[hider=Noon Sola 23, 1739: Callum & Quack & Riona Part 2][center][h1][b][color=00F8FE]Callum[/color] & Quack & [color=DAF6C7]Riona[/color][/b][/h1][/center]
[hr]
When they passed the curtain divider, all laughter ceased and smiles faded. Two bodies lay motionless on the makeshift operating tables. The first was a middle-aged man, his body gaunt and frail. His skin was sallow and sunken, clinging to his bones. Dark circles rimmed his dull, vacant eyes. He had the look of someone worked to death, every ounce of life force squeezed from him until his heart finally gave out. The second was a woman, her face still retaining some of its youthful fullness. Her skin had a sickly pallor with a slightly yellowish hue and her parted lips were tinged blue. At first glance, she appeared to be resting peacefully, her eyes gently closed. But the dried tears that tracked down her cheeks told another story. Next to the body sat a small glass bottle. Riona gingerly picked it up, examining its contents. She recognized the dried pennyroyal, tansy, savine, and ergot—toxic herbs used by desperate women—and knew that the woman died slowly and painfully from the inside out.

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

[color=00F8FE]“Are they dead?”[/color] He whispered the question despite already knowing the answer. He could just feel himself turning paler from the sight. He had to remind himself that it [i]probably[/i] wasn’t a weird thing for a doctor who was also an undertaker, or was it a former undertaker, to have bodies in a backroom. 

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

The man’s eyes remained open, cold portals into a void. The body didn’t blink, the eyes didn’t move and still they felt like they were staring right into him. The clammy feeling returned with a vengeance. All over, just cold and sweaty. [color=00F8FE][i]Why was it so cold in here? And shouldn’t they be covered up, with a sheet or something…[/i][/color] It just felt wrong to have bodies laid out like they were on display. 

He shouldn’t stare at the bodies. He tore his eyes away from the empty, glassy, vacant ones. [color=00F8FE][i]It’s disrespectful to gawk at the dead. Should I look at Quack? Was that too bold? Probably a bad idea. What if he took it as a challenge? An act of aggression. And why wasn’t Quack saying anything?[/i][/color] His stomach twisted up, and the back of his throat burned with whiskey and bile. [color=00F8FE][i]Was Quack just going to stand there?[/i][/color]

[color=00F8FE]“What, umm, what’s that?”[/color] He glanced at the small bottle Riona held, searching for anything else to focus on. [color=00F8FE][i]Don’t look at the bodies.[/i][/color] [color=00F8FE]“I should say something, right?”[/color] He glanced back at Quack, an unflinching statue of a man, and he knew if he waited around for Quack to talk first, or to feel like he had all his ducks in a row before speaking, he’d be here all day. 

[color=00F8FE]“It could be useful, right, to have an insider. Places I can be, that um, other people would seem out of place. I could be useful. And I’m not going to say anything. Not a peep. Even if you don’t want me around, because if you're going after Edin, I wish you success. Gods I hope it's [i]painful[/i], I want Edin to watch his whole Danrose legacy unravel, for everything he loves to be stripped from him. I don’t care who does it, as long as it happens. And I know you don’t trust me, but I haven’t spent ten years earning the right to call Riona a friend to betray her first chance I get. I can keep secrets.”[/color] There, he’d said something. It was great, just a long unburdening of everything that sat constricting around his chest. But he wasn’t quite finished. 

[color=00F8FE]“And you know what else, I think you should apologize. To Riona, because she called you friend so you should know that she doesn’t stab friends in the back either.”[/color] 

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

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

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

She nodded again, a little bit delayed this time. [color=DAF6C7]“And if it comes to that, [i]I’ll[/i] do what [i]I[/i] have to do.”[/color]

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

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

[color=00F8FE]“You know, sir, I want me gone too. Going out doing something that matters, best option I got going for me. Caesonia’s had more than enough of kings, princes, and nobles. She deserves something better. And rotten trees need clearing out. My family’s made their choices, and I have made mine.”[/color] He said it like a shrug, water off a duck’s back; he knew where he was going to stand. 

