Current
i dont recommend getting a pinched nerve, especially in your leg
8 yrs ago
Just a few more hours and i get to dissappear for 10 days. The place we are going has some wonderful views.
8 yrs ago
wow talk about nostalgia. Things to do while your bored, look up "the cluefinders."
8 yrs ago
bored
8 yrs ago
what? its already been a year here? *looks around* well other than loseing a bunch of wieght not much has changed.
1
like
Bio
Sup im sword just got here and am getting a feel for things.
Well i got a feel for things and i think ill stay... also recovering from spine surgery sucks but is better than ending up in the emergency room again.
Her words made his smile widen. She had accepted his request to dance, even if he had underlying, selfish reasons for asking. The compliment, however, caught him completely off guard, though he rallied quickly.
âAh, yes. Traditional attire for Emberstone. I believe it is more of a statement of our heritage than anything else, given I donât see anyone else here wearing any sort of armor.â His gaze swept the room for a moment. âWell, I suppose there are some decorated military members in the crowd.â
He was rambling, and he knew it. He found it unusually difficult to maintain eye contact with herâa strange, fluttering feeling he couldnât quite identify.
He was just about to reach out and escort her to the dance floor when a friendly slap on the back was quickly followed by a familiar voice.
He hadnât expected Munir to take an interest in Nora; she didnât seem like his usual type. But then, Roman mentally scolded himselfâhe shouldnât be so quick to judge. He turned and returned the warm greeting to the other man.
âWell, hello there, brother!â he said, his voice loud and filled with genuine camaraderie. âI can assure you, my dancing is much better than my swordplay!â It was a boisterous, good-natured boast. âIt is good to see you, Shahzade Munir. It feels like months since we last spoke.â
He laughedâa genuine, unmocking soundâat Munirâs statement regarding his own dancing ability. âKnowing you, I'm sure you will outshine anything I can do on the floor.â It was a sincere compliment, and in this instance, Roman was absolutely certain it was true.
He then offered his arm to Nora, formally inviting her to join him. âBest not to keep the Prince waiting too long.â If he could have stuck his tongue out at Munir just to tease him, he would have. Taking one deep breath, Roman let the tension bleed out of his shoulders. For just a moment, he forgot about everything else, simply allowing himself to enjoy the evening.
The smile on his face faltered. His brows furrowed, and he couldnât help but tilt his head to the side as Amira abruptly ran off. His confusion was evident as he glanced over at Magnus, who politely excused himself and slowly followed after her. Roman could only assume that the young woman might be a bit overwhelmed.
Roman turned his attention back to Nora, resuming his warm smile as if nothing had happened. âI have that effect on people sometimes.â He glanced back toward where she had disappeared. âI met her a time or two during my visits to Alidasht. I think she will be okay.â His mind dug up a few older memories of the girl, but he quickly filed them away. At the very least, it looked like the explosive confrontation with the King had fizzled out for now.
He stepped closer to Nora, just enough to allow for a more intimate conversation over the noise of the ball. His tone was soft. Despite what he expected to face tomorrow, he was actually having a good time tonight. âYou truly do look like you belong in one of those lovely romance novels about royalty.â He locked eyes with her for a moment, then nervously looked away.
The confidence in his posture shifted; he was no longer the headstrong man who had initially approached the group, but someone softer. It was as if he had completely forgotten why he had originally come over. He did, however, pick up on the subtle tone in her voice for just a moment.
âI do hope Iâm not intruding on anything. I came over here to ask you for a dance.â The question tumbled out quickly, accompanied by a nervous blush.
Roman watched Kazumin's face brighten into a wide smile at the mention of his magnificence. That was good. He knew there was still lingering tension between the two menâa quiet disapproval or disagreement. He had no intention of making it worse and tried to make his words as sincere as possible. After all, he was sincere, and he would need Kazu's help in the coming month.
The smile plastered on his face didnât fade, and he even found himself laughing at the interaction between Kazu and Sylvia. âSweets are a good start, but drinks sound betterâjust maybe not at a tavern this time.â It was a slight joke, but his smile remained genuine. âAnd donât sell yourself short, young lord. You held your own much better than one would expect in that fight. I'd be happy to have you at my back any day.â
âARE YOU MAD?! Do you think I would ever entertain my daughter ever being with you?"
A familiar voice cut through the revelry with such explosive emotion that Roman immediately snapped his attention to the sound, barely stopping himself from reaching for a weapon that wasn't at his hip. Instinct took over, and he instinctively positioned himself between Sylvia and the direction of the shout. Fighting his drilled training to protect Varian royalty was an exercise in futility. His posture didnât relax even after he saw who was shouting, nor who the King's ire was directed at.
The angry words carried clearly, dampening the conversations of the surrounding nobility. An explosive public confrontation between the King and Lorenzo could be incredibly dangerous. Even Kazu seemed taken aback by the sudden outburst; as he tried to literally breathe in his food in the face of this when he heard him choke on his food.
âFeel free to seek me out soon, and weâll figure out the details later, aye?â
Roman nodded at Kazu. âGo.â He watched the man shift gears and quickly push through the crowd. Roman didnât follow. He wanted toâwanted to join them up there and show his supportâbut he held his ground. The best excuse he had was that he needed to protect Sylvia if the situation devolved into chaos. With those two going at each other, it very well might.
The King delivered his replyâhis ultimatum, his manipulation. It wasnât stellar, but the interaction clearly caught the monarch off guard. He hadn't expected any pushback from whatever Lorenzo had said first, but he quickly rallied and continued his tirade. Through it all, Lorenzo remained tight-lipped and visibly furious. His posture said it all; Roman could see the man wouldnât back down.
A sudden movement from Lorenzo made Roman tense. Even from across the room, he could see the shift in weight, the flex of muscles, the slight pivot in the hips. He was going to take a swing at the King. It was a downright reckless move, but one Roman completely understood. Unfortunately, Lorenzo was too far away for Roman to intervene. If that swing connected, it would only make his deal with Charlotte infinitely harder to pull offâif not outright impossible.
His mind raced, rapidly changing plans and forming contingencies, when an unlikely individual stepped inâsomeone Roman didnât even entirely recognize at first. Calbert Damien. The man somehow managed to catch Lorenzoâs fist mid-swing. He looked differentâbigger, perhaps? Whether it was a spell or just the cut of his clothes, something about him felt far more formidable tonight.
It seemed the explosive confrontation was finally boiling down. Roman visibly relaxed his posture and turned back to Sylvia. âI, for one, would very much like to see you again outside of this ballâand hopefully after tomorrow.â His smile dropped slightly at the grim reminder of what tomorrow held, but he pushed past it. âIt would be wonderful to have some time to catch up, to get to know the elegant young woman you have become in a more comfortable setting.â
His gaze shifted across the room, landing on another familiar face he wanted to speak with. It looked like the princess was perfectly safe at the dessert table for now.
âI do hope you have a wonderful evening, Sylvia. Now, if you will excuse me.â He smiled, offered her a quick bow, and moved off toward the familiar face he had spotted.
He politely and slowly made his way through the throng of celebrating nobles. Most were lost in their own hushed conversations, buzzing with gossip about the recent outburst. Roman tuned them all out. None of their chatter held any value to him; right now, he just wanted to do something for himself. The small group he had spotted from afar grew closer, and he could clearly recognize two of the figures.
