[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ONd4lpK.png[/img][/center]
[color=00F8FE]Time: 1:00 pm
Location: Out and about in Sorian
Interactions: none [/color]

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Callum left the palace with a pair of guards following a step behind him just as Wulfric had demanded. Despite how irritating and ridiculous he found the demand, Cal hadn’t even tried to argue with it. Today, being watched and followed suited his plans just fine. Let the guards report every single boring thing he did today back to his brother. Their report would start with his innocuous trip into town to get a haircut. 

Cal had spent some more time in his room after the meeting with his brothers. Time he’d spent pacing, and thinking, and staring at the words he’d carved into his wall. He felt as if he should carve something damning about his brother into the wall but he couldn’t bring himself to hate his brother the way he hated his parents. So he refocused his attention on those he could hate. If he couldn’t obviously ruin Edin’s summer plans, he could push Edin until the king started unraveling in front of so many watchful eyes. 

At the local barbershop, Callum made an entirely innocent request for a more regal haircut. He described, as best he could, the haircut of his grandfather in the most famous portrait of King George. While Callum knew very little about King George there was one fact about his long-dead grandfather he was sure of, Edin absolutely hated the previous dark-haired king and any reminders of his mere existence. And really who could fault a young prince for wanting to upgrade from a sloppy boyish haircut to something more proper? 

Once the barber was done, Callum admired himself in the mirror, making a solid attempt at the same stern look portraits of his grandfather wore. He could see the subtle resemblance; he may not look like Edin’s son but he certainly looked like George’s grandson now. It was one thing to realize this was an option, it was far stranger to see it after having spent most of his life trying to be and look as different from the rest of his entire family as he possibly could. He could continue to lean into this, find out more about how the last king, his quirks and habits, and start sprinkling those in as well. 

Callum still had an entire day to kill, a day he needed to spend out of trouble, doing exactly what he should be doing. So he left the barbershop and headed to the tavern with his own name above the door. Where else would anyone expect him to be? He was there long enough to down a few beers and catch up on the local gossip. He heard details of the execution of a ranting lunatic and of a near fight in the park over pancakes instigated by Duke Lorenzo. A few people asked him if he had actually eaten an entire raw onion to which Callum responded by feigning ignorance because he was already tired of hearing about it. But what caught his attention most was the rumored assault against Count Calbert's home. Callum hadn’t even bothered to hide a wicked grin as he’d pressed for more details about the count’s misfortune. 

The local gossip began circling back around to the near pancake fight and Callum left the tavern not having drunk enough to hinder him. He had to keep it together all day, nothing to add attention to himself to make his plans for the night more difficult. Because he had a plan for retaliation against Alibeth too, but he’d have to wait for the night for that. He couldn’t allow himself to get blind drunk and miss another chance to make some kind of statement. He’d done that plenty of times already, that would not be trying something new. 

Callum needed something productive to hold his focus. His next stop was the marketplace. An entirely benign shopping trip for the list of supplies he’d carefully memorized. Medical plants were certainly not a strange purchase for a prince who spent a childhood plagued by fevers and exhaustion. Nor was it strange to see a prince collecting a variety of supplies to brew interesting new teas or scent the water for a luxurious bath. Sticks of incense were bought to help his sensitive nose and candles because the softer light was better for reading. 

Nothing suspicious to the pair of guards who carried purchases and watched with great disinterest as he inspected, sniffed, and occasionally tasted the variety of materials he purchased. Cal spent his shopping trip almost entirely relaxed. This was finally something he was doing entirely because he wanted to. Everything he bought was easily overlooked by those without magical knowledge, and even for those who did know, nothing outright called for suspicion. This was one of the most beautiful things about magic; so much of it could come from the most common ingredients. [/color]