Noble Blood (Closed for Apollo Wilde)

[Apollo Wilde]

She shrugged. “I’m not a doctor - I’m rambling; based on information I’ve read and just some practical sense stuff. That’s why I said get the best and the brightest medical minds on this one.” No insult at his comment, but a firm reminder that he had little time to sulk and that he needed to get on top of things. It was still somewhat early in the evening after all.

“Yes - taking over the brain. Like a brain fever, or how some diseases affect the brain and make people act differently. Could be anything from relaxing of inhibitions, or something that could literally eat holes in the brain. I don’t know.” Finishing her last bit of tea, she licked her lips and set the cup down carefully on the bar. It hadn’t been great - one of the few things she was sufficiently snobbish about - but it was decent enough, and it would have been rude not to have had anything. Weakly brewed. “It’s too early to tell, and without an autopsy of someone who died for sure of this, there’s no certainty. I said, ‘What’s the worst that could happen’ - and I meant it. I find that if you get a handle on the absolute worst case scenario, it makes working that much easier, because chances are, whatever happened, is not going to be anywhere near as bad as that absolute disaster point. It’s not ideal, I know, but take a deep breath and get your ducks in a row, gramps. If I can do it, me, a mere Commoner, then I expect you, as a Nobleman, and as my former boss, to do that much better.”

Leaned over, gently chucked him under the chin. “So buck up, gramps. Put on your big boy panties and get out there and be a leader. Fall apart later. But I need you to hold it together long enough to promise me that you’ll be around long enough to put flowers on my grave.” Dark humor, there, but a request there as well - death was something that was a given for Commoners. She’d thought about her own for so long that it had ceased to mean anything: one more business transaction for whoever was left behind. Her will, neatly written and updated on a monthly base, was a prime example of her pragmatic nature. “If you don’t, I’ll haunt you forever.”

A soft laugh before she was moving towards the door, her mind already drifting away from the conversation, his paperwork tucked neatly away in her waistcoat.

He says it doesn’t add up - it doesn’t account for human frailty, fear. For people thinking that they have symptoms. Or it could be a well organized attack against the Nobility. Those symptoms are easy enough to fake - a dampened cloth for sweat, erratic enough behavior to make the Nobles want to keep their distance. Maybe, if they’re really well-thought out, the placement of an actually sick person with a cold or some such to make it that much more realistic. Either way, I won’t know until I get there.






It was strange to be riding out to Plainside. She hadn’t been out here in years. Felt that she’d always been so tethered to her usual paths, contacts, that as the depths of the city began to give way to the verdant open fields and the inky darkness of the night, she couldn’t help but to let out a small sigh. If it was of relief or of fear, even she didn’t know. She’d be there at the Baron’s home soon enough.

Sergiu Varza - and his cabbages. It was enough to nearly make her laugh in the coach. That was the name of the farmer who was on the street - the name a certain amount of wheedling got her. Strange, that it'd taken that much effort for something just that simple. With the name, though, she was that much closer to where she felt like she could grasp a thread, start to weave things together. Maybe he was bringing something in more than produce. Another stray thought as she let her mind wander, drifting in and out of the sinking feeling of worry. If she let herself slip into that pool, there would be no climbing out.

I've got to know that Drago will be okay. Without the Red Band, he could pass for any other Commoner; no distinct political alliances, no favoritism. Absently, she began to rub a smooth shell button on her overcoat. I don't think we'd ever gone into disguises, as I've never much had need for them - but I hope that he picked up enough to know that what he wears, how he speaks: all of it can speak volumes before he even opens his mouth. I'm going to have to have faith that he's okay, that'll manage.

A heavy sigh, fogging the glass of the window. There was no mistaking the sentiment behind that one. Worrying, she knew it wouldn't help, but...Gods. What a fine kettle of fish this had all turned out to be. It seemed that finding her missing people would be the least of her worries at this rate.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

In some ways, The Villas bordered Conacton, the southernmost estates visible, in the distance, from the edge of the wealthy common district. The one thing that Noblees here in Plainside had more of than anyone else was land, and they flaunted it the way their urban brethren and sistren flaunted their fine fashions and luxury goods. Adesso’s carriage followed the road as it wound between vineyards, orchards, vast tracts of fertile farmland, and even the occasional reserve for sport hunting. Most of the Plainside nobles didn’t need to sell their goods the way that the commoners in Fermavest and Gradina did. Some of them grew things they had a passion for, and even did some of the sowing and harvesting themselves, but for most it was simply about having the most acreage, and using it in the most prestigious ways, whatever that meant at any given moment.

The Villas came more frequently the further north the carriage went, until she finally arrived at what passed for a City Center in The Villas. It was really just a few trading posts, a small inn, a large stable, and an office and dorms for the handful of Smokeglass Guard stationed here. The buildings were all covered in the same plaster, a warm tan that contrasted nicely with the green fields that stretched off in every direction.



Taking a carriage overday had Adesso arriving just as the sun set on Tuesnight. Farmers from Fermavest and Gradina were both setting up their carts to display their produce. There were fruits, vegetables, grains, edible flowers, berry wines, jams, locally produced cheeses, nearly anything that this land and its people could produce was sold here from carts and tents that lined the short gravel street. Generally, the more staple a product was--corn, wheat, potatoes, livestock, etc.--the more likely it was from Fermavest. Gradina produced more greens, fruits, herbs, and some of the more high-end animal products. Did some of the farmers from Fermavest look a little flush, perhaps perspiring more than the late summer evening would warrant? Could they have the disease? It would be hard to tell, when so many of them were busy unloading heavy crates of goods.

Asking any of the farmers there from Gradina for the whereabouts of Sergiu Varza would point Adesso toward the end of the main street, where a tent was erected behind a sturdy wooden cart, pulled there by horses who were boarded at the nearby stable. The cart would be topped with crates, propped up to proudly display cabbages in several varieties: round cabbage in deep purple and bright green, pale green cabbage in an elongated oval shape, and even one strain that opened like a flower, with prominent wrinkles that stood out like veins on the surface of the leaves. The man behind the cart was shorter than Adesso, but not by much, with skin a medium brown, darkened further by the sun. His jet-black hair fell in loose curls just past his ears, peeking out from under a simple, wide-brimmed hat. He was clean-shaven, and appeared to be in his early forties, an impression reinforced by the preteen girl that climbed out from under the cart to show him a beetle she’d found.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

She’d grabbed as much sleep as she could overday, awaking, naturally, as the sun began to sink. Once at the City Center, she spent time simply wandering. Though there was little to the sleepy town, it had changed a bit since the last time she was out this way. Ages ago, that; she had to have been in her late teens. It felt more like a remembered dream than a memory.

Not wanting to instantly give herself away as someone worthy of any kind of suspicion, she made her way from stall to stand, stand to stall, engaging in easy conversation, speaking of the wealth of goods in front of her. Endured some gentle ribbing about how nothing that the city got was compared to what was at these markets - and for the most part, she had to agree. In a perfect example of fitting in, her first purchase had been a set of hand-woven bags - perfect for holding groceries in.

