Fantasy All's Fair

[Aerynth]

"Oh, is that so?" Balin raised his eyebrow, clearly surprised by Remin's reaction. Within moments, though, the surprise melted into something that looked more like understanding. "I see. Don't worry, my queen; we shall not pressure you. We are very well aware that this plan may pose a danger for you as well. Were it not the only way, I wouldn't have dared to propose it in the first place." So he considered her to be a coward, then. At least it seemed that he didn't see through her ruse. "Should you ever change your mind, though, don't forget that we're here, at your service. Athea hasn't forgotten its true rulers." The song went on and on, with no end in sight, and so the dance had to continue as well. "An undereducated soldier, though? The king seemed more dangerous than that. The rumors have it that he's a fine strategist. You must be quite crafty yourself to have fooled him so completely." His expression was completely unreadable by that point. Did he suspect her of something? Only gods themselves could tell.

"I would love to visit your university and I will try to do it as soon as possible, but I am not entirely sure when that time will come," Cyreia admitted. "There are so many things to do." So many things that she didn't really know where to begin, really. In a way, the prospect of returning home was terrifying. The reality of her new position, of being the king, would finally translate into something other than people calling her by a different title. Into actual ruling. God, the technicalities of it would be overwhelming, wouldn't they? Not with Remin by my side, she reminded to herself. They would manage somehow; they would have to. Knowing that did calm her a bit, though it changed nothing about the fact that she would likely be too busy to pursue her own education at Olyvaire. "I may have to resort to your graduates," Cyreia said. "I'm sure that they will do a fine job. Thank you for your willingness to help, magister Tyforth. Is there anything I can do for you in return?" The words about being in his debt hadn't been uttered thoughtlessly. Cyreia may have been a king now, but that didn't mean that she intended to use her new position to coerce favors out of people without ever repaying them. Such behavior only ever produced bad blood. No, she wanted the man to know that the relationships she established were reciprocal, or at least as reciprocal as the circumstances allowed them to be. Wasn't that how alliances were made?

 

[Conifer]

“One can be a fine strategist and be equally undereducated.” She says. Gods, this is the longest song in the world. And even after it, she wouldn’t be able to run off and find her husband - there would be eyes on her. Gods knew how many. He’d said ‘we’ - it was far more than just him, she was sure. The support would have been reassuring if it didn’t come with the lingering threat for Avther. She couldn’t avoid eyes that she didn’t know were looking at her. “He’s good at war, I’ll admit, but doesn’t know the first thing about much else. Especially not ruling. He seems eager enough to defer to my judgement and take my advice.” Gods, this was making her all sound naive, wasn’t it? Like she was throwing too much trust into a man that was lying in wait to betray her. The war hero, stringing the young queen along with pretty words just to use them all against her later. There was no clean way to handle any of this. “King Loran wouldn’t have wanted someone secure in their abilities in the position. That would be harder to manipulate to his whims. All that’s tasked of me is to influence him first, before Eupriunia can play their hand.” A small spark of an idea - risky, but perhaps good enough. She felt sick at implying any of this was manipulation of him on her part, but there was little else she could think to do. “What do you think the purpose of this trip was? If Eupriunia doesn’t know his whereabouts, they can’t send word to him. They can’t influence his ideas, his plans. Two weeks isn’t a terribly long time, but it’s long enough to gain his trust and begin to encourage his ideas away from his own, or from King Loran’s. Two weeks, in relative isolation, that they don’t have.”

“I’ll be sure to keep your offer in mind.” He smiles. “There’s half a dozen things that a king’s favor could do for us, but I personally don’t know where that would be best applied. If taking you up on that later, when I’ve had a chance to discuss it with the headmistress and such, were possible, then it would be greatly appreciated.” He seems to think, somewhat, that that might be stretching the offer’s validity. “But for now, don’t worry too terribly about it. We’re more than happy to help you with your burgeoning abilities. When I return the school, I’ll reach out to some of the folks I think would be best to help you, and advise they pay you a visit to further discuss the matter.”

 

[Aerynth]

"That is true, I suppose," Balin said, his brow furrowing slightly. Remin's arguments were certainly convincing, if a bit unexpected, and the man seemed to consider them carefully. "Perhaps we have underestimated you, my queen, and for that I have to apologize. We did have your best interests at heart, though. We still do." Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, the song ended and he let go of her. "Thank you for the dance, my queen. Should I escort you back to the table or would you like to dance some more?" The musicians were already preparing to play their next piece, so Remin would have to decide quickly.

"Of course," Cyreia said with a smile. "The offer isn't limited. Feel free to discuss it with me whenever it suits you. And really, I would have been rather open to helping the university flourish even without the kindness you have shown me, so do not hesitate to contact me with whatever you might need. I'm sure that we can cooperate more closely in the future." This was actually going rather smoothly, wasn't it? Perhaps for the first time since her arrival in Athea, it felt like she performed well in her role. Sure, there had been some semi-important decisions even before this, except that Remin had guided her hand back then. Cyreia had been thankful for her support - and still was, eternally so - but she couldn't rely on it forever. Her wife couldn't be expected to handle everything. Both of them had to contribute and, well, this felt like the first step into the right direction. Perhaps Cyreia could be decent at this. "Now, as much as I've enjoyed our discussion, I'm afraid that I have to... go and socialize." Some of her unwillingness to do so probably seeped through her voice, but magister Tyforth out of all people would likely understand her. "Once again, thank you for your help. It has been a pleasure." What to do now, though? Well, I suppose that finding lady Everbright is the most logical choice. Remin was trapped in her company, after all, and leaving her alone for too long with the chatty lady seemed like a betrayal of the highest order. Besides, Cyreia had promised that she'd talk to her later, didn't she? Keeping one's promises, no matter how irrelevant, was important. It set a precedent. None of it filled her with happiness or a desire to actually interact with most of those people, but she still made her way to lady Everbright's table. Bizzarelly enough, the people sitting there seemed to be discussing... some strange meal that apparently had snails as its main ingredient? Well, she didn't have to understand everything.

"Oh, my king!" the lady smiled at her the moment she saw her. "I was about to send for you, actually. You were gone for so long that I was certain magister Tyforth must have put you in chains."

