JJ Doe

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Ríoghnach "Riona"

Location: Outside the Castle
Time: 09:30
Interaction: Leo@Helo; Sadie@Potter; Verrick@Aerandir

When she reached for the arrogant lord, Riona deliberately moved slowly, expecting him to recoil from her. Instead, Lord Smithwood’s grip on her wrist took Riona aback. She wondered if she had crossed the line. The pressure building on her wrist certainly suggested she did.

Triumph and amusement masked the silver of fear coursing through her. She won. A small victory over a Varian noble, sure, but an “insignificant nobody” getting under his skin was still a victory. This type of victory was not without a cost—a steep price for commoners—but a broken wrist felt cheaper than the usual exchange rate. Riona braced herself for the pain that never came.

“Enjoy this.” Lord Smithwood spat out after he released her. “Let it bring you comfort when you return to whatever hovel you crawled out of, and I continue to enjoy every comfort –”

“Princess SAADDIIEE has arrived!”

The two turned their attention to Sadie, the cyclone of cheeriness herself. Riona relaxed as the Varian princess approached and returned the warm smile Sadie gave her.

The smile would’ve remained there if the princess hadn’t moved in to touch the filthy maidservant. Riona tried to take a step back, even raising her hands to show Sadie why it’d be a terrible idea to touch her right now. “Miss Sadie, wai—” But Sadie, being Sadie, didn’t care about Riona’s unhygienic state. It was also possible she didn’t notice at all, too excited by seeing familiar faces. Or both. Both were just as likely.

The servant flinched on contact, and she tried again to draw attention to her dirty hand.

“You also smell like horses and manure.”
“I—”
“Do you need to take a shower?”
“Ye—”
“You could use the one in my room!”
“Tha—”
“A pretty lady like you deserves it!”

Riona’s cheeks turned a tinge rosy. She wasn’t used to being called pretty. Rarely did anyone say that to her, especially without a hidden agenda. Something which Sadie lacked. Her casual compliment only made Riona more self-conscious. Pretty was a word to describe other people and things, not her.

Riona cleared her throat. “Thank you, Miss Sadie. For the compliment and offer, but—Oof!” The force of being pulled into a group hug made Riona lose her balance. To avoid toppling everyone over, Riona’s hand landed on Lord Smithwood’s back to steady herself.

Not how she envisioned greeting a friend, but she reciprocated the princess’s hug and stealthily wiped the rest of the mess off her hand on the lord’s back. The ruined outfit might as well be useful for something.

“I heard there are pancakes in the park! How exciting! And the Alidasht kingdom is here too? And they have the taste of Alidasht? So cool! Who wants to go with me? Oh, and isn’t there an archery competition? Amazing!” Despite herself, Riona caught Sadie’s contagious excitement about the day’s events—even though she doubted she’d be able to participate in any of them. The lord’s voice instantly put a damper on that feeling.

“I’d say I am looking forward to seeing the horse race, Princess. A beautiful thing, the symbiotic relationship between master and animal, to see the horse run as it was built to do, and its master lead it towards success in their shared discipline.” The grin directed at her didn’t go unnoticed.

Riona smiled graciously at the lord. “And what separates the winners from the losers is how well they take care of the steed’s overall well-being. I mean… it’d not be a proper race if the horse flings its master off and he’s forced to run all the way to the goal on his own feet, now, would it?” The maid glanced down at his shoes. “At least you don’t have to worry about ruining your shoes.” They held onto their respective smiles during the brief but heavy silence.

“Perhaps we’ll continue this conversation on horses, though I wouldn’t want to keep you from your duties, I’m sure there are better uses for your time.”

Just as Lord Smithwood attempted to excuse himself, another man appeared out of thin air. He looked familiar. Riona knew she saw him during the ball. She just couldn’t match the face with a name. She was halfway through the guest list when the silver-haired man spoke to her. “Perhaps there is a water trough the Lord can wash up in? I’m sure he would appreciate it.”

Riona crossed her arms and looked at Lord Smithwood, “Will he? I’d imagine that’d be a first.” As tempting as it was to stand there until he said the magic word, she knew she’d be wasting more than just her and Lord Smithwood’s time, so she relented. The maid said to Sadie that she’d be back in a jiffy and left.

A short while later, Riona returned with a hand washing cup in one hand and a lavender-scented hot towel in the other. She shoved the cup in Lord Smithwood’s hands, not caring if water spilled all over him or if he dropped it, then spun around to face Sadia with a genuine smile. She offered her now clean hand to the princess, “hand please.”

As she cleaned Sadia’s hands with the greatest of care, Riona said, “It’s good to see you, Miss Sadia. You had me worried when you didn’t show up yesterday.” Riona double-checked her work. Her keen sense of spotting a mess, honed through the years of housecleaning, hunted for any remaining filth. “I’m still technically working my shift, so I won’t be able to join you, but maybe we can meet later?” Satisfied with the results, Riona clasped her hands around Sadia’s, “I’d love to catch up with you.” She stepped away once, then quickly removed a rogue blotch from the fine dress with the towel, before completely stepping away. “You know where to find me.”

When Riona faced the Woodsman with a nobleman’s title, her posture straightened. “Good day to you, Lord O’hare.” She bowed with such grace that the head housekeeper and the Vos would’ve been proud of her. Which only highlighted the fact that the maid offered none of these to Lord Smithwood.

She didn’t address him—not verbally, at least—and her bearings didn’t reflect a shred of respect for the heir of Stravy. She even considered not acknowledging the highborn, just as he likely often ignored everyone below his station. Riona placed her hand on her hip and looked at him with utter contempt instead. The maid’s farewell to this particular lord was a short huff through the nose—nothing more, nothing less.

The maidservant left the three Varian nobles behind, head held high.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Time: 09:30
Location: Entrance Hall
Interaction: Prince Wulfric @Silverpaw

A preliminary survey of the castle confirmed what Ryn feared: Sorian Castle no longer resembled the palace it once was. Entire structures vanished. Rooms that were not destroyed or merged with another room were sealed behind a wall. Some secret passages transformed into servants’ corridors, while some hallways traded places and became hidden. Everything that made Sorian Castle unique was stripped away. Replaced. The palace had become Danrose Castle in almost every aspect.

Though the map helped them gauge which areas to focus on, when taking account of all the possibilities, they had as much information as they had without the map. The crew was going to have to search every square inch of the place. A time-consuming task that would be difficult to accomplish without raising the alarm bells. They needed time, and summer was too short.

By the time the first rays of the sun pushed the night’s stars away to herald the start of a new day, the crew had come to a consensus concerning their search.

First, to expedite the entire process, they needed the cooperation of a castle resident or staff member. Preferably someone who lived in the castle long enough to know the layout by heart and could be swayed to their cause. Considering the high turnover rate alone, Ryn thought it unlikely that anyone would fit the criteria easily. Karleen surprised everyone by saying that she had already found a candidate. Since she was the only one to have seen the maid, Ryn assigned Karleen to recruit her.

Another alternative was to take advantage of the summer gathering. They could suggest an activity that required the guests to explore the castle. They could also narrow it down to a few guests. Lure them to search the castle by enticing them with something they wanted. Whether that be a tangible object or knowledge.

Second, they needed to prepare for the long haul. If they failed to find what they were looking for within the summer, they needed a good excuse to return regularly. The best way to accomplish that was to build an amicable relationship with a member of the royal family or someone who was close to them.

Based on what occurred in the entrance hall, Princess Anastasia and Prince Callum were—unfortunately—not suitable for this. Any friends of theirs were likely to be seen as trouble waiting to happen in the king and queen’s eyes and sent away. This inevitably narrowed prospects down to four, five individuals: King Edin, Queen Alibeth, First Prince Wulfric, Second Prince Auguste, and—as a last resort—Luz, as Lady Lesdeman. Ryn wanted to avoid involving Luz as much as possible, but if it ever came down to it, he’d have no choice but to use her.

Ryn’s top two choices were the woman who evidently did most of the king’s duties and the Heir Apparent.

Ryn studied Prince Wulfric, during his own speech and after. He dissected the prince’s body movements and countenance, attempting to discern what the prince wanted the count to see and what slipped through the cracks.

Hidden under the sugared adulation, Ryn laced the words “true ruler” with steel thorns. He wondered if the prince felt it as he fed it to him. As far as Ryn could tell, he did not. If anything, Prince Wulfric seemed unimpressed by the thick layer of sugar. Ryn made a mental note of that and recalibrated. One more thing the king doesn’t share with his son. Next time, he would curb the flattery.

A flicker of genuine interest appeared only after the count dangled the information Prince Wulfric tried to pry from his siblings. The one name they did everything within their power to protect, even at their own expense. All their efforts were about to be for naught because one man knew the answer and planned to take advantage of it.

“... You clearly have me at a disadvantage, for I do not know whom you are referring to.”

“Marek Delronzo, owner of Black Rose, a merchant company,” Ryn answered plainly. He waited for a moment before continuing, raising his free hand up, “though I should emphasize that the source of this information is hearsay. As I have mentioned, I happened to hear about the party at the public library and only by chance. I didn’t make any line of inquiry to ascertain its validity. I trust Your Highness will keep this in mind should you ever decide this is worth looking into.”

Third, they needed people’s focus away from the palace for as long as possible. The more distractions, the better. Tossing Mr. Delronzo’s name out in the open added to the pile.

He smiled weakly, “I wish I could’ve provided something more concrete. I can only hope this will aid, rather than hinder, your investigation.” Ryn sketched half a bow. “Thank you, Your Highness, for lending an ear.”

Normally, any conversation would have ended at this point. The count stated that he did not intend to detain the prince for long, and he gave the prince the information he requested. This should have been the most appropriate point to part ways.

“Do you like flowers, Your Highness?” the count asked. Ryn brought the bundle of flowers in front of him for both of them to appreciate. “I think they’re lovely to look at, especially during stressful times.” He separated the two bouquets and offered the one that was an assortment of flowers and flowering herbs to the prince. The chaotic collection of plants was an affront to flower arrangement and floriography alike. That was not, however, the intent of the bouquet.

“These make excellent floral baths.” His voice took a more jovial tone, “Visually appealing, aromatic, and has destressing effects? It’s quite a bargain.” Ryn adjusted the bouquet to the side to examine Prince Wulfric, then tried on a grin before properly presenting the gift as court etiquette dictated. “Be sure to rest from time to time, Prince Wulfric. A tired man is an inefficient man.”

“Now if you will excuse me, Your Highness. I would like to deliver these to Her Majesty. After all that has transpired, I believe it’s only fair that she is allowed a moment to enjoy flowers.”

---

---

Ríoghnach "Riona"

Location: Outside the Castle
Time: 09:30
Interaction: Leo@Helo

Credit where credit’s due. The heir of Stravy surprised the maid by staying relatively calm throughout her tirade. He never interrupted her (though it could be because he was doing his darndest to ignore her), he didn’t physically harm her even as she called him a dunce (maybe he just didn’t want to touch her and catch something), nor did he summon the guards to detain her and follow the same fate as Darryn (or he didn’t want to come off as a weak whiny noble who couldn’t deal with a commoner). So when Lord Smithwood gave Riona a piece of his mind, she extended the same level of courtesy to him.

That didn’t stop her from rolling her eyes when he touched her shoulder to assert his dominance, though.

