[color=lightgray][h1][center][color=9354FF]Ryn[/color] & [color=ab274f]Prince Wulfric[/color] 
Part II[/center][/h1]
[b]Date:[/b] Sola, 23[sup]rd[/sup]
[b]Time:[/b] Early morning[hr][hr]
Ryn’s gaze remained fixed on the prince, eyes following his every move with a sense of silent fascination. Positioned at a comfortable distance, the count stood nearby, an ever-present shadow that faded into the periphery.

The prince’s bewildered expression and clumsy movements were a stark contrast to his regal demeanor. His lack of culinary prowess could not have been more evident. Every attempt was met with tiny missteps, transforming the task of cooking an egg into an insurmountable challenge for him. Yet, despite the adversity, the prince persisted. Never once voicing a complaint, plunging headlong into uncharted territory.

Judging purely from the state of his office, Prince Wulfric appeared to be a high-achiever who was both self-reliant and self-demanding—qualities capable of shaping him into a king who could create a better kingdom for the people or a tyrant, thus perpetuating the cycle.

In the kitchen, Prince Wulfric only reinforced this impression. After explicitly stating what his skills were, Prince Wulfric challenged himself by choosing a meal that did not utilize those skills. He did not bother to ask what Ryn’s skills were; he simply decided to take on the task of cooking all by himself. What stood out the most was that, from start to finish—from the moment he scoured the kitchen for tools and ingredients, to the moment he extricated the overcooked, unseasoned, and excessively oily scrambled eggs from the skillet—, the prince never asked for assistance or advice from anyone. [color=9354FF]“You’re not used to asking for help, are you?”[/color]

Despite Wulfric’s lack of cooking skills, and the eggs he’d cooked being what they were, he arched an eyebrow at the count. [color=ab274f]“Why would I need help?”[/color] It was a simple dish - or so he’d been convinced.

[color=9354FF]“Did you not? Correct me if I am wrong, because it seemed like you were struggling from step one. There’s no harm in asking where the tools and ingredients are, or how to cook a sunny-side up.”[/color]

Though his countenance was of one who would very much like to stubbornly deny it, the prince remained silent; they both knew he had been. It would be strange to say that he [i]shouldn’t have[/i] struggled or needed help, but that was closer to his sentiments. It was also true that asking hadn’t occurred to him, since people usually either offered their help (freely or for a price), gave critique unprompted, or he simply ordered them to do what needed to be done.

Ryn took a bite of the scrambled egg. Contrary to its creator’s grim silence, the dish was palatable. [color=9354FF]“It’s a wonderful first attempt, Adel! We can certainly make use of this.”[/color] Ignoring the prince’s skeptical glare, Ryn took another bite, his mind already exploring recipes that could incorporate the prince’s eggs. When he found the one, he turned to Prince Wulfric, [color=9354FF]“I have an idea. Why don’t we work together this time?”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“I assumed you would make the ‘bacon’ part of eggs and bacon,”[/color] he informed the count dryly. That’s about the level of working together he’d expected. But by the way he spoke, Hendrix appeared to possess some cooking proficiency. Still, the prince remained unconvinced. [color=ab274f]“You want to incorporate [i]that[/i],”[/color] with his fork, he pointed at the overcooked offender, [color=ab274f]“into your idea?”[/color]

[color=9354FF]“In which case, you must learn to articulate your thoughts more clearly, Adel.”[/color] Ryn replied with lighthearted frankness. [color=9354FF]“We, the common folk, lack the ability to read minds.”[/color] 

Wulfric huffed, because this was about reading [i]intentions[/i], not minds. [color=ab274f]“I stated the goal,and proceeded to pursue it in part. Is it not clear enough that the remainder should be done by [i]someone else[/i]?”[/color] That someone else in question had been entirely content to study him, earnest and zealously intent. Had it been someone else, he might have thought it was for personal entertainment. But while Hendrix obviously wanted [i]something[/i], he wasn’t yet sure what that was.