Cyreia laughed at that idea as she sat down. "He didn't have to. What he said was actually quite fascinating. By the way, I'm pleased to meet all of you, ladies and gentlemen. I hope that you weren't having too much fun without me." Finding the acceptable words to say felt slightly easier after the conversation with Tyforth; Remin would surely be proud of her. Speaking of Remin, she... wasn't actually there, but Cyreia supposed that that would change at some point. What was her wife up to, though? Had she gone to look for her? That would have been unfortunate.

 

[Conifer]

“I appreciate the concern,” Remin replies. “Truly, I do. It’s comforting to know that there’s those out there that are willing to support me in such a way.” The rest of the dance felt like a cage tumbling down a cliff, and she could barely focus on the steps, too busy trying to spot a glimpse of Avther in the room. Thankfully, she managed to right as Balin spoke up - if the question hadn’t already been answered by her discomfort with lingering too much longer in his presence, it was answered now. “The table, I think, though this was a lovely dance.” She smiles, gently leading him off the floor before the band can start playing again. It was hard to not seem too eager to be depart from their conversation, but she did her best.

The conversation had some time to start back up before Remin reached the table, once Avther arrived. One of the young woman leaned towards him, beaming bright and curious. “My king-” She says. “-I’ve heard that in Eupriunia, only one god is worshipped. There can’t be truth to that, can there? I can’t /imagine/. Don’t you have any festivals? And the same person who blesses harvests caring about death? Or love? It seems so /complicated/. And so much for them to handle!”

Remin slid herself into the chair besides Avther, well aware of Balin’s eyes on her as she did so - but it was only right for a wife to sit beside her husband, wasn’t it? It was only proper. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. What might have brought scorn was the way her hand sought out his under the table as soon as Balin couldn’t see - she didn’t dare say a word as she laced her fingers into his and held just slightly too tight in her anxiety. He was safe, he was here. It was alright. Everything was fine. She had handled it - or had seemed to, at least - and he would be safe. She’d just keep him in sight the rest of the night.

 

[Aerynth]

"But it is indeed true, my lady," Cyreia said with a smile. "Our god is fond of delegating duties. He cares mainly for the matters of life and death, and we deal with the rest of it on our own." That was an oversimplification, of course, but she didn't think that the woman would have appreciated being dragged into a philosophical debate. Describing the darker parts associated with the Eupriunian way would have been awkward, too. Not many people were prepared to hear stories about slaughtering your enemies as a form of worship at a birthday party. Or anywhere else, for that matter. "I have to confess that I find your arrangement equally baffling. Are your gods not jealous of each other? Do they not fight for followers?" Cyreia didn't think they did, mainly because she doubted that any gods existed in the first place, but saying that aloud likely wouldn't win her any favors. No, she would play their games with them; both real games and the metaphorical ones. Expressing interest in their culture was the right choice, wasn't it?

When Remin returned, she couldn't help but welcome her back with her warmest smile. While they couldn't afford to be affectionate in public, treating her with cold disregard wouldn't be a good look, either. That would only feed the rumors about her cruelty. No, there had to be a balance of sorts. Cyreia just hoped that she didn't look as foolishly in love, as enchanted by her as she felt in that moment. Their separation, however short it may have been, only made her more aware of her beauty. "My queen," she said softly. (Perhaps too softly? How else was she supposed to speak with Remin, though? Her own voice didn't obey her.) Quick, say something. Something that isn't terribly stupid. "I hope that you've been enjoying yourself. I also hope that you haven't revealed anything shameful about me in my absence," she finally settled on as her fingers wrapped around hers secretly, her tone light and teasing. Jests seemed appropriate for the occasion; more appropriate than sterile formality.

 

[Conifer]

“They did manage to coax from me your adventures in Easthaven, with those bandits.” She admits with a soft laugh. Gods, it feels forced, even for the situation - but hopefully few will notice and fewer will comment. “But nothing more embarrassing than foolhardy bravery, no.” She didn’t want to sit here. She didn’t want to be here anymore. Any enjoyment from the party had been sapped away. How many people here would be willing to deal with the man at her side if she simply said the word? How many people here would be willing to deal with him /without/ her word? Balin showed restraint, but that didn’t mean everyone would. There were always those more intense than one’d expect them to be, or want them to be, and Remin had foolishly not expected this much. Would these people be equally willing to replace /her/, if she showed too many signs of treachery? It all made her head spin. She reached for the glass of water at her place and took a steadying sip.

“A terrible idea,” the lady teases, delighted to have the king at her table. “But very romantic. But I’m sure /you/ have some stories worth listening to. The Eupriunian military! I’ve heard awful things - surely some of them must be true. And to be king, now, must be such a change.”

 

[Aerynth]

Was Remin alright? Cyreia had no real reason to assume otherwise and yet, yet her laughter sounded just a bit insincere. It didn't look like anyone else noticed, though. Was she just seeing things? Or maybe I just know her better than them. There were still aspects of her that Cyreia didn't understand, couldn't be expected to understand after roughly two weeks, but the way Remin laughed? Oh, she had heard it over and over - the sweetest sound in the world - and this... well, it was similar, but also completely different. Slightly tense, perhaps? She would have loved to ask her about it, but that would have inevitably resulted in garnering unwanted attention. Hopefully it wasn't anything too serious. Cyreia would simply inquire about it later, when some of lady Everbright's curiosity was sated.

