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Angelcynn: The Myrcian Conflict - Act 3 Reunion


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Scuttle absentmindedly played with a loose strand of linen from her turban, mirroring Emmett. A piece of auburn hair peeked out. "Well, Emmett is after all the Mage Killer. I'm sure he has something up his sleeve to kill an immortal wizard."

Honestly though. There were some forces no man should meddle with. They had helped the wizard. As far as Scuttle was concerned, they were in Malaphar's good books, which was a pretty card to play. Why throw that away?

"The last thing we want is for an undead instantaneously-incinerating wizard bent on revenge against us for killing him. But that's only if we were to fail," she turned to face him, "And Emmett already has a plan. Otherwise he wouldn't have made such a bold suggestion, would he not?"

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There was a lot of information that came spilling forth all at once, and it was a little difficult to process. Allegedly, there was an elixir of sorts which granted life sustaining properties, and a considerable boost of strength as well--the trade off being one's own sanity. If Apellon truly had come back from the dead, it stood to reason that he had a taste of the elixir as well. Though, from the way Serge had described his earlier encounter, the man seemed sane enough. There was also the case of someone else named Baleros. Perhaps there was a degree of compatibility that had to be achieved for the consequences to not be so damaging? All that aside, the main point was that Malaphar was now in possession of one such vial--presumably for his own use, but perhaps for something else.

Killing him seemed favorable, Alain was rather interested in procuring a sample of the vial's contents for himself, though he dare not raise his opinion in case Owen had other plans. It might reflect poorly upon him, and upon the Queen as well. There were already enough accusations being lodged against Raewald, petty ones from the mouth of the enemy at that, but he might have to address the issues at some point all the same.

Cassandra had returned from her excursion, looking a little worse for the wear. "Are you alright Princess? You look ill," he said, leaning over to her. "Perhaps you should get some air? I can accompany you if you'd like. I've heard most of what I've needed to hear already, by the looks of it you have as well."

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"I'm not suggesting it would be easy" Emmet said. "But we under estimate ourselves. There's almost two dozen of us. Malaphar might be powerful but with a well placed ambush I'm sure we can take him." Emmet was silent for a few seconds. His face suddenly looking more troubled than normal. "There is another alternative however..." Should I tell them? I'll have to, I've been challenged to come up with a plan, I can't back down now. Besides, any of them who were on the Dettar expedition would surely have connected the dots already. "We have some of this elixir ourselves. If it truly is where Malaphar got his power then one of us can be put on equal terms with him. However it's possible there are consequences. I'd rather keep it as a last resort."

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"Engel above, will you all just shut up already?" Sidney interjected. "You've gotten well past the stage of what could be considered 'just a suggestion', Emmet. And the rest of you quit encouraging him! No wonder Cass has gotten sick of this already." She gestured towards the distraught princess. "Enough of the bickering. Trying to say your opinion over and over is no way to prove your point, and Owen is no fool. He can make perfectly fine decisions on his own. And don't considered this as another chance to try and say something." She glared at Emmet specifically at that note. "Honestly, I can hardly believe some of you are older than me, considering how you compose yourselves..."

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"I'm still talking because Serge is the only one who's made any sort of counterpoint to my argument." And well maybe Angus. I'm not really sure. "Do you really have any reason not to agree with me aside from fear?" Emmet looked around. "But let's stop putting words in the prince's mouth and give hima chance to express his thoughts on the matter." Emmet turned to Owen who had been silently observing the debate.