[color=9354FF]“No, it is not clear.”[/color] The count gave a quick smile. [color=9354FF]“That’s what makes assumptions so dangerous… and why communication is vital if you want people to work at top efficiency.”[/color]

Ryn regarded the plate of eggs resting on the table. Unseasoned meant that they possessed the potential to be transformed into something extraordinary with the addition of the right ingredients. Overcooked did not mean burnt or rotten. There was still room for improvement, a chance for change. [color=9354FF]“It’s not too late.”[/color] He said to the next king of the Danrose bloodline. [color=9354FF]“There’s still hope for you.”[/color] For a prolonged instant, the black pools of Ryn’s eyes remained locked on grayish blue before turning away. 

Wulfric wasn’t aware of all the implications of those words, but he could very well tell when he was being judged. So, for that moment, as they locked gazes, he stared down at Hendrix, a sense of pride exuding from the royal. There was an air of cold, haughty superiority about the prince while the count formed whatever opinions about him that he would.

He stood there; unmoving, unflinching, unapproachable.

But perhaps, not truly unchangeable. 

When the count moved onto their cooking mission, Wulfric eased his imposing demeanour. He was resolved to follow through, and wasn’t opposed to heeding Hendrix, since he was obviously the more experienced cook of the two. Thus, the two men began anew, this time with a more cooperative approach.

[color=9354FF]“We won’t be skinning anything, but I require your expertise in cutting, dicing, and slicing.”[/color]

Together, they gathered additional ingredients and neatly organized the kaleidoscope of colors on the countertop. At the heart of the culinary stage sprawled a slab of uncut bacon, its marbled fat glistening in the play of light. Beside it, a block of cheese displayed its proud golden rind and rich, creamy hue. A procession of produce encircled the central duo, each one a burst of life and flavor. Plump, sun-kissed tomatoes shared space with onions cloaked in delicate papery layers. Glossy bell peppers spanned a spectrum from vibrant green to fiery red, adding vivacious energy to the ensemble. While the verdant bundle of spinach and cilantro cascaded like elegant emerald ribbons. Amidst this medley, a cluster of mushrooms added an earthy touch to the composition. On the sideline, the quartet—the flour canister, oil cruet, salt cellar, and pepper castor—stood in unity, awaiting their moment to join the symphony of flavors.

After delegating the task of slicing and dicing all the ingredients to Prince Wulfric, Ryn measured flour and sifted it into a bowl. Adding salt, oil, and water, he kneaded the ingredients into a supple, elastic dough which were shaped into balls, rolled thin, and set aside. Ryn shifted his full attention to the prince and gave a few pointers as Prince Wulfric sizzled the meat and sautéed the vegetables.

Throughout the entire process, he injected abridged lessons about the economic and business aspects of agriculture in the Northern Kingdoms, using the ingredients as examples and highlighting the distinctive practices that set Caesonia apart from other countries—for better and for worse. Pausing in the middle of a lesson on occasion to share tidbits of trivia about the ingredients they were using or to impart advice on how to cook them properly. 

Here and there, the count’s lessons turned into surprisingly in-depth discussions, since Wulfric was well-versed in economics. The prince argued the merits and demerits of particular models and practices. However, he also interjected with an idea or three on possible improvements pertaining to economy, business, and agriculture. Too, he shared the rare tidbit of his own experiences of coming across – to him – unusual meals, ingredients, or customs.

Abruptly, Ryn asked. [color=9354FF]“What did you notice when watching the kitchen staff?”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“They’re better skilled, and more used to working with each other,”[/color] he replied with a shrug, because that much was obvious. He turned half-way in their direction to regard them once more. They had advanced in their meal preparations; they weren’t making only the usual breakfast, brunch, and/or lunch. Today, they were tasked with supplying the Tea Party event as well. 

[color=ab274f]“There is a particular order which I appreciate…”[/color] Wulfric gestured at the process unfolding in front of them. He expounded upon what, to him, was key: that each person acted in accordance to their role and skills; that those who could do more strived to prove themselves yet that the whole remained unimpeded by excessive, self-sabotaging competitiveness; that if there was a lack, someone else stepped in; the existent hierarchy; the efficiency of their operations, and the wondrous final products which emerged as a result of it.

