princess

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Evening
Location: Vikena Estate → Outside
Attire: Dress, Amulet
Interaction: @JJ Doe Fritz @Potter Olivia

---

The soft rustle of Charlotte’s dress was the only sound accompanying her as she ascended the staircase of the dimly lit Vikena estate. She clenched her hands briefly at her sides, the ghost of her conversation with Fritz lingering. Her eyes flicked toward the flickering candle sconces along the walls as though seeking answers in their wavering light.

She was nearing her bedroom door when a familiar voice broke through the quiet.

“Lottie dear!”

The familiar feeling of a tender hand on her shoulder made her pause midstep.

"I forgot to give this to you earlier. I bet you it’s a love letter."

A small smile teased the corners of Charlotte’s lips, though it was faint and fleeting. "A love letter?" She repeated the words with a faint note of humor, her brow arching as she accepted the envelope.

"Well you never know…" With a kiss on her cheek and a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, Delilah retreated down the hallway, her humming fading into the distance. Alone once more, Charlotte glanced down at the envelope in her hands. Without further delay, she broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

Dear Lady Charlotte Vikena,

I trust this letter finds you in the best of spirits. It would be a delight to finally have the pleasure of meeting you in person for the very first time at the upcoming Sorian Art Gala. In the midst of such elegance, might I suggest a private meeting at 11:00 a.m.? I would love the opportunity to introduce myself and discuss a cause rather special to Prince Callum Danrose—one that involves your esteemed participation in a charity event that I believe would greatly benefit from your grace and influence. It would be an honor to share more with you in the enchanting atmosphere of the gala, and I eagerly await the chance to finally make your acquaintance.

With my warmest regards,
Alexander Deacon Vice President,
Black Rose Trading Company

Charlotte's breath hitched the moment her eyes landed on the signature, Alexander Deacon, Vice President, Black Rose Trading Company. The name seemed to pulse on the page before her. Her heart sank, and her fingers tightened around the letter, leaving slight creases in the parchment.

Her thoughts raced as she hurried back downstairs. The room was quiet now, still bearing some remnants of the earlier gathering. Charlotte crossed over to the board, the letter still clutched in her hand. Her gaze darted to the board as she approached it, her eyes scanning it rapidly as if seeking validation for what her gut already knew.

There it was scrawled on the board. Alexander Deacon.

"A love letter, indeed," she murmured dryly, her voice trembling with a fragile facade of humor that quickly faltered.
Her eyes remained on the name, a shaky sigh leaving her lips. A ripple of fear went through her as she considered the implications. There was no way this was a coincidence. No way this was benign.

A lure into the lion’s den.

She supposed this sort of matter was one she should share with the others, especially if anything happened to her if she were to go.
"… Fritz… Olivia!” Her voice carried through the quiet estate as she called out their names, but no response came. Her feet carried her toward the guest rooms, climbing the staircase with determination. Halfway up, she paused abruptly, her eyes catching sight of something through one of the grand windows.

A thick column of smoke rose into the night sky, billowing ominously from the direction of the warehouses. Charlotte’s stomach twisted, and a chill ran down her spine.

"Please don’t be over there," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. The words repeated in her mind like a desperate mantra.

Please don’t be over there. Please don’t be over there.

Her body moved before her mind could fully process the decision. Clutching the letter tightly, she quickly turned and bolted toward the front door, only taking a moment to grab her cape. The cool night air greeted her as she stepped outside, but her focus remained solely on the distant smoke.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Evening
Location: Castle --> Train Station

---

The castle halls blurred past her as Anastasia bolted, her bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor. The echoes of the guards’ shouts followed close behind. She didn’t care where she was going; she only knew she had to run, to move. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as the weight of her emotions pushed her forward. Her body burned with exertion, but her mind craved the sharpness of the adrenaline—the only thing keeping the suffocating thoughts at bay.

Bursting through the castle gates, she felt the cool night air whip against her skin. She barely registered the startled looks of the guards as she dashed past them, her dress billowing like a banner around her. Behind her, the guards scrambled as they shouted for reinforcements.

The city sprawled before her, dimly lit and alive with activity. Anastasia’s heart raced, her mind spinning with a singular goal. She sprinted down Edin Avenue toward Flora Road where a guard lunged for her, his hand brushing the fabric of her dress, but she twisted away, narrowly avoiding his grasp.

The guards barreled through the crowd, knocking over crates and eliciting a chorus of startled cries. Anastasia darted down the road, weaving between pedestrians and carriages, her chest heaving with exertion. A wagon laden with hay trundled past, heading in the direction of Clover Road. Her eyes lit up with a wild idea.

Running parallel to the wagon, she gauged its speed before leaping onto its side. Her fingers gripped the wooden frame tightly as she swung herself onto the top, landing with a soft thud in the hay. The startled driver turned to shout, “What in the—!” but she gave him a breathless grin before crawling to the far side and jumping off as the wagon rounded a corner.

She hit the ground running, her legs burning with the effort. The maneuver had bought her precious seconds, and the guards hesitated, momentarily losing sight of her. Anastasia tore up Clover Road, her path winding through quieter residential areas. She darted behind a row of hedges, crouching low as the guards’ footsteps thundered past.

Her reprieve was brief. The faint glow of Victoria Avenue beckoned her ahead, and she knew the train station wasn’t far now. Steeling herself, she emerged from her hiding spot and sprinted toward the main road. Her dress caught on a low fence, tearing slightly as she climbed over it, but she barely noticed. The thrill of the chase fueled her, drowning out her exhaustion and the ache in her limbs.

Victoria Avenue stretched wide and empty under the moonlight. Anastasia pushed herself harder, her breath ragged as the wooded path to the train station came into view. The guards’ shouts were growing fainter behind her. She allowed herself a fleeting smile, a burst of triumph sparking in her chest.

At last, she reached the station. The platform was deserted and eerily silent. The distant whistle of an approaching train echoed faintly through the night. Anastasia stood there, breathing heavily, her dress torn and her hair wild as the moonlight cast a pale glow over her.

Had she come here to take a train to nowhere? To run away? She could step aboard, take on a new identity, and vanish into the night—get off at a random stop where no one knew her name or her burdens. For a moment, the idea tempted her, filling her chest with a bittersweet ache.

But in the stillness, the silence pressed against her heavily. And with it came the pain. The pain she had spent the entire night trying to outrun.

The pain of knowing Darryn’s death was tied directly to her actions, to her recklessness, to her inability to think beyond the thrill of the moment. And worse, knowing there were others—like Riona—who blamed her too.

The pain of knowing her siblings would soon marry, move on, and no longer need her. The way her parents never really had. Would they one day forget her entirely, the way her father so easily had? Would she fade into the background, as invisible as she felt now?

The pain of the looming truth that her only purpose was to marry—to become a pawn in political games. To be sold off like a commodity to the highest bidder, her value measured not by her heart or her soul but by her name and the alliances it could secure.

And most of all, the pain of knowing that beyond that purpose, there was nothing else for her. No dreams. No meaning. No life of her own.

Her breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps as she shut her eyes, fighting the tears that burned at the corners. But her legs moved on their own accord, carrying her forward. Her bare feet crunched against the gravel, the sound sharp and grounding in the quiet. She stepped onto the tracks, the cold steel biting against her skin as she stood there, arms outstretched, her chest heaving with exhaustion.

The train’s light pierced through the darkness, cutting a blazing path toward her. It grew brighter with every passing second, the ground trembling beneath her. The roar of the locomotive filled her ears, drowning out everything else. The chaos, the noise, the overwhelming weight of her thoughts—all of it disappeared in the face of the raw, electrifying power rushing toward her.

Anastasia closed her eyes and tilted her head back, the wind whipping around her, tugging at her dress and hair. The rush washed over her like a tidal wave, stripping away the pain, the guilt, the fear.

The ground beneath her began to tremble, the faint vibration growing stronger with each passing second. Anastasia’s lips curled into a small, trembling smile. She closed her eyes, the rush of adrenaline silencing the chaos in her mind. The roar of the oncoming train grew louder, the wind whipping her hair wildly around her face.

For the first time, she felt completely free.

She stretched her arms out as if to welcome the incoming train, despite the rising sound of screams and protests of gathering onlookers. The ground beneath her began to tremble harder, the vibration shaking her bones. The sound of the train was deafening now, and yet, in the face of its unstoppable momentum, she found clarity.

I can control my destiny... It's this easy, huh?

Inside the train, the conductor slammed his fist on the horn. The sound hit her like a physical force, but Anastasia didn’t flinch. Her wild, glassy eyes locked onto the light hurtling toward her.

“Get off the tracks!” the conductor yelled, his voice muffled by the relentless screech of the train’s wheels. He yanked the whistle cord again and again, the horn wailing in frantic, desperate bursts.

Behind her, guards and onlookers screamed, their voices blending with the cacophony of the train. A woman on the platform clutched her child, shielding their eyes, while others shouted at her to move. The chaos swirled around Anastasia, but she remained frozen, her mind strangely calm.

Peasants and onlookers had gathered near the platform, their faces pale with horror. A woman clutched her child close, shielding their eyes, while a man shouted angrily at guards to “do something!” The crowd was growing, the fear and chaos palpable.

Anastasia remained rooted to the spot, her head tilting down as she opened her eyes to look at the train hurtling toward her. At the last possible moment, she stepped back, off the tracks, her feet hitting the gravel just as the train roared past. The force of it swept her hair back, but her expression was calm—eerily so.

The guards rushed to her, panting, but they hesitated when they saw her face. She stood tall, her posture regal, her gaze sharp and unwavering. The onlookers stared at her in stunned silence, their murmurs dying away.

And then, Anastasia giggled.

It was soft at first, a breathless sound that bubbled from her lips. The guards froze, exchanging uneasy glances as the giggle grew into a laugh—a genuine, almost childlike laugh that seemed out of place amidst the chaos. She pressed a hand to her mouth, steadying herself before she spoke. “I’m sorry,” she began, her voice lilting with amusement as her gaze swept over the onlookers. “You all must think I’ve gone mad.”

Her laughter faded finally as she addressed them a little more seriously, “But I haven’t. For the first time in my life, I’ve finally figured it out.” Anastasia straightened, her voice growing steadier. “ You know... I am not a fake person and a lot of people keep telling me I am." She shook her head with a sad smile, "I was just… trying to choose happiness, in whatever way I could.”

The crowd exchanged confused glances, but Anastasia wasn’t speaking for them. She was speaking for herself.

“And now I realize,” she continued, her voice growing stronger, “if I can choose happiness... If I can choose to stay in Sorian or go somewhere else...Even live or die... Then of course I can choose my own purpose too. I don't know why I expected one to be laid out in my lap. Kinda silly of me... ”

The guards looked at her, dumbfounded, their hands hovering as if unsure whether to reach for her or not. The onlookers stared, their confusion and awe mingling.

