[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019af2b9-6db1-7669-b1a8-71b0a5423830.webp[/img]
[color=f26522]Time[/color]: 6pm
[color=f26522]Location[/color]: Ravenwood warehouse > Ballroom
[color=f26522]Interactions[/color]: [@AuthenticTomb] Sylvia, [@Tae] Ranya
[color=f26522]Mentions[/color]: [@princess] King Eden, [@Lava Alckon] Drake, Thea [@Tae], 
[color=f26522]outfit:[/color][url=https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019cd422-ce99-733e-8c36-fa5b132276f8.webp]Traditional Ravenwood Formal Wear[/url] [/center]
[hr][hr]
[hider=Before the ball]

The rhythmic clink-clink of jeweler’s hammers and the scent of fresh cedar shavings filled the cavernous warehouse, a stark contrast to the high-stakes espionage unfolding in the back corner office. To any passing inspector, the Ravenwood Trade and Artisan Guild was a beehive of legitimate industry; at the central benches, master smiths meticulously set stones into silver filigree while tailors draped fine Varian silks. Yet the stacks of crates lining the walls held more than just raw materials—they formed a tactical labyrinth, shielding the guild’s true purpose from prying Caesonian eyes.

In the dimly lit office, the air was thick with the smell of old parchment and cold tea. Roman Ravenwood stood over a sprawling map of the capital, his raven-crested pauldron catching the low light as he leaned forward. Surrounding him was his inner circle, a jagged assembly of talent: Sven, whose hand never strayed far from his sword hilt; Astri, the shaman and priestess, who ran her fingers over smooth stones etched with runes; Sylvie, their lore keeper, who carefully sorted intelligence reports across the table; and Gloin, who chewed his lip as he calculated the gold and resources an operation like theirs required.

Erik, Roman’s handler, tapped a charcoal-stained finger on a specific dockside district. The peaceful treaty between Varian and Caesonia made this a delicate dance; one wrong move would be an international incident. They would all be burned and cast aside to the wolves. This was a private venture for Roman, with no ties to the crown. They weren't just fighting a syndicate; they were dismantling a shadow empire hidden behind the "legitimate" veneer of the Black Rose Trading Company. The mission was clear: pull the right thread without bringing the whole kingdom down on their heads.

The air in the office grew heavy as the map on the table became buried under scraps of parchment, old documents detailing sewer systems, and charcoal sketches of the city's underbelly. Roman leaned heavily on the desk, the gold-inlaid raven on his shoulder glinting in the low lamplight as he looked at his advisors. He was already dressed for the upcoming ball, his finery a strange contrast to the grim work at hand.

"[color=00a651]Sure, we’re chasin' ghosts in a kingdom that'd sooner die than admit it’s haunted,[/color]" Erik muttered, his thick Irish accent heavy in his low voice.

Sven sighed in frustration, his eyes hard. [color=fff200]"Ve still haven't found anyting on our missing strike team, or de carriage dey vere meant to intercept. Our spies vere at least right dat one of de carriages vas carrying someting important. De Black Rose has better security dan ve anticipated. De next approach should focus more on stealth and striking quick… at least dose men vere branded, and von't be able to say much of anyting."[/color]

Glóin smoothed out a crinkled report, his brow furrowed. [color=8dc73f]"This report about Hafiz is concerning. It vill need to be vetted like everything else. Ja, at least it’s something new to look into."[/color]

Sylvie tapped a series of old architectural drafts they were able to ‘acquire’ the morning after Drunkards Day. [color=0076a3]"We reviewed the available documents. The sewers are built on older foundations. If the architecture mirrors Emberstone, old tunnels exist beneath them. There is a good chance they are being used by the Black Rose."[/color]

Astri closed her eyes, her fingers hovering over a set of stones before picking one up. [color=a187be]"The shadows are thick there. They're no' just tradin' gold; there's dark forces at work. Secrets traded for lives an' blood."[/color]

