JJ Doe

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Callum Danrose
&
Ríoghnach "Riona"

Interaction(s): Callum @Helo

Once at the balcony, Riona took off her ruined apron and used the parts that weren’t stained with wine to wipe said wine off of her face. Between wipes, the maid double-checked to see if there was anyone else present. Though there were none, she didn’t want to take any chances, so she led Callum to a corner of the balcony that was a blindspot from most eyes. For another person to see the two, they would have to walk out to the balcony or be spying on them from a specific spot in the ballroom.

She tossed her apron onto one of the benches and faced Callum. Riona stared at him, “Sorry beforehand if I ruin your clothes too. You look dashing in them, by the way. Absolutely miserable, but dashing.” She grabbed both of his arms, pulled him closer, and buried her face into his chest, letting out a long muffled scream. She needed to vent her anger somewhere. Since there was no pillow handy, however, Riona improvised. At least she didn’t punch or kick him like she did with the pillows.

She groaned. “Cal, remind me again why I haven’t blocked all the escape routes and set this place on fire?” Yet.

“Well, for one you’re a far better person than entirety of that viper pit and, two, it would be rather difficult to ensure that all innocent people made it out before the damn palace burnt to the ground. A third reason; Edin might well be an infernal demon from the bowels of hell and fire might not do the trick.” Cal spoke all three reasons as if they were all equally valid, and comfortably wrapped his arms around Riona in a hug.

Wine, inadventably, continued to soak into his clothes as well but it hardly mattered, there was a near endless stockpile of clothing inside the palace and it was all replaceable. He had given a small smile at the ‘dashing’ comment, dashing and useful was really all he was meant to be, like a nice piece of furniture or ornate decorative piece within the palace, currently, it seemed, he was only failing at being useful. Perhaps ruining the clothes would at least help him suceed in failing at both.

“And however will I recover my reputation, smelling of wine for the rest of the night? People might start to think I’m a drunkard.” He joked of his poor reputation with a small sense of pride. One day he’d have to find something better to live for than making his father’s life more difficult, but that day was yet to come. He kept a close eye on the balcony doors, knowing full well trouble would always be manageable for him and potentially devastating towards Riona.

She snorted at Callum’s list of answers. Two out of the first three reasons were up for debate, but she agreed that there were innocent people in there. To involve them would make her as despicable as King Edin. Yet the embers wondered, so what if she did? Fight fire with fire. Better people than she had tried and failed to oppose him without stooping to his level. How was a nobody supposed to go up against a king? She had nothing to her name, only the skills she acquired through the years. What if it was a necessary evil?

“Gods, I hate it when you talk sense… but… you’re right.” She sighed reluctantly before releasing the prince and taking a few steps back, assessing the damage. As to be expected, some of the wine transferred onto him. It was harder to see it on the darker colors, but there was no mistaking the small flecks of purple on the lighter colors. She reflexively rubbed the cloth with her thumb as if the wine was dirt rather than liquid soaked into the fabric. She noted what looked to be paper sticking out of his pocket, but she doubted it was rendered illegible. “You might have to give up on people’s image of you being a drunkard though. It’d be a hard sell if you’re covered in wine stains. Not to mention, you have a tavern named after you. Once they figure out you’re not the owner, people will think the tavern only needs you to keep business afloat.” Her fingers stopped the vain attempt to physically rub the stain away. Instead, she removed her hat and tossed it next to the apron. “If it makes you feel any better, you won’t be the only one labeled a drunkard by the end of this party.” The maid shivered at the image of the not-so-distant future, praying that it wouldn’t be as bad as midnight taverns.

“Thanks for the help out there. I might’ve lost my temper if you didn’t step in when you did.” As she expressed her gratitude, her brows furrowed by another thought. What was Callum doing there? Not that he wasn’t allowed to be specifically at that spot, but he wasn’t supposed to be there alone. “Aren’t you supposed to be mingling with the ladies? I thought you were assigned to one of Count Calbert’s daughters? Where is she? Did she ditch you?” Her eyes widened, “Did you ditch her?” Unlikely considering Callum’s disposition. Even if the dance was rigged for King Edin’s benefit, or Count Calbert’s for that matter, the Callum Riona knew wouldn’t have given his dance partner the cold shoulder just to ruffle King Edin’s feathers. He understood that they were being used as a pawn like he was by his father. He would never hold that against them.

“You’re welcome, but really I should’ve stepped in sooner. This is my home as well, and working here should not mean having to put up with that.” He shook his head, everything about this court was so woefully skewed by Edin’s cruel influence. He was a bit surprised to find her concerned that he was following his father’s instructions to the letter. He doubted Riona wanted to see the palace filled with more Danrose children or a satisfied grin on Edin’s face.

“It was arranged for me to dance with Violet, who did not want to dance. So I spoke with her for a bit, and later with her sister Crystal as well. Technically, I think I’ve fulfilled my mingling requirements for the night. Of course, Auguste and I both received the find a proper obedient wife talk, and Auguste has been assigned to court Beatrice, Varian’s princess. So far it seems he’s had no luck. Wulfric was dancing with Wystan, which I can’t imagine pleased father very much either. And Anastasia was lying on the floor for part of her dance, so it seems I will have plenty of company on Edin’s shit list after tonight.” Cal recounted much of what he’d seen throughout the night, smiling as he went over all his siblings had done to anger Edin tonight.

“Perhaps soon the time will come when his entire line is done with his shit and the stress alone causes the shriveled up raisin he calls a heart to fail. And you, are the last person I’d expect to want me focused on furthering the Danrose line.” He added and he offered the bottle of wine in his hand to Riona. He often found alcohol helped ease the frustration of having little control over one’s own life.

“And how has your night gone? Before recent events of course.” Cal asked, trying to gauge the decency of the rest of the guests inside, many of whom, especially those of Alidasht, he was unfamiliar with.

Riona spent half a second pondering if it was a good idea to drink right now before accepting the bottle from Callum. She already smelled like she was drinking on the job, what difference would it make if she actually did? She pushed the mouth of the bottle against her lips and tilted her head back, chugging the wine. She didn’t savor the taste of the vintage, just downed the liquid as if she hadn't had a drop of water in days. A terrible way to consume the wine, no joy in the act, and bordering on insulting to the winemakers who spent so much time and energy to create this one bottle. At least she drank it, unlike some other people. After taking a couple of large gulps, Riona sighed loudly and offered the bottle back.

“Are you actually interested in the fine details of cleaning after people? Because it’s really not that exciting. Downright boring when everyone isn't making a mess. You’re forced to stand around, waiting … and waiting, until something happens.” Riona pointed her finger at the prince, “Now if your real question is how’re our guests? Then I advise asking the staff that had to serve them. All I can say is that our Alidasht guests, especially the animals, have behaved better than a lot of our Caesonian nobles. Of course, they might just be restraining themselves for the party, but…” The dance with Shahzade Munir replayed in the back of her head, bringing forth a small smile, “So far, they aren’t too bad.” If Callum were to take his chances overseas by marrying one of the foreign guests, Alidasht might not be a bad option. It was far from Caesonian and they weren't afraid to fight off King Edin if it came down to it. Alidasht would have its own set of problems to deal with, but what country didn’t?

“And you, are the last person I’d expect to want me focused on furthering the Danrose line.” Her, wanting him to focus on furthering the Danrose line? Now that was the funniest thing she’d heard all night.

The maid’s chuckle turned into a hollow laugh. She waved her hand, “Sorry, sorry. I just… haha. Oh, Cal… Who said anything about procreating? I said mingle. You do know how babies are made, right? The birds and the bees? That whole spiel? Simply mingling with women won’t make them pregnant. Nor does getting married guarantee a child. Besides…” A prolonged silence followed her last word. Riona’s gaze drifted away to the night sky as she rubbed her arms.

Was Cal entirely interested in the fine details; did he need or want to know exactly how many things had been discarded onto the floor, how many glasses were broken, how much food had been spilled and wasted, all by those who thought themselves so much better than the rest of the world? No, but he was willing to listen if there was anything she needed to vent. But what she said Alidasht, was probably the highest praise he’d heard from Riona about any set of nobles so maybe this new group was not so bad.

“I can assure you I received a thoroughly repulsive talk on that subject from our king many many moons ago,” Cal said shaking his head as he took the bottle back from Riona. While it was likely awkward for all children to hear the sex talk from their parents, Edin’s delivery deserved to be a punishment in one of the deepest layers of hell.

“But that is the endgame for all this mingling. Edin hardly stays awake at night worrying about whether his children have found themselves a lovely group of friends. No, he sits around making lists of which asses he needs us all to kiss for him, and which ladies of the court will give him the most well-bred grandchildren. Talk to the wrong sort and he might just banish them out into the wilderness to die and call it mercy.” Cal added in as Riona paused to look up at the stars, guessing that if she was deep in thought, the words that were about to follow would be less lighthearted. He took a long drink as he waited for her to continue.

Her mouth moved to say something, then hesitated. “Callum,” she finally said, “you’re running out of time.” Her eyes locked on to his. “If you really want to escape this life… be free from Edin with as little political complications as possible… I don’t think you’ve much time left. As long as you stay here, you’ll be forced to marry, Cal. Don’t try to fool yourself by thinking otherwise. It might not be now or any time soon, but it will happen as long as he’s alive.” Maybe even after his death if the Danrose’s creed remained intact. It already outlived King Edin’s predecessors, it was unlikely to die along with him. “He’ll make sure you never join any monastery or any organization that forbids its members from getting married, in this country. He’ll chain you to your room if necessary. He’s a f**king dipsh*t, who doesn’t understand your worth as a person, but he’d never willingly give up a pawn he can take advantage of, no matter how rebellious you are… At the end of the day, he knows you won’t leave.” She took a few steps closer to Callum without averting her gaze, “Because you’re still here… In spite of all the things he’s done, you’re still standing here.” Which begged the question: why? Why was Callum still “here”? At the party; living in the castle; in Sorian, Caesonia; alive. Callum Danrose loathed his very own existence, cursed the blood that coursed within and the man who sired him, yet he was all of the above. What was keeping him here?

It seemed she too wanted to discuss everyone’s favorite subject; his poor choices. Coming from her, it did cut a bit deeper than from anyone else, but he also knew it didn’t come from a place of malice. The intensity of her eyes didn’t help, nor did the fact that everything she said was the sort of truth he knew and chose to ignore anyway. “Well, he’ll want Wulfric married first, he needs a proper heir. I’ve still got some time to figure something out.” He gave an awkward reply, and looked away and out towards the landscape visible from the balcony.

“And sure, I could leave, and then what? Be somewhere all on my own, with very little in the way of useful skills, always looking over my shoulder, never able to live a life that wasn’t a lie in some way. Best case scenario, I drink myself to death in some far away gutter. Doesn’t feel very free to have to lie and hide. At least here I have what I need, and enough free time to study magic.” He offered up an explanation in a quiet voice, but even as he said it he knew it wasn’t the whole truth, just one small factor. He drank again from the bottle, several long gulps that he needed if he was going to answer with the whole truth. He set the wine bottle down on the ground and walked over to the balcony, his hands studying the railing as he tried to put into words exactly what kept him in Sorien.

“I know they’re terrible, not just Edin, but all of us. I don’t even like them, most of the time, but sometimes they’re not so bad. Sometimes we feel like real siblings and that’s better than never at all. My mother, she does try, as much as she can, to make up for him. They are my family, I’m not going to get another one, and no matter where I go I’d still be one of them. Maybe it’s better to suffer with company than alone.” Did the occasional hug from his mother make up for his father’s abuse? Not really, but it was better than nothing. Sure all of his siblings had their faults but were they any worse than his? Another no. He belonged here with them; guilty by his own association, guilty of never having done anything meaningful to help the people of Caesonia, guilty of prospering from other’s pain.

“And if I left and somehow manage to find a good life outside of here, all of this still exists, nothing changes for the people of Caesonia, they still suffer. What right does a prince have to be happy, when so many of his people suffer?” Cal felt the sting of tears against his eyes, the pressure of all of it tight in his chest. He slouched against the banister, head hung low, and tried to subtly wipe the tears from his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it felt better to say it out loud or if it only made the truth sting more. “I don’t even know if there’s anything I can do to make any of this better, or if I just make it worse.”