“I don’t know where I’ll go from here. But for the first time, I know I can choose, no matter how many other people tell me that I can't.” And with that, she sank to her knees in the grass.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Dahlia Fletcher

Time: Nightfall
Location: Sada Kurau
Interaction: @Apex Sunburn

---

Pressed into the shadows near the deck’s edge, Dahlia watched the scene unfold, her brown eyes flicking between the Captain, Yasawen, and the ever-animated Inshahri. Her fingers curled tightly into her cloak as dread crept up her spine. Magic. The word reverberated in her mind like the toll of a warning bell. They were looking for something—or someone—and the sinking suspicion that it might be her sent her thoughts into a tailspin.

No, no, no. They can’t know. They won’t know, she thought, her breath hitching. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out the captain’s sharp tone. She had been careful, hadn’t she? Whatever trace of magic she carried should have been too faint to notice—or so she had hoped.

As Sjan-dehk questioned Inshahri, Dahlia shifted nervously, trying to stay hidden. But her elbow clipped a coiled rope, sending it tumbling with a muted thud that felt deafening in the tense silence. Panic gripped her chest like a vice. Stupid! So stupid!

She froze, every muscle taut as she watched for any sign that the sound had drawn their attention. If they found her now, if they connected the strange magic to her, she didn’t know if she’d be able to talk her way out of it.

Her mind raced as she pressed herself further into the shadows. Think, Dahlia. Think. But for once, no clever plan came to mind. All she could do was pray they’d dismiss the noise and keep searching elsewhere.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Dahlia Fletcher

Time: Nightfall
Location: Sorian Waterfront -> Sada Kurau
Interaction: @Apex Sunburn

---

The night was a fickle ally. On the one hand, it cloaked Dahlia’s movements as effectively as her worn cloak and provided comfort with the sweet sparkle of the stars above.

...On the other hand, it amplified every creak of wood and the faintest scuff of her boots, each sound striking like a gong in her ears.

Dahlia crouched behind a stack of crates near the pier, her warm brown eyes scanning the Sada Kurau like a hawk sizing up its prey. The warship loomed before her, intimidating even in the dim glow of moonlight. She tucked a few unruly strands of wavy brown hair back under her hood, muttering under her breath, “Just another day in paradise.”

Dahlia’s heart pounded furiously as she slipped into the cover of darkness near the Sorian docks. Seraphina’s threats still echoed in her ears, rattling her more than she cared to admit.

Just get in, do what they want, and get out alive.

Dahlia adjusted her cloak, pulling it tighter around herself as she skirted a cluster of crates. So Dahlia, what’s the game plan if you're caught? Charm the crew with my winning personality? Yeah, right. Her gaze swept the hull until it caught on a dangling rope. “Guess I’m climbing. Great."

The sounds of the crew working aboard the Sada Kurau filtered down to her ears. The deck was alive with activity, and while the chaos was intimidating, it was also an unexpected advantage.

She moved swiftly and silently. Years of slipping unnoticed through city streets served her well now. Reaching the rope, she tested it with a firm tug, her fingers brushing against its rough surface. It held firm.

Dahlia took a deep breath, the scent of salt and sea filling her lungs. “Alright, Dahlia, just don’t look down,” she muttered as she began to climb. Her hands worked quickly, gripping and pulling as she scaled the ship’s side. The strain burned her arms, but she pressed on, her freckled cheeks flushed with effort.

Halfway up, she paused to catch her breath, clinging to the rope. The water below looked impossibly far away, “Fall, and it’s game over,” she whispered. “No pressure.”

Finally, she hauled herself over, landing softly on the deck. She dropped into a low crouch, flattening herself against the shadows as she scanned her surroundings. A quick glance confirmed what she had hoped—the crew remained preoccupied, their focus entirely on their tasks. Dahlia bit her lip, her breath held tight.

For a moment, she simply sat there, her knees pulled to her chest and her back pressed against the wood. Her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, the weight of her situation sinking in. Seraphina’s words played on repeat in her mind once more, but she pushed them aside.

One problem at a time.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Charlotte, Olivia, Kazumin, Leo, Fritz, & Wulfric
Part 4

Time: Evening - Ends at about 6pm
Location: Vikena Estate

---

Charlotte felt a shiver ripple down her spine as Wulfric's words settled in, their weight pressing against her chest. Her mind raced back to Lorenzo, who had uncharacteristically abandoned her at the ball that night and proceeded to go missing. He hadn’t said anything to indicate he had attended the party, yet given his reaction to her other accusations, she wasn’t sure what to think, but she knew she could not back down. Not with her friends, and potentially even her stepfather, in such grave danger. However, she was beginning to consider the fact that this was not the situation she had intended to rope them all into. The goal had initially been to gain experience so they could solve the mystery surrounding her and Leo’s parents’ deaths.

Her eyes rose suddenly at the mention of Calbert Damien.

… He’s connected to Marek Delronzo? To the Black Rose? Cassius, Violet and Crystal’s faces subsequently swarmed her thoughts.

Too many strange mishaps all in that night alone. There had to be a connection, she could feel it in her bones. She shifted in her seat, not certain how to begin to imagine herself in a situation as extreme as torture. As it registered in her mind that Wulfric was addressing her, she quickly lifted her head. Her gaze moved to Leo briefly before she spoke. "Not directly in words," she finally admitted, "He didn’t directly threaten me with violence, but the way he spoke, the things he said... It was as if he was warning me that he could do something, that he would do something, if I didn’t listen to him and keep my stepfather from attending events…"

“What exactly did he say?” he pressed.

"Calbert approached me on the parapet of the wall around the castle grounds after the ball, and backed me into the edge… He… reminded me that Lorenzo wouldn’t have come if it weren’t for me, that I should have kept him away,” she explained slowly, recalling the unsettling conversation. "He made it clear that if anything happened to him, it would be my fault. He didn’t need to say it outright… but it was there, the implication that if I didn’t keep Lorenzo in line, there would be consequence,“

She clenched her fists in her lap, trying to stop them from trembling, and asked, "Count Damien’s linked to the Black Rose?” Her eyes locked onto Wulfric’s.

“The night following the after-party, my sister sought out Marek. She was guarded, of course. He turned her away with the excuse that he was busy. Yet, he witnessed a cloaked and hooded man visiting. She told me she thought she recognized the voice as Count Damien’s. She cautioned she might be wrong, and this isn’t strictly conclusive. However, I intend to move forward with the assumption that Count Damien is involved.”

“Dastardly,” Leo whispered at the revelation that Calbert was heavily involved in all this.
"...I see.” Charlotte felt a sudden sense of dread. The words washed over her like a frigid wave, her blood turning to ice.

With water to nurse his parched throat; listening as the Prince demonstrated his skills and all that he had gathered quite well. The man certainly had the knack for a leader, just too cold and rigid for the casual crowd, but impressive nonetheless. His words, on the other hand, made this whole situation more harrowing with each detail and fact learned. And while his stomach felt full before, was replaced with a pit that the water only served to slosh around like acid. This Marek, whoever the bastard was, did not matter to him or even mad about the party (people letting off steam drunk all too common) no, Kazu’s ire towards the man came from a point of disappointment.

Then to learn he was also connected and possibly working with Calbert as well? The prince’s painfully artful described image of Marek’s methods? This could mean having both targeting him now, but more worrying was the fact both were likely to be after Percy too. A rush of emotions hit him with the realization, unintentionally breaking the glass in his right gloved hand.

He merely blinked at the small splash and could little else but laugh as his mind was forced to recall Calby holding the gun to his forehead making him laugh more, water trickling or tears.

Olivia listened to everyone and ate her food quietly. She knew she couldn’t comment on anything, particularly the evidence. She tensed as the information was revealed, particularly regarding Kazumin at the party. His behavior at Count Damien's house now made sense. When they asked about him threatening Charlotte, she nearly spoke up then had to stop herself. The memory of her first time meeting Calbert remained vividly in her mind.

The revelation that Count Damien was possibly associated with the Black Rose caused her to inhale too sharply and nearly choke on her food. She collected herself and paled drastically. She was wrongfully blamed for the murder of Violet and with him being part of the Black Rose, this terrified her. Her mouth went dry and she had to stuff her face with more food before drawing too much more attention to herself. Her reactions at his house had not been wise, she knew that, but seeing him threaten Kazumin that way? What would have happened if she hadn’t intervened? She didn’t want to know.

The terror she felt was mirrored in Charlotte’s eyes. Olivia took a deep breath to steady herself. She had to focus on the others. First she pulled Charlotte into a hug, who had hugged her back albeit a bit limply. She squeezed her back gently but apologetically, though nobody else would notice.

A thought was on the tip of her tongue, then disappeared when the glass broke. She jumped and noticed Kazumin broke his glass out of fear. She inhaled and moved over to him. ”Kazu! Are you all right?” She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the water on his face, regardless if they were tears or not. She examined his hands and frowned at him. ”Are you hurt? I-” Liv stopped herself before saying I could heal you. Olivia took a deep breath and fell silent.

The overwhelming shock of the situation had been a lot with everything discussed, which only elaborated just how deep he was in this now. And it started with a story of a hamster damn it! How could he not laugh at something so harmless leading to both Calbert and Marek targeting him and his friends? Worse yet, his family. They were innocent and completely removed from all this fucking nonsense. They’re just farmers damn it.

How frustratingly small and useless he felt sitting in this room. Unable to remember anything of actual significance while dressed in such a manner. Damn himself for not changing or putting more effort into helping both Percy and Charlotte.

Now to find this situation had gotten so much bigger than any peasant had any right being in. His mind whirled with such thoughts before finally noticing Olivia trying to tend and talking to him; saw her mouth moving but her words hardly registered, still struggling to get his scattered mind together.

“ H-hm? Yah, I’m fine. Just…just a lot to take in and…and the side effect trying to remember is all…” Trailing off as he tried to gingerly shift the gloved hand free intending to express he was fine, that the glove did its job (anything to keep her from using unnecessary magic), only to feel a small sharp wince doing so. Seeing her so worried for him when she was marked publicly as a criminal and had to hide her face. Her face…how he missed Percy’s sweet smile, instead looking at the face of Olivia; a stranger’s mask. He found that his hand was squeezing hers, and even as pain flared through he refused to stop till he put as much of himself into it, wanting and wishing to tell her he was sorry.

Ryn crouched before Mr. Kazumin, careful to avoid the glittering shards scattered across the floor. His gaze settled on the gloved hand, then moved upward to meet the man’s eyes. “May I remove the glove to see if any of the glass cut through it?”

Fleeting the moment with Percy was; she was Olivia now and reluctantly released his grip when Ryn joined in on the checking.“ Y’all are worryin' too much, really, I very much appreciate your concerns. It’s just a scratch anyway and besides, we farmers are made of sterner stuff.” Gripping the hand into a fist to give a small pump to assure them he was well; smiling through gritted teeth followed by a faint groan played off with a laugh and wiggling of the fingers.

