenery upon its shores; to the other lies a vast and cruel desert, bleeding off into the horizon, seemingly endless.

It was into this scene that Ayla Arslan, a daughter of one of the greatest noble houses in the country, arrived. From the dust and winds, the endless mirror of the lake emerged, flamingos and other waterfowl dotting its surface, peering up from their animal activities at the new arrival.

Not so far from its shore lay a gazebo. A simple wooden structure, it cast a rhomboidal shadow across the whitish sands as whitish curtains fluttered in the stifling breeze. Just outside was a horse. Just within was a man. He waited at a table. The girl arriving knew who he was.

---

Sunset Summit (Civitalunga, Revidia)

The sun impaled itself on the belltower of the Sala del Commercio, more peach, now, than grapefruit. People scurried about the business of the day, getting in those final purchases, cleaning their shops, and meeting with friends before the shadow of the Palazzo Ducale covered the plaza below. A group of boys wound their way about the place, playing a ball game, their excitable calls piercing the general din. Once, perhaps, some of the people in the Palazzo had been among that number. Now, they played a different sort of game.

One with much higher stakes.

"There are many angles, but the issue is simple at its heart: some trouble for Virang is good for us. Too much trouble is not." Prospero Malatesta, called by some L'Anguilla, leaned on the windowsill, gazing calculatingly out across the vast piazza.

Maurizio Tartarello, Minister of War, rapped his knuckles on the table, as if to draw the Doge's attention. "If this spark ignites the Twins, La Mossa Verde will fail." He scowled and shook his head tightly. "We are not yet ready."

There seemed to be a general sense of agreement on that point. The clock on the wall ticked. Shadows stretched rhomboidal. The servants replenished platters and brought drinks, but not so very many, for this was not a formal war council, but rather, a personal session afterwards with the Doge's brain trust and a few newer faces he'd invited.

Count on her, then - the only woman in the room - to be the one who broke the easy agreement.

"I think we should press every advantage we have to the hilt." Francesca la Volpe flipped her feet off of the table where they'd been resting, and placed her cigar into the ashtray. At least her boots weren't muddy this time. "Gooey Rouis' not as stupid as he looks." She picked the pineapples off of her pizza. "Is a foreign war in support of slavery going to galvanize his people enough to attack Revidia!?" She leaned back and kicked her feet up again. Prospero smiled. "Other opinions?" he offered, taking in the room.

---

Tan'Daxii (Taicuuma, Empire of Tarlon)

The bells of Taicuuma rang across the Sidoilean, a final goodbye to the twenty ships who flew the Jaadas banner. Fort Ensuumax fired a rolling salute and thousands lined the capital's piers, singing, chanting, waving tearful goodbyes. If they were the Golden Generation and might achieve more than any before, more was asked of them than any other as well.

Cascal'uumii'anthan, emperor of Tarlon, knew this well. "Brothers and Sisters," he began, appearing atop the walls of the fort, "it heartens me greatly to see you here in such numbers and with such spirit." He bowed his head in momentary thanks, the Empress Esuul appearing at his shoulder, a silent beautiful apparition, hands knit before her.

"Our brave soldiers and our brave sailors do not need more strength." He nodded. "For one thousand years, this land we call home, that we found wild and hostile, that we brought to heel and coaxed an empire from, has made us the strongest people on Sagand." He smiled and spread his arms. "We have had no other choice."

"What they need most now," said the empress, stepping forward, "Is faith." Between her fingers were curled the beads of a levenii. "Faith that they will have a home that lifts them and welcomes them back, faith in the righteousness of their actions. Faith that the Gods stand behind them." She raised her fist into the air. "We have given them arms and armour, brothers and sisters, and now I say that is our final great Gift as we leave their fates to Damy and Vyshta."

Esuul bowed her head. "Let us pray." Cascal bowed his head. "Let us pray."

"Ypti," called the empress,

- "Ypti," refrained her people -

"from whom flows the love and beauty that makes life a joy and wonder,"

"from whom flows the love and beauty that makes life a joy and wonder,"

"we humbly ask of thee to hold these young women and men in your heart, to set before them reminders of what it is that they fight to protect, that they may not lose themselves to the warrior's rage or the widow's mourning."

"Shiin." Cascal's voice carried out across the piers and he, too, was echoed by his people.

"who is the light of learning, the pique of curiosity, and the sage wisdom of experience."

A thousand voices followed that of their emperor.

"We ask of thee, in humility, to let not these young souls be dulled by what they will do and witness. Bathe their senses in wonder and foresight so that they may find new and clever ways to law low their enemies and stand triumphant."

"Mother Oirase," came Esuul and a multitude more after, "from whom all that lives and breathes springs, it is our most humble request that you carry these whom we have sent on a journey close to your bosom, that you grant them the privilege of many more years alive among us."

"Exiran," thundered Cascal's voice, "Lord of War and bringer of death." All knew the opening words. "Fill thy people with vigor and violence that they might be a fighting force like none this world has ever seen, that they may lay waste to their enemies and bring victory to our people and our most righteous cause."

"Dami," said all, "Lord of Lords, we ask that you judge us and our cause worthy. We beg of you the wisdom to choose, always, the true path." As one, they dropped to one knee. "As one, we ask you to guide us to..."

"Jaadas!"

Juuras!"

"Tan'daxii!"

When they looked up and rose, the Dawn Fleet had passed the horizon and there was only ocean: pure and endless.

---

The Hourglass Order

Placeholder (Queen of Diamonds)

The Hourglass Order

Placeholder (Queen of Diamonds)

Left Behind: Mulberry Street

In theory, I'm down to bring the Sparlings back.

The Hourglass Order

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Q U E E N O F D I A M O N D S : A C T T W O

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T H R E E : L O A M ‘ E L A

T H R E E : L O A M ' E L A

She had snatched a rare moment away from her royal escort, and Hylaenii sat in a most unladylike fashion: strewn dramatically across a divan like so much debris. "Who'd have ever guessed that state visits could be so tiring?" she moaned. Leon, Dorothea, and dear Desmond had handed her off to her entourage and they were enjoying a few minutes before the event officially began and she would make her dramatic entrance down that big staircase.

"Perhaps literally everyone, your royal highness?" joked Lady Tyrel, and a handful of the others tittered at their queen's expense.

"Ooh you little trollop, you," Hylaenii shot back, finding enough energy to shake a fist but not quite enough to rise. "Why, I should make you hold up the ends of my gown as punishment." She slumped back down and sighed. "Or perhaps I shall make you wear it, but that may be a touch too grim."

Ladies Sanette, Irenii, and Seliin fluttered about, stuffing their faces before the ball, being fitted in their gowns behind screens, and having servants attend to their makeup. Lady Hilarii would not trust a mere servant with the Queen's face, however, and was sitting across from her, encouraging her to rise.

"Bite, majesty." Siimond was feeding her just as he had when she'd been but a babe. A muffin hovered mere inches from her mouth. She grabbed it and shoved it in, chewing. "Evening briefing, Siimond?" she asked as she was just about finished chewing.

"Up!" chirped the tethered across from her. "Up up up! Your makeup won't do itself." She motioned Hyalenii forward and the queen regarded her tiredly even as Siimond rushed about, trying to procure a copy of her evening briefing.

"Oh, and your stockings, majesty!" announced Lady Sanette, coming back from the powder room with her mouth full of macaroon and a pair of stockings in her hand.

"I swear my legs are in there somewhere," Hylaenii groaned, forcing herself to almost sit up. "Up!" Sanette insisted, more forcefully than Lady Hilarii. "Up up up!"

At that, there was a puff of magic and Hylaenii collected herself, just on time for Siimond to move in with her briefing, Hilarii with her makeup, and Sanette with her stockings. Lady Seliin clapped her hands. "All nonessential personnel out!" she called. "The queen is being dressed!"

It was ten minutes later when she emerged from her room onto the balcony. A fanfare began to play and most of the guests had already arrived. There was a great opulent ballroom waiting for her. Her royal escort of Chad'amis'yida'thala, Niallus Saberhagen, and Yvain de Berbignon awaited at the top of the steps.

"Innnntroducing his grace, Jomur Ikon III, Defender of the Glass Coast, Knight of the Order of the Unbroken Mirror, Heir of Kings, Duke of Melongle!"

Jomur Ikon III was the very picture of ducal majesty as he descended the stairs, the rabble having gone ahead of him as was fitting. His chin was tilted, high and imperious, his expression benevolent but making no mistake of his innate superiority. At his arm was some pretty woman or other - was it Marlijn Vaanse? Ah, yes, the crier had announced as much.

"On his arm, Lady Marljin Vaanse, Baroness of Halderholm!"

Jomur allowed a smile: just a bit of a one.

"His grace, Markgraf Johann Steinbauer von Ostermark-Karnholdt, Fellow of the Royal Kerreman Society of Natural Philosophers, Steward of Kallenbruck, Slayer of the Dinner Table!"

Johann's regal walk was interrupted by the last bit. Someone had paid the crier to announce him thusly, and he blushed fiercely, shrinking away for a second, before abruptly changing expressions. He let out a laugh and then pointed at one of his friends. "Ooh you schweinhund, you!" he chortled. "It better not have been you!" Johann, notably, did not have an escort.

Niallus stood at the top of the stairs waiting; he got a good view of the ballroom. The school had really spared no expense: a buffet that was large enough to give Johann indigestion. People of all races, joined together, embracing in common conversations with one another. The music was soothing and distinguished. Niallus was amazed by the amount of people who were attending ball. Then again, it was for the Queen of Mycormii.

Dressed in a white shirt matched with black waistcoat with silver buttons and trim. An overcoat that matched his silver trim, it was possibly the only thing that he had fancy in his whole attire, it wasn't Eskandr design but he liked it. He brushed on one of his shoulders. Hopefully this is fitting, he thought, while adjusting one of his cufflinks.

Upon hearing the fanfare announcing the queen, Niallus snapped to attention. He had a job to do: look after the Queen during this time of the ball. He brushed his hand through his brown hair keeping it neat and tidy. Upon gazing at the Queen she had an aura about her that screamed elegance. He didn't even have to look around to know that all eyes were on her. "Your Majesty." He said bowing in respect to her, when he looked back up to the Queen. A familiar face he saw that caught his attention. It was Marljin, with Jomurr. That son of a- He thought as his attention drifted.

Queen Hylaenii took his hand, covering her mouth with a fan held in her other. "Oh, but Baron Saberhagen," she giggled from behind it, "You look positively like you've seen a ghost!" She leaned in conspiratorially and he caught a hint of a cheeky grin from behind the fan. "Care to let me in on the secret?"

Yvain was adorned in a striking and regal ensemble, with a hint of militaristic aesthetic to it. The vest was lavishly embellished with gold details, including gold tassels and braid. Draped over his shoulders was a coat that was purposed as a cape, lined with white fur along the collar that seemed newly commissioned.

He did not feel too attached to such opulent apparel yet for someone of his standing, it is a given that he must. ”I truly wish to apologize for asking you to arrive on such short notice.” A woman poked the duke’s son before snickering. ”There is no need, Olivier told me the situation.”

The lady’s chestnut brown hair was styled in an elegant chignon, adorned with delicate jeweled hairpins that sparkled subtly in the light. She wore a luxurious gown made of fine silk in a deep emerald hue, intricately embroidered with gold thread and lace trims to match with him. ”I might not be a one-legged yasoi, but I think I look well enough.” She offered her hand with a smug expression. ”You won’t make me wait after making myself all pretty just for this, right?”

