Trouble at the summer ball

It took them nearly thirty minutes to get rid of the duke. Not that he was a bad conversation partner; he was just a little too filled with admiration for them, and it became tiresome listening to him sing their praises over and over. Very different than when Fenrir praised her, Elmeria reflected. When he showed his approval, she felt good all over, but when the duke did the same, she only felt faintly weary.

That hadn't always been the case. Before she had met Fenrir, she had enjoyed hearing the praises of others, but now she only really cared about the approval of two beings: Fenrir, and Marstolle. That said, the thought of the other Saintesses looking at her with horror in their eyes still made something cold settle in the pit of her stomach.

She shook off the thoughts, refocusing on the steps of the dance she was currently participating in. Her partner was a man she faintly recognized as being a fairly important noble, and one which had actually fought in the war. He was making some light conversation, probably more for courtesy's sake than anything else, but to his visible -though to his credit, he did try to hide it- surprise, Elmeria met him halfway, and when the dance was over she was surprised to find that it had actually been kind of fun. 'I wonder if Fenrir dances,' she mused as her partner led her off the dance floor. 'If he does I'd like to dance with him. It'd be a little bit challenging since he's so tall, but we could figure it out.'

Glancing around to see where Tomoko had gotten to revealed her being led out onto the floor for the next dance. It also revealed Princess America, standing at one side of the room and speaking with a small group of ladies. With Tomoko busy for the next twenty minutes at least, Elmeria decided to see if she couldn't satisfy her curiosity, and accordingly, after taking leave of her partner she began threading her way through the ballroom towards them.

As she approached, several of the women clustered around the princess glanced up, saw her coming, and practically fled from her. Elmeria only just caught the tail end of several of the hurried excuses that were made to the princess. Her lips tightened. Well, whatever. It gave her a chance to talk with the princess mostly alone. Entirely alone would have been better, but one of the ladies had stayed, one she didn't remember seeing before.

"Well, that was abrupt," the princess commented to her companion. "I wonder what scared them so-" She cut herself off as she turned and spotted Elmeria. A little color came into her cheeks, but she recovered quickly, dipping in a shallow curtsy. "Your Excellency, what a pleasure to have you at our ball. Are you enjoying yourself?"

Elmeria returned the curtsy. "Your highness. Indeed I am. Your sister always hosts the most delightful balls and parties, after all; how could I not?"

The princess smiled politely. "Thank you. Please allow me to introduce you to Lady Murtell. She's come down from Eldfall to visit the capital for a time. Lady Murtell, this is Archbishop Levantine, one of the Saintesses that saved us all in the Demon War."

Lady Murtell gave her a deep curtsy. "My deepest gratitude for your efforts on our behalf, Your Excellency. There is no doubt that without the efforts of you and the other Saintesses, the kingdom would even now be under the rule of the forces of the Dark."

Elmeria barely avoided raising an eyebrow. The public narrative was that the forces of Light had been holding their own before the Saintesses had turned the tide. Relatively few knew just how dire the situation had really been. But judging how the princess was treating her, Lady Murtell was important in some way that wasn't immediately obvious. She scanned her over. The woman was beautiful; Elmeria estimated her to be in her late twenties or perhaps early thirties, but there was nothing to indicate she was anything special. Still, she knew better than to judge solely based on appearance.

"We were only glad to be able to protect those of the Light from the monsters that threatened them," she echoed Tomoko's earlier words. There was a stab of guilt when she thought back on it; all the times she had gone straight to killing without even trying for a peaceful resolution, giving no mercy even to those that tried to flee. To distract herself, she moved on quickly, addressing the princess again. "I do have to thank you for your more recent efforts in ridding our city of the parasites that were preying upon it. I am sorry to admit they had escaped even my notice."

Elmeria just barely caught the miniscule raising of the princess' eyebrows and a lightning-quick glance exchanged between her and Lady Murtell. So she knew as well. That was good to know.

"It was only my duty as a knight-princess of the realm," Princess America replied. "I will admit, I am surprised you know of it. We did our best to keep things quiet to avoid panic."

The unspoken question hung in the air, but Elmeria couldn't really afford to answer it. "I have my sources," she said. "Though, most of the finer details remain unknown to me. It is rather too easy to be overheard here; shall we take some air on the balcony before we continue our discussion?"

