JJ Doe

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Afternoon Sola 23, 1739: Kalliope & Riona

Kalliope & Riona

---

To say that Riona was less than thrilled about being shackled to the service of Sh*tlord for the rest of his stay in the capital would be a monumental understatement. Not that he was particularly overjoyed by the situation either. The whole arrangement, courtesy of Lady Morrigan, was “compensation” for Riona’s antics. The Varian Lordling claimed he accepted purely as a favor. Riona, however, wasn’t buying it. She knew a smug power play when she saw one.

During the early hours of the morning, Riona naively thought she could handle the new assignment without giving in to the temptation of slapping the snobbery off his face. That was, of course, before she endured a full thirty seconds in the Duke-to-be’s company, reaffirming her dislike of the pompous a**. So, when she doctored his morning brew with a botched potion, her conscience was lighter than air. Her only regret was not being there to see him embarrass himself.

For “ruining” his shoes, the Lordling ordered Riona to purchase new ones in time for the upcoming masquerade ball. Little did he know the slipperiness wore off days ago. Since he cared to check this as much as she cared to tell him (which was never), she took the liberty of rehoming his footwear collection to people who appreciated them more.

Her mission for replacements led her to Cotton & Silk, a Varian apparel and accessories shop that Sadie and she had stumbled upon just a day prior. Its range was staggering, catering to every conceivable shape, size, and style.

Which was how Riona curated the most absurdly inappropriate assortment of high heels, each more garish and flamboyant than the last, all perfectly sized for Lordling Smithwood. To add variety, she included sandals studded with fake diamonds, unvarnished wooden clogs, and fuzzy lion slippers into His Lordlingship’s new collection.

After all, he never did say what kind of shoes he wanted.

With the task done, Riona found herself with nothing else to do. The shoes were set to be delivered straight to the Lordling’s room, and the housekeeper gave her no other instructions. She had a rare pocket of time to herself, in the middle of a workday no less! Maybe this arrangement wasn’t so bad.

Unsure of how to spend the unexpected free time, Riona wandered the streets while she turned over her options. As she ambled along, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure in the crowd. “Via?” she called out tentatively, moving closer to get a better look.

After the peculiar series of events that unfolded on the beach that morning, Kalliope decided that a bit of retail therapy was in order. The beach outing had taken an unexpected turn, with Layla's dramatics and the subsequent confrontations creating an air of tension, then there was the whole situation with Sjan-dehk that left her confused and slightly upset. Kalliope was more than happy to escape. She had retreated from the scene with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, and the idea of shopping seemed like a perfect way to reset her mood.

So, Kalliope had wandered the bustling streets of the town, browsing through shops and boutiques, her vibrant gaze dancing over fabrics and accessories. She let herself be immersed in the world of colors and textures, allowing the simple pleasure of shopping to distract her from the chaos of the morning.

As she moved down a particularly charming lane lined with shops, Kalliope was startled by a voice calling out a particular nickname. The voice was familiar, and her heart warmed at the sound. She turned to see Riona, her best friend and the closest thing she had to a sister, making her way towards her.

A delighted smile broke across Kalliope's face, and she hurried over to her friend, embracing her tightly. "Riona! Oh, it's so wonderful to see you! I’ve missed you desperately." Kalliope exclaimed, her voice carrying genuine joy. It was a pleasant surprise to run into Riona during her impromptu shopping excursion. She’d planned to reach out to her as soon as she could get back to the castle and have a moment to herself.

As soon as the other woman stopped, Riona didn’t hesitate. Swift as a flash, she closed the distance and encircled her sister with her arms before Via could take more than a few strides toward her. The momentum sent them spinning around, eliciting a gleeful laughter from Riona. When the twirling slowed down and they steadied themselves, Riona’s hands found Via’s. “When did you get back? You should’ve sent for me, I would’ve come to get you!”

Kalliope’s gleeful laughter joined Riona’s as they spun, their joy eliciting odd glances from those around them. She cared little what anyone else thought, however, and even almost dared them to interrupt her and her sister’s reunion. At Riona’s question, however, Kali felt a sheepish grin cross her face as she thought of all that had transpired since she’d gotten back. ”A couple days ago. Initially I was going to send for you, but the trip back took much longer than expected. Then when I arrived I ran into an…interesting character who may have distracted me more than I’d anticipated. What have you heard of the captain of the Sada Kurau?” She felt a blush tinge her cheeks as she mentioned Sjan-dehk.

Pure astonishment turned into a blend of amusement and delight as Riona watched a rare expression cross Via’s face. “Nothing, only that apparently he’s charming enough to make you forget your sister was waiting for your safe return.”

She tried to appear stern, but they both knew Riona wasn’t remotely upset. Even though she wished they could’ve reunited sooner, their jobs made finding time together difficult. With Via’s line of work, there were never any guarantees. It wasn’t unusual for her to return from an assignment, stay in the capital for days, then leave again without ever seeing Riona. Still, the sisters always found ways to connect, leaving notes and gifts for each other or sending letters if Via’s mission would allow it. This coincidental reunion was something Riona would never take for granted. Her sister was back, safe and whole—that was all that mattered.

“Well, I guess your sister might find it in her heart to forgive you. But only if you make it up to her,” she said, linking their arms. “Her demands are simple. Tea, treats, and all the details about everything that happened.” Unable to keep up the act, Riona let her sly smile break free as she led Via down the street.

Kalliope chuckled at Riona's playful scolding, her sister's words and presence having an immediate soothing effect on her. As they walked arm in arm down the bustling street, Kali couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment.

"Tea, treats, and stories, huh?" Kalliope raised an eyebrow, feigning contemplation. "I believe I can manage those demands, dear sister. And I promise, no more distractions."

She gave Riona's arm a gentle squeeze, grateful beyond words for this unexpected reunion. Despite the chaos and uncertainty that often marked her life, moments like these with her sister were a reminder of what truly mattered.

“Welcome home, Via.” Riona tilted her head closer to Via and whispered. “I missed you. I’m glad you’re back.”

As they walked towards their favorite tea shop, Kali went on to tell her all about her trip first. She used coded words that she knew Riona would understand as she explained how she'd arrived in the kingdom she was sent to, how she met their king, found him to be absolutely dastardly and deserving of what she needed to do, and then she told her how she seduced him and rid the world of the vile being.

Once they were seated with some tea, she went on to tell her all the juicy details of the man she had met the other day. ”As I got off the ship, I noticed an odd looking ship in the harbor here and my curiosity got the better of me. I quietly made my way aboard and began exploring the upper deck without notice until Captain Sjan-dehk saw me. He seemed more amused than angry that I was there and we ended up having a lovely conversation. I discovered he comes from the same kingdom my dear friend in that horrid prison came from. He was kind and invited me to a ceremony to honor those they lost on the way here.” The smile on her face was one that might be found on a lovesick puppy, but Kalliope didn’t even realize this.

”I then told him I’d show him the city and now we’re going Calbert’s masquerade party tonight together. Which reminds me, I might be in need of your help in figuring out what exactly to do with my hair?” She said the last bit a little sheepishly, clearly a bit nervous about the date that she wouldn’t admit was a date.

“You could do anything with your hair and it’d still be perfect.” Riona meant it too. Via had the kind of beauty that made even bedhead look fashionable. “But if you’re worried, I can do your hair when you get ready for the party.” She leaned back slightly in her chair, imagining the auburn red hair in various styles. “Have you decided what you’re going to be wearing? If not, there’s a couple of stores Sadie and I went yesterday that I think you’d really like.”

After staring at her sister a little longer, Riona asked, “Are you falling in love?”

Kalliope's eyes sparkled with excitement as she agreed to style her hair. She always felt Riona did a better job than she did with styling her tresses.

"That would be wonderful, Riona," she replied with a warm smile. "I have a dress being altered to match Sjan-dehk's outfit, but I'm still in need of accessories and shoes to complete the look. I was going to pick up the dress as well. If you wanted to come with me, then you could give me your opinion on it." She didn’t even realize that she’d forgotten to call him Captain and simply used his name as if they were already quite close.

When Riona asked the question about falling in love, Kalliope's cheeks flushed slightly, and she let out a nervous giggle. "It's not like that. We just met, and he's... intriguing, that's all. Besides, I'm far too busy with work to think about love." She waved her hand dismissively, hoping to downplay any notions of romantic involvement. The truth was she didn’t really know what she felt for him, it was all quite confusing.