”You’re a real prick sometimes, Élisée”

”I know.”

”His grace, Yvain de Berbignon, Grandmaster of L'Ordre des Roses de l'Aube, Heir to the Berbignon holdings.” He read through the list. ”Hold on, there isn’t anything written-” ”Maître des Ombres will do for now.”
”The Lady Élisée Roux, Maître des Ombres”

The two stood atop the stairs before they noticed that the Exarch had finished preparing. The two bowed, Élisée lowering her head further. Yvain however only slightly bowed. ”I was worried the entourage might have been. . . overwhelmingly masculine, I hope you won’t mind it for the next couple hours.”

"Innnntroducing the one and only, Leon Solaire, the Sun King, Champion against Dark Magic, Chosen of the Sun, Slayer of the White Thresher, the... magnificent."

Leon furrowed his brow, the crier had cut off at least half of what he had written for him. But it was back to smiles little could dour his mood at a function such as this. He entered with truly eye-catching attire and at his arm...

"On his arm, the lovely Lady Kaureerah Wenhan. Beauty of the Moons and renowned songstress soon to grace the world over."

This was a shock. This was the first time Leon had invited to Kaureerah to events such as this. There had been plenty of opportunities to do so earlier, but he always attended alone. In general, he tended to do politics as a solo act. It was no surprise that he caught the attention of others more if they believed him an eligible bachelor and bringing a date of humble means, especially a former prostitute, was practically faux pas.

So that left the question: why did he bring her along to a political event when he hadn't earlier? To which he had been frustratingly deflective when answering. 'It's my turn for date night, I think you'll love it', none of which truly gave an answer. Once more, he only gave a quick run down of the etiquette so she was informed, but seemed not to stress her need to follow it all.

Had he blindly trusted that she would be the peak of lady-like grace and parley with royalty in style? Or was it something else? Only he seemed to know.

As they entered, he simply gave her a smile and wink. "Shall we?"

"Innnntroducing his greatness, the Ghost of the Black Fields! The Defender of the Golden Ghost! The Liberator of An Zenui! Slayer of the Grand Demon of Cruelty! Conqueror of the Grand Demon of Envy! Annihilator of the Grand Demon of Greed! The Grand Champion of the Arena and the Champion of the Unyielding of Sun! The Hand of the People, and the Finger of Belleville! Desmond Catulus!"

Desmond had donned his apparel that he'd worn with the queen as her entourage. As he made his way down by himself, he looked around. He had paid the Crier a good bit for the last part. Yet he knew it would be hilarious to see the reactions of the people. As well as him paying more so to add goofy titles to multiple other people's titles as they came down. A few hundred magus well worth it.

He noticed Marlijn with Jomurr, but his smile never faded as he began to make his way to take in the venue before mingling.

In all his time in Ersand'Enise, Tommy hadn't been at such an opulent event. He'd seen the decadence of nobles however, and very much wished to take part. Not especially for the splendour, but the inner jester within him craved entertainment, and so he coaxed a certain Edyta Laska, his beloved, to join him for drink, dance and much overdone food. He'd been accepted as a member of the entourage later, after all...

He'd borrowed a few magus from Desmond for this occasion for his wallet was often empty, and put it to good use placing it in the pocket of a certain crier at the event, and walked down the stairs with a Red Rezaindian on his arm as he was announced, waving with a toothy grin to many of his acquaintances that had happened to join the ball.

Innnntroducing the Late but Early, Sir Tommy Kavanaugh, Defender of Moat's End, Chief Financier of the Swirl, Gentleman of the Full Enthish Appreciation Society." The Crier declared, struggling to read the shoddy handwriting the lad had given him. He switched to another piece of paper and breathed a sigh of relief. On his arm is the lovely lady Edyta Laska, Red Rezaindian, Slayer of Demons and of... Enthish Hearts?" Tommy smirked at his own introduction, and gave a knowing wink to Laska as the ridiculous introductions were one after the other. He'd certainly not added that last one, but he couldn't say he minded. It certainly made the place a more lively event. He adjusted his cravat, a fancy piece of silk far above his usual station, and tipped his Chapeau to the ladies and gentleman that he walked past as he moved to stand next to Johann with Laska at his side. At some point in time, members of the event could have sworn they saw a golden, mechanical frog leap from his pocket, but that'd be ridiculous, right?

"It's good to see ya, bud. Betcha didn't think you'd see a schweinhund like me at one o' these, eh?" He laughed with Johann, giving him a pat on the shoulder and a playful jab to the arm. Their friendship had always operated on this sort of thing, much to the portly Kerreman's chagrin.

Niallus, meanwhile, was still beside the queen, scratching the tip of his nose in a little embarrassment. Catching a small grin behind her fan, a smile came across his face. "My apologises my lady." He simply said to her. "I just saw someone that I didn't expect, That's all." He was hoping that would be enough to sway her, but given what his friends had mentioned about her, it might not be.

Yuliya stood nervously in the hallway behind the stairs, looking as many of the other ladies and gentlemen of the event seemed to walk with a partner in step. She'd seen maybe a few enter alone, but she was deadset on not being one of them. In fact, she was ready to turn heel and go back to her dorm at this rate. She scanned the remaining people that hadn't entered yet, and sighed, evaluating any opportunity to not have to enter another party on her lonesome. The only thing that warmed her lonely heart was the series of over the top and ridiculous introductions that had been delivered to nobles and commoners alike.

Stealthily, she dropped her hankerchief on the floor. An accident, to be sure.

”Innnnntroducing her Excellency, The Duchess of Feska, Head of the Danzau branch of the Albesatz family.” Dorothea walked forward, yet the crier continued. ”The Burgravine of the Beerhalls, Surveyor of the Swirl’s goods, The Prosperous bosom of Drudgunze ' Dory’s glare would nearly be enough to kill the man, but instead of violence there was but silence and the blush of embarrassment.

Her apparel was the same as the start of the day, for it was prepared for such an event. Yet for all the men she had shared her time with as of late, she entered alone. For her heart had not been recaptured since the death of her partner. In truth she hoped one of her friends would have volunteered, but alas they all have their love lives nowadays. ”I hope at least the food will be good enough. . .” She mumbled to herself.

"Ludicrous, right?" came a voice from nearby, catching the look on Yuliya's face. It was Xiuyang, wearing her Rettanese Qipao and a generous layer of makeup over her scars, which were still just slightly visible. "It's as if a certain someone is trying to turn this whole ball into a joke. I'm almost afraid to walk in. Maybe I'll pay him to say nothing." She pretended not to notice the dropped handkerchief, as was the proper favor from one lady to another.

Yvain's companion, meanwhile, was very welcome. "Not at all, your grace," replied Hylaenii, inclining her head slightly after he had bowed. "My ladies could always use another companion, lest they cling to me a touch too dearly."

Lady Seliin's eyes widened. Lady Tyrel covered her mouth and snickered. Then, the third member of the royal entourage took his opportunity. "I shall keep them well occupied, your majesty," said a tall and exceptionally handsome yasoi man. "Chad'amis'yida'thala, ever at your service." He bowed deeply and came up from it with smirk. "Well, you know, at least for today." he winked, taking hold of both Lady Irenii's and Lady Tyrel's arms.

The queen waved off Niallus with a pouty face. "Oh, you're no fun," she teased. "Nevermind. I'll pry it from you later. For now, hup hup!" She flashed him a fetching smile. "Take my arm, good sir, and escort me down the stairs if you would be so kind?" She held her arm out to link it with his. They were both of a height, at least. "Don't let the queen fall, hmm?"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GYv0QEbUyIY

With that, the fanfare played and, arm in arm with Niallus, Queen Hylaenii'doren'ismax of Mycormii, First of her name, Guardian of the Eastern Yasoi Peoples, High Priestess of the Abalone Order, Lady of the Ermine Fleece, Head of the Society of Thunder, was announced. Her walk was calm and stately, her poise impeccable. Her eyes seemed to take in everyone and everything with the personal sort of attention that only a master performer could manage. However, beneath the facade, Niallus could feel just how hard she gripped him arm. She felt... unsteady, somehow. Her eyes flicked his way in gratitude and with a hidden sort of message: this is our secret, okay?

Yuliya's expression changed as she saw Xiuyang and it changed changed for the better. She took a moment to examine the dress and the makeup, and gave a genuine nod of approval. Her mind went to business for but a moment, for the dress had caught her eye, but she quickly locked back in to the topic at hand. "You are looking lovely, Xiuyang. I am liking the new you!" she smiled earnestly at the girl, before listening to another series of ridiculous announcements. Some were surely off limits, right? "Same here... maybe there is secret entrance?" she remarked, her lips shifting to a cheekier smile, though not as mischievous as the scoundrels who must have paid this crier in the hundreds.

Kaureerah all-but skipped up, falling into a proper sort of restraint just before eyes were on her in earnest. She was ever the consummate performer, and it showed. Her dress, if somewhat risqué, dazzled, and she was not without her trusty guitar, carried in behind her by a well-dressed boy who'd been paid to do so. "Soo, Meester Megneefecent," she teased. "Hauw doo theese theengs woork, foor Eye em baut a seemple leettle feesh goorl fraum e beckwauter, Eye feer, end soo autterly aut auf my depth."

A good handful of eyebrows rose at Desmond's particular introduction, for it was the boldest one yet. While some of the snootier nobles turned their noses up at it, there were a good few whoops and cheers, for Desmond was well-known and well-liked. Edyta, on Tommy's arm, grimaced, but there was a playful quality to it. Kaureerah cracked up and punched Leon on the shoulder. Johann made a most amused face and raised the beer stein he'd already equipped himself with in toast. Marlijn laughed but Jomurr, however, looked unamused, to say the least. "He's making a mockery of the whole thing," he muttered to his date, who quickly restrained her mirth.

Niallus chuckled a little at the queen's pouty face, but hearing that she'd pry it out of him later had him wondering when she would try. But his attention was snapped as she she held her arm out to link with him. "Of course, my lady, if you wish to pry, perhaps it would be best to at least make our way down the stairs first." he said with a smile. He held his arm out to link his arm to her as they walked down the stairs. Her grip was tight around his arm, but there was more pressure than what was needed for a simple walk down the stairs. Catching on the message that she was relaying to him with her body language, it seemed that she wanted to keep this hidden. "It is my duty to protect you this evening; you have nothing to fear."

Edyta swallowed and almost rolled her eyes out of an excess of anxiety and the sheer absurdity of it, but she managed to crack a smile. "By Oraff," she whispered, leaning in, "You could feed a village for a month with this stuff." She nibbled her lower lip and pointed to one woman with a very tall powdered wig. "And say, look at her: is she growing another person out of her head?" She was still dressed in her clerical robes: no extra skin on display compared to the other women, her expression almost pointedly sardonic. She cast about for the musicians, hoping for the music to start up, at least a bit excited for that. She and Tommy found only Johann, however, and her date could not help but deliver a jibe at the big kerreman's expense.

"You and Desmond playing a little joke on each other?" Johann observed, "hmm?" He shook his head. "I'm only jealous because I didn't think of it," he admitted.

"Thanks," Xiuyang replied, twirling a lock of hair a bit shyly. She'd grown her hair out to shoulder length, too. "A secret entrance? At an event like this? That's ambitious." She returned a smirk. As the handkerchief remained on the ground, Xiuyang stole glances at it, seeming to consider. Suddenly, she leaned down to pick it up, and handed it back to Yuliya with a cheeky smile. "I'd rather link arms with you than the lamplighters, if you don't mind."

