JJ Doe

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Ríoghnach "Riona"

A giant was hunting her.

At first, Riona thought it was just a coincidence—a glimpse of a figure here, an odd sensation of being watched there—, but as the number of coincidences piled, a pattern formed. Each encounter added one more detail to Riona’s stalker. Each detail made it easier to spot him in the background, amongst the crowd, in the corner of her vision. The unease turned into full-on panic when it dawned on her that Riona spotted the man in her memories too: the giant had been tailing long before she noticed his presence. He was there when she gave Lordling Smithwood a piece of her mind; she spun right past him during her dance with Lady Morrigan down the hallway; and he was there across the street when she exited the bank.

Speculations whirled in her mind, every new one worse than the last, making her stomach twist and turn in uncomfortable angles and her heart beat like she was running a marathon. One thing was clear: no matter who the giant was or whomever he was working for, she wouldn't be the one leading him straight to the sanctuaries. Besides, if she wanted answers, what better way to get them than by directly asking?

After a very terse explanation and a marginally longer argument between Mr. Brisby about the best course of action, they agreed to part ways. The carriage dropped Riona off in an alley, where she hid behind some crates and waited. It didn’t take long for her pursuer to appear.

Just as the hulk walked past her, Riona slunk out of her hiding place and thrust the hilt of her unsheathed dagger against his back, ready to replace it with the sharper end if the need arose. “Don’t move. Hands where I can see them.”

The giant stilled, but after a beat, asked, “Which one?”
Another beat passed between them before Riona had to ask, “What?”
“‘Don’t move’ or ‘hands where you can see them,’” the giant added, “I can’t do both.”
A smirk tugged the corner of Riona’s mouth. “True enough. I’d prefer to see your ha—Slowly! … Move your hands slowly and keep them up.” She waited for the giant to do as he was told before continuing, “Who are you?”
“Karleen,” his voice remained monotonic.
Karleen? Not quite the name she imagined the man to have. If that was his real name, that is. “You were following me.”
“Yes.”

The blatant honesty threw Riona off balance. She expected at least some attempt at lying or resistance. Sure, she had a weapon in her hand, but if this escalated into a brawl, it was obvious the man named Karleen could overpower her. He wasn’t tracking her to fight her, then. “Why?”
“My master wants to meet you.”

Riona’s eyebrows knitted themselves together. Karleen was wearing a well-tailored suit with a design seen more often worn by servants working for Varian nobility than Caesonian nobility. If she were to hazard a guess, this master of his must’ve come from Varian. She knew a few people from Varian who might “want to meet her,” but unless things drastically changed since she last saw them, only two (three if she were reaching) were still alive to want that. “And who might that be?”

A silence that she thought would also last a beat stretched out into awkward territory. After all that candor, Riona couldn’t understand why the giant clammed up. Was his master someone Riona wished to avoid meeting? That narrowed her two-item list of suspects down to one. She tried again. “Who is your master?” She anticipated the silent treatment, but was surprised to see the mountain of muscles trembling.

Carefully, Riona edged around the colossal to get a better look at his face. Karleen’s facial expression was taut with intense strain, his eyes fixated on an unseen enemy, while his skin glistened with droplets of sweat and changed colors from the effort of some internal battle that raged silently below the surface. His mouth moved as if he was trying to speak, but his body refused to cooperate.

There were only so many reasons for the body to refuse what the brain wanted—and when Riona saw the thousands of scars and shackle marks covering him, her mind latched onto the first idea that was more common in Caesonia than people realized.

Every shade of disgust washed over Riona. Despite learning at a young age about the depths of human depravity, such atrocities still made her skin crawl. Even so, the giant’s current state was ample proof to elevate her sole suspect to the status of the perpetrator.

“It’s Leo Smithwood, isn’t it?”

Out of the two noble Varians Riona knew of, Princess Sadie was the one who’d never treat her servants inhumanely. If anything, she’d be the first to become absolutely furious if she found out someone used their status as an excuse to mistreat others. She never saw Sadie turn a blind eye to such behavior or make compromises when it came to equality. All life was precious to her, no matter their station. Riona loved Sadie for that. It was also why she knew there was no way in Hells a servant of hers would shiver like a beaten dog when they tried to utter her name.

On the other hand, Lord Smithwood—no, Sh*tlord; Lordling Sh*twood if she was inclined to waste a second more of her life thinking about him—made his contempt for lowborns abundantly clear. Though he refrained from hurting her, maybe he just didn’t want to get into trouble by breaking someone else’s “property.” Did such generosity extend to his own servants?

Gods, how low Varian noble houses have fallen if they only had lordlings like Sh*twood to become the head of their house. The only saving grace was that Riona’s mother didn’t live to see this day. How devastated she would've been if she saw how hard it became to tell the difference between her countrymen and Caesonian toffs.

Karleen directed his hazel eyes at her. He had the type of stone face that made it difficult to read, but somehow Riona got the impression that the name surprised him.

“Well,” Riona sheathed her dagger and crossed her arms, “you can tell Sh*tlord, and you can quote me on this, that I was wrong about him. Not only is he a heap of rotting trash, he’s incompetent and a lazy f**king coward too. If he wants to settle his dispute with me, he can do it himself.”

The bronze-haired man shook his head. “No. Not him.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Then who wants to meet me?”

Karleen opened his mouth, then she watched the same convulsion wrack his body again. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought someone was choking the man for even daring to think of his master’s name. The more he struggled against it, the tighter its hold became. He tried, though. He tried so hard it made it increasingly painful to witness his struggle.

Riona extended her hand but quickly retracted it when Karleen flinched at the gesture. “You shouldn’t push yourself.” Not for such a cruel master. She tried a different tactic. “Is your master a Varian noble?”

Karleen nodded.
“Is your master a man?”
Karleen nodded again, with some hesitation (or possibly confusion).
“Can you describe what he looks like?”

A blank stare answered the question first, followed by trembling. For a moment, Riona feared Karleen was about to suffer another attack, but the trembling subsided as quickly as it came. The giant knew, probably more than she did, how futile the attempt was. “No,” he said, “I can’t. I… just can’t.”

Gods, even imagining his face causes pain? What did he do to you? “Do you know if I’ve met him before?”

After silent contemplation, the man finally answered, “Yes. You’ve bumped into him before. You even talked for a bit.”

Nodding, Riona repeatedly said okay to both Karleen and herself. “I still stand by what I said before. Your master can come get me himself if he has something to ‘discuss’ with me. If he thinks I’m not worth the effort, then neither is he.” She turned on her heels, took a few steps toward the main street, then turned back around to face him. “And if he hurts you because of this, come find me. I know some people who can help you out.”

“He won’t,” the giant’s voice came out gentle, as if to reassure her. “Thank you, Riona.”

She regarded Karleen for a long while before nodding one last time and stepping out of the alleyway. The first clock she found told her she still had some time to spare, so she steered her feet in the marketplace’s direction. Riona was going to need to stock up on some supplies.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Things were finally settling down at the bank after the lunchtime rush. The tide of decent folk—those who made money by actually working, not those who got paid in tax money for lazing around all day—slowed into a trickle as they returned to work. People who came to the bank at this hour were laborers working the lunch or night shift; people whose jobs required them to go to the bank; or well-to-do people who didn’t have a fixed work schedule to keep up. So when a carriage parked in front of the bank, and a posh-looking woman emerged from it, the guard wasn’t remotely surprised. To him, it was just another pompous family coming to do something pompous, in the most pompous way possible. Pompous.

The young woman sported a fine dress commonly worn by damsels from upper-middle-class backgrounds. She even wore one of those ridiculous hats with a wide brim that ladies wore because they were too lazy to hold their own umbrella or wanted to draw more attention to the hat than their faces.

A gust rushed past them, carrying the scent of roasted flesh along with it. The guard wrinkled his nose at the foul smell. There was no avoiding the stench while standing outside, especially downwind. It took the guard half an hour to get desensitized to it. Right when he thought it was gone from the air, the wind graciously reminded him why he hated immolations. They always spoiled his appetite for meat. Then there were the screams. Those haunting screams. At least the winds could never carry those across the city. Whatever he felt, one good look at the lady and he could tell the smell affected her threefold.

The wind drained the color from the lady and robbed her of her breath. She staggered to the side but caught herself before her carriage driver reached over to steady her.

“Are you alright?” The older man tacked on the word ma’am when he noticed they weren’t alone.

“Y-yes,” the lady said in the least convincing tone she could’ve mustered. “I just need a second.” She drew a fan from her purse and fanned herself, smacking the odor away. After a while, she touched the driver’s arm. “I’m fine now, thank you, Mr. Brisby.” They shared a look of camaraderie before the so-called Brisby respectfully backed away. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

He waited for another person to hop out of the carriage. The lady, however, waited for no one and escorted herself to the front doors. The severe lack of male guardians accompanying her baffled the guard. It was obvious the driver couldn’t be it, that’d be inappropriate, so what was a woman doing at the bank alone?

The guard fumbled for the door, barely opening it in time for the unusual customer. The lady—who, as it turned out, didn’t have a face that only Sapreon could love—greeted him with a polite smile and thanked him before entering the bank.

“Oh!” He heard someone inside say, “Welcome, Ms. Vos! How can we be of service to you today?”

---

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Ríoghnach "Riona"

Riona “Vos” sank into the comfortable chair the bank clerk reserved for (welcomed) guests with a sigh. Not even an hour in this getup, and she felt more tired than she felt after long hours of cleaning. Say what you will about maid outfits, at least Riona didn’t feel so confined in them. Even as a child, she despised these fancy dresses, much to her mother’s dismay. Her grandmother was much more understanding, pointing out how the Caesonian aristocrats tamed their women through fashion: what trouble could they possibly get into if they could barely move? Or breathe. Gods! And pockets! Oh, what she’d give for a nice dress with damn pockets.

She brought the cup of tea close to her nose and inhaled deeply, pushing out the smoke of death in her lungs with wild bergamot and red clover. She sipped the tea appreciatively. It tasted exquisite, even more so given that she’d only been consuming water since the 48-hour fast began. At first, Riona considered turning down the offer of tea because of Lady Morrigan’s inspections, but then she remembered she had time to hide the evidence. She wasn’t reckless enough to risk eating the cardamom cookies, though. Her stomach grumbled.

The clerk looked up from the paperwork. “Please, Ms. Vos, have as many cookies as you like. We have plenty more.”

“No thank you,” color flared up in Riona’s cheeks, “I’m trying to cut down on snacks.” The clerk gave her the once over then returned his attention to the documents. He lived long enough to know that comments concerning a woman’s eating habits almost always led to trouble.

What he didn’t have was qualms expressing his disapproval with her monthly donations to charities and unions. For years, he tried to persuade Riona to invest in better business opportunities. This was Caesonia, after all. The land where power was proportional to wealth; “the weak-minded were poor.” Donations that didn’t lead to personal profit made no sense.

Riona took another sip from her cup as she watched the remnants of the clerk’s hair sway precariously in the air. One of them lost its grip and floated away when the clerk scowled at the numbers and mumbled about freeloaders. Every visit seemed to result in one less strand. Riona wondered how much hair would survive if the clerk ever found out the charities and unions were fronts.

The word “front” offended Quack. It implied that the charities and unions were scams. In all fairness, they did what they advertised: most of the money was spent to support the downtrodden. Riona argued they were still front groups because a portion of the donations funded anarchists.

A few years back, Quack approached Riona for a favor. He needed different places to stash money without raising alarms, so he asked her—and many others—to open a bank account. At first glance, it’d appear to be a bunch of people with their own bank accounts, but take a step back, it’s the havens’ treasury.

There was, however, one problem: Riona was a woman. An orphaned, unmarried woman living in a patriarchal society. Without a male guardian, it was impossible for her to create an account—a fact which, apparently, slipped Quack’s mind (or he had certain opinions about her that should remain unsaid). Thus, to solve the problem, Riona did the only thing she could’ve done. She proposed to Dan the stablehand.

Riona turned her head to the seat next to her. It was vacant, but she could see him sitting there.

She remembered how the stunned stablehand broke down into a bright red, sweaty mess who floundered to speak or move so much that Riona thought he was having a stroke. His unabashed smile when he said yes made her heart skip a beat back then, and it still did now. The twinge of guilt and confusion she felt when she clarified they would only be pretending, and saw how crestfallen he looked by her words. She remembered the rush of emotions on his face that followed when she answered his questions: the worry, the fear, and the resolve. Despite whatever reservations he had, he still said yes.

