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Chres Sansus


Interaction with @Typical @HokumPocus



The Innkeeper's face paled upon learning Ferris wielded crazed magic. Unlike the others, he appeared far more uneasy about this information.

"Where?" The innkeeper squeaked. His eyes widening till they looked like they might fall out. The innkeeper looked from Octavio to Chres in disbelief. Chres offered the man a shrug, which only made the innkeeper pale further.

He looked back to Ferris, wiped his brow and shook his head. Finally, he sighed. "Southside..." He said. The resignation thick in his voice. "I-I'll just.. I'll take you to him..." He walked away as if in a daze. Horror stories, involving Crazed killing a town's worth of people, running through his mind.

"Everything's fine. Everything's perfectly fine." The innkeeper muttered, reassuring himself. Chres could barely make out the words, as the innkeeper lead them Southside. "The sky is black. My shadow moves towards the light. Did that rock over there suddenly move half an inch to right? Yes... yes, it did. Perfectly normal! Just like the Crazed follow me aro- No, no, no... bad thoughts.... bad thoughts... Everything's fine! Everything is just... fine..."

They walked for a few minutes in silence. Chres did his best keep an ear out for trouble. As a bodyguard, it had been his job to survey his surroundings in order to spot trouble before it happened. He needed not worry so much about blending into the crowd. His only concern was to keep the caravan and his master safe from harm.

Things were different now. Chres was no longer a bodyguard, and the ones in control of this town were out there looking for him. Too much glancing about looked suspicious. Suspicion could draw unwanted attention. Unfortunately for Chres, this meant he was out of his comfort zone. Nevertheless, he did his best to remain aware of what was going on around them.

Chres looked to the innkeeper. The man seemed to have regained some color in his face. He had stopped muttering reassurances to himself for the time being. Instead, his focus seemed to be more on keeping the group off the main roads and on ignoring the Crazed wielder behind him.

Sil, sighed audibly. Something she did at times when bored. Getting to her feet, she back-flipped off Chres's head, and took flight. After a few laps around the group, she fluttered up to Chres's right side. Her figure level with his shoulder.

Where's a good puddle when you need one? She thought to Chres.

Chres smiled softly. Sil... He thought back.

Hmm? She replied, looking to Chres with a slight tilt of the head.

Why are you obsessed with puddles? He asked her.

To Chres's surprise, Sil scoffed at the question. Obsessed? She thought back. Obsessed?! First of all, obsessed? Ha! I don't even know what that means!

Chres stared at Sil flatly. Her arms were crossed. An unamused look upon her face. Are... are you upset with me? He asked, feeling slightly confused.

Second of all, She continued, disregarding Chres's question. can yoooooou do this? Sil transformed into her ferret form.

N-no? Chres responded, not quite following.

Sil transformed back and nodded as if satisfied. That's right! I didn't think so!

Chres arched an eyebrow. All this, because I asked you about puddles?

Aaaand third of all, she thought loudly. Eyes closed. Finger raised in the air. I don't appreciate- Sil's eyes shot open. Her thoughts stopping mid-sentence.

"Wait..." She said aloud. "Did you say puddle?"

Chres, mouth slightly agape, stared blankly at her. Shutting his mouth, he nodded slowly in bewilderment.

Sil gasped with excitement. "Puddles?! I love puddles!"

"Sil," Chres said, dumbfounded. "why don't you go play with Lynx?"

"Who?" She asked.

"Your friend, the horsey."

"Oh!" Sil said, pounding the bottom of her fist into her hand. "You Mr. Armadillo!"

Arma-what-now?

"Yes..." Chres sighed. "Go play with your friend, the... whatever you just called it."

Sil giggled and zipped off to go yank on Lynx's tail.

Chres shook his head. "The more I try, the less I understand her." He said to the others. He grabbed his flask of flavored water and took a small swig.

