CitrusArms

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

FLASHBACK

Stratya & Marina

Time: Ignis 7 Morning
Location: Battlement → Square → Stratya’s guesthouse
Mention: @AuthenticTomb Sylvia @Oso Ambrose @HylianRose Lucian @FunnyGuy Donald

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Captain Durmand had been seated on a platform raising her up over the battlement, where she could see the horizon. She breathed deeply, calmly, slowly, clearing her thoughts and feeling the world around her on the wind. She heard the waters lapping at the shore of the moat below her. The smell of flowers from the nearby flower shop wafted to her from the street ahead. The door of the bakery down the street opened and shut as the baker prepared to open. The trees chattered in the breeze to her north. Above her, the warmth of the sun approached.

The warmth touched the top of her head and spread down, sucked in like a sponge by her meditative state. The warmth permeated her. The heat of the sun soaked into her muscles and her bones. The light of the sun touched her soul. As it spread, her spirit itself warmed and brightened without agitating.

When, at last, the light of the sun bathed her entirely, she took a rousing, steady, deep breath and opened her eyes slowly. Her gaze respectfully turned away from the sun as she rose to her knees, bowed, and turned to leave. She hopped down from the platform and rolled to her feet, walking off casually. She had bread to bake and breakfast to make.

As soon as the bakery had opened, many that had been waiting outside had all rushed in. And soon, Princess Marina Camilia stepped out with a parcel held delicately in both hands; she had been one of the first inside. Inside the parcel sat her breakfast: a glossy jam tart with a braided edge, warm through the paper. She lifted it closer to her face as she walked, breathing in the fruity, buttery aroma.

Then, suddenly, a shoulder clipped her hard enough to jolt her sideways. Marina stumbled, and the parcel crumpled as the tart slid forward. It hit the ground, and the pastry collapsed in on itself. Marina froze mid-step, staring down at the mess as if her mind refused to accept it. Then her brows drew together and her mouth fell open with pure grief.

“My breakfast,” she lamented, voice wounded, like someone had just kicked a puppy in front of her. She blinked once, then called after the offender who was rushing away. “Do you see what you’ve done!” Marina demanded after him with a glare, but the man simply just scowled over his shoulder before continuing on his way.

Stratya stopped, hearing the cry from the town outside the castle wall. She whipped right around and approached the battlement again, peering down from between the merlons to see what the hubbub was about. It didn’t take her long to see the young lady that had spilled her pastry. Stratya was rather far away to do anything herself, but the ward was lush with guards these days. Then again, was she really going to shout orders over a pastry? She had her fife, but, well. As far as crimes went, spilling somebody’s pastry was a refreshing breeze.

She’d rather just fix the problem. Being robbed of your meal just before you could eat it was a special kind of heartbreak, one you also felt in your stomach. Stratya took a deep breath and hollered down, “Hullo down tharr! Can ya make i’ rroond?” She pointed to the front of the castle. “Y’ wan’ a carriage?”

She was dressed simply, though perhaps not plainly. She wore a leather vest over a thing with a lacy neckline. High-waisted slacks tucked into the vest underneath a belt that rested at her hips, bearing her daggers. Her mantle had been laid aside for her meditation, but rested now on her shoulders once more.

Meanwhile, Marina wore a white blouse with a high ruffled neck. Over it sat a black corset-vest, paired with high-waisted black trousers that tapered into tall, fitted boots.

The shout from above had made her freeze. Marina’s head snapped up, dark auburn curls shifting as she squinted upward. She could see the figure from her spot, the pretty brown hair and lovely-shaped face. For a second, Marina just stared, processing, then she straightened with sudden dignity. “I can make it around,” she shouted back.

“Grrea’, I'll mee’ ya.” And if luck was with her, she'd be able to catch that guy herself. The brunette disappeared from the battlement, taking quick strides to the gate, and the fountain square beyond.

When Marina would enter the fountain square on her way to the castle, Stratya would be seated on a bench there, with her hand gripping the shoulder of the man who’d bumped the young lady and dropped her pastry. Her head back, eyes closed, seated in the shade of the park trees, her breaths deep. Her legs stretched out and crossed idly at the heel. The hand on the man's shoulder gripped like a gentle vice.

The approaching footsteps caught the knight’s attention. Her head turned and an eye opened before she stood herself up and faced the approaching head of oddly familiar red hair. She then pushed the man up and rose after him, “up ye go.”

Stratya turned the man to face Marina and shoved him forward, “go on, then.”

The man was fairly embarrassed, but more intimidating than the embarrassment was that woman. She'd emerged from the foliage like she belonged there, wrestled him into a pin almost instantly, and promptly interrogated him. Two questions, and he'd admitted immediately to both bumping the girl and spilling her pastry. He'd tried to talk out of the second charge, but she was good. He knew. She knew. She knew he knew.

She told him what was going to happen was, “I'm sorry! I knocked your pastry to the ground. I..” He considered the distance between him and Stratya and took his chances, sprinting off.

“Oye!” Stratya took a step and reached after him, but stopped and sighed. The urgency and accent in her voice had caught the attention of the guards nearby, and she signaled them to grab the man, “ten thousand in jail ferr thah’ one!” Ten thousand what?

While they did that, Stratya turned back to the young lady, a kind smile warming her features. She waved dismissively about the man, speaking low at first, “Ill go le’ ‘im ou’ tomorrah. Sorry ‘bou’ all thah’. I'm abou’tae pu’ brreakfast on, carre tae join me?”

By the time Marina reached the fountain square, she arrived just in time to see the scene properly set. Even from a few paces away, Marina could see the way the man’s confidence had collapsed into embarrassment. Marina did not interrupt; she only folded her arms and stood there, wearing a smug little smile. When he ran away finally, Marina let out a satisfied breath through her nose, as if order had been restored to the universe.

And then she got close enough to really see Stratya’s face.

The brunette was very pretty, and Marina’s brain, traitor that it was, forgot how to work.

She suddenly blinked hard, as if rebooting herself. “Hello,” she said brightly, perhaps too loud, so she then softened with a sincere smile. “I’m Marina,” she added after another pause, as if remembering herself again. “And yes, I would like to join you for breakfast.”

If Stratya had been startled by Marina’s greeting, she didn’t show it much at all. Just as she was about to say something further to prompt the stunning young lady with a delightful fashion sense, she introduced herself! Marina.

“My name’s Strratya.” The knight stepped and motioned toward the castle, “rreyt this way, Marrina.” She hadn’t seen when she called down from the wall, but Stratya was, herself, realizing just how pretty this young woman whom she just invited into her home was. Perhaps she should see if Marina was available for something after breakfast, as well?

Marina’s smile stayed bright despite the lingering sting of losing her breakfast, as Stratya introduced herself. Her smile softened at the sound of her name as she stepped in beside her without hesitation. The woman had waited for Marina to step in with her to turn and walk at her side.

“Stratya is a lovely name for my fair rescuer.” Marina informed her. Then she hurried after her, leaning over toward her to speak to her as they walked, her curls falling over her shoulder.

Was it the way her hair gently spilled and bounced with life? Something about her presence, the way she carried herself, with confidence and courage? Marina was unlike most ladies around Sorian, or Caesonia as a whole. The knight caught herself drawing a breath only slightly sharper than the others.

“Thank you, Stratya. I was merely two seconds from starting a revolution in the streets. You have saved Sorian, and... probably the entire kingdom of Caesonia.”

Her voice drew Stratya back. The word revolution was more tempting than Stratya cared to admit, but also, was that a normal Lady joke? Who was this? The irony of the joke was not lost on Stratya, but that wasn’t conversation for polite company. Not on the first date. “S’ a shame abou’ yerr pastrry. S’pposed tae be yerr brreakfast, aye?”

When Stratya mentioned the pastry, Marina let out a sigh and pressed a hand to her chest as if she were still in mourning. “It was jam,” she said, voice again wounded. “Warm jam.”

“Oooh, nae,” Stratya sighed and shook her head, “ta think someone could be sae rrude tae such a prret’y lass.” Oop, she’d said it out loud. She blushed just a touch and cleared her throat, “we’ll ge’ yerr belly filled, we will.”

Then Stratya’s compliment landed, leading surprise to widen her gaze and flush her cheeks. Marina looked rather pleased once she finally digested the knight’s words, because of course she did. “Yes,” she agreed confidently, “I am a prret’y lass and us prret’y lasses need our bellies filled and happy.” She patted her belly with a giggle.

She gave a bashful giggle, herself, “ah, he he, thah’ we do.” The captain found herself grinning widely.

Once they were at the gate, Stratya pointed out their destination, “thah’ one, wit’ t’ barr.” The house in question had a refurbished greenhouse on the left side; part of the large glass structure remained for an herb garden along the window’s inner perimeter. The drawn curtain hung at regular intervals, letting light and vision into the space, revealing the far wall sporting a bar spanning most of the length of the room, with a wall of booze behind. There was enough space at the end for a little reading corner, with an armchair and an ottoman, a bookshelf, and an endtable. Behind the bar, a swinging kitchen door marked a hole in the booze wall and a lowering of the ceiling beyond, to make room for the floor above. The right side of the house was much more standard to the other guest houses and far less interesting to describe.

Stratya decided she’d take a look at her guest, even after such a bold compliment. Marina really was quite fetching, and there was something else Stratya had noticed that she wanted to put her finger on, but couldn’t quite.

By the time they reached the gate and Stratya pointed out the guest house, Marina’s eyes had already started roaming, taking it in with open curiosity. Her brows rose, delighted despite herself.