A pang of guilt grabbed and twisted Riona’s heart in all directions at the sight of the prince's defeated frame. Tentatively, she placed her hand on his back and rubbed gently, attempting to soothe him. She wasn’t sure if the touch comforted him in any way, but it helped her from becoming overwhelmed by the prince’s torment. Every time he showed compassion for the common folk, Riona wondered if Callum was really a Danrose. When that happened, she asked the fates why Callum had to be King Edin’s child? Things would’ve been less complicated if he was just like his father, selfish and cruel. Then she wouldn’t have to feel anything except hate for him.

“And why do you stay here? Surely not because of your great loyalty and love for the royal family. There are better places to find work, better kingdoms to work in, and yet, here you are. Why don’t you want to be happy?” He asked taking a deep breath of the chilled air before lifting his head and turning back around to face her.

The last question startled Riona. The muscles in her body tensed up and she forgot to breathe. His question hit her harder than she wanted it to.

“Why don’t you want to be happy?” the stable boy asked. “Are you trying to punish yourself for something you had no control over? I’ve never met your parents, but I don’t think they’d want to live the rest of your life like this.” His hand, calloused and covered in dirt, reached over to her. “Let's get away from this place. You and me. We’ll find happiness together.” His words tempted the maid. She was struggling with doubts that festered for years and she was beginning to wish for freedom, to let the fires die for good. She took his hand, hoping that there was peace beyond the horizon. There was none to be had, however. When the boy was trampled to death weeks later, Riona believed it was a sign. She was never going to be happy. Edin’s death was the only thing she had to look forward to in life.

The lack of oxygen forced Riona to take in a shaky breath. She tightened the grip on her arm to regain composure. Slowly she whispered, “I’m here… because…” Her voice trailed off once again as she contemplated on what answer she’d give him. She could’ve lied or avoided the question altogether, but the look in his eyes made her reconsider. It was nothing tangible, only a feeling she got which compelled her to give him an honest answer —that or it was the alcohol kicking in. The simple truth was ugly as it was, so she chose to focus on the essence of the truth.

“I love my family,” she answered with a weak smile. It was no secret that Riona was an orphan, though she never elaborated on the details, she told Callum that her family was murdered. So her answer to his first question might’ve sounded out of place to him, but it was the heart of the matter and the most she was willing to reveal to him at that moment in time. Though there were days when she wanted all of it to end, Riona endured for her family. “And I’m… so scared of letting them down. If I left now or died today… then absolutely nothing would have changed since the day I came here. I-I…t-that can’t… ” The maid gasped sharply and turned her head up as if it would be enough to stop the tears from forming. “That’d suck,” she laughed between heavy breaths.

Cal wasn’t sure what he’d expected her response to be but what he got wasn’t anything he would’ve guessed. In Caesonia one was always expected to grin and bear it, no matter the pain, because emotional displays were unseemly. So it was awkward and unpractised to stand with some with no walls of his own, to watch theirs go down as well, and to exist in such an open space he’d never really found himself in before. And he had no words, there was nothing that he could do or say that would make the world feel any less awful and unjust. So he just listened, as she had done countless times for him, and he didn’t look away from her. Cal tried to do nothing that would make it seem like there was anything out of the ordinary for people to be this open.

Riona always seemed so effortlessly strong, so unbreakable and intense. He didn’t know how she kept it all up, going through so much, every day, working for them, smiling at them, at the same people who caused all of her pain. In all the years he’d known her he’d never seen a side this vulnerable, and she was not one to seek attention or sympathy, and all of that made seeing her like this so heartbreaking. Now, he saw all the effort her strength took, and it was even harder to understand how anyone could be that strong.

When she was positive that she wasn’t going to start crying, Riona faced the prince with a somewhat forced smile, “You have a better shot at changing things, Cal. All this talk about not being able to do anything or making things worse for everyone else sounds like the bullsh*t Edin likes to drill into your head.” Her fingers tapped Callum’s forehead in emphasis. “Why are you giving up before you even tried? Because Edin said so? Pssh, please. So what if you screw up and make things ‘worse’? Just try again then. Try until you get what you want. Mess up until you get it right, Cal.” Her smile turned softer, more genuine.

Riona took both of Callum’s hands into hers. She held one in the air while she guided his other hand to her back where she released it. Once she placed her free hand on his upper arm, the maid held the position.

Callum allowed his hands and arms to be moved with no resistance. One hand rested where she had placed it against her back, the other remained wrapped around hers. The music from inside could be softly heard slipping through the balcony doors, just enough to keep the rhythm and match her steps, but other than it was quiet. There was only the soft lighting from the night sky and the air was crisp, smelling faintly of the wine that clung to their clothes. Most of all, it felt entirely peaceful, with just enough distance from everything that remained inside for Cal to forget for a moment that the world inside the ballroom even existed.

“Do you remember when you got healthy enough to start taking dancing lessons? You were so bad at it so we decided to practice together? You stepped on my toes and we tripped each other so many times, I’m kind of surprised we still have feet to walk on. Don’t even get me started on the number of times you dropped me during a dip because I was too fat.” The exact word he used was “heavy,” but she chose “fat” instead to tease him. Callum was still a sickly boy at the time and had barely any strength to speak of. Of course, the girl was too heavy for him to hold. “Look at you now, you haven’t stepped on my toes or tripped even once. If this isn’t proof that people can learn from their mistakes, then I don’t know what is.”

“Riona,” and there were so many other things he wanted to say but couldn’t for countless reasons, “I never called you fat,” was what he went with, a slightly scoff at the word. “But I guess I was a whiny brat of a child, I could hardly blame someone if they wanted to throttle me,” he added, and his tone was light, as playful as it ever got, and there was no trace of a grudge in his words. “And I am grateful that you are here. You’re right, I think I have improved some since we last danced if you care to try again, I promise not to drop you.” He spoke with a sincere smile.

“I distinctly remember the last time you said that, I still hit my head on the floor. Theories are all well and good, dear scholar, but I want hard evidence. The proof is in the pudding, as they say.” Riona taunted. Mentally she simultaneously prepared herself for the dip so she wouldn’t be taken by surprise if it were to happen and for herself to hit the floor so that she could at least keep potential injuries to a minimum. It never hurt to be prepared for either scenario.

Cal paused for a moment, doubt slipping in, noting subtly changes in her form made it clear she still expected him to drop her. The pause only cause his footing to fall out of rhythm, the misstep turned his focus on avoiding Riona’s feet and he thought it might just be better for the both of them if he didn’t try and add anything else in. But Riona had always been more forgiving of his flaws than most. So once his footing was was again sound he lifted his arm just above her head and for a spin before releasing their lightly clasped hands and placing the now free hand against her back. Cal dipped Riona, keeping her close to him, and holding her parallel to the floor for a brief moment before pulling her back up without fail. “I guess I only had to mess up until I got it right. I’m glad my previous attempts never left you with any lasting head trauma, otherwise I might not get to hear such wisdom spoken in this palace.”

The prince’s steady hand on her back allowed Riona to feel safe enough to place her free hand over her forehead pretending to swoon when the dip came. As he held her weight, she glanced in Callum’s direction and grinned, before he pulled her back up. “Me too,” she simply said.

As the two continued to dance and banter, the voice in the back of Riona’s head scolded her for what she had done. None of that was supposed to happen. The carefully maintained distance between them threatened to be disrupted and both couldn’t let that happen for their own reasons. She blamed a lot of things for her lapse in judgment such as the drunk nobles who angered her in the first place and the wine that loosened her tongue enough to ask needless questions. Questions which led to Callum and Riona becoming more vulnerable than they intended to be, exposing wounds that bound them to Danrose castle. Callum may have made things complicated for Riona, but she made it even more difficult on herself by giving a damn when she knew that it would only hurt them more in the end. The words from the past repeated to her through the prince’s mouth reminded her of what she was doing here. She needed to refocus on what truly mattered.

“I forgot to ask. Are you planning to stay till the end of the party? You said you reached your mingling quota for the night.”

“I spoke mainly in jest and Edin is in a strange mood tonight, I think the guest from Alidasht have him on edge, seems like it would be a mistake not to try and get to know them better.” Cal knew better than to think he could just pop in and out of these events whenever he wanted, likely he had already been gone from his father’s sight long enough now as it was. “And after this there is another, informal, party to attend out by the docks.” He added glancing at the letter that peaked out from it’s pocket. He didn’t see any reason to hide anything from her; she knew far more damning secrets of his than underground parties. “Why? Is there someone you think I should be mingling with?” He asked.

So that’s what it is. She shook her head, “No, nothing like that. But now I know that I’m going to have to check your room later to make sure you’re back before anyone else who’ll rat you out notices. So please try to be back before sunrise?” If the paper in his pocket was an invention it usually meant Princess Anastasia was or wanted to be involved. The maid’s eyes narrowed slightly, “Doubly so if Anastasia is going with you. I don’t want to drag two drunks to their beds in the dead of night without attracting too much attention, clean Gods knows what off them, and change their clothes before my shift even starts… ever again. Seriously, Cal. Never again. Be back by dawn.”

“Back before the sun, quiet as a mouse, no messes. I’ll make sure Anastasia does the same. Hand to the Gods. And I am entirely capable of changing my own clothes.” Cal promised raising one hand up to the sky and he meant it. Truthfully he’d probably do just about anything Riona asked of him, because of all his flaws his most damaging was how attached he found himself to anyone who was kind to him. Entirely desperate to have people like that around him even while knowing how it left him easy to influence or manipulate. Not that he’d ever held any doubts in his trust in Riona, among all the people he knew she was among the most honest.

Riona’s ears detected the sound of steady footsteps approaching, warning her that someone was making their way to the balcony. She tapped Callum’s arm in warning and stepped closer to whisper in his ear, “Incoming.” Her foot took one step back as she added, “Thanks for the break. It was fun.” Riona gently squeezed his hand that held hers before completely stepping away. Once a respectable distance away from the prince, the maid lowered her head, “Of course, your Highness. It will never happen again.”

The new arrival turned out to be another servant holding a hot towel in one hand and a stack of folded white cloths in the other arm —most likely a clean set of gloves, apron, and bonnet for Riona. They bowed to their prince in greeting and waited patiently for the exchange between Callum and Riona to end.

Cal gave only a sad smile as she tapped his arm and warned him, held onto her hand a little tighter at the same time she had squeezed his before letting go and letting walls and distance return. The doors to the balcony opened up and it was no longer a place that felt any different from the rest of the palace; a place where no one could really be or do as they wanted. He only nodded and snatched the wine bottle back up from where it rested on the floor. “Good, see that it doesn’t.” He tried to sound official but his words only managed to come out hollow. He gave a nod and forced a polite smile to the other servant before heading back inside, bring the bottle to his lips and finishing the contents before placing the empty vessel on a serving table.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

&
Ríoghnach "Riona"

Interaction(s): Callum @Helo

A sharp clap and the sound of glass breaking turned the heads of people who were ignorant of its source. It even turned Riona’s head, though not for the same reason as the bystanders. Unlike them, it was the force of the noble’s hand that pushed her face away from the original direction she was facing mere seconds ago. Her cheek stung belatedly, but it didn’t especially hurt. Not that a noblewoman with string beans for arms was capable of inflicting any significant damage on her. Slowly, and as calmly as she could, Riona faced the perpetrator that slapped her and bowed deeply, as was expected of her.

After the dance with the shahzade, Riona returned straight to her duties. Nothing out of the ordinary happened for awhile. Whenever a mess was made for one reason or another, she and her colleagues swooped in to clean it. Rinse and repeat. It was simple, mindless work. On occasion, she was asked to do things outside of her assigned work because the guests had no way of telling which staff was responsible for what, but they had been manageable.

Trouble came knocking when Riona heard a woman shriek. A brief sound of distress, nothing serious based on how the other guests more or less ignored it and no guards rushed in to defuse the situation. There was a group of nobles surrounding a crying woman with an empty wine glass in one hand, a shoe in another, and a large purplish-red stain on her dress. The first casualty of the night and a trend that past experience taught Riona would continue as long as alcohol flowed.