With one bag partially full, she made her way over the cabbage cart. In her conversations, she hadn’t picked up on illness: not anything beyond normal exertion. The night was balmy, and the valley wasn’t prone to the same cooling breezes that Conacton and the Plateau were naturally inclined to. Wanting to be cautious, and certainly not over play her hand, she kept a respectable distance. In watching the interactions of others, there didn’t seem to be any fear, no whispers tucked away from the ears of strangers.

“That’s a fine looking cabbage,” she started, loud enough to be heard over the din of conversation and work. “Would be a shame to eat it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one that looks like this,” and she pointed to the one that opened like a flower. “And I thought that cabbage was a winter crop,” allowed a bit of surprise in her voice, surprise that could easily be taken as flattery, “I didn’t think I’d see any this time of year!”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Sergiu leaned down to his daughter with a warm, patient smile. “That’s wonderful, darling, but Daddy’s working right now, okay?”

The girl shooed, Sergiu turned his bright-eyed smile toward his potential customer. It was obvious by his teeth and face that his had not been a pampered life. He had toiled in the hot sun since childhood, and he had earned every line on his face, and every bulge of his lean muscles. His demeanor was not that of a worn down workhorse, though. His voice was lively and forceful, his face expressive and welcoming, and his hands always moving as he spoke.

“Ah! A cabbage connoisseur! My favorite kind of customer!” His hands hovered over his stock. “These are all various varieties of early cabbage, perfect for summer salads or for pickling to go over sausages cooked over an open flame.” He narrowed his eyes and playfully pointed at Adesso’s face. “But you, how do you prefer your cabbage? Perhaps a fresh slaw to top a flatbread wrap?”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Adesso couldn’t help but to smile to watch the warm interaction between father and daughter. Had she been like that with her own family? It was too far away, too misty in her memories. Someone had to have loved her once, right? In a flash, she had a pang of sympathy for the Nobility. She was but a commoner, normal-lived, and already, the weight of her accumulated knowledge was enough to press out memories. How bad would it be if she lived for centuries?

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she offered by way of apology, with a warm smile towards the girl. “And I won’t take up too much of your time. And I like pickled cabbage,” in deference to his question. “I’ve been experimenting with my own varieties in my little garden in the city. It’s nothing compared to this,” a wave to his stand, to the grander scale of the fields around them, “But it’s what I’ve got. It’s funny how attached we get to our green friends.” Pickling had been a “recent” hobby for Adesso: gardening, for her, had been a practice in recreating the fragrances that she loved so much in her perfumes. The pivot to more “functional” greens had been recent - and paved with failures. Though Christiana offered to help, unveiling one ridiculous invention after the other - why she thought Adesso would need an automatic rake was still beyond her -, Adesso preferred to learn through her books, and the bittersweet feeling of trial and error. “Or, I guess, fermentation is something I’m trying. I found a recipe for a fermented cabbage with peppers, garlic, and ginger that I’ve been wanting to try. Any suggestions?”

A pause. The ice had been broken, and she didn’t want to seem intimidating. The last thing she wanted was to scare the man into silence, or make him feel like his work was in jeopardy. With a soft inhale, she pressed on, “I did have another quick question, though - a few nights ago, or rather, early morning, the Merchant’s Guild has you going into town. I wanted to know if you happened to see something out of the ordinary? You’re not in trouble, of course - though I know that my saying that isn’t very reassuring. I’m a detective, you see, and I’m tracking down a missing person. Or trying to, really. I’m a bit concerned because I think one of them, if not both, were injured.”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Adesso could tell by the girl’s quick, blushing exit that she was uncomfortable being addressed by strangers, unlike her father, whose salesman’s charm was warm and engaging. He was a vibrant man, lively and energetic. He rubbed his hands together over his propped-up goods. “Hmm...Now, for pickling or fermenting, either one, these early varieties will give you a very tender product, so if you’re dead-set on a crisp result you may want to wait until later in the year.” He bit his lip and hefted a large, deep purple example. “That said, I like a tender pickled or fermented cabbage myself, and if you’ve never used a red like this, that’s what I’d recommend. Good flavor, and the color is just beautiful.” He smiled at Adesso’s obvious excitement, and nodded his head, his dark curls bouncing in the warm night air. “It would go quite well with those flavors, in my humble opinion.”

Sergiu, a sharp, quick-thinking man, reacted quickly to Adesso’s subject change. He didn’t speak right away, his piercing eyes boring into hers. He seemed conflicted over more than just Adesso’s words, and when he spoke again, it was no longer with the warm, friendly voice of a gifted salesman, but with low, calculated suspicion.

“Tracking down a missing person, eh?” He leaned back, regarding her over crossed arms. “I didn’t see any injured person. Sorry.” She would see suspicion in his eyes, not fear. Was he a perpetrator and not a witness? Was he trying to protect someone? Was it just distrust of cityfolk?

A wave of his hand over his crops, and an implied dismissal: “Now, if you’re not here to buy cabbage…”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Adesso shot the girl a warm smile - not meant to put the girl on the spot, but to reassure her. And as quickly as the gesture was given to the girl, Adesso’s attention was back on Sergiu. Well. Even if she came away with little else, at least she knew what sort of cabbages to use for her little experiment. That had to count for something.

The shift in tone was expected for the conversation, and did little to offset Adesso from the subject. No change in her posture - no sign of dejection. “Hm,” she said out loud, a combination of a sigh and a weighing of what, or rather, where, to go next. “Well,” and she turned over a cabbage thoughtfully, “That’s a shame.” There was no threat there, no unspoken consequence of him potentially lying to her. She wasn’t a thug, after all - and even if she had wanted to threaten him, she had no muscle to back it up.

Her eyes darted back to the daughter - then back to him. “I would hope, though, should you spy a hurt person, that you’d help them. Seems to be the right thing to do. A good example to set, actually. We all get by on the kindness of other. It's what keeps our society going. If it was really dog eat dog, we wouldn't have anything worth really living for, would we?"

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Sergiu leaned back, considering the woman in front of him. He was suspicious, of more than just her city origins. “Of course I’d help ‘em.” He leaned closer, his next words heavy and solid, like he was slamming them on a table between the two of them. “Would you?”

He adjusted his hat and narrowed his eyes. “We help each other a lot out here, Plainside. Have to. More than just that: we get folks coming down here from Mountainside sometimes…” He spoke slowly, deliberately. “Looking to get away from the city…” Now he was waving his hands with false nonchalance. “For one reason or another. It’d be a shame to send ‘em right back, if they didn’t wanna go.”

He was hesitant to say too much, but he was no longer trying to get Adesso to leave. He wanted to figure out where she was coming from, metaphorically; what she was getting at.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

There. The faintest crack, the slightest give. Time to push - but not to overwhelm. She turned over another cabbage, admiring the delicate veins in the leaves.

“I can see that,” she tilted her head to indicate the rest of the market. “It’s something I don’t see a lot of in the city, you know? Sure, in the smaller neighborhoods, people tend to know each other, but you have to go out of your way. We’re still connected, but you have to search harder, really push for it. I can see why people would want to move out here. There’s this idea of honesty about living in the farms. Honest work, honest people. Getting your hands dirty and connecting with something bigger than yourself that makes you feel alive. In fact,” a laugh, “I was humoring moving out here myself, once this case was over. To learn something new, to enjoy the quiet and the green. Things you rarely have either of in the city.”