Stratya was only too happy to open the door for her enchanting guest with excellent taste. As the young lady stepped past her, she found her eyes attracted to that beautiful, familiar red-

Askel! It was hard to believe it was a coincidence, but having similar hair wasn’t really strong enough evidence. The knight could ask.. but the potentially-a-princess had not said, when she introduced herself. Stratya would not ask for the answer, nor.. nor would she think too hard about it. She followed Marina in, through the foyer, and led her to the bar door.

It was much easier to see into the room from the doorway. Soft-seated stools lined the bar, and there were even a few small tables between the bar and the glass wall. A long bench had been worked into the frame of the garden windowsill, all the way down to the corner where the window curved around, and the garden ended to leave just the bay window on the far wall. In the corner by the door, opposite the bar, sat a circular couch with a circular table in the center.

“Oh,” she breathed, then glanced back at Stratya with a grin that threatened to turn mischievous. She hopped up on a stool, her feet immediately swinging in little kicks that betrayed her excitement despite the attempt to sit there like the regal little lady she had been raised to be.

There was something so incredibly adorable about this young lady’s bearing and her attire and the contrast thereof with how expressive she was. Stratya circled around behind the bar and came to lean against it, in front of Marina.

Marina tapped a finger to her lip and admitted with a cheeky smile, “I feel a little spoiled.”

The brunette gave a chuckle, “a’rready? Y’ve nae even ea'en, ye’.” She straightened up from the bar, making her way to the swinging door and into the kitchen. “Y’ shall be pamperred by t’ time y’ leave.” As Stratya passed through the door to the kitchen, Marina could see a breakfast table, complete with chairs, within.

It wouldn’t take Stratya long at all to return, followed by a maid bearing the two plates of eggy bread with hashbrowns and bacon, as well as appropriate condiments. The captain had baked a loaf of fruit bread that morning, but purposefully let it bake too long so that it became dry. Dry bread soaks up custard much better, and was much more suited to the recipe.

The scent hit first: savory, sweet, and buttery...

Then the plates appeared and Marina’s stomach rumbled at the sight alone. Her tongue flicked over her lip on instinct. “This may be better than that tart.” She admitted, rubbing her hands together. Her tone suggested that she was almost offended by the idea it was better than her precious, fallen breakfast—however, she couldn’t help but be impressed.

Ser Durmand rounded the bar once more while Marina ogled her meal, marveling, “I can’t believe I’m saying this… But I’m so glad that big oaf knocked into me.”

Stratya let a grin surface, “a shame, thah’, though I am glad of i’, too.”

When Stratya took her place beside her, Marina only waited the bare minimum amount of time required for manners, her hands folded neatly the entire three seconds. Then, she reached for her fork urgently, only pausing when Stratya asked,

“An’ since I’m spoilin’ you: mead?”

Marina’s head turned toward her, her brows lifting. Her eyes lit up and she didn’t bother being coy as she replied enthusiastically, “Always.”

The captain’s triumphant laugh was met with two glass tankards, promptly filled with golden Durmand mead from a bottle pulled down off the wall. More than a few of those bottles on the wall were the mead, actually. Stratya held her tankard aloft in toast, “tae a coupl’a bonnie lasses!” She’d take herself a swig before digging into her breakfast. Of the three spreads available (butter, warm jam, and a chocolate sauce), Stratya made use of each, sometimes taking a few cuts of different slices for combination mouthfuls.

”To bonnie lassies!” Marina echoed enthusiastically as she lifted her tankard and clinked it with Stratya’s. She then took a long swig herself, her eyes softening with satisfaction, before she set her attention on the wondrous food before her. She went to work enjoying the delectable foods herself, especially enjoying the three spreads.

Stratya hummed happily and took a gulp of mead, to take a short rest between mouthfuls, “I doan believe I've seen ye rround t’ ci’y b’forre. Wha’ brings yeh? T’.. courr’in’ season?” She punctuated her hopeful question with another, smaller mouthful, only one piece from a slice she'd spread with butter, but also topped with the hashbrowns and bacon

Marina paused mid-bite, chewing as she considered the question. “The official answer is the courting season,” She replied lightly after a swallow. “but the real answer is I’m here to keep my siblings out of trouble.” She turned fully toward Stratya then, her eyes and smile both bright. Marina set her fork down politely then wiped her fingers neatly against her napkin, and only then did she extend her hand across the table. “Princess Marina Camilia at your service.”

So she was a princess. Stratya gave the young lady a performative-yet-still-genuine look of impression, swallowing her small mouthful before she would speak, “Prrincess Marrina, my my. I darre say I ‘ad an inkling.” Stratya, too, cleaned her hand, then took a small swig of mead and dabbed at her lips before turning to the Princess. Ser Durmand rose from her barstool to stand purposefully before Marina. The elevation of the stool Marina sat on made kneeling or some such impractical, so Stratya remained standing and laid one hand lightly on the bartop. With the other, she took the offered hand and lifted it carefully, “Knigh’ Cap’n Strratya Durrmand, Prrincess Marrina. I believe ‘at yerr serrvice’,” she gently kissed the back of her hand once, her grip light enough that Marina could reclaim her hand whenever she pleased. Marina blushed visibly, her gaze lowering shyly—a clear juxtaposition to her earlier confidence. The knight lowered her hand again, her eyes staring adoringly into Marina’s, her voice soft, “is my line.”

“Coverr storry i’ may be,” a coy smile played at her lips as she sat again, “if’n yerr in’errested, shall we take a trrip tae t’ tailor? My wa’drrobe is lackin’, and I love wha’ yerr wearrin’.” Feeling a bit daring, she let her eyes wander over her wardrobe, or perhaps just her, and added softly, thoughtlessly, “ye’ perr’aps thah’s jes’ you.” Another bite of food made another punctuation.

“A trip to the tailor?” she repeated excitedly, her voice pitching upward. “Yes. Absolutely.” Marina lifted her tankard a second time, tone turning playful again. “But only if you promise to let me be unbearable about it. I have opinions.”

Stratya’s cheeks tinged ever so slightly, that Marina would already have opinions about dressing her at all gave her a butterfly or two. “Unbearrable? You? Naaee. Y’c’n play drress up wit’ me all day, if y’ like.”

Marina lifted her tankard for another sip, then set it down, butter still glistening on her lips. “I love dressing up and shopping,” she admitted, “especially with my little sister.” Her brows rose suddenly as she added, “However... She makes a mess of every store we enter. " Her voice grew fond as she told Stratya, touching the back of her hand briefly without quite noticing she had done so, “Sylvia is my tornado child.”

The glisten of butter and mead on Marina’s lips caused Stratya to subtly, subconsciously wet her own lips, the thought of that buttery sweet honey flavor on a kiss lilting through her mind. The mention of a little sister caused her to catch the thought and file it away, and she gave a soft chuckle at hearing how Sylvia Camilia behaves herself in a store.

Marina’s gaze dropped briefly to her own outfit, and she smoothed her palms down her thighs with obvious satisfaction, patting the fabric. “And these,” she added lightly, “apparently cause a minor scandal in Caesonia.” She angled her chin toward the window as if she could already picture it, then rolled her eyes. “Every time I wear trousers, I get stared like I’ve committed a crime. I forget, and then I remember the moment some lady clutches her pearls. Women are so strict with fashion here.”

“sounds like t’ two o’ you ‘ave fun, together.” Cleaning up after a little sibling could be quite a chore. “my sisterr an’ I used to get in occasional trrouble, g- er.. goin’ rround flirrtin’, aye.” She seemed a little embarrassed to admit it, “I’d always ‘ave tae come an’ be ‘err muscle when she’d acciden’ally starr’ hittin’ on some bloke’s lass an’ ‘e’d get pissy.” The statement enticed a cackle out of Marina.
“As ferr pants? Aye.” The knight took a moment to shove the last bit of her breakfast in her mouth and take an appreciable gulp of what was left of her mead before she continued, “I was t’ only woman in my knigh’in’ ceremony. T’ fashion ‘rround ‘erre is all frrilly things ‘n stuff y’ cannae move in. ‘ow am I supposed tae be an effective knegh’ if’n I’m wearrin’ some poofy thing thah’s widerr’n me shoulderrs? I think t’ only rreason I doan ge’ sae many looks is t’ practicali’y o’ m’ clothes.”

Her eyes flicked back to Stratya. “ I think it’s absolutely magnificent that they actually have a female knight in Caesonia. I would have thought such a thing to be unheard of.” Marina replied with admiration tinging her tone. She shook her head and commented casually with a shrug, “And those poofy skirts do absolutely nothing for the bum anyway.”

Were t’ Queen’s doin’, surrely. A brief shadow fell over her expression, thinking of her doomed queen, before Marina’s comment about accentuating butts got a giggle from her.

“But yes,” she concluded, “take me to the tailor.” Then she paused again. “But... Our knight is probably already cross with me for going off by myself. Maybe we should fetch him so my brother Lucian doesn't kick him to death or something gruesome like that."

Stratya had gone for the rest of her mead as soon as this Princess agreed to their date, but paused when she sensed Marina about to say more. Retrieve her knight? The captain went ahead and downed the rest of her mead, her tankard returning to the counter a satisfying thunk. “Aye, I s’ppose we augh’ at least le’ ‘im know yerr safe, wha’ wit’ yerr unexpected detourr.” She turned the idea over in her mind more, her head tilting and her gaze drifting off, “aaand focusin’ on ourr da’e will be easierr wit’ someone else on guarrd du’y..” her gaze returned to Marina, a little bit of childish excitement in her, “e’ll be guarrdin’ us both, then, wouldn’ ‘e?” She couldn’t remember ever being guarded, before. Then again, that was probably her own fault.

