Young Writers Society

Welcome to Ruddlan.

At the heart of Nye lies the city where all paths meet. Along the Axis River, the lifeblood of the Desert Sands, is the bustling city of Ruddlan, welcoming every well-worn traveler with open arms.

Over the past twenty years, Ruddlan exploded from a small river town to a trade center for every kingdom. People are constantly coming in and out of her doors; for business, pleasure, or just passing through. In the past five years, Ruddlan's become best known for the Griffin Games, which it hosts annually as a series of fights between mystical griffins - climaxing at a faceoff between the two finalists.

Ruddlan also boasts grand festivals at the turning of the seasons, celebrating every solstice and equinox.

And here, we find ourselves at another turn of the season. Within a week, citizens of Ruddlan will be hosting a week-long festival welcoming in the summer. The world-renowned Griffin Games will kick off at the end of the festival. You don't want to miss it!

With warmth and cheer, Ruddlan welcomes you for the sunniest time of year.

Meet the Locals

The Ashlunds: Overlooking the city markets of Central Ruddlan, the Ashlund clinic is known as a dependable, affordable source of medical care for residents and passers-through alike. Astrid Ashlund proudly stands as the lady of the house and head doctor of her practice. Closely apprenticing under her are Lyall Ashlund, charming eldest son and heir, and Edith Bennett, the newest nurse on staff. Prickly eldest daughter Hild works closely with both bubbly Mel Sommers, a seamstress, and Clarity Sable, the clinic's primary pharmacist and closest business partner. Ulf and Viktor are the middle sons, and Tove is the youngest at age 5. In addition to the summer festival, the clan is ready to celebrate Lyall's engagement to his partner of 1 year, and Astrid passing on her legacy to her beloved eldest son.

The Alvaros: At the upper part of the South End sits the Alvaro family, but this story takes a closer look at the twins. Alan Alvaro is studying violin performance at the university, bringing pride and joy to his family for setting a strong foundation for a successful life. With his natural ability to connect and network, Alan is well-liked among his social circle and has secured a watchful job with prominent figures in the Barlowe Estates, including with Ms. Barlowe herself. Meanwhile, Alistair Alvaro lives an almost disconnected life, rolling through his days with cigarettes and his closest friend, Shaniece Knowles. They are loyal to the Griffin Games since they make the bulk of their money in one season, but little do they know that their summer sun is about to look more blue.

The Bridgers: A wealthy family living at the heart of the Ruddlan elite, the Bridgers are old money-- to the point that it's a running joke that they make the invention of money look young. While their fortune, built on generations of practicing business and trade, may stretch back for a long time, their residence in Ruddlan is more recent, with only the youngest generation having grown up here. This younger cohort of Bridgers contains Casper, the heir to the business; Allison, a beloved starlet of Ruddlan theatre; Cyrin, a devil-may-care scholar and athlete secretly operating in the mage resistance; and Camilla and Magnus, the youngest children who are still discovering who they are.

The Anti-Magic Guild: Highlighting different areas of the guild's work, we start with Alexander Kingsman - an established solo hunter who's been working for the Ruddlan Anti-Magic guild for the past two years with an unbroken success streak for captures and kills. Working in conjunction with the guild is the guild-owned Lumshade farm, providing the coveted and integral magic-subduing drug that hunters rely on to catch mages. Aaron Keller works as the head chemist, and under his supervision, Elias Bennett manages harvesting.

The Blue Suns: Like all major cities, Ruddlan's got crime. The Blue Suns are a notoriously dangerous gang with anchors in every major city, and Ruddlan is no exception. Various "suns" roam Ruddlan on different assignments. Wilson does intel and drug trafficking. Bency and Andrea distribute and sell drugs within the city. Mireya is a sly, spunky thief as well as a drug trader. And Sparrow - well, he's the kingpin. Best stay away from him.

Meet the Outsiders

The Hawkings: A noble family of Lettera, the Hawkings serve the kingdom's interest in the field of democracy. Gwen Hawking, the Letteran ambassador, will be visiting Ruddlan this summer with her husband Ray for a variety of reasons-- to hold diplomatic meetings, to enjoy the festival, and to visit her son Shane, who is a full-time resident of Ruddlan and a graduate student of history and law at the local university. Shane, while being an academic known for his brilliance and a figure of significant influence, is rather reclusive, most often found at a secluded part of a library or watching the world from the window of his home. Perhaps this summer will open new doors for him.

The King's Hand: These five soldiers are the elite of the elite. They are the most dedicated, loyal, and skilled of the Moonlight Kingdom's army, and are the trusted representatives of King Blackfield and his Kingdom. Of the five include Carter Haddon, the son of the Guild Headmasters; James Hawke, the decorated war hero; Ingrid Price, master war strategist; Hellen Lannom, weapons expert; and Kirk Fayek, the king's alchemist. Together they visit Ruddlan this summer on the king's behalf for political negotiations and to investigate a surge of magic incidents in Ruddlan's walls. Along with them travels Caspar, their stagecoach driver, horse handler, and point-person for their travel needs.

The Resistance: Hidden in the background, an underground network composed of mages and mage sympathizers fight to save and preserve mage-kind. At the forefront of the fight are a group of powerful mages: Bo - a lightning mage, Mel - a healing mage, Robin - a werewolf, and Raj - an earth mage. Under their leadership are many others joining the fight to rescue mages across Nye, but especially here in Ruddlan: Eve, Hendrik, and Cyrin. While their efforts often go unseen by the public eye, they are remembered forever by the ones they save as they move in and out of the city.

It was a beautiful summer day. The sky was clear. The air was clean. The smell of wildflowers carried on a light breeze through the shade of the forest over the dusty wagon road, and for a moment, the world felt small and simple.

Then they approached the Ruddlan gate.

Towering over the trees that made up the forest at the edge of the river, the gate arched at the end of the stone bridge. It was embedded into the 30ft high walls encasing the city. Fortified from all nature and outsiders, Ruddlan's gates were open on its terms, and when they came through, the carriage paused as guards exchanged paperwork with Caspar, their driver at the front.

Their conversation was brief. James had a feeling it was shorter than usual when they saw the King's official seal.

Sent off with a polite welcome into the city of Ruddlan, they left the peace of the forest, its feathery leaves, and the open air to enter a bustling city road.

It had been weeks since James had seen anything so crowded. The trip from the Moonlight Kingdom was long. Trekking this far north had put them on the road for two months, and those months had been filled with meetings, inspections, and formalities at every stop. Now that they'd finally arrived, James couldn't help but feel like he'd turned a corner.

People. The roads were full of people. Some driving carriages. Some on horseback. Most were on foot. The traffic kicked up dust that caked everyone's shoes and swept up on the porches of every passing building.

It was too much to take in. Figures became blurs of color passing by. The life outside the window of the carriage felt distant, but the conversation inside it felt even more so.

He was surrounded by his friends. Hellen, Kirk, Fonzi, and Carter were talking, but James wasn't listening. Ingrid sat silent at his side, but he didn't turn to see her. Something felt empty about all of this - like he was living another man's life, or somehow, all of this was imagined.

He was miles upon miles away from home, and still couldn't escape the pressure of the palace walls. The past year felt like a dream - coming home to celebratory fanfare only to be received by an empty room and caught by a king who saw something in him he didn't want to be there. Anyone else in his position would feel like they were at their peak. Promotion into the king's council meant he could become a permanent fixture on the palace walls. By all means, he was set for life. As for all of the tangible luxuries that could be afforded to him, he wanted for nothing.

And yet, he'd never felt less like himself in his life. With each passing day, he drifted further and further.

The certain loyalty he once had for his kingdom turned to dust. And yet, there was nowhere he could run from it.

It was his life. It was his home. These were his people.

But what did that even mean?

Dark shadows covered the walls between the long windows that lined the hall. Red. They lined every floor with red. Carpet spilled at his feet around the corner as he stood beside a king who now called him a friend.

King Blackfield met James's eyes with a warmth that made James's stomach turn. In the shadow of a window pane, backed by the pale white light of the midday sun, Blackfield looked white as a sheet. Like a ghost. His hair was pale as his skin, and his skin bore the creases of time, yet something uncanny kept it taut around his face. Looking too old to be alive and too young to be right, his smile felt like it belonged to a young man. Not a king of his years.

"I trust you," the king said, his voice soft and fragile, as it always was. "You of all people have sacrificed everything for this kingdom's sake."

The king's bony hand reached out to James's shoulder. His hold seemed weaker than he last saw him.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to, you know," Blackfield said, drawing closer.

And there was a pause that James didn't know how to fill.

"Tiberius," the king said. "What is it that you want?"

The question sunk in slowly. Dread pooled in James's gut as he felt the choice laid in front of him - overwhelming. It would be too late to turn back if he said yes to this. To join the council was a lifelong choice.

"I don't know," he said quietly, looking to the double doors to their right, knowing that there was a room full of councilors waiting inside.

With a small nod of his head, Blackfield pulled away and stepped towards the door, where a guard opened it for him. Blackfield paused, looking at James expectantly.

James stared at the king for a moment, steeling his resolve with a deep breath.

The king had told him the matter they needed to discuss involved James personally. James didn't know what that meant, or what it'd entail, but he knew if he didn't go, he'd spend the rest of his life wondering what would have happened if he'd just said yes and entered the door. And for all of the uncertainty he was faced with, he hated not knowing.

So he stepped in.

Ever since, everything about his life changed. He saw the kingdom in shades of red. The sham of peace they'd built up felt like an insult, but it cut deeper still to know he'd been a part of it for his whole life.

