On this day, Raghba Shahr knew nothing but joy.

Founded one hundred and eight years ago today, its citizens celebrated the success of their kingdom. The streets were flooded with people as they took to enjoying themselves, taking every chance to fill on food and drink. For the most part, the spirit was shared among both peasant and royalty; within the castle walls, the Sultan had invited several important figures, intent on showing the capital their leaders.

That said, there was one who did not quite participate. While the Sultan was all too happy to impart his joy, a man known as Khedive Raoul had an imposing aura about him. His composure was kept in expression save for his eyes: a tranquil fury filled them as he glanced over the crowds outside. He tapped his cane with long fingers, only moving when a guard approached him. His scowl was plain at this point, though he didn’t need to respond as said guard departed immediately.

His name was then called, and after putting on some semblance of a pleasant expression, rejoined the other nobility. The guard that had departed exited the room, letting out an exasperated sigh before straightening up at the arrival of the captain.

“Khedive Raoul has asked to increase the numbers in the search,” He stated.

The captain slowly shook his head, unamused. An escaped concubine of sorts wasn’t necessarily anything urgent, but the Khedive insisted on her recovery sooner than later while urging for discretion. “I won’t afford him any more, it shouldn’t be so difficult to find [i]one[/i] woman,” He replied curtly. “Quietly, get to it. I’ll take over from here.”

The guard nodded, taking off in the direction of the populace. Music filled the entire city at this point, conversations shouted over one another in an effort in communication. Throughout the celebrations, the occasional guard was seen conversing with another. They would never linger, their reactions a mix of disbelief and exasperation. The result was a stumbling search as the guards alternated between caution and carelessness obvious to any who looked.

Emerging from an alleyway once the guard had passed, the raven haired woman took a look around. The celebration had been just as good a distraction as any, though judging by the guards crawling around, her presence was missed. For now, that simply wasn’t her concern, though she did stop to tug at the golden choli; considering his insistence that she was his tawaif and not his [i]’courtesan’[/i] as the servants assumed, the man certainly liked the idea of showing her off. The sari was less modest than the others she was used to, the slit outright scandalous, as if her midriff hadn't shown enough skin as it was. But he had assured her of its fine quality, pointing out the intricate designs of gold on blue. She could have believed him if he had been subtle at all, but at this point she knew better.

She stopped as she heard a commotion, raising an eyebrow. Right, then, if she was to escape, then she would need another pair of hands. But there was nothing wrong with a little exploration, her eyes drawn to a small gaggle of women dancing for a crowd.