Desmond laughed as he made his way over to Johann with his arms open, "I'm only sad you got here before me! I would have slapped another two titles on there for ya!"

Desmond gave a light hug to Edyta, a bigger one to Tommy, and one with a slap on the back to Johann.

Yvain eyed Lady Seliin yet his eyes did not move too much, an illusion. Élisée looked up to meet his eyes and raised her eyebrows a couple times. The boy's eyes then widened in response to the woman's signal. "That wasn't- I didn't-. . " He leaned down to finish his sentence in a whisper. "Fuck you."

The woman covered her mouth with her hand in a false sense of surprise. "My my, was I right? Seems like you're still as predictable as you were when you were but a wee lad." Yvain straightened his posture before clearing his throat. "Perhaps I should've brought Yvette. . ."

"Now, don't be so sour, I'm just messing with you." All she got in return was a disregarding sigh.

No sooner were they at the bottom than Hylaenii was pulling Niallus off in a direction before anyone had a chance to claim her attention. "Do keep up, loyal protector," she teased. She leaned in. "There are some people present who I very much would like to speak to," she admitted, "and others I would very much like to avoid." She patted him on the arm. "You can help me with that, hmm?" She grinned, eyes darting about surreptitiously.

Chad very much had Ladies Tyrel and Irenii wrapped around him, and he danced and twirled on the floor as the music picked up tempo. Lady Sanette, meanwhile, was still attempting to follow her queen about while wearing a big wig. "Sanette, darling, you look just like a yanii. Aren't you already tall enough?" Hylaenii teased, popping up from behind a buffet table, Niallus holding her plate.

Presently, Lady Seliin glanced Yvain's way. She flashed the tiniest hint of a coy smile and adjusted the collar of her dress. She was rather petite by yasoi standards, with long golden hair left to fall in a waterfall braid. "Ah!" she was heard to exclaim to one of the other ladies. "This heat is just stifling. I think I shall take a moment outside at the fountain."

That left only Lady Hilarii. The tethered sat in a corner, having just finished exchanging words with Siimond, and seemed intently focused on the queen. One could feel the energy swirling about her that indicated magic use.

Tommy leant in to listen to Laska's comments, and couldn't help but agree. This was all exceedingly excessive, and some of the delicacies on display were not particularly appealing for his palette. "Couldn't tell me 'ow they manage to keep those things on their heads. They glue it on or somethin'? Must be a nightmare to get off after." he smirked knowingly at her, glad that he wasn't a fish completely out of water. Some thoughts were exchanged with a golden friend he'd saved from a demonic horde, and an illustrious, gentlemanly frog in a suit began to stealthily climb atop the wig of a certain Lady Sanette, who was struggling to walk with the heavy implement on her head. He pointed it out to Laska and shot her a very cheeky, toothy grin before turning to address Desmond and Johann, giving the former a tight hug.

"Betcha woulda came up with some good ones, eh? Might not be too late for that, but I reckon there's a more pressin' matter." he grinned, separating from Laska for but a moment as he pulled Johann and Desmond in to a huddle. "Any of these fine ladies catchin' your eye Big J? Brother? Tellin' ya, tree candy's a good pull. Highly recommend ya try it. Can give you a hand, just shoot the word mate." He winked at his two friends, gesturing over to some of the ladies in waiting that hadn't quite found an arm to attach themselves to. He swiftly resumed his place at Laska's side, taking her arm in hers and strolling from booth to booth, waiting to dance and enjoying the chance to sample some of the most ridiculous foodstuffs that adorned the table.

Niallus answered the queen's playful smile with a nod. "Of course my lady." He leaned into her as he looked at her gaze. "Now, where would you like go first?" He said in a kind, friendly manner. "For the people whom you wish to avoid just mention them to me, and we will steer clear." With her latched to his arm, he walked with her, matching her pace.

Roslyn hated this dress. Unlike her more casual day dresses, the skirt felt too wide and weighed down on her hips. She felt like she waddled more than walked. Despite that, it was at least a pretty shade of green. One that reminded her of the rolling hills back home. Her hand lifted up to her hair, gently adjusting a dark hairpin with a bird on the end.

She smirked at the various titles and was grateful hers remained rather simple. Unlike many of the others, she came alone. Not exactly proper, but she had come to accept it. Her eyes looked through the room to try and find some familiar faces.

Johann's face flushed red. "I... Tree candy?" Then it dawned on him. "Ha haa! What a term!" he laughed. "But I am a man focused on my scholarly pursuits."

Edyta let out a raspberry and punched him on the shoulder. "Scholarly pursuits?" she questioned. "I see you at the beerhall every night!"

Johann turned to her, not having missed a beat. "And what are you doing at a beerhall, nun?"

"Praying for the sinners there," Edyta answered angelically.

Yuliya feigned surprise as Xiuyang picked up the hankerchief and offered it back to her, covering her mouth with a gloved hand. She'd thought a man would have picked it up and done the duty of escorting her down the steps, but she wasn't displeased with the outcome of the days events. "How could I say no to such lovely lady?" she offered her arm to Xiuyang, but there was a small height difference exacerbated by heels in the name of fashion. Truth be told, she didn't mind if she looked a little silly so long as she was with someone she could call her friend, whether that was for a day or longer than that.

"Say, aren't you seeing Ciro? Is he nice to you? Treatings you well? He get very cross at business meeting sometime, you know. Turns red like beet. Don't tell him I tell you this." she whispered to Xiuyang as they walked together, a playful smirk about her face.

"Lady Wenhan, next you're going to tell me you weren't listening when I talked about spoon arrangement." Leon joked in a mockingly proper tone, but he spoke quietly to keep it private between them. Then he spoke up with some more earnestness. "Luckily, you have a guide fit for queen at your side tonight. Truthfully, with enough talent and charm, it doesn't matter what you do and you are part of those people."

Leon took surpise when Kaureerah punched him in the arm in reaction to Desmond's introduction. But he was quick to laugh along. "Oh settle down, Jomurr. You have plenty of time for more exclusive balls in the future. You hardly get the chance for something like this, no?"

Then soon after he stepped back, no longer leading Kaureerah but inviting her to lead him. "I find these things rather... samey after a while. I've done them too much in the last few months if I'm being honest. What do you want to do?"

"Hoo hoo, would you look at that." Yvain glared at the woman as she stuck her hands up. "It seems that I must do my duty, young lord. . . I uuuh. . . have to taste the wine-" She paused, avoiding eye contact with the boy. "To make sure you won't be poisoned, yes! Yes!" And with that she scooted off.

Yvain stood there, flabbergasted by the woman's attempts. He then regarded Seliin. "Mind some company?" It was the Eskandish man's turn to watch the Exarch and thus it shall fall upon him if something were to happen after all.
Alas, before long, the queen was cornered and caught. It was the duke of Arsica - a notably long-winded fellow with wandering eyes that tickled up and down her svelte figure and a tongue that wagged on endlessly in either self-aggrandizing tale or the most trivial of matters. Hylaenii nodded along politely enough through her suffering, covering some of her reactions by drinking copiously or feigning some small issue and twisting away momentarily.

In the background, others danced and twirled. Music played. One could variously see Baron Rikard, Countess Taleja, Duchess Ayla, Lady Zarina, and Jarl Sven and his paramour Esmii in the midst of a rather... intimate dance. It seemed as if most all of the school had turned out. About half of the Arch-Zenos were present as well, including Marbrand, Fabio, Tarthas, Masson, Afraval, and Giacomo the Crow: the only one who'd been alive for the last state visit by Mycormii. The Zenith was not currently present, officially for the reason of not making matters seem overly formal or weighty, but all knew how greatly he was Upta's opposite: Joshe Intaba was both a scholar and a warrior and he abhorred high society events such as this, avoiding them wherever possible.

For a moment, after throwing back a full glass of champagne, Hylaenii leaned over and shot Niallus a look that seemed to say nothing so much as "save me!"

Kaureerah pursed her lips. She perused the dinner table. "Thet ees e very good questeeoon." She leaned in and pointed. "Yoo knauw, Eye theenk Eye waunt too fynd te moost redeecyooloos 'food' heere end eet et, because Eye em te weeird feesh goorl." She grinned wickedly at him and started to look. "Auf coorse, thet's jaust te staurt!"

Lady Seliin smiled sweetly, linking arms with Yvain, for they were of a height. "I would be remiss if I didn't admit that was what I had hoped for." She sipped from a fluted glass. "You Perrench have always had the best stuff, you know."

Momentarily her eyes flicked over to Lady Hilarii, who remained unaddressed in the corner as Siimond piled his plate high with food and talked shop with one of the school notaries. The two women exchanged the briefest nod, and then Yvain had the entirety of Seliin's attention again. "I do think I would very much like some air if you'd be willing to join me outside?" she asked in a small, uncertain voice.

Niallus found this man to be a real pest. When he pulled in close to both of them, Niallus was so startled that he barely resisted the urge to punch him out of reflex. But listening to this oaf prattle on and on was trying even his patience. After Hylaenii finished downing her glass, he had an idea to at least get rid of this depraved man. He took Hylaenii's glass from her holding it out to the Duke.

"It appears that her glass is empty and she requires another refill, please do this favour for the queen and refill it." His tone was so professional and formal, it even completely had himself fooled. For now he waited for the Duke of Arsica to take up the task while Niallus and Hylaenii might fade into the crowd.

"Oh, stop," Xiuyang exhaled as she took Yuli's arm. "I know I'm better off without the mask, but I'm not that pretty." In spite of her words, though, there was a hint of a blush there, of the sort oft worn by those unaccustomed to receiving compliments as anything more than a greeting.

She felt small standing next to Yuliya, in more than a couple ways, but she knew that she would get a few looks as well, linking arms with the resident rumor mill. "He's running a bit late," she replied, checking the entrance once again to see if he might be there. "...Oh, I know. He tries to hide it, but I know." She smiled slyly. "He is very sweet. If his words are even a little bit abrasive, it's because he cares."

Yvain tugged softly on the linked arm to settle on the posture. "Join you? Why, it would be my pleasure." He then looked into the distance. I really hope he doesn't start shit. . . But again, it is Eskandish nature to do so. He sighed before looking back to the woman he accomponied.

"Shall we then?"

Meanwhile, Duke Domenico's eyes widened at the thinly-veiled insult. "I... we have servants for -" He stumbled, face turning red. He was not a young man and was rather overweight. Normally, he'd never have challenged someone such as Niallus to a duel, but he'd boasted at such length of his exploits that to not do so here would cause him an indelible loss of face.

Hylaenii merely glanced between the two men expectantly. "It appears offense has been both given and taken," she declared.

"Indeed!" roared the duke. "I demand satisfaction!"

Lady Hilarii's eyes widened and she reached down in alarm to unlock her wheelchair's brakes. Though she was far too short to be noticed amid the crowd and struggled to push her way through, Lady Sanette faced no such difficulty. Still unaware of the little golden frog perched contentedly in her hair, she also began to hurry over, her progress easily marked by the summit of her great wig. For a moment, the queen seemed to waver, and she clutched at Niallus' arm before diplomatically separating herself.

"Please, my lord. He is but young," Sanette entreated, arriving breathlessly. "Young and Eskandish."

Hilarii arrived moments later and picked up from her friend. "His blood yet runs hot. Surely, he merely forgot himself for a moment. Will he not apologize for this slight?"

"No blood need be shed over such a small matter," remarked Lady Sanette, the frog peering out of her hair approvingly.

Eyes turned to Niallus, including those of the queen, perfectly pokerfaced, awaiting his response.

