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Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

🌸 Race: Half-Elf 🌸
🦋 Class: Druidic Mystic 🦋
🍄 Location: The Bathroom🍄
🍃 Interactions: Meiyu @Tae Talis/Liana @Oso 🍃
🌼 Equipment: 🌼

Full Equipment List

✦ Druidic Staff
✦ Stone-Carved Dagger
✦ Poison-Tipped Blowgun Darts
✦ Her amulet
✦ Satchel
✦ Flint & dried tinder moss
✦ Waterskin
✦ Dried Medicinal Herbs
✦ Bag of pretty trinkets, marbles and rocks
✦ Sharpening river stone
✦ Oruna tribal moon bracelet

🪷 Attire: Outfit 🪷

Attire

✦ Antler Headdress – Elegant branching antlers wrapped in vines and blooming wild roses and other flowers, dangling with purple crystal teardrops.
✦ Thick Magenta Hair – Flowing in long, heavy waves with many braids, tiny beads and blossoms braided throughout.
✦ Forest Bralette – A natural fabric top adorned with layered leaves, hide, flowers, and shimmering gem accents across the bust.
✦ Arm Jewelry – Vine-wrapped armlets and bracelets studded with glistening stones in violet and turquoise hues.
✦ Green Cloaklet – A light green cloak clasped with a gem like amber—crafted from flora and fauna
✦ Layered Skirt – Flowing petal-draped skirt with high side slits, woven from cloth and flower petals
✦ Waist Adornments – A golden vine belt holding a satchels, feathers, and a charm pouch of herbs and trinkets.
✦ Leg Jewelry – Beaded anklets and thigh cords with gemstone charms
✦ Nature Tattoos & Paint – Faint tribal markings or nature-inspired body paint peek beneath her outfit

🪞 Gold Balance: 33 🪞
🌸 Injuries: Faint Scrapes on Shins & Knees 🌸

“THE BEANS!!!”

Phia's expression lit up at the mention of beans, but her delight gave way to concern as the girl darted into the stall and slammed the door shut. She frowned slightly as she considered the looming implications of the scent that might soon claim the air. Instinctively, she took a step away from the stalls, and shifted her gaze as she sensed eyes on her. The black-haired woman. Phia met her stare evenly with quiet resolve. Her expression became unreadable, the playful sparkle gone and replaced by a composed stillness.

Phia’s head tilted slightly, the faintest motion as Meiyu's posture shifted.

Most people wouldn’t have seen it...The softening of shoulders, the warmth carefully arranged into her voice. But Phia had watched enough predators to know when one pretended gentleness. It reminded her of a fox approaching with ears lowered and tail softly swishing, promising friendship to an unsuspecting hare. Yet, there was something distinctly impressive about Meiyu's skill. The seamless shift spoke volumes, surpassing the simple cunning of animals. It was executed with perfect precision, as though the woman had never worn any other expression. One would never guess that, only moments before, those same eyes had held a vastly different intent.

When it came to the subject at hand, Phia hadn't seen any evidence suggesting there was anything concerning hidden within the redheaded girl's satchel. In fact, she found herself imagining how she'd feel herself if someone had suddenly demanded access to the marbles, gems, and treasured trinkets inside her own bag. Quite frankly, Phia thought it rather rude of the woman to single out the girl without clear reason.

Still... the redhead was exceptionally nervous, and noticeably sweaty. Perhaps she was hiding something important.

Phia held her silence, deciding it wiser not to speak just yet. Instead, she quietly shifted her gaze toward the stall door, patiently waiting to see how the girl would respond, hoping that reaction might help her better understand what was happening.

Then her breath caught sharply in her throat as a woman suddenly materialized from the smoke, black mist swirling around her. For a heartbeat, Phia stood transfixed, wide-eyed in awe. When those eyes swept over her, weighing her worth and dismissing it, Phia felt the quiet chill of danger brush along her spine. Oh no... The Gods are exacting revenge after all.

The threat of a bomb barely registered compared to the immediate threat in front of her. Phia took a subtle step backward, positioning herself closer to the stall door. Her grip tightened around her staff, fingers white-knuckled now.

But she didn't run.

She hesitated, her instincts coiled inside her chest. Every fiber of her being was screaming to bolt back to Menzai to make sure he was safe.

But that scared girl was behind that door, and she couldn’t leave her. Not yet.

Phia squared her shoulders and stepped directly in front of the stall door, placing herself firmly between the woman and Talis. Her staff hit the tile with a strong tap, blossoms flaring gently along the wood in response to her rising resolve.

She tilted her chin upward, meeting the dangerous woman’s eyes unflinchingly. “You won’t be meeting anyone until you explain yourself,” she declared firmly, “And until you do, you're not taking another step.”

Then she leaned in slightly, voice dropping into a quieter yet deadly serious tone. “Besides...I wouldn’t go in there if I were you... She ate beans.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 6pm
Location: The Castle Dining Hall
Interaction/Mention: @Tpartywithzombi Ariella/Violet @ReusableSword Roman @Silverpaw Wulfric @FunnyGuy Alexander @Lava Alckon Farim @CitrusArms Stratya @Apex Sunburn Sjandehk @Tae Kalliope @Oso Cassius/Milo

---

Edin’s smile had dropped the moment Ariella entered. “Fumbled the curtsy,” he muttered. “What a surprise.” His hand gripped his goblet tighter. “I should have her clean the painting she ruined—with her tongue.”

When Roman’s voice carried across the table, the mention of “the king’s table,” made Edin’s chewing slow.“Tch.” The king scoffed around a mouthful of wine, lips curling. His gaze slid to the plates, eying the amount of food he had eaten, then his gaze slid down to Kazumin with his entire cart. Surely, neither of them could enjoy food more than he could?

His gaze shifted back to Roman, and he muttered under his breath inaudibly, “Let the dog eat. It may be the last feast he enjoys for a while.” He tossed a bite of meat onto his tongue with flair, chewing with open amusement as he locked eyes with Roman, just long enough to remind him who was hosting.

Beside him, Alibeth didn’t speak. Her gaze, cool and unreadable, lingered on Roman with the stillness of a predator in deep thought. As Roman offered Violet a compliment, she sipped her wine and tilted her head slightly.

“He’s remarkably at ease for a man on the cusp of a trial,” she said softly, and Edin answered with a grumble of sorts.

Then, the Alidasht prince approached, bowing and greeting them with a formal thank you.

“Having such charitable endeavors really speaks volumes on your generosity as rulers of this fine nation. I have come to really enjoy my time here... There is a matter I wish to discuss in a more private setting if your itinerary and good graces would allow - but if not I can always make time for the both of you.”

“Now that’s the kind of talk I like to hear! We can certainly talk privately. ” Edin boomed, slapping his palm against the armrest with a meaty thud and a thunderous laugh. “I am generous, and people really don’t talk about it enough. Just the other day, there was that cheese restaurant, what was it—The Royal Turd? I paid for an entire day's worth of meals for half the bloody kingdom! You think anyone wrote a song about it? No! But they’ll write songs when someone drops a fork!”

He spread his arms, goblet sloshing. “I give, and I give, and all I ask in return is a little recognition. Is that too much to ask?”

“One can rarely get the chance to see greatness in the flesh - so Your Majesties have given me quite the miracle today. I hope I can live up to any expectations you have of me or my nation.”

“You hear that, Alibeth? A miracle!” He gestured grandly toward himself with his goblet, wine nearly spilling over the rim. “I’ve been telling people that for years, but it’s so rare someone finally says it aloud with such class.”

Alibeth nodded, though her gaze was averted.

Stratya was next to offer a bow, “a splendid evenin’ tae t’ Royal Family. And what a wonderful nigh’ i’tis, tae ‘old such a splendid banque'...Apologies for my delay, Yerr Majesties, the arromas of the Rroyal Kitchen’s fine werrk and my own ‘unger simply woul’nae ‘ave allowed me tae prroceed well wit’ou’ a’ least a taste. Tha’ taste I ‘ad was deligh’ful, my complimen’s tae t’ baker.”

“Ah, Captain Durmand,” Alibeth greeted, her tone gentler than usual as her sharp eyes took in the knight’s well-composed form. “There’s no need for apologies. You’ve earned the right to enjoy the fruits of your service.” A faint, measured smile curved her lips, but not insincere.

Edin, meanwhile, looked up with a mouthful of meat, gaze briefly traveling the length of Stratya’s figure with thinly veiled interest. His brows rose. “Well, now,” he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and grinned.

Meanwhile, Alibeth's focus shifted as the mention of Lady Violet Damien serving as Mr. Deacon’s assistant reached her ears—an announcement that made about as much sense as serving soup in a sieve. Her gaze drifted toward her son, only to find he was already watching with quiet scrutiny, clearly just as ready to unravel the seams of that story as she was.

“Oh? I had not considered it news. The matter reached my ears as a rumour, originating from the Art Gallery. Given the unsavory nature of some of the gossip surrounding that particular event, I remained skeptical as to whether you had indeed assumed the role of his assistant. How curious – noblewomen entering into service appear to be becoming somewhat fashionable as of late. Certainly, we may revisit this conversation in a more suitable setting.” She shifted her gaze to meet his eyes with, as if to say, I'd also like to know this information.

Subsequently, she let her eyes wander again and caught the sight of Kalliope and Sjandehk in time as the resounding thud echoed through the banquet hall. Her wine glass hovered in mid-air as she took in the sight of the red-haired woman tangled on the floor atop a man. Her brows lifted slightly at the sight of legs, limbs, and fabric in a very unflattering heap.

“How charming,” she whispered, voice low but pointed, “your assassin has made quite the entrance.”

Edin, chewing on a rib, didn’t react until she nudged his elbow.

“Huh?” He turned just in time to catch Kalliope straddling Sjan-dehk, both tangled in a mess of formal wear and awkward limbs.

“It appears one of our agents has forgotten she was meant to be the one doing the seducing... With her focus so divided, it may be time to consider whether her continued employment still serves our interests.”

He let out a hearty, unfiltered snort, nearly choking on his food. “Gods’ balls, this is why you don’t hire women for delicate work,” he muttered with a groan, shaking his head as he set down the bone.

“On the contrary,” Alibeth commented lowly to Edin and Wulfric, “It is precisely because she appears unsuited for the role that she’s effective. A woman dismissed as chaotic or emotional?” She raised her glass delicately. “She slips between the cracks unnoticed and performs her task without ever being suspected.”

Her gaze sharpened on a distant exchange that she had followed Wulfric's gaze to: Cassius, stiff with tension, now pinning that peacock of an artist Milo St.Claire to a pillar. Her fingers tightened subtly around the stem of her glass.

Alibeth nudged Edin, “You may wish to look toward the far column.”

Edin, mid-chomp on a honeyed fig, grunted acknowledgment before lazily following her line of sight. He blinked then grinned like a boy spotting fireworks.

“Oooh… now that’s more like it.” He leaned forward with a greedy gleam in his eye, waving off any thought of interference. “No, no, I love a dinner with a show. Let them work it out like men.”

Alibeth hummed coolly, lips pressed in a line. “Until one draws blood and we’re forced to clean it off the drapes.” Luckily enough, that was broken up by none other than Kalliope soon enough.

“...If you're going to make backhanded compliments, you should put some more power into it… Like when you slapped Violet in the face.” This statement immediately caught both the King and Queen's attention, and their gazes whirled to Alexander Deacon.

“He did what?” Edin barked, rib bone forgotten in hand, a delighted spark already brewing behind his eyes.

