JJ Doe

Avalia

Jun Ibuki

Jun

Jun Ibuki⋆ 27 ⋆ Male ⋆ Human

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Appearance

Height:

5’7” (170cm)

Build:

Slender

Hair Color:

Brown

Hair Length

Short

Eye Color:

Brown

Skin Tone:

Medium

Distinguishing features:

Wears glasses

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Psychology

Likes:

⋆ Alone-time
⋆ Indoors
⋆ Video games, books, music and movies
⋆ Learning random trivia
⋆ The occasional stroll

Dislikes:

⋆ Social interactions with people he doesn’t know
⋆ Social gatherings
⋆ Sports and anything that requires manual labor
⋆ Being too hot or too cold
⋆ Loud noises

Fears:

⋆ Opening up to others
⋆ Confrontation
⋆ Rejection
⋆ Living and dying alone
⋆ No internet

Habits/Quirks

⋆ Keeps thoughts to himself
⋆ Tries to remain unnoticed
⋆ Avoids eye contact
⋆ Cleans his glasses when he becomes too anxious
⋆ Can become hyper focused on things if he is interested enough

Sexuality:

Unsure

Personality:

Navigating social situations was never Jun’s forte. He always has difficulty doing what every other person is capable of doing, like initiating conversations, making small talk, maintaining eye contact, and interpreting social cues. Because social settings make him feel uncomfortable, Jun usually avoids social gatherings and large groups, preferring to spend time alone or with a select few close friends. When he does attend social events, once on a blue moon, he still finds himself withdrawing or seeking solitude. Jun’s social awkwardness and anxiety make it harder for him to form and maintain meaningful relationships, resulting in feelings of isolation and loneliness.

Jun worries excessively over details and what others might think of him. He’s a chronic overthinker who over analyzes situations and constantly imagines worst-case scenarios, which has made him overly cautious and hesitant. His neuroticism also makes him highly sensitive to criticism and rejection. It isn’t unusual for him to take even the most minor comments personally and dwell on them for extended periods of time.

Jun grapples with low self-esteem, frequently downplaying his abilities and achievements while fixating on his perceived flaws and shortcomings. His pessimism can sometimes be contagious, negatively affecting the mood of those around him and straining Jun’s relationships.

Feeling frustrated with his own lack of confidence and social skills, Jun wishes to be more socially adept. He wants to be liked and appreciated for who he is, but his fear of judgment and rejection makes this difficult.

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Background

Occupation

Programmer

Living Immediate Family Members:

His mother, aunt, uncle, grandmother, and three cousins. Maybe his father too, but who knows where he is.

Dead Immediate Family Members:

His grandfather

Current Companions:

None

Current and Past Lover(s):

None

Current Equipment(Any weapons etc):
⋆ Backpack
⋆ Smartphone
⋆ Wallet and key
⋆ Computer
⋆ Headphone
⋆ Spare eyeglasses
⋆ The plastic bag

History:
Jun, from an early age, led a life that was nothing out of the ordinary. Raised by a single mother who worked tirelessly as an ER doctor, Jun grew up without a father in the picture, but his mother’s unwavering love and support provided him with the stability he needed.

He moved through childhood and early adulthood without much fanfare. Jun followed a predictable path, going through the motions of an average life. He attended local schools, achieved average grades, and eventually earned a degree in Computer Programming. Although he didn’t have a strong passion for it, he found it to be a reliable career path. With his skills, he found a steady job in the tech industry and settled into a routine. Jun led a quiet and uneventful life, spending most of his time working on coding projects and indulging in hobbies like playing video games and watching movies.

While his life might not have been extraordinary, Jun found contentment in the simplicity of his routine. Until one fateful windy day. As Jun was walking alongside, a plastic bag flew right into his face. Startled, Jun stumbled backward, desperately trying to free himself from the bag, only to inadvertently step on a stray banana peel. With a sudden slip, he tumbled down a ridiculously long flight of stairs. When he picked himself off the ground, he was in Avalia.

