JJ Doe

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Ríoghnach "Riona"

Location: Palace Corridor
Time: Morning

From a distance, they appeared to be two women who overcame the status quo and forged a close bond. A lady and a maid walked side by side, not caring that they came from different social classes or what others thought of their relationship. Lady Morrigan tossed her head back, laughing heartily at something that only she and her friend (and possibly the knights that followed them like shadows) were in on. Her melodic laugh and hand on her companion’s waist captured the beautiful bond between the two. Surely, the stone-cold expression on the maid’s face stemmed from shyness or was an attempt to keep some semblance of professionalism while on the clock.

“Can you believe it? The little tadpole thinks he’ll grow up to become something other than a frog!” Lady Morrigan covered her mouth to suppress another laugh from bubbling out of her. “Here, I thought Alaric was a wet blanket. Who knew he could be so funny? A natural joke, that one, much like his father.” If anyone thought she meant jokester, they kept their thoughts to themselves. The knights didn’t seem to have a strong opinion on the matter, and every servant they passed was doing their darndest to blend into the background. Out of sight, out of mind.

“What about you, kitten? What do you think?” She asked, even though she clearly didn’t care. “I think it’s positively precious! I mean, think about it. They’re all adults, but they all cling on to this unfounded, cockamamy, delusion that they have absolutely nothing in common with—or, heavens forbid, even believe they’re better than—Edipoo, like naïve children who still believe in fairy tales. When will they finally accept the reality that we’re not all that different? Blood is thicker than water and all that.”

Riona didn’t respond. She was practicing the advanced technique of blending into the background while in the clutches of a predator. Unfortunately for her, the longer they remained beside each other, the harder it became to ignore a certain scent following her.

“Edin, Adelard, Alden, Alaric, Anya. Every single Danrose that exists, has existed, or will exist, thrives on debauchery. Even pain—because honestly, really, what is the actual difference between them? The only reason why Alaric is the black sheep of the family is because he prefers to inflict pain on himself rather than bestow it on others… I’m willing to bet he pays extra so he can beg his whores to punish him.”

The noble drew the maid closer, pressing her body against Riona and making it harder for both of them to walk. The offensive smell assaulted Riona’s nose and seeped into her mouth. She tasted it on her tongue.

“That’s why, and I hate to be the one to break this to you darling, but that’s precisely why those words he carved out on the wall? They mean nothing. It’s all for show: he’s playing you like a violin, just like Anya played Darryn, giving you false hope.”

The smell mingled with her words, somehow making them equally sickening.

“Alaric enjoys playing the role of a tragic prince. It makes him feel good, like he accomplished something by pretending to be a martyr. I suppose being a spare gives them the luxury of playing out whatever fantasy they like. They’re allowed to dream of a purpose beyond being a baby maker… Which is more than Anya ever had.” A rough note slipped between the cracks of Lady Morrigan’s usual silken tone at the end; just barely audible enough to register as anger.

“Riona.” Reflexively, her eyes shifted in Lady Morrigan’s direction. “Riona, Riona, Riona. You might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even you must’ve noticed by now. Alaric is comfortable with the way things are. He just uses his family as an excuse to do nothing. And why do you think that’s the case?” She whispered, so close to Riona that she felt her lips brush her ear. “Because his father is a parasite, his mother is a monster, he’s a Danrose… and he’ll never change ‘for the better.’ None of us do.”

A long and heavy silence hung in the air. Riona sensed, rather than saw, Lady Morrigan’s gaze fixed on her, waiting expectantly. Riona continued to look straight ahead, not dignifying her with a response.

The noblewoman’s hand abandoned Riona’s waist and slid up her back, claws extended. She sucked air through her teeth as the bruises and cuts inflicted by Lady Morrigan flared with pain. She whirled, glaring daggers and baring her teeth, ready to curse the woman out.

Riona jerked away from how close Lady Morrigan’s face was to hers, but she maintained the scowl, even when the filthy hand reached up to tap a finger on her nose. “Boop.” The blonde said before wrapping her hand around Riona and pulling her into an awkward embrace. Whiffs of Edin’s favorite cologne gagged the maid, and she lifted her hands up to shove the other woman away. “Play nice, kitten,” Her Ladyship warned in a hushed voice, “they’re not nearly as understanding as I am.”

The silver glint from swords partially unsheathed caught Riona’s attention. The knights stood motionless a few feet away, but it was clear from the way their hands were gripping the hilt that this was the first and last warning they were going to give her. Riona's hands hovered in place, unable to accomplish what they set out to do.

When the strawberry blonde backed away, her violet eyes twinkled, and she gave off an air of smug delight. Then and there, Riona saw Danrose’s signature blonde and blue eyes through the pink glass that hid her true colors. That’s all it (whatever outside blood the royal family introduced into their twisted family tree) did, though: distort the obvious. It wasn’t strong enough to overcome what the Danroses fundamentally were. If anything, it fed into them and amplified their worst qualities even more.

This bothered Riona because it meant that she believed what Lady Morrigan told her to some degree. It doesn’t matter how far the apple falls from the tree. Apples that aren’t devoured, rot. Riona’s shoulders sagged.

“You shouldn’t have… what was the saying commoners use? Put all your eggs in one basket? Yes. You shouldn’t have put all your eggs in one basket, my dear.”

“... I don’t understand what you are referring to, milady.”

Lady Morrigan giggled, “Silly me, my mistake.” She grabbed both of Riona’s hands and spun her around in the middle of the hallway. After a couple rounds of playing merry-go-round, She led Riona in an oddly familiar dance down the hall. The knights had to walk in wide strides to keep up without having to resort to jogging after the two.

Riona recognized the moves from the ball after a couple of steps into the spontaneous dance, which led to a thought. “You put my name in the lottery last night.” Her suspicion came out as an accusation rather than a question.

“Hm? Oh, yes. Anya gave me the idea. After that delightful fiasco with the palanquin and seeing how much it put the Alidasht guests into such a hissy fit, I thought it’d be fun to see what would happen if a Shahzade was partnered with a lowly servant.” How Lady Morrigan could smile without it coming off as a menacing grin was a mystery Riona would never solve. “What a borefest that turned out to be. So anticlimactic! I was convinced they’d slice you open on the spot.” She pouted, “I understand that what’s-his-face is still young and inexperienced, but by the heavens, he really needs to learn not to leave a girl unsatisfied.”