He failed to connect the dots between his own actions at the ball and his ruined shoes, but what the future duke said was not entirely incorrect. Yes, she shouldn’t be wasting her time on Lord Smithwood. Yes, it was the Caesonian court, not the Varian court, that was so messed up that anyone without a title could be killed over any petty reason and it’d be acceptable. Yes, if Caesonia’s common folk wanted a better life, they’d have to band together and fight for it. Riona didn’t doubt that they could do it if they set their minds to it. They just needed to get organized.

Lord Smithwood clearly understood that servants wanted to be treated with dignity and respect, which only confused Riona. He knew, but he still didn't treat them that way. Did he want Stravy to follow in Sorian’s footsteps? Shouldn’t the fact that Stravy hasn’t sunk as low as Sorian be exactly why he should take her warning—even his own words—to heart now before it was too late?

When he smiled that stupid, smug smile, Riona saw she changed from an annoying pest that buzzed around Lord Smithwood’s face to a source of entertainment. Given the choice of words, she suspected he pegged her as some kind of freedom fighter. Added to the fact that he had no apparent love for Caesonia, perhaps he thought she would be amusing to watch and useful if she brought havoc to House Danrose.

The maid said nothing, but her eyes narrowed with contempt. Riona stood on one foot and scraped off what was left at the bottom of her boot with her hand.

Riona gasped, pointing at the hand that touched her shoulder moments ago. “Milord! Your hand,” she exclaimed as she snatched it, “t's filthy!” Riona wiped off the invisible mess with her sullied hand. “You must be careful when touching a peasant as you did! You know not where they've been!” She made sure she “cleaned” both sides of his hand and in between his fingers for extra measure.

“If you can’t see the parallels between your opinion of lowborns and what’s happening here in this city… then Stravy is screwed.” Riona mirrored his smile if only to show him how unflattering it was.

“Oh!” She gasped again with the exact same expression as she had before. She stretched her hand toward Lord Smithwood's face. “I see I’ve missed a spot.”

That was when Riona heard a familiar voice call out to them.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Ríoghnach "Riona"

Location: Outside the Castle
Time: 09:30
Interaction: Leo@Helo

“Almost amusing if not for the poor timing. This is far less amusing, and I’m certain his royal highness would have little tolerance for threatening his guests with an ‘early grave.’ I prefer to handle my own matters, so, who put you up to this?”

Riona blinked once, twice. She didn’t understand what in the world he was babbling on about. Who put me up to this? I guess I’m not the first to complain, then. “The labor union?” she asked, half-jokingly. She heard rumors of its implementation somewhere in Varian.

She stared until the realization hit her, causing her to burst out laughing. Of course, why would someone who thought lowborns were an entirely different species think that they could get the upper hand on him without the assistance of another noble? Prank or not. Commoners were fundamentally incompetent; incapable of doing anything without the guidance of a highborn and thus wholly dependent on their overlords.

“W-wait,” she gasped between laughter, “wait, wait, wait.” Riona tried to calm herself, looked at Lord Smithwood’s face, and sniggered. “Let me guess...” The maid placed two fingers on her temple and extended her other hand toward the lord’s direction. She closed her eyes shut, pretending to focus all her mental abilities on deciphering the complex workings of a highborn’s mind. “You’re thinking… you’re thinking that commoners are… s…t…u…p…i…d? Cupid? Oh! Right, stupid… and cowardly. There’s no way this woman has the smarts or the guts to insult ME of her own volition! There must be someone of noble blood behind this. Yes, that’s it! It has to be!”

Riona opened one eye, “Am I right?”

She barked another laugh. “You lot are so predictable! Is that all tutors teach you in class these days? Gods! No wonder the quality of ‘noble’ in the nobility went down the drain. You need to get a refund, Smithwood, because you’ve got scammed out of a proper education.”

“But seriously, are you that dense that you need a nobody to point out the obvious? Ah… then again, you can’t function without nobodies assisting your day-to-day life, so it makes sense.” She sighed, “I’ll try my best to break it down for you so that you don’t have to think that hard, okay?” She answered for Lord Smithwood “Okay.”

Her voice changed into a tone reserved for little children. “You see, Smithwood, when you’re as charming as you are, you don’t need to be highborn to think you’re a horrible person. And when you’re a horrible person, people start to not like you as an individual. When people don’t like you, they’re more likely to take action to express how much they don’t like you. Depending on how much they hate you, the worse their actions against you become.” Without actually touching his lordship, Riona pretended she was patting the man’s head. “Does that make sense to you, boy? Or do you need pictures too?” She shushed him, “I know, I know, it’s a very complex and multifaceted idea, so it might take some time for you to understand. But since you’re highborn and don’t need to do anything to be great at everything, I’m sure you’ll get it by the time you grow up.”

“This,” she pointed to herself and Lord Smithwood, “here. Is an intervention. Not a threat, but a warning, a premonition.” Her finger settled on Lord Smithwood before moving it up and down, “You keep this up and you'll have people, regardless of their birth, wishing you dead. I’ll bet my money that a majority of them will be the people you’re supposed to be taking care of too. The people you think are insignificant, even if you can’t run a duchy without them. But you’ll overlook every sign. So what if they did hate you? What can the likes of them do anyways, right?”

What can the likes of you do?

Shut up.

“You’re far from invincible or untouchable, Smithwood. Even ants can kill humans.” Riona sighed, her anger spent. All that remained was a kind of pity for the man. The Varian was a typical Caesonian noble in the making, disconnected from the world, their own people, outside the aristocratic bubble.

For the first time, she wondered if Lord Smithwood was anything like his missing father. Which led to another thought. “...Are you deliberately making the servants around you feel as miserable as you are because of who your mother married?” Ladies-in-waiting were considered a prestigious position, but was even that too lowly?

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Time: 09:30
Location: Entrance Hall
Interaction(s?): Prince Wulfric @Silverpaw; Queen Alibeth @princess

The fragrance of a field of flowers in full bloom rolled into the entrance hall as the Count of Erwynn materialized from the shadows. He greeted a good morning by bowing to the Queen, as she left, and a proper one to the First Prince, addressing him by title and name. During the whole exchange, he kept one arm behind his back, as if he was hiding something from them. However—either because he had no intention of actually hiding it or because he was doing a dreadful job of concealing it—it took little effort to see that it was a bouquet in his hand, nothing deadly to the non-allergic.

“I say, considering how… some were less than cooperative, that was masterfully handled.” Ryn walked closer to Wulric, placed his free hand over his chest and turned his head slightly in the direction Queen Alibeth existed, “Her Majesty and Your Highness have shown me how seriously the Danroses take their royal duties. An exemplary demonstration of how a true ruler acts with great dignity and honor.” The words lingered in the air before Ryn crafted a smile for Prince Wulfric. “Yet also possess the flexibility to make compromises when necessary.” The sigh that escaped him sounded content. The count’s eyes focused on something in the distance. “It’s no wonder Caesonia is such a powerful, prosperous nation… and I see that its future is even brighter in such capable hands.”

Sensing a gaze, Ryn snapped out of his reverie. “Do excuse me. I do not mean to keep you from your breakfast. What I wanted to say is that I will gladly lend my assistance in this matter if you should ever need an extra pair of hands. The people, especially those involved, might be less tight-lipped with foreigners. Sometimes you find yourself learning unexpected things during idle chatter… For example.”

Ryn checked around them to see if anyone else was listening before leaning in conspiratorially. “This secret party may not have been all that secret in the commoner’s district. In fact, I heard about an invitation-only party at the harbor in the library of all places. I didn't realize this was the same party that Prince Callum and Princess Anastasia attended until the morning gathering.” The count looked down, ashamed to admit to the next part. “At the time, I assumed the crown sanctioned the party. Surely a respectable man such as he would’ve sought the royal family’s approval beforehand. How terribly gullible of me.” He finally looked up, his eyebrows knitted together. “Please accept my apology. Had I known, I would’ve reported it immediately.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Ríoghnach "Riona"

Location: Outside the Castle
Interaction: Leo@Helo

“You! You go get cleaned up and get in your proper uniform. Then bring Princess Anastasia some breakfast since you seem to love staring her down!”

Riona imagined herself flipping the bird or telling him to get the damn thing himself, but she kept her mouth shut and waved in confirmation. Darryn’s fate was far more important. The guards won’t take up more of her time.

Darryn was nowhere in sight when Riona reached the entrance hall. A mixture of relief and anxiety filled her. Relieved to see that they didn’t execute him on the spot just to prove a point to the after-partygoers. Anxious because it meant that they’d do it away from their guests’ eyes. They would still kill him. There’s no doubt about that. They just wouldn’t do it out in the open. It’d be behind closed doors with either his executioner as his only audience or a room full of “problematic” staff to remind them what happens to people who displeased the crown.

Riona looked around until she noticed Callum. The only person who, Riona knew without a doubt, wanted to prevent the execution as much as she did. She took a couple of steps forward, then stopped halfway when he spoke to his brother.

“...It matters to me that no further harm comes to Darryn and I’d be, distraught, if it did.”

A small smile replaced her frown. She expected no less from Callum.

And yet…

“Distraught enough I might forget how important image is to this family and I don’t want to be the cause of any incidents.”

The frown returned as she heard the tune to an all too familiar dance play again.

“So maybe you can help me, Wulfric, you make sure no more harm comes to Darryn and I keep my mind focused on staying in line with the image you want for this family.”

And what good has that ever done in the long run? The maid wondered how a brilliant mind could be so stupid sometimes. He had to remember that he’d been down this road already. He knew the ending to this theatrical performance, but he kept following the script. Worse, each time he used the “threat,” it lost its power because nothing came of it. Even in his defiance, Callum remained obedient.

“...They are my family, I’m not going to get another one, and no matter where I go I’d still be one of them. Maybe it’s better to suffer with company than alone.”

Riona bit the inside of her cheek and turned away.

On the other side of the foyer, barefoot Lord Smithwood looked irritated at the servant who brought him new shoes. Without a word of thanks or caring to look at the face his servant made, he grabbed the pair of shoes and put them on his feet. Then he left through the main doors without delay. And just like that, what Riona did was rendered meaningless. Her actions, like Callum’s hollow threats, were brushed aside as a mild inconvenience. The powerful getting away with everything without consequence. Business as usual.

Powerlessness reared its ugly head. It wrapped its tendrils around her, the fire within her, ready to snuff it out and drag her down into a dark place. The sparks lashed out. No. Riona’s body moved before she had time to think about it. No. Feeding on the anger still there, Riona propelled herself to walk faster. No.

She refused for it to end like this. Something, anything, had to come out of this. Even if that something was a small dent. It might not amount to much now, but maybe somewhere down the road, it would. Each word that hit the small dent could make a deeper, wider dent, and one day they’ll finally penetrate and sink in.

In the back of her mind, Riona knew she was conflating her reasons for working under the Danroses with her desire to bring Lord Smithwood down a peg or two. Gods, she couldn't even deny that she was using him as an excuse to vent her anger. She needed this, though, to keep her from drowning in hopelessness; to stay sane, so that she could go on a little longer.

Once the maid caught sight of the Varian lord, she picked up speed to cut in front of him. She stopped a few feet away from him before turning to face him. Riona moved closer to Lord Smithwood, ignoring his annoyance and invading his bubble. Every time he backed away, she closed the gap. When she was near enough, Riona smeared a generous amount of mud mixed with manure from the bottom of her boots onto the lord’s brand-new footwear.

