Lights, Cameras, Action! / Songe del Roze

(Characters appearing in this Chapter:)

“Céleste Carne von Diamanté” (played by Diantha)

“Gardienne Carne von Diamanté” (played by Diantha’s Gardevoir, voiced by original character)

“Gaston Dupuis” (played by Siebold)

“Gordon Dupuis” (played by Siebold’s Blastoise, voiced by original character)

“Régis Dupuis” (played by Siebold’s Empoleon, voiced by original character)

“Aylan, Faron, Jordan, Lilian, Sohan, Sullivan, and Swann Dupuis” (played by Siebold’s Barbaracle, voiced by original character)

“Roland Farran” (played by Wikstrom)

“Truman Farran” (played by Wikstrom’s Scizor, voiced by original character)

“Charlie Farran” (played by Wikstrom’s Escavalier, voiced by original character)

“Clark Farran” (played by Wikstrom’s Bisharp, voiced by original character)

“Frank Farran” (played by Wikstrom’s Forretress, voiced by original character)

“Dracaena Wyrmtongue” (played by Drasna)

“Prune Wyrmtongue” (played by Drasna’s Goodra, voiced by original character)

“Zhèng Jiāng” (played by Drasna’s Drampa, voiced by original character)

“Gaël Wyrmtongue” (played by Drasna’s Noivern, voiced by original character)

“Pomegranate Clifton” (played by Grant)

“Cornélia Renner” (played by Korrina)

---

...

A soldier of The LORD rode out unto the ancient archipelago eastward of the kingdom with their trusted fae acting as their wings. For the kingdom, their family, and glory unto GOD, they would face any threat no matter the danger to themselves, even against this archipelago’s feared Drakken. Even as the misty periwinkle sky turned an ugly ash gray in heralding a storm, even with the sight of an unruly swath of land that could only generously be called a wilderness populated by the savage Drakken, their LORD’s grace protected them always and would weather any fiend that spawned from these islands. Woe, then, that a bolt of blue plasma screeched past their ear with deafening speed, and they struggled to stay aloft atop their companion in the air. Maneuvering with rolls to keep from being hit and weaving side-to-side was a well-thought-out but vain delay of the inevitable; a firebolt found its mark and scorched their fae partner black in their downy breast, and mercy was not quick enough to find them—for a third blast hurtling their way smashed into their companion’s wing. They couldn’t hold on to their partner and ended up letting go, plummeting to their doom from scores of feet up in the air into a mountain burbling blue in its crater and yawning wide to swallow them whole. Their vision blurred, smoke clouded their senses, and the last they could see were the blues of Hell ready to—

...

“AAHHH!” She shot up with a scream and gasped for shaky breaths of air, bracing for the molten death that never came. Instead, she found herself surrounded by familiar furnishings in her private chambers, and her eyes darted further to make sense of what had just happened. She was not above the Drakken Archipelago’s skies tumbling down into a volcano, not about to plunge into a boiling blue grave but nearly flinging herself out of bed in a cold sweat. She was merely in her room as safe as can be, and realizing this helped start the process of calming her nerves.

A nightmare... she confirmed to herself. The same wretched, Godforsaken nightmare again... Her breathing steadied for a moment until another emotion threatened to seize her. The same recurring nightmare of the incursion into the Drakken Archipelago had plagued her for some time now, and it would end the same way each time; some firebolts could be dodged in each occurrence, but one of them always downed her and sent her falling toward an azure inferno below. The worst of it was that it was never truly her in these nightmares; that holy soldier who braved the archipelago for their people who was haunting her dreams...it was her brother.

Why...? Why, she wanted to ask him, did he have to leave that day so many years ago—why couldn’t he have stayed behind for their family, for her? Why did he have to obey the new King and let himself be sent to those islands just to die? Why couldn’t she convince him not to go and leave them behind, let him promise them that he’d come back as a proud son of House Diamanté—and then break that promise when they received what was left of him?

“Damnit...” She gripped her sheets hard in a vain attempt to stay the tears she told herself had all been cried out until hers were but dry wells of eyes. She looked up to that portrait on the wall, the last one of them all as a happy family before everything changed that day. There was one sword held up on display just below it, the only thing in this life she had left of her brother. Her eyes were fighting a losing battle to keep from welling up once more with additional moisture; she couldn’t cry, she wouldn’t, she was a woman now who had to hold together her family’s legacy, the legacy of House Diamanté’s Clann Carne dating back to their vaunted ancestor a millennium ago, there was no place for her to show weakness and weep—

“There is no shame in grieving for those we have lost, Céleste,” came a gentle voice from the corner of her room. From the corner stepped forward her lady-in-waiting, she who understood her like no other ever since the two of them were but girls.

“You always have been a sight for sore eyes.” She beheld her as she did every morning, saw the way the sun’s light caught in her verdant hair and made her skin shine more brilliantly than the purest ivory. Her lady-in-waiting’s ruby eyes never intimidated her like most others but were a soothing balm in the strength and gentility held in them. “Surely you must tire of watching me rise every morning in a state, Gardienne.”

“I watch you rise to great purpose, and of that, I can never tire.”

“There are so many days I wish I did not have to rise as Grand Duchess Céleste Carne von Diamanté but simply as Céleste. I must, however, for I am my family’s last remaining scion. A Diamanté never wavers in their service to the kingdom no matter their circumstance...”

“Perhaps...” Gardienne said as she sat on an empty spot of Céleste’s bed beside her duchess. “Perhaps, though, you could stand to allow others to serve with you more often. The weight you carry on your shoulders kills you by the day, m’lady. His Majesty demands far above a king’s right for House Diamanté to prove their worth...oftentimes in ways I dare not speak of. Your burden is our burden as well, and I wish you would remember that more often.”

“Thank you for your kind words, Gardienne. Even so, t’would be unbecoming for me to shirk my responsibilities. Within me rests the will of my father, mother, and brother, and I shan’t dishonor them with idleness.” Céleste wanted more than anything to allow Gardienne to help more, but she found it hard to rely on others too much even for a little. She supposed she inherited that sense of stubborn pride from her mother—God bless her soul. Gardienne looked ready to say more on her end before a knock at Céleste’s door brought the two to attention.

“Right on time,” Gardienne remarked. “Ready to start the day?”

“Of course,” she said to Gardienne before turning to the door. “Enter.” The door slowly opened through which a retinue of servants stepped inside. The manservants and maidservants all filed into the space with practiced ease filling the chambers with room to spare before three more distinguished individuals with magical creatures at their sides made their appearance.

“Bonjour, Ma Belle Dame,” the slim man of golden hair and white chef uniform greeted. “Your morning meal has been prepared to your liking. S’il vous plaît.”

“Thank you, Gaston.” Gaston personally presented the platter to Céleste moments before three of his magical beasts—a large shellfish-like tortoise, a horned emperor penguin, and a collective humanoid of rock barnacles with many units as symbiotic appendages—did the honors of removing the top of the platter with flourish.

“It’s not much, but I hope your breakfast is just the way you like it,” the shellfish tortoise greeted in his gruff voice, followed by the emperor penguin to his side.

“Exceptionally arranged as per Lord Gaston’s instruction, madam.” The meal was as Céleste typically liked, a modest serving of Frankish toast with mild powdered sugar on top next to scrambled eggs and various fruit slices arranged into a fanning flower shape, taking up much of the platter.

“We would have added more ‘spice’ to your sugar as you say, but, well...” Gaston spared glances at the other two creatures that flanked him, one a blue shrimp-like crustacean with an overly enlarged right claw and the other being a darkly-colored seadragon shaped like mock kelp. “...These two prefer your meal delivered as is and grew quite defensive about it.”

The two in question couldn’t tell if their trainer was calling them out or not but clicked their claw and huffed through their snout at him respectively while the larger beasts paid them no mind.

“I am quite familiar with their preferences for punctuality over presentation, and I must thank them for often helping ensure that food is always delivered on time where others might...delay in making the dishes extravagant.”

“Oh, my fair lady, you know I only provide the finest service.”

“I know, I know, and I thank you for that as always, Gaston.” After the chef finished his piece, he and his creatures stood back as a much older man stepped forward with him and steel attendants bowing in unison—a tad stiffly as always that Céleste would privately note.

“Fair tidings of the day, Your Grace,” the gentleman greeted. “We have reviewed and evaluated the candidates most suitable to train as pages for the household. Each one shall be assigned to specific divisions once their training is complete. The Pincer and Cavalry Platoons’ numbers continue to see steady growth thanks to the discipline Truman and Charlie imparted into their members alongside my direction.” Said creatures, one an upright red mantis clad in steel and the other a helmeted snail-like insect armed with lances, both bowed in response to the compliment.

“Much obliged, Ser Roland.”

“Ours is but a service of honor for our house.”