“Shahzade Munir Ibn Raif al Kadir.”
“What’s that, kitten?”
“The Shahzade’s name.”
“Hmm,” Lady Morrigan gave Riona the once-over. “Do you suppose that savages can sense those kinds of things? Did Moo Neir Evan Ralf Whatever-His-Name-Is feel kinship and that’s why he didn’t cut you down? I mean, even if you are a watered-down moggy, I think you can pass as an Alidasht. Oh, but what am I saying? They’re the type of cultured people who kill their own kind in a heartbeat to assert their dominance. If they thought you were even remotely Alidasht you wouldn’t have waltzed out of there unscathed.” Riona didn’t have the energy in her to point out that technically she didn’t leave the ball unscathed.

As they traced the steps, another familiar feeling started to creep into Riona’s consciousness. An uneasy feeling she experienced not too long ago, in Callum’s room.

“I did wonder… Where did you learn how to dance like that?”
“... I have watched many dances during my time employed here. I must have picked up on some things.”
“But surely watching how people dance and actually dancing are two separate things, darling. You danced like you knew exactly what you were doing.”
“Thank you.” The compliment was unsettling in itself, every step just made it worse. They were reenacting not just any dance. Why else would she bring this up?
“You must’ve practiced so many times for your kind to be that good.”
“Shahzade Munir was an excellent dance partner. I only followed his lead.” Oh. Riona realized. That’s why.
“Or maybe you’ve danced at a ball before.”
“Not many balls invite servants as guests, milady.” It’s the dance with Cal.
“In another life then.”
“In another life.” The dip that followed didn’t surprise the maid in the least.

Strange how much easier it was to trust someone you hated more than someone you liked even the slightest. When Callum did the dip, Riona braced herself for any outcome. With Lady Morrigan, she knew exactly what to expect. This Danrose would drop her like a sack of potatoes, given the chance. And she did, proving to Riona that she trusted this bitch more than she trusted the prince.

She should’ve swan-dived straight into the floor herself for that line of thought. However, it turned out Vincent and Wystan were pretty good trainers. The lessons kicked in without thought. She broke her fall by slamming her hands against the ground before her back touched it. The palm of her hands stung and her back didn’t appreciate being reminded of its injuries, but she avoided hitting her head and getting the air knocked out of her lungs from the impact.

Riona lowered her head against the floor and closed her eyes. She played back the image of a prince made of twigs and white as a sheet hovering over her. Every time she fell, he apologized with the same horrified look. When Riona opened her eyes, Lady Morrigan had taken the boy’s place. “Oops. I thought I’d be able to carry you. Kitten, you’re much heavier than you look! Have you considered shaving off some of that weight? You might as well since you’re fasting for two days anyways. It’ll give you a head start!”

Lady Morrigan pressed a hand against the closest wall. The “wall” swung inward, revealing the entrance to the servants’ corridor. “Don’t just lie there, kitten! Up!” Clap. “Up!” Clap. “Up!” Clap. “The others are waiting on you.”

---

TLDR: Danrose dental coverage 0/10, would not recommend. Trigger Warning: Vomiting

Location: Servents’ Hall
Time: Morning

Servants guilty of the heinous crime of “being accused of over-polishing” the ballroom floor lined up against the wall in the servant’s hall. To ensure that they were carrying out their sentence, all convicted servants were called in for a surprise inspection. Lady Morrigan graciously reminded them that since lowborns were prone to cheating and forgetting, it was for their own good that she disciplined them swiftly to ensure that the lessons stuck. But in actuality, she simply wanted to whet her appetite for the (much bloodier) upcoming event.

Lady Morrigan carried out the oral inspection with the thoroughness of a dentist and a blatant disregard for hygiene. She’d force tools into the servants’ mouths to examine their gums and teeth before moving on to the next servant without ever washing her hands or equipment. Riona was the first in line for the checkup, so she avoided cross-contamination with the other servants. The majority of ash from Lady Morrigan’s hand did, however, end up in her mouth.

She couldn’t stand the taste. Riona left the line and walked over to the large dining table, where a pitcher of water and cups waited for her. One of the knights came up to her and grabbed her arm. When they tried to drag her back, Lady Morrigan spoke. “It's fine, darlings,” she said, only sparing a second to look at them, “as long as she doesn't leave this room until I’m finished.”

Riona raised an eyebrow as the knight released her arm. She eyed the liquid in the pitcher before pouring it slowly into a cup. Aside from the water looking hazy, she saw and smelled nothing out of the ordinary. Did she poison it? The maid glanced over at the strawberry blonde, who continued her work of tormenting others.

Taking Her Ladyship’s earlier words as permission, servants who cleared her check scattered away from the wall. Some gathered behind Riona and motioned her to hurry up. Riona returned her gaze to the cup in her hand and took a tentative sip of the cloudy water before spitting it out right away.

A cackle reached her ears. Riona turned, expecting to see the woman looking at her, but she was in the same position as before. Riona huffed and placed the pitcher down on the table. Her coworkers regarded her with wide, questioning eyes. “It’s baking soda,” she reassured them. She took a mouth full of the mixture, rinsed her mouth with it, and spat it back into the cup. Gods, why’d she have to put so much of it in it? People who wanted the water for the same reason as Riona did followed her lead. The others backed away, disappointed.

Right when Riona thought they’d get through without a hitch, Lady Morrigan let out a drawn-out, “Ooh, my.” All heads in the room turned to her as she tutted. “Kristoph, silly little pup. Do you know how to brush your teeth?”

Kristoph looked both confused and startled by the question. “I, y-,” he stuttered, “yes, ma’am.”
“Do you brush often?”
“As much as I can, ma’am.”
“Really? If that's the case, you’re a dreadful tooth-brusher.”
“I…” Kristoph blubbered and collected his words to form an apology for his tooth brushing skill.
“I’m sorry too. I could’ve pulled out your teeth guilt-free if only you had been taught how to brush them properly.”

Lady Morrigan broke the silence when it became obvious that Kristoph wouldn’t speak any time soon. “Don’t give me that look, it’s very unattractive. I’m not trying to be cruel. It’s just that, when I see bits of meat between your teeth, and there’s no way of finding out when you last ate… I have no choice but to assume the worst.”
“B-b-but I didn’t!”
Lady Morrigan shrugged, “I need proof, sweetie. And so far, I found one and you have none.”
Kristoph’s eyes darted around. “H, how?” How do you prove a negative?