Lady Nora Pawonska and Shehzadi Amira Kadir stood together, accompanied by a man who bore a strong resemblance to Nora. Her brother Magnus, most likely. Roman had read up on their family after his late-night stroll with Nora, but he had only found names and brief descriptions, no portraits. Amira was an interesting girl; he had met her a couple of times during his visits to Alidasht. She was usually quiet at first, and then transitioned into what could only be described as bubbly. He wouldnât put it past her to have forgotten him entirely, though he did remember that she had always seemed fond of the small gifts he brought her from his homeland.
He calmly and confidently approached the trio. Only as he drew near did he realize they looked a little upset about something. What that might be, he couldn't say, but he approached with a warm smile anyway.
âLady Nora Pawonska, a pleasure to see you again. I must say, that shade of crimson is absolutely strikingâit rivals even the brightest ruby Iâve ever worked with. And Shehzadi Amira Kadir, you bring the serene beauty of the Alidasht coast straight into this crowded room. It is always lovely to see you. Which means you must be Magnus Pawonska? You are looking magnificent tonight.â
He gave them all a warm smile after each complement on their attire, offering Amira a respectful bow of his head and shoulder, the metal of his pauldron gleaming in the chandelier's light. âLord Roman Ravenwood, at your service. I do hope Iâm not intruding.â He kept his demeanor polite, calm, and confidentâbut relaxed enough that he could easily step away if his intrusion wasn't welcome.
His smile didn't fade; his eyes didn't harden. Nothing except his racing heartbeat betrayed his inner feelings. The herald's announcement of Lady Violet Damien sent a brief, sharp tang of anxiety through his chest. He didn't make eye contact, barely glancing her way, but he saw it all the same: resolve and beauty. She moved with a quiet purpose, one he intended to steer entirely clear of while they played their respective games.
Ranya's voice pulled him out of his inner turmoil. With a forced, contented sigh, he smiled and nodded to the pair as Munir hurried the Shehzadi away. "Hopefully, we get to talk again soon," he called after them. He watched the two for a moment longer. Whatever the topic was, it must have been truly important for Munir to pull her away so abruptly. Something to ask about another time.
Sylvia's words brought his focus back to their conversation about sweets and tarts. "A fanatic? I would never accuse you of such a thing." He feigned being hurt by the accusation. Something about her demeanor told him she was nervous; grand affairs like this often did that to people. "You are simply an explorer of all things sweet and savory. One must always train and refine their palate."
His eyes swept over the table, finding a small batch of apple pastries hidden among the others. "And you need a sharp eye to spot the ones that try to hide from you." Plucking two of the pastries from their hiding spot, he offered one to her. "You have always had an interest in the exotic. I do believe the last thing you requested from me was perfume from Alidasht."
He almost lost himself in the soft delight of the pastry, but Sylvia's attention was suddenly drawn to something behind him. Following her gaze, he could definitely see why. Kazumin Nagasa was dancing his way down the stairs toward the King, bearing the best title Roman had heard all night. The sight made him chuckle. Oh, to be so lightheartedâfor a brief moment, Roman envied the man.
When he looked back at Sylvia, she looked as though she was trying to hide behind him. A memory of a much smaller version of the young woman flashed in his mind; it was something he fondly remembered her doing during his visits as a teenager. "You're hiding behind me again, Princess," he chuckled, losing himself in the memories of watching over the royal children.
A tap on his arm pulled him from his reverie. Kazu had made his way over to them without Roman even noticing. His attire was strange but somehow fitting. Roman gave Kazu an exaggerated bow and a wide smile. "Forgive me, I did not realize we were in the presence of the great Skip Meister himself." He laughed, drawing a few stares from nearby nobles, but he didn't care. "It's good to see you again, friend. I hope you are doing well."
He accepted the sunflower Kazu offered, tilting his head in amusement. "Oh? For me? You shouldn't have." He tucked the flower into his jacket so it could be seen by all.
With the herald's announcement of another familiar name, Roman turned his attention back to the stairs. Charlotte was striding gracefully down the steps in the most stunning dress he had ever seen her wear. It certainly made her stand out, but what truly caught his attention was the fire in her eyesâthat same fierce passion she had displayed just a few nights ago. She was embracing her strength, making a clear statement for all to see.
"Good," he whispered to himself with a proud smile.
"Ah, yes, Kazumin is a good man. You can trust him," Roman said to Sylvia, pulling his focus back to the immediate conversation. "If my memory serves me right, I do believe Kazumin here is a mighty slayer of all things pudding-related." He plucked yet another small treat from the table. "I believe even you, dear Princess, could learn a thing or two from this master."
The wrought iron gates of the estate were familiar. Memories of just a few nights ago ran through his mind. Roman stood before them, his hand resting heavily on the cold metal bars, hesitating. He had stormed fortresses and faced down monsters that would stop a lesser manâs heart, yet the idea of walking down this path to ask for a favor felt significantly harder.
Still, he knew he could not do this alone.
He took a breath, steeling himself against the voice in the back of his mind that told him to turn aroundâthe voice that whispered that his bond was good for him. No, he thought, pushing the gate open. Not this time. I canât do this one alone.
The path to the door was short, but it felt like it stretched on for miles. He couldnât stop now; the gears set in motion would not stop for him. Could he trust her? He could only hope.
Roman raised his hand to knock, hesitating just before his knuckles grazed the wood. His gaze fell on the small ruby set in the gold band, resting where the emerald had been just a few days ago. Its purpose was the same: to hide his aura. But the memory still stung.
He pounded his fist against the door three times, then stepped back to wait.
The lock turned with a soft click, and there stood Delilah Pembrook.
She filled the doorway like someone who belonged there. Not because she was trying to impress, but because she carried herself with the confidence of a woman whoâd spent years keeping a household running. Her hair was pulled back neatly, pale strands framing her face and her bright eyes were alert even before they settled fully on Roman.
They did settle, though as she leaned against the doorway and folded her arms.
Delilahâs gaze traveled over him with ease. She looked at his shoulders, the breadth of him, the way he stood. Her lips drew inward for a moment before the expression eased into a smile that was entirely too entertained to be called polite. âWell hello there,â she murmured, and there was no mistaking the pleased note in it. âYouâre a sight, arenât you?â
Her eyes lifted again to his face, holding there. âLord Ravenwood, yes?â
The question sounded like a formality, as if sheâd already known it the moment sheâd heard the knock and still wanted to hear him confirm it out loud. She stepped back and opened the door wider. â Well, come in,â she said, the warmth returning like it had never left. âLady Charlotte is in the living room.â
And then, because Delilah couldnât seem to help herself, her smile turned faintly mischievous again, her eyes flicking once more to his height as if she was savoring the view. With that, she moved aside fully to let him through, already turning down the hall as if she expected him to follow.
Inside the drawing room, Charlotte was indeed curled up on the couch by the fire, her hair loose, dressed in a comfortable dress meant for quiet hours rather than company. She didnât immediately notice their entry; she was absorbed in her book as if the rest of the world had been turned down.
He tipped his head to the side at the woman who answered the door. She was definitely checking him out. He replied with a sly smile of his own, matching her look. âYou can call me Roman, miss.â He gave her a polite nod and stepped inside, following her into the immaculate estate.
He had decided against wearing anything too formal today, opting for something simple that still allowed him to stand out: dark greens embroidered with gold designs. The tunic was loose enough to move in comfortably while still remaining stylish, with a pin of his house sigil fastened over his right breast.
He hesitated when he saw her. Charlotte looked comfortable, peacefulâeven entranced by her book. The urge to turn and leave was quickly squashed as he took a deep breath.