Ryn rose, his eyes meeting Mr. Kazumin’s with a mixture of understanding and sadness. Perhaps, were it only Ms. Persephone and Lady Charlotte present, Mr. Kazumin might unburden himself more freely. There simply was too much distrust amongst the group. So many secrets. Almost of their own accord, Ryn’s eyes sought out Lady Charlotte. By chance or fate, when he tore his gaze away from her, his reflection caught his eye in a nearby mirror. The visage that stared back at him seemed accusatory. Hypocrite. The irony was not lost on Ryn.

Meanwhile, Wulfric remained watching. That had been three people alarmed at the mention of Count Damien. Two of whom were supposedly strangers, yet they acted familiarly. A connection, then.

“Calbert, wife, and creeeeepy daughter; all suspichhious.What about the bastard?” Leo asked, studying the names Hendrix had written down, unconcerned about the broken glass. “Weird to ssssslither out the muck as all this starts.” He suggested.

Charlotte’s gaze rose, her lips parting as an immediate defense instinctively surged up from within. But the words faltered, caught in her throat before they could escape. Cassius hadn’t done anything to suggest he had any link to any of this, yet, even as her emotions urged her to protect him, the rational, sharper side of her mind whispered that they couldn’t afford to overlook anyone—not now, and especially not Calbert’s son. Her fingers tightened slightly, nails pressing into her palms.

It was then Delilah burst back into the room with a spring in her step, carrying an ice pack, a damp towel, and a small bucket balanced in her arms. She flashed everyone a bright smile.

"Alrighty, everyone, I’ve got the royal orders here," she teased, laughing lightly. "You’d think I’d have a third hand hidden somewhere, wouldn’t you?" With a cheeky wink, she set the items down carefully on a nearby table. Charlotte was quick to then pick up the ice pack and hold it to her dear friend Leo’s forehead.

Her gaze fell on Count Fritz, and her smile widened. Without missing a beat, she swept over to him and pulled him into a warm hug. "It's such a delight to see you again," she greeted, her tone dripping with affection. She lingered for a moment, squeezing his shoulders gently before pulling back. "You always look so dashing, it’s unfair to the rest of us." She gave him a playful nudge with her elbow, her eyes dancing with amusement.

For a moment, he stood frozen in Ms. Delilah’s embrace. He had half-expected to see a flicker of reproach in her eyes regarding Lady Charlotte. But there was only warmth, leaving him perplexed. Remembering himself, he returned the hug with a gentle pat on her back. “Thank you.”

As she pulled away, Ryn’s lips quirked into a teasing grin. “Alas, not quite as dashing as His Highness, no?” He returned her playful nudge, his eyes darting briefly to the Prince, who arched an amused eyebrow in response.

Delilah giggled, " Aw hush. The two of you are both dashing!”

His gaze then fell upon the crystalline carnage scattered across the floor. “Forgive me, but could you direct me to a broom and dustpan?” He gestured toward the sparkling mess. Ms. Delilah’s expression shifted to one of understanding, and she provided directions to a cleaning closet nestled in a nearby corridor. With a grateful nod, Ryn set off towards the door.

Then, she turned back to the group, her tone shifting to one of importance but still carrying that infectious energy. "Oh, and I almost forgot! I brought someone who can help with our little patient here." She gestured toward the doorway, her smile unwavering. "Everyone, may I introduce the doctor who was kind enough to come on such short notice!"

As if on cue, a tall, handsome man with golden-blond hair and a warm smile stepped into the room, his eyes gleaming with a friendly expression. He bowed slightly to everyone present, his gaze lingering on each person.
He had been lost in thought and flexing his hand; testing the depth of the ache. Thankful for the glove covering his action; finding the pain to be minor so likely a small cut at most, if he had to guess. Wanting to leave it be, having made enough of a mess as is with the glass, further fueled by his inability to give better information.

Delilah’s upbeat presence came at the right time and did help bring some energy back to him. Though it was the doctor that got him hopping up to his feet, where he bounded off after Fritz.

” Hold on, there Fritz! Seeing as the mess’s mine, no sense in leaving it to others, only, yeah?.”

Ryn greeted Dr. Hayes with a bow of his own and was just about to excuse himself out of the room, when Mr. Kazumin came over to him.

A friendly pat on the back upon catching up in the hopes of showing his thanks for the concern earlier, feeling bad for denying the help but for guys of his stature, showing weakness was especially bad, more so with the prince’s presence. One’s usefulness was all that mattered to such men. His hand clenched briefly at the thought. He refused to just be a burden to them, to his friends.

"Good evening, everyone," he greeted smoothly, "You can call me Dr. Julian Hayes, at your service. Your lovely housemaid here has already informed me of the situation, and I must say, I’m more than happy to lend my assistance." He glanced toward Leo with a sympathetic expression, a touch of concern furrowing his brow as he approached. "Ah, you poor thing, you’ve certainly been through quite an ordeal, haven’t you?" His tone was almost paternal as he knelt down to assess Leo's condition. "But don’t you worry, my friend, you’re in good hands now. We’ll have you feeling right as rain in no time at all. Now, I do see some blood on you. Are you wounded, friend? Let’s see here."

At the maid’s announcement, and before the doctor entered, Wulfric positioned himself strategically before the chalkboard, covering the bulk of it. It was apparent something was behind him, but not what. His forbidding, no-nonsense gaze should deter the stranger if he even cared to try rubbernecking in the first place.

Olivia jumped when the door opened and spun around to find Deliliah and the doctor. She watched the exchanges between everyone, including the Prince. Wulfric moved to block the board and she let out a sigh of relief. The less who knew the information the better. She also stood up and positioned herself nearby him as well as an extra deterrent. With her wild mane of red hair, she also helped block some of the information.

Olivia hesitantly glanced up at him and offered a small smile, then let her gaze move away. She wished she could use magic, although the risk was not worth it. In the back of her mind, she realized she had been too familiar with Kazumin and therefore was avoiding him. There was a doctor here, along with Fritz and Charlie. Her gaze moved to Charlie’s, and she looked at her as if saying: What do I do…? Though she had said nothing in reply, Charlotte had given her a reassuring smile.

“No fizzishun!” Leo repeated the objection, certain that he’d been clear he neither wanted nor needed to see a doctor when it was brought up. He stumbled up from his seat on the couch, gripped the back of the couch, and moved to Olivia’s unoccupied seat. His condition wasn’t medical but likely influenced by magical trickery, what use was a doctor in that?

Ryn strode back into the room, hand broom and dustpan at the ready. His eyes darted to Dr. Hayes and next to Ms. Delilah, careful not to linger too long lest his scrutiny become obvious.

The doctor’s aura gleamed with an unnaturally pure white light, too pristine and flawless. Its edges flickered subtly, revealing an eerie stillness. Meanwhile, Delilah had a simple pink aura.

Kazu followed suite from behind with small trash bag in hand, in a better whistling mood. A bit of air and walk had been what he needed and avoiding getting the blasted doctor’s attention if possible too.

As he turned away, intending to clean up the shattered glass, another color snagged his attention. Lady Charlotte’s magicae—

He almost did a double-take, but Ryn mastered the impulse and began to sweep up the shards as if nothing was amiss.

Lady Charlotte’s magicae had changed colors. While not impossible, to have magicae change that drastically in such a short amount of time was highly unlikely.

He stole another glance at Lady Charlotte, but the lenses’ enchantment had run its course, revealing nothing more than what ordinary sight could perceive. As he deposited the last of the glass into the dustpan, Ryn decided that he needed to speak with Lady Charlotte, and soon.

Hummed along as he knelt down carefully picking up whatever bits Fritz missed, hopping back to his feet to tie the bag. During so, he good it a good twist to have it spin in his grip.“” Talk about a crazy outing and a lot still to discuss and pieces need workin out. Good thing none of us have to do it alone, though.” Nodding to the man while trying to give his usual smile though as he looked at Charlotte and Olivia, the corner of his lips faltered.

Ryn followed Mr. Kazumin’s gaze. “... I certainly hope everyone also believes we’re all in this together,” he whispered.

Turning his gaze to Leo, who clearly was not one good at handling their booze in such an inebriated state and his mentioning of Violet reminded him all too well of what Charlotte told him, and she had given no reason to not believe her. Still, that was something he needed to see and if that tiny splotch of blood he saw was anything to go by…at the next chance he would be sure to aid her in convincing if needed.

Dr. Hayes paused as Leo stood up, clearly intent on avoiding any medical attention. With a patient smile, the doctor stepped back, his hands raised in a gesture of respectful surrender.

“I understand, Lord Smithwood,” he said kindly, his tone gentle yet firm. “If you feel fine, I won’t press the matter.”

He then shifted his attention to the rest of the group. “For anyone else,” he began, “if you find yourself needing anything, or if Lord Smithwood changes his mind later, I live just a few houses down. It’s no trouble at all to return.” His smile remained warm and inviting, offering the group a clear out if anyone decided they required his services later.

With a courteous bow to Wulfric, Dr. Hayes added, “Your Highness, Lady Vikena, and everyone else, feel free to call on me any time. I’m always happy to assist.”

After giving a final nod to the room, the doctor turned toward the door, moving to quietly make his exit while leaving the group to their conversation.

Delilah stared after the man with a perplexed look. She wondered for a moment why she had gone running amuck looking for a doctor only for them to dismiss him immediately. She put her hands on her hips as she declared, "Well I certainly hope you aren’t injured Lord Smithwood. I did spot blood on your shirt after all mister!”

“Everybodiesadetectivenow!” Leo joked, all his words slurring together. But since it appeared that everyone thought he was mortally wounded, Leo stumbled up from his seat, lifted up his shirt, and spun around. “Ta-da!” He exclaimed, smacking a fist against his chest, and collapsed back into his seat, dizzy from the spin.

Charlotte glanced over, her foot tapping anxiously as she waited for the doctor to leave. Once the door clicked shut, she shifted her focus back to the group, the silence she'd maintained for some time now hanging heavily around her. She exhaled softly as she finally spoke up. "About Violet…" She paused, her hands clenching lightly in her lap as she tried to collect her thoughts. Her gaze stayed fixed on her knees, clearly still unsettled by the memories of their last interaction.

"I visited her the other night and it was like... she was a different person. She looked haunted, shattered in a way I can’t explain, and she wouldn’t even let me near her without pulling away." Charlotte’s voice faltered as she recalled the dark, ominous presence she had felt in Violet’s room.

"It was how she carried herself that upset me most—like something had broken her spirit, and she was trying so hard to hide it, even from herself." Her voice grew quieter, laced with sorrow."She wouldn't tell me exactly what happened, but I could feel she was in pain."

The prince raised a brow at Lady Vikena. If she had seen Violet at any point after her attack, it was odd she hadn’t mentioned her physical state. Shaken about her friend’s state? Naturally. But it still struck him that Charlotte was possibly glossing over important details for some reason. “Might have something to do with her new scar,” Wulfric retorted dryly. Leo chuckled at the prince’s joke but had nothing to add about Violet.