Lady Morrigan looked over her shoulder. “Someone pour this boy a cup.” At first, no one moved. Then, wanting to be in her good graces, a few servants grabbed for the pitcher. They squabble for a bit before coming to a mutual agreement and present Lady Morrigan with a glass. “Thank you, my pretties.” She held the cup in front of Kristoph. “Drink this.” He stared at the glass as if he’d never seen a cup before. “Preferably before I lose my patience,” she laughed. Kristoph didn’t need more encouragement, he downed the concoction lightning fast.

His face twisted in disgust but managed to keep it in. They stayed like that for a while before she continued the conversation. “Did you drink it all?”
He nodded.
“Is that a yes?”
“Y, yes ma’am.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am?” Unless he magiced the liquid away, it seemed obvious he drank it all.
“Hm, I think I want a better look. Open your mouth,” she said as she positioned herself to his side for “a better view.” Kristoph looked even more confused than before.

Avert thine eyes, Potter!

“Well, come on. Open wide! Yes, yes, that’s a good boy. Now tilt your head up. Mmmhm and–” she shoved her finger straight down his throat. Kristoph gagged and struggled until he retched up anything and everything in his stomach directly onto the floor. Some of the servants averted their gaze to avoid doing the same.

Lady Morrigan studied the mess. “What’s this?” She pointed at the remnants of what could’ve been meat.

“It’s,” through heavy breathing Kristoph tried to answer, “It’s from yesterday. B-before the order, ma’am.” He hastily added the last bit. Judging by their expressions, no one believed him for an instant.

“Is that so?” Lady Morrigan’s violet gaze swept the room. She pointed at another manservant roughly the same age and build as Kristoph, who had already passed the inspection. “You.” she turned her palm upward and beckoned him with the same finger, “come here.”

She repeated the steps she did with Kristoph on the other man and checked the aftermath of it: a puddle of fluids and nothing else. “And when’s the last time you ate?”

The servant hesitated, sending an apologetic look in Kristoph’s direction. “Yesterday evening… before the party began. All the staff who were assigned to the ballroom… ate together. Nothing big… just, just enough to get through the night and maybe have room for… party leftovers.”

“How very interesting!” She glanced pointedly down at the very distinct messes on the floor as if that were enough of an explanation. And it was. “So, Kristoph. My sweet, dear, silly puppy dog.” She knelt down next to Krisoph, pulling him close to herself. “In light of new evidence, I’m guessing you either…” She extended her index finger. “Ate the party food during the party, a crime punishable by death because it means you stole from the crown. Or…” As she extended another finger, she leaned in closer, “You disobeyed my orders.” The weight of the two options crushed Kristoph alive, leaving the man sickly pale and sweating. “Which is it?”

With a snap of her fingers, Lady Morrigan’s knights came to her side. One held open a book, while the other had a quill and inkwell at the ready. “Will I have to write your name here, Kristoph? Because I will if I have to. But because I like you, I’ll let you pick the date and time.” The tip of the quill sucked up the ink. “How about today? I can dump you in the arena so that we can kill two birds with one stone.” Krisoph shook his head. “No? What about after lunch? You can have your last supper and it’ll give you plenty of time to say your goodbyes.” Kristoph shook his head, more fervently this time around. “No? What about tomorrow? No? The day after that? No? A week from now? Two weeks? Next month?”

Finally, Kristoph shouted, “I didn’t eat anything during the party!”
“Truly? Then why didn’t you say so?” She waved the knights away as she continued to berate Kristoph in the softest voice imaginable. The knight left the book on the table before returning to their mistress’s side as Kristoph became increasingly rattled. So absorbed by the scene, none of the servants noticed Riona reaching for the book.

If the book contained Lady Morrigan’s schedule, it should also include information about Darryn. Riona flipped through the pages to the most recent entry. Columns divided the pages. On the far left side there were lists of names, followed by a list of codes that Riona couldn’t decipher, columns for dates and times, two checkboxes (for what, who knew), a space for miscellaneous notes, and a space for signatures on the last column on the right. Riona found Darryn’s full name right under someone called Cameron Nesworth. Unlike the others, however, Darryn’s row was largely empty. The code was there and the notes section had a drawing of a horse smooching a heart with “Anya” at the center of it, but the rest was still blank.

“It’s not.”
It’s not, what? It’s not happening today? This week? As long as he’s useful as a hostage so you all behave? Never?

Riona sifted through the book, trying to find any other entries similar to Darryn’s. The closest one was an entry from six months ago for a newbie named Poppie who quit around the same time. There were three noticeable differences: her row had been crossed out with a single black line, a crown was drawn in the notes section, and there was a signature at the end. Riona pursed her lips. These signatures had to be approval signatures, signed by members of the royal family or judges.

Panic surged through her mind. She made an effort to remain calm by telling herself that whatever the verdict was, Darry wasn’t in any immediate danger. According to the book, and from what she remembered from the morning paper, Lady Morrigan had a job to do at 11 o'clock. Riona could head down to the dungeon while she’s gone and see what’s what.

The sudden eruption of shouting pulled Riona from her thoughts. While she was preoccupied, Kristoph and the servants began an argument. From what she could piece together, Lady Morrigan offered to forgive Kristoph for his wrongdoing if he named another person to take his place. This led to a lot of yelling and finger-pointing.

The instigator of the infighting stood on the sideline, viewing the spectacle unfold with the shadow of a Cheshire smile dancing on her lips. She single-handedly broke any camaraderie this group of servants had up until this point. In a sense, that was her purpose in this castle: to break servants, sow the seeds of discord, and extinguish all possible realities where the staff rally against the royal family as one.

Her knight whispered something into her ear and Lady Morrigan clapped her hands. “Quiet!” The servants halted. “Good. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you all how busy I am. As much as I would love to spend more time with you, my pretties, and sort all of this out,” She sighed. “I simply do not have that kind of time to spare. So! I’ve come up with a compromise! Pick one person from this side of the room,” Lady Morrigan hand gestured toward the servants still arranged in a line against the wall, creating an invisible divide between them and the others in the room, “to take one for the team. Then everyone will be free to go about their business… for now.” It didn’t take much to read between the lines: she was going to spring this up on them again, and again, and again, till the 48-hour mark.

