Fantasy A Divided Kingdom [Open]

[FireMaiden]

Princess Yvette
Location:
Gardens
Interaction:
MarieK (Arya)
Mentioned:
N/A
​

When Arya mentioned something about an import matter she had to talk about, specifically about the guards...Yvette was momentarily worried that Arthur had discovered she accidentally shot one of them in the butt. An arrow had gone a little high and skirted over the top of the target. The guard was wearing armor thankfully so there was no real damage but she had been worried about them reporting it. Yvette of course apologized profusely while the guard and his patrol members were laughing. You know come to think of it, they did find it funny, so this was probably something else. Yvette's minor panic soon turned to interest as Arya dismissed the guard again, and he headed inside, the princess focused on the guardian.

When Arya produced some clothes, Yvette cocked an eyebrow. A bright smile curled her lips though when Arya suggested they escape the castle for a while. Yvette couldn't help a giggle, wiggling forward a little so she could hop down out of the tree. She landed on her feet briefly, before losing her balance and falling back onto her butt. Yvette stood quickly though, taking the clothes from Arya. "I'd say that sounds like a lot of fun!" She smiled happily, examining the clothes a bit. Yvette had commoners clothing she could wear, but she wouldn't turn down Arya's kind offer.

"When should we leave? I have to get dressed first. Oh! I need some shoes!" Yvette was giddy, she loved hanging out with the common folk of Var. Most of them were just people trying to get by, finding the simple pleasures in life. She actually enjoyed their company more than the nobles. And the festivals! They were so fun! Being down in the city sometimes made her nervous though, hopefully they avoided the most stressful part of town for her. "This is gonna be so much fun! I love festivals!"

 

[Night Write]

Location: Medic bay
Mentions: Christie and Louqlyn ( TheRidingWitch )

It didn’t take long for Gertie to realize that something was wrong and Roawn wasn’t acting normally at all. She ushered the two to the medic bay, where then she noticed that he had a head injury… That could explain some things. On the way, Gertie apologized profusely for having assumed the two were romancing feelings for one another, she mistook their hand holding and locked gaze.

They made it to the medic bay, where then Roawn was set in a chair and examined. Prognosis was a concussion. After administering some anti inflammatory remedies to reduce the swelling on his brain, they knew that it wouldn’t take too long for Roawn to heal back to normal with those fancy Guardian abilities.

The remedies didn’t take long to work and after that it was just preventing Roawn from falling asleep as he regained his functions one by one; in short, it took him a few hours to recover.

However, Roawn didn’t remember a whole lot around the time of Louqlyn's explosion and especially nothing about the meeting he had with Arthur and the advisor.

Thankfully, Christie was able to fill him in on what he needed to do, which was to find the princess and guard her. Alright. Roawn didn’t bother changing his leathers being unaware that he had dribbled blood there. Sure, the back of his head was still tender, but otherwise, he was back to normal.

Roawn didn’t know where the princess was, but he guessed that the Captain of the guards would know. Thankfully, Gertie came with him and was an easy enough translator to speed things along. However, she said once he was sorted with the Captain, she’d have to go back to her duties.

Having been pointed in the Captain’s general location, Gertie left, and the guardian was expected to give up his sword… which made basically no sense, what was he going to do when someone tried to use a weapon against her… use his fists??? Ridiculous.

Location: Garden
Interaction: Yvette ( FireMaiden ) and Arya ( MarieK )

He relinquished his weapon and the Captain guided Roawn into the garden where Yvette was supposed to be… and sure enough the Princess, her Wolf, and Arya were there.

The Captain made introductions to Yvette. “Princess, this is Guardian Roawn, he was also sent to protect you.” This time, the Captain was a little more accepting of the situation. Roawn gave a nod of greeting to Princess of Yvette, which then the Captain felt compelled to explain further. “He’s mute by the way, so shouldn’t bother you much.” Roawn looked at the Captain with a flat look. Gee, thanks. The Captain gave a small shrug, then left.

Roawn turned back to Arya and Yvette, getting the sense that he had just interrupted something. Then spotted what may have been commoners clothes that they could’ve been trying to hide so as not to rouse the Captain’s suspicions. Roawn pinched his eyebrows together in an interesting fusion of confusion and suspicion, catching Arya’s gaze for an explanation.

 

[MarieK]

Location: Castle Gardens
Interacts with: Night Write and FireMaiden

Arya

At the mention of shoes, Arya snapped her fingers. Rummaging through the bag once more, she retrieved a pair of tattered boots with worn-out soles. They were caked with mud and the laces were frayed. Arya gave the princess an apologetic smile and held them out for the girl to take.

At the sound of someone entering the garden, Arya investigated the approaching footfall with slight inclination of her chin. When her eyes darted from the captain to Roawn, the boots slipped from her grasp.

Arya was quick to scoop them up, shuffling them awkwardly in her arms, attempting to avoid the dirt and grime on the leather. Refusing to meet his prying gaze, she fused her lips together into a tight line that yielded only tension and defiance.

Annoyance prickled at the back of her neck. She had tried to escape the man only to have him show up at the exact place she fled to.

Tongue pressed against the back of her teeth, she tried to think of a lie to get them to the festival and away from Roawn. But he would see right through whatever she conjured up. He knew her too well.

With no other choice, she crossed her arms over her chest and parted her feet, forming a stance of a blatant challenge as she regarded him with a curved, mischievous grin that played with the lone dimple in her cheek.

"The princess has expressed her desire to attend the festival," Arya explained. "And since you've been sent to protect the princess and I, myself, am a very talented guardian, we will be escorting her."

Tossing a glance to the princess, Arya directed a nod toward the clothes. "We'll wait for you to change, Princess."

~
Location: Guardian's Home
Interacts with: americanCaeser
Mentions: Night Write

Arthur

Theo was a hard man to shake, but Arthur had finally managed to get him down the hall to the door when it was pushed open and a large man stood in the frame, eclipsing the sun. Theo stammered, falling back a couple steps with his hand bracing his chest.

"What in the-"

Arthur didn't attempt to conceal his smile at the man's spout of panic. The man's reddened face and slacked mouth inspired a chuckle, but Arthur knew better than to let it loose.

The rack supported the man's coat and hat now, albeit barely. It swayed beneath the weight before coming to a rest on the hardwood floor once again. Arthur met the man with a friendly nod of greeting and a smirk he couldn't hide.

"Ivanoff! Good to see you." Arthur gestured to the stricken king's advisor at his side. "This here is Theo. He has expressed his doubt in the Guard's abilities. Would you care to show him how capable we can be in a quick duel?"

Theo paled.

"Oh! Forgive me. I forgot you have a busy schedule to see to. Perhaps next time?" Arthur asked, crossing the distance to the door and holding it open for the man.

Theo stared wide-eyed after Ivanoff as he made his way to the door. Outside, he noticed the weapon and the whites of his eyes became more pronounced as his lids slid as far back as they could possibly go.

Arthur shut the door on the man and released a pent-up breath. He rubbed the crowsfeet by his eyes.

He let his hands fall away from his face and looked to the man with an aged expression. "You missed the meeting. Don't worry. You didn't miss much. Still, you need to know the reason behind that pompous man's visit. It would seem that the kingdom can no longer ensure the princess's safety. We'll need to keep an eye on her until things have settled. I sent Roawn to escort her back here."

Arthur straightened and held his hands behind his back as he glanced away in thought. "It would seem things are finally unraveling. I can't tell how the pieces will fall, but I suspect many will be lost."

"Forgive me," he muttered, shaking his head. "I thought aloud. I would ask a favor of you though, Ivanoff. Keep an eye on the guardians. We need to be careful of who we trust, even those closest to us."

Arthur scratched the stubble on his chin before breathing a sigh. "Best to keep that between us for now, yes? I'd like you to attend the festival this evening. The princess and Roawn will be back soon, but I think it best to have some guardians stationed there in case the castle guards need further assistance."
​

 

[FireMaiden]

Princess Yvette
Location:
Gardens
Interaction:
MarieK (Arya) Night Write (Rowan)
Mentioned:
N/A
​

Yvette watched, bouncing a little in place as Arya began to dig into a bag, the clothes held against her chest. When the guardian produced a pair of boots, Yvette moved to take them, but her attention quickly shifted to Roman and the captain. She smiled softly as the captain introduced the guardian, who had most of Yvette's attention. She tilted her head a bit, looking over him a few times before her eyes flickered to the captain. "He can bother me as much as he wants. More fun that way," The princess replied with a little chuckle. "Bye bye captain!" She added, wiggling her fingers as he turned and headed out of the garden. Finally, her full attention returned to the guardians, listing patiently as Arya spoke. Once she was done, the princess looked Rowan, smiling brightly. "Festivals are so much fun! I love dancing and the food! You've been to some before right? This will be my first time going disgusted though, I feel like a spy!" Yvette giggled, bouncing excitedly again as she took the boots from Arya.

"I'll be right back!" She told them, turning around to dip behind the oak tree. It was large enough she could change without them seeing. And Aslan moved to guard her anyway. Yvette would change quickly, though with the clothes being a little big on her, Yvette needed to take a few minutes to adjust everything. The shirt was tucked in, but folded slight in the back so it was a little more form fitting. She rolled the sleeves up as well, leaving the top two buttons of the tunic undone. The pants fit a little better, so quickly fastened the cloak around her shoulders, and pulled the boots on. It was a good thing they were worm in, they were a bit big on her but not uncomfortable. After that, she pulled he head band out of her hair and pulled her hair up into a messy bun to make it easier to conceal under the hood.