“Perhaps using your palm is your strong suit. Careful Mina. If he's bold enough to strike Count Damien’s daughter, I doubt he’d hesitate to do the same to a niece… and to answer your question, Roman. I don't think I’m too good for His Majesty's generosity and food but… I know I am better than someone of your ilk. Enjoy your freedom while you still have it, Lord Ravenwood.”

Edin gave a low whistle and leaned forward, grinning as he whispered softly, “Now this is the kind of dinner entertainment I’ve been craving. Keep going—let’s see who cracks first.”

“This is why Royal Advisors are subjected to rigorous examinations and training before they are permitted to serve... To speculate on a man’s violent inclinations when he is soon to stand trial for assault might be considered a tactic, were one feeling especially generous toward your attempt. A pity, then, that your outburst precluded a precise application of strategy.... Had you not been baited so easily, you might have provided evidence of your claim at the trial. But of course... one can always count on a father’s ire to lend weight to such words.”

Alibeth’s lips curled faintly, and she commented with amusement. “That was almost surgical.”

Edin, on the other hand, let out a low whistle and chuckled, leaning back in his chair with amusement brimming in his expression. “Hah! There’s my boy.” He thumped a hand on the table, not bothering to hide his pride. “Wulfric went for the jugular!”

He took a bite of pheasant, still grinning. “Gods, I love dinner with politics.” Edin lifted his goblet and gave a dismissive flick toward Deacon. “But let’s not forget—I brought Deacon in, so you know he's absolutely capable... Although it's only natural a man need to slap around his woman sometimes. They get all hysterical, and nothing else will put them back in bloody working order.”

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

🌸 Race: Half-Elf 🌸
🦋 Class: Druidic Mystic 🦋
🍄 Location: The Bathroom🍄
🍃 Interactions: Meiyu @Tae Talis/Gears @Oso 🍃
🌼 Equipment: 🌼

Full Equipment List

✦ Druidic Staff
✦ Stone-Carved Dagger
✦ Poison-Tipped Blowgun Darts
✦ Her amulet
✦ Satchel
✦ Flint & dried tinder moss
✦ Waterskin
✦ Dried Medicinal Herbs
✦ Bag of pretty trinkets, marbles and rocks
✦ Sharpening river stone
✦ Oruna tribal moon bracelet

🪷 Attire: Outfit 🪷

Attire

✦ Antler Headdress – Elegant branching antlers wrapped in vines and blooming wild roses and other flowers, dangling with purple crystal teardrops.
✦ Thick Magenta Hair – Flowing in long, heavy waves with many braids, tiny beads and blossoms braided throughout.
✦ Forest Bralette – A natural fabric top adorned with layered leaves, hide, flowers, and shimmering gem accents across the bust.
✦ Arm Jewelry – Vine-wrapped armlets and bracelets studded with glistening stones in violet and turquoise hues.
✦ Green Cloaklet – A light green cloak clasped with a gem like amber—crafted from flora and fauna
✦ Layered Skirt – Flowing petal-draped skirt with high side slits, woven from cloth and flower petals
✦ Waist Adornments – A golden vine belt holding a satchels, feathers, and a charm pouch of herbs and trinkets.
✦ Leg Jewelry – Beaded anklets and thigh cords with gemstone charms
✦ Nature Tattoos & Paint – Faint tribal markings or nature-inspired body paint peek beneath her outfit

🪞 Gold Balance: 28 🪞
🌸 Injuries: Faint Scrapes on Shins & Knees 🌸

Phia blinked at her, head tilting just slightly. “No, sorry… bathrooms don’t talk.” she replied calmly, as if that had been a perfectly reasonable question. Then she smiled sweetly, as if offering comfort after such tragic confusion. “But I will still walk beside you. As one.”

As Talis showed her the entrance, she gasped as though witnessing the gates of a sacred temple. Her eyes widened, shimmering with admiration. "Oh thank you so much,” she breathed, clasping her hands to her chest. “I never imagined it would be so nice.” She stepped forward cautiously, following after Talis.

She whispered to herself, “So this is where the burden goes to die...”

Perhaps a little too curiously, Phia wandered closer to Talis, tilting her head as she watched her splash water onto her face with quiet fascination.
“You’re washing away the sweat of your terror,” she observed softly with concern. “I hope you are not afraid of me.”

Suddenly, the soft click of the door made Phia turn. She blinked up at Meiyu, her first response automatic: a kind smile blooming on her face. She gave a little wave, eyes briefly lighting up. She's so pretty!

But it didn’t take long for Phia to feel that subtle pull in her gut, like the brush of wind before a storm. Something was wrong.

She had seen predators before, in the wild, in the dark… and this...This was familiar.

Phia’s smile didn’t vanish, but it froze slightly. The warmth in her expression dimmed, and she stepped a little closer to Talis protectively. Her grip on her staff tightened, fingers wrapping around the wood.

Her posture hadn’t changed much, but the shift was clear to anyone paying attention.

The squirrel had noticed the snake.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Location: to the CARGO HOLD
Interactions: Scratch / Val @Apex Sunburn

---

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving you behind, Val,” Callandra said with a soft chuckle, ruffling the girl’s hair fondly. “But I’m not sure solo expeditions are in the cards just yet. That cargo hold still remembers your last ‘accident.’” She gave Vallena a sly smile. “Besides, you and Scratch make the best team. Always better when you're together.”

“Captain sent you because he knew I’d tell Reiss to piss off, didn’t he?”

Callandra glanced at Scaerthyrnne, and his beautiful smile made her heart skip a beat. “Maybe he just knows I’m the only one you’ll actually listen to without biting,” Callandra replied, her smile tilting a touch coy. She glanced sideways at him, then added under her breath with a soft chuckle, “Though let’s be honest… we all know I’m your favorite.”

She immediately cleared her throat and looked ahead, ears just slightly pinker than before.

“Not that I’d, uh, assume things. Just… statistically speaking.”

“Tell the Captain to keep his ‘something fermented’. I’m four-fifty. Four-fifty-one in a few months or thereabouts. I’ve to start watching my drinking. And I don’t need an extra lunch break. I’m busy enough to not be able to use it, anyway... If he really wants to give me something, he can allow Val to wander the cargo hold again. She’s not so much of an idiot that she’ll make the same mistake twice, and do you have any idea how annoying it is when I need her to fetch something from down there, only to realise that I’ve to go with her?”

“Four hundred and fifty, huh?” Callandra raised a brow, her lips curling into a teasing grin. “You wear it well, Scratch. Maybe it’s all the brooding that preserves you.”

She looked down at Vallena with a softened expression before returning her gaze to Scaerthrynne. “As for letting Val go in alone again… we’ll see. You make a good case but...” She gave Val a meaningful look—but not an unkind one.

“Still, she’s learning. And like you said—she’s not quite an idiot.” Callandra’s eyes sparkled as she looked between them. “Just...highly enthusiastic.”

Then with a smirk: “Which, I suppose, makes you the patient one. Gods help us.”

Then, Scratch leaned in a little closer to Callandra, his eyes narrowed. “You’re looking a little red. I thought I was the only one getting overworked on this ship. You’re not going to collapse along the way from fatigue, are you?”

His words only made her cheeks redder, and a bead of sweat dripped down from her forehead. “Collapse?” she echoed, tone dry—too dry. Her voice was steady, but her eyes sparked with flustered defiance. “Please, I’m made of sterner stuff than that. Unlike some people who claim they’re four-fifty but complain like they’re ancient.”

She cleared her throat softly and turned again, quicker this time, before he could see her smile growing far too wide for someone trying to seem unaffected. “You two, come along then,” she said as she led them to the stairwell, her voice regaining its crisp edge,though it wavered just slightly, as if still recovering from being looked at that way. “Let’s find out what mess awaits us down there.”

Her pace was confident, boots tapping steadily down the narrow steps that led toward the hum of magic and metal. And though she never looked back again, her hand subtly brushed the wall beside her to ground herself.

As they descended, pipes hummed gently overhead, the familiar hiss of elemental energy echoing softly through the ship’s inner workings. She led them down a narrow corridor, past orderly stacks of cargo crates and softly glowing runic seals, the air growing cooler and tinged with the faint hum of contained arcane energy.

They soon reached the entrance to the cargo hold: a reinforced hatch engraved with faintly glowing protective wards. Callandra halted, turning back to face them, her expression slipping momentarily as she met Scaerthrynne’s gaze again. Her pulse quickened irritatingly once more, his proximity affecting her composure more than she cared to admit.

“Here we are,” she said, her voice purposefully steady. “The cargo hold—whatever triggered the ping should be just beyond this door.” She cleared her throat lightly, shifting her gaze briefly to Vallena before returning, somewhat reluctantly, to Scaerthrynne.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Location: By the Bar
Interactions: Scratch / Val @Apex Sunburn

---

Callandra Venn stepped out onto the deck, the tails of her dark coat caught in the breeze. The light caught on the buttons at her cuffs, and her expression, as always, was sharp enough to cut rope. She scanned the passengers casually until she landed on the pair she was sent to find.

There they were.

Scaerthrynne Airresh, the last bite of a sandwich already claimed. His posture was easy but guarded, like someone resting with one eye open. Vallena, beside him, giggling mid-retort, her legs swinging, face flushed and full of fire.

They looked like they’d just finished a story. Maybe something funny. Maybe something old.

Callandra slowed her pace. She didn’t interrupt immediately. Instead, she let her boots click softly against the wood as she stepped into view, pausing just as Scaerthrynne finished that last line about “the other side of the ship.”

Her chest tightened in a familiar, foolish way.

The Chief Deck Officer approached, her hands rested behind her back in a folded grip, posture confident without being stiff. A practiced smile settled on her lips as she came into speaking distance, and she cleared her throat only once, gently, before stepping forward fully into view.

"Evening, Miss Vallena and Scratch..." A slow, irrepressible smile crept onto her lips as her eyes fell on Scaerthrynne, her heart accelerating. She held his gaze a moment longer than necessary before continuing, "Apologies for interrupting your break, but Captain Cindralis asked me to find you directly... We’ve picked up a minor energy flux down in the cargo hold—nothing catastrophic, but odd enough to ping the core." She let that sit for a moment, just long enough to imply it wasn’t the sort of thing any old engineer should be sent to check out. She cleared her throat again and tried to reel herself back in. "Captain says he owes you something fermented for the trouble...and maybe an extra lunch break, if you’re feeling greedy."

She darted her eyes back to Val before she could embarrass herself further. "And yes. He knows. If you’re going, she’s going. And somehow the ship’s still flying, so I’m not about to argue."

She turned just slightly, coat shifting with her."I can escort you down, if you're ready."

Callandra didn’t look at him this time—not right away. She focused on a spot just to the left of his shoulder, trying not to let her smile widen, or let her fingers twitch with the instinct to smooth her coat, or adjust her hair, or... gods forbid, ask him if he was doing alright today.

But then again... maybe she'd ask. On the way. Maybe.

If he didn’t notice how her heart was absolutely tripping over itself.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Duke Gideon Edwards & Duchess Victoria Edwards

Time: 6pm
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Mention: @TpartywithZombi Ariella @Lava Alckon Drake @Tae Thea, Kalliope @Apex Sunburn Sjandehk

---

“Embarrassing?” Victoria echoed softly, slowly setting her wine glass down with a soft clink. Her smile was untouched by warmth. “Darling, I wear shoes in public and know how to enter a room without looking winded and lost. Between the two of us, I assure you—I’m the lady.” She reclined slightly in her seat, gaze icy. “And as for hatred, no, dear. It’s not hatred. It’s disappointment... dressed appropriately.”

