[color=lightgray][h1][center][color=9354FF]Ryn[/color] & [color=ab274f]Prince Wulfric[/color] 
Part I[/center][/h1]
[b]Date:[/b] Sola, 23[sup]rd[/sup]
[b]Time:[/b] Early morning[hr][hr]
Wulfric's office was starting to show signs of chaos as numerous documents, notes, reports, and various other papers accumulated on his desk and coffee table. Thankfully, his couches and floors were free (for now). He’d spent a good chunk of the previous day meeting with the investigation team, whom he’d set to collecting the publicly available information on Black Rose. As expected, nothing obviously amiss had been discovered so far. Even so, it provided them with a good overview of the company’s ‘legal’ side of things, from its merchandise, to its travel routes and choice of transportation, to its profits and partners.

Pinned on a segment of his wall was a map of the kingdom where he’d marked the major areas of Black Rose’s activities. Mostly, it operated within their largest cities. It also dealt in international trade, but it was tricky getting reports beyond what happened in Caesonian ports. However, before dealing with any of the more remote areas, it seemed prudent to comb Sorian. Laid on his desk (under some more paperwork) was a veritable incident map, of [i]all[/i] the incidents which had lately occurred in the city. There were two others potentially related to the party, or rather, to Delronzo. Those he’d designated to be [i]thoroughly[/i] inquired into. Up to and including gathering rumors, as Hendrix had suggested.

Speaking of, he’d invited the man for a talk on business. It wasn’t purely for his personal interest anymore, given what had happened. Since he was going to be dealing with a successful merchant company, why not get the details on how such an institution operated from one of Delronzo’s rivals? With that in mind, he’d sent the count a letter last evening, requesting his presence this morning.

A gentle knock echoed through the room, interrupting the silence. On the opposite side of the door stood Ryn, cradling a towering heap of documents in his arms. Receiving no response, he tapped the door with his feet again.

[color=ab274f]“Yes?”[/color] there was the expected response, then. However, his visitor didn’t enter. Instead, there was another, firmer knock. Finding that slightly peculiar, the prince went ahead and opened the door himself. What greeted him was the sigh of Count Hendrix, though really, the man was mostly hidden behind his pile of papers. 

[color=9354FF]“Good morning, Your Highness!”[/color] Ryn greeted the prince as soon as the door swung open. [color=9354FF]“I hope you’re in the mood for some ‘light’ reading.”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“Oh, how wonderful,”[/color] Wulfric greeted him, undeniably amused. [color=ab274f]“More documents,”[/color] there was a laugh in his voice as he said it. Despite the joke, though, he wasn’t put off; if anything, he was intrigued. 

[color=ab274f]“Do come in,”[/color] he gestured the other man inside. He waited until he entered, then closed the doors behind them. Because apparently, they’d be dealing with more writing, he cleared the mess on his coffee table - just to give in to having one of his couches occupied, and creating another there. As haphazard as he appeared to be in moving over his collection, there was a system there, even if one that made sense just to him. One that changed and shifted as he reorganized, but it was there. [color=ab274f]“Feel free to use that,”[/color] he indicated the table he was swiftly clearing.

As Ryn shuffled into the room, he glanced around, absorbing the chaos that overtook Prince Wulfric’s study. It was a cluttered haven of papers, papers, and more papers. The sight both fascinated and overwhelmed him. 

Cautiously, Ryn made his way toward the table that the prince had cleared for him. He deposited his own assortment of papers on the surface, causing the tower to teeter uneasily. [color=9354FF]“I see you have been very busy.”[/color] He picked up a few wayward leaflets with Black Rose’s name inscribed on it and handed them over. [color=9354FF]“Have you made any progress in the investigation?”[/color]

Wulfric turned around, narrowed gaze fixing on [i]his[/i] work being handled by a near-stranger. Shortly, however, he relaxed his expression and accepted the papers. [color=ab274f]“Thank you.”[/color] He supposed they might be working together in some capacity, even if he did find the count dubious. To the second question, he merely said, [color=ab274f]“Not nearly as much as I would like.”[/color] He deposited the last few sheets, and gave the other man a thoughtful look. 

[color=ab274f]“But [i]you[/i] were questioning some of the party attendees,”[/color] he stated it as a fact, even though he lacked confirmation. [color=ab274f]“Is this investigation something which you intend to be actively involved in?”[/color] Yes, after providing Delronzo’s name, Hendrix had offered further help. But he hadn’t exactly expected the count to be so…proactive. It was strange that he was taking part in an unofficial inquiry with Leo and Charlotte.