Swishing the water around in his mouth, he overheard the innkeeper reassuring himself again. Chres swallowed the water and looked to Ferris. "You must be use to this sort of thing." He said, nodding towards the innkeeper. "Doesn't seem very pleasant."
Chres Sansus


Interaction with @Typical @HokumPocus




Chres arched an eyebrow upon learning of Ferris's ability. It had been a while since he last met an Augaisionist. He doubted Karina would appreciate the idea of a potential Crazed joining their ranks. He was not ignorant of the distrustful look she initially gave him after learning that he may have already been touched by Insight.

"Sounds like our 'friend' told you the gist of things." Chres said. "The others are at the clock tower, trying to send a message to the invading army's nearest camp. With any luck, they might be able to get us out of here without even needing to take out whatever this Seed is. If not, well our group right here is working on plan B.

"There's a group in the city who want to rid the town of the Cult. They call themselves The Watch. Our innkeeper friend, over there, knows a guy. The plan was to go meet with him, but... well... it seems the cult was able to recognize Octavio and myself."
Plot Point


Mentioned @Jerkchicken@fetzen@13org




As the three made their way up the clock tower, their tail disappeared into a nearby tavern.




Tayla fidgeted impatiently with her Whittler's knife. Little by little, she chipped away at the block of wood in her hand. Shaping it into the form of the woman from the day before. Her strokes started smooth and precise. However, as the shape she desired began to emerge, her whittling became cruder. Her cuts less accurate.

Her mind was elsewhere. Away from the block of wood she cut away at. The fight with the woman replayed in her head. The memory consumed her. Filling her with anger and obsession.

She was out there somewhere. She mocking her. Laughing at her! 'Coward' was what she called Tayla. 'Pathetic' she had said.

Tayla's carving became erratic. Each cut chipping away larger chunks of wood. I AM NOT A COWARD! She screamed in her head.

Someone's hand lightly touched her shoulder. "Tayla..." Said a voice behind her. Tayla looked up towards the owner of the voice. It was Smit. "You'll hurt yourself." he said.

Frowning, Tayla looked down at the block of wood. In her anger, she had chipped away so much of the wood that her next cut would have surely nicked her thumb.

Tayla put down the knife. Shrugging off Smit's hand, she got to her feet and tossed the butchered block of wood off to the side. "I hate waiting." She said.

Smit smiled softly. It made Tayla feel anxious. What? Did she say something funny?

"You know," he said, "Sightless Vetius says waiting is the key to victory."

"Yeah? And where is Sightless Vetius now? Lounging about in the Shining Palace?" Tayla said dryly. "I wouldn't mind waiting either if I were him."

Smit dropped his smile, he looked around as if uncertain. "You really shouldn't speak poorly of Sightless Vetius." He said quietly. "If Sightless Nieffar overheard you..."

Tayla rolled her eyes. Typical Smit. A loyal dog through and through. Loyal, protective and boring. He followed Tayla wherever she went. It had been that way ever since she first joined the Clan.

She still remembered that night on The Broken Isles. She sat alone atop the Church of Insight, looking upon the Clan's home town. She had just arrived, but didn't really know why she came. She didn't belong there. She didn't belong anywhere. She was just Tayla, the broken girl. She had no home, no family. She had nothing.

He came from behind her and sat down a few feet away. They just sat there like that, saying nothing to each other. Finally she got up to leave.

"Where are you going to go?" He asked out of nowhere. She looked at Smit, confused.

"I've seen your like before. Syella often brings back people she found off the street. Most of them leave, but some, like me, stay." Smit turned to face her, looking at her for the first time. "You? You look like a runner."

Smit had been right. She had been planning on running. It annoyed her that he knew that. It frustrated her that he pinned her so well. "What does it matter to you what I do?" Tayla asked, not making any attempt to hide her annoyance.

Smit shrugged and looked away. "It doesn't." He said.

Strangely, Tayla felt let down by this answer. That feeling only served to frustrated her even further. She turned to walk away.

