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Jacqueline Leroux

Unlike some others, Jacqueline didn’t do have any special preparations she felt like doing for the upcoming fight. Didn’t call her parents, didn’t meet up with friends. She had begun that training with Rottweiler – Jean – as promised, but it’s not as if that counted for anything when they were against a monster.

A capital-m monster, actually. Jacqueline thought it was kind of early in her career to be facing down potentially world-ending threats.

Well, she wasn’t actually quite certain how extensive the scale of what this thing was gonna do was, but regardless, it was large enough to be difficult to imagine till she saw it go down. So, yeah, pretty fucking huge.

She made her way to the 11th precinct, all espered up, and saw several of her coworkers had arrived already. She didn’t even bother with an umbrella, and was already soaked. But compared to what’d come, who even cared? Torrential rain would be the least of any of their worries.

Jacqueline took in her fellow agents. Silhouette. Fable. Orion.

“Hey, you three,” she grinned at them. “Ready to take down the Holy Diver bastard?”
Maybe.

BACKUP: Lifeblood Crystal

A small blood gem created by Lada. Shatters upon use. A creeping crimson vein-esque pattern forms upon Jacqueline’s esper form, both her body and her armour.

GRADE: Silver
BACKUP MELODY: [Silver Self][Stabilize][Heal][Delay][Reflect]
SPECIAL: There is power in blood. The MP cap limit of the melody raises by 10. This backup can also draw upon nearby human blood (injured enemy, fresh body) the very moment it is used to empower the melody, granting it a rank-up.


PR: Unchivalrous
Some extra stuff that hardly fits the ‘knightly’ theme, but then again, Jacqueline isn’t one to sweat the details. Survival is survival.

GRADE: Bronze
GEAR: Pistol, Molotov
SPECIAL: The gun is metal-silver and engraved, the Molotov is in an elegant dark gray glass bottle and produces haunting white flames.
It took some doing. Jacqueline may have requested the blood mage’s assistance back at the assault on Justin’s mansion, but the tech wasn’t there to facilitate the request. Lada’s limited casting range and the lack of glamors to facilitate such a boon made attempting a blood based buff at the time unviable. Especially since the operation demanded success and allowing a former hostile that Jacky had personally hurt was seen as unwise by some. But things were different today. There were no mission parameters to contend with, and they could converse with Lada in a non-hostile environment. Even Better, Binky was back on duty. Fritzi would never humor such a request with her schedule, but now most of that was Binky’s problem, as was taking Jacqueline to see Lada.

The shipping elevator made its slow descent into the earth. The old reclaimed lab in Pax Septimus was near their headquarters, but was separated into an entirely different facility. Jacky hadn’t been told much about the place, but that was par the course for GEMINI. Everyone was on a need to know basis, and the only thing Jacqueline needed to know was where Lada was being held.

”Do you get tired of people telling you how tenacious you are?” Binky was wearing a lab coat with some GEMINI patches on it. It was similar to what Fritzi wore.

Jacqueline, on the other hand, was in one of her business suits. At Binky’s question, she chuckled. “No, I’m not the type to let that kind of passive-aggressive criticism get to me,” she retorted dryly.

”It’s not criticism!” Binky flailed her hands. ”I mean, some may view it as a negative, sure. But not me!”

Jacqueline smirked. “Don’t worry about it, I’d take it as a compliment even and especially if it weren’t meant that way. Still…thanks, darling, she winked. After that brief bout of unprofessionalism, and flustering Binky, she leaned back against an elevator wall, and let the other woman redirect the conversation to the matter at hand.

”Right, better move on before you become Fritzi MK II.” With a cough, Binky regained her composure before explaining the situation. ”Lada’s arrangements have improved a bit since you showed her the butt of your war pick, but I wouldn’t put it past her to show you some hostility. She’s been moved into a visiting cell where you can communicate with each other. If you can convince her to bestow a blessing on you, we can move you two into a lab and more closely monitor what she’s doing. If everything goes well, you’ll be able to use her power in combat.” With a sigh, Binky shoved her hands into her pockets. ”Su wanted to come down here with you. I didn’t tell her anything, but she figured it out pretty quickly. She made me promise to make sure nothing bad happened. If you decide that this isn’t worth the risk or Lada’s too stubborn, I can take you back up.”

Jacqueline nodded along to the explanation, only half-listening. “Mmhm, got it,” she assured. “Really, I don’t know what you all are so worried about when she’s under this kind of security…”

”True, but in order for this to work, she’s going to have to cast her magic on you. We’ve been able to keep her away from magic circles for the time being, but you’ll more or less be at her mercy if the two of you decide to go through with this. I’d rather be too cautious than not cautious enough.” The elevator stopped with a rumble, and a pair of double doors opened up. Beyond them was an empty loading bay, and beyond that were the labs. Somewhere in that network of plexiglass shields and labcoats was what Jacqueline sought. Binky turned to look at her. ”Any questions? Got a strategy in mind? I don’t know many espers that would willingly subject themselves to a dark blessing. I’m, admittedly, kind of out of my element here.”

“No questions,” she replied shortly. When asked about her strategy, she put a hand to her chin thoughtfully. “You mean for what I want out of this? Something like what Arzendale did for that esper lackey of his. It looked to work pretty well for them, so I figured why not, you know. Might as well fight fire with fire…or something,” she shrugged, clearly not all that concerned about the potential risks or the morality of what they were doing.

”I see… Then I’ll just take you to her. You may wish to enter the esper state to hide your identity. If you care about that.” Binky knew that she didn’t.

For all the build up the labs got, they didn’t look particularly interesting. Even though they were supposedly synthesizing mana for magical experiments, it just looked like a bunch of scientists playing with beakers. Some were wearing hazmat-like suits as they walked in and out of tented rooms.

Binky opened the door and waved Jacqueline inside. The setup was very similar to a crime drama. There was a plexiglass-like barrier that split a countertop down the center. There was a phone in both halves of the room, but there was no way to dial anyone. Binky waited at the doorway while some armed guards were positioned on Lada’s side of the room. The level of security probably seemed excessive to Jacqueline, but not a surprise. Lada herself looked like she was doing pretty good. She was still bandaged all over, but there was a bit more luster to her appearance. Her hair was straight instead of messy. She was actually wearing a dress. Though she looked just as disgruntled as the last time they saw each other. Though that could have easily been attributed to a “resting bitch face” among other things. She picked up the phone on her side of the glass as soon as Jacqueline did the same.

”You are interested in blood magic.” Her russian accent was thick, but not to the point where Lada was hard to understand ”What do you want?”

Jacqueline sat down, polite smile in place. “Yes, that’s right,” she answered. “What I’d want, huh…Well, there was this vampire who used his blood magic on an esper on one of our missions. I’ve been curious if you could do something similar. Use your magic to give me a defensive boost, maybe a healing option in a pinch?” She shrugged. “I obviously don’t know what goes into this, so you’ll have to tell me if it can even work or not, then we can test it for the fine-tuning.” She paused for a moment. “If you agree to, of course.”