"Yes, Prince Wulfric, glad nothing gets past you.” She smiled at him. "Yes, it seems someone hurt her. …My point was that she is a whole different person. Her eyes were red as blood…However, as her friend I am shaken that she is no longer the Violet I knew. I want to know what happened. “

With the doctor gone, the tension had lessened somewhat. Not that he bore the man any ill will, just a symptom of the setting and Prince Wulfric’s presence and his directly blunt manner towards this Violet situation did little to help. The guy had a good head but lacked tact when a woman was clearly distressed over it. The pain and sadness in Charlotte’s words made it undeniable, any hints of doubts burnt away. Her friend was very likely dead.
His chest tightened as he peered over Char and Olivia, momentarily picturing them undead, the thought it could be them or..or his family. This prompted him to turn to the board, and with it he came closer to understanding what Char must be feeling though what he dreaded most was not the fact Violet was a vampire. But what might they have to do were she to… deciding to cut the thought process short, too unpleasant for the time being. Besides, that was only one possibility.

Wulfric merely shrugged. “She should be dead,” was what he could say to people uninvolved in her murder investigation.

“Death does have a way of reshaping us.”

An unpleasant topic to discuss and while it was hardly much to add. Now felt the best time as he stepped forward, dusting off his shirt and hands having disposed of the trash back recently. ” There is something I need to add. It isn’t much, but I…well paid a visit to the alleyway and checked it out.” He gulped, feeling nervous, due to the prince and Percy, whom he had dragged out there to do so. He covered a hint of guilt in his posture, shifting to idly scratch at the back of his head.”Found it spotless. Was pretty impressed by it…not the bit I want to say, but interesting.” A quick dismissive shake of the head.

” I did, though spot a speck of blood on the wall, hardly strange in itself but it was the distance from the supposed…spot which I found peculiar.” He explained in a slightly restrained voice, struggling to handle it without offending Violet or have the two feeling worse from all these reminders.”” J-just thought to bring it up..littlle as it might be.” He finished with an awkward shrug of his shoulders.

“No, thank you for bringing it up, Mr. Kazumin. Any information is helpful.” Ryn reassured. Lady Charlotte, Ms. Ruby, and he had also visited that alleyway and found the crime scene more or less spotless… except for that vial. “When we searched that area, we found a vial containing small amounts of wine.”

Olivia remained silent as the others left and the conversation continued. She quietly moved back to Charlotte’s side and avoided eye contact. The mention of Violet caused her to tense, and she reminded herself to relax. The memory of Violet’s pale face stained with blood and the ax buried into her face caused her stomach to churn.

Olivia busied herself by eating food and drinking water to avoid any reaction that might be suspicious. She glanced at the Prince after his dry retort with a side glare. She didn’t care who he was, nobody disrespected Charlie. Nonetheless, she bit her tongue for peace’s sake and set the glass down sharply unintended.

“Eye’s change color? Weird.” Leo said in response to Lottie, he was sure that wasn’t a normal occurrence. He looked at Olivia who seemed more interested in the food than anything else. “Here for snacks!” He half joked, half accused. Leo grabbed one of the small salmon sandwiches and stuffed it into his mouth. “Beshschacks!” He added with a mouth full of food.

Olivia chuckled at Leo and didn’t confirm or deny her answer. She giggled at him and took another bite of food.
Ryn observed Lord Smithwood's remarkable demonstration of stuffing his mouth full of food like a hamster, and Miss Persephone giggling, with a faint smile before turning his attention back to the subject of Lady Violet.

“Lady Violet might not be who she used to be, Charlotte. Still, I believe there’s a piece of your old friend left in her.” He drew a measured breath. “I hesitate to add to our already considerable collection of concerns, and I cannot say if this pertains directly to our present investigation. But…” His gaze found Lady Charlotte’s face and held fast. “Before I went to collect Lord Smithwood, I met Lady Violet. She kindly informed me that there will be an attempt on my life on Drunkards’ Day.”

Kazu remained by the board, going over it. Too stressed and sober to eat, as horrid as it was to find, and as much as he desired to join those eating. Yet, seeing Olivia left him feeling too awkward; not to mention already having humiliated himself enough kept him back. Hard to get an appetite knowing some psychos were possibly going after his family. His fingers might have been digging into his crossed arms were it not for the gloves and injured hand, opting over for nibbling on his tongue just to keep himself distracted with something, anything minor to keep his imaginative mind from assaulting him with unpleasant scenarios. Percy being Olivia right saved him from the worst of it, thankful though bitter for it, he was.

Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat, her hands beginning to tremble slightly as Fritz revealed the threat on his life. Panic surged through her chest, making her heart race and her voice come out unsteady.

“An attempt on your life…?” she repeated softly, her blue eyes wide with fear. She swallowed hard, her gaze flicking between Fritz and the rest of the group, her mind reeling with the implications. “Fritz, that’s—no, we can’t let that happen. I-I won’t let that happen,” she declared, her voice gaining strength despite the quiver still present. Her hand reached out, gently but firmly clasping his arm. “We’ll protect you,” she promised.

Leo nodded his agreement, accentuating his point by smacking a closed fist against his chest and then holding both fists up. He’d have Hendrix’s back as well, it was the honorable thing to do.

The surprise in Lady Charlotte’s countenance gave Ryn pause. He patted her hand gently, offering a reassuring smile that masked his thoughts. Either Count Damien had threatened her with some other manner of harm during their private meeting, or she had not expected him to make so bold a move, so soon.

Wulfric’s eyebrows shot up, and his head swiveled over to Hendrix. “Someone’s after you?” he murmured. A connection between Violet and the Black Rose was possible, then. The count was apparently aware Violet had been dead - was the same true for Charlotte? There was a lot being unsaid here. Perhaps it couldn’t be helped, since this group of people had little trust established between each other. More importantly, they had a known ‘hunter’ who could be turned into prey. A smirk appeared as he plotted using the assassins’ ambush against them. “Did she say who would attack you, at which time, and when? Anything about how she learned of this at all?” Only if Violet and the source of her information were reliable could they expect the attempt to unfold as had been said. Otherwise, they had to be prepared for the attack at any given opportunity…Maybe even Violet herself would end up being involved somehow. “I will increase security at the guest house, at the very least. Aside from that, how are your anti-assassination measures, Count Hendrix?”

Charlotte considered Wulfric’s line of questioning, a ripple of confusion passing over her features. She had been wondering the same things after all. It didn’t make sense—or at least, not yet. Why would someone want to kill Fritz of all people and why would Violet know that? And who would have told Violet?

Her thoughts spun back to the encounter with Calbert in his study. He had said he wanted to scare them all, however, she hadn’t imagined the use of death threats. If he was indeed connected to the Black Rose, and she was going to hold onto the possibility that he had been involved in her mother’s death, then they had to take the assassination attempt seriously.

“Lady Violet didn’t wish to reveal her source,” Ryn answered, “however, she did share this much: a group known as The Bloody Thorns were hired, and they intend to strike at night.” Charlotte’s expression twisted in confusion.

There were other whispers too, of a certain Duchess and her increasingly suspicious behavior of late. But that particular spider seemed content with a single fly in her web, so there was no reason to burden the others with it. The Bloody Thorns, on the other hand...

“Death and I have danced many times before,” Ryn continued, allowing a hint of grim amusement to color the words. “As you can see, I’ve proven myself quite the capable partner. I shall think of something.”

Then his voice dropped, “My continued breathing, while personally preferable, isn’t the heart of this matter. Lady Violet also mentioned there being a list—targets they mean to harm in days to come. Unfortunately, I was unable to get the specifics, names or the kind of harm they intend to inflict.” His eyes swept across the gathered faces, measuring each one against the shadow of what might come.

“Prudence suggests we consider everyone in this room a potential mark on that list.”
“A list,” Wulfric’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. Were all the people in this room endangered? Perhaps. The better question was, who all had been marked?

“I know it’s… probably not my place to say, but I feel we all need to be extremely careful, especially avoid walking alone at night.” She took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady and calm, even as the fear twisted her insides.

“Please, if any of you ever feel unsafe or need somewhere to stay, my home is always open to you, even tonight if you need.” she offered, sincerity shining in her gaze. “ I would much rather know you’re protected than have anyone taking unnecessary risks. Oh and, Prince Wulfric,” she added, turning to him, “you’re always welcome to seek sanctuary here as well, should you ever need a reprieve from the stress of castle life.”

For a heartbeat or three, Ryn simply nodded at Lady Charlotte’s words. The gesture would have sufficed—should have sufficed—had not some niggling whisper of conscience compelled him to speak. To remind her. To remind himself. To make abundantly, achingly clear to the assembled company about one thing.

“Sometimes,” he began softly, “the hardest part isn’t offering help—it’s accepting it when offered.”

His eyes met Lady Charlotte’s across the space between them, their previous conversation echoing in the glance. As their exchanges had met, she had offered him a gentle, comforting smile.

“Our demons may wear different faces,” Ryn went on, “but we needn’t stand alone against them in the dark.”

His gaze moved to the others, his tone lightening just a bit. “After all, what’s a gathering like this for, if not to remind us of who we can rely on?”

“Should any of you find the night growing too deep, too dark… remember that we are here for you.”

Having quietly been listening; taking in the conversation which only continued to further elaborate this whole situation’s complexity with more complications tossed into the proverbial secret plot pot. To find several parties involved that now painted big targets on each of the group member's backs and for slightly differing reasons. Had Calbert just left it between them, he would have left it be but bringing in Percy and the awful things he must have subjected Charlie through.

He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all but kept nibbling his tongue to bite back his usual tendencies. How frustrating it was for what to say normally came easy to him while thinking merely left him more confused and stressed (the current company not helping) on what to do or say after hearing the inspiring words from the group.

Leo waited until Fritz and Lottie had finished speaking. “Someone,” he said slowly, eyes falling on Wulfric, “Should interrogate Violet.” If Calbert’s daughter knew of a list of targets, one which included a Varian noble -Count Hendrix- then someone ought to be getting as much information about that out of Violet as possible. Not wishing to reveal her sources shouldn’t even be an option for something like this. Certainly, the crown had people for that kind of questioning.

A big breath before forcing his body to finally move with an idle rub of the face, stepped over clapping Leo on the shoulder.” Interrogate? Whoa there, sir Leo. That’s hardly the way to treat any lady and all of what Lady Violet has already gone through, might only serve to pi- anger her, think she’s had it plenty rough as is. Best to leave such a task to someone she trusts enough to open up to.” Nodding with another pat, his voice and smiled strained at first though became more relaxed as he spoke.

“If she does,” Wulfric interjected. “If she does not, and her choice to withhold vital information leads to harm, she will have to be questioned.” Perhaps even sooner.

“ I’ve never met Lady Violet, but sounds like to me, she could be needing help too.”