There, in the neighboring chair, Dan demanded the bank to open a joint account for himself and his future wife. True, they were merely betrothed, but they were rich (didn’t they see their expensive outfits?) and they did not take no for an answer! Dan succeeded in exuding the special kind of snobbery and elitism seen in the higher echelons of society. Combined with Riona’s haughtiness adding to the act, they convinced the bank that storing the couple’s money in their bank was far more lucrative than wasting either party’s time trying to get them to bring a marriage certificate. Besides, they had Dan’s official documents. Should their engagement or marriage fall apart, the bank had the important person on record.

At least the bank and Riona agreed; Dan was the important one. He was, in fact, one of the most important people in Riona’s life. So important that thinking about him brought her equal amounts of joy and pain, misery and longing. Every detail of him she pulled from her memories made the hole in her heart grow a little wider; hollow ever deeper.

Dan faced Riona, proudly holding the brand-new bankbook in his hand. His radiant smile blurred Riona’s vision.

The clerk cleared his throat, forcing Riona to turn to him. He held one of the many handkerchiefs he had stockpiled behind his desk aloft. Patiently, he waited. The annoyance that plagued him seconds ago vanished without a trace. It took a second to register that he was waiting on her. Only then did she realize it was the pool of tears that blurred her vision and not Dan’s smile.

She accepted the handkerchief and dabbed the tears away.
“Mr. Vered was a fine man.”
“Yes, he was.” Riona nodded between dabs. “I’m afraid I lost my only chance at happiness.”

“One of your chances at happiness,” the clerk corrected, his voice soft and kind. His gaze drifted to his folded hands. “Losing a loved one is not the end of the world, contrary to what you might feel right now.” His somberness suggested he spoke from experience. “You have your whole life ahead of you, Ms. Vos. There are plenty of fine men out there, and there are plenty of chances for happiness.”

Riona knew he meant well. But she also knew—felt and believed—with every fiber of her being that what he said was nowhere near the truth. Not a single word.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Charlotte & ◆◆◆◆◆

---

"...I beg your pardon?"

“Have you considered the possibility of magic?” The count said casually, as if he asked Lady Vikena if she considered trying osmanthus infused in green tea. An exotic blend by Northern Kingdom standards, but nothing harmful and completely normal in other parts of the world. Adventurous suggestion at best, had it not been about magic.

“I, umm…”

She had watched the Count perform the card trick, revealing the blank card. That had not been startling. She had seen such a feat many times before. But Count Fritz had been clear he was alluding to a different type of magic. At first, she had pondered what that could possibly mean, but deep down she knew: He was alluding to the magic she read about in stories. The card trick was simply to allude to the idea that things are not as they seem.

The type of magic that had a character pursued by a mob of frightened zealots. A story usually ending with the individual burning at the stake for their witchcraft. Such is all fiction and wives' tales surely. The thought had crossed her mind but not her heart nor her gut. Her gaze fell on Thea as she had reacted to the card trick but seemingly missed what else Count Fritz had said. Charlotte found this odd as she had noticed Thea had been paying attention. She rose to hug her friend and bid her adieu.

He bid the young Lady farewell and gave her one of the chocolates as a parting gift. His unwavering smile hid the sliver of wariness he felt from her abrupt departure. While she was quick to come to his defense concerning the card trick—demonstrating the kind-hearted soul she possessed—, the interest that flashed across her face when he mentioned the party and real magic also could not be ignored.

After Lady Smithwood left, △△△ redirected his smile to Delilah, “What card game would you like to play, Miss Delilah?” He leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially, “If I were you, I’d choose something I’m good at because… these chocolates?” He closed his eyes as he kissed his pinched fingers and tossed them away from his lips. “Worth every coin.”

“Oh I absolutely adore chocolates and you! Both just the sweetest.” Delilah had responded to him with a flirtatious giggle, her hands clasping together. She clearly wasn’t the best at whispering. Charlotte had tilted her head and gave her a questioning look, to which Delilah simply winked in reaction. “...My Lottie and I love Liar, Liar. Don’t worry, it’s very simple if you never played! So! We go around in a circle placing cards in chronological order. If my turn was first, I would be tasked to place down whatever twos I have if any. If I don’t have any, then I must place down any amount of cards and lie. The other players can then call out, ‘liar, liar’ if they think I am lying. Then if Lottie was next, she’d be tasked to place down any threes she has. If the person you call a liar, is not lying, then you must take all the cards that are placed down and add them to your hand. The first person to get rid of all the cards wins.”

The count played back the maid’s gesture. He clasped his hands. “Oh, that does sound fun! Let’s play that.” Then he winked just as she did to her mistress, “And I will be a gentleman and not ask why you chose this game, Miss Delilah.” △△△ quickly shuffled the cards and distributed the cards accordingly. “Shall we say one chocolate per game?”

Charlotte had fallen back into her thoughts as Delilah explained the card game. After she had finished and a silence followed, she looked up at Count Fritz, too determined to drop the subject. “You are suggesting witchcraft as a possible reason behind their memory loss… But just as there’s logic behind the illusion of a card trick. Certainly, there could be a reason wedo not understand yet. ”

“I agree. There may even be multiple reasons, too.” △△△ said without missing a beat as he gathered his cards and looked at what he got. “Without proper investigation, everything I say is mere conjecture. However…” He rearranged the cards in his hands. “I must ask, Lady Charlotte. Why is it illogical to think that…” the word witchcraft was halfway up his throat before it transformed into another synonym, “magic is involved in a world where magic exists?”

“Well…Simply put… I don’t know if it exists… Do you?” Charlotte responded. She paused as if focusing on something before she continued. Something felt nostalgic about this whole discussion. However, Charlotte did not want to offend her new friend, so she further explained to perhaps help him empathize with her stance. “I was raised under the notion that magic was the subject of fairytales. It was never mentioned in schooling as something that existed either. Given that I have no proof nor knowledge of its presence in our reality, I am a little more keen towards-”

“If I may, perhaps everyone drank too much.” Delilah interrupted rather hastily, which was noted by Charlotte. She glanced over at the maid inquisitively. Her gaze briefly loomed over her foot slightly tapping against the carpet. “Duke Vikena has made the mistake before and young people sometimes overdo it at parties.”

Charlotte was hesitant. She took a moment before she asked Count Fritz, “Do you know any of whom attended the party?”

△△△’s eyes remained on his cards as a wry smile threatened to take over his more polite one.

The fire consumed everything without mercy. Nothing remained of the fields. Homes reduced to ash, charcoal, and stone. The pile of people, now one massive charred lump, fed the flames. In the middle of the pyre was the witch, her face unrecognizable. The boy knew who she was, however, no matter how disfigured she became. He knew because no other person could conceivably be the showpiece of such a gruesome display.

If magic was just a fairytale, what a cruel world they lived in. This place where so-called witches died for something that did not exist and where his family’s stories were no more credible than the ravings of a madman. Did they really waste lives, time, and effort for absolutely nothing?

“I always thought how fascinating it is that it is illegal—... forbidden? To practice something that doesn’t exist. Do you think the law can charge imaginary friends with a crime?... I would’ve gotten away with so much as a child if it did.”

Charlotte wondered if it was a law in Varian to not produce magic. She had read the laws of Caesonia more than once and she did not recall any mention of magic. But there had been rumors. Magic had always been a no-no word and there were whispers of it being forbidden. Even in jest, people had always seemed to become uncomfortable with the subject. She had always been uncertain if everyone had been superstitious or if it was something that really existed. Her lack of trust in those around her had perhaps led her to lean one way. However, Count Fritz seemed convinced.

△△△ set his card deck, face-down, on the table. “Who would like to go first?” He exchanged looks with the two women a few times before settling on Lady Vikena to answer her question, “A few. I believe you know one of them too. Lord Smithwood?”

“Me first!”Delilah volunteered with a grin, “I have… two twos.” She confidently placed two cards face-down on the table from her hand of cards.

“ Yes… I do. It doesn’t seem like him to drink himself to that point. I’m flabbergasted to hear such.” Charlotte felt concerned for her dear friend and she frowned. ”I do have plans to meet with him later today so I will have the opportunity to ask him about it.” She then placed down a single card, “Um, one three.”

“Liar, liar!”

Charlotte sighed and scooped up the three cards on the table into her hand with the rest of hers. Delilah had also been clearly lying as she had a five and a ten.

Despite this, the count let it slide and deposited his own cards without checking it beforehand. During the first few rounds of the game, instead of calling Lady Vikena or Delilah out on their bluff, △△△ opted to watch for their tells, how they behaved after they got away with it, and how they behaved when they suspected someone else was lying. Games requiring deceit were an efficient and entertaining way of studying body language.

It was why Delilah’s subtle discomfort felt out of place. Her interjection when Lady Vikena was a breath away from offering her opinion on magic did not go unnoticed by △△△ or Her Ladyship. The question was why she had done that. Both women more or less responded to the subject about magic with the same level of skepticism and unease he came to expect from the average Caesonian. They tolerated discussing the taboo topic, but the extent to which they were willing to discuss the matter differed between the maid and her mistress. If anything, it seemed like Lady Vikena’s healthy dose of skepticism stemmed from interest rather than fear or abhorrence—with sufficient evidence she may change her stance. Delilah, on the other hand, preferred the “addict doing what drunk people do” narrative than having Lady Vikena continue to talk about magic.

△△△ glanced over at Delilah. Now that the conversation about magic’s involvement and the mystery of the duke’s disappearance was effectively swept under the rug, the tenseness left her muscles. He kept his eyes locked on her as he addressed another elephant in the room.

“Lady Charlotte, with how hectic things were, maybe you haven’t had the chance to think about it, but have you decided on what course of action to take for your investigation?” He avoided saying ‘about your mother’ in Delilah’s presence.

Charlotte had been rather distracted over the duration of the game. She had seemed hesitant; as if her mind was elsewhere no matter if she had been lying nor telling the truth. This made her quite the decent player without her attempting to be. Delilah, on the other hand, was a terrible liar. She would giggle like a child with a lollipop behind her back for every lie and struggle to hold back her smirk as the corner of her lips twitched.

For the first time in a while, Charlotte had come back to earth as she heard the question that had been posed. She glanced at Count Fritz and gave him her full attention. Her gaze was more intense than usual as she proclaimed calmly, “First I plan to gather a list of everyone that attended the party and talk to as many as I can. I presume even though they have forgotten the party, they may remember the details leading up to it…Then… I think I will find the location of the party as well as its host. Somehow I will.”

“Lottie!”Delilah’s voice was a little shrill as she looked at her, “Whoever hosted such a thing could be a maniac. Much too dangerous!”

Charlotte looked upon the pretty blonde maid and smiled sadly, “Oh how you sound like my mother...” Her gaze subsequently narrowed and she clutched her knees. From Caesonia’s darling to a forgotten member of the forsaken Vikena family, Charlotte had walked on both sides of the road. For the last few years of her life, she had been a wallflower, forced to observe. For the sake of those she cared about, she needed to push off that wall. “I will find out what happened to my mother, what happened to Lorenzo , and what’s going on with this party. And I will do whatever it takes to do so.” The determined expression on her face seemed to upset Delilah.

Her mind wandered back to the man who had threatened her at the park. That was proof there was so much more to what was happening. But if she mentioned that now, Delilah would double down on worrying for her safety. “Whatever I do, I will be careful.”

The maid did not look eased. She set down her cards.

At first, △△△ thought Lady Vikena was speaking about the ball rumored to have lead to her mother’s demise. Then he realized she was referring to his earlier comment about the magical afterparty and the odds of the duke taking part in it. Even though she made it clear how skeptical she was about magic and how much she wanted to trust her father’s words, Lady Vikena decided to look into it. At that moment, △△△ could not help but admire her bravery in seeking the truth.

He nodded his approval of Lady Vikena’s plan. With no other clue to follow—not ones he could share—, they had to start somewhere and a list of attendees was as good a start as any. He turned to the first available person who might have known about the party. “Miss Delilah,” the tenseness returned to the maid’s muscles, “were you aware of this other party?” The count reached for a chocolate and handed it over to the maid. He had a feeling that they would not be finishing this card game any time soon and, if that were to be the case, he refused to let Delilah leave without something nice to have for herself. Especially since this seemed to be a topic she wished to be no part of. “Do you know who could’ve been invited?”