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Combat and Magic Stat Creation

Fitness Level:
⋆ Unless esports counts, zero

What are your character’s physical strengths?
⋆ Never got seriously ill before
⋆ No allergies
⋆ Can eat and drink just about anything without getting sick
⋆ High alcohol tolerance (never got drunk before)

What are your character’s physical weaknesses?
⋆ No strength
⋆ No stamina
⋆ Terrible eyesight
⋆ Virtually no hand eye-coordination
⋆ Two left feet

Years of Experience:
Weapon(s):
⋆ None

Hand-to-Hand Combat:
⋆ None

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Magical Abilities:
Ability on Avalia:

Aerokinesis

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Jun’s Stats

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Physical Stats

Strength: ⬤◯◯◯◯

Ground Speed:⬤◯◯◯◯

Stamina: ⬤◯◯◯◯

Dexterity:⬤◯◯◯◯

Durability: ⬤◯◯◯◯

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Combat Stats

N/A

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Magic Stats

Aerokinesis: ⬤◯◯◯◯

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🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Ríoghnach "Riona"

Interaction: Callum@Helo

Riona perused through the aisles of the shop, taking in the wide selection of spices, herbs, flowers, and roots it had on offer. Shelves upon shelves of jars and packets, each one holding a different blend of botanicals, lined the walls. Products that weren't on a shelf or hanging from the ceiling were arranged in their respective displays, inviting customers to take a closer look at their eye-catching colors and heady mix of scents, ranging from sweet and floral to pungent and earthy. The store seemed to have every imaginable botanical, including the more exotic and obscure ones, making it a place of endless possibilities for culinary exploration and experimentation. Riona didn’t come here to buy groceries, though. She came to buy ingredients for a very different kind of cooking.

Ideally, she would’ve grown the ingredients herself. It would’ve saved her a lot of money in the long run, but realistically, she didn’t have the time or energy to take care of the more difficult plants. Long story short, it was just easier to buy them… if she had the money for them, that is.

Riona audibly gasped at the outrageous price scribbled on the tag. How the f**k is this tiny bottle worth three months of my salary? She’d been searching for a particular root listed in one of Callum’s books that was a vital component of several potions. This root, called geshrow, turned out to be a challenge to find and, apparently, was going to be a pain-in-the-a** buying too.

After a rough calculation of her budget, she pursed her lips. With great reluctance, Riona returned the bottle to the shelf. She glowered at the label the entire time, silently wishing that her glare alone could shrink the numbers into an affordable amount. Her gaze remained fixed on it even as she backed away from the display, as if distance was the only reason the price didn’t buckle into submission.

Riona knew it was pointless, even careless, but she didn’t really know just how careless she was being until she backed right into another customer. She blurted an apology as she spun around to face the innocent bystander properly, then flashed a smile of recognition upon seeing Callum.

She was just about to follow up with a casual greeting when his guards came into view and they looked none too pleased with her. Had she collided into Callum as Riona the maidservant, and not dolled-up “Ms. Vos,” she didn’t doubt that they would’ve been on her like a pack of rabid dogs for hurting His Highness. Based on their demeanor, however, the guards weren’t going to let Ms. Vos go without a proper apology, even if she wasn’t a peasant.

As soon as she spotted the guards, Riona angled herself so that the wide brim of her hat eclipsed her face from them. When she curtsied, she was careful to do the style drilled into every debutante since the day they could walk—the one that, because of the long dresses, people didn’t seem to realize how much pliés, tendus, and rond de jambes were happening behind the curtains.

“Your Highness, I must beg your pardon and proffer my sincerest apologies. My senses were so enraptured by the enchanting colors and scents that I failed to take heed of my surroundings.” Riona covered her cheek and turned her head further away from the guards, pretending to conceal a blush that should’ve appeared if she was a proper Caesonian gentlewoman. “I pray that my inadvertence has not inflicted any harm upon your person… Your Highness.” She tried her best to avoid sticking the title Prince to Callum’s name or using the surname Danrose, but Riona couldn’t just call him Cal in front of his intimidating babysitters, now could she?