Ryn blinked at the prince’s sudden glare, then chuckled, a smile accompanying the action. The situation reminded him of his sister’s cluttered office and her sharp reactions whenever he moved anything. [color=9354FF]“Please forgive me, Your Highness. My intention was to ensure that nothing goes missing by accident. I will refrain from touching anything else. I understand that there is order to this chaos.”[/color] Slightly shifting his weight, he straightened his posture and clasped his hands behind his back.

[color=9354FF]“However,”[/color] Ryn continued, keeping his tone respectful, [color=9354FF]“since you mentioned your interest in learning about business, if you can also find it in your heart to forgive my bluntness, I believe it’s crucial for you to develop the ability to handle minor setbacks with stride. Otherwise, you risk imploding and losing sight of what truly matters.”[/color] It was a lesson his sister learned the hard way when she ventured into her own fashion business, Cotten & Silk. It was an ability he too needed to refine.

At the initial apology, Wulfric had merely nodded. But as the count went on, his brows slowly raised in surprise. [color=ab274f]“You don’t happen to be looking for a position as an advisor, do you?”[/color] he questioned rhetorically. While he wouldn’t appoint someone so unknown on a whim, the prince could appreciate the incisiveness and the respectful delivery both. 

[color=9354FF]“I could be persuaded.”[/color] Though that entirely hinged on who “Wulfric” was and who he might be as king. [color=9354FF]“Returning to your previous question, I have promised to aid Lord Smithwood and Lady Vikena, so yes, I will be actively involved in the investigation. I hope this does not pose a problem.”[/color]

Wulfric smirked, as there seemed to be an underlying ‘there better not’. [color=ab274f]“It does make for more people who could get themselves in trouble.”[/color] For his next words, he lost the levity. [color=ab274f]“If you three intend to do more, beyond relatively harmless chats, that is…You should be aware of the risks associated.”[/color] He arched an eyebrow pointedly, because he assumed that of the three, Hendrix [i]was[/i]. [color=ab274f]“And if you still insist, there are precautions to be taken.”[/color] He rolled a shoulder in a minor shrug. [color=ab274f]“Which we can discuss whenever I have occasion to meet with your little unofficial team.”[/color] He waved away the topic, and laid a palm on the uneven tower of papers.

Ryn’s eyes flickered with a fleeting shadow, the light within them momentarily dimming, but he held onto his smile. He simply nodded in compliance.

[color=ab274f]“For now, I suggest we move onto what we’ve met for in the first place; [i]your[/i] business.”[/color] He blinked as he realized something, and gave a polite smile on reflex. [color=ab274f]“But first things first. Would you like some tea? Coffee?…Breakfast?”[/color] It wouldn’t behoove him to slack on his host duties; he’d already been remiss in not asking prior, but he’d got somewhat distracted with their conversation.

The count canted his head. Instead of answering the rather straightforward question, he asked, [color=9354FF]“Have [i]you[/i] eaten breakfast, Your Highness?”[/color]

For the shortest of moments, Wulfric pondered whether he had, or whether he’d only [i]intended[/i] to have it without actualizing that. Then, something occurred to him, and he shot Hendrix a look. [color=ab274f]“Oh, you want to nag me if I haven’t, is that it?”[/color] he guessed, because the man was proving to be a veritable busybody. [color=ab274f]“Or are you concerned that you would be eating by your lonesome, thus creating an imaginary offense?”[/color] He didn’t know how well-versed the count was in the minutiae of the guest-host etiquette pertaining to being offered a meal when the invitation hadn’t specified that there would be one, given the man had formerly been a commoner. But somehow, it seemed less likely that this is what he was worried about.

[color=9354FF]“Yes,”[/color] was all Ryn said at first. Then, an idea struck him. He gleamed with newfound enthusiasm as he proposed, [color=9354FF]“In fact, this presents a splendid opportunity. Why not allow me the honor of showing you what my family business does firsthand?”[/color]

His gaze scanned the room, searching. [color=9354FF]“Might you possess an article of clothing or eyewear that you rarely wear?”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“Show me…what exactly?”[/color] The offer appeared spontaneous, but that did not necessarily mean it was merely a flight of fancy on the count’s part. It struck him as too unusual to be a trap, or rather, if it were one, it would be exceedingly unorthodox. A set-up for a scandal, perhaps? But there’d be at least a basic disguise involved. So, maybe it was just about putting him in different situations and seeing how he’d react.