It was unnecessary to follow Prince Wulfric’s gaze; Ryn already witnessed the seamless collaboration among these individuals the day before. Their livelihood and well-being depended on it. Although the prince’s acknowledgment of the servants’ efforts was appreciated, there were other matters the count wished him to take note of. [color=9354FF]“... Is there anything else you noticed or thought?”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“Each individual and their quirks,”[/color] Wulfric sighed. [color=ab274f]“Is that your point?”[/color] He guessed.

[color=ab274f]“Let’s see…”[/color] He tracked each of them, analyzing. He didn’t know any of them, but discerning people’s habits, traits, and motives was a common practice for him.

[color=ab274f]“The head chef,”[/color] he first settled on the older man with close-cropped graying hair and short trimmed mutton chops. [color=ab274f]“His work is very much a matter of pride to him.”[/color] That was apparent by how he regarded each meal, from its conception to its conclusion. Each success served as a testament to his expertise. [color=ab274f]“He’s confident, and feels secure in his position.”[/color] He was aware of the few talents surrounding him, yet was unthreatened by them. [color=ab274f]“But he’s somewhat rigid, and - how did Zarai term that? - a sexist.”[/color] In the few interactions he’d witnessed, the chef was attentive to his most immediate male underlings, but ranged from dismissive to denigrating of the female staff.

With the exception of one. [color=ab274f]“She’s the one he can respect, possibly due to her seniority.”[/color] That woman was old; thinned silver hair tied into a bun, face wrinkled, weathered, and dry. [color=ab274f]“She’s also the type of person for whom this is her life’s work.”[/color] Yet she wasn’t even the underchef. [color=ab274f]“She is more concerned with cultivating the next generation. Kindly, but can keep them in line. Knows how to conserve her strength, however…”[/color] She was tired, strained, and with a certain heaviness about her. Focusing visibly posed her a challenge. [color=ab274f]“The ailments of old age, I suppose,”[/color] he concluded.

Wulfric went on, picking and selecting a few people to focus on. [color=ab274f]“He likes to experiment, and is familiar with foreign cuisine. There’s some strife with his more traditional superior.”[/color] An energetic youth from Felipina with a warm brown complexion, his black hair pinned up and covered. 

[color=ab274f]“She is meticulous and exacting.”[/color] A woman with a heart-shaped face and braided wheat hair, whose portly appearance and soft features were belied by her intense, singular concentration on a given task. [color=ab274f]“Good for fine, delicate work. Though, she struggles where speed is preferred over finesse.”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“[i]He[/i] is evidently enamored with swords, and fantasizes of adventure,”[/color] he nodded at a young boy. Even after one of his overseers had already twisted his ear for the distraction, the small brunette still snuck an occasional glance over his way, marveling at his sheathed sabre.

[color=ab274f]“She is skittish, wary of the two strangers here…”[/color] The willowy, black haired woman happened to catch his gaze, and he immediately realized it wasn’t quite fear that was causing her furtive glances. [color=ab274f]“No, never mind.”[/color] He promptly went on to ignore her, lest she get the fanciful notion that she had a chance, here.

Wulfric fell silent then, because he’d frankly had enough of this exercise. While he had been attentive for the duration of it, he hadn’t exhibited much enthusiasm; now, he was simply bored. He was still idly watching the servants, more so for something to do, but wasn’t interested in attempting to dissect any more of them.

Prince Wulfric’s astuteness for discerning the characteristics of the staff solely based on their actions in the kitchen was truly impressive—a skill that held great promise for future business endeavors. Although he showed little enthusiasm and harbored a noticeable reluctance towards the task, he carried out what he assumed Ryn had asked of him. The longer he continued, however, his momentum waned, and he gradually abandoned his observations, descending into silence.

A laugh cut through the stillness that had settled between them. [color=9354FF]“I must confess, I did not anticipate you to delve into character analysis… though, I suppose it’s an essential skill in this treacherous terrain we call court life.”[/color] He extended the plate of scrambled eggs back to its visibly bored maker. [color=9354FF]“Could you season this with a pinch of salt and pepper, and then mix it with the other ingredients? We’re nearly finished.”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“Oh, it wasn't that?”[/color] But if not analyzing, Wulfric didn’t know what Hendrix had meant him to do. He laughed shortly at a part of his comment, however. [color=ab274f]“This treacherous terrain is called [i]life[/i],”[/color] he remarked, darkly humorous. At the following request, he inclined his head. With exceeding caution, he seasoned the eggs, then mixed them in with the rest. He was rather looking forward to being done with this…[i]cooking[/i].