Riona approached the woman to offer her assistance when she saw the woeful expression transform into rage as soon as the noblewoman caught sight of the maid. “You!” She hissed, “This is all your fault!”

Excuse me? How is what my fault?

As if she had read Riona’s mind the noblewoman stomped her way to the maid with an unstable footing, shoving the shoe she was holding into Riona’s face. At the bottom of it was a mess that Riona initially thought was a smashed-up insect. After a closer inspection, she realized it was the remnant of a grape. “Don’t you dare play dumb! Your incompetence ruined my dress!” Riona could smell the alcohol in the other woman’s breath as she continued to yell at her. “This is why you should never hire commoners! No work ethics! Inherently lazy! You do the bare minimum work and expect to get paid handsomely for it! Even though you can’t even do the simplest task!”

Riona stared blankly at the noble. From what she could piece together from the ramblings of the intoxicated woman and the evidence she provided, Riona guessed that someone had dropped a grape and the drunk noblewoman lost her already deteriorating balance when she stepped on the fruit, which resulted in her spilling her drink over herself. All this, was apparently the servant’s fault because no one picked up the grape before she stepped on it. Riona was being scolded purely as a representative of the servants.

The maid bowed her head, “Many apologizes my Lady—...”

“I don’t want your hollow apologies! You ruined a dress that is worth more than your life and you think an apology is enough to absolve you? Shameless wretch, take responsibility for once in your life. I expected better from the Danroses. They are too lenient on your kind.”

Too… lenient?

A spark flickered and died in the darkness.

Too lenient? Is that what they call it? Where the f**k were you when Leo Over-Polished-My-A** blamed us? What about our reaction gave you the f**king impression that they are too lenient on us? A question Riona already knew the answer to. Even if the noblewoman was standing next to the servant whose knees buckled, she would’ve said the same thing. Because she saw nothing. They all saw nothing. Not the servants’ dread, despair, or fury. They were invisible and what was invisible was nonexistent. Their anguish didn’t exist.

“I know that words don’t work with your kind. You just never seem to understand. Reasoning is simply not your forte.” The noblewoman began to sway back and forth. Her foot jetted out to the side when she leaned too far in one direction in order to maintain her balance. “You are… Like, like, a…”

One of the nobles who had been watching the spectacle with amusement suggested, “Human-shaped animals?” The others chimed in with similar terms.

Another spark, brighter than before, failed to ignite once again.

“Beasts in human skin! Like any wild animal, you only understand strength. As such, you can only learn by receiving a good thrashing.”

What? You think our uniforms cover us from head to toe for modesty's sake? With a masher like Edin?! HA! We have more in common with slaves than with any of you arrogant, spoiled pieces of—...!

The spark this time produced a small glow. A tiny, insignificant fire. Unworthy to kindle the embers. Quickly blown out with a single rational thought. Riona dug her nails into her arm, gloves preventing her from breaking skin. She’s drunk Ríoghnach. They’re drunk. She just happens to be drunk and upset. Just have her get her servants and they’ll know how to deal with her.

The maid took in a deep breath through her nose to calm herself, “I am sorry that you feel our services are inadequate, my lady. We will endeavor to do better. In the meantime, would you like me to call—...” The woman in front of her suddenly stumbled forward. Riona’s hands shot out to stabilize her when the woman jerked away from her touch, dropping both the glass and the shoe from her hands so that she could slap the maid across the face.

“How dare you!” The noble screamed, “How dare you touch me without my permission! Who do you think you are!? Know your place!” If her previous crying and rambling hadn’t attracted that much attention before, it had done so now. Even with her head bowed low, Riona could see from her peripheral vision a little crowd forming. Amongst them, she saw her colleagues.

They stood there with worried looks, but as soon as they made an attempt to step forward Riona raised her hand slightly, stopping them in their tracks. The situation, though not as nearly spectacular as Duke Vikena’s entrance, garnered enough attention that it was impossible the head housekeeper wouldn’t be made aware of the situation. If she was, that meant the noblewoman would eventually get what she believed the Danrose servants needed. It was bad enough that they were going to have to be punished to some degree because of Lord Smithwood’s complaint, the other servants didn’t need to deal with more of this nonsense. Not if it could be avoided.

The noblewoman turned to the other nobles around her, “You saw that, yes? She touched me!” The others nodded in agreement. “What if I contract something? I heard that they are carriers of diseases! Didn’t they spread that plague in Kolonivka a while back?” Riona didn’t appreciate being equated to fleas on a rat, but more than that, she wondered how the woman contracted anything when both she and Riona were wearing gloves.

“Don’t fret,” a nobleman hiccuped, “I have it on good authority that alcohol can eradicate the cause of any illness.”

Another scowled at the inebriated man, “And where, pray tell, have you learned that from?”

“Some, publication from … the, the,” he poked his head with his fingers to get the next words out, “Varian Royal Institute of Science. Something about… creatures so small…we can’t see them, but they can make us sick. Heat and alcohol can kill them.”

“Hogwash.”

“I agree, but if it’s the kind of hogwash that allows me to have more alcohol, I have no complaints.” The nobleman grabbed a bottle from the table and uncorked it. He tilted the bottle in the noblewoman’s direction. She took a few steps away from him, shielding herself as she demanded him to stop and that she already decided to burn her clothes. Cleaning it was apparently no longer an option. The dress had been irreversibly ruined by the wine and the stupid maid. No longer could she wear this ensemble without remembering the humiliation.

“You’re no fun at all.” The nobleman faced Riona. A snide grin formed on his lips, “Then again, how can we trust what the Varians say? I think we would be doing a service to them by testing this theory of theirs.” He flipped the bottle upside down over Riona’s head, dumping rather than pouring the wine onto her.

By this point, everything the nobles did was steel striking flint near tinder. Every word spoken, every action they did or did not take grated on Riona. It didn’t take long for the fire to flare up. Her nails dug harder into her skin as she clenched her teeth. The maid was only able to avoid contorting her face into an ugly glower by breathing slowly through her flaring nostrils. She tried to remember the meditation techniques Wystan suggested so that she wouldn't completely lose it, to focus on anything except what was happening at that moment, but her mind kept wandering back. How the woman thought it was a logical conclusion to burn clothes that were worth more than a single life because of a wine stain that could be washed out and a maid who “violated” her. How dumping perfectly good vintage wine was the pinnacle of hilarity for these people. How the wine pooling on the floor looked redder than it was supposed to be.

Why did she even bother?

A soft glow emanated from the embers.

Once the last drop of wine escaped its glass prison the nobleman peeked inside, “Huh, that’s the last of that … and she’s still alive. I suppose the Varian Royal Institute of Science aren’t as credible as they claim to be.”

The flames from the kindling burned with stronger ferocity and as it does, the ember’s light glowed brighter, full of anticipation. Unabashedly hungry for the flames. It yearned to consume it all.

“Mayhap another one will do the trick?” The group snickered.

Fueled by the fire, it would burn brighter than any star. Set Sorian ablaze, for all to witness. They… he would burn in the all-engulfing flames. And it would be glorious. All the girl had to do was just let the embers touch the fire.

“You may be right,” the nobleman uncorked another bottle.

Firewood crackled and popped.

The wine bottle rose up.

The ball of fire flew its way to the embers… and was immediately caught mid-air, extinguished with one swift motion by a hand paler than Ríoghnach’s.

Riona snapped back to reality and turned her head to see Callum standing there.

“Bold of you to insult the king by wasting his favorite wine, a vintage carefully chosen to honor our guests from Alidasht.” Callum snatched the wine bottle from the lesser noble’s hand. With ease, he found himself mimicking a look of absolute disdain, one normally found on his father’s face with Cal often on the receiving end.

The commotion had quickly escalated into something impossible to miss; most of the time these things sorted themselves out, or more accurately the staff sorted them out in ways normally undetected by most. The shrill-voiced noblewoman was easily ignored as someone who couldn’t hold her drink, bemoaning her own mistake, but the slap had echoed through the room. It drew his attention and seeing that it was a wine-drenched Riona on the receiving end of the slap, one of his home’s own staff being assaulted, rather than a scuffle between two equally insufferable nobles, had made all apathy towards the commotion vanish.

“Then again, boldness without cause is base stupidity. You are on thin ice, you will leave my presence, and will be thankful I do not bring this insult to our king’s attention. Should I have the misfortune of seeing any of you again, you will be conducting yourselves in a way that does not embarrass Caesonia.” Cal asked, making an effort to look at each of them the very same way his father would look at Kier the ferret. He then spoke his last sentence slowly, the way one does when speaking with a young child, “Do we understand?” Callum did not wait for a response, instead, he waved them away with his free hand while looking at the wine bottle as if it were a precious thing and shaking his head.

It was a sad truth that to chastise them for the waste of wine, over the mistreatment of a person, would be more easily understood, but it was the truth of the world they all lived in. Assaulting a servant would be seen as nothing, but an action that could be seen as an insult to the king, to embarrass the king and country in front of another nation, bordered on treasonous. It was a simple enough spin on the situation, but one he hoped wouldn’t add any further insult to Riona.

Many of the nobles, including some of his family, laid claim to a favored servant, one they treated better than the rest, occasionally even calling it friendship. These nobles treated others as a pet, all so that they could feel better about themselves, and brag about their generosity and kindness. So, although Cal liked Riona better than he did most people, he knew better than to entertain such notions and knew better than insult someone by claiming them as a favored servant. Not a favored servant, nor even really a friend, because to call someone a friend in a way that meant something required a more even distribution of power. What existed was a strange relationship that had begun with a failed assassination attempt against him and continued fueled by the mutual hatred of one man who sat upon a throne.

There were debts owed to Riona for so many things that he could neither repay nor even give voice to; days when just knowing he wasn’t alone in his hate made life bearable when consuming darkness had been fended off by simply being understood by another. Just as Riona understood him, he understood that she held a dangerous temper that simmered beneath a composed surface.

“I think I could use some fresh air, would you like to join me?” Cal quickly dropped the stern-prince voice, ensuring his words did not sound like a command, offering it as a true choice. His face, however, did not change, he maintained the look of anger and annoyance as he spoke knowing full well it would not due to look soft on the servants in front of those who still watched. It was better for them both if it appeared like he was berating an out-of-line servant. “I’ve got a bottle of wine, there’s an empty balcony over there, and you could probably use a break.” He added gesturing with the bottle.

Riona watched silently as she witnessed firsthand what power words held when spoken by a person of higher status. The pack of hyenas who were cackling at her now exposed their bellies in submission. A pitiful sight to behold. One that threatened to bring a smile to her face and served as a painful reminder of how weak she really was here.

She faced her rescuer and curtsied in greeting, “It would be my greatest pleasure to accompany you, my prince.” She signed her colleagues to come out of hiding, “Can you clean this up for me?” After they nodded, she added, voice louder so that anyone who continued to stick around could hear, “Also, could you find our… fine guest’s servant? There was an unfortunate accident and she is very distressed. She may need to change clothes, but I believe she would feel more comfortable with familiar faces assisting her.” She didn’t give a damn about any of the nobles’ mental state, quite frankly, but she kept appearances up —for Callum’s sake, if not for hers— as she bowed to the general direction of the crowd, “My deepest apologies for the commotion. Everything is now under control, please continue to enjoy the party.” Finally she turned to Callum. “After you, Prince Callum.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Interaction(s): Nala @13org (Collab)

Ryn took the opportunity to wander around the ballroom and greet people he had yet to properly converse with. When he wasn’t talking to someone, Ryn surveyed his surroundings, carefully observing the movement of people as they went about their business. There were many guests so the process was slow, but not entirely fruitless.

The more people he talked to, Ryn began to question how many Caesonian nobles fully supported King Edin. Not a single soul was blatant enough to vocalize it, but the signs were there in their body language, in their voice, the words they chose to use, and the timing in which they decided to use it whenever the subject of the king came up. Small, subtle things that said more than the person intended to. The alliance of the Caesonian noble circle appeared to be a flimsy one, barely held together by loyalty gained primarily through fear and money, and not much else. Though, if there was something else, Ryn was interested in finding out what it was.