And it wasn’t like there was much reason not to. Jacqueline hadn’t been filled in on all the details, but she understood that Lada knew helping her would further benefit her in some way. ”Blood can heal. Blood can protect. You remember the fight, no? Can do, maybe.” She rubbed her chin. ”Why turn to me? Healing and protecting magic is not rare. Other ways to go about it.”

“That’s true,” Jacqueline hummed. “Some of it is a personal interest on my part, I guess…But also, there should be benefits to blood magic. Which you should know better than I. So if there are things that only you can do, feel free to clue me in.”

”The benefit is how easy it is to use with access to sacrifices. Every living creature has blood, no? All that matter anyway. ” Lada gave the agent a sideways glance. ”Jean has been obsessed with you since you fought.” She scoffed and shook her head. ”On and on about how your fight was interrupted by all the distractions. He says that we will not have a child, but he will have rematch one day. No magic, no distractions, just a duel.” Her hand caressed the side of her stomach. ”I think I can make spell that you like. If you agree to give Jean rematch, I make you spell. Deal?“

“Easy power…” It was still all too easy to remember how Arzendale had done it. A bunch of hostages, slaughtered for his magic. “It’s fine as long as it’s just me giving you some of my blood, or you getting incidental bodies like last time,” this referring to when Lada had exsanguinated recently dead Cobra gangers. “But just so we’re clear, I’m never going after someone just for this.” That much was probably obvious, but at the very least, Jacqueline wanted to make it clear that even though she, unlike pretty much any other Gemini agent, was interested in blood magic, she wouldn’t be going out of line with it.

Lada stared back at Jacqueline. Her scowl hadn’t deepened at all, but it hadn’t gone away either. ”And they say Russians are dramatic.” She waved her hand at the esper. ”I do not care if the blood comes from you, a cow, or a child. If it did not come from Jean I will help you. You must honor my request, that is all I want.”

Jacqueline then considered Lada’s proposal. “Jean,” she blinked. “Rottweiler, huh. Strange request, but sure,” she agreed easily. “He better be fine with me transforming, though, or it won’t be much of a fight,” she commented. She stood up, and stretched. She still held onto the receiver so Lada could hear the rest, but turned to Binky for her next idea. “Maybe give him access to some non-lethal gear if he wants it? Since I’m gonna go at him with Havoc.”

Before Binky could offer any input, Lada stood up. ”I was not clear.” She leaned on the counter. ”Jean is aware you are no match for him now. But he wants you to beat him one day. He has been looking for successor and would train you. He was impressed with how you handled weapon, but knew you would benefit from guidance in hand-to-hand combat.” She squinted her eyes. ”I do not understand that man, but that was what he wants.”

The green haired doctor placed a hand on her hip. ”Why did you say he wanted a duel first?”

”That how he worded it to me. He wanted a duel, after she was ready.” Lada avoided looking at anyone while she spoke.

Lada’s clarification started a bark of surprised laughter from Jacqueline. “Wow, you were saying about dramatic?”

”My Jean is not Russian. For better or for worse.”

Jacqueline shook her head, bemused. “Alright, I’ll let him train me till I can beat him. Deal,” she grinned, and would have offered a palm to shake if it weren’t for the plexiglass separating them.
Wulfric & Callum
Interactions: @princess Anastasia




The sound of rapid footsteps made the plump King sit up with a gasp. His head trembled and his eyes widened as he looked around the room until his gaze caught sight of the backside of his dark-haired, idiot son as he left the room. Poisoned my ass! That lying little SHIT!

“Caaalllummmm!” King Edin roared as he jumped to his feet and practically charged through the doorway.“Where do you think you’re going! GET BACK HERE!” He pummeled his way through the hallway after his son, knocking past staff members like a bull in a china shop. He was rambling to himself now, wasting his breath, “He’s fucking fine! I can’t believe I was concerned with the welfare of those two shitheads. I knew this was all his-...” He started to huff as he struggled to keep up the pace of his sprint, his knees starting to buckle. “All his fault… All of it. Somehow… I’ll find out how…”

He leaned on his knees in defeat. It was a wonder how his most pathetic child ended up being so athletic. “Oh-!” The sight of his brilliant, perfect eldest son was before him. Wulfric was peering down the hallway after Callum but had not seemed to notice him yet. Edin looked up at his son, telling him between pants, “Go.” He needed a moment to wheeze. “Get him. He’s …ESCAPING. He needs to go-” King Edin broke off in confusion for a moment and grabbed the arm of a maid walking by, “Where is my wife holding her meeting again?”

“Um, the Entrance Hall I think.”

“The entrance hall!” He exclaimed as he looked at Wulfric. The maid cringed at his loudness as he tossed his grip off her without much care.

Wulfric had just decided to pursue Callum (at a sedate walking pace, thank you very much) when the king himself blustered up the previously empty side of the corridor. His eyebrows rose as he turned to take in the sweaty, panting, red-faced old man. He felt amusement creep in, but ruthlessly suppressed it before the hilarity of the situation could get its grip on him. No, no, this is no time for laughter. With some effort, he kept up an entirely neutral mask of polite curiosity as he regarded Edin.

He let the gravity of the situation exert its influence upon him. He obeyed his father, and dashed.

What a ridiculous sight we must make. Despite the sardonic thought, Wulfric ignored the servants he passed by, and paid no mind to the fact that his current attire was not the most conducive to running. While the clothing was generally light and unobstructive, he had on more layers than he’d prefer. He had to keep one hand on his sheathed sword as he sprinted, and the cloak presented a not insignificant risk of tripping.

Despite Callum’s head start, however, Wulfric was confident he would catch up soon enough. He couldn’t have got far yet, and there’d be few places to hide, if that’s what the aim was. Besides, he would never lose to his youngest brother in a race.

Callum continued his mad sprint down the castle hallway. He almost stopped as he heard his name spoken by Wulfric but thought better of it. If it had been Auguste, his other brother might be willing to help him. But Wulfric, Cal expected no sympathy from the oldest, from his father’s clear favorite. He took heavy, ragged, breaths as he passed by his own bedroom, a far too obvious place to hide. Edin’s voice carried down the hallway and provided just enough extra dose of panic to keep Callum moving. He could hear more footsteps echoing in the corridor. Shit. Is Wulfric now chasing me too?

Cal crashed into the billiard room, not his first choice for a hiding spot but he’d make it work. In the corner of the room was an alcove that held a statue, and it was a tight squeeze that took some climbing on the statue but he managed to tuck himself behind said statue with his back to the wall of the alcove. He focused on calming his breath, leaning his back to the wall.

Tired, nauseous, lightheaded, and confused he tried again to remember what was going on. Why had he woken up in the medical ward? He had a terrible hangover, that was clear, but that was nothing new. Neither did it make sense for Edin to have been there waiting for him, surely today was not the day the old man decided to start caring how much he drank. What happened last night? Callum couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten home and thinking about it only made his head feel worse.