âHello, Charlotte. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time?â He spoke with a warm smile, his eyes scanning her to see how her injuries were healing from the other night. His own visible wounds were mostly gone, save for a spot of red lingering in his eye, though his ribs still woke him up at night. Still, that didnât mean he couldnât be worried about his friend.
Charlotte glanced up and her expression immediately brightened a little. For a moment, her eyes flicked over him on instinct, searching his face the way she couldnât seem to stop doing since the tavern, as if checking he was truly standing there and still whole.
Her own wounds were mostly absent from the other night, besides a few bruises that had remained.
The book slipped from her fingers onto the couch with a thump as she rose. She crossed the room quickly. She slipped her arms around him in a friendly, careful hug, mindful of his ribs, and drew back with that same sweet, earnest smile.
âHello, Roman,â she said softly, voice filled with sincere relief. âIâm very glad you came. Truly⌠thereâs no such thing as a bad time.â
Her honesty was always refreshing; she was genuinely happy to see him. Her hug was gentle, mindful of his ribs, but despite the pain, he pulled her in tighter with a laugh before letting her step back.
âI am doing much better, though I'm still a little sore. How are you? Your injuries seem to be healing well.â He smiled, his eyes holding a lingering concern for her before it faded.
He glanced back towards Delilah, then returned his gaze to Charlotte. His posture and the look in his eyes shifted to something foreign for him. Resignation, maybe? A pinch of sorrow? But mostly, it was a quiet desperation.
âI donât mean to be rude, but is there somewhere we can talk thatâs private?â He offered her a comforting smile, but on his face, it felt heavy.
Charlotteâs gaze dipped briefly to his ribs and drifted to her own hands, as if remembering how quickly everything had gone so dreadful the other night. When she looked back up, for once, she didnât bother masking the weariness in her eyes. âIâm fine⌠All things considered.â
She wrapped her arms around herself as a haunted look overtook her features. âPhysically, Iâve been alright.â She clarified. But I must confess⌠itâs been rather difficult to get the images of that night out of my head..â Then, as if she realized sheâd said too much, she drew that sweet smile of hers back into place. âYes, of courseâplease come with me.â
Then, she guided him to the estate library, passing framed portraits and scones along the way. Finally, they came upon the tall library doors. It had always been her favorite room of the houseâespecially since her dear friend Nolan had once declared it so all those years ago. It was quieter inside, the hearth low as the shelves towered overhead.
Charlotte crossed to a maroon-cushioned couch near the window and sat down. After smoothing her skirt once, she folded her hands in her lap and waited for him to join her.
He nodded along with her words. The pain was still there, of courseâhe would be concerned if it wasnât. She was good at hiding her worry, that was for sure. It was a useful skill for nobility. âI have something that could help ease that pain.â
He followed her through the estate, passing many imposing portraits of faces he did not recognize, until they reached two tall doors covered in simple but eye-catching engravings. He found himself moving slowly through the library, his eyes scanning the spines of the books. Some titles he knew, but most he did not.
The towering shelves eventually opened up into a lounge area, where a subtle warmth emanated from the hearth. There were a few chairs scattered about, but Charlotte chose a spot on one of the couches. Roman suddenly felt self-conscious. After a moment of hesitation, he sat down on the opposite end of the couch.
He remained quiet for a moment, staring down at his hands before he finally spoke.
âI need your help.â The silence hung between them for a heartbeat. âI need your help breaking a curse.â
Charlotte exhaled softly, resolve settling over her features as her gaze dipped and her lashes fluttered downward. âVery well then.â she said after very little hesitation. âTell me about this curse.â
He was relieved to see no hesitation in her featuresâonly resolve. He was committed now, yet he still found the words difficult to find. His eyes darted around the room, his ears straining for the slightest sound. The library was a prime location for listening devices, whether placed by friends or foes. But he didnât have the time to search. He had to take a leap of faith.
âItâs a blood bond. A very intricate one.â He unbuttoned his left sleeve and rolled it up past his elbow. Other than a few scars, the skin was clear⌠for now.
âIt forces me to obey orders and reveal secrets. I have limited control over my own actions when I am commanded.â A tinge of burning pain rose in his arm with the confession. Every word etched red lines under his skinâlines that slowly twisted into runes wrapping around his hand and forearm.
âIt will kill me if I resist or disobey.â His fist clenched as the runes became inflamed, rising against his skin like welts. âOr if I reveal too many secrets about the bond or my mission.â
"RomanâŚ" The word was just a pained whisper as her breath caught in her throat. She stared at the markings on his arm, her eyes wide at the implications of their existence. Her mind wandered back to the banquet, to his strange behavior, and suddenly it all made sense. "Oh, Roman, why didnât you say anything sooner? âŚHow long has this been happening?" She leaned forward, her hands hovering tentatively near his arm, as if she wanted to reach out, but feared the slightest touch might cause him further pain. The anguish of a friend witnessing unimaginable suffering was evident in her azure gaze.
"To be forced⌠to have your will taken from you⌠and to endure this painâŚ" Her voice trembled, thick with genuine emotion. "It sounds like absolute torture. I canât⌠I canât imagine what you must be going through."
"Iâm so sorry this is happening to you." Her eyes shut tight and she sighed. Then she lowered her voice instinctively, as though the shelves themselves might gossip. "I confess⌠I have my own odd grievances of late as well. For starters. I have witchblood, and the hunters know." Her fingers curled in her lap, knuckles whitening for a moment before she unclenched them. "Until recently, I have never cast a spell before, nor did I even know I was a witch. Frankly I had no knowledge of magicâs existence prior to this week. Nonetheless, I have begun researching." Her gaze lifted to his, unwavering now. "The Black Rose has taken an interest in meâand I believe my father, too. I can no longer afford to be ignorant."
Her posture straightened. "You are to tell no one. Not even our friends." The sentence was gentle, but it was not a request. "I am aware of the risks my actions bring, but I must find ways to deepen my understanding. I am at a place I would rather be terrified with my eyes open than comfortable with my throat bared." She paused, then her expression hardened.
"All that to say given that I am delving into a book of the sort anyway⌠I will do all I can to help you break it." Her chin lifted slightly, unflinching. "Because I am done doing nothing."
He kept quiet, listening to her speak and watching her reactions. They were genuine. That was the reason he had come here. Who else could he trust to help him without using it against him? This had to work. He could see that she cared about himânot for what he was, but for who he wasâand he could see by her admissions alone that she was scared.
At the very least, she was choosing to act. That was something he could help her with. Something he would help her with. He understood these things: being Witchblood, being hunted, being investigated. Even working with the hunters was a chore.
The mention of the Black Rose made him sit just a little straighter, though her confession did not seem to surprise him. Instead, he looked as if he were simply filing away the information.
Roman nodded at her words, his gaze locking with hers, just as serious. This was a new step for her, he could tell. Her fear had turned to something moreâanger, perhaps a bit of rage. But what he saw most clearly was determination: a refusal to let her life be controlled by others.
âIf you are able to break this curse, I will owe you a life debt. The bond is made at the end of our trialsâthe last step in becoming an adult and a soldier. I did not choose to take the oath.â The implication was clear, but he took a moment to process the rest of what she had said.