“You two have my deepest gratitude as always. As for our Bishop Platoon, their investigation led by Clark here has brought to my attention that he wants to personally deliver to you.” The “Clark” in question stepped forward and knelt respectfully despite its appearance as a red and black coated creature riddled with blades from head to toe.

“I come bearing news regarding a potential uprising planned to occur within a few days’ time further down in the demesne’s towns. The exact location of where these talks are being held, however, remains unknown. By your word, I would like to lead my platoon into the underground settlements to discern the source of such talks.”

“You may,” Céleste said. “However, there is to be no sort of bloodshed in looking into this matter. Am I made clear?” Her words were directed at the creature knelt before her which were stern but not unkind, and he made a sound of understanding and stood to return to his trainer. “Once we determine where these talks are being held, inform me at once, Ser Roland.”

“As you wish.” After the older man cleared the space, the aged woman who came in with them, dark-haired and possessing a serene bearing, took center stage to greet her duchess.

“Good morning, dear,” the woman spoke. “I wager you had that nightmare again, did you not? Here: tea to soothe you. Sir Gaston’s patient instruction with me in the kitchen taught me to make it just right for you at last, and I even added a pinch of spice that I know you will love.”

“Thank you, Dracaena, it may be just what I need to start the day.” Céleste graciously accepted the teacup and plate from the older woman, cooling it only slightly with a breath before drinking it. The moment it hit her tongue, it became an instant favorite as Dracaena could tell from the way Céleste’s eyes lit up. “This is...heavenly...! Dracaena, you simply must tell me what spices you used in this.”

“Homemade family recipe secret~” Of course she would say that, playfully dodge the question claiming to an old herbal remedy secret passed down for generations, but Céleste knew Dracaena was only humoring her to make her smile. “Of course, I would love to teach you the recipe sooner than later once I’ve gotten comfortable enough to make it on a regular basis.”

“I will hold you to that, Dracaena. You cannot keep such divine delicacies from me forever.”

The two women shared a laugh of promises being made over simple breakfast tea. Céleste watched the Swablu birds perched on Dracaena flutter their way over to her, standing on her shoulders then chirping light and soft in nuzzling her. Céleste petted the birds in kind and welcomed their morning songs as she finally reached for her morning meal.

“Any plans for today, dear?”

“None that immediately comes to mind. Perhaps a walk through the castle town to inspect the people’s state of affairs would inform me well of what to do next.” Céleste took to her breakfast slowly as she thought of how to go about her trip. “I know not how the people fare at present with my last visit regrettably having been some modest time ago.”

“Might we accompany you?”

Might I have them all attend me indeed... Céleste looked over her vassals in the room, all awaiting her word. You would all die for me if I but gave word. That speaks to your loyalty, but what of mine does that say as consequence? To command such power yet refrain from that which I deign upon you... I am my clan’s sole heir, scion to House Diamanté, lady of my demesne; comfortable complacency ill becomes me. Céleste gave her vassals one more sweeping gaze then settled the matter.

“...I should think not for today.” She expected them all to look at her in concern, which they did, and it only made her decision feel heavier than it already was. “This is something I ought do myself to better grow into my role as the grand duchess of my lands, keenly aware of the people I govern over.”

“Are you... certain, Céleste?” Gaston wanted to protest, but Céleste usually had her reasons for things like this, so he had to ask and make sure. “You know that we’d go with you if you asked.”

“Gaston is quite right, dear,” Dracaena added on. “We’d love to accompany you into town and see how everyone fares. Truly.”

“I know that, and I would love for nothing more than you all to come with me. Too many of us together would attract undue attention, however. Methinks to adopt a vagrant beggar’s guise to ascertain the state of my subjects more closely without their knowing of lords and ladies walking amongst them. Craven, perhaps, but I should believe it to be a first step into improving my subjects’ lives.”

“I have misgivings toward this move, Your Grace,” Roland spoke, “I fear tensions run high in these times amongst the people, to say nothing of this purported uprising in the making should hearsay prove true.”

“Ser Roland is right, Céleste,” Gardienne said. “Should something happen to you in town, I’ll not forgive myself for not being there for you in your time of need.”

“I’d never be able to face your brother in the next life if I let you down...”

“...Nor your father...”

“...Or your mother...” Céleste could tell that they all strongly opposed this and wanted to protect her. It tugged at her, almost making her reconsider, but she would not relent. She had to do this herself, and Gardienne may stress it more than ever that she needed to learn to lean on others when things became too much for her to bear alone, she would not have them be her crutches. This was her burden by birthright, not theirs, and she dared not impose upon them more than they already had to do.

“...That is enough.” Céleste made it final that she would stick to this. “I have heard you all, truly, but there is nothing to worry about. I promise you, I will be fine. You all have a great many things to attend to yourselves, today, and I would not wish to take that from you. Stay here, let this be my task for today.” Part of Céleste wanted them to voice their being against this once more, knowing how she would give in if they contested the command one more time.

That side of her wanted just one of them, any of them, to say, “No, we’re coming with you, and that’s that.” Céleste was met with resigned understanding, saddened understanding even, and she saw no further attempts to dissuade her.

“If milady sees fit, I shall respect your decision on the matter,” came Roland’s reply. “When you set out, do take care of your surroundings. That is all I ask.”

“Of course, Ser Roland.”

“I... guess I’ll stay here, then, as well,” was Gaston’s response, noticeably more uncertain than Roland. “Man the fort, as they say.”

“Thank you, Gaston. I appreciate it.”

“Goodness, but you have that same steely fire in your eyes, just like your mother,” Dracaena remarked. “Pray take care of yourself out there, dear. We’ll be waiting right here for your safe return.”

“Will do, Dracaena. You have my word.” Céleste turned to Gardienne who she knew would be the most reluctant to allow this, unable to voice any further concerns even though she clearly wanted to. Céleste was often stubborn and inflexible to a fault, she herself and everyone who knew her could attest to that, but she always knew when to accept help from others in the end. She took Gardienne’s hands into her own to make sure to her lady-in-waiting that she understood this and would take their earlier chat to heart.

“I know I tend to do things on my own, but I promise, I will take the utmost care to not cause you too much undue worry.”

“I will never stop worrying for you, Céleste,” Gardienne spoke, “Now moreso than ever. Promise me that, come what may, you will always trust us to help you grow into the best woman you can be.”

“Always, Gardienne.” Céleste finally pulled away from Gardienne before returning to her increasingly cooling breakfast. “Today is but the first step toward rebuilding this demesne into something greater than it had ever been. May it be so before the powers of Heaven above...”

---

...

Breakfast had been a short affair for Céleste and her vassals. Before long, she made ready to depart from her castle with a collection of servants bidding her day well.

Taking only her late father’s most precious keepsake, a golden dagger with runes etched into its blade, she donned only the simplest of clothes she had fashioned for her to blend in with the populace below; the overgarments looked tattered and made of patchwork with a modest amount of “stains” and “dirt” upon their surface, the footwear appeared similar in the form of leather sandals that looked ill-fitting for an extended walk and discolored bandages around her arms and feet that seemed to have seen better days before a sandstorm took them. It was a perfect disguise as her clothier would put it, adding the finishing touches with a wrapping of bandages about her face with enough room for her eyes to see, her nose to smell, and her mouth to speak and eat while leaving her ears uncovered for hearing, and atop of that would go a hooded shawl.

Céleste looked very much like a vagrant blowing through town, but dignity and propriety demanded that hygiene and odor were to remain no less than pristine despite her outward appearance. The only thing that remained was to assume and maintain a matching bearing once she was down there.

“Sheesh, you look like you are ready to rob someone blind,” Gaston commented when he and Céleste’s other vassals came to see her off. “Best hope the disguise does not invite trouble.”

“Even I would not recognize you were you to approach me as such should we meet outside the castle walls,” Roland remarked.

“Be safe down there, dear,” came Dracaena’s voice. “We’ll be waiting for you ready for a full report on your findings.”

“But of course, I shall return before long.” Céleste looked from the former three to Gardienne, still unable to fully shake the worry that left traces along her features. “Pray take care of yourselves in the meantime.”

“We shall, Céleste.” The two of them shared a brief forehead touch before Céleste departed at last—out through the grand doors in her castle before they shut tight behind her. Only then did Gardienne let out the breath she held in and let her shoulders sag.

“She truly worries me so,” Gardienne felt as though she admitted a secret absolutely no one was surprised at. “Heaven forbid she attracts unwanted attention in town—her disguise is too perfect, I daresay. Much as I feel I should go after her, I will respect her choice even as she seems dead set on carrying this out by her lonesome for some reason beyond me.”

“Come now, Gardie, Céleste is a fine young woman with her wits about her,” Dracaena assured the embrace Pokémon. “She’ll no doubt weather any misfortune her way in town.”