Another glance was exchanged between Lady Murtell and the princess. The two were closer than Elmeria had thought. Just who was Lady Murtell? She didn't remember ever hearing of her before. "That would likely be for the best," the princess agreed.

"Then allow me to take my leave here," Lady Murtell spoke up. "I believe there is a gentleman across the floor that has been trying to catch my eye for a few minutes now."

"Please, don't feel obliged to go on my account," Elmeria objected. "After all, you assisted in the capture of those scum, did you not?"

A shaft in the dark, guided only by her intuition, but judging from the way the lady's breath hitched, it had struck true. "I- well, yes, I suppose," she floundered for a moment, then renewed her grip on herself. "Very well then, if you truly do not mind my intrusion, I should be glad to accompany you both out for some fresh air. The air in the ballroom is beginning to become rather close."

Together they made their way out into the cooler air of the evening. Elmeria waited until they were a sufficient distance from any doors or windows before she continued. "So I have heard a third party assisted you in the hunt."

"Yes," the princess responded. "Miss Cree, a Ranger and an old friend, was kind enough to visit the capital long enough to ensure we caught most of the members of the ring."

Drat. That wasn't the third party Elmeria had meant at all. But she was pushing the bounds of propriety already. "I see. I suppose it was due to information she uncovered that you traveled to Eldfall immediately afterwards?"

"In part. The operation was very much a team effort; everyone involved did their part to ensure justice was brought upon the monsters that had been preying upon the innocent of the city. -Well, I say monsters, but I mean those of the human variety. I do not believe there were any Dark-races among the ranks of the traffickers," America added, just a touch too quickly. Most would not have noticed, but knowing what she did, Elmeria caught it.

"Well, my sources indicate you have things well in hand, but if ever you believe I can assist you, please do not hesitate to ask. As Archbishop, it is my duty to eradicate all threats to any who worship Marstolle, and as Elmeria Levantine, I personally find such actions as they engaged in to be detestable. I would be overjoyed to see all such behavior stamped out forever."

Princess America gave a gracious curtsy. "Thank you. I assure you that I won't hesitate to call on you if you can be of help." She paused for a moment, as though something had occurred to her, then continued, "Actually, there may be something you could do. Some of the former prisoners were branded with a peculiar rune which we believe is designed to block access to magic and all other class-based abilities. We have found no success in dispelling it; would you happen to know anything about such a rune?"

"Not off the top of my head, no; could you tell me more about it? Perhaps show me a rendition of it?" Fenrir had already told her all about it as well as drawing a likeness for her, but working with the princess to learn more about it, even if it did mean potentially sharing the glory of the discovery if they found one not only meant it was more likely they would find a solution but also that she would have more opportunities to get the princess' true measure and learn about the alliance she had formed with Fenrir.

"Certainly; I'll be sure to send you a copy of what it looks like along with all the information we have on it. Hopefully the resources you have access to will be able to turn something up that mine could not. I don't know where the traffickers came across such a rune. The thought has crossed my mind that possibly they developed it themselves, but I can't be certain."

"You believe they have runeworkers in their employ?"

"I don't know, but from what we've uncovered, their organization is certainly large enough to make it feasible."

As the princess and the Archbishop continued to speak, Grace did her best to fade into the background. Alarm bells had clanged madly in her head when the Archbishop had mentioned a third party assisting with the capture of the trafficking ring; her mind had instantly gone to Ser Fenrir. Thankfully, the princess had managed to redirect her attention away smoothly, but it made her uncomfortable that she was taking so lively an interest in the first place. Of all the Saintesses, Archbishop Levantine was the one most prejudiced against Dark-races, and Grace couldn't help but wonder if she perhaps knew something of who had actually been helping the princess.

She couldn't help but start in surprise when the Archbishop suddenly turned to her. "So then you are from the Eldfall region."

"Yes, Your Excellency." How much did she know of Grace's situation? Did she know Lord Murtell had been involved in the trafficking? Just who were her sources?

The Archbishop nodded. "If I may ask, what has brought you to the capital? Is it related to the trafficking ring?"