Once she was dressed, she left the dress she had ok previously on a nearby bench before rejoining the guardians. "Aslan is pretty recognizable, do we have to leave him here?" Yvette asked, tilting her head a bit.

 

[Night Write]

Location: Meeting Hall and Storage Room
Mention: Prince Renald ( Aravini )
Interactions: Nari ( Heda )

Prince Damian​

"If we want this kingdom to continue flourishing and keep our people safe, we need to be working together. Only by acting in harmony and not letting our emotions get the better of us can we accomplish our goal. Do I make myself clear?" Came the ringing voice of Prince Renald. His appeal to reason was actually working to calm the heated escalation and away from their dangerous mob mentality… Much to Prince Damian’s chagrin. At the moment, Damian was dressed as one of the nobles, wearing the colors that seemed to be favoured around this time of year, which were mainly autumn colors. He kept his face down as he stood with the crowd so that his half-brother wouldn’t spot him.

The group seemed to be settling for the most part, so Damian looked around at those physically closest to him to identify who still seemed disgruntled but was keeping their mouth shut. An older man who probably spent four or five decades under the late King’s reign seemed to be standing with tight shoulders, thinned lips, and a slightly pulled sneer.

Damian chose this man to utter malcontent. “Can you believe that Prince? His father would be embarrassed… calling such important matters foolish, childish, and savage” Damian gave his own scoffing sneer. The older man nodded in agreement with Damian, who, in nobleman’s clothes, wasn’t really recognizable by these men. The vast majority of them had never seen him close up and saw him less than the Princes and Princess, so he could coyly interact with them.

“It’s like he doesn’t even care, he just wants us to shut up and hold hands.” The older man muttered.

Their conversation started to catch the interest of those close enough to hear.

“If he took us seriously, he’d just announce who was next in line and get government functioning appropriately again.”

“All he’s saying is that we need to be patient.”

“And for how much longer do we need to exert this patience??”

“We just have to be kind to each other…”

“Right, be kind to each other as the guardians sit on their asses as the government does what exactly? The Princes can’t even agree to anything!”

“Well, Prince Renold seem reasonable”

Someone scoffed. “You mean a weak pansy??”

“The other one will lead us to self-sufficiency!”

“How? By using strict independency policies to alienate our alliances???”

“And what about the trade deals? Neither of them seems fit to handle our recession!!”

“Watch, they’ll pass a decree to take our swords!!”

“No one wants your sword, you idiot!”

“It’s the first sign of a tyrannical kingdom! You just watch in your compliant sheep’s clothing; they’ll just use honeyed words and then take our ability to fight back!”

…In short… the bickering continued and before long… the groups were yelling and pointing fingers at one another again…

Damian held a barely contained smirk as he looked around to get a bearing of who was around him. He really wanted to find Nari, the royal mercenary, assassin, bounty hunter, information gatherer… Her title depended on what duty she was hired to do… As luck would have it, he spotted a hooded woman wearing black leathers leaning against a wall behind the now heated mob. He recognized her.

Damian peeled casually away from the crowd walking in the general direction of Nari. Once he stepped within her line of vision her slightly jerked his head in the direction of a hallway that led to the side. He was sure she’d recognize him considering how often his mother and him employed her services. Damian continued casually walking towards the hallway without losing a step. He just assumed she understood what he meant as he wandered into an old furniture storage room.

 

[Heda]

{Location: Meeting Hall -> Storage Room }
{Interactions: Prince Damian Night Write }
{Mentions: Prince Renald Aravini }

It didn't take long for the prince to calm the mob and for a few tense moments, it seemed they could put their grievances aside and work together, carrying out this meeting like civilized adults. That was until someone, somewhere said the wrong thing to rile up the mob again. At this, the spy worked her gaze through the sea of faces from her vantage point along the side wall. Searching. It wasn't difficult to trace the source of this newfound excitement. It pushed out around a cluster of men like an angry wave.

Nari remained, leaning with her shoulder pressed against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles. It wasn't her duty to get involved in the squabbles of aging, irritable men. Like the ocean waves battering Var's shoreline, the spy would adapt easily enough to whatever changes were decided.

What interested her the most; the source. Nari could recognise a disguise when she saw one. It quickly came to her attention who the owner of the tall, broad shouldered figure was and her initial assumption was correct when Prince Damian dislodged himself from the crowd. His presence here did not shock or surprise the spy. The bastard prince may have been able to fool those around him easily enough but for someone like Nari, it paid well to keep tabs on all the important players.

The spy's first instinct was to remain behind. Ensure the wrath of the mob didn't force itself onto Prince Renald but anyone who dared to lay a hand on him or pluck a single stray hair from the royal's head would likely find themselves staring at the dark four walls of a cell in the jailhouse. A place Nari was all too familiar with. So when she was beckoned by the late King's bastard, Nari didn't hesitate for long. Prince Damian and his Mistress mother paid well for the spy's services in years passed.

Muffled footsteps followed the path Prince Damian took, leading Nari to what was an old storage room. Such places were customary for secrets and side deals. With the current political climate, she could only guess what the bastard prince wanted from her.

"You don't like to make your brother's lives easy." Nari commented on the mob they left behind and the role Damian played inciting them. "Prince Renald will be busy appeasing the crowd for some time."

The spy made a sweep of the room, gaze wondering, searching for any hint they might not be alone. A piece of furniture out of place, signs alerting to the disruption of the layer of dust that coated every surface. Finding nothing of immediate interest, amber eyes finally settled on Damian. Nari had positioned herself in a way that gave her the advantage, should there be any unexpected surprises. Her back facing an empty corner of the room, the door and the prince both within view.

No matter how many times Damian hired her services, a spy who allowed themselves to relax due to being comfortable with those who hired them, were quick to become dead spies.

Nari clasped her hands together in front of her, in clear sight of the prince. The last thing she wanted was to be misread on going for her weapons. "I assume you brought me here to talk business. What do you need me to be this time?"

 

[TheRidingWitch]

{Location: Palace Grounds, Streets, Louqlyn's Cottage}

Spoiler: Her Festival Outfit (Basically)

As soon as the meeting was over, Louqlyn scrambled for the door. She yanked her cloth back into place and retied the knot behind her head again. What had been said in the meeting went right over her head, and she navigated the hallways with her mind preoccupied with her afternoon plans. So far, there was none. But if Louqlyn were just going to go back to her cottage for the rest of the day, then she would sit and feel sorry for herself. However, as psychology states, a person can live with anything if they don't think about it. So what could she do not think about it? Going to the Royal Guardian Home was out of the question. She could just go home and tinker about, but what else had she been doing all day? She slapped her head when the thought entered her head. Of course! The festival! There may be a few fellow guardians going so she might know at least a few. And besides, how fun would it be to dance the day away?

With a new motive, her pace increased. She exited the palace grounds and waved goodbye to the guards still munching on the strawberries. She left the lavishly decorated paths and stopped at the archway that opened up to the road. The walkways were even more deserted than this morning. The combination of the Festival and news "conference" made it a ghost town. Even though the festival was barely started, and a little far away from Louqlyn's cottage, she could smell the sweets and hear the music. She pushed open her front door and shut it behind her. The sudden switch from smelling sweet to acrid made her nose tingle. She undid her coat that was belted at the waist and laid it on the table. Upon entering her cottage, there was one very large room at the front. The left side was her couch, and the left was a wood-carved dining table. Surrounded on the long sides by matching benches. Towards the back on the right side, an open archway led to the kitchen which consisted of a hole for a sink, a fireplace for kettles, and a big looming metal rectangular box for a refrigerator. On the left side was a door that led to her bedroom. Quite a simple house. Louqlyn hummed and hopped/walked as she tried to contain her excitement and walked to her room. Her hands reached up and combed through her short, but yet somehow knotted hair. She pushed open her door and was greeted by the perfume of blossoms in full bloom. She inhaled deeply and smiled. Her room had the most windows, that at this time of day let in the dappled rays of soft sunlight. It illuminated everything at the perfect angle and she grinned wider. She ripped off the cloth on her face and let it flutter to the ground. She could see clearly at last, her vision unobstructed by the threads that she used to cover her insecurities.

Louqlyn waltzed over to a lonesome rack of the few clothes she owned. Several pairs of pants and plain t-shirts were what she wore on a daily basis, but she had one outfit for only special occasions. She pulled out the many pieces and started to straighten and smooth them on her bed. The first layer was a white shirt that was off-shoulder. The sleeves were of the lantern style, which would be perfect for the dancing as they would allow a long range of movement. The second piece was a pink-dyed longish skirt. It stopped a little bit past her knees. The last final piece was a white corset that was laced up the front. After every invisible wrinkle was smoothed out, she giddily yanked off her dirty clothing. Louqlyn had considered taking a bath but decided she didn't smell bad, plus she didn't have enough water to spare. She pulled on the delicate shirt and the skirt. She slipped on the corset and sinched it up. She looked in the mirror and decided she looked perfect. The only problem was her hair. Should she leave it down? Or should she braid it?

She decided that it was a good day to braid her hair. She would also probably get hot from the dancing, so it might be better to braid it. She sat in front of the small mirror she had been able to find and took her time weaving her hair into just the thing she wanted. One large dutch braid laid in the center, and two smaller dutch braids on the sides. She gathered them all and braided the last little bit together. She contemplated the slim iron rings on her desk. Was she being too fancy? It was the only time she really got to get dressed up by herself. She decided, if she was going to do this, she was going all out. She snatched the rings off her desk and clipped two onto the big center braid. Taking one last look in the mirror, she smiled. She looked so good in her mind. She grabbed the fallen cloth from the ground, and this time tied it to her nose. She left her eyes open and to the world. She would attract attention, but this time she was ready for it. She slipped on her lace-up boots and tied them. She ran for the front door and threw it open. She needed this.

