Rodiak

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R ♖ o u t f i t ♖ G U E S T H O U S E 6 : 0 0 I N T E R A C T I O N S : @FunnyGuy@13org@princess@Tpartywithzombi M E N T I O N S : @Inertia

Nahir had watched Lorenzo and Charlotte finally arrive; eyebrow arched at the number of gifts their servants had brought. How cute. The man was at least thoughtful; she would give him that. After the whole debacle from the night before and after much thought, Nahir had to admit she let her feelings and fears get the better of her. And while she still thought the man a bit… aloof, there was something about him that she quite enjoyed.

“I'm afraid we haven't had the opportunity to be formally introduced, but I could never forget the angel that wished to have my life spared in the face of many that would have enjoyed witnessing my final hours. Thank you, truly.”

Nahir had shaken her head and offered him a smile. “There is no need to thank someone who does not wish death on someone who made a mistake.” She sipped her wine glass, “We only hope it is not repeated.”

Farim and a woman she had not seen before came in next. She smiled at the woman before turning to her cousin, “Where did you find such a gem?” Her perfectly painted lips tugged into a smirk as she leaned into her when she was settled in the chair next to Nahir. “That is a beautiful dress, Lady Ariella. The color compliments your eyes in such a lovely way.”

"Having to deal with such a fool of a father... I truly pity Charlotte."

“Mayet, please.” Nahir frowned at her sister. Insulting their guests was distasteful, even more so if they had taken their time to buy them so many gifts! Although, the Duke had trouble reading the room, and there was so much Nahir– or anyone– could do about that as the man did not seem to register the warnings sent his way.

Too late.

Nahir pressed her fingers against her temple as the figure of their uncle graced them with his presence. She did not have to look at him to know his reaction when he saw the Duke sitting in the seat he had claimed for himself. She could already feel pressure against her head with what was coming next,

"Duke Vikena. Move from that seat,"..."You insolent fool."

There it was. Really, could he not act like a decent adult? The man may be the Grand Vizier, but he was still a guest in this kingdom. Rude! To call him that in front of everyone... no matter how true it may be, it was still rude.

“There is no need to act in such a way to the Sultan’s guests, especially in front of Prince Auguste and our other guests.” Nahir spoke up without looking at him, as she was too busy staring at the wine glass in her hand. She had considered talking to her father about his title, perhaps changing it to Grand Whiner Hafiz. That was more of his line of work these days, and it was the only thing he had been doing since they set foot in Caesonia.

“Why should he not sit there, uncle? Duke Vikena is the reason why we are gathered here, to enjoy each other’s company and learn from one another– Duke, please take a seat. I beseech you to forget his rude words. The Grand Vizier may have skipped breakfast after all.” She frowned worriedly at her uncle.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S I R M A T H I A S L A R S E N S I R M A T H I A S L A R S E N ♖ o u t f i t ♖(#1) S O R I A N P A R K , 6 : 0 0 A M I N T E R A C T I O N S : @Potter@Mole@ReusableSword@Conscripts M E N T I O N S :

After the sword competition, the trio decided to head back to the guest house for Lukas’s evening nap. The boy did not even make it from the arena to their rooms before he fell asleep in his father’s arms. During their brief rest, Mathias took the time to get some paper done work. While he wasn’t the active Captain of the Royal Guard right now, he was still tasked to oversee the hiring of new potential knights as well as any promotions in the ranks. It was a meticulous task that he did not particularly enjoy, but he found the task quite relaxing.

The knight was deep in thought, reading a report, when Mary came into his room as quietly as she could– Lukas was sleeping in the bed– and handed him a letter. Mathias opened it, expecting a letter from Sir Volkov back home, but instead found an invitation from Princess Sadie.

Ultimately, they decided to attend the party, mostly due to Lukas waking up in the middle of their conversation. The trip to the park was quick, with the boy pressuring them to hurry their pace because he did not want to miss the fireworks.

Once they arrived at their destination, it was easy to spot the location their little gathering would take place. Mary and Lukas giggled in delight, seeing the ample amounts of pillows as they climbed up the hill.