He didnât suspect a lie. If she was trusting him like this, he would return that trust. âI will keep your secret to the best of my ability. As a fellow Witchblood.â He paused to let the words sink in. âHow can I help you understand yourself? What questions do you have?â
âTo be frank with you, Roman⌠I scarcely know where to begin.â Her brows knit as if the thought itself pained her. âAs far as I ever witnessed, my parents never cast at all and I have no memory of anything even resembling it.â
Her gaze momentarily fell. âTell meâyour aura⌠is it simply purple?â A long pause followed. âBecause mine is too, but it bears a dark outlineâŚAccording to something I read, that may suggest dark magic somewhere in my history⌠and if that is true, then I am left with one question.â Her chin rose. âHow do I understand why?â
He nodded slowly as he processed the information she gave him. Her questions were sharp. It was clear just how far she had researched and how much she had been told. However, the last question about his aura made him sit up a little straighter. That wasnât a topic he enjoyed discussing, but he knew he owed her the truth.
âA Witchblood lineage can be passed down even if a generation doesn't practice it. And who is to say that one of your parents didnât practice before you were born?â He paused, rifling through his memory on the subject. âThe original Witchbloods in your family would have had a codeârules to live by. Typically, these codes forbid harmful spells, require one to be in tune with nature, and ban the use of dark magic and magic for personal gain.â
âMy family is sworn to protect Varian and its peopleâmost notably the Crown and its heirs. But we also must maintain a balance between our own desires and the magic that flows through the natural world. The Ninefold Path guides us in that.â
He paused again, considering how to phrase his next thought.
âThe black around the edge of your aura could be a sign of dark magic usage, but I believe that can happen whether you were conscious of it or not. Someone could have forced you to do it. That, and being a Witchblood, you are capable of casting wordless spells. That is what I was doing the other night.â
He sighed heavily, looking down at his hands for a long moment before meeting her gaze again. âMy aura is an anomalyâsomething we haven't seen or heard of before. It is a thick, deep purple. But if you watch it long enough, it cracks like a pane of glass. And in those cracks, you see only an abyss of darkness.â
Charlotte held his gaze, taking each and every one of his answers in. Her brows knit together once again, and by the time he finished speaking, she lowered her eyes thoughtfully. She sighed and said at last, jesting, though with a quiet wistfulness to her tone, âIf I werenât so scared⌠â She drew her knees to herself. âMaybe Iâd suggest the idea of you and I assembling a coven and frolicking about the woods with the othersâlike silly little storybook witches.â
He tilted his head from side to side, weighing the thought. âThatâs not a horrible idea. Covens are meant to build bondsâto teach, to grow, and to protect one another.â It was something he had done in the past. Technically, his family and a few of the other old Emberstone clans were all part of a larger coven. Branching out into a new one wasn't out of the question. âYou should see what the others say.â âMaybe wait until after this trial, though.â He paused, his voice turning somber. âI wouldn't want to help build something with you, only to be unable to see it through.â His gaze drifted, seeming to focus on something miles away.
Charlotteâs eyes followed his trail of vision as if trying to see for herself what he might be watching. However, she chose not to question the specifics just yet.
âThough the idea has its allure,â she admitted softly after a pause, and there was a wistfulness in her eyes as she said it, âand I can certainly see the benefit of having a circle of support⌠Somewhere we might educate ourselves, and speak plainly about protecting one anotherâŚâ
She drew off, tilting her head as her brows knit together. âBut we are in Sorian after all,â she continued, lowering her voice without quite meaning to. âWith hunters about, I fear a coven here would become less a sanctuary and more a target.â
Her gaze dipped for a moment. âA prominent hunter visited me the day after the tavern attack. He stood in my foyer, with a woman in chains at his side, paraded like some obedient petâ There was disgust in her voice and a visible grimace forming on her features. âHe made it very clear what he will do if he decides I am more than a harmless girl who keeps her head down.â
She then sighed, stretching her palms out on her thighs. â...And given how severe the consequences seem to be for magic casting⌠It is not something I would ever encourage another soul to undertake lightlyâif at all.â
He let himself lean against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as he listened to her speak. âThat is true. It would be fraught with danger⌠but what isnât these days? On the surface, Varian is just as bad; the witch hunters are based there.â He paused for a moment, letting the different possibilities and outcomes filter through his mind. âThe only reason I'm allowed to use magic the way I do is because it gets the job done.â
âI think, despite the dangers and the consequences, I'd much rather burn than watch my friends be consumed by magic. It is not a⌠peaceful way to go.â
He sighed, his gaze drifting back to her. âWhen the time comes to break the bond, we will need a lot of helpâboth physical and magical. I will try to run. I will fight. I will be forced to do whatever I can to protect the bond. I just hope I can find a way to give you more information about it before then.â He trailed off, offering her a sheepish smile.
âI know you have your own burdens weighing you down, and it's not just magic. But I make this oath to you: I will help you to understand yourself and to protect yourself. And just know that if everything goes to shit, I have the resources to smuggle you out of the kingdom if you need it.â
âI understand your sentiment,â Charlotte replied softly at first, her voice composed. âAnd I am grateful for it. Truly. I promise you, I am committed to helping you break this bondâno matter what.â
Yet even as she spoke, something in her demeanor began to fracture. She drew in a breath, one hand lifting to her chest as though she might steady the storm gathering there, before letting it fall again, fingers trembling faintly. âI onlyâŚâ Her voice faltered just briefly, before she forced herself to go on. âI cannot continue as I am.â
She rose from the couch without quite realizing she had done so, pacing a short distance before stopping, arms folding tightly around herself as though she were holding herself together by sheer will. âI would rather learn to wield this magic than remain a bystander to suffering,â she said, the words gaining strength with each breath. âI want to become someone who can protect the people I love.â
âDuring the tavern attack, I was helpless,â she continued, âLord Edwards was tortured because of my failures.â She pressed her palms briefly to her temples, as though the memories were too loud. âAnd I did not do enough to prevent my motherâs deathâŚâ she whispered. âNothing that mattered.â
Her gaze lifted then, fierce despite the tears. âI am sick of being powerless.â The words rang with ferocity. â I refuse to be preserved like porcelain while the world burns around me.â
Her hands clenched at her sleeves. âIf learning this art costs me comfort⌠safety⌠even my lifeâŚâ she said, voice trembling, âthen so be it. I would rather fall beneath a hunterâs blade having fought, than wither away having done nothing.â
âThat hunter from the banquet visited me the morning after that nightâŚâ she murmured. âI was not wearing my locket at the banquet and my aura was witnessed by them.â
A fleeting smile unbecoming of their conversation flickered across her lips. It was not of happiness but of relief. At least it had been her. At least it had not been Olivia.
âI cannot bear the thought of him standing before anyone else as he stood before me,â she admitted. âStanding there deciding whether it was worth it to permit me to go on living.â Charlotte nearly spat the last words in disgust, her voice quivering with emotion.
âI know this path may destroy me, Lord Ravenwood,â she said quietly. âI am not blind to that truth.â She held his gaze without flinching, as though her will alone could keep the world from swallowing them both.
âBut I have already made my peace with it. If my end must come,â she finished, steady at last, âthen let it come knowing I protected those precious to me.â
He did not dare say a word to interrupt her; he just listened and let her speak, waiting patiently for her decisionâher resolveâto make itself known to them both. She did not disappoint, and once again, he found himself smiling. Witnessing this side of her, he realized just how far she could go. This anger and passion could stir others into action, if she could maintain it.
Roman didn't speak for a few moments. He wanted her declaration to hang in the air, allowing her to truly absorb it. He needed to absorb it, too.