Yuliya frowned at the mention of Ciro being late. The man was normally very timely, and it irked her that he'd kept this sweet girl waiting for him. Alas, the duty fell to her to entertain and enjoy the company of such a delightful person. "I beg to differing." she haughtily spoke, strutting in pace with Xiuyang. "Oh, I know, dear. But is good to hear he treat you as he should." a small laugh left her lips, as Yuliya turned and met the Revidian's gaze. "Sometimes, I wind him up just to see it. Our little secret, yes?" and the smile atop her face grew cheekier as they finished descending the steps.

Her eyes wandered through the crowd of eloquently dressed people, and she saw a provocation about to start around the Queen, Niallus and some other fellow whos name she'd never remember. She turned back to Xiuyang with a curious look and a cocked eyebrow. "Front row ticket? Or would you rather dance?" Yuliya took the girls other hand in her own and shot a glance first at the incident, then at the dance floor, then finally toward her eyes.

Leon raised an eyebrow when Kaureerah was looking over the food. She didn't speak like that often. They had been to crazier places, but perhaps this was the first time he'd seen her truly out of her comfort zone. For a moment, he had doubts whether his idea was truly a wise decision. He wouldn't mention it for now though; it could only serve to make things worse.

When she turned back, he was all smiles, trying to be as accommodating as possible. Her wicked smile had him pleasantly settled about the matter and worried about what she had planned. "I would be disappointed if you wanted to end it there. The night is so young!"

Leon was happy to show her around the table and talking in comical depth about each food, half of which he knew she was already aware of. Although, he was sure to try and keep her from certain 'acquired taste' foods that tasted like shit and only had the value of exclusivity. He didn't want her stomach turning before it came time to dance.

Niallus placed his free hand up to the Duke. "Kind sir, I meant no offence of course." a gentle smile brushed across his face as he politly continued. "I only asked you this, as a distinguished gentleman like yourself, you must have a long list of fine taste in champagne and other exquisite beverages."

Lady Seliin and Yvain made it out just before matters changed drastically indoors. The air was fresh and cool, and the academy gardens stretched out before them, dimly lit by lanterns of arcane power. A fountain lapped and splashed peacefully and moths and crane flies swirled about. "You're of the senior branch of Berbignon, n'est ce pas?" she questioned, switching on the fly to Perrench.

"Why, yes I am." Yvain proclaimed proudly, yet quietly. At this affirmative, she nodded.

"This is to remain confidential between us, but the queen received an offer from your government for a parlay earlier in the day. While we in Mycormii currently favour a policy of neutrality, I was to relay the queen's response to you: we would be delighted to parlay with you. You are asked to speak with her at your nearest convenience, my lord, to arrange a time for said rendezvous."

Perhaps he might've said more, and perhaps not, but then there were whoops and shouts from inside and a large party making its way towards the plaza and gardens outside of the hall where the pair had previously stood unmolested.

"Leeaun, deer," Kaureerah cooed. "Aur yoo tryeng too prautect mee?"

Nearby, they could see a situation developing around the queen and Kaureerah craned her neck. She shrugged, turning back to Leon. "Egoos," she remarked, twirling on a heel. "Yoo're soo coote when yoo try." She jerked a thumb in the direction of the soon-to-be duel. "Were yoo eenterested een wautcheng?" she inquired, quite neutral on the matter herself. Sometimes she would lead and he would follow; sometimes, the opposite would hold true.

The duke's face, if anything, became even uglier, screwing up in disgust. "Do you mock me, boy!?" he demanded.

Yvain smiled warmly before he signed his hand to his lips and locked it with the invisible key.

"But I must say it quite a surprise to h-" He paused as the shouts and general loudness ruined the serene mood that they just had. The Perrenchman did not say anything, yet his face grimaced. Had his worries become reality?

This Dumpling of a Duke was really starting to get on Niallus' nerves. "Well there is plenty to mock." He said flatly.

"You too, huh?" was the only reply given to Yuli's little secret. That, and a impish little glint in her eye—or was that a response to the commotion below? Seeing the opportunity, she tugged on Yuli's arm. "Hurry!" she prodded with a hushed whisper. "Before the crier notices us." With that, they slipped past him while he was distracted.

The mercantile shine in her eyes stayed strong as she considered what was about to happen. At a time like this, a savvy merchant such as her ought to be at the front of it all, exhorting the guests of the ball to place bets—and she, having fought alongside Niallus multiple times, knew the outcome ahead of time. It was easy money.

And then there was Yuliya, a much more cultured lady who would almost surely rather dance, but seemed eager for Xiuyang to have fun, for reasons she couldn't quite determine. It was in her nature to follow the money, but she was trying to learn to be a bit more like Yuliya, and she couldn't help but be curious why she seemed to take a sudden interest in her. This, too, was an opportunity of another kind. "Looks like the floor will have plenty of space soon," she offered with a smile.

Dory, in the meanwhile, had been drinking the entire time, a glass of beer in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. Moving through some of the students, predominantly the ones of the merchant class. ”Hey, you want to own some land? Iiiiii- can make you a BIG noble!" She chugged the glass of champagne before putting it in the random student's hand.

It was then that she noticed the coming duel, walking through the crowd until she found the people getting ready to fight. ”hoo-hoo, seems like the Queen is popular!" Her eyes widened to see one of the Eskandish students getting into a fight, snickering all the while. ”It is the loong boy against the RundeHuhn."

Johann, the mountain of a man loomed over the girl couldn't help himself and snickered to the Feskan's ramble. The joke fell unto a lot of deaf ears, yet some laughed along.

The duke struggled for a moment to peel off one of his white gloves. Face puckered, he took this in his hand and slapped Niallus across the cheek with it, after which, he dropped it at the youth's feet.

"The gauntlet has been thrown!" the crier announced, seeming to come up almost out of nowhere. He'd been paid enough to do extra duty like this, perhaps.

The queen's eyes widened, and they darted between the two men. Niallus bent down slowly to pick it up. "No need to strain yourself bending over, your grace," the Eskandishman replied. "I'll get that for you." He bent double, lifted it from the floor with a visible effort to hide his distaste, and handed it to his second who was... the queen, in this case. Perhaps he simply didn't understand the etiquette of the matter. Even she looked alarmed, quickly handing it to Roslyn.

"Make way!" cried the crier, as he led a burgeoning crowd through the opulent double doors and out into the night. "Duke Domenico IV of Arsica demands satisfaction of Baron Niallus Saberhagen of Halderburg for insults rendered while in the company of the queen. Gentlemen!" He turned to take them both in as they joined him in the dimly lit plaza. The warm dancing light of the indoors spilled eagerly out into the darkness. "Shall this be a fight to first blood or to the death?"

The Duel

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ykfWGc5MRFo

Leon looked back to her with a bit of shock and a blush. Oh right, she's talking about the food. He eased up. "I would be at fault not to try." He replied sweetly. "Some of this stuff it a real offense to the taste buds." He joked.

Leon was about to decline the invitation to watch, but then saw Niallus was at the centre of it. He had yet to see the Eskandish man in a proper duel since their sparring. "The best thing about this food is you can take it with you." He invited her to pick some of her favourite snacks before leading her to the duel and next to some of their other friends. He certainly hoped it was only to first blood.

Yuliya pursed her lips in disapproval. She was no stranger to body language, and could see the way Xiuyang was itching to get into the thick of it and enjoy the rare spectacle of a ballroom throwdown. Now, she might have had a distate for earnest bloodshed, but this was something that she wouldn't at all mind watching, and so, she tugged on Xiuyangs hands gently, as she often had to be aware of. "Xiuuuyaaang... I see the way you looking at it." she reached down and playfully pinched her cheek. "We make our own space on dance floor, and I don't mind seeing a tolstyak get kick around." the Vossoriyan pulled her hand away and strode toward the forefront of the duel, cutting through the crowd to get them both the front row ticket's she'd promised.

Kaureerah smiled and picked the vilest thing that she could - Balut - and downed it in one mighty gulp. Her face turned bluish - even moreso than normal - and she grimaced, but she got it down. "Mynd oover metter, shyny waun!" She winked and, collecting a couple more... edible things, quickly followed him outside. "Gauds, Eye hoope they doon't keel eech auther."

Spotting the commotion, Roslyn inwardly groaned and moved closer. She pinched her nose when she heard the challenge. It turned out her senses about trouble were accurate. Taking the glove from the Queen, the girl followed the rest. "I swear, it seems Niallus likes to poke the bear. Especially whenever a pretty lady is involved," she muttered.

Niallus took his overcoat off, handing it to one of the Queen's handlers. Then, he undid the buttons on his waistcoat. "First blood should be fine. Death seems that it would kill the mood." He focused on the Duke, even though he was more... horizontal, he could sense a decent amount of RAS. Niallus wasn't going to let his guard down. "When you are ready?" He simply said.
"Niallus is a good person." Leon assured Kaureerah. "Even if it were to the death, I doubt he would."

The queen floated out on her large ballgown, her entourage surrounding her with pursed lips and furrowed brows. She knitted her fingers together and clenched them. A few others filed in close to her: Taleja, Roslyn, Yuliya, and Xiuyang. Then, it was just Niallus and this obnoxious man. Perhaps the hot-blooded Eskandishman had provoked the fight on purpose. Perhaps he had not. He was, to many of those gathered, an enigma.

The duke regarded him with both anger and - beneath a show of bravado - fear. Perhaps this was a bridge too far, but he could not have merely accepted the insult. He opened his mouth to speak when Niallus pre-empted him. "Scared to match magic with your social better, then, boy." He nodded. "Very well." He began to take off his jacket, handing it to one of his sons, who was roughly of an age with his opponent.

The queen, meanwhile, twisted to regard Roslyn with an enigmatic look of her own. "Mm, yes, he certainly does." She cracked a coy smile and fixed her hair, turning back to the fight, chin raised, to watch.

Xiuyang was still recovering from the shock of the cheek pinch when she found herself pulled easily through the crowd—a perk of being escorted by a taller woman who was easily stronger than she appeared, she supposed. A smirk played on her lips. Well, if that was how it was going to go, then...

"AAAALLLLLLRIGHT!! Who's taking bets?!" she shouted, with a voice that carried so far it would make the crier proud.

Desmond made his way over to Dory, "Hey hey, long time no see! Seems to me you've found yourself a nice spot to watch this fight".

Desmond chuckled as he lightly held her, "Don't worry, don't worry, they'll look like dambasses either way".

Yvain just stared at the duel that was about to take place and groaned. "Dami has made these two very bad judges for each other." Although he couldn't help but snort upon hearing the duke talk about being the 'social better'. It almost made him want to comment on it, but it is the Eskandish's time to speak with his actions instead for Echeran deemed it so.

A circle formed around the duellists and Zenos Paireni and Sectoxomactex took up their places at either end to officiate.

"This duel will be fought to first blood!" the crier announced. "Outside interference is strictly forbidden and will result in immediate intervention and forfeiture. The combatants are Duke Domenico of Arsica and Baron Niallus of Halderburg. They will draw once the cloth hits the ground." He raised his hand, a golden cloth fluttering in the light breeze, and all eyes seized upon it.

It dropped.

Roslyn felt her own lips curl into a smirk. Niallus was a defensive power and she had witnessed it in the trials. As long as he was smart, she knew he would come out on top. Her arms crossed over her chest and watched the match.

The duke drew immediately and quickly and then there were three of him, already spreading out to surround the youth. "Which one is the real me, boy?" all three taunted. "You're in over your head!"