Her gaze traveled to the basket in Callum’s hand and instantly recognized what the items in there were for. “It appears that you possess a discerning palate. If it may not be too impertinent of me, might I recommend the spices over there?” Riona gestured towards the direction the blasted geshrow was located. If she wasn’t going to be able to use it, at least Callum could.

“May the remainder of your shopping bring you joy, Your Highness. It was a pleasure to meet you.” She gave Callum a polite bow before leaving him to his own shopping while she continued with hers. As much as Riona would’ve liked to chat, she couldn’t risk being recognized by the guards—a possibility that grew under their watchful eyes.

Even from a distance, Riona could tell how much happier Callum was outside the castle. His posture was more relaxed, his face lost some of the weary lines, and a faint smile appeared whenever he spotted something interesting. It was as if a weight had been lifted off of him, and he could finally breathe freely. At times like these, it couldn’t have been more obvious that court life didn’t suit him, much like Sadie.

In fact, the Caesonian Prince and Varian Princess had a lot in common, just enough for Riona to wonder if they’d make a good match. They were similar in age and they shared a passion for learning, always eager to expand their knowledge and understanding. Additionally, they were both compassionate, caring deeply for commoners, and held a strong aversion to the abuse of power and violence.

As Riona pondered further, she found herself increasingly drawn to the idea. Being children of the reigning “monarch,” they could understand and support each other in ways that others wouldn’t be able to. Given their shared beliefs and values, the odds of them clashing over ideology were essentially nil. Moreover, Callum would never mistreat Sadie (unlike that two-faced bastard Desmond), and Sadie could infuse Callum with a much-needed dose of optimism and positivity. They’d make a perfect pair, free to be themselves. Perhaps, with time, Sadie won’t be afraid to trust her heart to someone again, and Callum would learn to love him—

The shopkeeper's bell rang, and a breeze pushed its way inside. The air, still tainted with the lingering smell of burnt flesh, asked Riona if she had forgotten her promise. Why should any of the Danroses deserve what they denied her family, friends, everyone from her hometown? She ignored the tiny little voices that gave the answer she heard many times over, by lowborn and highborn alike, “By right of royal blood.” … Ha! The irony.

When Callum turned around and their eyes met, all Riona saw were Edin’s blue eyes. Suddenly, she’s 10 years old again. King Edin stood before her father and Lord Dantès as the blazing fire illuminated them. Sparks of that day landed on the fuse and ate her away. Riona stomped out the image as she rushed to the cashier counter and dumped her shopping basket onto it. “My apologies. I seem to have left my wallet behind. I shall return at a later date to make my purchase. Have a good day.” Without sparing Callum a glance, Riona bolted out of the store.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Charlotte & ◆◆◆◆◆

Charlotte sighed and cast her gaze towards the unexpected guest. Despite the absurdity of having a rooster in her home, she felt too exhausted to think much about it. Instead, she offered a smile, kneeling down to make her acquaintance with the feathered creature. "Hello there, new friend," She greeted softly, "You're certainly a unique guest in my home, but you're most welcome all the same." He cocked his head, somehow looking as confused by her greeting as she was by his presence.

“He’s not one of your pets?… Oh my, is he dinner?” △△△ asked with his voice, while his hand gestures posed a different question for the “new” friend. What’s the matter?

The rooster’s blank stare reprimanded him for asking such an idiotic question. So, △△△ rephrased it into a more reasonable, yes-or-no format. Is something the matter? The rooster refocused their attention on Lady Vikena. Slowly, their talon scraped across the floor. He spared a glance at her. His hands started to formulate another question when a tiny shadow came charging in.