She took a slow sip of her wine, and with a flick of her fan, she ended the exchange like the snap of a guillotine. Instead, Victoria's gaze shifted to the exchange between Thea and Drake, then she leaned slightly toward Gideon, whispering behind the rim of her wine glass. “Of all the women, he is interested in her?” Her eyes didn’t leave Thea, narrowed like a hawk spotting something unpleasant in its garden.

“That girl’s been clinging to a nasty sort since her father died. Every party, every event—there she is, lips on a hard drink or someone’s son.” She gave a soft scoff as she continued to whisper, swirling her wine. “She’s not a suitor. She’s a souvenir.”

With a sigh, she shook her head slightly, as if mourning the death of her son’s standards. “You really ought to speak with him after this, Gideon. ”

Gideon's expression grew angry visibly, but before he could speak, the doors creaked open.

“Oh,” Victoria suddenly murmured, squinting. “Look Gideon, he's carrying her. Like a sack of flour.”

Gideon followed her gaze, arching a brow at the striking red-haired woman and the man who seemed admirably committed to his role as steed and shield alike.

With a loud thud, the pair suddenly collapsed in the middle of the grand hall in a tangle of limbs and swirling fabric. A gasp rippled through the banquet like a breeze through lace curtains. Gideon instinctively sat a little straighter, while Victoria’s eyes lit up with scandalized delight.

“Oh my stars,” she whispered, loudly enough for nearby nobles to hear. “Do we clap?”

“Victoria,” Gideon warned softly. He watched the man twist protectively, absorbing the fall entirely to shield the woman in his arms. It was...unexpectedly noble. Gideon’s gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer than it should have, eyes narrowing not in disdain, but in curiosity.

“That wasn’t clumsy,” he murmured to his wife. “That was instinct. Trained.”

“Or desperate,” Victoria retorted, fanning herself rapidly. “Who is she anyway?” she hissed under her breath, eyes narrowing as Kalliope adjusted her dress. “Because I don’t recall ordering a cabaret dancer to perform in the foyer.”

“She was afraid and fell,” he said quietly. “You saw her face.”

Victoria waved her hand dismissively. “Oh please. Afraid of what? Being fully clothed for five minutes? She practically straddled the poor man in front of all of Caesonia. And he just laid there like it was a nightly ritual.” Her voice turned syrupy with mock pity.

But Victoria wasn’t done.

“She looked like she’d climb the nearest chandelier if it meant someone else’s husband would look up her skirt.”

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

🌸 Race: Half-Elf 🌸
🦋 Class: Druidic Mystic 🦋
🍄 Location: The Bar 🍄
🍃 Interactions: Menzai @Samreaper Arya @Potter Meiyu @Tae Talis/Gears @PapaOso 🍃
🌼 Equipment: 🌼

Full Equipment List

✦ Druidic Staff
✦ Stone-Carved Dagger
✦ Poison-Tipped Blowgun Darts
✦ Her amulet
✦ Satchel
✦ Flint & dried tinder moss
✦ Waterskin
✦ Dried Medicinal Herbs
✦ Bag of pretty trinkets, marbles and rocks
✦ Sharpening river stone
✦ Oruna tribal moon bracelet

🪷 Attire: Outfit 🪷

Attire

✦ Antler Headdress – Elegant branching antlers wrapped in vines and blooming wild roses and other flowers, dangling with purple crystal teardrops.
✦ Thick Magenta Hair – Flowing in long, heavy waves with many braids, tiny beads and blossoms braided throughout.
✦ Forest Bralette – A natural fabric top adorned with layered leaves, hide, flowers, and shimmering gem accents across the bust.
✦ Arm Jewelry – Vine-wrapped armlets and bracelets studded with glistening stones in violet and turquoise hues.
✦ Green Cloaklet – A light green cloak clasped with a gem like amber—crafted from flora and fauna
✦ Layered Skirt – Flowing petal-draped skirt with high side slits, woven from cloth and flower petals
✦ Waist Adornments – A golden vine belt holding a satchels, feathers, and a charm pouch of herbs and trinkets.
✦ Leg Jewelry – Beaded anklets and thigh cords with gemstone charms
✦ Nature Tattoos & Paint – Faint tribal markings or nature-inspired body paint peek beneath her outfit

🪞 Gold Balance: 28 🪞
🌸 Injuries: Faint Scrapes on Shins & Knees 🌸

Phia glanced over at Arya with meat still dangling from her mouth, clenched between her teeth. She beamed, cheeks slightly puffed out, and managed to speak around her mouthful.

“Yor laff ish shweet… n’ pweshush.” she mumbled earnestly, though her words were not too distinguishable, the meat wobbling as she spoke. Before Arya could reply to that, Phia immediately whipped her head to look at Menzai, cheeks puffed slightly with meat. She made a high-pitched, indignant noise at his comment. “Uh-uhn! I’m not a goblin,” she insisted, even as she immediately went back to gnawing with zero goblin-denying dignity.

When Menzai then reached out with a cloth to dab her chin, Phia tilted her head up obediently, too deep in meatland to protest. Her arms went limp at her sides as he cleaned her face like one might a messy toddler. It wasn’t until he mentioned the risk of staining her dress that something clicked. Her eyes widened.

She decided then that she'd just eat it faster to get rid of it and lower the chances of damage. Without further warning, she launched into a frenzy, ripping into the last bites with wild, determined chomps as if the dress itself might vanish if she didn’t finish in time.

Then—

SCREEEEEEEEK.

The sound of a stool scraping across the floor filled the air.

Phia flinched, her head snapping up. Subsequently, she rose to her feet atop the stool, crouching low with her hands gripping the edge for balance. Her pupils dilated as the last strip of meat disappeared past her lips in a quiet slurp.

But then her gaze settled on the redheaded elf. She recognized the lack of threat, and the tension melted from her frame. Still… she remained just a little alert. After all, the goddess could exact her revenge at any moment. With a soft exhale, Phia lowered herself back onto the stool, brushing a crumb from her chin with exaggerated nonchalance, as if nothing had just happened.

“...I...uh. I need to go. Gotta…uh… relieve myself. Biologically. In a place. That is not here.”

Phia blinked slowly as the elf began to leave. Her brain tried to catch up to the words. Then, as a beautiful dark-haired woman, with gold sparkly stuff on her face, rose with the same mysterious purpose, Phia’s eyes widened in realization.

“...Seems something in that mead stirred more than conversation. I do believe I need to… relieve myself as well. Biologically. In a place. That is not here.”

Phia stared after the women like a squirrel watching other squirrels suddenly vanish up a tree she didn’t know was important. Then, with great urgency, she rose.

First, she turned her attention to Gears as she had been mid-task, and took a hold of her wrist. Without warning, she forcefully placed a marble into the warforged’s hand with solemn finality. “This is for you. In case I do not return.” She pressed it firmly into Gears' palm. “I want you to keep it and remember... we are friends now.”

She smiled sweetly as if she had not been aggressive at all. Phia then turned to Menzai, lowering her voice to a serious whisper.“I have been wondering where the chamber of relief is hidden. I’m going to follow them and discover its secrets. I will return promptly.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Please watch over the goddess in my absence.”

Without further adieu, she quietly crept after the women in a curious little trot that slowly grew into an aggressive charging.

She caught up to Talis quite quickly, calling out, “Wait!” Phia scampered to their side with a bright, eager smile. “I have decided to follow you!”

There was a beat of silence before Phia decided to assure her, “But do not be alarmed—I am not a vicious predator.” She looked at her with the wide-eyed sincerity of someone who had clearly been mistaken for one before.

Then, with a hopeful flutter of her lashes, she glanced down the hall. “I simply wish to find the place of biological release. And perhaps, learn its secrets.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Dress, Amulet
Interaction: @Tae Thea @Helo Leo @Lava Alckon Drake @Tpartywithzombi Ariella
Mention: @Tae Kalliope @Apex Sunburn Sjandehk @PapaOso Cassius/Milo

---

Charlotte had returned Gideon's smile with one of her own, one that did not quite reach her eyes. She dipped into a respectful curtsy before the Duke and Duchess, every movement composed despite the weariness hidden beneath her grace. Her gaze then shifted to Drake and Ariella, the smile still in place, though her voice carried none of the musical lilt it usually did. “Lord Drake, Lady Ariella, you both look lovely.”

Her eyes drifted back to Thea, quietly watching as the girl fastened the clip into her hair.“It looks perfect on you,” she replied softly, the smallest smile returning to her lips.“Like it was made just for you.” She clasped her hands in front of her, her tone sincere as she added, “I'm so glad you like it.”

“I’m… getting through the night,” she then said honestly to Leo, though the words were dressed in politeness. Her gaze flicked briefly toward the gift in Thea’s hands. “And yes, I’ll be there. I don't want to miss it.”

There was a pause before she asked, Has everything been alright with you?” Her voice was etched with worry, the kind that lingered in the spaces between words. She knew she didn’t need to say more. Both of them understood the true question buried beneath her words...

The unspoken weight of that message, the one left so cruelly in his closet, still hung between them.

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, the mask slipped just enough to show how guilty she still felt she hadn't been able to protect him from that moment. It had been on her mind ever since he had told her, and she was grateful he had taken her coming to her estate when he needed.

As if suddenly aware of the shift in her expression, Charlotte averted her gaze, letting it drift back to the table. She mentally checked off Kazumin, Olivia, and Lorenzo like names on a roster… and then her eyes found Cassius’s empty seat.

Before she could stop herself, a flicker of hope rose. She hastily scanned the room and there he was.

Pinning Milo St.Claire to a pillar?

Her foot shifted forward instinctively, brows furrowing. He looked angry. Angrier than she’d ever seen him.

I need to go over there.

But before she could take another step, a loud thud turned her head. Sjan-dehk and Kalliope had arrived and had fallen sprawling to the floor in a tangled heap.

“Oh no, someone hide the cheese before that one has another tantrum.” Leo had then whispered in her ear.

"I do hope they're alright." She frowned as she watched them recover, "I think they seem to be, thankfully."

It wasn't long before Kalliope then made her way over to Cassius. The memories of them arriving at the beach together resurfaced in her mind. Right they had... And that's maybe why...

Charlotte tore her gaze away, trying to will her thoughts to scatter, and returned her focus to Leo to continue their conversation. However, she couldn’t help but overhear Ariella’s jab at her witch of a mother. Her gaze flicked subtly toward the young woman, and despite everything weighing on her, she bit back a small smile.“Well said,” she murmured under her breath, eyes twinkling with brief amusement as they met Ariella’s.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Flashback to Callum, Annie and Riona off to meet the Wizard(MAREK)!

Anastasia, Callum, and Riona

Flashback!

---

The moon hung high in the dark sky, its pale light casting a silver sheen over the castle grounds.

Anastasia stood just outside the castle’s towering gates, her figure wrapped in a deep emerald cape that fluttered softly in the night air. The hood was pulled up, shadowing her features, though the moonlight revealed her nervous expression. She shifted from foot to foot, the gravel beneath her boots crunching softly with every movement. Her gloved hands gripped the edges of her cape, pulling it tighter around her as though the extra warmth could calm her nerves

It had been difficult to sneak out this time, but she had managed it thanks to countless nights of experience. All she had to do now was wait for Callum.