She picked up the cabbage she’d been handling, holding it close to her as she reached for her coin purse. She didn’t have the means to try her pickling experiment here, but she could find some use for it, surely. “Folks from Mountainside, what do they end up doing around here?” Conversationally, now: “You don’t hear of that much in the city - people coming out here. Oh, they’ll talk about wanting a simpler life, like I said before, but they don’t actually come out here. That requires money, I’d imagine, and some sort of knowhow. I don’t think I could just show up, hat in hand, expecting charity from anyone. Unless I looked like I was in dire circumstances. Maybe running from something."

A gentle hook in the bait - she was still trying to get to the bottom of something, but was trying to bring it away from the personal. Couldn't be too direct - she'd gotten him to open up by being vague. Seemed to be the right course.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

While Adesso spoke, she would see Sergiu start to speak, before holding his tongue, his body open up before drawing back into himself, and the corners of his lips start to turn up into a smile before flattening in grim suspicion. It would seem that he was trying not to trust her, and finding it difficult. He was an open, gregarious man, with a sharp mind that told him not to open up to this woman without knowing what she wanted, but he wasn’t built for keeping secrets. It was difficult for him to hold his tongue, even to avoid following the woman down her tangents about life in the city versus the country. Part of him wanted to start looking for real estate for her.

On the words running from something, he blinked and tilted his head. “Running?”

The farmer Varza took a few steps to the side, his hat shading his eyes as he stepped away from Adesso. He ran his hand along the edge of his cart and looked out at the market just beginning to bustle. After a few seconds, his shoulders loosened and he turned back to the detective. “Yes,” he delivered deliberately. “If you were running from something, you’d find help here. And then...if someone came from the city, looking for you…” He shrugged his shoulders. “We’d need to be sure we knew what they wanted with you before we told ‘em any damned thing.”

His eyes bored into hers pointedly. It was clear that he knew she knew he knew what she was talking about, but he hesitated to reveal anything real.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

She grinned, a small, lopsided thing that was welcoming as it was welcoming pity. “I'll be honest with you, sir. One of the people I’m looking for, she’s got good reason for wanting to hide.” A press of the tongue to the inside of her cheek. What would be the best way to play this? She had to present herself as a neutral party, not beholden to any particular faction, Noble or non. Noble sentiment was different in the city; it seemed that most revolutions seemed to start out here in the country, when there wasn’t a close as a relationship between Nobility and Commoner. “I think she may have been wounded by a Nobleman, and was terrified of being either caught by him or seen by him. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but I’ve been hired by her brother to find her. They seem close, but on the same hand…”

Another turn of the cabbage in her hand, noticing the faint scalloped edge of the leaves. “I think maybe she wanted to strike out on her own. It seemed that she kept a few things from her brother - not that I blame her. I only have his side of the story to go by, but he does seem truly panicked that he hasn’t seen her. I had a thought that she may have, once wounded, fled out to the country, as she has family out here. I’m hoping to find her safe and sound - and if she’s not ready, or comfortable, to come back to the city, at least give her brother some word that she’s okay.”

I doubt Sir Geofri made it out here. The thought skimmed her mind, a stone set to skip across a river. I’m still at a loss where he could have gone. “The Nobleman - I’m not sure if he went after her, or if he would have come out here as well. I would assume, that it being close to dawn when this happened, that he may have stayed close in the city. But the girl was seen bleeding and running towards the ramp - then seemed to vanish into thin air. Will this about cover it, by the way?” She held out a few coppers - a bit more than the cabbage would have been worth. If he looked surprised at the amount, she would offer that small, weak smile again: “For the fermentation advice. There’s only so much you can learn from books, after all.”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Sergiu didn’t exactly warm to Adesso immediately, but he did seem to soften after her explanation. He looked around, making sure no one would overhear, and then he leaned closer, over the tilted crates.

“Alright, I’m gonna trust you.” He shrugged, his lips tight in a frown, but he kept talking. “Maybe I shouldn’t, but this whole thing came outta nowhere, and it never made any sense to me, okay?” A smack of his lips, and a heavy sigh. “Plus, if her brother’s worried…”

He leaned just a bit closer. “So, I’ve got this co-op that I organize shipments into the city for, and some of us are driving some carts late, uh...Tuesnight, right?” He looked off to the side in thought. “Practically Wednesday morning. The sun wasn’t up yet, but it was about to be. Anyway…”

Sergiu didn’t exactly seem nervous, but he did seem concerned, no longer the font of charisma performing on his salesman’s stage. “We’re just starting up the Ramp, and there’s this scream from just down the street.” He swallowed, the distress of the remembered shock coming back to him. “I see this girl. It’s still dark, so I can’t make out too much, but she starts running our way.” Sergiu paused his story to look at Adesso with something like guilt. “Now, I...I’m sorry miss but I didn’t see anyone else on that street. Just the girl.”

Back to his story of that night: “She’s running, nearly tripping in her dress but not quite. When she gets to the Artery she looks around, sees us, and runs straight for us.”

Sergiu put his hand over his heart. He’s clearly been transported right back to that morning. He can practically see her running toward him again. “She catches up to our carts, and she’s lookin’ right at me.” He took a moment to catch his breath. “Her face: you saw my daughter, miss. If I saw that look on my little Sofia’s face...Whatever happened to this girl had her spooked, I’ll tell ya. Gives me the shivers thinking about it. She, um…: He paused to think before nodding quickly. “I didn’t see any injury, though. No limp or nothin’ when she was runnin’, although she mighta tripped or had a scuffle that I didn’t see, maybe rolled around on the street. She had dust or somethin’ all over herself.”

Another swallow, and he continued. “She started emptyin’ her pockets, holdin’ out coins, sayin’ ‘Please!’ over and over. I grabbed her shoulders and asked her what she needed.”

He shook his head and kept talking. “She didn’t seem to know at first, but pretty quick she said she needed out of the city. She looked at our carts and asked if she could hide under the tarps. I..I didn’t take her money. I couldn’t.”

A deep breath before he spoke again. “The rest of the trip, I’m lookin’ around, like somebody’s gonna be huntin’ for her, but I never saw anybody else. I mean, there were a few people left on the streets, but nobody who didn’t seem like they were just goin’ about their business, you know?”

Sergiu’s flashback to that morning seemed to have faded. The stress was still visible on his face, but getting it all out seemed to have felt good for him. He was calmer now, more focused. “When we got back outside Conacton, I stopped and asked her where she wanted to go. She didn’t want to talk, but I got her to whisper. She said she had an uncle in Fermavest, so I took her there that day. Dropped her off at his house, saw him and his wife, made sure she got inside okay.”

He leaned back, breathing more deeply. “I live in Gradina, so I don’t have a lot of reason to go to Fermavest, but I’ve been meanin’ to check up on her since that day.”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

There was a visible relaxing of her shoulders, a burden lifted. Her smile, while never false, wavered into true relief. A long sigh, and she was clearing her throat, returning back to the present.

Well, that’s one person found - and Drago can confirm.