Silently, she apologized to the servants who’d have to clean the mess. She hoped that her next words, ones that they couldn’t say to his face (and ones she wanted to say to all pompous nobles), would make up for it.

Riona somehow looked down at the taller man in front of her. “Let’s cut to the chase. I’d call you a piece of sh*t, but at least you can use that as fertilizer. So, I’ll call you a piece of trash instead. You, Smithwood, are a piece of trash. And a duke who's trash can only make a garbage duchy.” Riona let out a breath. “I feel sorry for your subjects. Really, forced to deal with your attitude for the foreseeable future? Ugh. They’d be better off without you as their leader.” Their eyes locked on each other. “I don’t know how you deluded yourself, but your people don’t actually need you. You’re the one who needs them. You’re only ‘up there’ cause there're people holding you up, you ungrateful snot. Treat them better.” She shrugged, “Or don’t. Just don’t act surprised if you find yourself in an early grave.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Ríoghnach "Riona"

Location: Palace Corridor
Interaction(?): Anastasia @princess

From the other end of the hall, Riona spotted Anastasia flanked by the royal guards as they escorted her. Riona bristled at the sight of the princess. Her muscles tensed and her face contorted into an ugly expression. The maid didn’t even try to hide her disdain toward the woman. She just kept marching forward.

All this must’ve puzzled the guards. Riona didn’t need to read minds to know why.

To start off, everyone working in the castle knew that the servants who worked above stairs had to wear specific standard uniforms. A simple, but neat and respectable attire that allowed the servants to blend into the background. Not whatever the stable hands wore, which was what Riona was wearing. The look clashed with the posh surroundings, and whatever came from outside followed her inside. The smell of stables, mud, dung, everything. Things any decent servant should know to leave outside. At least, not any sane servant who didn’t want to get “re-educated.”

Then there was the issue of etiquette. Normally, when a member of the royal court appeared, the servants stopped what they were doing. They kept their heads bowed until said member left the area. But here this commoner was, walking straight down the hallway, even in the princess’s presence.

Even if the dumb woman’s bad manners could be chalked up to her being one of the foreign noble’s servants (odd, since her face looked so familiar), it didn’t explain the hostility. That expression couldn’t be aimed at Anastasia, could it? Impossible. Everyone and their mothers adored sweet, precious Princess Anastasia. Anyone who felt otherwise… well, something must be wrong with them.

The guards protecting Anastasia eyed Riona warily and edged closer to Her Royal Highness. Riona kept walking forward, staring at the princess; the woman-child who inherited King Edin’s hedonism and desperate need for attention.

Anastasia’s eyes were red and brimming with tears; the very picture of distress.

Good. Riona thought. The least Anastasia could do was feel miserable about what happened and feel the gravity of her actions. Maybe she’d finally understand what responsibility meant.

It wouldn’t last long, though. No, it’d eventually be less about causing someone’s death and more about her. She’d wonder what others would think and feel of her now. Whether she was less loved because of this mess.

Nobody would hold her accountable in the end, not really. Fans would flock to her side, comfort her, and reassure her that she wasn’t to blame in the slightest. They’d protect her feelings. Pretend she had little to no role to play in the incident and put the blame on anything, except her. Sweet, precious Princess Anastasia could do no wrong.

What grated Riona the most was that the princess probably believed that this was the first time something like this had ever happened. So much was shielded from Anastasia for “her sake.” They (her brothers and Wystan especially) needed to stop sheltering her like this. Stop treating her like a porcelain doll so she can mature and grow a heart stronger than glass. Ignorance might be bliss, but the princess needed to recognize and accept that her naivety caused more harm than good. Ideally, before she stopped giving a damn and completed her transformation into Princess Edin.

The distance between her and Anastasia shrank. One of the guards stood between the women after seeing that Riona made no move to alter her course. Seconds before he opened his mouth to order the maid to halt, Riona sidestepped. She greeted the guards with a good morning and continued down the hallway as if nothing had happened.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Late Night Sola 20, 1739 ~ Early Morning Sola 21, 1739

Summary: Udo killed two people and left the harbor via the river. The vodka wasn’t a complete waste.

Udo

Time: Late night
Location: Harbor

The unexpected arrival of Queen Alibeth and her knights prevented Udo from escaping the rooftop. The cleanup that followed only added to the delay. He remained stranded until the crowds around the warehouse thinned out enough for him to slip away unnoticed. Or, so he thought.

“Oi, yeh!” an angry voice shouted from behind, more than one set of footsteps rushing towards him.

The islander cursed under his breath. As he turned his head, he prayed to Nnenne—the Grandmother of all life, the great sea Herself—that the owners of those footfalls were not one of Danrose's knights. Tonight, She listened to his prayers. The people who stopped him weren’t knights, just regular men. Udo assumed they were Marek’s thugs, if only because they stopped him near Black Rose’s warehouse. As long as they weren’t Danrose’s men, Udo was fine with that.

The two men had their weapons out and pointed at Udo, ready to use them as soon as he gave them a reason to. “Who r yeh? What r yeh doing here?” The fact they asked meant that they didn’t know if the dark-skinned man was one of Marek’s guests disguised as a fisherman or was an actual peasant who chose the wrong time to be wandering around the harbor.

Udo raised his hands. The weight in one of them reminded him of the vodka. Time to embody the spirit of a drunken sailor. He wobbled to the side and attempted to stand straight. He leaned forward to look at Marek’s men, then sighed loudly in relief, allowing his arms to fall. “Thank Santiana, ye’re nah one o’ the crown’s. Ye nigh-on gave me a bloody hard attack!” He hiccuped.

They looked at him dubiously. Udo wasn’t cut out for this kind of job. “Answer the damn question or we’ll cut yeh good.”

Udo took a bold step forward, “Aye now, no needs t' be so mean. Me 'n me mates we be jus’ partyin’. Enjoyin’ our drinks 'n then—Uh, hmm.” He looked around, searching for the friends he was partying with so that they could explain what had happened. His imaginary friends were long gone, however. “Ah, damn it. I forgot wha’ happened exactly, but I know ‘twas a good party ‘n ‘twas ruined.”

The entire time Udo watched the guests come and go from Black Rose’s warehouse, one thing happened without fail: they left dazed and confused. Listening in on conversations, Udo learned that the guests’ memories had been tampered with. Since Wayra was the expert in magic, not him, Udo couldn’t tell the extent of the alteration, but every single guest who came out of the front door suffered from the same infliction.

Udo took a swig of vodka and wiped his mouth with his arm. He came offensively closer to the men to offer the bottle, “Wants some?” The man closest to him pinched his nose as soon as he got a whiff of the pungent smell. “What the hell? Ye’ve been bathing in liquor or summat?” That he had. Nice to know the vodka shower wasn’t a complete waste.

He laughed, patting the man’s shoulder hard, “HAHA! ‘tisn’t a party if ye’re nah bathin’ in rum, am I right?” The man pulled away from Udo in disgust and exchanged looks with his partner. The men needed to decide if Udo’s convenient memory loss was the result of magic or alcohol, or was a bald-faced lie; whether the “drunkard” was enough of a threat or liability that needed to be dealt with.

“Alrighty then, come with us. There r still some knights walking about. We’re goin’ to take ye somewhere safe.” Nothing in their tone or gesture hinted that it was a suggestion.

Udo’s shoulder sagged. So they had decided that he was, at the very least, a liability. Just not confident enough to decide that he was not a party guest. Lacked the guts to kill a potential guest and have Marek find out that they messed up later.

Wherever they were going to take him, as soon as they found out he was not a guest, he wasn’t going to come out alive. That much he knew. Udo sighed inwardly. He really hoped he’d be able to complete the mission without killing anyone. He could already hear the annoying scoundrel cackling and mocking him for it.

“Why didn’ ye say so! Come on! Get goin’!” Udo put the bottle into his creel and followed the thugs. Careful not to draw attention to his movements, Udo fiddled with the spinning reel on his fishing rod.

His drunk sailor act wasn’t the most believable performance this side of the ocean, but the stench of alcohol lowered the men’s guard down enough to turn their backs on a stranger. That was their first mistake.

Fritz taught him that underestimation was a powerful tool when used appropriately. Those who fell into its trap became blind, deaf, and ignorant of the blatantly obvious. The fishing line was a good example. One good look at it and anyone could tell that it was too thick to be an ordinary fishing line. But these men didn’t notice.

Marek’s men guided him to a secluded area near the docks, where they instructed him to wait. Once again the men turned their attention away from Udo, whispering to each other about something. The subject of the conversation was none of Udo’s concern. What mattered was that their self-distraction gave him time to place his equipment on the ground and make some adjustments. Then he waited.

Eventually, one of the thugs left his partner alone with Udo. He wasted no time. The man was barely out of view when Udo wrapped the garrote around his partner’s neck and yanked.

Instinctively, the man’s hands shot up to his neck to remove the wire digging into his skin. The weapon in his hand dropped to the floor. Without missing a beat, Udo turned away from the man so that their backs touched each other and pulled on the garrote harder. The thug's legs shuffled around in panic. They tried running in any direction they could, they tried twisting the body to escape the wire, and they tried kicking at Udo. His hands also made a valiant attempt to attack the warrior, but each attempt was as futile as the one before it.

The struggle lasted a mere 20 seconds in real time, but every second that passed felt like an hour, bordering on eternity. Udo was considering slicing the man’s throat with the blade he dropped to speed up the whole process when he finally felt the man go completely limp. He laid the thug onto the ground, unwrapped the wire, and then positioned the body to expose his neck. Putting as much weight into it as he could, Udo stomped down onto the neck.

Snap!

The sound that would’ve made any other man turn away in sympathetic pain, swelled Udo’s chest with triumphant pride.

A quick, clean, and quiet death; the pinnacle of efficiency.

Quick. Unlike Peter, who loved dragging it out as much as possible, savoring every moment of the hunt. He wounded his prey in every way imaginable and stalked them until they didn’t have the strength to put up a fight. Some even begged to die if it meant the end of their suffering. It wouldn’t end with their deaths though. Mercilessly, Peter made sure that each of his prey died with the knowledge that they would meet again in hell where he would do this all over again.

Clean. Something that Karleen was incapable of doing once her instinct for survival kicked in. Udo witnessed the berserker beat her opponents into a bloody pulp, rip off limbs, and pummel what remained into a fine paste, even if they were long dead. If she could pulverize souls with her bare hands, she would’ve. She couldn’t stop herself. Karleen was raised and literally bred to be that way. How did one go about removing something that made up every fiber of their being? You couldn’t. A storm without violence wasn’t a storm at all, no matter how gentle their pneuma was.

Quiet. A foreign concept to all Nexeians, not just Wayra. Something about living in the plains full of nothing made them want to stick out to the extent that it was harder to ignore them. They were the type of people who thrived on stimulating every sense in the body: everything they had was rich with color; they were loud, even when silent; they loved strong scents and loved stronger tastes even more; anything within reach was going to be touched. Wayra was the perfect embodiment of their people. Because of that, they were the least suited for missions that required stealth, doubly so when they weren’t allowed to use magic. The last time the crew took Wayra on a stealth mission, it ended with a blast so powerful that it temporarily cleared the haze from the City of Fog and Shadows. For the first time in forever, the city’s citizens saw that the sky was blue. And for the first time in Udo's life, he experienced what it felt like to fall from the sky.

