Helo

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Evening Sola 22, 1739: Callum & Riona Part 1

Callum & Riona

---

The night wrapped the old cottage in a comforting darkness, broken only by the gentle glow of oil lamps and candles illuminating the rough-hewn interior. Inside, the scent of aged wood and the faint aroma of herbs lingered in the air, filling Riona with a sense of nostalgia. This was the place she once called home, the former abode of the late Royal Gardener, and now it served as a safe space for her and Callum to delve into their magical studies.

The wooden floor creaked under her footsteps as she moved across the house to retrieve and set down various supplies, handwritten notes, a stack of books, and bundles of scrolls, onto a large, sturdy wooden table close to the hearth where a cauldron was suspended above the flames.

With meticulous care, Riona arranged the items on the worn table, which itself bore the marks of countless experiments, heated debates, and shared laughter. While reaching for a slate board and chalk, she was distracted once again by the beautiful nail art on her fingertips, a delightful reminder of the time she and Sadie spent together pampering themselves. A smile curled on her lips. Though she knew that, as a servant, the nails wouldn’t last long, that only deepened her appreciation for them.

A noise from outside diverted Riona’s attention from her hands to the front door. She stood motionless, her gaze fixed on the entrance, until she heard the familiar sound of a key sliding into the lock. Only one other person had the spare key to the house. She relaxed.

Callum paused at the door, checking again to make sure no one was following him. He’d spent a good bit of time walking around the palace grounds, not close enough to the gates for anyone to think he was leaving. Just a long, moonlit, walk to clear his head. Constantly checking to make sure no one was tailing him and continued wandering until he was absolutely sure. Only then did he head toward the house of the Royal Gardener.

He fumbled with the key, a combination of shaky hands and nerves. Maybe he should’ve had a drink or two beforehand, just to settle things. Maybe he should be concerned that he didn’t feel normal if he wasn’t drunk. Instead, he blamed the day's constant presence of watchful eyes, that was what wasn’t good for him, that’s what kept him rattled all day. Another thing he could hate Alibeth for.

He opened the door, walked inside, and relocked it behind him. The near silence save for the creaking of old doors and floorboards soothed his nerves to murmur. Old buildings could be trusted, they betrayed those who tried to sneak about within them. Only one other person made the floorboards creak here. He looked from Riona to the items carefully arranged on a table. He pulled a glass jar of geshrow root from his pocket and added it to the table.

“Seems like you’ve got something planned.” Callum attempted to smile, teeth clenched a bit too hard and corners of his mouth struggled to lift. He gave up and looked at the cauldron above a steady fire, wondering what might bubble inside it, trying to clear out the rest of his thoughts.

“What.” With a swift motion, she tossed the slate and chalk onto the table. “The.” Each step she took as she moved around the table picked up speed. “F**king.” She marched purposefully toward Callum. “Hells.” When he got into arm’s length, her hands shot forward, seized his head, and yanked it closer to hers. “Cal.” Riona cast a fierce gaze upon the bruises that decorated his face, rotating his head as though she were an appraiser inspecting an object but lacking the delicate touch needed for such an occupation.

“Well,” she began, her voice filled with sarcasm, “I had grand plans to create a revolutionary lozenge that could provide all the necessary daily nutrients for people struggling to eat. But why bother with innovation when we can just focus on healing potions and salves, especially when one of our primary test subjects almost always shows up beaten like a punching bag?”

Drawing Callum’s face even closer to her nose, she sniffed, which caused Riona’s scowl to deepen. “Seeping with alcohol.” And burnt sugar.

Would’ve just stayed home if I knew I was in for another lecture. He didn’t say that aloud, Callum didn’t even roll his eyes, some people didn’t deserve his rudeness. Instead, he offered a simple admission, “did another stupid thing.” He knew that was far from a satisfying explanation but he wasn’t sure how to explain himself without sounding stupid. He tried to pull his head away as soon as the sniffing started. Seeping in alcohol? That was dramatic. But he didn’t comment on that either. He didn’t want to start an argument, didn’t want to ruin how peaceful this place usually felt.

She relinquished his head only to snatch his hands and glare at them instead. The hands quivered within her own. Aside from a few skid marks here and there, the skin on his knuckles was smooth as it was pale. Proof that Callum not once threw back a punch against whoever beat the living crap out of him. His nails looked like they were a nail bite away from extinction. Her thumb traced the mark on the palm of his hand.

Riona’s head snapped up to look at Callum. Without words, the lowly maid asked, demanded, commanded the Gods-Damned-Third-F**king-Prince-of-Caesonia to explain himself. The bruises; the smell; the cut. Anything. Everything.

He tried to pull his hands away too but Riona’s grip was stronger. His hands were inspected as Cal simply gave up on trying to think up a way to explain last night without sounding stupid. It was stupid and he didn’t regret it either.

“If a beating is the punishment for taking people to secret parties, it only seems fair that I get punished too. Right? So I made it happen. And, added bonus, it kind of helped clear things up for me. Now I know for sure; every good thing I thought I saw in Alibeth was a lie. Better not to believe in a lie right? Had to do it.” He shrugged, it wasn’t the outcome he’d hoped for but it was what he’d come to expect.

Riona’s eyes remained on him, stunned, as heat began to rise within her. A wave of anger swept over her, directed at the people who hurt Callum, including Callum himself. She was frustrated by his stupidity, but was equally frustrated that his sister ran to the other extreme. Princess Anastasia didn’t think what happened, or what almost happened to Darryn, was enough to punish herself. It was all about making her feel better. The older Princes’ did nothing to help the situation in any way and Riona’s hate for Queen Alibeth reached new heights. To make matters worse, Lady Morrigan’s haunting voice echoed in the back of her mind telling her something Riona tried to ignore. More than that, she resented herself for even caring. There was sadness there too, though, causing her eyes to sting and her heart to ache, as if being pricked by thousands of tiny needles.

The blend of anger and sadness made Riona’s expression harder to read. Her muscles couldn’t decide which emotion prevailed. She turned slightly away from the source of her conflicting emotions and began kneading the tension knotted in her facial muscles.

“And as a weird guy I met in an alley pointed out, punishments don’t mean anything if I don’t suffer through them, so no healing, and I would much rather help you end starvation.” He tried to smile again but the intensity of Riona’s glare stopped him.

“How convenient that drinking doesn’t count as soothing your suffering.” She snapped before taking a deep calming breath. Riona didn’t want to be like this with him. Not here where all the troubles outside were supposed to stay outside. But the smell that Callum was giving off reminded her too much of the Gardener.

“Yeah well it doesn’t make me feel any better, just more normal.” He said it softly and with the difficulty of ripping up a firmly rooted weed. More than he wanted to admit to was pulled up with it. “And sometimes it just helps me not reach for anything worse.” He stared awkwardly at the fire again, needing to think of something else to talk about.

“Why was Morrigan snooping around my room?” He asked trying to change the subject.

“Aside from making us feel uncomfortable and sniffing out for weaknesses? … I don’t know. To make me leave sooner?” Riona rubbed her arms absentmindedly. “She summoned the servants who were assigned to the ballroom to check that we weren’t consuming anything besides water.” Now that she thought about it, that might’ve been why she wanted to try making the lozenge in the first place.