Luckily she wouldn’t have to wait long, as Cal quickly made his way to the castle gates. With long strides and a smile, his heart thumped with excitement for a clandestine meeting with the enigmatic Marek. He’d done all he could to ensure he wasn’t followed, taking the numerous servants and secretive passageways through the castle. From within his own black cloak, an arm reached out and wrapped around Ana’s shoulders.

“Made it!” He proudly whispered. “Just gotta wait for Riona.” Callum added, and since it seemed like they might have a minute or two left to kill, he kept on talking. “Heard you played a game of chicken with a train. Bet that was exhilarating!” He said without a trace of judgment in his voice. “And that’s what it was right? Just some reckless fun?” He asked. Cal didn’t think his sister wanted to become a pancake but he was sure he’d be a pretty terrible brother if he didn’t check.

Riona stood less than twenty paces from where the siblings whispered, though they hadn’t noticed her yet. She hung back, watching Anastasia’s cloaked figure with a weary sigh. The last thing she needed was another fight.

And Marek... Riona grimaced. If she could barely trust herself around Anastasia, how was she supposed to face someone she suspected of being involved in Darryn’s murder?

Her fingers found the vial of Cal’s calming draught in her pocket. She pulled it out, studying the liquid inside. The spell needed anger and hate, fed on them—but if Marek was as dangerous as she suspected him to be, one wrong word could get her killed before she could harness it.

Damn it. She pulled the cork free and downed the contents in one swift motion. Better a less effective spell than a dead spellcaster.

Riona waited a few breaths, praying the potion would kick in before she had a chance to lose her temper with Anastasia, and last long enough to see her through this first meeting with Marek. When the night breeze rustled through the courtyard trees, she stepped out of the shadows and made her way toward the siblings.

“There she is,” Anastasia said lowly to Callum, then gestured toward Riona. After a hesitation, she gave her a small smile and wave.

Riona’s fingers twitched upward—hovering for a fractured second—before she pressed them to her leg and nodded instead.

“Perfect, gang’s all here.” He flashed a wide, welcoming smile in Riona’s direction. And everything’s going to go fine, we’re all going to get along, and Ana just forgot to say ‘yup, just getting a closer look at that train and definitely nothing concerning’. Cal told himself but he could still feel the tension.

He released his grip on Ana and took one last look around the palace grounds. “Let’s get going, then.” He kept himself positioned between Ana and Riona, half expecting to play peacekeeper between the two.

A gesture which Riona didn’t miss and appreciated—it probably was the smart move to keep them separated. “Are we walking the whole way to wherever Marek is, or is someone coming to pick us up?”

“Maybe we should just walk, so that we don’t get anyone else in trouble.” Anastasia suggested quietly. “Going to the horse stables may also grab somebody here’s attention.” She gestured to the two, beginning to step forward. “It’ll be a nice evening stroll!” She whispered enthusiastically.

That wasn’t what she asked, but Anastasia’s reply answered Riona’s question indirectly. Of course Marek wouldn’t send someone to fetch them—that would leave a trail, and Marek doesn’t take that kind of risk. That’s what people like Darryn were for.

When he thought Ana wasn’t looking, Callum glanced at Riona, See? How thoughtful! He silently mouthed the words after his sister suggested a stroll to avoid involving anyone else.

Riona’s answering look could have cut glass. If either of these two had dared suggest dragging other servants into this, she’d have torn them a new one. No, Cal, after all that had happened, Anastasia didn’t get a prize for showing basic sense.

Callum flinched. “A moonlit stroll, sounds great.” He paused momentarily, searching for a noncontroversial topic to bring up. “How’s your charity event coming along?”

Half-listening to the siblings’ chatter, Riona studied their surroundings. Something about their bodyguards had been nagging at her for days now. It didn’t add up—how did a pair of untrained royalty manage to slip their watchers? And not just once (which could be chalked up to luck), multiple times. Even after security had been strengthened.

The more she thought about it, the more wrong it felt. Every single time, the guards’ absence (if they’d truly slipped their watchers at all) and presence seemed too… convenient.

“Great! I’ve been practicing a lot for it, and it’s kind of amazing to finally do something meaningful…” Anastasia said with enthusiasm, casting a hopeful glance at Callum. “You’re going to come, right?”

“Of course. You’re coming to mine too, right?” He asked. Cal found himself encouraged by her enthusiasm, it was nice to use their status to do something meaningful. He could use that sentiment next time he had to speak with Wulfric.

“Fuck yeah I am!”

Her eyes lit up as Callum’s earlier statement intruded her thoughts,replaying in her mind. She leaned in to whisper, “Oh, and yes, playing chicken with the train was absolutely exhilarating. But… maybe don’t add that to your list of reckless ideas.” A mischievous glint flickered in her eyes before she shrugged lightly. “I have an odd way of clearing my head, that’s all.”

“No, my odd way of head-clearing involves getting into fights I can’t win. You can keep the train thing.” The glint of mischief spread from Ana to Callum.

“But sometimes, less reckless ways are probably better. Anything you’d like to clear from your head?” He asked, glancing at Riona, trying to ease the tension and turn the three of them into a cohesive trio. He wondered if this was what Auguste felt like, when caught between him and Wulfric, trying to keep everyone happy.

When the whispered word train reached her ears, the familiar heat crawled up from Riona’s chest—that same old burn that usually meant someone was about to get punched or yelled at. But this time, something was different. The rage felt distant, muffled, like trying to hear thunder through water. Cal’s potion, she realized. Through her veins, liquid calm flowed cool and gentle as it caught the anger and smoothed its edges into something quieter.

A strange sort of peace settled over her thoughts. “When you got in front of that train,” Riona began, a little surprised by the softness in her own voice, “did it ever cross your mind what could’ve happened if the engineer didn’t stop the train in time? If the train derailed? If people got hurt?” Without the jagged edges of anger, it sounded like the simple question it was—someone trying to understand.

Realization dawned visibly on Anastasia, her brows knitting together, then a shadow of guilt flickered across her face before she forced a breath, shaking herself out of it.

“No,” Anastasia answered simply, her voice even. She turned her gaze toward Riona, “I wasn’t thinking about that at all.”

She let the words settle between them before continuing, “I should have been. I let my emotions take over, and I didn’t stop to consider what could have happened to anyone else…That’s not fair to them.” A beat passed before she perked up slightly, flashing a small smile. “That’s why I’m officially launching the ‘new and improved’ Annie—now with stopping and thinking skills! Same charm, still very cute.”

She let out a breathy laugh, but there was sincerity lingering beneath the joke. “Thanks for pointing it out. I mean it.”

The footsteps stopped mid-stride. Spinning on her heel, Riona planted herself directly in front of Anastasia.

Dark eyes swept over the Princess’s face, searching. Measuring. Riona couldn’t tell how deeply this conviction ran, and until Anastasia proved her words weren’t just another layer of guilt on a rotting frame, the doubts would linger. But… “I’ll hold you to that,” Riona said. “I want…” A breath, then: “I want to believe in you, Anastasia.”

Anastasia blinked as Riona’s footsteps abruptly halted. She paused and met her gaze. Her lashes lowered, a smile slowly forming. “ I want to believe in myself too, Riona… But I know that’s a process, so hold me to it.”

By some miracle, or his expert peacekeeping skills, things seemed to be going well. Callum didn’t want to ruin that quiet conversation, so he stayed silent. Would that happen? A train might derail if it hit a person? He wondered, realizing he also knew nothing about trains beyond that they were loud, fast, and he disliked them. But they were big machines, he’d have figured they’d squash a person -but certainly not Ana- and keep on going.

Cal glanced at Riona and offered a thankful smile. He was just glad she was being civil with Ana, giving his sister a chance to explain her thinking.

At the edge of her vision, Cal’s expression shifted into something dangerously close to pride—the kind of bright-eyed optimism that made stomachs twist with guilt. Hells. Here he was, probably thinking they had a breakthrough, when really…

The empty vial pressed a cold reminder against her thigh through the fabric of her pocket. Her magical crutch; probably the only reason she hadn’t snapped at his sister.

Shoving the guilt aside, Riona turned her head in Cal’s direction, one eyebrow arched upward. “Before you get any weird ideas, throwing the brakes at fast speeds can lock up the wheels and derail the train.” At least that’s what she remembered reading after an accident made headlines.

Callum scoffed. “I just didn’t know how trains worked.” He said, defensively. He shifted his walk to move closer to Riona, close enough that he hoped Ana couldn’t quite hear. “Those weird ideas wouldn’t involve a train, just patricide.” He whispered, all his most desperate, fleeting, ideas involved ways to take Edin out in a blaze of glory. He could just never bring himself to go that far.

“Don’t tell me,” she whispered, leaning closer, “you never considered replacing the Damsel with him on the tracks? Cause I did for a second.” She punctuated the admission with a light shoulder bump as a reminder that he wasn’t alone with his thoughts.

Cal shook his head. “Too impersonal...too quick.” He added, they could come up with something much worse than a train for Edin.

Boots tapped against stone as Riona started walking again. “So,” she said, “anyone want to tell me where we’re actually going, or are we just hoping to bump into your friend by chance?”

“In one of the buildings near the warehouses, usually a staff member is there. He will usually bring us in to see Marek.” Anastasia explained. “Kind of a walk, I’m sorry, but I brought snacks.” Her hand disappeared under her cloak and after some rummaging, she took out a small clear bag with cookies.

“And I brought drink,” Callum added pulling a flask from a pocket and shaking it. He grinned at Ana, fully believing that she, just like him, was doing her best to be a better person. Callum thought she had the real chance at it; maybe she’d settle down with that Shahzade and get to be something other than a Danrose.

“I’m happy to share a long walk with my best friend and my favorite sibling.” He said, before unscrewing the cap to the flask and taking a drink before offering it up to whoever else wanted any.

“And since I didn’t get the memo, I guess that makes me the designated taste-tester for both?” That or Riona could’ve said she brought music and started singing, but that’d have to be for another time. When they weren’t trying to be sneaky.

The crunch of gravel beneath the trio’s feet was a steady reminder of how far they'd come from the castle. Finally, they approached the building near the warehouses, which was barely visible against the backdrop of the night. The air was thick with the smell of salt and the distant hum of the port, the crickets chirping in the bushes that lined the streets.

The trio found themselves standing before a small wooden building. It looked almost unremarkable from the outside, nestled between two larger, more imposing structures, its weathered timber giving off an air of decay and the flickering light from a single lantern barely illuminated the porch.

"This is the place." Anastasia told the two with a smile and gave a knock on the door.

Before anyone could knock a second time, the faint sound of footsteps echoed from within, followed by the creak of the front door opening with a soft groan.

A figure burst out from the inside, the dim lighting of the interior briefly brightening their surroundings.

"Ah, welcome!" A blonde man appeared, with a friendly smile that could ease the tension in a courtroom during a murder trial. His golden curls bounced as he stepped forward, his eyes bright and filled with energy. "You must be here to see Marek! My name’s Thomas… " he continued, his voice smoothly, as if welcoming them into a drawing room for tea rather than the lair of one of the most dangerous men in Sorian.

Thomas was dressed in a well-tailored coat as he offered them a warm wave. "Come in, come in!" he said, ushering them forward, "Marek’s been expecting you."

Anastasia blinked. She was certain she would have recalled a man with such memorable demeanor, yet she could not remember ever meeting this man. However, she shrugged it off. " Hello there!" She greeted and stepped in without much hesitation. Callum followed with a smile and a quick greeting to the stranger. Riona just bobbed her head.