“ Of course! And I got your back too. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” She assured her.

When she could see Marina was about ready, the knight rose and stepped out from the barstools, waiting for Marina to finish her meal. Once she was done, a gloved left hand was waiting for her to take and stand, “le’s nae be gettin’ yerr knegh’ in trrouble, then, aye?”

She would lead the way from the bar, only to stop at the front door with her hand already on the handle. Dammit. “Oh.” She sounded hesitant and disappointed, maybe a little nervous, as she turned around, “I, er..” she made an uncomfortable groan as she faced Marina, “I.. ‘ave a stawker.” Was that something she’d want to deal with? It was probably better to tell her now than have it be a surprise, later. It was for her own safety, “s’ppose we’ll ‘ave tae tell yerr knegh’, too.”

“Oh yuck.” Marina’s brows furrowed with concern for Stratya and she folded her arms, a grimace twisting her countenance and the knight’s confidence. She couldn’t say she was exactly surprised that someone so beautiful had a stalker. Of course she did.

After a moment, her expression shifted from worry to determination. She then tugged the cape of her top aside just enough to reveal the slim hilt strapped behind her leg, before letting the fabric fall again. “Up to you,” she added lightly, “But I’m not terribly worried. I can be very frightening when properly motivated as well as properly fed.” She patted her belly with a smirk.

Then she gave Stratya’s hand an intimate squeeze like they had known each other for years. “I’ll protect you,” she promised, and her smile turned a little stubborn. “Even if you protest.”

Stratya was stunned by the sword the princess carried. All the armed and dangerous women she’d met had not been nobility, much less royalty, and the princess she’d gotten used to the image of was definitely not the armed type. Her gaze lifted from the revealed handle to meet Marina’s, a smile slowly forming over her lips as her shocked expression softened with relief and affection. Her promise, the touch of her hand, her courage and confidence, Marina was like a brilliant beam of sunlight breaking through cloud cover. Stratya drew the young lady before her into a hug, still holding her hand, “thank you..”

Marina froze for a second, then embraced her back, wrapping her arms snug around Stratya’s waist

Wait a minute. Wait a minute. As Stratya hugged the princess.. muscle! Thinking back on it, Marina’s hands were calloused before and were calloused then. Not overly so, but they were. Stratya was realizing something her instincts had already picked up on. Her hand rose to Marina’s shoulder and drew her back so the knight could look her over once again, “y-.. you, trrain.”

At the word train, Marina’s brows lifted with smug delight. “Oh yes. I train,” she confirmed proudly. “Did you think I got these hands from applauding too hard?”

Stratya couldn't keep the adoration from her eyes, her voice a murmur, “I knew therre w’s a few somethin’s I liked abou’ you..” The conversation that brought them here flashed back into her mind, and Stratya balked as she snapped out of it, “aah, er, he- he’s an old mahn, y’ken, I’m nae scarred o’r ‘im, I jus’ though’ I should tell ye. ‘forre y’ fynd out some otherr way.”

She flexed her fingers once, then tucked her chin with a sweet little smile that was clearly a threat toward the ‘old mahn’ in question. “I am not above fighting the elderly.”

Marina squeezed Stratya’s hand again. “We’ll fetch my knight,” she decided, already turning them toward the guest house, “then buy you something that’ll earn you a whole horde of new stalkers.” Her grin turned mischievous … and perhaps a tad flirty albeit subconsciously. “Probably including me.” She giggled, quickening her step. It was early enough that Ambrose was likely still inside, maybe even asleep, and Marina fully intended to ruin that peacefully.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Knight Devout
Captain Stratya Durmand

Time: 10th Ignis, Evening
Location: Castle Ballroom - Starry Night Ball
Attire: Suit Dress
Interactions: Askel @Remram, Munir @Infinite Cosmos
Mentions:

“Ooh, nothin’ wrrong wit’ starr’in’ wherre yerr mos’ familiarr.” Stratya easily came away from the table of Caesonian cuisine to take in the sights and smells of Varian cooking. She greeted the food at the table with a deep inhale through her nose before letting out a pleased hum.

She watched Askel put the sample together for her, very interested in what and how much he used to achieve whatever balance of flavors she was about to experience. She accepted the morsel gratefully and took a measured bite, nodding as she tasted the way the flavors came together. She swallowed and offered Askel a pleased smiled, “aye, thah’s good stuff.”

She’d seen him glance at the spread. The table, itself. The bowls, the cutlery. He’d noticed, just as she had, and she expected no less from such a sharp prince. “I swearr we ‘ad morre marrble tables.” The flat expression she showed to Askel betrayed the otherwise carefully guarded intent behind the statement that had been so plain.

Footsteps approached, perfectly interrupting the moment, and the man that had approached them said something she found odd, "Captain Durmand. It is very good to see you again.”

“Again”?

She couldn’t remember the man at all, and very nearly blurted out a question to this revelation. Instead, she popped the rest of the little treat Askel had put together for her into her mouth. It was really quite good. “Mm,” she offered through her chewing to his request, starting about the assembly of another rye bread piece of goodness. The rye bread, the mustard-dill spread, and the piece of salmon carefully crusted with seasoning that the spread helped to hold in place. She hoped she got the portions right.

Stratya still couldn’t remember the man she turned to hand the gravlax to, her mouthful already swallowed as she offered it in one hand, her free hand covering her mouth politely, “grravlax. A fyne morrsel, Shezade Munirr.” If she hadn’t met him, however, how did he know her? At least he’d offered his name to Askel, giving her the good grace of not having to dance around not knowing who in blazes this man was. Had she been, like, at a bar, blackout drunk when she met him? Was it the Masquerade and she just didn’t recognize him? And he was recognizing her by her accent, naaaaaaeeeee! Ooh, she hoped it wasn’t that.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Knight Devout

Captain Stratya Durmand

Time: 10th Ignis, Evening
Location: Castle Ballroom
Interactions: @Remram Askel
Mentions:

The look in his eye.

Fuhck, he's rreyt.

Stratya wasn't used to the mind games of the court. Perhaps she should have spent more time in the capital these last two years, getting used to the way things twisted and contorted.

O’ courrse ‘e gets i’. Any good prrince'd 'aff tae.

She could kick herself more later.

Askel complimented her and preemptively denied to dance with her. He'd promised someone a dance, already? She had to wonder who, though it wasn't surprising. Whatever the case,

Rreyt. Nae morre whingin’.

When Askel mentioned food, her mental focus fell to her stomach and suddenly she felt it. When had she eaten last? Her stomach growled just as the servant approached them, and she pushed that emotion right to the front. Necessity finished putting her mask back together in a snap.

Knight Captain Durmand balked at herself and placed her hand over her stomach, “oye, Gods, am I thah’ ‘ungrry?” She turned to spot the platter of - what do they call ‘em? “Or Dearvs”? How do you spell that? No matter. “Excellen’ tymin’, my good man. I’m famished.” Some part of her was suspicious, but her stomach had already locked her in. Hungry bastard. The most normal thing to do, for her, right now, would be take one. She plucked one of the little rolls off by the skewer, gave it a little waft under her nose, and popped it in her mouth.

Already she felt more centered, with a little something in her belly. A soft hum resonated from her throat as she chewed the delicious morse, and her attention turned back to Askel when she was done, “thank ye ferr y’ complimen’, Yerr ‘ighness. There’s somethin’ tae be said ferr simplici’y, though.” She went for a compliment, stopped herself and seemed perplexed or perhaps dissatisfied, before a relenting sigh found her head leaning into the hand she'd pressed to her face, “ooh, I’m ‘opeless, my firrst complimen’ was goan be thah’ yerrs looks easier tae move in. 'Wha's fashion, anyway?'” She waved her hand dismissively at the air in her own space, turned to the servant and offered thanks (supposing Askel already got one if he wanted), and moved toward the tables full of international cuisine nearby.

A deep whiff of the aromas filled her nostrils, pouring fuel on the hunger she felt, keeping that her emotional focus while she worked on stabilizing, “there’s sae much, I scarrcely ken t’ place tae begin.”

Was the Caesonian table more expensive-looking? Her gaze flicked at the other two tables. Where Caesonia’s table was marble-topped, and the Alidasht table had a nice cloth over it - or was that a rug? - the Varian table was plain wood. That felt like a slight. Edin would. Before she could dive into another emotional hole without the belly full of food to see her through it, her hand found one of the pre-cut ribs from the Caesonian table and took the meat off in one swoop like it was totally normal and she’d done it a thousand times.

Absolutely. Delicious.

"Mmm~," a delighted, satisfied groan as she chewed, then swallowed, "thah's good." Captain Durmand looked again at the ribs in question, then the rest, "Ooh, bu' therre's sae much else.." then the prince in question, "I'll gladly accept a tourr of these fyne foods, Prrince Askel."

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

My Liege is dead.

This Peace is False.

Knight Devout

Captain Stratya Durmand

Time: 10th Ignis, Evening
Location: Castle Ballroom
Interactions: King Edin, @Remram Askel
Mentions:

She was not looking forward to this. She should be at home, mourning.