“I’m sorry they, we, are all so awful.” And that was really all he had to offer, apologies that amounted to nothing. He could ask why but the answer would just boil down to Morrigan just enjoyed being cruel, and the ball had been a disaster, if she even needed a reason. He vaguely remembered being told to get down off a table and shouting about cake. Was this his fault too? Maybe he didn’t ask because he was afraid of the answer.

Riona visibly flinched when Callum corrected himself. “They” was back to “we.”

“Well I know who’s winning prettiest nails today. An unbroken streak of victories.” He looked back at Riona and gestured at her hands. It was an easier thing to say than 'please don’t be mad at me.' “Was today a better day?”

Watching Callum fumble his way out of the awkward conversation, Riona felt the heat subside and she deflated. Her facial expression softened, and her tone became gentler. “It’s not that impressive when you have a saboteur on your team, you know. You still beat me in the ‘better skin’ category.” She lifted her rough hands to show the much more appealing nails, “Sadie and I did our nails today. Maybe we should have you do yours too. Then maybe you’ll think twice about chewing them down to stubs. That or maybe I’ll paint your nails with the nastiest tasting polish ever. Something that’ll make you puke every time your mouth touches them.”

“You think I need more puking? And of all my bad habits, that’s what you're coming for? Nail biting, strange choice.” Cal joked, and he smiled because it did sound like she had a good day. He looked at her hands again, “hmm, yes, very gross, Hands that have done work, terrible.”

Riona paused. Being able to spend time with Sadie reminded Riona how much she valued the friendships she had, even though they got in the way of her goal in the long run. Sadie always managed to quell the ugly thing inside her. Without the blazing heat, the black smoke, there was clarity and there was one simple fact.

Are you forgiving them? The force that wrapped her hands around young Callum’s neck, those many years ago, asked.
No, never.
Then why?
Because. The frail boy slowly blinked his eyes open. Even through the fever induced haze, his blue eyes focused onto her. He watched her, seemingly unfazed by the situation, as if he expected some day this day would come. And he looked so alone... like her. Ríoghnach snapped her hands away. Because he’s not them. None of them are, yet.

If she allowed it, he’d continue to divert the conversation farther away, so if she wanted him to know, she had to say it now. Before the inevitable flames returned. “Let’s make this absolutely clear. I’m angry at you,” she said simply without preamble, “because you hurt my friend.” Her voice slightly quavered saying the word, but rushed to cover it up. “My study buddy, my partner in crime, and an esteemed member of ‘The Only Person I Hate More Than a Danrose is Myself’ club.’” She puffed her chest out as she folded her arms over them in defiance. “You hurt Cal, Callum, and I reserve the right to be pissed at you for it.” Though her glare returned, it was nowhere close as intense as it was moments ago. “If you got a problem with that, you can go suck an egg or whatever.”

“...because you hurt my friend.” Callum nodded. That was fair, he had hurt Darryn, and she was right to be mad at him. Wait, Darryn was in the club too? “You hurt Cal… He was stunned for a moment, unsure of how to react to the rest of that. Was he the friend? Allies, sure but friends? That was supposed to be off the table. It was better that way, he was a bad friend to have. Riona also cared more about him, as an actual person, than his own mother ever did, and had been the most consistent positive force in his life. The word for that didn’t seem to matter, everything else was already there.

“If I’m being honest, a morbid part of me is kind of proud of you. What you did was stupid and ineffective, don’t get me wrong, but it showed you cared and tried to take responsibility… That’s more than any of the other lot ever did.” While she was mainly referring to the Danroses, she was also disappointed by the other nobility. Each and every one of them had the power to protect and they failed to use it for the people who needed it most. Now they pretended the whole Darryn incident never happened and continued to focus on having a good time, pursue courtships, and forget.

“But… I…” Riona searched Callum’s face, “I sometimes wonder if you’re just using us as an excuse.”

That question stung, it prodded uncomfortably close. It wasn’t an unfair question either; he could understand the doubt. “As an excuse? For what?” He asked softly and shrugged. If he had to, he could probably name a dozen different excuses for anything he’d ever done. “An excuse to do stupid things? I do stupid things on whims. An excuse not to act? I was scared, I’m not anymore. I figured it out last night; I’m not afraid of them, or of losing them, anymore.”

“Were you holding back this entire time? That actually explains a lot.” It wasn’t a serious question. Even from their conversation during the ball alone, she knew that Callum had been clinging onto hope for some of his family. It might’ve been the only thing preventing him from taking more drastic actions against them.

“We don’t want a martyr, Callum, we want change. You punishing yourself for every wrongdoing against every single commoner isn’t going to cut it. You’re just one man, and there’s lots of us. You can’t actually take on all the injustices done to us by the Danroses. It’s impractical, temporary, and, quite frankly, insensitive—it makes it sound like you think that your suffering will fix things because you’re more valuable as a person than all commoners combined.” Riona remained surprisingly calm while she spoke. “If you can’t see that, then you were never doing this to help anyone, you’re only doing this for yourself.”

“So really, Callum.” The question that had been circling around her head ever since Lady Morrigan gave her opinions about what Callum wrote. “How serious were you when you carved those words on the wall? Did you just write that in the spur of the moment or was it a vow? … How far are you willing to go now that you aren’t scared anymore?”

Avalia

Time: Morning
Location: Forest; Near Gaurav Village
Interactions: Viola@13org, Phia@princess, Darius@FunnyGuy, Dante@Alivefalling, Menzai@samreaper
Equipment: A pack with some supplies, seeds (in his pockets), a small knife, a mask that hangs from his belt, a weapon with a shifting charm that is either a sickle or a glaive, and a shield/drum with an unbreakable charm.

---

As the Roc fell, Cyrus turned first to check on Viola. Her wounds all appeared shallow, punctures from the Blood Rose’s thrones, but nothing that required immediate attention. He did not have a full understanding of what Viola’s bond with the rose entailed, and so he would not heal the damage the rose caused unless asked. “Well done sister, you alright?” He spoke, more or less ignoring the large wolf that had appeared. He could address the wolf once he knew his sisters were alright.

Then looked around for Phia, she too was safe, healing the badly injured wolf. He wore a proud smile as he watched the sort of person his sister had become. “Ah, Phia is alright too.” He spoke to Viola, nodding his head towards their younger sister. Now how were the two, probably not, elves?

The burly wolf with the axe was speaking again, and unnecessarily chopping down trees. Cyrus gave a sad sigh, “...Or else you’ll continue to murder innocent trees, in a forest that’s just been through a massacre?” Cyrus asked, gesturing around the shattered forest.

“I’ll assume you’re not implying that the Roc was somehow under our thrall, that would just be silly.” He pointed out and walked without caution through the mess of broken trees and scattered earth. He rested a hand on a large jagged stump. “This one was very old, a great loss.” He spoke to himself, as he studied the damage. Too many broken trees, even if he hadn’t spent so much mana on the Roc, it was far beyond what he could fix.

“I am Cyrus, my friend, now no longer an unknown. And I believe my sister and I are now guests of Phia’s. Or business, however, is very personal, not something I will discuss here.” He spoke calmly, only half paying attention to the wolf as Cyrus continued to search among the wreckage until he found one tree he could fix. He placed a hand on the tree until new growth replaced all the tree had lost. This tree would remember the others. It was the best he could offer the forest. “It is a sensitive matter, best discussed privately, with whoever is in charge.” He added.