The sound of a door opening then slamming shut somewhere ahead of him brought Wulfric to a stop. So, hide and seek it is. But which room? He stalked the corridor, considering where to begin his search…but then, a much more expedient solution came to his attention. A nearby maid, doing her best not to be noticed as she polished something or other. Wulfric stepped up to her, and inquired cooly, “Did you see where Callum went?”

A nervous expression was directed his way underneath her lashes. She mumbled a greeting of, “Your Highness,” and nodded timidly.

“Where,” he demanded. This question seemed to distress the maid; she bit her lip, and wrung her hands. A small corner of his mind automatically listed the possible reasons for her hesitancy; conflicting loyalty, a desire not to get involved, fear that she was the subject of his attention. A much larger part of him was pitilessly dismissive of her feelings - not only were they completely irrelevant, they were actively hindering him.

“I will not ask a third time,” he warned, thumb sliding his sabre out of its scabbard a bare few millimeters with a noticeable metallic clink. “Where?”

The young woman paled and staggered back with a gasp, but got the idea. A trembling arm rose to point out a direction. “T-the bi-billiard room,” a faint voice whispered.

Wulfric nodded, and fully resheathed the sword. “Very good,” he praised dispassionately, but wasn’t looking at her anymore. He left the servant behind as quickly as he’d approached her, sure steps taking him towards Callum’s chosen hiding place.

He opened the door to the billiard room ever-so casually, and calmly, quietly closed it behind him. He leaned his back on it, however, blocking off the only exit. He did not bother looking for his youngest brother, and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. “We are much too old for these sorts of games, wouldn’t you say, Callum?” His tone was nonchalant, expression placid, but he crossed his arms over his chest. Two fingers tapped in a light but impatient rhythm against his upper arm.

We are much too old for these games. Callum silently mimicked Wulfric's words and rolled his eyes. Then why the chase, Wulfy? Surely the oldest golden child had better things to do than start the morning off harassing him for their father’s benefit. But Wulfric didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon and he was blocking off the door. So Callum climbed onto the statue, resting his head atop it, and draped his arms around the statue to keep his balance. At least it was just Wulfric, he could probably handle that.

“Morning, Wulf, just starting the day with some exercise. So, what’s uh going on?” Callum did his best to sound as innocent as he could manage, and even though it wasn’t a total lie, he knew full well Wulfric wouldn’t buy it. “Got any idea what crawled up Edin’s ass and bit him? Cause I’m drawing a blank here.” He gave a nervous laugh.

Wulfric’s head craned in Callum’s direction when the latter chose to reveal himself. “What is going on,” he repeated derisively. “So, you neither remember anything, nor have you been informed yet,” he concluded. He briefly closed his eyes, and a grim, tight-lipped smile formed. “Let me enlighten you then,” he said darkly.

“You lot were retrieved from your nightly escapade by mother and a group of knights,” he recounted. “And what a sorry state you were all in…You were largely comatose, and completely unaware during your brief periods of consciousness. It wasn’t even certain you’d wake by morning,” Wulfric bared his teeth in anger.

Anastasia was hacking up blood. The possibility of poison was mentioned - it wouldn’t have been strange if she had died.” After a moment of staring down Callum, Wulfric turned away, chest heaving as he tried to regain a modicum of calm.

“Need I mention that our guests were similarly compromised?” he asked with quiet fierceness. “The Sultan’s son was in full hysterics, the Vizier’s son was a quietly raving mess…” he trailed off, shaking his head slowly.

“Now, every party of interest is to meet in the Entrance Hall, where we will be having a discussion. He laughed emptily. In other words, we will be doing our best to save your thankless hides and trying to prevent a war.”

Callum vaguely followed along with what Wulfric said. He had gone to a party with Ana, a few of the sultan’s kids, and a handful of others. Poisoned, well that sounded ridiculous. Marek was a good guy, he wouldn’t have done anything to hurt them, and surely Marek wouldn’t let them all get poisoned at one of his parties. Callum was sure of that. It sounded like they all drank too much and maybe took some drugs? Opium? That did sound like something he would do. Had he given that to Ana? Gods, he didn’t think he would be able to live with himself at all if something truly bad had happened to his sister.

“Oh.” Callum now only stared at the ground. “But Ana’s okay now, right? I think I heard her this morning.” He’d mostly stopped listening after Wulfric had said Ana could’ve died. He climbed and crawled his way back out of the hiding spot and sank to the ground. Did I give Ana opium? Stupid. Why did I do that? Everything started tasting like bile again and he struggled to not start heaving.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get Ana hurt. I think, I think it must’ve been opium.” Callum said in a quiet voice as he hid his face in his hands. This was definitely his fault. He pressed his palms against his closed eyes to make sure he wouldn’t start crying in front of Wulfric. Once he was sure he wouldn’t, Callum slowly stood back up with a tired sigh. “Okay, I’m going. Where am I going?” He didn’t look up at Wulfric, his head still hung low but he headed towards the door. For once he really believed he deserved whatever terrible punishment Edin had in mind.

Wulfric watched silently as Callum finally seemed to realize the full severity of the situation. Good. However, the dark satisfaction seemed to be tinged by pity - or was it worry? He shook off the feeling, disregarding it.

“I don’t know how Anastasia is,” he admitted. Hopefully, they would be seeing her shortly.

When Callum admitted he might have fed them both opium, his eyes narrowed, and harsh lines etched across his features. “Do not suggest so lightly that this might have been your fault when we are in front of the others,” he warned.

Wulfric took a moment to think, sighing. “I am no expert on drugs, but I doubt it was just opium. For one, the doctors would have identified it, and for another, it should not have produced the wide range of effects that were seen,” he reasoned calmly. Whether Callum was actually one of the culprits of peddling drugs or not wasn’t as important. What was was finding the one far likelier to have had a hand in this; the party’s host.

“I believe you all were slipped something - or perhaps, you thought you were taking one thing, and were given another,” he speculated. “The key issue is finding the one responsible,” he emphasized.

“So, if you know anything at all about the organizer, I suggest you speak up.” At that, Wulfric approached Callum, grasped his chin firmly, and tilted his head up. He met his brother’s eyes with serious intent. Someone needs to be blamed for this, and I would prefer if that were not you nor Anastasia,” he stated.

Callum was still shaken to hear Ana had been so close to death, more so to still have no confirmation that she was alright, and that was all his fault. There was no one to hate but himself and he couldn’t blame Wulfric for hating him either. He didn’t even move as Wulfric grabbed his chin and forced their eyes to meet. He knew his brother would be able to tell if he was lying, there was no point to try.

“We received invitations from people wearing masks, I have no idea who they were, it just sounded like a good time. If anyone’s to blame for a simple party getting out of hand, it is me. Not Ana, no one else, just me. Blame me.” Callum was careful to only say things that were true and to make no mention of knowing the party's organizer. Marek was no royal, he had no protection from the crown’s wrath and Callum would send none if it his way.