“Perhaps so, but still, the thought of her being alone down there...the talks of uprising stir ill in me, and as they say: where there is smoke, there is fire. Rumors of such caliber should be treated with utmost seriousness.”

“You are really bothered by this,” Gaston noted. “I don’t recall the last I’ve seen of either of you without the other, now that I think on it.”

“That only shows how inseparable Her Grace and milady here have been throughout their lives. Where one goes, the other is sure to follow behind if not side-by-side.”

“Oh, how I remember when you were just a small yearling Ralts, Gardienne,” Dracaena fondly recalled. “You lit up with such joy and wonder when Her Late Matriarch first showed signs of life growing in her womb. Every day, you would lay your head against her stomach and gasp in pure awe sensing Céleste develop inside her mother till the day she was born into this world. You even knew Céleste would be a girl before the court physicians could tell—you were so happy to have a baby sister on the way to fawn over and dote on.”

“She is—Céleste is not my...I mean, she, well...” Gardienne could only blush as Dracaena and Roland both laughed recalling the Pokémon’s earliest years. “Sister in spirit, yes, but not in blood, of course. I was so very young then, too. Still, for even Lady Œillet to have once named me her heir if only in jest...”

“We are well aware, milady,” Roland spoke with a smile. “Lady-in-Waiting to Céleste officially, you are just as much a daughter of House Diamanté’s Clann Carne as she is. Both the Late Ser Rosier and Lady Œillet named you their first girl, and had current law not forbidden it then and now, you surely would have been deemed their heir before Céleste were anything to happen to Lord Tréfle—The LORD bless his soul. That speaks to how you always were and always shall be family.”

“I...well, the thought is always flattering...”

“Indeed, and given the circumstances, you are the closest direct family Céleste has left in this world,” Gaston said. “So, as the big sister of the two of you, I’m afraid it is your job to forever worry after her, eh?”

“Perhaps, yet even without our sisterhood, ensuring Céleste is safe and sound will never be far from my mind. I pray that Céleste finds what she seeks out there...

---

...

Dawn kissed the Frankish Kingdom with The Sun’s arrival, daybreak’s rays chasing away the night’s shadows. Most would stir at this time for there were many tasks to attend in the kingdom. Within the demesnes’ towns and cities were roaming peddlers hawking their wares alongside producers of various odds to make ends meet from textile to masonry and beyond. And resting above the hoi polloi were the high houses and their clans whose duties to The Holy Crown were virtually inexhaustible, Céleste and her house’s clan chief among them.

Eventually, Céleste reached the castle town gates and was met with the stationed guardsmen there. Naturally, they didn’t take too kindly to vagrant strangers. “Halt,” one of them called out. “You go no further. Turn back or be gaoled.” Rather green for new guards than what Céleste last remembered, but this would not deter nor intimidate her.

“At ease, sers,” Céleste spoke. “T’is I, Grand Duchess Céleste Carne von Diamanté. I seek passage to inspect the welfare of my subjects incognito.”

“Lady Céleste herself?” The other guardsman scoffed at this. “What fools do you take us for? No self-respecting noblewoman would dare be caught dead dressed in such...filth.” Céleste felt a prickling bristle at the insult but stayed her tongue’s harsher castigations. “Besides, rumor has it that the lady fled the demesne altogether with no one having seen her in a fair while, least according to our predecessors.”

“Some even say she’s dead along with the rest of her so-called high house. Either way, someone else must be running the demesne given the tacksation and whatnot.”

...Do they have any idea what they are saying? Céleste felt her cooled blood beginning to boil something fierce in the face of these guards disrespecting both the seeming “vagrant” in front of them and the lady and her family, not knowing that she was right there. How could the old ward be replaced with such feckless guards?

“In any case, that’s more than what you deserve to know, so we’ll not repeat ourselves: begone or be gaoled. Resist, and we’ll cut you down here where you stand, wench.”

“You would dare assault your lady? With me is proof of my heritage: the late Lord Rosier’s Aménageur de Jardins dagger.” Céleste reached for the golden dagger concealed on her and showed it to the guardsmen in front of her. When they laid eyes upon it, they were initially confused at the sight, having seen nothing like it.

“From whence did you pilfer this? Some rotting noble’s grave?” One of the guardsmen made for the dagger as if to confiscate it, but Céleste was quicker to remove it from his reach.

“I’ll not have your hands sully my father’s heirloom,” Céleste bit out in a bitter tone, her well of patience with the guardsmen having bottomed out. “What more must I provide as proof of my identity if not this? A noble decree? A letter of invitation? A coterie of my vassals? How much longer do you intend to bar me entry into my own town?” At this, the two guardsmen shared uncomfortable looks between each other, unsure of whether to buy this woman’s claims of being the Céleste in disguise or dig their heels in and turn this vagrant on hers away from the town. “If this continues, I’ll be certain to report this to whoever oversees your stations and—”

“We could be persuaded into granting you entry, regardless of who you claim to be,” one guard hurried out. “We do have a...toll in place for visiting individuals. Present your toll for entry, and we’ll let you in without further issue from us.” Céleste fought the urge to frown even more than the thin line of her lips already threatened to do, but so be it.

If these guards demanded a ransom, then she would provide their first and only such fare from her. Céleste fished into her cloak and pulled out a coin purse, emptying out its contents into one hand and presenting it to the guards.

“Gold, more than I assume your salaries are at present. You may verify it if you so choose.” Now, the two guardsmen had all but discarded their doubts that they had indeed offended a noble lady, perhaps Céleste herself after all as she claimed, and refusing her gold now would likely result in disciplinary action if she was who she said she was.

“Very well, that is just enough for your toll, ma’am.” One of the guards picked the coins from Céleste’s hand and pocketed it, stepping aside with his associate to open the gates for the woman whose eyes seemed to narrow just the slightest amount in a cold glare at them. “May your visit prove fruitful.”

“And may the gold last you none too soon at the conclusion of my business here.” Having had enough of the guardsmen, Céleste briskly made her way past them after making clear that a reorientation was in order for her castle town detail. The two guardsmen could only look on at her with mounting dread.

“Well, there goes our post,” one of them said. “No doubt she’ll take this up with our superiors ere long...”

“If that truly is this Lady Céleste herself masquerading as a mere vagrant after all, I daresay you’re right. Unless, perhaps...”

Whatever murmurings the guardsmen had behind her back, Céleste had little interest in. Her mission now was to walk about the town, take stock of the conditions of the people, and inform her next decision in how to lead them in these times.

She first took an interest in the market stalls to see what food was being provided to the people in the streets—hunger was a dire enemy to goodwill, after all. From her immediate inspection, the food sold was of low quantity and seemed to have been freshly made from picked produce or butchered animals the very dawn. Céleste approached the stall to inspect the goods further. She remembered midway there that she had to act like a beggar to not draw too much attention, and so she did her best impression of shuffling along toward the food stall.

“Excuse me, sir...” Céleste spoke with a thin, affected rasp. “Might you spare a bit of your fatty meats? I have the coin to part with methinks...”

“Huh, ne’er ‘eard dat one a-fore,” the older man said, his drawl indicating his origins from beyond the gates. “Most’a me customers e’er want da lean cuts. Jus’ ‘boutta take dese fatty ones ‘ere back ‘ome since no one’ll e’er buy ‘em.”

“In that case, might I buy all of the ones you have?”

“Yer sure? Most’a da people ‘ere ‘ave jus’nough fer maybe a few slices o’ da lean pieces, let ‘lone ‘nough ta clean out me ‘ole stock ‘here ‘fore da day’s o’er.”

“I am certain.”

“Well, if yer sure, yer sure. Look’n a mite strapped fer coin yerself, an’ Ah ain’t gon’ sell dese ta anybody else anyhow, so I’mma give dese to ye fer ‘bout, eh...twen’y bronze pieces fer da ‘ole stock o’ me fatty cuts if ye got dat much.”

“O-Okay, let me see...” Twenty bronze tokens were a pittance among pittances of coin being asked to buy the less wanted fatty meats, and from the looks of it, it was one bronze token a piece; bronze was the lowest of the Kingdom’s currency—besides the worthless fool’s gold—behind cupronickel, pure nickel, sterling silver, pure silver, white gold, and pure gold at the top, each coin being worth exactly one hundred of the lesser value, but Céleste held her tongue to not slight the man’s generosity.

She made a small show of fumbling for a sack of coins to sell the deception before reaching into the one that had her bronze tokens in it, careful to not show its fullness and picking out each coin to hand to the man.

“Twenty bronze tokens, yes?” Céleste placed the coins upon the man’s counter, each of them bearing the face of their fair kingdom’s first prince after his father founded the nation. The elderly man spared not a second glance at the coin, satisfied with believing them to be real.