The harold announced

“Her Excellence, Knight Captain Stratya Durmand,”

and she entered. Must be Garcian, again. While she resisted the formalities, he pushed. Military dress boots crossed the precipice and stood long enough to be seen before proceeding into the ballroom proper. She must be flawless. Perfect. Demonstrate her continued worth to the Crown. Her accolades decorated her lapel. For the Kingdom and its People, she would partake in this facade, if only for the chance at opportunity.

Promptly, she approached the Crown, her gaze mostly flicking between Wulfric and Auguste as she did, before it finally settled on the King as she came to stand before him. She stood at attention, posture inscrutable. She just had to address the King. Correctly.

“My Liege.”

He hadn’t even shown up for her knighting. Queen Alibeth had knighted her.

“Trruly, the rrealm is guided tae peace underr yerr diligen’ ‘and. The faverr o’ t’ Gods trruly finds us thrrough you, Yerr Majesty.”

His diligence stemmed from the necessity brought about by his now-absent wife.

She certainly didn’t want to stay beneath his gaze for long, she’d seen the eyes he gave women, even when he had a wife. … That wasn’t something she wanted to think about right now.

“I am thankful ferr t’ opporrtuni’y tae parrtake of the grreat boun’y afforrded us by t’ Gods and yerr rrule. May prrosperri’y rreign o’er t’ Kingdom. Gods bless Caesonia.”

Gods, that had been harder than she thought it was going to be. Speaking so falsely was trying for her. At least the food would be good. She offered a bow with her conclusion and turned with a sharp pivot. She went to find herself a glass of.. anything. Wine? Fine. She drank it too quickly, though she stopped herself from downing it in one breath.

It was then she noticed she’d come to stand next to Askel. She made a small noise as she turned her head to see him as though he’d materialized. “_Askel.” This was not how she would have wanted her new friend to see her. Her expression whinged, “_{ooh, rreyt, yerr a-,}” as though a switch were flipped, she remembered where she was and slipped the mask back on, “Prrince Askel, so good tae see you again.” Her eyes glanced toward the King for an instant.

Knight Captain Stratya Durmand was in a very tough position.

“I..” Already her mask cracked, “hope t’ day’s even’s ‘ave nae been too trroubling?” Was that all she could think to talk about?! Her voice withered at the end, followed by the rest of her wine.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Morning Knights

Flashback, Monday, 1st Ignis

@Remram

The sun sat yet early in the sky, morning birds still calling as the scent of freshly baked bread wafted out from a portion of the training grounds. Many of the guards, soldiers, and enthusiasts gathered there were at some stage of enjoying various baked goods to be found in a very large breadbasket, set aside near some equipment racks. A tartan cloth covered it, to be lifted at the corner and replaced when retrieving morsels, protecting the contents from getting dirty.

The woman responsible for the basket, Captain Stratya Durmand, and her lieutenant wore training raiment of cloth padding and hard leather plates, and each held a wooden parrying dagger in the left hand, with nothing in the right. The lieutenant, a right-handed man, was struggling to keep up with his commanding officer, while she seemed perfectly comfortable.

After another very controlled smack to his hand, the lieutenant let out a frustrated groan, “let me use my main hand.”

The captain sighed, straightening up out of her stance, “Do ye intend tae wield yerr shorr’sword in yerr left, then?”

No, he didn't. James Clearwater glanced at the hand holding the parrying dagger, seeing her point. He knew he was supposed to be training his left, but it was frustrating and difficult when the captain seemed naturally inclined to her left hand.

“Reyt, so we’ll keep on like this. Aah, but, perr’aps we’ll take a lit’le brreak, first. A cinnamon rroll sounds keen.” And perhaps she could let him take a break from such focused training. He was doing well, actually. She was ambidextrous, which gave James a rather high bar to try to overcome. She didn’t expect him to beat her with his offhand, only to get better.

A knight should never miss a day of training. If he didn't train one day, no one would notice. If he didn't train for a week, only he would notice. If he didn't train for a month then everyone would notice. That was why Askel found himself on the training grounds in Sorian, to keep his skills sharp and honed as the blade he wore by his side. The clothes he wore were loose and plain though someone with a discerning eye would be able to tell that they were of exceptional make.

His violet eyes scanned the compound and... why could he smell baked goods? Was there a bakery nearby that he was unaware of? No matter, he had more important things to worry about. He asked a passing Caesonian soldier who'd he would need to speak to in order to get permission to use these grounds. Askel was pointed in the direction of one Captain Durmand. It was a surprise to see a female knight, though a welcomed one.

"Captain Durmand?" He asked to confirm as he approached her. "My apologies for intruding, I am Askel Camilia, knight of Varian and prince. If it is not a bother, would you allow me to train on these grounds? I will do my utmost best to not interfere with neither the training of your knights nor your own."

The woman in question turned at her name, an upbeat “mm?” escaping her throat before she received an introduction. A royal introduction. Something about him seemed less strict than Prince Wulfric, at least.

What a time to be caught with a bite of cinnamon roll in her mouth - the remainder of the morsel was in her gloved hand. That large basket nearby was shaped to rest on the hip as it was carried on the arm, and large enough to warrant it. Captain Durmand gave a few hurried, final chews and submitted the carbs to her stomach before she spoke, “g’morrnin’, Prrince Askel. Yes, please, our grrounds arre open tae guests. Cerr’ainly, one such as Yerr ‘ighness, aye?” She smiled warmly, and stepped to the side to allow the royal a direct path to the training gear. Most of the wooden training weapons had metal cores for weight and durability. Captain Durmand continued, “though they arre day-old, Yerr ‘ighness is welcome tae m’ baske’ o’ baked goods. Nowt good, trrainin’ an’ fightin’ wit’ an empty belly.”

A moment passed, and an idea came to her. Stratya glanced at James with a mischievous grin, “If yerr in’errested, ‘ighness,” she gave a slight pause, to let Askel bring his attention back to her, “if yerr keen ferr a sparrin’ parr’ner, I believe my lieutena’ tirres o’ clashin’ off’ands wit’ me.”

James, who had been watching an ongoing sparring match as he munched on a simple breadroll with a bit of cheese, looked over suddenly. He seemed a bit like a prairie dog that wanted to disappear down a hole it didn’t have.

Ah, yes, there was also cheese in the basket.

Well, at least he knew where the smell of baked goods wafted from. What he wasn't expecting was for the captain of these knights to have a mouthful of sweet, buttery baked goods lodged into her mouth. Apparently, he caught her at a bad time. Askel patiently remained silent as she hurriedly packed away the cinnamon roll. After a brief greeting and confirmation, he was offered to partake from the basket of baked goods. "Ah, I appreciate it, but I already-" His stomach rumbled loudly, eliciting a slight blush from his already rosy cheeks and an embarrassed chuckle. "On second thought, how am I supposed to refuse the gracious hospitality of a fellow knight?"

Askel glanced down at the basket and picked up a croissant and sliced a small slab of cheese. As he prepared his morning treat, his attention was brought back to the attention of the knight captain. A playful grin stretched along his face. "Ah, a cultural exchange between blades? Color me intrigued." He glanced back at the wooden weapons and then back at Durmand."Well, wood. The last time I sparred with wooden weapons was when I was a child. In Varian, those who seek further advancement as soldiers train with steel on steel, so it's rather strange to see from my perspective. Not bad, just different."

He bit a hunk out of his quick fix breakfast and nodded with approval. "My compliments to the baker. I must admit, Caesonian pastry is quite a delicacy."

Stratya smiled softly as the fellow knight and neighboring prince stepped forward and prepared for himself a morsel to hold him until breakfast. A little giggle, warm and kindhearted, escaped her throat. A prince, hungry enough that his body complains about it? This was a prince much more like Auguste than Wulfric or Callum.

Askel’s comment caught her ear. Aah, the wood? “Aah, hahah, aye, an old ‘abit, tha’. These ones’rre a lit’le more serrious than t’ ones when I werre small, tho’. We're jes’ abou’ tae change ova, in fact. We star’ t’ day wit’ teachin’ th’ squirres a bi’. I’ve been rrappin’ poorr Clea’wa’errs knuckles all morrnin’. I’m sure ‘e’s thankful it was wit’ wood and nae steel. T’is available, an’ we’ll be gettin’ more ou’ as t’ sun climbs.” The wooden weapons in question were, also, certainly not children's toys or some such. Their make was far too fine, and hardwood had been used, whereas children would be playing with almost exclusively soft.

“If you would prefer, Your Highness, I would not be opposed to using proper blades,” James had found an opportunity between bites to offer, and Stratya gave her lieutenant a nod. If the Prince would prefer, he would retrieve.

When Askel took a bite and found himself delighted, it was Stratya’s turn to blush, just a little. She tried to contain a smile and, only so slightly, gave a bashful squirm, “ooh, weh, complimen’s rrecieved, yerr ‘ighness. Mos’ days, I bake somethin’ in th’ morrnin’. S’how my motherr taugh’ me.”

Askel could help, but to chuckle if a little awkwardly at the level of formality being offered to him. Perhaps it would have been better if he only introduced himself as a knight only? "We're all soldiers here. Please, call me Askel or Sir Camila if you must insist on formalities. Right now, I am here as a knight, not as the prince of a nation." He said with a warm smile that begged them to push aside the other aspect of his identity.

He gave Stratya a kind smile of approval. "Your mother taught you very well! If they're this good after a day, then I can only imagine how great they are fresh out of the oven." He nodded, a mental image of steam wafting off of freshly baked bread and other delights filled his mind. "A knight should have interests outside of their profession. Keeps the mind sharp." Askel said before he took another hunk out of his cheese sandwich in a way that was most unrefined for a prince.