While King Edin’s precarious position made Ryn’s life a lot easier, it came with its own set of problems: his children. In comparison to their father, they were viewed in an infinitely favorable light. First Prince Wulfric garnered the most support from the nobility while the youngest Prince Callum was more popular amongst the disenfranchised commoners. Prince Auguste and Princess Anastasia seemed to be liked by people from all walks of life, but old-fashioned values made many regard Princess Anastasia as an unlikely candidate for the throne. Underestimating the influence she had. Ryn would not make the same mistake; he wasn’t allowed to make such a mistake. They were all a potential threat to him and he should treat them as such. He needed to remind himself not to focus all his attention on the children, however. For many species of snakes thrived in Caesonia.

The smell of strong wine filled Ryn’s nostrils as Duke Vikena stared at “Caesonia's beloved count” with disdain. A dash of apprehension crossed his face when the snake slithered his way to Lady Vikena. His whispers sucked the color out of the young woman’s face. The delight he derived from messing with the Vikenas was evident. Yet others seemed blind to it. Did the count’s family know that he liked to play with his prey?

Based purely on what Ryn could observe, whatever happened between Count Damien and the Vikenas remained between them. While he interacted with his wife and daughters, Count Damien was as many described him to be. A charming, well-mannered man who loved his family immensely and was not ashamed to express it out in public. Was the light playing tricks on Ryn’s eyes when he saw that cruel smile? Even so, the impact his presence had on Duke Vikena was undeniable. Taking into account that Count Damien seemed to have some sway on King Edin, he may be more dangerous than people realized.

The other thing Ryn noticed during his periodic people-watching was the presence of a masked individual. At first, the mask caught his eyes only because there was no one else wearing one. Ryn then witnessed the masked man passing out envelopes to a select few guests, which piqued his curiosity. When he saw the envelope in Prince Callum’s hands, Ryn excused himself from the present company and left the ballroom as nonchalantly as he could.

Past the ballroom doors, down the hall, and away from the hustle and bustle of the constantly moving castle staff, a group of servants from different noble houses, except Alidasht, were standing around, drinking, eating, and chatting amongst themselves. Even though the ballroom was large, to avoid overcrowding, extra servants who were not needed in the room were asked to be on standby somewhere near the ballroom. There, the servants waited patiently for Danrose’s servants to inform them that their respective masters were requiring their service.

Amongst the group of people, Ryn spotted two familiar faces and walked toward them. He removed his ostentatious tailcoat to not alarm the other servants as he made his way to the two figures drinking next to a service cart that was reserved for the guests’ servants.

Karleen was a giant of a woman, taller than the average man in the Northern Kingdoms, with muscles that any warrior would envy. She had hazel eyes, shortly trimmed bronze hair, and countless scars from her days in the fighting arena etched on her limestone skin. When standing next to Karleen, Peter looked much smaller and lankier than he actually was, but he was a man of average height and a body built for acrobatics. He was a ginger with amber eyes, and pale ivory skin covered with freckles. He was smoking a pipe when Ryn approached the duo. As soon as they noticed him, Peter greeted him with a wide smile, smoke escaping from his mouth through the gap between his teeth.

“Ain’t it a bit early to call it a night, Boss?”
“That it is. How are you two doing? Not too bored I hope.”
“Eh, we’ve been entertaining ourselves. I just came back from my ‘walk’ and was about to trade places with Karl so she can take her ‘break’.”
Karleen hummed in response.
“Anything happened that I should be made aware of?”
“Aside from the fact that every other servant here is spying on everyone else? Not really.”
Ryn didn’t expect any less. It would have been more surprising if there weren’t some amount of snooping happening.
Karleen cut in, “Masked man.” She took a sip of her drink.
“Oh yeah, there was this one dude who must’ve gotten an invitation for the wrong party cause he was wearing a mask. This isn’t a masquerade party, right?” Ryn shook his head. “Thought so. Uh… aside from that… Uh… I guess if you know a woman called Helga then I can tell you that she's really upset about something.”
“Oh? What happened?”
“We were hoping you’d tell us. She came out from the ballroom complaining about something the princess did.”
“Huh. I must’ve missed it then.” Ryn lowered his voice, “There is so much going on at once, it’s hard to keep an eye out for everything.”
“I bet it is. You sure you don’t need one of us in there too?”
“As much as I would like that, I need you all to stay focused on what you’re doing…” He sighed, “I said before immediately contradicting myself… I need some help with some other things.” Ryn looked at the two apologetically. He didn’t want to distract his companions with additional tasks, but he could not ignore what he saw.

Karleen pushed herself away from the wall she was leaning against and walked past Ryn to face the service cart, conveniently hiding Ryn from the other servants’ field of vision. Peter remained where he was, but turned his head to face the other end of the hall, keeping an eye out for any passersby. “Whatcha need, Boss?”

Ryn whispered, “I need one of you to tail Calbert Damien and Callum and Anastasia Danrose after they leave the ballroom tonight.”

There was a pause before Peter asked in a quiet voice, “You sure you want to do that, Boss? This might be the only time this place is as unguarded as it’ll ever be.”

And there are only five of us. They were both aware that their resources were limited here. It was a conscious decision on Ryn’s part. It made coordinating easier and a large group would have been too conspicuous. It also simply reduced the number of lives that would be at stake should the worst happen. This, of course, meant that Ryn had to be careful of who he deployed and when.

“If I’m being entirely honest. No, I’m not sure at all.” Ryn rubbed the bridge of his nose, “But that masked man you saw? I saw him handing out envelopes to people and one of them was Callum. I also thought I saw Anastasia handing a similar looking envelope to another man. I’m not sure if they’re related, but if they are, I think if we follow one of them, they’ll lead us to the person who sent out those letters and the people who received them.”
“Super secret people giving out super secret letters for a super secret meeting? With one, maybe two, Danroses involved? Does sound super secret. I’ll get Udo to follow them.”
Ryn nodded, “As for Calbert… There seems to be something going on between him and Lorenzo Vikena.”
“I thought they were friends.”
“Do friends usually do long-distance glaring contests across the room every chance they get?”
“Sounds more like they’re checking each other out.”
“I–... Huh… the thought never crossed my mind.”
“Star-crossed lovers,” Peter waved his hand slowly to gesture an arch, “the forbidden romance between a recently widowed Duke and a Count, the supposedly devoted husband.”
Karleen sighed wistfully as she collected petit fours onto a plate.
“Ah, so we have a scandal on our hands and blackmail to boot. Splendid.”
“Blackmail? Oh, Boss I love it when you talk dirty.”
Ryn shook his head, but the smile that grew on his face remained as he warned Peter like a mother would to her child, “Behave.” Ryn adjusted the coat in his arm so that he could stick his hands into its pocket, “I better go back before I miss out on all the action… and the animals.”

Karleen returned to her original position and popped the petit four into her mouth. “And for a hot second, I thought he was busting his a** working like the rest of us.” Peter grabbed a tiny cake off of her plate and shoved it into his mouth with his fingers, “Have fun.”

“I will. Before I go, though,” Ryn pulled out the papers from the pocket. “Do you have any idea where the dustbins are? I walked all over that damn ballroom and there’s not one dust bin in sight.”

Ryn could barely hear Peter through his chewing, “Aren’t you supposed to throw it on the ground?”

Ryn knocked his head back and let out an exasperated sigh just as Karleen placed the fork on her plate and reached her open hand out. “I'll take that.”

---

“Common sense would dictate that there should be at least one dustbin in this room, yes? Or has it come to the point that the nobility are so detached from the mundane world they don’t know how to use a dustbin? Do they know what a dustbin is? Do I know what a dustbin looks like? Is that why I failed to find one?” The count turned his head to the black tigress who sat a few feet away from where he stood.

After the incident with Duke Vikena, Ryn had been somewhat hesitant to approach the Alidasht corner of the ballroom. He had thought it would be better to wait until everyone had calmed down, and now that the tension had returned to a level where the countries were at no risk of going to war, for the moment at least, Ryn decided to do what he had wanted to do ever since he first stepped into the ballroom. Get a closer look at the animals.

He approached the Alidasht animal handlers and was successful in buttering them up enough to the point where the friendlier of the bunch began to show off their prized beasts. Though he was only able to touch the docile creatures, he was more than satisfied to be able to observe the animals up close. The one animal the handlers advised against getting too close to was the black tiger, Nala. There was only one person in the entire world she trusted, and that was Shehzadi Mayet. The best thing anyone else could do in terms of positive interaction was to feed her something that was not themselves and avoid getting mauled by her. So, obviously, Ryn asked if he could feed her.

The count slowly inched his way towards Nala with the plate of food provided by the animal handlers, striking up meaningless conversations with the big cat. The handlers started to place bets on whether he would survive the encounter. Evidently, they thought the odds of him leaving unscathed were stacked against him, but Ryn wasn’t deterred by it.

Eventually, he managed to get close enough to the tiger to place his offering of sliced raw meat on the ground and take a couple of slow steps back. He knelt down and waited with anticipation.

Nala, who was laying down and patiently waiting for Mayet to finish dancing, simply looked towards the strange man who was approaching her. While she didn't display any hostility towards him, at least not openly, the piercing gaze she gave to the man, watching every single movement and step he took was more than enough of a warning for him to be careful with his movements.

Nala was relatively used to life at the royal castle in Alidasht, but that was only because she was basically raised there by Mayet. She considered that place her and Mayet's territory. She had seen the servants that worked on the castle long enough to know their scent and to be sure no one of them would harm her or Mayet, especially since they all knew the correct manners to enter Mayet's room and approach her and Nala.

With that said, that wasn't the case here. Not only was Caesonia a completely unknown place for Nala, but the people here were complete strangers to her as well. More than a few times, Nala had to give a low growl to warn some overconfident nobles who tried to approach her while she watched Mayet and the other man whom she was dancing with. Fortunately, this particular noble seemed to be different than the rest. Nala could feel the scent of meat coming from the plate the man got from one of the servants that had come with them from Alidasht and the way Ryn approached her was slow and careful. Despite that, Nala still gave a low growl the moment Ryn got too close to her, just before he offered the raw meat and took a few steps back.

Curious, Nala leaned forward, without taking her eyes from Ryn as she carefully sniffed the meat. After confirming it was safe, having felt no different scent and the faint scent of the servants she knew from Alidasht on the meat, Nala lowered her head, her eyes still locked on Ryn's as she took the entire meat in her mouth, eating it in a single bite.

While it was definitely difficult for anyone but Mayet and those who were very close to her to know what exactly went through Nala's head, the huff she gave to Ryn seemed to be one of approval, before she turned her head towards Mayet once more and continued watching her.

Ryn watched the black tigress with keen interest, as she accepted his humble offering and resumed her vigilance. He grinned before retrieving the empty plate and returning to the group of Alidasht servants. “So… if no one wagered on me not getting hurt, at all, does that mean I get the money by default?” He teasingly asked them.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Mina Blackwood
&
Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Interaction(s): Mina @Tae

Mina had merely smirked to herself as she’d walked away from the Alidasht prince, quite pleased with how that interaction had turned out. She now had to focus on the task at hand as she made her way to the front of the ballroom, curious as to who her dance partner would be this year. She’d danced with all sorts of people over the years and felt as if she were prepared for anything. Truly anyone would be better than the older count she’d once danced with that tried to continuously be handsy with her. She’d merely kept readjusting his hands the entire dance while still staying pleasant. Thankfully she wasn’t going to have to deal with that man again this year as she found herself in front of Lord Hendrix, someone she had yet to formally meet yet knew of. ”Lord Hendrix, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I am Lady Mina Blackwood. It seems we are to be dance partners, is that correct?” She said with a smile as she curtsied to him.

Ryn reflexively returned the smile and curtsy with a smile and bow of his own to Lady Blackwood. He showed his paper to her and checked her number. Despite King Edin’s questionable decisions concerning other matters, Ryn approved of this type of ice breakers. What a terrific way of potentially expanding one’s social circles without the burden of thinking about how to initiate a conversation. “It seems you are indeed correct.” Ryn took the paper from Lady Blackwood’s hand and stuffed both of their papers into his outer pocket. He could have just thrown the paper onto the ground like the others, it may have even been customary to do so. Ryn, however, couldn’t stand the idea of littering the place knowing full well that someone else would have to clean up after him. Sure, one could argue that it was the servant’s job and that two pieces of paper would not make a whole lot of difference to them, but what did people gain from intentionally making other people’s jobs harder? Their time and energy were better spent elsewhere.

