JJ Doe

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

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

“If you wish for a most grand spectacle the likes rivaling such parties that might be taboo.”

Black Rose’s afterparty crossed Ryn’s mind. Udo’s report had mentioned Baron Hugonin’s ward taking part, however, he had been absent at the group reprimand the following morning. As an attendee himself, Lord Smithwood must have known about Mr. V—though his poor opinion of commoners may have rendered Mr.V’s presence less memorable. Had he or Lady Vikena questioned him already?

“A night, unlike that like I assure to unforgettable,” Unlike the afterparty, Ryn hoped. “But as I am one man. Some help is needed and from you, I would ask for whatever you can/or willing to tell me about Calbert and the Damien household? And one more thing, but I suppose that can wait till after.”

Intrigue and concern wrestled briefly before curiosity gained the upper hand. While prudent enough to feel some disquiet, he could not deny the spark of excitement at Mr. V’s cryptic hints of bold, likely illicit, mischief to come.

“Certainly, if it helps, I’ll gladly share what I know. And maybe you could enlighten me on a few points as well.” Ryn opened with what was common knowledge to any Erwynn citizen as one of Montauppe’s closest Varian neighbors. He then recounted his own brushes with the count since coming to Sorian. Mindful of boundaries, Ryn withheld details he had no right to divulge, but he did relay the tension between Duke Vikena and Count Damien, including Lady Vikena’s views on the count.

This inevitably led to his little conversation with Ms. Olga from The Tough Tavern. Prior to stumbling upon Prince Callum sprawled on the ground in the alley, Ryn had paid a visit to the tavern to ask the one question that had been bothering him since his first visit: What did Ms. Olga owe Count Damien for? As it turned out, a great many things—enough to win the tavernkeeper’s loyalty.

By her account, he was a good man, no matter what others said.

As Ryn spoke, two masked figures, an owl and a weasel, slipped into the ballroom. Inwardly he sighed, recognizing Peter, openly defying the crew’s decision; there would be words about that later.

For now, Ryn angled his body towards Mr. V and nodded discreetly at the red-haired pair. “Do you see that striking couple over there? The gentleman wearing a weasel mask has been keeping a close eye on the Damiens for a few days now. His insights may better serve you.”

---

---

Evening Sola 21, 1739

Consciousness returned in fragments as the world came into focus. Ryn lay prone on the carpet floor, his body struggling to move a muscle. Echoes of pain pulsated through him and his skull pounded relentlessly.

He blinked several times before he could make out the figure kneeling in front of him—Peter, with his trademark bright red hair seeming ablaze in the dim light.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Boss,” Peter said, a hint of relief lightening his tone. He slid a supportive hand under Ryn’s shoulder, eased him into a sitting position.

Ryn attempted to speak, to ask how long he had been unconscious, but his throat felt parched and swollen, his tongue like sandpaper in his mouth. All he could manage was a hoarse croak before launching into a bout of coughing that made his head spin.

Peter tightened his grip to keep Ryn upright. “Here.” He grabbed a glass of water that he had at the ready. “Small sips,” he advised, as he brought the cup to Ryn’s lips. The cool water was a balm to Ryn’s ragged throat. Clarity returned to his groggy head.

“Lots happened,” Peter said to fill the quiet. “Remember C-Bert’s dead daughter? Well, found out she’s not so dead anymore and a helluva lot more bloodthirsty, too.”

Ryn nodded mutely and continued drinking. Though by pure chance, he learned of Lady Damien’s resurrection from their encounter in the park during the fireworks.

“Lucky for Oscar and friends, her long-lost half-brother came to the rescue.”

At this, Ryn’s brow furrowed. There was so much to unpack in that single sentence, so many questions to ask. He did not even know where to begin.

“Didn’t you know? C-Bert has a bastard son! Another noble who pumps and dumps random girls cause he can? Shock! Gasp! Tell me it isn’t so!” Peter’s disgust was evident, and not without reason. After all, he too had been born out of wedlock, cast aside and forgotten.

“Think C-Bert was off screwing some side piece behind wifey’s back? I hope so—imagine the scandal.”

Ryn shook his head. Having witnessed the love Count Damien had for his wife and daughters, he doubted such betrayal.