Riona recalled the fluttering sensations she felt when her own heart had danced to a tune she hadn’t expected, just like it seemed to be doing with Via now. At first, Dan was just another stableboy who popped out of nowhere and started working at the royal stables. Over time, he became a trusted friend, someone she could confide in and do just about anything with (even pretend to be betrothed so that “Ms. Vos” could have a bank account). She, however, had never seen him as more than that.

So when Dan confessed deeper feelings for her, it caught Riona completely off guard. But his words also planted a seed in her mind. She started looking at Dan in a new light, noticing things about him she had overlooked before. The way he made her laugh. The strength of his arms when they rode together. The warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. Bit by bit, Riona realized she was falling for Dan too. Where once he had been just a friend, now she felt butterflies in her stomach when he was near. She found herself making excuses just to see him. Her heart raced at his smile. Being with Dan made her happy in a way she had never known before. Life felt bigger, brighter, full of exciting possibilities. She, of all people, dreamed of a future. For the first time, she understood what it meant to be in love… and what it meant to lose it.

“Do you think you’ll tell the Captain?” Not Via’s potential feelings for the man; she meant her full story. Riona never got the chance to tell Dan her own. Then again, she was prepared to abandon everything—the hate and anger; her promise—for a life with him, so maybe she never had any intention of revealing her story. Even though she knew he would’ve accepted it, just as he accepted every other aspect of her.

What?! I-” Kalliope cut herself short as she realized she wasn’t sure what she’d actually do. "I don’t know, actually. I think, if the right moment comes and he’s proven himself trustworthy, I will," Kalliope replied softly, her gaze distant for a moment as she contemplated the idea of sharing her own story with the Captain. She had kept her past tightly guarded, but there was something about Sjan-dehk that made her consider opening up, letting him into the depths of her history. After all, she had already told him something she hadn’t expected just after meeting him.

“I hope he is,” Riona said. Then maybe Via would finally have a chance at the happiness she deserved.

”Either way, it takes a very special person for me to share that with and so far there’s only one person who’s gained that level of trust with me.” She finally said as she gave Riona a soft, adoring smile.

A swell of emotions rose up within her as Via spoke those tender words. To know her beloved sister valued their bond so highly, trusted her so completely, filled Riona with joy. Yet behind that joy was an aching sadness too.

”So has anything exciting happened since I’ve been gone?”

“Where to even begin!” Riona caught Via up on the happenings she missed during her absence. She touched on both the highs and lows, but at some point it devolved into venting about the insufferable snob, Lordling Leo Smithwood. How his accusation of “over-polished” floors led to the servants suffering through a two-day fast as punishment; how he viewed commoners as ants beneath his boots, his noble birth granting him license to treat them with contempt; and how Riona suspected he sent a hulking bruiser of a manservant to intimidate her in the middle of the city, a tactical show of power. Now that Lady Morrigan had specifically assigned Riona to Sh*twood, she had no doubt they intended to make her life miserable. Why else would the hag make such an arrangement?

Riona bit angrily into another cookie. “Gods, just thinking about that pompous, holier-than-thou—ugh!” She shoved the rest of the cookie into her mouth and washed it down with tea.

Kalliope couldn't help but chuckle as she listened to Riona's animated rant about Lordling Leo Smithwood. She could sense her sister's frustration and annoyance, and it was clear that dealing with such a pompous noble was a challenge. "Perhaps I should pay this Lord Leo a visit and put him in his place." She suggested with a wicked grin.

"Though you've just given me a splendid idea," Kalliope said, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Come to the masquerade ball! What better opportunity to gather some valuable information on these insufferable nobles. You can take my invitation to get in since I'll be with the Captain. I'll lend you a beautiful gown, a mask, and even help you craft a disguise that will make you nearly unrecognizable. While you enjoy the festivities, which you deserve, you can discreetly spy on the guests. What do you say?" She offered, knowing that Riona's skills and intuition would be a valuable asset at the ball.

Riona blinked owlishly at Via’s proposition. Her? At a masquerade party? As a guest? The last time she attended any kind of extravagant event as an attendee was a lifetime ago—or at least, it felt that way. Did she even remember the proper etiquette for mingling in polite society? She wasn’t sure.

Still, she considered the idea, not because she actually wanted to gather information on “insufferable nobles,” but because this could help Callum. If he wanted to prove his worth to the anarchists, he needed to gather as much information involving high society as he could for them. These glittering social events would be ripe with gossip and scandal for the taking, if you kept your ear to the ground. Problem being, the masquerade party clashed with the Summer Solstice celebration he planned to take part in. Perhaps, Riona mused, she could attend in his place and give him anything she found. Until he gains (at least) Quack’s trust, Cal was going to need all the help he could get. As a bonus, she might even learn something useful to Via too.

“There’s something you should know.” Riona set her teacup down on its saucer with the slightest clink of porcelain. She glanced around the parlor, checking that the other customers were preoccupied in their own conversations. Satisfied they weren't listening, Riona leaned in close to Via and pitched her voice low. “Callum’s joined the Thornbreakers.”

The Thornbreakers. An underground group with the singular goal of destroying the kingdom’s very foundations: depose both Crowns and bring down the peerage.

A choking sound came from Kalliope as she took a sip of her tea and then began coughing as she tried to recover. A few people looked her way and she simply gave them a warning smile that had them looking away quickly. She’d worked alongside the Thornbreaker’s in the past in certain operations, yet their methods were often too extreme for her taste. The leader, in particular, was someone she found difficult to trust completely. Their goals aligned in some areas, but in others she wasn’t completely onboard. Either way, she didn’t have anything against them, but for Callum to join them concerned her.

"The Thornbreakers?" Kalliope whispered, her voice a mixture of concern and disbelief. "Callum joined them? That's... an interesting decision." Her mind raced, considering the implications of Callum's decision. She knew he was resourceful and determined, but the Thornbreakers were a different league altogether.

"You know I have nothing against them, but will Quack actually accept Callum into the ranks? As much as I shouldn’t care, I am concerned for his safety." she added, her worry for the prince she’d unexpectedly befriended over the years.

A rueful smile pulled at Riona’s lips. Funny that the two people who shouldn’t care were more concerned for Cal’s safety than he was himself. She turned the empty cup over and over in her hands, the repetitive motion failing to soothe her thoughts. “Quack, maybe,” she said at last. “The others...I’m not so sure.” The cup stilled in her hands. “It’s why Cal needs to secure his position. I think…” She took a breath. “I think we can help him get to that point faster if we pitch in on information gathering and pass it to Cal. Give him more to offer.”

She risked a glance up at her sister. “He’ll do this with or without us. Better we stay close.” The next words curdled in her mouth even as she gave them life. “We could use this too.” The thought left a bitter aftertaste, but she forced herself to swallow it down.

Kalliope sucked in a long breath as she closed her eyes, taking a moment to think about it all. ”Gods damn it…” She sighed and then met Riona's gaze, understanding the weight of the situation. Cal was stubborn and often liked to run head first into danger. He’d used his influence to free an assassin from one of the most brutal prisons and then managed to befriend her, for goodness sakes. He was reckless, but if they played their cards right, they could provide him with the support he needed to navigate it safely. "You're right," she said softly, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and concern. "We'll assist him, gather information, and ensure he has every advantage possible. And if there's a way we can turn this to our advantage as well, then so be it. We've danced on the edge of shadows before; we know how to move in the darkness."

She reached out, resting her hand gently on Riona's, a silent gesture of solidarity. "We'll keep him safe, and we'll protect our interests too. We just need to be careful, strategic. And most importantly, we need to watch each other's backs. I care about Cal, but if I had to choose between him and you, I’m choosing you every time." Kalliope's voice held a note of quiet determination. They were stepping into dangerous territory, but together, they had faced worse. The bond between the sisters, forged in the fires of adversity, was unbreakable, and it would see them through whatever challenges lay ahead.

Riona drew her bottom lip between her teeth, biting back tears. She wouldn’t cry. Not here, not now. Instead, she squeezed the hand still clasping hers and nodded.

Although Via might be a formidable assassin, more than capable of handling herself, that wouldn’t stop Riona from doing whatever it took to protect her. If things go sideways, she’ll activate it. Even if doing so meant destroying all evidence of the Danrose’s lies, as long as she dragged King Edin and Queen Alibeth down into the Hells with her, setting Via and Cal free to live the lives they chose—then the past fourteen years would’ve been worth it.

“Always,” she whispered. Their gazes held fast, a world of understanding between sisters. “We’re in this together, Via.”

The clock struck the hour, and Riona’s attention turned to the time, smirking when she met Via’s eyes again. “Starting with this party. If we’re shopping, dollying you up to dazzle the Captain, and disguising all of this,” she gestured to herself, “we’d better hurry or there’ll only be empty wine bottles by the time we arrive.”