“Ah,” Mathias’s face lit up when he spotted Princess Sadie and Prince Felix. He bowed to them first, Lukas mimicking his father and Mary curtsying. “Thank you for extending the invitation to us, Princess Sadie.” She then turned to Prince Felix, “It is good to see you, Your Highness.” He nodded and turned to the rest of the group with a polite smile.

“Doctor, Lady Zarai, it is good to see you both.”

Mathias led the trio to an empty spot near Roman and helped Mary down as Lukas climbed onto her lap. “Roman looks like we cannot escape each other.” He offered a smile as he finally sat down.

Things You Are Excited About

i'm excited to take the day off next tuesday since i haven't been able to take any time off in two weeks

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ L A D Y Z A R A I L E S D E M A N L A D Y Z A R A I L E S D E M A N ♖ o u t f i t ♖ S O R I A N P A R K , 6 : 0 0 P M I N T E R A C T I O N S : @Mole@Conscripts@Potter M E N T I O N S : @princess

After the hardy feast with Anastasia, Wystan, and Sir Barrios, they parted ways in what Zarai thought was a peculiar way. Anastasia had seemed rushed and somewhat nervous when saying her goodbyes. Now, as her mind settled back down and the edges of the worlds began to materialize back to reality, she realized how uneasy she felt about it.

Her hands toyed with the lace of her dress, fingers working to trace the repetitive patterns there to soothe herself. Anastasia still had the other guards with her, and Caesonian knights would not let anything happen to their princess. Right? She’d send her a letter later, ensuring the princess had returned safely to the palace.

“My lady,” Sir Barrios said as he approached the bench, she was sitting in. He had two cones of flavored shaved ice, one lemon and the other vanilla. He handed her the vanilla one before taking the empty seat next to her. He was glad that she had finally settled down and wasn’t keen on running around anymore. Gods know what Duchess Lesdeman would have done if she saw Lady Zarai out of her wheelchair and about the streets.

Zarai had requested Sir Barrios to take her to the beach for the afternoon, opting out of seeing the sword competition. As much as she would have liked to watch it, she was starting to become groggy from her high, and being around so many people and loud noises, she knew she’d been overwhelmed. Zarai would rather spare Sir Barrios that.

“Thank you.” She took the cone, mindlessly eating the shaved ice as she stared at the sea.

They sat there for what felt like hours in silence, something Zarai was grateful for. They watched from their bench, kids running around until they found a spot near them. One of the kids began to draw a circle while the other two opened a brown sack. She could hear the clicking from inside, marbles. She’d played with marbles before when they were all the rage in Varian. She still had her pretty collection back home stored somewhere in the attic.

Roll.

Roll.

Clink.

Footsteps approached them, and Sir Barrios quickly stood and turned to see a stranger holding a pink envelope. The messenger greeted the knight, handing him the envelope before departing. Zarai continued to look at the children, now in full swing in their game.

“It says it’s from Princess Sadie.” Sir Barrios offered the letter to her, and when she didn’t move to take it, he opened it for her instead. The knight hummed with curiosity, eyes darting to Zarai when her shoulders twitched. “Very interesting, but I do not think–”

Zarai sighed and glared back at Sir Barrios, palm extended to him for the letter. He tried and failed to hide the smug smile as he handed her the paper.

Like one of those new fancy electricity bulbs, her mood lit up seconds after reading the letter. “Oh!” She stood up abruptly, wincing as she did so. “We should go!” Zarai thought it might be fun to see the rest of the Varians enjoying each other's company.

Sir Barrios stared at her as if she had just pulled a magic trick on him. He nodded slowly and helped her into the wheelchair.

__________________________

Sir Barrios had to carry Zarai up the small hill to where the gathering would take place. She had initially tried to climb by herself, but with every step, the pain in her torso grew worse until she had to ask the knight for help. She tried not to look at him as they both made their way uphill, too afraid to see the expression on his face. Zarai would have to be blind to not see how he looked at her. Everyone in Puerto Vira who had heard the rumors looked at her the same way.

Dirty. Degenerate. Disappointment. A waste. Unworthy to become the future Duchess of the grand southern city of Puerto Vira. What a bunch of bullshit. Zarai blamed her crash for being so susceptible to others’ opinions.

When they finally arrived at the location, Sir Barrios set her down near Princess Sadie and Prince Felix. She’d hoped to be further away, but the knight had deemed it necessary to greet the royals first. Great.