He walked over to check out the wooden weapons and to his surprise the quality was definitely high. In fact, perhaps they were too finely crafted and that was saying something because he remembered the wooden weapons he used for practice for being rather sturdy though this was of another order.

When told by the lieutenant that he could use proper blades if he so wished, Askel shook his head. He called back, "No, that's okay. I would rather you not accommodate me more than what your kingdom has already granted me. I am grateful enough just to be able to share the grounds." Askel grabbed his training weapons of choice, a wooden long sword and an arming sword, after inspecting the balance of weight.

Askel gave Stratya a thankful slight bow of the head. "I thank you for the pick me up, Captain Durmand. I think I can begin warming up. Forgive me James, it will only take a few moments." He placed his practice weapons down for a moment and rolled up his loose sleeves past his elbows. What was revealed were too large, well-defined arms that looked like they were carved straight out of stone. They were the arms of a man that had dedicated a great deal of time to swordsmanship.

He picked up the practice longsword and gave a few practice swings, precise and strong as if they were performed hundreds upon hundreds of times. Then he took a deep breath and exhaled, and something visibly changed with him; the soft kindness in his eyes was replaced with cold and calculating focus. With an unexpected burst of speed, Askel began what could only be described as a dance, switching between various guards as he swung his weapon with immaculate footwork though they were not just random attacks, but perfectly optimized to not disarm, but to kill. It was plain to see that he was trained by someone exceptional, but what was obvious was not only his keen instincts, but experience that could only be sharpened through countless battles.

The air that the practice blade cut through sounded like it was screaming with the force of his strikes. One could only imagine the resounding sound a single strike would have made should it hit someone. However, he was not just on the offensive; there were parries, feints, and blocks thrown into the mix and anyone with experience would realize that he was fighting someone, an imaginary opponent in his mind. Whoever it was, they were skilled because if it were any other soldier then he would have killed them ten times over.

He eventually came to a standstill and exhaled before he turned to James with a big grin on his face and an excited light in his eyes that should not belong to the same person they just watched only moments ago. "Alright, I'm ready!"

He wished to dispose of the formalities? The baking knight was surprised - did he consider himself more knight than prince? She watched him put together his croissant, appreciating his choice of cheese, considering, “Askel, a fellow soldier, then, is i’?” It was a simple request, and one that would ask no difficulty in fulfilling it. The baking knight chuckled softly at his compliments with an easy grin, “ye’ll ge’ yerr chance if ye stick ‘rround.”

She took an appreciative breath, as though she smelled something fresh on the breeze. Indeed, having a wide variety of experiences growing up had allowed Stratya to find hobbies besides hunting, baking, and training. Those other hobbies had, in turn, made her a much more rounded person. “How rreyt you arre, Askel. Life is morre’n jus’ figh’in’. Y’ need cause, an’ balance. Keeps t’ mynd sharrp, an’ t’ spiri’ well.” As Askel took his weapons of choice, the captain found herself intrigued. A two-weapon fighter, as well? Not a shield, or a single sword, but two. It took a lot of practice and awareness to use two effectively. Askel must be skilled. Stratya glanced at her lieutenant. He didn’t seem to have picked up on the implications of Askel’s choice in weapons. Hm.

It wouldn’t take him long to see it, though. As Askel launched into an impressive display, she could almost feel the poor guy’s apprehension. Askel gave the title “Royal Knight” a good look.

In the back of her head, Stratya wondered how his knighting went. Did he need to be knighted? Or could he just declare it himself? He didn’t seem the type.

At any rate, Stratya walked herself over to the weapon rack and started picking out her own kit for a proper spar. By the time Askel had declared himself ready, Stratya put a hand on her lieutenant’s shoulder as she walked past him, “y’rr ‘and hurts, rreyt, Clea’wa’err? Y’shoul’ rrest i’.”

“Ahh, yes, it does, actually. I will.”

Captain Durmand bore a targe on her right arm, with a wooden dirk in her right hand. In her left she had seen Askel’s wooden longsword with a shortsword.

“Rreyt, then. He’ll ‘ave a bi’ o’ rrest, and I’ll sparr ye, instead.” In truth, such a capable opponent had Stratya a little excited. Even if she had a wooden swordbreaker, it was most effective against one-weapon opponents.

Askel kicked the practice pairing blade that he left on the ground and caught it. He tilted his head back to look at her and a grin crept along his face. "I'll be in your capable hands then, Captain Durmand." With the grace of a prince he turned and bowed politely to his opponent though he raised his head back up she could see that same bone chilling stare again from his dark violet eyes, leaving him completely unreadable. It was the kind of gaze that would have made wonder if this was his true nature and if not, what kind of life would a royal have to live to be able to adopt such coldness in battle.

Slowly, he shifted his stance, the pairing blade was held in his off hand and held lower down while the practice long sword was held above his head. It was a stance meant for a one-handed sword and a pairing blade, but he had the strength to manage it with a two-handed weapon such as a longsword with ease. However, even though he entered this stance, he did not strike first. Askel only watched Stratya for every bit of muscle movement, every breath, and everything thought.

Stratya took a moment to consider the sudden change in the Prince’s eyes. She’d noticed it before, but to be under his intense stare was another thing entirely. Hm. The knight studied the other as she circled slowly. She walked almost casually, if not for her obvious readiness. Her shield, she kept to him, the dirk poking out from underneath.

Her eyes, in contrast, seemed almost flirtatious. If you were daft, you might think so, but no. They were admiring his hard work, examining him for openings, and evaluating his threat.

Gradually, she circled closer, until the distance was right for her to leap forward, shield raised to her chest and concealing her shortsword behind it.

With a single step forward, it began, an explosion of violent energy dancing to the tune of a knightly waltz. The sounds of reinforced wood echoed throughout the training grounds as Askel and Stratya clashed, a demonstration of the skills and unrelenting instincts between two knights who have achieved a level of combat experience well above the average soldier. Try as each other might, neither could penetrate each other's defenses; every strike, every guard, every step, and every feint was as open to each other like words to the pages of an open book.

They would break from their clash and circle each other, their gazes never leaving each other as they searched to predict each other's next moves. Askel loomed like a bear, his form bearing brute force that betrayed the finesse he wielded, and yet his eyes were icy, piercing, and somehow unreadable. Stratya continued to look at him with that same admiration though with mirth to find such an opponent would simply appear to her one day.

And then Askel would step in, a feint and then downward strike. Stratya would parry with her shield, the force resounding all throughout the training ground, and return in kind, thus repeating their dance.

Other soldiers stopped to take notice of the fight between the knight captain and the Varian prince, their mouths agape. Murmured chatter was shared between men, some making bets on who would win with some more faithful to their dear knight captain while some were less loyal and betted on the unexpected prince-knight though the smart ones were the ones to not bet on either of them.

Eventually, the two would meet eyes over locked weapons and come to a silent agreement before pulling away, each quite exhausted, drenched and breathless. Neither had made a single nick on each other save for the poor treatment their practice weapons received from their heated practice.

The coldness in Askel's melted away and a hardy laugh barged through the air. "Oh you're good, really good! Ambrose would like you! Shame I couldn't convince him to swing around too!"

The Baking Knight tucked the shortsword she’d used under her arm and wiped some sweat from her brow. The grin she wore said it all, she’d had a great time, “yerrsen’s nae slouch, eitherr.” A slight, certain hesitance in her motion signaled the moment she recognized the name, “Ambrrose? Serr Ambrrose Thrrane? Aye, no small wonderr i’tis, then. Owt considerred, I s’ppose I augh’ tae ‘ave expected such.”

Stratya took the wooden shortsword from under her arm, tossed it into the air and flipped it around to catch it by the “blade”, before handing it off to someone that seemed to want it as she made her way back toward the equipment rack. “Ooh, I could go ferr a prroperr meal. Ey, Askel?” After such a fine spar, it seemed only right to take the Prince-Knight to one of the fine dining establishments that Sorian had to offer. Somewhere in her mind, Stratya wondered if Askel’s pallet would more reflect his nature as a soldier and knight than as a prince.

Askel was just handing the practice weapons off to have come to collect it from him when she had asked him out for food. He raised his brow in surprise though he knew it would have been rude to decline an invitation from someone so highly regarded. "Oh, sure. What do you feel like?" He asked so innocently and plainly. Clearly, his own palate was not high on his list of priorities right now. "I mean, I am a prince of Varian so I can get us in just about anywhere at short notice though I would just be as happy going to a tavern or a stand if that is what you wish. I know only some of the cheaper eats and the like when I was last in Sorian, so I would be in your very capable hands once again." He gave her a slight bow of appreciation.

His nose crinkled and he looked down at the sweat stains in the pit of his arms. "Though if you wish to go somewhere with a stricter dress code, then perhaps I could be allowed some time to make myself more... presentable. I think my title only can carry me so far before I offend the senses." The prince-knight grinned embarrassedly at her for being in such a state.

The captain decided that Askel probably ate more like a knight. She gave a warm chuckle, “ooh, I doan think tha’ll be necessarry. While ‘forreign prrince’ is hard tae bea’, you migh’ be surrprised ‘ow much influence I’ve got ‘rround herre, m’self.” Still, however, she could already hear Wulfric’s stern manner chiding her for taking a Royal guest to someplace as dubious as, say, The Tough Tavern. “Therre few places ‘rround t’ inner ci’y I’ve not been tae. ‘ow abou’ a taverrn? Therre’s Prrince Callum’s Taverrn I been meanin’ tae go tah. Though, aye, we’ll ‘af tae ‘ave a bi’ o’a faff ‘forre we go.”