“No, no. I didn’t know there was one.”Delilah said and turned her attention to the chocolate eagerly. She did not seem to be lying or phased by the question. There was a gleam in her eye as she delicately placed it on her tongue. “Mmm…”

After a moment she glanced Charlotte’s way. “I am going to go check on Duke Vikena, and see if he wants anything. He has that horse race to host soon if you recall… You two have fun.” She smiled as she stood up and looked at Count Fritz, “Oh, and thanks for the chocolate honey. “ She gave him a wink and mouthed to Charlotte before taking her leave, “If you don’t take him I will.”

After a pause, Charlotte looked to Count Fritz once she was sure Delilah was gone. “There was something else… But it may sound crazy.” She proceeded to then lowly tell him about the man from the park who had tried to push her away from investigating further with a threat. She also informed him that she had not been able to see his appearance.

△△△ smiled, offering the other chocolate to Lady Vikena. “If it helps, I’m the oddball who believes in magic. I’m used to ‘sounding crazy’.” As she told him about her encounter with a mysterious man, △△△ closed his eyes, taking it all in. Evidently, they had been followed or watched through other means. Since when?

“This sounds more like someone feels threatened by you, Lady Charlotte. If they’re trying to deter you from investigating before you even really started, I think they believe you to be a liability. And from what I gathered so far, it’s a very short list of people who might think that.” His head turned towards the window facing Damien’s estate.

“The world is filled with unknowns. Your beliefs do not mean you are crazy… As for the latter statement, I do agree. That was the feeling I had.” Her gaze followed his to the window.

The mysterious man may not be working directly for Count Damien, but it seemed improbable that the earl of Montauppe played absolutely no part in the strange occurrences involving the Vikenas. It would explain why Count ◆◆◆◆◆’s name came out of the blue. Unless…

On the castle wall, two figures faced the direction of the ocean. The sky blessed them with a sunny day. Yet, the wind felt bitter, sending chills down △△△’s spine. “The time’s come,” Udo said in his native tongue, “for our rivers to part ways.”

△△△’s hands grabbed his upper arms to shield himself from the absent cold.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

◆◆◆◆◆ "△△△" ◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

Location: Vikena’s Estate
Time: 12:00
Interactions: Lady Charlotte Vikena @princess; Lady Thea Smithwood@Tae

Lady Vikena’s update, while concise and intended to assuage the count’s concerns, only sprouted more questions. He made sure to say, “What a relief to hear that,” and to a certain extent, he wasn’t lying. Duke Vikena‘s return was welcome news. What troubled him now was how “safe and sound” the duke truly was.

△△△ cocked his head to the side. “Lady Charlotte, if you don’t mind, can you give me,” Lady Smithwood caught his attention, “us, the details?... What precisely happened?” Perhaps a fresh pair of eyes would prove beneficial.

The longer and more detailed recounting of the events that transpired happened over tea. Lady Vikena did most of the talking, with the occasional commentary from △△△, Delilah, or Nathaniel—who briefly stopped by to check if the guests were properly tended—interspersed throughout. △△△ and Delilah took over the talking to fill in the gaps in the story Lady Vikena missed or wasn’t present for. △△△ conveniently omitted his encounter with Peter in the garden from his account. They had decimated the rationed cookies and tea by the time they reached the end.

Delilah left the room to remake the tea and bring in the chocolates along with a deck of cards, at △△△’s request. After deliberating whether they should have a proper meal for lunch instead of snacks, he steered the conversation back to Duke Vikena.

During the entire recounting, △△△ could not shake the feeling of doubt in Lady Vikena’s tone. A subtle shade, not opaque enough to disregard the possibility that her father was right out of hand, but nonetheless present. She may eventually accept his explanation as the truth.

One more voice. One more voice could tip the scales. All △△△, a third-party who was there with her most of the night, had to do was agree with her father and the tale would become fact: Duke Vikena was in the garden the entire time.

“He said he was in the garden, under the shade of an oak tree.”

△△△ would not, however, be that voice.

He fixed his eyes on Lady Vikena’s. “But he wasn’t. We searched the garden. You, Ms. Delilah, Mr. Nathaniel, Mr. Benjamin.” Peter and Wayra’s owl. “Everyone in the house searched every inch of the estate. He wasn’t here. You are not wrong, Lady Charlotte.” △△△’s firm expression softened as he added, “Not taking your father at his word isn’t a betrayal.” As much as he loved his family and as much as he would do anything for them, not even △△△ believed every word they said. Especially not the ones passed down through the generations, eroded and glorified by the passage of time. “Intuition is not a skill to be overlooked, detective.”

Delilah reentered the room with the requested items. She handed the deck of cards to △△△ and began serving the tea while he shuffled the cards with a practiced flourish. He asked what card game they, staff included, should play to win their right to eat mouthwatering chocolate—chocolates, if luck favored them.

As he continued to shuffle the cards, △△△’s mind wandered to the conversation he had with Dr. Williamson not long ago.

“Do you recall the party I mentioned in the library? The very exclusive, invite-only, secret party? Well, it turns out,” △△△ paused, “and you didn’t hear this from me, as it seems the Crown wants to keep this incident a secret to avoid public embarrassment... Well, it turns out two of the royal children took a number of the ball guests to this party.” He placed the deck of cards on the table and slid them to the side, leaving behind a trail of cards in its wake. △△△ picked up one end of the trail to create a wave with the cards. He rode the wave with his thumb, passing it to his other hand when it reached the midpoint. He pushed the cards back and forth while he continued to talk. “What’s very interesting about this particular party is that every single person who attended—…” A slow domino effect rippled down the ribbon spread to completion, the end result showing that there was nothing unusual with the standard suit. All 52 cards were accounted for. “Now suffer from varying degrees of amnesia regarding the events of last night.”

He reassembled the evenly dispersed cards into a deck before reshuffling them. “I cannot claim with confidence that your father participated in this party. However, this incident brings up a… possibility you should take into consideration.” He took the top card from the deck and, after showing it to his spectators, he flipped the card over to look at what he chose. Ace of spades, upside down.

‘Ace of swords, reversed,’ his grandmother whispered. She leaned in to inspect the card, her dark eyes twinkling with keen interest.

But for whom?

‘Did you ask the Cards beforehand?’

‘Oh love,’ △△△’s grandfather leaned in from the other side. His lighter brown eyes regarded the card with far more skepticism. ‘I think you’re asking a bit much from regular old playing cards. I mean, if it were that easy, everyone would make a fortune gambling. Don’t you agree, lad?’

△△△ flipped the card again. “The possibility that magic is involved.” He noted the others’ reactions as they realized that the card he held was no longer an ace of spades, but a blank card. Before they could jump into any hasty conclusions involving transmutation, he revealed the second card hidden behind the blank card. “And not of the parlor trick variety.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

◆◆◆◆◆ "△△△" ◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

Location: Vikena’s Estate
Time: 11:00
Interactions: Dr. John Williamson @Conscripts; Lady Charlotte Vikena @princess; Lady Thea Smithwood@Tae

When Dr. Williamson appeared at the entrance with Delilah, △△△ feared something dreadful had happened to Duke and/or Lady Vikena—a worry that the good doctor quickly extinguished with a gentle reassurance that he did not come to the estate in any professional capacity. He gave △△△ the short version of the series of events that led him to visit the Vikena’s, which led to him encountering a Varian count at the front door, which led to said count apologizing for forgetting that even doctors pay social calls. The count offered a cookie from the gift basket to Dr. Williamson for the offense, and another to Delilah to buy her silence. The three chatted until Dr. Williamson excused himself. He had one foot over the threshold when △△△ asked him, “In your professional opinion, is it medically possible to determine if someone is or has been under the influence of magic?”

---

“H-hello there Count ◆◆◆◆◆.” The sound vanished before it reached △△△’s ears, but he kept the smile pinned to his face. If he ignored the oddities he acquired, everything else functioned as normal. How often do people need to check their reflection in a day, anyway? If his appearance looked weird, someone was bound to inform him in some manner, whether it be verbal or by gawking. He had entire conversations with people without anyone bringing up their names. This was just like that. There was no need to feel sad about it.

“Hello there, yourself,” He hesitated a bit before testing the waters, “Lady Charlotte.” △△△ arguably overstepped his bounds by addressing Lady Vikena by her first name, without the proper title, the night before. However, she also called him ◆◆◆◆◆, and based on the staff’s interaction with the future duchess, he got the impression that the Vikenas were not stringent about protocols.

“Have you met Lady Thea?” Lady Vikena gestured towards a young blonde woman with vaguely familiar eye colors.

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet.” Lady Smithwood’s smile was stiff, put on for Lady Vikena’s sake. If anything, it seemed as if △△△–a stranger–had intruded on an important moment between friends. His smile turned into the more apologetic variety before he bowed.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Smithwood. I’m—” △△△’s throat constricted on the name before it could come out. A bead of sweat formed as his throat continued to tighten and refused to relent. It only released him when he said, “I’m Lady Charlotte’s new friend,” instead.

He knew he paused too long, but before anyone could ask questions he attempted to redirect their attention elsewhere. △△△ wiped the seat off and fidgeted with his bangs. “Look at me stumbling over my words. I’m sure you receive compliments like this often, Lady Smithwood, but your eyes are quite stunning! Heterochromia, yes? My grandmother has heterochromia too. Although they’re a few shades darker than yours.” He closed his left eye and pointed at his right eye. “One eye is the same color as this,” then he opened his left eye, “and her other eye is a very dark blue. Actually, most of the time they both look black, but in the right lighting you can see how blue her left eye is.” The thought of his grandmother’s eye color triggered an image of a shark to flash through △△△’s mind. He clapped his hands in sudden excitement. “Like sharks! Did you know sharks don’t actually have black eyes? They’re deep blue! In fact—” The part of the brain responsible for restraint prevented △△△ from dumping useless trivia on the ladies. The point was to divert their attention, not his. “Pardon me. I have a habit of prattling.” He cleared his throat and quickly said yes to the tea.

“Oh, I know what would be wonderful with tea.” △△△ lifted the gift basket, “I’ve come bearing gifts for you.” He held the position until he lowered the basket. “Okay, I may be lying a bit. It’s mostly gifts for Kier and,” At the mention of Kier, he glanced around the room and he frowned slightly at the absence of Vikena’s furry family members. The smile reappeared when he spotted one of the fuzzballs. △△△ pinched a small portion of the cat treat from the basket and knelt down, beckoning the kitten to come closer. “And offerings for the new master of the Vikena household…” He saw Delilah mouth a word in his direction. It took a second or two for △△△ to string the letters into a meaningful word. “Lord Champion,” △△△ lowered his head deeply, as if in reverence, as he waited for the kitten to approach. Champion curiously sniffed the air, his nose twitched repeatedly as it guided him to the source of the delectable smell. “Aros,” △△△ whispered. The kitten stared at him blankly, not comprehending what he just said, but unwittingly fulfilling the command. The count rewarded Champion for “waiting” with the treat.

He stood back up, pulling out a decorative can and a box to show to the noblewomen, “For Lord Champion’s human subjects, I have cookies and chocolates. I wasn’t sure how many people would be here, so there might not be enough for everyone, but…” △△△ peeked into the can. “If we’re civil about this, I believe everyone in the house can have at least three cookies each.” He winked at Delilah. Four for her. “Afterwards, we can have a very mature, very organized discussion about who can have the rest of the cookies. As for the chocolates, well, we’ll have to battle to the bitter end for these, because there’re only four pieces in here.” He returned the sweets to the basket before handing it over to Delilah. He trusted she knew what to do with them.

After Delilah left to retrieve the tea, the count stepped closer to Lady Vikena. “Seeing that the house is not in utter panic and chaos, Miss Ruby is nowhere in sight, and you’re looking much better.” He glanced in Lady Smithwood’s direction and lowered his voice, uncertain how much she knew or whether Lady Vikena wanted her to know about it. “Am I correct in assuming that you’ve found your father safe and sound?”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Morning Sola 21, 1739: Udo’s dream

Udo

The radiant sun bathed the world with its light and warmth. It made the colors more vivid, the sea-scented breeze saltier, and the fragrance of flowers and fruits sweeter. The humid air stuck to the body like a second layer of skin. Beyond the ambiance of gentle waves lapping against the shore and wildlife deep in the jungle, Udo heard the laughter of children, conversations sprouting here and there, and the sounds of his tribesmen busy with their work. The noise of everyday life. The music of home.