“Mighty kind o’ ye, stranger. E’ry li’l bit counts ‘round dese parts o’ da town. Lemme grab da meats fer ye.” He graciously took the payment to behind his counter and stood up to retrieve this vagrant’s breakfast. “Since ye bought da ‘ole stock, I’mma give ye dis ‘ole cart ‘ere. Can’t ‘ave ye carry’n all o’ dis wit’ jus’ yer two ‘ands, aft’r all.” To Céleste’s surprise, the man actually pulled out the whole cart full of the fatty meat cuts laid on a clean cloth and wrapped up under a sheet to keep contaminants or pests out. “Should last ye a good bit travl’n out dere. Most people don’ know it, but fatty meats’s bett’r fer yer surviv’n out ‘n da wilds den da lean meats, ye get starv’n like a rabb’t eat’n only da lean stuff.”

“Precisely.” Céleste felt herself slip up just a bit and hoped the elderly man didn’t notice it. “Thank you, kindly.”

“Eh, don’ ment’n it. We all’s got’ta do da best we can dese days, what wit’ da tacksmen tak’n a rans’m out’a us. New king’s a piece o’ work, he is, an’ da old lord ‘n lady o’ dis demesne up n’fore dey died used’ta handle da tar’fs ‘n such fairly a-fore da new king’s men said dey’re gon’ hand’l it demselves. Get’n a li’l hard’r ta keep some o’ our own produce ‘n meats ‘n grains ‘n oats wit what all dey tak’n.”

“...I see.” This was no news to Céleste, long having known of how farmhands in the fields past the gates suffered much from the tacksmen demanding extortionate dues with but leftovers as breakfast for their families. Her demesnes truly suffered under undue law and tacksation for not heeding the new king as he desired. “Lothaire” was His name, inspiring dread where it once was a rallying cry against the enemies of The LORD, once hailed along praises of “Long Live the King” now belonging only to a fiend draped in a king’s robes and bearing The Crown fit not for him. Idleness and dalliance were luxuries ill afforded beyond The Throne as His Majesty’s demands were rarely sated and failure to do so frequently ended fatally. Royal process of elimination as of late left so few high houses and any of their clans left, once proud territories that shaped the land into the mighty kingdom it was back then now reduced to pittances in just a decade minimum. Each day saw that number threatening to plummet further with capital offenses writ into law for each new crime one committed in failing to appease His Majesty. None dared challenge The Throne, however; ghastly executioners of His Decree in the form of seven swords come to life as wights felled all who displeased Him without pity nor remorse. And so sayeth His Decree that unto Lothaire were the dues of his subjects He was deserving under The LORD Almighty...

“Ah ‘eard da daughter still lived ‘n breathed aft’r dat real tragic mess dat got ‘er ma ‘n pop killed, but Ah’ve ne’er seen ‘er, an’ no one knows much ‘bout what’s gon’ on wit the noble serv’nts neither. Ah jus’ ‘ope dis drought clears up soon. So, ye take good care o’ yerself out dere, ‘kay?”

“...Yes, thank you.” Céleste was on her way from the food stall and the old farmhand who returned to his counter waiting for his next customer, looking for their breakfast of the day. Céleste herself wasn’t particularly hungry, but she had to try the man’s butchery to see how it measured up as sustainable food. She looked under the cart’s sheet to see the meat cooked and picked a piece out to try it. It was a different experience from Gaston’s cooking—unseasoned and all left in its thick sliced volume, but it was fresh nonetheless and just tender enough.

Suitable for a quick bite, a light breakfast it was, but how much of that old farmhand’s cattle had to go into this? How much did he have left? And she had enough to have the man never worry for much in his life, but that couldn’t be said for much of the other people here. The street was filled with similarly stocked stalls of peddlers hawking their wares to anyone who would so much as look their way to put food on their own tables. She was tempted to stop at each and every one of these stalls, but that would give her away as having much more money to spend than what she was letting on, so she took the cart with her and went on her way.

---

...

Walking through the streets proved a depressing affair. The dispossessed littered the dilapidated pavements block after block like a congregation of everyone who had nothing and lost everything. Sex and age didn’t matter among the destitute, no one was spared from the plight of homelessness sweeping through the demesne from those all alone in the world to tight-knit families. This was what Lothaire did to her people: suck them dry like an infestation of leeches. She fought his tacksmen and dismissed them before, instating her own to handle affairs, but too many of her own men turned up dead with the king making it no secret of his arrangements for them once his designated collectors returned not a day after each death of her servants. Taking them out herself through discreet whackings only invited more ire in the form of a fatter tariff imposed upon her demesne to the king and a new law writ into place that restricted more of what she could do in her own lands.

Accurst brigands dressed in officials’ uniforms... Along the way, she spotted a young man of lean build and dark complexion with black hair adorned in gemstones sitting on the ground. She recognized this young man from some moons back, a once aspiring and promising performer by the name of Pomegranate Clifton. Seeing him down on his luck and having found not the accolades he dreamed of but the crushing depression of vagrancy hurt her. The poor young man... She approached him despite her trying to keep her identity secret to see how he did.

“Are you unwell, young man?” she asked him.

“Oh, hey there, sir,” he responded back, not seeing through her disguise. “Haven’t had anything to eat all day. Ran out o’ my last bit o’ coin, I did.”

“Troubling times, I presume?”

“Yeah, that’s the gist of it. Tacksmen from the king just take ‘til you’re bottomed out and they can’t take no more from you but the clothes on your back. Used to be the duchess’s men from what I heard until royal decree rolled around years ago, like she ain’t got a say in handling things anymore.”

If that isn’t the half of it... ”Well, I might have some breakfast to spare. Would you like some?”

“...Sure, I guess. I’m dying to get anything in my stomach right now.” Céleste reached into her cart to pull out a piece of meat from under the sheet. She watched as Pomegranate looked at her with growing confusion and surprise.

“A stall was about to throw these out because no one wanted fatty meat, but it will do an empty stomach better than a leaner cut. They’re still fresh.” Pomegranate carefully eyed this vagrant stranger offering him fresh food, fatty meat but still fresh food for breakfast. Pomegranate took the meat and bit into it, finding his taste buds and throat agreeing with it enough to swallow and put into his stomach. The first bite became a few more bites until all of the meat offered could be put away into his gut. Finally, his insides weren’t screaming at him threatening to eat himself alive from the inside out now that they had an offering to placate them for the time being. The relief was immediate and filling.

“Ahhhh... Thank you much, kind stranger,” Pomegranate said. “Do you hail from these lands too?”

“I...” Céleste had to make up a lie and quick to not look too suspicious for having a cartload of food in this famine-stricken demesne. “I was traveling from the next land over to the west, y’see.”

“From one o’ the Brittonnia territories, right? Yeah, I’ve heard about them. Must have had to go through a lot just to get here, I hear they’re basically vassal states to the king o’ these lands now that let no one in or out.”

“I have my ways of slipping through unnoticed. Here, you must be hungry still. I have another piece I am willing to part with, I have enough to last me for the day.”

“You’re sure?”

“Aye, that I am.” Céleste reached for another piece of meat to give to Pomegranate before someone approached the both of them.

“Oi, Pommi-Pomms, you okay there, mate?” The voice belonged to an athletic young woman of fair complexion and blonde hair dressed in white. Céleste was surprised to recognize her as well, that one courier girl who crashed headlong into her rushing to get a delivery on time. Roland was with Céleste then and had half a mind to stop the other girl just to read her the riot act for not being careful, but Céleste had him leave her be. Now, here she is again speaking with Pomegranate like they knew each other.

“Yeah, I’m doing a little better now thanks to this stranger here. Had to miss out on breakfast with no coin to my name this morning. Want a piece, Cornie?”

“Since when did you get the right to call me Cornie, mate?”

“‘bout the same time I gave you that Pommi-Pomms Pass you just used right now.”

“Oh fine, you cheeky bastard. Anywho, I got something big to tell you and...” It was just then that the girl noticed Céleste at last, giving her a scrutinizing once-over. “...You blow out of some ill desert wind or something?”

“Ey, c’mon, Cornie, this stranger just handed me some breakfast free of charge.”

“That so?” Fixing Céleste with an especially sharp gaze, she continued. “You some kinda secret new upstart delivery serviceman or something?”

“N-Not quite, I was only passing through and...” Céleste didn’t like the way this young woman eyed her like she was peeling away every layer of her disguise and hoped that she could come up with something convincing in case she asked more questions. “I simply happened to be in the market for meat for breakfast, but I can’t possibly eat this much by myself. So, I was looking to share some with anyone who wants to—”

“And how much did you pay for all of this?”

“Pay? Oh, right, it was a simple matter of twenty bronze tokens.”

“Ooooh, wow, someone’s actin’ fancy here.” Cornélia had said with a subtle edge to her tone. “Most of us can’t even scrounge up enough for a damned two bronze tokens in this economy’s workforce a week from our masters and mistresses before they decide even that’s too much and kick us to the curb.”