"Probably not as many as you'd think," she smiled gently and squeezed Remin's hand under the table; a quiet reminder that she was here and things would turn out to be alright, no matter what bothered her in that moment. That they'd handle every crisis fate decided to test them with. "Often, my days were filled with mundanity. Taking care of logistics, filling out paperwork and the like. A lot of it was dowringht boring. I won't lie, though, there were some highlights. Hmm, let me think." What to tell them about? Making that decision wasn't as easy as it probably seemed, mainly because Cyreia didn't want to scare the lady too much. Some of the things she experienced would be too much for her gentle ears, and sharing them could damage her reputation in the long run. It had to be something interesting enough, but not too interesting. "Once," she finally said, "I was tasked with capturing a fortress. Initially, it seemed like a boring mission; in such cases, we usually cut off their supply of food to starve them out. Slow, certainly, yet reliable. I could have proceeded like that, too, but the lord of that fortress challenged me to a duel instead. Promised to give up if I won for a chance to kill me. I felt confident in my abilities, so I accepted, but the moment he appeared in front of the gates, his own men shot him in the back. It turned out he was a despot and they were waiting for the right moment to turn on him. They had no problem with giving us the access to the fortress afterwards, and we actually ended up drinking with them that night." It wasn't a very heroic story, granted, but Cyreia didn't actually have many of those. Stories full of death? Definitely. Killing people had little to do with heroism, though, and if she were to describe her one of her bloodier memories in detail, the lady would understand that, too.

 

[Conifer]

However unheroic the story, the lady and her friends seemed utterly engrossed in whatever he said - they were a captive audience, gasping at the twist that left the lord’s death, laughing charmingly at the admittance that they’d drank together. “Gods,” the lady laughs (not unlike a bird’s chirping,) “It’s all so-- I couldn’t even imagine. You were just going to duel him! Just like that! Thank fate you didn’t have to - what if you’d been felled then? Then our queen might not have been so lucky, to be married to someone so handsome.” She leans in, as if it’s some sort of secret, towards Avther. “Trust me, some of the rumored prospects for her, before you came along, were...well, I won’t be rude-”

“For once,” One of her friends teases, and earns an amused “Hush!” from another.

“-but we’ll just say that her luck with you is exceptional.”

“Wasn’t Walter Montgomery one of them?” Another chimes in. “I saw him earlier - time hasn’t done him many favors, has it? And he was wearing /bronze/, gods. It’s no gold, but it’s certainly not helping him.”

“I saw. And to my party!” The lady rolls her eyes, and chatter about whoever this man is seems to continue, Remin and Avther entirely forgotten in their gossiping about whatever colors were still worth wearing.

“Who else, my queen?” Someone eventually looks up, re-focusing the conversation on whatever drama they can pull from the couple. “What other bachelors were shunned for our handsome king here?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Remin admits. She hadn’t involved herself much in all of that. There’d been no point to it - she’d have options, she supposed, but not really. There was always going to be someone who was clearly best suited for the crown, and she was always going to choose them. There was no point to it otherwise. “The advisors and the late king and queen were handling most of those affairs.”

“Well, then we can just assume everyone was terribly outdated and ugly, and that your luck is impeccable.” The lady laughs. “A hero from a far away land-”

“Eupriunia isn’t far away!” One of the men speaks up, amused. "The capital's further from here than Eupriunia."

“Shush, it’s far enough. And /anyways/, a hero from a not far away land is better than any stuffy noble here, too.” She finishes, glaring playfully at her friend.

 

[Aerynth]

"Well," Cyreia shrugged, "I mostly agreed because I thought it would save us a lot of time. Sieges aren't terribly eventful and I also had other places to be." Distantly, she was aware that this type of thinking wasn't exactly normal - endangering one's life just to avoid a few weeks of boredom - but it had felt entirely logical back then. It still did. Would that ever change for her? Probably not, she supposed. Certain scars ran too deep. The grim thoughts, however, disappeared under the onslaught of... compliments? They were compliments, weren't they? God, Cyreia had no idea how to react to this. Of course, she knew that she was good-looking. She had eyes, for one, and her comrades had occasionally teased her for being 'a pretty face', back when her position had allowed them to do so. That had been a long time ago, though, and she was not used to being talked about like this. It felt weirdly invasive more than anything else, really, even if these people likely meant no harm. Not just the way they talked about her, but about Remin's potential marriages, too. How could they speak about something so personal with such ease, as if it was a plot of some theatre play? Something created for their amusement? God, this was her life. Did they have no shame?

"Ah. Well. I don't know what to say to that," she responded, for once entirely honest. She knew what she wanted to say, true, but it wasn't worth it. Emotional outburts wouldn't get her very far. Besides, they were just children. Their age didn't matter. Some people, especially those who had never been responsible for anything, had the privilege of remaining in this child-like state forever, untouched by anything resembling reality. Cyreia shouldn't blame them for it, even if it made her blood boil. Perhaps she would have been the same, had the circumstances been just a little different. It wasn't their fault. "Thank you, I suppose?" she managed to say despite everything. Did it feel sincere? That was hard for her to say, but it would have to do. They wouldn't get more than that out of her. "Though I'm sure that my queen has her fair share of trouble with me as well. I may not wear bronze or gold like some of those gentlemen, but..." What would be safe to share? Safe and interesting enough to direct their attention elsewhere, away from all of this? "... she has to hold my hand through the most mundane things. I only learned to dance yesterday, for example, thanks to her endless patience."

Cyreia glanced at Remin in an attempt to estimate whether she was having fun. It certainly didn't look like that to her, which gave her an idea. "My queen, would you like to enjoy the fruit of your efforts?" she asked with a gentle smile. "You worked so hard and it seems that a new song is starting." Stealing a moment or two for themselves certainly looked like a tempting alternative to spending the rest of the evening seated at this table and listening to the group of nobles talk about them as if they weren't present at all. Cyreia could use the opportunity to ask her whether something was wrong, too.

 

[Conifer]

In this moment, nothing short of leaving sounded more appealing. “We’d best.” She agrees. “I don’t want to waste the time I spent teaching you,” She tries to tease, but her thoughts are still elsewhere. This was almost shaking her more than the attempt on her own life had, and that was...concerning? It was something, certainly, and she didn’t know what to make of it. (She did, if she were honest with herself. Her life being in some form of peril wasn’t uncommon. His? His was, too, in a different way - even more than hers, with his being a soldier - but she hadn’t had the time to grow accustomed to it yet. And this sort of harm was different than the threat of a sword where you expected swords. This sort of harm was because of his connection to her.

“Come on,” She says, leading him out onto the floor, not waiting to see the reactions of those at the table (especially not Balin’s. She can’t even think about looking at him, seeing his face, his reaction to her willingness to dance with the man they’d just spoken about how they had.) It’s one of the first things she says, when they’re properly among the other dancers, and the music has started to play loud enough to keep anyone from overhearing.