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[spoiler=One Night]

Clouds moved indistinctly above her, her only semblance of time passing as she laboured her quill in swift but measured motions. Nothing would have disrupted her focus. An hour passed, maybe two. Maybe four. It was all but a moment.
The final page, she turned over, and her faculties returned to the realm of the provincial.
Dawn had begun to crack.
Scuttle sat by to stoke the fireplace and tend to the kettle, the stark chill of the night making tangible her breaths. The icy mists of air meant to warm her hand burst through her calloused hands before disappearing.
No matter the time, Wyke was always hustle and bustle. At sundown her sisters ruled and the red light shone. Scuttle never slept so much as dreamed of waking; nights were always too full of noise. Out here in bandit country, things slowed. It was just her, and the soft rustle of sleeping leaves and the wail of the wind to break the deep hush.
That, and the series of crashes and curses coming from Morgana’s tent. She emerged from the tent flap, her hair still a jangled victim of nightly tossing and turning.
Scuttle shuffled her feet closer together and locked her arms.
Morgana. She was a tough one to crack. The woman already seemed a distant person, but it felt she had reserved a mile or two more for Scuttle personally. When they first met, she had made her views on Scuttle’s profession very clear to her. There was only so many ways she could interpret being a uneducated children’s entertainer as a compliment.
Scuttle stiffened up as she approached. Morgana’s still adjusting night vision didn’t tell her of Scuttle’s presence until she sat down on the log next to her, grumbling under her breath.
“Trouble sleeping?” Scuttle piped up.
Morgana jumped, but quickly recovered back into her aloof shell upon recognising her voice. “None of your business, bard.”
“‘She snapped back, waspishly, determined to make sure no one who would ever hear her story would find any reason to like her,” Scuttle narrated, “I record everything, Morgana. It’s what bards do.”
Even in the lack of light, Morgana glowered visibly, and Scuttle could feel an odd sense of satisfaction from it. Morgana eyed her, “Perhaps upon our next travail into town we could purchase a pair of muzzles. One for each beast in our crew, yes?”
“I don’t know. Muzzles don’t stop the barking.”
Morgana sighed in resignation. “Why do you pester me, bard?” she snarled.
“Why do you say that word like it’s laced with venom? Engels, fine. A peace offering.” Scuttle lifted the kettle from the campfire and poured some into her teacup. “I brewed it with you in mind. You know when we first met, I assumed you liked your tea fiery, bitter and dark, like your soul. Now I know you like it lukewarm, semi-tart and resembling grey sludge. Like your soul.” That earned a scowl from her. “Here.”
Morgana could only glance suspiciously at Scuttle. “Very well. I accept your peace offering. I will not discourage this habit of you giving the respect your superiors rightfully deserve.”
Sucker.
She took a sip — and tensed, eyes bulging.
Scuttle, well, scuttled a little closer to her on the log, her grin practically cheek-to-cheek now. She wanted to innocently prod, “Nice brew, huh?” or at least burst into a fit of giggles. But the master of comedy that she was, Scuttle knew that everything had to do with timing. She would wait a couple of beats before quipping a punchline, where she predicted Morgana would turn her into a newt in revenge. Well, she figured the mental image of the elegant and stoic know-it-all sputtering on her drink would keep her happy for the rest of her amphibian life.
So she waited. Watched Morgana’s face intently for any reaction.
Morgana paused for a moment, locked eyes with Scuttle.
And continued to drink loudly.
Um . . .
The urge to snicker dulled somewhat.
Glug. Glug.
Each gulp sounded louder than the last. It pounded in Scuttle’s ears. “Wow. Okay. You’ve made your point.”
Morgana didn’t seem to blink. Instead she narrowed her eyes into angry slits, took one last gulp and triumphantly slammed the now-empty teacup onto the ground.
“Either you don’t have taste buds, or you don’t anymore.”
“I win.” Morgana declared.
“Congratulations, you just drank a whole cup of salted tea! And here’s your prize: it’s absolutely nothing!”
“Don’t be a sore loser, bard.”
“See, not everything’s a competition. That’s why nobody talks to you, you know?” she jabbed.
Morganna poured the rest of the kettle’s contents onto the ground, and watched the very leaves shrivel. Her half-smile was sinister, ill-concealed mischief. “You do realise that this means war? I will retaliate in full force.”
“I grew up with an orphanage litter of boys who would nail my braids to the bedpost each morning. You think I’m scared?”
“Oh you will be,” were the mage’s cryptically-laced words before theatrically donning her cowl. Two bloodshot irises stared back, framed with a crescent of rapier teeth. Somewhere in the distance, thunder crackled. “You will be.”
“Morgana,” Scuttle said in an exasperated sigh, placing a hand on her shoulder, “This is why nobody talks to you.”