After Udo collected his belongings, he dragged the body close to the water and lowered it to be swept away. One down, another one to go. It didn’t take long to spot the other thug who was walking along the river’s edge. The sound of people talking and the glow of a lantern in the distance alerted Udo that he’d have to dispose of more than two people tonight if he didn’t hurry.

His legs sprinted across the harbor, ushering the islander as fast as they could to the unsuspecting man. Beyond the air cutting past his eyes and ears, the light got brighter, the sounds louder. But he didn’t give himself time to think about the newcomers. It was still dark. They were still far enough away. He could do this.

Udo threw himself onto the man from an angle with full force. The man, losing his footing, couldn’t stop himself from launching towards the water. Udo wrapped his legs tightly around the thug’s body, securing the man’s arms in place, and reached over to put him in a headlock.

He thought he heard an owl screeching and surprised shouting. Before Udo had a chance to identify the source of the commotion, the river swallowed the two men whole.

The river that ran past Sorian was not the most beautiful body of running water. Its waters were on the murky side and he’d seen various types of trash floating in it at some point, bodies included—though to be fair, two of those bodies were Udo’s doing and the rest only appeared farther downstream, closer to the slums. It didn’t take an expert to conclude that the river was poorly treated. Despite this, or maybe because of this, the river possessed an ungrudging and pleasant temperament. Its currents were comforting as a cradle, the water enveloping him like a warm blanket. It caressed Udo’s skin lovingly as it sang Nnenne’s lullaby, lulling him, reminding him that no matter how far away he was from home, all waters connected back to Nnenne.

When he gasped for air, Udo knew the river took him to the city limits even before he opened his eyes. He spat the rancid water that managed to get into his mouth and wiped his face to safely open his eyes without the risk of getting an infection.

Several eyes looked in his direction, freezing Udo. The paddling of ducks surrounding him, though not perturbed by his sudden appearance, cast judging stares at Udo. He glanced down and immediately released the body he had—for reasons that eluded him—brought up with him. “Just so that we’re clear,” Udo pointed at the vanishing body, “I would’ve let them be if they’d let me go.” He wasn’t sure if any of the ducks were one of Wayra’s, but in case they were, Udo wanted to make sure the shaman knew that he was nothing like Peter. “It was necessary.” The ducks, unconvinced or uninterested in Udo’s excuses, drifted away as a group down the river.

Retreating to land, Udo turned back to see the paddling of ducks still being pushed away by the currents. Even farther in the distance, there was another group of equally placid birds huddled together, floating away. Udo wondered if they were acting as pallbearers, shepherding the latest addition of bodies to Nnenne. At the river mouth, Nnenne would welcome her grandsons with open arms. Their bodies would break down—ravaged by the sea creatures and/or through the slow process of decomposition—dispensing the nutrients that the body stored to sustain one life to others. With nothing to bind them to the physical realm, the souls would also be released from their mortal shell, free to become whatever they desired. The cycle would continue anew.

The warrior lowered his head in silent benediction toward the ocean’s direction before glaring at the home of Sorian’s "God." There, in that castle, the deity—who took on the flesh of a man—tainted himself by overindulging in the wonders the mortal world had to offer, forsaking his duty and, by extension, his people. With most of its nutrients hogged by the mortal god and his closest followers, Caesonia became something akin to a bloated whale ready to explode. The aristocracy just didn’t realize that the country was already dead, running on gas from a decomposing corpse. It's been dead for a long time, even before Edin came into being. It was time for a new cycle to begin.

How far would Udo fly when they poked a hole in this whale?

Summary: The Crew assembled. The beginning of a very, very long meeting.

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Time: Late night
Location: Guest House

Ryn, Lady Vikena, and Ms. Ruby spent most of the night searching and failing to find Duke Vikena. They would have kept going, but the increased frequency of yawns and the intensity of the glazed looks cut the search short. The group promised to continue the search in the morning after they properly rested and ate. As he had done before, Ryn escorted the women back to their respective homes, then returned to the guest house.

When Ryn reached the door to his room, he heard noises coming from within. He opened the door, ready to greet his companions.

On the large bed, three figures were interlocked with each other. Udo, laying on the bed, had one arm pinned down by Peter and the other arm pulled back, ready to punch the man on top of him. Peter, who was straddling Udo, was also ready to strike the man below him. Unlike Udo, Karleen’s strong hands prevented him from launching his attack. Karleen was standing at the edge of the large bed and had both of her hands occupied. The hand that wasn’t stopping Peter from punching was stopping Udo from kicking the redhead. A large rooster stood next to Karleen, doing nothing in particular.

Ryn’s crew stared at Ryn. Ryn blinked at them. Then he closed the door without uttering a single word.

Back in the hallway, Ryn called out to a servant who was in the middle of delivering someone’s nightcap. “Excuse me, I’m so sorry to bother you, but would it be possible to ask for a spot of tea?” the count gestured towards the door. “My companions commandeered my room, and I suspect they’ll be busy for a while.”

The door flung open. Peter stomped towards Ryn and grabbed him by his shirt before dragging him into the room.

Ryn shouted out to the servant, “Cancel that order, will you? It seems they have need of a fifth wheel!” The door slammed shut, leaving a very flushed servant behind.

“I can take a bit of manhandling if that’s your thing, Peter, but please, spare the shirt,” Ryn placed the back of his hand on his forehead and tilted his head back, “it’s cashmere.”

Peter released his grip from Ryn’s shirt, “No Boss, I ain't into that, cashmere or otherwise.”

“Oh, no need to hide it from me.” Ryn sighed, “I might be a little bit hurt that you guys started the fun without me.” The count batted his eyelashes at the ginger.

Peter grinned wolfishly, ready to make some comment, but was distracted by a silver twinkle. He took a step away from Ryn, dodging the knife thrown in his direction. The dull knife, unable to lodge itself into the wooden door, bounced off at the perfect angle to smack Peter in the face. Peter went down, spewing strings of profanities as he did so.

The culprit stood on the bed, unabashedly nude. “Enough lollygagging. Let's get this over with so we can get at least some shut-eye.” If anyone could claim to have been handcrafted by the Creators themselves and not come off as a lie, it would be Udo. The east islander was a breathtakingly handsome man, a masterpiece of the human body of the masculine variety. Even those who do not find the male form appealing agreed that Udo was aesthetically pleasing.

The islander’s physical features were not the most striking characteristic of him, however. That honor went to his eyes, two windows into the ocean deep. Stared long enough into those eyes and one could hear the rolling waves, sea bubbles making their way to the surface, and the song of whales. They beckoned those who peered in to come into the water. Some yielded to the siren’s call. Wayra assured them that the compulsion wasn’t because of magic—Udo’s eyes were simply that alluring.

The count averted Udo’s eyes to appreciate his other assets lest he succumbed to the urge and literally hurled himself into the sea. That was when he noticed Karleen was drying off Udo with a towel. Wet clothes hung on a string, which they must have put up for that exact purpose.

“Did you enjoy a midnight dip in the river?”
“I tried walking, but when that didn’t work out, I took the water route.”
“When what didn’t work out?”
Udo mumbled something reluctantly.
“Oh, for f**k’s sake,” Peter cut in, “he got caught.”
Udo glowered and clucked, “And, because of that, I had to get rid of the witnesses and dump their bodies and myself in the river.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
Peter chimed in again, “That may or may not be Marek’s men.”
Ryn let out a long groan.

After massaging the bridge of his nose in solemn contemplation, Ryn walked towards the dresser, “Okay, okay… I can tell this is going to be a long one and I’m going to need a strong drink. Does anyone else want some?” Three hands and a wing shot up. Ryn picked up the tea set sitting on the dresser top and turned around, “Strong as in, I’m going to make tea extra bitter tonight. No lemons, sugar, or milk.”

Peter dropped his raised hand. “You monster.”

---

---

Ríoghnach "Riona"

Because the Vikenas took “full responsibility,” the punishment for “overpolishing the floors” was less severe than it would have been otherwise: all servants assigned to the ballroom were forbidden from consuming anything except for water for the next 48 hours. Seeing that many of the servants were no stranger to hunger, a day or two of fasting was something they could endure. The problem was that it meant that they had to watch the others eat the leftovers from the party as their empty stomachs growled with envy.

Unfortunately for Riona, the incident with the noblewoman had not gone unnoticed. She received 20 lashes for embarrassing the woman in front of everyone, 40 lashes for wasting Callum’s precious time, 1 backhand for talking back, and 1 slap across the other cheek to split evenly. The resident torturer disliked odd numbers.

Afterward, she sought refuge in the youngest prince’s bedroom. Rummaging through his secret stash, Riona took out medicinal plants, salves, and potions. She used just enough to stop the bleeding and prevent infection before returning the items back to their original places. In a notebook tucked away in the corner, Riona jotted down what she used, how much she used, and how much remained.

Riona was listing down ingredients that they needed to restock when a bottle covered in dust caught her attention. Curious, she pulled it out and read its label. Slip & Slide. It was one of the many failed potions they concocted a while back. If she remembered correctly, they were trying to make a glow-in-the-dark fluid that only needed sunlight to recharge its properties. Instead, they ended up with a fluid that made any surface more slippery than an eel. Like an overpolished floor.

Riona carefully considered this thought, then grinned impishly.

A trip to the guest house and one break-in later, Riona was in Lord Leo Smithwood’s room, searching for every pair of shoes he owned. Riona felt absolutely giddy as she coated the soles with the Slip & Slide fluid. Imagining the arrogant man walking around like a newborn fawn made her snicker. Oh, she’d probably burst out laughing if she saw him fall over. She wouldn’t hold back either, she’d make sure he saw that a lowly maid witnessed it and openly ridiculed him for it. A fun thought, but Riona knew he’d probably take his shoes off by that point. Forced to walk barefoot until shoes befitting a lord could be procured. Scandalous.

…And then what?

A stray question slunk into her mind, stilling her hand holding the brush.

What happens after?

Her arms slowly fell to her lap.

Nothing.

This was entirely meaningless. As ineffectual as Callum’s pranks and misdemeanors against his family name. Even if it caused people to get embarrassed, sad, or angry, in the long run, it changed nothing.

With every speck of joy sucked out by the depressing thought, Riona covered up any evidence that anyone had entered the room and left.

Not before painting the doorknob inside the room, though.

---

The full weight of a grown man crushed Ríoghnach, pinning her in place, preventing her from running away from the nightmare. She struggled to breathe. The pain was overwhelming. The menagerie of screams and shouts that were once deafening, became more distant. Red danced against the black, splashed across her face, and pooled beneath her. Ríoghnach looked up into his eyes.

Blue, blue eyes.

Eyes that looked down at her and watched her slowly die.

Riona awoke with a start. She remained unmoving on the damp bed for a long time, just staring at the ceiling of the room she’d been living in for over a decade. A prison cell she willingly placed herself into to serve a self-imposed life sentence.

Another day served. She was still here. They still existed. Everything was the same as before. A new day began.

---

With one less stable boy to help out with the stables, Riona was called in to help. She was carrying out a bucket filled with horse manure when she saw Mr. Brisby walking towards the stables. After having to pick up some Varian noble all the way from Erwynn, the coachman was supposed to be enjoying a day off. “Mr. Brisby? What are you doing here?”

The coachman lifted his hat to comb his fingers through his hair. “Well, that was the plan until they told me about Darryn and called me back.”

“Huh, obviously whoever told you that also forgot to mention that I’m filling in for the day. You can go back home and enjoy your day off. You know I can handle this.”

“They didn’t call me in about that,” Mr. Brisby said, his eyes cast down.