âWhat you're feeling right nowâthis resolve, this anger, this rage... keep it and use it,â he finally said. âThank you for being open with me. Killian is an issue, and I will be honest with you: I have worked with him before to hunt down a coven of necromancers. However, I assure you that I only hunt witches who use their power to destroy the lives of others.â
Charlotteâs brows lifted with surprise and she adjusted her positioning as if to deal with her discomfort that way.
âThat is a story I can tell you another time, if you wish. For now, let's focus on what it is to be a Witchblood and how you can protect yourself. If you can't protect yourself, you can't protect others.â
He turned toward her. His voice was stern, naturally adopting the tone of a teacherâa tone he had found himself using more and more often since coming here.
âA Witchblood is the result of generations of powerful magical bloodlines intermingling and practicing magic throughout their lives. One or both parents can pass it down.â He paused, thinking for a moment before continuing. âEvery family line has specific rules, but most can be summarized simply: do no harm, keep the balance, don't use magic for personal gain, and remember that a cost must always be paid. There are other rules, but that is the gist of it. Breaking them can inflict a curse upon the Witchblood, the specifics of which I am not entirely sure.â
Charlotte thought of her father, and the strange manner she had been receiving his memories. Her mouth tightened into a thin line as she considered that at the very least she was certain he had been aware of their family history. She supposed she couldnât have faulted him for hiding that from her at the tender age she last saw him. â... What do you suppose your family rules are?â She finally asked after some thought.
Roman tilted his head to the side in thought, then shrugged. âAll of them? Why not.â
ââThe Nine-Fold Path we follow consists of rules and guides to keep a witch on the right path, ensuring they will not be consumed by their power. My family itself has several specific rules.â He paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful as he pondered how best to continue.
Charlotte nodded once. The words âconsumed by their powerâ did not leave her mind, and she could not help the brief glance down toward her hands.
âThe Vow of Iron: the raven's wings shield the throne; it must never seek to sit upon it. That one is a bit obvious. We pledge ourselves to protect the crown, and our magic must not be used against it. In return, the crown will always shield us from the sun."
He paused for a moment, then continued. âThe Law of Breath and Bone: magic may bend the world, but it must never cheat the grave. We cannot bring back the dead in any capacity. The only exception I know of is through a ritual where you enter their realmâyou never bring them back here.â
âThe Law of the Roots: you cannot reap without sowing; the earth is a partner, not a well to run dry. This one has varied interpretations, but we all agree it is about maintaining the balance between our magic and the influence it has on the natural world.â
âThe Law of the Vessel's Toll: the body is a conduit, not the source. One must bear the toll upon themselves and within themselves for using magic. I'm not sure if that one is as much of a rule as it is an unavoidable fact. Our magic will always have some kind of physical manifestation, as well as other payments.â
With a heavy sigh, he continued. âAnd finally, there is the Law of the Ember. The flame burns hottest when contained; expose it only to burn out the rot. Our family dictates strict covertness. Magic is never to be used as a tool of spectacle, convenience, or pride. It is only meant to fulfill a duty, protect the crown or the coven, or hunt the corrupted. We've found that protecting ourselves counts, too, and doing small things that advance our goals doesn't seem to trigger the curse either.â
At that, something woke up behind her blue eyes. She thought of King Edin, of the Church, of witch-hunters parading their righteousness through the streets, and she felt her jaw tighten. Charlotte could understand restraint, could even respect it, but she also knew what happened when power belonged only to those bold enough to use it publicly.
He paused again, his gaze returning to her. âDoes this answer your question?â
The fire crackled from the hearth as her heart beat too fast for how still she sat. âYes,â she said quietly, voice steady. âIt answers it.â After a sigh, she added, âI think⌠it is important that I learn my own familyâs rules.â she added, eyes flicking down for a brief moment as if she could feel the weight of her locket even through fabric, then returning to Roman with resolve. âBecause if there is a toll, I would at least rather know what price I am to pay.â
She stood then, smoothing her skirt with hands. âThank you for trusting me with this⌠For all of this tonight. â Charlotte said softly. âI promise I will do all I can for you, dear friend⌠We shall meet here going forward for further discussions.â
âAnd lessons on our magic.â he added with a nod.
Roman couldnât help but smile at them both. Ranya was reserved and proper, while Sylvia was quick to brush past the compliment. He found the contrast adorable. Everyone looked their best tonight; no one wanted to make themselves a target, yet they all strove to stand out in their own way. The morningâs grim events provided more than enough reason for their caution.
âAh, your memory proves correct. Iâve spent many a long night in your beautiful home, discussing trade deals with your father and his advisors. He is a shrewd businessmanâa necessary skill for a man in his position. I do believe you were present for many of those discussions.â The Alidasht Shehzadi was quick and polite, but the sharp look in her eyes suggested she was far from the fragile flower she had been paraded around as during his visits. If anything, the past couple of weeks had proven just how surprising people could be. It was yet another reminder never to underestimate the person standing across from you.
He glanced between Sylvia and Ranya with a pleasant smile. âOh, yes, I do enjoy the occasional delicacy.â His tone shifted slightly; flirting wasnât his strong suit, but he could always try. âAnd I would not envy the man or woman who tried to tell either of you how much trouble sugar can be.â
His attention was drawn to Sylviaâs offer of a sweet tart. He accepted the treat, examining it briefly. It was certainly made to the castleâs high standards, but in his experience, there was always a fine line between mass production and true quality. Still, this one had a subtle, pleasant aroma to its delicate, crumbly dough.
âHmm, it vaguely reminds me of something floral... like the flowers atop our mountains in the summer.â He took an exploratory bite, not wanting to seem rude or overindulge. It was an interesting flavorânot one he would actively seek out, but not horrible, either. He swallowed and nodded appreciatively. âThatâs not too bad, but I still prefer the sweet rolls we have back home. It's hard to find a good pastry in this city, though a few have surprised me,â he added, his thoughts drifting briefly to his time spent with Stratya.
Suddenly, a familiar voice cut in beside him. How long had it been since he last saw Munir? A few weeks, at least. The man seemed to be in a rushâhe had even dropped his veilâbut his attention was solely locked on Ranya. How strange.
âShahzade Munir, what a welcome surprise. It has been some time since we last spoke; I hope you are well.â It was a polite greeting, but Roman purposely didn't try to pull the man away from whatever mission he was on. It clearly looked important.
Instead, Roman turned his attention back to Sylvia. âHave you found a favorite among the desserts here yet?â
The rhythmic clink-clink of jewelerâs hammers and the scent of fresh cedar shavings filled the cavernous warehouse, a stark contrast to the high-stakes espionage unfolding in the back corner office. To any passing inspector, the Ravenwood Trade and Artisan Guild was a beehive of legitimate industry; at the central benches, master smiths meticulously set stones into silver filigree while tailors draped fine Varian silks. Yet the stacks of crates lining the walls held more than just raw materialsâthey formed a tactical labyrinth, shielding the guildâs true purpose from prying Caesonian eyes.
In the dimly lit office, the air was thick with the smell of old parchment and cold tea. Roman Ravenwood stood over a sprawling map of the capital, his raven-crested pauldron catching the low light as he leaned forward. Surrounding him was his inner circle, a jagged assembly of talent: Sven, whose hand never strayed far from his sword hilt; Astri, the shaman and priestess, who ran her fingers over smooth stones etched with runes; Sylvie, their lore keeper, who carefully sorted intelligence reports across the table; and Gloin, who chewed his lip as he calculated the gold and resources an operation like theirs required.