”You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re far more beautiful than even most of the noble women.” Kali said with a small laugh and shake of her head, but she was being honest. She truly didn’t think it was going to be all that difficult to doll the woman up and be turning heads. ”However, you’re right. Time waits for no one, not even us. Shall we then?” She said as she let go of Riona’s hand and pushed back her seat, ready to embark on their whirlwind preparations for the evening.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Time: Evening
Location: Damien Estate’s Ballroom
Interaction(s): Mr. V @samreaper

A flicker of disdain crossed Mr. Vincent’s countenance upon seeing “one of them.” A familiar expression that mirrored the contempt Lord Smithwood had directed at him, albeit from the other side of the divide. Too common to be noble, too noble to be common—Ryn lived in both worlds, yet belonged to neither.

An outcast.

Ryn hid the sharp sting of that word behind a smile. “Mr. V,” he nodded to acknowledge the preferred moniker, “I don’t believe I properly introduced myself.” Extending his hand, he offered a firm handshake, should Mr. V choose to reciprocate. “My name is Fritz.” Simple, unadorned; just Fritz.

“As for What brought me here, why, I dare say it would be the count's ravishing smile.”

Ryn focused on Count Damien, working the room with practiced charm. “Such a ravishing smile it must be, if you’re willing to venture this close to the sun.”

His attention shifted to the servants. There were many of them, hidden and out in the open. But, as it was customary in these gatherings, most guests paid them no heed. The best place to hide a tree is in a forest, as they say.

“Clever.” Hiding in one of the last places the count would think to look, while risky, was brilliant. However, was that the only reason Mr. V was here? After all, it was far from a permanent solution for his and his friend’s predicament. “Though, I fear you might burn into a crisp if you stay too long in his radiance... Have you given thought to how the flames might be doused?”

Across the ballroom, Count Damien swept towards Lord Smithwood and Lady Vikena with preternatural speed, his coattail streaming behind him, black as the night itself. It seemed Mr. V wasn’t the only one who needed to be cautious of His Excellency’s fire. Ryn kept his dark eyes trained on the trio, poised to intervene. Only once did his stare break, darting to Mr. V in silent query: would he be willing to risk exposing himself to help the detectives?

TL;DR

While impressed that Mr. V decided to hide right under Count Calbert’s nose, Ryn wonders if it’ll solve Kazumin and Persephone’s current situation. He asks Mr. V if he has ideas for a more permanent solution.

He notices Count Calbert approaching Leo and Charlotte, and is prepared to step in.

@Helo@Princess@samreaper

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Time: Evening
Location: Damien Estate’s Ballroom
Interaction(s): Mysterious Servervant @samreaper

Ryn sauntered towards Lord Smithwood and a guest he presumed to be Lady Vikena, when a liveried servant appeared at their side. He pulled up short, hanging back to watch. Something about the fellow piqued his interest. His eyes followed the servant’s retreat, and soon his feet did too.

Drawing up to the pillar where the servant took up station, Ryn studied every nuance of his features. Then he grinned in recognition, “Good evening, Mr. Vincent.” With a glance at the drink on the tray, he added, “May I?” At the man’s affirmation, Ryn lifted the glass and thanked him. He positioned himself beside “Mr. Vincent,” posing as another guest lost in the ball’s splendor. “I’m glad to see you looking better,” he remarked, pitched under the surrounding noise. “How have you been doing?” More importantly, “What brings you here?”

As if in answer, Count Damien made his entrance. “Him?”

TL;DR

Ryn was about to approach Leo and Charlotte, but a server beat him to it. The man seemed oddly familiar. Ryn decided to talk to him and realized why.
@Helo@princess@samreaper

Avalia

Time: MORNING
Location: EXT. WOODS - RIVER PORT
Interactions/Mentions: The golden lion furry @Helo; The lady in a purple dress @Tae; The guy cosplaying as an elf @princess; Giant spider(s) @Alivefalling
Equipment:

[+]

⋆ Attire from Earth
⋆ Wallet and key
⋆ Zion's hunting knife

---

Jun spent more time in the hospital growing up than most children. Not because he was sick all the time or anything dramatic. It was just that Dr. Ibuki had no one else to watch her son during her long and unpredictable shifts. As a single parent with no relatives nearby or alternative childcare options, and nosy neighbors itching to call social services if they spotted a minor home alone, she often had no choice but to bring Jun to work with her.

The hospital admins grudgingly allowed it, willing to bend the rules to keep their understaffed ER running. At least Jun was a quiet, self-contained kid. As long as he wasn't causing trouble, everyone looked the other way.

He'd seen things there in the hospital. Crash victims with shattered bones. Gushing gunshot wounds. Fourth-degree burns from fires. Overdoses. Seizures. Psychotic breaks. You name it.

And if he learned anything from all that, it was this: Zion's pain was real. The sheer intensity of his screams and the way his eyes bulged in terror as the acid threatened to eat his arm down to the bone. Even if all else in Avalia was a lie, Zion's suffering was the one honest truth.

Jun's entire world narrowed down to the melting arm. He became oblivious to everything else around him. He only saw the venom chew through skin and muscle, releasing wisps of smoke into the air. The hiss and pop of acid dissolving tissue and Zion's tortured wails drowned out all other sounds.

Wash it off, a small part of Jun's brain not paralyzed by shock, said. Water. His head swiveled frantically, searching for supposedly the most common substance found on earth with no luck. Thoughts skipped and stuttered like a failing engine. Water water water water—

—Wait. Was Zion floating? A silk thread glinted in the light lancing through the canopy as if it were a length of fishing line, with a spider as the lure, the lion as its catch.

"Water!" Jun blurted out when he meant to say spider. The kid (who materialized out of nowhere) flinched at the random outburst, which startled him too. They locked eyes. Jun's own fear and helplessness reflected back at him. He quickly looked away, down to Zion's large hunting knife still gripped tight in his hand.

"You are Avalia's greatest hope…" No. He wasn't. Not by a long shot. He didn't have the power to save anyone, let alone himself.

For a moment, he thought about flinging the knife at the spider, but odds were he'd hit Zion instead of freeing him. There were many things Jun was incapable of doing and rescuing Zion was just one of them. Best leave the gallantry to Malachi and the lady.

But maybe… even he couldn't mess up fetching water… _right?

Jun forced himself to look back at the kid, trying to remember how the staff at the hospital talked to scared children. "We, um, we need water for, uh, the lion guy. Can… you show me where?" Something close to disappointment flashed across their face. Coward. Jun pushed past those all-too-familiar feelings and held out a trembling hand. "The others got this. Please, help me?" He wouldn't have been surprised if the kid refused. But they were brave where Jun was weak. They took his hand in their own shaky grip and led him away, leaving the others to deal with the Acromantula.

TLDR

Jun and child:

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Time: Evening
Location: Damien Estate’s Ballroom

Ryn adjusted the enchanted spectacles, their lenses reflecting the dual glow of the moon and candles as they honed in on the magicae of each attendee. Being one of the first to arrive at the masquerade ball, he had secured a vantage point that provided him with an unobstructed view of the entrance.

While he occasionally mingled, exchanging pleasantries and sharing a laugh or two, his gaze darted back to the entrance. He observed each new arrival with interest as the guests filtered in. Several auras Ryn’s glasses picked up were familiar—patterns he recognized from the royal tea party earlier that day.

Once the stream of guests thinned, Ryn decided it was time to make some rounds about the ballroom. He hoped to pair names and faces with their magical signatures. Moreover, he was keen on verifying whether the familiar magicae belonged to those he saw at the tea party.

TL;DR

Ryn spent time mentally cataloging the attendees’ magicae before deciding to properly socialize.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Noon Sola 23, 1739: Callum & Quack & Riona Part 4

Callum & Quack & Riona

---

“Anyone.”
“Anyone.” Riona and Sexton answered in unison.

Sexton went on, “Perks of bein’ royalty: ya can get all sorts of people to yer biddin’. Sometimes it’s easier to coerce ordinary folk into doin’ the dirty work than havin’ an actual professional do it. Then cover it up after. Ya ken?”

“Anyone?” Callum mouthed the word, inaudibly, with a furrowed look of confusion. They sounded just as sure, that anyone could be coerced into the crown’s misdeeds, as he was in his belief that it must take someone deeply nefarious even to be willing to do the crown’s dirty work. Yet another concerning idea he was going to have to try and wrap his head around.

“Sometimes… they don’t need to be threatened.”