Niallus drew in manas but kept them on standby. As he saw his opponent create illusions of himself "Whats wrong, don't want to fight properly and resort to hiding." He figured he'd have to draw him out, let him slip up and then strike at first chance. Using his ability in pyromancy he cast a simple Arcane spell to increase the temperature of the area around him.

Duke Domenico had expected some sort of slashing attack that split his opponent's power between three targets, and he was prepared for it, too! This, however, was another matter entirely. A generalized heat spell? Who opened with that!? He maintained his concentration, keeping the illusions up, but he began sweating immediately and profusely and he blinked in discomfort, launching triple kinetic slashes aimed right for the boy's neck.

Looking straight at his attacker, Niallus knew exactly where he was. It seemed that training on how to combat illusions, by making this butter ball sweat. Using Kinetic he avoided the attacks and, once in the clear, he dashed towards his opponent to punch him in the face with minor Kinetic embedded into it.

The moment that he'd realized his illusion had failed, Domenico tried to shove Niallus off with a kinetic magic wave of his own, but the huge Eskandr just powered right through it with a grunt and slammed a fist into the older man's jaw. His head snapped back and he staggered, his world spinning and his vision starring. He crashed into Yvain and Taleja, right beside the queen, and then a strange thing happened: Hylaenii, who'd appeared to be untouched, suddenly swayed and started to crumple on the spot.

The Duke pushed off and stumbled forward, a flaming fist coming straight for Niallus' head. He was - somehow - not visibly bleeding yet! The duel was not yet over and - it appeared - caution had been thrown to the wind.

The attack was so sudden and ferocious that it caught Niallus across the shoulder, burning a blackened swathe in his clothing and raising blisters on his skin, but it didn't draw blood. All it would take was for one of those to pop, however, and the duke would eke out a win on a technicality. He may have been old and fat, but he was determined, and a canny fighter.

Xiuyang, who had managed to get a front row spot near the queen thanks to Yuliya, wrested herself from the crowd. "No more bets! They're off, I said! Let go of me!" she shouted. "Are you alright?!" she asked as she tended to the queen, reaching up and fanning her with her stack of papers as she surreptitiously checked for any signs of foul play.

Niallus was getting tired of this. It seemed that the Duke was putting more force into his attacks. Niallus needed to end this duel before this loon got someone else killed. He drew once more for another kinetic hit, this time more of a kinetic shockwave.

What a disgusting display from someone who is supposed to be Yvain's equal in title, yet this blubbering mess was nothing short of a disappointment. It was then that he noticed the ball of a man plummet towards him. He held the tub of lard just away from him with a kinetic stop that acted as a sort of wall. "Don't you dare touch me." He proclaimed.

Then his eyes went towards his side and saw what seemed to be the Exarch about to crumple. He quickly caught her, his eyes tried to meet with hers. "Everything alright?"

The wave took the duke in the midsection and simply folded him. He flew backwards into the crowd, his momentum stopped only through the intervention of Zeno Secto. The Xolectan scowled and shook his head tightly. Had he shot a proud smile Niallus' way?

Domenico was let down limp on the ground, multiple ribs broken and organs ruptured, and Zeno Paireni rushed forward to heal him. The brutality of the attack had left no uncertainty in the matter: Niallus was vastly the stronger of the two, but it also hadn't been aimed to cut or slice. Only the gushing of the man's nose had given Niallus the win, technically speaking, not that there was anything left to fight for. The duke's son stepped in to see to his father and, for a moment, shot a venomous look Niallus' way. An older woman who might've been his mother scowled and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder to pull him back, shaking her head tightly as her husband was healed.

Meanwhile, thanks to Yvain's and Xiuyang's efforts, the monarch had kept her feet and the crowd had been distracted from her weakness, though she still seemed wobbly. She nodded in thanks to the both of them, holding onto Yvain's arm for a moment longer, and he noticed what must've been almost her entire weight on it. The crowd swirled, carrying Rikard, Roslyn, and Taleja away, and she seemed well enough to recover at that point. "Goodness!" she exclaimed, "Perhaps a bit too much excitement for a frail little flower like me for one day." She fanned herself, nodding again to dismiss their efforts and, just like that, she seemed to be standing steadily again, her entourage, with the exception of the tethered Hilarii, closing around her.

Hylaenii waved them off, particularly Siimond's warning look. "I am quite well," she assured them, "Truly." She turned her gaze toward the triumphant Niallus and flashed a smile, looking him up and down. "It seems the victory is yours, good sir. That is certainly one way to accomplish the task."

Most of the crowd was cheering. Some were discussing. Money was changing hands. "I shall retreat for a time indoors to have a word with the lovely Lord Berbignon who has just rescued my dignity, but I beg of you, attend me in ten minutes time when we are finished?"

Niallus smiled at Hylaenii "Thank you my lady." He bowed to her. "I didn't want to push it too far, but since he was trying to kill me, he left me with little choice." His face winced from the pain of his shoulder, as he moved it slightly, while also looking for his overcoat.

Desmond looked to Dory as he held out his mug of beer to her, "And would you look at that, the old coot couldn't handle the fist fight". Desmond shook his head in bemusement to hide his looks at the queen. Questioning to himself why she responded in that way.

Roslyn stood waiting for Niallus, holding his overcoat, once he was dismissed. She pulled him off to the side then smacked the glove on his chest to hold. Drawing in the light, she began to bind his small wounds until they vanished from sight. "You owe me a beer."

Tommy jeered from the crowd, fresh faced from a dance with Edyta, and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Not bad for a dirt muncha! Get this bloke a full enthish!" Laska, however, had enough of his antics at this point and did not wish to further enhance the scene, so she dragged Tommy away, much to his chagrin. Alas, his beloved was more precious than starting antics.

Yvain was hesitant to let her stand on her own after seeing what had just happened, yet he let the point pass for now. "Your majesty." He paused "I was quite worried about you just now, you know?"

"It's not often I find myself with a monarch in my arms" He winked before he nodded in response to hearing about having a word with each other.

Xiuyang smiled, satisfied that the queen hadn't been hurt in the confusion. Slowly, however, she realized that her display of concern, however genuine, was likely a source of unwelcome attention. At the looks she was getting from the entourage, she quickly shrinked away, only to be engulfed by the crowd of her fellow students, eager to receive their winnings. "Alright, alright already. Let me—hey. HEY. Don't touch my fucking papers!" she snapped, her mood turning foul in an instant. "Line up properly, or you get jack shit! Got it?!"

The crowd soon began to disperse, congratulations and commiserations in order, and the band who'd been playing the entire time were once again appreciated by their guests. The duke and his entourage beat a hasty retreat, thoroughly humiliated, and were soon gone. Matters carried on as they had, only with more drink, more dance, and more merriment. One particularly obnoxious Enthishman was a source of some laughter, as his date took him by the ear and dragged him away.

Queen Hylaenii, meanwhile, retreated into a quiet side room, followed by a couple of her ladies in waiting and Yvain de Berbignon. Just what happened in there was unknown to all others.

Dory was passing her money along. . . Even though she did not even bet. . "Ah, bummer. I at least thought he would've had a bit more juice in him. Guess he truly was like a glass of wine. . . rotund but easy to break. . ." She graciously accepted her friend's mug and took a nice gulp. "That hit the spot. . ."

Desmond chuckled as he quietly took her money and then slipped it back to her. He lightly held her shoulder as he began to walk her to the tables, "Here, let's get you somewhere to sit and some food to eat. You'll be hitting the wall fast if we don't".

Dory just stared at Desmond as he tried to make her 'act responsible' or something. "Booo, no fun. What're you, my biiig brothehr?"

She then looked over at the wall and began to draw. "I can hit that wall fast. . . Even without food"

Desmond laughed, "Well they normally call things like this a night to remember, not an hour to remember".

The Feskan then let the energy disapate and nodded slowly. "Guess so. . ."

It was not ten minutes but, rather, fifteen, when the queen emerged from that room, lips pressed together in a most satisfied smile. Monsieur de Berbignon departed about a minute later with one of her ladies in waiting and it was not long until they were a feature on the dance floor.

They were far from the only couple. Tommy and Edyta danced with a joyful abandon that was the envy of many others. Leon and Kaureerah had the grace of performers and, rushing in late from a meeting, Ciro was impeccable in scooping Xiuyang up into his arms and planting a dramatic kiss on her. Chad spent an increasing amount of time with a different Tyrel than he was used to, but it certainly didn't seem to bother either of them. Desmond helped a drunken Dory. Gradually, others paired up as well, or didn't.

Most notable, however, was Queen Hylaenii herself. Emerging like a vision, swirling with kinetic magic, she took Niallus' hand, pulled him in close, and twirled with him on the floor. She leaned in until her lips brushed his ear. "You were incredible," she whispered, and the music ebbed and flowed and the world faded away. If she was one of the first to leave the dance floor, she was also one of the happiest, and she did not leave alone.

After some... unexpected adventures during the day, the Queen of Mycormii attends a ball in her honour, her secret safe with Desmond, for now. Three escorts attend with her, each possessing his own agenda. First, there is the Tarlonese operative, Chad'amis'yida'thala, an enemy kept closer and a test of Tarlon's boundaries. Yet, he proves more interested in chasing Hylaenii's ladies in waiting. The second is Yvain de Berbignon, and both power and intrigue swirl about the proud Perrench royal in equal measure. Surely, he will follow up on the cryptic invitation that the young monarch received during her luncheon in the park. Finally comes Niallus Saberhagen, a stalwart Eskandishman known for his blunt speech and protective ways. Yet, when an opportunity presents itself to win the queen's favour at the risk of inciting a diplomatic row, it is up to him to navigate it!

---

F O U R : D E S ' L A N

F O U R : D E S ' L A N

"Your majesty, you simply cannot."

Hylaenii was out of bed, sitting in her chair and looking up at him, quite cross. "I can too, you old goat," she protested, "and I shall."

He came in closer, his bearing radiating concern, and sat at the corner of her bed. "It is true you are queen and I cannot forbid you from doing what you wish, but I strongly advise against it. Please, my queen. You are already so very taxed and your enemies gather."

She looked away, taking a deep breath and shaking her head tightly. "It isn't about that pretty Eskandish boy, is it?"

"Or the pretty Enthish one?"

"I am young, sir, and I have appetites."

"But no, majesty, I assure you it isn't about them." He shook his head regretfully. "I was once young too."

"Yes yes. back in the age of heroes." She waved dismissively, but softened the gesture with a smile. Truly, she could not imagine resenting Siimond, for he was the sole figure she knew, with complete certainty, would always be on her side.

"This is about the security of your reign, my queen, and what you might do for your people, but if the truth were to be discovered -"

"Yes, I know," she interrupted. "Then that would be me ended, and all I wish to achieve."

"The more you do this, the more pieces you put into play on a very small board -" He reached for her hands and she took his and squeezed them.

"Oh, but they are my pieces, dear Siimond," she insisted. "Come now, you have often spoken of my cleverness. Surely that was in earnest, so allow me exercise of it."

"They may be your pieces, majesty," he acknowledged, with a deferential nod, "but they may not always be." He pursed his lips. "The board tilts, it changes, and you have already seen how ruthlessly our adversaries play."

She glanced away, jaw tightening. "But I am the best piece on my own board. Am I to simply pull myself from it and trust good order to fate?"

"Vyshta may be random in her acts, but she is not unfair."

"Oh I say, Siimond, I am due for some of that fairness."

"My queen..." He looked pained, and she could not bear to see him such. With a final squeeze, she released his hands and backed away. "One more day, Siimond," she pleaded. "Give me one more, whatever they need to do. Perhaps I can have another? Just a small one?"