Ryn carefully transferred the dough disk onto a hot, cast-iron skillet, where it sizzled and blistered, creating pockets of golden-brown and the scent of toasting flour filled the air. [color=9354FF]“One might think one would have a clearer view of the world from the ivory tower, but the truth is, when you’re so distant from it all, it becomes challenging to see and hear what’s happening. … Unfortunately, when you venture too close, scrutinizing every detail, you risk overlooking other crucial pieces of the puzzle.”[/color]

[color=ab274f]“Perhaps,”[/color] was as far as the prince was willing to concede him on that one.

The tortilla somersaulted through the air and landed back onto the skillet. [color=9354FF]“When the staff came to talk to me, how much were you paying attention to what they were saying?”[/color]

 [color=ab274f]“To the general thread of the conversation, and…”[/color] 

[color=9354FF]“Concerns about security? Rest assured, Adel.”[/color] Without diverting his gaze from the sizzling skillet, he pointed the spatula in a seemingly arbitrary direction. Beyond the flurry of activity, near one of the exits, a sentinel stood watch—a knight belonging to Lady Morrigan’s retinue. [color=9354FF]“My ‘freedom’ here is an illusion. Your cousin has taken great pains to ensure that. From what I could gather, she has taken it upon herself to be the vigilant eye in places that often go unnoticed by those upstairs.”[/color] A brief, subtle nod of acknowledgement passed between the prince and the knight before the knight withdrew deeper into the shadows. [color=9354FF]“… Word has it that she doesn’t shy away from employing brutal methods if it means safeguarding her family.”[/color] Though the same rumors suggested less noble motivations were at play as well.

That last sentence, in and of itself, didn’t mean much to the prince. For one, violence in the name of safety (and other such lofty goals) was very much in line with how his family, and to an extent the country - nay, even humanity as a whole - operated. [color=ab274f]“You might want to be more specific,”[/color] Wulfric noted. 

[color=9354FF]“Ah… so you are not aware… I see.”[/color] For the first time there was a hint of disappointment in the count’s voice.

As Ryn continued to cook the tortillas, he started to list the names of the servants who approached him and what merchandise they sampled or requested. On the surface, the goods were mundane, spanning from kitchen utensils to an assortment of remedies. To the casual observer, there was nothing amiss. That is, until one paused to reflect. Why were these servants having to rely on a foreign merchant for the provision of essential items?

At first, Wulfric simply memorized what he was told. Eventually, a pattern emerged. Remedies for various ailments, from cuts, to bruises, burns, even torn or otherwise damaged flesh, and the like. [color=ab274f]“Hmm.”[/color] A frown marred his expression. It took him a bit to even begin to try and figure out the purpose of servants purchasing kitchen utensils - items which [i]should[/i] be available to them at their workplace. Could it be they were being made to ‘replace’ something…? In a similar vein, they had to get treatment from outside sources, and in a seemingly secretive manner to boot. Combining all Hendrix had said and implied while accounting for Morrigan’s [i]other profession[/i] painted a rather grim picture.

[color=ab274f]“I can see how that would be a problem,”[/color] the prince stated softly. His expression was tight, though his gaze was distant and indiscernible as he stared at nothing. He had witnessed Morrigan’s expertise several times. [i]On criminals.[/i] If she was expanding her pursuits outside of those boundaries…

At one point, Wulfric’s hand had found its way onto the countertop, fingers tapping away while he was lost in thought. So, quite possibly, Morrigan was tormenting their servants. [i]If so[/i], shouldn’t she be stopped?

But even as a part of him thought of the possible solutions: remove her, convince her, find someone else, run interference–

–Another part of his mind conjured the innumerable senseless brutalities he [i]was[/i] aware of.

A maid fainted? Execute her. Looked the wrong way at someone? Gouge their eyes out. Broke a vase? Off with the hand, and be grateful it’s not worse. Declared a heretic? What else but the stake. Petty criminal? Flay them alive. They didn’t show reverence? Hang them. Bored of someone? Throw them away. Oh, but if they’re useless, best send them to the afterworld! Why would it matter? They’re [i]roaches[/i], the lot of them.