Turning to Charlotte, his expression softening. ” And Char..what happened with her…” Pausing and gulping, forced to imagine Percy in Violet’s place, his stomach coiled in

revulsion.” …so, just as you offered sanctuary, I offer to help with anything you need.” His gaze shifted between her and Olivia as he stated. Smile returning to his briefly stoic expression.” And Fritzy, looks like we’re targeted men, who better to have at your back then a fellow man fightin to survive, right? Hm…think we might want a call-sign or..ooh a whistle for signaling said help or so…” Muttering the last bits of his thoughts aloud, the distraction much needed.

“I’m certain if she had more to share, she would have done so with Fritz. I concur with Kazumin that we should be gentle with Lady Violet.” Leo responded to both Lottie and Kazu by sticking out his tongue and blowing a raspberry at their suggestion.

“She said she did not wish to reveal her source,” he reminded Lady Vikena of what the count had relayed. “Someone she trusts, I wager. In which case, it is only a matter of determining who, and detaining the person in question.”

Leo nodded his agreement with the Prince, at the very least Violet was holding back where she got the information. Given that Hendrix, and possibly a whole list of people, had their lives threatened the least she could do is share where and how she learned this.

Olivia listened to everyone quietly. She continued munching on food and not interjecting. As an supposed outsider, she had to be careful of reacting or responding. When Fritz mentioned an assassination attempt though, her eyes briefly widened and a frown appeared–then disappeared as quick as it had come. Whoever had murdered Lady Violet, and then brought her back to life had undoubtedly access to dark magic. She had only read about it and hadn’t tried delving into it.

With a sigh, she shook her head, and looked down. This was so much information and it was weighing on her heavily. She hoped it would end soon because she was eager to go outside at night, despite the previous information. It was the only time safety seemed possible. Due to the mafia threat looming, Olivia was determined not to lose anyone, and determined to do whatever it took to bring these assholes down.

It wasn’t long after that the group began to disperse after final glances.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Charlotte, Olivia, Kazumin, Leo, Fritz, & Wulfric
Part 3

Time: Evening - 5pm - 2 hours before timeskip at 7
Location: Vikena Estate

---

Charlotte gestured to Kazumin, “Kazumin here attended, so I was hoping maybe he could provide further insight if he recalls anything…And this is Olivia.” Lottie glanced at her and smiled warmly, “She is staying at my house this season. Friend of the family… I apologize for the surprise guests, but certainly if need be I can ask Olivia to step into the kitchen a moment.” Though, she knew Olivia would find a way to listen regardless.

As fun as this strange grouping was to see in perspective, this was also meant to be important. His attention turned to Olivia and Charlotte momentarily; the prince was someone who could help. Why, getting him as an ally was certainly important; all his info he must have and Leo, while in his current predicament, was a friend of Wulfric, so his support would go with him too.

Pondering over what had been discussed up to now. “Yes, very true! As Lady Charlotte has eloquently put it, an honor again to have you with us this night, my lord.” A proper bow of the head. “Your discouragement to continue any further is understandable considering-” A wide wave of the left hand holding the cane to indicate the gathering. “Poor timing on both that of sir Leo and my own, for I had a previous affair where said letter found me.” He held up the folded-up letter in his right hand, as proof this suit situation wasn’t intended for this meeting; even he knew this. Worse yet, this suit was both suffocatingly hot and heavy.

“And it is true, I was indeed with the group. I can remember the faces of all those in the cart quite well, but details of the party, sadly, save for fragments, I cannot say the same.” Frowning as he said this, he held up a finger. “But! Though they are hazy, there is one thing I wish to suggest, far-reaching as it may be, yet as a person very experienced with drunks,” he motioned, clapping Leo on the shoulder as he stated this, “that while booze has inhibited, it was booze that was the focus of this party’s mystery, it seems, and perhaps…could be the thing to help dislodge some memories.” Miming his mind scrambled beside his head.

“Absolutely not,” the prince immediately refuted. “Nagasa, I shan’t stop you if you wish to test your hypothesis on yourself, but we are not drugging someone who is already under the influence, and in a plainly troubled situation.” Though reluctant to continue this, he stepped further inside, away from the temptation of making a prudent retreat through the nearest exit. “Leo, it seems you are somewhat capable of sharing the results of your investigation.” He indicated the piece of paper the lord had passed to Count Hendrix. “So, let us get on with it, shall we? As long as we are merely discussing the accounts of those who have attended the after-party, I do not frankly care who hears it. But for all of you who wish to involve yourself any further than that, you best consider very carefully what your stakes in this are, and at what risks. So far, I am convinced only for one of you,” he nodded at Fritz, who returned the gesture, “that you are committed.”

Leo tore two more pages from his notebook, detailing the information he’d gotten from speaking with Ana and Nahir. He set them on the table, then picked up the paper about Fritz’s glasses. He crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it at Hendrix’s face. “No secrets,” he insisted, still expecting a real answer about the glasses, especially given how interested Charlotte seemed in them.

Anastasia: Ana & Callum have gone to many secret parties, same host (a male friend, identity unknown), all ended with memory loss. Party was in a basement, we both remember going down a staircase—then memories get fuzzy. Ana remembers cupcakes on the floor. Next to the word “cupcakes” he’d written Ezra? and circled it. I remember a cloudy blue sky. We both remember cocktails—seems likely they drugged the drinks. Ana describes her memories as hazy and dreamlike. I agree these memories seem almost unreal, and the more we try to focus on these memories, the worse the headaches get.

Nahir: Remembers flashing lights and floating colors, bright and blinding. Something about two hands, unsure if this is a clue, but it seemed important to Nahir, almost as if she might be hiding something. I remembered the music, as we spoke, strange thumping like machinery at the warehouse. None of these clues make sense; none of them seem to fit together. Nahir suggests an odd answer—magic, the more I think on it, the more it makes sense.

“Already drunk,” Leo commented, thinking about Kazu’s suggestion. “Your idea makes sense. Re-question me, dislodge memories.” Leo patted Kazu’s shoulder in agreement.

A tad bitter at the prince’s cold, albeit expected, rejection, though he held his tongue. Wulfric had chosen to remain; in the end, that was what mattered. He decided to listen for now. For as outlandish as his appearance was, his dedication to the case was real. Unfortunate timing and all that.

The mention of fists and fighting momentarily caused flashes and glimpses in his mind. A flurry of images he could hardly make out. Quick as a blink, they were over, leaving his head pounding and his breathing a bit elevated. Most unsettling was the flash of a heavily bruised woman’s face… and… cupcakes? Why did he suddenly feel a rage towards cupcakes?

Then a clap on his shoulder snapped him out of it, and hearing him praise made him glad and nearly had him saying, “that’s rad!” “Pleased to see someone approves, and know I suggest so not out of jest. And mind, it would be foolish to have me attempt it as it would take too much, and my usefulness is… unreliable the more I imbibe. And as you have put it, good lord, they’re drunk. Easier, but risky still…comes down to the mettle of your gut. Think it can handle it, Lion?” He asked with a quizzical brow, giving a playful pat to Leo’s stomach, his form of jesting.

Leo replied to Kazu’s statement with a nod and a quiet, “rawr!”, before stuffing one of the pigs in blankets into his mouth.

An amused smirk and respectful nod. Sir Leo was not all too bad, or at least the drunk lion showed there was humor in him yet.

Charlotte moved toward a small board covered in a sheet in the corner, her fingers grazing the edges of the sheet as Leo finished speaking. She hesitated just slightly, biting her lip, before pulling it off. Beneath the cloth lay a meticulously arranged display of everything they had gathered so far on a chalkboard. She wheeled it over to position it before the group. Fritz clapped enthusiastically. “Oh, it came out wonderful, Charlotte!” And she smiled warmly at him in turn.

Her eyes flitted nervously around the room, and she glanced down, almost shy, her fingers tapping against the edge of the board. "Um… I suppose I will now… add to that,” she began softly. Her voice wavered slightly, but she took a deep breath, and her mind began to race through the details.

Her gaze lifted, a bit more focused now, and she picked up where Leo left off. "To add to what Leo has already mentioned, I can confirm some similarities from what Shahzade Munir and Shahzade Farim told me. Both of them, like Princess Anastasia and Shehzadi Nahir, remember descending the stairs into the basement where the party was held, but their memories quickly become fuzzy after that."

Her hand hovered over the board as she spoke, pointing to a section that highlighted these scattered recollections. “Shahzade Munir, for one, was adamant that something was amiss. He knew his own limits as a man who often indulges in drink, yet he blacked out almost immediately, Farim’s recollections were similarly scattered—fighting, dancing—and he also said that people were ‘drooling over one another.’ She added with a slight quirk of her lips, “I’m not exaggerating.”

She cleared her throat awkwardly, then continued, “He remembered that things ended abruptly, with people being rushed out of the venue, and noted that he hadn’t consumed enough alcohol to account for his blackout as well. And what’s particularly valuable is that Farim provided an address for the warehouse: 420 Wicker Street.”

Charlotte paused, stealing a glance at Wulfric, her nerves momentarily bubbling up again before she forced herself to focus. “Your Highness,” she began once more, turning to face him, “though I wasn’t present at the party, I’ve been able to piece together a few critical elements from what was shared with me thus far. If this Marek Delronzo is indeed the perpetrator, then his confidence is very alarming, especially if we have enough evidence to deduce our foe is intelligent.”

Her voice lowered, yet her tone sharpened with more conviction. “...We cannot tiptoe around the idea that magic is very real and was most likely the culprit, given not only the accounts presented, but because some of us here have even stood witness to the presentation of magic… And as fascinating, and perhaps terrifying, as a magical party sounds, it doesn’t quite sit right with me. If someone as potentially well-versed in magic as Marek wanted to erase everyone’s memories, he certainly could have in theory. So why didn’t he?”

She cast her gaze over the group before announcing, “I believe this was deliberate. Marek left enough traces—invitations, an address, these fleeting glimpses of the event—because he wants them to remember just enough. This is not carelessness; this is confidence.”

“He’s sending a message—he wants us to know that he can manipulate us, that he can host an event like that and get away with it—I think he’s mocking us. The idea that he is able to manipulate high-profile individuals at multiple parties and escape without consequence suggests a deeper rot within this system… However, magic or not, if Marek is bold enough to leave clues, then he must have blind spots. If we can identify those weak points—whether in his operations or among his associates—we can use them to our advantage.”

With a quick, steadying breath, she pressed on, “...We also need to be wary of how deeply Marek’s influence runs. If he has connections within the highest levels of society, there’s no telling who else may be under his sway. The safest way to assume is that Marek has eyes and ears everywhere… That said, I think we need to investigate the warehouse, but carefully. Marek’s boldness suggests he has protections in place. And If we can uncover Marek’s associates, we can begin unraveling his entire network.”

Ryn observed Prince Wulfric carefully as the other two spoke, particularly noting how the prince responded when the word magic entered the conversation. His displeasure was evident, but there was no repulsion nor denial.