Siimond bit his lower lip. "Heavy is the head that bears the crown," he commiserated. "I know it has not been a fair burden to bear." His eyes lingered on the girl before him - for such had she been when he'd first come into her service - and he well knew it. "But you bear it with dignity and I'd not be here supporting you if I didn't believe that you could save our people."

She sighed and nodded, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "I just... I need to be there to make those vital connections. To keep abreast of them." She swallowed and grimaced. "So, is that your way of saying 'no'?" she inquired.

"It would not be trusting good order to fate," Siimond assured her. "Lady Hilarii has done this many times."

"At events of no consequence!" Hylaenii protested. "One more day, Siimond. Give me one more."

He bowed his head in acquiescence. "One more."

---

Ingrid arrived at the townhouse on the back of Drakhopp, her most beautiful Qilin. She was dressed rather comfortably as where she had planned was rather adventurous to get to. With a light lift of telekinesis, Ingrid dismounted Drakhopp and guided him to the servants to watch over him. He gave him a treat of dried pork and handed some more over to the guards to keep him tame in case he became fussy.

Just behind Ingrid were Tommy and Rikard, riding Latt Jagare, the ever-special rainbow savannah runner. He wasn't the most comfortable with the 2 men on him but with Rikard at the helm, he obeyed the tiny mage. He was much more feisty but with a simple kneel he would quiet down, not that it comforted the lowly servants much.

Soon they were entering the townhouse and, of course, they were not to meet the queen right away, they were to meet the ladies in waiting. "Lady Penderson." One of them gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"Lady Tyrel," Ingrid returned the nod with a light curtsey, and with a little prodding Thomas did as well. Rikard was in no need of instructing. Ingrid gave an enthusiastic smile, "Is Her Majesty ready?"

"Well, you see," she looked to the other ladies in waiting, "Her Majesty loves to be properly outfitted for any event and there wasn't much description in your letter regarding the itinerary..."

Ingrid let out a small gasp, "Oh I'm terribly sorry!" She pulled some notes from her hand purse, "I and other Eskandish have set up a small forest party in the sacred grove near the outskirts of Ersand'Ernise so Queen Hylaenii could experience a part of Eskandish culture."

Ingrid went on to describe the festivity in loving detail, from the art to the music, to the boxing, to the optional use of psychedelics. It may have seemed rather simple, but Ingrid seemed excited to share it with the Queen.

The ladies listened with their complete attention, asking the occasional question and exchanging excited glances. Once in a while, they giggled in amusement and it remained this way until an orderly bustled down the stairs with a message: Her Majesty Hylaenii would be delighted to receive them now.

Indeed, while the guests had been kept waiting for quite a while, at this point, it was an open secret that Queen Hylaenii of Mycormii was anything but punctual. Ladies Sanette and Irenii kept them occupied with conversation and discussion of the day's plans all of the way up the stairs, the former taking the lead - at quite a relaxed pace - and the latter bringing up the rear.

Ingrid, Tommy, and Rikard were ushered into the breakfast room at around half past three Shune, just on time to see a door close, with something being pushed through it. They did not have to search to find the queen at her table in the sun room, Ladies Seliin, Tyrel, and Hilarii sharing a nearby table with old Siimond. She exchanged a few words with them and rose, gliding across the tiled floors to meet her guests in her large dress. "I am ever so sorry for the delay," she exclaimed. "Ghastly behaviour if I do say so myself, but the ball was... quite a late night." Her eyes twinkled with mischief and she twisted halfway about, gesturing at the indulgent breakfast being brought inside. "Would you care for something to eat before we get started? It's the very least I feel I might do."

Ingrid had been warned about Queen Hylaenii's punctuality but, to be frank, she could not give a damn. There were very few times she could share Eskandish customs in Ersand'Ernise without being labeled a barbarian, joking or not. You could almost swear that those Perrench and Revidians wanted the most boring Victendes you could imagine: sitting around in a gaudy church listening to some old second son read the menana ever so dispassionately.

But with her leading, she could show a more active way of having fun. After all, the gods Ingrid had met were quite fun. She lowered her head to the queen, "It is of no mind." Ingrid looked over the spread, it looked quite appetizing and, with the events coming, a good breakfast was most appropriate. Her only worry was whether Tommy knew how to eat in front of a lady of her stature, could she risk it?

"I would be most graced if you'd let me," What was the worst that could happen from partaking in some tasty treats?

Tommy strolled into the breakfast room with a casual swagger, sneaking glances at the many pretty Yasoi ladies but not letting his eyes wander. Still, when he gazed upon the queen, he saw why Desmond had expressed such interest. He took a small bow, though it was slightly forced, as he did not often lower his head to anybody. His eyes scanned the table and the delicacies being brought inside; he'd heard from his best friend that a Full Enthish had been served, but he chimed in after Ingrid spoke.

"No worries, bab. 'Round here, they call it workin' on Torragonese time." he chuckled to himself at his own joke, before nodding to Ingrid. "Some brekky wouldn't go amiss though. Ingy's got a big day planned for ya, or so I've 'erd." he pulled out a chair and sat opposite the royal, twirling a fork in his hand.

"No, I think I shall refuse," the queen joked at Ingrid, smiling impishly. She shook her head. "The ways we speak for formality's sake." She clapped her hands together and led the trio. "Come now," she declared. "The kitchens here are a revelation." The queen grabbed hold of the table and swinging herself awkwardly onto her seat. "Truly, they can make near anything, and they'll do it for me too." She grinned, leaning in as the others seated themselves.

Not much ever seemed to ruffle Hylaenii. If others were not the most pinpoint in their etiquette, she seemed to sense it and adjust flawlessly. Tommy, however, was a whole different breed. She twisted on the spot to look over at her ladies. "Well that's a new one," she remarked. "Bab..." she tried the term out with an uncertain smile, blinking and glancing over at Tommy. "I don't think I've ever been called that before."

"Must be an Enthish term for royalty, highness," joked Irenii.

"You should be greatly honoured," laughed Hilarii.

"Well, Mister Kavanaugh," Hylaenii declared, "It appears I owe you a compliment of similar magnitude in return." She tilted her head, the beginnings of a smile ready to burst free of her lips. "Please do enjoy the 'brekky' I had prepared for you. I've heard it's considered quite the delicacy by Enthish standards." She reached over to reveal the infamous 'Full Enthish'.

Ingrid did not tense as much as to have a miscommunication in her head. She had tried to word herself gracefully but the break in normal thought caught her stunned. She cursed Desmond for but a moment for not sharing a drop of her mannerisms besides her tardiness.

But she continued, being teased was nothing new for the Eskandish sea giantess. She had been conditioned by the best Ersand'Ernise had to offer. She sat in front of the many cloches and found herself taking guesses on what might be in them. In the end, she opened up the 2nd closest dish to reveal...

Just some fruit in a bowl. Some Ingrid knew, some Ingrid didn't. Either way, she was quite happy with her decision. Fruits were awesome.

Since they were enjoying 'brecky', Ingrid asked Queen Hylaenii, "Are there any new foods that have caught your attention?" as she took a bite of this very fluffy looking fruit.

Hylaenii regarded Ingrid. "You can reveal as many as you like," she encouraged. "Oirase knows skinny little me won't eat them all." She turned with an air of fond puckishness to regard Siimond. "That's why we have him!"

A couple of her ladies giggled. Siimond raised an eyebrow. "Would majesty like the crusts removed from her toast this time?" he asked, and they laughed some more. Rikard's eyes darted about and he tried not to crack up. "I mean... I, sometimes, you know..."

But then Ingrid had an interesting question and the queen pondered it as she took a fork and knife to her sausage. She enjoyed a ladylike bite and blinked. "Well, I've been rather impressed by Eskandr sausage of late," she remarked.

Ingrid was rather the adventurous eater, more interested in things she had not had than the usual options. She joined in some of the laughter but upon hearing the little one at the table show a liking to crustless bread, Ingrid quickly tended to his request. "Here you go Rikard," she handed the crustless bread over to him with some butter and jam.

Then came the sausage joke, she had heard about Niallus's stellar performance at the ball so the joke made her question if the kind puppy she knew was actually able to bed a queen. Either way, it wasn't her business but she decided to play along, "Oh they are nice! Have you tried any Joruban ones? Nicely spiced and well smoked." Ingrid did not let any smirk show in case this was just her liking Eskandish sausage. "You should try them with some barbeque sauce if you ever get the chance."

Rikard's eyes widened. "I mean, you didn't have to. I was just..." He caught himself. To admit he'd only made the remark to save the queen some face would have been to defeat the purpose of the act. Instead, he swallowed. "Haha. Thanks. Old habits, you know?"

The queen took Ingrid's response in stride. "Well, I am not quite the connoisseur someone of my station should be, I admit," she replied, "but I've a fondness for the spicier things, and dab of sauce is always appreciated, to whet one's palate, as I imagine we both know."

Tommy smiled at the comments. They were ladies far above his station, and he was never one to take little jabs the wrong way. They were certainly more playful than others, and the fact she'd gone out of her way to present him with familiar cuisine warmed his heart a little. "Desmond wasn't lying." he muttered, bowing his head in genuine respect this time. It looked delectable. "Y'know, we humans 've got somethin' to learn about hospitality from your people. Cheers, your majesty." he spoke with a grin, raising his cup of tea in the air in salute to the queen as he began to dig in.

Then, he began to listen. He could feel how uncomfortable he was making Ingrid and Rikard by his lack of etiquette, and didn't want to botch their chances. Still, her comment about sausage caused him to spit out some tea and choke in laughter. Had that madlad done it after the scrap? He managed to reach his hand in time to avoid spraying the table, and wiped with a napkin. He picked up one of the sausages with a fork, looked at the queen with a shit-eating grin as he'd finished laughing, and gave it a wiggle before taking a bite. The more she spoke, the more he began to enjoy her company, but boy was it hard to not crack an innuendo or a dirty joke, for she'd taken them all and dressed them in the language of high society. He had much to learn. You're bloody remarkable he thought to himself, as he began to mop up the remainder of his breakfast.

The queen turned to him with a smile and she tilted her head as he wiggled the bratwurst. She raised hers as well in a sort of toast. "Oh, but it's as nothing after I kept you waiting so." She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and regarded his antics. "Speaking of which... are you going to finish or just play with your sausage, Tommy?"

Ingrid was quite pleased that Rikard liked it. She found herself smiling, maybe with a bit of a smirk about the current atmosphere the queen had created. Utterly different to stately dinners in the Greenlands. And oh so dangerous the Queen was to be around.

Ingrid's smirk only grew wider and less restrained as she made more jokes. Gods give Ingrid strength to not burst out laughing. "I certainly do, your Majesty," Ingrid left it at that and finished her breakfast, they had a party to attend.

Tommy nearly cried tears of joy and approval at that moment. In his minds, she was honorary Enthish from this moment onward. He finished his sausage and smiled at her. He too, would try this veiled language. "Apologies. Takes me a while to finish, but I prefer a marathon than a sprint, your majesty." the words felt unnatural coming from his lips, and he too dapped his mouth with a napkin, but he met her eyes with a cheeky smile of approval and finished up the remainder of the breakfast she'd had prepared for him, patting his stomach at the end.

"Oh you!" chirped the queen, flicking at him halfheartedly with her napkin, "The both of you." She shook her head. "Truly after mine own heart. That which is over so quickly is rarely worth doing in the first place."