“Your Royal Highness, Prince Felix. Princess Sadie.” She did her best to curtsy both of them without wincing or shaking. “Thank you for extending the invitation; it is a lovely reception with an amazing view.” She smiled, turning to John to extend the greeting before excusing herself to sit away from the growing group.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R ♖ o u t f i t ♖ F A S H I O N D I S T R I C T 3 : 0 0 I N T E R A C T I O N S : @Helo@Potter@Inertia@13org@princess M E N T I O N S :

5:15 p.m.

Nahir did not like tardiness. In fact, she hated it. It showed lack of commitment, respect and time management. It could lead to a loss of trust and could even result in ridicule. And it was just plain rude. So when she realized the time she rushed out of “Extravagancias de Toledo” leaving Petra alone and confused as to why Nahir had rushed out in such a hurry.

5:55 p.m.

Lady Mihna’s hammish fingers worked fast in folding and pressing the heavy fabrics into even neat pleats before tucking the saree into Nahir’s skirt. She wrapped it around Nahir’s waist twice then over her shoulder, letting the beautiful designs of Alidasthian royal seals cascade behind her back. To her side, Lady Suhasini worked on fastening the golden buttons on Nahir’s wrists and made sure the sleeves were puffed up perfectly.

Nahir stared at her reflection as two of her ladies-in-waiting hurriedly dressed her with meticulous movements despite the intense stare she held them under. When Lady Suhasini was finished with the cuffs, she hurriedly fastened a new golden necklace she had received from Madame Petra during her earlier visit. Petra had mentioned its history, but Nahir had been too busy working on the woman’s corset to pay much attention. Something about it being one of the Catalonian family’s heirlooms, worn by the princess during her execution after the revolution.

Slender fingertips touched the golden crests. It was so pretty on her, even prettier over the red of her saree. How did Petra know her so well?

6:00 p.m.

Nahir entered the dining hall shortly after Layla. Tonight, she had chosen a more traditional dress for herself, seeing as they would be dining with the Caesonian nobility. There had to be unity, show them that the Kadirs would stand together against any disrespect thrown their way, be it by mistake or simple human stupidity.

The saree glimmered under the candlelight, emitting a soft glow as she walked to her seat. Back straight, hands folded, and chin held high. Her locs had been twisted and carefully tied by golden thread and decorated with aquamarines that complimented the contrasting blue of the saree’s skirt. And as usual, her cheeks were painted with golden freckles that sprinkled her dark skin like stars in the night sky.

She greeted her father with a smile, “Peace be upon you, father.” she said, bowing her head slightly out of respect before taking the seat next to Layla. Nahir looked about the table, inclining her head as a greeting to the rest of the table in a more casual greeting.

“I was unaware you would be coming to the dinner tonight, but it is a pleasant surprise nonetheless.” Nahir shot Lord Leo a smile, although it was just out of mere politeness. She moved her attention then to Prince Auguste.

“I must say the same to you, Your Highness, and although I second my sister’s sentiments I welcome you to the table. Please indulge in our country’s traditional dishes, and please do try the baklava when the desert comes around. It is divine.” Her smile, like the one to Leo, did not reach her eyes.

Then she turned to her sisters, smile still in place. "I heard that the two of you were part of the contest in the arena earlier today. Please do share! Did you show the world what the Shehzadis of Alidasth are capable of?" Nahir's smile tugged further at the corners just the slightest, already knowing the outcome of the fights. Poor Layla had won in such a humiliating way.

the alphabet game. lol

Infuse

Things You Are Excited About

can't wait for the hozier concert this november, my sugar momma pyxis is buying my ticket.
hearts bby

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R S H E H Z A D I N A H I R K A D I R ♖ o u t f i t ♖ F A S H I O N D I S T R I C T 3 : 0 0 P M I N T E R A C T I O N S : M E N T I O N S :

After her little talk with her dear sister, the young Shehzadi felt utterly drained. So much so that she never made it across the hall to her room. Nahir had instead made a sharp turn down the hall that had startled Ece and Ali. Ece bid her farewell and raced after her, following her outside the guest house to the busy streets where the palanquin was still waiting for any of the Alidasht royals to use.

