Aah, she could hear his voice from here. Stratya turned her head slowly, seeking out the Prince's voice as she scanned the room. She heard his voice and another's. Gingerly, she picked her way through the crowd, following the pair of voices, taking in all the various costumes and the positions of the guards as she went. As she closed in, Stratya saw the costume the Prince wore and, between his voice coming from this direction and that certain way the Crown Prince carried and presented himself, it seemed like the plague crow had to be him. She just managed to catch their parting exchange, tempered and veiled threats and all, and watched the second body depart.
As Cassius took his leave, Wulfric tilted his head, a chilling gaze following the departing figure. Had Anastasia truly had the chance to meet him? He would check in with her, just in case. But either way…It was one thing to try and provoke him, and
quite another to denigrate his sister in such a way. If the man continued with his conduct, he would find himself in the dungeons sooner or later, no matter that he was Calbert’s son. Though…He may just be tempted to arrange something less official yet equally unpleasant.
However, his ruminations were interrupted by the arrival of an armoured woman.
"Uweegk. Who invited tha' fellow, anyway?" Wait a minute.
What did he- Annie? Anast-
Ooooh, what a vile wretch, to use such a thing as a weapon. She'd have to remember to watch that one. Alas, now wasn't the time.
The person addressing him was one of their knights, if he wasn’t mistaken. Due to the masquerade, she was in a different guise than usual.
“That man was invited by his father,” he drawled, not saying who ‘the fellow’ was directly.
Invited by his
"Father?" That would mean-
"Nooo." Disbelief, though short-lived.
"That rooster?" Couldn't call him a cock directly, could she? Nooo, no no no. Besides, having a standoff with the Prince was a very rooster thing to do. Posturing and crowing.
“Yes, the rooster,” he agreed, dryly amused. Certainly, that comment could be attributed to Calbert as well as it could to Cassius.
The knight paused, unsure.
"Can't say I've been an attendee before," in an uncommon vulnerability, she seemed uncertain.
"I've," she paused, thought for a second, and continued,
"no idea what to do with myself and I'm not used to tha’." The knight chuckled at herself, certain her troubles with a party must seem so insignificant.
“What to do?” Wulfric rolled a shoulder.
“Drink, dance, make conversation…Or use the opportunity to observe people in the role of a guest instead of doing it as a guard.”"Oh, aye?" She took a moment to look around and see that.. it.. really was that simple. Well, as simple as it could get with this crowd.
"Just a nigh' at a very fancy tavern with masks and dress code, then? I'll be. Funny, how your eyes can be clouded by even unknown expectations." Amazing, also, how similarly the aristocracy spent their free time, compared to commoners. Booze and dance and talk and music. The substance was different, but the idea was the same.
With a sigh, Wulfric drained his wine glass and set it onto a table. He hummed, unconvinced at the knight’s comparison.
“I do not frequent taverns, so I couldn’t say.”Nay, the Prince wouldn't know much about taverns, would he? And he wasn't much for being friendly, he'd been raised too strictly for that.
"That who I think i'tis, under thah?" She was
trying to cover her accent. To her credit, it wasn't nearly as strong as normal.
This question caused a small hidden smirk to appear.
“That would depend on who you believe me to be,” he said, fully confident that the knight had managed to confirm that he was, in fact, the crown prince.
“And you are…” he studied her face for a long moment.
“Captain Durmand, was it?” The woman nodded in affirmation.
Since she was indeed a knight, Wulfric chose to correct her misconceptions regarding how to conduct herself at this type of an event.
“If you wish to do well here, start by being more formal. You ought to be careful how you refer to someone of a higher status, especially when that person is a royal.” Strangely enough, the prince didn’t sound particularly offended. He had just dealt with the much more insolent Damien, after all. Still, he did not wish to have it said that his employees were uncouth; thus, the advice.
His advice was good, but one thing confused her,
“I thought the idea of a masquerade was to conceal our identities? I'd ‘ate to spoil the surprise under such an excellent costume.”The knight wasn’t wrong about masquerades. But though he enjoyed the mystique, he’d have to conceal more than just his features for nobles not to recognize him.