Avalia

Time: Breakfast time!
Location: River Port; Malachi’s mom’s house
Interactions: Malachi@princess, Jun@JJ Doe, Enstille@GingerBobOh, Kenia@Tae
Equipment: A halberd, (always with him) hunting knife, and half-plate armor (left in the room).

---

“Maybe more than a bit shy.” Zion corrected, as Enstille offered an even stranger introduction than Jun had, but still not as rude as Malachi’s.

The lion’s ears perked and turned towards the elf who shared his appreciation for building up bridges. “You are delightful, Kenia!” The young lion’s enthusiasm stretched to accommodate the lack of it from the others. He made room in the kitchen for the treats Kenia had brought before offering her a plate to pile up with food. He watched Enstille eyeing a fork from where he sat and Zion brought it to the elf. He paused to see what Enstille was doing to the eggs. He watched the strange slimy things being carefully pulled from the mass of scrambled eggs until he realized what it was. Horrified, Zion’s ears flattened.

“Is that onion in the eggs?” He whispered Enstille while holding out the fork. He glanced at Malachi who seemed distracted by a conversation with Jun and was probably not listening. He nodded to the wise Enstille who had discovered Malachi’s plan to sneak vegetables into good food. “Disgusting. Messing with the eggs like that.” His tail flicked. Zion was certainly not going to be eating the foul slimy things either.

“Kenia, are you from River Port or just vacationing here?” He asked, attention turning back to the guest. He did want to get to know her better but he was more eager to see if she had grabbed breakfast so that he could now finally eat as well. He left the fork with Enstille, either placing it on his plate or handing it to him if he was not too lost in his thoughts.

Avalia

Time: Morning
Location: Southwest of Roshmi City
Interactions: Rue@Potter, Bardulf@Lava Alckon, Bridgette@Tae, Mister Luum@FunnyGuy, and Zeva@Pink Khione
Equipment:Sword, hunting knife, a backpack with supplies, and a stoat named Raze who naps in the pocket of his vest.

---

Bowyn only shook his head at Rue’s response, youth was not a good enough reason to give the elf a pass. He didn’t need to point that out to Rue though, they’d both been in this too young, had enough missing pieces between them to be constant reminders of youthful mistakes and failed missions. They couldn’t have mistakes now. A new elf, a young one, was a mistake. They needed people they could rely on, people already ready to put everything on the line for Avalia, and surely Mister Luum could see that.

“You should know better than anyone what’s required to keep a secret from being told by another.”

As Rue’s attention focused on comforting Bardulf, Bowyn focused on what Luum was saying. Good, at least Luum’s not entirely crazy. Only one way to keep a secret-

“But as a group, we are quite bad at killing, so I have a better idea! Zeva…”

Dammit Luum. But Bowyn couldn’t entirely fault Mister Luum for it, if Zeva were a young fae rather than an elf, he’d probably side with Luum on making the risky choice here.

“Not all of us are bad at killing.” Bowyn announced back, looking from Mister Luum to Zeva. “Doesn’t have to be a group effort.” He offered further, and paired it with a smile, almost like it was a joke. He left Rue with Bardulf and the pegasus and headed towards Luum and Zeva.

“Don’t Luum sweet talk you, this isn’t a game. Gonna have a whole lot more than your parents to worry about if you follow us.” Bowyn spoke directly to Zeva, not a threat, just a warning. “Bowyn, proud traitor, and passable healer. So save the bandages and hold still a moment.” He introduced himself and placed a cold hand on Zeva’s shoulder above the wound. If she held still, the wound would heal in a matter of seconds.

“Saving Avalia means ending dark elf rule, facing things a lot worse than death or disappointed parents, and it’ll probably cost you more than you think. So really think about it, this is not an easy path, not a whimsical adventure, and there is no room for doubt where we're headed.” If Luum was bringing someone new in, Bowyn wasn’t going to let them join without knowing what they were getting into.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Morning
Location: Callum’s bedroom to Ezra’s Bakery
Interactions: Ezra @Potter

Callum was amazed and perplexed by Ezra’s extreme generosity but shook his head. “I insist on paying, you work too hard to give away your food for free.” He wandered around attempting to make awkward small talk with the baker, asking all about the variety of cakes, before finally picking a few out.

“You got a busy morning Ezra? The king is hosting a big fancy tea party, full of bored rich nobles who love sitting around drinking tea and eating cake. Would you like to join me? We can make sure everyone leaves knowing where the best deserts in Sorian can be found and I can stir up some family drama. It’ll be a good time.” He offered, fingers drumming against the counter. Making Edin look unhinged in public, while Cal was just bringing the old man treats from his favorite bakery, seemed like a good enough plan for first thing this morning. “I bet Ana will be there too.” He added, winking at Ezra. He was pretty sure the baker had a crush on Ana. Why else would he keep bringing free treats to the palace?

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Morning
Location: Callum’s bedroom to Ezra’s Bakery
Interactions: Ezra @Potter

New day, new chaos. Callum once again had a perfectly terrible idea for how to disrupt his family’s plans. Edin had put so much work into hosting a tea party for nobles, and what did every party need? Cake. So he’d gotten up early, he’d put even more effort into getting ready for the day than he had for the prince’s court. A proper scrubbing, a nice suit, and it all looked even more out of place with his face painted in bruises that were still in the awkward stage of healing that only made them look worse than they initially had. He even took the time to style his hair, making sure it looked like every portrait he’d ever seen of his grandfather George. He studied his face in the mirror, trying to perfectly mimic the same intense expression George’s face held in his portraits as well. Cal had no idea why anything involving George seemed to upset Edin so much, but if it made Edin feel anything like he felt when he thought of Edin, it seemed well worth trying.

Once he was satisfied he left the palace with his invasive babysitters following close behind him and headed to the bakery. Nothing wrong with bringing cakes to a tea party, and he had heard his father so loved Ezra’s cakes. Cal had the hint of a smug smile as he walked, this was going to be a fun day, all he had to do now was convince the baker to attend the tea party as his plus one. It shouldn’t be difficult if the man kept bringing treats to the palace he clearly had a reason to be doing so, Cal didn’t really care what the reason was, but he guessed this would benefit both of them.

“Mister Turner?” He called as he entered, “I’d like to purchase several of your finest cakes!” Callum wore a bright and mischievous smile.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Leo & Wulfric
2nd part

Date: Sola 22nd
Time: Late afternoon

---

---

Wulfric led Antioch back the way they came. Gradually, he, Leo, and their steeds moved towards the north-west, onto a path through the forest. It was a leisurely ride now, as peaceful as it was private. “How have you been?” the prince queried.

“Not facing too many difficulties due to being drugged the other night, I hope?” he questioned curiously. It seemed that those who’d attended had faced the worst of it during and immediately after the event. But he’d also been to preoccupied with his siblings’ wellbeing to pay much attention to anyone else’s.

“Occasional headaches and wounded pride seem to be the only lasting effects. I’ll admit I’m a bit embarrassed to have stumbled into a scandal so quickly, but it’d be a lie to say I regret it. A new mystery curbs the appetite to continue to obsess over one that has regrettably turned cold.” The case of his missing father had no new leads to follow up on and every old clue had been picked apart until it too meant nothing. Last night’s mystery however was proving to be an exciting distraction.