“Please be careful, here.” Remin says softly. “Stay near me the rest of the evening. And try to stay away from Balin - the one with the dark hair at the table. When we danced, he informed me that there were...there’s people quite willing to remove you from the picture and replace you with a lookalike. I think I’ve convinced him, and thus them, that I have a handle on things - with some careful words suggesting you’re not that bright, I apologize - but I don’t know. It’s still risky.”

 

[Aerynth]

Oh. Well then, her hunch about something feeling a little off about Remin had been spot on the money. It was no wonder, really. Being approached with a murder plot? That must have been terrifying, especially for someone unused to the proximity of death. And yet, what had she done in her inexperience? Had she frozen or run away? No. Remin had done the exact opposite of not facing the situation. "You just... talked him out of it?" Cyreia asked, sounding utterly baffled. Remin's skill with words was not to be underestimated, she had learned that already, but swaying a would-be assassin's mind? How? God, now that she thought about it, advocating to save the life of a Eupriunian invader must have been incredibly dangerous for her wife as well. This Balin was probably a supporter of the old royal family; that would explain why he had contacted Remin in the first place. Any sympathies he might have had for her, though, would undoubtedly have been destroyed by the realization that the daughter of the late king and queen actually liked the enemy. What a mess.

Truth be told, the conspiracy itself didn't bother her too much. It didn't make her happy, but the thing was, Cyreia had anticipated to be... unpopular, at least in the beginning. It went with the territory, as did the occasional attempt to end her life. Expecting anything else would have been foolish. Endangering Remin by association, though? That was quite a different story. A husband had the responsibility to protect his wife, for god's sake. They had been married for such a short period of time and she was failing at that task already. For a few moments, Cyreia felt torn between apologizing, chastising her for risking too much and seeking out Balin to end him personally. In the end, she just inhaled sharply. None of those were good ideas. "Thank you, Remin. Truly. I don't know what I'd do without you." Her loyalty both warmed her heart and stung. Stung because, despite everything they had gone through together, she was still lying to her. Betraying her trust. Remin had dedicated herself to her fully, that much was glaringly obvious now, and what did she get in return? Lies, lies and more lies. I'll tell her once we're done with this party, she decided. This couldn't go on, especially not after Remin had risked her life to save her skin. There would never be a good opportunity for a reveal like that anyway and, well, the more she waited, the worse it would get. For now, though, the assassins were her priority.

"I will try to be careful. What exactly did you tell him about me to convince him?" Cyreia didn't mind being considered a fool, she really didn't, but knowing what kind of fool she was meant to portray here was essential. "And a lookalike? They have a lookalike? Who is it?" She had questions, so many questions that would have to be answered before she dared to reach some kind of conclusion. One thing was certain; Cyreia had to do something about this. Remin may have done everything in her power to solve the problem, but that didn't necessarily mean that the threat was gone entirely. Hell, what if Balin had seen through her deception and merely pretended to drop his intentions? What if Remin had merely been included on the list of people to kill? "And this Balin. Who is he?"

 

[Conifer]

Remin falters, unsure where to start, and risks a glance back towards the table when the dancing allows her to without seeming too suspicious. Balin’s eyes don’t seem to be on them, at least not in the quick moment she can see him, but that does little to comfort her. “He’s...no one, really.” Remin admits, deciding to start with the simplest of the answers. “A minor power. An old name, certainly, but his family made some poor choices before the war, and the war didn’t help them recover. Despite that, though, they kept their powerful friends - who are the ones I’m truly concerned about.” Who among them were willing to help him with this plan? Who among them could she trust? Well, if she’d learned much of anything lately, the amount of people she could trust amounted to just about the five guards travelling with them, and Avther.
“As for what I told him, it was just...you’re undereducated.” She pauses, trying to recall exactly what it was that she’d said, the memory complicated by panic. “Undereducated, and naive,” Things that weren’t strictly untrue, though she’d never willingly label him as such. “That you don’t know what you’re doing, and that this trip was planned to cut off any contact you might have had with King Loran. To influence you, to get you to trust me.” His eagerness to be near her - to dance with her, to greet her at the table - really only helped with that charade. There was far less risk in his affection for her being visible than there was her affection for him, especially if she was claiming to play a game of manipulation. “And that I was confident that it was working well enough so far, that they needn’t try to replace you yet.”

Here was the part she hesitated, truly - she’d been careful to frame Athea’s use of magic as beneficial, and now there was no chance to do that. Stealing faces wasn’t something good by any stretch. “There’s magic.” She says, a bit softer, a bit more unsure. “Rare magic, but magic, that allows someone to change their appearance. Not just- little things, like hair color, but entirely. Height, bone structure, all of it. Incredibly convincingly. It’s forbidden, except in specific circumstances, for reasons I’m sure you can guess at, but banning something doesn’t keep people from being capable of it if they manage to learn how it’s done. It isn’t easy magic, or quick, or without risk, but it can be done, and I trust that some of those powerful friends of his have the magical strength enough to do it if they managed to find where to learn it.”

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia listened carefully, her expression somewhat amused despite the severity of the situation. "So you told him the truth, more or less. Aside from the manipulation part, of course." Perhaps it would have been wiser to suspect Remin of something like that - Remin who could play people so easily, Remin who wore so many faces that it made her head spin - but she just didn't. That would have been too painful. What she had shown her in those moments of intimacy was real. It had to be. If not... if not... It is. I know it is. "A good strategy, really. At least I don't have to play a role I wouldn't be able to pull off convincingly." There wasn't a hint of venom in her voice; Cyreia may have been a lot of things, many of them not strictly good, but she had never been arrogant. It suited their purposes for her to be seen as a bumbling fool. Hiding one's strength was a common practice in the military world as well and she had benefited from being underestimated as well, back before her rise to fame. After that, she had switched to relying on her reputation instead. Funny how that worked. It only went to show that anything could turn into a weapon in capable hands.