It was in that jovial spirit that they concluded their breakfast, Rikard not quite sure what to make of anything here. The innuendo certainly didn't elude him but was it appropriate for him to joke this way in the company of literal royalty, and not just of some little place like Feska or Pest, either.

His concerns aside, however, it was naught but ten minutes later that the trio found themselves waiting in the foyer, momentarily separated from Queen Hylaenii until she pulled up in her royal carriage. Behind it was a second carriage for most of her ladies. "So, I've heard so very much about today's planned events," she enthused, pushing the door open, still very much in the frilly gown that turned her lower half into a bell. "What say you guide us there, Lady Penderson?"

"I would love to," Ingrid guided the Queen to her choice in draconic mounts. Ingrid complimented her choice of Latt Jagare, he was very fast and was used to enhancements from his rider. To Tommy and Rikard, she gave control of the Qilin and warned them not to get him too excited or he would leap over houses for fun. Ingrid would simply use magic to run, leap, and fly with them as it was the most fun she could have on any journey.

The trip out of the city's walls was rather quick as she let the guards know well ahead of their departure. The woods grew wilder and more dense, these were not the woods that carts liked to travel. But suddenly, a path emerged. It was alit with some markings and well decorated with all manner of berry bushes and flowers. The path looked well walked but didn't seem overmanaged, it aimed to strike a natural balance and did so with change. Some Eskandish could be seen tending to plants with tools and binding.

Animals that would normally be skittish were comfortable here after decades of gaining trust. As they went down the path, the sounds of deep, resonating drums could be heard. It resounded within the chests of the group approaching,

"It seems some have already started," Ingrid smiled as they entered the main grove.

Maybe around three to four dozen people were within initial viewing but there seemed to be a few dozen more doing things out of sight for now. Large drums were set up and lazily played with some men and women playing wind instruments with them. The noise was rather harmonious despite the separate groups.

Some seemed to lightly dance within the flower field, taking people into them and seemingly disappearing. Others knitted crowns for each other, others sang, and some painted. It was a rather lively event.

A wooden platform sat in one of the farther corners and had many people gathering there laughing. You could already hear the sound of fighting and cheers happening there.

And by the tree was the most important person: Master of spirits and smoke, giver of all good things, the drug guy. And for this, there was a copious amount of beer and cider, spirits and wine, weed and mushrooms.

As they arrived, many turned to greet the newest guest, one of the older Eskandish men stepped forward, "We are honored to have you at one of our festivals, please enjoy yourself and ask of us anything," he gave the most sincere and politeness bows to the Queen of Mycormi.

If the Queen was plenty adventurous, she was not greatly accustomed to riding a Savannah Runner, and it showed in how the beast moved and how she nearly fell off twice, only catching herself with kinetic magic. By the time that she arrived, she was exhilarated but exhausted. It was only a few moments later when the ladies and Siimond arrived as well, the former moving to fix her hair immediately.

Queen Hylaenii was quick to wave them off as soon as she was presentable, and she inclined her head respectfully to the gentleman. "Well, I just might be full of questions, then," she teased.

Tyrel was already off to view the fights. Sanette headed towards the flowers and painting, and Seliin towards the taller flower fields and forests, Rikard glancing curiously in her wake as if to say, "may I?" Irenii, meanwhile, poked around the mushrooms with quite a good deal of curiosity and, before Hilarii could go anywhere, Siimond stopped her cold in her tracks with a hand on the back of her wheelchair - not that she'd have gotten very far anyhow. He shook his head tightly and the tethered seemed to remember her duty.

Hylaenii turned to Ingrid, however. "And what would my fellow sausage appreciator recommend?" she inquired, tilting her head with a coy curiosity.

Some of the Eskandish nearby snickered at the line and just a tad bit of redness took hold of Ingrid's face. She wasn't terribly active in the flower fields one might say but it still might be enough to make her peers tease her forever more.

Ingrid nodded at Rikard, "But don't stray too far, the flowers have a way of keeping you there."

She petted her pretty dragon and rewarded him for letting the queen ride upon his colorful self. "Well, it depends if you want to partake in some drugs. Some of our people believe they enhance our religious practices and I would always recommend at least the Brandaeble cider."

"After that, watching the sports is always good. Then I usually end it with a joyous frolic for the spice of life."

"Lady Hilarii?" the queen pronounced, her tone suddenly formal - or was it only mock-formal?

"Majesty?"

"I'd like to partake of some of these amusements."

Lady Hilarii glanced over at the various psychoactive substances and the paraphernalia there for their ingestion. "The..." she pointed. "That, my queen?"

"I do think it would be a bit of fun, don't you, Lady Hilarii?"

The tethered blinked. She puffed out her cheeks. "Very much, ma'am."

"Good woman," said the queen, even being so kind as to help push Hilarii on her way. "And then maybe taking in some fights after this?"

Tommy wanted to frolick in the flower fields, but it was wrong. A woman had hold of his heart, and he resisted any urges of that nature and instead honed in on the conversation. For a royal to be so willing for some drugs and watching a good fight again warmed his perception of her. He'd known next to nothing about Mycormii before this, and now he found himself ready to serve. "I'd be happy to join ya, yer majesty. Could even be yer 'champion' in those fights if ya want. I was fuckin' lethal back home, 'especially if it's bare knuckle." he grinned at her, sampling a mushroom and giving a knowing wink toward Hilarii. She was a good friend to the lady.

Ingrid smiled and watched the poor tethered go over to the table and have to ask to try some of them. Out of pure sympathy, Ingrid recommended some of the drugs that were better for taking and continuing your day afterward, "Some of these have been known to take away your mind for an entire week when overly consumed," Ingrid gave some warning to not only the queen but their ladies in waiting. She knew that Yasoi partook in drugs but that doesn't mean they can handle something they have never had.

But as Ingrid and the queen watched Hilarii fade from the mortal realm, Ingrid had another question, "The festivals here are about Ipte and Eshiran, they are the more lively events..."

In the background, Rikard was quite busy making a fool of himself, fourteen-year-old that he was. Ingrid paused and watched what the Rikard incident brought. Then, she blinked and moved on to head over to the ring of Eshiran. "Lovely isn't it?" Ingrid genuinely laughed as she took a puff of a joint herself, it was all she would allow herself today. An honor guard was still a guard.

The ring currently had two large, bare chested men grappling each other and throwing themselves about. "There is something so entertaining about two men fighting with each other in a ring, magic or not," Ingrid commented as she enjoyed the clashing of strength. As they waited for Tommy of the Lethal Knuckles to enter the ring Ingrid asked a question to the Queen: "Are you a lover of the arts Queen Hylaenii?"

The ladies had gone off on their own adventures, and Queen Hylaenii was alone with Ingrid amid a sea of unfamiliar and semi-familiar faces. Two men were throwing haymakers at each other in the ring and, absently, the yasoi watched them.

"Anything can be art, in a sense," she decided, as Rikard and Hilarii both made fools of themselves - first separately and then together. At some point, the boy had managed to fall into her lap and now both were laughing hysterically. "Something is made and someone interprets it." She shrugged as one of the fighters went on a bit of a tear, bodyslamming his opponent and landing a brutal shot. The crowd swelled and shouted with energy but, by some miracle, the downed fighter managed to clinch and recover.

"In truth, I loved art as a girl but, as a queen, I find that it is a political necessity more so than something one can enjoy." She watched the fight again for a moment. Tommy would be up soon. "Why do you ask?"

Ingrid cheered as her fighter seemed to be doing better but started to wince when the other started to lay into him what would've surely been the end of the man's liver were it not for binding magic. She looked over. "I tend to agree, though I question if a viewer is truly needed for something to be art." Ingrid was starting to go through her own philosophy she had learned and was more than willing to get into a verbal spar for fun. But she focused up.

"It's a shame, not being able to enjoy art for the sake of it," Ingrid frowned a little but moved on. "I ask that because, during this year's trials, I found a message in a bottle." She procured the note and offered it to the Queen. "It's a letter from Luumelan'tuuro'tarsii," Ingrid said rather slowly so as to not mess up her name, "and it is to a very famous Perrench artist, Guy Marchand."

"The note would seem to indicate that his signature style was not his own but Luumelan'tuuro'tarsii's," Ingrid tried to suss out if she had caught the Hylaenii's attention with the dramatic mystery.

The queen let out a low whistle as she pored over the page, and her eyes flicked to Ingrid, pregnant with some statement or question. "It's written in somewhat archaic prose, but..." She trailed off, reading it aloud and translating as she went.

youtube.com/watch?v=B4hVK3TYf7M

Dearest Gerard,

I finished it today: the moon. I thought you might want to know - you or whoever finds this message. In truth, it isn't for you, Gerard. You'll probably never see it or, perhaps, it will find its way to you after months or years. Perhaps I am beside you as you read it and we're having a laugh together at my sappy prose. Maybe there are children running about or at least dogs. You passed the dog test after all. Are we old? Do we call each other man and wife? Have I knit you a quilt? I hope it's a good one. Lie to me if it isn't.

Yet... why is it that I have this fear, hiding in the heart I show nobody, that I am writing this letter to a stranger? That us - the story of us - might be nothing more than a passing curiosity to someone who has never felt your breath on her skin, who has never heard the warmth of your laughter nor nestled in your arms on a windy beach in Luul'endaal to paint together as the sun sets?

Was it just one sweep of Ypti's finger? One Stresia? One Dorrad? One Rezain? Why did it feel like so much more? Why do I feel like we are so much more? The old may laugh at the dreams of the young, but I feel that they only protect themselves. I believe that they yearn, in their hearts, to have that feeling back: the feeling of possibility. Will our art earn us fortune or fame? Might you or or I - Shiin willing, both of us - be remembered many years hence? Might we share a name in the history books?

How I long for it, dearest Gerard. How I draw and paint and scribe and wile away my hours so that I might eat and sleep and wake another day in the hope that you shall find me or I shall find you and we might begin again where we left off. And yet, it feels like every step I take in this life I have now only leads me further away. Like grapes unchosen on the vine, I watch those possibilities wither.

If you are reading this with me, hold me. Kiss me. Laugh with me at a worry unwarranted. I will even let you grandma-kiss me near the ear. If you are reading this on your own, know that I look for you and I wait for you. Come to me, thal sil nashii'loi, and you shall find me at Luul'endaal on the night of Fortuna, where I will light a fire in that spot where we would sit together, the one where you painted the sun for me.

Until such joyous time, I will live, I will look, and I will create. I love you, across space and across time.

Yours,

Luumelan'tuuro'tarsii.

In the background were men pounding each other to a pulp, but the queen was visibly moved by the letter. She dug into the folds of her dress and extracted, from them, a kerchief to dab at her eyes. "I... She swallowed with some difficulty. "I shall return in just a moment." Abruptly, she turned and hurried off. "Siimond," she could be heard calling. "Siimond!"

Ingrid had hoped it would grasp the Queen just enough to give her permission to venture into Mycormii to learn more of the artist lost to time. It would have been the greatest honor as a researcher to uncover something once lost and share it so others may know.

But as Queen Hylaenii read, those thoughts began to dissipate. It was so personal, something that Ingrid knew was not meant for her eyes. Every worry, every detail so sweet it would make you blush to say it aloud, it all enraptured the romantic inside of her.

If it was just that, Ingrid would have felt little more than giddy and satisfied with the letter. But within the letter, she found sources of bitterness that tarnished those pure feelings. How devastating it was to know her name was not next to his, that neither Shune nor Ipte had bestowed them that gift.