For some people, this was welcome news. Anyone who also ate and hasn’t been caught yet could get away with it. The servants collectively cast frosty glares at Kristoph. Lady Morrigan tallied up the votes in her head until she locked eyes with Riona.

She tilted her head and blinked before placing her hand over her bosom. Me? She mouthed. Yes, you. The blonde was, from Riona’s perspective, “on that side of the room,” why wouldn’t she choose her?

They held the staring contest until Her Ladyship twirled around, “That’s everyone’s votes! Congratulations, Kristoph. This is your chance to repent. Please sit down in a chair.” Kristoph scrambled to his feet and, instead of taking a seat, bolted straight out the door. Fully prepared for this scenario, the knights were on his tail even before he crossed the threshold.

Lady Morrigan gently pushed the book in front of Riona to the side and unrolled a roll-up tool pouch filled with her favorite set of torture instruments. No one in the room had trouble hearing Kristoph getting the sh*t beaten out of him by the knights.

“Hag,” said Riona, heavy as lead.
Lady Morrigan gasped, “Ri-o-na! No name-calling!” She sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief she pulled out of nowhere. “It hurts my feelings.”
“Oh, cry me a f**king river. Have your Edipoo cheer you up. That is where you spent the night after the ‘vamp of a housekeeper’ ripped you a new one, right?” Riona plugged her nose and fanned the air around them, “you reek of him.”
“More like I smell like his Eau de Cologne Soleil Bleu. Edipoo’s body odor is,” Lady Morrigan giggled, tossing the cloth over her shoulder, “just that.”
“Ugh. You’re just as revolting as he is.”
“Aw, kitten, really. Why do you say such horrible things?” She pouted as she caressed her tools. “When you’re mean to me… it makes me want to be very mean to you.”
“Wow, you’re telling me what goes around comes around? What a revelation.”
The noble kept talking, despite Riona’s interjection. “You make me want to do such terrible things to you and people you care about… I might accidentally forget the courtesans are on holiday and send a maid into his room one night.”
Riona’s heart stopped cold.
“Maybe it’ll be one of the new ones? They’re very young. They remind me of virgin snow. So pure, so naïve… you can’t help but feel an urge to sully it.”
When her heart started to beat again, it pumped black sludge instead of blood through her body. Her fingers twitched with anticipation. Just as they did when they wrapped around Callum’s neck or when she switched wild garlic with lily of the valley in the gardener’s kitchen.
“Maybe, just maybe, it’ll be the raven-haired girl with the doll face that you seem to be really fond of. What’s her name again?”

Riona’s hand shot out towards the table and latched onto the first object it touched. It didn’t matter what it was: they were all tools designed to harm people. Danroses were abominations, not invulnerable. Her arm trembled as it tried to move against the force that prevented her from smashing the object into the blonde’s temple. Lady Morrigan’s hand covered Riona’s, keeping her hand anchored to the table.

Anger and hate have been Riona’s stalwart companions since the day she lost everything. Though anger landed her into more trouble than she could count, it fueled her with the energy to keep on going even when she’d rather not. Hate, the quieter and colder of the two, was not as passionate as anger was about life and all the difficulties that came with it. Its single-mindedness gave Riona a certain type of clarity. Devour them, seeds and all.

Lady Morrigan countered the maid’s deadpan expression with dilated pupils and wide smile to match. Her nails sank deeper into Riona’s skin. Right as it threatened to break through, three figures appeared at the entrance. “Have him sit over here.” Lady Morrigan retracted her claws and plucked the instrument from Riona. “Ooo,” She turned the bone rongeur in her hands, “nice choice, kitten.” The Lady hopped over to Kristoph who was getting strapped down into a chair. “Bad, bad, boy. Didn’t I say that this is your chance to repent? Why would you squander your chance to become more than you’re worth by running away? Tsk-tsk. I say. Tsk-tsk.”

The blonde prowled around Kristoph, toying with the rongeur as she did, then took a seat on his lap. “I do understand, though. You were frightened and you let instinct get the better of you.” She stroked the side of his face. “I can’t blame you for what you are, so I forgive you for that. Like I said before, I like you, Kristoph. I really do. So I’ve decided—even though heavens knows I shouldn’t let you off the hook this easily—not to pull out all of your teeth.”

The tension in Kristoph’s body visibly dissipated. Lady Morrigan laughed at his reaction, which in turn caused him to laugh weakly. Next thing Riona knew, a handful of servants were nervously laughing along with them. The Lady twirled the bone rongeur in her hand. “I’ll settle with cracking open four.”

---

Location: Danrose Castle, Staircase to Dungeons
Time: 11:00
Interaction: Darryn @princess

Riona dashed down the steps, skipping a few. Her satchel bounced around and the contents jostled inside. The tussle for space became so intense that a jar tumbled out of the bag and clattered onto the floor. Riona backtracked quickly at the sound and swooped it up. She exhaled a breath of relief to see the jar didn’t break and the poultice inside was safe.

As promised, Lady Morrigan broke four of Kristoph’s teeth. Two teeth had their crowns cracked open, exposing the pulp. She practically crushed another tooth into pieces so that only fragments of the root remained. The last tooth was fractured, but compared to the other three, the damage was minor (as minor as a fractured tooth could be anyways). It would’ve been kinder to just pull the teeth out, but that wasn't how the noble operated. If there was anything she could do to prolong the suffering, she’d do it for her own amusement.

When Her Ladyship and her knights finally departed to ruin someone else’s life, Riona raced to her room to fetch medical supplies. Although the medicine in Callum’s room and the medical chamber was of higher-quality (magical, even) and headache-inducingly expensive, she couldn’t risk sneaking in during the day. Her homemade remedies, made from the cheapest ingredients available and plants straight from the garden, would have to do.

In her room, Riona stuffed all the medical supplies she could in the satchel, along with a clean set of clothes and a coin bag. After she grabbed a cape, she rushed back to the servants’ hall to attend to Kristoph.

Not that there was much she could do for him. Riona wasn’t a doctor, let alone a dentist. The best she could do was numb the pain long enough for him to be treated by a real healer. Once the staff took Kristoph to the hospital, Riona grabbed her belongings and hurried to the dungeon.