Now that he knew, he couldn't keep living as normal. Things couldn't just stay as they were. With knowledge came responsibility, and the responsibility was eating him alive. He couldn't escape it, but no one was going to understand. No one would even believe--

Ingrid put a hand on his knee. It cut through the storm just enough to bring him back to the present. He looked down at it, staring at her slender fingers curl ever so slightly.

She leaned in. Her shoulder rested against his, and she turned with her mouth by his ear.

"You've been in your head all day," she said softly, barely audible.

Chatter still filled the carriage. The others were caught up in their conversation.

"Sorry," James said after a second, still looking at her hand until the carriage hit a dip in the road. The bump brought his gaze back up to the road.

"I was just looking at the city," he said quietly. "It's lively in a way I haven't seen in King's Peak."

Her head tilted against his.

"How so?" she asked.

James wanted to say: "The people seem... free."

But that was a projection of a desire, not a truth. And the last thing he wanted to hear from Ingrid was that he was being dramatic. Not right now. He just wanted peace, or what little he could get of it.

"I don't know," James finally said. "It's just different."

Ingrid slid down a bit in her seat so she was more comfortably matched to his height as she leaned against him. She hummed.

"I like different," she said.

But James knew that wasn't true.

Looking back out the window with his attention set again, he realized just how far they'd traveled through the city. Where they'd passed through a city gate, now they were about to pass through another, but this time, into the Barlowe Estates.

Guarded behind a steep metal fence, the estates were the wealthiest portion of Ruddlan. Leaving behind the dust of the city roads, they rolled onto clean, paved paths. The transition was jarring, with how much smoother the ride became. The conversation died down as everyone huddled along the carriage windows, looking out at the manors and mansions that lined the road.

Every yard was mowed. Every bush was trimmed. Colorful, healthy flowerbeds lined pathways, framed entrances, or perched along windows. Trees were placed with intent near the roads, spaced evenly like walls of their own, but they reached high enough to create shade from the summer sun. Where the streets were formerly bustling, now that the guards at the estate gate had closed them in, the streets were near-empty, populated only by a few groundskeepers, doing lawn work.

It was quiet. Slightly distanced from the sounds of the city, the Barlowe Estates were isolated; only for those deemed important enough to enter.

He didn't know how he felt about being in that category.

How did he get here? What did he do to deserve this? What did anyone benefit from pouring all of this money into spoiling those already in power--

"Come on," Ingrid said sharply, her voice pitched with excitement as she bumped his shoulder before sliding out of the carriage.

They'd stopped before a two-story manor designed for ambassadors, councillors, and distinguished lawmakers or military men from the Moonlight Kingdom to stay when they visited Ruddlan. As if it were an homage to the kingdom itself, the building looked like it'd been uprooted from King's Peak and placed here, as it bore the same style of steepled roofing, blue-grey paint along the walls, and a large red banner with the kingdom's crest hanging over the door.

A crescent moon, hugged by a ribbon and two ferns.

James watched as his friends poured out onto the road. Some went to grab their things before they were met by three busboys who'd come out of the manor to greet them, carrying their belongings for them. Greeted by another woman who seemed to be the caretaker of the house, James watched as they were all ushered down the path to the front door.

James stepped out a moment after, trailing behind. With the busboys gone, he grabbed his lone suitcase from the back carriage compartment, stopping in front of the carriage to stare at the manor, and the door shutting behind his friends who'd gone inside.

It was hot. The sun was beating down, and it felt warmer with the pavement below his feet.

Maybe it wasn't that beautiful of a summer day after all.

Heavy steps came up alongside him, and the driver stood an arm's length away as he shed his coat.

"Not in the south anymore," Caspar murmured, mustering a weak grin.

James glanced over at Caspar. Normally, the man wore many layers of clothing in the Moonlight Kingdom's cold. Even at this time of year, wearing a layer or two was bearable in the south. Out here, though, it was clear even Caspar was overheated. His sandy hair had begun to stick to his forehead with sweat.

"Yeah," James said faintly.

With his hands set on his sides, Caspar tilted his head and quietly considered him for a moment. "S'new place," he added, trying his best to sound enthusiastic. "You excited?"

James wished he could give Caspar an honest, lighthearted answer. He took in a deep breath.

"I don't know," seemed to be his default answer.

His response was met with quiet. Caspar's lightheartedness faded a little. He only nodded his understanding as he turned his attention back to the manor ahead of them. James sucked in his lower lip as he looked at the ground, feeling the weight he carried all the heavier.

"Well, I've got to get the animals out of this heat," Caspar started again softly, idly stepping back. "Maybe head in and cool down yourself, okay?"

James pulled his lips back into a thin, near-smile. He nodded.

"Yeah," he said, then turned to Caspar. "You should cool off, too."

Before Caspar could respond, the door at the front of the manor opened, and Ingrid's head popped out.

"Tiberius!" she called. "What's the hold-up?"

James flashed Caspar another grin. "Take care," he said.

The driver gave a small, two-fingered salute. "I'll be around," he answered quietly, already starting for the horses behind them.

With a final nod, James jogged up to the door, where Ingrid put an arm around his back and closed the door behind them.

Immediately, James was struck by how clean and well-kept the place was. It didn't even look lived in. The walls were covered in an ornate, blue, and white wallpaper, and the first room they entered was a large sitting room, with plush, dull-red couches angled around a glass-topped center table. Several plants lined the corners of the room along with a wall lined with bookshelves and some small sculptures. It felt like whoever made this manor was trying to mimic the palace, just scaled down. The high ceilings made room for several paintings on the wall, most of them of scenes in the Moonlight Kingdom: snowy mountains, open green plains, and cold, dark waters.

Ingrid had to tug him out of that room and into the hall for staring too long. He heard footsteps faintly upstairs, likely from his friends who'd already been shown around.

"Kitchen to the right," Ingrid said, gesturing to an open door. Inside, James saw a glimpse of an oven and a dishwashing sink.

"Dining room across the hall," she said, and James's eyes caught uncomfortably on the painting at the head of the long dining table.

It was a portrait of King Blackfield, smiling, with his daughter Eliza by his side.

It was a much younger portrait of him. Much younger. Blackfield's hair was still red, and Eliza was just a little girl. He didn't have time to take it all in as he followed Ingrid's hasty steps, but Blackfield's eyes seemed to follow him as he passed by the open door.

Ingrid pointed out a study with a pool table, and a sunroom with a piano, and then finally led them to the stairwell at the end of the hall.

"The Housekeeper said lunch will be ready in just a few minutes," Ingrid went on. "So we can all gather downstairs in the front sitting room where she'll serve us. There's a washroom upstairs and downstairs, too."

They turned a corner at the top of the stairs.

"This one's my room," Hellen said in the middle of the hallway, rushing into a room to the left. Her bright, curly red hair disappeared in a blur.

"Fine, then I'm taking this one," Kirk said, walking at a more relaxed pace into the room across from hers. He glanced back at James and Ingrid, giving a small nod to James.

"Aye, the Tiger finally made it up," Fonzi said, stretching out his hands as he leaned beside the nearest bedroom door. He looked down at the suitcase in James's hands. "Don't trust housekeeping to carry a bag?"

"No," James said, realizing that wasn't really what he meant to say. "I just -- it's my bag. I can--"

Fonzi laughed. "Gods, I'll look forward to seeing you loosen up on this trip, man," he said, coming over to pull James in around the shoulders a little roughly. Fortunately, Fonzi wasn't exceptionally strong - just tall and lanky - so the tug didn't pull him off balance.

"You think you can do that?" Ingrid teased, nudging his elbow. "'Loosen up?'"

"Oh, sure," Fonzi answered for him as James was ushered down the hall with a friend on either side. "Just, you know." Instead of explaining, he mimed himself taking a drink. "It'll fix everything."

James gave Fonzi a flat look as Fonzi's arm pulled away for acting purposes.

"Really?" James said.

"Come on," Fonzi said. "I heard the taverns here are top-notch. Especially the ones in the upper city. And you know they'll pull out the best stuff with the festival and the games coming up. They gotta bring in the gold."

"I'm looking forward to the music," Ingrid said. "I heard they're putting on some big productions in the ampitheater this next week. We should get tickets."

"Now that's what I like to hear," Fonzi said. "Gods, it's been ages since I've had a vacation like this."

"It's not a vaca--," James tried to say.

"Not a vacation," Fonzi mocked, imitating James's voice. "Might as well be. We're just here to be pretty ponies paraded around."

"You mean we are," Ingrid said with a huff. "You're not part of the King's Hand."

James stopped at the last door of the hall. He noticed the room was empty, and he turned, stopping in the doorway to look back at Ingrid and Fonzi. Carter had stepped out of the mirrored room across the hall. Between Ingrid and Fonzi, Carter always looked dramatically short and stocky.

"Wow," Fonzi said in mock offense.

"Honorable sixth finger," Carter posed.

"Ew," Ingrid said with a scoff.

But Fonzi was considering it seriously. He rubbed his scruffy chin in thought.

"A hand with six fingers," he murmured. "Sounds freaky."

"You don't need a title, Fonzi," Ingrid said with a roll of her eyes, walking down to the room beside James's. That must've been the one she'd taken.

"Lieutenant is just so boring, though," Fonzi said, putting his hands on his hips. "There's no spice. Not as exciting as being a finger."

"Please stop calling it that, ugh," Ingrid said, tossing her jacket into her room before she began to march down the hall. "I'm going to go down for food."