“Two bronze tokens a week?” Céleste felt herself slip up hearing it was that bad what Lothaire’s tackses had done to her people for the minor lords and ladies to skimp out on that much of their servants’ pay.

“My old lord had just terminated my contract with him, cutting me loose after my services turned up ’not worth the pay’ unless I was willing to work for nothing. Damned crusty old bastard treating me like this after all the years I worked for him the best I could...”

“C’mon, Cornie,” Pomegranate said standing up. “We’re not gonna talk this stranger’s ears off blue about problems I’m sure they’re already aware of, are we?”

“Do they? They seemed surprised that two bronze tokens a week is the norm around here.”

“Look, you wanna piece or not? I’m sure you’ve been working up an appetite all that running around.”

“I guess I can take a look and see what they’ve got...” Céleste said nothing and reached for the piece of meat she was going to give to Pomegranate, handing it to Cornélia who eyed it scrutinizingly. A few more seconds, she didn’t seem too impressed.

“I’m trying to watch what I eat and keep myself lean for my courier biz, so, I’m sorry, but I’ll have to pass.”

“Understandable, we all have our preferences.”

“Cornie, you can’t afford being a picky eater with everything going on, now.”

“I know, Pom, I just... Look, I got something to tell you, it’s pretty important. Can we meet up at the usual?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be there, just gotta let my lord know I’ll be out late for a bit.”

“Thanks, Pom, I knew I could count on you.” The two gave a salute with their flexed forearms crossing each other’s before turning to the stranger beside them. “Next time you see us if you stick around, you can count on us doing something REAL big to turn this whole place around. You’ll see!”

“I will be looking forward to that.” And like that, the pair was gone, disappearing down the backstreets in a flash. Promising youths, I just hope they steer clear of any trouble with whatever it is they aim to do... Céleste did not get much time to think on it before she was approached by an elderly vagrant who was watching the exchange.

“‘cuse me, laddie, might ye spare a bit o’ the meat ye’ve got? I’ll take anything to fill up fer the day.”

“Certainly. Here, let me see how much I...” Over time, more of the backstreet vagrants had crowded around this strange vagabond who looked like they blew in from a right desert. This was the closest most of them would get to anything to eat for the first hours of the day, so they took what they could get. They were surprised by this vagrant portioning the meat evenly between everyone instead of just handing everything out wholesale in uneven cuts, making sure the children and elderly got their shares first—not a common behavior exhibited by roaming nobodies. As for Cornélia and Pomegranate, they were off quick as thieves in the night, keeping close to each other and whispering of things to come.

“You’re positive about this, Cornélia? I mean, if the Grand Duchess catches wind of this...”

“She won’t, Pomegranate. She and her toadies stay cooped up in her castle all day and night, it’s not like they’ll suddenly come down and greet us dirty commoners anytime soon. By the time she hears about anything, she’ll wish she’d given up her titles and lands a long time ago.

“How’re we gonna pull this off, though? We ain’t got enough people in all of the Frankish Kingdom.”

“Don’tcha worry about that! Best part about being a courier? You travel. You meet people. You might find others of a similar mind, shared interests, and common goals. We’ve got this, so let’s keep our heads up, yeah?”

“Alright, then, I’m with you.”

---

...

Feeding the destitute was certainly a fulfilling feeling, but it was not enough to truly alleviate their plight. For now, smaller deeds like this were as close a first step as Céleste could manage for now without drawing too much attention to herself. Eventually, her food cart had been bottomed out, so she left the cart for some of the children to use and play with before departing for the main streets again. Heading to the downtown district was a unique, humbling experience—nothing could take away from the characteristic seedy feel she was always warned about to stay away from as a young girl, and seeing one such district now made her understand why: much of the people here looked worse off than how her disguise made her appear. What hurt her most were the children running about and playing in the streets dressed in no more than thin scraps of layers over them, clearly the only things they owned and could be considered clothing only in the loosest sense.

“Got you, Harry!”

“No you don’t, Penny!” Two children chasing each other eventually started heading Céleste’s way, not watching where they were going to the adults’ concern.

“You two get away from them!” Too late—the running boy of the pair ended up crashing headfirst into Céleste’s leg at full tilt, tumbling backward and causing her to fall over on her side.

“Agh...” The initial impact didn’t hurt as much as the subsequent fall, but Céleste had a bit of trouble standing back up after the spill.

“Now look what you did, Harry.”

“You’re the one chasing me, Penny!”

“Both of you get away from them, get over here, and stop this damned horseplay right now!”

“Sorry, Grandma...” The two children slowly returned to their elder caretaker who wasted no time punishing them the moment they got close, a poor wretch of a sight she was with one arm ending in a stub at the elbow, both legs gone as she sat in a wheelchair, one eye pointed away from her face toward an ear while the other was totally blank white.

“I’ve told you once, twice, ten times to stop your foolish behavior,” the senior reprimanded as she pinched and tugged on the boy’s ear despite his cries of pain and to let go. “You’re acting just like that father of yours, and I refuse to tolerate this nonsense! And you, you know better than to play along with his antics! I thought I taught you better than that than to repeat your mother’s mistakes.” Both children simply hung their heads low and moved to their separate corners to curl up, their grandmother making no further move to comfort them afterward while everyone else remained in place. Céleste figured that she saw enough and that she needed to leave the scene. Not too long after walking toward a tavern up ahead, she heard footsteps headed her way and something vaguely sounding like “get back here” from the elderly woman from behind.

“Wait! You dropped this!” Céleste turned to see the same two children running toward her, but they stopped to each hand her something. “Sorry we made you drop this.” The boy handed her one of her sacks of coin she didn’t know she dropped.

“Oh, thank you, little ones,” she said, grateful they returned it to her. “Here, why don’t I give you something to make you feel a little better?” Céleste reached into said bag to give them each a coin from it as a token of her thanks until she saw what was in it: golden coins, the face of the First Frankish King emblazoned upon one side with their kingdom’s coat of arms on the other side for each one. Céleste dropped the sack full of the golden tokens, and these two children had returned it to her. It was a slim hope that no one actually saw the coins—

“Nana saw the pretty yellow circles and told us to put them in the bag and bring it, and then we ran up to give it back to you.” The boy beamed at Céleste with his pretty little dimpled smile, and Céleste really felt for him despite knowing how if they saw it, everyone else there saw it too. And she knew she would regret this later, but she would do it anyways.

“Thank you for returning this to me, really. Here, I want you two to have one, but promise me to keep it secret and hidden until I come back tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay!” The boy and girl held out their small hands with Céleste picking out a gold token from her bag to give to each. “Wow, these are pretty...”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot that you dropped this too!” Céleste dreaded to see what else it was that came loose when the boy crashed into her. The girl who had one hand behind her back presented what it was with a flourish and cheerful “ta-da!” Céleste felt her heart nearly leap out of her throat.

“This is a pretty knife! Nana told us not to touch it, but you dropped it, so we gave it back to you.” Her father’s runic dagger. Dislodged. Discovered by two children, their caretaker, and who knows who else.

“...Thank you. For returning this to me. Truly.”

“You’re welcome, lady!” And now they knew she was female, too. Her disguise could only obfuscate so much if one knew enough about her. “I shall be going now. Be good, yes?”

“Okay! We promise!” The children ran back to their nana whom Céleste was certain would have scolded them much worse after this, and her identity was now compromised, so she beat a hasty leave to the tavern up ahead to disappear in the crowd. The establishment itself, coming closer into view, read “House O’ Barrels”, Céleste assuming it to relate to the ale tankards and such. Stepping inside of it greeted her with about what she had expected of a downtown alehouse: seedy air to it beyond the smoke choking the atmosphere, poorly lit even in the day, and a smattering of patrons who looked to scrape their woes’ relief out from the bottom of this house’s so-called barrels. She wanted to leave right away, but she forced herself to stay and partake of the establishment to evaluate what needed to be done to improve the lot of the have-nots. Céleste approached the counter to speak to the apparent barista of the place. Said barista, appearing with a tanned complexion and short messy dark hair, regarded this vagrant stranger approaching her with all the interest of a blank wall.

“What’cha want?”

“I hope to peruse your menu, if I may.”

“‘Peruse’? Pfft, only thing we sell here is hard ale an’ other crap you drink outta barrels; this ain’t the ‘House O’ Barrels’ for nothin’.”

“Hm. I see.”

“Don’t like it? Plenty o’ other establishments to drink yer coin away. Y’ain’t gonna find nothin’ fancy here—’less ye paid me a li’l more fer a sweet hint in yer cups.”

“And that would be...?”

“Y’ain’t from ‘round these parts, aren’tche?”

“Just...drifting into town.”