Wulfric tilted his head at that. It was indeed a scandal, though caused to them all by someone else. He was also aware of Leo’s missing father, and the lord’s desire to find him. “Sometimes, even when you believe a trail has long gone cold, something can turn up unexpectedly.” He wasn’t saying that as a reassurance, or as a way of giving false hope. However, he thought that if Leo was seeking distractions elsewhere, then the issue he wanted to be distracted from was not yet resolved to his satisfaction - and there weren’t all that many issues which were inherently unresolvable. “Personally, I do find giving my mind a rest or working on something else to be helpful. Upon returning to an old problem with fresh eyes, there can be all sorts of insights gained,” he added. Leo merely nodded, and went on to expand upon how he was tackling the current party-related mystery.

“Lady Vikena and I have taken up the initiative to question last night's guest. Count Hendrix as well.” While he said the man’s name as he would any other, a slight change in expression indicated he was not fond of one third of the team. “Obviously none of us wish to step on your toes, but I’d at least prefer to ensure I’m not stuck with amnesia again.”

“Understandable…” He wasn’t especially fond of the meddling, however, he couldn’t deny the attendees’ right to be informed. Though it was unclear how the other two had got involved. It did not escape him that Leo didn’t favour the count. “Did Count Hendrix say anything to you about the host as well?” he wondered.

“He did mention suspected involvement of the Black Rose. A wild card, Count Hendrix, but highly observant, and perceptive. Never a bad idea to keep an eye on men like that.” Leo kept the majority of his distaste for the Varian count to himself. He believed in holding true to his word and Leo had agreed to leave his innate aversion toward the other man out of their shared investigation. He paused for a moment, “You said as well, has Count Hendrix spoken with you about all this?”

“Oh, yes,” he emphasized with a somewhat dry, dark amusement. A corner of his mouth drew up into an ironic smile. For a moment, he brought Antioch to a stop; they were now within an empty forest clearing far away from the city centre. “He approached me immediately after that morning meeting, which he appeared to have been listening in on,” he imparted. “He told me that the party’s host might be Marek Delronzo - owner of the Black Rose. Supposedly, he had learned of this via rumours.” It was clear Wulfric found it unlikely that the count had heard the name by happenstance alone.

“Do you know why or how he and Lady Charlotte became involved in this…unofficial investigation?” the prince then queried. “And if you don’t mind, I would like to know who all you’ve questioned so far and what you have learned.”

Leo could only wonder why Hendrix was so invested in all this as he pulled Menace to a stop as well. “He runs a trading company himself, I’d imagine ensuring Delronzo’s illicit activities are discovered would be a strategic way to lessen the competition. But that is speculation, I have no idea what his motives are.” Leo’s tone showed approval at this possible motive; it would be a smart move for the count to not only gain favor but to strengthen his own interests.

“I had assumed the same,” Wulfric noted. But speculation wasn’t the answer he was looking for. Thankfully, Leo had more concrete information regarding Charlotte’s involvement.

“Lady Charlotte offered to help look into my father’s disappearance during the ball. When we got talking the next day, I may have roped her into another mystery. After her own tragedies, and being threatened by Count Calbert after the ball, I’m sure it provides a welcomed distraction and a bit of nostalgia. We spent many summers here searching out childish mysteries to solve.” He left out Charlotte’s suspicions about her mother’s death, which was hers to share if she wanted, but Calbert’s actions deserved to be brought to the prince’s attention.

Indeed, it was that tidbit which piqued the prince’s interest. “Count Damien threatened her?” His eyebrows raised in mild disbelief. However, it was possible. But the question was, “Why would he do it?” he murmured quietly. He gave Leo a curt nod. “That is good to know,” he said as a way of thanking him.

“I spoke with your sister first; she recalls all the events leading up to descending stairs into the party. As do I. She also mentioned this was not the first occurrence of these underground parties, though she does not remember what happened at any of them. She also mentioned seeing cupcakes on the floor. Those I’ve spoken with, and my own hazy scraps of memory, are like flashes from a mostly forgotten dream.” Leo paused to allow any follow-up questions and organize his thoughts about his conversation with Nahir.

“Stairs?” Wulfric frowned. “So, we’re looking for a basement.” Quite suddenly, he was reminded of the secret archive in their castle, and how it was hidden with a combination of clever mechanisms and undoubtedly some magic as well. Delronzo could very well be doing the same. “After what happened, I did consider something similar might have happened in the past.” It was strange his sister had said it to Leo, but not to him, even though he’d asked her as much. “Does it seem to you that you have become able to remember more with time?” he questioned the lord.

“It could be time, but it could also be a matter of focus. Trying to push past the mental block triggers these intense headaches.” It would be helpful if the memories all returned with time but Leo doubted it. “I know it’s a stretch but since cupcakes were mentioned I’ve been thinking of questioning the baker from the ball last night, Ezra Turner. Especially given the bizarre display he put on last night.” Leo offered up the baker as a person of interest, more than willing to grasp onto that tenuous thread mostly based on how deeply he disliked the baker. Wulfric nodded, agreeing that man should be watched.

“I also spoke with Shehzadi Nahir, her memories included flashing lights and floating colors. When I mentioned my own memories, that of a clouded blue sky and strange, almost mechanical, music, she had an odd theory.” Leo paused, not entirely sure how to bring up the ‘magic trick’ theory without sounding ridiculous. “While it certainly sounds strange, everything I know or have heard about last night is almost equally strange. The Shehzadi mentioned magic as a potential cause for the weirdness of it all.” Leo did not mention magic in some hushed tone that showed any fear for such a thing, something he didn’t truly believe existed. He brought it up because he’d said he’d look into it, and because he was hoping for assurance that it was entirely make-believe.

“Magic,” Wulfric repeated, lips pursing. Mainly, it struck him that Nahir must know of it, and mentioned it quite casually to another. Just who else knew? Was it liable that this would uncontrollably become public knowledge? The prince then sighed. “I have never known any drugs to cause the effects which you all have exhibited. Of course, that doesn’t mean that such drugs do not exist. As fantastical as it is…a similar argument could be made about magic,” it was clear he disliked this concept. “Take it if - if - mundane means were to be ruled out; that is, if medical analysis proved that no drug or poison were found within the blood samples retrieved from my siblings…” He let Leo draw his own conclusion. However, he chose to add, “Let’s just say even something like that should not be discounted on principle alone.”

“Well, that is not what I was hoping to hear,” Leo admitted with a sigh. “I’d prefer something that wouldn’t lead to flipping through fairy tales for explanations.” But if Wulfric was also willing to entertain the notion of magic, that was now two entirely practical people willing to accept magic as a possibility. “But if magic is real,” Leo let out a long whistle, “there’s a lot more to worry about, more than a few weird parties and lost memories. It would be the sort of threat that would require swift attention.” Leo let himself fully consider the possibility for a moment. He’d need real proof, to accept such a radical belief, but it would be a mistake to ignore such a dangerous threat.

“Yes. Exactly,” the prince agreed with that assessment of severity. “However, if it exists, I believe we will not have to resort to sifting through fantastical stories. It isn’t witches or creatures from tales doing this, but humans. The effects are something tangible, so the cause must be something concrete as well. If there is something to this, we are more than capable of unearthing it.” He knew there was ‘something’ for a fact, but since Leo was keeping things on a hypothetical level, Wulfric did the same. It did not seem the lord knew about magic, so he did not intend to confirm its existence as a fact.