"But," He said behind her. "were you to stay, it could be a place for you to call home."

Tayla froze in place.

"A place where you can feel safe." He continued. "A place where you can finally feel like you belong." She felt naked and exposed. She did her best to hold back the tears.

"It would be a new beginning. The future, yours to make. That is why I stayed. That is why all of Syella's recruits stay."

Tayla ran, unable to tolerate his words any longer. She ran and ran till she could run no further. Leaning against a nearby wall, she struggled to catch her breath.

'It could be a place for you to call home.' His words lingered in her head. Tears streamed down Tayla's eyes. Why did she run? Why did she always run? She was sick of always running. Sick of always being weak.

'It would be a new beginning. The future, yours to make.' Tayla's breathing slowed. She looked up at the Distortion's night sky. Perhaps a new beginning wouldn't be so bad. A new beginning meant she didn't have to be that weak girl any more. A future. Hers for the making.

That was the night that Tayla didn't run. It was the night that Tayla held her ground. She remembered the surprised look on Smit's face when he saw her still there. That surprise quickly turned to a smile.

Smit had been by her side ever since. Even as she quickly rose up the ranks. When she started getting assigned missions, he would volunteer to come along. She remembered It made her uncomfortable having the man around her all the time. She never asked him to come, and yet on every mission he would be there. Ready and waiting to follow her command. He was there to bring her food on nights where see didn't eat. There to make a fire when she shivered in the cold. There to watch her back when the enemy was about to take her life.

Tayla shivered. She would have died yesterday were it not for Smit's interference. He was too nice. Too thoughtful. It made Tayla uneasy.

She didn't trust men. She didn't like the way they looked at her. She knew the evil of man. It would only be a matter of time till Smit revealed that same evil. All Tayla had to do was wait.

Tayla sighed, leaning against a wall. Oh how she hated waiting.

"Do you need more numbing oil?" Smit asked. Tayla looked to the man questioningly. "Your shoulder." He clarified. "Does it still hurt?"

Tayla glanced to her bandaged shoulder, realizing that she had been rubbing it. Unconsciously pressing against her wound from the previous day.

"It's fine." She said bluntly. Reluctantly, she slid her right hand down the length of her arm. She shook her head. He really was far too conscious of her needs.

The door, leading to the room, opened. One of the survivors from yesterday's battle walked in. "He's at the clock tower." He said. "Accompanied with the large one and the woman."

Tayla smiled. It seemed she would have the opportunity to kill the white haired woman after all.

An itch crawled up the back of her neck. 'Do not kill them.' Sightless Syella's words echoed in the back of her mind.

I won't. She thought to herself. I'm only going to kill one.
Chres Sansus


Interaction with @Dusksong @HokumPocus




Chres instinctively drew the short sword, which he had taken from one of the cult members the previous day. Thinking the newcomer to be with the cult, Chres had nearly lopped the man's head off. That all stopped the moment the man slit the throat of one of their pursuers.

The man apparently knew their names. Another one then? Chres wondered, lowering his blade. He would have to ask for specifics later. For now, Chres wasn't about to complain.

He turned his attention to the remaining thugs. It seemed they had not taken well to the more even playing field. One of their numbers had taken to running rather than fighting. Unfortunately for him, Chres wasn't about to let the man get away and warn his friends.

Running towards the fray of battle, Chres called forth some of his stored body heat. The feeling of warm rushed from his back, down his legs and to the soles of his feet. Chres raise his right foot as if to run up a set of invisible steps. As Chres's foot moved downward, it connected with something solid.

A small floating platform had appeared beneath his foot, its size no bigger than Chres's own foot. It was a heat construct created using tempraision's Weaving technique. The platform glowed a dull red. Static. Unmoving.

The immobile nature of Woven heat constructs made the technique perfect for defense and utility purposes. However, unlike with Shaped constructs, the remaining heat in a Woven construct could not be retrieved after it's usefulness had expired.