“I’m so glad she wasn’t hurt - one of her coworkers saw her with the Nobleman; said there was a lot of blood, blood running down her front. When I’d asked at a pharmacy nearby, I thought that maybe she would’ve run there for help. It wasn’t until that I’d heard that there were farmers nearby,” a small smile, “and a suggestion from my assistant that I thought I’d follow up with the Guild. And here I am.” Copper coins were gathered in her hand. “I know you wouldn’t take her money, but, well, considering that I’m making a purchase, consider the rest of it a tip. You know, for the fermentation advice as well.”

Before he could protest, in one of those slights of hand that she was so disturbingly good at, she’d placed the coins in one of his pockets with a touch so light it wouldn’t have been noticeable, if it hadn’t been for her clearly drawing attention to it. “I don’t blame her for being scared.” She was quiet.

I don’t want my personal feelings to get into this. No matter how I feel about Nobles and their lack of consideration and personal space, I told Sir Stefan that I would take his case as well. Now, he said there was dirt on her - and from everything else I’ve gathered, the clothes were shredded, dirty. I don’t think Marta was lying - but if it wasn’t Boala’s blood, was it Sir Geofri's? And where did all of that dirt come from? Could it be that she managed to kill Sir Geofri?

A snippet of an inappropriate thought - I sincerely doubt that Sir Geofri managed to cover Boala and himself in his own cum. Though that would make my life easier. And also explain why Boala’d run away screaming.

As quickly as the thought came, she wiped it away. She had to focus, and snide, albeit stupidly funny little thoughts weren’t going to help her. Well, at least I didn’t tell him that cabbage gives me incredible gas.

“I’d like to make contact with her personally, but I’ve got business to take care of here. Before I leave, though - if you’d like, I can come by the market, get an address for you? That way, I can pass it along to her. I’m sure, with the panic of her ordeal out of the way, she’ll want to thank you. I couldn’t imagine her not wanting to.”

She lightly tossed the cabbage into her bag. “Thank you.” In the same motion, she pulled out a card and handed to him. “That’s my card. I’m Adesso Mano. Since I never properly introduced myself.”

So, one down. One more to go. Though she was itching to ask about the potential outbreak - she had to bite the inside of her cheek. I can’t get side-tracked. Now, for the next thing. “Could you point me in the direction of the Baron’s estate?”

It would seem that there was nothing left to ask - she didn’t want to press her luck by asking about Sir Geofri, not after she’d explained that Boala was running from a Nobleman. Nor did she want to seem too particularly inclined to favor Nobles. Not without a better idea of what way the sentiments lay here. Nor did she want to continue to press her luck with one witness; badgering and nitpicking was a surefire way to get anyone to clam up.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

“Blood? I, uh, think her coworker must’ve been mistaken.”

Sergiu looked spent, but he didn’t object to her coins. He even gave her the ghost of a smile along with the fermentation advice. “Umm...Right. Put, uh, a clean rock in the jar, to keep it below the brine, and keep it in a closet if you can. At least this time of year, to keep it, uh, from gettin’ too warm. Oh, and set the jar in a dish, in case it overflows.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” He took her card without really thinking about it. “I’d like to know she’s still alright.”

“Baron Danut?” he asked absentmindedly. “Um, his, uh, estate is, uh...If you go to the end of the street and turn left, you can see it in the distance. It’s got the red roof.”

If Adesso looked back on her way out of the town center, she would see Sergiu kneeling, with his daughter in his arms.








The Baron’s estate would be best described as...obscene. An architect’s worst nightmare, the building looked like it was designed by a child, whose drawings were only corrected just enough to keep it all from being torn apart by gravity. Giant columns of polished marble dotted the front lawn, half of them holding up a small balcony, and the other half freestanding, holding up nothing, looked down upon by stained glass windows featuring a man that must’ve been Baron Danut swimming in religious iconography.

Gables, gambrels, and domes covered the roof in disordered clumps, covered in half-cylinder shingles of deep red clay, and surrounded by random buttresses. To the south, a sunroom could be seen, surrounded by glass, with a reflecting pool inside. The other windows of the house were trimmed with gold filigree, and a half dozen sculptures of the Baron hid among the marbles columns, in materials ranging from towering hedges to patinated copper.

The door would be answered by the Baron’s butler, who looked resigned to his fate of wearing a jester’s costume straight out of the dark ages. He would speak quietly, like he was trying not to wake his employer. He would be skeptical of Adesso’s appearance, but her letter of employment would pass his scrutiny, and he would direct her to a well-maintained garden shed with stone walls and a mahogany door. Inside would be every gardening implement she could hope to find.

Provided she remained in the shed some time later, Adesso would hear raised voices coming closer, as two men walked through the garden.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

It wouldn’t take a genius to notice how preoccupied the man suddenly became after Adesso’s last few questions. It was silently noted. She wouldn’t press harder. Instead, she beamed the smile of someone well satisfied with her purchase, and, gently, clapped her hand to his shoulder in a silent thanks. She would leave it there, not sparing a glance over her shoulder as she headed in the direction of the red roof.

Something clearly has him spooked. She shifted the bag higher up on her shoulder, the sparse added weight of the cabbage having caused it to shift uncomfortably. It’s possible that Marta was panicked, hell, I know she was. But I don’t think she was mistaken about the blood. I think Sergiu knows something, or saw something extra, but I’m not going to push him further. The basic fact of the matter is that Boala is, as far as I know, safe. And accounted for. That’s one weight off of my shoulders.

But why don’t I feel like this is the end of it?

She resisted the urge to bite at her thumbnail, something she hadn’t done in years. But she also hadn’t felt that sinking feeling in years, either. “Sinking” wasn’t the right word; that would imply “dread,” and that was something she hadn’t experienced in her professional life since she was a rookie. Her personal life? All the time. This was…a sense that she was sitting on the top of a powder keg. There was something rolling beneath the surface, something that kept dragging her in even though she’d wanted everything to be cut and dry. Something bigger, much bigger, than she was used to and didn’t want to get tangled in. The type of thing that would be life-changing.

And she was, at heart, resistant to that change.

For the entirety of her life, Adesso had, outwardly, appeared non-political. She did her civic duty, but didn’t fawn over Nobility in a way that made her seem odd. Once it was discovered that it was just an offshoot of her aloof personality, no one thought to question her allegiances, thought of her as a revolutionary in the making. Her opinion of Nobles had always been decidedly neutral: she kept people in generalities, true, but could see individuals as just that. It was only recently, since dealing with Sir Stefan, that her thoughts had taken on the sweeping generalities that she so hated in others. Away from them, she would occasionally be pricked by discomfort, guilt, even, at her brusqueness, but she reassured herself with the mantra that she was doing it to be professional; that she couldn’t get too deeply entangled. That this was the class of Noble that she had the least experience with dealing with: those who saw her as a sexual novelty. At least as a member of the police force, there had been derision, teasing, but a begrudging camaraderie that was hard-won, a camaraderie that came with the benefit of being seen as sexless. She would watch her fellow officers flirt, be flirted with - and it all come to a screeching halt when it came to Adesso. Some were protective, seeing her as a younger sister, a child that couldn’t be exposed to the raunchy language of adults. Others were dismissive, under the guise of being polite, and would change the subject. Adesso had appreciated it, but there were times where it just stung. What made her so different that she wasn’t worth the male attention? Was she ugly? Must be. But…on the same hand, it was nice not to be treated obviously as a woman. She got to know her fellow officers much better, became a safe haven. She was a woman, but not a “woman,” as they’d explain to her. She was just “Adesso.”