The Most Important Meal

A lot of discussion was going on, which was unusual for a time this early. However, Nelon had an important agenda. No doubt that their forces needed sustaining, and Nelon knew the perfect solution. He hadn't requested very much when he'd been chosen to join Owen's campaign. However, he had ensured that he was able to bring a ninety pound sack of oats. Some may have considered it excessive, but it appeared to be a good call.

Nelon, along with Esclabor and Sebastian had started up a small fire outside of the fort. Combined with a large pot they'd obtained from the castle itself, they'd formed a makeshift stove. With a concoction boiling away, Nelon had likely prepared more than enough for the entire party. Sebastian seemed to be taking a back seat in the preparation. As eager as he was to serve, it appeared that the Barons had taken charge of their work.

"Still with the oats, Ceirch?" Esclabor joked, giving the pot a gentle stir with a spoon. "Even with a small fortune and a large estate, you choose to boil grain. I guess old habits don't die."

"Owning a mansion or a shack does not change the value of a good breakfast, Thomas." Nelon replied, watching his masterpiece intently. "The preparation is simple and it should be able to provide our forces with at least three weeks worth of meals."

-

Like Clockwork

Hans and Lars had slipped into the group Serge was conversing with, mostly out of curiosity. Neither was exactly comfortable with their arrangements with the wizard, but at the same time, Emmet's ideas were perhaps a little too extreme for them. "He's only one man, Emmet. If he thought he could fight us or wanted to, he'd probably have done it by now." Lars added in. "Probably best to play it safe, if we jump him, there's no telling who he'll take out. The Prince is calling the shots, it's better we listen to him than try to make up a bunch of plans."

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The princess and Charlotte had already called out what Emmet was saying, so there was no real reason for Claire to interject here, but... "Are you even listening to yourself?" she blurted out, realising what she'd done a moment later.


"I don't know a lot about the twins." she continued, regretting her decision to speak up almost immediately. "But if Dettard's giant was a result of the elixir, then I don't want anything to do with it. Would you really want to put someone through that?" she asked, distress evident on her face. She'd made that mistake once, and the mage wasn't looking for a repeat.


She wasn't even confident in their ability to take the wizard down. They had a huge advantage in numbers, sure, but from little time she'd spent around him she'd felt something unnatural about his magic. It was on another level than any mage she'd ever met, and the risk of something going wrong in a fight like that was really high.

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"I wonder. Do you constantly run your mouth because you don't understand how to listen?" Sidney asked. Now it was serious time. She stood up, pointing at him. "You've mentioned two different plans to try and attack this wizard with very little indication that will be the case. One of them involves using a vial that we've established causes insanity, likely ruining the life of whoever uses it, and is generally a completely idiotic idea! By all means, if you'd like to become even more of a madman for the rest of your days, go ahead. It's clear anyway you aren't acting out of any sense of goodness, because why else would you suggest using this to try and stop someone else with it other than selfishness?! How could you not possibly see how horrible of an idea that is?" She shook her head. "Ridiculous."

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"Enough!" One word, one hand raised high. That was all Owen had to say at first. Emotions, ambitions, and arguments against each other's integrity had muddled the conversation, there was no point addressing all that noise.

"Say we were to turn against Malaphar as is being suggested. What would we do to deal with the aftermath?" It was a rhetoric question, but Owen wanted those that were suggesting to turn their blades to have something to ponder about. "We are a large number, and perhaps an ambush would give us a chance, but some would die in the aftermath. I refuse to believe otherwise." The prince made the point pretty clear, looking between Emmet and Serge, "Whether by fiery death, or by giving up their soul to that vial."

