Stratya Durmand

Time: 28th Sola, Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Military Formal, in Caesonian colors
Boar Mantle of Spring Hunting
Family Dirk + Crest, worn on the right
Swordbreaker, also worn on the right
Interactions: Victoria, Gideon @princess, Torvi @Tae, Zarai @Rodiak
Mentions: Sjan-dehk, Iyen @Apex Sunburn, Kalliope

As she had turned away, Prince Callum had retorted, and, well, she came from a chatty place. How did he expect her to go about all the decorum if she could only think about the delicious smells and how they weren’t in her stomach yet? But that wasn’t a proper response - which, apparently, he was into now - no, that would sound more like, “You su’prrise me, Prrince Callum.” as she rounded the table, stepping behind the Edwards’ seats, “I suppose I ‘ad yer prriorrities crrossed.” And then, not insincerely, but with all the conviction of a piece of paper, “my apologies.” She’d been too busy responding to Callum to compliment the young lady with the hair clip. Tsk.

~

As she continued to dig in, she heard.. was that Ariella’s voice, rebuking her mother? Oooh, ho ho! Interested, the brunette glanced down the table as she chewed another mouthful of delicious, tender ribs. Her head turned - just - enough - to get her eyes on the Duchess. She did not want to somehow get caught in a crossfire and ruin her meal with an argument she didn’t need to get involved in. She remembered the dismissive tone with which she’d been received at Drake’s party, despite her sharp, finely-made uniform. Depending on how combative she felt, the Duchess might want to start something with anyone she chose.

She’d been hearing the Duchess’s choice manner, but had been making an effort to ignore it. The song and dance, mercifully brief, were behind her now, it was easier to relax, and the meal in front of her meant her hunger would be sated. She could probably withstand Victoria, with her belly sated.

There was some manner of disturbance behind her and to the side, but at almost the same time, a pair of fresh arrivals fell in a heap. The first disturbance had drawn her attention to the side, just in time to see Gideon and Victoria, with Gideon becoming upset. Gideon was becoming upset. It made her think of the disgusted look Alibeth had given Edin, just minutes ago. From there, she’d taken a moment to examine the trio that had entered. The man was carrying the woman in a dress, which was a rather eye-catching stunt at an event like this. Ah, but they seemed to be struggling. Rather, she was struggling against him, and he was struggling to stay balanced. Looked like he wanted to put her down - aah, and down they went.

Victoria was keeping her voice down, which was fine. Stratya wasn’t terribly keen on getting into a squabble with her while she was trying to eat. What she did notice, as she continued to eat, was the man, the one that had been carrying the woman, had a hand on his sword. Her eyes watched even as she ate, though now, she was getting ready to stand, should something.. no. That hadn’t been his intention, he was laughing it off now. If she had to guess, it was just an old habit. From the way he fell earlier, his body was used to combat. She relaxed again, getting back into her meal.

She’d eaten her ribs, gone through some of the mashed potatoes, and now some corn was going to disappear into her stomach with a practiced typewriter back-and-forth motion. She'd also grabbed some duck, which was now waiting on her plate. Someone familiar could tell she’s been practicing more polite table manners, keeping noises down and generally not being a nuisance to sit next to; A year or two ago, she might have been.

Hey, hadn’t there been a chair there?

The curious observation was followed by the woman she had assumed to be the man’s guard, making off with the place setting where there had also been a chair. Well.. it had been unoccupied, after all.. She would only incline her head at the woman, if she noticed the gaze watching her. Stratya had no intention of causing a scene. Not for this woman, anyway.

Speaking of, something was happening down at the far end. She couldn't hear well, but from the expressions going around, she could guess.

Maybe it was the mead, but “is Victorria off on anothair tyrrade, Duke Gideon?” It was about the only thing Stratya ever heard out of the woman's mouth. With doubt in her tone, as though dubious of Victoria's technique, “I s’ppose tae ken ‘ow ye should nae be’ave is imporrtan’, too.” The knight began to get herself another serving of food, “a shame yerr good self ‘as tae sufferr thrrough ‘er strrange methods.”

Her stab at Victoria offered, Stratya turned her attention to the ladies sitting with her. The yet empty chairs that remained at their table did not escape her notice, either, “is this.. ‘fashionably late’?”