However, as she grew, as she observed, it became easy to see the differences between the haves and the have-nots, and how often that skewed to Noble vs. non Noble. She was comfortably off, true, but how much of that had been luck? She didn’t remember her parents outside of shadows, but surely they hadn’t been well off, either. She was a special circumstance in more ways than one, but she did her best to give back when she could. The proximity to Nobles with this current case shone a spotlight on those chasms between Nobility and Commoner, and it rankled all the more.

What would they do, without Commoners? How many of them know where their money comes from?

She shifted the strap of her bag yet again. That was another issue with this case - it made her think more and more about the things that she thought she’d put to bed; things that were beyond her control. She could no more upheave the entire social order than she could turn the sun back in the sky. Railing against that fact would make her short life more miserable than it already was. And to be outwardly anti-Noble in the city was asking for trouble.

Out here, though?

I don’t like how I keep coming to that. I can’t tell if it’s wishful thinking, or if it’s the sense of something really about to start. It just feels like too much is falling into place, if you know how to look. The end of the war, the depression, the fact that many Nobles don’t seem to notice the strain on the Commoners, and that party-crasher. And now this - a disease outbreak. If you think about history, it’s all of the trademark fuel of a revolution. People are being pushed to their limits. All it’ll take is one spark and this whole thing will explode.

Do I want it to explode? Or do I want things to change more because it’s started to affect me more personally?

A wry twist of her mouth was the only sign that she gave to the poor butler - unfortunately for her, it may have come off as an ill attempt to hide a laugh at the man’s preposterous appearance. It wasn’t until she was out in the garden that she realized it - thinking back on the man’s deepening scowl.

Well, already off on a good foot, she mused as she went through the gardener’s shed. It was pristine. Too pristine, really. The few tools that Adesso had (frugally purchased second, third, or fourth hand, of course) were caked with dirt, even when as clean as possible. These look like they hadn’t been touched in ages. Maybe even new, from the lack of dust.

The sound of voices outside caused her to stop what she was doing, and to hold absolutely still. Eavesdropping had long since stopped being a rude habit to curtail. It was an asset - and one that proved to her benefit now as she listened, slowing her breathing.

I have no idea who these people are - the first thought, crystal clear. I’ve got to memorize these voices. ‘Lordship’ instead of ‘Sir’; commoners playing at higher powers. A tightening of her mouth.

What was that about “revolutions”? There was a flash of smug humor; called it. Then that twinge.

What if I didn’t do anything? What if I let them go on with their plans? What stakes would I have in a revolution, anyway? I’d already been thinking about leaving…Maybe a taste of being mortal, of having to struggle, would be good for the Nobility. Really change things for the better.

Ha. When pigs fly. There’s always a few good years, if a civilization’s lucky, after a revolution, before the status quo sets in again. Old despots are displaced for new ones, and the ones at the top forget their ideals once the wealth and power sweeps in. No, I don’t want a part in this revolution or a new world order. I wish to live beyond, past all of this.

The honesty of her own thoughts was a breath of fresh air; one she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. My job extends to two missing people; no political intrigue here. I can’t afford to get involved anymore than I already am. But I need to find out who these two people are, because I’d be a silver piece that they’re talking about Boala, and that this ‘Vasile’ is my party crasher. I can find out from Sir Constantine, but this is almost perfect.

Too perfect. A quick chill. If these people had gotten rid of ‘Constantin’s Man’, would it have been possible for them to go through his papers, to know if he was in communication with anyone? Would her being there be enough to arouse their suspicion if they had? Surely there had to have been some forethought - they knew that there WAS a ‘Constantin’s man.’ That already didn’t bode well with her.

But maybe…maybe if I lean into that, the wanting things to change, since I’m a commoner, I can get in. Learn more. But if they knew Sir Constantin’s aid, it won’t take long for them to figure out who I really am. A grumble. On the same hand, though, I’ve never been political - nor have I taken cases where Noble would be pitted against Commoner. I serve both equally; if not showing more lenience towards Commoners. There’s no point in trying to reason with zealots, regardless of who they think I am. Undoubtedly, this is going to end poorly, one way or the other. The trick will be to get out of here alive.

A grim thought; one she hadn’t had in years. But a reality of the situation that she wouldn’t allow herself to shy away from.

Wait. He said, My staff. This is Baron Danut’s home. I sincerely doubt that even a majordomo would refer to the people working beneath him as ‘his staff.’ So it might be Baron Danut after all. Either way, whoever these folks are, they’re one step closer to me solving my cases.

Waiting until they’d passed, and then longer still, she exited the gardener’s shed with a shovel in hand. Might as well get to work, or act like it.





It was hours later when she entered the estate again, covered in dirt. She’d busied herself by getting familiar with the grounds, learning the secret nooks and crannies that time itself had forgotten. She’d need to know every potential hiding spot, every escape route, every place she could squeeze to and through. Dusting herself off, she wiped the worst of her sweat away. While the shed was well-maintained, the gardens themselves were in various states of neglect, and seemed as haphazardly put together as the rest of the castle. Far from investing any commentary on how to improve the grounds, she’d simply kept herself busy weeding. She’d been left alone, without so much as a welcome indoors for a break. Well, maybe she’d brought that on herself.

“Hello? It’s Melissa, the gardener…I wanted to say I was leaving for the evening?”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

The butler answered the door again, his face weary and vacant. “Ah, yes. Of course.” He began to shut the door when Adesso asked about directions to Sir Gabriel’s estate. He perked up for a moment and stepped just outside the door, his gaunt arm stretched out to the south.

“You see Viscountess Agata’s estate? Go in that direction and you’ll see Sir Gabriel’s just past hers.” Viscountess Agata’s estate was much more architecturally cohesive than Baron Danut’s, although it would still be odd to see a replica of a seaside villa transported to the landlocked fields of the Lavachian plains. Sir Gabriel’s estate was much less idiosyncratically designed, a classical country estate in limestone blocks. There were fewer columns and buttresses than Danut’s, and they appeared to have structural significance. What ornamentation existed was restrained and pleasantly symmetrical.

The door would be answered by the missing nobleman’s butler, who was dressed in a simple suit, contrasting Danut’s butler and his extravagant costume. When questioned about his employer, he would be unable to give Adesso much information, only aware of Sir Gabriel’s whereabouts up until the previous Frinight.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Maybe the old butler didn’t hold a grudge after all. He wasn’t sociable, but looking around Baron Danut’s estate, Adesso got the impression that he wasn’t paid to be. Either way, he answered her question, and, with a nod of recognition, she left.




I was out there all day and still didn’t hear or see anyone else. But at least the butler didn’t bother to wonder why I didn’t know where Sir Gabriel’s estate was. Or maybe he did and he’s going to go scurrying back to Baron Danut. Whatever. I’m sure I can think of some sort of excuse to hand wave it away in the future.

As she approached Sir Gabriel’s, she did her best to seem a bit more presentable - wipe off a bit of extra dirt here, straighten out her shirt there. This butler didn’t seem to be as beaten down by life - maybe even a bit concerned because Sir Gabriel had been missing. Still, after announcing herself as “Melissa,” she’d been granted access to the home all the same. The butler seemed preoccupied - and the home was lightly staffed. It was no problem for her to go through the home, poking through the more obvious corners and hiding places.