Chres had used this technique during the previous day to form the set of stairs and platforms which the group used to escape the burning building. Back then, he had to account for the other people using his platforms. That meant he had expended a greater amount of heat to make the constructs larger and longer lasting.

This time was different. Today, all Chres had to worry about was himself. As such, he used only the minimum amount of heat needed to give the constructs the size and lifetime he required to effectively push off them.

Chres ran up into the air, Weaving a new platform each time he needed something solid to land his feet on. Behind him, he left a set of ascending platforms. Their glow dissipating into the air mere moments after being left behind.

Chres stopped his climb above the fight, positioning himself high enough to get a clean shot off the runner. Sheathing his short sword, Chres pulled out his dagger and flung it at the man. The dagger connected, wedging itself deep into the man's upper back. The thug stumbled from the pain. Falling to his side on the ground.

Immediately, Chres dove off his platform. Reaching into his stores of heat, he Wove another construct in the shape of pole leading to the ground below. Hugging the pole with both arms and legs, Chres slid down it with ease. As his feet hit the ground, he released the construct and let it dissipate into the air.

Chres had intended to chase after the runner and finish him off, but was instead faced with a dilemma. Taking notice of the new threat from behind, one of the remaining thugs had turned to face Chres. Meanwhile, the runner was getting back to his feet. Chres tsked as the thug facing him thrust his blade towards Chres's exposed side.

Chres jumped off to the side, avoiding the blade. He then Shaped a small shield strapped to his left arm. Swinging his arm out wide, he knocked aside the thug's follow up and countered with his own attack. Chres thrust his right hand towards the man's heart, Shaping a small blade in his hand before making contact with the thug's body. The Shaped blade lodged itself deep in the man's chest. With quick a twist of the wrist, the thug dropped to the ground dead.

Their usefulness having expired, Chres released his Shaped heat constructs to prevent further depletion of his heat stores. Calling the constructs remaining heat back into his body, he began to Compressing it while adding the necessary heat needed to form another Compressed ball of energy. The runner was on the move again and had started calling out for help.

Chres hurled the compressed energy in the runner's direction. Making contact with his back, the construct burst in a blast of energy and knocked the man out cold. Only one of thugs remained standing; engaged in battle with the newcomer. The thug was holding his ground, but not by much. Chres could tell that this newcomer was far more skilled with a blade.

Turning away from the man, Chres approached the knocked out runner. They were far enough away from the Market for the runner's cries to not have been overheard. However, Chres knew better than to lean too heavily on that assumption. They would need to leave this place shortly.

Removing the dagger from the man's back, Chres swiftly slit the man's throat with the weapon. He then sighed. Nearly half of his stores of body heat had been depleted from this fight alone. He had hoped he would not need to use another bout of Compression. After all, one use alone wasted an hour's worth of stored heat. Unfortunately, the runner's shouts called for urgency. If they ended up in more skirmishes like this, Chres was going to need to don some head wear to get a small boost in his heat stores. He had not come to this town expecting to fight for his life.

Wiping his dagger on the dead man's shirt, He immediately began replenishing his stores of body heat. A minor chill swept through him as his body. The feeling of his body heat filling his stores. Chres paid it no mind. He had become use to the feeling long ago.

Chres began scavenging through the dead man's belongings. He found a pouch of coins and a few knives. Chres pocketed the coins and stashed the knives in his boots. He may not have come to this town prepared for a fight, though with a few more skirmishes like this, he would be.

Chres rose to his feet, as the sounds of fighting ceased behind him. "Now then..." he said, turning to face the newcomer. "Let's find a place to talk."




"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm..." Sil hummed. The familiar had taken interest in the newcomer. She fluttered a foot away from the man's face. Leaning forward, hands clasped behind her back, she stared intently at the man. Looking from his right eye to his left, and back again. Eventually, she straightened her back and gave the man an innocent smile.