“And we should go see if Ana’s alright.” He added, glancing towards the door. He didn’t want more questions from Wulfric, didn’t feel like testing how well he could stand up to an interrogation because the not knowing was making it near impossible to think about anything else.

Wulfric tightened his grip on Callum in frustration, then forced himself to let go. “Weren’t you listening when I said I don’t want you blamed?” He exhaled harshly, momentarily looking past Callum. Of all the times for his brother to become destructively self-flagellating…

Yet it was clear that Callum either could not or would not name someone else. Perhaps if he knew Anastasia faced as much risk as himself, if not more…Wulfric did not find the idea of manipulating his siblings in such a way tasteful, but if it had a chance of working, he was willing to do it.

He laid a palm on Callum’s shoulder. “I am afraid it is known that Anastasia was the one to have led you all to the party. If you wish to aid in her protection, I will need more information.” He walked behind his brother, trailing his hand along Callum’s back. “So, yes, let us go find her, but think very carefully. Remember what you can,” he whispered insidiously. If he could not trust that Callum was clever enough to blame someone else - anyone else - all he could think to do was wait until he was desperate enough to do so.

Because all had been said, Wulfric opened the door for them, and led Callum out, pushing him gently from behind, palm still on his back. Rather than retracing the path he’d taken to get here and risk meeting Edin, Wulfric guided them the other way around.

“Would you like me to make up a name to give you? Or just shift the blame to the first person who pops into my head? Very well, I think Count Damien is behind all this. No wait, maybe it’s the Sultan I saw hosting the party. Or, hmm, I think it was a very old fat man with a long white beard, called himself Clause. Would one of those do, Wulfric? Who should I condemn in my place? Whose head should roll because we all drank too much or dabbled in forbidden substances? I told you all I can remember, we received invitations to a secret party in a warehouse, one that promised no titles and a good time, we all chose to go.” Cal spoke as they walked, his brother leading the way. He found himself only agitated as Wulfric continued to pry for details. The anger at what he’d let happen to Ana was understandable but however she ended up in such a sorry state was his failure. But wanting someone’s head for simply throwing a party was something he’d play no part in.

Fury mixed with devastated disappointment as Wulfric’s fingers dug into Callum’s shoulder. He issued a long, shuddering exhale, then steeled himself. He continued forward resolutely, lips thinning, gaze scorching as he stared far into the distance. “On your own heads be it, then,” he snarled quietly. Finally, he let his hand drop from where he’d been keeping a point of contact with his brother. The warmth of another’s presence was quick to dissipate, and Wulfric’s fingers clenched into a fist as he thought that it may be an omen of things to come.

The two proceeded onwards. Wulfric stopped one of the servants they passed, and informed him simply, “Find my father and tell him I have successfully secured Callum and am escorting him to the meeting.”

Otherwise, the rest of the way to the Entrance Hall was spent in a tense silence. Thankfully, their mother and sister were both there. “Your Majesty,” Wulfric greeted, alerting the queen to their presence. Next, he took in his sister, carefully assessing her state. “Anastasia. It is good that you are up,” his expression minutely relaxed. While he was beyond pleased to see her comparatively better, however, he restrained his relief until barely any warmth leaked into his otherwise perfunctory tone. This was, after all, hardly a celebratory occasion.

Callum let out an immediate sigh of relief as he saw Ana alive and looking well enough. He followed Wulfric to the pair, offering only a nod and a half-hearted bow towards his mother. He didn’t say anything to the queen, not exactly sure how angry his mother was, and knowing his mouth would only make it worse. All of his warmth was saved for Anastasia, and to her, he offered his most sincere smile. “I’m so glad you're alright.” He said, continuing towards her and wrapping his arms around her. “And so sorry for whatever I did.” He whispered as he gave her a hug. Out of his whole family, he wasn’t sure he could stand it if Ana began to hate him too.

Time: 8:00 AM --> 9:00 AM
Location: His bedroom --> Hallway
Attire: This
Mentions: Callum @Helo



Wulfric awoke feeling terrible. He’d slept a scant few hours, and even that fitfully. While his blinding wrath from the previous night had cooled, he was still furious. He grit his teeth as unbidden, memories resurfaced.

It had been very late when the missing nobles had been recovered. All of them were in an awful state, some delirious, some hysteric, some violently ill, others comatose. But by far the worst among them was Anastasia.

His sister was carried in by someone, he didn’t know who – nothing and no one else in that moment mattered. Wulfric’s focus zeroed in on Anastasia. She was sprawled across a servant’s arms, slack and motionless. She was far too pale, her features wan, lips bluish. From afar, she looked like a fresh corpse. Wulfric marched up to her, and firmly pressed two fingers to her neck. Her skin was cool and damp with sweat. Her pulse was erratic; fast but weak at first, faltering as it skipped a beat here and there, then growing weaker till he hardly felt it. From up close, he could see her chest raise with breath – slowly, shallowly, barely visible. He snarled at nothing when he noticed she must have been crying, but stepped away from her.

Having confirmed Anastasia to be alive – for now – he urged for her swift transfer to the medical chamber. His searching gaze flicked from noble to noble, servant to servant, but he did not truly see anything until his eyes alighted on Callum. His youngest brother was slung over someone’s shoulder, limbs swinging around listlessly. Wulfric rose a palm to have them halt, and approached.

His fingers carded into Callum’s hair, and he craned his brother’s head up and back in what would be, if his sibling were awake to feel it, an uncomfortable maneuver. Wulfric peered into Callum’s face. There were not-quite-dried tear tracks upon his cheeks, and he’d obviously vomited at some point. He was completely out of it, in a deep state of unconsciousness. Wulfric’s grip tightened as he briefly considered the possibility that the younger man might not awaken. That perhaps neither he nor Anastasia would.

He inhaled sharply, and abruptly released Callum, whose upper body fell back atop the person carrying him.

Wulfric didn’t know how long he remained nearby; he was vaguely aware of looming over the doctors who were attending to the prince and princess, barking orders, pacing between his siblings’ beds like a caged animal.

When Anastasia began coughing up blood, he had to storm out – he wasn’t sure if it was a decision he’d made on his own, or if his mother had sent him away. Either way, he might have strangled one of those useless fools blathering on about the possibility of
“poison,” or how they “couldn’t be certain, Your Highness,” if he’d stayed but a moment longer.

He had no good way to dispel this restless, angry energy; no target to hunt, because whoever had done this had somehow evaded all notice. He spent some time traversing the gardens, thinking of ways to kill or torture whichever damnable host was responsible for the state of
his siblings.

Eventually, though, he’d found himself in his room, lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling as he fumed. He went through a series of breathing exercises, tensing then relaxing his muscles in turn. That, combined with the exhaustion after a taxing day, was enough to lull him into a restless sleep.

Oh, yes, there was the fury. But rather than raging freely as it did the night before, the emotion was contained, crystalized into precise focus. Though still concerned for his siblings, his priority was the imminent political situation. Concerns would have to be allayed, retribution granted, accords made.