He prompted his horse into a slow walk, continuing on a path through the forest. “But leaving that angle aside for now,” he said, not keen to discuss magic anymore, “who else is there to question yet? I’m assuming Lady Charlotte - and Count Hendrix, I suppose - will speak to the remaining party goers if they haven’t already. I don’t know if you three intend to do anything more than that, but as you’ve noted, it could be dangerous,” Wulfric warned.

“I believe Lady Charlotte spoke with the Shahzades after dinner while Count Hendrix was going to speak to the Varian guests. I’ve not met with them since so I don’t know what they’ve found out. I’m also not sure if either of them got the chance to speak with your brother or Kazumin, but the plan was to interview the guests and see what we could piece together from there.” Leo explained as Menace followed Antioch at a meandering pace. Leo felt more comfortable speaking about things he knew to be fully planted in reality over the hypothetical existence of magic.

“Whether chemical, mystical, or mass hypnosis, this remains dangerous until we can understand how and why it was done. Even once you have apprehended the culprit, or culprits, who’s to say that someone else won’t try something similar? Even more disturbing, would anyone really go to all this trouble just to hide a party?” Leo paused and shook his head, “What’s the real goal here? A blackmail scheme? A test run before doing something worse? The more I think about it, the more it seems like it would be precarious to simply remain in the dark.” Leo explained, the goal here was answers, and the faster they got answers the better it would be for all involved.

“Blackmail, sabotage, profit, experiments…” Wulfric listed a few possibilities. He understood the sentiment of not wanting to be in the dark perfectly well. However, he was wary of casually disseminating knowledge of magic. At the very least, he wanted to get a firmer grasp on it himself first. “It might not be amiss for the four of us to meet and share our findings in the following days,” he suggested. He did want to see what Hendrix and Charlotte wanted out of this. “But for now - unless you have any questions for me, or something else to discuss - we might as well enjoy the rest of our afternoon in nature,” he proposed. As dire as the situation was, there was not anything urgent they had to do at this very moment. Besides, as he’d said previously, an active respite like this was quite valuable.

“I absolutely agree, any information I have shall be yours as well. This is your country after all.” Leo offered an earnest reply. Wulfric certainly had a mind for detective work and held legitimate authority in Caesonia, truly there wasn’t a single person he could think of that he’d rather add to the team. Since it seemed the prince had tired of discussing matters of secret parties and possible magic usage, Leo inquired about more pleasant topics; the latest trends in Sorian, which shops and restaurants were most worth checking out, and trading hunting stories. Nothing that would be taxing on the mind, but enough to keep a conversation going.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Callum

Time: Sola 21st Late Night
Location: The Slums - A house of ill repute

TLDR; Callum has a bunch of weird nightmares and then gets tossed out of an opium den/brothel establishment.

A non-necessary post/read.

Angry Chair - Alice in Chains

The backroom was dimly lit by lanterns and candles that softly flickering. Hazy, sweet-scented, smoke filled the air, mixing with a variety of rancid scents that tainted the stale air; fresh vomit, old piss, thick sweat. The bodies of those who indulged lay sprawled out on the floor of a tightly packed backroom. Pain and sorrow were exhaled in soft murmurs and loud moans as faces twisted into expressions of peace and bliss.

Cal, who was firmly not going to be Prince Callum Danrose anymore, made exceptions when it benefited him. His ideals hide behind the shadows of his desires. Callum, who had no money, looked like he’d crawled out of a gutter, covered in blood and fresh bruises, was not someone anyone wanted to spot a bit of opium. Most addicts knew better than to trust other addicts when they promised to pay you back tomorrow. But the prince was persistent; if his name earned him entrance, it would also be just enough to get him what he wanted. It had worked before, it would work again.

It was a long night spent begging, pleading, and groveling, for anyone to spot him for the night.

He had to not only wait for someone who sort of knew him, but someone he knew not well enough that he’d already pissed them off one way or another. His savior finally appeared in the form of Ralph, a local drunkard, an unclaimed bastard of a minor noble family, whose long years of addiction had begun to rot him from the inside out. Dirty fingers scratched at open sores and his yellowed eyes stared off into the distance, only a fading glimmer of awareness; Ralph was more like a ghost than a person these days.

“Ralphie.” Callum crooned and wrapped an unwanted arm around the grizzled man’s shoulders. “You know me right? It’s Callum, Prince Callum, you know, like the tavern.”

“Cal-lum?” Ralph repeated the name slowly.

“Yeah, yeah just like the tavern, got my name on the sign and everything. We’ve drank together, you know me.”

“Oh. I know you.” Ralph nodded along.

“Yeah, Callum. Your friend, Prince Callum, we should smoke together.” He offered, and Ralph nodded through his confusion.

“I’m friends with a prince?” Ralph asked, pointing at himself, struggling with his memories.

“Best friends,” Callum added, and at that moment he meant it. “But I’ve got nothing right now, so next time, I’ll get you back, alright?” Cal nodded nervously but Ralph did not. Ralph seemed to be thinking the offer over so Callum sweetened the deal. “And, and, I’ll cover your tab at the tavern, whole month. Good deal right? You know I’m good for it.”

Finally, Callum convinced someone to take him up on his offer.

It wasn’t long before he too lay upon the rarely cleaned floor across from a bleak premonition in the form of empty yellowed eyes and a face too tired to care, both men dimly lit by the light of a lantern. Floral smoke filled his lungs and took the sting away from his wounds. A beautiful warmth spread through him, everything lightened and relaxed. All things that hurt melted away as he sank deep into an impossibly soft floor wooden floor, a puddle of bliss.

Puffs of smoke sunk Cal into the abyss. Heavy eyelids closed and dreams came more vividly than ever before.

Cal soon felt lost, floating in an infinite void. No light. No hope. Nothing but the void. He felt the hollowness without and within.

“When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you.”

As Cal fell into the abyss, it indeed looked back into him. It saw all things he didn’t want to see. It forced him to gaze.

His eyes opened and closed so slowly, and dreams came so suddenly, it became difficult to recognize the difference between reality and dreams. Any distinction between the two hardly mattered.

Cal heard a voice in the void, almost familiar but distorted, a haunting sound barely heard like a whisper carried on a breeze. It sent cold shivers through him.

Afraid to go home? To see monsters in the dark. You can barely face them in the light. Just give up, accept what you are. Selfish, like your father. Cruel, like your mother. Stupid, but that one’s all you.

Stupid little plans, that get people hurt. But it doesn’t matter, if you get what you want. You’d cause less trouble if you just went off to die in the gutter.

Lost in another alleyway. Somehow this one looked worse. Everything was coated in a dingy light and grimy fog, he couldn’t tell if it was day or night. He couldn’t even see the sky. But he could see the bottle in his hand, almost slipping through his fingers.

Even in a dream, he wanted to bring that bottle to his lips but he had no control here. A passenger. A voyeur. He could see his own yellowing skin and caught sight of the reddened tip of his drippy nose, as he walked, stumbled about, with no direction. His hand finally moved but not to bring that bottle to his lips. Finger scratched at open sores, the sound somehow so loud it was deafening. Then he was stumbling. Falling. He looked up at a sky that couldn’t be seen through a grimy fog.