"It could be any of you... or me. I don't put it past a wizard with ulterior motives to doom a country with his dying breath. Whatever your reasons may be, I can't condone the risk of turning our blades against him. If you must, do it alone." Owen felt a bit... pathetic. He'd effectively admitted he felt threatened and was subservient to the wizard for his best interest. This isn't even about my father anymore... The prince sighed, "I may wish to cut ties if possible. We've got the captain back, perhaps we need no further help reaching Raewald anymore. We've got more to deal than a wizard with a god complex."

There was something else that bothered him, Owen heard his sister's name being called out by Sidney, apparently not feeling well. Tch. He'd been so absorbed by everything, it had buried itself in the back of his mind quickly. He walked out of the crowd surrounding him to speak to his sister closer. "Cass, are you alright?" It seemed something in the conversation had disturbed her, it was embarrassing not to have realized it before. "Is it about Malaphar, or the vial?" Unfortunately, Owen had little idea how close to death Cass had been the day they arrived the shore. That would've certainly coloured his judgement.

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Right, I sat next to Alain... "No, I'm not." That was the response he was going to get, as she continued to try and hold her insides actually inside of her. "I could use that, yes. If you would accompany me..." She didn't know if any of their company was outside right now, and she hadn't seen the sisters all morning. Still, fresh air would do her good. She stood to leave, suddenly accosted by Owen, who has finally quieted the arguing. I see he finally has time for me... Unfortunately for Owen, he truly had no idea what had happened to her, having been on the other side of the water. Had no one told him? Had he asked no one? She stared at him in disbelief for a moment, the most wry smile slipping onto her face.

"You really are taking after Father."

She said nothing else, walking towards the exit, wishing to breathe air that wasn't full of tension. Whether or not Alain followed her at this point was no longer of her concern.

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"...Right, I'm gonna go check to see what's for breakfast. Ya'll can handle this drama yourselves. I ain't got the stomach to deal with this shit." And with that, Serge left the now very awkward conversation completely, but not before one more growl came out from his stomach just as he left.

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The world stopped.

Every day since his father's health had deteriorated. Owen had felt he wasn't doing good enough, that he was lacking, unworthy. He needed to be a good heir, a good noble, a good brother... He felt the weight coming onto his shoulders, but worst of all, he felt doubt. That doubt that dragged him down so much he felt less and less able each day, less productive. Lionel had left him, even Jeeves with his nuggets of wisdom once in a while had passed away, and soon his father would be joining him too. He could only keep trying, trying to chase an ideal title, trying to give a legacy better than the man's before him, trying to put that perfectionist doubt at ease, but gone were the days where Owen would put a genuine smile.

Cass knew very well what her words meant.

It was just a sentence, but it had hit Owen harder than any sword or axe. He stood speechless, slowly turning his head to face the ground. His doubt was right.

He had failed.

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To say Alain was completely taken aback would be an understatement. He felt like he had just pulled himself into a familial feud he was better off having not been a part of. At this point it would be rude not to go, but shouldn't her brother go in my stead? He looked up at Owen who, for his part, was probably even more astonished than he was. "Erm, if you'll excuse me then," he said, a terse self-dismissal, but anything to escape the tension in the room. He chased after Cassandra, who hadn't wandered off too far just yet.

"I would ask once more if you're feeling alright, but it's quite clear that certainly isn't the case," Alain stated. One would assuming taking after one's father would be a good thing, but it seems King Oswald hasn't been the best to his children. "I know, by all rights we've only just met, but if there's something you might like to talk about, I'd be happy to listen," he said, walking just a step behind her. He wasn't sure just how much space she wanted, and he didn't want to be too overbearing. "Why don't we head outside? These castle walls seem awfully dreadful at the moment, some fresh air might do some good," he suggested.