Time: Evening
Location: Banquet Hall
Attire: Dress & Hair
Interaction: @Helo Callum/Clarence, [@Reusable Sword] Roman, @FunnyGuy Alexander, @Tpartywithzombi Violet, @SilverPaw Wulfric, @princess King Edin, & Queen Alibeth
Mentions:


Mina's fingers trailed the stem of her wine glass like a bored cat with a string, her gaze drifting lazily toward the front of the room. Wulfric's voice cut through the ambient hum like a needle through silk, and she tilted her head just enough to catch the weight of his words. Her lips parted into a slow, syrupy smile.

“A touch freer?” she mused aloud, voice languid and warm with amusement. “That’s one way to describe it. I’d say I’ve just remembered how to breathe.” A beat passed. “Terribly scandalous, I know.”

Beside her, Sebastian remained perfectly poised, though she could feel the disapproval radiating off him in waves. His knuckles whitened subtly against his glass, and his silence said volumes. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was furious—and, for the moment, she didn’t care.

Then came Callum’s voice, and her name on his lips sent a cold ripple through her chest, despite the heat that still lingered in her limbs. The wrongness of it still hadn’t settled, even if his face now wore a different expression, a different life. She turned toward him slowly, lips parting, but not for a sharp retort. No, she wouldn’t show her discomfort. She’d already learned to smile through worse.

“Oh, Prince Callum,” she exhaled, placing a hand gently against her chest in mock remorse. “You wound me. Of course you deserve a good evening. In fact…” Her eyes traced him with a slow, deliberate flicker as she took in the crown, the tailored coat, the bearing that didn’t quite fit like it once did.

“When I first looked up and saw you—" she paused, lashes fluttering as if in confession, “I couldn’t recall ever seeing you in a crown before. You were striking. It made my heart flutter, I’ll admit. I forgot how to speak.”

A knowing smirk curled on her lips, lips that wrapped around a sip of wine like punctuation. “So you see, my silence was not insult, my Prince… only awe.”

The lie dripped like melted sugar, too sweet to be taken seriously, but dressed up just well enough to pass as sincere. She knew it, he’d know it…and still, it would do.

Mina's attention now turned back to Alexander as he chastised her for the improper introduction. She laughed lightly at his reply, the sound a delicate thing wrapped in mischief. “It was perfect,” she echoed under her breath, her gaze dipping toward her lap as if the memory had briefly warmed her from the inside out.

Sebastian, however, did not share in the amusement.

His jaw tensed at Mina’s casual mention of the carnival, and even more so at the familiarity in Deacon’s tone. He had remembered the emotions he felt from her through the blood bond that night and it had taken everything in him not to go after her, to check on her. He had promised to give her space, however, and so he had honored that. It hadn't kept him from asking about it later, though, and the reply he got from Mina that she had made a new friend was only more frustrating to him at the time.

“Alexander Deacon,” he repeated, as though trying the name on his tongue and not particularly liking the taste. “Yes, I recall hearing something about the festivities.”

“Count Sebastian Blackwood, as I'm sure you know thanks to our lovely Mina.” His voice remained civil, but not warm. “I’m pleased to finally meet the man who’s been… occupying my niece’s time.”

Mina didn’t even flinch, she took another sip of wine and leaned back in her chair, legs crossed and expression delightfully unreadable. “I do keep excellent company,” she said, flashing Alexander a slow smile. “It was only a matter of time before you two crossed paths.”

Sebastian, meanwhile, had already decided the conversation had taken a direction he had no desire to follow. Mina’s tone, Deacon’s comfort, the subtle thread of tension hanging in the air from others around, it all left a sour taste in his mouth. There was no sense in lingering in it.

Instead, he shifted slightly, angling his body away from the others as his eyes landed on the foreign woman beside him. A diplomatic and quite charming smile curled across his face, practiced and smooth.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure,” he said to Iyen, extending a hand with far more interest than he’d shown Alexander. “Count Sebastian Blackwood. And you are…?”

Mina’s wine glass hovered midair, her fingers frozen in a delicate grip as Alexander’s words sliced cleanly through the table’s tension. Her head tilted slightly, expression unreadable for a beat too long, until a soft, almost amused huff left her lips.

“Careful?” she echoed, her voice low and silken, with the faintest edge of disbelief. “Darling, I may have the manners of a countess, but I wasn’t raised to tremble at shadows or men. So if you think I’ve ever needed a man to protect me from another man, you haven’t been paying attention.”