“Figures. We got ale, stock, broth, an’ ‘soup’ if ye can really call it that with just some measly ‘taters n’ tubers—it’s mostly watery crap, though. For the ale, I can sweeten it up just a wee bit with a li’l extra coin.”

“How so?” Céleste watched the barista simply lean over the counter to look her in the eye, almost looking unamused but mostly seeming exasperated somewhat. Her attention was quickly brought to the fact that the barista had a very low neckline for her blouse, much too low in her eyes where she felt that any lower the barista leaned and her generously endowed modesty would be compromised.

“Whaddye think?” Céleste bit back the urge to chastise the barista for the suggestion that she sell what she’s implying as a mere commodity, but she held herself back to respond calmly.

“...I think I shall pass on that, thank you.”

“Whatever floats yer boat. Ye gonna actually order somethin’ or just here to gawk?”

“I...shall have a cup of your ale, please, and some soup if you may.”

“Awfully polite, ain’tche? Careful talkin’ like that ‘round these parts, and watch where ye walk. Some blokes’ll think ye an easy mark, then ye’ll be nothin’ but a drawn shape on the streets.”

“I will.”

“Anyways, that’ll be just ten bronze tokens here.”

“‘Ten’?”

“Gotta problem with that?”

“That’s less than the meat I purchased earlier...”

“I’m sorry—what?” Now the barista looked at Céleste like she just slandered her for the slip, and Céleste was quick to defensively hold her hands up in peace.

“Forgive me, I meant no offense. Let me fetch the coins for you.”

“Whatever...” Despite Céleste’s attempt of regaining the “wandering vagrant” guise, the barista eyed her suspiciously like she was hiding something. Céleste reached into one bag and pulled out a gold token, realizing which bag she was digging through before putting the coin away and leaving for a different bag. She eventually pulled out the ten bronze tokens from a different bag and handed it to the barista who took them without so much as a word in response, only staring until her back was turned to get the order ready. Céleste used this time to let her mind wander over all of the developments she had learned of since coming to town.

The tacksmen have been nakedly robbing the people of their fair share under the guise of tacksation, that much I already knew, but to see it firsthand and to such an extent... This is my failing, the price everyone now pays for me not heeding the king as he bade of me, and the commonfolk clearly resent me for it... That farmhand from earlier must not have enough to feed his own back home and must be low on livestock, that performer Pomegranate had his future set last I saw him before today, but now even he struggles due to what the tackses have done while his companion does not seem too keen on the nobility, and those poor children with their caretaker need not suffer such abject poverty... Had I but obeyed him those years ago, what would have been different now? Perhaps I might not stand here as my own woman, but maybe everyone else would be—

“Hey, you got wool stuffin’ in yer head? Order’s ready.” Céleste was snapped out of her thoughts by the barista snapping her fingers in her face.

“Pardon me, thank you for this...order.” Céleste observed the ale and soup, the former a pale-yellow hue and a cap of foam on its surface within the tankard with the latter having a modest (if smaller than usual) amount of vegetables in it as the barista said. “I shall be for a moment then be off. Thank you for your service.”

“Right, just make sure ye go on and get afterward. Ain’t no place for a cotton-sheet missy to be hanging around, after all.” With that, the barista had left Céleste to herself, her words setting Céleste ill at ease.

So she can tell I am of nobility as well... That made her second-guess if she should drink the ale and eat the soup she just ordered unlike the farmhand who had no idea. What gave it away? My gaffes in speech? I suppose I ought heed her in how I speak to others lest I reveal my true identity to others... Céleste did the barista a courtesy in not wasting the food she ordered and eating it herself.

The soup’s flavor was barely there, primarily warm water as said before, with only the faintest hint of seasoning to go with the vegetables—an ordinary experience all in all. Despite having the ale to drink afterward, Céleste downed the whole soup after finishing the vegetables before moving on to her drink. She was a wine and champagne person on the rare occasion she did drink, but she could still stomach some less refined ale, right? Céleste could only imagine the reactions of Gaston, Roland, Dracaena, and especially Gardienne if they could see her now, seated in a seedy-looking alehouse and drinking out of a simple wooden tankard all dressed like a roving pauper; the grand duchess of the demesne herself stooping to indulge in the more base pleasures of the common people—that would make headlines should her identity be exposed. And she still looked like a refined lady doing so where, if anything gave her away, it was her unshakeable propriety.

A small price to pay to see how my subjects fare... Why not act like a more common woman, she thought. The disguise would not be used again anyways, so there was little in worrying over its state after it served its purpose. So she did what would have given the others back home a right start and just chugged her tankard’s contents like everyone else in the tavern was doing. Regret followed shortly after—besides the surprise belch she slapped her hands to cover that would have given Gaston a heart attack if he heard it, she found that, no, she couldn’t stomach some less refined ale after all with how fast she drank it. Her stomach made it clear with a violent upheaval being imminent.

“Urgh, Gardienne is going to rake me over burning coals for this...”

---

...

Back at the castle, affairs had gone without much issue besides a few hiccups. Gaston for his part had just finished the beddings for all of the aquatic magical beasts he was in charge of and was on his way to begin the afternoon meals with his main partners.

“Gentlemen,” he began, “today is Céleste’s first day out in the town after quite some time, so, when she gets back, we are going to have a most exquisite meal ready for our fair lady. Any objections?” The shellfish tortoise and emperor penguin beasts each grunted to voice their being onboard with it, and the ones who voiced opposition were the pistol shrimp and mock kelp beasts with their respective clicks and huffs. “Of course you two would disagree. Still, Céleste deserves a nice hot meal when she returns, so I suppose we’ll work something out before then.”

“Want me to grab us some fish out by the shores? You know I always catch the juiciest, tastiest kinds.”

“I believe our fair lady deserves something with a more subtle, refined flavour,” the penguin beast said to his tortoise compatriot. “And besides, fish, Gordon? Must fish be swimming about in your head day in and day out? Is it more for our lady’s sake or for your voracious appetite?”

“Oh, come off it, Régis. You enjoy a good helping of fish as much as the next guy.”

“As dictates my natural diet, you lumbering oaf. Lady Céleste is human, and therefore, has more human dietary sensibilities than beasts like ourselves.”

“Aw come on. She eats fish, we eat fish, Aylan, Faron, Jordan, Lilian, Sohan, Sullivan, and Swann—they all eat fish; I see this as an absolute win.”

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

“Yeeeees?”

“No, we’re just mentioning you guys eating fish.”

“Fish?”

“Fish?”

“Fish?”

“Fish?”

“Fish?”

“Fish?”

“Fiiiiish?”

“Oh, good heavens, now look what you did…”

“Good to see we’re all getting along here.” Gaston couldn’t help but snark at the back and forth of his main two partners and them setting off the collective. “In any case, I do believe some fish would be welcome—”

“Nice!”

“—in moderation, Gordon.”

“Ah, right, okay.”

“In fact, I believe I shall leave the task of fishing for lunch to you nine. As for me and the others, we’ll remain here to handle the non-aquatic ingredients.”

“You got it, boss!”

“Are we to depart right away, then?”

“Hmmmm… Yes, in fact. As this will be before Céleste returns, and she has been out for some time, I would like for the lunch to be ready before she makes it back.”

“Very well, then. Come, Gordon, septuplets—we forage for the finest seafood for our lady.”

“Awesome! See if I don’t bring back more fish than Régis and the seven twins combined.”

“I will personally see to it that you will not.”

“Oh yeah? You better catch me first! Last one there’s eatin’ prawns tonight!”

“That miserable—! Hold your horses you insufferable imbecile!”

“Mine!”

“Mine!”

“Mine!”

“Mine!”

“Mine!”

“Mine!”

“Miiiiine!” And there raced off Gaston’s larger partners, Gaston laughing to himself as the smaller creatures looked to him, the other beasts, and themselves completely lost.

“Well, I suppose we’d best prepare the other parts of Céleste’s lunch while the others are away.”

“Might I be of some assistance in that, Gaston?” Roland entered the area with his creatures Truman and Charlie at his side. “I fear that I have long neglected my other necessities in tending to Céleste beyond combat and military duties, and I would be remiss to not regain much of my former talents as Céleste seeks to reconnect with the people.”

“Of course, you’re always welcome to assist cooking with me, Ser Roland. Ah, now you I have not seen in some time!” Gaston went over to the third creature with Roland—a round bagworm-like creature encased in a chestnut-shaped metal carapace protecting its still sturdy reddish cocoon from which eyeholes and their four proboscises—the creature levitating with their liege. “How are you, Frank?”

“I. AM. WELL.” The bagworm answered. “SER. ROLAND. HAS. NEED. OF. ME. TODAY.”

“Our Rookfire Platoon was in dire need of adequate recruits, and so I have tasked Frank here with his discerning eye to scout potential shieldshooters to fortify our defenses in the event of future raids.”