What price will be extracted? Whom to sacrifice?

However, another way of thinking was that they all, the Caesonian and Alidasht royals both, had one target – the person or people responsible for organizing such an event, and introducing what were certainly illegal substances to their nobles. If all went well, this was an angle that could work.

Wulfric stood up, cool determination settling upon and around him as if he were donning a heavy but comforting mantle.

Unfortunately, a glance as he passed by the vanity revealed it was quite obvious that he was poorly rested. Well, this will not do.

He had some servants bring him water to wash his face with, a large cup of coffee, and one of his most formal outfits. He even tolerated having his face lightly adorned with some cosmetics. In consideration of what would follow, he was dressed to the nines. Dark blue trousers and tunic, both embellished with golden thread; a variant take on the Caesoninan royal colours of blue and yellow. To his left hip went his sabre, in its ornamental sheath given the occasion. It was truly artistic, as expected of a craft made by Lord Ravenwood. However, the beauty of the case and handle belied the deadly functionality of the blade within. Across his shoulders, a beautiful black cloak was set, golden epaulettes and a cloak pin engraved with his family’s crest finishing the look.

Pushing his shoulders back, and raising his chin, Wulfric exited the room – only to witness his youngest brother running at a full sprint past his room. “Callum?” he questioned rhetorically, utterly taken aback. The unexpectedness of the sight had him still for a brief moment within his doorway, but he soon stepped out, peering down the hallway in the other direction. Either there was something or someone there, or his sibling was still suffering the aftereffects of whatever drug he’d taken during the after-party.
Theodor watched lazily as Casna popped her victim’s eyes, smirking. While he didn’t care about gore one way or the other – certainly not gleefully enjoying it as much as the vampiress did – he could see the humour in it. “They don’t taste all that good, unfortunately,” he commented. “Like bitter, chewy egg-yolk if I had to compare it to anything…” he mused.

When Casna complained he’d not let her have her grand imagined chase, he slowly lifted a brow. He’d taken the initiative to take the humans out efficiently precisely because he’d wanted to prevent such a thing. Well, and because he preferred not wasting time needlessly. “And have them scream their heads off as they run? Wouldn’t want someone else to interrupt us, would we?” This referring to the fact that this was supposed to be a covert mission, else they risked discovery by other vampires. A situation Theodor didn’t particularly find desirable.

He sighed when Casna threw a money-full pouch carelessly into the bushes, and went to retrieve it. He didn’t strictly need it, but his mind was already working on how to best dispose of the evidence of their actions. He nodded when the vampiress told him to search the remaining man, the one he’d drained. Theodor rifled through the corpse’s clothing, though there was hardly much of interest. A few more coins, which he pocketed, and a worn amulet, which he let be.

Standing up once again, he regarded the corpses. “Well. No way to mistake this for an animal attack. It’s not a foolproof solution, but it’s best to simply disappear the corpses.” He put his hand to his chin as he contemplated the options. There was no way to falsify an animal attack – no blood to scatter around, and the marks of having been drained were too distinctive to disguise. Tear them to miniscule shreds to scatter around – or feed to the pigs? Bit effort intensive. Weight them with stones and throw them into a river? Or perhaps drop them off a remote cliffside? It would be simple, but they’d have to find an appropriate location. Either way, they’d have to be careful where and how they flew.

“Up for a little excursion?” Theodor asked Casna. “Or shall I handle the disposal by myself?” He was fairly certain his friend would consider this boring grunt-work, but perhaps she’d agree to it – or offer a different solution.
Seems neat. Will consider joining.
Theodor observed curiously as Casna moved back closer to him. She did not usually do that unless she wanted something. He saw that spark in her eyes, the one which told him she was anticipating something bloody delightful. Literally.

“Ah, intruders?” he questioned rhetorically, smirking. After three decades, it merely amused him to remember he’d once been in that self-same position of an ‘unwanted stranger’. He didn’t tell Casna that it was enough for him to know some interlopers had crossed their borders. That fact alone would have him agree to her proposal. Instead, he let her continue her persuasion attempt, small smirk in place.

When she stepped right next to him, he subtly shifted so that they were somehow even closer, body leaned towards her – though not as much as a brush of a touch passed between them. He let their breaths mingle, eyes crinkling in pleasure. He did appreciate this devious side of hers. It was quite the boon, especially whenever their goals or desire were fully aligned. Aside from that, cleverness in any form was…attractive. Theodor usually didn’t let himself think of Casna in those terms, because he valued their friendship too highly to muddle it up. Besides, he preferred inconsequential flings with humans. It was much simpler that way.

Casna concluded by asking his opinion, rather provocatively so. He let a brief, teasing silence linger, though he was sure his expression was indicative of his approval. “Well. If that is the case,” he grinned, lids lowering. “Shall we?”
***

The two departed under the cover of the night, making do as if they were heading from the manor to the town for early evening socializing. However, when they were in a secluded alleyway, they took to the skies, and flew to the forest.

Theodor let Casna lead, since she knew where the trio of poachers had last been. However, soon enough he was able to see and smell them. The humans had built a small campfire, and the smoke made a barely noticeable trail waft upwards. Another human wouldn’t have noticed it, and even with their demonic powers, one had to know where to look – or get lucky, as Casna might have.

The pair of undead alighted silently on a high branch on one of the trees. The humans were entirely unaware, chattering among themselves as they warmed their palms by the fire. They had an entire dead deer by them, and a few rabbits. They seemed cheered by their bounty.

Not for long.

Theodor descended behind one human, and snapped his neck. Before the remaining two could let out as much as a yelp, he rushed another one. He put a palm to their mouth, and sunk his fangs into their neck.

Bliss.

Having torn through the artery, blood sprayed into his mouth, and Theodor drunk deeply. As the human’s heart begun faltering, he had to suck and pull, forcing the last of the sweet, sweet life liquid out of the body. His eyes were closed, and unnoticed, his clawed fingers dug deep gouges into his victim’s face and back. He issued a quiet groaning moan as he finished, and opened his eyes with a long, pleasure filled sigh. He pushed the drained human onto the floor, then sat down cross-legged by the corpse. He turned to wherever Casna was having her meal, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His cheeks were flushed the way only feeding could induce in a vampire, but cold rationality was already making a breakthrough in the previous insensate haze of base desire.

Nonetheless, he was languid and sated, and did not mind waiting in silence until Casna was done as well.
Wulfric, Calbert & John

Mentions: @Inertia Auguste, @Potter Persephone, @ReusableSword Roman, @Helo Callum




After meeting with Auguste and his mother, Wulfric intended to return to his study. Though he was tired, he knew he would not be able to fall asleep yet. Several thoughts clamored for his attention, but each pushed or pulled in a different direction. The exact nature of paperwork was precisely the thing that could restore his equilibrium. However, he wished to freshen up first since he felt slightly warm from the alcohol he'd drunk. A visit to the lavatory was a good start; he drank some cool water, then splashed it on his face. But he would feel even better after a short walk.