Erik, Romanâs handler, tapped a charcoal-stained finger on a specific dockside district. The peaceful treaty between Varian and Caesonia made this a delicate dance; one wrong move would be an international incident. They would all be burned and cast aside to the wolves. This was a private venture for Roman, with no ties to the crown. They weren't just fighting a syndicate; they were dismantling a shadow empire hidden behind the "legitimate" veneer of the Black Rose Trading Company. The mission was clear: pull the right thread without bringing the whole kingdom down on their heads.
The air in the office grew heavy as the map on the table became buried under scraps of parchment, old documents detailing sewer systems, and charcoal sketches of the city's underbelly. Roman leaned heavily on the desk, the gold-inlaid raven on his shoulder glinting in the low lamplight as he looked at his advisors. He was already dressed for the upcoming ball, his finery a strange contrast to the grim work at hand.
"Sure, weâre chasin' ghosts in a kingdom that'd sooner die than admit itâs haunted," Erik muttered, his thick Irish accent heavy in his low voice.
Sven sighed in frustration, his eyes hard. "Ve still haven't found anyting on our missing strike team, or de carriage dey vere meant to intercept. Our spies vere at least right dat one of de carriages vas carrying someting important. De Black Rose has better security dan ve anticipated. De next approach should focus more on stealth and striking quick⌠at least dose men vere branded, and von't be able to say much of anyting."
GlĂłin smoothed out a crinkled report, his brow furrowed. "This report about Hafiz is concerning. It vill need to be vetted like everything else. Ja, at least itâs something new to look into."
Sylvie tapped a series of old architectural drafts they were able to âacquireâ the morning after Drunkards Day. "We reviewed the available documents. The sewers are built on older foundations. If the architecture mirrors Emberstone, old tunnels exist beneath them. There is a good chance they are being used by the Black Rose."
Astri closed her eyes, her fingers hovering over a set of stones before picking one up. "The shadows are thick there. They're no' just tradin' gold; there's dark forces at work. Secrets traded for lives an' blood."
Erik stepped into the light, his expression grim. "Which brings us to the trial, so. Weâve the documents sorted and the witnesses lined up. Them photos we took are still curing, but they should make for solid evidence." He took his time to light a tobacco pipe, then continued. "Weâll be pressin' on with the second part of the plan, no matter how the trial shakes out. With the queen gone, the king is a wild card all over again."
Roman looked at the scattered notesâbest guesses, theories, rumors, and the haunting silence of his missing men. âMy father has some sense of humor. We will keep up our search. After the trial, we can plan for a few undercity excursions. Though, you might be following my sister at that point.â Roman knew the plan was dangerous, even if he did survive it.
Erik nodded as the others continued their conversations. "Right then, you've a ball to be gettin' to."
There was a moment of tension between them, but it passed quickly. Roman was about to leave when Erik spoke up again.
"And Roman. Mind what I told ye about Violet."
"Lord Roman Ravenwood," the herald announced at the main door.
Roman strode into the opulent ballroom, projecting confidence with every step. His forest-green cloak, the color of ancient woods, flowed softly behind him, its heavy velvet folds trimmed with intricate gold knotwork that echoed the design on his dark leather brigandine. The polished metal of his single pauldron, embossed with the proud raven crest of his house, gleamed beneath the chandeliers.
With a measured stride, he approached King Eden, offering a respectful bow. His confident smile faltered for only a fraction of a second when he caught the King's eye. The events of the morning spoke volumes. If the queen could be executed, so could he.
"Your Resplendence, Your Highnesses," he said, acknowledging Eden before nodding to Wulfric and Auguste. "A truly magnificent affair, Your Majesty."
His smile returned genuinely when his eyes met Alexanderâs, a smirk that crept up the corner of his mouth for just a moment. Then he took a polite step back, turned, and waded into the sea of people.
Navigating the crowded ballroom, he found he was a little later than the others, just as he expected. There were quite a few familiar faces. He first noted the smiling expressions of his royal charges, accompanied by their ever-present mountain standing off to the side. A large contingency of royalty and nobility from Alidasht was present as well.
Another pair caught his eye: Drake Edwards and Thea Smithwood. It was good to see the man out of the hospital, and better still to see Thea at his side. He wouldn't lie to himself; he was worried about her. He was worried about her brother, too, who he could only assume was currently making a fool of himself somewhere. It wasn't lost on him that Callum was still missing, as was Riona. He could only hope there wasn't a connection there.
Of the people he actively wanted to speak with, he noticed quite a few had already paired up. The Briar Knight would be good company, but Roman needed to keep up appearances whether he wanted to or not. As his eyes scanned the myriads of faces, his gaze settled on two women, and he smiled. It had been quite a while since he had spoken to her, so why not?
Roman didn't force his way through the mingling nobility. Given his bulk, he stepped carefully, offering an occasional polite "excuse me" or "pardon me" until he found his intended duo near a table of exquisite desserts: Princess Sylvia and Shehzadi Ranya.
Sylvia was dressed in a billowing red and black gown, a striking contrast to the flowing light blue and gold embroidery of Ranyaâs attire. It had been some time since he had seen either of them. He had crossed paths with Ranya once or twice in polite passing during trade negotiations in Alidasht, and he usually only saw Sylvia when he managed a brief hello while visiting the royal palace.
Still, he maintained his composed confidence as he stepped up to the pair with a warm smile.
âPrincess Sylvia Camilla. Shehzadi Ranya Al-Kadir.â He offered them both a respectful bow, deferring to their royal stations. âLord Roman Ravenwood, at your service. I do hope you donât mind the intrusion, but I dare say the two of you are the most striking pair in the ballroom tonight.â
Time: Early Evening of Ignis 6 Location: The Merchant District Interactions: @HylianRose Nora Mentions: @Remram Magnus
He continued at a leisurely pace towards the nobles' housing. It made sense now why she had taken a shortcut off the safe routes through the city. A noble from Varian... quite interesting indeed. âOh, a fellow countryman? Well then, let me formally introduce myself.â
He cleared his throat with comical exaggeration. âAhem. I am Lord Roman Ravenwood of Emberstone. Heir to the Ravenwood name and Guildmaster of the Ravenwood Artisans and Trade Guild, at your service. I'd bow, but I wouldnât want to startle you.â He hoped that a formal introduction would encourage her to do the same.
She smiled, the first genuine smile in the past few moments, at him antics. It almost caught her off guard how easily it came too. The name still wasnât ringing any bells what-so-ever, but she didnât want to insult him. Magnus would know⌠She mentally reminded herself to ask him for help on all the important people from.. Well.. everywhere.
âNo need to bow.â She shook her head, her hand gripping at his clothes to steady herself as he walked. Now that she was a bit more relaxed and comfortable, she felt her arms had the strength to hold onto him now.
âNora.. Pawonska. Daughter to Count Sven Pawonska.â She offered back quietly, knowing it was the polite thing to do at this point.
âPawonska... Nora Pawonska.â He repeated the name as if running it through his mind. âHmm. So, Irinaburg. Which would make your mother⌠Kassi? Something like that?â He smiled, but kept his focus on the road, nodding at a few people passing by.
He did recognize the name. Now that he thought about it, he knew exactly who she was talking about. A decent couple, at least on the surface, though they kept to themselves a lot. They struck him as the type to contribute to a meeting only when necessary, otherwise remaining stoic.
âI have met your parents a time or two. They seem like decent enough people, for nobles.â He glanced down at her, his eyes catching the way her hand gripped his clothes. âBut I could never have imagined they were hiding a gem like you.â
She felt her skin prickle, goosebumps rising over her in a way that she couldnât explain. She swallowed thickly. âKasiaâŚâ She corrected quietly, her brow furrowed as she tried to understand her own emotions. She couldnât tell if his words had left her feeling flattered or insulted. Her mind repeated his words, for nobles.
