[center][h1][b][color=9354FF]Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix[/color][/b][/h1][/center]
What separates a man from a beast? It was a question that scholars puzzled over for centuries yet failed to come to a unified answer. Some claimed that it’s the capacity to have a soul. Some said it’s intelligence. Some argued that it’s the sins of man’s forefathers. The initial two answers were absurd notions to Ryn. In his 29 years on earth, he has seen plenty of people who were best described as soulless and learned that intelligence was situational. Although he could not fully agree with the last sentiment either, it was something that he found himself mulling over time and time again. Were people no more or less than the sins of their forbears? Was there no way to absolve themselves for a crime they themselves did not commit? Or were they forever duty-bound to carry the burden, to add more to it and pass it on to their children? For the cycle to continue till the end of times? [color=9354FF][i]Do you, "King" Edin, feel them too?[/i][/color]

Ryn’s pitch-dark eyes studied the two monarchs in front of him while he introduced himself as Count Fritz Hendrix. They were, for the most part, just as the rumors described them. From the ostentatious clothes he wore to the way he managed to look down at everyone while sitting on his gilded throne, King Edin exuded hubris and entitlement; the peacock of Caesonia. But underneath the vibrant feathers, Ryn thought he could see a scared man peeking through, frantically surveying the ballroom for any signs of danger. Not the kind of danger which posed physical harm, no. There were plenty of guards to protect him from that. He was scouting for the kind of harm that would tarnish his reputation as king or jeopardize his authority. 

Was this something he did all the time, or was it just for this occasion?  Ryn could not even begin to imagine living a life in constant paranoia. Seeing enemies and weakness that can be used against you in virtually everything. Then again… perhaps he could. King Edin just happened to be alone in the spotlight, front-and-center, while Ryn’s family remained off stage, shrouded in darkness. Ryn pitied the King in that regard. 

Stories surrounding Queen Alibeth were few in number compared to the King. The ones that did circulate around circles usually amounted to how beautiful she was. Nothing about her character. She was a work of art, comparable to the palace's decorations; something to admire from afar, and a source of envy towards King Edrin, for owning such a trophy. Ryn remembered feeling dirty just hearing the comments about the Queen, but given how passive she was in person, he began to wonder whether she had a condition that rendered her catatonic on occasion. He needed to know who she was. Not as King Edin’s queen, but as Alibeth. Was she truly complacent with how the country was governed? Did she feel anything, love or hate, towards her husband? 

Ryn was in the middle of describing the gifts he brought for the Danrose family when someone announced their own arrival. [color=salmon]"Greetings! Greetings! After an entire year's absence, The Duke of Veirmont, Lorenzo Vikena has arrived!"[/color] The declaration was loud enough to catch the attention of the three. The Duke of Veirmont's next sentences forewarned Ryn that things were about to get ugly very rapidly. And, regrettably, he was correct.

Ryn, along with many of the other guests, watched the event unfold before them in stunned silence. It took a moment or so for Ryn to register that Duke Vikena unwittingly insulted and publicly humiliated the honorary guests for everyone to see. 

"At least he didn’t bring the ferret!"

Obviously, the biggest mistake Duke Vikena had made so far. Ryn suspected he was going to need his emotional support animal very, [i]very[/i], soon. 

It was an uncomfortable place to be standing where Ryn was when the squabbling erupted between the major noble houses. He had missed his opportunity to bow out. Though he believed everyone was distracted enough that they wouldn’t notice him leave now, Ryn decided to stay put. If he was going to have to watch this, he wanted to observe at a close distance. See how they might handle this situation. Evaluate them. To start making… certain decisions.

The bravery of Lady Vikena’s selfless proposition touched Ryn’s heart. How much she must love her father to offer herself up like that. He respected that. He too would do everything within, and beyond, his power if it meant saving his family. [color=9354FF][i]Lady Charlotte Vikena[/i][/color], he mentally added her to a list that only he could read.

The situation seemed to head towards diffusion as a tall Alidasht woman, who addressed the Sultan as her father, took Lady Vikena up on her offer. The woman leaned down to say something to Lady Vikena. Ryn couldn’t hear what was being said, but judging by Lady Vikena’s expression, it was nothing comforting. 

The next to approach the two women was a redheaded noble. He greeted the Sultan’s daughter amicably, then said the words, [color=9AF781]"…a shame the servants have over-polished the floor. It is difficult to find competent help."[/color]

Ryn was not a servant, at least not in the way that the man was referring. Nothing he said would or should impact Count Fritz Hendrix. Yet it did. Ryn’s heart squeezed tightly against his chest as his stomach tied itself into a knot. The feeling would get worse. He knew it before it occurred. He may have been able to prevent it from getting any worse if he had resisted searching for "them". He could be wrong. It was always a possibility. They could have heard the words and dismissed them because there was no fear of retribution for doing their jobs. That the treatment of the servants in the castle were not as harsh or shuddersome as he was led to believe. 

The Count’s eyes shifted away from the group towards the boundaries of the ballroom and the shadows lingering behind guests, searching for the often ignored and neglected. They were standing there quietly with skin turning paler by the second. Some, the more experienced and/or the ones unfortunate enough to be out in the open when the words passed the nobleman’s lips, stood perfectly still as if afraid of drawing any attention to themselves. Others, especially the younger servants around the nooks were visibly trembling. He saw one of the worst cases, slump to the floor after their knees buckled. 
	
The casual statement of a Lord condemned them all. The worst part of it was that he would never know this. Even if he wasn’t oblivious to it, he and every guest in this room would never directly witness the impact of his remarks; the punishment that awaited the servants behind closed doors. Nothing but dread colored their features. All except for one. 

One maid, the one Ryn had accidentally bumped into earlier, was glaring scorching daggers at the redhead from across the room. If looks could kill, no doubt the man —Leo Smithwood, he said he was— would be bleeding on the nicely polished floor by now if the wounds hadn't already cauterized. At least there seemed to be a medical practitioner conveniently at hand if the improbable were to happen.