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Well, that settles that. Claire thought to herself as Owen's speech brought the room to a very strained silence. She doubted that Emmet would try to assassinate Malaphar on his own, although part of her would've appreciated the gesture - if not for the fact that he'd probably try to incinerate the rest of them afterwards for such a stupid move.


She didn't have long to muse over it though, considering the scene between the prince and princess right afterwards just adding the doom and gloom mood. She almost envied Alain for having an excuse to get away from it all (even if he had to try and calm Cass down now). Instead, she stood still, watching Owen's despair with no words of comfort to offer. Hopefully Charlotte, Angus or anyone else had something to say in order to break the silence. Except for Emmet.


Fuck Emmet.

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What did I just say what did I just he was devastated Owen I shouldn't have said that but how could you not know what happened to me did you not ask but you've been busy and I just said something so horrible to you and I-- Cass' head was spinning. Alain was there, and he was trying to offer her console, but she could barely hear him, ears ringing, hear spinning, ears ringing, head spinning, ears ringing, head--

She picked up the pace, making it outside just quick enough to spill her stomach onto the sand surrounding the castle. She collapsed back against the brick wall near the entrance, falling down onto her ass and panting heavily. She waited for Alain to catch up before answering his question. "How do you escape death?" she croaked, coughing and wiping her mouth. "I fought death square in the face. I won. I screamed and I swung my axe and I won. But death doesn't give up, does it? And so death has come back, and will one day find me again, because I put myself in her way. And for what? I don't know, anymore... And to top it all off, in my selfish fear, I've ruined my brother. I don't know if an apology, a hug, years of trying will ever... Ever make it up, for what I just said..." she quieted herself as she hid her eyes in her hands, forcing herself not to cry.

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As much as Adeltrudis wanted to chase straight after Cassandra, she knew that the words she had uttered before leaving wouldn't do well for Owen's conscience. Despite their differences, Cassandra loved her Father, but it was solely of a familial sort. While she might have loved him as a parent, as a person and as a King... only Adeltrudis herself along with Owen could truly understand how much those words stung coming from her. He needed to be assured, to be made aware of the situation at hand... in hindsight, Adele herself was the one who should have told him, having gone along with the Prince and Malaphar... and they needed Owen to be at his best for all of this. Could she trust Alain to handle Cassandra on his own? No one else seemed to be going after her aside from the envoy...

"Owen, come with me a moment." Adele stated to the Prince with a rather flat tone, wearing an expression he would recognize too well. One that said you can have your piece later, just come along with me now, don't ask questions. She only hoped he would comply, as she grabbed the Prince by the hand, and attempted to lead him out the door of the meeting room.

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It has been a while since he's heard that tone of voice coming from Adele, and, as he turned his head, that expression as well. Honestly, with how he was feeling, he had no will to either go against or for what Adele was trying to do. Owen just followed her through, falling back on someone again...

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Along with a few others, Sidney was in silence as Owen made his piece. Then Cass made hers, which made matters worse. "What the fuck," she spoke her immediate thoughts aloud, her composure audibly slipping along with her voice. No, no, this won't do at all.

Her first action was to turn to Emmet once more, slapping him across the face. "Thanks a lot! Real good job there, pal. Now look how pissed off people are because you can't keep your mouth shut when nobody wants to hear your ravings about killing someone over a fucking potion of all things. And that's your grievance with him rather than anything else- a stupid potion you want to play around with! Try think about other people, if you can look away from yourself for long enough to do that!" She turned away from him immediately. "I don't even want you in my sight right now. There are a pair of siblings that need some talking to."