He descended the second floor and was on the way to one of the back entrances leading to the gardens when he heard the unmistakable sound of the castle's front doors. He stopped on the spot, eyes narrowing as he listened. No guests were expected at this time.

Wulfric whirled around, pace swift as he hurried to investigate. The sight that met him in the foyer was as unlikely as the unusual intrusion merited. Count Calbert was accompanied by Doctor Williamson and two guards. As he took in the company, their expressions, postures, and general mood of the situation, Wulfric felt a grim determination settle over him. There could be nothing remotely good about any of this.

He approached the unforeseen visitors, gaze flitting from one person to another, finally settling on the count. Dispensing with any greetings, he demanded, "What is going on?"

Calbert's gaze rose from his journal. “Your Highness. Sorry to disturb you in the late hours." He greeted curtly, then got to the point. He put a hand around John's shoulder, "This young man discovered my daughter Violet deceased tonight and alerted me and the enforcement here." He gave the prince a moment to digest the heavy information, his teeth gritting. The guards nearby nodded their affirmation of this statement.

Astonishment overtook the prince, his mouth opening and eyebrows rising. Then, just as soon, his expression smoothed out into near-impassivity. The only indication of his upset was a new tension in his body and a subtly resolute frown gradually etching itself onto his face. "I see," he uttered, voice deepening as he turned to stare into the far distance. It was as if the thick stone walls and the massive wooden doors were not there to obstruct his view. His gaze was so intense that it would not be strange to think he was trying to manifest the unknown enemy in front of him by sheer willpower. Wulfric might have claimed Calbert was an opponent to his mother, but while that was not untrue, he was, after all, one of the Crown's subjects. Therefore, whoever murdered Violet, whoever had intended to harm the count in such a way…they were in opposition to the whole royal family and to the law.

"My sincerest condolences, Count Damien," he offered, catching this gaze. When the other man continued his tale, the prince listened intently.

"He also spotted a person of interest leaving the scene: a blonde woman in all black that I had run into earlier tonight after the ball. She had been on eavesdropping a private conversation, so I approached her. Not only had she been eavesdropping on me, but the girl had also been stealing food tonight. That is not indeed the worst part. This same woman enjoys the company of a man named Kazumin Nagasa, who my daughter Crystal claims to have been stalking her." He opened the journal up to present his drawing, aggressively pointing at the sketch of Persephone, despite his calm tone, "Due to our close proximity, I was able to recall her facial features here. I'd like to propose wanted posters for this villain. Hazel eyes, creamy blonde hair, and her skin was quite fair, I believe…"

Wulfric recognized that woman. "I've seen her at the ball," he confirmed. Auguste, who'd danced with her, may know more; that was just one reason to call him in.

The doctor preferred to let the count have his words in. His wrapped hands creeped John a little, but he kept his head straight, nodding when appropriate. John was a little perplexed hearing the two names, considering he knew both. Kazumin he met early in the ball, quite friendly but perhaps a little awkward to the scene. But, on the other hand, he just met Crystal at the library, which is close to the crime scene. So she was the count's daughter? John would have said something about that, but he preferred to keep silent as it progressed just as he expected.

Because he had been observing him so closely, Wulfric had noted a certain doggedness about Calbert. It was to be expected, of course, however…It reminded him of how he'd been when Anastasia had been kidnapped. He knew his wrathful desire back then to destroy whomever he believed responsible hadn't been as constructive to resolving the crime as he might have had liked. Granted, the count appeared remarkably calm. Yet, the tenuous connection between pieces of information and supposition he attempted to string together into a cohesive whole revealed his fixation. From thief to spy to murderer? Plausible, but not as much of a certainty as the count appeared to believe. The mention of Kazumin - the storyteller he recognized based on the context - was also almost entirely irrelevant. Disapprove of him as Wulfric might, the claim that he was a stalker was dubious and not enough to tie him to this matter.

Nonetheless, there was a witness, and that was something factual. Thus, Wulfric nodded shortly. "A reasonable idea we can implement easily enough," he agreed, referring to the wanted posters suggestion. "However, I will first need more information." Saying so, he redirected his attention to John, who had been silent thus far.

"Doctor, what exactly did you see and when?" he prompted.

Unlike the testimony the count gave, which is pretty much a confirmation bias on his end, John's would be less so. He took a second to rearrange the details, pretty much exactly what he told Calbert earlier, in a concise manner. "It was 22:05 when I saw that woman…uh no person, running from the alleyway towards the Tough Tavern's direction, with blood-soaked footprints. It was dark, so I didn't see much of them aside from loose blonde hair strands, black clothing, and hoodies, and they're pretty slim-looking."

"That's all I saw, your Highness." He then gestured towards the sketch shown to Wulfric. "When I mentioned that to Count Calbert, he connected the dots to her. Personally, I couldn't see her face, so I don't know for sure if that is her, but the count has more evidence?" He turned to look at Calbert to indirectly poke him about what he found at the scene.

Calbert lifted up the piece of bloody bread as if on cue. "This is the same bread that was offered at the ball, the very bread I caught her stealing earlier. Admittedly, I had not been the kindest to the girl as I was appalled by her criminal behavior, so perhaps she was vengeful. All of the information together calls for her capture and interrogation at the least…" He cleared his throat and stared at John, "Dr. Williamson forgot to also include that he had found my daughter with an ax between her eyes. Despite the overwhelming evidence, if not this blonde woman, there is at least someone out there who is completely deranged running amuck."

Wulfric wouldn't call the evidence overwhelming, but he also wanted the indicated woman brought in. "We'll treat her as a runaway witness for now and pursue her as a potential lead," he decided. He then turned to the two guards. "Tell me your names and give me a brief report."

"My name is Edward Davidson." The first introduced himself with a bow.

“Clarence Buford.” The latter then decided to explain all after his declaration, "We were alerted by Dr. John Williamson there was a body in the alleyway between two buildings by the Sorian Library. Upon arrival, Lady Damien was found sprawled out on the ground, blood pooling beneath her head. An ax was lodged deep within her head. Death was most likely instant… Count Calbert Damien arrived and was obviously distraught. Photos were taken of the body, and then we have had her covered up and thus relocated." He then gestured to Calbert, "Count Damien has requested for us to keep Lady Damien's death private. "

Count Calbert nodded, though curious as to why Clarence had to bring that up now, "This is true… I wished to be the one to notify you or your father as I hoped to keep this from Crystal's ears for now. Her health is wavering, and I do not think she can handle the stress of such a story. If possible, I would like this to be kept out of any newspapers and such until my daughter is in a state to receive the news."

Wulfric glanced at the count. “That is fine,” he stated. To the guards, he said, "You two will caution everyone in the know to keep the details to themselves until further notice. I will send you some backup, but the additional guards needn't know the victim's identity either." He took a moment to organize the orders he wished to give. "Buford, you will return to the crime scene and have those responsible for compiling the evidence bring it over. I will also need someone to give a detailed report on your patrols tonight. Most importantly, we will be increasing security and conducting a thorough area search. I'll consider you or any direct superior currently on the scene responsible for the south and south-eastern districts."