Still, as she turned her gaze toward Roman, something in her sharpness softened. No judgment. No anger. Just a quiet crease in her brow and a flicker of concern in her eyes. It was small, but unmistakable. She searched his expression for some unspoken truth, some hidden regret or denial. Then her eyes slid to Violet, just as measured. Just as curious.

“I’m not in the habit of taking court gossip as gospel,” she continued lightly, swirling the wine in her glass as she leaned back. “So I think I’ll wait to hear it from the ones who were actually there… assuming they care to share. Then I shall pass my own judgement on the situation.”

She took a sip, slow and unbothered, though her eyes remained watchful beneath lowered lashes. “After all,” she added with a faint smile, “you can tell a lot about a person by what they don’t say.”

Beside her, Sebastian's fingers drummed once against his wine glass before going still. He said nothing at first, letting Mina navigate the storm herself—she was no child, after all—but his gaze had flicked to Alexander with veiled distaste. The boy had a sharp tongue and no concept of timing. Dangerous traits in a man so quick to speak and so slow to think.

Roman, though…

His eyes found the young lord across the table, lingering a moment. There had always been something promising in him, something real. He’d hoped, in quieter, more private corners of his heart, that Mina might someday see it too. But that hope came with a silent expectation: that Roman prove worthy of it.

Sebastian’s voice was quiet, but firm. “Let us hear the truth, then. From both sides.” A pause, and then to Wulfric, a polite, diplomatic nod. “Before anyone decides who deserves what.”

Then came the King's words and Mina felt disgust and irritation boil beneath her skin. Her smile twitched, as if teetering between amusement and disbelief. She turned her gaze to Edin, eyes gleaming like a polished blade.

“Goodness, Your Majesty,” she said sweetly, lifting her goblet in a delicate toast. “I do hope that was a jest. I'd hate to think a man of your stature still believes a woman can be struck into sense.”

Then, with a graceful pivot, she turned toward Queen Alibeth, giving her the softest, most deliberately sympathetic smile. “Her Majesty the Queen must have the patience of a saint. Or the reflexes of a swordswoman.”

She gave a gentle laugh, light as champagne, and took a sip of her wine as if she’d simply complimented the table’s centerpiece rather than set it on fire.

Sebastian didn’t look at her, but his voice came low and clipped, just loud enough for her to hear over the table’s din.

“Mina.”

One word. Warning wrapped in steel.

Then, almost like nothing had been said at all, he raised his glass politely toward the King and Queen, his expression carefully blank—but the tension in his jaw made it clear: she was toeing a line, and he wasn’t going to let her dance across it.

---

Time: 6 pm
Location: Castle Dinning Hall
Interactions: Thea, Drake, Gideon & Victoria, Charlotte, Ariella
Attire: “Why was I not told red was the color for tonight?”

“I’m… getting through the night,”

Leo gave Lottie a concerned glance. Again, he stood from his seat and placed an arm around Charlotte’s shoulders, softly squeezing one shoulder as he offered a comforting sideways hug. “If you need anything at all, simply ask, we are here for you.” He said quietly.

“Lorenzo’s doing well tonight. And look, Count Hendrix is over there looking out for him, too.” He whispered, assuming Lottie’s distress came from recalling how disastrous both the Alidasht dinner and Royal Curd brunch had gone. Tonight was different; the scandals involved others, and the two of them, and their families, were merely spectators in others' misfortunes. As it should be.

“Has everything been alright with you?”

“Oh, absolutely. Thea and I had a wonderful talk over breakfast. She knows everything. And she’s willing to help as well.” He whispered into her ear as his eyes looked from Wulfric, to Hendrix, and finally to Gideon. “Doesn’t matter who else is here tonight, you’re surrounded by allies. Everything will be alright.” He quietly encouraged. Leo removed his arm and returned to his seat, hoping that at least a little of his optimism had spread to Lottie.

“Well hopefully some good food can bring us together! And perhaps some scathing reviews of various shenanigans throughout the night.”

Every time Drake spoke, Leo liked him a little bit more. “Indeed, it will, Lord Drake. Good food, exceptional company, and scandalous entertainment; it can only add up to a wonderful night.” Leo agreed,

“Who is she anyway?”