"Right," Cyreia said when Remin mentioned the use of magic, "I should have seen that coming." Stealing someone's form? Decidedly not acceptable, and miles apart from the kind of magic she had seen so far. God, just thinking about it made her skin crawl. Maybe the Eupriunians did have a point, at least when it came to certain things. Whether they have a point or not doesn't matter because this is not Eupriunia. And thank god that it wasn't, too, because in her old country, her abilities wouldn't be tolerated, either. Cyreia couldn't just pick and choose, embrace the parts of Athea that were convenient to her and discard the rest. So, skin-changing magic. Alright, it existed, and some people practiced it. That was fine. Okay, nothing about that was fine, but she would manage somehow. Hopefully. "Since they haven't done it yet, I assume that they need something they don't have. Or did they just want your permission first?" Cyreia asked, hoping not to sound too terrified. She didn't exactly succeed at that, but nobody could reasonably blame her for... well, being afraid of having her identity stolen. The idea of dying? That was something she had made her peace with long ago. Probably before reaching adulthood even, as unhealthy as it was. That did not include being replaced, though. "Is there a way to defend yourself from such magic?"

 

[Conifer]

It strikes her that she hasn’t really seen Avther /scared/ before. She’s seen him uncertain, or overwhelmed, or many other things, but even charging into battle against bandits, he hadn’t seemed scared. But here - but it made sense. There was nothing familiar about any of this - the party, the threats against him, the magic. He was entirely out of his depth, and she wasn’t far behind. Scared was an entirely reasonable reaction to hearing that someone wanted to kill you and replace you - more reasonable than other options. “Not truly, not for the average person Not unless you isolate yourself entirely.” She answers softly. The music’s going to end far too soon, and she knows it, and she hates it. She wants any excuse to keep him in her arms for the rest of the evening (for the rest of their visit? Lady Everbright was safe enough, she trusted, but what of her sister? Was Avther safe in their home?) “That sort of magic requires things, from the person you’re stealing from. I don’t know exactly what, it’s all rumor. Sometimes it’s their heart, sometimes it’s an item they hold dear. The important part is that it’s things that you can’t easily acquire without close proximity, which they don’t have to you, and they /won’t/ have to you. They expected me to aid them in that.”
Who would have they replaced him with? One of their own? Would they have allowed her to choose? She doubted that - people don’t risk things like this without gaining a lot for themselves. Balin had claimed someone pliable, but there was no guarantee that he hasn’t meant subtle. Remin liked to think herself resistant to manipulation, but she knew that wasn’t really the case. Not always. There was always the chance that Avther was truly some terrible person, gaining her affection and trust, before using it all against her. She’d trusted him too easily - but she’d already started trusting him. She wasn’t going to stop, when there was no evidence he was being anything but honest. "It's going to be alright, Avther." She promises (foolishly, but what is she but a fool with him?) "I've only just met you. I have little desire to lose you yet. So I simply won't. Either they'll believe me, or they won't, and if they don't, then we'll handle that. But you're safe from them."

 

[Aerynth]

So they needed something from her to be able to use that particular type of magic. That was... reassuring, actually. Had it been like Vestat's fire - easily called upon whenever the caster willed it - Cyreia wouldn't have known how to cope with that. With the idea that something like that could happen at any time. Being at a complete mercy of some stranger who probably assumed the worst about her didn't sound like a fun feeling. There were restrictions, though, and those restrictions seemed to be fairly favorable towards her. "Alright," Cyreia said, "alright. That's not as terrible as I pictured it. If they want my heart, they're welcome to try and take it." Some of the usual confidence returned to her voice with those words; this, after all, was a familiar territory. Fighting for her life. It felt almost comforting, really, in a vaguely nostalgic sense. Sure, she didn't know when to expect the attack or even whether to expect it at all, but her training could get her through this, as it always had. Things stayed the same, it seemed, as much as they changed.

The care that shone through Remin's eyes made her smile despite herself. With her by her side, nothing ever seemed truly hopeless. "I know. it will be fine. I am rather good at avoiding death if nothing else and now I have the additional motivation of not wanting to disappoint my dear wife." Also the additional motivation of actually having something to live for, as silly as it was.

Returning back to the table was the last thing Cyreia wanted to do right now, but not doing so would have been incredibly suspicious. They had to do it, and likely sooner rather than later. The song wouldn't last forever; she could already hear the music slowing down. "Alright, so what's the plan? Do we just return and pretend that everything is fine? Can we make up a reason to leave earlier?" Probably not, but maybe Remin had an idea how to make it work. "Or do we somehow try to find out the identity of the people he's affiliated with?" Knowing one's enemy, after all, was the key to victory. And if Balin suspected Remin of anything shady... well, it would be wiser to find out anything they could about this new threat before they could act against them. How to do it without arousing further suspicions, though? Was it even doable? Why did everything always have to be so complicated?

 

[Conifer]

“I’m not sure there’s much we can do.” She admits, as much as she hates to. She wishes this could just be solved by some clever words and some determination. “I’d feel confident in saying we should be wary of most of the people his family’s connected to. Which is...anyone in this area. The lady herself should be safe enough, but I wouldn’t trust the Everbrights as a whole.” She sighs softly. “Honestly, I think our best bet is just...pretending like everything is fine. Otherwise might alert them, and then we’d both be in a bit of a mess. But I’m not the strategist of us.” Remin points out. “I know better how to not offend people than I do how to defend against threats. If you feel we should act…”

She pulls them to a gentle stop as the music ends, reluctant and wanting anything but to return to the table. But even that seemed unavoidable anymore. There were surely people who would eagerly speak with either of them, but that wasn’t a comforting alternative, and it would only delay the inevitable. No. They’d manage this. They could manage this - they’d managed worse. “Your lessons paid off, my soldier.” She teases, so softly, well aware that it’s a terrible time for teasing, but wishing for something to lighten the weight on them both now. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him. Maybe she should have carried it alone for a bit.