While Wulfric was studying the count, Hendrix was taking an interest in his office. The prince didn’t know what the other man thought he’d found. Largely, what was around were filing cabinets, then a few bookshelves, then displays and/or storage cabinets for maps, alcohol, art, weapons, and some other memorabilia. If it was attire he owned which he was rarely seen in, then it would be, [color=ab274f]“...Armour?”[/color] he suggested reluctantly. 

[color=9354FF]“I...”[/color] Ryn stifled a giggle as he imagined them doing what he planned to do while wearing armor. [color=9354FF]“I would recommend something a little more casual, but I understand why you would exercise caution. Would you like to bring your sword with you?”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“I will be armed,”[/color] Wulfric confirmed. [color=ab274f]“For a casual outfit, I suppose I could borrow it, if it doesn’t matter that it would be ill-fitting…”[/color] he trailed off, and gave the count another pointed stare. [color=ab274f]“But you haven’t answered my question. What exactly are we doing, and [i]why[/i]?”[/color]

[color=9354FF]“Oh, but I have, Your Highness. I am going to show you what my family’s business does, and I am showing you because you expressed interest in it.”[/color]

Almost an hour later, the count and the heir apparent—an array of weapons on his person—stood side by side in the palace’s kitchen, sequestered from the hustle and bustle of the cooks, scullery maids, and kitchen helpers. [color=9354FF]“Now then, what shall we try to make for breakfast?”[/color]

Having donned his ill-fitting borrowed attire, Ryn led Prince Wulfric down to the kitchen, where low-ranking servants diligently carried out their assigned duties. These servants, largely confined to the kitchen area and prohibited from roaming the castle, had seldom crossed paths with Prince Wulfric or his portraits, rendering them unfamiliar with his appearance. Consequently, it never occurred to them that the “sellsword” accompanying the Varian merchant was, in fact, their own prince.

Upon catching sight of Ryn, those who had spent time with him at the taverns enthusiastically greeted him, reminiscing about the previous night and suggesting that they should meet up again sometime. Those who had sampled the products he had distributed the day before, gathered, eager to provide their honest review. He attentively listened to each of them, meticulously jotting down notes and expressing his gratitude for their valuable feedback. Satisfied customers promptly placed their next order.

Once he had concluded his conversation with the last servant, Ryn requested permission to utilize a section of the kitchen in order to prepare breakfast for themselves.

Ryn looked up at Prince Wulfric, smiling, as he waited for the prince’s answer.

Unexpectedly, it was their very own castle kitchen Hendrix had led them to. Wulfric had frankly expected they’d be going on an excursion somewhere outside. 

He shadowed the count, observing him intently while he “guarded” him. Though, really, there wasn’t even any acting involved; all he was doing was to keep silent, not explicitly draw attention to himself, and let the other man handle everything else. Obviously, this situation being so unexpected played a large part in the prince being unrecognized. But was it really [i]that[/i] simple?

He’d been certain he was universally recognizable - within Caesonia and the two neighbouring kingdoms, at least - but apparently, that wasn’t strictly true for commoners. True, he’d never seen any of these servants’ faces either. He was only familiar with the kitchen in general because he’d visited a few times as a child, for purely adventurous reasons. Despite that, he thought it remiss on the part of royal retainers for them to be unfamiliar with one of their employers. And no, he didn’t happen to believe that he should be putting forth the kind of effort Hendrix was demonstrating to ensure that they [i]would[/i] recognize him. However, he was positive that if any of his siblings showed up here, they would be known on sight, strange clothes or not.

Either way, the count was proving to be [i]remarkably[/i] thorough. Wulfric could immediately recognize that with his demeanor, it wasn’t only his business that would benefit. Potentially, the count could also use that kind of rapport for intel gathering, infiltration, or even to sway someone to his side. That, that [i]was[/i] concerning.

At Hendrix’s question, the prince gave him a dubious expression. [color=ab274f]“Unless it involves skinning, cutting, dicing or slicing,”[/color] he withdrew a dagger to showcase, and after an unnecessarily showy twirl, sheathed it, [color=ab274f]“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to do here.”[/color] It went without saying, but he didn’t cook.