Riona frowned, “So what did they call you back for?”

“We’re going to have to find a new stable boy.”
“They’re firing Darryn over this mess?”
“They’re executing him over this mess, Riona.”
Riona blinked incredulously, “They’re… executing him?”
“Today,” Mr. Brisby confirmed.
Riona dropped the bucket and ran out of the stables, deaf to Mr. Brisby calling her name.

She couldn’t understand why the castle’s stable boys had a knack for getting themselves killed because a bunch of spoiled noble brats wanted to have some fun. Her fiancé and now Darryn? It made no sense. It wasn’t fair. They were always the ones getting punished for the nobles' mistakes, while the nobles got a slap on the wrist. It was history repeating itself because there was no reason for it not to.

She regretted not burning the castle down during the party as she entered the palace.

---

---

Nobody of significance, soon to be forgotten

Time: 09:00
Location: Danrose Entrance Hall

A black beast stood in the shadows watching the proceedings occurring in the entrance hall. The holy presence of His Majesty and his equally deific children warded off the foul creature. Keeping Its wickedness at bay.

Its eyes, as dark and bottomless as the abyss itself and devoid of a soul, silently evaluated the attendees. Weighting the value of their souls on a scale, recording their names in Its head.

The servant, who so brazenly approached It, asked whether It had come to take Darryn Fletcher away.

It answered with a question, why did they ask?

The servant asked because they needed to know the fate of those whom His Majesty and his bloodline deemed unworthy. There would be no place for them in paradise, but did they at least have a place in the Hells? Or were their souls too damned, even for Hells’ tastes? Were nobodies doomed to be forever lost?

It turned Its soulless gaze on the servant. A deceptively soft smile curved Its lips. It finally answered that It could take Darryn wherever he wanted if he so desired.

Only Darryn knew what Darryn’s desires were, but as a nobody themselves, this servant surmised that he wanted to become someone to somebody, even if it was for a short time, the briefest of moments. Would his execution be a blessing in disguise then? Should he die, he’d leave a mark on her, etched deep within the princess. It would stay there, until the next Darryn—and there was always going to be the next “Darryn”—came by to cover it up. Until then, he would be something to her. Was this all worth getting so close to the sun, Darryn?

Did they think it was worth it?

Pretending to have now realized Its mistake, the creature asked for the servant’s name. The servant gave a name, nonetheless. Faintly aware that they left the door wide open for the devil to waltz right in. It was, however, too late by the time they realized this.

The servant saw their soul staring back at them from two black onyxes. Keeping the same smile plastered on Its face, the beast turned to properly face them. It introduced them by Its stage name and bowed deeply, as if the servant was an aristocrat, then clasped the servant's hand with both of Its hands, as if they were friends. The servant braced themselves for the scalding heat of burning brimstone or the chilling cold of a corpse when their hands touched, but it never came. All there was, was the warmth of a mortal man.

It told the servant what a pleasure it was to meet them, and said the words as if It meant it.

Enraptured by the attention given, the servant felt what it was like to be noticed by somebody. They were no longer one of the many nameless, faceless, nobodies. People so insignificant that they could be replaced by another and nothing would change. Lives destined to be forgotten with time, even by their own flesh and blood. One day, not a trace would be left of them, and it would be as if they never existed in the first place.

But here, at this moment in time, they ascended from being an extra in the background to a character. They were being seen and heard. Their existence was acknowledged by It. By you. An intoxicating feeling. No wonder Darryn couldn’t resist the temptation.

The servant reached their free hand to envelop Its hand. “Likewise.”

It doesn’t matter what the servant‘s name was. Nor does it matter whether they were a he, a she, something in between or beyond. Old or young. Any shade of color. It matters not to anyone, not even you. You’ll soon forget this insignificant nobody. Such is the way of the world. If there is anything worth remembering, however, remember this: this was when the wretched thing was invited inside and not when It received the party invitation. It was only a matter of time for the poison to circulate through the staff. It corrupted their hearts and their minds, and it spread like the plague.

This servant was the first of Its victims.
They were just one of many.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Ruby & Charlotte & Ryn “Fritz”

---

Count Damien’s sudden appearance in the tavern was not entirely unexpected, but two other things were. One was that he was accompanied by Dr. Williamson and the city guards. The other was the fact that they left almost as soon as they arrived. Ryn regarded the door the men exited with confusion. He couldn't tell what kind of game Count Damien was playing. Did he come to check if Ryn and Lady Vikena really went to the Tough Tavern? Why, then, did he need to bring Dr. Williamson and the guards? Ryn was missing an essential piece of information, that much was clear. What was unclear was whether this had anything to do with Duke Vikena's disappearance.

Another matter that had been bothering him was the bartender. Right before Count Damien busted open the door, the red-haired woman began vigorously mopping the floor leading to the stairs. It was a hasty job, as if her life depended on it, and she would have been more meticulous if she had more time. She then dove behind the bar, head first, as soon as she could.

When the guards disappeared up the stairs, Ryn walked straight to Marceline. One look at the blood-stained mop and some pieces of the puzzle started to put themselves together. Some time during the alcohol showdown, Ryn heard someone run into the tavern and up the stairs. It happened so fast that he only managed to catch a glimpse of someone in black, but it would not be too farfetched to suspect that the blood came from the individual. However, he had not the foggiest idea if the blood was theirs or someone else’s. Could it be that Count Damien came to the tavern for a reason other than Lady Vikena?

Lady Vikena… Who followed the person in black upstairs. Where the guards headed.

Ryn bolted towards the stairs and skipped a couple of steps at a time to reach the second floor quicker.

“How dare you attempt to barge into a woman’s quarters! She was changing!!”

Ryn halted. The guards were standing in front of an open door, Lady Vikena glaring at them.

“Is this how you boys plan to get a glimpse at a woman? Because the lord only knows that one would never choose to be in your presence otherwise!” Another person inside the room stomped their feet. “Well? What are you looking at!? If you have nothing to say, then get out! A woman with short platinum hair and not wearing black approached the door and slammed it in the guards’ faces. The guards exchanged dumbfounded looks at each other before deciding that it would be in their best interest to wait for the woman to change her clothes.

Seeing that Lady Vikena had everything under control, Ryn quietly retreated back to the bar. He stared at Marceline, “If there’s other evidence you want to hide, now’s your chance. The guards are distracted.” He leaned over the counter to look at the bloody mop, then looked at the items the bar had available. “Since it’s fresh, I think you can still remove the blood with just cold water.” Marceline stared quizzically back at him. “If that doesn’t work, you can try using baking soda... Although I personally prefer hydrogen peroxide.” His response only deepened the lines between her brows. Ryn raised his hand to wiggle his finger, “Tick-tock.”

Charlotte glanced at Ruby once the door was closed. “I have a feeling they weren’t satisfied with that answer. They may return so you may want to change your clothing..” She commented lowly. Charlotte nervously twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she started to pace around the room, deep in thought.

Ruby hesitated, then nodded at Charlotte. She searched around the room for something more appropriate to wear. “I cannot stand knights!” She announced while sorting through her crates of clothing. A sudden burst of anger pulsed through her, and she grasped one of the crates and chucked it at the door. Charlotte blinked in surprise, simply staring at the door after the crate had hit it.

“I do not want them coming back here,”Ruby stated roughly, then sighing as her anger subsided. “But if you don’t mind, I want to help you look for your father!” She proposed, not looking to take no for an answer. She then pulled out a dark purple, cotton dress from her trunk. It looked a bit dirty, but Ruby held it up to her body and threw Charlotte an inquisitive look.

”Oh. That’s lovely. The two of us are both in shades of purple. We’re a pair of grapes, aren’t we?” Charlotte first commented, giggling a little at her only little quip. She turned on her heels to give Ruby privacy as she changed, continuing on to address her proposal, “You really want to help me? You don’t have to but… I suppose maybe it’s not so much an intelligent idea for you to stay here right now anyway..”

”Yes!” She bellowed, turning around, “If I am going to be dragged into this, then something of some excitement must happen.” Ruby sounded a bit insensitive, eager to be a part of something inconsistent with her everyday doldrum life. “Besides, two heads are better than one. I can be your lookout!” Ruby finished changing into her purple day dress, doing a thrilled little jump at the thought of going on a perilous adventure. Starting to steer off course, questions began coming to her mind. “What is your father like?” she asked.

Charlotte gave the girl a small smile, “ An adventure it is then.” She then moved to slowly open the door, peering outside. The guards had moved down the stairs; it seemed as if the way was clear before them. Though, she did recall that Marcy had stated that the people of the bar were not supposed to let them leave. She wondered if they could perhaps hang their heads and quickly make their way out with Fritz. She glanced back over her shoulder at Ruby, dimly aware of her question as she had been considering her thoughts, “ He’s only slighter taller than I with a mustache and scars on his face. His clothing is very expensive-looking… His facial expression… He probably would look sad if you saw him.” After preparing herself with a low inhale, she took a step down the stairs. “Well. Down we go.”

Ruby did not reply as she thoughtfully pictured the man in Charlotte’s description. A sad man with nice attire and scars on his face. That should be easy enough,Ruby thought to herself. She glanced down the stairs and promptly followed after her.

Ryn was sitting at the counter when the two came down the stairs. He smiled at them, “Good evening.” He said to the platinum-blonde he saw upstairs, before turning to Lady Vikena, “Any luck?”

Seeing the short version of the answer on her face, Ryn said, “I should inform you that Count Damien and Dr. Williamson dropped by.” He pointed at the entrance.

Charlotte had also smiled upon noticing Ryn, moving closer to address him, “Hello again! … This is Ruby, she wants to help us search... Ruby, meet Count Fritz. ” She gestured to Ruby, then to him as she spoke. Her lips parted to speak in regard to his second statement when the red-haired girl from before suddenly launched herself over the bar. She threw her arms around their shoulders and began to talk lowly in their ears. Ruby had waved to Count Fritz enthusiastically.

“We’re going to talk about what just happened. Outside.” Marcy abruptly ordered. Her gaze slid to Ruby and a smile lit up her freckled face, “Ruby Booby. Guess you finally met Persephone…If you guys tell me what’s going on with Seph, I will help you all get out of here without issue from Olga.”

“Yeah I met her; why didn’t you tell me about her living up there?” Ruby asked but Marcy had mouthed later, waving her question off.

Charlotte pursed her lips but had braced herself ahead of time she’d have to tell Fritz and Ruby what she had been told for the sake of their safety. “Alright. Is that okay with you two?”

“Sure.” Ruby said with a shrug.

Outside? Ryn looked to see where Olga was before whispering to Marceline, “Are you allowed to do that, Ms. Marceline? I was under the impression that you were ordered not to… for ‘safety’ reasons.”

Marcy’s arms moved out from around them, “I am definitely not supposed to, but….” She nodded toward the other side of the room, where Olga could be seen now speaking quietly at a table with the two guards from before. “Now or never.”

Tick-tock.

Once the group had made their way outside, Charlotte came to stand before them and took a deep breath. “Alright, well, Seph was quite upset when I approached her… She said that she stumbled upon a corpse with an ax embedded in her head. Mind you, I had to push for this information, so I do believe she was truthful with her words. The poor girl was traumatized.”

“Oh.” Ruby was taken aback.

Marcy’s expression broke. “...That explains the blood. Ugh… Poor Seph. Poor dead person.” She jumped practically with wide eyes as the reality dawned on her, “Oh God. The guards think she did it because she tracked the blood here. Persephone would never do that to anybody!”