She started down the street, ready to take what life threw at her.

 

[Night Write]

Location: Storage Room

Interactions: Nari ( Heda )
Mentions: Prince Naya ( Aravini )

Prince Damian​

Damian gave himself a self-congratulatory smirk as he heard Nari’s soft footfalls not far behind him.

Once they were inside the confines of the storage room, Damian shut the door behind them. “Did I give my half brother trouble?” Damian asked benignly. “I only meant o encourage him to practice his public speaking skills.” He turned to Nari, expressionless. “One can only master such skills through tried practice.”

He crossed his arms in front of him, a hand thoughtfully stroked the short beard at his chin. Perhaps Nari had had enough interactions with Damian to know that while what he said could’ve been taken at face value easily enough, she may know that he was lying about his intentions. Or perhaps she had taken him at face value and accepted just how he nobly tried to look out for his brother. Sure, in an odd way, but clearly his intentions were good.

Damian watched Nari scan the room for threats. She really was good at her job, never forgetting the little details. That’s why she was worth it. Once her eyes settled back onto him, he gave her a slight smirk, holding her eyes before casually looking away lest he gave too much away.

“That’s right,” Damian confirmed as he let his hands drop, hooking his thumbs through the loopholes for his belt. He wandered to a table. He was about to lean on it but seemingly decided otherwise once noting how dusty it was. Bringing his attention back to Nari, he continued. “It’s about time we start to handle each government issue one by one, don’t you think?” When he said ‘we’ he could have meant him and the country which would be interesting aspirations for a bastard prince indeed... but he could also have meant Nari, himself, his brothers, and government as a whole.

“I want to hire you to go to the festival tonight and for the rest of the week. Try to listen for what the main complaints of the commoners are. Is it unemployment? Lack of social welfare? Stalled legislature? Something else? I also want you to keep an ear out to determine which of my half-brothers has more support than the other…But while doing all of this, if you see a guardian, I want you to report to me any interesting intelligence you might discover… Maybe secret alliances or agendas… I want to know what they’re doing. Pretend to befriend them if you must to get the information I need.” Damian reached into his lapel and pulled out a black sack that assumedly had coins in it. “This is half of the payment. I want you to gather this kind of information for me over the next week. I want nightly reports. You’ll get the other half of your payment at the end of the week. The better the intel, then the more likely you’ll get a side bonus. Deal?” He offered to hand her the sack. He wasn’t one of those assholes that just threw that sack at her or toss it in her general direction, he did show her respect…because he did respect her.

 

[Night Write]

Location: Castle Gardens
Interaction: Arya [ MarieK ] and Yvette [ FireMaiden ]
Mention: Arthur and Christie

Roawn​

Fortunately for Arya and Yvette, Roawn hadn’t remembered the topic or orders given at the meeting with the advisor. He had relied on Christie’s recollection of the event, but Christie had only gleaned so much and apparently, he heard ‘guard Yvette’ as Roawn’s general standing order.

Unfortunately for Arthur, if he was waiting for Roawn to come back with the Princess, he was going to be waiting an extremely long time.

When the Captain left, he looked back at the Princess with a warm smile and a wave to her parting exclamation. Yvetter really was sweet.

Roawn had noticed some commoner’s clothing and was looking at Arya for an explanation. She seemed defiantly unwilling to spill the beans which queued him to the idea that Arya and the Princess were up to no good. In response, before Arya verbally responded, he crossed his arms, releasing a sigh that just came out as a rush of air. Alright… the jig is up…

The two then ended up squaring off, arms crossed at each other. Arya widened her stance, probably in an unconscious attempt to look bigger and to be taken more seriously. A small smile tugged at the corners of Roawn’s lips. Arya’s impish grin was infectious, and he responded with an amused and tension reducing grin of his own. His body relaxed and was less square. While he kept his arms crossed, they were not longer authoritative-like, just business-like as he was still expecting an answer here.

"The princess has expressed her desire to attend the festival, and since you've been sent to protect the princess and I, myself, am a very talented guardian, we will be escorting her."

His fellow guardian explained. Roawn seemed to accept this overall, but he still had a pinch to his eyes that hinted that he was suspicious, unsure, or mistrusting about something. Either way, overall, he seemed to be willing to play along as he lost his business-like edge to his stance.

In general, he accepted that he had been sent to protect the Princess, so whatever. He wasn’t exactly sure why the commoner’s clothes were involved and why there had been such shock, secrecy, and defiance about them. He figured Yvette was either not supposed to go to the festival, she wanted to explore sections of the festival that she would’ve been otherwise restricted from, or maybe the Princess just wanted to pretend to be a commoner and have as few people know as possible.

Not like Roawn was in a position to ask for specifics. But with two capable guardians at the Princess’ behest, he and Arya would be doing what they were supposed to be doing anyways. Protect Yvette. What was the worst that could happen?

"Festivals are so much fun! I love dancing and the food! You've been to some before right? This will be my first time going disguised though, I feel like a spy!" Yvette bubbly chimed in. Roawn gave her his attention charmed by her excitement to go to the festival. His smile broadened a little when she asked him directly if he had been before. He tilted his chin a bit in an unassuming nod. Oo, disguised, ok, ok, she'd been to festivals before, so she was just trying to blend in and not be the center of attention as a princess. He could understand that... Though he wasn't sure how successful that was going to be with two Guardians following around a commoner...

Roawn looked over at Arya, clapping her shoulder lightly in a familiar and friendly way. Arya may have been a respectable height, but she was so tiny. The two women were infectious in very different ways and together, Roawn had no hope. Ok, he was officially totally on board now.

Princess Yvette disappeared behind the oak tree to fit on her commoner disguised. Roawn wondered how they would be smuggling her out of the castle dressed as a random commoner, especially now that the castle guards around the Captain knew that he and Arya would be following the Princess around. His eyes fell on the wolf hound.. pure wolf? It was hard to tell. Definitely wolf in there. But that wolf was very telling, it followed Yvette everywhere. Roawn captured Arya’s gaze and gestured to the wolf… Thankfully, just at that moment the Princess asked what to do with Aslan. That was convenient.

 

[americanCaeser]

Interacts with: MarieK (Arthur)
Mentions:
Location: Guardian's Home

Ivanoff grinned down at the little rat of a man like a hungry lion. "Really? Well, If we're doing this I'll restrict myself to using a toothpick, make it fair and all."

The Guardian wouldn't deny seeing the obviously haughty man's hot air blow out of him was enjoyable, and kept an amused eye on Theo until he was gone.

"Sorry I was late, caught up in something serious, you know." Sliv lied easily through his teeth, and while some would find a guardian being dishonest rather disheartening the blow was lessened by the fact that this was the same lie he used every time. Most likely it flowed off Arthur like water off a ducks back. While being addressed by Arthur, Ivanoff took a moment to take in the Guardian leaders state. He was aware of the political strain over the kingdom and easily joked about it, but seeing Arthur like this... well, it made it feel more real.

Not that Ivanoff cared about the kingdom in general, we wasn't a patriot, but you don't spend a few years fighting alongside people and not grow bonds with them (not that Ivanoff's pride would admit that). He gave a lop-sided grin as he looked across at Arthur and scratched the back of his head.

"And what's up with that type of talk? Thinking of retiring early? You know I rejected and proposition of taking over last time, so don't think you can pawn that responsibility off on me now." His eyes became a bit firmer as he finished off. "And you know how much I hate making promises... but why the hell not. Not like herding cats."

Ivanoff blinked. Did he really just agree? That wasn't like him at all. The strongman abruptly turned back and unhooked his coat and hat from the rack, relieaving the thing of its burden. That festival sounded alot more appealing to him now. "Anyways, now that you mention it, I was just popping in to make sure you wouldn't nag me for being late, again. So, if that's all..."

Ivanoff donned both items of clothing before stepping back outside the street once more, daintily hoisting Kingdom Slicer back to it's resting place on his shoulders. He hesitated, and looked back at Arthur through the open door way, in case the 'old man' had any more nuggets of wisdom.

 

[MarieK]

Interacts with: Night Write and FireMaiden

Arya

“He’s mute by the way, so shouldn’t bother you much."

The brush of his touch against her shoulder brought to mind the captain's words. She nearly scoffed aloud at the memory. A mere pat on the shoulder had rendered her cheeks pink and her conscious, heavy. It conveyed friendship, but whatever had been awakened earlier was not just friendly.

Stuffing the sudden change in her emotions deep, deep down, Arya diverted her gaze to the tree Yvette was hiding behind.

Like Roawn, Arya felt people were prone to underestimating Yvette. Roawn was trained to kill. Lethal. Being mute did not take away from his abilities in the least. And Yvette contained a hidden power that if channeled, she could possibly derail her brothers' plans and stake her own claim for the throne.

The thought made her wish to return home and search the library for more information. Var's laws on such matters were muddied. Never before had a king been so openly promiscuous during his reign, neither had there been a king who had died before naming his successor. If she were forced to pick a side right then, Arya would have to side with the eldest prince of the king and queen. He was rightfully the heir due to his birth order and blood.

But Arya refused to pick sides. At least, until she knew the royals and the kingdom's laws better.

Arya missed Yvette's question, but Roawn gesturing to the wolf clued her in. Her brows shot up as she glanced back up to the princess.

"I'm afraid he'd give you away, Princess."

Actually, she was afraid he would eat her, but it was likely he'd give the princess away, as well.

"Now for the fun part." Arya spun on her heel and headed for the stables.