“I s’ppose ye’rr stayin’ on t’ castle grrounds? ‘at’s where I’ll be ‘eaded, too. Shall we?” It wouldn’t make sense to split up, if they were both going to the grounds. She’d be able to point her house out to him right away, once they got past the inner walls.

His brow arched with curiosity when he heard that the tavern that Stratya suggested was owned by a prince. "Now you've colored me intrigued. Either I'm about to see a prince slinging drinks around or I'm about to be incredibly disappointed. At least the company is guaranteed to be pleasant." A chuckle rumbled from his throat.

Askel nodded in response to her question. "Ah, yes. I'm staying in the guest house with my family and soon the delegates from Alidasht. Let us go together if you do not mind the company." The prince was quick to follow her by her side for a short walk through town.

It wasn't very far at all, from the training grounds. Stratya’s abode was one of the first buildings encountered on the castle grounds, once you were past the gate of the inner wall. It stood out, due to the large domed window that curved around the left side to meet the side wall. It let sunlight in to nourish a collection of herbs Stratya grew inside. Previously, the room had been an underused greenhouse, but her steward had done some remodeling for her. The rest of the room was now a bar, with her kitchen behind. If she hired staff, she could probably turn it into a proper establishment. “Therre t’is. I’ll wai’ forr ye, shall I? Swing ‘rround whene’err yerr ready. If I’m nae, my stewarr’ will show ye in. I’ll tell ‘im y’ c’n look a’ m’ ahmorry, if y’like.”

Once he saw her house he said, "Oh, so that's it, there? A lovely home you have. Well, I better not keep you waiting then." With an elegant bow from the hip and with his hand on his heart, Askel gave his goodbyes and went off to the castle grounds to freshen up and dress for the occasion. Though it did leave him with a question; what does one wear at a tavern owned by a prince? Was it literally owned by a prince or did whoever owned the establishment just take the piss? Well, he’d figure it out later.

---

Stratya had also been a tad unsure of what to wear. Due to a somewhat recent encounter, she’d been to the tailor a time or two in the past few days, looking to expand her wardrobe. She’d grown rather comfortable with the various colors of formal dress for the Caesonian military she had available, and she was finding it was causing her difficulty if she ever wanted or needed to break away from that.

Eventually, she’d settled on something that wasn’t military dress. A snug pair of almost black fabric slacks, this time, beneath a girdle and a shoulder-bearing white tavern blouse with red floral embroidery at the shoulders and the wrists, extending toward each other. Gold fastenings and trimmings decorated the brown leather girdle and satchel at her side.

Reference~

Her steward answered the door. Upstairs, Garcian had put one of the maids up to serving as Stratya’s handmaid, something the Captain had fiercely refused before and had also protested against this time. A look on Garcian’s face made her relent, and so she was still under the careful grooming of Lily. And Alma. Garcian had not missed the opportunity to increase the handmaid staffing immediately. He’d hire a more experienced handmaid later, now that he had the opening.

“Prince Askel, we have been expecting you. Please, come in, Your Highness, if it pleases you.” He stepped out of the way, opening the path into the foyer, furnished with a long corner couch, center table and end tables, as well as an armoire on the left wall, which would border the kitchen and bar. He’d prepared the tables with ammenities.

“Her Excellence-” a faint ruckus from upstairs cut him off, muffled behind a heavy door, “nae, nae, he is here,” a door opened and shut upstairs, her voice became much clearer, “I look fyne,” she sounded more impatient than narcissistic as she stepped out from the hallway that disappeared over the kitchen and bar. She looked down from the balcony there and smiled, any tension disappearing from her voice, “Askel, welcome!” She crossed and began to come down the stairs, “ah, I shoul’ prrobably be morre forrmal now, rreyt?”

Askel just stood there awkwardly, shifting his weight on each foot. It was one thing to eat a meal with family and Ambrose, but it was another to eat a meal with someone he just met, especially a knight captain of Caesonia. It had been so long since he had been around anyone of any status, an odd thing to worry about when he was a prince of an entire nation. He gave himself a once over to make sure that he was presentable; the prince wore a light dark blue waistcoat with a matching tie over a white collared shirt, light grey trousers, and brown boots.

His train of thought broke when he heard a door open followed by Stratya's voice ringing through the foyer. The prince's gaze followed her as she walked down the stairs. A laugh of relief wanted to come out, but he held back; she was just as nervous as him. Flashing a smile and raising a single brow Askel said, "Captain Durman, we are going to a pub. You are dressed appropriately and wonderfully for the occasion. It's very Varian." He motioned towards the exposed shoulders. "It suits you."

A soft, pleased smile rose from her. A compliment already? Hala’s advice was paying off. “Ooh, thank ye. You’ve done qui’e well, yerrsen, if I may. I’ rreminds me..” she tapped her cheek thoughtfully as she came to stand in front of the Prince. Garcian retrieved a fur mantle from the locked armoire on the side of the room, which also contained an array of weapons, “o’a strream nearr m’ ‘ometown. Peaceful spo’. Found a gem therre, once.” The mantle was draped over her shoulders. It was a tenderly cared for thing, it sat on her shoulders with a familiarity that can only come with years. She looked over her shoulder at her Steward, speaking softly, “my dirrk, please.” The man bowed, and went back to the armoire. A boar’s head could be seen within, to match the pelt that formed the main body of the mantle over her shoulders. From within, the man retrieved her antique of a thing with a time-worn crest on the bottom of the hilt.

“If we’rre nae in frron’ o’ t’ men, I’m fine wit’ ‘oweverr forrmal y’d prreferr tae be, Prrince Askel.”

Her steward stepped to her side and presented her dirk to her. “Garrcian,” she began thoughtfully as she accepted the sheathed weapon and began to secure it to her girdle, “if y’ do so insist, I think I’ll need an ‘andmaid wit’ t’ ken o’a squirre.”

Garcian gave a thoughtful, enlightened hum, nodding obediently, “yes, I see Your Excellency’s point.” Of course she’d make this difficult. He did, however, see her point.

A soft nod was her response as she turned back to Askel, “shall we?” She would close the door behind them herself as they departed. She caught herself looking at him studiously. If she had any thoughts, she kept them to herself. Instead, “wha’s yerr favorrite booze? Drrunkarrd’s Dae’s tomarrah, I can poin’ ye someplace good for wha’e’err yerr lookin’ ferr.”

Askel chuffed amusedly at her flipping the script on him. "Stratya it is then" The prince walked beside her, matching her stride. The streets were abuzz with people getting on with their lives, wealthy people mainly, as they went on about their business. It was an odd thing for him to walk among them like this again after living a life that was so detached from the fineries that made up noble life, a life that so many try to claw up towards while it was just given to him. Such a thing left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he needed to keep himself together. After all, he needed to be good company for the captain.

When asked of his favorite booze Askel shrugged though it was good natured rather than indifferent. "I'm not too picky. I am always open to trying whatever is suggested by the locals. They always know what the real good stuff is."

While he walked beside her, he looked at her mantle both inquisitively and appreciatively. "So, I have to ask. Did you hunt the boar yourself or was it purchased? It's very unique... as well as warm." A look of concern was etched upon his face. "While I do not wish to underestimate your constitution, we're approaching the middle of Ignis. Are you sure that you are okay to wear such a thing in the middle of the day?"

The sun indeed beamed down on them, and he noticed that she had not brought a parasol. He could only wonder how in the world she was not melting wearing a literal boar upon her shoulders.

Stratya leaned back as she heard he had no particular favorites, and couldn’t help the smile that came over her, “ooh, nae parrtic’larr favrri’e? Mm~, perr’aps I can pu’ forrwarrd some’in’ tae catch yerr eye. Prrince Callum’s always a frriend ferr a drrink,” said with only the utmost kindness in her tone, “an’ the wyde varrie’y o’ drrinks on t’ menu rrefects tha’.”

When he brought attention to her mantle, she couldn’t help but smile a little out of pride. “I did ‘un’ this fierrce beasty m’sen, some..” she tossed her head back gently as she considered how much time had passed, “faaaaaw, twelve yearrs ago? Tae come o’ age, as ‘un’err’s apprrentice, I prrovided the cen’errpiece ferr sprring feast. Those werre some fyne rribs, aye. Aah, Mr. Keinly, good day!” She waved to a vendor who’d set up on the edge of the fountain square. It was leading up to Drunkard’s Day, and Stratya had given permission to a few enthusiastic vendors to set up the day prior at the edge of the inner city fountain square. For the holiday. Strictly for the holiday.

As he expressed his concern for her, she offered him a kind smile. A good man, this one. Considerate and strong, a stalwart ally for the battlefield. If they found themselves in some conflict, she could only hope the circumstances would be such that they could stand together. As for his question, “I c’n see why y’ migh’ think I’d be a wee bi’ warrm. I thank ye ferr yerr concerrn, Askel. T’ boars of Verrmillion wearr theirr furrs all yearr, aye? I think t’ pel’ mus’ be doin’ ferr me wha’e’err i’ does tae keep t’ boarrs cool in t’ hea’.” The mantle itself remained cool in the sun, despite the intensity of its shining.