As a wise man once said, bravery was not the absence of fear. It was feeling the fear, the doubt, the insecurity, and deciding that something else was far more important and pressing on in spite of such feelings. Bravery, like many things in the world, also came in all shapes and sizes. To all those present in the foyer, for example, the rooster was nothing but a bird. An unusually large and vibrant colored bird, but a bird nonetheless. For Champion, however, the rooster must have appeared to be an avian colossal, a bird of prey, invading his home. A home that, until yesterday, was something he could have only dreamed of. A home where he felt safe, warm, full, and—above all else—loved. This was his home and he would fight tooth and nail to protect it and its residents; his newfound family. Even from an intruder who thought vivid feathers camouflaged its true nature.

Champion—true to his name—lunged at the rooster, baring ivory fangs and claws, ready to tear their target into ribbons. His attack was swift as it was fierce, catching the rooster off guard. Though it was for a fraction of a second, it was enough for instinct to override any semblance of intelligence and wisdom the rooster possessed until then—every trace of them were gone, leaving a bewildered chicken marooned in a house he did not recognize, surrounded by people he did not know, seconds away from being attacked by a shadow made manifest.

The rooster flapped his wings and let out an ear-piercing squawk before scampering up the stairs, desperate to escape the wrath of the tiny but ferocious feline. With relentless determination, the little ball of fur pursued his prey close behind.

The scene unfolded all too fast, leaving △△△ stunned on the spot. The sound of objects crashing into the ground or breaking into a million pieces snapped the count out of his initial shock. He dashed up the stairs to find that the animals found their way into Duke Vikena’s bedroom.

“Champion no!” Charlotte had cried over the chaos. She let her head fall back to stare at the ceiling in exasperation for just a brief moment before tailing Count Fritz up the stairs. However, she did not halt outside the bedroom as he had. Instead, she had darted inside and scooped the kitten up from behind. It hissed and tried to swing its claws in the rooster’s direction.

”It’s okay… Shhh.” She petted the kitten in hopes of relaxing him, alas it was to no avail. His fur stood up and his pupils remained dilated. Charlotte sighed and departed the room with the kitten. She sat him in her own bedroom and shut the door.

The dark haired woman was soon at the count’s side once more, her eyes falling upon the bedroom before them. Most of the room and even the bedding were green in color. There was a large round bed with a side table on each side, one which completely toppled over. At the far end of the bed was a chest. A couch flanked the left while a large dresser and closet could be found in the back. A sound of disapproval escaped her lips as the sight of clothes all over the room greeted them.

Charlotte moved forward and knelt down to start gathering some of the clothes off the floor. She soon proclaimed as she rose up to her feet, “…That isn’t my pet.”

“I admit, Lady Charlotte, that I was the one who asked first, but do you think it’s wise to confess that he’s dinner, right to his face?” While Lady Vikena swooped in to capture her brave little Champion, △△△ removed his coat, and held it between the kitten and rooster like a curtain, shielding them from both potential attacks on each other and cutting off visual contact. He had been inching closer to the rooster, who Champion backed against the last standing side table, and trying to calm him with a soothing voice.

Still riled up, the rooster scrambled up the side table, using the handles as footholds to reach the top. His ascent was far from graceful; the weight and momentum of the bird’s movements flung the compartments open. The change in weight distribution caused physics to work its magic and the table tipped over, suffering the same fate as its twin. A lone piece of paper remained where the side table once stood while the drawers disgorged their contents, scattering additional papers haphazardly across the floor.

Using what leverage the table provided, the rooster launched himself across the room towards the dresser. As his previous display of athletic skill demonstrated, however, his landing was not as smooth as he planned it to be. He skidded across the dresser top as he tried to turn around, knocking off everything in his wake. A funnel rolled off the dresser and onto the floor with a light thud.

When he went over the edge, his talons grabbed the closest handles he could reach to pull himself back up. As history had a tendency to repeat itself, the compartment flew open. This time, however, the dresser was the heavier of the two: the extended drawer simply hung perilously midair. Once he regained his footing on the dresser top—and after a considerable amount of flailing—the flightless bird evacuated to the one spot he was confident the strangers could not reach.

”Goodness! He’s lost his mind.”