And one that only now settled in Ingrid's mind. She had thrown away the ability to grow old with someone. Never to hold one in the morning when your bones ache from the cold. Never to turn gray and watch your children come visit you. She could never live that life.

And so she wept towards the end for so many reasons but she would not say. Instead, she wiped it away before it could impact her makeup. She turned to Hylaenii and was overjoyed she was not the only one brought to tears by the letter. But before she could have a conversation on her next request, the rambunctious queen was off again. She thought she should stay, it was somewhat implied but still, she decided to break some decorum and head with her. She was interested in what the older gentleman had to say anyway.

When Ingrid caught up with Hylaenii, the yasoi was already hovering anxiously and eagerly around Siimond as he attempted to extract something from his satchel. "Yes yes, my queen. I am endeavouring to find it."

"I shall pray that you do, sir. I had asked you to bring it."

"You had asked me to bring a great many things, majesty," Siimond grumbled, as he rifled through the bag. "and if I had, we might just have been accused of trying to flee the kingdom."

"Be not saucy with me, you old codger. It's got to be there. It goes everywhere with you." She looked about ready to take over and burrow into his bag herself.

Then, all at once, he came up with a sealed wooden tube and brandished it away from the queen. She pulled back an arm's length, nodded, and smiled. "Now," he remarked in exasperation, "for the love of Shiin, will you tell me what this is all about?"

"The letter, Siimond. She has the other letter."

"The other letter?"

Hylaenii nodded almost impatiently. "Yes! Yes, look!" She held it out. "The one from her."

At that, Siimond's old eyes widened and he shuffled in, reverently extracting a paper equally as old and yellowed from the tube. He held it out for them all to read and narrated.

youtube.com/watch?v=Tu96yevGMEA

"Dearest Luumelan,

The westerly currents at this time of year will bear this letter to you, or so is my hope. Would that they would bear me. Perhaps I might wash up on our beach, cold and bedraggled, and be warmed by your bonfire, as it was when we first met. I must now accept that there is a truth at the heart of cliche for it seems both like a week and like so very long ago when we spent that magic year together.

I have now known the admiration of others for my work, and what an intoxicating thing it is. This Somnes and Hundri were spent in residency at the Palais de Verre in Solenne, at work on a ceiling for Prince Rouis himself. I think it might please you to know that I slipped jath'tarsii in there, in a figurative way. Perhaps when you come to visit, when this tragedy of Rose Cross is at an end, you might try to spot it. Perhaps, when the curtain between us lifts, I might hear of your work and know of your successes. I shall be disappointed if I am not metaphorically represented as a dog at least once and I am eager to be surprised. You are, and always have been, the warm shadow in whose shade I dwell and in whose footsteps I follow.

Ma précieuse pêche, you are in everything that I do - in every waking hour, in every stroke of my brush. I feel your fingers on mine, guiding them; the gentle brush of your hair on my neck, and the soft lilt of your voice in my ear: 'you do not need to hurt the page'. I have - I swear it - stopped murdering my canvases, and the dividends that it has paid! I shall use the funds from my work, dearest Luumelan, and take flight across the sea once this madness has blown over. I shall take flight and, there, I know exactly where I shall find you. I see it, already, in my mind's eyes. I wonder... shall I appear sopping wet this time?

Please, I beg of you, my love, keep faith with me. Keep patience. The Gods test us but, they are not unkind and these letters in a bottle, just like the one we found, might act as a testament to our young love and inspire others when we are in the history books. How I want to hold onto that as unshakable truth. How I want to hold you. As I lie, every night, I can feel you there. I can smell the peach blossoms in your hair, and I know that, before long, we will be together.

Until this joyous day, I will live, I will wait, and I will create. I love you, across space and time.

Forever yours,

Guy Gerard Marchand"

Solemnly, Hylaenii raised Ingrid's letter and placed it beside its counterpart. Both were old and time-worn, discolored in different ways, with different inks and handwriting, folded in different ways, but each one contained half of a heart - on the left margin of Luumelan's and the right margin of Guy Gerard's - and it was as if the two had been drawn by a single hand.

The three of them - an old man and two young women - stood there for a moment in silence and then Hylaenii sunk to her knees on the soft green grass. Siimond, not daring to lean on his queen for support as he lowered himself, slowly sat beside her, the effort clearly taxing him. His eyes were deep pools and he was almost trancelike in his movements. He came to a stop with a light 'whuff' and was still, looking at the letters.

Ingrid sat down with them, if only to not tower above. The message was... A lot. In some ways, it was more than she could have hoped for. It seems they were Master and Student but they had become lovers. It was so sweet and pure in a way. But why did they not meet again?

Had he grown intoxicated with the fame as he mentioned?

Had he moved on to a new Romance?

Why had he washed ashore in Mycormii to begin with?

Where is the place with peaches? Where did they draw their sunset?

Is there more to the 'across space and time'?

All these were questions she had but one took precedence above all others. "Sir Siimond," Ingrid waited patiently for a reply. No doubt he was lost in thought, "May I ask who you are to Luumelan?" she asked ever so lightly. Her curiosity had peaked but she wasn't going to push it on an old man.

Queen Hylaenii turned to Ingrid for a moment. "He's not even told me, but he takes it everywhere with him, so one might only assume -"

"Her... descendant." The old man shrugged, and he took off his glasses to wipe the back of his sleeve across his eyes. "Please excuse me, majesty." He bowed his head in her direction. "My lady." He did the same to Ingrid. "I fear my conduct at the moment is not professional."

"Oh bugger your professionalism for a moment, Siimond. You're a person as well and I'd be a monster to hold your feelings against you at a time like this." She looked as if she were about to reach out and squeeze the old man's shoulder for comfort, but she pulled back uncertainly and her eyes flicked to Ingrid.

"Thank you my queen," he rumbled, "Your wisdom and kind spirit far outstrip your age. Nonetheless, one must take pride in his station and purpose." He sniffed and dabbed and seemed somewhat better. "She was, as far as I know, the great-grandmother of my great-grandmother." Siimond took a handful of breaths and was steady. "In my boyhood, I often heard stories about her. Down in Luul'endaal, we have a festival on the beach every year on Fortuna." He shook his head. "Some of my very finest memories are from there." He swallowed. "My aly'jath'nan was not... all there in her old age, but she told stories from her aly'jath'nan about Luumelan. She'd always said that it was her who'd started the Fire Festival." He nodded slowly, digesting it. "I'd always taken them as the mere fanciful tales of an elder. Now, to find out that it was true - it was all true." he breathed again, glancing guiltily at the two women for his tears.

Ingrid was caught between her want to support him as was her nature and to respect his desire to stay professional. She didn't care to hide emotions in the sacred grove, a place where she was allowed to be human. She had cried many times as a girl and as a woman here. Over trivial matters that merely stung to ones that she still had not healed from.

She was poised to let him be, she was not his family and this was not his culture. All that changed for her when Queen Hylaenii had reached out but couldn't. Ingrid had been lucky that the one royalty she knew was so warm to her that she never even considered the divide. In the end, Ingrid placed her hand on Siimond's shoulder and said what she had been told, "Regnet är ingen börda för träden."

"I cannot imagine the feelings you are having," Ingrid contemplated her words. How does one speak to someone so old and with so much history? "But what I can say is that I'm happy that you were able to read it with your own eyes. Their names are finally together," she looked at the two halves of the heart.

Old Siimond nodded. He nodded and he swallowed. "Yes," he replied. "Yes, thank you. Words of wisdom to be sure." He thanked Ingrid with a brief smile and, from the other side, Queen Hylaenii also laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. If the rules of decorum and their respective stations in life prevented her from embracing him, then she could go at least this far, couldn't she?

She had held the letters together for some time, and now she sighed. It's as tragic as it is beautiful," she remarked. "Rejoice in the wonder of your family's history and not that she lost him, but that she knew him and now you know both halves as well." Letting her hand fall away, she took both letters up again. "Truly, this is a remarkable story, such as one I might've heard from a storybook as a little girl." Hylaenii leaned in. "Lady Penderson - Ingrid - has brought us an exceptional gift this day." She twisted where she sat and smiled warmly at Ingrid, bowing her head in thanks. "Do you remember those books, dear Siimond?"

"With pride, majesty," he replied, recovering a bit more of himself. "It was with those that you learned how to read."

"I did not merely learn. You taught me, as you taught me much in my formative years, as you continue to teach me, even this day, and I look forward to what you will teach me in the future." She smiled. "You dear old fool, you are brilliant, and the success of my reign shall be the product of that. Now," she concluded, "you have taught Ingrid here something as well, and I imagine you have yet more to teach."

She bowed back to Queen Hylaenii though it was very informal, "I am only overjoyed that the letters have finally reached each other after all these years." was all she said before Hylaenii told her appreciation to Siimond. It was sweet and caring in a way that seldom people get to witness.

"You have taught me much already with the letter," Ingrid gave thanks, "I originally was going to travel to Mycormii to find her descendants to uncover the secret but it seems I was blessed to meet one here in Ersand'Ernise."

"It occurs to me," said Hylaenii, rising and dusting off her dress, "that a pilgrimage there might be in order. I, for one, am eager to see this through, and I imagine that Lady Ingrid is quite invested as well." She held her hand out to him and he attempted to wave her off for a moment before taking it. "Their letters are reunited three-hundred twelve years later, but there's so much we still don't know!" Her eyes darted to Ingrid's. "I want to see this through. I want to know it all and... maybe there's a happy ending? I propose a trip to the Fire Festival at Luul'endaal." She cleared her throat. "With your permission, Siimond." She looked to him hopefully.

He opened his mouth to speak and she held up a hand to forestall him. "I say this not as your monarch, Siimond, but as a friend and student and, if I need to, I command you, as monarch, to respond in that spirit."

Ingrid's ear perked up upon the mention of going to the Fire Festival, "It would be quite the experience," she remarked. Though she tried to be reserved, it was obvious that she very much wanted to go and see what other secrets lay in wait at the fire festival.

Hylaenii looked her way with a barely-suppressed grin and then towards Siimond, expectantly. The old man let out a bark of laughter and sighed. He nodded. "How could I say no?" he chuckled. "Two lovely young faces filled with such eagerness?" He leaned in. "Oh, and maybe this old one too." He nodded again, firmer this time. "I'd be lying if I didn't admit to being intrigued." He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked about.

In the background, Rikard was spinning back and forth with Lady Hilarii in a clearing until she fell out of her wheelchair and landed atop him. Both were singing in gibberish. Lady Irenii, meanwhile, was lying in the grass, stroking it and staring up at the sky, while Sanette had made an outfit entirely of flowers and Seliin was a distant giggle in the forest. Tyrel, meanwhile, was rubbing Tommy's shoulders and whispering advice in his ear before his imminently-upcoming fight.

Siimond turned back to his queen and her new friend and was himself again, but perhaps a little bit changed, and for the better. "Let's do it," he decided.

After a night of unforgettable fun, the visiting young monarch finds herself prodded and pampered by her chief advisor, Siimond, and straining at her leash. Endeavouring to be involved in everything herself, she manages to extract his blessing to attend an Eskandish-style festivity planned by Ingrid, along with the rough Ethnishman Tommy and the child prodigy Rikard. While her ladies scatter to the winds once they reach the festival, Tommy joins a religiously-inspired fighting tournament, and Rikard stands to potentially lose his (already dubious) innocence, a question from Ingrid leads her, the queen, and old Siimond on a journey through the past where they uncover a beautiful and possibly tragic love story, written by the hands of artists who lived long ago. Less expected is the deep personal connection that makes itself felt.

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