“Eh, doesn’t matter I guess.” Peter shrugged. “I can live with him being a privileged jacka**, taking what he wanted from a commoner, then ditching her when things got inconvenient. Cause duty or some bullsh*t like that. Never checked on how she was doing, I bet.” A dangerous grin spread across Peter’s freckled face.

His lips peeled back to bare teeth clenched tight enough to crack. Though the resulting smile was wide, it never reached his eyes. They remained hard and pitiless like flint, glittering with malevolence in the dim light. Sunken shadows darkened the dimples that usually lent him an impish charm. It was the smile of someone who had suffered injustice, nursed grudges, and now sought any outlet to unleash that pent-up fury.

“You’re projecting.” Ryn rasped out.
Peter leaned in close, hackles raised. “And that’s none of your f**king business, now is it?”
Ryn gave a weak smile. “Just a little.”

With a derisive snort, Peter turned away. Something caught his eye, and he froze. Ryn followed his gaze to the shattered remnants of what was once a blue figurine scattered on the mantelpiece. A different kind of pain bloomed in his chest. A fist seemed to close around his heart, squeezing until he could scarcely draw breath. Grief rose in his throat, sharp and burning as bile. He swallowed against the lump, doing his best to suppress it from taking over.

“Wayra moved his body to a safe place,” Peter related flatly. “Karl’s taking the equipment over there now.” He stood and extended a hand down to Ryn. “We better get a move on if you wanna harvest fresh organs.”

While “want” was far too strong a word for such a grisly task, Ryn knew he could not allow Udo’s remains to go to waste—as much as he preferred granting his friend a proper sea burial without disturbing his corpse at all. With effort, he shoved aside his distaste, took a deep breath to steel himself, and accepted Peter’s outstretched hand.

---

---

Having imparted all he could, Ryn redirected the conversation to Mr. V’s mysterious “one more thing.” “What else might you need from me?”

TL;DR

Ryn tells Mr. V what he knows of Count Calbert and the Damiens, but points out that Peter (who just walked in with Olivia) might have more useful information. He asks what else Mr. V might need Ryn for.

Flashback: After being unconscious for an indeterminate amount of time, Ryn wakes up in the guest room. As Peter waits for Ryn to recover, he mentions Calbert, Violet, and Cassius. They leave the guesthouse together to carve out Udo’s body.

@samreaper@Princess@Potter@Tpartywithzombi@PapaOso

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Olivia & Peter

---

Peter took a long, slow drag on the stump of his cigarillo, savoring the woody taste as the embers burned dangerously close to his fingertips. Leaning on the fence, he watched the thin stream of gray curl up into the night sky.

The rhythmic clip-clop of heels on pavement grew louder in the dark. With a casual flick, he tossed the spent cigarillo, letting it burn itself out. He blew the remaining smoke from his mouth and straightened just as she came near.

“Well, well,” Peter drawled. “Hey there, gorgeous. Back for more trouble?” A crooked grin played at the corner of his mouth. “Persephone.”

Olivia lingered at the Vikena Estate longer than Charlotte. Due to never attending a masquerade, she had taken longer to get ready. Unfamiliar with nobility, Olivia had taken more time deciding on her outfit. Once finished, she stared at herself with shock. A stranger stared back at her in the mirror as if taunting her. Never would she have imagined herself to look noble. She longed for her old clothes, her messy braids, and the biggest concern being if she would eat that day. Now - especially now - her main concern was whether or not she’d be burned at the stake the next day. The appearance in front of her and the delights she’d adorned for the evening was a stark reminder of how much pressure she had on her shoulders. Liv finally broke away from the mirror, braid her goodbye to Delilah, and then began her reluctant trip toward the masquerade ball.

Her hair lay in an elegant braid her back adorned with a silver owl clip. The owl mask obscured the makeup over her face - a feature she reluctantly allowed Charlotte and Delilah to use. The dress and accessories were unlike anything she had worn in her life. Instead of pearls over the cape, she’d sewed feathers into it to match her mask. The walk to the Damien Estate filled her with dread. Each step in the high heels was careful and precise, and she couldn’t help but wonder why women wore these torture filled shoes. Stumbling was going to be common; Olivia inhaled as she nearly collided with a tree.