Adele seemed to be doing the part of comforting Owen for now, so Sidney headed past them towards Cass. "What were you thinking, Cassandra?! How did you think saying such a thing would go well? All Owen asked was a simple question after he's been through a horrible time trying to manage everything going on in his life now, and he looked like his soul had been torn in half back there." She refrained from saying any more yet, seeing how unwell Cass seemed, but it still felt important to make her point known. Sid crossed her arms, leaning against the building, giving Alain a brief glance- she hadn't noticed him at first. Awkward.

Edited by Reinfleche
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Owen wasn't putting up much resistance... or much of anything, really. Damn, the mention of the old man really hit him where it hurt, hadn't it? Leading Owen along to the outside of the meeting area and around a corner, she turned the Prince around, faced him, and...

The sound of flesh hitting against flesh rang through the hall, as Adele's hands came down, clapping down on Owen's cheeks from either side, hopefully making him a tad more alert than the shambling mess he had been reduced to in mere moments.

"C'mon Owen, snap out of it. I know better than anyone how much that comparison hurt you, but we need you level right now. Look at me, talk to me. We've gotta make this right, and it's not gonna happen with you standing there like a paralyzed deer that Malaphar just lit on fire." Adele chided, hoping to get some sort of response from the Prince.

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The princess sure moved quickly for someone so distraught. The reason for which was apparent once he made it outside. The short years of his childhood that he'd spent living on the streets had steeled him against the ugly and repugnant sights and smells of the world, but the sight of someone vomiting still made him squirm. The smell was another thing entirely, but thankfully he had some distance. He took a moment for himself before joining Cassandra along the castle side.

"Funny you should mention that, Princess. I had to speak to the Commander about this as well," he sighed. "I'm not very good with softening my words, nor is it something I like to do, so you'll have to excuse me when I say this, but you're right, death is always at our heels," he said, echoing the words he'd spoken to Serge the day prior. Although the existence of Apellon and Arteria seemed to falsify that statement, he figured their sustenance would dry up eventually. Sooner or later, they too would fall. No man or woman lived forever.

"But," he continued, "you should know that you needn't face death alone. I caught a glimpse of you fight with Apellon's... sister, on the battlefield that day. I was truly astonished by your courage. But if the thought of facing her again frightens you, know that you needn't do so alone. Or at all, if that's your desire. There are a lot of people here who are concerned with your safety and well being. Your brother I'm sure, and Sir Angus as well. Even I feel obligated to keep you safe," he smiled. "Should she appear again--should she dare to appear before you, know that we, among others, will swiftly come to you side," he said, nodding, sure that he'd said some good things. Good enough, I hope... "But enough of that, this talk of death is rather dreadful, wouldn't you say?"

Moving along then on the list of topics to tackle was that of the words she'd spoken to Owen. He didn't have a full grasp on the situation, but he assumed that being like his father wasn't exactly a compliment. "You underestimate us brothers, Princess Cassandra," Alain said, letting loose a small chuckle. "I wont pretend to understand the dynamic of your family, but from my brief meetings with the Prince, I've observed that he's a very considerate young man."

"If you would allow me to regale a short story," he began. "As a child, there was a time in my life where I wasn't in the best of places. My brother and I had found ourselves in a rather bad spot, surrounded by a bunch of ruffians who wanted nothing more than to beat us to a pulp, perhaps even kill us. Of course, my brother was my best friend, and it didn't matter if the odds were one-hundred to one, I would have stood my ground and fought. So try and guess what my brother does, after the fight breaks out? He runs," he said. "The coward ran with his tail between his legs, and left me by myself, to fend off some ten, fifteen odd. Imagine how I felt at the time. Hurt, betrayed, enraged, mortified. You name it, I felt it. I vowed that if I ever saw his sorry face again, I'd break it into pieces..." he said. "Of course, when next I saw him, he fell into my arms sobbing that he'd failed me as a brother. Later, I would come to understand his reasons for leaving me, and of course I forgave him. It doesn't make much sense I know, but his intentions were pure. Had he not left, there's a chance we both would have died and that would have been the end of it," he said.