This tropical island was one of thousands of small islands in the east, unimportant to most people, but it was where his heart ached to be. Not a day passed without him thinking of it—of them.

Udo watched his family from a distance. His wives talked animatedly amongst themselves as they went about their domestic chores. Some of his children helped their mothers with the work while others played. A handful of them took their pranks a little too far and were getting an earful from Udo’s blood-mother, while his other mother nodded in agreement. The children looked at Udo’s blood-father, who stood nearby, with pleading eyes, but as soon as he tried to temper his wives’ rage, he received an earful from his husband instead. Not far off, his siblings prepared for the next Kraken hunt under the tribe elder’s tutelage.

What would Udo not do to run to them, scoop them up into his arms and smother each and every one of them with kisses? If he could talk to them, if they would listen, he’d tell them how much he loved them. Just thinking about them made his heart swell and burst. Alas, Nnenne forbade it. Until he proved himself worthy, he couldn’t join them.

Something large in the sky rolled in, blocking the rays of sunlight. Udo looked up at the surface water. Two bodies with fishing lines tethered to them drifted above him, sinking into Nnenne’s embrace. Tiny silhouettes of the feathery pallbearers followed the bodies from the surface. Behind them loomed a massive figure, covered with hundreds upon thousands of red lights. Silver hooks twinkled as they were cast and lowered into the water.

A thin stream of crimson smoke rose to the surface. Udo’s gaze followed it back to its source and saw that it was coming from the hole in his chest. Smelling the blood in the water, a shark approached Udo.

Dark orbs stared at him and it smiled, showing off its pearly whites. The sharp edges of its teeth grazed Udo’s skin. He felt no fear. The creature swam around Udo, occasionally nipping at him, but attempting nothing beyond that. He was safe with it, not that the same could be said for it.

The hooks from the giant shadow caught onto the shark’s hide. When they failed to stay in place, they peeled off the skin and tried again. The shark attempted to shake the hooks off, but the more it struggled, the more tangled it became.

Udo scanned his surroundings, hoping to find something to free the creature, but stopped when he noticed that everyone in the village had also stopped what they were doing and were facing him. They didn’t acknowledge his presence in all these years. Now he had everyone’s attention.

The ruffling of leaves alerted Udo of another. An old woman, Udo’s blood-grandmother and Nnenne’s priestess, wrapped in a white and blue toga, appeared from the greenery with a harpoon in her hands. She held her grandson’s gaze as she offered the enchanted weapon to him and nodded.

Udo felt his chest tighten as happiness erupted from within. Of course, it made sense that the person who delivered him from his blood-mother’s womb would be the same person to send him off. He gingerly took the harpoon from her hands and leaned forward to receive the priestess’s blessing. She lifted the arm with a floral bracelet made of fresh nerine blooms around her wrist and recited a few words before she made a familiar gesture.

His vigor renewed, Udo turned around to free the shark and saw it had vanished, being hoisted away by the threads. In its stead was a large rooster, moving its wings and legs in an uncoordinated manner. Had the situation been less urgent, Udo might’ve laughed.

A breeze cut through the still waters. The wind picked up speed, evolving into a gust powerful enough to make a full-grown man become airborne. The currents launched him skyward, the flightless bird in tow. It flapped its wings and paddled about with all its might to keep up. Within seconds, they reached the shark.

The enchantment on the harpoon transformed the surrounding water into a blade, allowing Udo to cut thread. The strings, having a life of their own, reached for the shark relentlessly. He repelled with a fury of slashes that made it difficult for them to keep their hold. The shark slipped away from their reach. They were, however, not leaving empty-handed. For every line Udo freed the creature from, two more wrapped themselves around him. In the end, countless strings bound the warrior, now no different from prey caught in a spider’s web.

The shark—no, a four legged beast—though far from the web’s reach, didn’t fare any better. Tangled in the bundle of fishlines, the creature couldn’t move and it plummeted helplessly into the ocean deep. Udo struggled against the web, even as it dug deep into his flesh, but he was powerless to stop the beast from melting away into the abyss. Alone.

A bullet brushed against his cheek, forcing his attention back to the surface. The enormous shadow showered him with pieces of metal. Though the density of the water slowed them down, he knew the shield between him and the guns wouldn’t last forever.

Nevertheless, that wouldn’t stop him from fighting to the very end. He relaxed, saving his energy for the upcoming battle while the net continued to pull him closer to the shadow.

Suddenly, in the rain of bullets, the sun dropped from the sky. Its heat boiled the water, releasing a blinding amount of smoke, bubbles, and golden sand. It zipped past Udo like a shooting star, heading straight for the darkness below. Although the smoke, bubbles, and sand obscured most of the object, he could see that the sun was a massive ball of charred bodies clinging to one another.

Embracing each other. Never letting go. No matter what. They endured. Together. Forever. In life and in death.

Udo tightened the grip on his spear and faced the shadow proper. The red lights focused on Nnenne’s warrior. Good, he thought. If he could serve as a distraction, then all the better.

As the net drew him closer to the figure, he took in a deep breath. He filled his lungs full of water and raised his spear, then plunged it forward into—

Udo stared at the ceiling with his hand extended as the waking world came into focus. He thought the rest of his dream would fade away, but it lingered. He could still smell the sea in the air, taste the salt on his tongue, and the warmth and humidity of the island. For the first time, Udo didn’t feel cold or dry in the Northern Kingdom. He lowered his hand, hitting someone next to him.

He glared at the red-headed scoundrel splayed out next to him. Despite being smaller than the warrior, he took up ⅔ of the bed. For his insolence, Udo shoved Peter off. Peter hit the floor with a loud thud, but didn’t wake up. He stirred slightly and stole the rest of the blankets. An uncommon, but not rare, phenomenon for the light sleeper seen only when surrounded by people Peter felt safe with. He smirked at the stupid rascal.

When the mattress moved, Udo turned around and saw that Karleen was sleeping at the edge of the bed. The giant mass of muscle was curled up into a ball like an armadillo, protecting her stomach from any potential danger. She escaped enslavement, but little habits like this took forever to leave her. Udo hoped one day she wouldn’t be afraid to sleep with her stomach exposed to the world; to become as brash as the idiot on the floor and take up as much space as she liked. Poor, magnificent girl.

Fritz, the one person who the bed was prepared for, slept in a chair, feet propped up on the table and arms dangling off the side. Based on the pool of papers on the table, the book on the floor, and the bottle of painkillers, it took little to surmise that their leader kept working well after their meeting. Sweet idiot.

A bunch of broken outcasts. All f**k-ups in their own right, but they were his f**k-ups.

Udo’s eyes stung, like a novice who just started learning how to keep his eyes open in the ocean. He clenched a fist over his chest and looked back at the ceiling, torn between feelings of guilt and elation.

Nnenne, how could he abandon them like this? What kind of protector would he be to leave them to fend for themselves this early in the hunt? Was there nothing he could do for them?

Something moved at the foot of the bed and stepped on him. It waddled up the length of his body until it came into Udo’s line of vision. A drenched rooster stared down at the islander; displaying intelligence and wisdom unbefitting its vessel.

His feathered friend laid on top of Udo’s chest and stretched its neck out, leaning its head against his neck. Udo returned the hug.

Enjoy the sun today while it lasts, for it will rain tonight.

---

---

Fortune favors the brave, so have the courage to follow your heart

&
Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Location: Castle Guesthouse
Time: Some time after the Count met the Queen in the Library and before the Princes’ Court
Interaction: Zarai @Rodiak

Ryn locked the door to his room after double-checking that he had everything in the gift basket, circumventing any possible future where he’d embarrass himself and/or any nearby empaths by trying to present something that was never there in the first place. He slipped the key into his pocket and was making his way to the lobby when he heard chatter coming from that direction.

At the entrance, Luz and Sir Barrios were in the middle of a conversation. The surrounding servants, who presumably assisted them to this point, were filing down the hallway. When they came across the count, they bowed respectfully. Ryn stopped and greeted each and every one of them, addressing them by their respective names and maintaining eye contact as he did so.

The reception was a mixed bag: from indifference to shock; suspicion to delight. An entire array of facial expressions presented themselves. The one emotion that got to him, however, was the face of fear. He has seen that face many times, more than he liked to admit. Ryn could not tell if it was his eyes or the noble title that caused it, but every time someone regarded him with trepidation, his chest constricted. No matter what the reason was, his existence was a source of fear and he did not intend to torment them more than necessary. He inclined his head, bid them a good day, and slipped past the servants so that they did not feel obligated to stay.

"Look at all of these flowers! I look like a walking garden. On wheels! And this yellow, it’s hideous." Zarai's complaints could be heard.

"My Lady, you are a beautiful young lady. I am sure the princes will appreciate the time and effort your mother put into your outfit for their court." Sir Barrios sounded like he was reading off a script. Bored and uninterested with the talk of colors and dresses. The more she complained, the more he wished he had stayed back home in Puerto Vira. He’d be having his second breakfast around now.

"Who cares about the princes, what will the other ladies think?! This color really washes out all the color from my face."

"I wouldn't necessarily say that that is a bad thing right now, my lady."

Ryn’s dimmed smile brightened when he saw Luz, all in yellow and white. “A good morning, Lady Lesdeman. You are looking as lovely as ever.” He walked closer to the two, nodding to Sir Barrios, “And a good morning to you too, Sir Barrios. It’s nice to see you here! How have you been? It feels like ages since I last saw you.”

"Oh!" Zarai smiled when she recognized the voice and pushed one of the wheels to turn her chair and face Fritz. "Good morning, Count Hendrix," she had to remember that Sir Barrios was still standing next to her and had to keep the formalities up. He’d probably inform her mother of this little interaction. She’d have to pay him off, or win him over if he was going to be accompanying at all times. "You flatter me, Count, but I am well aware of the state of my face."

Behind her, Sir Barrios shifted in his spot and bowed to the Count. "Well met, Your Excellency." His shoulders stiffened at the sight of the man, but his voice and face remained neutral otherwise. A toast covered in butter and grape jam sounded great right now, a bit of cheese and fruits on the side, Sir Barrios’s stomach protested, lucky for him neither of the nobles took notice.

Ryn waited to see if Lesdeman’s knight would provide more. His silence indicated he intended to keep his interactions with the count to a bare minimum. Ryn smiled politely and nodded with a certain understanding before turning to Luz. “Nonsense. I hardly noticed from a distance.” He knelt down in front of her, adjusting their height difference so that she did not have to add a strained neck to the pile of injuries.

"Perfect, I will have Sir Barrios have everyone who wishes to talk to me to stay at a distance." Zarai watched him knelt down, but said nothing of the action. It wasn't necessary but she knew he had to keep appearances, especially with the knight silently watching like a hawk. She stole a glance at the knight, he looked concentrated. Probably wouldn’t want to miss a thing during their interaction.

Whoever did Luz’s makeup did their absolute best to conceal the reds, blues, and purples—and from a distance, they indeed succeeded. “Distance,” being the operative word. At a closer inspection, it became evident how battered Luz was and her makeup artist did not know the first thing about color correction. Ryn’s fingers fluttered over the side of her bruised eye. He sucked a breath in as he scrunched his face up, “That’s quite the shiner… Does it still hurt, My Lady?”

Zarai felt her chest tighten for a second and heat rise in her cheeks. "No. Yes. Sometimes." She quickly said, glancing down briefly. "It is nothing Your Excellency should worry about." Fritz had seen her bruised up before, patched her up too. One too many drinks and an asshole at the bar usually meant fists would fly by the end of the night. Nothing that she could handle.

“Rumor has it that you were injured from a wild round of fisticuffs during a late night excursion?” Come to think of it, Ryn had yet to hear Duchess Lesdeman’s version of events. Did she claim her daughter had been assaulted by some hooligan while in the presence of royalty? No, that would imply that the Danroses were incapable of protecting their esteemed guests in their own city. The last thing the Lesdemans would want is to ruin the two family’s relationship. Perhaps the Duchess played the old “she fell down/into the stairs/horse/furniture” card. “Was the… opponent captured?” Given Luz’s usual bar etiquette, he had reason to be careful about calling them an assailant. Truth be told, Ryn was concerned whether Luz’s challenger received proper medical attention after their unquestionably bloody match.

