[center][h1][b][color=9354FF]Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix[/color][/b][/h1]
[color=9354FF]Time:[/color] Evening
[color=9354FF]Location:[/color] The Tough Tavern
[color=9354FF]Interaction(s):[/color] Olga [@princess] (Collab)[/center]
Though there were those who believed that the world revolved more or less around the Three Kingdoms, Eromora was home to countless cultures. As someone who worked in an international trading company, Ryn had the privilege of experiencing if but a fracture of it and he learned a lot from it. This included lessons such as how alcohol was an excellent drug for impairing people’s inhibitory control, no matter where they hailed from. The higher the blood alcohol level, the looser one’s tongue becomes. At times, this aided in the formation of bonds; at other times, it ruined them beyond repair.

As soon as Lady Vikena walked away from Ryn, he began the process of building a rapport with the tavern patrons. Many of them were friendly enough, willing to engage in conversation with the man who paid for their drinks. As they conversed, though, Ryn realized that the people in the tavern were either strangely tight-lipped, especially when the conversation even lightly touched on Duke Vikena, or truly clueless. Yet, all were coordinated in their insistence to remain unforthcoming on the matter. Gazes that floated over to the bandana-wearing woman every now and then, tipped Ryn off that the reason for this was because she instructed them, verbally or by less direct means like a meaningful glare or accosting someone normally everyone else would have happily ignored if it meant less trouble for them. No one would tell him anything unless he took her down first.

With alcohol, naturally.

Ryn popped a small tablet in his mouth along with some protein-rich finger food he ordered to fill his stomach and waited long enough for it to settle in before he approached the woman with the bandana. He challenged the woman to a drinking contest: they would drink the strongest liquor the tavern had to offer until it was obvious that one of them wouldn’t be able to handle another sip. With a bit of teasing and calling her a milk drinker, the bandana woman accepted.

At first, everyone seemed to believe the woman had the game in the bag. Even ignoring the fact that, as the others put it, the woman’s blood was made up of mostly alcohol, it was evident by body size alone that Ryn was at a disadvantage. So many were mildly impressed when Ryn looked perfectly fine after his third shot. Around the fifth shot, people were surprised that his cheeks were barely pink. The atmosphere started shifting after the seventh shot. Ryn looked like he was just about to get tipsy while the bandana woman’s face became flushed. There were people who accused the bartender of watering down the alcohol. However, that was quickly disproven with a sip of Ryn’s cup. By the eighth shot, a number of spectators began to consider the possibility that the small black-haired “boy” had a chance of beating “the boss.” At shot number eleven, Marceline was forced to declare Ryn the winner. Had he not cheated, Ryn would have been on the floor at shot number six.

Ryn helped “the boss” to her feet and excused themselves to a table off to the side after asking for some water. Once the woman sat down, Ryn sat across from her and took her wrist into his hands, fingers pressed lightly against it. He checked the clock on the wall to make sure his counting aligned with it before leaning closer to the giant woman. For a few minutes, they engaged in the typical small talk. He learned that her name was Olga. She lived in a nearby house and she owned this tavern. Her favorite color was red and she secretly loved bunnies but hated any sweet foods. Her dream was to continue living the life she was. Olga’s physiological signs strongly suggested that she was telling Ryn the truth up to this point. Now to see if she would keep this up.

[color=9354FF]“Do you know who Duke Lorenzo Vikena is?”[/color]

Olga had nodded nonchalantly, [color=lavender]“Yeah. The man has big house down the street. Comes to stay there every so often then goes back to Veirmont. Never come here though. No, no…”[/color] She was honest with her words. Olga was never one to lie, unlike her sister Helga who worked in the castle. She was sure glad that woman was [i]far away[/i].

[color=9354FF]“Did you see him tonight?”[/color]
She shook her head. [color=lavender]“No. Lorenzo boy never come in here.”[/color]
He clarified, [color=9354FF]“You didn’t see him outside the tavern either?”[/color] She shook her head again.

[color=9354FF]“Why did Count Damien order you to keep us here?”[/color] He asked the question with such confidence that it sounded like he already knew Count Damien was involved, but in truth, it was a hunch at best. The only reason why Lady Vikena and Ryn even passed by the Tough Tavern was because Count Damien pointed them in this direction. According to Olga, however, Duke Vikena never stepped foot in the establishment before. Then there was the question of how they knew who Lady Vikena was. Of course, it was possible that all of this was pure coincidence, but everything seemed too planned out to be just that. Had they gone to the library first, would they have encountered the same interference by a different group of people?