If he’s worth his salt, I shouldn’t be able to find anything. So why bother? To make sure that he was worth Sir Constantin’s time.

Offices, bathrooms, bedrooms, libraries, studies: she went through them all, as discreetly as ever. The only thing that she could discern without a shadow of a doubt was that this home had no personality. There was the idea of money, of status, but beneath it all - books were untouched, instruments unplayed. Like someone who had an idea of what he needed to look like, but didn’t fully play the part. Maybe he was as uncomfortable here as she was among other Nobles. Or it could be that she didn’t know particularly what she was looking for. For all she knew, the house fairly dripped with his personality: hadn’t Sir Constantin said that he’d been out here since before she was born? Decades, at least.

As she completed one last round in his modest study, she helped herself to sit in his chair. Its large frame engulfed her, and she leaned back and into it with a contented sigh. She hadn’t realized how tired she was. She tilted her head back, looking up at the ceiling. It’d be too much to hope to overhear another conversation, some sort of clue as to where he would have gone.

Or if he was still alive.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Adesso’s time in Sir Gabriel’s estate would prove mostly fruitless, with only two small pieces of information revealing themselves to her. The first would be just a simple confirmation that she was in the right place: a pen, that Adesso would have seen Constantin use. It was a simple fountain pen, but the intricate design on the body of the pen held a small secret. Most of the curving, floral design was engraved, but a few discrete details were actually embossed, to be used to leave stamped designs for secret communications. Visually, it was almost impossible to tell, but those who had trained with Constantin would know how to find it. The other piece of information would just be from one of the maids, who had been with Sir Gabriel on Frinight just before he left the estate. She would be able to confirm that it was Baron Danut who had sent for him.

Adesso’s stay in the quaint inn in the town center would bear the fruit of a good day’s sleep. Staying in The Villas would save her the need to change her schedule, with the inn’s windowless rooms and heavy, light-blocking doors. The evening would provide a light breakfast, interrupted by a growing noise outside in the street.

Walking outside, Adesso would see at least a few hundred people, many carrying torches and even the occasional literal pitchfork, impatiently milling about. They were a rowdy bunch of Plainsiders, mostly men, and many of them looked like that had just come from a day’s work out in the fields. As she meandered deeper into the crowd, she would notice that all of them seemed slightly sweaty and flush. They were also aggressive with each other, with several fights nearly breaking out before someone else stepped in to calm down the others, usually with promises of Mountainsiders or “Red-Banders” to take out their aggression on.

Before any of the red-faced farmers really started paying attention to Adesso, she would hear one of the same voices she’d overheard from the shed the night before.

“New gardener?! And you didn’t think to tell me?!”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Sir Gabriel’s been in contact, that’s for sure. But no telling how recently. And this Baron Danut is becoming more and more of a person of interest. If I could just hear his voice, I’d be able to figure out if he was one of the ones I heard in the garden. It would make sense; if he doesn’t like the Queen, and has been more or less ousted to here, well, it’d work in his favor. Things go much differently here than in the city. Wouldn’t take much to get himself a group of people in his favor - though they’d have to be idiots. Who in their right mind would trust a Noble to get rid of another Noble and think that they’d be acting in the interest of Commoners?

These thoughts went round her head as she bathed and dressed for the evening. She felt like she was moving through quicksand, slower as she had more to think of. There was a part of her mind that felt freer, clearer, since she was away from her more recent “distractions,” but there was also that part of herself that she hated, the small flicker of loneliness that followed her everywhere, stoked a bit higher now without Drago’s comforting presence. The thought made her grimace as she raised her hands to pin her hair back in a bun. It wouldn’t do for her to dress “nicely” - she was in her gardener’s outfit, a loose, breathable, no frills deep blue chemise under a mud spattered black coverall.

I feel like I used to be much better company for myself. She allowed herself the one personal thought as she had her cup of breakfast tea, listening to the disquieting sound of absolutely nothing in the hotel lobby. That it was so quiet was enough to raise the hair on the backs of her arms. She finished her breakfast quickly, not allowing herself to dwell on anything other than the present. There would be time to muse over her personal life later.





The quiet inside had nothing on the growing sound outside - it could’ve been brushed off as the market being set up, but Adesso knew to trust those raised hairs. The crowd’s tension was palpable, as heavy as humidity during the summer. She did her best to try and avoid the thick of it all; the last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself. It’d be a losing battle; there were few women, and the ones that were present were dressed as maids and nannies; nothing close to what she looked like. Still, if she kept to the edges, she may get out of this unscathed.

Snatches of conversation snaked through to her ears - she’d made the pretense of wading through the crowd to get somewhere, to keep her head down, before making her way back to the edges. If she’d kept to the outside, she likely would have missed the voice booming about the ‘new gardener.’ The town was too small for it to be a coincidence, and she felt a chill breathe on the back of her neck. If she were just to pop up, as if she’d been summoned, that would be all the more suspicious. Instead, she continued to walk past, head down, as if she was making her way to the Baron’s estate, ready for another day of work.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. She hadn’t missed the flushed faces of the crowd, the aggressive shoving, snarled words, that reminded her of the party crasher. Maybe I was on to something about the water, but there was no way for her to prove it. Had she not eaten and had water from the town as a part of her breakfast? Yet she felt fine. Clear-headed as always; the only thing tripping her up was the thoughts of those she left behind: Drago, Sir Stefan. Even as much as she wanted to banish the latter from her mind, she couldn’t will away those burning amber eyes of his, good humor within, the way he’d seemed to light up when she was around. How much she wanted to believe that he’d actually felt that way - then, the quiet adoration of Drago - all combining again to the sinking feeling that she was in the worst situation of her life, a virtual quagmire, and there was no way to escape it. For once, her personal life felt more important than what she was working on: and it annoyed her to no end.

Before she could let herself drift further, the foot of a farmer treading over her own was enough to bring her back to what she was doing. She hissed under her breath in annoyance; it hadn't been hard enough to truly hurt. She was going to say something to the man that stepped on her foot, but one look at his wild eyes and flushed cheeks made her decide to hold her tongue.

I'm an idiot. I could be exposed to this, right in the middle of it. Panic flared, before she bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to bleed. If she was exposed, she was exposed. There wouldn't be much else for it.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

The crowd was becoming more agitated, their rage-filled rumblings growing in energy, intensity, and volume. Above it all, though, Adesso would be able to hear the youthful voice she’d heard from the shed the night before.

“We need to find her! Mariana, go back to the estate. Tiberiu, inquire at Sir Gabriel’s. Roxana, check the inn here in town. You three heard Toma’s description. Toma, mingle with the crowd. If you see her, call out. She must not make it back to the city before we do.”

A few moments after he said it, the crowd would begin to move out of the town center, down the dusty, unpaved road that led toward Conacton. A bit of the tension left the people pressing her in as they marched, finally on the way toward their destination. Whether she tried to stay in the crowd for cover, or sneak away, it wouldn’t be long before Adesso would hear the words she must’ve been dreading from the lips of the Baron’s butler/jester:

“Here! I see her!”

Movement in the crowd would signal people fanning out to surround the spot that Toma had pointed to.