"I..." Zarai didn't know if she should tell Fritz of the after-party. The queen clearly did not want word of it getting out. The Alidasht royals were already doubting their stay here, and it was only the first day. Zarai would rather avoid adding to an already delicate situation or be the reason the public knew of the whole thing. "I can't remember much," she didn't want to lie to Fritz, "Or anything important, actually."

Not for the first time since Udo’s report Ryn questioned the nature of the spell and how powerful it was. And at what cost?

“Well! It is heartening to have an heir willing and capable of fighting her own battles.” Admittedly, Ryn realized a second too late how the Lesdemans might misconstrue his words as sarcasm or a threat, maybe both. Sarcasm, because of the myriad of underhanded sabotages they committed against Crosswinds Tradings and the Hendrixes throughout the years—at least Luz had the decency to personally confront a Hendrix without causing needless harm to innocent bystanders. A threat, because the Lesdemans were falsely advertising the heir of Puerto Vira as a meek, frail noblewoman, somebody who would never take part in unsavory activities such as late night parties, bar fights, and—worst of all—mingling with the common folk. What would happen if anyone, especially a Hendrix, said something to undermine her “selling point”? Ryn’s gaze flickered over to Sir Barrios. The knight looked at the count, lips twitching slightly as he shifted his weight from one foot to another but continued to stay silent. Too busy thinking about a second breakfast he would never have.

Zarai laughed for a second before she inhaled sharply and pressed a hand against her side. She wished she could laugh, a real belly laugh. Oh, if only Sir Barrios weren't here listening to their every word. She would have agreed with him and told him she did not need to pull strings or spread false rumors to deal with her problems. Although, throwing fists would not solve every single one of them. She wished they could. Lord Monet, her parents, her reputation, her whole name, and everything that came with it. Zarai wouldn't mind being alone.

She could become a hermit writing love poems about the beauty of women.

Ryn studied Luz’s face for a few long seconds. Her laugh looked and sounded constrained. Trapped in a cage; suffocated by this life. This won’t do. The lobby was deserted save for the three, and his ears couldn’t pick up another soul in the vicinity. He assessed the chair as he hastily placed the gift basket to one side and leaned in close to Luz. “My Lady!” he gasped, “You mustn’t overexert yourself!” Ryn placed his hand on Luz’s upper arm in full view of Sir Borrios. While the knight was distracted, Ryn’s other hand tapped Luz’s leg—a signal, as not to alarm her for what he was about to do—before his arm brushed past her. He reached under the wheelchair and messed with the mechanism which allowed the wheels to spin properly. “Do you require medical assistance?” He rubbed Luz’s arm as if it had the power to soothe the pain—physical or otherwise.

She almost laughed again at his reaction but was quick to remember that Sir Barrios was still in their presence. How many times had he not seen her behave in such a way unbefitting of a lady of her status? Instead, she decided to go along as she cried out again, holding onto her side with both hands now. Upon feeling the tap on her leg, she pulled it back to let Fritz mess with the chair. She bowed her head, hiding it from Sir Barrios so he would not see the laugh that threatened her lips.

Ripped from the delicious fantasy of freshly baked bread and the sweetest of jams, Sir Barrios finally rushed to her side to ensure the lady was okay. He stared at Count Hendrix's hand on her arm as if it had offended his mother but restrained himself from saying anything that might upset the man. The stories he had heard from the Duchess and the Duke were enough to deter the knight from making any comments or snide remarks toward any Hendrix. "My Lady, should I fetch a physician?" He knelt next to the chair, eyes now trained on Zarai.

Zarai shook her head quickly. "No, just..." She pressed her fingers into her side to distract her from the laughter. "Could you please fetch a servant and ask for a glass of water, please?"

Sir Barrios hesitated. It was clear that he did not want to leave her alone with the Count, but the small nod Lady Lesdeman gave him with that pained expression made the knight fold. He nodded, standing up and bowing to them both before quickly leaving the hall to find a servant.

"Well," Zarai sat up finally releasing the strained laughter. "That was easy."

“Too easy. Now I feel like I overdid it.” Ryn pointed at the wheelchair. “Should I fix that? I was hoping it’d give us some time alone, but I obviously overestimated how immune Sir Borrios is to your charms.”

"Fritz, no one can resist my charms." Zarai smirked, shimming her shoulders from side to side in a little dance. "But please do fix it, and Sir Barrios doesn't know he can't trust me. Not yet anyway." She cleared her throat, looking at him with an easy smile. "What are you doing here? Don't tell me you are here to offer your hand in marriage." She wiggled her eyebrows, "Quick, bed, wed, behead."

“‘Don’t tell me’?”. Ryn leaned in closer, while his hand reached back down to put the mechanism back into place, and whispered, “How am I supposed to ask, then?” His eyebrows did a little jig of their own. The eyebrows stopped mid dance, “Wait.” He pointed at her. “You’re still mad at me for the whole Count Hendrix thing! Luz. If you want me dead, all you have to do is ask your mother and she’ll send the assassins within the next 3 to 5 business days. Tonight, if she wants to support local businesses.”

She gasped at the accusation, one that would have had head-turning if the hall were not empty. "Nonsense! Why would I send my mother or others to take care of my business?" She pressed a hand against her chest.

“Ah, but what is nepotism, but resource in another name?” Ryn readjusted himself into a squat. “Actually… Marriage is one way of acquiring Erwynn and my family business legitimately, isn’t it? I can die from some ‘unfortunate’ and completely ‘unavoidable’ accident and the Lesdemans get it all. And, bonus, you’d be eligible for marriage again. Hmm… that’ll give you ample time to find your one true love—or at least have a good idea of who’ll be in your harem—, we get to spend quality time together without all this hiding, and I get to be a nightmare of a son-in-law for a few months. Cause it’d be kind of suspicious if I died any sooner. By the Creators, it’s brilliant! You’re a genius, Luz! Yes, I accept your proposal.” He offered his hand. Luz rolled her eyes and pressed her lips in a tight line, trying not to smile. “Take me, now!” Ryn whispered again “Pretend I jumped into your strong, capable, arms here and we’re rolling off into the metaphorical sunset. It might take a while by wheelchair, but if we elope now, I think we’d make it back to Puerto Vira by the end of next month and we can have our wedding ceremony once we get there.”

"You read me like a book, Fritz. How could you have known of my super top-secret plan?! And here I thought I had fooled you." Zarai shook her head, the smile now slipping through. "As much as I like the idea of you being the absolute worst son-in-law to my mother, I could not put you up to that such a horrible torture; you might start to beg me to kill you just to escape that!"

Ryn smiled at that. “Not the worst way to go, in my opinion.” He planted his elbows onto the armrest of the wheelchair and peered up at her with his clasped hands pressed against his lips. “Seriously, how are you holding up?”

She didn't like his sudden seriousness, "Aside from the pain, I'm just dandy. Although, this chair could be a bit more comfortable. Don't think I'll stay in it much longer." She shrugged, "Enough about me; how about you? Any promising endeavors or mysterious adventures?" She leaned in, arching an eyebrow. "A secret budding romance with a royal from a far away kingdom that you’ve kept from you family?"

Onyxes reflected the flash of unease. The aversion of eye contact, the tension in her muscles, the shift in her chair. She diverted the conversation.

“I can think of one. You might know her, actually. We’re planning to elope out of spite. It’s very romantic.” The playful tone lingered long enough to finish the sentence, dissipating as soon as he uttered the last word.

"Really? In that case, she sounds like a wonderful and lovely person." She could see it in his eyes already. She could feel pressure in her chest and her nose tingle. Zarai should have known it wouldn't have been easy to dodge the question. "I bet she's hot too."

He did not have to do this—especially if he intended to take advantage of her predicament. The underlying problem, the root of Luz’s desire to find someone better than Lord Monet to marry, was a sore subject matter she was trying hard not to touch, not to think about too long, even as it festered and ate her from the inside. No one but her can fix it, though. Try as others might, only she can save herself. Support was all they could offer.

“Luz, you know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Zarai couldn't meet his eyes, afraid she would break in the middle of the hall. If Sir Barrios walked in right now, he'd see tears in her eyes, blame Fritz for it, and claim he'd done something. Her mother would leap at the opportunity. Raise hell and cry to all the nobles that Count Hendrix must have done something horrible and nasty to make her cry. Back in Varian, most nobles knew not to take the things she would say to heart, but in Sorian, where rumors could ruin someone, was different.

"I know. I know." She shrugged a shoulder, unsure what to say. She didn't want to dump all of the bird's nest that were her thoughts onto him. Fritz was the head of his house and business, he already had enough on his plate. Not only that, but she didn't know how to start. Or where. How was she holding up? By a single minuscule thread, that is how she was holding up. The cloud of numbness from the Alidasht herbs only did so much to keep her thoughts away, and after last night's events, she wasn't sure if she'd spend the next weeks sober.

"I got this, Fritz. Nothing to worry about." Zarai assured him, but it felt more like she was trying to convince him. "I'll charm a nice nobleman, young and relaxed. Ideally, someone who is very interested in some obscure and unnecessarily expensive hobby that he has no time to pay attention to his wife. Like those tiny ships in bottles." She flashed a quick smile, "I've got all summer, and we are still on the first week! Plenty of men out there with weird hobbies."

“And then what?”

Silence.

“Let’s say you manage to find someone this summer—someone who your parents, your mother, approves of—what happens next?”
“Are you suddenly free to do whatever you please? Live however you want without your mother trying to control you ever again?” Ryn hands cupped Luz’s face, a gesture meant to both be a comfort and to prevent her from completely turning her head away from him; from what he was saying to her.

Zarai wrapped her hands around his wrist but didn't pull them away from her face. The cold of his hands felt good against the warmth of her cheeks. They soothed the bruises and provided a sense of numbness she liked so much.

“Will Lady Zarai Lesdeman be able to be Luz openly and without guilt, shame, or fear as long as she sticks to this path her parents paved for her? Or will Luz forever be her dirty secret that she has to hide? And will she be happier for it?”

Luz wasn't her dirty secret. Luz was just another mask she could put on, one that was still accepted. Was it a mask? Luz was still part of her, just another version of Lady Lesdeman.

“When will you be able to live your life for yourself? When will you be free from her chains?”

"I'll never be free. Not from her or my family. Even after they are long gone, they will still linger." Their words had seeped deep into her skin and to her bones, echoing within with no escape. All the dismissive words, the backhanded insults, the degrading comments. All of it.

Zarai met his eyes, their darkness beckoning her like the frozen lake back home. "Is it so wrong to accept my fate? To survive? I have the privilege to be here, to be dressed in such lavish dresses, and eat what I want when I want. How much more will she put me through after I marry? I will no longer belong to her."

Depending on what she and the in-laws decide to prioritize, so much more…

“If that makes you happy, then no, nothing’s wrong with that. But then why even bother with the Luz persona if you’re content with your ‘fate’? … Is it to see first hand how much common folk don’t have?” Ryn face and voice turned impassive. “So that you can feel happier by comparison? ‘At least I don’t have to live like them’?”

Ryn highly doubted this. If anything, he got the impression that Luz was envious of the commoners; a freedom she perceived them to possess. To get an honest response from her, however, he needed to shove the less appealing possibility into her face.

“Were you using Luz to convince yourself how much Lady Lesdeman’s life is better?” Ryn’s hands slowly withdrew from Luz’s/Lady Lesdeman’s face, but made no attempt to shake her hands from his wrists. He cast his eyes downward with a weak smile. “I should probably warn you, that isn’t a healthy coping strategy.”

"No." Her voice came out harsher than anticipated. "You don't understand. It’s not that…" Her voice trailed off.

I can’t even attempt to if you don’t say it outloud Luz.

“Or could Luz… maybe be something more than that? More than just…” His voice struggled to say the word, “...a mask?” He looked up at the young woman, whoever she was now, imploring for an honest answer. “Is she your safe haven, Zarai?” Not Luz. Not Lady Lesdeman. Zarai: the amalgamation of all the masks and roles.