“The pleasure is entirely mine, Lady Blackwood,” the count offered his hand to escort her to a suitable space on the dancefloor, “How does Kolonivka fare? I hope all is well.” Once they were facing each other, the man held his left arm upward and extended his right arm forward, welcoming Lady Blackwood to step closer. He placed his right hand on her left shoulder blade once she lifted her arm. “I am glad to see that Count Blackwood is in good health today.”

Mina took note of Ryn sticking the papers in his pocket instead of tossing them on the ground like so many others did. It was a slightly curious act, but Mina felt as if it spoke volumes to the type of person he was. She made no comment on it, however, and simply took his hand when it had been offered. ”All is quite well for us currently. We had quite the bountiful harvest season last year which helped us make it through the winter quite nicely.” She said with a smile as she stepped in closer, taking up her position for the dance. She followed his lead, easily falling into the steps of the waltz.

”I am quite glad my Uncle made it as well. I did force him to rest up the entire afternoon after we arrived as I thought it incredibly important he attended this event this evening.” She said with a small laugh as she briefly glanced over to her uncle who was actually participating in the dance as well. It seemed he’d actually gotten paired with Duchess Alice Smithwood and she briefly wondered how that was going. Her attention was quickly back to Ryn, however, as it was rude not to give her partner her full attention. ”How is your business fairing? I have heard nothing but praise about your family and your trading company.”

“Why, thank you! I couldn’t possibly take all the credit, though. I mean, here I am dancing with a gorgeous woman, eating delicacies, and meeting such wonderful people while everyone back home is battling mounds of paperwork and shipments.” Ryn clicked his tongue, “Suddenly I feel guilty for being here… Perhaps I should host a party like this one when I go back so that they don’t feel like they were left out. Maybe even invite some of the people I meet here? Would you like to join? If you don’t mind the presence of commoners, that is.” Ryn stared at Lady Blackwood for a beat before gasping. “Oh! Dar—sorry, no, excuse me. That’s not at all what you asked is it? Business is doing quite well. In fact, we are considering officially expanding outside of the Three Kingdoms. Have you ever traveled overseas, Lady Blackwood?”

Mina let out a small giggle. ”Lord Hendrix, you are by far the sweetest man I’ve met tonight and you flatter me.” His upbeat nature had her positively grinning. Truly it was rather refreshing if she were being honest. ”I would be delighted to join. The presence of commoners won’t be a problem in the slightest. They deserve just as much respect as either you or I and they, too, deserve to have a grand night like this. They are the backbone of our kingdoms, after all.” It was nice to find someone who seemed to view commoners in a positive light as there were so many nobles who looked down on them. She supposed it did make sense as his family did come from humble beginnings.

He then went on to apologize as he hadn’t exactly answered her question. ”Please, no need to apologize!” She shook her head, smile still in place. ”I’m glad business is going so well! That expansion will be a huge accomplishment. I commend you and your family for all your hard work. As for your question, sadly I have not.” The last part she said with a sigh. ”The only overseas travel I’ve experienced is through the books I read. I would love to travel some day, but I’m currently too preoccupied with caring for my uncle and making sure the people of Kolonivka are cared for.”

Ryn’s eyes softened, “Such is the fate of an admirable leader. Kolonivka is truly blessed to have you as their future countess. Do make sure you give yourself some time for yourself, though, Lady Blackwood. I’m sure you don’t need me to state the obvious, but just as you care about your uncle and people’s wellbeing, so do they care about you.” Carefully Ryn raised the hand that held Lady Blackwood’s hand so that she could do an underarm turn. When she came back, he continued, “You should definitely travel overseas if you get the chance. It can be such an eye-opening experience! As informative as books and pictures can be, they don’t always do the place, or its inhabitants, justice. Even the best of them can leave details out that could completely change what you believed for so long.” The count’s voice dropped to a near whisper as his smile faded slightly, “You can’t always believe what’s written down in books or depicted on paintings.” Ryn’s jovial expression returned quickly, however, “Not that I dislike books or art, mind you. I’m actually quite fond of them. Excellent way to travel to far-off worlds when you don’t have the time or means to do so.”

”History is written by the victors, rarely is what we read in books or see in paintings are the truth.” Mina stated softly with a small sigh, her face falling a little as she thought of her mother. She was painted as a harlot and ostracized for it, but speaking with her uncle it seemed that may not entirely be the case. She met Ryn’s eyes once again and found herself smiling at him again. ”You are a wise and kind man, Lord Hendrix. Perhaps I should take some time to myself and attempt to travel. I would love to see the different wonders of the world and attempt to paint them.” She sighed once again, though. ”Unfortunately, though, many look down on a woman traveling alone. I know my uncle would worry about my safety as well. He would urge me to find someone to travel with.” She gave a small laugh at the end of her statement.

When Ryn saw Lady Blackwood’s countenance as she made her comment about history being written by victors, he belatedly realized that he accidentally struck a nerve. The power of stories, true or false, knew no bounds. They had the ability to spread like wildfire, twist reality as people knew it, and drastically alter lives, for better or worse. Rumors were no exception. Solely through word-of-mouth, Lady Selina Blackwood’s scandalous reputation spread down south. Every community farther away from Kolonivka added a bit more to it, transforming the story behind Lady Mina Blackwood’s birth into something more nefarious, to the point where even tavern bards sang fantastical songs about it. The crudest variation Ryn heard was that both Selina and Sebastian Blackwood were practitioners of the dark arts and as a part of a magical ritual they conceived Mina. Astonishing how people could conjure up so much from so little.

Thankfully, Lady Blackwood changed the subject back to traveling.

“I can see why your uncle would be worried, it can be dangerous traveling alone… but if that’s the only thing preventing you from traveling, why not use Crosswinds Trading? I’m sure my family would be ecstatic to serve as your guide, and I would gladly accompany you if you would have me.” The invitation flew out of his mouth before Ryn had time to consider what he was going to say. If he had, he would’ve known how much it wasn’t a good idea. There was nothing to assure Ryn’s fate in Caesonia, thus he was in no position to make promises he couldn’t keep. “Then again, I suppose having a man you barely know accompany you on your travels is exactly what Count Blackwood is trying to avoid.” Ryn turned his head to the side to look at the people gathered in the ballroom, “Perhaps… you can invite a number of your friends along? Oh yes, that should be fun! A trip overseas with your friends and paint set, a short break from… all of this.”

Mina let out a small giggle, but found herself nodding. ”Honestly that’s a really good idea. I think my uncle may be more comfortable with me traveling with you since your family has such a high reputation.” She knew that her uncle was quite impressed with the Hendrix family and their success, she had little doubt he'd be opposed to her traveling with Ryn, but she couldn't completely speak for him. ”Besides I couldn’t travel till after this season ended so it would give us plenty of time to become acquainted with each other and him acquainted with you.” At the mention of friends her smile faltered only a tiny bit, but was right back to where it was. ”That could be a fun trip, yes, but first I’d have to find true friends to do that with.” She laughed. ”Where would you suggest I travel first? As I’ve mentioned, I love to paint and read. I also love places that have wonderful desserts to try.”

“One of the most charming ladies of Kolonivka with no true friends? No, it simply cannot be. What hopes do I have to make friends if you don’t have any? This will not do. We must rectify this while we’re here. We will have so many friends by the end of the season, that we’ll need two ships to accommodate everyone for the trip!” He was exaggerating, of course, but he did find it surprising that Lady Blackwood had no one to call a true friend. Was it because of the rumors surrounding her and her family? Or perhaps she simply was not the type to make close friends.

“As for where you should travel first… Hmm. That might be a harder question than you realize, Lady Blackwood. It’s the equivalent of narrowing down a book recommendation. There are just so many options! And they are all wonderful in their own right. It really depends on what mood you’re in. For example, Nexeio might seem like a boring place to go at first. It’s a windy place with nothing but vast plains as far as the eye can see. What people who give up early don’t realize is that almost everything there changes with the wind. The denizens are nomadic. Their lives revolve around the winds. Settlements do exist, but they’re rarely permanent like they are in the Three Kingdoms. Truely, a cartographer’s worst nightmare. But if you do manage to find a settlement, you’ll notice them from miles away. If not from the brightly colored ribbons and kites the Nexeians love so much, then from the sound of wind chimes.” Ryn’s eyes lit up with excitement, “Did you know they know how to ‘fly’? Not literally, of course, but they have very clever methods of gliding through the skies and hovering midair as if they did have wings. Imagine what you’d be able to draw from up above!” He paused. “Actually, you’d probably just get a better view of how expansive the plains really are, but I digress. If you like sweets then I believe they have plenty of interesting ones to try out. Many of them are very light and fluffy. There’s one that even looks like a cloud. It melts away the second it hits your tongue. Speaking of melting, there’s this other place called…”

During the remainder of the dance, Ryn tried to list as many places in the world Lady Blackwood could travel to in the allotted time. He talked about the land that was left in perpetual dusk as if both the morning sun and evening moon forgot of its existence. Candied rose petals were the most popular treats there. The city of fog and shadows, where the haze never dissipated, and everything outside only looked like shadows. Unable to do much outdoors, the city’s inhabitants take great pride in their interior decorating. A megalopolis that was carved into an expansive mountain range and was blessed with an overabundance of precious stones and metals. There are luminous crystals in their caves that “sang” when struck. The Forest of Many Wonders, a place brimming so much with life and chaos that the word improbable held no meaning. Legend has it that treatment to any ailment could be found within the forest, given that its seeker was willing to risk life and limb for it. The beautiful islands in the far east that were located in the most dangerous waters on Eromora, and home to warriors who were fabled to be so skilled in water maneuvering that a well-coordinated group could easily take down a Kraken with nothing but harpoons and fishnets. The fruits grown on these islands were the sweetest things Ryn ever had. He was even able to squeeze in a bit about the tribe that revered pudding above all else. Ryn would have continued if given the chance. He loved to watch the wonderment on people’s faces when he told them about these places that seemed too foreign to be real.

Mina listened to his recommendations with genuine interest, finding all of them to be fascinating places. She hadn't commented on his disbelief of her not having friends simply because she wasn't sure how to explain it. It really boiled down to her not putting in enough effort to make more than acquaintances. She rarely approached others to converse with them unless she absolutely had to or if they approached her first. She'd never really realized how unusual it was for a girl like her to not have any friends. Well she couldn't say she didn't have ANY friends. She did have Dr. John who she would consider to be her closest and possibly only friend. Perhaps it was time to change that.

The music came to an end and there was a genuine smile on her face as she curtsied to Ryn. ”I must thank you for this wonderful dance and all the wonderful suggestions, Lord Hendrix. You truly have convinced me to want to travel as well as made me realize that perhaps this should be the season that I become better acquainted with others."

“You flatter me, but I fear I was just prattling at the end. Thank you for listening to me. I do hope it was, at the very least, entertaining to some extent.” The count turned his attention to the people in gold and added, “If I may make one more suggestion, Lady Blackwood. Alidasht is also a fine place to travel. Relatively close too. And unlike the other places I suggested, we’re fortunate to have natives of Alidasht to speak for themselves. I would think they would be thrilled to tell you more about their home if you ask them.” Ryn bowed, “May you have a delightful evening, Lady Blackwood.”

She got ready to turn and leave, but then paused. ”Don't let my lack of friends discourage you, my lord. You shall easily make friends with how charming you are. My lack of friends is due to a lack of effort on my part, but I do hope to fix that. With that being said, I do hope that you and I can become better acquainted over the season here." Mina gave him one last smile before she left to go find herself a little something to eat.

Ryn stood silently while he watched Lady Blackwood make her way to the tables. True friends. Though he had verbally encouraged her to try to make some, Ryn also knew all too well that friends were a double-edged sword. They can be a great source of happiness in the best of times and the strongest moral support in the worst. That was why their betrayals cut deeper than what any enemy could inflict.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

&
Ríoghnach "Riona"

Interaction(s): Munir @Infinite Cosmos

At first, Riona didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. There was no litter on the floor or tables to pick up, nothing got broken, no one’s clothes were ruined, the animals were surprisingly well-behaved, and for the most part the guests appeared to be satisfied. Even if she knew it was only a matter of time that would change, it was a moment of relative peace for the maid and she planned to enjoy every second of it.