With a groan, she pushed away from it and ignored the stares she was receiving. As she neared the Estate, visions of her assault filled her mind’s eye; the guard’s faces had been sown with fear and surprise; the looks of anger on Calbert’s expression, and the gun at Kazumin’s head… Butterflies rose inside her stomach as did bile; if she had been minutes later, would Kazumin have died? What would have happened to him? The unanswered questions, the dread and fear, coursed through Olivia as if it were a tidal wave coming to knock her down. A voice interrupted her reverie and forced all other thoughts out.

“Well, well,” The man drawled. “Hey there, gorgeous. Back for more trouble?” A crooked grin played at the corner of the stranger’s mouth. “Persephone.”

For a moment she paused, as if she’d been punched in the gut and the air had been lost. Olivia whirled around to find a man with ginger hair staring at her. Her gaze flickered to the cigar on the ground then back up at him. A scowl accompanied her expression, and then a sneer.

”You must have confused me with someone else.” She replied curtly. Then, she drew in a deep breath, not realizing she’d been holding it. Her lungs screamed for air as she pondered her next response. A dry laugh escaped her. ”You normally wait around to pick up women and call them by the wrong name?”

Peter chuckled a rough sound. “Nice try, Olivia,” the name rolled off his tongue with a touch of sarcasm. “But I’d recognize those eyes anywhere, no amount of makeup or costume can hide that spunk.” He took a step forward, the lamplight casting an uneven glow on his face. “I’ve been a fan since your first spat with Calbert at the castle. Remember? All that bread.” He took another step.

Olivia scowled at his chuckle. Why was this funny? How did he know about her? Though she was unarmed, she thought of different spells she could use. When he took a step forward, Olivia held her ground, and glared venomously at him. Her mind told her to run, yet she was captivated - upon why the hell he was interested in her.

“Gotta love how you broke into C-Bert’s house to save your pal. Ballsy move.” He shaped his hand into a pistol, pressed the finger-barrel to his temple and pulled the trigger, mimicking the dramatic recoil that followed. “Paid off though. How’s living with the Vikenas?”

Liv flinched at his recoil to the gun. In her mind’s eye she saw Kazumin’s head being blown off and shuddered. Questions raced through her mind, all vying for her attention. She glanced around to ensure they were alone. The less who saw her do magic, the better. Was this a prank from Calbert? She shook her head and took a step back. Her heel clicked on the ground and she knew she could not run from the madman in these devil shoes. Maybe she could knock him out with it?

He paused to let all that sink in. “But now you and cowlick are back. After all that sh*te. Why?” Peter leaned in a bit, voice dropping lower. “Come to finish him off?”

”You’ve done enough talking, stalker.” Olivia finally replied. ”Why do you know so much about me? Are you stalking me?” Olivia scowled at him and continued. ”Do you work for him or something? Get out of my fuckin’ face.” She attempted to side-step him to the left toward the estate. Maybe this was a bad idea, and it would be wiser if she went back to the house - then the thought of Charlotte being alone there caused her chest to ache. How could she leave Charlotte in that lion’s den? Was Charlotte being harassed by one of these pests too? What would that poor girl do, Liv wondered. She had to go find her. ”Stay out of my fuckin business.”

Peter scoffed. “Or else what? You’ll zap me with a spell? Do me in? Go ahead, give it your best shot. But don’t think I’ll make it easy on you.” He let “Olivia” slip past him and shadowed her closely, jamming his hands into his pockets.

Olivia glared daggers at the man. She watched his hand movement and was prepared to act if he had ill intent. With her back now to the estate, she folded her arms and scowled. Why was she wasting her time on him? Despite it, she found herself rooted to the spot; this man could be dangerous to Charlotte and her, and who knows who else. She couldn't let him leave with these memories.

“Let’s just say you do get rid of me,” he went on. “And let’s pretend I was working for C-Bert. What’s the point? I’d have already tipped him off about you, your magic, and your pals. He’d be ready and waiting to spring a trap when you prance right in there.”

”What the fuck do you want?” Olivia inquired. Her temper now flared and she was no longer playing his game. She slipped her devil heels off and assessed the man. In the back of her mind she wondered how much magic he knew, if any, and how prepared he was to fight. ”You have a fuckin minute to tell me what the hell it is you want or need and then you’ll get the fuck away from me. And why the hell are you stalking me - get a life.”