"Davidson, you, on the other hand, will be handling the southwestern parts. Two or three men should head to the Tough Tavern and investigate it. I don't expect that woman to linger there; however…there may be clues. Advise the owner and any guests that we are seeking a witness to the murder. Inspect the locale thoroughly. Simultaneously, you will spread the search towards the slums. If nothing or no one suspicious is discovered in the next few hours, we'll have to extend it even further outwards…"

"If at any point you do happen upon any activity or person of note, send someone to report it immediately." The prince calmly observed one guard and then the other. “All clear?”

Edward nodded, informing briefly before his departure. "Yes indeed, Prince Wulfric. We had recently left two guards at the Tough Tavern to inspect before we made our way here. However, they went straight upstairs, so I will also find out if they found anything once I am there."

Upon receiving the additional information, Wulfric nodded. “Good, now go!” Cloak swishing, he swept out his arm imperiously, sending the two of them off.

When only the trio of the count, the doctor, and the prince remained, Wulfric addressed the other two. “Now, gentlemen…if you'd please follow me."

After additional patrols had been sent, Wulfric relocated the trio into the meeting room on the second floor which was absurdly extravagant. Every step on the polished marble floors echoed in the silence. The table was intricately painted, and the chairs were adorned with authentic gold. A maid moved into the room with a tea set, quietly setting the table for Wulfric and his guests. Another servant brought a map of Sorian, some paper, and writing implements.

Calbert had taken his seat, quite curious about what else they would be conversing about. After giving the information he had, he had supposed all would be done. He was pretty gracious to the prince for the expansive aid he was providing, so it did not pester him all too much to stay longer. He folded his arms thoughtfully, deciding to let the prince lead the conversation while digging through his brain for more information.

Wulfric remained standing, map spread on the table before him. "Before I receive the requested evidence, there are several details I want to confirm with you; the body's location, position, and how you would surmise the murder was committed. An ax to the front of the head is what I've gathered so far?" he inquired, looking up from the map to the two men.

"There are buildings west from my estate, and if one is to cut between them, they will find a shortcut to the library. Violet was found at the eastern end of this alleyway, close to her home. She was lying on her back. I believe she was thus facing west, facing the library. " Calbert trailed a trembling finger across the map to visually express his words as he spoke. Wulfric felt a hidden glee at the sign of the count's distress and weakness but showed it in no way whatsoever, simply marking the indicated location with a small x. He also made brief notes of the information obtained.

"...We believed she had fallen backward from the force of the ax…It was perfectly lodged in her forehead at a 90-degree angle and… It was upside down. The handle was toward the sky." He halted. That did not make sense. If someone had run down that alley toward her with an ax in hand, why hadn't she flinched or tilted her head… Had she frozen like a fawn? "...or perhaps she fell backward, and someone swung the ax down on her while she was on the ground. The ax was deep after all …" He clenched his jaw. “We had photographs taken. They will have to be examined with vigor tomorrow."

“An unusual murder method…I suppose it couldn't have been thrown," Wulfric pondered, shaking his head in dismissal of his idea. The ax would have had to be thrown underhand, from above, land perfectly in the center of her head, and fell Violet in one swoop. An unlikely option.

John's instinct kicked in when Calbert mentioned that ax in her skull. Indeed that ax was weird in that it appeared to have been swung upward, or like Calbert said, the girl fell backward, and someone swung from behind her; both of them were weird ways of killing someone. But there was a critical detail that the count did not mention, and John realized just now, to which he raised his hand to request a hearing.

"When you mentioned that ax, count Calbert…" , He spoke up a little quietly but grew louder over time. "It was buried deep into her, like almost halfway through the blade. I have seen the effects of sword blows on human bones. It would take a lot of force to sink half an ax's blade into someone's skull like that." He said. "So the perpetrator must have had a lot of upper body strength to carry that out."

Even in the case where the killer swung the ax overhead, it would still take strength to carry through with force. "You can let your forensic team on that detail, if that's reasonable, of course." There is also one more hypothesis the doctor had in mind, but that felt a little too crazy to be accurate, so he kept his silence on that.

"It is, in fact, a noteworthy detail, doctor," the prince assured. "So you would say…that our slim suspect, even if she'd swung the ax with the whole force of her body, from above down to the felled victim…could not have made such a wound?" he sought to confirm. But if that had occurred, it was strange that there had been no mention of signs of struggle.

"That's something I would say is unlikely." John replied. There are still possible outliers where a slim-looking person could smash someone's skull. Not everyone skinny looking is weak.

"By the way," Wulfric turned to John, "could you say based on where you saw the blood whether she'd been standing or not when she was struck? And…do we have an estimated time of death?"

"That…" John scratched his forehead quite a bit to reminisce if there was anything noteworthy about that moment. He felt a little bit of headache forming. "Blood was not dry yet, so it likely took place within the hour. As for how she died…" He took a breath, as it would get quite technical. "I don't remember for certain. I would need to see the scene again. But to be extra certain how she might have died, it would be good to have an autopsy report, to see other minute details like how much damage was done to the back of her skull or how and how many times she was hit. That would paint a better picture than just blood splashes."

Or at least that's how the Varians did their death investigation and how it should be.

Calbert was thoughtful as he listened, building upon the information in his mind and digging the horrific scene back into his vision. "There was blood splatter, minuscule drips mostly in front of her body, by her feet, indicating blood may have come down from her head before she fell… If she was lying down, the damage to the back of her head would be more severe. Her head might not have taken as much of the trauma if she had fallen. However, I did not notice extreme damage to the back of her head. I could say with almost certainly that she was standing based on what we know so far." Calbert mused, but none too happily.

Wulfric noted what they'd discussed thus far in concise bullet-point format, separating established facts from suppositions (some likelier than others). "So, the murder method is still unclear," he concluded. However, determining that was something the official investigators could do based on the data gathered so far. Changing tracks, he tilted his head at the count. "Based on what the doctor said, there's an hour of unaccounted time between nine and ten for what Violet was doing and where. However, I assume she returned home with you after the ball?"

Calbert met his eyes with a nonchalant expression, though his brow had slightly lifted. "She did return home with me, but once I busied myself, at some point, she snuck out to the library presumably. Ever the bibliophile she was. My staff knows to keep a close eye on her and Crystal, but she must have found an opening to leave…" Emotion rose in him, but he refused to let it show. "I know she was somewhat interested in a man from the Varian Kingdom as she chose to dance with him on her own accord. Roman Ravenwood, from what I have gathered. "

That answer did not at all clarify anything. Wulfric had hoped to narrow down the time frame in which Violet might have been killed, but apparently, Calbert had no idea when she'd left home. So he let the matter rest and considered the next one. Lord Ravenwood… "Do you believe they might have met - is he one of your suspects?" he raised a questioning eyebrow and let some doubt leak into his voice. It seemed unlikely.