As they passed the knight’s barracks and began to see the residences and shops of the inner city, Stratya began to look them over. He thought she’d bought it? It’d be a pretty penny, surely. Fur wasn’t cheap. “It’s still new tae me, y’ken. ‘avin’...” she paused and watched the road in front of her as she thought of how she wanted to say, “‘avin’ gold. Any gold. Silverr was abou’ all we’d see in t’ village. You’d find people- merrchants, wit’ a few gold, at the trrade post, bu’ in m’ village? Naaaae. So, it.. feels awkwarrd, spendin’ sae much. Capi’al’s expensive, i’ is.”

Now there was someone that could get things done. Askel looked quite impressed that Stratya had hunted her own kill though he was more fascinated with the insulating qualities of boar hide. However, he would have never expected her to be so open about her insecurities.

Askel gave her a look of understanding for her discomfort with her newfound sense of wealth. For someone like her who came from more modest means it must have been a shock to casually carry a purse with gold coins jingling around. "As strange as it may sound to you, I get it." He stated and then took in the sight of festivities in the middle of preparation for a night of libations. "Almost as soon as I was knighted by my mother and father, I left and lived as a knight-errant for years. I left with only whatever I could carry and my horse. I only just returned and I have to say it is an odd feeling to return to wealth." Askel grinned sheepishly because he knew it was such a strange thing for a prince of all people to say.

"I travelled all over Varian, Caesonia, and Alidasht to learn what I can about this world beyond castle walls. Fundamental truths and experiences that I could never hope to have otherwise, both the good and bad." For a moment there was a faraway look in his eyes. It wasn't reminiscing or nostalgia, just someone thinking about the sum of knowledge and wisdom he had gained from his journey. His lips curled up in a wry smirk, and he tilted his head to look down at her. "If I am to serve as a knight of Varian, then one must know of the world for all of its briar and roses. To remain ignorant is reprehensible, wouldn't you agree?"

Stratya couldn’t help but smile as she heard Askel describe his experiences. It seemed like he’d gone through the proper paces, unlike her own left-handed journey to knighthood. Despite the differences between them, “Aye, maybe it’s ‘ow ye step away frrom forrmali’ies, but I felt it tae be in yerr ken. Ye’rre t’ earrnest sorr’, aye? An excellen’ quali’y ferr a knigh’.” Despite their very different backgrounds, they presently stood in very similar positions, and she even felt like he was looking at her as an equal. It made him very easy to talk to.

“I’ve nae been fa’ beyond ourr borrderrs, m’sen. I’ve kept busy since my knigh’in’, and I’m,” she hesitated slightly as she considered how she wanted to phrase, “rratherr familiarr wit’ cer’ain ci’ies now, as it ‘appens.” There had been a purpose behind her touring Caesonia.

She took a breath, thoughtful, “I’d verry much like tae trravel moar, ‘n see t’ rrest o’ t’ worrld. At least some.” Maybe travel for something other than work, even though supposedly they'd been leisure trips. They hadn't, she'd been pursuing an investigation, but advertising that was counter-productive. “As ye say. Y’ cannae be sa’isfyed wit’ t’ breadth oa depth o’ yerr ken. Ferr such, as well, I should like tae see moar o’ t’ worrld..”

A meow came from nearby and Stratya was quick to look and spot a tabby cat, coming out from under a bush and looking at them. “Ooh~, hello.” The knight crouched down with her hand out, a gentle smile beaming at the critter, who trotted over and rubbed on her hand eagerly. “Oooh, what a sweetie. C’n I pick y’ up?” Before she could try, the cat jumped up onto her knees, keeping a shaky balance as it rubbed against her face, “gods, what a swee’hearr’. C’mon, then.” She gathered the cat into her arms and stood, letting the fuzzy cutie rest on her shoulder as she pet it.

Askel bent his knees slightly to get a little closer to the cat's eye level. It looked to be quite satisfied being held in the knight captain's arm "My, aren't you a cute one?" He cooed softly and held his hand out to let it sniff it before rubbing its face against it. Internally, he was screaming for joy to receive kitty cat acceptance. Askel gently began to scratch it under the chin and in response, it stretched its head forward to receive more.

"I was lucky to have the luxury of choice to go and explore when I could. Not everyone gets to have that, so there's no need to beat yourself up over it. Your time will come." He said while giving that cat all the love he could give. "But I hope when you do go you do it as a tourist rather than as a wandering knight. Makes for an entirely different experience I'd imagine,"

As a tourist, huh? As a noble at leisure, not a knight or a soldier. The thought of not dealing with something at most times distracted her for the briefest moment. Alas, there was too much happening currently for her to consider taking a leisure trip. Maybe if she could resolve some things, first. “Tha’d be reyt keen, it would.” With a nod, the Captain knelt to put the cat down, but it meowed loudly in protest and clung to her.

She stopped, straightening back up and looking at the little beasty, “Ooh..?” The little fluff settled into her shoulder, and she started to walk once more for the tavern, giving Askel a sheepish grin, “guess we’e brringin’ a ca’.” Not that she was opposed. Sidelong, she glanced at the critter, “Lucky yerr cu’e..”

Epilogue

Seated at the tavern, Stratya pulled the cat away from her plate of food, back into her lap, “nooo, if ye're 'ungry, you go mouse up a mouse, y’ brra'.” The cat looked up at her before flopping and doing that cute roll cats do when they're totally baiting you to touch the belly but you're just going to get attacked. She did her best to ignore the stretch and the way the little brat flopped in her lap afterward. Eventually, a slow, relenting sigh painted her defeat, “I ken yer doin'.” Stratya looked from her drink to the cat, “ye ken yerr doin'. I ken ye ken yerr doin'.” A steady breath in, one last attempt at resistance.. a defeated sigh, “and it's werrkin' besides.” Captain Durmand turned to the waiter to order a bit of meat for the cat. Should she just name the thing, at this point?

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Gale McLeary was supposed to meet with the Captain that evening, to discuss recent developments and how they were to proceed. When he got to the tavern, however, the windows had been unnaturally dark, and a band of foreigners had been at the door, bothering some blokes that had been posted to guard the place and turn people away. And then the magic started. Magic meant the captain might respond with magic, which would mean they’d need to get her out of there quickly. He needed to get backup.

At the Knight’s Barracks, Lieutenant James Clearwell sat at his desk outside Stratya’s office, doing a bit of evening paperwork over a glass of mead. He wasn’t one for overindulgent days like Drunkard’s Day, but he wasn’t so far gone that he would ignore the holiday. He did enjoy a drink or two now and then.

Gale’s visit was a surprise, and a break of the protocol they’d laid out. This had better be important. The man leaned in and told him quietly, “magic. Brring a carriage, captain wants tae inspect t’ blossoms.” Just as the wind, Gale was gone again.

He’d said it so briefly, Clearwell had almost missed it. It had been very important.

Knight Devout

Captain Stratya Durmand

Time: 2nd Ignis, Evening
Location: Tough Tavern
Attire: Fine Dress
Boar Mantle of Spring Hunting - head’s at home, the bulky thing
A Dirk - strapped in, strapped down
Swordbreaker - strapped in, strapped down
Interactions:
Mentions:

Aah, there it was. What Stratya could only expect was Charlotte’s first real exposure to live combat had taken quite the toll. It had been a brutal one, as well; the head being kicked around was a particularly haunting sight, even for her. Stratya’s left slid out and both arms wrapped around the shaken young lady. The honest compassion Charlotte expressed was a refreshing change from their spoiled night, but also from witch hunters and murders and plots. “You flat’err me wit’ yerr concerrn, Lady Charrlo’e.”

Slowly, she scanned their surroundings for someone. Not here yet.

A sigh, letting a bit of the tension off while her fingers flexed, patting Charlotte’s head lightly, “if I’d ken figh’in’ tae be on t’ menu, I migh’a brrough’ a frriend ah two.”

As Charlotte pulled herself back together, Stratya shook her head, “it’s naturral that y’d be shaken. It’s my job tae keep this kinda thing frrom ‘appenin’, I should be apologizin’ tae you.” However, like any good ruler-to-be, Charlotte pulled herself together and got back to action.

Back inside? No, everyone should be moved to a safe area outside, what..? Hmn.

Charlotte was right, however. She had to be sure everyone was safe and the fight inside was over, and to that end, she couldn’t let Charlotte go back in alone. Her training was getting a little rusty, she’d let the Fury fixate her on something. Or, perhaps she’d run herself harder than she realized, and her control slipped. Had it been her spellcasting? She looked over her shoulder once more.

He still wasn’t here.

Whatever the case, with unknown kidnappers about, it would be best to-

.. it would be safer to go inside. But here? The people here should be moved anywhere else, not kept with the smells and the sights and the horrors.

Charlotte seemed to understand that, in one breath expressing the need to go back inside for safety and the need to escape this place for safety. While admiring the resolve of the young lady that had only just been falling apart in her arms, Stratya heard her wonder to herself how the guards had seen nothing and the familiarity with which she used the word “magic”. It was turning up in so many places, and yet there was so little control or regulation. It was a toy anyone who looked in the wrong place could find without knowing a thing about it. Hmn.

She murmured to Lady Vikena in a similarly soft tone, “I wonderr ‘oo’s guarrds those werre?” Perhaps they’d been told to see nothing. There was no time to debate it, they both knew that.

”Let us go.”

“Yes.”

She hovered at Charlotte’s side, her right hand on her dirk, ready for the chaos of a battlefield to find her in the middle of what should be a safe city. It felt so wrong. The Duchess-to-be addressed Sjan-dehk and Stratya connected a few dots with something Kalliope had said in her ear before. Was this man what she had meant by that? The.. foreign captain she kept seeing places. Well, two places. Here and the castle.