“Technically, yes, but you will notice that many guests recognize each other,” he pointed out.
“Mm.. I suppose I shou’ be more formal, though. Hmm,” she gazed at the Prince, thoughtful for just a moment.
“Ah! Your Corvidness.”Somehow or other, Stratya settled on a fantastical title. That…It was fitting with the theme, yes, but Wulfric was rather taken aback by the idea. He laid a clawed finger to his temple (covered by the costume as it was), deeply exasperated, then settled on picking up another wine glass.
"Oh! she suddenly perked up.
“I heard from some of the guard. You had them investigate the warehouses, yeh? I was looking for a reason to sniff around there more, though it's probably too late for what I wanted. May I inquire what led you there, your Avian Grace?"Wulfric huffed at the query. Though there was a mild, reluctant amusement at her chosen form of address, he didn’t intend to explain his business to a subordinate.
“It is general practice that knights report to me, not the other way around.” Even if off-duty, he did not intend to bend that principle much.
“So, why were you seeking to investigate the area?”When she asked him about his investigation into the warehouses, he very quickly turned the question around on her without providing any information.
"Oh, no need to be like tha', Your Feathered Majesty, only suggesting we share notes, help each other out. Mine aren't very interesting, though, sorry to say.”The bird’s mask tilted at Stratya, and there was the sense that she was being studied.
“We are not in a companionable relationship, you realize?” He sounded rather baffled that she was trying to act as if they were friends.
“You are the one working for me, and whatever I choose to give you will be on a need-to-know basis,” he reiterated. The prince was admittedly skeptical of a knight who didn’t seem to be aware of something so basic.
His Corvidness was a strict boss. As strict and distant as he was proper and intelligent. Nothing like her guard captain back home. More like the sergeant she served under in the army, but even he had his soft spots. She remembered his first impression of the Crown Prince, like a bleedin’ wall, he was. None of which she was allowed to say.
“I 'eard a rumor of a princess sighting at a la'e nigh' party, dug up some information about tha', sounded about right. Went check it out, but turned up naught. Either they cleaned up very well, or I got the wrong place, or.. I'll admi', I didn't look for hidd'n rooms or anything. Didn't seem wise to give more time to flimsy information, especially with how noisy things 'ave been gettin'." In particular, she was referencing the gunfire from earlier in the week.
“Hmm…” Wulfric took a moment to assess the utility of what she’d discovered.
“Not entirely hopeless given you were working on a mere rumour, I suppose,” he decided.
“There should be something at the warehouses,” he relayed.
“The involved party is Black Rose.” Those were the pieces of information he was willing to provide.
“Why don’t you show me what more you can unearth? You can even be officially assigned to the case.” It was a challenge and suggestion wrapped in one.
At least he saw fit to throw her a bone.
“Thank you deeply, Your Corvidness. I will reevaluate my approach to the warehouses before I return there.” It was a tiny bone, but possibly very dense. She'd have to see if there were any records pertaining to the group. Black Rose.
There was something else the captain had investigated recently.
"Have you 'eard much good information about that incident during the festival? The one with gunfire and all." Because 'assassination' was such a fun word to throw around at a high-profile party. It had been an unsuccessful attempt in this very estate. If she knew more about the perpetrator, she could take a guess at whether they would come back or not. Ever more reason for the light armor and concealed weapon.
Her line of questioning inadvertently strengthened his impression that she was a busy-body, and he wondered if she was snooping around merely to satisfy her personal curiosity.
“Ah, the shooting.” It was an involved incident.
“The suspect is that woman recently pictured in the newspaper.” He didn’t mind giving her that tid-bit for free.
“Now, unless you have any further intel…?” The prince was clearly ready to dismiss her.
The newspaper? She could ask her colleagues, instead, but if there was a whole picture in the paper, then that might be faster. However.