Care? What care? Oh, one got too close? [i]You let?[/i] No, no, it’s a delusion, a trick! That filth, it must be cleared, it should be expunged, you will understand this one day.

[color=DDB775][i][b]Just what is this?![/b] Treason! Treason! To the guillotine with that traitor! And don’t [b]you[/b] dare ever–[/i][/color]

Sometimes, it felt like multiple voices were whispering, [color=#AB274F]K[/color][color=#9F2449]i[/color][color=#942144]l[/color][color=#881F3F]l[/color][color=#7D1C39].[/color] [color=#66172F]K[/color][color=#5B142A]i[/color][color=#4F1224]l[/color][color=#440F1F]l[/color] [color=#2D0A15]h[/color][color=#22070F]i[/color][color=#16050A]m[/color][color=#0B0205].[/color]

Wulfric’s restless fingers had long come to a stop. Even as storm clouds gathered in his gaze, overcasting the crystalline blue, there was no change whatsoever in his countenance. 

[color=Gray][i]Yet It could sense it, even from the depths of the abyss. The nascent stirrings of a storm charged the air with tension. An electric current hummed and crackled, causing every hair to rise on end. The breeze twisted and turned with increasing vigor as it carried the unmistakable scent of petrichor and anticipation. Wisps of dark shades swirled together to merge into an ever-growing mass that swallowed the once grayish blue expanse. Thunder rumbled, a deep and primal growl that reverberated through It. As It inhaled the thickened air, It savored the tingling sensation that teased Its tongue. And grinned.[/i][/color]

Suddenly, he affixed the count with a look. [color=ab274f]“Ah, not to worry,”[/color] there was quiet intensity in his words. [color=ab274f]“I happen to believe there is a difference between discipline and torture.”[/color] He [i]smiled[/i]. [color=ab274f]“I will inquire into this…and deal with it appropriately.”[/color] If there was a hint of menace, it was as fleeting as a mirage. [color=ab274f]“Thank you, Count Hendrix.”[/color] His smile was still edged with sharpness, but he’d gentled his voice as much as he could.

[i]Assuming[/i] this was the true matter the count had been leading up to all along, the prince made to take his leave.

[color=9354FF]“Ah-ah-aah.”[/color] A hand grabbed the prince’s belt, preventing him from taking another step. [color=9354FF]“Are you not forgetting something?”[/color] Ryn’s eyes twinkled as he pointed at the fresh tortilla stack, shredded cheese, and bowl of filling, waiting to be rolled into neat, tightly wrapped bundles.

The count’s hand was captured before it could make proper contact, his wrist held in a firm grip. There was a clear warning there as Wulfric turned around. However, a look of amusement soon overtook his features, and he released the offending appendage. [color=ab274f]“Are we still doing that?”[/color] he questioned. At Hendrix’s prompt, he went on to help finish their breakfast burritos.

Nonplussed, Ryn demonstrated how to assemble a burrito. [color=9354FF]“Of course we are. It’s said that breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”[/color] Each tortilla received a generous spoonful of the filling, followed by a sprinkle of shredded cheese. He folded the warm tortilla over the filling, then rolled it to ensure all melded harmoniously.

[color=9354FF]“Thank you for indulging me. I’ve learned more about you in this hour than I have the past 28 years.”[/color]

If that hadn’t been phrased so [i]strangely[/i], Wulfric might have said the same. [color=ab274f]“Well, there is something to be said about learning via interaction,”[/color] he retorted, ever so dryly. [color=ab274f]“Since we have only met the other day, I have to question what you thought you’ve been ‘learning about me’ from around the time we both happened to be born.”[/color] Though he was sure he also knew far more about the count now, it was equally true that he had even more questions. The uncomfortable sensation that Hendrix had managed to get more out of this conversation, even after Wulfric had gone along with something as ridiculous as [i]cooking[/i] to try and figure out the other man, left him feeling slightly grumpy.

However, the surprisingly delicious breakfast did make up for the prince’s troubles.