Hellen popped out of her room and Kirk did as well at the mention of food. Both murmured something similar about starving and quickly hurried down the steps with Ingrid. Fonzi hung back and looked on with Carter, grinning in success for having annoyed Ingrid for the millionth time. For him, apparently, it never got old.

"See ya down there, Haddy," Fonzi said to Carter, calling Carter the abbreviated version of his last name, Haddon.

No one really liked Fonzi's nicknames, but James thought Haddy was better than "Tiger." It at least didn't have potential unwanted connotations, since it wasn't a real word.

Assuming Carter was following, James turned to enter his room, setting his suitcase at the base of his bed.

This room was at least a little more simple.

At the front of the room to his left, there was an oak dresser. To his right, there was a simple writing desk, an oil lamp, and a padded wooden chair. The bed took up a larger portion of the back center of the room since it was sized for at least two people. In the corner, there was a small closet.

A window above the bed was the only wall decor in there, and James felt a small sigh of relief at having no paintings to look at. Just some simple wallpaper and the house beside theirs through the glass.

In the back of his head, he did the math.

Six doors down the hall. Six bedrooms. Six visitors. Five made the King's Hand, and Fonzi was along for the ride.

He let out a sigh.

Weeks of this, and he was already tired. He didn't think he could keep doing this. All of the placid greetings, the fake interest, the polite but distant conversations. It was exhausting, being your best self all of the time - and as the King's Hand, they'd have to be, if they were to be the king's proxy. Representing the king was no light matter.

He stood up straighter when he saw Carter fill the space in the doorway out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he stood at attention.

An old habit. Maybe one he needed to lose, now that he and Carter were equals, and Carter wasn't his superior.

And he wanted to believe they were still friends.

"Tiberius," Carter said with a tilt of his head. "Are you coming?"

James didn't understand why everyone was in such a hurry.

"Yeah," he said, his voice feeling flat. He knew he hadn't been 'himself,' and that Carter was going to pry, even though James didn't want to say more.

Without saying a word, Carter just raised his brows ever-so-slightly, giving James an expectant, searching look that James knew well.

Fine. He'd give him an inch.

"I haven't been this far from home since the war," he said emptily.

And in a moment, it was like the air was sucked out of the room. Carter's lingering grin dropped to something sobered, and he too, stood up straighter, taking in a deep breath. There was a short delay.

"It'll help you to get some food in your stomach," Carter said, softer.

Not waiting for James to move, Carter walked up, gently grabbing James's hand to lead him out.

"I know we're here for work," he said. "But we're going to have fun, too. It'll help get your mind off things. You should let yourself have it."

James didn't offer a reply, but he followed Carter's lead, pulling his hand lightly out of Carter's as Carter walked ahead of him and James followed behind. For a split second, James found himself glancing over his shoulder at the room he left behind, but his gaze quickly shot forward again.

He guessed he'd have to pretend.

Dear Eve,

Another spring's come and gone here in Ruddlan. The already-warm weather is heating up, and soon all of us will be scorching in the heat, wondering why we chose to live in a desert. The semester just ended earlier this week, which brings me another step closer to that doctorate. I don't plan on sitting still all summer long, of course. The libraries are still open, which means I can still study-- research waits for no one. I won't get bored. You might not expect the Desert Sands to have that much academic literature, but surprisingly, I could still spend my whole life reading it all. Which means these next few months won't go to waste.

A fluttering of wings came from the window, and Shane glanced up, setting down his quill pen. On the other side of the glass, a goldfinch was making its landing on a perch, swooping for the basket of birdseed hanging beside it. Shane smiled softly as he watched the small bird attack the grain. When establishing their second home here, his father had barely waited for their family to be moved in before installing the bird feeder in the window for the room that was to be Shane's. It gave him two things to watch from his desk, where he spent much of his time. One, the birds that inevitably and regularly stopped by for a meal. Two, he could see over the wall surrounding the Barlowe Estates and into the rest of Ruddlan.

It was strange entertainment to watch the people passing by, far away and below. He had to wonder what each of their lives were, where they were going, what was on their minds. He could see hundreds of people moving by in a single day, but none of them never looked up. It felt like being among them, but invisibly. Community in loneliness. Connection without rejection.

Shane tore his eyes away from the bright yellow of the bird before looking back to the letter, picking up his pen again.

There's other things to be looking forward to, though. My parents will be arriving here tomorrow, on their way back from a trip to the Moonlight Kingdom. Last I heard, they're both happy and healthy. My mom's rather tired from all her meetings and diplomatic summits, but she remains hopeful and optimistic about everything. And my dad-- well, you know him. He's as warm and jovial as ever. They're well, but I know they miss you just as much as I do.

Not only are they back in town, but so are the Griffin Games. Whose bright idea was it to chain up two magnificent creatures and have them fight in front of a crowd of screaming people? I don't see the appeal, but if they weren't so popular this city would still be a two-horse settlement, so I suppose I can't complain. The bright side is they'll bring a lot of people here for the summer, and the streets will be full. It'll be fascinating to see how the city changes for the season. You wouldn't believe the view I have from the Cypress. I wish you could see it.

Shane looked back up at the window again. The goldfinch had flown away while he hadn't been looking, apparently satisfied with its meal. He couldn't felt but feel a twinge of disappointment as he faced the paper again.

Most of them will flock to our landmarks whenever there isn't a game, especially the city park. I think you'd like it-- it's nothing like our school's courtyard. There are fountains, and a pond where ducks come to raise their young, and clusters of flower gardens scattered around the lawns. One of them even has a patch of dandelions, and it's refreshing to see them not treated as weeds for once. Do you have any of those, wherever you are? I hope you do. The things you find beautiful should never be a memory to you.

I hope this last winter was kind to you. Over here, it was just quiet and sad, and I realized I'd pick a freezing winter afternoon shivering with you in front of a fireplace over a mild, dull Bruma every single time. Everything seems to lead back to you, in the end. Just the other day, I saw a girl making portraits in the square, and my first thought was that she could be you. She didn't look anything like you, but I still see you everywhere. Maybe that's how I can always find something to write to you about, even though you'll never read this, or any of the other letters. I don't know how to stop looking. I'm not sure if I can.

Wherever you are, whatever you're doing-- I hope that you, at least, can find what you're looking for. If I can't, you should be able to. You deserve all that and much more.

I just wish I could be a part of it.

All my love,

Shane

Shane took a deep breath, dropping his pen to the desk. There. Another one for the drawer that was steadily growing fuller and fuller and threatening to spill into the rest of his life. He prayed that it never overflowed. He needed that layer of separation between his past and present in order to stay afloat.

Carefully, Shane blew on the letter to ensure the ink was dry-- even though the words he'd shaped out of that very ink would never be read-- and folded the paper down the middle, pressing it flat on the desk. He pulled the bottom drawer of his desk open and dropped it in, willing himself not to count how many letters were already down there. Then he closed it up, the wood hitting wood with a thunk.

The moment he leaned back in his chair, something pounced into his lap. Shrimp, demanding pets with a loud mrow. Shane smiled, stroking behind the cat's ears as he cuddled him up to his chest.

"There you are," he said. "You've been awfully quiet today. I was starting to get suspicious."

Shrimp purred, getting snug in his arms.

Shane smooched his head. "Oh, I believe you. You could do no wrong."

He heard the soft whinnying of a horse and went quiet, trying to listen to it. It sounded like it was coming from the street outside, although it was odd for anyone to be leaving or arriving at midday. Curious, he lifted Shrimp against his shoulder like an infant and left his room, moving to the window at the top of the staircase that offered a street view over the house's entrance.

At the edge of the road, a green carriage was pulled over, with the chauffeur already out of his seat and checking on the horses. Shane squinted at the crest over the door-- it was distinctly the Letteran emblem, with the cornucopia and mountain symbols. A spark of hope fluttered in his chest, and he moved his face closer to the glass, his heart racing with sudden excitement.

He felt his face splitting into a grin when the door to the carriage opened and his father stepped out. His father immediately turned back to the compartment with a warm, bright smile, holding out his hand with his palm flipped up for his mother to take as she stepped out too. Shane couldn't hear her laugh, but he definitely saw it when his father quickly pressed a playful kiss to the back of her hand and spun her around on the sidewalk.

Shane couldn't wait another moment. He tore down the stairs, set Shrimp down to throw on his shoes, and then swung the door open so he could race out the entrance.

"You're back!" he shouted, running to them with his arms open.

His parents both turned to him with wide grins, and Shane ran straight into his father's arms. He tugged him tightly as his mother quickly joined them in a group hug.

"There's my boy," his father said gleefully as he ruffled Shane's hair playfully. Shane laughed as his mother pecked a kiss on his cheek.

"You said you wouldn't be here until tomorrow!" Shane exclaimed, moving his arm so he could hug his mother back.

"We were making good time on the trip, so we sent a letter ahead of us informing you that we would be a day or two early," his father said, reaching into a pocket of his jacket. "But we actually made such great time that we intercepted the messenger at the city gate." He held up a letter. "Here it is."

Shane barked a laugh. "I haven't even gotten the place ready for you both. There was going to be a welcome dinner and everything."

"We'll make it with you," his mother said warmly, squeezing him more tightly for a moment before letting go of him. "We've got plenty of time to spend with you and just enjoy the summer."

An eager meow rose up from the house, and they all turned to see Shrimp zooming out the open door to pounce on Shane's mother. She caught the cat with a gentle grin, holding him up to her face so she could smooch his head.

"Hello, sweetie," she said adoringly. "Has he been a good kitty, Shane?"

"The best," Shane confirmed.