Gardner knelt on the hardwood floor, barely able to hold himself upright in his drunken stupor. His clothes were disheveled and his hair matted. Bloodshot, glazed eyes peered up at the child standing before him. The gardener’s slurred words were barely coherent and the pungent scent of liquor clung heavily to his breath. “Ríoghnach…” he choked out, reaching a trembling hand to clutch at her dress. She stared down at him, her expression stony and unmoved even as tears cut trails down his ruddy, bearded cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” Riona said nothing, her lips pressed tightly together. “No one was supposed to get hurt.” Gardner slid his hands down her legs, grasping her ankles in supplication. “No one was supposed to die.” The girl stepped back, wrenching herself from his grasp. “Everything was supposed to end peacefully!” He crumbled forward, his forehead pressing against the cold floorboards. “It was only ever meant to set your clan free!” Sobs wracked his body as he cried out for his lost love, “Desmond,” over and over. With a sharp inhale, Riona turned and walked away, leaving Gardner alone, broken, and weeping for what could’ve been.

“Sometimes they genuinely believe they’re doing what’s best for you. They don’t realize they’ve signed your death warrant until it’s too late.” Riona said in a small voice, then trailed off into silence.

When she didn’t elaborate, Sexton picked up the conversation again, “... Not that I won’t say no to that offer, lad.” He paused. “Only if ya agree to the last demand, mind.”

The second condition for Cal to join the anarchists. “Ya’ve had a cushy life. Probably a lotta thin’s ya never had to deal with yerself. So whenever ya got uncomfy, ya could skedaddle and make yerself cozy somewhere else. Well, no more of that. If yer gonna join us, from this point on,” he pointed at Cal’s forehead, “ya have to ask every hard question yer’ve been avoidin’ askin’ cause ya were too feart to know the answer. No more lockin’ it away in the back of yer head. Cause I promise ya, yer gonna find out thin’s and we got no time fer ya broodin’. Ya might as well ask and take the answer upfront than havin’ it sneak up on ya later.”

“Just to be clear, are you telling me to ask these questions, aloud to someone, like you, or is this a figurative, confront these issues head-on like I’m not squirrelly coward, sort of deal?” He was, mostly, sure he knew the answer there, he couldn’t imagine Quack wanted to be constantly pestered and followed about by a confused royal duckling sharing his every muddled thought, but every other thing Quack said was throwing him for a loop as it was.

Sexton smirked, “Who said it ain’t both? I’m sure ya can find a smart way of askin’ people, Yer Highness. Questions been cooked up in yer head fer far too long. It’s ’bout time to get actual answers fer ’em.”

“Guess if I’m going to work with you, for you, would be nice to know; do you hate me because you think I could be like Edin, or because you think I already am?”

The smirk vanished. “Because yer halfway there,” Sexton answered flatly. Then he waited, daring Cal to challenge him.

“Halfway there…” Callum just let the weight of that sink in. Quack’s answer was neither fully damning nor was it what Cal would’ve liked to hear. Just an honest observation from an outsider. He at least knew Quack wasn’t going to hold back to spare his feelings, and that alone made Quack’s opinion ring out like the truth. But not all the way there. He fidgeted with his shirt sleeves like he wasn’t sure if they were too long or too short.

“Not exactly where I’d like to be, better than all the way there.” He wondered how long it had taken Edin to fully become the monster he was today. Which was just another way for Callum to wonder how long he had before he was something just as inhuman. “Not a lot of people willing to give me the truth straight, so I appreciate that. I’m not going to run a-fowl of you. All the avoiding and lamenting hasn’t exactly been working out for me anyway. I am here to try something new. And scary, I don’t know if you this, but you are a little scary, sir.”

“Whatcha talkin’ ’bout? I’m ferkin’ a saint compared to her.” Riona noticed his chin angling toward her as he leaned in to whisper not so secretly. “Between ya and me, she’s the scary one.” Her eyes turned into slits and he immediately retreated.

“Yeah, maybe, but Riona’s only scary if you're on her bad side.”

Sexton coughed. “Don’t think ya can sweet talk yer way out. Will ya promise or not?” He spread his arms wide as he gestured to everybody, including the dead, in the room, “If ya are, give it another shot. Ask the question that’ll gut ya out.”

Callum just stared back at Quack for a moment. Hadn’t he just asked the only question he really cared about? He tried to think of something he could ask Quack with an answer that would hurt. He looked at Riona, and it wasn’t that Callum didn’t have any questions for her, his mind was full of them, but there wasn’t one that would rattle him the way Quack wanted.

“How am I supposed to know what question’s going to gut me? I’m trying to think of something, I am, but there isn’t much here left to gut. I know I’m going to lose friends and I don’t see my siblings being on my side for this either. Things that matter to me, I’m losing most, if not all, of that. And I’m still here.” Cal looked at Quack, gave him a response that Cal knew wasn’t satisfactory but at least it wasn’t a lie. He then turned his attention to Riona.

“And I don’t think we’re still going to be friends after this is all over. I hate thinking that because I’m so grateful that you are my friend, but I hope it’s true. I hope you get what you need from Sorian and my family, and then move on, find something better, and leave me behind.” The thought of how lonely that would be cracked his voice. But he meant it, Callum knew there was no moving on for him, and no one deserved to wallow in the darkness with him. He took a breath and looked back at Quack.

“You know what I really hide up in this head of mine? I know I’m not better than Edin, just a different sort of monster. But just as rotten as everyone I hate, and the best I can do with that, is bring them all down with me. It’s a swan song for me. With you, without you, that’s what I’m doing. I’d rather not be out there accidentally ruffling your feathers, but I’m not going to wait around to become the same as Edin.” Callum admitted it, he knew he was far from the sort of person Quack wanted to work with and it wasn’t right for him to pretend otherwise.

Every secret she avoided telling Cal gnawed at her guilty conscience. It was hard for her to maintain eye contact, especially when his voice cracked, but Riona held it as best as she could. She even managed a little smile. It was a sad one, but it was still a smile. “I was thinking the exact same thing, Cal.” She let out a shuddering breath, “Except… you’re the one moving on and finding something better, because… I know you can do it Cal. You have other friends who would happily take you away from all this, but you won’t because…” Her hands made meaningless gestures in the air, “you’re the one stopping yourself,” before dropping them to her sides. “I know you won’t believe me, but I’ll keep saying it anyway. You don’t have to be alone. And that voice in your head that’s telling you that you don’t deserve someone by your side can shut the f*ck up.” Sexton snorted at that.

“‘Will ya still stick around, even if I am a monster?’” Sexton randomly asked as he tilted his head upward, turning it slightly in Cal’s direction. “Think that’s a better one since any answer would be a mix of good and bad, yeah? The question ’bout ya and yer dad… ya asked cause there’s hope.” He fixed his gaze overhead. “Besides, ya already know the answer don’tcha? The day ya stop askin’ that question is the day ya stop carin’ ’bout if ya were like yer dad.”

“Yeah, that’s a bleak one.” Callum could only agree with Quack; it wasn’t that he couldn’t make other friends, but friends that have glimpsed the darkest parts and can still focus on the good, were rare. He looked back at Riona and thought about all the times she tried to nudge him into leaving Sorian. She didn’t have to bring him here, help him become more embedded in all of this, and probably didn’t want to, but she had anyway. “I’ll think about leaving after this is all done, but not before.” He could offer that. Riona tipped her chin down, eyes fixed on the floor between them. She gave the barest hint of a nod.

Sexton sighed, closing his eyes to mull over what Cal said and voicing some thoughts aloud. “Callum Danrose. Prince. Witch. Values his muckers more than himself. Hates himself so the value of ’em is dodgy.”

Riona started to object, but he shushed her with a raised finger. “Wants to destroy the only life he knows, maybe kill his family, ruin lives, willing to… wants to lose everythin’. Start from scratch… A kind of rebirth, eh? Feck.” After awhile he extended his hand to Callum.

“If ya take this hand, ya’ll be agreein’ to findin’ the answers to questions with all ya got. Don’t matter what the question is. Information’s key in any war. Ya need to be able to ask ’em, even if ya don’t wanna.” Sexton cleared his throat and straightened up. “If ya shake this hand… there’s no turnin’ back. ’em people ya share yer blood won’t be family no more. We’ll be brothers in arms. Together, with yer new family, we’ll win.”

Callum, who figured Quack was about to tell him to duck off, waited a fraction of a second before grabbing Quack’s hand. Before the man had finished speaking, before Quack could have a chance to pull his hand away, Callum shook Quack’s hand.

Despite his efforts to fully commit to a proper handshake and not give Quack the ol’ dead fish, Cal realized his hand was as cold and slimy as a dead fish. He let go of Quack’s hand.