Thomas’s grin only widened."Hello there to you too, Your Majesty …Now, don’t be shy. Marek doesn’t bite… unless you ask him to, of course." Thomas then turned and walked back inside, leaving the door wide open for them to follow.

The interior seemed to be a cozy den that was simple and functional, with wooden floors and the dim lighting of a fireplace. A desk sat in the back of the room, its surface cluttered with papers and documents neatly stacked in piles. A few cushioned seats were scattered around, offering a casual appearance. The walls were lined with shelves, holding books and files.

Simply put, it seemed to be a place where business was conducted.

Callum gravitated towards the shelves, scanning the titles of the books as he waited for Marek’s arrival. “Wasn’t expecting the doorman to a secret building to be so friendly.” He commented, slowly making his way around the room.

“He did say that Marek’s been expecting you guys,” Riona said while taking a look around the room herself.

"Ah, before we proceed further, I must ask," Thomas said, his tone now slightly more authoritative, "for the safety of everyone involved, I’ll need to blindfold you briefly."

Anastasia's brows knitted together at the sudden request, but Thomas’s demeanor remained calm and gentle. "You’ve been followed from the castle," he continued, his voice lowering, "and we can’t risk anyone listening in from outside. It’s simply for your protection, and for the safety of the people you care about."

He gestured to the cloths he had ready. "It won’t take long, and we’ll be on our way inside soon. Please, I assure you it’s for the best."

Anastasia exchanged a glance with Riona and Callum. "Ooooh, a blindfold?" she said with a delighted giggle, "Like a game? This is gonna be fun!"

"Thank you for understanding. Just follow my voice, and everything will be fine."

“Sure.” Callum picked up a blindfold and tied it around his head. Everything was dark, but he reached out toward the sound of Ana’s giggling and tapped her shoulder. “Tag, you’re it.”

Did these two really not catch that threat? “For ‘our protection and the safety of the people you care about,’ huh? Was that meant to sound reassuring, Thomas?” Riona picked up the blindfold and examined the cloth, testing it between her fingers. “If they’ve followed us this far, wouldn’t they already know we’re meeting Marek?”

Thomas let out a soft chuckle, his smile widening as he leaned closer to Riona, “Oh, come on, buttercup,” he said, his tone sweet and smooth. “I was just kidding. You’ve got to lighten up a little! It’s all part of the fun… And of course they know what you’re doing here. It’s why they came! Doesn’t mean we want them to hear what we’re talking about.”

“Don’t be condescending, Tommy.” Callum gave a snippy reply in the general direction of Thomas’s voice. “I don’t like it.” Riona smirked at that.

Anastasia, barely able to contain her excitement, said playfully to Callum. “Okay, you get a five-second head start before I chase you.”

But Thomas was quick to intervene, his smile shifting into a more authoritative but still friendly grin. “Nun-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “Let’s be safe now. We’re going to hold onto this rope here to stay together. I’ll lead you all, and no one’s going to trip, alright?”

He pulled a thick rope from his coat, its ends coiled neatly in his hand, and handed each of them a part of it. “Just follow my lead. We’ll make sure we all stay together. It’s important, trust me.”

Precautions against eavesdropping were one thing. Blindfolds just to reach a “secure” location were another entirely. What did these people not want them to see along the way?

Riona took one last look around the room, burning every detail into her memory before reluctantly sliding the blindfold into place. As soon as they started moving, she began counting steps, mapping their path in her mind.

With the blindfolds on, and each of them holding the rope tightly, Thomas started forward, “Down we go.” he cautioned as he began to lead down creaky wooden stairs.

“Just like those parties, huh? Big fans of making the whole underground thing a very literal interpretation.” Cal commented as he followed Thomas, one hand gripping the rope.

Not quite trusting the rope, at one point Riona reached forward and clasped the first hand she made contact with, needing to know at least one of the siblings was still with her.

The soft touch on Anastasia’s hand caused her to pause. After some thought, she gently squeezed Riona’s hand in return. “Don’t worry, I’m right here,” She whispered to her.

For the first time, in what felt like a long time, Riona found herself smiling faintly at both what Anastasia said and did, and returned the squeeze.

As they followed Thomas, the world around them was nothing but the sounds of their footsteps, muffled by the thick blindfolds. The further they went, the colder and damper the air became, the faint scent of damp stone and earth curling into their nostrils. Every step they took seemed to be on wet stone, the soft splashing noise punctuating the eerie silence, while the distant sound of water dripping echoed down the corridor.

The atmosphere was heavy, the silence almost suffocating, broken only by the rhythmic shuffle of their movements. Every now and then, the air felt heavier, as though the walls themselves were closing in, however, they could do nothing but follow the rope and listen for Thomas's steady voice guiding them forward.

Anastasia, never one for silence, eventually broke the quiet with a whimsical hum. The sound of her singing followed soon after, echoing off the stone walls, creating a strange contrast to the unnerving surroundings.

“Zombies coming through the door,
They’re hungry for some more,
They’ll gnaw on bones and munch on flesh,
Until there’s nothing left, oh yeeessss!”

The echo of her singing bounced off the stone walls.

“Oh, they’ll feast and feast all night,
And we’ll be their tasty bite,
Scream and shout, but it’s no use,
The zombies won’t stop ‘til we’re all loooose!”

Thomas’s sarcasm was barely tangible as he commented in a chipper tone, “Well, that certainly wasn’t creepy at all!”

“The moon is high…” Riona whispered at first, “...the shadows creep…” Then paused, took a breath and decided to just commit to it.

“The moon is high, the shadows creep,
They’re rising from their sleep,
With hollow eyes and rotting skin,
The nightmare’s just begin-nning!”

Her voice found its melody, the playful tune taking over as she sang out:
“No lock or bar can hold them back,
They’re on the attack, attack!
So grab your torch and hold it tight,
We’ll fight the horde till morning liiight!”

Anastasia gasped, “ That was so good, Riona!”

“Thomas…have we been drugged?” Callum whispered. It was the only logical explanation for why Riona and Ana were singing together about zombies. Not even his dreams could be this bizarre. He thought about requesting a second dose because if they had been drugged it was not hitting him. Cal kept focusing on the stairs and trying not to fall down them, and how puddles kept splashing onto his socks.

Thomas laughed softly, shaking his head. “Certainly not!” he replied with a grin, clearly enjoying the moment.

Riona felt her cheeks coloring beneath the blindfold. Technically, yes, she was drugged—if Callum’s calming potion counted as such. Had she not taken it, she probably wouldn’t be feeling less embarrassed and more miffed that Cal—of all people—decided to be the straight man tonight instead of being the first to join his sister’s impromptu performance.

She hadn’t joined the singing on a whim, though. When Anastasia's voice first bounced off the stone walls, Riona had noticed how the echoes mapped the space around them. The zombie lyrics had been ridiculous, but the acoustics had been revealing, helping her build a mental picture of their surroundings' dimensions despite the blindfold.

And if she was being completely honest with herself? It felt good to let her voice out like that. Between all that’s happened these past few days, it’s been awhile since she’d allowed herself to simply... sing.

As they continued walking, the echoing sound of their footsteps on the stone reverberated down the narrow, winding path. Every now and then, the air grew colder, and the distant echo of dripping water added a strange quality to the silence. Each step they took was met with a splash, and there was a quiet hiss of air as they passed through a narrow passage, almost like the tunnel itself was breathing with them.

As they neared the final stretch, the temperature dropped further, the damp air clinging to their skin. There was the faintest hum, a low vibration that resonated through the stone. Then, low, almost imperceptible hiss followed by the sound of a door slowly opening echoed in the cavernous space.

As they stepped into the new room, they could hear the subtle sound of the door sealing shut behind them. The tension that filled the space was palpable and the atmosphere shifted audibly. The creak of wooden floorboards beneath their feet resonated with each step and the air was much warmer here, almost suffocatingly so, and they noticed the scent of a burning fireplace mixed with the musty aroma of old wood and leather.

As they moved further inside, the occasional distant murmur of voices hinted at the activity within the area. Moments later, they reached a door, the heavy wood groaning as it opened. The last sound before the door clicked shut behind them.

The blindfolds were removed, and the dim light of Marek’s office flooded their senses. Shelves lined the walls, stacked high with thick, leather-bound books. At the center of the room was a large mahogany desk, neatly arranged with scattered documents and a single candle flickering near the edge. Behind the desk sat Marek in a tall, high-backed leather chair, his hands folded neatly in front of him, his piercing eyes fixed on the trio as they stepped in.

Marek had a rugged, intense appearance with dark, slightly disheveled hair and a graying beard. His sharp eyes and furrowed brows gave him a serious, commanding presence.

“Ah, welcome,” he said smoothly, the warmth in his voice belying the intensity of his gaze. “I trust the journey wasn’t too unpleasant?”

He gestured with a slight flourish to the seats positioned in front of the desk, each one carefully placed to face him directly. “Please, make yourselves comfortable,” Marek continued, a slight, enigmatic smile curling at the corners of his lips.

Riona settled into the stiff chair, its wooden frame creaking beneath her weight. So this is the man everyone’s been talking about. The way he filled the space behind that oversized desk wasn’t just physical—it was the casual confidence of someone who’d never needed to explain himself to anyone.

She took a moment to scan the room—noting the collection of books, important looking papers, and the suspicious absence of personal effects—before fixing her gaze directly on their host.

“Thanks for seeing us.” Callum said, looking around. The room was undeniably cool; books everywhere, dim lighting, the smell of leather and fire. The fact it was a secret liar, only made it even better. “You drugged us all at that party, with magic, right?” He asked, his tone not accusatory but more impressed than anything. “How come?” He started with an easy question and waited for the others to take their seats before he sat down.

Marek’s low chuckle rippled through the room as he leaned back in his chair. "Drugged? No—no, no… nothing so crude. Controlled, perhaps. Or… curated." His tone was casual, reassuring, like someone explaining something too simple to be sinister.

"The magic used to erase memory upon departure wasn’t intended to harm. It was a safeguard—for my guests, for my enterprise. No one was meant to remember, because… it’s safer that way. For everyone. Including you."

He stood, hands clasped behind his back, pacing slowly around the room like a teacher guiding his students through a hard truth.

"As for the side effects you experienced… Alcohol, as ever, remains the most unerring catalyst for revelation. It dissolves facades…peels away the carefully constructed masks…and reveals the raw, unvarnished self beneath." His voice dipped lower. "The violence… the chaos… those were not of my making. No, I fear those were merely the authentic reflections of your esteemed peers, stripped bare of their pretenses."

Marek paused deliberately before adding,"Only two guests succumbed to violence—out of dozens. A statistical anomaly, yes… but hardly the catastrophe some might have you believe."

“So you’re using these parties to gain insights.” Callum followed Marek’s words, thinking aloud, as he tried to piece together the why of it. “To catch glimpses of who your guests truly are, you ensure they can’t hide that true nature. I can see the value in that.” He nodded his understanding of Marek’s goal there.

“Who succumbed to violence?” Callum asked.