“Yes, I do believe that is the case. Normally, I’d suggest she aid the investigation with what she knows… But King Edin is sometimes a little hasty with his executions. I don’t blame her for laying low for now.”Charlotte explained sadly.

The ginger groaned audibly and threw her head back to glare at the sky as if it was the cause of all their problems.

Charlotte rubbed her arm as she spoke again. “Um, so given that there’s a potential ax-wielding murderer about, I think we should be cautious and...“ Her gaze moved to Fritz. ” It goes without saying that I am very concerned for my father’s wellbeing currently.” He nodded in agreement.

Murder? Ryn rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Murder would explain the presence of the guards, but what of the count or good doctor? It was possible that they were witnesses to the murder, however, considering the time span and last location they saw him at, Ryn doubted Count Damien was one. If he was a witness, then it was odd that both Ryn and Lady Vikena did not notice such an event happening. They came straight from the Damien estate to the Tough Tavern then were promptly trapped in by Count Damien’s orders. If the murder happened before they arrived to the estate, then the count’s demeanor was as much out of place as his order to keep them in the tavern was. Why did he want them to stay at the tavern? Did he think they were involved in some way? Then they should have captured them when he spotted Ryn. Could it be, as Olga said, that it was for their own— no… Lady Vikena’s safety?

Assuming he wasn’t a witness, then the question was why he was so interested in this particular murder. Murder was, from what Ryn could gather, not uncommon in Sorian. What was uncommon was when the murder victim was a person of some import. “Does Count Damien normally involve himself in murder cases?” Lady Vikena had shrugged at Ryn, indicating this was news to her as well. If Lady Vikena did not know Count Damien as a man who would investigate murders, then it was more likely that he personally knew the victim so took it upon himself to take part in the investigation. Not the best idea… too much emotion and assumptions involved to not be biased. Then again, maybe the count wanted to be part of the investigation so that he could frame someone he wanted to get rid of.

Ruby was trying to absorb the details of what was being said. ”M-murder case..MURDER!?” She had agreed to look for Charlotte’s father–but this– it was more than Ruby knew how to handle. As her panic grew, she began biting her nails and pacing back and forth at the thought of an ax embedded in a girl’s head. At this point, Ruby desired to bolt from the situation. She looked over at Charlotte and said with great distress in her voice, ”You know, I don’t know if I can be of much help here… with a m-m-murderer on the loose. You see,” Ruby started laughing hysterically out of nervousness. ”My brother Jack will be worried sick if I do not show tonight. I totally forgot! For his sake, I should probably stay back.” The adventure that Ruby had been excited about was now of no interest to her. She liked the idea of a dangerous escapade, but once she realized the real danger that was present, her mind changed.

“Wow. Ruby…You’re a chicken.” Marcy was struggling not to laugh at her. She started to mock her with chicken noises and waved her arms about, despite being scared herself. The night was awfully silent and dark. Knowing there was an ax-wielding maniac made Marcy slowly step back into the tavern, clucking the whole way, ” Anyways. I gotta, uh, bartend. Good luck! Bye!” She shut the door rather hastily.

Ryn stared wide-eyed at the closed door. Well, at least this saves us the trouble of getting past the guards. He hoped the red-haired barkeep did not get into serious trouble for letting them out like this.

Charlotte could not quite blame Ruby. It was not like she had a weapon nor had she herself ever encountered anything of this nature. They were in very much the same boat. As for Fritz, she had no idea what he could handle. Her own hands were a little trembly at the moment. She was surprised she wasn’t acting more like Ruby at the moment but it might have been because she was more afraid for Lorenzo than herself currently. “Ruby, if this is too much for you, you don’t have to come.” She assured her.

Ryn looked at Lady Vikena, confused as to why they were taking Ruby along. It was one thing if the girl knew this Persephone, but it was clear from her exchange with Marceline that she was not even aware that they lived in the same place. He then reminded himself that technically the same could be applied to him. He also did not have to follow Lady Vikena, but he was going to do so anyway. So why not take Ruby along? She may even have some insights into things that only the locals were privy to.

”Chicken!?” Ruby raised her fist and shook it toward Marcy, who had already entered the bar. As terrified as Ruby was, her ego stood strongly in the way. ”No, no. It is not too much. Do you know how many potential murderers I have encountered in my time on the streets? I could have easily had a..an ax thrown at my head.” She trembled, attempting to sound unphased. ” You’re right..you need me. I will just quickly let Jack know that I have business to attend to.” She shot Charlotte an awkward wink, letting her know that she could keep a secret.

“Okay, but let me know if you are afraid. We’ll take you back home any time... If we stay close and be careful, I’m sure we will be okay. There’s three of us.” Charlotte said with a smile, though perhaps a nervous one. After Ruby had alerted her brother, the three had made their way down the road toward the library. She paused suddenly as she caught sight of red footprints in the dirt. She frowned, kneeling down to get a better look. “I-I think that’s....” Her gaze followed the trail footprints forward. They led up to an alleyway across from the library. She glanced up at the others with a worried expression.

Ryn sighed at the amateurish work the guards were doing at preserving evidence. The red footprints may not be vital in the grand scheme of things, but they were evidence nonetheless. Ryn expected a little more surveillance. If the guards’ only link between Persephone and the murder were bloody footprints that could be easily tampered with then their charges wouldn’t hold up in any decent court. On the flip side, it could mean that the Caesonian judiciary did not require solid evidence to convict someone in practice.

“Would you like to see the scene, just in case? We may not find anything related to your father, but it won’t hurt to check.” Ryn turned to Ruby, “I can go alone, of course, I wouldn’t want either of you to be scarred from… well, let’s just say that it might still be gruesome over there depending on how far along the forensic team is.”

Charlotte had initially grimaced before she rose up to her feet. After a moment she looked at him and said, “It is best we stay together.” In every novel she had ever read, splitting up always went dreadfully wrong. As much as she was not excited to see anything that could be in that alleyway, she did not want to see Fritz go in, only to be never seen again.

Ryn studied the two women’s faces before he started towards the alleyway.

Ruby was at the point of trying to stay agreeable; besides, she felt more comfortable going as a group rather than straying off by herself. She gazed at Ryn with apprehension as he walked toward the alleyway. Then, she stiffened up and said shakily to Charlotte, “After you, new friend!”

Charlotte paused to pick up a rather large stick. With a tight grip, she raised her body. She glanced at Ruby and nodded, bracing herself as she moved forward toward the alley.

That was when the sound of something moving made her halt. ”Count Fritz. Oh God. Wait.”She whispered as loudly as she could to him.

Her eyes widened as a shadow began to grow on the ground, the silhouette of someone approaching down the alleyway growing with every moment. The tension was palpable and Charlotte was starting to lose the cool she had been holding on to. With rising panic, she suddenly grabbed Ruby’s arm and held the stick outward as if she was going to threaten the person with it. As it became clear the approaching person was about to emerge, Charlotte had squealed a little, flinching.

When Ruby felt Charlotte jolt against her arm that she had grabbed onto, she could feel her panic. This uncertainty caused Ruby to panic as well, and as she heard the rustling of leaves in front of them, she let out a loud screech– “aaaAHHHHHHH!!”

That was when a ferocious, furry being revealed itself! It was a black kitten with small legs and big eyes. He was perhaps a little cross-eyed at that. The fur stood up on the cat as he hissed and arched his back. Though absolutely tiny, the feline was absolutely ready to take on all three of them.

If hearts could appear in Charlotte’s eyes, they would have. She dropped her stick and immediately moved forward. Then she put her hands on her knees as she bent down. “Oh my goodness, look at you.“ The kitten charged at her. She watched with a huge smile as he scampered toward her with a loud, angry meow. Once in front of her, the black furball got up on its hind legs in a strange attempt to look menacing. However, it fell onto its back and then started frantically trying to roll over. “Oooh brave warrior..” She cooed. Kneeling down, she offered a hand to the kitten. His face scrunched up. With laid-back ears, he sniffed Charlotte’s hand, still growling. “Come now, you need to settle down. You are misbehaving.”

Ruby came bounding up to it and immediately scooped up the kitten to give it a kiss on its head. It screeched and jumped out of her hands. Charlotte was quick to gather it in her arms and held it close to her, petting him gently yet stubbornly. The cat did indeed begin to submit to the gentle pets but he still hissed.

As Lady Vikena and Ruby had been engaging with the cat, Ryn took a moment to move into the alleyway… To find… nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not a single guard, forensics team, or pool of blood. The crime scene was practically spotless. Ryn narrowed his eyes. The Caesonian law enforcers apparently were more adept at making evidence disappear than preserving them. Not the least bit surprising, I suppose… His mind was about to wander to a time long past before he forced himself to remain in the present. Stay focused.

He swept through the alley, confirming that it was the cleanest it had ever been in a long time. They even picked up a lot of the litter commonly seen in these types of places. Unfortunate that it had to take a murder to make that happen in this part of town.

As Ryn returned, he stopped in the middle of the alleyway and then lowered himself close enough to the ground to sniff. Whoever cleaned up the mess must have decided that splashing water was enough to hide evidence of murder since he could still smell the blood. There was also a hint of alcohol, though he wasn’t sure where it came from. He picked himself up and turned his attention higher, to the walls of the neighboring buildings and their rooftops.

The clouds above parted, allowing for the moonlight to illuminate the dark alleyway just enough for Ryn to notice the twinkle of a small glass vial. He picked up the vial. It could have been random trash, but the purplish red drops of liquid piqued his curiosity. He brought the vial closer to his nose. It was the same smell from the ground. Then it clicked. It was wine. … Wine? Who would put wine in a vial?

Ryn walked back to Lady Vikena and Ruby who were acquainting themselves with a black cat. “I’m sorry ladies for making you wait. It seems the authorities have cleaned up most of the evidence,” He showed them the vial in his hand, “except for this.”

Ruby took the vial in her hand with a quick snatch and peered at it closely. She opened it up and took a big sniff. “Wooooowee! That is wine. I suppose it won’t matter if I take a drink?” She said with a big smile, holding the vile open near her mouth. But she hesitated to continue until there was reassurance from the others.

“Uhhh maybe you should refrain.” Charlotte suggested nervously, coming closer as she hugged the hissing kitten in her arms. “We don’t know what’s in there, Ruby.”

Ruby’s boldness to drink from a random vial that was laying around in a dark alley made Ryn smile just as broadly as she was. “You most certainly have a more daring spirit than I, Ms. Ruby. Buuut… please do keep in mind that it’s a mysterious vial that was left at a crime scene. A murder scene I might add, so I’d be… cautious. You never know.” As Ryn spoke, he slowly lifted his fingers towards the kitten, but stopped short from actually touching the frightened creature. He left his fingers hovering within sniffing range of the cat and avoided making direct eye contact with it. Ryn would have felt a random lick against his finger. Then came another hiss. “Do you think it’s expensive wine?”

Looking disappointed, Ruby slowly moved the vial away from her mouth. “Looks expensive! I mean, why else would it be in a vile?” She held it out for the others to reach. “I will refrain.. for now.” Her face held an uptight expression before she started scanning the room for other souvenirs.