"Hey, give me a turn with him," his father protested jokingly, reaching over to scratch underneath Shrimp's chin. He had a hard time, though, because Shrimp kept moving his head to try and nuzzle his hand instead.

Shane's mother smiled, passing the cat over to his father. "We got you something," she told Shane as she reached into the carriage again. Intrigued, Shane watched as she held up a blue hardcover volume, with a seal in the shape of a sea serpent on the front. The gold text above it read Death from the Depths: A Complete Guide to the History of Sea Monsters.

"Oh, wow," Shane exclaimed, excitedly opening it up and flipping through the pages. It looked to be filled with a mix of historical research and sailor testimonials, with elaborate illustrations of various sea creatures breaking up the text. The book was in mint condition, even smelling new. He had to resist the urge to shove his face in the pages and inhale deeply.

Shane looked up with a beaming smile to his mother.

"Thank you so much. This is wonderful," he said eagerly.

"She was worried you might forget what the sea was," his father teased, patting Shane's shoulder affectionately with his free hand as Shrimp purred loudly on his shoulder. "You're so landlocked out here."

"On the plus side, we don't have to worry about any of these," Shane said, tapping the sea serpent on the cover. "They can't fit in our fountains."

"We'll have to travel to the Sheila Sea as a family sometime again," his mother said thoughtfully. "Maybe next summer. It'll be nice and mild. Can't promise the presence-- or lack-- of sea serpents, though."

Shane smiled. "It'd be nice to make it back home sometime."

He heard the clatter of hooves over stone, and all of them turned their heads to see what was drawing near. Another carriage was pulling up, this one larger and in black and gray. Shane's gaze landed on the Moonlight Kingdom's crest over the door. So, someone was coming to stay at the kingdom's diplomatic mansion for the summer, much like his parents were returning to the Cypress. But who was it?

The carriage passed by, and he could see it was full, with maybe a half dozen people in their twenties inside. The three of them smiled and nodded politely as it went by, and his father even waved. Even after it moved on, Shane kept his curious gaze on it.

"That's the King's Hand," his mother said suddenly. "They made the trip north before us on a different route."

Shane turned to her in surprise. "They're here?"

"They've been on a tour," his mother explained. "King Blackfield wants to show off the future of his military to the world, have them form connections. Ruddlan is their stop for the summer."

Shane's father scratched his head thoughtfully. "Maybe we should invite them over for a meal this week. Be neighborly while making positive connections."

Shane shuffled his feet. Having new visitors? He wouldn't think twice if they were more like his parents' age, but they were young enough to be his peers. And that meant he had to figure out how to fit in.

"That would be pleasant," his mother agreed, placing a comforting hand on Shane's shoulder. "It would be casual. We wouldn't be determining the future military policy of our nations over the dinner table."

Shane chuckled faintly. "I would hope not."

"We wouldn't do that to you." His mother took a moment to examine him, gently and proudly smiling up at him, before brushing some hair out of his face and drawing him in for another hug. "We've missed you so much, sweetheart."

"I missed you too," Shane whispered, hugging her tight.

"Hey, let me in, I've missed him just as much," his father exclaimed, rushing in. With a laugh, Shane let himself be hugged by him as well, leaning into the embrace. He felt Shrimp nuzzling his cheek as he did, and he smiled a bit wider.

They spent a comfortable amount of time hugging, and Shane felt some of his worries lift. Things were always better when his parents were around. The Cypress didn't feel so lonely and empty, for one thing. It always felt bleak to wander its rooms and know he was the only one in this huge manor. But it was a strange comfort to be there and hear the creaks of footsteps that weren't his moving around. He held them closer for a moment before they all pulled back, still smiling at each other.

"So, this welcome dinner?" his mother asked curiously.

Shane laughed, grabbing them each by the hand and eagerly leading them inside. "Just wait until you see what's in the pantry."

It was the first of Sol. On this day for the past ten years, Alan would begin packing up his violin and personal belongings to make the long trek to the Moonlight Kingdom so he could spend the summer with his dad. But this year, it was different. This year, he held a box of the same personal belongings-- but not to transport to the southern kingdom. Instead, he was making a much shorter, much quicker move.

Five rooms down.

"Lara?" Alan called curiously, poking his head in his nearly-empty old dorm room. "Are you coming?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm coming!" she called, walking slowly out of the doorway with three huge boxes in her arms.

Alan smiled, lifting his heavy box a little higher and gesturing to the hallway with his head. "It's alright. We can make one more trip. Don't overstrain yourself, love."

Lara laughed, hefting up the boxes a little higher. "Don't worry, I've got this! It's less trips this way."

He thought about taking a load off her hands, but considering she was confident and they were only five doors down his new room, he decided it was best to let her have this moment. With a fond smile, Alan nodded and led the way down the hall.

"Alright. We're almost done."

Thanks to the job with Barlowe, Alan was given a generous scholarship that not only paid for tuition, but also room and board as well. Unfortunately, those with free room and board meant the rooms were subjected to random movings based on supply and demand. Alan didn't quite understand it, but because his previous dorm mate graduated, he was obligated to move in with a new random student.

Which was quite unfortunate, as he quite liked his old dorm mate... since the dorm mate was hardly ever around, which meant he had Lara over quite often.

Alan gestured inside for Lara to go in first, broadly welcoming her in. "Here we are. Ladies first."

Stomping in with heavy feet, Lara dumped the boxes just a few feet from the door with a big sigh. Standing up straight, she shook out her arms and clapped her hands together, looking around the room with a bright smile.

"There! All done," she said.

"All done," Alan echoed, still with the lingering smile.

He gently placed his box of books with the other music boxes, taking a step back to think about how he'd set everything up again. It was only a fleeting thought, since his attention turned back to Lara, his beautiful girlfriend who spent the whole morning helping him move.

"Thank you for all the help." He pushed back the dark hair sticking to her face, hands drifting down to her shoulders to gently massage. "Are you feeling alright?" he asked, getting lost in her deep, ocean blue eyes. "There were a good amount of boxes."

Lara let out a small sigh, visibly relaxing at his touch.

"I feel good," she said. "And now I don't have to lift another box like that for a while."

"Nope. Not at least for another year, when we'll have another lovely morning date moving out again," Alan replied, keeping up with his gentle circular massages against her shoulder.

"And we'll move all of your books. Again," Lara said with a little laugh. "Maybe we can put them in smaller boxes next time."

He hummed. "Perhaps. Especially if I take some books to your place, little by little." Alan smiled, asking with a curious tilt of his head, "What do you think? It would certainly make moving easier."

Lara mirrored his head tilt to the side, her eyes glinting with an innocent excitement as she smiled.

"All of those books," she said. "Well, that's like giving me a little piece of yourself, Alan. They're basically a part of you."

Alan lifted his hand to his lips, pressing two fingers against them. "What's mine..." he began softly, pulling his hand away to press the same fingers against her own soft and lush lips. He smiled, getting lost in her eyes again as he softly finished: "...is yours."

Alan let his hand linger on her lips for a long second, pulling away to push a stand of her loose brown hair against ear. "Always remember that, Lara," he whispered, fingers cradling the edge of her jaw.

There was another reason Alan wanted to stay the summer.

Their two year anniversary was during the festival next week, and Alan had been hard at work, paying a smith to teach him how to make a special silver ring himself. It had been weighing heavy in his pocket the past week. Even now, it felt like it could fall out of his pocket any moment now.

Lara's smile spread wider.

"You always make it hard for me to say something sweeter," she said softly. "I wish I had your way with words. I love you too, Alan."

To which Alan would have affirmed that she was just as sweet and perfect as is, but the moment was stolen.

"Ewwwwwwwwwwwww," a nasally voice pitched from behind him.

At the same time, Alan and Lara turned their heads, coming face-to-face with a complete stranger who looked how they sounded.

A deathly pale, skinny man stood in the doorway with stringy, sandy hair pulled back in a thin ponytail. Large round glasses perched on his nose, and his face was blotchy from acne. A massively oversized too-warm sweater swallowed him, looking like it had to be creating his own internal steam room.

"They didn't tell me I'd be getting two roommates," the man said, looking at Alan and Lara with clear judgement. "I don't think that's allowed."

Right... roommates. Alan had a new dorm mate this year. And right away, Alan knew they were not going to get along.

He mustered a friendly smile, drawing away from Lara as he placed his hand against his chest. "Hello there. My name is Alan." He gestured to Lara, meekly waving at him. "This is Lara, my girlfriend." And to make this extra clear, he added with an amicable smile, "She will not be staying with us. It's just me. It's nice to meet you."

"Wish I could say the same," the man replied. "The name's Emilear. Emilear Falin. I don't like loud music and if you bring your girlfriend overnight I'll report you. Are we clear?"

Alan stared at him blankly for a second, processing. He slowly blinked, forcing the amicable smile to linger as he nodded, glancing at Lara. She was staring at Emilear a bit wide-eyed, plastering on a faint grin that was weakening.

"Of course. I also follow rules, Emilear," Alan replied, but didn't allow a response from his new dorm mate. He nudged Lara's side with his elbow. "Are you ready to go? We're running late."

"Oh, yes, of course!" Lara said with a forced smile. She hooked her arm into Alan's. "You're right. We wouldn't want to be late. Well, it was nice to meet you, Emilear. Goodbye!"

Just in case-- well, mostly because Alan at this moment no longer considered his dorm room a safe spot for music-- he grabbed his violin case, looping the strap against his free shoulder.

"Have a good rest of the day," Alan said politely, giving Emilear one last wave as they left without another word.