“Sorry.” He wiped his sweaty hand off against his shirt. “I’m in? Comrade, huh, does that mean I’m allowed to call you Quack?”

“HA!” Sexton dawned the Quack persona as he barked a laugh, then with a straightface said, “Nae. It’ll mean I’ll smack the sh*te right out of ya, Calliflower.” He clapped Cal on the back, like chums do, but a little too hard. A small demonstration of what Quack would do to him if Cal didn’t tread carefully.

Cal stumbled forward; the walking bruise that he was from the night before left him unable to hide the wince. Calliflower? I’m getting a nickname too? Success held a pleasant sting and inspired a wheezing chuckle. Calliflower, Prince of Onions. He liked the sound of that; it was too silly to belong to a real Danrose.

“Quack? Be nice.” Riona’s used that tone usually reserved for mothers with their rambunctious children.

“I got a nickname,” Cal smiled as he said it, like it was a sign this had all gone well.

Cal’s smile gave Riona pause, then she smiled herself. Sure, it was just a nickname, but it meant more to him than that. Acceptance; a sense of belonging. For all her reservations about the anarchists, Riona hoped this was just the beginning and that this would open up a world of possibility for him. A chance for Cal, and maybe even life here, to change.

Quack mumbled about having an actual name under his breath. “I’ll let the mates know ya be joinin’. It might take extra convincin’ fer some, but… we’ll keep in touch. Meantime, gather all that ya can and…” He hesitated, “look into any useful spells we can use, eh?”

“I’ll get quacking on it, sir.”

A groan. “Also, I’ll smack ya if I hear another duck pun out of yer bloody gob.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Noon Sola 23, 1739: Callum & Quack & Riona Part 2

Callum & Quack & Riona

---

When they passed the curtain divider, all laughter ceased and smiles faded. Two bodies lay motionless on the makeshift operating tables. The first was a middle-aged man, his body gaunt and frail. His skin was sallow and sunken, clinging to his bones. Dark circles rimmed his dull, vacant eyes. He had the look of someone worked to death, every ounce of life force squeezed from him until his heart finally gave out. The second was a woman, her face still retaining some of its youthful fullness. Her skin had a sickly pallor with a slightly yellowish hue and her parted lips were tinged blue. At first glance, she appeared to be resting peacefully, her eyes gently closed. But the dried tears that tracked down her cheeks told another story. Next to the body sat a small glass bottle. Riona gingerly picked it up, examining its contents. She recognized the dried pennyroyal, tansy, savine, and ergot—toxic herbs used by desperate women—and knew that the woman died slowly and painfully from the inside out.

Riona turned to face Quack, but his attention was fully on Cal. Quack had regained his composure and shed the persona of the undertaker-turned-quack. Now Sexton wore the face of an anarchist, acting as judge, jury and potential executioner. This was a tribunal. Suddenly she wished she could take another swing from Cal’s flask.

“Are they dead?” He whispered the question despite already knowing the answer. He could just feel himself turning paler from the sight. He had to remind himself that it probably wasn’t a weird thing for a doctor who was also an undertaker, or was it a former undertaker, to have bodies in a backroom.

The woman looked peacefully asleep, the way a body might at a funeral, but Callum hadn’t ever been to a funeral. He’d never seen a dead person before. He didn’t go out and watch executions like it was some big exciting spectacle, and whenever someone important enough for royalty to attend the funeral, it was never Callum they wanted representing them in public.

The man’s eyes remained open, cold portals into a void. The body didn’t blink, the eyes didn’t move and still they felt like they were staring right into him. The clammy feeling returned with a vengeance. All over, just cold and sweaty. Why was it so cold in here? And shouldn’t they be covered up, with a sheet or something… It just felt wrong to have bodies laid out like they were on display.

He shouldn’t stare at the bodies. He tore his eyes away from the empty, glassy, vacant ones. It’s disrespectful to gawk at the dead. Should I look at Quack? Was that too bold? Probably a bad idea. What if he took it as a challenge? An act of aggression. And why wasn’t Quack saying anything? His stomach twisted up, and the back of his throat burned with whiskey and bile. Was Quack just going to stand there?

“What, umm, what’s that?” He glanced at the small bottle Riona held, searching for anything else to focus on. Don’t look at the bodies. “I should say something, right?” He glanced back at Quack, an unflinching statue of a man, and he knew if he waited around for Quack to talk first, or to feel like he had all his ducks in a row before speaking, he’d be here all day.

“It could be useful, right, to have an insider. Places I can be, that um, other people would seem out of place. I could be useful. And I’m not going to say anything. Not a peep. Even if you don’t want me around, because if you're going after Edin, I wish you success. Gods I hope it's painful, I want Edin to watch his whole Danrose legacy unravel, for everything he loves to be stripped from him. I don’t care who does it, as long as it happens. And I know you don’t trust me, but I haven’t spent ten years earning the right to call Riona a friend to betray her first chance I get. I can keep secrets.” There, he’d said something. It was great, just a long unburdening of everything that sat constricting around his chest. But he wasn’t quite finished.

“And you know what else, I think you should apologize. To Riona, because she called you friend so you should know that she doesn’t stab friends in the back either.”

Riona was almost certain that Sexton was deriving some wicked satisfaction from watching Cal squirm. In Sexton’s eyes, Cal had always been nothing more than a sheltered coward, all empty talk and no action. Despite having ample opportunities, he never dared to ask the difficult questions, too scared that the harsh reality would shatter his, as Sexton put it, delicate sensibilities. The Prince’s so-called “hatred” for his father was little more than a prolonged teenage rebellion that ultimately amounted to nothing. The restraint it must’ve taken for Sexton not to erupt into a diatribe about what true hatred actually was. Riona suspected he especially wanted to tell Cal what his father had done to his sister and many other women like her—women like the woman lying dead on the table. But the more Cal talked, the malice in Sexton slowly dampened and his demeanor softened, albeit not enough to be friendly.

When Cal said all that he wanted to say, Sexton asked, “Are ya done yappin’ ya maw off?” He took the silence as a yes. “Good. My turn.” Sexton pushed off from the wall he had been leaning on and pointed a finger. “Let me get a few thin’s straight.” He used the finger to point at Riona. “We’re hardly muckers. We ain’t even comrades. I’ve been tryin’ to recruit her, but fer some damnable reason she won’t join. Aye, she helps with the sanctuaries we run, but she ain’t one of us.” The accusation in his voice was hard to miss.

“Ya right ’bout one thin’, though, lad.” Sexton turned to Riona. “Ya wouldn’t do anythin’ to harm the sanctuaries. Sorry fer doubtin’ ya.” Riona accepted the apology with a nod. “But,” the icy glare returned, causing the hair on the back of her neck to rise, “if ya get in our way, I’ll do what needs doin’. Ya know that right?”

She nodded again, a little bit delayed this time. “And if it comes to that, I’ll do what I have to do.”

Sexton’s gaze lingered on her before giving a firm nod and turning his full attention back to Cal. He extended a second finger. “This revolution isn’t just ’bout yer dad. We ain’t yer pawns to resolve yer daddy issues that ya don’t have the bawbles to handle yerself. We’re goin’ to ruin yer entire rotten family—yer dad, mum, brothers, sister, whatever that blowen Morrigan is, and ya freaky great uncle—every nob who supported yer family and benefited from this crooked system. That includes ya, Prince Callum. Do ya understand? We want the lot of ya gone.”

Callum watched the conversation between Quack and Riona, wondering about the strange threat that lingered between them. He was certainly going to have to ask Riona why she’d brought him here if she wasn’t on team Quack. He’d ask that later. He wasn’t going to ask about sanctuaries either, he would just let Quack tell him what he was allowed to know. Then Quack’s attention shifted to Cal. He chewed on his tongue to keep from interjecting at the ‘daddy issues’ comment.

“You know, sir, I want me gone too. Going out doing something that matters, best option I got going for me. Caesonia’s had more than enough of kings, princes, and nobles. She deserves something better. And rotten trees need clearing out. My family’s made their choices, and I have made mine.” He said it like a shrug, water off a duck’s back; he knew where he was going to stand.

“I’m not looking for pawns. Don’t need people calling me a prince or thinking I’m anything to be admired or bowed to. I am here to see if I can serve you, or,” And he paused, possibly digging his own grave a little deeper, “Quack me if you must, Mal’lard.” He said it, in the same way, one would say m’lord, and either Quack was going to kill him or he wasn’t, but Callum wasn’t going to let the threat just hang in the air.