"You have silly eyes." She said happily. She giggled to herself. Fluttering off to perched herself comfortably atop Chres's head.

Chres had his back to the newcomer and was peering out the side of a shattered window. Led by the Innkeeper, the group had taken cover in a nearby abandoned building. There they waited, making sure that they had not drawn the attention of any additional cult members.

"Thank you." Chres said without looking at the man. "My name is Chres, and the richly clad man over there is Octavio... Though-" Chres turned his head slightly to make eye contact. "-you already knew that, didn't you?"
Yet another long post, but me thinks I did good on this one.
Chres Sansus


Interaction with @HokumPocus



Chres blinked, caught off guard by Octavio's sudden display of resentment and hatred. His mask of control shattered. All with a single question.

Chres had uncovered something here. Exactly what, he was not yet sure. But, judging by how quick Octavio was to put that mask back on, this man had revealed something very personal. Perhaps there was more to Octavio than Chres had previously thought.

Hesitantly, Chres stopped walking and placed his hand comfortingly on Octavio's shoulder. Brow furrowed, Chres looked to Octavio and gave him a single nod of understanding.

He turned his gaze towards the market square. Half-ass decorations scattered the scene of the market. That's right... He thought, Today is the first day of new month of Olfaccium. It was a day usually marked by a celebration of the sense of smell.

Chres stared grimly at the scene, watching groups of people covering up dead bodies that lined the marketplace. They moved the bodies off to the side. Their stares vacant and lacking life. Some people had taken to tossing flower petals haphazardly into the wind. There was no glee in their eyes, rather more of a sense of concentration. As if this was all they could do so as to not remember the events of the day prior. Storytellers sat alone on their stools staring off in the distance. Some of them tried to gather the people's attention, but few were in the mood to hear the stories of old.

It was a miserable display of festivity. Perhaps the worst Chres had ever seen. The Distortion had wrecked these people. A fact that was getting harder and harder to ignore.

"I'm sorry..." Chres said at last, "I didn't know."

Removing his hand from Octavio's shoulder, Chres continued walking onward. His gaze lowered pensively, as he considered his next words.

"Fairy?! Me???" He heard Sil say, off to the side. "You silly. I'm not just a fairy." Sil transformed into her secondary, less used form. A ferret. "I'm also whatever the puddle this thing is!"

Chres raised his eyebrow bemused. Did she just use the word 'puddle' as a curse? He thought. This... was a new level of obsession for her.

Sil turned back into her primary form and flew over the familiar's head just out of reach. "Hmmmmmm..." She said. "You are a bit small for a horsey..."

Her eyes suddenly lit up with glee. "Wait! I know!" Sil landed softly atop the cat's head. "There, that's better!" Sil began patting the side of the cat's head rhythmically. "Giddy-up, Tubby! Giddy-up!"

Chres looked away from the two as they played. He now knew exactly what to say.

"I've been with Sil for about a year now." Chres said at length. "We've had our good times... The bad times? Well... they are usually one-sided. In person, I may act as if she is a nuisance. In truth, she is precious to me."

Chres pulled Sil's metal glass pendent out from beneath his shirt and stared intently at its glittering surface. There was a look of melancholy in his eyes. "Sil was given to me as a gift." He said, "The only thing I have left from my deceased wife. Sil is... more valuable than any treasure I have ever known. However, she is a reminder to me as well... a reminder of what happened that night... a reminder of how I failed my wife."

Chres swallowed. He could feel his chest tightening. "Perhaps, it was she who failed me first... but in truth, none of that really matters. I can't blame her for what she did. After all, I was never really there."

Gripping the pendent tight in his hand, Chres tightened his jaw until finally, he released a sigh. "She died that night, a year ago." He said. It was one of the hardest things for him to admit aloud. "She haunts my dreams... she haunts my thoughts... she died without me ever learning the answer to, 'Why?'... I have days which are better than others. However, on most days... it just feels like the whole world is weighing me down."