“Understandable, that is.”

“That aside, he wishes to assist in the kitchen with me before tending to the aforementioned tasks, laying traps for any potential intruding pests.”

“Smart idea, I like that. I take it that Clark won’t be joining us?”

“He will not as his priorities lie in sleuthing those who speak of uprising and informing us at once while also being told to stay clear of Céleste herself lest we give her the impression that we are following her regardless of her insistence that we stay. Toussaint, however, I have not seen for the day, though I assume he is merely resting for the day in one of his burrows.”

“Ah, the iron ant, eh? Let him be, he’ll turn up when he feels like it. Will Ladies Dracaena and Gardienne be joining us?”

“Of that, I am not certain, though I assume they may soon. We could get started now and save them some of the trouble if they decide to join us.”

“Perfect! Come, come, we don’t have all afternoon for this, you know.”

“Right you are.”

As the men prepared lunch, the women were in the creature nursery looking after the many young under their house clan’s care. Dracaena was more familiar with the draconic creatures and thus looked after them most closely, gently rocking a small batlike wyvern creature to sleep after feeding it a helping of persimmons while humming to it alongside her lesser blue bird creatures and their greater mother. Watching them was another draconic creature of gentle demeanor, long necked and possessing the visage of an elderly caretaker with its fluffy coat of fur along its forelimbs and tail.

Besides them all was a trio of creatures, all possessing some degree of soft-bodied, mucus-like hides with one little more than a lump of mucus and antennae, another almost bipedal creature with a gastropod-like protrusion on its back, and the largest of them with a long and thick tail for its fully bipedal stance—this one singing to the other smaller two creatures before it.

“One-two-three, come and sing with me~♪ I’ve got the yummiest treats to eat~♪”

“Careful, Prune,” Dracaena giggled, “it’s a little over those little ones’ snack times.”

“I know, but they follow along so well! I don’t want to spoil them, but I can’t help it if they ask for—”

“Eat-eat-eat~♪ Treat-treat-treat~♪” The younger creatures latched on to that part of the sing-along, just as Dracaena said they would.

“Told you, dear.”

“Aw, but maybe I can give them a little snack? They’ve behaved so good, after all.”

“Just a little.”

“Okay! Come here, my precious babies—Mommie’s got something for you for being so good.”

“Yaaay!” The fledgling creatures slithered up to their mother as she walked over to grab berries stored in a cupboard, Dracaena finding the sight adorable.

“At least their mother spoils them sweet. They’ll grow up to be some of the nicest girls, and being able to be taught to speak our language will help them around the household indubitably.”

“I’ll say,” Gardienne spoke, rocking a grassy goat-like yearling to sleep as she nurses it with its mother’s milk in a bottle, said mother lying comfortably asleep nearby—bless the poor nanny as she recovered from a recent illness she contracted. “They’ll take after Prune’s best qualities before long—so long as she learns to say ‘no’ to when they become too insistent on having their way, of course.”

“She’ll teach them moderation in due time. She’s still new to being a mother, after all, especially with her eldest daughter having been hatched not too long ago. As a single mother, she’s doing quite fine already.”

“For that, I’m especially thankful…”

“…Still thinking about Céleste, aren’t you, dearie?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“As plain as the sun rises and falls in the sky.”

“Ha, I’ve never been one to hide my emotions, after all.”

“Must you continue to plague me with your incessant noise?” Dracaena and Gardienne looked to the other creature in the room: a much larger batlike wyvern creature hanging from upside down on an outcropping perch built into the wall of the nursery. It did not unfurl their wings wrapped around it, but it raised (or lowered) its head to open its eyes and glare at Dracaena and Gardienne. “First, I am made to keep guard over these whelps and hatchlings, and now you insist on assailing my senses with your racket at that? When do you choose to allow your senses to take leave of you?” Neither woman was intimidated by either the creature’s thick baritone nor his harsh glare.

“Well, if I may, it is imperative for there to be a suitable caretaker for many of the young in our guardianship. Not all of them are born precocious, you know, and there are those whose mothers—”

“—and certain fathers,” Gardienne added after Dracaena with the former shooting her own pointed glare the creature’s way, “are unable or even unwilling to look after their own.”

“The fragile litter not related to me are not my problem regardless of your insistences. And as for the spawn I sired, it was agreed that their mother would tend to them as their sole caretaker regardless of the circumstances, not I, and her failings to do so are not my fault either. You chose to shelter and bring up the hatchling, and thus you bear any and all responsibility over them thereof.”

“Even so, Lord Gaël,” rasped out the voice of the elderly draconic creature, “the boy still yearns for the comfort and guidance of his father in place of his mother’s after her passing. T’is true that he may not fully need but a father’s presence to mature, but a father’s careful instruction will be an enrichment into his growth for when he needs no further nursing in his fragile young age. A farmer who waters his seeds under the sun’s light shall reap great reward in their blossoming, for a seed fulfilling their destiny is a blessed seed that can feed millions, but a seed poorly tended to shall starve not only themselves but the farmer as well and generations to come.”

“I am a hunter, not a farmer, old man. I ply my trade in death, my craft the end of lesser life. My teeth and my talons rend the flesh of prey, my claws carry my quarry to the den of which I feast upon as is my due of strength and speed. I lend my prowess to this house to bring beasts of sustenance or felling intruders in the deep of night if only out of acknowledging the current mistress is worthy of my talents, and that is the extent of what I shall provide.”

“Oh, lighten up, dear. We are grateful for your help, of course, it’s just that we would love if you could help look after your son as well. Everyone could benefit from a little more help here and there as not one person can accomplish everything on their lonesome. Plus, the boy is rather taken with his big and strong father as Jiāng says, hoping to grow just as big and strong himself and make his father proud of him. Wouldn’t that sound marvelous?”

“The boy has a misplaced sense of attachment, then, for him to seek my approval. His thoughts should be focused toward furthering his own growth for himself and honing his strength and agility as a killer to survive without his father or mother or tertiary nurses. Flattering as your words may be, I have no interest in engendering rapport with him. You may do so if you so please.”

“Ah, well, suit yourself, then. The offer’s door is always open if you wish to swing by.”

“Duly noted.” Just as the women were to finish putting the young creatures to sleep, Gardienne felt a tingling sensation washed down over her back. It wasn’t a sharp one, but it told her just enough that all she could do was groan deeply, pressing a hand to her forehead.

“She didn’t.”

“Céleste, you mean? What trouble has she gotten herself into?”

“Stomach problems from drinking too much ale too quickly, violently emptying the breakfast she ate too along with it.”

“Oh dear.”

“I love Céleste, I truly do, but times like these make me wish I went with her to keep her from doing something so…”

“Not quite thought out well?”

“‘Flagrantly stupid’ is what I would have said, but, yes. For all her sense, even if she feels the need to blend in with ordinary people, polishing off an entire tankard of ale she likely never drank before in her life in rapid succession is undoubtedly a leave of her faculties—” Immediately in that moment, a much harsher sensation exploded her heart jewel, surging toward her spine as a frigid torrent of psychic energy. It made her freeze in place.

“Oh no…”

“What’s wrong, Gardienne?“

“Céleste is in danger.”

“What? How?”

“Someone’s after her. A lot of people. I don’t know who, but I need to get there immediately.”

“If only you could teleport, Gardienne. Ah, but I imagine this is where your point on proper parenting comes from, hm?”

“Gaël, I swear on The LORD’s Almighty name if you don’t shut up…! I’ll fetch Gaston and Roland.”

“I’ll come with you!”

“I’m afraid not, Dracaena. I need you to stay here with Prune and Jiāng just in case anything goes wrong.”

“I…but, Gardienne, please—”

“Lady Dracaena, I don’t want anything happening to everyone else here, and you are better at keeping things running should the worst come to pass. Please, I’m begging you, stay here.” Dracaena could only look sadly at Gardienne, and it hurt Gardienne to exclude Céleste’s god-aunt like this, but she knew that Dracaena was more than capable of holding down the fort while she’d be a target if she went with them for more than just her advanced age’s constitution. Dracaena eventually nodded her head in reluctance, not without a fierce look crossing her features.

“…Alright. I’ll stay. But promise me that you, Céleste, and the others all will return home safe. That I will not take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“It’s a promise, Dracaena.” Gardienne sat the grass-pelt buckling down and hugged Dracaena tight before making to leave. “Gaël, you’re coming with. I track Céleste’s signal, you search for her in the air.”

“Very well.” The wyvern unfurled his wings and flapped toward the nursery door ahead of Gardienne.

“Be careful…”

“May the Almighty LORD guide your souls.”

“Thank you Prune, Jiāng. We’ll be back.” With that, Gardienne and Gaël left the nursery and bolted toward the door of their castle floors below them. “You go ahead before me, you’re faster. I’ll message Gaston and Roland to join us and get their horses for them.”