"Fashion District," Nahir said as she pushed the curtains of the palanquin with unsteady hands and entered. ”Tell Suhasini to run to the market for more silk thread." She said, knowing Ece was already standing outside the little window. Outside, she heard Ece call a random servant over and order them to delay the coded message to Nahir’s lady-in-waiting.

The palanquin rattled, shook, and jumped around Nahir as her entourage moved slowly down the streets to the Fashion District. It’d been a while since she had allowed herself to let go and spend to her heart’s desire. A while was the short trip across the sea from Alidasht to Caesonia.

Her fingers itched to touch the fabrics on display, for her fingers to feel the perfectly smooth silks, to have the vicuña tickle her fingertips, and the thick Qiviut fur to swallow her hand whole in its softness.

Nahir would enter the shop, and the owners would promptly empty it of anyone in sight to give the Shehzadi full access to view and examine the merchandise without disturbance or distraction. Fabrics after dress after ring after shoe– all of them packed into parcels and sent to the address provided.

Once did her guards have to stop some lowly nobles from throwing a fit outside the shops, demanding to be let in while she shopped. Claiming she was just another spoiled rich brat. She was spoiled, and she was rich. That was for sure, but she wasn't a brat.

Nahir had looked as Ece talked to them with darkened eyes. One of them reached for his cane, ready to discipline the woman who had just dared to threaten him and his group. It was only met by Ece's blurred figure pressing cold hard steel against the man's throat before he could even raise the cane.

"Do you know what the punishment is for slandering a Shehzadi? A princess?" Ece whispered into the man's wrinkly ear. Nahir watched with amusement as she'd twiddled with sapphire earrings in one hand. The look he gave her when he realized what her status was and who he had insulted. Called a brat. "Shehzadi Nahir is merciful. She will forgive your ignorance, but be not mistaken that your stupidity has been taken into account, my lord."

He'd practically run away as soon as Ece released the man, leaving behind his wife and friends.

If she could, Nahir would have spent the rest of the day walking down the Fashion District, basking in the envy of the nobles that tinted the streets green. Spending coin after coin until she was satisfied.

Whole.

Complete.

At least for the moment, and that was enough for her.

The last stop was “Extravagancias de Toledo” The woman inside, who had been helping a rich-looking couple, gasped loudly when the bell rang, and Nahir entered the establishment. She promptly ushered everyone out while the Shehzadi browsed the merchandise on display.

Click. The lock.

“Shehzadi Nahir!” The woman smiled once the front door of her shop was closed. “So long has it been since you graced me with your beauty.” The voice sported a teasing tone, her bright eyes tugging at something playful between them.

"Madame Petra," Nahir offered her hand for the woman to take, a smug smile playing at her lips."Not too long I hope." Madame Petra was tall, two heads taller than Nahir, with long straight black hair she wove into braids. So when Petra kissed the back of Nahir’s slender hand, she had to bend down.

Smooth skin graced smooth skin sending tiny shocks through the Shehzadi's body.

“Not at all, my shehzadi.” Madame Petra's eyes met gold as she looked up to see Nahir staring at her. No. Not her. Her lips. "Come, as soon as I heard that your family would be gracing us this summer, I got to work. I saved lotus silk from Catalonia–" Petra began to turn when Nahir caught her wrist.

"That can wait. I, on the other hand, cannot." Nahir said, pulling the woman toward the end of the shop, past the silks and furs, past the jewelry display, and finally past the curtains that read "employees only."

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{W U L F R I C A D E L A R D D A N R O S E
W U L F R I C A D E L A R D D A N R O S E}

_VS
VS

_{M A T H I A S L A R S E N
M A T H I A S L A R S E N}

_{collab between @SilverPaw and @Rodiak}

“Laaaadies and gentlemen, it is TIME! On one side, we have!! Our world-known and well-beloved -- Priiincee WUFLRIIIC!!!”

Wulfric stood up from the bench on the sidelines where he’d been waiting, and made his way onto the stage. He was outfitted in athletic apparel; simple, yet quality made tunic and breeches. However, he did have a few pieces of armour over it, mainly leather. It offered some protection, yet still permitted him great maneuverability. Of course, he had his own sabre. His steps were sure as he made his way onto the battling arena.