It was the frantic movements of a handful of her colleagues that tipped Riona off that something had gone awry. They turned their heads, left and right, searching for something, or someone in the ballroom. Riona was about to offer to help look for whatever it was they were trying to find, when one of them caught sight of her and immediately started pointing. The heads of the servants who were also searching all turned towards Riona and they started to point at her as well.

She stared at them with one eyebrow cocked. With the exception of a few who ventured farther away, most of the servants were standing near the “Alidasht side” of the ballroom. Then it clicked. That could only mean one thing. Riona quickly reached for the extra cleaning supplies the servants brought just in case the animals had “an accident”.

“Riona!” Riona turned to the source of the voice as she changed her gloves to ones that were more suited for the messy task ahead. The other maid rushed over to her and tried to whisper to her in a voice a bit too loud to count as a whisper, “Quickly, the Shahzade is requesting for you.” Riona nodded and wrapped a white cloth over her nose and mouth and tied a knot behind her head, “Don’t worry, I got this.”

Riona was guided by her colleague to the opposite side of the ballroom, where the color gold dominated. She followed until the other maid bowed in front of a young man wearing glittering gold and red. Riona stopped and bowed as best she could with two hands occupied with cleaning equipment.

“This is she, Shahzade.”

“Many apologies for making you wait. I am at your disposal.” Riona’s head remained lowered. “If you would kindly point me in the right direction, I will immediately start cleaning.”

Just as Munir was looking around for his dance partner, another servant rushed up on him and brought another with them. “This is she, Shahzade.” Munir turned around and simply waved a hand to dismiss the extra servant. “Disposal? Cleaning? Just what do you think happened, girl? You’re not here to clean. You’ve been chosen, it seems.” Munir said, making it quite obvious that he was measuring her up.

She was his height, with a smaller, but still voluptuous build. Skin was nice, for a working class woman. Fierce eyes, ones that Munir liked to see in women he might pursue. The hair can use a washing, however. Much less luster and wonder about this one. But, with some dressing up, and cleaning up for that matter, this one can turn out to be rather nice. It’s just down to whether she would let him do that or not.

Chosen? Riona was only able to exchange the quickest of confused looks with the other maid before she was essentially forced to leave. For what? “I humbly beg your pardon, but I am not sure I understand what you mean.”

“Look. Yes. You were chosen, but not by me. You’re my dance partner.” He said and offered a full Alidashtian bow. “Shahzade Munir Ibn Raif al Kadir, at your service.” He said again, offering her his hand. “I didn’t get your name?”

I am WHAT? Riona was very close to dropping the items in her hands. This couldn’t be happening. She had worked in the castle long enough to know about King Edin’s famous random-dance-partner-selector, but never in her 12 years of service had Riona’s name been placed in it. Not that it was unheard of to place a servant’s name into the bowl. It happened once every blue moon, but when it did happen it was done with the explicit intent to humiliate the person who drew the short straw or, in even worse scenarios, it was done to select the servant who would be given as an offering to placate the offended party. The latter supposedly helped redirect their anger and frustration of the royal family to the family’s property. By doing so, the royal family was never directly harmed, and the offended party would be satiated by breaking the proxy, whatever that entailed. Either way, the servants were just pawns, tools to be used for someone else’s amusement.

Riona eyes looked away from the shahzade and narrowed at King Edin’s direction before she looked back at the shahzade’s feet. “I am no one, as such my name is of no importance to you, Shahzade Munir.” Don’t think he’d remember my face or name after this anyways. “I am sorry for your misfortune. This lottery was intended as a chance to meet new people… other important people. If you wish, you can bow out from this round of dancing or request for a partner worthy of your station. Is there someone who has piqued your interest? If you have a name, I can go ask them on your behalf.”

Not only did she ignore his hand, she did not answer his question. Understandably, this irritated Munir somewhat. However, given his nature, Munir took this as a challenge. This girl thinks herself so far below him, she wouldn’t offer him her name. Servants in Alidasht, while servants, still had names. Munir assumed it would be no different in the North.

Matter of fact, servants here might be treated nicer than they would be in Alidasht. Given that no one lost their heads due to the earlier events. Nevertheless, the fact that this one in front of him chose to defy his words, which should realistically be taken as commands given the difference in their social status, brought a small smirk to Munir’s face.

“Girl. I asked for your name, and I’ve extended my hand to you. Not only did you not give me your name, you’ve also ignored my hand. Tsk Tsk. I would have thought whichever plump noble’s house you served trained you better than this. I’ll do this again. I am Shahzade Munir Ibn Raif al Kadir. May I have this dance with you?” Munir said, bowing his head lower than he needed to, and extending his hand to her once again. There wasn’t malice in his voice. Instead, it was warm, and gentle.

Munir is a firm believer of destiny. The fact that this girl has been paired with him must have been the doing of the Gods. Whether its her destiny to dance with him, or it was his destiny to dance with her.

Surely the announcer would be either waiting for their arrival, or would soon call their names…

He’s a persistent one isn’t he? Riona exhaled slowly through her nose. It was obvious he had no intention of letting her free, but if there was no escaping this, she wasn’t going to do it with the cleaning gear on, “As you wish, Shahzade.” Riona finally eased out of the bow only to turn away from the man and raised her hand. A moment or so later, two servants wearing the same uniform as her swooped in. One retrieved the mop brush and bucket filled with other cleaning items in it while the other held on to the items Riona was removing from herself. The gloves, makeshift mask, apron, and mobcap. She touched her brooch that served as a collar in contemplation before removing that from her person as well. Now she looked like some random commoner who somehow got herself lost in a royal ball.

As she fixed her hair into a neater bun, she turned around to appraise Shahzade Munir. He was a gorgeous man, the type that would be immortalized in oil painting or marble statues. Nothing about him suggested that he knew anything about labor or hardship. Which made the fact that he insisted on dancing with a servant all the more confounding. What did this man gain from this? Surely servants weren’t a novelty in Alidasht.

Once her hair was properly set, Riona gave the man a proper Alidashtian bow and “sang” to him, “<< Shahzade Munir Ibn Raif al Kadir, peace be upon you. How can I, ‘Girl’, deny one such as you? It would be my pleasure to dance with you. Let us be the envy of the ball, that even the Sun has no choice but to rise early to see Your Highness’s radiance.>>” Riona stared directly into Munir’s eyes as she reached her hand out, making sure to show that it was not the kind of hands the shahzade would be used to touching. They were rough, with numerous cuts both old and new; worker’s hands. Riona’s last attempt at dissuading the man from dancing with her.

Munir patiently waited as two more servants appeared to retrieve the cleaning gear the girl previously carried. He glanced at the girl’s hand and noticed all the small wounds and the obvious signs of her leading a life of hardship and labor. Munir simply smiled and raised her hand to his lips, and gave it a small kiss. His eyes, fierce but warm, met her gaze and did not falter one bit. Quickly, Munir spun the girl softly closer to him, taking her hand and waist. All of her hasty preparation was not lost to Munir either. It would at least seem like she made sure she was as presentable as possible before beginning the dance with Munir. A gesture Munir appreciated. Oftentimes, as it has happened in Alidasht, when Munir set his eyes on a servant girl, they were always so awestruck that they forgot about such things.

With the dance slowly progressing, Munir naturally leaned in closer. “Are you really going to make me beg for your name?” Munir said in a teasing tone. “Or are you just challenging me because you detest royalty? I may be royalty, but I believe that humans should be treated with dignity and respect.” He said as he swayed to the sound of the music. “Also, please, Munir is fine. My name, in its entirety, is far too long.” He said with a small chuckle.

Of course he knows that the crowd would be watching him. Not only is he a guest of the royal gathering, but he was also paired with a commoner. That fact alone would surely raise questions. However, Munir will not let that deter him. With a small gather, he turned and subtly dipped Riona just enough to serve as a surprise to her, but not so much that she would lose her balance. As the dance continued, Munir was determined to make conversation. He has never seen someone this distant to him. It was common for peasants to avoid talking to him but this felt different. Somehow, Munir sensed more tension than there should have been. “So… Tell me more about yourself. I’m curious. Also, we ought to get you a proper dress the next time we dance. Surely these stuffy nobles will be even more awestruck than they are now. I’ll have my personal clothier come by and take your measurements after the dance.”

Quickly but quietly, he moved both of his hands to her waist and gently lifted her a few inches off the ground as they spun slowly…

The shahzade was not what Riona expected. While she would’ve been mildly surprised if he had simply taken her hand even after looking at the state it was in, he shocked her by kissing her hands without hesitation or any hint of disgust. Shahzade Munir continued this streak while they danced by insisting on conversing with her, as if he was interested in some foreign nation’s servant. Maybe he was just chatty, but it was nice to be noticed once in a while.

Riona let out a startled laugh when she felt herself being lifted and spun around. It had been years since anyone did that to her, and, though it wasn’t the most flattering thing to think of while dancing with an eligible bachelor, it reminded her of her father. Of happier, innocent days.

She smiled at Shahzade Munir, “The time remaining for this dance may be too short to give you a satisfying answer, but I will do my best. Let’s see… Well, as much as I appreciate the gesture, I am afraid I would not have the opportunity to wear such a gift. The castle has a strict uniform policy, and I would never be invited to a party such as this. The clothes would be a waste on me.” The maid’s dance movement subtly changed by the addition of a little flair to her steps, not enough to throw her partner completely off, but enough to disrupt the pace the shahzade maintained up until that point.

“Secondly, no. I do not detest royalty.” At least, not your family. “<< So, fear not, Shahzade Munir.>>” Mischief twinkled in her eyes. “<< I agree wholeheartedly that humans should be treated with dignity and respect… but I must confess the idea of you beseeching me… is intriguing. It is rare to hear people of royal blood beg for anything.>>” The irony of using the Golden Tongue as she said this was not lost to Riona. How horrified her father would’ve been had he heard her use it in this way with an actual shahzade.

In a rapid succession of movements, Riona managed to reverse their dance roles so that Shahzade Munir was following her lead. “There is no need to beg, however. Though you may not believe me, Your Highness, you already know my name. How else would you have requested for me?” Riona leaned in so she could whisper, “You just weren’t able to read what was written on the paper, could you?”

“No no. I insist. A woman with your figure deserves nice dresses, no matter the social status. I will speak with whoever I need to make sure you have the occasion to wear that dress. My clothier is…I guess he is quite good at what he does. He, from time to time, designs dresses for my sisters so I suppose his work with women’s fashion is up to par. Look, if it makes you more comfortable, I won’t be there for it. I know my reputation precedes me.” Munir said with a small chuckle. “I like to enjoy the finer things in life, nothing sinister.”

The music was starting to wind down. Munir, with his keen ears, noticed this easily. He smiled softly and nodded to nobody in particular. He assumed that the dance would simply conclude with him leading from start to finish. However, it would seem Riona had something different in mind. He furrowed his brows in surprise as she added a few small steps to change up the pace. It would seem like the girl was finally opening up to him, at least a little.

“Ah. So you do know how to dance. Here I thought they didn’t teach that here.” He said as a tease. He did not resist the change, instead allowing the girl to continue. “Well. I’m glad you do not detest those of royal birth. It is known that there are jealous folks out there who are wishing for our downfall.” He noticed the small change in the girl’s expression and a small smirk appeared on his face as well. Her next comment gave him perhaps a look at who she was when she isn’t donning her uniform and answering to someone’s beck and call. Munir leaned in much closer than before, and whispered to Riona “Well. You’d be worth it. I’m not above begging for it…”

Riona continued to change up the dance for Munir to the point where she was now taking the lead. Munir gave her a nod of approval and admiration. It would seem there is much more to this girl than the shahzade had first thought. Munir let out an airy chuckle when Riona mentioned the slip of paper. “Well. I didn’t request you directly. If I remember it correctly, your colleagues brought you to me, thinking that there was something to be cleaned. But yes. When I saw the name on that slip, I may have had some choice words. I will be honest here. If I had to try to pronounce it right now, with no guidance, I would pronounce it Re-ohg-Knock. I’m sure I butchered it, but it’s what I would have said.”