Both Riona and Sexton stared at Cal, asking in not so many words if he really wanted duck puns to be his only legacy. Cal, you brave idiot. She shook her head with a ghost of a smile.

“We’ll see ’bout that soon enough.” Sexton scoffed, but a smirk cracked through. He began pacing as he seemed to consider Cal’s offer. “There’s two thin’s I want from ya if yer serious ’bout joinin’.” He stood in front of Cal.

“First. There’s no sense denyin’ we ain’t equals. Not in this bloody country. While ya can get away with murder, stealin’ bread from a royal party is a capital offense fer common folk. If any of us from our group gets caught, it’s the gallows fer us, our families, muckers, anyone even suspected helpin’ us. To stop more rebelin’ from happenin’, the crown’ll tighten the noose around folk’s necks. More people’ll suffer in the name of peace. Now if ya get caught, ya’d get a good bum whackin’ and a scapegoat to pin everythin’ on to hide yer involvement. If yer parents prove me wrong, and actually have the guts, then they’ll execute ya and pretend ya went to live on a farm. Point is, the risk we’re shoulderin’ ain’t the same.”

Suddenly, Sexton’s fingers pressed into Cal’s neck, and he seemed to wait for the pulse to regain a steady beat, before continuing. “Ya say that ya won’t betray us, but like ya said, I don’t trust ya and neither will the others… not without insurance. And not the kind yer willin’ to give.” He must’ve been referring to whatever secret Cal was going to reveal to earn his trust. “So.” He leaned in closer. “What’s the most important thin’ that ya care ’bout more than anythin’ else in the world? And don’t think ya can name just anythin’. I wantcha to explain why it, or they, are so important to ya too.”

He’s asking for a hostage. Riona realized. Something, anything, to bind their fates together.

“If I gave you a name, I’m not sure it’d be much use to you. This isn’t a threat, but the few friends I’ve got, would all be just as dangerous to mess with. And giving you a name feels like the same sort of betrayal you’re worried I’d do to you. I don’t do that.” He glanced at Quack’s fingers and assumed he was trying to feel out a lie. Lying had crossed his mind, giving him the name of someone he knew wouldn’t just be a sitting duck crossed his mind too. But he’d come here to ask for trust and he wasn’t going to treat this like one of his games with his brother. He shifted his gaze to look Quack in the eye before speaking again.

“What if what I’m willing to give, is a surefire way to send me to a pyre? I could give you enough evidence against me, that even if they did try and cover it up, it would turn a lot of folks against the crown. You know what I mean, right? What guarantees a pyre?” Cal asked, there was only one card to play that made sense to him. Even things up, make it all just as dangerous for him as it was for Quack, or as close as he could reasonably get.

“My whole life I’ve always been told what a useless, unwanted, failure I am. I have one thing that really makes me feel like that’s not the absolute truth. A little spark of hope; magic. A deeper well of connection than blood could ever be, something I can feel a claim to that isn’t rotten all the through. I’ve got all sorts of damning evidence tucked away too. Whole books copied in my handwriting, notes on what’s worked and what’s failed. So I can get you that, I can give the means to secure my destruction.”

A sneer twisted Sexton’s face, a cynical smile coming from bitter vindication rather than disappointment. The discordant pieces had clicked into place, confirming that the world matched his lowest expectations. His eyes glazed over Cal as if he wasn’t even there, whirling on Riona instead. “There ya have it. He ain’t serious ’bout helpin’ us. I ask one thin’ from him, prove he’ll lay everythin’ on the line just like the rest of us, and he balks!” Sexton let out a harsh, derisive laugh, his malice reemerging in full force.

… and set her ablaze. His rage stoked the thing within her, his hatred emboldened it, and it, in turn, ravaged her. Riona clutched her stomach, her breath escaped slowly through gritted teeth.

“He’s willin’ to sacrifice ourlivesand endanger what’s precious to us, but askin’ His Royal Highness to do the same? That’s a bridge too far. Ach, He’s his dad and mum’s bairn, awright.”

He paced back and forth, getting more worked up by the minute. Sexton ranted as though he and Riona were the only ones (alive) in the room. “A ‘surefire way to send me to a pyre’ my shiny arse. I knew he were daft, but to be this bloody moronic. Does he seriously believe he’s the only one messin’ with magic in his damned family? Where does he think all that evidence’ll end up goin’? The Queen sees all the high-profile cases and Morrigan is the bloody executioner fer feck’s sake!” In a flash of rage, Sexton kicked the bucket by the table. The impact sent it clattering across the floor, the metal scraping and echoing in the room as it rolled away.

Sexton closed his eyes and tilted his head upwards, trying to restrain his irritation. “The Prince is playin’ ya fer a fool, Riona.”
“He’s willing to sacrifice himself.”
“Pfft. Naaaah,” his dragged out the denial with a sigh, “it’s nothin’ that selfless. He just wants to prove to himself that he’s not a useless, unwanted, failure.” Sexton’s eyes snapped open, narrowing as he refocused on Riona. “Let’s say what ya say is true and let’s pretend his family won’t lift a damn finger when he’s tried for witchcraft. He’ll burn as a witch while we’ll be executed as traitors to the crown. The difference is, his death will end with him. Ours won’t.”
“But if we can expose the Danroses’ misdeeds—”

Sexton cut in. “We’re doin’ that with or without His Highness. What I need from him is commitment.” He stepped closer, holding Riona’s gaze intently. “We’re all riskin’ everythin’ here. I know he thinks he’s offerin’ a way to even thin’s. But it ain’t actually even ’til he risks losin’ all he has too. If he joins, he’ll find all our soft underbellies.” He scoffed, “And he expects me to trust him when he won’t show me his?” Another frustrated sigh escaped him. “Gets my dander up that he tried to bargain with a life he doesn’t give a toss ’bout.” The life being Callum’s own.

“You’re demanding a hostage. That’s a lot to ask.”
“Is it? Danroses are holdin’ the people hostage. Why can’t I get one from him? One that he actually gives a damn ’bout.” He hissed. “If we can’t back out when the goin' gets rough, then neither should he.”
Riona’s gaze shifted away from Sexton and searched Cal’s.

“…How far are you willing to go now that you aren’t scared anymore?”
“As far as I can.”
How far was that?

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Time: Late Morning
Location: Royal Gardens

A vibrant spectrum of magic energies moved through the air, brushing against each other, and sometimes merging together to create something new, only to dissipate before anything could manifest. The dance of auras emanating from each attendee mesmerized Ryn, but his fascination did not stop there. He also noticed the traces of magical imprints left behind on some surfaces and, in fewer cases, people. Though he knew not what that indicated exactly. Wayra once explained to him that magicae were like magical signatures, unique to each individual and ever-changing. While two people may possess the same color of magical energy, how the aura presented themselves differed from each other. Magicae told tales of their bearers’ innermost qualities—a blend of their experiences, emotions, and aspirations. Although he had the knowledge, Ryn did not quite fully grasp what Wayra meant until he actually saw it through the lens that was crafted using the knowledge gained from examining a magical spyglass.

Sola 22, 1739

Ryn & Peter

Ryn slid the last book into place with a soft thump and adjusted the lamp until the light speared through the holes in the orderly row of bookmarks. Peter let out a low whistle as the bookcase swung aside to reveal a dark passage beyond. But the excitement slid from his face as they crossed the threshold into a modest room. “That’s… only, slightly, very, extremely disappointing.” The redhead turned in a slow circle, gaze sweeping the area. “Where’s the treasure? The deep dark secrets? The big revelation? I expected more from a hidden room that has a puzzle for a lock.”

“Don’t dismiss it just yet. It was hidden for a reason.” Ryn crossed to the bookshelf and trailed his fingers along the spines until he found the one he sought. He eased a familiar embossed spellbook from its place on the shelf, just far enough to reveal the cover. “Starcatcher. Amongst other things of value.”

“Like this?”

Ryn turned his head at the question. Peter was peering through a spyglass, the end pointed directly at him. “That… wasn’t here yesterday.”

“You should check it out then.” Peter held out the spyglass.

Ryn lifted it to his eye, breath catching as the value of the artifact became clear.

What might he have seen if the spyglass had found its way to him sooner? Could Ryn have changed the course of events or was Udo’s fate sealed the moment he and Wayra cursed Ryn?

Morning, Sola 21, 1739

Ryn & Udo & Wayra

“What?” was all Ryn could say as he stared into the blue expanse that was Udo’s unfathomably calm eyes.

Udo regarded him with the infinite patience of a father striving to impart wisdom to a child not yet ready to grasp it. He rephrased, speaking slowly, clearly. “I will be dead before this day is done.”