She was about to reach the bottom of the stairs when Darryn hobbled into view. Her eyes widened. “Darryn!” Unless he had been hiding his ability to break out of jail the whole time, the stableboy walking freely outside of the cells must’ve meant they had released him. A wave of relief washed over the maid.

Riona hugged Darryn, then backed off as soon as he winced. “Sh*t, I’m sorry. I- I just thought that…” She studied Darryn, taking in for the first time the extent of his injuries. Riona cursed again before stepping to Darryn’s side. “How bad is it?”

She readjusted her bag so it wouldn’t get in the way and draped the cape over her arm. Riona offered the other arm, “Need help walking?” He nodded weakly, even though it seemed painful to do it, and held onto her. They bumbled around for a minute before they got the hang of the new arrangement and lumbered up the stairs, one step at a time.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Alibeth Danrose & Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Location: Danrose Castle Library
Time: Morning
Interaction: Queen Alibeth @princess

---

The distinct scent of books, both old and new, hit Ryn as he entered the library. A soothing odor—one that reminded him of his grandmother’s library. Replace the redolent of lilies wafting from the bouquet with honeysuckles and magnolias and he would be right at home.

Despite the morning sunlight pouring through the large window, the library managed to remain dim. Without the assistance of a candle or lamp light, Ryn imagined how difficult it would be to read anything far from the window. On the flip side, the lack of sunlight meant less damage to the books. These architectural choices made Ryn wonder if these types of libraries were designed by people who hated the act of reading books but loved storing them. As if simply keeping books in their possession made them smarter via osmosis. If only it was that easy.

What a dream it could be if people could take a trip to the library, sit there for no longer than a short bath, and then leave the building with all of its knowledge seeped into one’s core like hot water. For those who could not afford the luxury of reading or formal education, it could be a chance to expand their horizons. Ryn gave the fantastical idea serious consideration, going through the logistics of it as he silently ambled deeper into the library.

Queen Alibeth emerged from the very back of the library not too long after Ryn had entered. She calmly moved out from behind a stack, her hands folded neatly as her eyes gave the man a quick sweep. She smiled at him, the sunlight illuminating her form as she stood before the window, “Looking for anything in particular?”

The movement he caught in the fringe of his vision jolted Ryn’s heart. Expecting someone to be in the library helped him feign ignorance, but the fluid grace with which the queen moved still took him by surprise. At first, the count made sure not to face the queen. Just as he passed the wall of books and stepped into the sunlight, he turned his head away from the window. In that brief moment, Ryn prepared himself. Debating what kind of response would gain him more favor. If he was going to play the long game, however, lies closer to the truth tended to be the safest option. So he did what he would have done when the queen spoke.

“Creators!” Ryn jumped and whipped his head toward the window. “Queen Alibeth? Oh, you gave me a fright!” He placed his hand over his heart, taking a step back as he did so, only to bump into a table with a stack of books at the edge of it. The books toppled over, most crashed to the floor while a lucky few narrowly escaped the same fate thanks to deft hands and the sacrifice of a bouquet.

The count glanced at the queen, “Uhh…” then placed the volumes back on the table. “Well,” he said, “that was only mildly embarrassing.” Ryn checked the bouquet’s condition before turning to the queen, “Can we—” he cleared his throat, “May I try that again, Your Majesty? I promise I’ll be less clumsy next time around.”

Alibeth slightly raised a brow in reaction, eying him up and down.

Ryn snatched the bouquet from the floor and walked backwards back to the door. He opened and closed the door for effect, but never left the library. A few seconds later, he opened and shut the door again. This time, when he emerged from the corner, he had nothing in his hands. Ryn turned to the queen and, in mock surprise, he raised one hand to his chest. “Your Majesty? What a lovely surprise to see you here. How do you do?” He bowed, sweeping his arm out.

“I am well.” Alibeth responded curtly, a small smile crossing her face. “Surprised to find me occupying a space in the castle I reside in?”

Ryn watched Queen Alibeth’s expression closely, then smiled broadly. “No.” He approached her, his eyes glancing over the area she emerged from. He spotted nothing amiss, just rows of books after books. “I am, however, curious as to why Her Majesty is in the library and not enjoying breakfast.” With her family. He turned his attention to the queen. He leaned forward, “Have you rested, Queen Alibeth?”

Curiosity killed the cat…Why question me on such things, Count Hendrix? Why the bouquet prior? She thought to herself. Alibeth felt no need to explain herself to a random.

“Are you here for a book in particular?” Alibeth did not pause, practically interrupting him and earning an amused expression from the man. “They should be in alphabetical order for the most part. “ She moved forward until she was before him. This time, she did pause before speaking again, ”State your name. “

Queen Alibeth acted nothing like she did during the party. Gone was the meek trophy wife, replaced by an icy rose with a thousand thorns. A queen who’d send a boy to his death in order to send a message. A woman who, with a high likelihood, did far worse if it meant protecting the status, the reputation, and the illusion of the Danrose name. A person who worked her fingers to the bone for it.

Ruefulness colored the count’s countenance as the queen approached him. The makeup and self-discipline hid her fatigue well, but he did not miss the echoes of her weariness emanating from her person. His eyes swam out of focus, though they never looked away from the queen, staring at something beyond the physical realm. They came back into focus, along with his usual polite smile, only after Queen Alibeth stood before him. “Ah… it seems I failed to make an impression last night, then.” Ryn straightened his back, “My name is Fritz Hendrix, Your Majesty. Count of Erwynn.” He inclined his head once again. “I’ve only recently been blessed with the title.”

Alibeth had remembered him and his name quite well. However, she liked to keep men’s egos in check when she could. “Ah yes. We were acquainted at the ball, weren’t we? Blessed indeed.” She coolly looked down upon him and smiled a little for no apparent reason, ”Perhaps some of the historical books may interest you. Caesonia has a rich and interesting background.” She gestured toward a nearby bookcase. Something flickered in the count’s eyes, but he made no comment. He just continued to smile. “I reckon those flowers were for a maiden you fancy?”

Ryn raised his empty hands with a mischievous expression, “Flowers?”