Peter watched Olivia intently, his gaze following her movements. She stood straight and steady, shoulders back, feet planted. Ready for a tussle. He didn’t blame her. The smart play was to come clean, explain everything. The kind of thing a reasonable man would do.

But when has Peter ever been accused of being reasonable? And he was itching to see what she could do.

A wolfish grin split his mug as he rolled his neck, and then his shoulders, to limber up. “Short answer: you.” He relaxed into an easy stance. “The longer version is gonna take more than a minute. So either extend that deadline or show me whatcha got.”

Olivia narrowed her gaze at him. Why was he beckoning her to fight? What the hell was going on? She growled her displeasure and glanced at the dress. Charlotte paid for this against her wishes and now she might muck it up? ”You are not worth this.” Liv sneered, but didn’t back down.

”You’re not a coward, Persephone. Why don’t you fry him? You do enjoy playing with fire…” ”Do it, Seph. Make him pay for stalking you.” ”We didn’t raise a fuckin coward so quit acting like one you little bitch.” ”He’s obviously a threat so why play games?”

She ignored the voices, much to her displeasure; her head was beginning to throb. Pain flickered across her expression but she didn’t move. The reasonable option was to hear him out; the shorter route? Kick his ass. Lottie and Delilah hadn’t gone through this much trouble to make her look presentable or house her to have her fuck it up the next day. She growled again with fury. ”Fine. You have five fuckin minutes before I rip your throat out. Start talking, stalker,”

While waiting for a response, whispered an incantation: ”Communicare in mente.” She focused on sending the message to Charlotte telepathically. ”Will be late. Do not worry. It’s Liv.” Then in the back of her mind, she thought of the next spell she’d use in case he didn’t fulfill her wish: Obice.

A whisper passed her lips. Communicare in mente. Who was she contacting? Had to be Lady Lottie or cowlick. What did I tell you, Udo? She’s not reckless.

The memory of Udo chortled. “Are you sure about that?”

Peter regarded the fugitive. Not completely reckless.

While Olivia sent out her message, Peter scooped up the heels she tossed. “Free tip, better not face someone directly when you’re casting. They might read lips,” without glancing back, he started down the road, “time how fast you can cast, and narrow down which spells you’re gonna use next.”

Olivia scowled at Peter. If looks could have killed, he would have died. This man was on her shit list and he was soon going to surpass Calbert if his shenanigans continued. Fury rushed through her veins, egging her on; however, the sense of whom she portrayed and her friend’s lives, kept her grounded.

He turned over his shoulder to see if she was following. “What are you standing there for? Your pals are expecting you. Or… Can’t you walk and chant at the same time?” He shot her a playful, taunting look. Always fun to poke at the dangerous ones.

Rooted to the spot, Liv didn’t move. She couldn't show up barefoot, and those devil shoes were expensive. With every ounce of patience and sheer will, did she begin reluctantly following the nuisance.

“So, introduction. Name’s Peter. No family name. I’m a bastard and a son of a whore… Literally. Pops was a noble who liked sampling mum’s wares. Left us high and dry, as they do. A**hole.” He spat the word out. “Anyways, I grew up hustling around the streets. Would’ve joined the Woodsmen given the chance, but that didn’t pan out. Found similar work in the end.”

Peter. Olivia glared at him as she hiked up her dress and soon fell into step beside him. She clamped her jaw shut stubbornly. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of caring, so she stared ahead with a scowl. So he had a bad background - boo hoo.

She would have remained silent - until he brought up the Woodsmen. Her gaze shot to him and nearly gave her whiplash in her hurried response. Realizing she’d given in emotion, she resumed her scowl and narrowed gaze at him while she continued holding her dress up so it wouldn't be dirty.

”What?” she inquired incredulously. Then she started to chortle once he mentioned ‘finding similar work in the end.’ ”So you're telling me you’re some kind of rat? Fits you. You are a rat for who now?” She tried to grab her shoes, but he evaded her and she let out a frustrated sigh. I will murder this man.

Peter barked out a sharp laugh as Olivia scrambled to snatch her shoes back. They danced around each other, nimble as cats, until she gave in.

He considered his words to her question carefully, then abruptly stopped to face Olivia. He met her gaze straight on, all smugness gone. He couldn’t reveal every detail, not unless she was on board, but she deserved the truth.