 

[Aerynth]

Weighing the pros and cons of everything, Cyreia shrugged. "You know what, we'll do both. Pretend that everything is fine and, while we're at it, we'll talk to everyone, including Balin. If there's an opening to get some information, we'll get it. If not, then not." It wasn't like they could do much else in this situation. Unless... "Do you think that he's staying in this castle? Balin, I mean. If so, I could inspect his room and see if there's something noteworthy there." It wouldn't be the first time Cyreia broke into someone's chamber, so that likely wouldn't pose a problem. "It would be risky, but perhaps worth a try. I'm sure I could do it inconspicuously enough, if an opportunity presented itself. Don't worry, though, I won't try anything unless it seems safe," Cyreia assured her before Remin could protest. She intended to keep her promise to be careful, even if it might not look like that.

She would have liked to continue this conversation, but sadly, it wasn't possible. They had to return to the table and play their respective roles. "Well, I had the best teacher," Cyreia smiled at her wife as she led her back to the vipers' nest. How many of these people were their enemies? How many of them viewed her as an obstacle to be removed? The men and women there seemed friendly, harmless even, but appearances could be deceiving. True, except that nothing good will come of succumbing to paranoia. Vigilance was necessary here; seeing an enemy in every shadow wasn't.

"I have to say, my king," lady Everbright immediately spoke up, "that you dance incredibly well for someone who learned it yesterday."

"You are far too kind, my lady," Cyreia bowed as she assumed her position behind the table. "Besides, all credit for that goes to my queen. She is the one who taught me everything."

Lady Everbright laughed, clearly a bit tipsy from all the wine. "Oh, that is incredibly true, I shouldn't forget about our queen's contributions. What is your secret method of making him learn so fast, my queen? Was there, perhaps, a special reward?"

 

[Conifer]

The very thought of Avther sneaking through the man who had just threatened him’s things brought Remin absolutely no comfort, but...But it would be beneficial, admittedly. It could be, at least. There could be correspondence, or evidence, or anything. “If you have a chance.” She agrees quietly, as they walk back, trusting enough that despite the lack of music in this moment, it was loud enough with conversation that no one would overhear. “But be safe. Or I’ll be forced to come in after you, and I have absolutely no skill with sneaking places.” The conversation was cut shorter than she’d like by their arrival back at the table - they’d have to find time (hopefully) to plan it out more thoroughly later, or he was likely to simply rush in with no regard for safety. And she wouldn’t allow him that.

The speed at which Lady Everbright filled in the silence that their approach brought was nice, though - there was no time to linger in any looks Balin might be giving, or allow anyone time to say anything more revealing. No, just idle gossip. A welcome distraction. Remin sat with a soft laugh, feigning embarrassment (though that wasn’t horribly off from what she felt at that comment, remembering the alleyway). “No reward besides that of him not making an utter fool of us both at this beautiful party, my lady. And what you saw marks the limit of his abilities.” She teases softly.

“Now,” She says, eager to change the topic away from something that they might reveal too much on, and eager to gently slide their hasty plotting into action. “Tell me - news rarely makes it all the way from here, especially lately. What’s happened lately? Anything terribly dramatic or exciting?”

 

[Aerynth]

Remin's remark was rewarded with a roar of laughter. In that moment, Cyreia felt thankful for how easily distracted these people were, because if not for that, they would have noticed the way she looked away, clearly bashful, at lady Everbright's insinuation. Was the concept of privacy absolutely non-existent in her circle? Cyreia wouldn't have dreamed of trying to extract juicy details of their lives out of a newly-married couple, but her host had no such reservations. How utterly shameless. Remin, however, knew how to use that chattiness to their advantage.

"Hmm," the lady supported her chin with her fingers, "Many things happen here, my queen. Those are eventful times. I'm not one to spread gossip, but--"

One of her friends laughed and she shot her a glare before continuing. "-- but I can share a little something, purely so that you're well-informed about what's happening in the country. That's important for a ruler, isn't it?" she gave Remin a conspiratorial wink. "Let's see. The old lord Benir died, which is... hardly exciting, I suppose, considering his age, but his son - do you remember him, my queen? He's called Alayn. Well, Alayn inherited the castle, except he turned around, sold everything and went on some trip to try and discover dragons," the lady giggled. "Would you believe that? The poor boy always spent too much time burrowed in books, I'm telling you. Doubtless he got that silly idea from there. Well, his loss is our gain, because my sister managed to buy the castle from him for pennies. He was so eager to get rid of it one would think it was cursed, so now we have a summer mansion. Maybe I can convince her to give it to me for my birthday? The parties there would be grandiose." Lady Everbright fell silent for a while, but only long enough to catch her breath.

"Hmmm, what else? There were some other funerals, some weddings. You know how it goes, my queen. But oh, this is exciting. Balin's sister here got married last month!" And why was that spectacular? Because nobody had thought that that would ever happen. Lady Saera was widely considered to be too old for marriage by now, not especially beautiful even in her best days and her dowry didn't inspire desire in anyone, either. Balin would inherit everything once their father died, after all. "And she married Garhere Rovell, too!" Now that was an interesting piece of information, for more than one reason. Just like the Aramacs, the Rovells were an old family; a family that, however, still retained its influence. Not only they were rich, but they also acted as one of Athea's lines of defence. Their magic in particular had caused no small losses to the Eupriunian army.

 

[Conifer]

Ah. There it was. That had been admittedly easier than she had expected it to be - a name like that, an unexpected connection like that...it had to be related. She’d be shocked if it weren’t. Remin didn’t know off the top of her head anyone capable of doing the sort of magic that had been offered to her, but someone in that family was, certainly - and they had the connections and money to find out how to do it. Having some knowledge of their enemies did little to settle her, but...well. She knew at least some names to avoid if she could, now.

“Well, that’s very exciting.” Remin agrees. She smiles as if she didn’t just learn any of that information, looking to Balin. It felt dangerous to draw his attention to her, but it felt equally dangerous to simply ignore him. “You must pass my congratulations on to your sister and her new husband. And you must be pleased, having your family tied to such a powerful name.” If she had to speak to him, she could at least take advantage of it and make sure that Avther understood the implications of the news as well, until she could explain better when they were more alone. He may recognise the name, though - she was ignorant to most specifics of the war, but even she knew what hand the Rovells had played. But someone who had been in the heat of it all - this may be a case where he knew more than she did.