Ryn’s hands came together in an enthusiastic applause as he watched the prince display his impressive skills, marveling with words of admiration. However, as his gaze lingered on Prince Wulfric, the clapping gradually died down. He was too focused on Count Hendrix, not on what should matter to him more: his people. The only time he showed anything besides indifference towards them was when they did not instantly recognize him. But how could they? The divide between their worlds was vast; they were too out of touch from each other’s reality.

To these ordinary people, the royalty were akin to weather—an impersonal force of nature capable of bringing both prosperity and destruction. They were untouchable, unstoppable, and familiar only by the impact of their actions, but faceless in their essence. [color=9354FF]“To learn…”[/color] the count said solemnly before regaining his cheery demeanor. [color=9354FF]“And to cook breakfast, Adel! I’m famished! Aren’t you? What do you think we can make?”[/color] He extended his arms wide, gesturing animatedly to the surrounding environment and inviting “sellsword Adel” to consider the possibilities for their culinary endeavor.

The prince’s skepticism deepened as the count made a show of clapping, and of supreme delight. He had to wonder if the man had ever been a professional actor, or some other type of entertainer. He issued a prolonged sigh when it became clear Hendrix was determined to see through his idea of making breakfast together. And that despite his (perhaps too subtle) resistance so far. Admittedly, he was too curious to outright refuse, or to simply leave. He didn’t mind seeing through a demonstration, and besides-

-this was obviously not just about creating a meal.

[color=ab274f]“Learning, hm?”[/color] Wulfric tilted his head at the count. Fritz had fleeting moments of sober intensity, and that had been one of them. He turned around to take in the environment, leaning against the countertop as he did so.

That particular line of conversation reminded him of his meeting with Lady Saiya, of all things. She’d spoken on knowing one’s people, and letting them learn from one. They’d also briefly touched upon the different ways of caring for one’s subjects. 

But what was it with the insistence that he form some sort of bond or familiarity or who knew what else with them?

[i][color=717d6d]“There is no nation without its people.”[/color]

[color=00F8FE]“They’re [b]your[/b] people, and you can’t even be bothered. Will you rule like [b]him?[/b]”[/color]

[color=ca6924]“Won’t you try to see? Just…look.”[/color][/i]

Well, if it was a simple observation, he supposed he could. His fingers tapped idly against the surface behind him in a nonsensical rhythm as he watched the servants go about their work. 

The scullery maids cleaned, the assistants prepared ingredients, and the cooks handled the finer details while supervising and directing their helpers. The proceedings were smooth, and clearly well-practiced. Even subtle non-verbal communication was enough to convey meaning between them. Though, various orders often had to be barked over the din. The organization was slightly reminiscent of their knights’ and the militia’s, in a way, which was rather impressive. All in all, the servants were far too busy to mind the two outsiders amidst them - which was, in Wulfric’s opinion, a security concern - though the occasional glance their way proved that their invasion wouldn’t be tolerated indefinitely. 

Eventually, he glanced back at Hendrix. Quite casually, as if he hadn’t been ignoring the count for the past fifteen minutes straight, he answered the question. [color=ab274f]“Eggs and bacon should be simple enough.”[/color]

It [i]wasn’t[/i]. Just finding the cooking utensils - skillet, spatula, wooden spoon - took some searching. So did procuring the ingredients. 

But finally, everything that would be needed was prepared.

Which was when Wulfric discovered that eggs were even more fragile than he remembered, and that small pieces of shell had this annoying habit of getting exactly where they weren’t supposed to. He even had to extract one or two bits out of their would-be meal. He gave up on the idea of his eggs being sunny-side up almost immediately, and scrambled them instead. He had absolutely no clue when they were cooked enough; he knew what the end result was supposed to look like, but the thing he was working on seemed practically alien. Far sooner than he expected, their colouration and texture went from ‘slightly orange, somewhat runny’ to ‘very yellow, unpleasantly gummy’. But it was what it was, and the prince took them out.

…The excess oil didn’t want to shed. 

He salvaged the situation as best he could with some napkins. Still, these eggs were very pitiful compared to what he was used to, and that was only judging by their appearance. He almost didn’t dare taste them, but he wouldn’t let mere eggs daunt him. He forked a piece, and brought it to his mouth.

[color=ab274f]“…”[/color] He didn’t [i]say[/i] it, but his conflicted expression, as minute as it was, was telling enough.

There was a reason why cooking was considered an art, after all.
[hr][hr][h2][center]Part II coming soon...[/center][/h2][/color]