"I—I don't know." Luz wasn’t a mask. Zarai or Lady Lesdeman weren’t masks. The more she thought that the more she did not believe it. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm not happy, you know this Fritz... If I had just been born a man I wouldn't be sitting here. Hell, I’d be married to some pretty noble lady with pretty eyes." Her mother would not hate her and her father would not so openly express his disappointment. "Maybe I'd be happy then." She shrugged, clasping her hands tightly together and bowing her head low. "I don't know, okay? I don’t know." She didn’t want to think about it anymore. Not of what mask she wore, or if there were any masks at all.

A certain sadness emanated from Ryn’s warm smile. He wrapped his arms around the lost woman. “I think it’s not that you don’t know, I think it just hurts to think about it … Am I wrong? His hand caressed her head, fingers combing through her hair.

“Zarai, not thinking about it isn’t going to make your life any easier. People who genuinely believe they’re acting in your best interest will take your silence as consent, and people who think you no more than a resource will take advantage of your resignation.” Her carefully set hair unraveled in his hand with each brush.

The touch was gentle enough for her to not recoil back. It was soft, gentle, welcoming and warm. And suddenly, Zarai was five, sitting in front of her grandmother's study window tucked between her legs. The smell of rosemary and cinnamon hung heavy in the room and clung to her dress as delicate fingers brushed her golden locks. Abuelita sang one of her old songs in her native tongue as she weaved Zarai's hair into a thick braid.

“Despite everything, I believe your parents love you too. Love you so… so much. They want you, your future family, your Duchy, to thrive even after they’re long gone. And they’ll do everything in their power to secure what they believe is the best outcome for you.” Even if it means destroying other people’s lives to obtain that future. “But because they’re your parents… I think they don’t quite understand or realize what they’re doing to you.” The hug tightened ever so slightly.

Her songs filled her mind so effortlessly. The violin, the guitarron, and vihuela all came together to create such a sweet melody. Each string tugged at her. Zarai leaned in closer to the touch, humming along with the rhythm as quietly as she could. Her grandmother would say the same. That everything she had done, she had done so for her son and for her. Zarai would do so with her children when she also grew older. It still didn't feel right.

“Zarai Luzero Lesdeman. Luz. You have every right to be happy, no matter who you are or aren’t. You’re the one who has to live your life.”

Ryn pulled away just enough to level his eyes on her. “Have the courage to follow your heart.”

“And never forget, you’re not alone. Just reach out and someone will take your hand. You’re the only one who can save yourself, but it’s okay to ask for help.”

Zarai nodded, wiping the corners of her eyes in an attempt to stop the forming pools of tears. "I didn't know you were some kind of wise man." She sniffed, and a small but brief laughter emerged from her lips, "Fuck." A few tears spilled over before she managed to catch her mid-cheek, leaving trails on her already shitty makeup.

Y si no puedo? What happens then? The least she could do was try.

"Fine. I'll ask for help." She took a deep breath, as deep as she could without it hurting, and reached for his hand. "Will— oh fuck, this is hard." It took everything in her not to break into a sobbing mess in the middle of the hall. Growing up there had never been an adult she could fully lean on. Since she was small she had learned that good behavior was always rewarded, which is why she learned not to cry in front of her parents. She had learned to be independent and not because of her own volition.

"Will you help me? Please?"

Ryn arched his eyebrows, “‘Please’? Oh my, now I know you’re buttering me up. So. Be honest with me. Exactly how many assassins should I prepare tea for? I can… maybe host four at a time in the room I have. Any more than that and we’ll have to use one of the drawing rooms, but I’m not sure what the other guests would think of that.” He managed to maintain the straight-face for a few seconds before a familiar smile slowly returned.

"A lady always says please." Zarai sniffed again, "Worry not, I will get us the biggest drawing room Sorian has to offer." She returned the smile and tried to catch any stray tears. She wanted to say that she felt lighter, happier somewhat, but her chest felt tight and... off. Zarai ignored it; instead, she concentrated on the lighter feeling. It was like a mini high!

His fingers gently wrapped around Luz’s extended hand and lifted it against his inclined forehead. A vow. “Always,” he finally answered. “Wherever I can.” Then he brought her hand to his lips to seal it.

She retrieved her hand slowly, her fingers brushing over the spot he had kissed. "Thank you,"

“And I will start helping by fixing your hair.” Ryn pulled back the other hand that had been stroking her hair, revealing the golden strands tangled around his fingers.

“I can’t promise it’ll look exactly as it did before, but what I can promise is that you’ll still look like a garden on wheels.” He gave her a good natured wink.

"A lot better than a mess on wheels." She tried to sit still.

Moving behind her, Ryn properly undid Luz’s hair, allowing it to cascade down her shoulders. He carefully combed her hair with man’s most versatile tool—hands—to regain some order before making quick work of the braids.

Pale fingers danced swiftly in effortless repetition, interlacing bits of freedom and good fortune into each lock; entangling them so that no one could easily take them away from her. Wavy, curled petals glitter in the light like diamond dust. They dazzled with the hope for a future, obtainable. If only she took that one courageous dive into the open sea where only the horizon is the limit.

Ryn took a step back in satisfaction when the front door swung open and Udo stepped inside in all his magnificent splendor. He did not expect to see the man in nothing less than two layers of clothes during their time in the Northern Kingdoms, but that did not mean it was an unpleasant surprise. He admired the open cotton shirt that only partially succeeded at concealing the islander’s sculpted frame or the form fitting pants that left little to the imagination. He followed Udo’s ocean eyes as they scanned the area, landed on Luz, then more specifically on her attire.

Her head snapped to the door when it was opened, her eyes showing the initial panic when she thought that Sir Barrios had walked in. However, there stood another person she did not expect to see here of all places. "Udo?"

“Onye agha Luz, does your dress have jaundice?”

“Udo!” Ryn covered Luz’s ears. “Yellow is a beautiful color.”

Zarai rolled her eyes, pulling his hands away from her ears. "Yellow is beautiful but on other people."

“You’re right Fritz, it really brings out the black and blue of her eyes and accentuates the subtlety of the mismatched face paint.” He shook his head. “No, it doesn’t look like she lost a brawl. Not at all.” He batted away every ridiculous notion he spewed.

"Lost?" Zarai looked more offended at that than the diss at her attire.

“You're sounding a little bit like Peter there, Udo. Has he finally rubbed off on you?” When Udo didn't counter with a retort, Ryn drew his eyebrows together. Usually the mention of the other's name came with snide remarks from both parties. Thus, the islander’s tranquil expression planted seeds of anxiety. There were only a handful of instances Udo made that face and that knowledge was all the nutrients the seeds needed to grow in the pit of Ryn's stomach.

“Thank Nnenne for delivering nerines across the world to save this poor unfortunate soul.” Nnenne’s devout shallowly bowed in Luz’s direction. He touched his forehead, his heart, and his lips in one fluid motion, praying in her stead.

Zarai smiled at Udo, bowing her head in gratitude. She'd need all the prayers and blessings to get her through the next hour, and the rest of the summer.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.” Ryn pushed Luz’s wheelchair towards a mirror hanging on the wall. “See? Floricomous!”

Zarai was doubtful at the start but decided she'd give Fritz a chance to show his skill at styling hair. So when she saw the woven flowers in her hair, their shiny petals reflecting the light with every move like tiny diamonds, she whistled, clearly impressed. "Woah, it looks so good," She turned her head from side to side, trying to see both sides of his work. "and the flowers..." She smiled, touching one of them with light fingers, "They're so pretty. You should open up a salon." She teased, leaning closer to the mirror for a better look.

“Why, thank you! You give me too much credit. I only braided pretty flowers I bought into your hair. The rest is all you.”

"Of course, have you seen me?." She shot Fritz’s reflection a grin. The flowers were a beautiful shade of pink that faded into a pearly white that reminded her of a dress she used to own when she was younger. Of happier days where the only thing she had to worry about were the seating arrangement of her toys during tea time. ”Nerines, you said?” She’d have to find those seeds now and plant them in the greenhouse back home.

The islander stood behind the nobles, his reflection coming into view of the two, and nodded in answer to Luz’s question. “They aren’t native to the Northern Kingdoms. Their seeds traveled many seas to get here.” He stared down at the nerines in the young woman’s head, filled with a pining somewhere between sehnsucht and saudade—inconsolable yearning and melancholic longing for what wasn’t here. It wasn’t the flowers he desired, it was what they reminded him of that he wanted.

"They’re beautiful." Zarai glanced at Udo briefly, "Thank you, I’ll preserve them." As a reminder of today.

Udo eyes shifted. Gazes, one ink black and the other ocean blue, crossed each other in the mirror. The seeds sprouted in alarming speed, its stems shot straight through his esophagus and branched out into Ryn’s mouth. The leaf emerged as a barely audible whisper, “Udo?”. The owner of the name turned his head away from the mirror and waited. Heavy footsteps from someone with a soldier’s gait sounded from the distance. “If you want to fix up anything else, do it now.”

Ryn hesitated before checking Luz in the mirror. “Well, I think you look perfect. What about you?”

She nodded, "Perfect." Motivation and newfound hope surged through her veins, filling her with energy for the upcoming court. The flowers almost seemed to glow in the reflection.

“Fritz.” Udo’s bass-baritone voice interrupted, “I need you to distract the knight for a bit.”
“May I ask why?”
“There’s something I must discuss with Luz.” Udo added, “In private.”
“Oh?” The count leaned down as he made eye contact with Luz’s reflection, grinning, “Already having suitors lining up! What a great start. I can vouch for Udo. He gets paid well, obviously he’s handsome, he’s loyal, he’s the Northen Kingdom’s equivalent of a paladin, he’s gorgeous, he’s totally down for an open marriage, he doesn’t have a boring hobby to preoccupy himself, but he’ll let you do whatever you want, and did I mention how good-looking he is?”

"An open marriage? Oh, that sounds good," She arched an eyebrow at Udo, winking in his direction. ”soo gorgeous. A painting of him would look good in the parlor." She agreed.

“Afterwards, I need a moment of your time, Fritz.”
“Me? Did I do something?” Ryn looked up at the reflection of Udo. “Is it okay if we talk as we walk? I have to be at the Viken—”
“Please.”

Ryn turned to face the corporeal Udo. Without missing a beat, he reached over to touch his friend’s shoulder and said, “Of course.” Ryn then moved his hand to pat Luz on the shoulder. “Best of luck. I’m rooting for you.” He retrieved the gift basket and made his way to the sound’s direction.

"Don’t mess too much with poor Sir Barrios." Zarai called out as Fritz left the hall.

---

Udo watched Fritz’s back as he left. “Onye agha Luz. I’ll keep this as short as possible and I’d appreciate it if you’d do the same, as much as I enjoy the jokes and banters. I have a confession to make, a warning for you, and possibly a request depending on your answer.” He tore his eyes away to pin them on Zarai. “Do you genuinely care for Fritz?”

She looked up at him, brows pulled together in a knot of confusion and wariness. She’d never seen him so serious before. The creases of his forehead didn’t look right on such a pretty face. "I do." She searched his eyes but only found her own worried reflection. "Udo, is he in some sort of trouble?" She leaned forward in her chair, "The Crosswinds?"

He chuckled. “‘In trouble’ doesn't even begin to describe the, as you’d say, deep sh*t he’s in. He’s doomed, Luz. They don’t say it out loud, but he knows it and so does his family. It’s why I followed him here. Because I thought—...” Udo tailed off and shook his head as if to remind himself that this wasn’t about him. “I must know how much you’d do for him.”

Doomed? Zarai’s heart sank upon hearing Udo’s words. She knew that he wouldn’t joke about this, not about Fritz. Was Peter here too? What kind of mess was he in? Enough to warrant Udo telling her this.

“Would you step in if he’s in danger?”

"Yes," Her answer came quick and without hesitation. Of course she would help him.

“Even if that danger was caused by people you know and maybe even love?”

"Who?" Her mind quickly raced to her parents. She knew they had been trying to sabotage Fritz’s family and trading company for a while now, and they had no plans to stop any time soon. What she wasn’t aware of were their more aggressive tactics. "Who is it?"