“... For folks who have a bone to pick with the Danroses,” Peter said. “That family hurt a lot of people. Ruined lives, taken lives. Then pretended that they had nothing to do with it. And they’re still at it. My employers are going to end their lies, drag the truth into the light.”

“They want justice, but they’ll settle for revenge,” He held her gaze a little longer, before turning away to continue down the road.

“To be clear, I was stalking C-Bert, not you. It looked like he has King Edin’s ear so we figured it wouldn’t hurt to find out more about him. You just kept popping up around him.” He glanced sidelong at Olivia, a brief smirk returned, “And each time, you impressed me. So much so I want to recruit you.” Peter sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Not that the others agree. Given your record so far, they think you’d be more of a liability than an asset. Me, I think with a little training you could make a damn fine scout and thief. Maybe even more, with your magic.”

“Boss didn’t want to get you into deeper sh*t than you already are in, but he did say to help you when necessary. Like, say, throwing the hounds off your scent after your first big escape.” Which hadn’t been as easy as Peter made it sound, not with two people leaving a literal blood trail to their hideout.

Olivia sighed loudly when he relented on giving back her shoes. A smartass retort made it to her lips, but she let it slide. He seemed like he would finally open up. Coldness enveloped her and it wasn’t from the night. The injustice the Danroses inflicted onto her family caused rage to boil to the surface. If she could have caught fire right then with it, she would have. While he spoke, she glanced around to ensure they were alone. Her eyebrows rose at those two words: scout and thief. Two things she was proud to be good at.

Once he finished, Olivia stared at him and then smirked with amusement. ”Well damn, I’m flattered.” She teased and then bit her lip. Could she do both and maintain her fake nobility status? What if it endangered Charlotte and Kazumin? Her heart couldn’t take losing either of them.

"However – with this new persona, I am trying to turn over a new leaf and blend in. That doesn’t mean you don’t have my attention. I am interested in helping take down the Danroses; in fact, they ruined my family’s life.” Bitterness weaved its way into her voice.

Then, she half-smiled kindly, offering the first sign of no longer wanting to murder him… yet. ”Thank you for your help so far, and your praise.” She chuckled and rubbed her arm and glanced away.

”I’ll think about it, how's that?” Olivia glanced toward the Damien Estate and then back to Peter. ”Maybe we can continue discussing our… arrangement at a certain masquerade? And who is your boss anyway?” Olivia shivered slightly, now aware of her bare feet on the dirt ground beneath them. ...Unless of course, you’re here for that specific reason and want to run off now?”

Peter leaned in close to Olivia, trying for a bit of charming roguishness. He didn’t have the allure that came naturally to Udo—the priest could’ve picked his damn nose and it still would’ve made people thirsty for him. Even Karl got more than a few appreciative looks without trying. Life just wasn’t fair that way. But a guy’s gotta try, right? He cocked a half-smile, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You asking me to be your date?”

Olivia tensed as he leaned closer, but couldn’t help but smirk. His eyes up close, were nicer than she had initially thought. Realizing she was thinking this, she scolded herself, and then focused elsewhere instead. ”Well, my fellow rogue, where else would we be going?” Liv mused and batted her eyelashes at him. ”I didn’t get dressed up to meander the city, did I? We’ll have access to C-Bert." Her voice dropped to a mysterious hush as she waited for his response.

“And looking fine doing it. Even avoid giving a straight answer like a proper noble.” Which, with the ladies, usually meant they were trying to let a guy down easy. Especially if they got all tense like that when you leaned in. So much for roguish charm. “I can take a hint.”

Peter pulled away, answering Olivia’s other question. “What I can’t do is tell you who the boss is. Not until you say ‘yes, I’m in.’ You get where I’m coming from, right?” He figured she wasn’t the type to rat Fritz out, but sometimes stuff slipped out at the wrong moment and suddenly details were out that couldn’t be taken back. Long as she was on the fence, he said all he could and he already said too much.

Olivia stared at Peter and a frown slowly encompassed her face. She recognized how her words had sounded, and her chest panged with guilt. She approached Peter again and gently took his hand. ”I understand.” Her voice was quiet and sincere, and Olivia stared at him long and hard for a minute. She was silent briefly, with the wind being the only noise and rustling of leaves disturbing the peace. Charlotte’s and Kazumin’s expression swam into her mind, but another one filled her too: her parent’s. Liv bit her lip and then took a deep breath. A weight lifted off her shoulders and she let out a relaxed sigh, as if she had her corset loosened.