There, they met Cade, a boy of about fourteen with a wooden leg. When he noticed them, he ceased his chores of cleaning the stalls and gawked at the princess, bowing low as she approached.

"Where's-" Arya started to say as a large man steered a horse out of the stables. He saw her and flashed a toothless grin.

"There you are, lass," he exclaimed, the lilt in his voice exaggerating the roll of his r's. "I was jus' ready to fetch me cart."

He slid off the horse and took hold of the reins before guiding the horse and the trio to the Southside of the stables where a produce cart awaited him.

"Climb on in, Your Highness," he said, offering her a sweaty, smudged palm with several scars.

Arya would wait for Roawn and Yvette to lie down in the cart before choosing the spot on the other side of Yvette so that she was sandwiched between Arya and Roawn. Then, the man tossed them a blanket.

"We'll cover up and keep still until he gets us on the other side of the gates," Arya explained. "Chester has agreed to take us to the festival so we won't have to go on foot."

Once they were settled and the blanket was secured over them, they headed out. The blanket reaked of rotten tomatoes and horse, and it made her skin itch, but it did the job.

The guards didn't pay the Cook's produce man any mind as he trotted past them while whistling a tune from a old drinking song. Outside the gates, Chester called out that the coast was clear and they were free to uncover themselves.

~

Interacts with: americanCaeser

Arthur

The man waved the guardian's apology aside, seeing right through the lie, but not caring enough to call him out on it. He also chose to ignore the man's question concerning his retirement. There was nothing the world had to offer him outside of the Guard. His very existence revolved around it and the people in it. Retirement would never be an option for Arthur. He'd die first.

Arthur nodded, waving to Ivanoff to let him know he was free to leave, but paused in mid-wave.

"Keep an eye on Louqlyn for me," Arthur said, giving Ivanoff his back as he started back down the hall. He'd forgotten something- something rather important.

From across the distance, his next words were muffled, but it sounded like "Wouldn't want her to blow up the whole kingdom."

Arthur didn't pause in his stride to clarify, merely shook his head before turning the corner and vanishing from sight. ​

 

[FireMaiden]

Princess Yvette
Location:
Outside the Front Gates
Interaction:
MarieK (Arya) Night Write (Rowan)
Mentioned:
N/A
​

Yvette frowned a little when Ayra confirmed that Aslan couldn't come. Yvette was dressed up as a commoner this time around so it wasn't like the princes hadn't expect it. Still, she would feel a bit odd without her trusted hound. "Aslan you have to stay here for now," The princess spoke, turning to kneel down to pet Aslan, who whined. He didn't like being left alone without Yvette, he'd be fussy until she got back. But he had the bones gifted to him just a little bit ago to keep him busy. And who knows, maybe he would brave the duck pond again. With a small sigh, the wolf nuzzled against Yvette's hands before it turned and sadly moved back over to his den. Where he laid down and once again, sighed sadly. Yvette just sighed a bit, before facing the guardians again.

Ayra announced that it was time for the fun part, as if this wasn't already fun. Yvette rarely dressed a commoner, and it was even rarer for her to sneak out of the castle. So she was definitely excited. Following after Ayra and Rowan with a smile, she realized they were headed to the stables nearby. Were they going to borrow some or the horses? Or were they using the employee gate? Both sounded fun of course. But the real answer was even more interesting as a man addressed rather soon after they entered the stables. Yvette glanced between the two guardians and the stranger curiously, wondering what was going on.

But she decided to hold her questions for the end, following Ayra, Rowan, and the man once more as they were guided to a cart. So they were being smuggled out? That was definitely exciting, Yvette couldn't help but smile. When the stranger was ready, and offered Yvette his hand to help her up into the cart, the princess took it. "Thank you," She told him as she climbed up and got settled in the cart. Once the other two were in the cart, Yvette made sure they'd both be comfortable during their shirt ride. Her questions were starting to push, desperately wanting answers but for the short ride, Yvette would remain silent, simpler giving Arya a thumbs up when needed. The princess was also rather glad it was dark as she could feel her cheeks grow a bit warm. She had never been in a situation like this, and they were all a bit close...

Anyway, she remained still and hidden until the man called out it was safe for them to uncover. Yvette managed to sit up, pushing the blanket off the trio. "Oh that was very fun but...why couldn't we just leave through the front door?" The princess asked, looking to Ayra. "You know I'm allowed to leave right? I just have to have a guard of some sort. I go to the city all the time for festivals and such." She added, tilting her head a bit.

 

[Aravini]

Name: Prince Renald (Archie)
Location: Meeting Hall -> Bedroom
Interactions: n/a
Mentions: Heda

For a moment, his charade under the king persona had worked. His people were quiet and listened to his argument. It was obvious not all were satisfied with his little speech, but what mattered was that they listened.

Pride flowed through Renald, feeling that he may be able to actually achieve his role as a responsible prince and... maybe even as king.

That was short-lived, however, as a single person's disagreement erupted the crowd once again. The right response would have been continuing to assert his authority and keep pressure upon the crowd...but he couldn't...he just couldn't.

Disappointment and sorrow filled him like the sounds of the arguing filled his ears. He looked around for Nari, she may be nothing more than a hired assassin but she was the only one at the moment that can give him the slightest bit of comfort. Unfortunately for Renald, she was nowhere to be seen.

Renald's breathing got heavier and heavier, caused by the toxic mixture of his anxiety and his breathing issue. There was nothing else he could do, he tried his best but it wasn't enough...it was never enough...all he could do was walk away.

...

Renald was soon in his room and was soon laying on his bed. His attempt to assert himself to the officials was...less than successful. He would definitely need to work on his king persona if he ever wishes to usurp the throne from his brother. His breathing was slowing down and was getting lighter, would be unfortunate if he suffocated to death after a simple confrontation.

After that moment, he doubts he could go out to the public for today, his anxiety and feeling of embarrassment would be too straining to him physically and mentally.

...But someone else can.

There was a festival today, outside castle walls and within the cities and villages. After the death of his father, he hadn't had a chance to explore his kingdom, mingle with the locals and do his personal scouting. Perhaps this was a break he needed.

He went under his bed a pulled a box full of things he needs to transform into... his theft persona.

Archie.

An oversized black coat to cover most of his body and face under shadow. An eyepatch for his left eye. Rugged clothing to wear under his coat. Small patches of dark substances to darken his face and hands, and a large knife to protect himself.

Archie stared at Renald's mirror to check if his disguise was effective. It's wasn't perfect for today but it was enough to fool anyone.

"Rightio chap," Archie said, putting on a fake accent. "Would be bloody difficult to escape this overblown castle without being found. Better be quick and careful bout' it."

Unlike his other personas where technically it's still 'him' the theft persona or the Archie persona is a completely different person. Archie was no prince. He was a one-eyed street rat pickpocketing and stealing from every person he could find. He didn't have to worry about no responsibilities or pressure or even siblings. All he cared about was money and eating food.

(Sorry for the messy writing, might edit it when need to)

 

[Heda]

{Location: Storage Room -> Private Chambers (Palace) }
{Interactions: Prince Damian Night Write }
{Mentions: -- }

A slender brow rose in Prince Damian's direction. Simply helping his half-brother's public speaking skills. If Nari wasn't so observant, she might have believed he was being genuine but the spy was aware of who she was speaking to. Damian's position was an interesting one. Illegitimate, yes but dangerous. He could reach for the throne, if he played his cards right. She'd seen it happen before, in other kingdoms when she'd been sent out on the order's of the late King. Espionage was her middle name. She had even used bastard children to delay the successions of other kingdom's. For the benefit of Var, of course.

"I'm sure he'll benefit from the assistance." Nari commented with disinterest. She wasn't so sure. Prince Renald had his troubles, as they all did. He'd taken only the first in a long line of steps today. Nair wasn't hoping for a particular prince to take the crown, only that she was promised continued work and protection from whichever royal did. She would not take Renalds side, Caspians, Damian's or Yvette's. Not so early in the game but she was not beyond completing tasks for each of them, should they choose to use the tools at their disposal. Thus far, Damian was the first to approach her about anything serious.

Her eyes tracked the bastard prince, interest peaking when he got right down to the reason behind bringing Nari here. “It’s about time we start to handle each government issue one by one, don’t you think?” A dangerous sentence. It could be taken many ways. Nari believed she had a good grasp on the person Damian was but regardless, she could not over or underestimate him. He was the dark horse of the royal family. The one to watch out for because he could do things his half-brothers could not, go places they could not and make deals with people they could not.

Damian's request was simple. Gather information and report back. Easy enough. It was child's play for the spy. What caught her attention the most; his interest in the Guardians. Their sole duty was the protection of Var. They were not to pick sides or intervene. It's what made this situation with the succession so delicate. Did Damian suspect trouble with the Guardians? Nari guessed one could never be too careful. This task should be easy enough but she was wary of the Guardians. Of their strength, speed and skill. They were heightened. Unnatural because of the ancient stone used to grant them power. Nari was no fool. She knew she wouldn't stand a chance in a face-to-face fight with a Guardian. It's why she purposefully steered clear of them and didn't meddle in their business.

It wasn't unusual for Nari to refuse someone and the mention of the Guardians had the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. They made her uneasy. She opened her mouth to say as much but the sound of coin clicking in the pouch Damian produced had the words vanishing from thought.

"Okay," the spy began slowly, eyeing the pouch in his hand. It was worth the risk. The upkeep of her equipment was not cheap and with the lack of tasks since the King's death, Nari's personal funds were dwindling. "I'll get you the information you're after, that's easy but like always, my services aren't exclusive."