[color=00F8FE]“I’m not looking for pawns. Don’t need people calling me a prince or thinking I’m anything to be admired or bowed to. I am here to see if I can serve you, or,”[/color] And he paused, possibly digging his own grave a little deeper, [color=00F8FE]“[i]Quack[/i] me if you must, [i]Mal’lard[/i].”[/color] He said it, in the same way, one would say m’lord, and either Quack was going to kill him or he wasn’t, but Callum wasn’t going to let the threat just hang in the air. 

Both Riona and Sexton stared at Cal, asking in not so many words if he really wanted duck puns to be his only legacy. [color=DAF6C7][i]Cal, you brave idiot.[/i][/color] She shook her head with a ghost of a smile.

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

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

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

[color=DAF6C7][i]He’s asking for a hostage.[/i][/color] Riona realized. Something, anything, to bind their fates together. 

[color=00F8FE]“If I gave you a name, I’m not sure it’d be much use to you. This isn’t a threat, but the few friends I’ve got, would all be just as dangerous to mess with. And giving you a name feels like the same sort of betrayal you’re worried I’d do to you. I don’t do that.”[/color] He glanced at Quack’s fingers and assumed he was trying to feel out a lie. Lying had crossed his mind, giving him the name of someone he knew wouldn’t just be a sitting duck crossed his mind too. But he’d come here to ask for trust and he wasn’t going to treat this like one of his games with his brother. He shifted his gaze to look Quack in the eye before speaking again. 

[color=00F8FE]“What if what I’m willing to give, is a surefire way to send me to a pyre? I could give you enough evidence against me, that even if they did try and cover it up, it would turn a lot of folks against the crown. You know what I mean, right? What guarantees a pyre?”[/color]  Cal asked, there was only one card to play that made sense to him. Even things up, make it all just as dangerous for him as it was for Quack, or as close as he could reasonably get. 

[color=00F8FE]“My whole life I’ve always been told what a useless, unwanted, failure I am. I have one thing that really makes me feel like that’s not the absolute truth. A little spark of hope; magic. A deeper well of connection than blood could ever be, something I can feel a claim to that isn’t rotten all the through. I’ve got all sorts of damning evidence tucked away too. Whole books copied in my handwriting, notes on what’s worked and what’s failed. So I can get you that, I can give the means to secure my destruction.”[/color] 

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

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

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

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

Sexton closed his eyes and tilted his head upwards, trying to restrain his irritation. “The Prince is playin’ ya fer a fool, Riona.”
[color=DAF6C7]“He’s willing to sacrifice himself.”[/color]
“Pfft. Naaaah,” his dragged out the denial with a sigh, “it’s nothin’ that selfless. He just wants to prove to himself that he’s not a useless, unwanted, failure.” Sexton’s eyes snapped open, narrowing as he refocused on Riona. “Let’s say what ya say is true and let’s pretend his family won’t lift a damn finger when he’s tried for witchcraft. He’ll burn as a witch while we’ll be executed as traitors to the crown. The difference is, his death will end with him. Ours won’t.” 
[color=DAF6C7]“But if we can expose the Danroses’ misdeeds—”[/color]

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

[color=DAF6C7]“You’re demanding a hostage. That’s a lot to ask.”[/color]
“Is it? Danroses are holdin’ the people hostage. Why can’t I get one from him? One that he actually gives a damn ’bout.” He hissed. “If we can’t back out when the goin' gets rough, then neither should he.”
Riona’s gaze shifted away from Sexton and searched Cal’s.

[i][color=DAF6C7]“…How far are you willing to go now that you aren’t scared anymore?”[/color]
[color=00F8FE]“As far as I can.”[/color][/i]
How far was that?[/hider]