[color=9354FF]“That’s precisely why I believe it’s important to see some things firsthand and not rely solely on the words of others… that can lead to assumptions.”[/color] Ryn watched the prince enjoy the burrito that contained the scrambled eggs he initially deemed a failure. [color=9354FF]“It would be a shame to discard a potential future based on assumptions alone. Wouldn’t you say?”[/color]

His mouth being too full to answer immediately, Wulfric allowed a minimal eye roll. He had expected Hendrix to turn his words against him; after all, the prince had done the very same to the count with his own point about learning. When it was polite to speak, he met Fritz’s gaze. [color=ab274f]“Yes,”[/color] he stated. [color=ab274f]“After all, it does seem that [i]my[/i] assumptions about you have [i]also[/i] proven wrong.”[/color]

[color=9354FF]“Oh? For the better, I hope.”[/color] Ryn took a hearty bite out of the burrito and made no effort to conceal how delicious he thought it tasted.

Wulfric, who had done the same, simply gave a curt nod. He was hungrier than he’d realized.

The answer caused the count to beam. [color=9354FF]“Then we should do this again, Adel. Next time I’ll take you outside. Maybe you’ll discover something that Prince Wulfric wouldn’t be able to.”[/color] He took another mouthful of the burrito when he noticed a yellow clump on the prince. Ryn offered a napkin to him after making a wiping gesture.

A gesture he ignored, because he wasn’t finished with his breakfast yet. [color=ab274f]“If we must,”[/color] he sighed lightly. [color=ab274f]“But give me more room to plan for it,”[/color] he advised. 

With his mouth preoccupied, Ryn could only nod in response. Meanwhile, his gaze clung to the stray scrambled egg with the same stubbornness as the egg clung to the prince. Retrieving the napkin, he attempted to remove it.

Wulfric had been peacefully eating, when that damned interfering man reached out [i]much too far into his personal space[/i] - only to find the air in front of his hand obstructed by the business side of the prince’s dagger. Wulfric’s expression, for once, fully encapsulated the phrase [i]what the fuck[/i]. 

A juxtaposition to the count’s impassiveness. His stoic countenance turned into one of pity, then eased into affable nonchalance. He swallowed what he had been chewing. [color=9354FF]“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you. You have some egg on you.”[/color] Ryn pointed at it.

Slowly, Wulfric sheathed his weapon, and with equal care, removed the napkin from Hendrix’s grasp. He took a moment to finish his meal, watching the other man all the while, clearly bewildered. When he was done eating, he used the napkin himself, [i]thank you very much[/i]. 

[color=ab274f]“...Try not to get killed before then.”[/color] With that final warning, the prince departed.

[color=9354FF]“I’ll do my best.”[/color] Ryn cheerfully waved the prince off until he disappeared from view.

When his fingers brushed against the belt, Ryn sensed he had grazed something deep within Prince Wulfric. Of course there was discomfort, few welcomed the intrusion of strangers into their personal space, and the first prince seemed disinclined to tolerate such behavior even from acquaintances. Within that fleeting instant, Ryn detected something that went beyond unease. It was a feeling he had since their encounter in the entrance hall on the morning of the solstice, and grew stronger when the prince decided to equip an array of weapons and continued to wear them even within the safety of the castle. The feeling solidified as the prince’s mask shattered, revealing what had been there all along. A deeply ingrained paranoia, passed down from father to son. If King Edin was hiding behind peacock feathers, then Prince Wulfric was hiding behind weapons to protect themselves from [i][color=ab274f]“this treacherous terrain… called [b]life[/b],”[/color][/i] where “enemies” lurked around every corner and one’s own shadow could betray them at any given time.

Ryn released a heavy sigh, contemplating whether this was what their forefathers had envisioned for their lineage. A prince who did not feel safe in his own home, another who loathed his own blood so much he punished himself for it, and a king who indulged in excess as if to fill a void. After all the sacrifices made to keep the Danroses in power, were any of these people content with their lives? 

He wrapped the fork Prince Wulfric left behind in a cloth, minimizing any risk of contamination. Now he had two samples from the Danrose bloodline. Yet, instead of a sense of accomplishment, only guilt remained.[/color]