△△△ looked up at the puffed-up bird peering from above the closet, worry etched on his face. “Shh, it’s okay, buddy. We’re not going to hurt you. The kitten was just scared. The kind lady moved him into another room so he won’t be chasing you down.” The rooster had not the slightest clue what he was talking about. “How about this? We’re going to clean up the room while you catch your breath, and maybe later we can give you a nice treat. How does that sound?” Beyond the disorientation, the rooster seemed to perk up at the mention of “treat.” Wherever Wayra snatched this majestic creature from, it was evident he was domesticated if he recognized the word “treat.” Although the lack of chicken coops alluded the Vikenas did not own any chickens, Lady Vikena’s words confirmed the rooster was, at the very least, not theirs. “Good? Great. You rest up, big guy.” △△△ turned to the destruction a single frantic giant rooster brought. He began assisting Lady Vikena with cleaning up. “Not quite how I imagined my day would go,” he said with a chuckle.

Charlotte was relieved he had somehow calmed the crazed bird. The next dilemma would be getting him out of the house. Still worn down from all that occurred, she had continued to simply busy herself with folding the clothes. She managed to give the count a reply nonetheless. ” Me neither, but I’m afraid the universe has a no refund policy when it comes to days like this.”

“Come now, Lady Charlotte,” △△△ said as pushed the drawer back into place. He noted two little brightly colored tickets on top of the folded garments. Each ticket, both brand new, had a picture of a circus tent printed on it, but no date. “Surely the day hasn’t been ruined yet, has it? Look at the bright side. Duke Vikena came back home, you’ve spent time with friends, you’ve made a new feathery one. Why, you even helped people in need and you thwarted Count Damien twice, two days in a row, Lady Charlotte! What an accomplishment!” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, but the grin and praise he directed at Lady Charlotte was genuine. “And that’s not even the best part! Did you see how valiantly Lord Champion fought to protect you and this house? One of the greatest declarations of love I have ever witnessed. How can that not warm the heart?” Suddenly realizing whose heart would not have been warmed, △△△ apologized to the victim. From the rooster’s perspective, the entire ordeal was nothing short of an unprovoked, one-sided assault—no matter how justified the kitten thought his actions were. “At least no one got seriously injured and all we have to deal with is a little mess.” He inwardly flinched at his own words, realizing his error. Technically, no one got seriously injured today, thus far. However, the news of her friend’s passing cut Lady Vikena’s heart as deeply as it would have had Lady Damien died this morning.

Charlotte paused in her movements and turned to face the count, her eyes searching his His words managed to get a genuine smile out of her. "Your positivity is truly uplifting, and I am grateful for the opportunity to have met someone as kind and thoughtful as yourself." She said with genuine warmth, "And I really am glad I'm so loved by Champion... It's been awhile since I've had a pet of my own."

However, the count's last statement fell short, and Charlotte's heart sank as she realized that the news of Lady Violet's passing was still weighing heavily on her mind. She knew that she shouldn't dwell on it, but it was difficult to push the thought aside completely. She knew it wasn't true for certain quite yet, but she was hoping that Persephone wasn't the type to lie about something so horrible. As much as her thoughts had run rampant over the subject, it wasn’t something she wanted to bring up verbally to Count Fritz while he was trying to focus on the positive. But as much as she tried to push the thought aside, it lingered in the back of her mind.

Charlotte gathered the folded clothes in her arms and rose up with them. She took them over to the closet and began to hang what belonged inside. “... I must confess, I feel as though I know very little about you.” She said thoughtfully during her work. She then further elaborated. “You’ve been so busy with all the silliness in my life that I haven’t gotten to know anything about yours… I can tell that you’re very kind for certain, spending all this time helping me when you could be pursuing a future spouse as everyone else is. I assume that’s why you’ve come to Caesonia.” She turned on her heels as she finished hanging the clothes to face him once again, her eyes alight with curiosity and interest in her new friend.

The count hummed thoughtfully, “I’m afraid I won’t make a suitable marriage candidate at the moment. I’m the newcomer, the commoner who held the title of count only for a few seasons. My position is still considerably weak within the court. I would be fortunate to make friends or alliances, let alone find a potential spouse.”