Duchess Edwards stayed focused on the scandal Kalliope had set in motion. “Kalliope Arden. I’m under the impression she works for the palace in some capacity.” Leo offered a snippet of what he knew, a playful grin as he waited to share the woman’s previous scandal with an interested Duchess.

“She looked like she’d climb the nearest chandelier if it meant someone else’s husband would look up her skirt.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. Wherever that woman goes, drama inevitably follows…” He replied, grin widening as he tried to drum up Victoria’s interest, a means of distraction from picking out those at their table. Leo was just about to delve into a story when Thea spoke up.

“Though I do envy your confidence. It must take a certain kind of self-assurance to confuse a woman’s boldness with her worth, or a fall with a failure. But then, I suppose when one is so far removed from youth, passion begins to look like scandal.”

Leo looked at Thea, and just barely, almost imperceptibly shook his head.

“Perhaps the duchess should start with a mirror before auditioning for a spotlight.” His sister whispered to him.

“Thea, please, think of Drake, let’s not cause trouble with his family.” He softly whispered his advice back, a gentle shift of perspective rather than an outright chastising. He glanced at Drake, whose attempts at diplomacy never went unnoticed, and Leo understood with perfect clarity how uncomfortable it was to watch those around you launch verbal arrows at one’s mother.

“The line between passion and scandal is thin. It takes wisdom and experience to know where that line lies.” Leo countered, his attention resting on Victoria as a warm and easy smile spread across his face.

“And when it comes to Kalliope, she is firmly rooted in scandal.” His eyebrows raised as a sordid tale lingered behind his lips. He teased the Duchess's attention with the promise of it. One of the knights, Stratya, walked by only to slide a biting remark in before scampering off. Leo’s eyes shifted to Gideon, wondering briefly if the man had the backbone to defend his wife. It was one thing for Ariella to call out her mother, another entirely for a man of Gideon’s stature to sit there while a stranger took shots at his wife from a distance.

“You know, just the other day Lottie and I shared a table with Kalliope at The Royal Curd, a brunch to honor the generous and gracious King Edin.” A heavy and dramatic sigh escaped him, an ominous hint at how that brunch had gone.

“And would you believe it? Kalli turned that whole brunch into the messiest affair. She showed up fueding with the man who carried her in tonight, a Captain and Marquis from Jafi, Sjan-dehk, and the man's, well, I’m still not sure if Iyen is a lover or a bodyguard.” Leo continued, as he directed Victoria in the direction of the two from Jafi who had entered with Kalli.

“But boy, did those three turn a whole brunch into an uncomfortable affair. It was downright embarrassing to witness such theatrics play out before a single plate of food was at the table. Then, I swear to the Gods, Kalli flipped her lid over every mention of cheese at a restaurant themed around the dish. Shouting and eventually brandishing a knife, the second someone mentioned a melty brie or sharp cheddar.” Leo kept his attention on Vicrotia, trying his best to keep her attention on him. All he needed was to build a little goodwill between their two families.

“Insanity. Clearly, the girl is not right in the head. Deranged even. Honestly, I’ve never seen such fear in Lady Morrigan’s eyes as i did at that brunch. To think that someone would dare grip a weapon in the presence of the king's cousin.” Leo shook his head with heightened disappointment. He ensured his story tantalized and exaggerated the drama to distract and captivate the Duchess as best he could.

“Apologies, Duchess Edwards, for stealing your ear for such gossip, but when someone is that unhinged and dangerous, I think it best to warn the respectable sort about it.” Again, he smiled, making it seem as if such gossip was beneath Victoria and he was at fault for indulging in it.

“You know what else I’ve noticed. Never before have I seen any of this nation’s fine and aloof Princes so taken with a lady as Prince Callum seems to be with your daughter. But of course, if any family is worth royal attention, it would be one as distinguished as yours. You must be very proud of Lady Ariella.” Leo added, and his warmest smile extended to Ari as did his best to force a distant mother to complement her daughter.

What else could the Duchess say? Insult a prince in the king’s palace, call him an unworthy match? Leo doubted the Duchess was that foolish. Surely Victoria would love to admit that she had in fact, raised a young woman so well that she now had one Caesonia’s princes wrapped around her finger. He appealed to her sense of pride.

Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Dress, Amulet
Interaction: @Tae Thea @Helo Leo

---

Charlotte blinked in surprise as Leo’s arm gently wrapped around her shoulders. Without hesitation, she leaned into the warmth and offered him a brief, full-on genuine embrace.“Thank you, Leo… Don't worry, I'm okay.” Her gaze followed the direction of his gesture as he pointed toward Lorenzo and Fritz, and she gave a small nod, the usual practiced smile blooming on her lips, as if that single moment of acknowledgment could chase away the storm still quietly churning inside her.

“Oh, absolutely. Thea and I had a wonderful talk over breakfast. She knows everything. And she’s willing to help as well.” Charlotte's gaze snapped to Thea, and it felt as if her heart had twisted. A sharp pang of worry gripped her chest. The thought of her being drawn into this darkness made Charlotte’s stomach churn. She understood why Leo had confided in his sister, especially after what he’d endured; of course he'd seek her support.

Yet... It felt in that moment as if she had poisoned another person she cared about.

“Doesn’t matter who else is here tonight, you’re surrounded by allies. Everything will be alright.”

Charlotte nodded, lips twitching into something that might’ve been a smile, but the light didn’t quite reach her eyes. She wanted to believe him. She truly did.

But a strange heaviness had settled over her, as if the room had suddenly grown colder. She could have sworn she had seen the lights flicker, or maybe her eyes had.

Her gaze grew unfocused as her thoughts blurred, but then Victoria's voice drew Charlotte’s attention. Her words were laced with scorn as they cut through the ambient hum of the banquet. Charlotte’s fingers curled tightly around the fabric of her gown as she listened to the onslaught.

It was an all-too-familiar rhythm—cruelty veiled in jest, judgment hidden behind carefully chosen words. Charlotte knew this tone. It was the one so often used about her and Lorenzo in hushed corners and whispered halls. Hearing it now, even when it was directed at someone else, made her stomach twist with unease.

“She looked like she’d climb the nearest chandelier if it meant someone else’s husband would look up her skirt.”

Charlotte winced, her expression faltering as if the words had struck her directly. She was ever so certain that Victoria did not know even the slightest about Kalliope, even if Charlotte herself did not either.

If we expect men to take women more seriously… Then we, as women, must stop degrading each other.

Perhaps if Charlotte hadn't felt as weary, she would have been first to speak up, but Thea had acted with more haste anyhow.

“Duchess Victoria, I must say, it’s refreshing to hear your thoughts aloud. Most people wait until they’re alone to sound so terribly insecure... You speak of dancers and desperation, yet I imagine it takes a truly gifted performer to balance so many masks at once. Jealousy disguised as concern, bitterness as etiquette, and of course, judgment wrapped in lace.”

She had always thought many had underestimated Thea simply because of how she struggled the last year. But Charlotte had seen the strength beneath Thea’s softness. And as Thea spoke now, poised, articulate, unflinching, Charlotte felt a flicker of pride stir in her chest. The way she stood up to that bully of a woman… It may not have been the most "proper" way to handle things, but what was etiquette worth if it meant letting people like Victoria say as they pleased? A faint smile began to tug at her lips.

“Though I do envy your confidence. It must take a certain kind of self-assurance to confuse a woman’s boldness with her worth, or a fall with a failure. Besides why bother acting as if Kalliope is the whore of Caesonia when Charlotte's right here?”

Charlotte's brows furrowed and her spine stiffened, as if her body had registered the blow before her mind could catch up.

Surely… she had heard wrong.

She had to have heard wrong.

Thea then turned to Leo, “Perhaps she should start with a mirror before auditioning for a spotlight. ” And with that, Thea reclined, and Charlotte could have sworn she saw it. The glint in Thea’s eyes. The ghost of a smirk.

“The line between passion and scandal is thin. It takes wisdom and experience to know where that line lies....And when it comes to Lottie, she is firmly rooted in scandal.”

It hadn't made sense, but oh, how it had hurt. Was she tired? Was her head playing tricks?

Or... Or did they actually dislike her?

Maybe it would have been easier to discern if she hadn't felt crushed by such an overwhelming sense of dread.

Nonetheless, it wasn't like Charlotte had a plethora of friends after all. Even though Thea and Leo had been far away in Varian, they had been her only lifelong friends. As Leo went on to casually regale the tale of Kalliope at the Royal Curd, she found herself pinching at her wrist hard to see if perhaps she was asleep, but alas, she was not.