The repetition brought no further enlightenment. “What...do you mean?”

Udo smiled, pitying the poor child. “Nnenne came while we slept and revealed to me what is to come. The powers that be are angry and they demand blood as payment for my—” Here he paused, reconsidering the accuracy of the word before continuing on, “—our, offense.”

“And Nnenne has granted her blessing.” At this, Udo’s eyes took on a feverish glint, his smile stretched wider in naked joy, and his voice infused with a strange euphoria. “Nnenne will allow me to die.” The rapturous delight in his own impending demise was a knife to Ryn’s heart. He looked away, unable to bear witness.

A large, warm hand settled on Ryn’s head, tousling the inky strands. Just as he did when they first met, all those years ago. “Do not despair for me, Fritz.” Udo whispered, voice as familiar and comforting as his touch. “You know I have long awaited this day.”

Indeed, Ryn understood it all too well.

Ever since the day a mighty wave swallowed the Eastern Islands—and Nnenne claimed a handful of “chosen” isles as her own—, reunion with his family, claimed by the depths, had been his long-held desire. His faith, the tenets of Nnenne’s doctrine, forbade him from seeking them out himself. Only an honorable death would reunite them. For Nnenne taught her Grandchildren to never squander one’s life, unless it was spent to preserve another’s.

Who was Ryn to deny Udo’s deepest wish? Though it grieved him—Creators how it grieved him—to let Udo go, would it not be the blackest selfishness to beg him to remain? The warrior was tired, so bone-deep tired, weary of living… Ryn must let him free.

Restless, biting sadness spread within.

Sensing the shift in Ryn, Udo traced patterns in the air and prayed. “Fritz Hendrix of Erwynn. May you one day be free of your chains and find true happiness.” Ryn closed his eyes, savoring the cadence of Udo’s baritone while they shared their last moments together. “If you cannot free yourself, I pray that you meet someone who can.”

Udo’s breath was warm against Ryn's skin as he brushed featherlight kisses to each closed eyelid, and then to the center of his furrowed brow, bestowing Nnenne’s blessing. Suddenly his arms were around him.

Ryn caught the scent of the salty sea, felt the heat of the tropical sun, heard the hush of waves breaking on distant shores and the siren song of that place Ryn could not follow, calling Udo home. Just as quickly, the sensations slipped away.

“Forgive me for not seeing your journey to its end.” Udo murmured.

Ryn shook his head, sinking into the solidity of the embrace one last time. “You’ve done plenty. Thank you for sticking with us as long as you did. We’ll miss you…” His voice hitched, “Creators, I miss you already.” The two held each other tightly, wordlessly, before finally letting go.

“Live long and well, Fritz. If Nnenne wills it, we will meet again in my next life. Maybe by then it’ll be a safer world where you can tell me your true name.”

“Why wait till then?” If reincarnation was possible, it was this Udo who wanted to know Fritz’s real name. Ryn had no desire to tether Udo’s new life to him again just to learn his name. No. Ryn would not have that. Udo should be free. Unburdened and unbound, ready to embrace whatever new life awaited him.

The wind whipped across the castle parapets, stirring Ryn’s dark hair and coat. “Like the rest of my family, I was given two names. One is Fritz Hendrix,” he began slowly, “the other is—”

A sudden cacophony of wings interrupted him as a shadow burst between the two men in a flutter of inky feathers. One of them brushed against Ryn’s throat, soft as a whisper. Hush, it seemed to say.

The raven alighted on the nearby merlon, fixing the pair with polished jets that glittered with uncanny intelligence.

“Wayra,” he breathed. They cocked their head to one side in response.

Udo and Wayra locked eyes. Then as one, they opened their mouths. “ᛚ̴̛̯͔̃ᚨ̷͙̆̾ᛒ̵̛̤̫̗̾ᚱ̸͚͇́͝͠ᚨ̴͎̫̏͆̑ ̴̹̌͝ᚾ̵̧̧̪̋̋ᛟ̸͇̅͜ᛋ̸̟͚͒̿̍ᛏ̶̥̅ᚱ̶̛͍̬ᚨ̴̗̳͎̑̍ ̶̨͍̠̈͝ᛋ̵̧͉̩͐̔ᛁ̶̰̌ᚷ̸̳̯̈́ᚾ̷͙̯͈̌ᚨ̵̠̘̅ᛏ̶̝̾͘ᚨ̸̹̘̌ ̷̥͍̣͌ᛋ̴̢̫̦́ᚢ̴̯͎͒̊̽ᚾ̸̼̤̣̀̿͘ᛏ̶̢̰̽̋͝,̶̛̘̝̘ ̵͇̀͜ᛟ̵̞͉͍͌̋̾ᚲ̴͙̊͛̅ᚢ̷̧̙̻̂͗ᛚ̶̪͙̿̾ᛁ̸͓̅̈́ ̷͈͓͔̈́̄͝ᚾ̷̙̉̿ᛟ̴̢̖͍͋͋͝ᛋ̴͙̯̃̿ͅᛏ̸̧̜̲͊̒ᚱ̵̖̉̃ᛁ̴̯͔̈͋̿ ̶̲̱͔͂ᚲ̸̢̦͌ᛚ̶̣̟̀͋ᚨ̵̨̳͉̊͌̃ᚢ̸̭͉̽̄ᛋ̷̛̞̱͇ᛁ̷̡̊͋̿ ̴͇̓̏͝ᛋ̸̛̼̄̑ᚢ̸̧̟͇̓ᚾ̷͍̈́ᛏ̵̣̀̕,̵͚̳̯̍̅ ̸̳͎̠̓̽͌ᛖ̴̦̎͛͜͝ᛏ̷̘̮̬̀̎̚ ̴̩͊̍͝ᚾ̴͖̘͈̌́̊ᛁ̸̝̯̈̋̚ᚺ̸͋̒ͅᛁ̸͉̄͋ᛚ̸̼̊ ̷̘͗̈́ᚨ̴͍̼͉͆ᚢ̵̲̪̫̾͘ᛞ̸̱̩̆̆ᛁ̶̦̭̇̋̽ᛗ̵̧̪̑̕ᚢ̷̣̝̤̆̇ᛋ̴͈̇̓̃.̸̧̿ ̸͚̝̳̈̂͠ᛏ̷̲̊ᛖ̶̛̻̑ ̵̼̩̩̋̚ᚾ̷̤͔͋̃̔ᛟ̶̛̘̙̐̔ᚾ̵̲̖͑̏͑ ̸͈̿̈́̕ᚲ̷͙̘͝ᛟ̷̣͔̆ᚷ̵̹͋͊ᚾ̷̹̉̀͠ᛟ̷̞̈́̚ᛋ̵̢͈̻̿͛ᚲ̸̛̦̹̏͠ᛁ̸̩̀͊̄ᛗ̷̩͚̓̓ͅᚢ̸̢͔̪͐́̔ᛋ̷̡̙̥͆͛.̶̳̺̳̓̾” Voices—not quite Udo’s and certainly not the raven’s—melded and multiplied like a wave of voices layered over one another, until incantation seemed to echo and bounce back from every direction. The words reverberated with power, worming its way inside Ryn. Magic entangled his thoughts and robbed him of something.

Of what, △△△ did not know until he attempted to reveal his name once more and found that he was unable.

He tried to speak, to give voice to the name on his tongue, but nothing came out. Even thinking it felt strangely muffled, the syllables jumbling in his mind. Both the names △△△ and ◆◆◆◆◆ sat just out of reach, hazy shapes behind the veil the spell had drawn across his thoughts. In fact, he realized with dawning unease that he could not so much as think of a single word or detail that would identify him… only the vagueness of their presence.

△△△’s mouth opened and closed mutely. He could say nothing to reveal who and what he was. Wayra and Udo had sealed them all away, just as they had hoped.

Udo gave a satisfied nod to the raven. “It worked.” Wayra shook their feathers, clearly pleased with their handiwork.

△△△ raised his eyes to Udo questioningly, “Why?”

“If my death was ordained because of those men I eliminated, there’s no doubt Black Rose is involved in magic. Considering the extent of their influence, we must assume they have access to powerful, dangerous magic. Including spells that can invade your mind.”

“We cannot risk your identity being revealed—” Udo grimaced as the curse took hold. When the moment passed, he looked at △△△, resolute. “I am a proud Grandson of Nnenne. I will honor the oath sworn, as you have yours. Your adversaries will gain nothing from me, in life or death.”

“Whatever happens, I will protect you.” And △△△ knew Udo meant it with every fiber of his being.