Looking ahead, Chres shook his head. "Since that day, one year ago," he continued, "I've carried with me a length of rope within my satchel. At night, sometimes I take it out and just stare at it. Imagining how it would feel to wrap it around my throat."

Chres released his grip on Sil's pendent. Letting it drop down, back beneath his shirt. "Those are my darkest moments." Chres said quietly, slowly looking up towards the Distortion's strange pitch black sky. "Nights where I can feel the darkness closing in on me... And yet, it's in those darkest of nights that she comes to me." He turned his gaze to Sil, sitting atop Lynx's head playfully.

"She comforts me, in those dark moments." Chres said. "Tells me it's going to be okay... I've always thought it strange see her act in such a way. How unlike my little familiar to show any kind of empathy for anyone but herself... There are times where I wonder whether I would be here now, if it weren't for her..."

Sil giggled. Still patting the side of the cat's head. Urging her steed to gallop off and into the unknown.

Chres smiled softly. "No. I suspect I wouldn't be... Funny how the mind works." Chres said, looking to Octavio. "Here I am, a man seeking death, and yet... I can't help but take comfort in the fact that I'm still alive due to her efforts." He chuckled to himself silently. "What a strange, old man I've become."

Reaching into his shirt, Chres pulled out his flask of flavored water and took a swig. It was then that he heard a bout of shouting in the innkeeper's direction.

"What do you mean this food is not for sale? Why even have it out in this stall if you won't sell it?" The innkeeper shouted to the merchant before him.

Swallowing his water, Chres put away the flask and nodded to Octavio to quickened his pace. The merchant standing before the innkeeper had his hair slicked back. It's color black and greasy. His body was of a man well fed. His belly slipping out from under his shirt. Scattered behind him were six burly men. Weapons hanging at their side.

"We have been well compensated to allow those in need a small portion of food for free." The merchant said with a smile. "However, those who want an actual meal, will need to attend today's ceremony at the Church of Insight. They will be handing out meals to everyone there."

Not good. Chres thought. They've bought the people selling the food.

"This is ridiculous!" The innkeeper exclaimed. Three of the burly men, began to gather behind the merchant. Hands fingering the weapons at their side. "You are the fifth merchant who has refused to sell me food! If it's coin you want, I have it here! Why sell yourself to the cult like this? Look at what they've done to this city already!"

"I'm only trying to make a livelihood for my own family." The merchant said, still smiling. "I can't do that if The Clan takes my food away."

"The Clan?" The innkeeper said hesitantly.

"The Clan." One of the thugs repeated. "It's the name we prefer."

The innkeeper took a step back, eyes wide with realization. Chres grabbed hold of the innkeeper's arm. "We should go." He said. The innkeeper only nodded.

The two moved away from the stall; Chres motioning Octavio to follow. They didn't get more than five steps away before hearing the thug call out to them.

"Hold it right there." The thug said pointing to both Chres and Octavio. Chres stopped in his tracks, trying to not act suspicious. "You two... I know you."

"No..." Chres said. "I don't believe we've met."

The Thug chuckled. "Ah... my mistake then. You're right. We haven't met." Chres held back a sigh of relief. He nodded to the thug and turned to walk away. "But Sightless Syella, on the other hand..."

It happened in an instant. Chres called forth his stored body heat into the palm of his hand and Compressed it into a ball of energy. Turning on the heels of his feet, he threw the Compressed heat construct at the thug as hard as he could.

Caught off guard, the man fumbled for his weapon, but he was far too slow. The construct made contact with the man's stomach and burst on impact, sending the thug flying into the food stall and the merchant behind it. The two of them went down. Knocked out cold.

"Go!" Chres yelled. The three of them ran together in a group.