Marek’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, his fingers idly tapping against the armrest of his chair, “Precisely, young prince.” His voice was smooth as he spoke. “In a world where masks are law and deception is currency, true nature is a rare commodity. People lie…Some out of habit, others out of necessity. But in the right conditions, when the trappings of civility are stripped away… they reveal themselves.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze settling on Callum with quiet intensity. “That knowledge is power. To understand who is a predator and who is prey, who seeks chaos and who fears it—that is invaluable. The nobility, after all, thrives on artifice. They build their empires on secrets, wield etiquette as a blade, and smile as they plunge the knife into your back.” Then, with a small, almost indulgent tilt of his head, he finally answered Callum’s first question. “As for the ones who succumbed to violence… Kazumin Nagasa and Lady Zarai Lesdeman,”

“So, just to clarify, Zarai wasn’t attacked? They both willingly succumbed to violence, got into a fight?” He added and Marek responded with a curt nod. At least that was one question he could get fully answered.

Anastasia’s eyes widened slightly as she struggled to take the information in, her expression softening as she leaned forward in her seat. “So... it wasn’t really your fault? You were just trying to keep everyone safe?” Her voice carried a hopeful, almost childlike tone. “I mean… I get it. People can be awful when they think no one’s watching. It sounds like you were just... helping them be honest with themselves, right?”

Something sharp shot through Riona. The calming potion should’ve numbed her emotions into gentle ripples, but this—... what was this? Anger? Revulsion at Marek’s words and the way the siblings lapped them up? Or could it be something closer to pity—that Anastasia so readily embraced the same logic as victims who stayed with their abusers?

—it’s not his fault.

Riona bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snorting. Of course. Because Gods forbid anyone blame the architect of the entire situation. Marek’s hands were clean—he wasn’t the one holding the knife. No, no, he only placed it there, set the stage, and gave people something to make violence more likely to happen. The actual stabbing was the victims’ fault.

If people needed magic and drugs to be “honest with themselves,” was that really honesty? Stripping away natural inhibitions and essentially magnifying one facet of a person didn’t reveal truth—it blew it completely out of proportion. Like removing all the other colors from a painting and calling the remaining red the “authentic” image. Or reading one line from a page and saying that’s all the book was about.

She glanced between Callum and Anastasia, their attention locked on Marek like devotees before an altar. They’d completely missed his casual admission that his enterprise provided a “safe space” where the most vile atrocities could happen without anyone remembering afterward. Worse, he did this kind of gathering more than once, which meant there were a lot more than just two guests who succumbed to violence. And once again, his thinly disguised threat about “everyone’s safety” sailed right over their heads.

Marek’s gaze flicked toward Anastasia, his expression softening just enough to acknowledge her words, though his interest remained elsewhere. "...Since we are so freely exchanging questions… allow me to offer one of my own… one that cuts to the marrow of the bone." His words slid through the air as his eyes locked on Callum. "Do you truly believe your father—the King—harbors this kingdom’s best interests within his heart?"

“Calling Edin a father, what a joke.” Callum forced a chuckle. “No, I think Edin holds only Edin’s best interest in that shriveled husk he calls a heart.”

Marek exhaled softly, as if hearing a foregone conclusion finally spoken aloud. He watched Callum with quiet approval, his fingers steepled together. “Then you already see the foundation of truth,” he murmured, his voice low and knowing. “But you must understand, Callum—it is not merely selfishness that festers in your father’s heart. It is something far darker, far more insidious.” Callum nodded his absolute agreement.

He leaned forward slightly, the candlelight casting long shadows across his face. “The crime that plagues this kingdom is not some unfortunate byproduct of neglect. It is not disorder left unchecked. It is, in many ways, a design—one that benefits those in power.”

He chuckled darkly, without humor, “You see them, don’t you? The nobles, parading through their gilded halls, draped in silk and gold, smiling as if they are the rightful shepherds of this kingdom. They clink their glasses at grand feasts, speak of honor and virtue while their hands drip with the blood of those they pretend do not exist.” His voice curled with disgust. “And when the masks come off? When they believe no one is watching? That is when you see them for what they are. They are parasites. They gorge themselves on wealth stolen from the hands of the starving. They laugh at the misfortune of the desperate. And when the entertainment of the court grows dull?”

Marek’s fingers tightened over the arm of his chair. “They slither into the underbelly of the kingdom, gambling fortunes away on the blood of others. They gather in secret, betting on the lives of men forced into pits like rabid dogs. They indulge in flesh markets, bartering human beings like cattle, all while preaching civility in the daylight. You’ve heard the whispers, haven’t you? Seen the bruises on the servants, the trembling hands of those who owe their lives to debts they can never pay?”

For a second, Cal’s eyes flickered to Riona before returning to Marek. “A pit of snakes with not a trace of humanity left in them. That is what the nobles here have become.” He answered Marek, listening to the man’s every word like a zealot in front of a preacher too charismatic to look away from, whose words he was already convinced came from something divine.

He let the silence hang for a moment before he leaned forward, his voice now a venomous whisper. “And do you know what is worst of all? It is not some hidden evil, some forbidden secret lurking in the shadows. No, it is sanctioned. It is allowed. It is protected.”

“Encouraged. Rewarded. Celebrated.” Callum added, each word coated in disdain.

His lips curled into something too bitter to be a smile. “Because your father, Callum, is the architect of it all.”

“He is. And the Queen is just as guilty. The rest of us are only pawns to them.” He responded like a faithful acolyte.

Marek’s voice turned quieter, drawing them in like a whispered confession. “Your father does not simply allow corruption, Callum. He cultivates it. The bribery, the smuggling, the slave trade, the backroom dealings that line the pockets of nobles while the streets rot—these are not failures of his rule. They are the pillars of it.”

He stood once more, pacing slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. “The noble class flourishes not despite the suffering of the common folk, but because of it. And Edin? He ensures that suffering persists. It is not chaos, it is control. Crime is simply another tool of governance, keeping his people desperate, distracted, too occupied with survival to ever dream of rebellion.”

“And our people deserve to dream. They should flourish, they should be free, and the suffering should be repaid to their tormentors.” Callum was lost in Marek’s words; he forgot that Ana was next to him. All that he was aware of was Marek. A man who saw the world exactly as Callum did and who looked back at him, not like he was part of the problem but as someone who could be part of the solution.

Marek turned, his piercing gaze settling on Callum once more. “But some of us refuse to kneel to that system. Some of us saw the rot for what it was and vowed to carve it out.”

He spread his arms slightly, as if to gesture to something far greater than the room they sat in. “The Black Rose was not born from greed or ambition, as your father’s lackeys would have you believe. We were born from necessity—from the simple, unrelenting truth that if we did not fight against the corruption strangling this kingdom, no one else would. We are not the criminals, Callum. We are the cure.”

“And crowns and titles are the disease. A cancer that destroys all it touches.”

A wry smile ghosted across his lips. “We do not answer to kings. We answer only to the truth.”

Anastasia shifted in her seat, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the fabric of her sleeve as Marek spoke. At first, she had been listening intently, but as his words became heavier and focused on Edin, she seemed to grow more and more upset. Her lips parted, hesitating for a moment before she finally spoke up defensively, “Well… I don’t know if it’s all that simple… I mean, our father can be… difficult, sure, but saying he’s behind all that?”

“They are behind worse than that.” Callum said softly as he turned and looked at Ana. “Edin thinks nothing of hurting people to get what he wants, to hold on to what he has. He allows our people to starve while we hold elaborate feasts for people who have no trouble affording food. Gold, jewels, and opulence lie around the palace, collecting dust.” He pointed out. Surely, Ana could see there was something inherently wrong about all of it.

“He allows Morrigan to torture the servants however she likes - did you know Morrigan withheld food from them as punishment for how poorly that first ball went?” He asked, and he was more than sure worse went on in the palace that he didn’t even know about.

“And I know you’ve seen how treats me, Ana. His own son. What kind of father is he? What could I have done that was so wrong, as a child, to earn that much hate?” Callum asked.

Anastasia’s gaze flickered between Marek and Callum. She hesitated, anxiety clear in the way she bit her lower lip, before softly speaking up. Her heart twisted painfully at Callum's conviction. She wanted desperately to comfort him, to agree, to make him feel understood, to prove that she was on his side. But the weight of what Marek was suggesting about their father was overwhelming.

“Callum… I-I know Father isn’t… he isn’t good. He’s hurt you so many times. He belittles you, treats you terribly…” Her eyes dropped briefly, memories flickering painfully: the cold cruelty in Edin’s gaze when he’d put the pressure of the world on poor Wulfric, the countless moments he’d degraded Callum, the vicious way he’d beat Auguste… She remembered the bruises, the quiet sobs she’d overheard behind closed doors. And the sound of her own arm snapping in his grasp…

She swallowed thickly, struggling to balance her desire to please Callum with the heavy dread tightening her chest. “Edin does terrible things and there’s no denying that… But… Marek’s talking about something so huge, something that could tear everything apart. And he uses all these fancy words to make it sound like it’s true, but…” She glanced nervously toward Marek, her voice dropping to a whisper as she leaned slightly toward her brother, “Don’t we need some kind of proof before we trust him completely? I—I mean… I just want to make sure we’re doing the right thing.”

Anastasia’s unexpected reply raised Riona’s eyebrow.

“If that’s how he treats family, is it hard to believe that he is worse to all those people whose names he doesn’t know or can’t be bothered to remember? I’ve seen and heard enough about what he’s done, but I get it if you need proof. I asked for same…” Cal paused and looked back at Marek. “When Wulfric claimed you and Black Rose were behind every crime in Sorian. Of course, he had no proof.” He informed Marek. No reason to keep the man in the dark about how the crowned prince was gunning for him.

Another voice spoke up, “What makes Black Rose any different?”

Riona waited for a beat, then asked Marek again. “Everything you just described about Edin and the nobles—the exploitation, the manipulation, the power games, the ‘necessary evil’ justifications—What exactly sets you apart from them?”

Gesturing vaguely at the secret lair with its books and papers, she said, “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like Black Rose is one of the benefactors of Edin’s neglect.” Her gaze darted toward Callum and Anastasia, two examples of his neglect among countless others.

“And with the ability to erase memories,” Riona continued, “Black Rose can get away with anything. We only have your word that nothing bad happened.”

“You dose people with magic that strips away their control and amplifies specific aspects of themselves, then absolve yourself of all responsibility for what happens while they’re under the influence because it reveals ‘who they really are’,” it took a lot not to make air quotes with her fingers. “Then wipe all memories for ‘everyone’s safety’.” It was a perfect package of exploitation, manipulation, and elaborate justifications all wrapped up with a bow.

Slowly, Riona shook her head. “No. This isn’t about honesty or revelation. As you said yourself—knowledge is power. This lets you hoard it all for yourself.”

The chair creaked slightly as she shifted her weight back, shoulders squared, chin up. “All this secrecy benefits you the most, Mr. Delronzo. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop pretending otherwise.”

She searched Marek’s expression for any crack in his composure. “If you’re nothing like Edin, then the little guys shouldn’t be as scared of the cure as they are the disease, should they? You’d never have to use drugs or magic to manipulate them or tamper with their memories.”

Riona caught Cal’s eye, then Anastasia’s, making sure they were both paying attention. This next part mattered. She drew out a breath—Here it goes.—and plunged into the question that had been burning a hole in her thoughts. “How long has Darryn been working for you?”

Marek’s gaze flicked to Riona, acknowledging her questions with a brief nod, though his true attention snapped back to Callum. In a soft exhale, he presented a look of sorrow.
“Darryn Fletcher...was one of us, in the end. He was also fighting for freedom. ” His voice lowered, almost tender with regret. “Not by choice, mind you. He was a magic slave to the King, forced into servitude and he loathed every moment. He hated your father’s corruption, hated how the Crown used him. But he could never break free on his own.” A flicker of guilt passed over Marek’s features. “We tried to help. If there was any hope of giving Darryn a new life, we wanted that for him. But he knew too much.”