Olivia glanced away from the mention of magic, directing her gaze down to the table of food to distract herself.

The investigative board was filled with the group’s findings, every detail neatly written out and organized by Lord Smithwood, Lady Charlotte, and Ryn himself. The interviews—including testimonies from Luz, Dr.Williamson, Lord Ravenwood, and Prince Callum—all corroborated the existing information. A small notation about the Varian royalty conducting their own quiet investigation was also on the board.

When Lady Charlotte raised the question of just how far Mr. Delronzo’s influence reached, Ryn caught the slight tension in Prince Wulfric’s jaw. …Oh. Well, that’s not good. “He may already have control over this country.” If true, this complicated matters exponentially. …Or perhaps, for Ryn and his kin, it simplified things quite nicely. “Judge them.”

Picking up a piece of chalk, Ryn added a new section to the board labeled “Possible associates.” Beneath it, he scrawled “People who received invitations during the annual ball.” “During the annual ball I saw a man wearing a black mask handing out envelopes to select people—a good number of whom later attended the after-party.” Ryn turned to Mr. Kazumin. “I believe you saw this man when you were with Her Royal Highness?”

Having settled himself into a chair, absentmindedly rubbing at the ache in his forehead, Kazumin muttered under his breath, “Were we fighting over it?” before noticing Fritz addressing him. “Pardon? Black ma—I mean, yes! The man who approached An—I mean, Princess Anastasia.” He quickly corrected himself in front of the prince with a small bow of the head and a pull at his mustache. “I was, to be clear, an add-on merely. And to further add to this whole magic affair, I can attest that magic tomfoolery was afoot.”

Shifting to place the cane down in front of him to prop himself up, he still felt a bit lightheaded and woozy. “With my experience in liquor, to knock me out is a simple matter; a barrel or two is just a morning for me. But, to assuage me of my memories? Trickery… devious trickery, could only manage such a powerful feat. This Marek, Lord Prince, and Lady Charlotte must certainly wield it as I dared drink two and still my gumption holds stout!” He pumped his right fist up partly in defiance of Marek, only to immediately feel ill, forcing him to sit back and cover his mouth. “Apologies…need…need to catch my breath.” Memories of that night came rushing back, his head feeling fuzzy.

Charlotte’s gaze softened as she watched Kazumin struggle, her concern evident. “It’s all right,” she reassured gently. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

Olivia leaned over and patted his shoulder, wishing she could say or do more to help.

“Nagasa, stay put until the physician arrives.” These were Wulfric’s first spoken words since Charlotte had begun her summary. There hadn’t been much of a reaction from him aside from a frown here and a nod there. Now that the unofficial investigative team had elaborated on their discoveries, he strolled to the chalkboard. He borrowed a piece of chalk and picked an empty spot to add his notes. “In addition to their strange recollections, their symptoms were quite varied.” He created a column, writing “hemoptysis, arrhythmia” in the first cell, “deep coma” in the second, “hysterical sobbing” in the third, “rambling” in the fourth, and “dehydration” in the fifth. “These are the disparate side-effects I recall witnessing.” He created another column, this one with only two cells, labeled “lust” and “extreme aggression.” “The known active effects of the drugs we know so far,” he commented.

“Just as strange is the duration.” He noted the estimated times of when the party started, ended, and how long the ‘hit’ and ‘crash’ of the drugs had lasted. “Then, of course, there is the obvious.” He wrote “memory loss” and circled the phrase. “Every single person we know of so far exhibited it. Nagasa, you mentioned having had two drinks. What shape were you in when you woke up?”

The pause and bit of concern helped Kazumin gather his composure. Brief as it was, Wulfric’s simple question reminded him all too well of his… state.

The mere word “dehydration” left his mouth suddenly feeling immensely dry as if a handful of ash had just been stuffed down his throat. A sharp inhale followed by a struggled gulp, his mustache contrasting the paleness of his skin. “Dry…b-barely coherent.” He managed to wheeze out before stopping; any further he feared might elicit a coughing fit, so he quietly mimed for a drink.

Wulfric nodded at Kazumin’s recount. “So, we can assume the effects were more severe with more drinks, generally speaking. Yet, the memory loss remained consistent. I believe it is safe to assume there would have been the rare few guests who did not consume any drinks. So, Delronzo would have needed a different way to knock them all out, and to erase their memories.” He traced a large question mark on the chalkboard. “A separate substance or an alternate method…At this point, we may as well call it a spell, I suppose,” he noted, his lips thinning as he acknowledged the magical nature of this particular crime. “Unfortunately, there are too many unknowns. Was it an area-of-effect wherein anyone entering the premises was targeted? If so, did he specifically safeguard his employees? If it was a substance applied, when, where, and how was it done? If I were the culprit, I would consider deploying a smoke bomb at a predetermined time or signal, so my allies would know to use masks. But perhaps, that is too mundane for Delronzo.” He gave a slight twitch of a shoulder.

“To tie in with what you have mentioned, Lady Vikena, the warehouse in question has been searched twice so far. Shahzade Farim’s memory of people being rushed out lines up with actions from the crown—the queen led a group of knights to fetch the missing royals and nobles. The warehouse was searched for the first time then, but nothing incriminating had been found. Clearly, these criminals are capable of making themselves scarce at a moment’s notice. The area was searched in the following days as well.”

He used the remaining empty spaces on the chalkboard for a number of sketches. One was a scaled-down representation of the warehouse area, rows, and columns of squares neatly lined up. He crossed out a number of them. “These are the ones Delronzo has rented at the moment.” He circled one of them. “This is where the after-party was held.” He followed it with a detailed drawing of the interior. “All warehouses have this same layout. Basement included.” A final sketch followed, one that indicated the location and floor plan of the office. “Delronzo’s office.” He added several cross marks, interspersed in the whole district. “These are the watchtowers. He has security checkpoints at each entrance to a given premise. All are well-guarded. The security increases at night time.” He did not draw the next part, pointing it out instead. “The patrolling routes are fairly standard—efficient and with good coverage. Sneaking into anywhere is difficult, to say the least.” He twirled the chalk between his fingers before setting it down.

“Delronzo has good reasons for his confidence. I would not assume that a total memory wipe was easily possible—unless, of course, you are secretly an expert on magic?” he quirked an eyebrow at Charlotte, who shook her head to indicate she was not. Olivia restrained herself from answering. “Otherwise, the character analysis is sound. I am sure he enjoyed sowing all this chaos.” He paced around the room, holding his audience captive, assessing each of them intently. “I do not have concrete evidence, but I am convinced he is an influential underworld lord who is in charge of much of the organized crime within Caesonia. He is the sort of man who will blackmail, manipulate, threaten, torture, and kill. He will use your loved ones against you. He will make you suffer, whether by targeting you directly or inflicting grief on those close to you. Moreover, he possesses magic, so you may even end up unaware of all that is happening. If you do not yet understand the severity of my words… You. Will.” He looked from Charlotte to Leo to Kazumin to Olivia. “If you choose to remain involved.”

Olivia’s chest tightened, and she clenched her fists. What the fuck had they unintentionally gotten into? What was the world becoming?

After a tense silence, Wulfric glanced at Fritz. “Count Hendrix, add to the list the following names: Alexander Deacon, Marciano Giordano, and Calbert Damien.” He turned to regard Charlotte. “Is it true he threatened you?”

“Prince Callum, too,” Leo suggested once Wulfric had listed off the names of Marek’s known associates. “Heeeeissss planning charity with bacon. Deacon. Deacon and Black Rose.” Leo rewarded himself with another snack.

“Pigs in blankets wrapped in bacon!” he added once he’d finished chewing, struck with a genius idea. He softly punched Kazu in the arm. “Best idea!”

After the tense exchange, Olivia couldn’t help but snort with derision.

With swift, decisive strokes, the names Alexander Deacon, Marciano Giordano, Calbert Damien, and Callum Danrose appeared on the board. Anastasia Danrose, Liliane Damien, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Violet Damien joined the list. To the side, Ryn drew a silk hat atop a full-face mask with ornate patterns.

Violet, but not Crystal. Curious. So was the sketch. If it wasn’t just a whimsy, it might be an allusion to the masquerade ball. Had he missed something there?

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Evening
Location: Her bedroom --> Castle Hall

---

The party in Anastasia’s lavish bedroom was already in full swing, though the night had only just begun. Her room had morphed into a whirlwind of delightful chaos. The intoxicating aroma of expensive perfumes mingled with the sharp tang of spilled wine, while silk cushions and velvet throws were strewn about haphazardly. Beautiful trays overflowing with delicate pastries, fresh fruits, and gleaming goblets of wine adorned every available surface.

There were perhaps six guests already, a motley crew of men and women who had all been drawn into the revelry. It had been easy to sneak them into her bedroom; convincing the guards to let them in was far simpler than getting permission to step outside. They were under the impression that a silly sleepover was occurring, though a few had raised brows at the “women”—men struggling to breathe in dresses, some spitting out locks of wigs they had clearly borrowed for the occasion.

Now, as the night began, she was the center of attention, the life of the party, exuding a charisma that lit up the room. Draped in a dress that would have made her mother faint, she laughed and joked with her guests, cheeks flushed with the thrill of it all.

“Gods, princess, how are you so perfect?” she lamented. “I wish I looked like you.”

Anastasia waved her hand dismissively, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, stop it,” she teased.

A young man on her left, already shirtless, leaned in, his gaze drinking her in. “You’re more than perfect,” he whispered, his words slurred but sincere. The heat of his body radiated toward her as he leaned in a little too close for comfort.

_{"...Do they know the real Princess Anastasia?”}

Her pupils dilated, and for just a moment, she hesitated. “...Careful, or I might start to believe you,” she flirted back, leaning slightly toward him.

_{Darryn's dead. Murdered.}

With each round, more clothing was shed, laughter bubbling around the room like champagne. Anastasia felt the energy surge, the excitement intoxicating her more than the wine. But just as she reveled in her role, the young man beside her leaned closer, his hands wandering in a way that felt more demanding than playful.

A woman ran her fingers gently down her arm, seemingly drawing a line from freckle to freckle on her skin. She whispered, “You’re the real prize of this party, you know?”

Anastasia feigned innocence, giggling as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, darling! I thought you were here for the pastries!” she teased, but her laugh held a slightly brittle edge, a flicker of something deeper momentarily crossing her face.

_{"...Do you?"}

It was at that moment she realized she had been dealt a bad hand. “...Oh no! I lost!” she exclaimed dramatically, her heart racing. The guests cheered, and Anastasia felt a rush of daring. "This must be some sort of rare event, like a solar eclipse! Someone grab the parchment; we need to document this historic occasion!”

“Your turn, Princess!” one of the girls cheered.

Anastasia couldn’t help but play up her role, throwing her hands up in mock despair. “But what a tragic fate! My reputation will be tarnished forever!” She rose up and spun around, her dress flowing dramatically, drawing gasps and giggles from her guests.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Princess,” the man at her side practically purred like a cat.