“Yes you had them previously. I may be older, but you will find I don’t miss much.“

Ryn rubbed his chin, staring at the floor for a spell before clapping his hands together as if he remembered something, “Oh yes! Those flowers!”

“Excuse me, Your Majesty.” He said as he circled around Queen Alibeth. When she turned to face him, nothing but the color orange and the strong scent of lilies greeted her. “Do you mean these flowers?” Ryn lowered the bouquet. Despite the treatment they received moments ago, the orange lilies and the bouquet wrapping looked in pristine condition. “They were meant to be a surprise for someone who looked especially tired and needed at least one nice thing to brighten their morning… Unfortunately, as you are well aware, a certain count made a fool of himself so it’s no longer the surprise he hoped it’d be.” The count offered the lilies to the queen. “For the person who… deserves far more credit than others give her.” History and the like.

Alibeth took them in her hand. She examined them with her eyes as her gaze slid back to Fritz. ”How thoughtful. Thank you, Count Hendrix. Your kindness is refreshing.” She presented him a smile. ”Always a pleasure to be recognized for one’s efforts.” There were two types of individuals who made kind gestures such as these: the ones that were genuinely amiable and the ones who had something they wanted to gain. Considering most people she meant fell into the latter category, she remained skeptical of his intentions.

Ryn returned Queen Alibeth’s smile with a sympathetic one, “It is. Even if it is a duty you willingly bear, it’s nice to be recognized for it on occasion. I hope…”

“I’d be careful with that one, Fritz.” Udo’s words from the meeting rang in Ryn’s head. “It’s damn obvious who’s holding the reins around here. And if that armor she was wearing wasn’t a costume and her sword wasn’t just for show…” The ocean held Ryn’s gaze with such intensity that he felt water being sucked out of him. He took a sip of the bitter tea he prepared to quench his thirst. “You need to consider the possibility that she’s involved.” The insinuation turned the tea in Ryn’s mouth into bile, but he prevented himself from spiting it out. Instead, he washed it—the taste, the phantom smell of charred flesh and burnt down homes, their wails, the emptiness that followed—down by gulping the rest of the tea. Drowning it all into the recesses of his mind.

Ryn shook his head, laughing weakly, and changed the subject. “I failed to impress you, but I hope my feeble attempts of acting suave will be good for a laugh at the very least.”

The orange lilies—the flower of contradicting symbolisms—bid the count farewell. “I’ve intruded on your respite long enough. Thank you for tolerating me, Your Majesty. May your day be filled with more happiness, big or small.” Ryn bowed and turned on his heel. He took a few steps towards the door and then paused. “Ah. Since you did make a suggestion. Which history book do you recommend I read first?”

” You’ve made the impression of a thoughtful young man. Thank you for the lovely exchange.” The queen made her way to the door as well. She paused in the entryway and told him, “I recommend ‘The Dark Ages of Caesonia’.” Then she made her way out. However, before Ryn could leave, he felt a strange magnetizing pull toward the back of the room where Alibeth had first come from.

Ryn held the door open long enough for the queen to exit the library before turning his head and releasing his hold on the handle. The door slowly creaked and shut on its own accord. An eerie silence descended upon the room. He stared at the last row of bookshelves Queen Alibeth emerged from, waiting for something to appear from behind it as she did. Perhaps a hollow-eyed apparition or the shadow of a beast. Something, anything, to explain the pull.

He felt himself being tugged towards the area. Was the past calling him over or was he just imagining it? Unable to resist whatever it was that demanded his attention, Ryn tiptoed his way over.

When Ryn reached his destination, he found a bookcase of fictional novels. A small amount of sunlight reached this area from the window as the feeling of being pulled toward a shelf in particular remained.

The Shelf

“They should be in alphabetical order for the most part.”

Ryn traced his fingers over the spines of the books. For the most part.

He retrieved a pocket watch from his vest. As much as he wanted to thoroughly investigate, he needed to head to the Vikena’s residence soon if he wanted to keep his promise. After a moment of contemplation, Ryn searched the library for a pen and ink and wrote down what he saw in the bookcase onto a piece of paper. While the ink dried, Ryn removed a book from the shelf, confirmed that it was an ordinary novel, then returned it to its original place. He repeated the processes a grand total of 33 times.

Though he found nothing special about the books themselves, he noted that many of them housed a few bookmarks within them. Odd. Are multiple people reading the same books? In the Hendrix household, when more than one person wanted to read a specific book and they were not willing to wait for the current reader to finish it, it was not unusual for them to share the book and utilize multiple forms of marking tools to keep track of who stopped reading where—only when the employees wanted to read the book did the Hendrixes relent and buy additional copies of said book.

Another thing Ryn noticed was that some of the bookmarks had a peculiar hole punched into them. Aesthetic choice or something else? He examined one of the bookmarks, flipping it over and rubbing it with his fingers to see if he could feel anything unusual before placing it back in its original spot.

The bookcase was just as unremarkable as the books themselves. He saw no obvious markings and there were no hidden buttons to be found. For all intents and purposes, it was one of the many bookshelves in a room full of books. That did not mean the library did not have secrets to hide, however.

He glanced over at the neighboring row the queen indicated as the history section. Somewhat reluctantly, Ryn made his way to the section and stared at the volumes of Caesonia’s so-called history. The count smiled wryly at the imaginary librarian, I wonder if the arrangement is intentional. He pulled out the book titled The Dark Ages of Caesonia and flipped it open to the title page. Right below the title was an etching of another, far more famous, artwork; a mural painting that still existed in Sorian. The count’s smile vanished, leaving his features smooth and devoid of emotion.

He snapped the book shut.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Ríoghnach "Riona"

If someone declared that Riona finally went off the rails, she wouldn’t be able to refute the claim. Within a single hour, she violated at least five of the cardinal rules for house servants. She skirted around the rules for years (breaking minor ones once in a while and being cautious enough to breach the major ones in secret), but she never consecutively broke as many rules as she did in such a short time frame. It empowered her as much as it worried her. How long would it take her to lose her grip on… well, herself?

“You had 12 f**king years to try and I’m still here. What’s wrong? Losing your touch?”
“Hmm…” manicured hands with a peaches-and-cream complexion lifted Riona’s chin. The other woman’s violet gaze traveled the lines of the maid’s body, taking her time to appreciate every mark she made. “I don’t know about that.” Her heart-shaped lips formed a coy smile when their eyes finally met each other. “You put up a brave front, but the cracks are showing… it won't be long…” she purred. “Kitten.”