"I know they spent much of their time together tonight, but not much else about him… I intend to list to the investigators everyone who could be possibly suspected aside the blonde woman who ran away from the scene…Dr. Williamson, what do you know of this Lord Ravenwood?"

The longer these two asked questions, the more flags were raised for John about the investigation itself. Being allowed in this room, doing the investigation with them, being asked these questions, at the same time not being anywhere close to being a proper professional. Why are they doing all this speculation barely hours after it happened? When can he go home already?

As for Lord Ravenwood, John did know the man. He was a son of the Ravenwood household, well-known in Kolonivka for his metals and the fact that he couldn't go anywhere without them. He had conversed with him here and there, but not too much. A nice guy, but given both their different specialties, they didn't have much in common to speak of. But now that he's in the crosshair of these two, the doctor stopped himself from spilling too much information. Especially in front of this guy Calbert.

"Lord Ravenwood? He's a blacksmith living in North Varian. Son of a noble, obviously, Lord Erick Ravenwood. His specialty is armorsmithing and weaponsmithing, quite well-known in fact." John replied, saying pretty much either public information or readily accessible information if they did their minimum research. "I don't speak much with him personally, though; we didn't have many opportunities to cross paths."

“Blacksmith.” Calbert repeated.

The door suddenly flew open as King Edin stormed in, his entourage of bodyguards following. "What's all this! " He demanded, his gaze first falling on Count Damien, "Calbert! What the hell are you doing here?" He did not seat himself and leaned his hands on the table, intense gaze moving to each of them. "Who the hell is that?" He pointed at John but was clearly asking Calbert and Wulfric. The doctor flinched a little in response to the sudden entry. He had never seen someone act so caricature-like, both in private and public. Oh, didn't he mention this was the guy who exiled him?

Calbert glanced at the bearded king, "Your Majesty. I discussed a severe dilemma with your son and Dr. Williamson of the Varian Kingdom. Would you like to be briefed? "

"I already know! That blasted Callum stole a carriage with Anastasia, enticed all the Sultan's offspring and who knows who else. Then he took them who knows where probably some orgy... How could you let this happen, Wulfric?" King Edin finally sat down, sighing, "We somehow came up out of that fiasco earlier unscathed, and now we're still doomed to war."

On the other hand, Wulfric remained standing and was glad he had not been sitting; he might have startled otherwise. His father's abrupt entrance was surprising, and so was learning that his younger siblings' idea of subtlety was stealing a whole damned carriage. The Alidasht party had been roped into this… 'adventure.' Thus, it was simple enough to pretend as if he had no idea of the situation. “Callum did what?” he interjected rhetorically, injecting the proper amount of scandalization into his words.

Calbert gave Wulfric a smirk subtly, then glanced back at King Edin, " Not quite the same subject we were discussing. Indeed, with all this high security here, this is inexplicable.. …Has the Sultan found out yet?"

" No, but he will… " King Edin groaned. Though he wouldn't mind a war as a means to conquer the Alidasht and perhaps even the Varian to expand his territory, they were not yet ready for one. Their army was undoubtedly the greatest, but he had hoped to increase his numbers and increase his possibility of winning.

Wulfric had caught the count's smirk and returned it with an unimpressed side-glance. Then, he calmly regarded the king. "He does not have to," he stated. "First, they need to be retrieved as safely and covertly as possible," he suggested.

"Then, depending on how this unfolds…we provide them with proper care, caution against unescorted late-night wanderings into less reputable parts of the city for those unfamiliar with it…" the latter would basically subtly blame the guests for being too eager to explore Sorian, but it was better than implicating Callum and Anastasia. It was inevitable that the Caesonian royal family would come across as negligent. Still, they could mitigate that, and it was better than the Sultan thinking there'd been an intentional plot to sabotage them.

"...promise increased security, find whoever was responsible for the oversight tonight and punish them…" likely some poor bastard Anastasia had charmed, Wulfric would guess. "...offer our guests some native servants to get them acquainted with the city, and bring down whichever establishment Callum led them to, if we must." It was quite a list, and Wulfric intended to recruit Auguste for help - to be honest, he was dearly missing his presence just then. "I can act on your behalf in this matter if you so wish, Your Majesty," he concluded.

King Edin rubbed his beard as he listened to Wulfric ramble. He hated listening to others ramble on, but he was glad it was his heir to the throne to do so. A thoughtful and wise King would be beloved, and Wulfric was already well-liked thanks to all the pressure he had been putting on him all his life. He smiled with some pride for his son. "Yes, indeed, this all sounds well. I am entrusting this to you then, Wulfric. However, what is to stop the Sultan from finding out? We know not what kind of state his children shall return in…." He grimaced, "If at all."

Incompetent.

’What in the fuck did I just hear?’ This was getting a bit out of hand. The story itself and the fact that they just nonchalantly told everything to his face: literally royal thievery, Alidasht's Shehzadis going missing, and even potential civil war. Mind you, he was here to report a murder.

"We will tailor our response to him based on the particulars," Wulfric responded. There was not much else to be said until they knew more, and situations like this always required a degree of flexibility.

King Edin did not seem comforted. He stood back up, "I suppose finding them is the first order. I shall go have that put in order… But if this was not the subject at hand here, what were you discussing?"

"We have a murderer on the loose. Dr. Williamson found the body." Calbert replied this time.

“Oh. The peasants at it again, hmm? Rats." King Edin scoffed but did not seem all too worried about it as he began to take his leave. He paused in the doorway, narrowing his eyes briefly, "Oh, and Wulfric, we will be discussing your behavior at the ball at some point."

"Of course, father," was all Wulfric had to say to that.

Calbert slowly rose from his seat, "Well. If that's all… Thank you, Prince Wulfric. I will take my leave. Hopefully, that elusive blonde woman will be caught soon and questioned." He was hopeful he could finally leave; he had not foreseen a formal meeting over the matter. "After all, I believe I saw Prince Auguste dancing with her, so he may recognize her. Perhaps he'll know something. I will be conversing with Kazumin Nagasa tomorrow as well."

Calbert's leave allowed John a valid excuse to do the same. "If you don't mind the same for me, Your Highness." He said, bowing with his hand on his chest. "It's been a long day, and I need to report where I have been to our monarchs. I will have discretion about what happened." Whether or not he'd stick to his words was still up in the air, however.

Wulfric inclined his head to Calbert and John. There was no reason to hold them up any longer; he'd gained most of what he'd intended from them, and he had other business to attend to. When the doctor said he'd report to the Varian royals, Wulfric leveled a cool stare at him. Though he promised discretion in the same breath, he had little doubt King and Queen Camille would be informed of this. It was regrettable that his father hadn't sent Williamson out of the room before revealing their latest scandal. "I would appreciate that, doctor," Wulfric told him, gaze intent. Then, he let the duo depart, offering a brief, "Goodnight, gentlemen."

It was indeed a futile, empty farewell…the night promised to be long and arduous, at least for the prince.
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