Now his body saw fit to provide the satisfying sting of liquid courage. The bottle at his lips…

Choking. Couldn’t breathe. The booze taste like bile, fighting, clawing, its back way out. Violent coughing until out from his throat flew a fly. He could feel his insides rotting, he felt more flies knocking around in his stomach, crawling, buzzing, but unable to escape. The one that had escaped crawled across his face; there was no desire to swat it away. He thought he could hear the fly chewing as he felt the ground shoving at his back.

Shoving?

His eyes briefly opened, and he stared up at the ceiling. There was Ralph, patting his back and shoving him back onto his side. He saw a fly buzzing around the soft light of the lantern.

“Gonna choke if you sleep like that,” Ralph warned, and his broken smile held the same warm light that flickered from the lantern.

Callum, half asleep, nodded and used his sleeve to wipe bile from his mouth. “You’re a good friend, Ralphie.”

“Best friend.” Ralph briefly reminded him.

“Very best.” Callum agreed as heavy eyes closed again.

Friend? Who’d be friends with you? No one if you had nothing. Drunks if you buy them a drink. You’d be friends with anyone who’d buy you a drink and let you forget.

Even your own family doesn’t want you. “Ah look at my beautiful blonde-haired sons. Sons I’ve created.” It spoke in Edin’s voice for a moment. Not you though, not a son, only a blight. Why do you think you’re always so alone?

Callum wandered through a hallway in the palace. Here everything was too bright, overexposed, and nearly blinding. Even though it looked like every other hallway in the palace it was unfamiliar. The unwelcoming feeling of the hallway, however, felt exactly like his home. He opened a door and walked into Wulfrics office. He laid down across a couch and argued with his brother. Familiar words left his mouth. He stormed out. He tried another door and walked through the tavern. He argued with Anastasia. He looked into familiar hurt eyes. He left again and tried another door. Behind every door was a fight he’d started. It felt like an eternity.

He walked through a door and felt small. Edin was there too, like a great tall beast, shouting at him for ruining dinner. He was crying but he knew he didn’t do that in front of Edin anymore. Not like he did when he was a child.

“What’s wrong with you?” Edin’s face contorted, and his mouth opened into a maw that resembled a lamprey. Edin’s neck stretched and moved like a snake, slithering the maw of jagged, wicked, teeth closer and closer. The Edin-like creature hissed familiar insults as flies flew from the maw with each familiar word.

Raw primal fear kept Cal frozen in place. He was drenched in a cold sweat as his eyes looked from the bulging eyes of his father to the hundreds of flies that now landed on his skin. They burrowed into him, his skin giving no resistance. Callum felt the buzzing in his veins, in his gut, and inside his head. “What’s wrong with you?” The Edin creature shouted again as the maw snapped forward ready to devour.

“What’s wrong with him?” A different voice asked as cold water splashed across his face.

“You’re causing trouble.” A quiet, stern voice spoke.

He shot up in a cold panic. Drenched in sweat that mingled with cold water and the dried blood on his face from earlier. One eye wide with panic, the other too swollen to open fully. It took him a moment to realize he was screaming. He looked around for his friend but Ralph was now gone.

“You can’t stay here. Out.”

“Wh-” Too hard to stay awake. Sleep called again. Or maybe it Orbitus. The abyss cradled him once more.

Rotten fruit, rotten tree, rotting away. Drawing in flies, that's what you're good for.

Callum sat in front of a massive dark tree with twisting branches. Gnarled and twisted bits of bark wore the faces of regal ancestors. Their mouths all hung open, spewing forth a constant shrieking of their various crimes. He opened his mouth to scream for them to stop, his hands desperately pressed against his ears. No words came out, only a swarm of flies left his mouth. Thousands of flies poured from his mouth covering much of the tree but none of the faces. So many pairs of eyes bore down on him, judging him as the flies gnawed on the tree. He could hear rotten bark crunching inside thousands of tiny mouths. But their screaming stopped, voices barely heard over the buzzing of flies then spoke to him.

“This is one of ours?” A disappointed voice asked.

“Look at him, that’s a liar's face if I ever saw one. Certainly one of us.” A proud voice answered.

“He almost looks like George.”

“I don’t see it. Looks weak.”

“Got more of a coward’s face if you ask me.”

“Look closer, he’s got rage rotting away at him.” The eyes all looked to stare at him, fixated on something below his face.

Cal looked down following their gaze. He saw the rot. An opened cavity that was his abdomen, shattered ribs like fingers curled against the edges. The skin around the void in him was rotting and necrotic, a collage of muddied greens, grays, and black. But not nearly as dark as the void. No heart, no guts, no liver. Empty, barren, and continuing to pour out and spread to the rest of him. Consuming him.

He reached his hand inside and it brushed nothing but felt like ice water. He reached further, tried to touch where his spine should be and his arm kept reaching. His back curled forward until his forehead was nearly on the ground, still only feeling the emptiness. Until he fell forwards into the void and was pulled upright.

Until he stood on nothing and the floating stopped.

Everything hurt again.

A pair of cinnabar-colored stars shone in the void. They looked at him with such immense judgment that he fell to his knees. He felt his heart pounding against his chest. It was a struggle to breathe. The stars shone brighter and brighter until not only did his eyes sting but he could see that the stars were also eyes. Eyes that lit up a golden scowling face that looked like a mask with pair of horn-like appendages that almost formed a crown. Draped in shadows, He watched.

“Mighty Claro.” Cal addressed the vision and understood what was happening. He had asked for chaos on this night, and his night had not ended in an alleyway. Chaos had followed him, even invading his dreams.

The scowl became a smile that also might have been a snarl and disappeared in only a second as the golden mouth parted as if He were about to speak. Only flies poured out.

Flies swarmed into a humanoid shape and began walking toward him until the sound of it become deafening. Callum closed his eyes and tried to remember this wasn’t real. He covered his ears until the cacophony of buzzing stopped. He opened his eyes and stared back at himself. The flies were gone. It was just him, in the darkness, looking back at a mirrored image of himself.

“Like what you see?” The other Callum asked. With eyes locked all Cal could see in eyes that matched his own, were all those things within himself he hated. So Cal closed his eyes, shook his head, and hoped this disappeared too.

When his eyes opened again he found himself again lying on the street just outside the brothel. A single fly buzzed around his ear before eventually leaving him alone.

Time: Sola 21st Late Night
Location: The Slums - Another Alleyway
Interactions: Stratya @CitrusArms

Discarded like the rest of the refuse that littered the streets, Callum again stood on shaky legs and wandered. He didn’t know where else to go, only that he didn’t want to go home. Anywhere else was better. He checked through his pockets as if he might have a flask he’d forgotten about. Nothing. Only disappointment and his mouth was dry and his throat hurt like he’d been screaming all night. He realized he’d probably been kicked out for screaming in his sleep. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Cal found himself sinking to the ground in another alleyway, or maybe it was the same one as before, he couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter either, the alleyway seemed a welcoming place to sleep until morning because at the very least it was far from home. He laid back down, rested his head on one arm, and covered his face with the other. The night’s air was cool enough that he shivered in clothes soaked with cold water and sweat, and it kept him from falling deep into sleep. Maybe enough so to keep the nightmares at bay.