The sadistic bloodhound had a keen sense of smell for detecting weakness, so Riona didn’t doubt the bitch was wrong. Part of her wished she had more time. The rest of her couldn't wait.

---

Location: Danrose Castle
Time: Morning

To say that the other workers freaked out when they saw Riona strolling indoors in stablehand’s garb was an understatement, but the alarm that swept through them like a hive mind when she mentioned Anastasia’s breakfast was palpable. A flurry of activity exploded from the room in an instant. The cooking staff scrambled in the kitchen, making quite the ruckus as they prepared the food trolley. Maidservants jumped Riona, stripping her down and scrubbing every part of her body that wasn’t covered by her undergarments or bandages with damp towels with the same ferocity they used to clean sooty pots. Once they got Riona into presentable attire, they hurled her out with the trolley.

Efficiency wise, everyone knew it would’ve been faster to send someone else to deliver the food (Riona was banking on it too). With the incident with Darryn still fresh in their minds, however, the servants avoided the princess as much as possible. No one wanted to be executed for trivial reasons, especially not for something like serving breakfast late, because a certain maid decided not to inform the cooks as soon as possible. If someone was going to be in trouble for that, then it should be the maid and the maid alone. Fair enough, Riona conceded.

She’d soon find out that the servants were pulling their hair out for no reason and, for the umpteenth time, Riona remembered how terrible communication between staff could be in the castle.

---

Location: Palace Corridor
Time: Morning

Riona knew she’d find no one inside Anastasia’s room when she didn’t see guards posted at the door. A passing manservant informed her that the princess had left the castle with friends to enjoy the archery tournament. Well, that didn’t last long, did it? Apparently, Riona gave the princess too much credit by thinking her guilt would last at least a day. It didn’t even last till noon. She went off to have fun with her friends after a solid hour (if that) in time out while Darryn remained caged in a cell, waiting for death. In the dark, alone and afraid. Riona stormed out, slamming the door shut behind her.

The laughter and chatter of women greeted Riona in the corridor. The heads of a few servants cleaning turned for a moment before they returned to their work when they registered who the women were. King Edin’s courtesans might’ve lived like royalty, but it didn’t mean the staff regarded them as such. At best, they were the highest-paid female employees; at worst, they were “just whores.” To Riona, they were the unsung protectors of the young women working in the castle. Riona shuddered to think how many more girls would’ve been preyed upon by the king if the courtesans weren’t there to curb the worst of his infamous appetite. If he ever put his hands on Mathilda…

Riona stroked her stomach to untie the knot inside. She did her best to hide her unease when she nodded at the courtesans. Each one returned the greeting in their own way. One gave Riona a particularly dazzling smile. As they resumed their conversation, they abruptly froze, their attention fixed on something on the opposite side of the hall. The servants, curious as to why it got quiet, followed the women’s gaze and found their answer. On cue, everybody in the hallway chose a side to stand on and inclined their heads.

The light footfalls, followed by heavier ones, got louder with each step until the edge of a dress came into view. The figure halted in front of Riona, making the chiffon sway forward and gently back. “Kitten, is that you?” a sweet voice asked. A rhetorical question asked only to tell Riona the woman had business with her. Soft hands grabbed Riona’s face and forced her to look at Lady Morrigan.

Lady Morrigan, the personification of “don’t judge a book by its cover.” The carefully crafted illusion, catered to King Edin’s tastes, presented her as a youthful innocent whose head was filled with so much air she’d float straight into the sky—it rarely took long for new staff to figure out she was anything but. As far as Riona could tell, Lady Morrigan had never aged in over a decade. During her years as a maid in training, Riona and her peers spooked each other with horror stories of the various ways Lady Morrigan devoured children to extend her youth. Now older and wiser, Riona knew that Lady Morrigan had no problems bathing in the blood of any living creature of any age; pure evil was a kind of innocence; and a wise wolf hid its fangs.

“Me, oh, my! Why, it is you! What are you doing here, darling? I thought you’d be working at the stables today.” Lady Morrigan's eyes darted between the food trolley and the door to Anastasia’s room. “Unless,” she trailed off, releasing Riona, “this is the stables? Is ‘filly’ code for Anya?” Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Do you mean to tell me the stableboy was working here this entire time? Oh, no wonder he’s in such big trouble! So naughty.” She giggled, “She really does like her boys in servitude, doesn’t she?” The hall of living statutes gave no answer. Unperturbed, Her Ladyship turned her full attention back to Riona. “What are you doing here? Not… cheating, I hope?”

Riona frowned slightly before remembering the punishment. “Of course not, Your Ladyship.”

“Good!” Lady Morrigan lifted each cloche to check anyway, “I’d be so disappointed if you cheated this early, but….” She placed the last cloche down, “I’ve noticed you didn’t answer my question again, Riona. So… I’ll ask one last time.” Lady Morrigan’s smile and voice lacked malice, but it was there, somewhere hidden below the surface. “What are you doing here?”

Riona considered telling the truth, then decided against it. What did Lady Morrigan want with her? She rarely stopped a servant in the hallway to chit-chat with them and left it at that. She wanted something and wasn’t going to leave Riona alone until she got it. Which threw a wrench in Riona’s plan to visit Callum. She needed to find out if Darryn’s situation changed and, if it hadn’t, find out when the execution would be so that she could bust him out before then. Not a conversation to have in front of other people—especially Lady Morrigan. Not to mention, they needed to avoid giving the impression that Callum and she were on friendly terms, too. Emphasis on the word terms. Good terms. Not friends. Never friends.

She could deliver the food to Prince Auguste and see if that shakes Lady Morrigan off. The second prince was generally nice to servants. He’d cover her lies if she did her best puppy-dog eyes. On second thought, maybe not. The last time Riona pulled off puppy-eyes, she was still a kid. If she tried that today, it’d look like she was giving the stink-eye. Even if she convinced Prince Auguste, it didn’t guarantee that Her Ladyship would leave Riona alone long enough to talk to Callum and get Darryn out. Lady Morrigan tagging along also wasn’t entirely a bad thing. A second longer she was with Riona meant Darryn lived that much longer.