âI donât know if I would say gemâŚâ she mumbled.
He still had a stupid smile on his face as he continued through the darkening streets. The closer they got to the nobles' housing, the cleanerâand quieterâthe streets became. He paused at a corner to wait for a passing carriage.
âI look at priceless gems and stones all day. Most gems arrive looking like common stones from the street. Itâs only when you polish and carve them that you really see them shine.â Analogies of stone and metal always came naturally to him.
âSo, what do you like to do for fun? Any hobbies, or perhaps favorite books?â After the cart passed, he made sure to look both ways before continuing across the street.
Brows furrowed once more as she looked down, watching the ground pass by underneath them. Already, the event just moments ago felt worlds away. She couldnât help the blush that crossed her cheeks. She couldnât imagine herself as anything like what he was describing.
âI like stargazing.. And cooking⌠and..â She trailed off, her face heating up again as she thought of the books still perched in her lap. She glanced down, the words âSecret Knightâ printed in bold across the top of the book sitting on top. Her eyes went wide and her free hand reached for her dress to quickly shove the fabric over the top of the book.
It flopped back down as quickly as sheâd tossed it, gravity betraying her.
He couldnât help but chuckle at her frustration. She was cute when she was flustered; it seemed like she wasnât used to this kind of attention. Being carried away from a traumatizing event by someone like himâa âsecret knight,â so to speak.
âI enjoy blacksmithing, as well as carving wood, stone, metal, and jewels. I also cook occasionally, and fight when I need to.â He found himself deliberately slowing his pace. The lightness she gave him was nearly intoxicating. âI have traveled to many places, but I always find the best destinations are the ones you find in books. As long as you remember that reality still demands your attention, too.â
Nora hadnât noticed their change in pace, she was too engrossed in the space around her to even notice. She felt the sudden urge to hide her face, but felt that she had nowhere to do so. If she could have made herself small enough to disappear, she would have.
Luckily for her, though, he didnât seem to comment on her blunder. At least, until he mentioned books again and her heart beat rose once again. She wanted to ask him about his hobbies more, get off the subject of fantasy and books, but she couldnât think of anything meaningful to ask. Finally, she settled on something.
âDid you teach yourself your crafts or did someone teach them to you?â She asked after a short moment. Her eyes were glued to the book in her lap, an ever present reminder. Sheâd have to bring book sleeves with her when going to buy books in the futureâŚ
A change in subject? Well, at least she was talking. âMy grandfather taught me how to do most of it. He was a mountain of a man, nearly a head taller than myself, with a loud and loving reputation.â That part was true; his grandfather did teach him many things about smithing, carving, the gods, and even a little about magic.
Nora blinked. She couldnât imagine a man any bigger than Roman. He was already quite large. He would make even her father look small in comparison.
âI have a large family, but luckily I was old enough to spend much more time with him than my siblings did. It gave me the ability to pass down his stories, his adventures, and his wisdom.â It was a somber thoughtâthe old man had died about 15 years agoâbut Roman knew he would see him again someday.
âMy favorite was his tale of meeting an Ancient or Primordial. A creature that measures time differently than we do. A creature that always was and always will be.â He checked to see if he held her attention. And by now, Noraâs eyes had gone wide as saucers, her mind already filling the gaps of his story with her own ideas. She couldnât help the way her mouth dropped as he spoke. âIt's what we call the peaceful leviathans that live deep below the northern ice fields. He said its name was HiminglĂŚsir, or The Aurora Wyrm.â
âHe described it as an eel as long as a hundred ships and as wide as ten of them strapped together. It didnât have scales, but rather mirrored skin that glowed with the aurora. It sticks to the clearest ice patches.â He sighed, remembering the enthusiasm with which the old man told these tales.
âHe said that the whole of the ocean and the ice would light up and glow, just like the aurora above. In some cases, the ice would even vibrate and sing a haunting melody.â He chuckled to himself, remembering the next part. âHe even claimed he stripped himself bare to enter the water with the Elder. It was curious, attracted to both his heat and the light. He said he even got to touch it, and the crown of light that drifted along with it.â
She was, in earnest, entranced by his story. Trying to imagine what it must have looked like, how scary and beautiful it must have been. She hadnât even considered whether it was true or not, simply lost in the tale of it all. She liked to believe things like that existed, after all if she existed, why couldnât they?
âWhy would he do that? I mean, strip himself. Wasnât he scared?â She asked, her curiosity mounting. There was still some apprehension in her small frame from the events just moments ago, her legs still sore and her body tired, but she felt calmer listening to him.
âOf course he was.â He smiled. âThatâs the point. Fear isn't a weakness; it's a warning. It sharpens your eyes and clears your mind, reminding you that you have something to lose. Most people let it paralyze them, but you must learn to use it. Once you realize that you can be terrified and still move forward... that is when you are truly free." He adjusted her in his arms. The aching in his ribs hadn't vanished, but it was a lot better than it had been a few days ago. Even with the pain in his side, he wasnât going to set her down just yet. Nora let out a soft sound as he shifted her, gripping lightly at his clothes to hang onto him. She couldnât necessarily understand what he was saying, at least not at her core. Her mind understood, could comprehend. In stories knights were brave but that didnât mean that they didnât have fear. They pushed through it. But for Nora, the concept felt wholly foreign.
âThe legends surrounding the Wyrm say that it was sent by the gods to bring the aurora to us. It was a sign so that the children of the gods would know they were still there. A colorful loom upon which the gods weave the fate of the seasons.â He could only smile at how big her eyes were. They held the same glint of wonder that he once had when hearing these stories for the first time.
âIt sounds beautiful.â She mused, trying to imagine it in her head. She wished she had any talent as an artist or she might try to paint it. âI wish I could have seen itâŚâ Nora continued, a wistful look in her eyes. She paused after a short beat and looked around at where they were.
âI think I can walk now if you need a break.â She offered quietly, realizing just how far he had taken her on foot. He had to be tired.
âWell, if you donât mind the coldâand my companyâI may just send you a missive someday to join me on an expedition⌠well, once we become friends.â That made him laugh a little.
Her face brightened at the invitation, the âonce we become friendsâ ghosting over her as if he had never said it. The idea of being able to see it in person, actually see it, was something she couldnât even fathom happening. Maybe she could convince him to invite her siblings too⌠Elena would probably love it!
They were getting pretty close to the dorms now. He decided to set her down to spare her any misunderstanding or embarrassment that might come from being carried inside.
âI'm more worried about possibly embarrassing you. Being carried in by another noble is one thing, even if that noble is from Varian.â He smiled and slowly knelt on one knee, lowering her gently so she could stand on her own. He kept himself close, just in case he had to catch her.
Her legs seemed to cooperate, for the most part. They wobbled momentarily as she got used to being upright again. She reached for his shoulder to steady herself before finally pulling away with a soft breath. She definitely was going to need a warm bath and some rest. Food couldnât hurt either.
âI'll still walk you the rest of the way. I might as well use the room they have for me here for once.â
As she turned to reply to him, her mouth opening to speak, her stomach decided to speak for her, growling hungrily. Nora clamped her mouth shut, her eyes wide once again as she watched for his reaction. â...Yes. You.. should use themâŚâ She mumbled, trying to play it off, poorly.