"Ah, excuse me, I feel like a teacher lecturing his student. My point is, the way you're feeling right now is what I imagine my brother was feeling at the time. Like he'd committed a grave sin that could never be forgiven. But nobody is perfect. Everyone makes mistakes. Family is there is forgive, forget, and move on. He's your brother, Princess, have a little faith. You had a brush with death and barely survived, you were feeling scared, and anxious. It's not hard to imagine someone like that might say something they come to regret. It happens to the best of us. When the time comes and things have settled, you can explain it to him. I'm sure he'll understand. He's a better man than I Princess, and if I can hold forgiveness in my heart, there's no doubt he can as well," he finished. "So please, try not to be too hard on yourself..."

Consoling a princess was not listed in his job description, but he hoped he'd done a decent job of it. Although, Lady Charlotte's surprise arrival didn't seem to be helping things. "Ah Lady Charlotte, how nice of you to join us. Though I have to say, you're not making my job any easier here," he looked up at her, a little annoyed to say nothing more of it. "I understand you and the prince are rather close, so if he's as soul crushed as you say, perhaps you would be better served comforting him first? I assure you Princess Cassandra has not had any easier of a time up until now, and she has already acknowledged her error. You're welcome to stay, but with all due respect, your tone leaves something to be desired," he said flatly.

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"Grhk!" Adele was never one to watch her strength, or at least Owen sure felt that way. "Ow..." That stung, his cheeks would feel that for a bit more than a minute, but at least the pain bothered enough to get his mind out of the negative spiral long enough to listen.

"Adele... Sorry." He took in a deep breath, what she said was true enough. In his mind, he was a standing failure, but it couldn't end that way, if at least for the kingdom. He'd gone so far to speak in his Father's stead; He'd took the risky but faster route for the country's sake; Those around him had trusted their lives to make his journey safer, but Owen had a mind to keep those who mattered to him safe in return...

He still had something to do, something to prove.

"I got myself caught in the moment. This is really unbecoming..." He'd hide his face from Adele at that moment if only it wasn't pointless. "We should get out of here... out of this Engel forsaken land and away from that wizard. Adele." He finally looked at her, exhaling. "...Thank you, and sorry about that, again." He still had a mission... the prince repeated that inwardly. It was something healthier to cling onto, at least.

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"It's alright, Owen. Everyone is on edge and anxious about this whole mess. To speak truthfully of it, I blame Cassandra's outburst on myself. I had not thought to mention it to you, since surely someone else had, but it seems it never happened. When we landed on the beach, there were a strange pair, a brother and sister, on the Northern dune. Long story short, Cassandra fought the sister alone, in a duel. Barely won it, looked more luck than skill..." Adele bit her lip, shaking her head. That had been her failure as well, she had been too far away...

"But Cassandra struck her down, just before she would have been cut down to ribbons. That day she learned what it felt to fear for her life, Owen... and in my haste to report, I brought the memory back up for her, those crazed siblings now standing and alive, according to what Serge had seen. I am certain that Cassandra felt hurt out of neglect... feeling cross that you did not know where her distress came from." Adele continued, bowing low as she finished.

"Which is entirely my fault. Instead of assuming that you had received a report of the Northern beach, I should have taken it upon myself to make sure you were informed. And also should not have been in such a rush to flood all of this new information to the both of you." Adele concluded, keeping her head low. Hopefully Owen could use that knowledge to repair the damage from her own mistake.

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Serge had made it outside to where Sebastian, Sir Nelon, and the new man Thomas Esclabor, making a curious batch of...soup? "Uh...Hey I came to check what's for breakfast. And I'm...not really sure what it is from looking at it..." It was strange. It looked like a large amount of...grains were in the boiling water. How was this supposed to be delectable? Or edible?