Ah, f*ck it. “I am bringing…” Her eyes shifted slightly from the woman to the window behind her. The sunlight shone brightly, casting shadows at specific angles. It was too late for breakfast, too early for lunch. “Brunch to Prince Callum, milady.”

“Alaric?” The use of the prince’s middle name sounded foreign to Riona. She never understood why Lady Morrigan preferred to call the princes by their middle names. Riona guessed it had to do with sorting all of Queen Alibeth’s children into the “A” category (for some reason with Prince Auguste she flipped-flopped between Auguste and Alden, and Anastasia was just Anya). Not that she exactly cared why Her Ladyship did it.

“Hmm.” the strawberry blonde pouted and began drumming her fingers on her lips, her gaze pinned to the ceiling. The solo percussionist drummed in a silence that stretched long enough to make some of the living statues squirm. Just as Riona was wondering if Lady Morrigan planned to stand here till the food turned cold, the woman finally–finally–turned to her, “I think I’ll join you.” She turned to the knights behind her. “Shall we?”

---

Location: Callum’s Bedroom
Time: Morning
Interaction: Callum @Halo

Riona hurried into Callum’s room as soon as they were allowed inside. “I have brought the brunch you requested, Your Royal Highness.” Riona blurted out before he could contradict her.

Lady Morrigan popped out from behind the maid and wiggled her fingers in the prince’s direction. “Good morning, Alaric. How are we feeling? Better?” She moved past Riona and gave a cursory glance of the room, then exclaimed. “Alaric! What in the world happened to your wall?”

Some time between borrowing supplies and now, the young prince apparently decided he'd have a go at making art: a provocative, controversial statement piece. Rough words with rough edges, hope in larger letters, carved deep into the purple canvas that once was a wall. It ensnared its viewers’ attention with its boldness.

Riona’s heart rose at the sight of the carvings. The proclamations alone were enough to feel proud of Callum, but he did more than that. The etchings were the most permanent thing he had ever done.

It’ll remain there, as servants receive the order to buy wallpaper. When the new wallpaper inevitably covers it, it’ll still be there. It’ll continue to stay there, even as people act like it never existed in the first place. As words said fade in time and memory, this wall will remain.

Riona bit her cheeks in an attempt to prevent her from smiling, but her facial muscles had other plans. A small battle of wills ensued. Riona’s lips twitched, her jaw opened and closed repeatedly, until she relented. Riona pushed the trolley to the closest table and flashed a grin, teeth and all, at Callum. Once she got that out of her system, Riona sculpted her face back into a bland expression and began setting up the table.

Lady Morrigan assessed the damage to the wall while telling Callum the obvious ramifications of the vandalism. The knights that accompanied the two women peaked into the room on occasion, but stayed outside of the room. Riona beckoned Callum to sit closer to her. “I didn’t know you were into interior design.” Riona whispered, “Very edgy. I like it. Especially the last bit.” She checked on Her Ladyship again. The topic of her one-sided conversation transitioned to something about this being the perfect excuse to redesign Callum’s room. She showed no signs that she heard Riona.

“And you can start being better,” Riona reached over and wrapped her fingers around the neck of the bottle in Callum’s hand, “by being a little kinder to your liver. It’s been working overtime. Give it a break.” She squinted her eyes at the prince’s fingertips when her other hand gently peeled his fingers off the bottle. On his light complexion, the tiny crimson patches around his nails stuck out. Riona rubbed her thumb against one of them, confirming her suspicions. Automatically, Riona took a step in the direction where the medicine was stored and quickly stopped herself.

Flowing waves of white chiffon and strawberry locks tinted with gold fluttered in the corner of Riona’s vision. Lady Morrigan migrated at some point from the wall to the fireplace, poking and prodding ashes with a fire iron. She continued her complaint about the purple color scheme as she knelt down. Again, she showed no signs that she was paying any attention to Riona or Callum. Something that didn’t bring as much comfort as Riona thought it should have brought. Somehow, it didn’t feel right.

Riona’s fingers picked at the bottle’s label. She leaned down closer to Callum, but kept her eyes fixed on the other woman. “Hey, about Darryn,” she ventured, “when—” Lady Morrigan shot up from her crouched position, causing Riona to stiffen at the spot. She dared not move.

“I really don’t see the appeal to it—no offense, Alaric. What’s wrong with having other colors? Why do you boys insist on having such dark color schemes for your rooms? No wonder you’re all so depressed.” Delicate fingers covered in ash danced across the surface of the furniture along the walls, leaving traces of gray behind. They slithered through every nook and cranny. Exploring. Searching. …Searching?

A little chill crept down Riona’s spine. There’s no way. Lady Morrigan’s hand continued weaving its way forward, drawing closer to one of the spots only three people should know about: Riona, Callum, and whoever built the hidden storage; at least one of those people had a signed death certificate. There’s no way that she knows. But the strawberry blonde didn’t stop touching, she didn’t stop advancing, and Riona thought she saw those violets eyeing her.

A bloodhound, Riona reminded herself. The maid straightened her back and let the grip on the bottle loosen. “Thank you for your patience, Lady Morrigan. We may go now.” She turned to the prince and bowed. “Enjoy your meal, Your Highness.”

Lady Morrigan twirled around, her face brimming with delight. She bounced over to Callum and did what “that one overly affectionate relative” did to younger members of the family. She pinched his cheek with her clean hand and planted a wet kiss on his forehead. “There’re plenty of ladies who find brooding men irresistible. Go get them, stud.” After the comment about “filly” being code for Anastasia, Riona couldn’t help but feel like Lady Morrigan was taking a jab at someone, though she had no idea exactly at whom.

“Oh, and, Riona darling?” Lady Morrigan circled around the prince and plucked the bottle from Riona’s hands. “Don’t be so cruel. There are people in this world who can’t function without liquid courage.” Her Ladyship placed it on the closest surface. There, the bottle sparkled in the sunbeam, like a showpiece. It wasn’t nearly as captivating as Callum’s work on the wall for Riona, but she worried it wouldn’t be the case for the budding artist.

“Come, kitten. Let’s not take more of Alaric’s time.” An ash-covered hand grabbed Riona’s waist and led her to the door. Lady Morrigan looked over her shoulder, “Ta-ta!” she said before the knights closed the door.

Riona sighed, Plan B it is.

🗡 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.