“There! In the black coverall!”

Adesso was surrounded by half a dozen men who looked ready for trouble. Like everyone else in the crowd, they were practically foaming at the mouth, twitching in anticipation of violence. Their cheeks and necks were pink, flush with the diseased blood pumping through their bodies. They were dressed like her: these were men who worked the fields in the valley below the more urban parts of the city, their anger and that of the crowd in sharp contrast to the quiet, pastoral landscape surrounding them.

One of them cracked his knuckles as the crowd thinned around them. In every direction there was someone ready to fight her if she put up even the slightest resistance, and behind them stood the butler, looking almost apologetic at her plight, but offering no way out.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Smooth going until it wasn’t. Though “smooth” was debatable as well. She didn’t have much time to respond, even if she could have. A familiar voice cut through the crowd - enough for her to catch that yes, they were aware that she was new and didn’t belong and her cover was blown -

I regret anything nice I thought about you.

She could recognize the butler’s voice, the betrayal, no, the yap of an obedient dog, and all eyes were on her. Her sense of self-preservation won out over any thoughts of heroic objection, of fighting back, and she lifted her hands, did her best to make herself look as nonchalant as possible.

“What seems to be the problem?” On the edge of a nervous laugh, eyes darting from one angry face to the other. Tried to keep herself as innocent looking as possible; after all, she was a gardener hired by Sir Gabriel; she had nothing to do with all of this. She was just trying to go to work!

This close to the flushed faces made cold fingers dance up and down her spine. The farmers, workers - they were individuals. She knew that. Could tell by the variation in clothing, hair, skin color. Like this - they were less people and more organisms, a hive mind connected, responding to the commands of one Queen. They moved as one, a wave of humanity, sour and stinking, glistening with sweat and dripping with ill intent. One wrong move, and she knew she would be subject to the slavering jaws of this mass: ripped limb from limb at the bare minimum. “I was trying to get to work,” wilting, faltering, injected into her tone to further sell it. To remind herself that if she was going to get out of this, she needed to keep a clear head and logic going as quickly as she could.

There’s no one here to sweep in and save me. Her upheld fingers twitched; easily written off as nerves. Who could remain so calm in the face of overwhelming odds? Every escape route was cut off. And perhaps if this had been a few years ago, she may have stood a chance of outrunning them. Now, too slow from being behind a desk for too many years, there was no point in even humoring it.

If I keep calm, I can either talk my way out of this or figure out what’s going on, one way or the other. A tilting of her head upwards, hopefully revealing the silver glint of the seamless collar around her neck. Anything she could do to prove that while she was from the outside, she was no mere follower of Nobility. "I was just trying to get to work...I'm a gardener, brought in from the city." A licking of her lips, slow, calming.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

The crowd further thinned, as a few people who seemed to have everyone’s attention waved them forward. Many of them looked at Adesso with varying degrees of either suspicion or sneering condescension. Two of the men that had surrounded her grabbed her arms with enough force that she knew she wouldn’t be getting away, but not so much to cause her pain. At least, not yet.

Another man stepped out from the crowd, dressed more ridiculously than the butler. His woolen overcoat was bright orange, as were his breeches. His vest, over a pale blue linen shirt, looked like pure gold, but moved with him like fabric. Pale blue stockings went from under his breeches to bright white boots. Despite the heat, the entire ensemble was dotted with more ruffles than a commoner would’ve been able to lift, and over all this was draped a fur cloak, dyed bright red.

Under a bright white hat garnished with what looked like an entire peacock’s worth of feathers sat a tanned face that looked no more than twenty years old, with a dark brown chinstrap beard no thicker than the width of a fountain pen. He was lean, but filled out his suit too well to be called thin. He moved with an erratic gait, his eyes never focusing on one place for too long, his hands dancing from gesture to gesture. Every motion he made was exaggerated, like a bad actor hamming it up on the stage.

He leaned down toward the butler’s face, the servant clearly tense at the proximity. “Well done, Toma,” said the nobleman. “You may return to the estate. Send Mariana back if you see her. Toodles!”

His gaze turned toward Adesso and his eyes widened in recognition. He gasped. “One of the old bands!”

His head stretched back, tilted to the side, his eyes bright and calculating. He appraised her for several seconds, long enough for one of the men to cough, which the man ignored.

Then, he leaned in, his lips inches from her ear. “You were in the shed last night, weren’t you? You...overheard things…”

He stepped back with a flourish, even incorporating a theatrical spin, before pointing a long, light brown finger in her face. “Don’t deny it!” His voice softened. “There’s no need, haha!” he explained with a crocodile smile. “I won’t have you killed for it.”

He spoke now like she was a child who’d broken a vase, a trifling thing he hadn’t cared for, and he was trying to soothe her. “I won’t even have you beaten. Now, isn’t that nice?”

He paused for all of three seconds. If she spoke, he interrupted her. If not, he changed the subject anyway.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. You won’t get back in time to do anything with what you may or may not’ve heard. I’ll make sure of that.” He waved for someone behind her to come closer. “Roxaaaanaaaaa!”

The odd man stepped closer again, and softly poked Adesso in the collarbone. “I’m so glad I found you. Otherwise I might’ve been in a real pickle!” He stepped back again and spread his arms just as a woman in black leather pants and a tight black sleeveless shirt walked past the men holding Adesso. She was slightly taller than the eccentric nobleman, with golden brown skin and jet black hair that fell in loose curls. She looked very fit, and beautiful enough to make one assume she was likely a member of the nobility, despite her clothing making her look more like a huntress or assassin out of a novel.

“And I think this plan has had enough pickles, don’t you?” he shouted, clearly expecting an enthusiastic reply from the dozen or so individuals standing nearby. He didn’t get it.

“I said, I think this plan has had enough pickles, don’t you?” he repeated, even louder this time.

This time, he got mumbled variations of “Yes, Baron” or “Yes, Your Lordship.” The men and women nearby, with the exception of the new arrival, were weary of the nobleman’s antics, yes, but it was more than that. Adesso would be able to sense hatred and disgust from every commoner there, directed toward the man they must’ve felt was a necessary evil.

He looked to the woman next to him, and spoke in a normal tone of voice, a sharp departure from nearly everything he’d said so far. “No ones understands what being a noble is about, anymore Roxana. Pomp. Circumstance. And Power. The three pillars of nobility.”

Roxana replied in a monotone that made it clear that this conversation had happened before. “They don’t, Baron Danut. That’s why we need you.”

“Oh, drop the act, Roxana,” he said genially. “I know you’re only here for the third thing.” He took a step away and pointed at her like he’d pointed at Adesso earlier. “And you’ll get it!” His arm turned to point at all the men and women who hadn’t followed the crowd yet. “You’ll all get it!”

Then, the Baron leaned back toward Roxana. “But this woman here.” He pointed at Adesso again. “Could make things difficult if she gets back to Mountainside and talks to the wrong people.”