Compression was a nifty aspect of Tempraision, but it was by no means efficient. There was no telling how many other cult members lurked in the marketplace. As such Chres thought it a poor idea to take on the remaining thugs out in the open. Not to mention, at the very least, it would mean dealing with five other people all at once. No. It probably would be best to divide and conquer.

The three of them ran into a near by alleyway, the remaining thugs following close on their heels.
Chres Sansus


Interaction with @HokumPocus




Chres smiled at Octavio's comment, honestly just relieved that Chres didn't have to put out another Sil related fire. He caught Sil out of the corner of his eye, poking the lynx's belly.

"Heehee." She giggled. "Tubby horsey."

Tonight. Chres thought. I'll talk to her tonight.

A fly zipped past Sil, catching her attention. And just like that, she sped off after it. Familiar forgotten.

Aaaaand... the next night... Chres thought with dread. Along with every other night after... He sighed hopelessly, as he listened to Octavio's story.

It was more of a tale than Chres expected, albeit the abridged version no doubt. Short, though it may have been, it was more than enough to add more pieces to the puzzle that was Octavio.

The man had some high profile connections. High enough to grant him access to a royal ball. A new question tickled the back of Chres mind. Who exactly was this royal family Octavio was referring to? Fortunately, Octavio had already given Chres multiple clues.

The ball had been for a princess's coming of age ceremony. The Nation of Hearing and Touch did not have any princesses. Meanwhile, the Princess to the Nation of Taste was only five years of age. This left only two possible candidates. The royal family to the Nation of Sight and the royal family to the Nation of Smell.

The Royal family to the Nation of Sight was already a likely candidate. Octavio had previously hinted that he had been to the Shining Palace, maybe even more than once. To add to this, the man's nationality was likely that of the Nation of Sight. It was also well known that the princess to the Nation of Sight had only just come of age the previous year. Despite this, there were issues with this theory.

First off, King Y’lleant was not known for putting on fancy displays of wealth. In fact, until just recently, King Y’lleant had been known as a king of the people. He tended to include the people in times of celebration. Setting up elaborate festivals, which at their grandest would last for days at a time. To add to this problem. Chres seemed to remember hearing that the Princess had requested to not celebrate her coming of age the previous year, due to rising tensions with the Nation of Touch.

No... The Royal Family to the Nation of Sight seemed an unlikely candidate to be hosting the ball Octavio spoke of. Rather, a better candidate would the royal family to the Nation of Smell. King and Queen Aziere.

Not only did King and Queen Aziere have a plethora of daughters, they were also quick to marry them off to nearly any wealthy suitor. Additionally, the family was known for fancy displays of all sorts, including elegant balls. It was rumored that this was more for show than for anything else, as the royal family was not the actual seat of power behind the Nation of Smell. The true power, behind the nation, lay in the hands of the country's many Mistresses of Merchants. The King and Queen never did anything without first consulting them.

Yes. In all likelihood, Octavio had been referring to a ball hosted for one of King and Queen Aziere's daughters. But this conclusion only served further confuse Chres, in regards to Octavio's identity. What kind of high profile man was Octavio? What kind of connections did he have to both have access to the Nation of Sight's Shining Palace and to be invited to a Ball, as a potential suitor, for a Princess to the Nation of Smell?

Octavio may have added more pieces to the puzzle, but he certainly hadn't made solving the puzzle any easier. That being said, he may have let slip one additional hint.

"That was... a more elaborate story than I had expected." Chres admitted honestly, as he gave Octavio a friendly smile.

A brief moment of silence followed before Chres continued talking. "If you don't mind me asking, who was this friend you mentioned? How come she never showed?"
I'm thinking I should make a rule that the discord channel won't be handed out until you CS is approved. I'm worried that if I leave it up, we will get some trolls on the server.
Yes sir. I just created it.

We'll see if anyone uses it at all.
I can see the benefit of that. I've also been thinking it might help to have a Wiki of sorts the sort through characters and stuff
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