"Here ya are, aye?" A new voice only added to his confusion.

Barry? He wondered if that guy just lurked around alleys all night. He then questioned whether that had all been a dream too.

"Alright, lad, let's up and away. Can ya walk, are ya awake?"

“Just resting. Fine here.” He moved his arm and looked up to see who was speaking to him. There was a hint of recognition but he couldn’t quite remember. “Do I kn-” Then he realized why he recognized her. “Oh fuck.” He mumbled once he recognized the face of the high-ranking knight.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Evening Sola 21, 1739: Bob & Barry Part 1

Callum Danrose & △△△

---

Under the veil of nocturnal murmurs, a beast emerged surreptitiously from the shroud of shadows. With predatory grace, it closed the distance between itself and the body sprawled out on the squalid pavement. The beast fixated its vacant gaze upon the man drenched in the mélange of blood, whiskey, detritus, and misery. Claws touched the man’s face with haunting tenderness. From its lips, a whisper caressed the name of the poor soul. “George.”

When the prince’s eyelids fluttered, △△△ tried again, “Your Highness? Are you awake? How are you feeling?”

Callum struggled to open his eyes; everything felt so heavy. Someone was talking, and Cal tried to lift his head but that turned out to be a bad idea. He laid his head back down but it just kept on pounding. “Just sleepin’ it off.” Callum muttered, not entirely sure what the man had asked but it seemed like a good answer. Some of the fog in Callum’s head lifted, and he remembered that this was not a good place to sleep.

With a raspy groan and some very ungraceful movements, he rolled himself over onto his arms and tried to climb up off the ground. Callum stumbled backward and his back hit the side of a building so he just sat there. He put one elbow on his knees and rested his palm atop his head because his head felt like it was going to fall off and roll away. He gave the stranger a shaky thumbs up before placing that hand on his head too. “Who are you?” He asked, resting his eyes for a bit.

△△△ opened his mouth, took that first breath needed for speech, then sighed. This curse turned out to be far more inconvenient than he initially thought it would be. He was considering creating cards that have his name and title printed out so that he could hand them out as part of the introduction. A weak smile formed as he asked, “Would you remember if I told you in your current state?” Without hesitation, △△△ began assessing the prince’s injuries, cleaning the blood off with a handkerchief and apologizing whenever he winced, but not giving Prince Callum the option to refuse the examination. “What happened?”

“What happened?” Callum repeated the question while attempting to swat the stranger's hands away. The man who refused to give out his name was more persistent than Cal, who relented to being poked and prodded at fairly quickly. “Hmm. Ow. Dunno. Guess I can’t remember.” He half spoke, half mumbled an obtuse answer to the stranger. Callum was pretty sure he knew what the stranger was looking for, but as he felt around his pockets he discovered they were all empty. “All outta coin, sorry. Best find someone else.” He added, hoping that admission was enough to get the intrusive stranger to move along.

△△△’s brows stitched together. “You were mugged? We need to alert the authorities then. If your attackers are bold enough to attack a prince, it’s possible that they won’t hesitate to harm others. But… before that we should see that you receive proper medical attention.” He leaned in closer to confirm his assessment. “It seems like they didn’t cause any life-threatening damage, but seeing that you have trouble remembering, you might have a concussion. We can’t be too careful.” He circled to the prince’s least damaged side. “Forgive me for touching you, it’ll only be until we find someone who can properly tend to you, I promise.” △△△ carefully lifted the prince’s arm to put it around his shoulder, and noticed a dark red mark on his palm. The coloring of the skin around the wound and state of coagulation suggested that the cut was made recently, but not as recently as his other injuries. “Did they do this to you too?”

Callum didn’t offer much protest to being pulled up off the ground, more wincing and whining; it was the quickest way he was going to get up and moving again. There had been only a tired, heavy sigh at the use of prince, and again at the mention of alerting the authorities. Once off the ground, with one of his arms wrapped around the mysterious stranger shoulders, Callum moved to palce his other hand on the man’s cheek as his gave his best attempt at a stern look. What he actually did was slap the man in the ear as he spoke, “No authorities. No doctors. Not a mugging. I wanted this.” Callum pulled his hand away, tried to look at the cut on his other palm before losing interest in the injury barely hurt. “Musta been the broken glass.” He lied before letting his arm drop back down and looked around, finding it difficult to remember which direction to go.

△△△’s ear rang from the slap and he pouted slightly, but the expression lasted until he heard the words. “I wanted this.” He gave the man with George’s face a once over, taking in all the bruises, the smell of alcohol on his breath, and that look of “weakness” he did not want to—could not—show others. “I want this.” “You’re very strict on yourself.” He smiled ruefully, “So much so that I don’t think you’ll be satisfied with this… but I wonder if you’ll realize that this form of punishment will never truly ease your guilt or solve the real problem, Your Royal Highness. … Unless this was only meant to satisfy your other needs...”

“If it doesn’t work out, try something else.” Callum said, but the thought was incredibly tiring. “Thanks. I got it from here. You should go.” He added but didn’t pull himself away from the stranger. Callum just waited, this was the part where the stranger was supposed to tell him what he wanted. Very few people hung around him without wanting something, he just hoped the man wasn’t looking for some kind of reward for returning him too the palace.

“Should I?” △△△ tilted his head as if he was considering doing as the prince suggested, then flashed a mischievous smile. “Uhh… No. While I appreciate your concern for my safety, unfortunately for you, you’ve been caught by a person who has a hard time leaving injured people in the middle of a sketchy alley, unattended, at night. Royalty or not.

So my suggestion, random person who I shall refer to as Bob, is that you give up getting rid of me and help me take you to your destination… or I'll have no choice but to take you to the hospital or authorities, whichever is closest.”

Mysterious stranger, that I met in an alley, who knows too much about me, won’t give out his name, and wants to do me a favor. Callum slowly listed everything that made the stranger suspicious. But he was also helping and nice enough about it that he wasn’t bothered by how strange it sounded. Ask for chaos, get chaos. Seemed best to just go with it. “You’re odd. I like that. This way then, Barry. To a brothel.” Callum picked a direction and pointed, mostly sure that was the right way.

“Will you be able to pay for their services without money?”

“They know me. Being a prince, has a few perks.” There was really only one service Callum had any interest in tonight; drifting off in a smoke-filled back room. This was neither the first nor would be the last time he’d turned up with empty pockets looking for opium. He always settled his debts, people who knew him, knew that. It didn’t hurt that Callum never argued about prices either. He knew they asked for more than the opium was worth, he just didn’t care.

“What are you out looking for?” Cal asked and started walking, shakily, but he was at least going somewhere.

△△△ matched his pace with the prince, occasionally pausing to steady him whenever he was about to lose balance. “Trouble, most likely. Rumor has it that you have a knack of getting yourself into them quite often.” He pointed his finger at the prince. “Which is really the extent of how much I know about you. The rest is just guess work and experience.” His finger tapped near one of the bruises. “People who ‘want to get beaten up’ tend to be masochists, people who feel guilty for something, and or people who have something to prove. Since I don’t know you beyond stories, I don’t know if any of those apply to you, Bob.”

“Needed to make a point. This is a way to do it.” Callum offered a vague explanation but none of what the stranger had guessed at was all that far off either.