He knew this. Nari made it clear she was at the disposal of all the royals. She worked for them to service the interests of the kingdom. "Information is one thing, Prince Damian. If you want me to act on anything I uncover, you know it'll cost you extra." She liked to remind him of this every time they made a deal. A hint of a smile caused the corner of her mouth to tilt up. She stepped forward to accept the pouch he held out for her. It was good to be doing something again.

The request given and payment accepted, Nari offered the bastard prince a quick dip of her head as she backed away, making for the door. She had work to do. The festival would be underway soon and she needed to decide on her best approach. The spy made quick work of navigating the halls, finding the room she had resided in for years, tucked into a corner of the palace and out of the way. Best not to draw unwanted attention from the wrong people while she went about her business.

 

[Night Write]

Location: Castle Garden, Stable, The Drunked Crane
Interactions: Arya ( MarieK ), Yvette ( FireMaiden ) and Cook
Mentions: Ivanoff

Roawn

“Now for the fun part.” Arya suddenly broke away, making a straight line for the stables once Yvette was dressed and reappeared from behind the oak.

It suddenly struck Roawn that maybe Arya should’ve been on the opposite side of the oak blocking the Princess from view of those that might’ve been on the other side… He’d have to talk to her about that later, which spurred the memory of the fact she had wanted to talk to him about something, and him, her.

Mutism really was an inconvenience. He’d have to find some time later to get with Arya, paper, and some graphite.

Roawn looked at Yvette bewildered to see if she knew what exactly Arya’s plans were. Even if they were mounted, they’d have to get through the check point and with the Captain so close by, it was basically guaranteed that they’d be checked and he was pretty sure that no one else knew Yvette was heading out considering the disguise and all of the secrecy. Apparently, the Princess didn’t want to be tracked outside of the two guardians and just blatantly going through a check point would be counterproductive.

Regardless, Roawn followed sticking close to Yvette albeit a slight step behind her.

As the events unfolded when they approached the stable, it started to become self-evident that Arya had this all preplanned. He knew that Arya was stealthy, but he had usually taken that to mean quiet and sure footed, making herself smaller and more unnoticeable, lying in wait in the shadows. Turned out that Arya was also capable of making seemingly trustworthy social connections willing to aid her in her sneaky and evasive endeavors.

He sent Arya an understanding and cheeky lopsided smirk, his eyes shining. Oh, you are sneaky, aren’t you?

Yvette climbed in first, laying down to make herself unnoticeable. At this moment, Roawn was glad he didn’t have his sword on him as taking the time to angle it to make himself laydown would’ve been awkward at best. After Yvette, it became evident that he was expected to go next, so, he laid on his side, apparently spooning Yvette as she seemed to have been facing Arya to speak to her.

This was a produce cart and he was taking up a decent portion, though thankfully he wasn’t as big as Ivan. That man was so big someone would likely have needed to lay on top of someone else… not to mention his sword. With him, it was just a tight fit.


Roawn gave an apologetic expression to no one in particular. At least this could be weirder than it already was… Though it was bad enough that he was close enough now to smell the shampoo… perfume... or whatever that smell was that Yvette used and the smell of her, herself underneath it. Oh god. He avoided any gaze sent his way. Well, at least it was a welcome distraction from the smell of rotten tomatoes and horse…Not like it could get worse as awkward as this was.

The road was bumpy, jostling the three against each other. This was horribly embarrassing. He brought his thighs up a little bit to prevent Yvette from being pushed against…

Why did he have to come here?? Why. He decided to do everything in his willpower to focus on that rotten tomato smell. Oh yeah, that was revolting. Excellent.

It couldn’t be soon enough before they came to a stop. The sound of the man dismounting the wagonhead alerted Roawn that they had arrived. He sat up the best he could from a sideways spooning position flinging the cloth off of them and getting out surprisingly gracefully for someone who looked like they got stung by a bee. Roawn tried to pretend that his cheeks weren’t pinked.

Maybe if he acted confident and casual enough no one would notice, and they’d think he just got over heated. That’d be great.

The Cook blinked at the swift upheaval of the cloth. “I ken it was goin’ tae be uncomfortable like wit’ two people le’ alone three.” He commented, his ‘r’s rolled with a Scottish brogue. The Cook and Roawn shared some kind of knowing look. The Cook looked amused, Roawn did not.

“Nae way, ‘ere we are!” The Cook said presenting the backside of some sort of stone building surrounded by other stone buildings. “’Tis tae ol’ Drunken Crane! Nice an’ close to tae festival, but nae too close, ya ken?”

 

[MarieK]

Location: The Drunken Crane
Interacts with: Night Write and FireMaiden

Arya

By the blank expression on Arya's face, it was evident that she hadn't known the princess was free to come and go as she pleased. Anger bubbled up within her gut. How could the guards be so careless as to let their princess roam the kingdom during such precarious times? Something would have to be done about the princess's safety, but Arya had plans to see to first.

If nothing else, her nondescript attire would make it easy for her to fade into a crowd should anything compel them to run away from the festival. Instead of voicing her reasoning, Arya forced a smile and lifted her shoulders only to let them fall again in a stiff shrug. She didn't want to risk alarming the princess with the idea of trouble at the festival. More than likely, they wouldn't run into any sort of danger, but one could never be certain.

"I thought them to be fitting for the occasion," she said, but her answer sounded weak even to her own ears.

Acutely aware of Roawn's smirk, Arya avoided meeting his gaze, trying her best to convey innocence. There was more to her plans than she was willing to let him know- or anyone, for that matter.

The ride was as smooth as wrestling a pig in a mud pile. It jostled and jerked her around until her head spun. Just when her stomach had had as much as it could possibly take, the cart stopped abruptly, wrenching her from her place and forcing her against the side. Swallowing a groan, she went to remove the blanket, but Roawn had already yanked it off of them. She looked at him askance, but remained quiet as she stood and held a hand to assist Yvette down from the cart before hopping off herself.

The Drunken Crane loomed before them, blocking out the afternoon sun and casting a shadow over them. It smelled of old pine, mead, and bad decisions. Lanterns that hung in the windows emitted a deceptive warmth that the sudden shift in the breeze made tempting to seek out, but Arya had other things to see to.

Stepping around the cart, she dropped a few gold coins into Chester's meaty palms and thanked him for assisting them.

He grinned, scratched his backside, and waved to them as he trotted back down the street.

Arya shifted her attention to Yvette and Roawn.

"Are you ready to find some handsome farmers or pretty maidens to dance with?" she asked, but her tone tripped over itself before falling flat. Giving away the trail of her thoughts, she glanced to Roawn and it was then she noticed the fleeting traces of color that painted the apexes of his cheekbones.

She dipped her head to conceal her expression and looped her arm through Yvette's.

"Let's go find you some fun, Princess."

And me a drink.​

 

[FireMaiden]

Princess Yvette
Location:
Outside the Front Gates
Interaction:
MarieK (Arya) Night Write (Rowan)
Mentioned:
N/A
​

Yvette had done her best to treat the ride as normal. She had never been so close to a man before, so it was just a bit...weird. Not uncomfortable surprisingly, and Yvette was more concerned about him being comfortable than anything else. After all Rowan was a bit larger than her and Ayra, and the cart was cramped. But it was still fun, Yvette loved being sneaky like this. She use to sneak out of her room as a kit to find treats in the kitchens long after most everyone else had gone to bed. There was a guard who always helped her. And the kitchen staff always left the treats close enough to the edge of the counters and tables so she could reach. This of course was different than getting a few tarts at night. And Yvette was more excited for the festival going in disguise.

"Oh! Well, it's a great idea!" Yvette smiled once Ayra gave her reasoning. Of course, she could tell there was something more to it, but Yvette didn't want to put Ayra on the spot. For the rest of the ride, Yvette allowed herself to relax with quiet excitement. She hoped they'd be able to find her favorite street food, oh! And maybe the lanterns they could light up. "Last time I went, there was an archery contest, I hope they have it set up again!" She said with a smile, clapping her hands together happily. She didn't win, but the other "finalist" was a 10 year old, and it would have been a dick move not to let them win.

Once they finally came to a stop, Rowan seemed more than ready to get out of the cart. Yvette was going to apologize for anything that had made him uncomfortable, but didn't get the chance as he very quickly got out. Yvette brushed it off a little, turning her attention to Ayra who helped Yvette out of the cart. Once her feet were on solid ground, Yvette couldn't keep still. Looking around at the festival decorations, smiling brightly. For a few moments, the guardians were forgotten. But when she finally turned their attention back to them, she caught the slight color in Rowan's cheeks. Yvette wondered what that was about, but Ayra spoke and pulled her attention away.

"Definitely," Yvette giggled. Dancing was so much fun with people who weren't stiff and formal. She was wondering if she could get these two to join her...but that would come later, Ayra speaking again about finding some fun. But she seemed a bit sad...once again, Yvette decided not to put Ayra on the spot, instead, giving her and Rowan both a warm smile. "Come on! Let's go see what's going on."

 

[Inheritance]

Prince Caspian​

"...and yet his pride seemed to be more brutal than a mouthful of poison. Any fool would spit out poison, but a prideful man holds his sin close to his heart; allowing it to slowly consume and destroy him. We must learn from-"

Caspian shut the book he had been pouring over for hours and rubbed his eyes. The dim candlelight that illuminated the large, circular desk in the room flickered slightly, casting shadows that eerily danced across the paper. Caspian looked up wearily at the curved ceiling, a great sigh heaving through his body. With a grunt, he stood up and walked over to the small, curved window that made up the only natural light in the archives. Caspian was no lover of the archives; the dark, musky room filled with thousands of books had never sat well with him, especially with all the hours he had been forced to study down here. The only natural light that flowed into the room was through a rather small window that was hidden by a curtain as to keep the room dark, and so Caspian would study the several arts in sciences in darkness and in silence in a room that seemed to hide the passage of time.