The magicae surrounding the attendees flickered and guttered like a dying candle before vanishing entirely from view as the enchantment of the lenses wore off. Ryn lifted the spectacles from his face then lowered it into his handkerchief. With a subtle sleight of hand, he replaced the ruined lens for a new one, the motion hidden behind the pretense of polishing.

The spectacles were ordinary in appearance—simple wire-rimmed glasses with circular lenses. However, there was more to them than met the eye. An extra slot on each side of the frames allowed for a secondary, bespelled lens to be swapped in and out. It was these additional lenses that gave Ryn the ability to see what normally went unseen. The two-lensed spectacles were crafted by studying the spyglass they discreetly borrowed from the hidden room tucked away in the castle library.

Ryn and Wayra spent hours analyzing the spyglass’s magical components before attempting to recreate the effect in a wearable form. Their efforts proved successful, if imperfect: the spell burnt out quickly, especially when exposed to strong magicae.

Still, the glimpses were worth it. Once the newest lens settled into place, the garden erupted into kaleidoscopic brilliance once more. Ryn spared a glance at the case that held the remaining lenses, mentally tallying the few left. He would have to use them sparingly if he wanted to keep observing the hidden energies that moved through this place. Until Wayra made more, that is. For now, he drank in the temporary sight. Soon this lens, too, would fade.

Ryn lifted the porcelain teacup to his lips, the surface smooth and cool against his fingers. Steam wisped up to curl around his cheek as he surveyed the auras of the Danrose members from over the rim, reading their magicae. He noted the variations in the auras of the Danroses present. Each color—blue, green, red, and orange—and the intensity in which each glowed, spoke volumes about the nature of each Danrose, betraying truths its owner never intended to reveal to others and perhaps even to themself.

When he saw King Edin’s magicae, Ryn hid his surprise behind another sip of tea. He had his suspicions, but he was still unprepared for the confirmation. Though it did not absolve King Edin of the atrocities committed against Ryn’s family or Caesonia’s people, Ryn pitied him. He wondered when the king’s magicae had first begun to take on such a coloration. Then another, arguably more ludicrous, idea surfaced: If Ryn uncovered—possibly even remedy—the cause, was there hope for a peaceful resolution? Could they all find salvation?

Ryn took another long sip of tea, turning away from the king. Across the garden, Lord Smithwood stood off to the side, not mingling with the guests as much as Ryn expected him to. The aura around the lord was predominantly white with a yellowish tinge. It pulsed slowly, rhythmically, reminding Ryn of the steady beat of a heart. The tempo was disrupted only when someone tried to converse with him. At which point, the pulse spiked and fluttered like a flock of sparrows startled into flight.

That was not, however, what disturbed Ryn.

At the fringes of Lord Smithwood’s magicae clung the faint imprints of someone else’s magical energy. The shadow writhed and twisted, shifting into anguished visages that opened their mouths in silent screams, eyes hollow. Even from a distance, their torment was evident.

Feeling his gaze, Ryn felt an odd sensation of the faces shifting their attention onto him. One after another they sharpened their focus until—

Nothing. The colors. The faces. All gone. The enchanted lens rendered into mere glass.

Ryn removed his spectacles from the bridge of his nose and placed them into their velvet-lined case with care. He should keep a close eye on Lord Smithwood.

TL;DR

Using enchanted glasses, Ryn sees the magical energies (and imprints) of everyone who attended the tea party at the castle garden. @princess@Helo@Lava Alckon@FunnyGuy@Potter@Mantou@Tae@Tpartywithzombi@SilverPaw@Infinite Cosmos

Flashback(s):

• Sola 22, 1739: Ryn and Peter enter the secret room in the castle library and find the magical spyglass (returns it the same day)
• Sola 21, 1739: Udo and Wayra curse Ryn to protect him

Avalia

Time: MORNING
Location: INT. MAMA MALACHI'S SUMMERHOUSE - RIVER PORT / EXT. WOODS - RIVER PORT
Interactions/Mentions: The golden lion furry @Helo; The lady in a purple dress @Tae; The guy cosplaying as an elf @princess; Giant spider(s) @Alivefalling
Equipment:

[+]

⋆ Attire from Earth
⋆ Backpack
⋆ Smartphone
⋆ Wallet and key
⋆ Computer
⋆ Headphones
⋆ Spare eyeglasses
⋆ Plastic bag
⋆ Letter

---

For a blink, Zion's guilt trip worked on Jun. Then renewed frustration replaced the torrent of shame. Why was he suddenly the bad guy here? Why should he owe Malachi anything for appointing himself group leader? How did having the human decency to feed his teammates and captive negate how the man judged Jun at every turn, patronized him, and ignored his wish to leave? On top of all that, he was supposed to be grateful? Being a pessimist didn't make him a masochist!

"Not from my perspective." His voice sounded as frosty as he felt. "I'm not part of your pride. I'm your captive." Jun jabbed his food with a fork. "You guys go. If there's any real danger, you're better off without me. What's the point of dragging around someone useless and unwilling?" He jabbed again. "Unless you want cannon fodder." And again.

The lady's "new friends," comment rang hollow in his ears.

If anyone spoke to him after that, Jun didn't hear it. He was only vaguely aware of shapes moving around as the others prepared to leave.

Suddenly, without warning, he felt a pair of large, very hairy, hands grab him. Before Jun could react, he was lifted up out of his chair and hoisted into the air. He let out an involuntary yelp as his view shifted, and Jun found himself being slung over Zion's broad shoulder. His feet dangled helplessly midair and his face was smushed into the lion's back. "I'm not going!" Jun protested, voice muffled by fur. He squirmed and wiggled, in an attempt to break free—he even pounded his fists against Zion but he just laughed, completely unfazed.

It wasn't long before Jun tired himself out, resigning to being lugged around like a sack of potatoes.

Save for one mumbled sentence ("Wherever the green stuff is," when totally-just-a-friendly-neighbor-who-can-hold-her-own-in-a-fight asked which direction Malachi headed), Jun stayed silent and limp as a rag doll after they left the house.

His ears pricked at the sound of crying. Jun pushed himself up and twisted his upper body into an Eschergirl pose, straining to get a better look at what was going on…. and saw the spider. Either that was the best animatronic money could buy, or climate change had whipped up extra large giant spiders down south. Or was this what they meant by island gigantism?

TLDR

Kenia, Zion, and dead weight Jun head into the woods where they find Malachi and a child surrounded by giant spiders. While Kenia jumps in, Jun is dumbstruck by the size of the spider.

Avalia

Time: MORNING
Location: INT. MAMA MALACHI'S SUMMERHOUSE - RIVER PORT
Interactions/Mentions: The golden lion furry @Helo; The lady in a purple dress @Tae; The other guy who’s also cosplaying as an elf @GingerBobOh; The guy cosplaying as an elf @princess
Equipment:

[+]

⋆ Attire from Earth
⋆ Backpack
⋆ Smartphone
⋆ Wallet and key
⋆ Computer
⋆ Headphones
⋆ Spare eyeglasses
⋆ Plastic bag
⋆ Letter

---

Jun raised his head from his breakfast. He kept his gaze fixed on the snout, afraid of getting burnt by the disappointment in Zion's eyes.

"Why wouldn't I?" What about the past week gave the impression that Jun wanted to hang out with his captors (at the risk of Stockholm syndrome setting in)? And really, "It's not like I'd be any help."

When the new lady spoke, he stared at her toned arms to avoid eye-contact. The "random-friendly-neighbor-who-dropped-by-to-say-hello" was better built than he was—not that that was saying much. Anything, even a leaf blowing in the gentle breeze, could easily take Jun down. Honestly, a dying man had better odds of survival than he did.

He nodded at the lady's suggestion. "I’m sure he'd appreciate the extra help." Glancing around at the group, he considered the composition of their team for the first time. They hadn't encountered combat yet, but their party build seemed decent enough. "You got a heavy hitting warrior, two mages—one focused on defense, one on offense—, and now a rogue who can switch roles if…" He paused and looked at the purple dress lady again. "Actually, are you a bard? Or maybe you're more of an assassin?" If the latter, they had a DPS heavy party. That would mean Enstille was their primary source for party buffs. "You'll have to make sure no one targets Enstille… but I think it should be fine if you guys stick together." Especially if the GMs were level scaling. Jun's stats alone should tank the enemy's level to 1. Unless they scale based on the strongest player. Then he'd be screwed. But, he'd also be the only liability. The fight should go smoothly for the others.

His mind drifted as he wondered how combat mechanics worked in Avalia compared to MMOs.

TLDR

Jun agreed that the others should go help Malachi.