The music was entering its final phase now. Munir, while letting Riona keep the lead, simply wrapped his arm around her lower back, leaned in and gave her a small, gentlemanly, kiss on the cheek before stepping back. “ My lady. It was my pleasure to have shared this dance with me. You must join me for some more conversations while I’m here for the season. I will send for you when the time is right.” Munir offered her another Alidashtian bow. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Riona took a few steps back and returned the bow. “As you wish, Your Highness.” When she stood straight up again, she added, “I should inform you, though, that this castle does not have an employee by the name of Reohg Knock.” Riona offered a smirk before curtsying, “<< Have a blessed evening.>>” The maid then vanished into the crowd of people.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Interaction(s): Lorenzo @FunnyGuy; John @Conscripts

"It's been...what...12 years since I left Caesonia..."

With the exception of a twitch of his fingers, the count showed no interest in the doctor's remark. The good Dr. Williamson originally hailed from Caesonia, did he? Why did he leave? There were plenty of reasons to leave Caesonia. Dr. Williamson could have left for perfectly innocent reasons, such as his family simply wanting a change of scenery or there being better business opportunities in Varian that Caesonia could not provide. There were families out there who fled the country for reasons rooted in iniquity, however. Ryn was interested in finding out which side of the spectrum the Williamsons’ reason for moving lay, because if it involved the Danroses, he might be able to use that information to his advantage.

The thought left a bitter taste in Ryn’s mouth, but he swallowed his conscience down.

"... so I don't remember much at all the food here. If you don't mind introducing us to your kingdom's exquisite culinary art, Duke Vikena."

The count faced the dazzling assortment of foods placed on the table "Oh yes, please do!" Ryn made an exaggerated motion of inhaling the scent. His nostrils caught a whiff of some of the more aromatic dishes on the table, but they were overwhelmed by the amalgam of perfumes in the air. Such a waste, really. He’d have to wait for his nose to get desensitized to the perfumes first. "These… look absolutely delectable!" He randomly pointed at one of the dishes, "Such artistry! What is this one? I’ve never seen it before."

A lie. It was Ryn’s first, arguably second, lie he told since he arrived at the party —one of many he suspected he would be telling. He didn’t consider his greeting to the King to be a lie, though. It was, in fact, a great pleasure to finally meet His Majesty. Ryn waited his entire life to see the man in person. Many nights, he dreamt of how he would confront them. The days spent training and learning, just so he could stand here. Knowing that it wasn't all for naught was a reward in and of itself. It goes without saying that Count Hendrix wouldn’t have existed if it weren’t for the Danroses. So of course it was gratifying to meet them.

The truth, in this case, was that Ryn already knew what every Caesonian dish on the table was. Which ones were commonly eaten in the country on special occasions and which ones were typically reserved for the privileged. He knew what the main ingredients were and how they were traditionally cooked. His family made sure that he knew the proper way to eat them in the presence of nobles, too. Whatever dish the duke decided to talk about didn’t matter to Ryn; what mattered was getting Duke Vikena to start talking about something. Anything to shift his focus away from the accident he caused and his deep-seated self-doubt.

Ryn listened intently to Duke Vikena as he spoke. Smiling encouragingly whenever the duke's mind seemed to sink back into negative thoughts.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Ríoghnach "Riona"

Riona was still fuming mad when the first melodrama of the still early night finally reached its anticlimactic conclusion. Honestly, the guests could have done the world a favor by slaughtering each other. Especially that Leo Woodworm, or whatever that redheaded bastard’s name is. Over polished the floor her a**. What did he know about cleaning? I bet he’s never cleaned his own damn room. How dare he try to shift the blame to us! Who the f**k does he think he is? Riona continued to spew all sorts of profanities in her head as she silently waited for waste to be dumped on the ground. Because that was what many of these nobles were, overgrown toddlers prone to temper tantrums. Sure, there were decent nobles out there just as there were atrocious commoners. Riona had lived long enough to know that people were a multitude of complexities, but it also didn’t change the fact that the King of Caesonia attracted equally rotten people to him and since he refused to interact with commoners unless it was absolutely necessary, that only left nobles around him. So Riona's claim that there were a lot of terrible nobles in Caesonia was not unreasonable. Doubly so given the kingdom’s knack for murdering or banishing the good sort.

Riona had just come to the decision to over polish every square inch of Lord Smithwood’s quarters when the ballroom doors opened, revealing that Callum’s plan to hide out in the library had failed. Why he thought no one would find him in his arguably most favorite part of the castle was beyond her understanding. She and every Caesonian servant paused what they were doing to bow to the princes as they approached their parents.

While King Edin was widely feared and despised by his servants, they were divided in which prince they supported: Prince Wulfric, Prince Auguste, or Callum. Riona was one of the few outliers who didn’t support any of the princes. She’d prefer that none of them become the next king. The Danrose legacy could die in a ditch for all she cared. In fact, she hoped it would.

Out of the three brothers, Riona disliked Prince Wulfric the most. Not because she knew him on a personal level to dislike him –if anything she knew very little of the eldest son–, but because he was both King Edin and Queen Alibeth’s favorite and the next in line to the throne. That was reason enough for Riona.

The Second Prince, Auguste, was not too bad. He was one of, if not the friendliest of the Danroses. She’d never seen him mistreat a commoner unless provoked and he was lenient on the servants. He, however, lacked the courage to stand against his father. For all that talk about equal respect, when it came down to it, Riona believed Prince Auguste cared more about bringing honor to his house than happiness for his people.

… But more than that, she was terrified of him.

The crazed glint in his eyes and the euphoric smile on his face while sparring mirrored the predatory smile King Edin had when he watched his prey struggle helplessly against the inevitable; the sadistic satisfaction derived from knowing that their fate was in his hands. Excruciating pain shot through Riona’s stomach every time she saw that smile so, she avoided Prince Auguste to avoid remembering.

And then, there was Callum. The one Danrose she, much to her own disappointment, liked. An amazing feat considering Riona tried to kill him many years ago.

Over a decade ago, Callum had fallen gravely ill. The young prince was bedridden for days, even weeks, and many feared the worst. One night, when the castle was short-staffed, Riona was ordered to deliver a jug of fresh water to the prince’s room. It was supposed to be a quick job. She’d be in and out of the room before anyone's attention was drawn to her. She never found out why, but he was unsupervised when she arrived.

Riona recalled staring down the boy by candlelight, wondering why he wouldn’t just die already. One Danrose was more than Caesonia could handle, it didn’t need more of these wicked creatures roaming its lands. Perhaps, she thought, she could slay one while she had the chance. Although she was just a girl herself, it was weak and smaller than she was. More importantly, no one was there to stop her. She could do it.

Riona climbed onto the bed and straddled the boy, careful not to put any weight on him until the moment was right. She slowly reached over to wrap her hands around his neck. All she had to do was clasp his neck and lean on him with all her weight. She’d watch him thrash and struggle, like it did. She would stare him straight in the eyes, like it did. And she would smile as life gradually left his body, like it did.

Her eyes began to sting more and more every second, and her breathing became more ragged. She could do this. Regardless of its form, it was still the spawn of a vile monster. There was no need to feel sorry for it. Riona prayed to her family for the strength to vanquish it. But before her prayers were heard, the tears that could no longer defy gravity fell from her eyes onto Callum’s face. His eyes fluttered open and there was a moment of absolute stillness.

Looking back on it, Riona still had the chance to strangle him then and there, but him waking up before she could do the deed startled her so much that she bolted out of his chambers. She waited for the royal guards to apprehend her for days, but that day never came. At one point she thought that the reason why the prince hadn’t reported her was because he was still in a stupor when he saw her. If so, he might have thought that she was a figment of his fever induced imagination.

Her wishful thinking, however, was dashed the next time they crossed paths. Callum recognized Riona almost immediately, but in an unusual turn of events, Callum confessed his disdain for his family, particularly his father. That shared hatred for King Edin became the foundation of their strange amity.

Ever since, the prince and the servant have been on friendly terms. Though Riona still struggled with the fact that he was a Danrose, she started to see Prince Callum as Callum. She learned to care enough about him to cover Callum’s tracks after his antics whenever she could. Her herbalism knowledge, which had previously been limited to more hazardous concoctions, expanded to encompass remedies for the times when Callum was too stubborn to tell anyone that he was feeling sick that day or when he hurt himself from more dubious activities.

Now, she was comfortable enough around him that when it was just the two of them, she allowed herself to lower her guard slightly. They would then talk like friends would… but they were not friends.

They couldn’t be friends. For both his sake and hers.

To befriend him was a betrayal.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Interaction(s): Lorenzo @FunnyGuy; John @Conscripts

There was a juvenile, even ingenuous, quality to Duke Vikena. From the manner in which he entered the ballroom to accepting Ryn’s handkerchief without a second thought. He did not seem to question Ryn’s motives. Instead, he simply accepted the handkerchief as a thoughtful gesture, nothing more, nothing less. Ryn got the impression that with Duke Vikena, what you saw was what you got. Honesty. A rare breed amongst the nobility, especially as the active head of a dukedom. It was most likely one of the reasons why the "true" bluebloods looked down on him. Ryn, on the other hand, found it admirable –to remain as innocent as he was, despite the surrounding aristocratic cesspool.

But he saw more than that on the duke’s face. Dark forlorn eyes, an ever-present gloom that covered his features no matter what expression he made, the fleeting moments when he seemed to be in a happier place that was not "here" in time or space. …The faint smell of someone who had a habit of overindulging in substances that dulled the pain.

All of it made Duke Vikena look so fragile. So frail that one wrong move would crumble him to dust and the breath of bystanders would be strong enough to blow it all away.

Ryn suspected this was exactly why Lady Vikena eyed him with open suspicion. Her scrutiny felt like thin needles poking tiny holes into him. How could he blame her? Ignoring for a moment the cutthroat environment in which they found themselves, even small children were taught not to accept items from random strangers. It was only natural to think that Ryn had an ulterior motive. As her father’s stalwart protector, his well-being was her top priority, because she loved him and he loved her. Duke Vikena’s last tether to this world.

After wiping away all traces that he was weeping just a hand full of minutes ago, the duke offered Ryn’s handkerchief back, “I can have this cleaned off if you’d like.”

Without breaking the smile or batting an eye, Ryn took the soiled handkerchief from Duke Vikena, "I thank you for the offer, Your Grace, but there is no need to concern yourself with that, you already had a trying evening. I wouldn’t want to trouble you with such a trivial task." Ryn folded the handkerchief so that the cleanest parts were facing outwards before slipping it into one of the outer pockets. "I hope you are feeling well. Would you like something to drink?" Before the duke could answer, Ryn quickly added, "Water, perhaps? I’ve heard that the body becomes dehydrated after crying." As enticing as it must have been, alcohol was the last thing the duke needed.

In his peripheral vision, the count noticed a man wearing a brown tailcoat conversing with Lady Vikena. Ryn thought he heard the name John Williamson uttered, but before long, Lady Vikena announced her temporary departure, "Gentlemen, I am going to find something to eat. Let me know if you would like me to bring anything back."

As much as he wanted to introduce himself beforehand, to start the process of alleviating the wariness she had of him, Ryn decided that it was better to let her be on her way. She too, had quite the stressful start to the night. It was only fair that she had time for herself and not be constantly guarding her father. Besides, it appeared that she delegated that task to someone else until she returned.

Ryn turned to properly face the brunet. John Williamson, John Williamson. Ryn repeated the name in his head before he clapped his hands together once he remembered where he came across the name. "Dr. John Williamson! From the Varian Royal Institute of Science! Savior of Kolonivka?" Ryn walked over to the doctor and offered his hand for a handshake, "I knew I recognized that name from somewhere. I’ve seen quite the number of medical supplies sent to you when I was working at my family’s business. It’s so nice to finally put a face to the name." Ryn shook Dr. Williamson’s hand enthusiastically but made the effort to shake gently. He wanted to avoid accidentally hurting the man. For these hands were more valuable than any item in the ballroom combined. They were the hands of someone who saved lives on a daily basis, come rain or shine. No amount of gold could, or ever should, replace such a precious gift.