Pulling back the curtain, Caspian observed the blazing sun high in the sky. He could see the city bustling below him, a sign that it was already far past noon. Six hours! I've been cooped up in here for half the day! Caspian thought gloomily as he turned back to grab the candle and exit the archives. He couldn't believe how long he had been up there, and scolded himself for being so careless. He had wanted to visit the Harvest Festival today, and grew worried that with over half the day gone he would no longer be able to practice his fencing, riding, or make it to a stroll through the gardens with the royal advisor. Blast it.

He made his way down the winding stairs of the eastern tower and back into the main castle. Giving friendly waves, nods, and greetings to people as he passed, Caspian made his way into the armory to dress himself in his fine, plate armor. Normally he would not dress up so for such an informal occasion, but recently his advisor had recommended he wear his war attire more often as to solidify his image as a mighty, regal prince. Now that his father had passed, and his mother was out of the picture, it was up to him to take the crown and lead the Kingdom.

Armed and ready, Caspian strapped the Royal Talonguard Blade to his hip, walked out of the palace and began making his way towards where the Harvest Festival was taking place. An entourage of guards accompanied him out of the palace grounds, but on his command they broke up and let him attend the festival alone- he didn't think there would be much need for them.

Entering the festival grounds, especially after sitting cooped up in the tower for so long, was a great breath of fresh air. The smell of good food, animals, and the dying autumn wind filled his nostrils as he looked around the place with a big smile. Several people waved and bowed, and Caspian had quite the time going around and mingling with everyone there. Contrary to his attire, which he wasn't sure that he really wanted, Caspian wanted to blend in and just enjoy the festival. Of course, he could never just blend in, as wherever he went there were people bowing and calling their praises to him. It also didn't help that royal guards had now taken to strolling around the area as well, ruining any chance of him "blending in".

After finishing talking to a rather talented animal handler, Caspian ducked behind one of the larger tents and slipped away from the large crowd. He was always one for being social, but he really just wanted to be a part of the crowd today; enjoy the event and enjoy the people that would star in it-not steal the show. He continued his walk out of the way and towards the tree line, noting how dark the sky was starting to get. He turned back towards the festival, now almost at the edge of the trees, and watched the blazing torches and listened to the laughing and and yelling of people. It was a great sight, one his father and mother would have loved to see.

Caspian took a deep breath. So much had changed. His whole life he was taught that he would one day ascend to the throne and rule the Kingdom, and his whole life he had devoted himself to that. While not much of a scholar, he drilled his lessons over and over until they became memory. He studied the art of the sword fervently, becoming a near master before he reached his teens. All his life he had prepared to be the best King he could be; not just as a mighty spectacle, but as a kind and just ruler who would help his citizens. He was not just a king, he was a leader; a man that he wanted people to follow and trust. He wanted to be the man that could lead his men into the depths of hell and come back alive...

In a span of just a few short days, his life spun into a new world of politics, mind games, and propaganda. For some reason, his right to rule became questioned, and his obvious path to the throne became marred with new opponents and rivals; his own family stepping in to take what was rightfully his. It had hurt him beyond expectation, that the ones he trusted with his life would turn around and attempt to rip the only thing he had ever wanted from his grasp. But hurt or not, Caspian was not one to give up easily. He was the heir to the throne, and nothing would change that. Family or not, he would not let anyone tear him from his path...no matter the cost.

MarieK

 

[americanCaeser]

Willing to Interact with: MarieK (Arya), Night Write (Roawn), FireMaiden (Yvette), Inheritance (Caspian), TheRidingWitch (Louqlyn)
Location: The Fall Festival

Normally, Ivanoff was the type of guy to make unfair remarks about most events like this, but honestly he was impressed. Despite the dark clouds that hung over the kingdom (figurtively), the organizers of this event went all out. Food, drink, entertainment, the whole shebang. It was good, the people needed a distraction from this whole instability, or maybe have one more good memory if things go south hard. Sliv had seen a hanful of guardians around, enjoying the festivites or keeping an eye out for any trouble.

The 'good prince' Caspian was walking around, speaking with people and kissing babies like any good and sleezy politican does. He caught a glimpse of Louglyn walking by in normal clothes which she apparently owns (He was always under the impression that she wore armor all the time). He bet there were a few more around, but wasn't exactly seeking them out in the crowd. No, he was more of a reactive kinda guy. Just enjoying what the festival had to offer in drink, food, and a few fair maidens.

A tug on his arm reminded him of the entertainment this place had to offer. Looking over the table he saw the two identical mustachiod muscle heads gripping his hand, straining with all their might to pull his arm down onto the table. Below the stand a crowd of commoners were shouting out encouragement to the performers. The two were the Miglee Brothers, 'Strongest Men in the Valley', apparently. Well, they certainly looked it, and probably thought so when they had this arm wrestling challenge ready. Despite the fact that they were both slowly moving Ivanoff's arm back, he hardly seemed to be sweating. He finished his mug of ale with one last draft before handing it to the rather pretty barmaid and addressed the Miglee Brothers. "Sorry about that boys, nearly forgot you were there. Much as I'd like to keep this going I want to see more of this festival before the nights through."

With that, Ivanoff effortlessly brings his hand which was just an inch away from defeat up and over, slamming the four hands of the muscular dynamos into the table cracking it. The brothers didn't stop there, the force of the movement was so violent it lifted them both off their feet and send them tumbling off the stage before splattering in the mud. The crowd backs up before laughing at the two dazed strongmen, the laughter turning into cheers as the barmaid raised Ivanoff's arm in victory, the Guardian raising his other hand and smiling at the applause.

With a final wink and whisper to the pretty lady, Sliv claims his bag of prize money and dons his straw hat and walks off the stage back into the merriment.

 

[Aravini]

Name: Prince Renald (Archie)
Location: Bedroom -> The Festival
Interactions: FireMaiden
Mentions: Night Write Inheritance MarieK

Finally, after dodging guards and cooks and other bloody watchful eyes within the castle, Archie finally escaped what could be described as an over-pampered prison.

Bloody hell, maybe Prince Renald should have been the one doing this, Archie thought. He put up his hood and headed to the festival.

...

Renald was not enjoying the festival. He wasn't listening to the music or the laughter of his people. He wasn't admiring the lanterns hanging from the windows or the pretty decorations that littered the place. He wasn't out there enjoying the cheap rum of questionable origin. Renald could as well be in his room crying himself to sleep because Archie was the one out at the festival.

This was a break Archie needed for so long. All those depressing days after the king's death was not healthy to him. Today was a day to take a break and put a slight pause on Renald's role as prince.

A heavy hand slapped against his back.

Archie whipped out his knife and turned around, ready to attack his ambusher.

"Woah buddy," The woman said. "It's me, Jean. Glad to see you're as quick-witted as ever."

Archie let out a sigh and smiled at his old friend. "Bloody hell mate, you could have given me a heart attack."

Jean was a muscular tall woman who was a theft just like Archie, though her style was brute force instead of stealth. She was the person who took Archie in when he started out as a theft, soon they became good friends and someone Archie can completely rely on when needed. To Renald, however, she was nothing more than a brute thug that needed to be put behind bars.

"Where have you been little guy?" Jean questioned. "Haven't seen since the death of...you know...don't tell me you actually grieved for the old bastard."

"Ha, me? No, by my mother's grave no. Just got a bit sick that's all. Luckily it passed around the time of the festival."

"Good, been dealing with too many grieving idiots. They act like the guy was their friend and not just some power-hungry moron. So happy for this festival, I need something good before shit goes down."

That moron...was my father. "Beg a pardon? What exactly do you mean."

"Come on, have you been sleeping all those times you were sick? The king's two sons is obviously going to be sparring with one another for the throne. If they're both just as stubborn as their father is, very likely that civil war to occur. One side being on prince pansy cry a lot, the other side being on prince pretty boy,"...really, pansy cry a lot? meanwhile my brother gets to be the pretty prince..."And you know who's going to suffer, it's neither of those two dickheads, is going to be us, the little guys and..."

Jean trailed off her little tangent and she stared behind Archie.

"Speak of the devil..." She murmured.

Archie followed her gaze...and soon Archie vanished as Renald angrily reemerged.

Prince Caspian was here in the festival, wearing his suit of armor. With no effort at all, the people praised and bowed to him, like he was somehow already the king. He was pampered and worshipped where he went like a God. All he needed to do was to smile and wave at people and somehow he got all the respect he needed. Renald worked to get respected, he used every skill he had to gain an inkling of admiration Caspian was getting.

Where was he when the officials fought and argued like barbarians? Wasn't he meant to help on running the kingdom instead of parading himself like a prized pig? What an irresponsible, frustrating, punchable, piece of-

"Hey Archie, let's get out of here, the air is starting to stink." For once, Renald, not as Archie, agreed with Jean.

...

Soon Archie returned in control as they went near where the dancing was occurring. There was no formality or posture here, people just let their body move on their own like puppets on strings. It was a beautiful sight that Archie wanted to get involved in.

"You got eyes on anyone little guy?" Jean asked. "Don't be too picky, you need every chance you got."

"Shut it, you bastard...I'm pretty too..."

"What?"

"Nothing...anyway. I think I did spot someone. Do you see those three? The muscular dude, and the two girls? That big one seems like someone you'll be interested in. The tall girl seems to be...um...flustered, hard to tell with just one eye. And the smaller one seems to be overjoyed with this festival, which must mean she could be easily fooled.

"We'll go dance with them, maybe mingle a little, and then...quickly rob them. You good with that?"