Charlotte moved to put the kitten down, only for it to scramble up to her shoulder and cling onto it. She glanced towards it and he met her eyes, giving her another hiss but his body language was fearful. She smiled to herself then reached over to take the vial from Ruby, both for her own good and to inspect it. The only way to answer such a question was to taste it. She imagined that even if it was poisoned, then a little dab on the tongue wouldn’t have been potent enough to do much. And if the person had been killed by ax, poisoned wine was unlikely. However, she was apprehensive. She paused for a while as if bracing herself, then tapped her finger in the wine ever so lightly and tapped it on her tongue. It wasn’t enough to tell its quality, but… ” I think this is the wine that was served at the ball…Peculiar.” Her eyes rose to meet the others, “To the library?” Once they had agreed, the trio was back on their original route, now with a furry friend still rooted to Charlotte’s shoulder.

Ruby watched with surprise as she dabbed a little on her tongue. How come I couldn’t any…

When Lady Vikena tasted the wine, it left Ryn stupefied. Since the murder was committed using an axe, he thought a poisoned vial of wine would be overdoing things —leaning on the theatrical even—, but it still never hurt to be careful. There were plenty of poisons in the world that required very little of it to be lethal. Yet Lady Vikena decided to take the risk. Even Ruby would have done it had he not asked her to err on the side of caution. Ryn was not sure if he should be impressed by their courage or be deeply concerned for their safety and the lack of venturesomeness on his part. Should he not be just as daring as they, more so if he wanted to be the kind of effective leader that brought about change?

He stared at Lady Vikena, waiting to see the signs of poison taking effect. When it did not, Ryn told himself that he should check again later. In the meantime…

The same wine served at the ball, huh? Peculiar indeed… The wines served at the party were of the variety that the average person would find difficult to obtain. Though not entirely impossible, especially tonight.

As the library came into view, Ryn spoke up, “Lady Vikena, in the tavern, I heard from the owner that it was Count Damien who ordered her to keep us in the tavern.” Lady Vikena’s gaze shot to Ryn. “She said she was told it was for our own safety… it may have to do with this murder, or maybe it doesn’t, but… I just thought Count Damien’s actions felt out of place. Especially considering—...” Ryn stole a glance at Ruby’s direction then returned his eyes to Lady Vikena. He was not sure how much detail he should divulge to their new acquaintance. “What you’ve told me about him.”

” When my mother died, Count Damien made no move to involve himself in the investigation. I don’t think he did when my blood-father did either…” If one was paying attention, they would have noticed a flash of anger briefly cross her expression. ”...I agree it’s out of place. He involves himself in many affairs he should not, but only when it benefits him… I don’t have a good feeling in my tummy. “ With a frown, she looked at Ryn, ” I have quite a bit of investigating to do…. Though most likely, this will occur after I finally get some sleep tonight.”

Ryn nodded before turning to Ruby, “Does Ms. Olga work for Count Damien?”

”Nah. Think she owes him or something though. “ Ruby had answered.

And there it was, the wiggle room.

Once inside the library, they discovered it was grand inside with more books than one could imagine with a high-glass ceiling that allowed them to see the stars above. It was dim and quiet, with barely anyone inside at the late hour. Charlotte moved forward as the moonlight glimmered down on them, ”Lorenzo!” She called, enticing somebody curled up in a chair to shh her, but she could not be bothered to pay them any mind other than to apologize quickly. It only took a few minutes of searching from then on to figure out Lorenzo wasn’t here either. With distress, she sat down in a chair and buried her face in her hands. The cat was now seated on her lap and nibbling on the fabric of her dress.

… Will I ever see him again? … I don’t want to lose my family a third time.

A hand reached over to touch her shoulder. When she looked up, she saw Fritz sitting next to her. He was smiling at her reassuringly, “You will, Charlotte.”

One way or another. “You will see him again.” Ryn’s hand moved to the kitten and scratched its chin long enough to make it purr. A soothing rumble that never failed to make him feel better when he felt down. “We only searched two places… both which Count Damien suggested and it’s only been a few hours since Mr. Benjamin last saw your father. It’s too early to give up. Lorenzo is out there.” Dark eyes held Lady Vikena’s blue eyes. He nodded slowly, “yes?” Lady Vikena smiled faintly and nodded, though there was some residual fear in her expression. “Yes,” he reaffirmed.

Ryn stood up from his chair and bowed. “Forgive me if I have offended you for being overly familiar, Lady Vikena.” He straightened himself up, “There were not that many people left in the library, but Ruby and I asked around to see if anyone might know something. Apparently, there’s a secret party being held tonight. Very exclusive, invite- only, by the sounds of it.” Ryn wondered if it was the one and the same invitation the Danrose children had.

“Thank you Fritz.” Charlotte reached out to take his hand and squeeze t gently. ”I appreciate you being so nice to me tonight… You’re right I shouldn’t give up. I’m just a little overwhelmed.” She sighed, composing herself as she straightened as well. After a pause, she lifted a nearby novel from a side table called ‘The Great Hero of Avalia,’ Charlotte managed a playful smile, tapping the book with her finger. ” If the brave Darius did not give up when the odds were against him, then neither shall I…. As for that party… I have no idea where that could be. ”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Wayra

Time: Evening
Location: The Park of Sorian

The scent of iron rode the wind and traveled through Sorian, fading in intensity and blending with other scents as it sailed through the air. By the time it reached Wayra’s nostrils, there was little left of the original smell. Yet Wayra could tell it was fresh blood from a life that was snuffed out much too early. As tragic as it was to hear the end of a song, this was nothing new here. There were plenty of other stories that came to an abrupt end tonight. If others cared enough to be more attentive, they’d’ve noticed it too. Not that it would change anything even if they did.

Sorian, the supposed grand jewel of Caesonia, reeked of rot. This place has been stagnant for much too long. Because nothing changed, the city decayed, infecting the very foundation with a taint. It would only be a matter of time till the infected pillars collapsed under the weight of the elite, crushing everyone below them in their wake. No one would come out unscathed from it. Even the highborn wouldn’t be immune to the consequences. Not if something changes soon. Perhaps, in their limited wisdom, it was what the crown was attempting to do by extending their annual party invitation to Alidasht.

A zephyr whispered to Wayra to look up. They raised their heads just in time to watch an owl release whatever it held in its talons. Wayra grabbed the furry thing before it hit the ground and examined it more closely. A headless, legless, tailless “rat”. Wayra brought the rat closer to their nose to sniff it. The pelt was definitely that of a rat, but this thing came from the freckled Varian. The unmistakable odor of his pipe seeped deeply into the fur. Wayra turned the rat around in their hands for a bit before plunging their fingers into its belly. The threads that held the skin in place snapped, allowing the entails —a cloth— to spill out. A cloth that smelled primarily of the dark-eyed Varian but also had a strong scent of another person. Snot and tears from another person. It wasn’t the best quality of ingredients they’ve ever worked with, but they’d have to make do.

---

---

Karleen

Time: Evening
Location: Danrose Castle Basement

To Karleen, the lifestyle of the upper class was something that came straight out of a fairy tale. The glitz and glam were candy to the giantess’ eyes, making her heart skip a beat just looking at them. The soothing music, enticing aromas, and delectable treats only added to her awe. How much she wanted to revel in the fantasy for a while longer. On the other hand, she knew she couldn't. Parties had to come to an end at some point, and she had to be grateful for even being able to set foot in the castle.

Though the muscles in Karleen’s face didn’t move an inch, inside the woman smiled at the thought of being able to walk freely without shackles. A simple action that so many on the surface took for granted. Something that Karleen could now do, just like the commoners.

The life of the upper class might’ve been what the giantess dreamed of being a part of, but for the better part of her life, Karleen believed that the life of a commoner sounded too good to be true too: the autonomy —no matter how limited—, to be able to claim something as your own, to have a name that was not just a string of numbers and letters. Foreign concepts, outlandish ideas, dreams worth fighting tooth and nail for. While she understood that some people considered these to be the bare minimum for a decent life, anything more than these was a luxury Karleen couldn’t afford… At least, it used to be.

Karleen glared at the old map in her hand before looking at her surroundings. The corridor was made almost entirely out of stone and little else. A stark contrast to everything above ground.

For some reason, Karleen imagined that the basement of a castle would look a lot prettier. She got the idea stuck in her head because everything else the aristocrats had was overly fancy. Surely their dungeons were gold-plated, diamond-encrusted labyrinths that sparkled even in the absence of sunlight. But no. Not only were the halls dark and dingy like the underground cells she grew up in, but they were somehow colder in every way imaginable. The fact that Karleen had a hard time telling the difference between the storage, servant’s quarters, and the dungeon area spoke volumes as to how the crown thought of its servants. This thought would only be strengthened as Karleen explored the corridors.

The halls were eerily quiet. Many of the servants were still working upstairs, either cleaning up after the guests or serving them. It made snooping around the basement much easier for the giant woman, but it also made her uncomfortable. The only thing that kept her from focusing too much on her discomfort was to concentrate on the search, which worked for a while. As she continued her exploration, however, she began to notice a faint sound bouncing off the surrounding stones. The soft cracking came at a steady rhythm, faltering every now and then. The sound became louder and louder as Karleen walked about, until it was loud enough for her to recognize what it was.

Memories of her childhood rushed towards her, slamming her mind violently against her skull like waves ramming into the rocky shore. She would’ve drowned in it, but she learned how to float above it when it tried to drag her down. As familiar as the basement was to her childhood home, this place was not it. Karleen was no longer that child. She is stronger, tougher. It’ll all be fine.

The giantess gathered herself and continued forward, but quickly backed away when she was about to turn a corner. There was a servant, a middle-aged woman, standing with her arms folded and a sour expression. She was glaring at the direction where the sounds were coming from. Karleen could tell it was a room, but from the angle she was peeking in from, she couldn’t tell what kind of room it was.

After one particularly loud crack, the sound stopped. The servant visibly relaxed. Whatever happened in that room reached its end, or would’ve if whoever was in there kept their mouth shut. Voices coming from the room were too quiet for Karleen to catch, but whatever was said resulted in a sudden whack, which startled both the servant and Karleen.

“That’s enough!” The servant shouted before storming into the room.
The voice that spoke up tried to sound calm, but the strain in their voice made it obvious that they were anything but that. “You really need to train the servants better.”
“She served her punishment. Anything more than that and I’ll have to—…”
“What?” This time the voice that cut in made no attempt to hide its owner's contempt, “Do what? Report to the king? The queen? And what do you think they’re going to do to me?” The silence that followed was the answer. “Exactly. Not a goddamn thing. That’s what… Ooor what? Are you going to sleep with His Majesty to make him do what you want again? Like how you rode him all the way to head housekeeper?”
The scoff came from someone else, “You’re one to talk.”
“… Say that again.”
“Gladly, I said you’re a miserable sack of sh*t who gets off on tormenting people who can’t fight back and sucking Edin’s—”
“Riona!”
The other person was cackling when the woman named Riona restated her previous comment, “Ooooh, I’m going to savor the day you finally break.”
“You had 12 f**king years to try and I’m still here. What’s wrong? Losing your touch?”
“Hmm…” There was a pause. Karleen imagined the person taking their time looking Riona over. “I don’t know about that. You put up a brave front, but the cracks are showing… it won't be long…”
“Stop it, the both of you!” The servant shouted, “Riona, you’re dismissed. Go patch yourself up.” When Riona didn’t answer fast enough the woman sternly commanded, “Now.” The servant’s attention turned to the other person in the room, “As for you, even the King has his limits. Do you have any idea how hard it is to hire—…” The heavy wooden door closed, muffling the argument that ensued inside.