Olga leaned on the tabletop and gestured him closer with her finger. She then whispered in his ear, [color=lavender]“Calbert’s boy Henry came to window. Said two with dark hair in ponytails: Lady Vikena and you. ‘Cept she has pretty ribbon. Haha! …So I see you two, I close door. Henry told me this is all for safety so I tell my staff. “[/color] She paused to take a puff of her cigar. After an exhale and thoughtful pause, she added, [color=lavender]“He seemed shaken up.”[/color] She shook her body for a moment and widened her eyes to dramatize the effect of one who was afraid. [color=lavender]“Something [i]bad[/i] going on I think.”[/color]

Ryn frowned. Why would Count Damien want to keep them trapped here? Or was it Lady Vikena specifically he wanted in one place? Did the “bad something” have anything to do with the duke? At least it was clear that Count Damien had control over certain districts. Enough influence to make people follow his orders at a drop of a hat. Not a good sign, but perhaps there was still some wiggle room.

[color=9354FF]“All for whose safety?”[/color] Ryn flipped his ponytail with a smile. [color=9354FF]“What kind of danger does some duke’s daughter and a pip-squeak with matching hairstyles pose to you and your staff?”[/color] He replaced his smile with a concerned look as he leaned in closer to Olga. [color=9354FF]“He’s… not threatening the people here… is he?”[/color] He purposefully kept “he” vague in hopes that Olga would fill in the rest.

Olga chuckled at the sight of him flipping his pony tail. [color=lavender]”No. Danger to you. Not to us. Something-”[/color]

Marcy ran away from the side window, mop in hand. Olga paused, mouth still agap as if to continue speaking as she started mopping the walkway to the stairs. It did not make sense to Olga why she had done so at first. The eyes of many followed the sight of the frantic mopping. She watched Marcy then dive behind the bar with the mop.

Then the door burst open to the sight of Count Calbert.

[hr][hr][center][h1][b]Udo[/b][/h1][b]Time:[/b] Evening
[b]Location:[/b] Danrose Castle ~ Harbor[/center]
The cool summer night breeze sent shivers down the east islander’s spine. He tried to shield himself from it by snugging further into the muffler, the redheaded scoundrel probably nicked from some poor soul. To anyone else, the wind was pleasant to the skin, but the Northern Kingdoms’ summers were much too dry and cold for Udo’s taste. It was no wonder a majority of its citizens were so pale.

He hoped that standing outside for hours would’ve acclimated his body to the temperature, but much to the warrior’s dismay, it never happened. He was tempted to drink the vodka stashed away in the saddlebags on his horse to get warm, but unlike some people, Udo preferred to stay sober while on the job. So he opted to jog in place as he waited.

After the majority of the party attendees had departed, very few people trickled out of the castle, making it much easier to identify who left the premises. The first notable person to leave unattended was Baron Asteroth Hugonin’s ward. Some farmboy, if sources were to be believed. Though Udo was skeptical that that's all that there was to it. Two of them placed their bets on Kazumin being an illegitimate child of some nobility; Peter thought he was a royal bastard. Considering Edin’s promiscuity, it wouldn't be the least bit shocking if they found out that he sired half of Sorian’s younger population.

The second group of people was hard to miss. A large carriage carrying Callum, Anastasia, and some other prominent figures crossed the drawbridge and made its way down Edin Avenue. Udo climbed onto his own horse and followed the group from a safe distance, being extra cautious to not be spotted by another carriage that followed suit. Once he witnessed the carriages arrive at the harbor’s warehouses, Udo dismounted.

It was somehow simultaneously too lively and too quiet at this hour of the night. Udo spent enough time with Crosswinds Tradings to know how harbors looked at night and yet… The warrior scanned his surroundings. Aside from the guests who he assumed were summoned here, he spotted a number of people patrolling the area. Guards, most certainly. Spies, conceivably. But the warrior had no way of discerning whose.

As the royal siblings and their entourage entered a specific warehouse, Udo’s ocean blue eyes scowled at the logo painted on it. Black Rose. What were Edin's youngest two children getting themselves mixed up in?

If Black Rose was involved, he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to enter the warehouse without alerting Marek’s henchmen or getting out unscathed. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, infiltration was Peter’s forte. Udo sighed. What would that half-wit do if he was in Udo’s place?

The islander took out one of the vodka bottles from the saddlebag and emptied it all over himself. Udo shuddered uncontrollably for a few seconds before returning the bottle and drawing out another full one. He shifted to the other side of his horse to collect a creel and fishing rod. After he put the full bottle into the creel, Udo stroked his horse. “Ewch yn ôl,” he commanded. The horse neighed in response and trotted in the direction of the palace, where it would “go back” to Hendrixes’ carriage.

Udo’s ears perked up at the sound of hooting. A great horned owl with a brightly colored ribbon tied to its left leg was perched upon one of the shipping crates. It flew up towards the roof of the building, turning its face to Udo once it landed. He was no fool to ignore the beckoning of their avian friends.