He was still leaned toward her, but now he was clearly speaking directly to Adesso, despite referring to her in the third person. “She’s a puzzle, this one. She wears one of the old bands--” A quick aside to Roxana with a pat on her arm: “Oh, dear, you’re too young to remember, but they were often worn by those with some anti-Noble sentiment. She can’t be in Antonia’s camp with one of those.” A deep breath. “--but I don’t believe it was a coincidence that she shows up at my estate soon after we get rid of Gabriel, with a document alleging he’s hired her to work my garden.” He turned back to Roxana. “So. I need you to make sure she doesn’t get a chance to warn Constantin or anyone else about what we’re doing, or my involvement particularly.”

Roxana looked perturbed. “So, I’m her governess?”

Baron Danut smiled. “Essentially, yes.” His voice was cheery, but he would brook no disagreement. “A job you’ll do splendidly!”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

She at least had her answer about some of the voices she’d heard.

That’s not what I expected him to look like.

Somehow, despite her age, she’d assumed that with a title like “Baron,” there would have come some gravitas; dignity. Poise. She’d met plenty of forever young titled Nobility that had an air of…regality. True, she hadn’t met any like that recently - save for Baron von Casval - but the idea was still there. To see someone flout those ideals so…openly was enough to make her pause.

This man is dangerous. Tomfoolery was one thing; money and eccentricities went hand in hand. As she was pulled tight and closer to the Baron, she kept her fear pressed down. Even if he was able to smell it, it would be easily passed off as uncertainty at being manhandled. In taking this gig, she had committed to the role: good, bad, or otherwise.

There’s no point in lying about the shed; since he’s a Nobleman, I’m sure he could smell me. Could recognize my smell now. Outwardly, she looked from the Baron to the men holding her to the crowd. As she’d rightfully guessed before, there would be no fighting her way out of this. And no real way to get word out.

“I mean, I’m just a gardener,” she pressed harder into the words, a shaky laugh making its way into her voice. “I may have overheard some stuff, yeah, but it has nothing to do with me!” A bit of indignant nature there. He’d already knew she’d heard, no point in making it worse on herself by denying it. “I would’ve been up here sooner, but I had personal stuff to take care of before I could leave the city.” The last bit was added with a bit of exasperation. “I get coming from the city is a hassle, but me looking for Sir Gabriel’s valid. I don’t find him, I don’t get paid!”

She looked over at Roxana, a silent plea of “Come on, back me up - you get it, don’t you?” Though she may have had better luck trying to melt a glacier with a candle. There was likely that there was no getting through to the woman. No sympathies to play on: something as haphazard as badmouthing the boss would be bound to blow up in her face. Well, no human sympathy, anyway. Maybe she could understand money.

“Look, like I said, I dunno what your plan is,” an unspoken and I don’t care “- and there’s no one I can tell about it anyway.”

Gods and Goddesses - I don’t know how to get out of this. But I’ve got to keep calm regardless. He says he’s not going to kill me, but I don’t know if I can trust that. I’ve got no leverage to ensure that he would keep me alive. For all he knows, no one is bound to be looking for me, if I was sent to look for Sir Gabriel. “I’m just a commoner - disposable, y’know,” she added, with no small hint of bitterness. “I just want to get paid for my work, eat a good dinner, and go home.”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Roxana provided no help to Adesso in persuading Danut to let her go. She just stood there and watched with an impatient, distracted expression. She and the Baron ignored every Adesso said, but she would be able to sense a bit of agreement from the other commoners nearby. Not much--they wouldn’t want to upset the Baron, after all, but she would feel a gradual lightening of the grip the two men beside her had on her arms, and hear the odd noncommittal noise as she spoke.

The two nobles either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Roxana just rolled her eyes at Adesso and the Baron quickly changed the subject. “Well, I’ve been delayed long enough, and I don’t want to keep any of you. Roxana, don’t let her speak to Constantin until I’ve taken care of Antonia and Andrada. I’ll see the rest of you when you reach the top of the Ramp. Toodles!”

With that, the Baron crouched and jumped so powerfully that he quickly soared over Adesso’s head, landing far enough away that the sight of him was obscured, the kind of feat of strength that only the oldest nobles could achieve.

Roxana wasted no time in walking over to Adesso and letting her know exactly what was expected of her. “Tell you what, don’t run and I won’t break your legs.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, gesturing for the men holding her to let her go, and then looking pointedly down the road toward the city. As Adesso started walking, Roxana would follow a few feet to the side. She wouldn’t be volunteering any conversation.

If there were no interruptions, the walk would take several hours, arriving at the outskirts of Conacton in the very early morning, with hours yet to go before dawn. The wealthy district, and in particular the Artery, would be bustling. Adesso would arrive at the rear of a large parade of angry, ill residents of Fermavest and Gradina. The boisterous crowd of interlopers wouldn’t be acting much like a revolution, but more like a protest. Loud and aggressive, yes, but property damage would be kept to a minimum.

Adesso might notice some of the more attractive farmers displaying makeshift red bands from dyed cotton, wool, or linen, and trying to persuade noble men and women to take them somewhere more private.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Adesso figured that she’d be out of luck with the black clad woman. Still, she offered no resistance to the men that held her. That alone would work to her benefit: no resistance, no ned to be extra harsh with her - and that meant some silence to think about her current position.

There were no two ways about it: escape wasn’t possible. Roxana also didn’t seem like the chatty type - at least, not for what Adesso could offer. Even if the woman was little more than a mercenary, Adesso didn’t have funds to compete with whatever the Baron was paying her. And whatever sympathies that Roxana may have had towards a working class Commoner, if she even had any, weren’t given away by her demeanor.

So, the walk to the city was a quiet one, Adesso lost in her own thoughts, letting the occasional comment filter through about just wanting to be paid, wanting no part in any of this, and she had actually done some work in the Baron’s gardens, could she at least be expected to be paid for that?

I’ll be getting back to the city sooner than I intended, but none of this was well-thought out from the beginning. But I find it hard to believe that Sir Constantin didn’t think that there would be any sort of Commoner malcontent. Maybe not to something to this degree. The guys holding me seem to be sick, but not to the same degree as the rest of the crowd. But how much of that is illness as opposed to fervor - people are just whipped up into a lather because everyone else is. And there’s a sense of anti-Nobility here; I can feel it. And my band has granted me some immunity - at least from the Baron. But I can’t bet on that.

Small talk with her captors, the two men that held her, was out of the question. If anything, she was hoping her silence would help bring home her somewhat cowed demeanor - the gardener that was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

As they grew closer to the city, Adesso didn’t feel any sense of relief. Not necessarily just because of the crowd that she was rounding the back of, but because it didn’t mean that there was automatically an escape plan. The crowd was thickening, true, and the evening was well underway, but those two things weren’t enough. Maybe if she just had the two men, but this woman in black was an unknown, and not one that Adesso was willing to take a gamble on. It’d been years since she practiced any sort of self-defense, and she had not a single weapon on her. She wasn’t a brawler by any means, and at the rear of the crowd, starting a ruckus back here was a sure enough way to get herself re-captured, and more than likely in a less physically sound way.

Great. Getting back to the city with these guys wasn’t in my plans. And while I might be able to lose them in this crowd, there’s no losing her. She frowned a bit, looking at Roxana. Compared to the men beside her and the ones in the crowd, she seemed awfully…calm. Not a drop of sweat on her, nor flushed cheeks. Now that they’d stopped, Adesso took the opportunity to really get a good look at her.

“Hey, how come you ain’t sick like the rest of ‘em?”