[center][h1][b][color=9354FF]Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix[/color][/b][/h1][color=9354FF]Time:[/color] Evening
[color=9354FF]Location:[/color] Damien Estate’s Ballroom
[color=9354FF]Interaction(s):[/color] Mr. V [@samreaper][/center]
[color=f7941d]“If you wish for a most grand spectacle the likes rivaling such parties that might be taboo.”[/color]

Black Rose’s afterparty crossed Ryn’s mind. Udo’s report had mentioned Baron Hugonin’s ward taking part, however, he had been absent at the group reprimand the following morning. As an attendee himself, Lord Smithwood must have known about Mr. V—though his poor opinion of commoners may have rendered Mr.V’s presence less memorable. Had he or Lady Vikena questioned him already?

[color=f7941d]“A night, unlike that like I assure to unforgettable,”[/color] [color=9354FF][i]Unlike the afterparty,[/i][/color] Ryn hoped. [color=f7941d]“But as I am one man. Some help is needed and from you, I would ask for whatever you can/or willing to tell me about Calbert and the Damien household? And one more thing, but I suppose that can wait till after.”[/color]

Intrigue and concern wrestled briefly before curiosity gained the upper hand. While prudent enough to feel some disquiet, he could not deny the spark of excitement at Mr. V’s cryptic hints of bold, likely illicit, mischief to come.

[color=9354FF]“Certainly, if it helps, I’ll gladly share what I know. And maybe you could enlighten me on a few points as well.”[/color] Ryn opened with what was common knowledge to any Erwynn citizen as one of Montauppe’s closest Varian neighbors. He then recounted his own brushes with the count since coming to Sorian. Mindful of boundaries, Ryn withheld details he had no right to divulge, but he did relay the tension between Duke Vikena and Count Damien, including Lady Vikena’s views on the count.

This inevitably led to his little conversation with Ms. Olga from The Tough Tavern. Prior to stumbling upon Prince Callum sprawled on the ground in the alley, Ryn had paid a visit to the tavern to ask the one question that had been bothering him since his first visit: What did Ms. Olga owe Count Damien for? As it turned out, a great many things—enough to win the tavernkeeper’s loyalty.

By her account, he was a good man, no matter what others said.

As Ryn spoke, two masked figures, an owl and a weasel, slipped into the ballroom. Inwardly he sighed, recognizing Peter, openly defying the crew’s decision; there would be words about that later.

For now, Ryn angled his body towards Mr. V and nodded discreetly at the red-haired pair. [color=9354FF]“Do you see that striking couple over there? The gentleman wearing a weasel mask has been keeping a close eye on the Damiens for a few days now. His insights may better serve you.”[/color]

[hr][hr][hider=Evening Sola 21, 1739][i]Consciousness returned in fragments as the world came into focus. Ryn lay prone on the carpet floor, his body struggling to move a muscle. Echoes of pain pulsated through him and his skull pounded relentlessly. 

He blinked several times before he could make out the figure kneeling in front of him—Peter, with his trademark bright red hair seeming ablaze in the dim light.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Boss,” Peter said, a hint of relief lightening his tone. He slid a supportive hand under Ryn’s shoulder, eased him into a sitting position.

Ryn attempted to speak, to ask how long he had been unconscious, but his throat felt parched and swollen, his tongue like sandpaper in his mouth. All he could manage was a hoarse croak before launching into a bout of coughing that made his head spin.

Peter tightened his grip to keep Ryn upright. “Here.” He grabbed a glass of water that he had at the ready. “Small sips,” he advised, as he brought the cup to Ryn’s lips. The cool water was a balm to Ryn’s ragged throat. Clarity returned to his groggy head.

“Lots happened,” Peter said to fill the quiet. “Remember C-Bert’s dead daughter? Well, found out she’s not so dead anymore and a helluva lot more bloodthirsty, too.”

Ryn nodded mutely and continued drinking. Though by pure chance, he learned of Lady Damien’s resurrection from [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5445683]their encounter in the park[/url] during the fireworks.
 
“Lucky for Oscar and friends, [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5453293]her long-lost half-brother came to the rescue.[/url]”

At this, Ryn’s brow furrowed. There was so much to unpack in that single sentence, so many questions to ask. He did not even know where to begin.

“Didn’t you know? C-Bert has a bastard son! Another noble who pumps and dumps random girls cause he can? [b]Shock! Gasp![/b] Tell me it isn’t so!” Peter’s disgust was evident, and not without reason. After all, he too had been born out of wedlock, cast aside and forgotten.

“Think C-Bert was off screwing some side piece behind wifey’s back? I hope so—imagine the scandal.” 

Ryn shook his head. Having witnessed the love Count Damien had for his wife and daughters, he doubted such betrayal.

“Eh, doesn’t matter I guess.” Peter shrugged. “I can live with him being a privileged jacka**, taking what he wanted from a commoner, then ditching her when things got inconvenient. Cause duty or some bullsh*t like that. Never checked on how she was doing, I bet.” A dangerous grin spread across Peter’s freckled face. 

His lips peeled back to bare teeth clenched tight enough to crack. Though the resulting smile was wide, it never reached his eyes. They remained hard and pitiless like flint, glittering with malevolence in the dim light. Sunken shadows darkened the dimples that usually lent him an impish charm. It was the smile of someone who had suffered injustice, nursed grudges, and now sought any outlet to unleash that pent-up fury.

[color=9354FF]“You’re projecting.”[/color] Ryn rasped out.
Peter leaned in close, hackles raised. “And that’s none of your f**king business, now is it?”
Ryn gave a weak smile. [color=9354FF]“Just a little.”[/color]

With a derisive snort, Peter turned away. Something caught his eye, and he froze. Ryn followed his gaze to the shattered remnants of what was once a blue figurine scattered on the mantelpiece. A different kind of pain bloomed in his chest. A fist seemed to close around his heart, squeezing until he could scarcely draw breath. Grief rose in his throat, sharp and burning as bile. He swallowed against the lump, doing his best to suppress it from taking over.

“Wayra moved his body to a safe place,” Peter related flatly. “Karl’s taking the equipment over there now.” He stood and extended a hand down to Ryn. “We better get a move on if you wanna harvest fresh organs.”

While “want” was far too strong a word for such a grisly task, Ryn knew he could not allow Udo’s remains to go to waste—as much as he preferred granting his friend a proper sea burial without disturbing his corpse at all. With effort, he shoved aside his distaste, took a deep breath to steel himself, and accepted Peter’s outstretched hand.[/i][/hider][hr][hr]
Having imparted all he could, Ryn redirected the conversation to Mr. V’s mysterious “one more thing.” [color=9354FF]“What else might you need from me?”[/color]


[hider=TL;DR]Ryn tells Mr. V what he knows of Count Calbert and the Damiens, but points out that Peter (who just walked in with Olivia) might have more useful information. He asks what else Mr. V might need Ryn for.

[u][b]Flashback:[/b][/u] After being unconscious for an indeterminate amount of time, Ryn wakes up in the guest room. As Peter waits for Ryn to recover, he mentions Calbert, Violet, and Cassius. They leave the guesthouse together to carve out Udo’s body.

[@samreaper][@Princess][@Potter][@Tpartywithzombi][@PapaOso][/hider]