Grace glanced at the princess, asking with her eyes whether she ought to be honest. The princess hesitated, then gave a minute nod.

"The truth is," she said, "I have been targeted by the remnants of the slavers for my part in their fall. I narrowly escaped an **** attempt in Eldfall, so I came south to the capital where their hold has been broken, and the princess was kind enough to place me under her direct protection."

The Archbishop's lips thinned. "Of course they would retaliate in so dishonorable a manner. I'm glad they were unsuccessful. If you wish, you could-" She stopped suddenly, causing both Grace and the princess to look at her. The hint of a blush showed on her cheeks as she said, "My apologies. I merely had an idea, but upon further review I don't believe it to be feasible."

"What was it, if you don't mind my asking?" Princess America asked, tilting her head.

"I was going to invite Lady Murtell to stay at the Cathedral if she wished, but..." the Archbishop hesitated.

"But the Cathedral may be compromised," the princess finished. Grace threw her a look of surprise, but the princess' eyes were fixed on the Saintess.

"So you know as well." The Archbishop sighed. "I have been doing what I can to root out the corruption in the Church ever since I learned of it, but it is no easy thing to do, especially as my hands are tied in many ways."

The approach of a servant interrupted their conversation, and all three fell silent. "My apologies, my ladies, but I have a message for Lady Murtell." The servant bowed. "You are requested to come to the nursery. Your daughter needs you."

"Do you need me to come with you?" Princess America offered.

"No, it is nothing serious, is it?" The question was directed at the servant, who shook his head. "Then I should be back before too long."

Wordlessly the servant bowed to each of them again, then fell in step behind Grace as she started towards the ballroom door. She hesitated once she had passed through the ballroom, trying to remember the way to the nursery, and the servant stepped forward. "I can guide you to the nursery if you wish, my lady."

"That would be appreciated, thank you."

"Very good, ma'am, follow me." He led the way through the maze of corridors, Grace following.

As they walked, Grace become aware that she was feeling uneasy. Something about the situation didn't seem quite right, even though she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Was it only that she was worried about Felicity? No; while she was worried about her, that wasn't why she felt uneasy right now.

She glanced up at the servant's back, and the answer burst in on her. It was him. He was walking a little too stiffly, as though every muscle were constantly tensed. But why should he be so nervous? She didn't know his name, but she had seen him multiple times before during the past few weeks. He had even brought her and the princess their tea on several occasions, and while his movements had been careful on those occasions, he hadn't been tense like this.

She looked around for a guard, but this part of the citadel was completely deserted, the only movement being themselves and the candles burning dimly in their sconces on the walls. She didn't recognize the surroundings either; was he really taking her to the nursery?

He stopped at a door. "Through this room."

Grace peered through the door as he opened it for her. It was very dark inside. "Are you certain this is the way to the nursery? I don't recognize any of this."

"I've brought you by the fastest way. Once you go through this room, we will be nearly there."

He looked at her, and Grace didn't like what she saw in his gaze at all. "No, thank you, I think I'd rather go around by the main way." She started back the way they'd come, intending to retrace their steps all the way to the ballroom if necessary, but a hand closed on her wrist.

"No, you must come this way."

"I don't believe I want to." Grace swallowed the lump of terror that rose in her throat and threatened to **** her. She tried to pull her hand free, but to no avail. "Release me."

He ignored her words, instead dragging her bodily into the room. Grace fought him, trying her utmost to tear her wrist free of his grasp, but his grip may as well have been made of iron for all the good her efforts did. A scream clawed its way free of her throat, though she doubted there was anyone near enough to hear. Nor did he seem to care about her cries.

When she grasped at the door frame with her free hand to avoid being dragged into the room, he lifted her bodily and half-carried, half-dragged her over the threshold, dropping her unceremoniously in the center of the floor. A moment's work on his part and light flared from a lantern, showing a mostly empty apartment, what little furniture there was draped in sheets to keep off the dust.

"What do you want with me?" she gasped, looking up at the servant in terror.

She hadn't really expected him to answer, but he did. "My mistress needs you. I will bring you to her."

"Who is your mistress?"