A familiar feeling rose in her stomach. The same feeling that gnawed at her as she woke up in the middle of the night in a stranger's bed, somewhere she didn't recognize. That feeling of being utterly alone in the dark that prompted her to lay back down and clutch the stranger close.

“Do you think they'll still like you once they realize how fake you are?”

The laughter around her felt distant as she forced a smile, the joy of the moment fading into a dull thrum. The room spun slightly as she caught her breath. With a cheeky laugh, she recovered quickly, “Alright, alright!” she called, her voice bright but trembling slightly. The moment hung heavy around her as she wrestled with the shadows that threatened to pull her under. She climbed up and stood on her side table. Standing atop the table, she felt both powerful and exposed, her heart racing as Farim's face formed in her mind.

_{Did you think I really loved you? Do you really think anyone would? That anyone would want you for anything other than to take you to bed?}

…Maybe that’s why you've been living your life like a whore instead of a princess…

And she continued to stand there.

Clearly, you’ve taken those hard-learned lessons to heart and wouldn’t dare risk getting another lowborn beaten and killed just so you can keep having fun with your friends, right?

Perhaps she hadn't quite shed the dress off her body this time, something she had done countless times with no regret, but it was only now as she stood above them all that she had ever truly felt the feeling of being naked.

In a sudden rush, Anastasia bolted toward her bedroom door, throwing it open with fervor. Without hesitation, she sprinted down the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest, the guards' startled protests echoing behind her as their armor clanged and rattled in their frantic attempt to catch up.

Behind her, the party guests stared in bewilderment, their laughter dying down as they tried to comprehend the abrupt change in the atmosphere.

"Oh, poor princess.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Welcome to the Camping Event!

@ReusableSword@JJ Doe@TpartywithZombi@Rodiak@samreaper@CitrusArms@Potter@Conscripts

The campfire crackled and hissed as the gathering of nobles drew near, drawn by the inviting glow of lanterns and the fragrant scent of pine smoke. A man stepped forward to address the crowd. He wore the uniform of a camp host, but the resemblance to Darryn Fletcher was uncanny, even if there was something subtly wrong about it.

With a practiced smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he began, “Welcome, friends, to Pinebrook’s Courting Season Camping Event.” His voice carried a hollow, echoing edge to it, as though coming from just behind a mask. “I am your host for the evening, Quinn,” he introduced himself, “And I am here to ensure your night under the stars is one to remember.”

Quinn’s gaze swept over the gathering, and for a moment, his face seemed to shimmer, as if the heat from the campfire made his features waver. He gestured grandly to the elegant tents, the beautifully illuminated lake, and the moonlit woods. “Tonight, we leave behind the comforts of Sorian and embrace the wild beauty of nature—though with the royal touch, of course.”

He stepped closer to the fire, casting shadows that danced in odd patterns across his face. “They say these woods have seen much through the ages, that they remember what has been lost and what still lingers,” he continued, his tone low and conspiratorial. “But worry not—tonight is a celebration of life, love, and the connections we may find in the most unexpected of places.”

With a raised silver goblet, Quinn offered a toast. “To all of you” he declared, “and to the bonds forged under these stars, may they lead us true through whatever trials and triumphs await.”

The crowd responded with polite applause, though some guests exchanged uneasy glances. Quinn’s eyes roamed the group, lingering on anyone who did the same toward him.

Quinn lowered the silver goblet, his smile still in place. “Now,” he said, his voice carrying over the crackling fire and murmurs of the crowd, “before we dive into the night’s grand events, I invite you all to relax, explore, and mingle. There’s a spread of delightful snacks waiting for you, carefully prepared to please even the most discerning of palates.” He gestured toward the elegantly arranged table nearby, the lanterns above casting a warm glow on the array of food.

“But do pace yourselves,” he added with a playful lilt, his smile twitching slightly. “Save room for the main event, for soon, we’ll begin our Team Cooking Competition! You’ll be working in teams with your assigned camping partner.” His eyes scanned the crowd, noting any reactions of curiosity or excitement. “If you’d like to participate, or if you have any questions about your partner or the competition, do come to me. I’d be more than happy to assist.”

Quinn clasped his hands together, and the firelight seemed to shimmer around him for a split second. “Until then, enjoy the company of your fellow guests, the beauty of Pinebrook, and perhaps a moment of peace before the friendly competition begins.” He stepped back, his eyes still keenly observing, as the guests began to disperse toward the refreshments and each other.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Charlotte, Olivia, Kazumin, Leo, Fritz, & Wulfric
Part 2

Time: Evening - 5pm - 2 hours before timeskip at 7
Location: Vikena Estate

---

He was very much trying to behave and maintain the role, but then the prince walked in, bringing with him a most unexpected opportunity. Now it was clear why he had truly donned this outfit today; his tasks in this moment formed. The dashing gentleman strolled over to the couch, the gentle thump of his cane followed by a light thunk as he placed a chair beside Leo’s. He then sat upright, his hat nearly slapping Leo in the face in the motion, now giving him unlimited access. “My dear Lord Prince! What an honor to be graced by such a distinguished presence. A shame the rest aren’t appropriately dressed for one so imposing. Apologies for the lack of a proper greeting, but Sir Leo is in need of distraction… Would you like to try, my lord?” He gave a light nod, nearly knocking off his majestic hat, offering it to any in need in this tense situation. Wulfric denied the silly man with a curt shake of his head.

A cold dismissal, but not surprising with this icy prince’s stubborn wall. I will get you to ruffle my feathers by the end of this meeting… I promise you this, dear princy. He thought, bemusedly twirling the tip of his mustache.

A cacophony of voices in the background made Olivia’s stomach drop. Nonetheless, she did as Charlie asked and left to get water.

Olivia returned from the kitchen with two full pitchers of water in her hands. It seemed impossible, yet she set them both down with ease. Once settled, she looked up and stared with bewilderment at the group in front of her. Her gaze slid to Fritz, and she offered him a courteous nod. He waved back with a smile, but tilted his head when she moved on without saying anything to him.

Next, her gaze fell on Prince Wulfric, and she bowed politely. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince Wulfric. My name’s Olivia.” She smiled at him, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Pleasure,” he retorted, uncertain why someone who appeared to be a servant was introducing herself to him. Or why, if she was a guest, she had taken on a servant’s duties.

Afterward, she turned to Leo, and her brows furrowed. “What happened to him?” She quickly poured him a cup of cold water and handed it to him.

Her gaze shifted to Kazumin, her eyes widening with awe. Then she smiled with amusement and waved at him. “Hi! You’re Kazumin, right? Nice to meet you. That’s, uh, quite the outfit!” A pang in her chest reminded her how difficult it was to act like strangers in front of others, but she hoped he’d understand.

Briefly, Ryn wondered why these two were acting like strangers, then remembered that the other men were not aware of the situation. “I agree, it’s truly eye-catching, My Lord.”

Kazumin's smile gleamed as he waved gently, the feathers atop his glorious hat bouncing with the motion. He bowed lightly. “Indeed, lovely miss! I’m glad you approve, for I feared my attire might be too much, or perhaps too little in this case.” He shot a sly, cheeky glance in the prince's direction, thinking of even bigger flourishes. “And you are Lady Olivia, yes? I’ve heard and seen your kind deeds for this unfortunate fellow.” He paused to let her tend to Leo.

“I’m fiiiine,” Leo insisted, clumsily accepting the water from Olivia. “Fisticuffs. You should see the other guy,” he said, nodding as if what he said made sense. “I win.” He boasted, even though it was a draw and his best hit had been a sucker punch. “No more Leo talk. We dis-dis-cuss the invest… the spooky magics and bad rose.” He grimaced at the water, holding the cool glass to his blackened eye, spilling some of it as he did so.

Kazumin moved fluidly to Leo’s side, gently placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him, his grip firm yet hardly felt. “This lad is fortunate to have such kind and thoughtful ladies tending to him, an act so seldom seen in… these kinds of parts,” he said, gesturing broadly to the noble district.

Charlotte straightened gracefully as Wulfric entered, offering him a polite bow. Her voice was steady but carried a hint of nervousness. “Your Highness. Good evening… Thank you, I-uh. We’ve made it as far as cold water, at least.” She gestured to Olivia, who had entered with the pitchers.

From behind them, Delilah's gentle voice chimed in. “I’ve got it! I’ll return with everything in a jiffy and ask Gilbert or Nathaniel to call for a doctor.” As she delicately set down the tea, her eyes met Wulfric’s for a brief moment. The prince smiled politely, and her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. She quickly exited the room with a bright, flustered smile.

Ryn raised his hand in greeting, only for it to fall unnoticed. He chuckled. “Well, Your Highness, it seems you’ve charmed yet another admirer into your circle.”

“A natural by-product of my existence,” he drawled, amused.

“Ah, the burden of being irresistible. How do you manage?”

Wulfric’s lips twitched into a smirk. “With ease, of course.”

“I noticed,” Ryn winked.

Charlotte sat beside Leo, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, worry in her eyes. “I don’t think this is something he’d normally do. This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed something... strange.” She paused, searching his face as if she could find answers beneath the surface. Her eyes trailed down his torso, checking for wounds.

“Just the other day, you were speaking in that high-pitched voice and having giggle fits,” she said softly, “and then you turned... well, pink. And now this?” Her brows furrowed in concern. “What’s going on, Leo? We can get to everything else, I promise, but I need to know.” Without waiting, she carefully took the glass and pressed it to his eye.

“...Maybe you should stay in one of our guest rooms tonight,” she suggested gently, her tone insistent. Her gaze shifted to Fritz. “Fritz, do you still have those spectacles? Is this…”

“Drug-induced? It’s possible,” Ryn replied, mindful of their company’s unknown views on arcane matters, the prince among them.

He had checked Lord Smithwood’s magicae, but the energy suggested a strong magicae imprint rather than a residual hex. The idea of a cursed object crossed his mind, though the effects seemed inconsistent and short-lived. Drugs, mundane or magical, seemed a more plausible cause.

Lottie’s brows knitted thoughtfully. “Maybe…”

Wulfric eyed the count, intrigued. Charlotte’s mention of ‘those spectacles’ caught his attention. He had seen the man wearing them twice, despite having no apparent need for glasses. He didn’t address it but said instead, “We cannot hold a discussion with Leo in this state. I suggest we postpone.” He turned to Charlotte, indicating his departure. “This was brief, but I appreciate the invitation. Please list all expected guests next time.” He bowed.

“Pranks,” Leo said, focusing his words. “Silly voice, pink skin, now water drunk. Always fine after.” He set the glass down. “I’m handling it.” Speaking slowly, he added, “Gonna deal with it tomorrow.” He suspected who the prankster was but held back, recalling his talk with Morrigan after the Alidasht dinner.

Leo found his notebook, flipped a few pages, and tore one out, placing it on the table: Hendrix: ugly glasses, why? Trying to look smarter? He looked at Fritz, expecting an answer.