He couldnât help but smile at her flustered state. He continued to find it adorable. But if she was hungry, at least that meant her body wasnât in fight-or-flight mode anymore. That was good; it meant she was finally calming down after they got out of that situation.
Still, now that he wasn't holding her, he could feel that ever-present weight shift back onto his shoulders. He hadn't realized until this moment just how heavy it truly was. It made more sense to him now why he had made the decisions he did.
He stood up, his gaze moving over her again. He appreciated her power for what it was, but it was something he would have to investigate furtherâprivately, and by spending more time with her.
âCome on. We're almost there, and you can get something to eat.â
Nora watched Roman and instead of checking for any signs that he was angry at her, she was trying to get a gauge on him as a whole. She glanced over his features. What motives did he have? Who was he really? His stories had seemed so earnest and genuine she could hardly believe heâd be anyone bad.
But even good people did bad things.
Nora nodded quietly, keeping her thoughts to herself. She felt Nox slinking behind them, his fur brushing up against her as he walked past her towards the dorms. At least Nox hadnât said anything yet, so Roman had that going for him.
Nora gripped tightly at her books and walked a little ahead of Roman, now that she had her footing again. Quietly, she opened the door to the dorm and turned to see if Roman was following her. There was a small part of her that was glad he was planning to stay here. While she couldnât trust him yet, he had at least saved her just a little while ago and that had to be worth something. At least she had someone to run to when she had no one else. Maybe.
A man at the door to the dorms held it open for them. Roman thanked him and let Nora enter the lobby first. It was only then that he noticed the quiet black fox trailing behind her. A curious creature. Had it been there the entire time? Were his observation skills getting that bad? âWould you like me to walk you the rest of the way to your dorm, Nora? I believe it's about time for me to retire for the night myself.â He spoke with a warm smile but kept his gestures and tone reserved, mindful that they were now in a more formal setting. Roman had to play the part of a noble occasionally, after all.
Nora turned to look at him, watching him as if a prey animal trying to decide if they were actually safe. She shook her head after a short moment, her eyes closing for just a moment. Exhaustion had come over her in a wave and she couldnât trust that she could think straight if he tried anything with her. Plus, she didnât know that she wanted him knowing what room she was in just yet.
âI am already in your debt, I wouldnât dare to ask for more.â She replied with a sigh. âThank you again for what youâve done today. I wonât soon forget it.â She hugged her books a little tighter, her mind suddenly keenly aware of how close sheâd come to doing the very thing she vowed sheâd never do again.
âGood evening, Lord Ravenwood. I wish you well.â She told him before walking in the direction of her room, Nox following after her closely.
He smiled, watching her walk away with that adorable creature trailing close behind. Then, a thought crossed his mind. âDo have a good evening, Lady Pawonska. I hope to see you again at the upcoming ball.â
Once she was out of sight, his smile vanished.
What was that? What did she do?
He looked down at his hand. That girl had completely silenced his magic. The bond, the seals, even the curseâit had all stopped for a moment. Not dispelled, but erased no. Nullified. It wasn't something he felt just standing next to her, but only when touching her.
His gaze drifted back to where she had turned the corner. Nora. A curiosity... maybe even a way out. That girl was either trouble or dangerous. He could only wonder which it wasâand if she was even aware of it.
Roman let his head thud back against the wall, a ragged breath rattling in his chest. He watched the lethal efficiency of the captain, his own body feeling heavy and useless in comparison. When Sjan-dehkâs gaze swept near him, Roman didnât try to rise. He just locked eyes with him and gave him a simple nod.
Everything seemed to crest and slow down simultaneously. It gave him quite a bit of insight, not just into the others, but into how these Sailors fought. It wasnât just practice he was seeing; it was experience, from both the captain and his men. How they fought was methodical, smooth in every motion. Very insightful indeed.
It wasnât long before the actual guards arrived. Personal guards, but guards nonetheless. Led by one man: Duke Gideon Edwards. He locked eyes with him and again nodded. Roman had never personally sat down and talked with the man, but that might be something to change after this trial business was over. He needed to see where the man stood.
His attention was suddenly pulled to his side by the small glass vial a young woman pressed into his hand, the red liquid catching the dim tavern light. He didn't have the breath to thank her, just the strength to offer a comforting smile. He wasnât in a place to argue, so he drank the contents. It wasnât wine, but it smelled very similar to potions he had drunk before.
He felt Gideonâs gaze on him and heard his words loud and clear. He didnât have to be told twice. Soon, this place would be a trap once again.
The warmth in his belly grew. The girl had quickly snuck away after giving it to him. The uncomfortable sensation of ribs pulling themselves back into place was not something one could ever get used to. At least his instincts rang true; the drink was indeed a healing potion.
Almost instantly, the sharpest edges of his pain began to dull. It wasn't a miracleâhis ribs still screamed when he inhaled, and his head still swam with the aftershocks of the concussionâbut the crushing weight that had pinned him to the wall lifted just enough. The potion knit the worst of the internal damage together, buying him time.
He gritted his teeth, planting his palms against the rough plaster behind him. With a groan that was lost in the shuffling of the evacuating crowd, Roman forced his legs to work. He slid up the wall, his boots finding purchase on the slick floor, until he was standing. The world tilted violently to the left, then righted itself. He braced a hand against a wooden pillar to steady himself, blinking away the black spots dancing in his vision.
He made sure to lock eyes with Stratya, shaking his head slightly so she wouldnât try to help him. Slowly, after gaining his footing, Roman pushed himself out the door and into the alley beyond. His strength was returning to him with every step, and he soon found himself supported by three of his menâthe three that were meant to be with him.
âYou took your time,â Roman grimaced as they continued to push forward down the alleyways, twisting and turning to escape the security perimeter that was sure to be erected.
âWe are aware, sir. Next time we won't all step out of the bar at the same time.â It was spoken quietly as a jest, but it was a reminder of how quickly things could change in this city.
Rounding a corner, they came face to face with two city guards moving to block off the alley. It looked like they were going to speak, but Roman's men moved faster. They tackled and choked out the two guards with speed and efficiency. Rendering them unconscious, his men dragged the guards into the shadows of the alley before catching up.
Once they were clear of the excitement, Roman was finally able to stop and take a break. He began to plan his next steps.
âAlright. I need a cloak, and I need to check on something. You three go back to the shop. Grab a case of mead, my monocle, and the music box. Change, and bring a couple extra guys. I'll meet you out in front of the Vikena Estate soon.â
The men nodded and did what they were told. It was, of course, all code. They didnât refer to ale as a "case," always a "bottle." Using "case" meant potions, and "mead" meant healing. He didnât reference a party, which meant the situation wasnât dire, but supplies were still needed. The other two items were enchanted and had their own specific functions. The last instruction told them to mobilize a few more men and switch to civilian clothes. Charlottes home was a good place to regroup and close enough that's likely where they will end up.
All in all, that should keep them busy enough for him to go check on someone. That much was true. He just didnât mention that the person wasnât expecting him, and he would have to use his renewed strength to climb up to a balcony at the Damien estate. The events of tonight were a reminder that he might not get the chance to apologize again.
Sup im sword just got here and am getting a feel for things.
Well i got a feel for things and i think ill stay... also recovering from spine surgery sucks but is better than ending up in the emergency room again.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Sup im sword just got here and am getting a feel for things.<br><br>Well i got a feel for things and i think ill stay... also recovering from spine surgery sucks but is better than ending up in the emergency room again.</div>
AuthenticTomb
princess
SilverSpring
CitrusArms
Not a Sayan
Tae
Fetzen