For a moment, Udo’s expression softened, the ocean in his eyes became warm and inviting as the tropical sea. “Akụkọ ihe mere eme,” he said in an unfamiliar tongue, “na ndị chọrọ ichebe ụgha ya.” Then the warmth left, leaving behind ice-cold waters.

“Yes or no.” Udo reiterated his question. “Even if that danger was caused by people you know and love, would you still step in to help Fritz?”

Zarai couldn’t make sense of his words, but the rapid emotions of his eyes sent a chill down her spine. "Yes." She finally answered after a short pause. Standing to her feet, she stepped close to Udo with determined eyes. She’d do anything in her power to help him, to keep him safe, to make sure he was happy one way or another.

"I will step in to help him." She almost couldn’t hear her own words over the sound of her beating heart. "Always."

It continued to beat, loud and strong, as Udo studied Zarai, assessing the truth of her words. There was nothing else to hear but her own heart until a low hum gradually began to dull the beating drums and reverberated through her core. Her heart didn’t beat any less louder or stronger, but it was as if she had been submerged deep into the water. The sound of her heart became one with the ocean, and only when it did, did the heavy pounding in her chest subside. At the precipice of her senses, beyond the ocean’s heartbeat, she heard the distant songs of whales and felt the warm caress of the current. The waves retreated back to Udo.

He smiled the kind of smile that would’ve tasted bittersweet, “Daalụ.” Udo clenched his hand over his chest, “Thank you.”

Udo took a deep breath before composing himself. “First, my confession. I arrived earlier than when I walked in through that door. Although I didn’t mean to, I heard parts of your private conversation.” He inclined his head. “For this, I apologize.”

“But with that knowledge in mind, here’s my warning.” The man knelt down, “Fritz is a hypocrite of the highest order, a liar so adept that even he fools himself. He tells you to not carry your burden alone, to ask others for help, when he doesn’t practice what he preaches. Not where it matters… Not where it would make the most difference.” His other knee joined its twin and he folded them underneath himself. “He is so convinced that he has to do this alone and it’s why he will fail.”

What? Fail? Zarai watched Udo go to his knees, something she would have never anticipated or even imagine. But above all, his words, his warning, was what was the most confusing for her. Fritz. The man she had thought of when someone said, “have their shit together,” was just an illusion by his own design. And now, hearing all of this from Udo made her heart twist. Anger bubbled, but she forced it down until it subside. Not now.

The list of questions she had only continued to grow as Udo continued. The confusion on her face was apparent too, but she was trying her best to engrave every single one of Udo’s words in her mind, or she’d be damned if she forgot any of it.

“Which leads me to my request.” He looked up at Zarai. “Please help him. Save him from…” Udo tried to search for the right word, but couldn’t, either because there was none or there were too many. He huffed in defeat, but continued, “If worst comes to worst, drag him away from this place, this country… this continent. Even if he begs you not to, even if he kicks and screams, or hates you for the rest of your lives.” Udo placed his hands in front of him, then pressed his forehead against the floor. “Don’t allow him to throw away his life, I beg of you. Give him a chance to see another tomorrow, to be something other than the product of one family’s obsession with another.” His voice quavered, “Free him from his oath. Please, heed my first and final request as Udo to Zarai Luzero Lesdeman. Promise me. Biko… biko.”

"Udo—" Her mind quickly raced through hundreds of scenarios that would warrant this request from him. The Crosswinds going under was the first, with her parents being the reason. Next came assassination attempts, followed by unpaid debts, pirates, betrayal, and treason. The speed of her heart continued to accelerate the more she thought of things that would cause Udo to beg her for help.

Despite her questions and growing curiosity, she realized something.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what kind of trouble Fritz was in; she would be there to help. He’d done much more for her than anyone had in such a short time. He was someone she cared for deeply, someone she trusted, and now, would force him away for his own good if need be. "I promise," She swallowed down the whines of pain as she kneeled in front of Udo, her hands reaching for his. "I promise you, Udo. No matter what he says or how much he hates me, I will take him as far away as I can. We both will. He’ll get over it, eventually, right?" She ushered him to raise his head and look at her, "I promise you."

"But we will help him. We’ll do it whether he wants it or not; he’ll have to get rid of us if he wishes us to stop." She smiled, hopeful.

The shade of sadness never left Udo, even as he smiled in return. He took both of Zarai’s hands into his and rocked them, an awkward handshake from someone who didn’t do it often. “I believe you will. Thank you.” Udo stared into Zarai’s eyes a little longer before he turned his head to see Fritz and Sir Barrios—who now had a flower poking out of his breast pocket and a half-eaten toast—emerge from the hall. Time was up. Carefully, Udo helped Zarai back into her wheelchair. “I’m glad to have met you, Onye agha Luz.” He touched his forehead, heart, and lips once again. “Ka anyị zute ọzọ na ndụ ọzọ.”

“Fortune favors the brave.” Udo’s last words to Zarai were, “Leave this world with as few regrets as possible, Onye agha. For your sake, if not for others.”

---

---

◆◆◆◆◆ "△△△" ◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

Location: Vikena’s Estate
Time: 11:00

A tiny pinkish-orange feather floated across the walkway leading to the front entrance. It forced itself against the door so hard that it squeezed through the crack, as if it had a string attached to it and someone inside was pulling as hard as they could on the other end.

△△△ kept his eye on the feather as he approached the door and knocked on it. It wiggled and thrashed, struggling to breach the wooden barrier. It was about halfway through when △△△ heard muffled voices and movement from the other side. He looked up, and △△△’s reflection looked right back at him.

The fluid mosaic could barely maintain its shape, constantly moving around in a human-shaped container. When he focused hard enough, he could make out singular anatomical features. This reflection had an eye, another eye of the same color, a nose, a mouth, an ear on one side, and another ear on the other side. It has everything that most humans had, and yet when △△△ tried to look at his face as a whole, it became one scrambled mess.

He couldn’t recognize the man—if that was what it truly was. He tried to recall his name, both names, but even those were as intangible as the rest of him… which scared him more: for △△△ △△△△△△△ △△△△△△△△’s name never to be said or thought of again.

A loud click snapped △△△ from his thoughts. As the door flung open, the feather got sucked indoors and continued its journey. The windless air carried it to the stairs. Up it went. One, two, three stairs. A hop, step, and jump later, it vanished to the second floor. He relaxed. Whatever worry he had concerning the duke’s whereabouts abated; replaced with a new set of questions.

△△△ smiled at the person who opened the door. “Good day. I hope I’m not late to join the search party.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Darryn Fletcher & Ríoghnach "Riona"

Location: Danrose Castle Infirmary
Time: 11:00
Interaction: Darryn @princess

---

Riona watched the doctor’s face light up with a triumphant smirk when he saw her step into the infirmary. He stood up from his chair, arms spread wide, not in welcome, but to show some invisible audience that the day he was to be proven right had finally come. All of which quickly vanished the second Darryn followed in. His arms dropped down to his sides.

The maid stole the smirk the doctor intended for her. “Sorry to disappoint, but I still don't need or ever will need your services, Quack.”

The doctor clucked and shot a look at Darryn. “Aren't ya supposed to be dead or somethin’ already?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of the ill?” Darryn had shot back indignantly.

“Yeah, but when ya get paid more as a mortician, takin’ care of the livin’ ain’t really worth the trouble, ya know?” Despite his complaints, Quack started gathering things for Darryn’s treatment. “We even ordered the casket and everythin’. What a damn waste. Ya sure ya ain’t have any plans of droppin’ dead today? Ya look like ya already have one foot in the grave, might as well hop right in.”

He shot him a glare through the strands of hair that fell in his face. After a moment of brooding to himself, he turned his body to face Riona. “It’s not that bad.” He told her with a wince.

Riona arched an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Could’ve fooled me. Come on.” She guided Darryn to the closest bed and carefully sat him down. “And seriously, Quack, do your f**king job.”

“Why waste the good stuff when we gotcha witchcraft crap? Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble.”
“First of all, it’s not witchcraft and you damn well know it. Just cause Darryn isn’t going into a coffin today doesn’t mean I’m switching places with him. Secondly, what’s the point of this infirmary if you're not going to use all this? Stop trying to short-change us.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever ya say. I’m just bein’ frugal. That’s all. We don’t get as much as the fancy medical chamber. Gotta cut corners where we can.” Quack placed a bowl of water on the medical cart and rolled it over to the bedside. He pointed his chin in Darryn’s direction. “Ya know the drill.” Riona nodded, placed her satchel and cape to the side, then began washing one half of Darryn with a damp towel while Quack cleaned the other half.

Each scar on his back felt alive with the pain of the strikes even though some time had passed. But it was nothing compared to how he felt. “Are you doing alright, Riona? They aren’t working you too hard, are you?” His voice was low and rather dull, but the care was genuine underneath the tone.

Riona scoffed weakly, “Don’t you worry about me. I’m not the one who got beaten half to death and was about to be executed before lunch.” She pressed the towel gently against the injuries. “Are you doing alright, Darryn?” Quack’s scoff came out much harsher than Riona’s. They both knew it was a stupid question.

“Physically, I’ll live.” Darryn said lamely. “Just got a lot going on in my head. Trying to figure out what’s real… Just feels like a nightmare right now.”

“Ya gotta concussion too? What’s there to figure out?” Quack twirled the towel in his hand and snapped it against Darryn’s back. “Does that feel like ya sleepin’?” A whip in the face from Riona’s towel backed the doctor away. “Agh! Damnation quean! Clearly somethin’s wrong with his head if he can’t tell the difference!”

”GAH!” Darryn turned around, ready to throw something at the doctor. ”Seriously fuck off!”

“Change the water. It’s getting really dirty.” Riona shooed the doctor and sighed when he did leave to change the water. “You’re in shock, Darryn. I think it’s… taking a while for you to process what happened to yourself.” Better be careful when he finally does, she reminded herself. How he handles this after it all sinks in, could be the difference between the path to a (possibly slow but still) healthy recovery and a downward spiral. At least, that was what the others before Darryn taught her.

“I’ve processed.” The stableboy turned on Riona. His voice lowered for the doctor not to hear. “I just don’t know about Annie I guess. This morning I had accepted all the sweet words she gave me were lies and she was no different than her selfish father… I had even thought her brother was in on it. But the both of them stood up for me.“ His shoulders slacked.

The strong tone in his voice was crumbling. His voice started to shake with anger and he clenched his fists as he continued after a pause. “As uncertain as I feel, I still feel furious with them… They disregarded me and so many others as if I meant nothing. Just let some servant take the blame, right? Then she kept up the charade so she can continue to toy with me ? …I bet that’s what it is… ”

Riona stayed quiet as Darryn spilled his heart out. Faintly, she heard the voices of others (the people who left, the people who struggled to stay, Lady Morrigan, herself) behind Darryn’s trembling words. They resonated as one. Quack returned with clean water and the two resumed cleaning him when she finally found her own voice amongst the many. “You’re probably right. They’re using us. As useful pawns, punching bags, a favorite pet, charity work, or just something to pity. It doesn’t matter. We’re not their equal in their minds… and it always will be… always be about them. How they feel. How it’ll affect their reputation. How they want to be remembered. They don’t actually care about us.”

Riona’s words made Darren’s eyes dart around the room as if searching it for the answers. “No…Annie’s not like that…” His tone shifted to uncertainty but the emotion remained all the same. He seemed like he had about to say more when the doctor moved over into earshot.

“Take off ya pants,” Quack cut in. Two pairs of eyes turned to stare at the doctor. “What? Are ya tellin’ me Darryn was leanin’ on ya like a walkin’ stick because his legs were in pristine condition?” He looked down at Darryn, “Sly one aren’t ya? Well, whatever gets ya over that ridiculous crush of yas.”

Darryn stared at him then suddenly stood up. He stumbled forward but intently got his footing for a few steps. He leaned against the wall. “ I am not taking my pants off. I am fine.”

The doctor rolled his eyes and his head back, complaining at the Gods above. Can you believe this? He seemed to say to them while moaning, “Ya damn nipper. No one’s tellin’ ya to take ya undies off too. Ya want me not to fix ya damn legs or not? If it makes ya feel any less embarrassed, none of us here are interested in what ya packin’.” He glanced over at Riona. “Amirite?”

Riona rubbed her eyes, “Darryn, I get that this quack doesn’t know the first thing about bedside manners, but he can help you get better. I can wait outside for a bit and I’ll come back when he’s done.” She pointed at the clean clothes, “You can change into those.”