He frowned faintly, then a moment later his face smoothed over again. "Come." He reached down to grasp her wrist again, but she flinched back, internally cursing her long skirts when he stepped on them to halt her retreat. "Come," he said again. The eerie calm in his voice made Grace's flesh crawl.

Grasping her wrist, he dragged her towards a different door. Grace fought him with everything she had, but he didn't react, not even when Grace's leg found his groin. She was able to momentarily arrest their progress by hooking her free arm around the leg of a heavy table. That got him to pause and look back. "This will not do," he murmured. "We shall be far too slow like this."

Deliberately standing on her skirts, he swept the sheet off the table. Dust flew, forcing Grace to cough as she inadvertently breathed some of it in. He didn't seem to mind the swirling clouds in the slightest, placing the lantern on the table before swiftly tearing strips off the fabric which he used to bind Grace's hands and feet. Then, after a moment's reflection, he also fashioned a gag for her. It tasted horrible, but he **** it into her mouth despite her best efforts, tying it tight behind her head. He was bending to pick her up when he gave a peculiar grunt, half straightened, staggered backwards a step, and then fell sprawling on the floor at Grace's feet.

She pushed herself up against the leg of the table, looking around wildly for her savior and finding him climbing through a newly opened window at the far end of the room. "How nice, he's already got you all ready for me," the man said. She could hear the grin in his voice, though she could not see it through the cloth mask he wore. He was covered head to foot in dark nondescript clothing with only his eyes showing.

Grace's heart sank, the spark of hope that had flared dying out as quickly as it had come. She wasn't likely to find rescue at his hands; everything about him screamed assassin.

He made his way across the room to her at a leisurely walk, saying as he did so, "You're quite popular, aren't you? If I had been just a little bit slower, this one might've gotten away with you. My employers wouldn't have been at all happy about that." He paused to give her erstwhile attacker a shove with his foot that half turned him over, extracting a dart from the servant's back. "Hmm, aim was a bit low, but it did the trick."

Replacing the dart in a small case he pulled from his pocket, the man straightened and looked down at Grace. She tried to speak, struggling weakly against her bonds; it seemed as though her terror had stolen all her strength. "I'm supposed to kill you," he told her conversationally. "They offered me quite the pretty sum to ensure you were dead before the night was out." He paused as though waiting for a response, but of course Grace was incapable of giving him anything more than a terrified look. "I have to wonder what you did to piss off such powerful people. Not to mention whoever this one worked for." He gave the corpse a light nudge with his foot.

Grace looked up at him, pleading with her eyes for him to let her go. He didn't seem to notice.

"You are very pretty, aren't you? Even with the ruined makeup from crying." He crouched in front of her. "Or do the tears make it even better?" His hand came out and almost gently wiped away the tears that flowed down one side of her face. "You know, most noble ladies would have fainted by now. Or gone into hysterics. You're holding it together surprisingly well. I like that."

Then suddenly the man reached out, picked her up, and threw her over his shoulder. "I've made up my mind," he said. "We're going to spend a night together, and if you impress me enough I won't kill you. I'll keep you instead, at least till I get bored. I don't really need the money anyways, and I've thinking of retiring recently." He patted her on the backside, groping her through her skirts. "It'd be a shame to kill a beauty like you, after all, even if they are giving me half a king's ransom for it."

America tried to go back to her conversation with the Saintess, but something about the interaction with the servant just didn't sit right with her. His name was... Cale, if she recalled correctly. He had served the royal family for years, so under ordinary circumstances she wouldn't have given it a second thought, but something about his mannerisms felt ...off.

She would probably still have shrugged it off, attributing his actions to nerves or something like that, but considering that Grace was currently under threat of ****, America decided that she had better make sure the gentlewoman was okay.

Accordingly, she was about to excuse herself when the Archbishop said, "That servant. Was he a trusted member of the staff?"

"He has served the royal family for over five years, Your Excellency. Why do you ask?" Had the Archbishop picked up on the same thing she had?

"He had faint traces of demonic energy," the Saintess explained in a low tone. "I said nothing in the moment because it was faint enough that it could have come from simply handling demonic artifacts, but the more I think about it, the less I like it."

America's brows furrowed. "Nothing in his job should put him anywhere near anything demonic, and from what I recall he lives here in the servants' quarters at the citadel. I was just thinking that something about his mannerisms seemed unusual for him."