He shut the door behind him, slowly turning around to silently grin at Lara. She grinned knowingly in return.

"Might be a interesting next semester for you," she murmured.

"Lara," he called dramatically and patiently, offering his hand for her to take. She grabbed it with a giggle.

"Alan," she echoed, just as dramatic.

"Will you take my books to be your lawfully rent-abiding roommate tomorrow?" he asked, grin growing sillier as he gently squeezed her hand.

Lara smiled wide. "Only if you carry all of them this time," she said with a laugh.

Alan chuckled, bringing her head up to his lips, gently kissing her knuckles. "Deal." With a fond smile, he walked on, tugging her behind him. "Now, let's go. I told my brother we'd meet him for lunch."



The afternoon went by too fast. It was nice to spend time with Lara and family. It was nice to see her get along with his family members, and especially his brother. Or perhaps Alan was overthinking these details he already knew dear to his heart, considering the ring that grew heavier in his pocket day-by-day.

There were a few reasons why he decided to stay in Ruddlan this summer. One of the reasons was not exactly in his control.

Alan had one more year left of school. One more year, and then he'd officially be a professional violinist. How he stumbled into this position was mostly sheer luck, knowing the right people and being at the right place at the right time.

Alan was employed by Mayor Barlowe. In exchange for money and success, Alan gave her information. He had been doing this for the past few years, using his natural wit and charisma to talk to others. That was all he was doing, really. Talking.

That was what he reminded himself as he waited in her office, tapping his finger against his gray slacks. He came in earlier than normal, mostly because the summer schedule was new for him, and he didn't know how late she would be running with her normal schedule. Later than normal, it appeared.

Finally, the doors of her office opened, and Alan could hear and smell her before seeing her come in, her heavy steps rhythmically pattering in with the heavy air of smoke. He whirled around, the doors shutting behind Lady Barlowe as she stepped around the desk, taking a puff of her cigar. She sat down heavily in her chair, pursing her lips as she one-handedly flipped through a stack of files on her desk. Alan waited patiently in silence, once again tempted to make small talk, but knowing that it was better for her to navigate the conversations and topics at hand, no matter how big or small the conversation.

Finally finding the folder she must have had in mind, she set it aside on the middle of the desk with a sigh as she sat up straighter, and briefly adjusted the wrap on her head by tucking it over an ear.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Alvaro," she said. "I hope your studies are going well for you?"

Alan smiled, inclining his head downwards in appreciation. "It's good to see you again, too, Mayor," he echoed. "My studies are going well. Summer classes are not in session, but I am practicing for the solo for next week's festival. Thank you again for all of your support."

"Of course," she said. "I look forward to seeing you play. You always deliver the most excellent quality of a performance."

"Those are very kind words. Thank you," he said sincerely.

"And, your partner," the Mayor continued. "She's doing well?"

Alan smiled fondly, nodding. "Lara is doing quite well. In fact..."

He and Mayor Barlowe were cordial at best, and he tried to avoid disclosing personal details, but considering this was a public event, and she was a prominent figure who gave him so much support...

"Well, it's still in the works," Alan continued with the lingering smile, "but during the festival, I plan on asking her to marry me. I hope this won't be too distracting for your festival, though."

At that, Lady Barlowe smiled - and her smiling was a rare sight. Normally, she was a very serious person, usually only smiling for show if it was at a public speaking event. But at this, she seemed actually happy for him. It brought Alan great relief and comfort.

"That sounds like a lovely idea," she said. "And I'm sure you won't be too distracting, Mr. Alvaro. There will be many people at the final festival day. If anything, it will be a highlight of someone's day to witness your proposal. Knowing you, I'm sure it'll be a touching moment for whoever is present. I wish you both well for your future together."

"Thank you, Mayor," Alan said just as sincerely, clasping his hands together on his lap. "I appreciate it. Your support and encouragement means a lot to me."

"And I, in turn, greatly appreciate your support for this city," she said, slipping into the straight-to-business tone that Alan was quite familiar with now. "You've been an invaluable resource to me, and I'm grateful for your latest report. I haven't had a chance to read it all in full, but I plan to in the evening. Would you give me a quick summation of your findings on Mr. Costa?"

"Of course, Mayor. It's my pleasure." Alan nodded, sitting up straighter as he thought back to last week as he typed up the report using the campus library typewriter. This was a helpful process that often forced him to commit the facts to memory, especially since Barlowe often asked for a summary anyways.

"I've been talking and observing Professor Costa for about a month," he began. "Unfortunately, I do not have direct ties with him. However, because he is an arts professor, and Lara coincidentally had a class with him last semester, I have been able to strike numerous conversations with him." Still on his lap, he gestured his hands openly to the report on her desk. "The paper contains topics of interest that pertain to his vocal opinions, mostly about Ruddlan politics. I confirmed with Lara that he is not shy to voice his opinions in class, but most of the topics mentioned were from my own questioning. Fortunately, he did not mention the position of mayor. They are mostly related to political and socioeconomic topics."

Barlowe nodded, and it was a nod with which Alan was familiar. It meant that his work was satisfactory, and she was happy with it.

"As always, you are thorough," she said. "I've always appreciated that about your work."

Reaching for the file she'd set aside, she slide it across the only clear portion of her desk. It stopped just at the edge, in front of him. A portion of the papers inside were sticking out, but not enough to read the contents.

"Consider Costa a closed case," she said. "I have a new assignment for you this summer."

Nodding, Alan wordlessly reached forward and slid the file off her desk. Setting it firmly on his lap, he opened the contents with Barlowe keeping a close eye on him, flipping through the pages to get a general idea of the next profile she was assigning him.

The bolded and underlined words were "Hawking Family" and "The King's Hand."

"We have guests in town," Barlowe said. "My sources inform me both groups have arrived today. The Hawking family is one of influence from Lettera. The mother, Gwen Hawking, is one of their ambassadors. With her husband Ray Hawking they have only one child, a son named Shane Hawking who goes to school here at the university for his masters in history. Have you heard of him?"

Alan shook his head, rifling through the papers that were referenced under Shane Hawking. Although the name wasn't familiar, Alan wondered if Lara would know him since Shane was a student in history as well.

"There should be portraits inside for visual reference," Barlowe went on. "But there's only one Shane Hawking attending Ruddlan University, so he will be difficult to miss. You understand already why he's your primary contact point for the Hawkings. I want to know all there is to know about his family - but especially his mother. Shane, too, is in line to be one of King Manning's advisors. The rest of the information we have is in the file. Use it to inform your strategy as always, and if you have any questions after this meeting, send them through Margaret at the front desk, and I'll get back to you in a timely manner."

Alan nodded along, listening attentively while also studying the sketch of Shane he was provided. He had some questions, though he was sure they would be answered in the thorough papers he was given. He just needed time to study them first.

"The next subject of interest is a new group of five young men and women, assembled out of the Moonlight Kingdom military for the king to represent him as his proxy. Coincidentally, they are all around your age. I need as much information as you can find on them, and don't skimp on any details. Their formation is called 'The King's Hand,' and its invention has only existed for the past year. Ruddlan is their last stop before they return to the Moonlight Kingdom, and they'll be here until the end of the summer to establish political relations. Get me a full picture of who they all are. Understood?"

Alan nodded again, glancing down at the give sketches of each member of the King's Hand. There was a lot to take in.

"Understood," he repeated.

"Take your time to do your research, but understand your window to procure this information is small," Barlowe reiterated. "You have only weeks for Hawking's parents, and only a few months for the King's Hand. I trust you'll be wise with your time."

This took a little more time to process since Alan was doing the mental math. These were high profile, prominent figures-- the first ones he'd ever been given. And the timeline was greatly compressed. It felt... well, unreasonable.

But this also meant Barlowe trusted him. A lot.

"I will do my best," Alan said with another incline of his head and a small smile. "With summer classes not in session, I will have plenty of time to work on this. When would you like your reports?"

"By the turn of the season," she said. "The first of Aurna."

That was three months. All summer.

"Understood." Alan closed the folder shut. "I'll work on this right away, Mayor. Thank you for trusting me with this."



Alan was serious when he said that he would work on this right away. He sat under a willow tree at the City Park near the coliseum, flipping through the pages that Barlowe gifted him.

There was a lot to study.

Strategy-wise, it made sense that Alan focus on Shane first, considering his time was more limited since his family was here for a short while. The notes on the Hawking family was impressively thorough, even for Barlowe. Considering that the Hawkings were ambassadors from Leterra, though... perhaps this shouldn't have been a surprise. Alan was too used to studying smaller cases like professors from the local university, not famous political figures from other countries.

His window only lasted a few weeks. This meant he had to get close to Shane fast. At least, close enough to warrant spending time with his family. This was no easy feat, but Alan was intrigued by the challenge.

Alan summarized his own notes in his notepad, noting that it was observed that Shane was very lonely and didn't visibly have friends or connections in Ruddlan. Interestingly, there were observations stated that Shane Hawking appeared to be open and receptive to connection. And in Barlowe's own handwriting, she noted: "Your friendly charm would go a long way here."

A slow pressure built in Alan's chest as he wrote down her words in his notes, exchanging the "your" with a "my."

And of course, there was even more extensive notes on Ray and Gwen Hawking, which Alan also diligently summarized notes on. All reports of Ray show that he was an incredibly endearing and friendly man, and he showed love to any person who displayed kindness towards his son. In comparison, Gwen was more careful and discerning, but she was not difficult to warm up to with sincerity-- especially if there was mutual interest and friendliness in politics.