The dark haired woman who limped her way out of the room had the same look about her as the children who just survived a deathmatch in the arena. That moment when the adrenaline’s effects ran its course and everything that it had been numbed came crashing down. The fear, the pain. Everything. The woman tried to take a step, winced, and stumbled forward. She caught herself from slamming into the wall with her hands, but she didn’t move from that position. Karleen could hear the woman’s breathing turn ragged.

Back when Karleen was not “Karleen,” whenever unpleasant thoughts became powerful enough to paralyze her, she learned to free herself from their binding hex by filling her mind with her favorite things. Like the taste of sweets, the feeling of a full stomach, the warmth of the sun on her skin, pretty dresses, and fluffy stuffed animals. At the time, they were just figments of her imagination, stuff so distant that she never knew them in person, but close enough to know that they were real outside the steel bars. Karleen’s desire to experience what their masters prevented them from doing drove her to fight no matter how hopeless the situation became. She was going to live her life to the fullest and die happy; the chance she robbed others of would not be wasted.

But whatever strings that propped the maid up were none of those things. Not a single joyous, uplifting thought. What sort of cheerful thought made a person sweat bullets and claw at the stone walls like they were trying to dig their way out of their prison? The maid was trying to keep it quiet, but the echo chamber-like quality of the corridor made it impossible to hide the shortness of her breathing. The woman stood there, writhing with her inner demons, until the worst of the emotional waves subsided enough for her to catch her breath and stop trembling. She pressed her flushed forehead to the cool stone.

The maid took a few steps closer to the wall until her shoes touched it. Either she was trying to fuse into the wall or attempting to siphon the durability of the stones. Even if she succeeded in doing either, it was entirely pointless, because all rocks, great mountains included, eventually succumb to weathering and erosion. With time, it starts to break down, and bits and pieces of it are carried far, far away. Just like this maid. Riona might’ve avoided completely breaking apart in the past 12 years, but those years were taking their toll. The cracks were there and maybe there were chipped off fragments that she wasn't even aware she’d lost. It was, as the other person in the room said, only a matter of time until the maid shattered into pieces.

In an ideal world, the strong would’ve protected the weak before such things happened. If there were none, then the weak supported each other to become strong as one. But Sorian was far from the ideal world. Here, the strong butchered or leached off of the weak, and the weak trampled over each other if necessary. The weak had to become stronger if they wanted to survive. If that maid fell down, no one would be there to help her back up. That’s how it worked underground, and Karleen expected no less from Sorian on the surface. It was the one law that applied to both sides of the capital.

For the time being, all Karleen could do was pray —to the apathetic divine forces that be— that the maid found something else to live for. Something that could make life a little more bearable, if not make her smile from the bottom of her heart. A reason to hold on just a little longer… just a little bit longer.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Time: Evening
Location: The Tough Tavern
Interaction(s): Olga @princess (Collab)

Though there were those who believed that the world revolved more or less around the Three Kingdoms, Eromora was home to countless cultures. As someone who worked in an international trading company, Ryn had the privilege of experiencing if but a fracture of it and he learned a lot from it. This included lessons such as how alcohol was an excellent drug for impairing people’s inhibitory control, no matter where they hailed from. The higher the blood alcohol level, the looser one’s tongue becomes. At times, this aided in the formation of bonds; at other times, it ruined them beyond repair.

As soon as Lady Vikena walked away from Ryn, he began the process of building a rapport with the tavern patrons. Many of them were friendly enough, willing to engage in conversation with the man who paid for their drinks. As they conversed, though, Ryn realized that the people in the tavern were either strangely tight-lipped, especially when the conversation even lightly touched on Duke Vikena, or truly clueless. Yet, all were coordinated in their insistence to remain unforthcoming on the matter. Gazes that floated over to the bandana-wearing woman every now and then, tipped Ryn off that the reason for this was because she instructed them, verbally or by less direct means like a meaningful glare or accosting someone normally everyone else would have happily ignored if it meant less trouble for them. No one would tell him anything unless he took her down first.

With alcohol, naturally.

Ryn popped a small tablet in his mouth along with some protein-rich finger food he ordered to fill his stomach and waited long enough for it to settle in before he approached the woman with the bandana. He challenged the woman to a drinking contest: they would drink the strongest liquor the tavern had to offer until it was obvious that one of them wouldn’t be able to handle another sip. With a bit of teasing and calling her a milk drinker, the bandana woman accepted.

At first, everyone seemed to believe the woman had the game in the bag. Even ignoring the fact that, as the others put it, the woman’s blood was made up of mostly alcohol, it was evident by body size alone that Ryn was at a disadvantage. So many were mildly impressed when Ryn looked perfectly fine after his third shot. Around the fifth shot, people were surprised that his cheeks were barely pink. The atmosphere started shifting after the seventh shot. Ryn looked like he was just about to get tipsy while the bandana woman’s face became flushed. There were people who accused the bartender of watering down the alcohol. However, that was quickly disproven with a sip of Ryn’s cup. By the eighth shot, a number of spectators began to consider the possibility that the small black-haired “boy” had a chance of beating “the boss.” At shot number eleven, Marceline was forced to declare Ryn the winner. Had he not cheated, Ryn would have been on the floor at shot number six.

Ryn helped “the boss” to her feet and excused themselves to a table off to the side after asking for some water. Once the woman sat down, Ryn sat across from her and took her wrist into his hands, fingers pressed lightly against it. He checked the clock on the wall to make sure his counting aligned with it before leaning closer to the giant woman. For a few minutes, they engaged in the typical small talk. He learned that her name was Olga. She lived in a nearby house and she owned this tavern. Her favorite color was red and she secretly loved bunnies but hated any sweet foods. Her dream was to continue living the life she was. Olga’s physiological signs strongly suggested that she was telling Ryn the truth up to this point. Now to see if she would keep this up.

“Do you know who Duke Lorenzo Vikena is?”

Olga had nodded nonchalantly, “Yeah. The man has big house down the street. Comes to stay there every so often then goes back to Veirmont. Never come here though. No, no…” She was honest with her words. Olga was never one to lie, unlike her sister Helga who worked in the castle. She was sure glad that woman was far away.

“Did you see him tonight?”
She shook her head. “No. Lorenzo boy never come in here.”
He clarified, “You didn’t see him outside the tavern either?” She shook her head again.

“Why did Count Damien order you to keep us here?” He asked the question with such confidence that it sounded like he already knew Count Damien was involved, but in truth, it was a hunch at best. The only reason why Lady Vikena and Ryn even passed by the Tough Tavern was because Count Damien pointed them in this direction. According to Olga, however, Duke Vikena never stepped foot in the establishment before. Then there was the question of how they knew who Lady Vikena was. Of course, it was possible that all of this was pure coincidence, but everything seemed too planned out to be just that. Had they gone to the library first, would they have encountered the same interference by a different group of people?

Olga leaned on the tabletop and gestured him closer with her finger. She then whispered in his ear, “Calbert’s boy Henry came to window. Said two with dark hair in ponytails: Lady Vikena and you. ‘Cept she has pretty ribbon. Haha! …So I see you two, I close door. Henry told me this is all for safety so I tell my staff. “ She paused to take a puff of her cigar. After an exhale and thoughtful pause, she added, “He seemed shaken up.” She shook her body for a moment and widened her eyes to dramatize the effect of one who was afraid. “Something bad going on I think.”

Ryn frowned. Why would Count Damien want to keep them trapped here? Or was it Lady Vikena specifically he wanted in one place? Did the “bad something” have anything to do with the duke? At least it was clear that Count Damien had control over certain districts. Enough influence to make people follow his orders at a drop of a hat. Not a good sign, but perhaps there was still some wiggle room.

“All for whose safety?” Ryn flipped his ponytail with a smile. “What kind of danger does some duke’s daughter and a pip-squeak with matching hairstyles pose to you and your staff?” He replaced his smile with a concerned look as he leaned in closer to Olga. “He’s… not threatening the people here… is he?” He purposefully kept “he” vague in hopes that Olga would fill in the rest.

Olga chuckled at the sight of him flipping his pony tail. ”No. Danger to you. Not to us. Something-”

Marcy ran away from the side window, mop in hand. Olga paused, mouth still agap as if to continue speaking as she started mopping the walkway to the stairs. It did not make sense to Olga why she had done so at first. The eyes of many followed the sight of the frantic mopping. She watched Marcy then dive behind the bar with the mop.

Then the door burst open to the sight of Count Calbert.

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Udo

Time: Evening
Location: Danrose Castle ~ Harbor

The cool summer night breeze sent shivers down the east islander’s spine. He tried to shield himself from it by snugging further into the muffler, the redheaded scoundrel probably nicked from some poor soul. To anyone else, the wind was pleasant to the skin, but the Northern Kingdoms’ summers were much too dry and cold for Udo’s taste. It was no wonder a majority of its citizens were so pale.

He hoped that standing outside for hours would’ve acclimated his body to the temperature, but much to the warrior’s dismay, it never happened. He was tempted to drink the vodka stashed away in the saddlebags on his horse to get warm, but unlike some people, Udo preferred to stay sober while on the job. So he opted to jog in place as he waited.

After the majority of the party attendees had departed, very few people trickled out of the castle, making it much easier to identify who left the premises. The first notable person to leave unattended was Baron Asteroth Hugonin’s ward. Some farmboy, if sources were to be believed. Though Udo was skeptical that that's all that there was to it. Two of them placed their bets on Kazumin being an illegitimate child of some nobility; Peter thought he was a royal bastard. Considering Edin’s promiscuity, it wouldn't be the least bit shocking if they found out that he sired half of Sorian’s younger population.

The second group of people was hard to miss. A large carriage carrying Callum, Anastasia, and some other prominent figures crossed the drawbridge and made its way down Edin Avenue. Udo climbed onto his own horse and followed the group from a safe distance, being extra cautious to not be spotted by another carriage that followed suit. Once he witnessed the carriages arrive at the harbor’s warehouses, Udo dismounted.

It was somehow simultaneously too lively and too quiet at this hour of the night. Udo spent enough time with Crosswinds Tradings to know how harbors looked at night and yet… The warrior scanned his surroundings. Aside from the guests who he assumed were summoned here, he spotted a number of people patrolling the area. Guards, most certainly. Spies, conceivably. But the warrior had no way of discerning whose.

As the royal siblings and their entourage entered a specific warehouse, Udo’s ocean blue eyes scowled at the logo painted on it. Black Rose. What were Edin's youngest two children getting themselves mixed up in?

If Black Rose was involved, he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to enter the warehouse without alerting Marek’s henchmen or getting out unscathed. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, infiltration was Peter’s forte. Udo sighed. What would that half-wit do if he was in Udo’s place?

The islander took out one of the vodka bottles from the saddlebag and emptied it all over himself. Udo shuddered uncontrollably for a few seconds before returning the bottle and drawing out another full one. He shifted to the other side of his horse to collect a creel and fishing rod. After he put the full bottle into the creel, Udo stroked his horse. “Ewch yn ôl,” he commanded. The horse neighed in response and trotted in the direction of the palace, where it would “go back” to Hendrixes’ carriage.

Udo’s ears perked up at the sound of hooting. A great horned owl with a brightly colored ribbon tied to its left leg was perched upon one of the shipping crates. It flew up towards the roof of the building, turning its face to Udo once it landed. He was no fool to ignore the beckoning of their avian friends.