“Ugh. Alright.” He sighed and moved back over to the bed. He sat back down and decided to cooperate to get this over with. After the doctor had tended to him, he changed and awaited Riona’s return.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, Riona pressed her forehead against it. “Annie’s not like that”? After all that, he’s still trying to protect her integrity? Gods, she really has him whipped. Darryn needed to leave, soon. Before it was too late. She stood like that until she heard her name.

Without Riona, the doctor stitched up all the open wounds with surprising speed and grace. He used poultices for good measure and administered a dose of painkillers. All in all, he treated Darryn as any decent doctor would’ve. If it weren’t for the fact that he was an unlicensed medical practitioner, Riona might’ve nicknamed him differently and entrusted him with Kristoph. Quack was working on a leg splint when he called her back in. She studied Darryn, “Looking better already. Anything I can help with?”

“It’s ya turn to comfort the babe. He’s been a right whiner.”

Riona simply hummed and sat down next to Darryn on the bed. She fidgeted with the hem of her apron, “Hey, Darryn… What did you mean by ‘Annie’s not like that’? You just told me yourself that she lied to you, toyed with you, and that she’s selfish as her father. How’s that any different from ‘using us’ or caring more about themselves than us ‘lesser people’? Or are you referring to how she ‘stood up for you’ for the mess she caused? The bare minimum, no, less than bare minimum, she could’ve done for you?”

The maid waited for the stableboy to answer, but he didn’t. Not immediately, so she waited longer. The silence started to stretch long past being comfortable. Quack looked up from the splint and then exchanged glances between Darryn and Riona. He let out an exasperated sigh, throwing his arms into the air, “For Pete’s sake! Edin’s a pig; I bet 20 silvers that the prince is a serial killer; I’ll bloody pay 20 silvers for anyone who can tell the princess apart from any other rich bairn; and for a lad who says he doesn’t want to spread his seed, real suspect that the youngest chap loves takin’ trips to the brothels and hasn’t…” His fingers cut the air. “Snip snip. Ya think he and Edin are competin’ for how many bye-blows they can make or somethin’? HA!”

The sharp exhale, a noise that could be mistaken for a laugh, sounded acrid. Riona didn’t have to look at his face to see how much the topic repulsed Quack. Not that she blamed him. If she hadn’t felt slightly (just a little, tiny bit) defensive, she’d laugh right along with him. Is he wrong, though?

“It’s all for show.”

“There. Now stop bein’ so jumpy, you funk. I’ve heard all kinds of slander in this room.” He returned to the splint, mumbling incoherently.

Riona crossed her arms and tried again. “You said you’ve processed what happened, but honestly? I don’t think you actually did. Is ‘Annie not like that’ or is she no different?”

“No.. She’s .. She’s a good girl. She stood up for me and tried to help me this morning… I was wrong… Wrong….“ He was muttering quietly now so that only Riona could hear. Darryn had not only switched his tune suddenly, but his irises were dilated and unstable as his gaze cast down toward the floor. His fists was clenched. He was barely audibly as he mumbled to himself. ”But then she asked me to take them there. Her and Callum always have me sneak them out… Maybe they just didn’t know… But then again I knew… I knew where we were going. I have to know because…” Darryn had been a little off recently, but the strange smile pulling at his lips despite his stress could have certainly unsettled those around him. He put a hand to his forehead.

The lines on Riona’s face deepened as she stared at Darryn. Why is he acting—... Sh*t She scrambled off the bed then grabbed his face. “Darryn. Hey. Darryn. Look at me. Hey!” She tapped Darryn’s cheeks repeatedly. “Hey, hey, hey! Come on Darryn, look at me in my eyes. What did they do to you? Do you remember?”

Quack raised both of his hands, “Ey, I did nothin’.”
“I know that, I’m not talking about you.”

Darryn looked up upon the assault on his face as his eyes widened with surprise. He grabbed her wrist tightly, ”What do you think you’re doing.” He said lowly and angrily.

Riona’s muscles tensed, the spike in adrenaline rippled from her to the other man, who also froze. A silent exchange passed between Riona and Quack. The doctor moved away from his patient. He wandered over to the trolley, as nonchalantly as he could, where he opened a bottle and covered the mouth of it with a cloth. She swallowed. “Darryn, you’re acting weird and I think it’s getting worse. Focus. Please. What do you remember?”

Darryn stared at her as his expression fell and his face took on some semblance of normality. ”... Sorry. I’m sorry, Riona. You’re right… I’ve been weird.” He dropped his hand from her wrist with shame. “I…It’s not what they did to me here. It was what I had to do for… ” He bit his lip. Darryn didn’t want to lie to her but he couldn’t tell her everything. Not only was it dangerous to speak about, but he wasn’t sure if she’d involve herself in some way. “I have been going through some other… things. Sorry.” He sighed and smiled at her. ”Thank you for caring about me.”

He started to rise from the bed, ”And thank you for your help. I mean it. You’re truly kind Riona…I’ve always appreciated you. ” Maybe it was best he kept some distance. He hadn’t expected it all to affect him so soon. But what choice had he had? It wasn’t like he could escape his role nor his fate. Darryn knew maybe his best chance would be to leave, but there was a part of him, a part of him that honestly scared him, that wanted to stay here and take his revenge.

But there was something he needed to know before he went down that path.

Riona watched Darryn move with open skepticism. He wasn’t making any sense to her. Why was he flip-flopping so much? Did someone get to him? Who, if not those loyal to the Danroses? She clasped her hands over her chest. “Darryn… are you in danger?” She stepped in front of him, blocking his exit. “Because, if you are, you can tell me… Please tell me.” She looked at Darryn, desperation creeping into her voice.

Darryn stared at her sadly but did not immediately reply.

“T-that includes being a danger to yourself. I… I don’t know what’s going on or why you’re not being straight with me right now, but whatever is doing this to you, if it’s messing you up this much, it isn’t good.”

The faces of past employees flashed across Darryn’s features, overlapping one another to create a face she was both familiar with and didn't recognize at all. Some she barely knew, others she knew intimately. They came from various backgrounds and they all came to work for the Danroses for their own reasons. The one thing they all had in common was that they left the castle broken in mind, body, and spirit or dead. Many tried to soldier on. They reasoned with themselves that what they were enduring was worthwhile, or they somehow convinced themselves that the suffering would only be temporary. They tried and tried and tried until one day, they snapped.

Just like her cohort—Quack’s sister who started training the same time Riona did. They worked alongside each other for years and they were friends for just as long. One night, Lady Morrigan ordered her friend to deliver a nightcap to the king. She never returned to the servants’ quarters that day. When Riona finally spotted her, she asked what happened. Was she okay? “Nothing,” her friend replied through a brittle smile, “I’m okay.” She wasn’t, but she tried to be and that took a toll on her. With each passing day she deteriorated, even breathing seemed to drain her. Every time they met, Riona asked how she was doing and her friend lied every single time. When she tried prodding her for an honest answer, she evaded. So Riona gave her friend some space, hoping she’d tell her when she was ready to. Three months later, Riona found her friend hanging from the ceiling.

“And if whatever it is has anything to do with the Danroses, the castle, or this damn city… then you need to leave. You have to quit this job and move away before it kills you. Don’t stay here. These lot are not worth sacrificing yourself for. They don’t deserve your devotion!” She glared at Darryn, though her anger wasn’t directed at him, “You’re no plaything and you are not nothing! How, HOW DARE she choose some host’s identity over your life! Does she really feel so deprived that she’d rather sacrifice a life than lose a place to party? If she cares SO DAMN MUCH, SO GODSDAMN GOOD, why isn’t she HERE? Why’s she out THERE hanging out with her friends, the ones she partied with all f**king night, WHEN YOU’RE HERE? YOU’RE THE ONE WHO NEEDS COMFORTING NOT HER!” She sucked in a shaky breath, “HOW DARE THEY USE YOU LIKE S-SOME, SOME, SOME DISPOSABLE TOOL!” Riona’s hands trembled as she forced herself to lower her voice. “You can start a new life away from all this f**king bullsh*t. If you need support until you can stand on your own two feet, we—” Quack’s loud sneeze cut Riona off. He sniffled a bit and mindlessly touched the items on the trolley, pretending to organize them. “I… can help. I—” Quack coughed this time. “I can help,” she reaffirmed and left it at that.

Darryn was silent as she had gone on. After she had finished, he gently took both her trembling hands and comfortingly rubbed the backs of them. ”It’s going to be okay, Riona. “ He then smiled at her though his voice was hollow and serious as he continued, “Maybe you should take that advice too. I am going to…” He winced as he stood on his own two feet. “I am going to go to my room for now. But know this and take it to heart, Riona… The Danroses aren’t the only ones you need to worry about. “ Darryn held her gaze a moment longer before slowly making his way out of the infirmary.

The remaining two stood there silent and still as stone until the door clicked shut. “Why did you stop me?” Riona turned to Quack just as he screwed the lid back onto the unlabeled bottle and tossed the drenched cloth into the bin. “He needs help.”

“And ya weren't listenin’ to a damn thin’ he was tellin’ ya.” Quack pointed in the direction Darryn left. “I ain’t lettin’ that anywhere near the sanctuaries. I ain't risking it. We can’t.”

That. The word thrown at Darryn stabbed her in the heart and gutted her in one fell swoop. Riona shifted her weight. “Then we’ll place him in some other hideout. We can check what’s causing… whatever that is and maybe we can treat it.”

“If it’s treatable.”
“We have to at least try.”
“Do we now? Because my gut’s tellin’ me that whelp’s in the type of trouble we’re not ready to handle. And if ya actually were bloody payin’ attention, then ya’da also noticed he admitted he’s involved with some mighty sleazy people whose names don’t start with Dan and end with rose.”

“So what? It doesn’t change the fact that he needs help. Just because his situation isn’t like your sister’s doesn’t me—”
“Don’t.”
Riona bit her lip and averted her gaze from Quack, instantly regretting the last nine and a half words that tumbled out of her mouth.
“Don’t… weaponize her against me. Not for him.”
She kept her eyes locked to the floor, rubbing her arm. “Yeah… that wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

A long sigh escaped the doctor and he began cleaning up as if that helped to distract himself from thinking of his sister. He did this until it calmed his nerves enough to speak again. “Speaking of unfair, thankless jobs, some payments need to be made.”

Riona nodded, “Okay. I’ll head over to the bank.” She picked up her belongings and rifled through the satchel. She pulled out the coin purse and turned to the doctor, ready to toss the purse in his direction. “Hey, were you serious about—”

“Keep it,” The doctor interrupted, “for the next poor sod. Though…” He eyed the satchel, “I know who’d appreciate that.”

For a time she just stood there with the purse in her hand. “You’re really not going to help him… are you?”

The old chair groaned under the doctor’s weight when he plopped onto it. “No.” He massaged his eyes. “But… I’ll keep an eye on him.” And that was the best she was going to get from him.
“Thanks.” Riona started towards the door.

“He’s right about one thing,” Quack said as she reached for the doorknob. “The Danroses aren’t the only ones having shady dealings.”
“Yeah.”
“Even if the Danroses all spontaneously die, there’s still gonna be problems that need solvin’.”
“I know.”
“So?”
“‘So?’”
“Ah. So, it’s an us problem and not a ya problem. Gotcha.” The chair screamed in protest as the doctor leaned against it. “It’s not gonna affect ya cause.”

“Now who’s the one being unreasonable?” Riona spun around, hands on hips. “I thought I made it pretty clear from the beginning that I’ll help where I can, but I have my own priorities.”
“That ya did.”
“‘So’, unless these mysterious ‘others’ are directly responsible for my family’s death. Then they’re not a priority.”
“I hear ya loud and clear. Yar devoted to gettin’ yaself killed just to flip the bird to the aristocracy instead of fightin’ the good fight.”

She narrowed her eyes and then shoved the door open without a word.

“Ya coffin’s still in storage if ya be needin’ it.”
“Still won’t be needing your services.” Riona faced the undertaker who buried more people than saved as a doctor. “The witches they burn get dumped in shallow graves. Helps to cut back on fertilizers.”
“...Huh. I thought I was the one bein’ frugal. Stingy bastards.”

🗡 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.