As the conversation faded into the background, a cold sensation traced around her ankle beneath the table. It felt like fingers, and she jolted. Though her reaction had been quiet, her movement barely noticeable to anyone else... When she glanced up, it felt as though the entire world had stopped to look.

Every passing giggle twisted in her ears, warped into something cruel and deliberate.

Her gaze locked onto Duchess Victoria, whose eyes were sweeping her from head to toe with a look so disdainful, so palpably amused, that it made Charlotte feel as if her very existence was offensive.

Like she was a stain on the fabric of the room.

Her fingers drifted to her neck, rubbing anxiously at the skin that now felt too warm, too exposed. Her throat tightened, and her heart began to race so violently she feared she might collapse.

“...Insanity. Clearly, you're not right in the head. Deranged even. ” Charlotte's gaze had shifted to meet Leo's eyes as he addressed her. Then, as if nothing had happened, his attention returned to Duchess Victoria, but the rest of his words became a wash of garbled sound, like voices underwater.

Charlotte staggered a half-step back from the table as her balance tilted.

"I'm... I'm so sorry."

The words were small. Too small. They slipped from her lips like petals torn from a dying flower, whispered more to herself than to anyone else. They probably hadn't heard her as she hurried away back to her seat at the other table.

She reached immediately for her wine glass, her trembling fingers curling around its stem like it might anchor her to something real.

But she didn’t drink it. Instead, she stared down at the ruby liquid as it shimmered in the candlelight.

Her reflection stared back in distorted ripples, eyes wide and unblinking.

And then the thought came.

What if it’s poisoned?

The maroon liquid swirled about lazily in the strange glass. Sjan-dehk watched it shimmer under the warm light of the banquet hall’s many lamps, his hand cupping the glass’ bulb, its stem clamped loosely between his fingers. He brought the glass up and closer to his face. A sugary aroma, tinted with fruity notes, wafted into his nose – a notable difference from the subtle, earthy, and leafy scents favoured by most Viserjantan spirits. Sjan-dehk took a careful sip, and didn’t swallow immediately. Instead, he allowed the sweetness to soak into his tongue. Caesonian wine was meant to be savoured slowly, after all.

Or at least, that was what he assumed. He really was just mirroring what he saw from everyone else.

“Too sweet,” Iyen remarked, her voice strained as she coughed a few times. She set the glass on the table and covered her mouth with an arm. “I think it needs some Sudhrayarn woodiness. Or at least a pineapple or banana to add to the flavour.”

“It’s already got grape in it, I think. Pineapple and banana would add too many flavours. It’d taste like what Avek brews at the end of every month.” A wry smirk came across Sjan-dehk’s face as held his glass up to the light for a moment. Then, he placed it on the table. “I’ve to admit, local drink seems a lot more colourful than what we get in the Commonwealth.”

“Doesn’t taste as good, though,” Iyen replied, but proceeded to drain her glass anyway, in one long gulp.

Sjan-dehk looked sideways at her, a brow raised. “I think you’re supposed to sip it.”

“I know,” Iyen said with a grin. “But this way it gets refilled faster.”

No sooner had she said those words than a serving girl appeared out of nowhere to refill Iyen’s glass with the same, maroon wine. The Sudhrayarn gave her a wide smile whilst saying her thanks. A faint, uncertain upwards twitch of the lips was the girl’s response, along with a quick bow, her hand holding her apron and skirt down. Sjan-dehk looked between her and Iyen. Then he sighed, shook his head, and gave the girl his own word of thanks as she turned to leave.

“Really?” He asked Iyen.

“What can I say?” Iyen replied with a shrug and a mischievous smile. “She’s cute.”

“You don’t even speak the same language, Iyen.”

She giggled and took a long drink from her glass. “Won’t stop me from trying, Sjan-dehk. Just watch.”

“I don’t expect it to,” Sjan-dehk replied with a chuckle. He twisted around, and found Stratya standing next to a pair of nobles, a man and a woman. Her earlier glance towards Iyen hadn’t slipped the notice of either Viserjantan. “Just don’t get too drunk. You’re already being watched. It wouldn’t be fun if I have to pretend to not know you for the rest of the evening. Or if I have to pick you up from jail.”

Iyen turned her head to follow his gaze. “She’s pretty, too. In an officer-ish way, like Idah.” She then looked at him from the corners of her eyes, her expression playful. “Shi’s still prettier, though.”