The lady, never one to quit talking when there was space for her to say anything, thankfully didn’t let the conversation linger too terribly long on Balin’s sister’s wedding before she was launching into some other story - some spinster countess had taken in a child orphaned by the fighting nearby, but it had turned out that the child was certainly no orphan and was instead the bastard child of an Eurpiunian soldier and the spinster’s younger sister, who had left with the soldier - but not the child, abandoning that on her sister’s doorstep - near the end of the war. It had, apparently, been the source of gossip for ages. Remin did little to listen to that story; she couldn’t care less about not-orphans, but the filling of the silence was more than welcome. Remin wondered if the lady realised just how good a tool that, combined with her unthreatening nature, really was. It was truly hard to tell.

 

[Aerynth]

It was hard to pay attention, really. Idle chatter had never been her strong suit and the fact that Cyreia knew nothing about the people lady Everbright mentioned made listening to it even more tedious. She could feel her thoughts slipping away. No, she said to herself, focus. I need to focus. What if there was something of importance hidden beneath all the rumors? Missing it would be irresponsible and likely dangerous, too. Hadn't they agreed that they'd gather information? Since the opportunities to exchange ideas would be limited here, Cyreia had to do her part, too. In the end, her discipline paid off; the name 'Rovell' immediately caused the alarm bells in her head to go off. Of course that she knew them. No other family had been so reviled by her former men during the war. They were fearsome warriors, and the magic they wielded? Equally terrifying. Could they have something to do with this conspiracy? It wouldn't be that strange. Perhaps they still felt responsible for protecting the realm and this seemed to be the best way to do it in their eyes. The logic behind that was sound.

"I would like to congratulate to your sister as well, my lord," Cyreia spoke up after Remin. Staying silent would have been... well, probably not suspicious, but she would have come off as stand-offish. Her image would have suffered from that. Besides, perhaps there was more intel to be gained with some careful prodding. "I still remember what it was like to face the Rovells on the battlefield. Having them for allies seems like a far more pleasant arrangement."

Balin remained reserved; his lips smiled, but his eyes didn't. "Thank you, your highnesses. Both of you. I will tell my sister that you thought of her. I'm sure that she will be overjoyed." Alright, so he didn't swallow her bait. Nevermind. At least Cyreia hadn't really revealed anything with her remark, either, so there was no reason for panic. Aside from the whole murder plot, of course.

God, will this never end?! Cyreia asked herself as the lady launched into another story, and another one after that, her supply of rumors apparently endless. For someone who claimed not to spread gossip, she sure talked a lot about... well, everything. In excruciating detail, too. Would they have to spend the rest of the evening confined to this table? What a horrible notion. Thankfully, it seemed that some of her friends shared Cyreia's consternation.

"Oh come on, we've heard that one a thousand times already," a man with auburn hair complained. "You promised that there would be games."

"And there will be games, Rodric. I was just about to announce it, but of course you and your impatience always have to ruin everything," the lady shook her head, feigning annoyance. "I hope that you like treasure hunts, your highnesses," she turned to Cyreia and Remin. "The one who finds the most golden eggs will receive a special prize!" Cyreia didn't care for special prizes, but she certainly did care for the opportunity to explore the castle. Now if only there was some way to find out the location of Balin's room! Her eyes found Remin's. Did she have some idea? Surely her wife must have known what was going through her head.

 

[Conifer]

If Remin did have some idea on how to find that information - which she honestly didn’t - , there wasn’t much time to apply it - the lady removed herself from the table and started the task of explaining the game to the rest of the party - taking a place on the small stage that the musicians were seated at to speak loudly over the lot. The rules weren’t much more complicated than that - golden eggs were hidden around the castle, and they had an hour to find as many as they could. The use of magic was cheating, as was stealing them from another person. Alliances could be made - were encouraged, even - but only one person could win the prize and there was a small list of places that the eggs wouldn’t be, which included private bedrooms, though there were a few in that wing. That, at least, gave some excuse to be in those halls even if not in Balin’s room (if they could manage to find it) itself. Even if they came up empty handed, doing anything besides sitting at that table longer was appealing. She had little desire to win the prize, or even play, but Remin would take any excuse to spend time away from all of this, and with a moderate amount of privacy with Avther.

As soon as the rules were finished, there was a small rush of people from the room. Remin took easy advantage of the chaos, gently tugging Avther into the crowd that spilled out into the hall. Balin (or anyone, really,) not being exactly sure where they had gone would only protect them all the better. “Come on,” She says quietly, hoping for her voice to be lost in the crowd.
(In some other world, some better world, she’d be pulling him off into quieter halls to kiss him and only care about being caught for the embarrassment of it, but that world is not here or now.)

Once they seemed to be relatively alone, down some short hallway into a room that looked like it was scarcely more than for storage, Remin finally let her guard down, sinking to sit onto a box. The door locked, thankfully, so they would be safe from anyone barging in. They’d have to be careful when they left that no one saw them, because...well, the two of them emerging from a locked room wouldn’t do any favors, but it was safe enough for now. “I think it’s safe enough to assume his room would be in the same wing as ours,” Remin reasons. “Our best bet might honestly be just...looking through them. Trying to find it.” A tedious, risky process. “I’m not sure what else we might do, unless we wanted to seem suspicious.”

 

[Aerynth]

How much time had they spent at the table? If felt like hours, though logically, Cyreia knew that it couldn't be true. The night was still relatively young. Still, though, minutes dragged on like honey while there and she thanked god for the chance to leave. Also for the chance to explore, of course, but she just wanted to breathe, too. Who knew that social events could be so damn exhausting? It wasn't even the conspiracy itself that bothered her the most about this, really. The gossip parts were worse. They just sapped her energy away.

Cyreia let Remin lead her to the privacy of the storage; now that they could finally talk freely, it felt as if an immense weight was lifted off her shoulders. For a moment, anyway. Remin's words quickly reminded her of the severity of their situation. "That would be too slow," Cyreia shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, I know how to open locked doors, but I'm no professional thief. I'll need to fiddle with the lock for a while and we have an hour. Let me think. There has to be a better way."