Which Alan was not familiar with. He made a mental note to study up on politics before taking action. It seemed like the first move would center around Shane, which would naturally revolve to be centered on his parents.

He could do this. Alan could do this.

He stared at Shane's schedule listed out for his convenience, thinking.

Now, how could he set up a meeting with him in the most organic, most natural way possible...

Alan lost track of time. After writing down many ideas, he felt spent and drained, knowing he'd have to pick up this topic again tomorrow. Still, this was only half the task at hand here. On one hand was the Hawkings. On the other hand...

The King's Hand.

He closed the Hawking files, rifling through the King's Hand papers to study instead. He wouldn't take extensive notes right now, but he could at least know the names, faces, and personalities of the next profiles he would be working with.

There were five people total.

Carter Haddon was first on the list. He was affable, a true child of politics. His parents were the headmasters of the Defense Against Magic Guild. There were several disclaimers that he may be difficult to befriend and get close to, especially because he was used to being in the spotlight since childhood.

Next was Ingrid Price. She appeared to be polite and practically minded, prioritizing business over fun and connection with others. So, it was unlikely that Alan could obtain information from her as well. It was also noted that she was currently dating Tiberius Hemming.

Hellen Lannon was next on the list. She was more friendly and open, but recently suffered a great loss; her fiance, Jack Owen, passed due to the Resurgence. Because she was still grieving, it was unlikely she was open for connection.

Kirk Fayek was more promising. Even in his illustrations, Alan could tell he was intelligent, social, and friendly. Fluent in all Nye languages, he was a gifted and proficient linguist, able to converse with everyone from all walks of life.

And finally, there was Tiberius Hemming, a recent war hero. He was naturally quiet and was slower to speak, but otherwise responsive and reactive. It was also noted that he seemed troubled, likely from the lasting traumatic effects experienced from war.

Turning to a new page in his notepad, Alan numbered the King's Hand from most likely to connect to least likely.

1. Kirk
2. Tiberius
3. Hellen
4. Carter
5. Ingrid

Or maybe Hellen should be prioritized over Tiberius? Hm...

Tapping the edge of his pencil against his lips, Alan gave this some thought for a few more seconds, but didn't have much time to stew on this since he caught sight of a familiar figure approaching. His brother.

Quickly closing his notes, Alan waved, stuffing the notes in his bag and getting up on his feet. The wave turned to a disgusted frown as his brother approached.

"Ugh. Alistair, you smell terrible," Alan greeted, turning away.

Releasing a long-suffering sigh, Alistair sunk down to the grass, sprawling against the field. "I'm dead tired and feel like shit," he deadpanned.

"You smell like shit," Alan reminded him.

"Yeah, I was on shit duty with Shay today," Alistair said with a long sigh, rubbing his face. He peered up at Alan between his fingers. "What have you been up to? Lara?"

Alan shook his head. "Nah, she went home after lunch. I was at work."

"Oh, right." Alistair waved his hand in the air. "You're high class now, working with the big dogs in that mansion. Probably scrubbing their shitters too, right?"

"No, of course not," Alan scoffed. "I dust off their gold coins in their money dungeon."

"Mmhmm."

Alan huffed through his nose, staring down at his brother, dressed in all black that he sweat through, with smears of dirt along his arm. At least, Alan told himself it was dirt.

He already told his family that he worked with Barlowe, but he kept the details of the job a secret. No one knew his true job. When asked, Alan was happy to explain that he works for Barlowe as an event coordinator, mostly playing violin for high-profile small-venue entertainment. Which actually wasn't false, because he actually was in a quartet for this.

So, it was a half lie.

Alistair was just being sarcastic, though. As he always was. Alan nudged his limp foot with his own foot.

"What are you up to tonight?" he asked. "Are you heading home?"

"I should, yeah," he sighed, rifling through his hair with his fingers. "Shay wants to go out drinking. I told her that's a bad idea because we have to get to the coliseum early again tomorrow."

Alan hummed, pulling his bag over his shoulder. "If it's convenient, maybe you can stay at my dorm sometime. It's a lot closer."

"Oh yeah?" Alistair pursed his lips, squinting up at him. "Didn't you move today? Do you have a new roommate?"

"Yep." Alan grinned. "And you two will get along fine. I wouldn't worry about it."

To which Alistair only stared at him with suspicion, so Alan continued on.

"Are you going to the tavern tonight then?" he asked.

"Yeah... probably." His brother sighed. "Andy wants to go too. So, I don't think I can get out of it."

Alan slowly nodded. Honestly, he lost track of whether Alistair was or wasn't with Andrea. It seemed that they were back to being together. Which was... well, "good" was too strong of a word.

"Do you want to come?" Alistair asked.

Alan shook his head. "Nah. Have a drink in my honor, though."

"I'd get wasted if I did that."

"Well, if Andrea won't carry your ass home, then I will," Alan teased, nudging his foot again then offering his hand for him to take. "You ready to go? You should shower... unless you want to repel everyone away from you."

"Tempting," Alistair sighed, reaching up to grab his hand, which Alan firmly took, heaving him up. Now on his feet, his brother lightly smiled, and they both bumped their fists over and above each other. "See ya later, I guess."

Alan smiled back, nodding. "Yeah. See ya later, I guess, bro."

Shane took a step back to examine the dining table. Silverware, check. Cloth napkins, check. Chairs for nine, check. Cheese platter, fennel and orange salad, and the pan-seared filet in madeira sauce, check. Baklava cooling in the kitchen, check. Wine glasses, check. What else was--

The wine bottles. That was kind of important.

Shane rushed down to the cellar, grabbing two bottles of red wine he thought would pair well with the meat before hurrying back. He set them down on the table, giving the setup a nod. Everything looked to be in place.

"We're ready for them," he called.

His mother left the parlor, looking the table over with an appreciative nod. "Looks perfect," she remarked. "Are you feeling good?"

Shane shrugged, glancing at the door. "All things considered, I could be feeling worse."

His mother smiled sympathetically, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Just remember nothing hinges on tonight," she said gently. "You don't have to like them. They can even walk away knowing you don't like them-- they probably expect you not to. What we're here to do is be friendly, get to know each other, and hopefully not say a word--"

"About politics," the two of them said together.

"You got it." She patted his back, then added in a teasing tone, "The only thing you need to worry about tonight is whether your father added too much balsamic to the salad."

"They'll be fine," his father protested from the kitchen. "They're soldiers."

Shane chuckled. "I guess out of all the things to fear, that's not too bad."

"See? You've got this." His mother smiled at him again before smoothing his flannel out at the shoulders and pulling her hands back. "Don't fear a thing."

Then, there was a knock at the front door. Four solid raps on the wood.

"I'll get it," Shane's father said excitedly, rushing out of the kitchen and pausing only to give both Shane and his mother a smooch on the forehead before hurrying to the door.

As the door opened-- just out of sight from the dining room-- he heard a jovial "Hello! Welcome in!" from his father and a chorus of greetings.

"Mr. Hawking!" a voice called out merrily. "Good to see you, sir. Oh, man, it smells amazing in here!"

"Please, call me Ray," his father urged, and Shane could see his hand peeking from around the corner as he waved them in.

"Ray. Ray of sunshine?" a tall, lanky man suggested as he walked into view. This man didn't seem to carry himself like one of the King's Hand. He must've been the Lieutenant Heart -- Fonzi-- his father had recounted talking to earlier.

"I try," his father said brightly. "Honorable ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Cypress."

"Aptly named," someone hummed out of view from behind a very tall woman with dark hair and another, shorter woman with bright red hair. They were both dressed nice but causal, with the dark-haired woman in a blouse and slacks and the red-haired woman in a simple blue dress with a short-sleeved jacket. From what Shane had heard, there were two women on the King's Hand-- Ingrid Price and Hellen Lannom. He didn't know much about either of them, such as who was who, except that Ingrid was a war strategist and Hellen was a weapons expert. The dark-haired woman's stare was fierce, but the other woman's expression was friendlier with a pleasant smile. He kept up the easy smile as she and the other woman entered.

The next man was of average height and dressed more formally in slacks, a button-up and a jacket that looked like it didn't keep him too warm. Shane thought it was a nice outfit. His brown hair was curly, although his beard was tamer and shorter, and he had brown skin with a scar over his brow that Shane decided not to look at for too long. He gave him a nod with a cordial smile, but a moment later his attention was side-tracked by the person after him.

Shane had never seen Carter Haddon, but he'd seen his parents before. Like them, Carter was short and broader with brown skin, but his dark hair was longer, pulled into a neat ponytail, and he had a mustache on his upper lip above a goatee. He was certainly the fanciest in a collared shirt and slacks, dressed for a fine meal. One Shane wished he hadn't been invited to.

Carter shot him a friendly smile when their eyes met. It took every ounce of Shane's will not to grimace and instead smile back like he meant it.

No politics at the dinner table. Not even for a bloodbath.

His father closed the door behind the last person to enter, a man who looked... absent. Everyone else-- regardless of how happy they seemed to be here-- at least seemed alert and aware of their setting, but the man didn't quite look at anyone even though he was smiling politely. He had slicked back auburn hair with no beard or mustache, and was dressed similarly as the brown-haired man, but his jacket looked warmer. Shane always felt a little bad for the tourists who didn't dress for the desert heat.

He was either Tiberius Hemming or Kirk Fayek. Hopefully introductions would clear names up.

"I'd like to introduce you to my lovely wife, Gwen," his father said warmly, slipping around the table to rest a hand on Shane and his mother's backs, "and my son, Shane."