Sjan-dehk sighed and turned back to the table. “Don’t even start, Iyen.”

“I won’t. Not yet, at least.” The tease in her words were clear in her voice, and from her elfish grin. Picking up her glass, she raised it towards Sjan-dehk. “Diya mesrempet iti, diya kaping saphateh?” It was a typical Sudhrayarn toast: ‘If you don’t get drunk, you’re not going home.’

Sjan-dehk grinned, and answered in Jafin. “Tsat heik’paansui, wak tahn’dah suwahn.” ‘If you get drunk, I’m stealing your boat.’

The two laughed quietly, clinked glasses, and sipped their wine. Well, Sjan-dehk sipped. Iyen emptied just about half of her glass in one go. “Duwah!” She cheered, again in Sudhrayarn, as she set her glass on the table with so much force that, for a moment, Sjan-dehk wondered if she was going to snap the stem clean in half. He placed his own down in a gentler manner.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. Count Sebastian Blackwood. And you are…?”

Iyen immediately snapped her head around to face the man to her left, a look of abject surprise painted all over her face. She said nothing at first, and simply looked at his face, then at his hand. “Hello,” she said in a small, almost strangely so, voice. Then, keeping her eyes on him as one might with a dangerous animal of unknown temperament, she leaned back towards Sjan-dehk.

“What do I do?” she whispered.

“Are you thick?” Sjan-dehk’s voice was dry. Sardonic, almost.

“I feel like I am, right now.”

Sjan-dehk shook his head, then looked at the man with as friendly a smile as he could muster. “I apologise for my friend,” he said with a shallow bow of his head. This stranger’s attire, the way he spoke, and simply the way he carried himself gave him all of the airs of a nobleman. His voice did carry hints that he wasn’t a Caesonian, and his pale complexion made Sjan-dehk believe that he was a foreigner to these lands. “I am Wasun Sjan-dehk,” he continued, and patted his chest. “My friend, she is Rasehnyas Iyen Jodhesi. She is not yet good with your language or your ways.”

He then gave Iyen a slight nudge. “This is all basic stuff,” he whispered. “You should know this. If they give you their hand, you shake it and introduce yourself. Then you say something nice.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, ask him how he is, or something.”

Iyen nodded hesitantly. She took the man’s hand in a gentle grip, though not in the delicate meaning of the word, but rather in a way that made her seem like she was afraid of breaking it by accident. “I am what he say,” she said haltingly. “Rasehnyas Iyen Jodhesi. Of Sudhrayar. And Viserjanta.” She shook his hand with firmness, and only once, before pulling her own back. A brief, awkward silence followed, before she finally added, “You are…You are okay?” She waved her hand in front of her face. “Your face, it is very white. You are unwell?”

Sjan-dehk couldn’t decide if he wanted to slap her, or slap himself.

He was still in the middle of wondering whether or not he should help her, when he saw a familiar figure in the corners of his eyes. Charlotte. She was walking back to her seat, and for a moment Sjan-dehk thought nothing of it. It wasn’t until he was just about to look away when he noticed something off about her. About the way she moved. A strange slowness, unsteadiness, coloured her steps. Was something the matter?

“Excuse me,” Sjan-dehk said.

“What?” Iyen exclaimed and spun around to face him. “You can’t just leave me to handle this alone!”

“Yes, I can. Just watch.” Sjan-dehk gave her a grin. “Just treat this as practice. You’ll be fine.”

Iyen protested, but Sjan-dehk simply gave the man a nod and an apology for his parting. Then, he picked up his hat and walked over to Charlotte. The girl was already sitting by the time he got to her, and she had her gaze focused on her glass. Was she drunk, perhaps?

He stopped beside her and tapped her gently on her shoulder. “Hello, good evening,” he said with a warm, friendly, and hopefully, reassuring smile curling his lips. “You are Charlotte, yes? I am Sjan-dehk. We have met before. Sorry to surprise you, but you look…” He trailed off, trying to think of the best words to say his thoughts in as nice a way as possible. “Not very good.” It didn’t take long for him to realise how his words could be misconstrued, and so he quickly added, “Sorry. You do look good, in the pretty way. What I mean is, you do not look well. You are…Are you okay?”

An awkward pause. He coughed into his fist, then nodded to her glass. “You drink too much?” He asked, a look of concern about his face. “You need…I mean, do you need water or something? Or to go some other place to rest?”