△△△ picked up the funnel on the floor and examined it. There was a faint sweet scent on the inside. “Besides, my future spouse will have a lot to handle if they wish to be part of my family. It's a fate best avoided, if possible.”

”Oh come now. Don’t let yourself become ensnared in the superficial ways of the nobility. There should be more to a marriage than a title. You have a good heart…” Charlotte stepped forward and assured him with gentle sincerity, ”You’ll find someone who will love you as you are and all that you come with. As for your family, well, anyone who loves you will be willing to accept and love them too.” She paused, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Although I must admit, I am curious as to why you attended the courting season if you believe it to be outside the realm of possibility for you?" Her tone was inquisitive, but not judgmental. Her gaze had traveled to the funnel in his grasp as she spoke.

He started to respond, then halted when he noticed her attention was on the funnel. △△△ handed it to Lady Vikena. “This? It was on the dresser before the rooster knocked it off. What does your father use it for? It smells surprisingly sweet,” he said as he skimmed the room to see if there was anything lying around that could answer his question.

“Not certain. I don’t come in here often.” Charlotte admitted. She averted her gaze to bite her lip as a possibility or two drifted into her mind. She moved over to upright one of the nightstands and paused. There was a single paper where the nightstand had once been. She hesitated before collecting it in her fingers. It seemed to just be a list of herbs. After a moment, she continued to put the side table back where it had been, then placed the sheet on top of it. She sighed as she looked upon the rest of the papers everywhere. Charlotte had not expected for Lorenzo to have so many all over the place. She knelt down to begin to collect them.

△△△ examined the list and his eyes narrowed slightly. Many of the herbs on the list were commonly used in magic, but were basic enough for mundane applications as well. Soundlessly, he returned the paper before approaching the other side table and returning it to its original position. “To answer your previous question, Lady Charlotte…” He checked inside to make sure that the lucky few items that remained inside did not break from the impact. “First I must clarify, I don’t consider myself outside the list of prospective marriage partners. It’s simply… well, I don’t think I’ll be high on anyone’s list. Not this year, at least. If, by some stroke of luck, I am, they have the right to know what they’re getting themselves into before committing to the idea.”

“With that said, it’s true that courting is not my top priority. I’ve come here for a few reasons. One, I figured it would be as good an event as any for my international court debut. Two, this might sound childish, but I want to make friends.” △△△ began collecting the scattered objects on the floor. Most of the papers seemed to be poems, primarily about Lady Vikena, with a few about the duke’s late wife. “And three…” the count hesitated, “to find answers to old questions.”

He only allowed the silence to linger briefly. “Speaking of courting, how goes the search, Lady Charlotte? I hope you’re having better luck finding a prospective spouse than I am.”

"I do not believe that I am highly regarded by anyone either," Charlotte stated, her shoulders slumping as she let out a deep sigh. "In fact, I would not be surprised if I were at the bottom of most people's lists."

“I find it hard to believe that you’d be at the bottom of anyone’s list.” △△△ batted the notion away from the air, “If such a list exists, then it’s their loss for failing to see what a wonderful person you are. Not yours.”

"To be completely candid, however, it does not bother me as much as perhaps it should. I have so much occupying my thoughts at present that I cannot focus on it."

The conversation from last night played back in △△△’s head. He nodded without comment, not wanting to interrupt her.

As she spoke, Charlotte began to neatly return the papers to the drawer. “... Oh and…I don’t think it’s childish to seek out friendship. Why would it be?”

△△△ closed his eyes as he rubbed his fingers against the objects in his hands. “Because friendship is a double-edged sword.” He said with a voice barely above a whisper. “And… because, ‘even after knowing nobility all my life, I’ve never really known who to trust in this pit of vipers.’” After paraphrasing Lady Vikena’s own words, he fixed his gaze on her. “So I understand why you’re hesitant to divulge certain matters. But… I meant what I said last night: I do want to help, Lady Charlotte. If I can do no more than act as a simple soundboard, then I will gladly take on that role.” His black eyes searched her blue ones. “What is on your mind?” There was a lot packed in the question.