“I was nae quick enough, I’m sorry. We will find herr.” It was all she could offer right now.

Charlotte moved, and Stratya was her shadow. Then, she stood over the remains of Marius and the trio of traumatized nobles. Her eyes drifted over to the man the first mage had killed nearby, folded for trying to flee. She reached into her satchel and drew out a couple copper - she always carried a few - and knelt by the man, closing his eyes and laying a coin over either. “Wonderr if he ‘ad a family..?”

There was no time to think about it. Just as Charlotte called to her and bade her help Roman, The Edwards Guard and Duke Giddeon himself arrived. Had so much time passed? That wasn’t good, but at least it was Giddeon and not… … … literaly anyone else.

Oof! The way he said you at her felt like she’d disappointed her own father. He was just trying to conceal her identity. Surely.

She didn’t need to be told twice, however. It was time to go. Having been bade to aid Roman, she sought his eyes, but when she found them, he told her no. There was no time to argue; as Giddeon confirmed for her, the Crown Guard was coming.

“Lord Kazumin, I will need ye tae carry Lady Olivia. Lady Charlotte, we must go.” She took Charlotte gently by her shoulder and began to guide her out through the back, stopping only long enough to ensure that Kazumin and Olivia were not far behind her. If Giddeon had shown up already, the Crown Guard would not be far behind. Without Queen Alibeth to shield her, the Queen’s Knight would find it hard to escape this bind. She had to be sure she did not get caught in it, and it wouldn’t do to leave these three to it, either.

Out through the kitchen she would lead. First, they had to escape the closing snare. Then, they could go home. Before they made it very far, a voice sounded, “ser.”

Stratya recognized the voice and turned her head, slowing only enough to let Charlotte lean on her, “we need tae leave.”

The man that had addressed her was already moving, having read the situation. Guards everywhere, captain wounded with the kind of fatigue he’d seen on her before. “This way,” Gale would lead them north, around the library. He carefully matched their speed with a nonchalant gait as they rounded to the east. Once they were in the alley, he motioned them on and made sure they weren’t being followed, “turn south at the end.” They wouldn’t need the direction, as Gale hurried back to the front of their formation after finding nothing to lead the way again, taking them south along the edge of the Damien property.

As they came to the end of the alley, where it opened out before running into Cherry Ln, he motioned them to wait and went ahead to spot the carriage and flag Clearwater down.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Knight Devout

Stratya Durmand

Time: 2nd Ignis, Evening
Location: Tough Tavern
Attire: Fine Dress
Boar Mantle of Spring Hunting - head’s at home, the bulky thing
A Dirk - strapped in, strapped down
Swordbreaker - strapped in, strapped down
Interactions: Charlotte
Mentions: Kalliope, Marius, Garran, Drake, Sjan-Dehk, Cynwaer, Olivia

@princess@Lava Alckon@Tae@ReusableSword@samreaper@Potter@Apex Sunburn

More bodies had spilled in from the kitchen. Kalliope had been pinned and now seemed hurt. Garran had reloaded. Charlotte was safe. The front doors opened and more entered. Right. Garran was her greatest concern. She considered her hands, their state, the pain she felt in both. Her left ached more, but she couldn’t tell if that was from taking a knife or from spell use. Probably both. She had to do something, or-

Her heart froze when Garran pulled the trigger, but it.. didn’t work. The hammer gave nothing meaningful and nothing happened. And then he died. Stratya followed the bullet’s trajectory and the sound of the shot to find Drake had freed himself and promptly saved his sister.

The relief she felt was short-lived. The words had passed her by, but she felt the change in the air. She heard the terrible squelch of flesh against broken flesh. The recognition formed a pit in her stomach before she even turned to find Lady Olivia, with the shadows of dark magic clung to her, destroying the remains of Marius. And then it was over, and the young lady was left to the aftershock of such darkness.

Had Stratya gotten her hands on Maelen, she would have given her the grace of listing in brief her wrongs, so she could understand her death, and in the afterlife repent that she might do better next time.

The use of magic to assault, rob, and torture. Above that, the use of magic to murder.

She looked now upon a citizen who had just used magic to kill.

Before she could do anything about the rather dark section of grey area in front of her, a call of distress. Kalliope’s voice. It didn’t matter who’s name she called, her desperation was enough.

There she was, Kalliope. Being taken through the kitchen door. “No!”

The Fury flashed into her eyes, she dropped into a sprint and vaulted the counter, too. She charged through the double action doors to the kitchen just in time to catch the motion of the rear kitchen door end. As she neared the outside, she remembered herself and shut the Fury away. In doing so, the exhaustion caught her all at once. There was no way she could give chase without exposing herself.

The Knight growled and slammed her right fist on a nearby barrel, her left now carefully tucked against her body. The bleeding had stopped already. Even so, her right ached too much, and the painful extremity was held out in front of her as though she were attempting to squeeze the pain from it like water. No time. As Lady Charlotte came out from the Tavern after her, she whistled a loud, peculiar, piercing pattern into the night air.

It was then she noticed the young lady. Aaah, shit.

She smiled softly, at least happy to see her safe, “ye’rr alrrigh’, Lady Charrlo’e?” Wait, no, “oh, yerr head. Le’ me see..” Her left arm remained tucked close as she stepped closer to Charlotte, her right coming in to gently cup her head to hold her still while she looked at the injury. “... coulda been worrse, easy. We’ll still ‘ave tae ge’ ye some attention, tho’.”

The Dead Don't Die: Paradise Lost.

I'm intrigued. I shall ruminate and see what arises. Are there any pieces of media that you might suggest throwing into the stew, as it were?

Pokemon Singularity

Regan Calhoun

Inventory

GP: 6000
Items: Potion x1, Pokeball x9, [E] Ranger Cap, Rotom Phone

Roster

#1, Kaebe

Tyrunt ♂, Lv 5
Moves: Tackle, Tail Whip, Roar, Dragon Dance
Ability: Strong Jaw

#2, Magnemite (guest)

A, Lv 4
Moves: Tackle, Thundershock, Supersonic

PC

Empty

@Remram

Oh, wow. The Rotom Phone was fancy. She watched as the devicèmon held itself aloft and displayed the information she sought in a way she’d seen on Sci-Fi shows. She marveled softly to herself, briefly, before carrying on.

The restaurant was impressively bland. How’d they manage it? A loud sound from behind the restaurant snapped her out of the eldritch trance she’d been sucked into, after which point she found it easy to keep her eyes away. It was such a bland thing, anyway. Such a great noise was rather concerning, and the aspiring ranger found herself circling behind the restaurant.

She drew her shirt up over her nose as the odor assailed her. It was trash, no mistaking it. The nauseating, moldy pungentness of restaurant trash. She took a moment as she stood before the dumpster, considering how to approach the situation. The smell was awful, Kaebe would hate it. Probably.

Ah.

“Magnemite.” Regan let the metal ball without a nose out from its pokeball. If she could get away without alerting whatever was in the trashbin, she would. Surprise attack it, maybe. She pointed up, indicated her eyes, and then pointed to the dumpster. Magnemite, though disappointed that this was not a power plant, nodded to her orders and elevated, to try and peek in on their target.

Pokemon Singularity

Regan Calhoun

Inventory

GP: 6000
Items: Potion x1, Pokeball x10 → x9, [E] Ranger Cap, Rotom Phone

Roster

#1, Kaebe

Tyrunt ♂, Lv 5
Moves: Tackle, Tail Whip, Roar, Dragon Dance
Ability: Strong Jaw

#2, Magnemite (guest)

A, Lv 4
Moves: Tackle, Thundershock, Supersonic

PC

Empty

@Remram

Nothing in the brochures. Yeah, maybe that wasn’t a typical thing tourists would be interested in. Maybe if it were some kind of unique power plant? Even then, you’d probably come here because you’d already heard about it and knew how to find it. Well, maybe she’d find something if she wandered around enough. She’d seen it on TV once, what was it called? A power something. They’d gotten a lawyer involved during the course of the episode, and they’d made it understandable enough to get the jokes, but it still went over her head a bit. He’d been a funny old man who liked to scoot around in his office chair.

Anyway. She managed to ask someone who actually knew about a recent occurrence of garbage raids. Le.. Meh? Le Meh?! She had a morbid curiosity to try the food, but had a looming suspicion her wallet wouldn’t stand for it. “Sounds..” she paused, and sat on her silence for a beat longer than necessary, “meh. Er, where is it?”

The man gave her some brief directions and, as she ran off, shouted after her for her to use her phone.

Ooh. That’s right. It did resemble one of those things, didn’t it? She’d just thought of it as a fancy pokedex, but now that he mentioned it. She dug her phone from her pocket, checked the path in front of her, and slowed to a walk for a moment while she figured out how to use the thing. At least, well enough to get to the map function and use it. Her peripheral vision was pretty good, she could dodge pedestrians.

“Le.. Meh.” She looked between the map and the line that got drawn on it, and the way she’d already been going, quickly, twice or thrice, before finally, “yeah.” She nodded and then continued her run after stowing the thing again.

She checked the RotomPhone as she approached the site, and slowing first to a jog and then to a calm walk. If it was recent enough, and the report she’d gotten from that guy was true, the critter might still be here. Even if not, it could have returned since then. She knew to take the time to walk and calm her breathing as she approached, if she wanted any chance of catching it.