“Hmph, do not delay.”

Gaston and Roland, meanwhile, were having the times of their lives cooking together. Gaston handled the vegetables and fruits, dicing them and arranging them into a decorative pattern that looked as visually appealing as they tasted—even if Céleste was more likely to chuckle in wry resignation of Gaston having an artisan’s approach to cooking than to gasp in marvel at the arrangement. Roland, for his part, took up the butcher’s duty, cutting the meats into simple, thin portions to accommodate his lady’s lean diet; he doubted that she would eat much out in town after having had breakfast not too long ago, and precise cutlery was something he was comfortable with having a close equivalent in handling armaments closely. Of the creatures in the kitchen, the great pistol shrimp and mock kelp seadragon inspected the raw ingredients to determine which was fit for cooking; anything that was spoiling was identified by the seadragon whereupon the shrimp separated said ingredients with its lesser pincer in the “spoiled pile” away from the main cooking area before the seadragon took to spraying dissolving toxins upon them for personal consumption, and the shrimp would use its greater pincer to hose down the fresh ingredients to clean them in the designated “wet area” before Gaston would collect them. Roland observed this with interest.

“I had no idea that Howard and Dorian assisted you so directly in the kitchen.”

“You didn’t ?”

“Apologetically, no. I had assumed that you alone handled every minute detail of the dishes you prepared when the other kitchen staff tended to other matters.”

“Oh, believe me, I used to. One day, when preparing Céleste’s dish years back, I was sold some herbs to cook from a stall in town; I went to prepare the dish until Dorian kept bothering me. At first, I thought he was being overly picky about me dressing the plate too heavily when I picked one the herbs up, so I told him to cease and shoo to let me cook. It wasn’t until he slapped the herb out of my hands with his tail that I was at my wit’s end until I noticed him huffing at that specific herb all agitated. I tried smelling it, looked at it again, and saw nothing wrong until I broke off a tiny piece of it to feed one of the mice that loved staying in our cupboards.”

“This must be when we had that sudden rodent infestation years ago.”

“It was exactly then. Anyways, I broke a piece of the two herbs, one of the others and one of that specific one before feeding them to that damned rat we couldn’t catch. It ate one of the herb pieces just fine, but then I fed it the other one and, well…”

“That killed it, didn’t it?”

“Precisely. So I went back to the man who sold me those herbs, demanded an explanation, and after threatening to have him executed for nearly getting us killed, he told me that he forgot to explain that the herbs he sold me were his own making, specially cultivated plants that, if ingested, would kill the small rodents that ran about the castle.”

“Rat poison.”

“I was so infuriated that I nearly fed Céleste rat poison in the form of an herb that day! Turns out the man did not sell the herbs to me by mistake when I dug around with Gardienne later that night and found he was an assassin who was responsible for a string of deaths in the kingdom and had tried to poison Céleste through his herbs. I ran that man through with my blade myself.”

“That’s why you came home that day with the bloodstains on your clothes and sword.”

“I didn’t think you realized what they were, I tried to cover them up.”

“In my position, noticing such details makes the difference in discerning someone genuinely wounded or if they killed someone else and tried passing it off as their own bleeding.”

“I’ve asked for both Howard and Dorian’s help in cooking from then on to make sure something like that never happens again.”

“And now you have Frank here with his specialty in using luring traps to keep pests away from the food.”

“I do see that, yes, but, scented spike traps?”

“An irresistibly efficient method if somewhat painful for the intruder.”

“‘Lethal’ is the more apt description.”

“That much is true also.”

Gaston, Roland, can you hear me?

Gardienne’s voice in their heads sounding urgent as it did immediately set the two on edge.

“Gardienne?”

“Is something amiss?”

I don’t know who, but I picked up signatures of hostile individuals in town. They’re surrounding Céleste right now as we speak, and their numbers are great.

“What?!”

“Do you know where she is?!”

I can’t say, but she’s likely at the further edge of the castle town. Gaël should be providing an aerial search right now. I’m fetching both your horses.

“Good call!”

“We’ll be at the door.”

Thank you. Dracaena will remain here just in case.

“Damnation, and right when we could have had Gordon, Régis, and the septuplets to help us, but they’re off fishing right now!”

“We’ll worry about them later. Frank, guard the front door after us!”

“OF. COURSE.”

“You two stay in here and watch over the food! We’ll be back!” Howard and Dorian nodded at Gaston’s instruction as he and Roland dashed out of the kitchen with Frank levitating after them. Gaston was cursing their poor luck in the one time they chose to respect Céleste’s wishes in venturing to town alone, arguably the only time she asked them so, would be the very instance she would be put in danger.

“It must be those ‘uprising’ people we heard about just now. The timing is too perfect…!”

“I doubt it would be anyone else. I only pray we make it in time and not lose Céleste too…” Roland, for his part, was reliving a nightmare; the deaths of Céleste’s parents during a time of great socioeconomic and political upheaval haunted his dreams for years—that Céleste herself witnessed them as a girl and barely escaped to survive while he was away and unable to defend the family cut him deep. He would not fail Céleste like this again.

“There you are, thank The LORD Almighty!” Gardienne was at the door waiting for them with their steeds ready to gallop at any second. “Come, we’ve not a moment longer to spare!” Gaston and Roland each climbed up onto their steeds’ saddles with Céleste sharing Roland’s spot in front of him on his larger warhorse. She handed Gaston his rapier and main gauche and Roland his pollax telekinetically, readying them to fight. “I’ve informed Truman and Charlie to take post at any other possible entrances just in case. If anyone slips by the gate, do not let them inside through this door no matter what!”

“AFFIRMATIVE.”

“We ride to Our Lady’s defense! HYAH!” The horses snorted at their commands and barreled down the road in gallops. While Gardienne had noticed and realized the threat mounting around Céleste, the same couldn’t be said for their lady herself as she made her hasty exit of the tavern…

---

...

“Gugh… Feckless fool… Making a right imbecile of yourself… Oh dear lord—ghrk…!” That was the third time in that moment Céleste had emptied out the contents of her stomach outside the tavern, vomiting up a horrible fit onto the cobblestone pavement. “A-Ahh… Have mercy on me…” When it looked like she would have her fourth go with the ground, it never came, but she still felt weak from the experience to where she simply slumped against the tavern wall before settling into a sitting posture.

A pitiful sight, I am—lain splayed in these broken streets like a base drunkard deep in his cups with naught but my own filth as company. Daughter to Lord Rosier and Lady Œillet, the last scion of House Diamanté’s Clann Carne. Is this how my people live—their livelihoods stolen from them before their lives end as just another body of no note or import to pass by, and I offer them naught but pittances as restitution for the king’s theft because my pride won’t let me suffer trading my autonomy to His Majesty for their happiness…? She wanted to berate herself further, chastise herself for wallowing as is unbecoming of her station and do something about it all, but all her efforts were stifled and undone by the king’s decrees, clearly punishing her by inflicting torment upon her people. Giving her wealth and title away would solve nothing as that would be more that the king could just take away from someone else. Something had to give, whether it be her resistance or the king’s patience. She forced herself up to stand on her feet, return to the barista inside the tavern, and apologize for the unsightly display outside her walls—that and return the tankard to her before she accidentally made off with it.

She might not care to have it back, but it would be wrong to take it regardless. She looked inside of the tankard and, for the first time, noticed that something was in it at the bottom. Curious, as it was what looked to be a small strip of paper nailed to the bottom of the inside that somehow didn’t get wet. More curious, there were letters written on that strip of paper.

“Let’s see what this says… Hm… An “R”… a “U”… and an “N”… That spells out R, U, N together… ’Run’? What…?”

“Run.” In bold, capital letters was it written on the paper. Dread seized her, she looked toward the tavern door for an explanation. She caught the briefest glimpse of the barista coming to the windows and shutting them closed before the barista went for the door. A moment of silence after the door was closed, Céleste heard sounds of struggling, a woman’s voice, and was met with the horrible sight of a bloodstained sword piercing the door.

Careful talkin’ like that ‘round these parts, and watch where ye walk. Ain’t no place for a cotton-sheet missy to be hanging around, after all.

That was a warning. She missed it. The woman must have spotted assailants in the establishment and hoped she’d see the warning in the cup if nothing else. This woman tried to save her life, and she paid for it with her life. But a voice nagged at her: what if she lived? She wouldn’t abandon her to her fate if so, not like this. She ran once, years ago as a little girl, too late in being frozen in terror for her mother and father to run with her and make it out when brigands claimed their lives. She was a defenseless girl then, she was a land’s lady now.

No, I am not running. Not now, not ever again. Céleste took her father’s dagger in hand, and made for one of the closed windows to mount a rescue. I make my stand here, now.