"I didn’t know you were invited! It’s–… Oh!" Ryn released Dr. Williamson’s hand, backing away and turning so that he was able to face both the doctor and the duke. "How terribly rude of me, I never introduced myself have I?" Ryn bowed, the previous casualness dissipating as he did so, "I am Count Fritz Hendrix. Up until recently, I was just but one of many merchants, so please forgive me if I do forget the proper etiquette. I have much to learn." He looked up to first smile at Duke Vikena, "It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Duke Vikena," Ryn then redirected his smile at Dr. Williamson, "Dr. Williamson."

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

Interaction(s): Lorenzo @FunnyGuy

A smile spread across the Count's face when the Sultan announced the final verdict: dinner, once a week with the family. Ryn could think of worse fates than a weekly dinner. Then again, given the temperament some of the Sultan's children displayed, it was perhaps too early to claim that it was a merciful sentence. Nevertheless, the matter was settled. There were no fatalities or serious injuries. Since Duke Vikena was held accountable, it was unlikely that the servants' punishment would be as severe as it would have been if the blame had been placed solely on them. They would still be punished, of course. A Lord made a complaint that was never retracted. Nobles tended to forget to do so, but those tasked with keeping the staff in line were not prone to forgetting complaints. If there was the slightest possibility that the servants were at fault they needed to be disciplined, because apparently, the mere possibility that it could have been their fault… was enough to be their fault. It wasn’t the best way to start the evening, but like Duke Vikena’s sentence, it could have been worse.

Ryn should have prepared himself to resume what he was doing before this entire fiasco happened, but he found it difficult to move his feet forward. After a few failed efforts, a sense of panic slowly crept into him. He was able to do it before, what was so hard about it now? Perplexed, he lifted his hand to see it trembling. Ryn scoffed at himself. Whatever it was that carried him from the carriage to King Edin's feet abruptly lost its effect after being disarmed by the unexpected event. It was his music recital all over again. He closed his eyes.

'What’s the matter? Got stage fright?'

Little Ryn opened his eyes as he turned to see his sister come into view. They were standing off stage near one of the wings. She smiled and reassured him, 'Relax, you’ll do great. We practiced so much for this day!'

On his other side, his brother teasingly added, 'And if you mess up, we’ll be sure to laugh at you.' His sister lightly punched their brother, 'OW! Geeze, all I’m saying is that even if he messes up there’d be a next time! And we’ll be able to laugh about today.'

Will there be a next time?

'Always.' The gentle fragrance of honeysuckle and magnolia that followed his grandmother filled the library, mingling with the smell of old books. Her hands caressed his head, 'As long as you live, there will always be a next time.'

Ryn took a big breath in, attempting to fill his lungs with the scents of a bygone time. Even though the smell was nonexistent in this room, the very thought of them calmed him. He let his hand fall back to their original position and he looked back at the options in the ballroom. There were so many options. So many factors, both known and unknown, to consider. So many decisions to make. What if he makes the wrong choice?

'Oh lad, sometimes I wonder how you get anything done with that over thinking of yours.' His grandfather shook his head and tapped his walking stick against Ryn's shoe, 'Nothing changes if you don’t take the first step.'

At the end of the day, it was why he was here. To take the first step and bring change to the stagnate state of affairs. Even if he was not successful, he wanted to have left a path that made it easier for others to follow. And to do that…

He took a tentative step forward.

'Excellent! The first is always the hardest!' His father beckoned him to take another.

Then he took another step.

'Don’t forget what you learned, Ryn.' This time his mother corrected his stance, 'In court, everyone is watching and judging you for even the most minor of things.'

He adjusted the third step.

'Confidence, Ryn! Confidence! You got to have so much of it that you ooze it!' The twins followed behind the black tigress which escorted her mistress as she walked away to greet Prince Wulfric. They snarled and pretended to claw at Ryn in mock ferocity. One said, 'I hear these people can smell weakness.'
'Like sharks smell blood in waters miles away,' the other interjected, 'Rawr!'
'Silly, sharks don’t roar.'
'Oh.'

Every step after, Ryn made sure to keep his head held up high. When he reached his mark, Ryn was Count Fritz Hendrix again.

He bowed once, to indicate that he was sorry for walking between the Rulers. As he did so, his gaze was drawn to Duke Vikena's condition. The puffy red eyes and tear-stained face made Ryn pause to think what his next action should be. He turned to face the Sultan.

'After me,' Tej said.

Ryn bowed his head low, arms crossed at eye level, and thumbs facing down, as had those who came before him did. What followed after the formal bow were words that sounded completely foreign to those born and raised in the Northern Kingdoms. Some close enough to hear may have feared that another noble was about to humiliate everyone again by "singing" to the Sultan.

"<<Peace be upon you, Enlighted one. Your Excellency.>>" He nodded towards the Grand Vizier, before looking back at the Sultan. "<<Pardon the intrusion. Pay me no heed. I am but a nameless wind, here to whisk away a person who may need some time to recompose themselves. It would, however, be remiss of me not to greet Your Majesty and Your Excellency.>>"

In Alidasht, there was an antiquated formal way of speaking when directly addressing the Sultan and their kin known as the "golden tongue" which was characterized by its melodic structure. It was not singing, or at least, this manner of speech was not considered to be singing in Alidasht, but Ryn could see how it may have appeared like he suddenly broke into song. In ancient times, it was said that it was a requirement to be able to talk in this fashion if one wanted to commune with the Sultan, for it was believed that the common tongue was far too barbaric for their ears to bear. This practice died down over time; while the golden tongue may have sounded beautiful, it lacked practicality and served more as a barrier rather than a bridge between the ruling class and their subjects. Remnants of this tradition could still be heard during ceremonies and some forms of entertainment.

'Why should I learn it then?'

Little Ryn looked up at the older man. Tej met the boy's gaze with a smile, 'Because it feels nice knowing that someone made an effort to learn about the culture.' Ryn noticed how Tej didn’t say "my culture" and pointed it out. The smile on Tej's face faded as his eyes shifted to the side. 'My family has not set foot on Alidasht for generations. I only know the culture because my mother taught me, she because her father taught her. How can I possibly claim it as my homeland?'

Anywhere you want to be is home, Tej.

"<<Despite the unexpected mishap, I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here. If fortune favors me, it would be an honor to meet you again. Until then, many blessings upon you.>>" Ryn bowed in the Sultan’s direction, then turned to face the Danroses and bowed to them as well.

After properly dismissing himself, Ryn proceeded towards Duke Vikena. He smiled as he pulled a handkerchief from his inner breast pocket and offered it to the man. "If I may be candid, Your Grace, it may be in your best interest to wash up a little."

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

What separates a man from a beast? It was a question that scholars puzzled over for centuries yet failed to come to a unified answer. Some claimed that it’s the capacity to have a soul. Some said it’s intelligence. Some argued that it’s the sins of man’s forefathers. The initial two answers were absurd notions to Ryn. In his 29 years on earth, he has seen plenty of people who were best described as soulless and learned that intelligence was situational. Although he could not fully agree with the last sentiment either, it was something that he found himself mulling over time and time again. Were people no more or less than the sins of their forbears? Was there no way to absolve themselves for a crime they themselves did not commit? Or were they forever duty-bound to carry the burden, to add more to it and pass it on to their children? For the cycle to continue till the end of times? Do you, "King" Edin, feel them too?

Ryn’s pitch-dark eyes studied the two monarchs in front of him while he introduced himself as Count Fritz Hendrix. They were, for the most part, just as the rumors described them. From the ostentatious clothes he wore to the way he managed to look down at everyone while sitting on his gilded throne, King Edin exuded hubris and entitlement; the peacock of Caesonia. But underneath the vibrant feathers, Ryn thought he could see a scared man peeking through, frantically surveying the ballroom for any signs of danger. Not the kind of danger which posed physical harm, no. There were plenty of guards to protect him from that. He was scouting for the kind of harm that would tarnish his reputation as king or jeopardize his authority.

Was this something he did all the time, or was it just for this occasion? Ryn could not even begin to imagine living a life in constant paranoia. Seeing enemies and weakness that can be used against you in virtually everything. Then again… perhaps he could. King Edin just happened to be alone in the spotlight, front-and-center, while Ryn’s family remained off stage, shrouded in darkness. Ryn pitied the King in that regard.

Stories surrounding Queen Alibeth were few in number compared to the King. The ones that did circulate around circles usually amounted to how beautiful she was. Nothing about her character. She was a work of art, comparable to the palace's decorations; something to admire from afar, and a source of envy towards King Edrin, for owning such a trophy. Ryn remembered feeling dirty just hearing the comments about the Queen, but given how passive she was in person, he began to wonder whether she had a condition that rendered her catatonic on occasion. He needed to know who she was. Not as King Edin’s queen, but as Alibeth. Was she truly complacent with how the country was governed? Did she feel anything, love or hate, towards her husband?

Ryn was in the middle of describing the gifts he brought for the Danrose family when someone announced their own arrival. "Greetings! Greetings! After an entire year's absence, The Duke of Veirmont, Lorenzo Vikena has arrived!" The declaration was loud enough to catch the attention of the three. The Duke of Veirmont's next sentences forewarned Ryn that things were about to get ugly very rapidly. And, regrettably, he was correct.

Ryn, along with many of the other guests, watched the event unfold before them in stunned silence. It took a moment or so for Ryn to register that Duke Vikena unwittingly insulted and publicly humiliated the honorary guests for everyone to see.

"At least he didn’t bring the ferret!"

Obviously, the biggest mistake Duke Vikena had made so far. Ryn suspected he was going to need his emotional support animal very, very, soon.

It was an uncomfortable place to be standing where Ryn was when the squabbling erupted between the major noble houses. He had missed his opportunity to bow out. Though he believed everyone was distracted enough that they wouldn’t notice him leave now, Ryn decided to stay put. If he was going to have to watch this, he wanted to observe at a close distance. See how they might handle this situation. Evaluate them. To start making… certain decisions.

The bravery of Lady Vikena’s selfless proposition touched Ryn’s heart. How much she must love her father to offer herself up like that. He respected that. He too would do everything within, and beyond, his power if it meant saving his family. Lady Charlotte Vikena, he mentally added her to a list that only he could read.

The situation seemed to head towards diffusion as a tall Alidasht woman, who addressed the Sultan as her father, took Lady Vikena up on her offer. The woman leaned down to say something to Lady Vikena. Ryn couldn’t hear what was being said, but judging by Lady Vikena’s expression, it was nothing comforting.

The next to approach the two women was a redheaded noble. He greeted the Sultan’s daughter amicably, then said the words, "…a shame the servants have over-polished the floor. It is difficult to find competent help."

Ryn was not a servant, at least not in the way that the man was referring. Nothing he said would or should impact Count Fritz Hendrix. Yet it did. Ryn’s heart squeezed tightly against his chest as his stomach tied itself into a knot. The feeling would get worse. He knew it before it occurred. He may have been able to prevent it from getting any worse if he had resisted searching for "them". He could be wrong. It was always a possibility. They could have heard the words and dismissed them because there was no fear of retribution for doing their jobs. That the treatment of the servants in the castle were not as harsh or shuddersome as he was led to believe.

The Count’s eyes shifted away from the group towards the boundaries of the ballroom and the shadows lingering behind guests, searching for the often ignored and neglected. They were standing there quietly with skin turning paler by the second. Some, the more experienced and/or the ones unfortunate enough to be out in the open when the words passed the nobleman’s lips, stood perfectly still as if afraid of drawing any attention to themselves. Others, especially the younger servants around the nooks were visibly trembling. He saw one of the worst cases, slump to the floor after their knees buckled.

The casual statement of a Lord condemned them all. The worst part of it was that he would never know this. Even if he wasn’t oblivious to it, he and every guest in this room would never directly witness the impact of his remarks; the punishment that awaited the servants behind closed doors. Nothing but dread colored their features. All except for one.

One maid, the one Ryn had accidentally bumped into earlier, was glaring scorching daggers at the redhead from across the room. If looks could kill, no doubt the man —Leo Smithwood, he said he was— would be bleeding on the nicely polished floor by now if the wounds hadn't already cauterized. At least there seemed to be a medical practitioner conveniently at hand if the improbable were to happen.