Ryn chuckled. “Did it not work?”

“Wait, Prince Wulfric,” Lottie objected, frowning. She squeezed Leo’s hand before rising. “Your Majesty, if I may, Lord Smithwood, Count Hendrix, and I questioned attendees of the Black Rose’s party. Could we share our findings, if you can spare a moment, please?”

“If you have anything to share, then by all means.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Charlotte, Olivia, Kazumin, Leo, Fritz, & Wulfric Part 1

Time: Evening - 5pm - 2 hours before timeskip at 7
Location: Vikena Estate

In the cozy glow of the drawing room, Charlotte and Olivia sat comfortably on a red leather couch. The dark wood-paneled room, with its grand fireplace flickering softly, had always been one of Charlotte’s favorite places to seek refuge in. On the mahogany coffee table before them was an array of delicacies, prepared by Gilbert. Warm meat pies and flaky pigs in a blanket were available, finger sandwiches filled with cucumber and smoked salmon, slices of sponge cake, and scones with raspberry preserves.

Still in the elegant lace dress she had worn to the party, Charlotte sat comfortably, holding one of the pigs in a blanket. She took a bite and suddenly giggled, "You know, I think I could eat these little things all day. “

Olivia sat beside Charlotte in a white blouse and tan pants. Her boots laid idly on the floor near her. Any food provided to her was immediately eaten. She struggled to slow down eating still– usually, if she didn’t finish it, a stray animal or nearby homeless people would. Besides the food being the best thing she’d ever tasted, Liv had to keep pausing so she didn’t make herself sick. She nodded in agreement to Charlie offhandedly and smiled widely.

“My girls,” Delilah’s affectionate voice broke through as she came up behind the couch, wrapping her arms around both Charlotte and Olivia with a warm smile. “I am going to make some more tea before the guests arrive.” She placed a gentle kiss on Charlotte’s head before letting go and heading toward the kitchen.

“Thank you, Delilah!” Charlotte called after her, then turned to Olivia with a reassuring smile. “I hope you’re not too nervous. I know it can be a bit daunting that Prince Wulfric is coming, but truly, he’s not as intimidating as he seems. “ She then leaned in closer, her eyes wide with mock seriousness, “And if he is, well, I shall distract him with one of these. ”

Olivia smiled at Delilah and moved her hands up to hug the woman’s arm back. ”Thank you so much! You’re the f… fricken best!” She giggled and turned back to Charlie. Upon Wulfrics name being mentioned, she averted her gaze. She swung her legs a bit more rapidly now and glanced at her. ”....I’ll take your word for it. I’ve never really spoken to him so I’m going to be quiet if possible….” She quickly began eating as the idea of meeting the future crowned king consumed her thoughts. The spell came to mind and in her haste, was unable to speak due to food in her mouth. She glanced at Charlie and unexpectedly voiced the thoughts telepathically. Her nose became red at the tip and she brought a napkin to her face to hide it.

What if I embarrass myself? Or Charlie and the Vikena estate? What if he thinks I’m a pig?

Charlotte gave her a warm, comforting smile, then gently took the napkin in her hand. She then dabbed at the corners of Olivia’s mouth, giving her nose a friendly boop at the end. Olivia smiled warmly back at Charlotte and giggled. She managed to clean up the remaining dribbles, tossed it out, and then busied herself with food rapidly.

A knock suddenly filled the air cutting through their moment like a knife through butter. Hastily, Charlotte got to her feet and made her way over to the door.

Said knock would come in a thunderous, yet rhythmetic and energetic pattern of tat-tat-tat…tat-tat-tat-tatatata-..tap! A knock too sharp for knuckles, but of harder material. Drawing closer to the door, Charlotte could hear a muffled jolly hum. A foreboding sign almost telling her turn back.

For, upon the door’s opening, the poor unassuming lady would receive a smackful of some kind of fluffy cloth and for a brief moment, one might have mistaken the smiling figure as a grinning orange with the overwhelming bright orange exhuming off the man’s rather..interesting suit.

And what a gloriously dazzling suit it was at that! With such impeccable design and intricacies of the large flashy bow which only further illuminated the mustachioed individual’s wide toothy grin. Appearing manic almost for a second beneath the betraying tricks of the shadows on those familiar bright chocolate almond eyes twinkling with knowing cheeky delight.

He merely stood posing, looking to the right as if noticing something on his shoulder, in that sea of fluff. Loud visible rustling from a quick dusting flick of the shoulder from his left hand, right gingerly clutching the hawk shaped cane. A gentle craning of the neck, turning his attention to the lady at the door; doing so causing the huge crown of feathery fronds to bounce atop the towering hat somehow staying put, nearly slapping any who dared ventured too close.” Gr-r-r-r-r-eetings and salutations…” A twirling pause of the mustache. “This may perchance be the detective meeting, yes?” He asked with boisterous enthusiasm matching the suit.

Charlotte was flabbergasted,eyes widening as she took in the sight before her. Kazumin's outfit was beyond anything she had ever seen. Her hand instinctively flew to her mouth to stifle a laugh, but the mirth in her eyes was unmistakable.

“Oh wow...” she managed to breathe out, her tone full of awe. Her gaze lingered on the extravagant hat, the feathers practically begging for attention. Without thinking, she took a small step forward, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“May I... may I touch the feather?” she asked, her tone almost childlike in its wonder. Her fingers hovered just above the flamboyant plume, the urge to feel its softness too strong to resist.

Charlotte’s childlike reaction widened his grin, who, nary a response bowed his head forward “They would be delighted to tickle our sweet hostess's hands!” Chuckled Kazu, holding the pose while his friend had her fill.

Once finished, he stood back up, where he would take a big whiff, drinking in the aroma of delicious treats just within. “Ah, with such fetching delight, one can already feel the mind whirring. Mystery and murder afoul!” Spinning in place shoving the cane skyward in dramatic flair. Lo, to such dismay, his stomach rumbled in a volume pushing comfort. ”ahem *cough* apologies. Much is to be discussed, but on an empty stomach, I’m afraid not (foregoing the need to mention having had pudding prior). If I may, miss?” Motioning towards the doorway, requestion permission; faints sounds of snickering just beneath the mustache or perhaps just the hair tickling his nose.

“Please make yourself at home…” She stepped to the side to allow him entry and added with a giggle, “There’s some snacks in the drawing room. Liv is standing guard as our snack protector!” Charlotte had been about to follow suit inside, however, it seemed someone else was approaching the Vikena estate as well.

Leo and Fritz stumbled up to the door next. Or rather Leo was stumbling and he kept such a tight grip on Fritz’s shoulder that he kept dragging the Count around with him. The several cups of coffee he’d been given during his short stint in a holding cell had done little to sober him up. Leo was in an unusual state of disarray; his suit was wrinkled, his shirt half-buttoned with a light splatter of blood, his jacket torn at the sleeve, and a black eye. The scent of the smokey Gambling and Games Hall clung to him, but the scent of alcohol was overpowering.

“Defec-detect-DETECTIVE VIKENA!” He half mumbled, half shouted once he spotted Lottie. “Reportingferinvestigatshuns.” Leo added, offering no explanation for his sloppy stupor. He let go of Fritz and threw himself, stumbling, into the doorway. Leo clung to the doorway for a moment, waiting for things to stop spinning, before making it inside.

Charlotte had initially beamed when she saw Fritz and Leo approaching. Her arms opened wide, ready to greet them with a warm embrace, but her joy quickly gave way to concern as Leo’s disheveled state became clear. Her heart leaped into her throat as her eyes caught sight of the blood splattered across his shirt. Her steps quickened, and she rushed to his side just as he stumbled forward, wrapping an arm securely under his to catch him.

“Leo!” she gasped, her voice filled with both shock and worry. “Is that blood?” Her eyes widened in alarm as she shot a bewildered glance toward Fritz, silently asking for some kind of explanation. Without waiting for an answer, Charlotte’s focus shifted back to Leo, her voice softening but her actions still urgent. “What happened? You’re scaring me.” She gently but firmly tried to guide him toward the drawing room toward the couches. She then called out, “Olivia, can you please fetch some cold water from the kitchen?”

“I think…maybe…I’m drunk.” Leo said, like it was a shocking revelation, as he was corralled into the drawing room. A room that contained the most extravagant hat he’d ever seen. “Whoa!” Was all he could muster as his eyes widened at Kazu’s outfit. His hand reached out to swat at the feathers and he nearly toppled over at the sudden movement. He looked at Charlotte again, “I didn’teven drink today. Pranked! I like this-un.”

The mustached Kazumin had been comfortably partaking of the delightful snacks with cookies dipped in cocoa when all the commotion began. The sudden noise nearly made him jump in shock as he unknowingly dipped faster, the panicked excitement hitting him as he witnessed Charlotte help another drag what seemed to an injured gentleman.

A ruffling upper tilt of the body as all the frills and feathers did partially obscured his view; surprised to find the two familiar faces.

As Olive had been tasked to fetch water, he had downed his drink and gobbled the cookie before attempting to get to his feet to aid. Only to feel hands fluffing with his feathers and heard the drunken Leo’s comment towards them. A quick wiggle of the nose to hide a covered snort, wishing he could laugh, but even this chaos-loving imp wasn’t that inconsiderate, certainly not with blood evidently involved.

With the quiet efficiency of someone accustomed to managing drunks, Ryn gently took Lord Smithwoods’s elbow and steered him towards the plush couch. “Easy there, my friend,” he murmured. “Let’s get you settled, shall we?” The lord mumbled something incomprehensible but allowed himself to be steered. Ryn eased him down onto the cushions, carefully arranging Lord Smithwood’s limbs so he wouldn’t slide off.

Once the man was safely horizontal, Ryn straightened up and met Lady Charlotte’s worried gaze, questions clearly dancing on the tip of her tongue. He stepped closer. “When I went to collect Lord Smithwood, he wasn’t at the guest house,” he began. “So I asked around and traced him to the Gambling and Games Hall, where I discovered our friend had taken up temporary residence in their holding cell.” Lady Charlotte had cast Ryn a bewildered glance at that.

What Ryn left unsaid was the utter chaos Lord Smithwood had caused at the hall and that he had to bail the inebriated lord out because the nobleman had gambled away every last coin on his person.

It was at that moment the prince made his entrance. Having caught Count Hendrix’s briefing, he took one look at Leo, and declared: “Concerning.” He approached Lady Vikena, and offered the hostess a courteous bow, as he greeted with a, “Good evening.” Ignoring issues of lesser concern, he relayed several instructions. “If you have not yet, I recommend procuring for Lord Leo cold water, to be applied to the head with a towel, an ice pack for the eye, and a bucket just in case,” he recited, familiar with the general procedure from his younger siblings’ drunken stints. “Do you employ a physician or shall I call on one?” he inquired.

“Fizzishun?” Leo barely repeated the word but his expression made it clear he found the suggestion ridiculous. “Nah.” He added, shaking his head.