Erik stepped into the light, his expression grim. "[color=00a651]Which brings us to the trial, so. We’ve the documents sorted and the witnesses lined up. Them photos we took are still curing, but they should make for solid evidence.[/color]" He took his time to light a tobacco pipe, then continued. [color=00a651]"We’ll be pressin' on with the second part of the plan, no matter how the trial shakes out. With the queen gone, the king is a wild card all over again."[/color]

Roman looked at the scattered notes—best guesses, theories, rumors, and the haunting silence of his missing men. “[color=f26522]My father has some sense of humor. We will keep up our search. After the trial, we can plan for a few undercity excursions. Though, you might be following my sister at that point.[/color]” Roman knew the plan was dangerous, even if he did survive it.

Erik nodded as the others continued their conversations. "[color=00a651]Right then, you've a ball to be gettin' to.[/color]"

There was a moment of tension between them, but it passed quickly. Roman was about to leave when Erik spoke up again.

"[color=00a651]And Roman. Mind what I told ye about Violet.[/color]"
[/hider]

[hr]

"[b]Lord Roman Ravenwood[/b]," the herald announced at the main door.

Roman strode into the opulent ballroom, projecting confidence with every step. His forest-green cloak, the color of ancient woods, flowed softly behind him, its heavy velvet folds trimmed with intricate gold knotwork that echoed the design on his dark leather brigandine. The polished metal of his single pauldron, embossed with the proud raven crest of his house, gleamed beneath the chandeliers.

With a measured stride, he approached King Eden, offering a respectful bow. His confident smile faltered for only a fraction of a second when he caught the King's eye. The events of the morning spoke volumes. If the queen could be executed, so could he.

[color=f26522]"Your Resplendence, Your Highnesses,"[/color] he said, acknowledging Eden before nodding to Wulfric and Auguste. [color=f26522]"A truly magnificent affair, Your Majesty."[/color]

His smile returned genuinely when his eyes met Alexander’s, a smirk that crept up the corner of his mouth for just a moment. Then he took a polite step back, turned, and waded into the sea of people.

Navigating the crowded ballroom, he found he was a little later than the others, just as he expected. There were quite a few familiar faces. He first noted the smiling expressions of his royal charges, accompanied by their ever-present mountain standing off to the side. A large contingency of royalty and nobility from Alidasht was present as well.

Another pair caught his eye: Drake Edwards and Thea Smithwood. It was good to see the man out of the hospital, and better still to see Thea at his side. He wouldn't lie to himself; he was worried about her. He was worried about her brother, too, who he could only assume was currently making a fool of himself somewhere. It wasn't lost on him that Callum was still missing, as was Riona. He could only hope there wasn't a connection there.

Of the people he actively wanted to speak with, he noticed quite a few had already paired up. The Briar Knight would be good company, but Roman needed to keep up appearances whether he wanted to or not. As his eyes scanned the myriads of faces, his gaze settled on two women, and he smiled. It had been quite a while since he had spoken to her, so why not?

Roman didn't force his way through the mingling nobility. Given his bulk, he stepped carefully, offering an occasional polite "excuse me" or "pardon me" until he found his intended duo near a table of exquisite desserts: Princess Sylvia and Shehzadi Ranya.

Sylvia was dressed in a billowing red and black gown, a striking contrast to the flowing light blue and gold embroidery of Ranya’s attire. It had been some time since he had seen either of them. He had crossed paths with Ranya once or twice in polite passing during trade negotiations in Alidasht, and he usually only saw Sylvia when he managed a brief hello while visiting the royal palace.

Still, he maintained his composed confidence as he stepped up to the pair with a warm smile.

“[color=f26522]Princess Sylvia Camilla. Shehzadi Ranya Al-Kadir.[/color]” He offered them both a respectful bow, deferring to their royal stations. “[color=f26522]Lord Roman Ravenwood, at your service. I do hope you don’t mind the intrusion, but I dare say the two of you are the most striking pair in the ballroom tonight.[/color]”