The crowd’s cheers drowned out the stadium; their fervour grew as the prince raised his hand in acknowledgment. It took a bit to calm them down. Wulfric hoped they’d get it over with soon, because all he wanted was to face his opponent.

“On the other side --- ON THE OTHER – People, PEOPLE! We can’t get to the good part if we don’t let the other man on!” the announcer joked with a hearty laugh. Thankfully, the Caesonian segment of the audience (who were the greatest culprits of the noise) calmed down.

“On the other side! We have a renowned knight from Varian, and the CAPTAIN of their Royal guard!! SIR MATHIAS LARSEN!” Finally, Sir Larsen was introduced, and cued onto the fighting arena. There was significant cheering for him as well, especially from the Varians.

The rules of engagement were reiterated. Then, two combatants were given leave to start.

“To a good match,” was all Wulfric stated before withdrawing his sabre.

”Your Highness.” Mathias nodded once, unsheathing his own falchion. Its heaviness felt familiar in the knight’s hand.

The prince took his stance, his eyes meeting the knight’s own; he was intensely focused on his opponent and their upcoming match. He kept the red line in mind, but it was obvious enough not to require his active attention. Though, it did mean that the space he had available to move was essentially limited to ‘his’ half of the stage.

Wulfric did what he usually did against an unknown opponent. He went for a measuring swing, one whose aim was not so much to hit but more so to observe Larsen’s response.

It was an easy dodge from the knight as he stepped to the side, eyebrow arched as he returned to his stance quickly. Wulfric didn’t attack blindly. Mathias smiled as he brought his sword up and swung down towards the prince with force.

Wulfric’s gaze tracked the knight as the taller men sidestepped. As expected, his form, reaction, and economy of movement were excellent. As the other man lifted his arm, raising his weapon, the prince was already responding. He brought his sabre closer, then up into a guard. The downwards swing met his weapon. Steel clashed against steel. The powerful hit sent reverberations into his very bones, but Wulfric held steady. The falchion began sliding off against the angled edge of his sabre. The heaviness of the knight’s attack was forcing his weapon off-course; down and away from the prince. Swift as a striking serpent, Wulfric brought his sabre from its guard into a quick slashing counter against his opponent.

As expected from the heir to the Sorian throne, Wulfric was quick and precise with his reaction. The strength to guard against the heavier blade and maintain said guard impressed the knight. Mathias pulled back quickly, falchion swiftly parried the slashing swing. The clash of their steel rang throughout the arena, muffled only by the excited roars of the crowd. Mathias could feel the audience’s excitement surge through him as he stepped forward, his foot over to the red line, and arced a swing down on the prince again. Once, twice, three times their swords clashed with each powerful strike from the knight. He was trying to push the prince back to the borders of his own half, seeing as Mathias had the advantage of height and reach.

Their blades met several times as each of them tried to hit the other, but was then parried, deflected or blocked. It was an intense exchange; they matched skills and wits in equal measure.

Sweat beaded upon Wulfric’s brow, and he was feeling the warmth of exertion with each breath. He was thoroughly beginning to enjoy this, now. Unknowingly, a small vicious smile emerged.

Oh, but he’s good. It was no surprise. This was a military man he was facing, after all. Like any sensible combatant, the knight was using his advantages to their utmost.

Larsen wanted to crowd him in, limit his options for spacing even more. However, Wulfric didn’t simply let himself be pushed around. He did briefly consider the strategy of baiting the knight over the red line. It was a valid method of attaining victory, one he might employ in different circumstances. But he was in the mood for something…simpler, more honest.

Instead of retreating to the back, Wulfric led them in a little half circle, until they were both lateral to the red line running through the middle of the stage. One move to the wrong side too many – it would be a quick way to be disqualified if either of them was too careless.

For a moment, they were both fighting right on the edge. A thrilling sensation - almost like no other.

His chest moved fast and heavy as Mathias swung again. His fingers felt numb with every clash of steel, but he only gripped the hilt tighter as he swung again. For the past few seconds the knight had gained a momentum, his movements quick and heavy as he swung, slashed, and jabbed. The line just a breath away.

Adrenaline rushed through him as his heart hammered so hard in his chest he could hear it. It had been years since Mathias felt something this intoxicating. The possibility of real danger– one wrong attack– brought the sensation of thrill to course through his bones, only amplified by his opponent.