Remin was right; it had to be in the same wing, but how to narrow it down to one specific room? Alright, think logically. Who has the access to the information we need? Balin, of course, but they couldn't exactly come up to him and ask him nicely. Who else? "The staff," Cyreia said suddenly, her eyes wide with the realization. "The staff have to know where his room is." Except that they couldn't ask the staff, either. It would be incredibly suspicious for them to inquire about such things and Balin would probably hear of it later. God, why did they have to look so recognizable? Perhaps it didn't really matter, though. Not when they had servants who didn't have that particular problem. "The guards. Or the coachmen. I doubt anyone remembers who they are or what they look like." Everyone tended to overlook the small, unimportant people, after all. Even Cyreia herself was guilty of this. If someone demanded it of her, would she be able to describe the face of the maid who had poured her wine for her? Probably not. For all intents and purposes, servants were invisible. "They could pretend to be... mesengers bringing him a letter or something, and they could ask some staff member about the location of his room. Could you get one of them to do it? Meanwhile, I'll be searching through the rooms on my own. Who knows, maybe I will stumble upon it randomly, but I don't want to bet everything on that small chance. I'll start at the left end of the corridor, so that's roughly where you will find me. Does that sound reasonable? Or do you have objections?" Cyreia may have slipped into her old mindset of a commander for a moment, but that didn't mean that she intended to bark orders at her wife. No, not at all. They were a team. If Remin didn't like the plan, it would be adjusted accordingly.

 

[Conifer]

It was easy to forget Avther’s military might in the middle of him stumbling his way though a dance, but in moments like this, when everything about Avther seems to go sharp and into focus, it was utterly impossible to see anything besides an incredibly competent commander in him. Remin found both entirely fascinating to witness, but admittedly there was something alluring to his competency. It seemed so simple a solution when said from his mouth. “I’ll ask one of the coachmen to ask,” She agrees, finding no objection to the plan. It seemed as flawless as one as they’d be able to come to in this hurried amount of time. “If you spot any of the eggs, grab them. I’m sure you have as little care for winning this game as I do, but it will seem very strange if the two of us show up entirely empty handed. I’m sure our charming Lady would have quite a few new things to gossip about after that.” Remin teases softly, and oh, how she wants to give that gossip some base. (How had she ever thought she’d be able to avoid kissing him? How had that been a plan she’d relied so heavily on for those few days?) They have the fleeting privacy for it - but unfortunately, the time was just as fleeting.

Instead of indulging, she draws herself to her feet. There were things to do. “Be safe, my soldier.” She says softly, reaching out to brush some hair from his face. “If you’re caught, cast the blame on me. I suspected an item of mine stolen, and asked you to search for it. No one will believe the first part, but they may believe that you’ve acted under my power, and I’ll be able to temper it easier than you would.” She’s not sure how she’d manage that one, but hopefully she wouldn’t have to find out. However poorly that might go, though, it would go better than an Eupriunian soldier snooping through local nobility’s things of his own accord.

 

[Aerynth]

"Oh, she'll spread gossip regardless of whether we give her a good reason for it or not," Cyreia smiled softly. It wouldn't surprise her if the lady outright invented stories to tell about them; they were too interesting of a topic and juicy rumors seemed to be a social currency of sorts among nobles. Or, if she were to be fair, among people in general. "Still, I'll keep it in mind." It really was a good suggestion, and one Cyreia wouldn't have thought of, either. Her focus on getting inside Balin's room no matter what blocked her sight of everything else. Remin, however, could see farther than that. The two seemed to think in such different ways that they may as well have been born on different planets. Would it ever stop surprising her? Hopefully not. The surprises only made their interactions all the more delightful.

"You too, my queen." My love. That was what Remin was to her, wasn't she? Cyreia had never felt more certain of that than in this moment, when they were hiding in a poorly lit storage and planning how to get away with committing a crime. What did that say about her? Nothing nice, she imagined. Unable to help herself, Cyreia leaned forward and kissed her gently. Unlike the previous kisses, this one was brief; their lips barely touched. There was no time for anything more passionate than that, but it conveyed her sentiments well. 'I care for you and I want you to be safe.' Remin's task was not particularly dangerous, but involving her at all still filled her with vague feelings of guilt. What if something happened to her? Cyreia wouldn't be able to forgive herself. "Stay still for a moment," she told Remin as they were leaving. "I'll borrow one of your pins." Carefully, she reached in her hair and pulled out one of the small pieces of metal holding everything in place. Thankfully, her hairdo survived it. If the queen turned up with her hair messy? Well, that would give lady Everbright something to talk about for the weeks to come. "There, all done. Thank you."

Their paths diverged, at least for now, and Cyreia went to work on the first door. The inhabitant of that room had forgotten to lock it, which on its own was a big hint that it didn't belong to Balin. People involved in conspiracies against the king could hardly afford to be so scatterbrained. One look inside the wardrobe confirmed that her judgement had been right; whoever slept in this room, it had to be a woman. No man would wear robes this frilly. The next door was locked. Cyreia looked around before kneeling in front of the lock. At least the corridors were blessedly empty so far; apparently people didn't think that many eggs would be hidden there, so nobody could disturb her efforts. Damn, she cursed internally as the lock refused to budge, I really should have practiced more. Then again, how could she have known that this skill in particular would come in handy? A few tense minutes later, there was a familiar 'click'. Yes! When the door finally, finally opened, it revealed... another room clearly belonging to a lady. Dozens of small flasks of perfume on the bedside table counted as a pretty convincing evidence in her eyes. Sighing, Cyreia turned away. I don't know what I expected, really. Alright, next door!

There was one small consolation to all of this; with a little bit of practice, the next lock opened more easily than the previous ones. They probably used the same model for all locks in the castle. Not the wisest of decisions, but Cyreia applauded it now. It made her life significantly easier. The room behind it seemed to belong to a man this time, but how to recognize whether he was Balin or not? The answer presented itself to her soon enough, when her eyes fell on the man's luggage. The family crest decorating it indicated that the man staying here was affiliated with the Nerwyns; Cyreia remembered the symbol from the book Remin had given her to study before they had left for the journey. Again, definitely not Balin. Ugh, this seems more and more pointless. I hope Remin arrives soon.