"Eh, preferred just knocking them out but I'll let this one slide."

Archie rolled his eyes as he headed towards the three. He smiled with anticipation and excitement as he headed for his next big score, but he must first have a seemingly innocent persona. Yes, a persona for a persona, Archie was truly Renald's best act.

"Excuse me, m'lady." He said to the smaller girl, not getting a good look at her face due to the eyepatch. "I must say I never saw anyone like you around here before. Not every day do you get to see a new face. The name's Archie, and I was wondering if you and your friends would be interested in dancing with me and my buddy over there.

"Of course, I'm nothing but a stranger to you all so no hard feelings if you refuse, we're all here to enjoy ourselves after all and thus we should all feel comfortable under this blessed day."

 

[Night Write]

Location: Storage Room, Corridor, Private Room, and Town Hall
Mentions: Prince Renald ( Aravini ), and Prince Caspian ( Inheritance )
Interactions: Nari ( Heda ), Nobles, and rich Merchants



DAMIAN

Storage Room

The corners to Damian’s lips checked up slightly as Nari agreed to the deal. Information gathering was harmless. She reminded him that her services weren’t exclusive. “As always.” He responded before she continued with her regular disclaimer that he had heard many times before. “Of course, but we’ll discuss that transaction if it turns up.”

And with that, Nari left. Damian waited a bit before he left as well incase someone was unintentionally… or intentionally watching. Once he left, he checked the shadows that were cast by the beams and pillars that held up the meeting area. It was probably late afternoon to early evening by now. The group of nobles were beginning to thin. He’d have to hurry… but first, he had someone else to meet.

Corridor

Damian didn’t bother undressing. He headed quickly to a corridor that he knew would be unattended for a short period of time. On his way, he picked up a sack of provisions that he had left hidden in a shadowed corner. Thankfully, it hadn’t been noticed and was left undisturbed.

He walked quickly, but mindful not to make too much noise with his nobleman’s soft shoes. It didn’t take long for a dirty scamp to come into view. The boy’s eyes lit up when he saw Damian. That was good, that meant he had good news. Once they were close, Damian knelt down to the boy’s level. “What did you find?” He asked kindly.

The boy looked from side to side, making sure no one was around. He didn’t want to get booted and miss out on Damian’s side of the bargain. “All the princes and most of the guardians have left the castle, they’re at the festival.” Damian nodded. “Good job, and now for my end of the deal.” Damian handed the boy a few coppers.

He was mindful not to give the boy too much to where if someone stopped him, they’d think he robbed someone and then be prosecuted as a thief. Instead, he gave the boy a few coppers and several loafs of peasant’s bread, potatoes, turnips, onions, and a lone apple all wrapped up in a burlap sack. It would look like he only had a couple of peasant’s breads. It wouldn’t help for the boy to be robbed by other scamps. To keep your connections, it was important they got one’s just deserts for a job well done.

It would look like the boy was just going home after meager provision shopping for his family. This was a great deal for the boy because the food he had was considered lowly and for serfs but would feed him and his family and he got a few copper out of the deal.

The two split quickly before anyone caught them.

Damian had to quickly make his way to his own chambers. Thankfully, the guards around his area were used to him arriving to his room in a variety of clothes. It was just accepted that he was the black sheep of the family, and he wasn’t really given much thought.

Town Hall

Once inside, Damian made it a point to wash his face quickly and change his clothes to a simple, but regal attire… He made his way to the group of nobles and well-to-do merchants that were still squabbling… only, they had been bickering all day and it was now evening. They were tired, desperate, hungry…

Pliable.

Damian didn’t bother with the podium, instead addressing the men at their own level. “Gentlemen!” Damian called in a voice that was assertive, but not demanding, it wasn’t domineering, but neither was it slimy and candy coated. He sounded normal, but also respectable.

“Gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please,” Enough turned regarding Damian with curiosity, hostility, suspicion, and just fatigue.

“Some of you may recognize me as Prince Damian.” Groans afoot was his return.

“I know, but I’m not here to make things worse, I’m here to make things better.” He was casual in the way he approached the group, and as the group’s attention began to focus on him with varying expressions of acceptance or rejection, they seemed to be interested in what he had to say.

“I’ve been watching my brothers do their best to determine a general direction for the kingdom. I understand how such confusion and vagueness causes instability, leaving the predictability of our future murky and chaotic.”

He was now with the group, though set apart by his regal clothing, but it wasn’t so regal that it was alienating. “What we need is the legislation, passing of bills and budgets to resume; the grinding standstill of our governance has slowed causing inflation and yet the flow of our capital isn’t adapting to the strain.” The group started to form a half circle around him.

“We need to maintain legitimacy,” He was speaking to the nobles now. “We need to maintain the proper order of taxes,” He started to lose the merchants, but gained the nobility.

“But such taxes must be reasonable! A Kingdom cannot subsist be strangling it’s indispensable businesses.” The merchants were rehooked, the now nobility suspicious.

But both were listening.

“My brothers, Prince Resnald and Prince Caspian, are doing everything that they know how to do…” ome grumbling and a slow rise to a repeat of earlier disagreements responded. “But despite their…best efforts… they need help.” Eyes narrowed on Damian. “And to do this, I suggest we unite under a common agenda. Regardless of who will take succession, our kingdom must continue otherwise with business as usual, or we will all suffer from the lack of capital!”

“And what should this ‘common agenda be?’” came a derisive heckler.

“Taxes. First and foremost, we must lower taxes on the traders so that they can afford to lower prices of their goods, afford to import and export more goods, and increase the flow of capital.”

“Oh? And who will soak up the lack of taxes? The noblemen?” One such Duke scoffed.

“No,” Damian stated. “I will speak to my brothers to help them see solutions, help them see that whatever the issues we face, decisions must be made. We have to remember that they’re just doing what they know. They cannot be faulted for their traits when they’re doing only what they know how.”

“What do you mean ‘only what they know how’?? Are you saying Prince Renald and Prince Caspian are stupid??” Challenged someone who couldn’t believe the audacity of what Prince Damian was insinuating.

“Of course not,” Damian smoothed. “After all, they’re maintaining public appearance at the festival. Maintaining a public figure is important for any political figure. But don’t worry, I’m here, with you all, to help everyone help the Princes see other ways of governance.”

The carrot. Damian was coming off as effective, responsible, and like he had a self-sustaining plan… almost. Who would pay the additional taxes?

“And the tax issue…?” Came the suspicious sound of one of the nobles.

“The government should borrow just enough money needed to embark on construction and infrastructure projects. By paying people for actual jobs, not just handing it out, the flow of capital will be sustained through real work that will have continued employment and dependable flow.” Damian took a sidestep, looking at the faces of the fatigued and tired men who were the heavy hitters of the political and public arena. He had them hooked. “We have always been a profitable Kingdom, once we fix our economic floundering, paying back the loans will right itself out through the normal flow of goods and no one will be strangled under taxes produced from an inefficient government.”

Damian paused for any questions or hecklers that he might need to address. But the fatigued group seemed to be hanging onto his words, desperate for a light at the end of the tunnel. “You have all been performing you due diligence to maintain civic duty. It has been admirable and hasn’t gone unnoticed, especially by me. I will work with all of you, one step at a time, one agenda issue at a time, until our Kingdom is positioned as it ought to be!”

Dubious but hopeful glances were shared. Dared they hope?

Damian gave an easing smile. “I think you all have earned a well-deserved celebration at the festival… or maybe go see your families and rest. You all have done exceedingly well today with your passion and drive.”

This seemed to be an accepted end to the political bickering, the idea of a common agenda with Prince Damian guiding their unified voice weighing their tired minds. They dispersed completely. Most of which heading to their homes, perhaps to rest and eat with their families and turn in for the night or get dressed for the festival instead.

Self-Satisfaction. It was so fortuitous that all of his brothers had gone to the festival leaving the political cleave for him to handle… Though, to Prince Renald’s credit, he had tried and probably would’ve been successful without Damian’s ‘help.’ Hopefully Prince Renald wouldn’t realize how capable he was before the Bastard Prince swindled enough support.

Damian headed up to his rooms to dress in yet a different outfit.

He had another meeting to attend to…

 

[MarieK]

Location: Town Hall
Mentions/Interacts with: Night Write (Prince Damian)

Leah

Most days, Leah was fine. But then there were others where the tides of grief rolled in and swallowed her up, pulling her into their current and dragging her out into a sea of misery.

That day happened to be one of them.

After parting with Ivanoff and Corielle, she stopped by the tavern and bought the best bottle of alcohol her meager salary could afford. It smelled awful and tasted worse, scorching her throat with every sip, but the bitter taste eventually ebbed along with her sobriety.

A messenger. That was all she was. An ex-guardian whom the Guard pitied and therefore employed as their errand-runner.

She supposed she should be grateful, but not today. Today, she'd wallow in her grief and self-pity. Tomorrow, she would wake up with a headache and regret, but she didn't care.

The streets were dusty and jammed pack with couples- or at least it appeared that way to her. Wherever she turned, there was someone holding hands or kissing or guiding their children into a merchant's booth. It made her long for what she couldn't have.

Bitterness seeped into old wounds like water into a sponge. She chortled, recognizing the emotion for what it was but powerless to prevent it from overtaking her.

The hood from her cloak concealed her identity from those around her as the drinking woman slipped into the town hall and through a door toward the back of the room that led to a staircase. Cobwebs occupied nigh every inch of the stairs. Few knew of the passageway and fewer ever ventured to go in.