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"I wish my death didn't have a face. Didn't have a voice. Didn't have a laugh, or a name, or stayed dead..." or enticed me like she did. That was perhaps the most terrifying part of her encounter with Arteria. She'd feared death, and when it came for her, she'd smiled and nearly enjoyed a moment of it. She flinched, thinking about it, as Alain recounted his story, of his own brother. It was heartwarming to hear, and she was pleased he'd survived, somehow. But it did remind her of how much Owen truly cared for her.

Before she could formulate a response-- it had been a lot --Sidney came out after them, leaving her feeling worse than before. Alain had some sharp words for her, but Cass didn't feel like she deserved the protection. Even she knew what she'd said had been so far out of line that anyone who even remotely cared about Owen would be shocked. Sidney's anger and confusion was more than understandable. She couldn't begin to think of what Angus felt. His liege, brought down to nothing by his own sister, someone so far down the wrung in the world of Wyke, yet with the gall to abuse him like that.

She buried her face in her knees for a moment, quietly sobbing as her brain tried to think of something to say.

"I know he's been busy..." she finally whispered, raising her mouth enough to not lose her words in her knees. "It's not his fault, he can't pay attention to everything. It's only human... My... I'll tell you my own tale, now," she said, looking at both of them with her red eyes.

"When I was young... I was forced to learn everything the maids learned. I was taught how to clean. I was taught how to sew, and how to cook. I was taught how to act in front of other nobles, how to curtsy and bow when it was needed. I wasn't given permission to speak out of turn. I wasn't allowed to practice swordfighting or chivalry with the other noble boys. I'd be thrown... Thrown tea parties, with the noble children. I'm sure Adele had been there at some point, even the Valter girls..."

She sniffled, staring back down at the ground. "As I grew, I... I tried to ask my father why I was always put through this. I hated it. I'd made that known, plenty. I threw tantrums and I fought to ignore his rules and do what I wanted. But no matter how often I asked him, his only answer would be, "because that is what a Princess does." It... It swallowed me, whole, eventually. I lost the will to keep fighting these rules. These regulations. I just did what I was told..."

"But, Owen, he," there was a twinge of a smile, quickly lost, "he always knew when I was upset. When he had the time, away from his own training, he'd sneak me onto the grounds. I'd swing around toy swords with him, with Angus, with Graham and Adele whenever they visited. My Father had to have known, someone had to have known, but I wasn't stopped... I felt strong, again. Like the rules wouldn't be able to hold me, forever. And it was all because... Because Owen... Let me have that small bit of freedom away from the world..." She started to cry again, wiping tears that wouldn't stop.

"And now... I... When he asked me, with such disregard for what had actually happened, why I was upset... When he asked me, with that, that tone of caring in his voice, but no knowledge of what had actually happened to me... All I could think of was the cold, callous man that had raised me, not paying heed to my wants, my needs; my fears. And I... It, it snapped, and I... I shouldn't have said... Aaahhhh..." She returned to her sobbing, face lost in her knees again, curling tighter against the wall and against herself. Maybe with the right amount of effort, she could disappear.

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"Adele...?" It was time to hear her side of the story. Owen could feel how much she was taking the events to be her blame as well. We always did have this in common. He couldn't help a faint smile, thinking of times past. Times where they cared more about having fun and competing than... everything they were led up to.

Owen couldn't let himself get so carried away, though, no. Not after being asked to get himself together. "I think I understand... I've been a bit distant lately... so I can see where Cass is coming from." Despite his words, he knew he'd have to force himself not to think of Cass' final remark. Owen understood her struggle better now, but that... should just be a wound better off ignored, for their sake.

Now, that left one thing to do. "Raise your head." Owen commanded his good friend, not waiting for a reaction before he embracing Adele in a hug. "Thank you." There was an awkward moment of silence from his side, it's been a while since he'd been this open before. "I know you believe you could've done better... maybe we both could, but we've not faltered yet. I still haven't messed up completely, right?" He chuckled, "I can still do something about it, and so can you. So did you. Thank you."

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