“I do. I was nearby when the shoots were fired, and I went to investigate the scene. The number of guards in the area was very helpful in putting the picture together.” Stratya found herself with a glass of wine in her hand, from one of the staff butling around. She sipped (ooh, it's sweet),
“there are two things that bother me about that incident. First, the assassination attempt itself. From what was described to me, and from the state of the room itself, I do not believe one or even two people could have achieved what was witnessed with mundane means. Two, the perpetrator, by all counts, disappeared. In an alley. No one saw her leave the estate grounds. No one found her on the estate. For all the eyes on the scene.” The knight took another sip, and leaned in slightly, to speak softly to only him,
“I smell magic, Your Corvidness.”As Stratya continued with her findings, his attention suddenly fixed on her. Rather akin to how a predator’s did on its prey, though he was simply interested in what she was saying.
“Perceptive, captain, very perceptive.” It was a compliment, yet the tone was incongruously ominous, and Stratya was suddenly wondering if maybe she shouldn't have tipped her hand.
“Yet a dangerous word to utter in public…However, you are correct,” he affirmed near-silently.
“I will want to know how familiar you are with the topic, but for now…Based on what was actually done during the attack, your assessment of the motive may be amiss,” he noted.
He paused for a moment as he considered something.
“And, if you smell it here,” it being magic,
“you will find the stench even stronger in the case of that party,” his voice was still low as he told her this.
“The people who attended it can remember events precisely up until their arrival at the location. Then, it’s as if someone or something cut off their memories for the whole night. Strange, no?” he questioned rhetorically.
“Mind, the attendants have been questioned on their recollections already.” It was a subtle way of saying that she needn’t bother the guests herself.
“Remain vigilant,” he advised.
Very specific mass amnesia?
“Your Magnificent Plumage is correct, it reeks. Hmm..” Any chemical attempt to induce such an effect would have staggering side effects and be very difficult to inflict on so many without drawing attention. It was a very precise effect, from what the Prince told her. A powerful one, too, felt by a lot of people. So how did they manage to do it? Did they just…eat whatever the backlash was? Not that she was sure that diverting it somehow was possible, but there must probably be some way. If they did just eat it, then they must be reeling.
Reeling so hard, they might still be feeling it. They likely couldn't have been party to the assault on the estate, since there were only hours between the two events.
“There are two..?” She wasn't certain, she couldn't be sure how much downtime the mage behind the party's amnesia would need to fully recuperate, but she got the sense that it would be a while.
Each time the knight uttered another variation on a corvid-themed title, Wulfric felt compelled to drink more alcohol. His chalice was nearly empty once again at this point.
“Two?” he prompted, and Stratya explained her silent musings to him.
“Hm. From what I have heard, one assailant was seen. She broke into the building, and then an acquaintance of hers who had been inside absconded with her. No one had noticed any assistants. Since she was seen, if she had other help, would they not have been witnessed as well?” It seemed a relatively safe assumption to make that she had been working alone. Though if others had been involved, he would seriously question just how that had been overseen.
Stratya also relayed her reasoning that any party-goers would not be suspect for the attack on Damien’s estate.
“Well,” Wulfric sighed.
“The man who chose to leave the mansion in such a strange fashion,” meaning,
with the suspect in question,
“had in fact been witnessed on the way to the party.” He drank the last of his second glass.
“Enough of that, captain,” he said, returning to a normal volume.
“I appreciate your concerns for safety, but you are off-duty.” Mostly, the prince believed they had discussed something sensitive long enough; eavesdroppers were a concern even (or especially) when you took care not to be overheard. So, he cut the conversation short, and dismissed her with finality.
Ack, he called her rank so loudly. Had he had that much to drink? Maybe it was just because they'd been hushed. He
had drained his glass rather quickly in her company. Whenever she had addressed him with a flourish. Oops. As stiff as ever, it seemed. He probably didn't want to hear any more bird-themed titles, so he sent her off. Oh, dear. But he had given her much to think about, as well. She'd let the information stew in her mind as she roamed the party.
Additionally, the Crown Prince had told her she's off-duty, so taking things too seriously at the moment would be a violation of a direct command.
“Aye.” She'd just have to think about it later.
“Away wiv me, then.” Off to find some more of this sweet wine, and maybe someone who's less tense. To party with, as directed.
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