At the end of the stairs, someone had placed a few boards across the rafters for extra storage space. Several crates lined the wall, but she slid between them and maneuvered herself-and the bottle- onto a rafter. She was high enough no one was likely to notice her, but she could still hear the conversations taking place on the floor. The sounds of bickering carried and reverberated across the rafters. Not that she cared to listen in.

When she had first married, her husband's father had been adamant on him following in his old man's footsteps and taking up a more political career. Blacksmithing irked his father, but not as much as marrying a guardian. Still, they worked out their differences and her husband had agreed to try making his father happy for a season.

He would spend hours at the Town Hall, listening to people bicker and fight. Leah hated every second of it, but he never complained. He was just and helped people solve issues.

He cared. And that was what made him a terrible politician.

A lull in conversation caught Leah's attention. With one hand on the rafter in front of her and another on the bottle, she leaned forward, scanning the crowd. Prince Damian had emerged, deceit in his eyes and agenda on his tongue.

Or at least it was what Leah noticed, but that's what she saw and heard on every politician.

His speech was elegant and smooth, treading lightly enough to remain civil while passionate enough to promise valuable change in the kingdom. Leah didn't believe it to be practiced, but neither did she think he would have tried to help if it hadn't benefitted him. One look at the men in the room and she could almost see the hooks hanging from their cheeks. He had snagged them.

She rolled her eyes, but what did she know? Leah had never met him or his brothers. All she had known were the rumors that the king may not have been so benevolent behind closed doors.

Glancing through the crowd again, she noticed that no guardians were in attendance. It wasn't unusual, but it made her curious. Why would he wait for them to be gone?

But maybe he hadn't. Maybe, it had only been convenient timing.

The meeting had concluded and Damian was walking away, by the time Leah looked back up. Deciding it was best to leave herself, she shifted her position, but one leg missed the rafter and she was forced to let go of the bottle to hold onto it lest she plummet to the floor below.

The bottle hit the floor and shattered. Fortunately, it missed those standing around. It startled the men, but when they looked up to find where it had come, she was gone.

-
Interacts with: Night Write and FireMaiden
Location: Festival

Arya

The festival was underway with dancing, games, and tournaments. It was a nice reprieve from the social tension within the kingdom and Arya prayed it was a sign that things would be headed toward normalcy once again.

Just as they started toward the clearing where couples were dancing, a man approached the princess and asked her for a dance and Roawn to dance with a woman, but Arya's gaze never left the man's face to search for the one he indicated. He looked familiar, but she couldn't place him. Still, something was off and she wasn't comfortable with leaving the princess alone to dance with him and she could not offer to dance in her stead since she had plans.

With her arm still looped through Yvette's, she took hold of the princess by her hand and linked it with Roawn's hand. She had reached out and grabbed his hand without turning her back on the man.

"They already have plans to dance with each other," Arya said, though not impolite. "And I have somewhere to be."

Feigning a smile in Yvette's direction, Arya left them to dance and disappeared through the crowd.

-
Interacts with: Inheritance

Unknown Girl

Tears streaked down the muddied face of the young girl as she tumbled out of the brush and behind Prince Caspian. Her breath labored from running, she resorted to pulling on his sleeve and pointing toward the forest until her words could form on her heavy breaths.

"My mother, please," she begged, yanking on his arm even as she spoke. "She fell and hurt her head. Please, come."

Then she let go and raced back into the trees, leaving him to follow or risk losing her trail long enough to get someone else to help. ​

 

[Inheritance]

Prince Caspian​

Caspian jolted out of his thoughts as he heard something darting out of the brush. Turning around quickly, he saw a dirty and disheveled young girl charging out of the bushes toward him. Before he could say anything she was tugging on him and sputtering out something about her mother being hurt. In the few seconds he had, he inspected the young girl and could see tears streaking down her face.

"Your moth-hey wait!" He bit off the end of the sentence as she suddenly turned around and ran back into the brush. "Wait up!" He called out, plunging into the wood without thinking.

As he followed her through the brush, her small form just visible in the still fading light, he began to think about what was happening. This was a little strange, and normally he liked to have more than one person with him (he had been trained to be cautious), but this little girl needed help. He wasn't about to let her wander off alone and risk more harm coming to her, so off he went, running as fast as he could through the thick underbrush to keep up with her. No matter what was ahead, he intended to help this young girl anyway he could. Her mother would not die on his watch.

MarieK

 

[Heda]

{Location: Private Chambers (Palace) -> Festival }
{Interactions: -- }
{Mentions: Arya MarieK , Prince Damian Night Write , Prince Caspian Inheritance }

Fingers drummed against the soft leather of Nari's arm. She was staring at her vast array of outfits, trying to decide on the best approach for the festival. Brows knitted and lips upturned as she considered, forming a frown. Did she want to go to the festival? No but she was being paid too. Nari couldn't find joy in events such as these, not when they reminded her of a time before her life turned upside down. She would have been content to spend the rest of her life as an acrobat, bringing excitement to the lives of the commoners with her daredevil tightrope act. Now here she was, sulking around in the shadows, working for the royal family to better their lives.

A sigh forced its way through her nose. She turned from the open rack. Her leathers would do fine. The spy would be going to gather intel, not socialise; which could easily be done from the shadows.

Her fingers ran along the inside of her other forearm and the empty ringlets there. These usually held the poisoned darts that delivered death. The absence of their weight left Nari feeling uneasy, especially with so many Guardians roaming the city but they weren't her enemies. Instead, she quickly gathered her other tools, hooking them to the belt at her waist. Brass knuckles and climbing spikes. Then she was on her way.

Nari didn't take the route out of the palace courtyard like everyone else did. She had her own way in and out, between the shifting guard patrols. When the spy was free and clear of the inner walls surrounding the palace, Nari looked for the closest rooftop, taking the quickest and easiest path up. It wasn't difficult for someone of her skills to find purchase in the stone walls. Heaving herself over the lip of the roof with ease, Nari made her way toward the sounds of joy and laughter and flickering lights. It seemed the festival was well under way.

Arriving with barely a sweat breaking on her brow, Nari searched for a decent vantage point to settle down and watch the proceedings of the common folk enjoying the music, dances and open merchant booths. It didn't take long to find a perch on a balcony overlooking the main thoroughfare of the festival. It was here she waited and watched like a hawk for anything to catch her eye.

Time passed slowly, gaze searching the ever flowing movement of the crowd gathered below her. Families, groups of friends, the elderly swarmed the area. To anyone else there appeared to be nothing of interest but Nari was able to pinpoint a few individuals that caught her interest. Prince Caspian was the biggest fish in this sea and he was not hard to miss in his gleaming armour. Always the show poney. It wasn't unusual for him to parade around for his people. Unless something of major interested happened, Nari was sure Damian wouldn't be interested. He probably already knew his half-brother would be down here.

Next, she spied a small group interacting near the dancers. They wouldn't have caught her attention, aside from the two Guardians flanking a young woman. From this distance, Nari couldn't make out any distinguishing details. She was simply too far away but it was the other figure wearing a heavy cloak keeping the spies attention on the group. It wasn't unusual for Guardians to enjoy themselves at events like these but Prince Damian expressed a heavy interest in their dealings.

Nari waited, watching, hoping for anything she could use. Patience was key here and eventually it paid off. One of the Guardians broke away from the group. Nari quickly tucked away what little information she could gather at this distance about the clothing choice of this Guardian and stood, descending from the balcony and landing with a soft thud on the roof of the building below. She crouched, scurrying along and keeping her target within view as best she could. Following.

 

[MarieK]

Location: Forest
Interacts with: Inheritance

Arya

The girl sped through the trees, trying her best to elude her pursuer. If she had chosen the right man, it would be Prince Caspian on her heels. If not, Arya would simply apologize to the man the girl had accidentally chosen. No harm done, right?

They weaved in and out of her line of sight as she watched in hiding. It was probably not wise to spook the prince, much less ambush him, but she had to speak to him privately without anyone knowing. He would forgive her once she explained herself. Or at least, that was her plan.

As plans did, her's had already unraveled once that afternoon when she had to leave Yvette and Roawn alone to dance. She had fought the temptation to stay and ensure no touch exceeded the boundaries demanded by propriety. Instead, she had lured a prince, presumably the future king, into the forest with the plans to pounce on him, draw her sword on him, and ask him a favor.

Yeah. Her plan was flawless.

But someone had to do something, even if it was a desperate, hopeless something.

As the crashing of boots against frail branches neared, her muscles tensed, ready to move. The girl's yellow curls flashed by and on cue, Arya fell from the branch, landing effortlessly on her feet directly in Caspian's path. Sword extended, she pointed it at him, demanding his attention.

"Prince Caspian," she greeted. A smirk painted her lips, enticing his hand to withdraw his own blade. Arya could not hurt the man and maintain her status as a guardian, but a knot of tension had formed between her shoulder blades and she longed to work it out in a good fight.

The girl that had tricked him appeared. Her eyes were as round as the moon and her lips parted as she stared at him, a bit sheepish. Arya smiled at her and handed her a few coins.

"Good job, Penelope," Arya said. "Now go find your mother at the festival."

The woman watched the girl run off, giving the prince a wide birth as she did, and smoothed a few stray wisps of hair back against her head with her free hand. If Arya was attractive it wasn't in the traditional sense. She had curves, somewhere, but they were hidden beneath the layers of fabric and leather of her training gear, and her dark hair and green eyes were a stark contrast against her pale skin.

Or maybe it was the smug look that boasted her success of baiting the kingdom's finest into the forest that tainted her features.

Regardless, she was not one to be trifled with.

"Forgive me for meeting you like this," offered Arya, but her tone was flippant. "You see, I have a favor to ask of you and I could not risk someone eavesdropping."​