”I see.” Charlotte rose to her feet and she looked upon him. “… My heart is set on uncovering the truth and protecting those I love. Marrying someone could slow down those efforts as I would not be guaranteed to live as freely as I do now.”

“‘Even if it takes me years, I will uncover the truth,’” △△△ quoted her as he took a seat on the sofa. He looked up at her, silently encouraging her to continue. He sat in a position that afforded him an unobstructed view of the rooster, which had nestled itself comfortably atop the closet. A few birds landed on the window ledge, basking in the sun’s warmth.

Charlotte gazed down at him, her mind filled with conflicting emotions. The thought of opening up to someone after everything that had happened was both comforting and terrifying. She had been keeping her thoughts to herself, prioritizing others in the last few hours. However, with Count Fritz, it was different. He had been there for her, helping her through it all. But could she trust him completely? Was it fair to involve him further in her problems? These were the questions that gnawed at her. With a weary sigh, she finally answered, “I think I will take a brief rest, Count Fritz…. I did not sleep much last night and I have Leo Smithwood coming over at 3pm. If you wish to stay, I can lead you to a guest room or you’re welcome to explore our library until then. Some our staff is walking around if you should so need something. First and foremost, I think I will go arrange for someone to keep an eye on our two new friends downstairs actually.”

△△△ kept silent, his eyes cast downward and his shoulders slumped. Then he shot to his feet and bowed. “I’m a dreadful guest. I should’ve realized sooner how tired you were. I took advantage of your hospitality and overstayed my welcome. Forgive me.” His head inclined further at the beginning of his apology. As he lifted his head, he directed his hands to the door, “Please rest, Lady Charlotte. I can move the rest of the items back into the drawers…” He adjusted his gaze to the rooster, “... and attempted to escort the other guest safely out. Would you like me to lock the door afterwards?” △△△ opened his palm to accept the key, provided Lady Vikena trusted him enough to entrust it to him—let alone leave him unsupervised in her father's room, even for a short period of time. So when she made no movement to do either, he accepted the answer, unperturbed, and continued dealing with the remaining clutter.

The ticking rhythm of the clock drew △△△’s attention. Not much time passed since the illumination started. Who knew what the staff’s reaction would be if they witnessed two blindingly bright stars tucked away in the basement? “Lady Charlotte, could you instruct whoever you send down there to wait a little longer before checking in? I am sure Mr. Vincent and Ms. Mary would be grateful for an uninterrupted hour of rest.”

“No, no. You’re a delightful guest. Really.” Charlotte assured him warmly with a smile. “No such thing as overstaying at the Vikena House. My home is your home.” She glanced around the room for a moment before answering his other question, ” It’s just about almost tidy so no worry about any further cleaning.. However, I would be most appreciative of any assistance in removing Mr. Rooster, as it appears that he has taken a particular liking to you. I shall see to the locking up upon my return." Her gaze momentarily alighted on the pistol mounted upon the wall as she spoke. Having rarely ventured into Lorenzo's quarters, it was undoubtedly intriguing to observe their contents.

“Did your father serve in the army?” Duke Vikena did not appear to be someone who had a strong interest in collecting firearms, as evidenced by the lack of obvious gun-related decor in the rest of the estate. The placement of the pistol in his bedroom implied it was not intended for others to ogle at.

“No. Not that I know of. ” Charlotte had replied. “I will go to rest and have Delilah ready to help you whatever you need. If you plan to stay, you’re welcome to join Lord Leo and I for lunch. Thank you for your company today.” After her final words and a smile, she left the room.

“Sweet dreams, Lady Charlotte.” Once the sound of her footsteps receded into the distance, △△△ reached for the pistol mounted on the wall. The surface of the weapon felt frigid against his skin, from the grip to the smooth metal of the barrel. Although designed to be wielded with ease using only one hand, the pistol felt incredibly weighty in his hands, as if it bore the burden of a life-altering decision.