“Edin? Uses magic? Pretty sure he’s too stupid.” Callum chimed in.

His gaze found Callum’s, “The King—” he paused, lips pressing into a line, “—or perhaps the Queen. It hardly matters, for they share the same cruelty. They discovered Darryn was about to speak. So they did what they always do: they silenced him.”

He let that sink in before continuing, voice tightening with righteous anger. “We were too late.” Marek allowed a beat of silence to coil the tension. “They killed him, Callum, because he dared to see the truth, dared to break from their grasp.”

“Alibeth did say she wanted him dead.” Callum added. But he couldn’t see Alibeth using magic either. She clearly hated it. It didn’t quite add up.

Straightening, he drew in a breath, turning a dismissive glance to Riona. “I understand your skepticism,” he added quietly, “and you have every right to doubt. But Darryn’s fate is what happens when anyone stands too close to Edin’s secrets. The monarchy does not suffer witnesses, let alone rebels.”

He fixed Callum with a steady, sympathetic stare. “I know Darryn mattered to you. We share in your loss. We wanted to protect him, but your father’s cruelty reached him first.” Marek shook his head, gaze dropping as if burdened by guilt. “That is why the Black Rose fights. To end such horrors, so no more friends, no more innocents, are sacrificed to the King’s greed.”

Before anyone could reply, he lightly slapped the table. “Now, to the matter of proof,” he declared suddenly without hesitation, smoothly rising from his chair, “I would never expect any of you to stake your trust on mere words alone.”
His gaze moved pointedly from Callum, briefly to Anastasia, and finally to Riona, lingering just long enough to acknowledge her doubts before swiftly moving on. Marek stepped toward the door and opened it.

“Bring in Alden Plannington.” His voice echoed clearly through the hall.

Anastasia sat up straighter, finally speaking up, “Alden...? Father's advisor? What's he doing here?” She then glanced nervously at the other two nervously, uncertainly biting her lip. Callum’s face showed his surprise; he’d been mostly sure that Alden was dead.

Two men hauled in a struggling man: bruised, disheveled, clothes torn and smeared with dried blood. His hands were bound. His face… unmistakable.

Sir Alden Drake Plannington.

The guards shoved him roughly into the room. He stumbled forward and nearly fell, only catching himself on trembling legs. The doors slammed shut behind him.

Alden raised his head, revealing wild eyes that once held nothing but sharp calculation, now unraveling and unhinged.

“This man… was the King’s most trusted advisor. He attempted an assassination of Lady Violet Damien.” He let the accusation hang in the air, eyes sweeping the room. “She was found with an ax embedded in her skull… and she wasn’t the only victim we found.”

Marek walked forward, continuing after a beat of silence, “I had this serial killer hunted down since the kingdom guards seemed to have no plan of intervening on his murders.”

Alden twitched. Then he laughed, and it was a broken sound, like a mask cracking.

It was at that moment Anastasia covered her mouth, completely overwhelmed.

“You’re all so blind.” He spat, stumbling closer, eyes wide. “You think this is Marek’s game? No. No, I planted the seeds. I lit the spark. Do you want to know why I tried to kill that noble brat?” He barked a laugh, trembling.

“Because I’ve been doing your King’s bidding long enough to see that it’s all by design. The slavery, the blackmail, the torture…” His gaze flicked to Anastasia, then to Callum, a half-smirk forming on his split lip.

He spat blood on the floor. “Your father hires people like me on purpose.” Alden’s voice was fueled by hatred. “He seeks out the ones with questionable morals. People who’ll do anything, no matter how vile, so long as he’s paying. He encourages us to be monsters. Wants us to commit atrocities and then discards us when the blood starts staining his throne.”

He turned, staring Callum down, eyes wild with sick conviction. “I was good at it, too—real good. For a while, I believed I was helping keep this kingdom ‘secure.’ But you know what ‘security’ meant to Edin? It meant disposing of anyone who asked too many questions, covering up the nobles’ depravity, feeding them fresh victims so they could gorge themselves in secret...and letting them keep right on smiling at their feasts… I’ve snatched people off the streets on his orders, made them ‘disappear.’ I’ve tortured men for confessions Edin demanded, whether they were guilty or not. The worst of it is, that bastard celebrates it. He gave me gold, rooms in the palace, all the luxuries.”

Callum did not look at Alden beyond a single glance. He did not engage with the former advisor, but he didn’t doubt that Edin picked out the worst people imaginable to work with.

For a moment, Alden’s gaze shifted to Anastasia, a flicker of sympathy crossing his features. “You must wonder why I did something so vile as try to murder innocent Lady Violet Damien?” He let out a ragged sigh, voice trembling with pent-up fury. “Well, I had enough. I was never loyal to him, only to this twisted kingdom. So I thought, if the King wants chaos so badly…why not start by cutting down one of his precious allies? Maybe that’d make him finally choke on his own poison.”

He slumped forward in the guards’ grip, a twisted laugh bubbling past his split lip.
“So yes, I killed her. Not for money, not for power…but to show Edin’s true face. To make him bleed.”

Marek grimaced, adding, “...Instead of granting Violet Damien justice, they chose to curse her—keeping her alive only to suffer endlessly while an innocent woman takes the blame for their crime in the Sorian papers.”

Riona stared, her initial shock giving way to an uncomfortable feeling that something was off. The pieces refused to fit together, and the wrongness of it all pressed against her like a physical weight.

Darryn’s haunted voice echoed in her memory, fractured and desperate. “I was wrong… Wrong….” His eyes had been wild that morning, pupils blown wide as he’d stared at the floor, knuckles white from how hard he’d clenched his fists. “...she asked me to take them there. Her and Callum always have me sneak them out... Maybe they just didn’t know... But then again I knew... I knew where we were going. I have to know because…”

The same unhinged smile now twisting Alden’s face had been on Darryn’s.

She remembered the fury in his grip when he’d seized her wrists. “What do you think you’re doing?” Then that look of raw shame when clarity had reclaimed him.

What did they do to you?

“I…It’s not what they did to me here. It was what I had to do for… ”

And his final warning, delivered in a hollowed voice: “But know this and take it to heart, Riona…”

Riona’s eyes narrowed as she took in the situation with fresh awareness. The careful staging of this meeting, the way Marek’s attention never truly left Callum even when addressing the others, the precise targeting of every word toward Cal’s deepest wounds and resentments. No, this wasn’t Marek exposing secrets to them. He was trying to recruit him.

“The last time I saw Darryn,” Riona said, her voice cutting through the charged air, “he wasn’t himself. Unstable. Hostile, even. At first I thought it was from whatever torture he’d just been through, but he told me that wasn’t it.”

She turned toward Alden, noting the similar erratic energy. “He acted like him.” A sharp nod toward the bound ex-advisor. “And considering what you’ve told us about your parties and their effects, I’m seeing a pattern.”

Marek’s gaze flicked from Riona to the trembling advisor, then back again. With an exhale, he spoke in a low, purposeful tone as the advisor was dragged out of the room. “You think I twisted Alden’s mind? ” Marek asked, letting the question linger for half a breath. “If I desired puppets, why would I openly display them to you? Alden was unraveling long before he entered my orbit. His own diaries—if you care to read them—detail a descent shaped entirely by his choices and the Crown he once served. I merely ensured he couldn’t harm anyone else.” He allowed himself the barest shrug, as though this were an unfortunate but undeniable truth.

His voice softened, “You see patterns because you seek them. Alden and Darryn both shattered beneath the weight of a monarchy that drains men dry and casts aside their hollowed remains. Ask yourself: Who benefits when loyal servants turn hostile? Why would I risk subtle manipulations when the Crown thrives openly on the chaos it creates?”

“Alden’s madness belongs solely to him. If you see Darryn reflected in Alden’s broken mind, perhaps the common denominator isn’t me, but the king you continue to overlook.”

“No one who’s actually been at Marek’s parties has become a wild-eyed menace.” Cal countered, not seeing the link there. But Marek’s version of what was going on didn’t entirely make sense either.

Riona turned her head to Cal, confused that it seemed like he didn’t notice that Alden was under the influence of a drug or magic or both. That he forgot he told her about the “spies who seemed on the brink of insanity.” She briefly widened her eyes to an exaggerated degree and darted her gaze wildly between Cal and Alden, hoping he’d get the message: so far, they only knew of one group that had access to mind-altering magic drugs—Black Rose—and both Darryn and Alden (now that he was captured) had come into contact with them. Verbally, she asked, “How would you remember that?” Not Callum or Anastasia, that much she was sure.

He watched her eyes dart from him to Alden, and nodded. The former advisor was definitely crazy, he wasn’t sure what that had to do with Marek. Callum shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like a broken mind just goes away the next day.” It seemed true enough, no one he’d gone to a party with acted like Alden.

“Something else doesn’t make sense—out of every servant in the castle, why would the King or Queen magically enslave Darryn? A stable boy? Why not all of us?” She made a sound of disgust. “If Edin were using magic to control people, he’d have made every woman in the palace his slave by now. I don’t see why Alibeth would use that kind of magic on a stable hand when there’s more useful targets either.” And that was ignoring the more obvious problem that the Queen was trying to hunt down magic. Would she use magic to enslave someone?

Marek regarded Riona with patience, then offered a slight incline of his head—a gesture that felt more like strategy than concession. “I do not claim to know every secret festering behind palace walls,” he said evenly. “But what I do know is this: hypocrisy is the Crown’s most enduring tradition. A Queen condemning magic while wielding it in secret is not contradiction—it’s consistency.”

“True.”

“Could be they wanted to use someone who could go unnoticed. How many people pay close attention to a stable boy?” Cal considered the possibility aloud.

“Exactly, Callum.” He let the silence stretch before continuing, his voice calm, “Why a stable hand? Precisely because no one would ask that question. If you wished to test control, wouldn’t you choose someone invisible? Expendable?”

Marek’s gaze passed over them all, but returned to Riona like a blade being sheathed.
“The monarchy doesn’t rule through brute force alone—it rules through the assumption no one is watching. Small acts. Isolated suffering. Low risk, no notice.” He folded his hands. “But I am watching. That is why I’m here. Not to excuse, but to expose. Whatever truth we find, I suspect it will only confirm what some of us have known far too long: Edin’s secrets are not merely dangerous. They demand retaliation.”

The fact that Marek had to state that point to a castle servant as if she didn’t know that, told Riona how much he really didn’t understand what it was like living at the bottom. “That’s why she employed professionals, right?” Unless Darryn was secretly a skilled agent, and not just some commoner who got caught in the middle of things, Riona couldn’t imagine Alibeth risking using an amateur to do her bidding.

“Darryn had Ana and I’s trust. Could be Alibeth used him to keep tabs on us.” Cal added. Just as likely that the Queen had some other sinister plot that only a mind as twisted as hers could think up. “She was thrilled to hear about his death.”

“Makes even less sense to want him dead if he was so useful.” The Queen was a cold hearted b*tch, but she was also practical. Wasting a magical slave that had her children’s trust just didn’t seem like her style.

Her voice hardened. “How do we know Black Rose didn’t put that slave spell on him? Because this—” she gestured at Alden “—‘proof that you’re different from Edin and the other nobles’ looks more like whataboutism.” Until she said it out loud she didn’t have a name for it, but that was it: Marek didn’t actually give any proof, he deflected by reiterating how bad the Crown was, using Alden as a shock factor; a prop.