Lieutenant Heart stepped up first, offering Shane's mother a hand to shake. She took it with a beaming smile, moving to shake the dark-haired woman's hand next.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Gwen, Shane," Carter said, with a bow of his head to each of them.

"You have a beautiful family," the red-haired woman said with a small smile, moving to find a seat. They all started to find a place at the table, and Shane found himself sitting next to his mother, with an open seat to his left.

"My name is Carter Haddon," Carter said, introducing himself first. It appeared he was the leader of the group, as he went on to introduce everyone else on their behalf, listing their names. "Hellen Lannom," he said, gesturing to the red haired woman who sat at the end of the table. "Kirk Fayek," he said of the man with the beard, who sat next to Hellen.

Carter stopped at the seat next to Kirk.

"Ingrid Price," Carter said of the dark-haired woman, who sat at his right.

"And of course, none of us would be here without Tiberius Hemming," Carter said, gesturing a hand to the man with the slicked back hair and too-warm jacket.

Quite honestly, Shane didn't need that reminder. He was sure his parents didn't either.

Tiberius only sat down at the open spot beside Shane, dipping his head down as a weak acknowledgement.

"And me," Fonzi spoke up, taking the seat beside Shane's father. "Fonzi Heart. I'm just some guy."

"Lieutenant Heart is a good friend of ours," Carter added, finally sitting himself. "We all practically grew up together. "Regardless of rank, we see each other like family. So it was only natural he came along."

"Of course. I'm so glad I ran into him at the door, I wouldn't have known he was there otherwise," Shane's father said with a grin to Fonzi. "As luck would have it, I got to invite him too."

"Lucky for me," Fonzi said with a laugh. "Wouldn't want to miss out on this!"

Everyone helped themselves to the plentiful food, with most people starting on the salad and cheese, but a few got servings of the filet at the same time. His mother informed everyone to save room for the baklava Shane had made for dessert. His father filled everyone's glasses with wine, and that must've helped the atmosphere, because conversations sparked after that. Minutes later, his father was having a lively conversation with Hellen, Kirk and Fonzi, and his mother was cordially getting to know Ingrid and Carter.

The only among their number who weren't actively involved in conversation, really, were him and Tiberius.

Shane turned his head to his left. Tiberius seemed invested in eating his food.

"What do you think of Ruddlan so far?" Shane asked politely after a moment.

Tiberius looked up from his plate, then shrugged. "It's warm," he said. "But I prefer it."

"It's a great place to escape winter," Shane said. "Not the recommended place to be for avoiding summer, however."

Tiberius huffed through his nose. "What brought you here, then?" he asked.

"Studies," Shane said. "I'm a graduate student here."

"What are you studying?" Tiberius asked.

"History, mostly," Shane said, feeling like it could be a poor choice to explain that his focus was in pre-calamity history. For obvious reasons.

Tiberius nodded, offering a faint smile. "A worthwhile pursuit," he said.

Shane smiled faintly back. "It's fulfilling. Ruddlan has connections to the whole world, too, so there's writing and sources from all over Nye. It lends well to different historical perspectives."

"It's definitely good to have a well-rounded perspective," Tiberius said with a small nod. "Lest our opinions be informed by an echo chamber. That's wise that you're giving yourself to being informed."

Shane kept his eyes on him as he reached for his wine. Strange. That was a more positive response than expected for this-- not the uncomfortable and hasty reply he had assumed he would get. If he were less careful, he could've forgotten who he was talking to.

"So, how long have you been studying in Ruddlan?" Tiberius asked after the brief pause.

"Just two years," Shane said. "I actually haven't left the city in all that time."

"How does Ruddlan compare to home?" Tiberius asked.

Shane let out an amused huff as he sipped his wine.

"It's far warmer," he said. "And far dryer. I miss the rain and the sea. I never thought I'd say this, but I even miss the blizzards."

"Well, you can take of all the blizzards from the Moonlight Kingdom," Tiberius said, poking at the food on his plate with his fork. "I'm thoroughly finished with them."

"I'll happily trade you those in return for a heat wave," Shane said sincerely. "If you'd like a drought, too, take some, we've got no shortage of those."

"Even with the rivers just outside town?" Tiberius asked.

"If you're still here in Sil, you might step outside and find one of them missing," Shane said. "It happens. I've been told not to worry, but I always get the thought that it might not come back this time. Such is desert life, I guess."

"Sounds... surprising," Tiberius said before taking a bite.

Shane hummed in agreement. "It takes some getting used to. I'd take a snowstorm over it any day, though."

"So long as you have enough shovels," Tiberius added.

Shane pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You know what, keep your blizzards. I'm not sure we have enough for us all."

"Hey, Tiberius," Carter called over the table.

Tiberius looked up from his plate. Shane cursed internally.

"Gwen was asking about how we all got to meet, and I was telling her you and I go way back," Carter said with a small smile. "We kind of have different memories of our first impressions from when we were kids. I always like hearing yours."

Right. Tiberius and Carter were actually friends, not just colleagues. Shane put on a politely interested expression as he took another sip of his wine to erase the sour taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the balsamic.

Tiberius looked surprised for about a half second, but then nodded.

"It was almost ten years ago, now, I think," Tiberius offered. "When I met Carter, he was a know-it-all. Still is."

Carter let out a laugh, and Ingrid smirked at that, which got a grin out of Tiberius. Shane's mother chuckled, turning toward Tiberius with a gentle smile.

"That's what I get for asking," Carter said with a chuckle.

"Of course, imagine him as a teenager," Tiberius said.

"We all thought we knew everything as teenagers," Ingrid said.

Whatever differences in opinion they had, Shane could get behind that broadly applicable statement, at least.

His mother chuckled. "Did he annoy you?"

"Me? Always," Tiberius said.

Carter gave Tiberius a flat look.

"It was mutual," Carter said.

"But you know what they say," Tiberius added. "Working through differences can make a friendship stronger. We've come a long way."

"And now, we're best friends," Carter said with an easy smile.

Tiberius smiled in turn.

"And now we're all working together," Ingrid said. "Funny how life works."

"Have you all been a friend group for a while?" Shane asked curiously.

Because... it wasn't like his experience was the best to draw on, but generally, he didn't know friend groups from childhood to stick together in a career.

"Well, we've all known each other collectively at least... what, would you say it's been probably eight years? Maybe give or take a year for one or two of us," Carter said, looking between Ingrid and James. "And then we went into the service all at the same time, and we've been friends ever since."

Shane's mother hummed, smiling softly. "It's good you've had each other throughout the life changes. That's a rare and special friendship you all have."

"I'd like to think so," Carter said with a small smile.

"Are you planning on seeing the city together?" Shane's mother asked. "There's plenty to do as a group."

"We're hoping to," Carter said with a smile.

"We're going to," Ingrid corrected. "You know, in-between the meetings and connecting with city leaders."

"Fonzi already has a whole plan laid out," Carter said. "A big list of things he wants to see, and we're going to be brought along."

"We've all contributed to the list," Ingrid added. "He's just the scribe."

"Personally, I'm interested in seeing what the griffin games are like," Carter said. "I heard all about them over the years, but I've never seen them."

"As tourist traps go, they're definitely an exciting one," Shane's mother said, before lowering her voice playfully like she was sharing a secret. "Fill your canteens with water before you go in or they'll rob you of everything you've got there. It will be hot."

"Noted," Ingrid said with a slow nod of understanding.

"Shane," Carter said, turning to him. "Have you ever been? You live here, right?"

Great. Shane nodded, putting on a friendly smile.

"I do live here. I went the summer I moved two years ago, mostly just to say I'd done it, but didn't go back the last," he said. "Maybe I'll go back this time."

He had no plans to, really, but he didn't want to sound that boring.

"Well, if you end up going," Carter said. "Let us know. It could be good to have a local show us around if you're up for that."

Instead of grimacing, Shane made his smile wider. "If you'd like that, I'd be happy to."

Damnit. He'd just told them he was down for stuff. Terrible mistake.

"Perfect," Carter said with a smile. "We'll let you know when we're going."

"Thank you. I look forward to it," Shane said, with such a sincere tone that he felt disguested at himself.

His mother resumed the conversation with Ingrid and Carter, and as their voice blurred together in his ears, Shane forced himself not to think about the sick feeling in his stomach. Did Carter know? Through the pleasant smiles and friendliness, did he know he was speaking to someone who hated the atrocities his family had committed? Did he know that Shane knew just how red the blood on his hands ran? Would he have been the one to go down to the river himself?

"Shane," Tiberius spoke up next to him. "Where's the washroom?"

Shane blinked, turning back to him. Right. This was their house. He was a host.

"Take the door behind Hellen, then take a right, and it's the second room on the left down that hallway," he said.

"Thank you," Tiberius said, getting to his feet as his eyes followed Shane's directions first. Without a word more, he weaved around the table and walked out of the dining room.

Shane nearly said bye. But that might've been weird. So he went back to his food, which he'd been largely neglecting. At least it was tasty.

The conversation at the table was really starting to blend together. Kirk had said something that had made his side of the table erupt into laughter, but Shane hadn't heard the joke. He was pretending to listen to his mother's conversation, but really, while their voices were clear, their words sounded muffled as though spoken underwater or from the other side of a wall. Hoping he didn't look too awkward by not joining in, he cut into his filet and took a bite as he watched, but did not listen to, the people talking at the table.

And then, somehow, above the noise of seven people talking, Shane caught the sound. A door softly creaking.