The knight attacked again, he went for Wulfric’s left but the prince was quick to react with a parry and a slash. Mathias was slower to block as the sabre cut through the blue fabric of his blouse and into his flesh. The knight didn’t react to the cut on his arm as he pushed back the block and swung from above.

Wulfric almost didn’t register the minor injury he’d caused his opponent. There was the slightest glint of red on the edge of his blade as he retracted his sabre. But there had barely been any resistance when his weapon had come into contact with Larsen’s body. The prince knew full well just how effective his sword was; it could sever a limb with frightening ease. If it hadn’t been a glancing blow, if he weren’t going at this with the mindset of a friendly match, if the knight wasn’t so proficient–

Briefly, a bloodthirsty grin flashed across Wulfric’s features. Yes, even though this was a tournament, and neither was aiming to kill - nor to injure - there was danger aplenty. Naturally, the risk existed for the both of them.

The crowd roared its approval, growing even louder. It was but a background noise for Wulfric; a cacophony that reached him as a vague thrumming hum. Yet, his heart beat in rhythm with it, as if it sought to synchronize with the vibrations as they coursed through him. Small rivulets of sweat ran down his back; his hands were damp beneath his protective gloves. His muscles strained with each movement. It was the kind of burn that let you know you were being challenged; the knowledge that you could still push more, go further.

Larsen went for one of his favoured moves; a slash from above. Wulfric avoided the attack by a hair’s breadth. He stepped back, distancing just out of reach. A flash of steel; the very tip of the falchion managed to catch on his leather-clad shoulder. The material was damaged, but that was all. Though, if it’d gone a tad deeper, he’d have a slice to match the knight’s.

If he weren’t so intently controlling his breathing, Wulfric might have barked a laugh. Joy and fierceness surged through him in equal measure. This was expression in its purest form; the song their blades weaved as each sought victory by overcoming the other.

Not as base as the simple desire to survive, to be the one to come out alive in real combat; yet a crystalized manner of being that came very close to that.

One moment, the knight was beginning to raise his weapon again, the very next, Wulfric was lunging into a calculated strike.

The attack was quick, precise and unexpected. It came from the knight’s blindspot as the sabre made it past his guard and stopped just as the sharp blade met the flesh of his neck. Right on the jugular. His chest rose and fell as Mathias froze, falchion in mid air high above his head ready to deliver another blow down to the prince.

He’d been too slow, too greedy, too focused on securing the momentum he had gained only for the prince to slash it right under his nose.

Mathias could not help the smile spreading over his features as he lowered the sword to his side. It had felt exhilarating and borderline addicting. So long it had been since he had faced an opponent so evenly matched, to have each attack predicted. Blocked. Parried. To be challenged this close.

The crowd around them exploded in cheers, almost drowning the announcement of Wulfric’s victory over the Varian knight. But all Mathias could hear was the beating of his own heart hammering hard against his chest and all he could seem to focus on was the victorious opponent before him.

Wulfric panted, pupils dilated from sheer excitement. This was almost like–

It. Isn’t. And that…was fine. There’d been a flash of a very distant ghost of past, but he’d dismissed it easily.

He stared almost transfixed at the blood beading on Larsen’s neck. The ferocity which had painted his features gradually lost its intensity. Slowly, he retracted his sabre. The mark he’d inadvertently left on the knight was– distracting.

However, any strange notions he might have had were dismissed just as swiftly. With one quick yet elegant motion, Wulfric finally sheathed his weapon. So did the knight. He looked up at the known-unknown man, really taking him in as his breathing normalized. Perhaps prompted by the knight’s expression, a faint but genuine smile formed upon the prince’s lips.

“This was an excellent match,” he remarked. “I should like to spar with you again.” Saying so, Wulfric offered his palm for a hand shake.

Mathias felt a sudden rush of pride wash through him when he heard those words. “It would be an honor, Your Majesty.” He shook the other man’s hand and shook it firmly, adding a slight bow when he remembered that it was in fact the prince standing in front of him and not just any man. There was a renewed round of clapping and cheers as the two shook hands.

Before the match Mathias had been unable to take a close look at the prince. Now, being so close, he could see the softness of the prince’s face, a stark contrast to the face he’d seen during their duel.