A… prop.
A prop.
Sparks flickered in the stillness of false tranquility.

Riona turned to Anastasia. “Do you want to know what Darryn’s last words to me were?” Then to Callum after a pause, reminding him, “‘The Danroses aren’t the only ones you need to worry about.’” Finally, she locked eyes with Marek. “He was terrified. Absolutely terrified. And anyone who inspires that kind of fear isn’t different enough from the Crown to me, Mr. Delronzo.”

Anastasia’s brows knitted together as she took in the revelation. “...Darryn was really off and crazy the last time I spoke to him too. It was like a whole different person.” She told them, and tapped her chin before adding, “I hate to break it to everyone, but our father is kind of stupid. I’m not sure he’d be able to pull it off hiding all that evil stuff behind his back.

Riona gave an appreciative nod at Anastasia, surprised that the princess was actually backing her up.

“But he can pay others to think for him.” Cal pointed out. “Alibeth is less stupid. She could also do it.” He begrudgingly admitted.

Marek inclined his head, his voice low and unhurried. “You came here hoping to confirm the suspicions you already held. If I were guilty of enslaving Darryn, do you truly imagine I’d brandish men like Alden for your examination?”

“You, of all people, should know the extent of what people will do to maintain their ‘masks,’ Mr. Delronzo. But you are correct. I have my suspicions, and for more reasons than one.” Riona had taken a gamble when she spoke, assessing how the man would respond or if he’d let anything slip. He remained composed throughout, theatrical only when trying to sell his point, but every reply was that of a politician. Even if Black Rose wasn’t behind all this, Riona doubted she could take everything Marek said to heart. “It would’ve been far more comforting if you did put my suspicions to ease.”

Marek’s gaze locked on hers—unblinking, not unkind, but unyielding. “You seek a villain convenient enough to fit the pattern you’ve already drawn. But the truth?” A pause. “It rarely fits cleanly. ”

“As someone once said, the right answer is often the simplest.”

He folded his hands. “So if you came here expecting theater, I’m afraid I deal in uglier things—systems, rot, and the men they hollow out. But if your mind was made up before you walked through the door, then let us not dress suspicion as inquiry.”

“So what you demand is absolute obedience, to never question what you say or do.” Riona nodded, “Thank you, Mr. Delronzo. That does clear things up.”

That is incorrect, unfortunately, Riona.”

“Why is it unfortunate that you need to correct me? Is it because my suspicions prevent me from accepting your answers at face value? … The Crown also finds questions ‘unfortunate,’ Mr. Delronzo.” Another similarity between the oppressors and the people’s “savior.”

The conversation turned too antagonistic. Callum stopped thinking and started speaking. “Darryn was right. It’s not just the Danroses we have to worry about. The Edwards, the Damiens...there’s a long list of nobles just as awful as their king.” He spoke to Riona then nodded at Marek, as if to say, ‘I’ve got your back.’ Defending Marek was easy; the hard part was figuring out what to say to Riona to clue her in that he wasn’t entirely buying what Marek was selling here.

“Mr. Delronzo is not just an ally; he is the mongoose I’ve been hoping for, someone willing to do the work to clear this den of snakes from Sorian. The only people who need to fear him…are the snakes.” Callum said. He smiled at Marek and trusted Riona to know that she was the only one he’d ever given that moniker to. Cal turned his attention back to her.

“Do not toss insults Mr. Delronzo like that.” He added with a stern, almost authoritative tone. A voice he’d never used when speaking with her; Callum didn’t order Riona around like that. If she hadn’t caught the first hint, she’d surely catch this one.

He needed to stay on Marek’s good side. Not just because Cal might still need him as an ally, but he’d never get any closer to the truth if they burned this bridge right now.

Her eyes narrowed and slowly exhaled through her nose as she straightened her back. “... I am stating my opinion on what was presented, Your Highness. If Mr. Delronzo considers that an offense, then I so humbly beg your forgiveness. I am sure your mongoose has plenty of other proof to offer of how different Black Rose is.”

“What exactly happened to Violet? Who cursed her? How is she suffering?” He asked Marek.

Marek fell silent as Callum’s words echoed through the room. The mongoose.

He watched the prince with an expression unreadable, the stillness of a man who already knew how this would end. “Curious,” he said at last, softly. “How quickly the heart reaches for flattery when the room grows cold.”

For someone who claims they’re fighting against corruption and exploitation, he sure didn’t make any effort to tell Cal not to order me or to dissuade me from calling Cal, ‘Your Highness’. Not for the first time, Riona wondered if there was more to Black Rose’s ambitions.

He began to pace again, slow and composed. “I am no stranger to suspicion. Nor do I fear it. But understand this—secrets are not hoarded here out of pride. They are guarded, because some truths are weapons, and not all present know how to wield them without cutting themselves—or others.”

He turned to face them all, eyes sweeping the trio. “Lady Violet’s fate is not a story for a room still divided. And until I know who stands as ally, and who still waits to serve a crumbling Crown...”

He folded his hands behind his back, gaze narrowing. “That knowledge must remain with me. For her safety. ”

Then came the closing blow. “So this audience is at its end.”

“Then I look forward to our next talk, Mr. Delronzo.” Riona said as she stared straight into his eyes.

But as the guards moved, he leaned ever so slightly toward Callum, his voice dropping just for him: “When you're ready to become the reckoning they fear in the dark.. you’ll know where to find me.”

“Hope that’s at the next party.” Cal whispered back, grinning. “Hey, think you can point me in the direction of warehouse to rent, one like the ones you’ve got? Place I can have some secrecy in?” He asked.

“Of course, I will have someone lead you to an empty one after you’re led out.”
The three of them would then find themselves back outside, just the same manner they had been escorted in, the night sky twinkling above them.

“Weeeell… That was weird.”

“To put it mildly.” After taking in a lung full of fresh air, Riona rolled her shoulders. “Okay. Now that I’ve ruffled his feathers, maybe they’ll make a move on me.” She turned to Cal, “And now he likes you more.”

“It’s the eyes. Makes me captivating.” Cal pointed to his face and grinned.

“No credit for your wingman?” She clicked her tongue in mock disappointment. “That’s the last time I help you get a date with your dark admirer.”

“Hey, Anastasia,” Riona said, turning her attention back to his sister. “Thanks for backing me back there.” A smirk crossed her face. “Never thought I'd hear you call Edin stupid.” Her smile lingered just long enough before her expression grew more serious. “So what do you make of all this?”

“Yeaaaah that much is obvious, don’t you think?” Anastasia replied with a light giggle, though it rang a little too high. She tapped her temple, then let out a long, dramatic sigh. “I feel like I need to lay down and stare at the ceiling for six hours. That was a lot. Like actually CRAZY. My brain is still somewhere on that staircase.”

She chewed her lip thoughtfully, then started pacing in a tiny circle as she spoke. “I’ve been to enough places that I probably shouldn’t have been to know that there is definitely a lot of bad stuff that goes on under our noses. There’s no way to deny that anymore.” She paused, fidgeting with her sleeve. “But… I still don’t think father is pulling the strings. Like, if someone told me he accidentally signed a decree upside down because he was busy staring at a woman’s chest, I’d believe it.”

She laughed softly, but it was a nervous kind of laugh. “Maybe Marek’s just paranoid and it’s a misunderstanding. Maybe… maybe if we just tell Edin about the stuff going on—he’ll do something about it… Like maybe he just doesn’t know because he’s been too busy eating... Or maybe…”

A mix of concern and dread flashed across Callum’s face. Riona touched his arm briefly as if to tell him to wait for a second.

Then, a spark of defiance lit in her eyes, and she straightened up. “Wait. No. Actually, never mind.” She planted her hands on her hips, her tone suddenly brighter. “We don’t need to go to him.”
She turned to Riona, eyes shining with renewed excitement. “We’re smart. You’re so smart. Callum’s basically a rebel genius. And I—” she flipped her hair dramatically, “—can put us in incredible outfits. Sooo we can fix this ourselves.”

She stepped closer and lightly touched Riona’s arm. “You were amazing back there, by the way. Seriously.”

“Always amazing.” He agreed.

Riona blinked. Heat crept across her cheeks. She turned her gaze to a narrow gap between the cobblestones, suddenly fascinated by its irregular pattern. “Thanks.”

Then she looked between them, a little breathless with the thrill of the idea. “Maybe this is what we were supposed to do all along. Help people. Catch the bad guys. Expose the truth. And do it without asking anyone’s permission!” Anastasia snapped her fingers sassily a few times with a grin.

“And if it turns out you don’t like the truth? What then?” Cal asked, his tone entirely neutral.

“Umm… Then we drink booze?” Anastasia replied with a touch of uncertainty.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 6pm
Location: The Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: @Potter Kira @Lava Alckon Farim @Rodiak Nahir @Helo Rohit
Attire:Dress, Hair

---

Anastasia lit up like a chandelier, clasping her hands together with delighted flair. “Kiraaa, stop, you’re going to make me blush through my powder!” she said with a giggle. “You’re so fabulous—I feel like I manifested you.” She leaned in conspiratorially, eyes sparkling. “I accept your offer of entertainment, and I expect a performance. ”

Then, to Kira, “Oh yes, this is the fun side. Over here? Chaos, Thara, and very little shame.” She winked and lifted her glass in a toast. “To poor impulse control and pretty people.”

As she was looking about their area, her eyes fell on Rohit, who she had gotten the lovely chance to party with once already, “Oh! And we got Rohit here!” she said, giving a warm, welcoming smile. “I’m so happy you’re seated with us—we were just claiming this side of the room as the most fun and now I know I was definitely right.”

Subsequently, Anastasia noticed Nahir entering and lit up once more, “Shehzadi Nahir!” she chimed, springing up just enough for a light, elegant curtsy—though her excitement nearly made it a bounce. “I’ve never seen someone enter a room like you do—it’s like watching a star float in.”

Her eyes sparkled with sincerity as she added more softly, “I’ve been hoping to get to know you.”

Not longer after that, Farim finally returned and Anastasia beamed, her cheeks already rosy from the flurry of interactions and compliments she’d received that evening, yet somehow, his return made her glow even brighter.

“You were gone an entire lifetime,” she teased dramatically, her fingers brushing delicately into his palm as she placed her hand in his. “The world dimmed a little the moment you left, but alas the light returns. And yes, I missed you.”

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, then, instead of releasing it, kept her fingers nestled in his, her thumb tracing an absentminded pattern against his skin. Her eyes lifted to meet his, her lashes fluttering.

“You know,” she murmured, “if you keep dazzling me like this, I might start believing you crossed kingdoms just to see me.”

A slow, playful smile curved her lips, an impish affection in her gaze. Then, with the softest of kisses pressed to the back of his hand to return the earlier favor, she finally released him, though her smile said she wasn’t done with him yet.

Then, with a turn of her head and renewed sparkle in her eye, Anastasia addressed everyone. “By the way, you all know about my charity performances earlier, right?” she asked, sitting up a little straighter. “It went well, but I don’t want it to stop there. I’ve decided I want to do more. ” Her tone was playful, but then softened into sincerity. “I want to go myself to pass out the food and supplies we raised money for. Talk to them, see what they need. Be with them.”

She glanced around, gauging reactions with hopeful curiosity. Her gaze slid back to Farim for a second, “And maybe drag some of you along with me. Does that sound fun to anyone here?”