It wasn't just any creaking sound. The Cypress was full of them. Stairs, floors, cabinets, walls, and doors. When he'd first been alone here, Shane had thought this house was very, very quiet. It wasn't. It was full of noises, and each one sounded different. Over his time here, he'd quickly learned the difference between the floorboard squeaks of the parlor to the squeaks of any other room, between the screech the third-to-last step from the top down made (whiny and short-lived) and the last (drawn-out and loud), between the groan his bedroom walls made at night (like the house was sighing) and the shuddering rattle the library made instead. And the bathroom door didn't make that sound. No, that was a low creak, like the hinges were humming. What he'd heard-- a high-pitched creak, almost a whistle-- was, without a doubt in his mind, the back door that led to the garden between the house and the wall.

Shane frowned to himself.

Why did Tiberius lie about where he was heading?

Even if it wasn't for any bad reason, the principle bothered him. And if he was being honest with himself, he didn't like that a soldier of the Moonlight Kingdom could be wandering around his home. Even though he had technically set foot outside of it.

Shane counted to sixty in his head, eating as he did. When the time was up, he leaned over towards his mother and spoke softly so as not to draw attention: "I'll be back in just a minute."

She smiled and gave him a quick nod, and no one seemed to really notice or care when Shane slipped out the same exit that Tiberius had.

He didn't even bother walking in the restroom's direction, instead heading to the back door. Tiberius would've seen it before he'd gotten there, so at least he didn't have to snoop. Maybe that was comforting to know.

Shane pushed the door open, closed it behind him, then looked down at Tiberius with an unsurprised expression.

Sitting on the edge of the porch, looking out at the dark backyard and the starry sky, Tiberius was in the middle of shaking out a match.

He'd lit a small cigarette. It looked self-rolled.

Pocketing the shriveled, burnt-out match away, Tiberius took the time to breathe in a puff before turning to acknowledge Shane, looking over his shoulder.

Shane leaned against the door, fixing his gaze on the smoke hanging in the air.

"You didn't take that right," he said. "Thought so."

Tiberius looked away, blowing smoke out into the yard, away from them.

"Apologies," he said. "You're very observant."

"The back door and restroom door make different sounds." Shane shrugged. "It's fine. Better for you to smoke out here than in there."

Tiberus hummed, looking down at the cigarette in his hand.

"Figured as much," he said. "Would you rather I put it out?"

Shane shook his head. "I don't mind. Neither do my parents, or the plants, and Barlowe smokes too, so I can't see her having a problem."

Tiberius hummed again. He just nodded and took another puff, taking the time to slowly blow out the smoke.

"Didn't mean to take you from the dinner," Tiberius said.

"It's alright," Shane said, more honestly. "It's not really my scene anyway."

He waved his hand at Tiberius's cigarette.

"I'm guessing it's not yours either," he said, a bit more gently.

At that, Tiberius let out a long sigh.

"No," Tiberius said quietly. But the simple answer was said like a heavy weight, hefted out of him.

He didn't elaborate. Tiberius took another breath of smoke.

"How long 'til you think one of your folks looks for us?" Tiberius asked.

"I don't think they would for quite a while," Shane said. "They're having a good time, and they wouldn't worry too much. If either of us is still gone by dessert time, then they might start to inquire after us."

Tiberius nodded again in understanding, but said nothing more.

Was he planning on staying out here for a while then? Shane glanced over his shoulder, back at the house.

Well, he wasn't in a huge hurry.

"...I've read about you," he said quietly after a few moments, finally letting himself say something he wouldn't have spoken aloud at dinner.

Tiberius didn't move for a solid two seconds. Then he slowly looked over his shoulder at Shane, brows pinched together.

"What?" he asked.

"The events of the near-end of the resurgence are starting to be compiled and synthesized together," Shane said. "You're... a primary figure in them."

"You mean in the papers," Tiberius said, staring at Shane.

Shane shook his head. "No. Well, yes. But I mean primary sources."

Tiberius's stare grew more intense as it went through Shane. Though the rest of Tiberius's face wasn't very expressive, his eyes were transparent that this was news to him.

"The developments haven't made their way into history books yet," Shane said, wondering if he should've kept his mouth shut. "It's too recent for that. These are more like official recordings of that time, and everyone's only just started to agree on what truly happened. But they're starting to appear in academic libraries now." He paused. "Each version of events differs, but across all the ones I've encountered, you're always mentioned."

Tiberius's gaze drifted downward, and he nodded once before once again looking away.

"Sounds like you're all caught up, then," Tiberius said in a tone that was difficult to read.

Shane pressed his lips together, nodding quietly. He actually felt bad for the guy.

"I'm sorry," he said, a little softer. "I wondered if you knew. It's probably not something you wanted."

"No one who wants to be in a history book ends up in a history book," Tiberius said before taking another puff of smoke.

Shane shook his head. "No. It's always the ones who don't even realize they're doing it."

Tiberius just let out another sigh. A trail of smoke blew out in front of him.

"So... what's your focus?" he asked. "You're a history major."

Shane hesitated. Only because he wasn't sure what his answer could get him into.

"The pre-calamity era and the events that led up to it," he said evenly.

Tiberius said nothing for an uncomfortably long time. Then his head bobbed.

"Find anything worthwhile?" Tiberius asked.

Shane raised his eyebrows. What was his purpose in asking? Did he think none of it was worthwhile? Was he truly curious? If he was curious, did he want to know because he'd also wondered about the wiped record, or was this information he wanted wiped?

"I found some personal journals from the time," he said carefully. "They would've belonged to ordinary people writing about their daily lives, and they would've gotten lost for decades before being discovered among a long-dead ancestor's belongings. The details in them tend to be nebulous because people journaling don't always tell the full story, they skip to what matters and how it affects them. Sometimes they'll write an important entry and the rest of the pages are blank. It's an incomplete account." He shook his head. "From what I can determine, people at the time were... scared. They wrote about fear and not knowing what would happen next. There were disasters happening and they didn't understand them. And fear that exists across the minds of so many can shift into violent collective rage with the tiniest push."

He wanted to add that that still applied to today. But he didn't want to push his luck too far.

"I guess those things never change," Tiberius said quietly.

Shane tilted his head slowly, giving him a closer look as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Funny. It wasn't much, but it was yet again a more supportive response than he would've anticipated. It matched what he'd kept himself from saying, even.

"No," he said, just as quietly. "Not one bit."

And, without another word, Tiberius just blew more smoke.

Shane took a deep breath as he kept watching him. This... well, it left him with some questions. But he'd also just accidentally roped himself into the King's Hand's plans for the summer. It was possible the matter could rest for some time.

"Would you like me to leave you alone?" he asked.

Unsurprisingly, Tiberius didn't answer quickly. Instead, he reached over to a garden pot that sat beside the porch steps and pressed the smoking tip of his joint into the edge of the pot. After a second of smothering, it went out.

"I don't mind your company," Tiberius said. "Besides, you said the dinner party wasn't your 'scene.'"

Getting to his feet, Tiberius finally turned around to fully face Shane, briefly wiping the lapel of his jacket.

"Did you suspect I was up to no good when I stepped out here?" he asked, looking up and meeting Shane's eyes for the first time of the night.

Shane shook his head, pressing his lips together in a thin smile. "I have to admit I was only curious," he said honestly. "You don't seem like the kind of guy who would snoop around a host's home. Or get lost after receiving two directions."

Tiberius inclined his head.

"I supposed I could've been more forthcoming," Tiberius said. "But, I wasn't sure how... appropriate it'd be, to admit I was stepping out for a smoke."

He shrugged. "Appearances," he added.

"It wouldn't have raised any eyebrows between the three of us," Shane said. "My dad would've just implored you to be back for dessert."

"A fair request," Tiberius said, flicking his eyes briefly to the back door, then his feet. He looked like he was working through his next words in his head before he opened his mouth.

"I heard you got roped into being our tour guide," he said.

Shane couldn't help but chuckle faintly at that as he glanced back to the door. Thanks for that, Carter.

"I didn't quite think it through," he said. "I'll do it, though. I could use something to do this summer."

"If you were only being polite," Tiberius said. "You're under no obligation." He paused, once again flicking his eyes to the door. "My friends can be a little pushy, but they can take a 'no.'"

Shane was quiet for a moment.

He... well. No, he still didn't exactly want to. But he could recognize it was a good idea, and not just for reasons of politeness. Once his curiosity got piqued by something, it was hard for him to forget about it and not delve in further. And chances were that if there was more to Tiberius than met the eye, the same was also true of his companions.

If Shane was honest with himself, too... he hated the idea of being around Carter and having to keep up a friendly act. But he couldn't pass up the opportunity to learn more about the Haddons.

Several of them even seemed like they might not be such bad people, if he could somehow separate them from what they did. That was an effort he could make.

"It's alright," he assured Tiberius. "If anything, I'm just not used to being asked for that or invited along. I'd be glad to be of help."

Tiberius nodded slowly.

"Alright," he said. "It'd be good to have--"

A split second before the back door opened, Shane heard the beginnings of the signature creak.

Ingrid stepped out onto the porch. Her eyes snapped to Tiberius first.

"Tiberius," she said in a sharp tone, but as she closed the door behind her, she saw Shane leaning against the wall.

It seemed that, for a second, he'd caught the beginnings of what Ingrid thought would be a private interaction. Shane tried not to let any uncomfortable apprehension show on his face.

"Sorry," Ingrid said quickly, adjusting her tone to something far more agreeable. "They're about to serve dessert."

"Well, we wouldn't want to miss that," Tiberius said, shooting a glance Shane's way as he walked for the door.

Shane smiled faintly, falling into step behind him. "Hopefully it's good."