After a pause, △△△ apologized for the tangent. “I have a friend who attended Mr. Delronzo’s party yesterday and came back in a terrible condition. Unlike you, she was beaten so badly she actually can’t walk. When I asked what happened… she… She says she has no memories of what happened at the party.”

Callum groaned, not out of pain this time, but exasperation at the mention of last night’s party. “Mister who?” Cal said as if he didn’t know the name. The stranger was certainly not a friend, probably working with Wulfric, or Alibeth, which was pretty much the same thing.

△△△ combed his fingers through his hair. “Either she’s hesitant to tell me what happened to her, she was drugged, or something so traumatic happened that she blocked the memory… None of these possibilities are the least bit comforting.”

This time it was △△△’s turn to repeat the gesture Prince Callum did to him though he was far gentler with the ear slapping. “Bob, I know you were at the party. Please, tell me what happened there. Any information, even if you think it is insignificant will be helpful.”

“You’re good. Give ya that. All helpful, easy to talk to, but I grew up with snakes. Know what they look like.” Callum’s words were a sad mumble, while he had figured the stranger had his own motives, he hadn’t suspected he was in line with the rest of his family. A part of Wulfric’s stupid vendetta against Marek for throwing better parties than anyone in court.

“I can’t even tell you the last time I left a party with my memories. I was there, don’t remember anything. Musta been a good time.” Cal’s words weren’t far from the truth. “Everybody’s all upset about it. Everybody there wanted to go. Well everyone ‘cept Darryn. Only thing we did wrong. Asked for a ride there. Zarai’s always been wild. Some people like drinking, and drugs, and forgetting. Some people like fighting. Sometimes they lose. Got advice for you now, if you’re working with my family,” Callum paused and shook his head. “Bad idea. Worst of the snakes. All of us. Bad news. You, worry about you,” Callum bent his free hand, like making a shadow puppet, to look like a snake. His hand moved around the stranger, imitating the movements of a snake as he offered a warning. “Before they bite.” He finished before the hand snake moved to “bite” at the man’s nose.

△△△’s own hand snake hooked its fangs onto the other snake and tugged, causing Prince Callum to stumble closer. He bit the empty space in front of the prince’s nose. “I never said I wasn’t one. How can you survive a den full of them without becoming one yourself or at least be convincing enough of a snake not to get bitten by a real one?”

Admittedly, it was too late. △△△△△△△△ had been bitten long ago, swallowed whole, waiting to be digested—their bodies giving strength to those who stole everything from them. They just stubbornly refused to go quietly into the night; they would fight, kicking and screaming until their last breath was spent. “Not everyone can have the same protection that you get, Bob. Regardless of your feelings.”

△△△ studied Prince Callum. “It seems like you’ve already decided where my allegiances are, but don’t worry, your parents prefer me and mine eradicated so the odds of me working for them to do their dirty work are extremely low.”

Callum let out a soft chuckle as the man returned the snake gesture, but it never became a real laugh, everything just hurt too much for that. “Be a mongoose,” Callum suggested. “They fight snakes real good.” He whispered it like it was a secret. But he understood; it was easier to be a snake and he was not a mongoose either.

With a gesture that almost seemed friendly, Cal used the increased closeness to lightly pat the man's side. He was checking for a flask, anyone walking around Sorian looking for trouble had to have something to take the edge off.

Amusement danced in △△△’s eyes as he allowed the body search. There was no immediate cause for alarm, no hidden object of value concealed upon his person. A spontaneous chuckle escaped him, “My, my, my! Bob Bobby Bobberson, were you pretending to be mugged so that you could pickpocket me or are you trying to seduce me?” △△△ playfully raised an eyebrow, “All you had to do was ask…”

“Seduce you? You can’t keep your hands off me, handsome stranger.” Callum replied with a disappointed look at having found nothing in his search. “Got anything to drink on you?” He paused, realizing something before adding, “You said, parents. What about Wulfy, you work for my brother?”

△△△’s expression shifted, a pensive gaze replaced his mirth. Of all the royal children, he harbored the most uncertainty towards the heir apparent. “That would depend entirely on how much he’ll follow his forebears’ footsteps, what kind of country he intends to create… and at what cost.”

“Well, dunno your allegiances. Don't even know your name. But everyone's got secrets. Either way, hope you get to see the end of Danroses.” Cal didn’t say anything more about Wulfric despite having a strong opinion on what sort of king his brother would make.

Studying Prince Callum’s face intently, △△△ tried to conjure the image of King George uttering the last sentence and found his mind straining against the boundaries of possibility, for it seemed unfathomable. In a hushed and guarded tone, barely audible to the air, he softly breathed △△△△△△△△s’ mantra. “Noblesse oblige.” It was the closest thing to a name he could give regardless of the curse. If the prince responded to the oath, then he knew. If he did not, then it proved how much of a close kept secret △△△△△△△△ were. Was it passed down with the crown or did it die with their progenitor? Did the queen even know?

Callum offered only a blank expression as the man whispered something into the air.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: Morning
Location: Guesthouse to Edin’s Tea Party
Interactions:

The day started off normal enough; a cup of coffee, a simple breakfast, and the local newspaper was brought to his room. Nothing in his room seemed disturbed, no unnatural slickness to the floor or shoes, and no one summoning him to an early morning lecture. Today he could simply enjoy breakfast and coffee without interruption and all interactions could wait until the day had a proper start, as it should be.

The newspaper announced the day’s planned activities, it was abundantly clear where he wished to spend his time today. Any event that promised a dress code was sure to keep out the riff-raff after all. There was a childish drawing of Duke Lorenzo and he sincerely hoped Lottie had skipped reading the paper this morning. He checked the gossip collum, thankful not to see his own name mentioned there but groaned at seeing mention of Thea’s broken engagement.

Or at least he’d attempted to groan but the sound that actually left his mouth was an odd squeak.

“What the-” He stopped abruptly. That was not his voice, not even in the throws of puberty had his voice cracked at such a pitch. “What in Rothgar’s name?” His voice no longer cracked, it simply broke. Leo, much to his dismay, now sounded like he inhaled helium rather than normal air.

An impromptu visit with one of the palace’s doctors revealed nothing. No signs of infection or illness, all he got was an unconvincing, and frankly rude, assurance that it ‘would likely go away’ and that he ‘probably strained his voice from talking too much.’ Leo certainly didn’t appreciate the obvious look of amusement, and poorly masked chuckles, from the doctor as Leo’s squeaky voice explained the problem. Expecting anything helpful from a Caesonian physician was his mistake, this was after all a city where the science museum claimed Edin was some sort of divinely chosen demigod after all.

He changed into a linen summer suit nonetheless and tried to figure out how he’d get through a tea party without speaking. At least he had the small notebooks he’d bought yesterday to keep his notes in, Leo figured he could use those. As he looked over everything he’d written down about the secret party, he found himself erupting into unwanted, uncontrolled, shrill laughter.

“Gods-fucking-dammit.” He muttered as he stumbled into another unfortunate symptom. Nothing to be done about it now, he was just going to continue about his day and hope this really did fade with time. Today was going to be an absolute disaster but he would salvage what could from it. Once he got to the gardens, the normally soothing sounds of violins became an irritating reminder of his own now screechy voice.

Leo’s daily misfortune: An annoyingly high-pitched voice and random fits of laughter. Who would do such a dastardly thing?