”I accept your offer. You’re right that they ruined too many lives; including my own and who knows what Calbert’s up too and what else he might do.” Olivia then took his hand and grasped it loosely, allowing him the chance to let go of it if he so pleased.

”Yes, I do want to date. I’m not good with shit shit, I didn’t mean it to come off as though I didn’t, although I only did just meet you so it must be fate. Besides,” she smirked as she gazed at their reflection in a nearby puddle then back up at him. ”We may be the best-looking damn gingers in the room. Why deprive them of beauty?”

Olivia’s touch sent Peter’s heart racing. He watched her watching him, unsure what she was thinking. With little else to do, he indulged in the chance to admire her up close. He fought the urge to remove her mask for a better view.

Her “I accept” almost slipped right by. Peter blinked, digesting her words, then it clicked. He smacked his forehead. “Ah, sh*tf**kf**kdamn.” Crouching, he let his head droop but kept his other hand in hers. “Sorry, should’ve been clearer. Didn’t mean you had to give me your answer right now. It’s a big decision and it’ll be dangerous working with us.” He peered up. Even from this angle, she looked good. “Think about it more. Only if you’re sure, leave a copper piece by your window.”

Grin back, he said, “But for now, my fair maiden, we have a party to crash.” He wiped the grime from her feet and eased Olivia’s shoes back on.

“Give me a sec.” He swapped the bowtie for an ostentatious lace jabot and matching cuffs. The glinting jeweled cufflinks he nicked off some highborn fop completed the transformation from just another waiter to a nobleman who thought bibs were high fashion. With the weasel mask in place, he was ready.

“Let’s wow these stuffed shirts with our beauty.” Peter bared his gap-toothed smile.

”Oh - right. Yeah… I will think about it. I just... Never mind.” Her voice dropped and then she giggled. She shuffled her feet and adjusted her mask in the awkwardness that followed. Despite it, Peter grinned and the offer to go to the ball was back on. With a sigh of relief that the decision could be paused, Olivia relaxed.

Then as he wiped the grime off her feet and slipped her shoes back on, Liv was now glad for the mask. It covered the majority of her blush and she had to bite her lips to keep from grinning.

Next, she watched as he completed his costume and started laughing; a high-pitched musical laugh. ”A weasel?” She exclaimed with shock and amusement. ”Did you purposely try matching my costume?” Olivia shook her head. ”Stalker.” Olivia fought back a grin as she stared at him and offered him her arm. Together, they headed off to Calbert Damien’s Estate.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Ríoghnach "Riona"

Time: Night
Location: Damien Estate Front Entrance

Riona half-fell, half-tumbled out of the carriage with about as much grace as a drunk cow. Saved from an embarrassing introduction to the driveway only by Mr. Brisby’s work-roughened hands. “Steady on,” he murmured.

She wobbled upright, smoothed out her (well, technically her sister’s) beautiful, but frankly uncomfortable, dress with as much dignity as she could muster. So much for gliding in like a swan. At this rate, she’d be tripping over her own feet all night and leave the party more black and blue than when she arrived. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure you can manage on your own?” There was a pause, then, as if remembering himself and where they were, he added, “My lady.”

Keeping her voice quiet, Riona said, “No. These shoes are going to kill me.” She didn’t know how Via convinced her to wear stiletto death traps. “At least the last thing I see before I break my neck will be my legs looking damn good.”

“Please don’t die on us. I’d hate to tell everyone you were bested by heels.”

“If anyone laughs, make them wear these and see how long they last.” Riona adjusted her cat mask and fussed with her hair one last time. “What do you think? Will anyone recognize me?”

“I think you look beautiful.”

“So no chance of being recognized then.” She flashed a playful smirk at Mr. Brisby, who just shook his head, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t plan to stay for the whole party, but if I’m not back in two hours, don’t wait up.”

Riona managed three steps up the stairs before the stilettos threatened mutiny again. Gods damn these heels. The night was young, but her feet already ached for mercy.

TL;DR

Disguised, Riona arrives to the Damien estate.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Afternoon Sola 23, 1739: Kalliope & Riona

Kalliope & Riona

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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?