△△△’s heart sank when he cracked open the chamber of the well-polished pistol and found a single round of ammunition loaded within. The duke had meticulously maintained and cared for it, ensuring that when the time came, it would not misfire—and it only needed to be fired once. What happened after was irrelevant.

The bullet was halfway out of its chamber when familiar words crossed his mind. “What right do you have to decide who lives or dies?”

Udo poured librations overboard. The waves lapped them up as if they had not had a drop of water in eons. As one of Nnenne’s warriors, Udo should have known of the ocean’s unquenchable thirst, yet this knowledge did little to dissuade him from dumping every liquor—that the ship crew did not defend as if it were their own flesh and blood—into the salt water, occasionally indulging in a few gulps between hurls. “You people believe it’s awful to want to end your own life, why? Why? Why do I have to stay a second longer than necessary?” Amidst the drunken haze, his voice was clear as ever. “Abatala n'ụzọ m, ◆◆◆◆◆. I kwere m nkwa.”

Without pause or hesitation, the blade slid across the woman’s throat. Beads of scarlet streamed down her neck, creating a one of a kind necklace that glittered like rubies and garnets underneath the dim streetlight. She gaped at Peter, who stood before her holding the bloody knife, her expression a blend of shock and disbelief. It did not occur to her that karma also collected taxes from the influential. “Some people are better off dead,” Peter spat as the body collapsed onto the grimy alleyway pavement. “You can’t deny that, Boss.”

The only indication of Karleen’s puzzlement was the furrow of her brow. She surveyed the body-strewn battlefield with the indifference of someone who had become accustomed to such carnage. “They lost because we were stronger,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Muscles, brains, money, luck, the will to fight, to live. It doesn't matter what. You have to have more than your enemy, or you lose. That’s all.”

Without making a sound, an arm emerged from behind △△△ and extended itself. After reaching its full length, it flicked its wrist, revealing the card it held: the Wheel of Fortune.

The wall hooks clicked as △△△ put the pistol back on display. “Stop,” he said, the words sounding more like a plea than an order, “I get it.” He placed the bullet on the closest surface. It did not matter where he hid the bullet or the gun, nor did it matter who the intended target was. If Duke Vikena was set on carrying out his plan, he would find another bullet, another gun, another means to achieve what this pistol and bullet were meant to do.

“I get it, loud and clear.” △△△ faced his audience watching from the other side of the glass. A deluge of birds amassed every window ledge and perched on the nearby tree branches, their beady eyes fixated on him with a detached curiosity. △△△ expelled a long sigh as he walked to the nearest window and opened it.

---

---

As △△△ attempted to regain his balance, the rooster propelled himself out of his grasp, causing him to fall backwards onto the ground with a resounding thud. △△△ pulled himself up, rubbing the backside that took the brunt of the impact, and swiftly scanned the room to see if the rooster had suffered any injuries. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the unharmed bird scurry under the bed.

With the goal of rescuing the rooster from the top of the closet, △△△ used a chest as a foothold to close the distance between them. He successfully coaxed the bird to come close enough to grab him when sudden barking noises from outside startled the rooster into another frenzy. Despite △△△’s attempts to restrain the giant bird and prevent it from bringing havoc to the Duke’s room once again, their struggle led to him getting himself snagged on the closet handle and subsequent loss of balance.

Given the destruction the rooster could have wrought, it was fortunate that the only casualties were the knocked-over chest and a few trinkets that spilled out of it. Regrettably, those trinkets confirmed a suspicion of △△△’s. He retrieved one of the many opium-filled bulb flasks in one hand and a bottle of gin in the other—a deadly combination.

Who needs a bullet when you could take these instead? It would make for a cleaner outcome: less washing would be required and there would be no need for a closed casket. “Why are you so insistent on leaving her behind?” he asked the master of the room.

🗡 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?”

---

---

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.”

---

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◆◆◆◆◆ "△△△" ◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

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.”