He pulled back and waited for Wulfric to step down the stage first before following suit. “I’ll be at your service all summer.” Mathias said when they were under the tarp that had been set up, providing some shade to the duelists.

“If I may, your skill and precision is amazing.” The knight did not want to sound too excited. “And the speed in which you guard– it truly was an excellent match. I am most gracious to have been your opponent.”

Wulfric inclined his head, courteously accepting the compliment. “I appreciated your rhythm; a lesser man would have been overwhelmed from the outset.” A tiny smirk pulled at the corners of his lips. “Your movements were very smooth and clearly well practiced,” he reciprocated the knight’s assessment with one of his own. “Not to mention the force behind your strikes,” he added. He still felt their echo, but it was a good feeling.

“Indeed, I shall be looking forward to our next match,” the prince concluded.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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______________________________________	__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ L A D Y Z A R A I L E S D E M A N L A D Y Z A R A I L E S D E M A N ♖ o u t f i t ♖ S O R I A N P A R K , 1 2 : 0 0 A M I N T E R A C T I O N S : M E N T I O N S :

Zarai found herself staring at her reflection. Too tall and far too thin. Her chin elongated; it looked sharp enough to cut wood in half and leaned slightly to the right. Her arms were long like tree branches, skinny as if they could snap at any second. Her eyes, she could barely see them in her reflection they looked wrong. Zarai frowned at the unfamiliar reflection, raising her left arm and then her right to see if her reflection would do the same. They bent in her elbows inwardly as if she had broken them.

”Who finds this entertaining?" Zarai eyed her reflection one more time before she continued walking, leaving the house of mirrors behind them.

After the prince’s court, Zarai had Sir Barrios take her back to the guest house, knowing her mother wouldn’t be there, and switch back to her old dress but left Fritz’s work on her hair untouched. Duchess Lesdeman had a meeting with some uber-fancy schmancy businessman to buy property in Sorian. An estate that Zarai only knew about because she had been snooping in her mother’s office. A summer house? Winter home? Zarai could buy her own apartment in Sorian. Leave Puerto Vira and to whoever her parents decide to pass it to and live here. Change her name. She could be Liege Ariel Alvarado, a mysterious noble from faraway lands of Catalonia who sings in the taverns during their free time and is a bit of a lady killer. Or she could be Lord Loid of Lordshire or Lady Cassandra Castleton! Zarai needed to come up with better names for her alter egos.

"My Lady, where are we exactly going?" Sir Barrios spoke up from behind her. Since leaving the palace walls, he’d been glued to her like a parasite. Seemed like he did not want a repeat of today’s encounter with Fritz and Udo.

The thought of them was quickly forgotten.

"I promised my little princesita that I would come to find her once the court was over." Zarai glanced back at the knight, glaring at the empty chair he was still pushing around. "Sir Barrios, I thought I had said to leave that."

"Your mother ordered that I take it everywhere you go, " Sir Barrios gave the same reply he had given her fifteen minutes ago.

"Fine." She rolled her eyes, giving a breath of irritation as she picked up her skirts and sat on the chair. She sucked in air through her teeth and quickly motioned the knight to continue their search. If he was persistent in bringing the dammed chair, she might as well use it, not because it was getting painful to walk.

The steel wheels made it difficult to traverse through the grass, making the chair rattle with every step Sir Barrios took, and while it was far better than walking, it would take them long to find Anastasia. She couldn’t see anything aside from other people’s crotch areas and little kids running past her, some pointing to her and laughing.

Little shits, do it again, and I’ll trip you.

They walked around for a few more minutes, the sea of crotches walking past her as she craned her neck, trying to search for her friend. After a while, she gave up when the aching on her side became too much and sat back in the chair, looking for the dress Anastasia had worn instead. Twenty minutes had passed before Sir Barrios cleared his throat and stopped the chair on the side of a pastel yellow stand.

"My Lady, are you sure she is still here? She may have left already." Sir Barrios walked to the front of the chair. "The Princess may have gone on ahead to the Summer Horse Race; I am sure she will be there."

"Princesita wouldn’t do that." Zarai looked at him with a frown, "Besides, I promised her that I would find her here, and I do not intend to break my promises." She stood up slowly and ignored the knight's protests as she began walking again in search of Anastasia.