"In that case, I recommend we check to make sure Lady Murtell is safe. Considering she has already been targeted once, it would only be prudent."

America nodded. "I agree." She glanced at the Archbishop as they both started for the door. Clearly the Saintess intended to come along. A part of her was glad; while she had intended to call several of the guards if they didn't find Grace safe and sound in the nursery, having someone as powerful as Archbishop Levantine along couldn't hurt.

To her horror, they found no trace of Grace in the nursery, and a moment's questioning of her old nurse revealed that she had never sent for Lady Murtell. Felicity was already in bed and sleeping peacefully, so at least she was safe.

America immediately sent a message to the captain of the guards to lock down the grounds. No one was to be let in or out unless their innocence could be established beyond a shadow of a doubt. In the meantime, squads of guards were to be dispatched to search every inch of the citadel. Guards were also to be sent to the nursery to guard it just in case the assassins came after Felicity. America had them keep all of it quiet for the present; there was no sense in panicking their guests.

As the messenger vanished around a corner, she hesitated. What should she herself do? For a moment she considered changing into her armor but then discarded the thought. That would take precious minutes, time Grace might not have. The Archbishop shifted beside her, drawing America's attention to her.

"Your Excellency, do you perhaps have a way of tracking her down?"

The Saintess considered. "...Not precisely, though there is something I can try."

She closed her eyes, concentrating, then circles glowing with a silvery light burst into being on the floor around her, thickly lined with runes. Their light pulsed subtly, once, twice, thrice. The Archbishop frowned, and the pulses redoubled in strength. Her frown deepened, and the light became brighter, and then brighter still. America could physically feel the waves of magic washing over her before the Archbishop seemed satisfied.

"There are traces of demonic energy over this way. I could barely pick it up because of the interference caused by-" she bit off the sentence. "A-anyway, we should hurry. Follow me!"

Together they hurried down one corridor, then up another, the Archbishop guided by whatever magic she had used. America called two of the guards that were posted along the corridor to follow as they passed them. The Saintess would be more than a match for anything they could expect to meet, but that was no reason not to take proper precautions.

As the party, now four strong, moved down the halls, America noted they were headed into a little-used quarter of the citadel, and her concern grew. Why hadn't she gone with Grace? She'd known that her life was potentially in danger, but because there had been no attempts since she had come to the capital they had both let their guards down. She knew better than to do that; Flint had warned her against it many times. She could hear his voice in her mind even now. 'Never let your guard down until you are certain you are beyond the reach of danger. Remember, the best time to strike is when your opponent believes themselves safe.'

She was pulled from her thoughts by the Archbishop slowing. "Through this door," she whispered, indicating one of the many that lined the corridor.

America nodded, drawing the dagger she always kept hidden on her person. It wasn't as good as her sword, but there has been no time to make the detour to go get it. Oh well. The Saintess should be more than a match for anyone they might face.

The door opened silently, all of them scanning the apartment that lay beyond. A lantern on the table lighted the room, revealing a body lying motionless upon the floor next to a torn swath of cloth. America's heart leapt into her throat until she recognized the body as belonging to Cale, not Grace. She checked every corner and behind every piece of furniture before lowering her guard, however.

The room was empty, and an open window left little doubt as to where their quarry had gone. There were no obvious tracks on the ground outside the window -America cursed the fact that Miss Cree was in Eldfall at the moment and unable to help- but she sent one of the guards out of the window to search the grounds immediately beyond for any clues.

There being nothing else of interest in the room, America turned back to the corpse to see that the Archbishop had already begun examining the body. "He's not dead yet," she said as America came up beside her, not lifting her eyes from her task. "It seems he's been poisoned somehow, and-" she broke off. "...And he's under the influence of a demon's Charm. I guess that explains why I felt demonic energy coming from him."

"Can you heal him?"

"Yes, and I'll break the spell he's under as well. With any luck, he'll be able to tell us more about what happened." Her magic flared the warm green of healing, ice blue highlighting runes here and there for a moment before fading back to green. "Now for the Charm spell..." This time the runes were white gold, almost too bright to look at. The servant's body jerked powerfully as the magic sank into him, every muscle tensing to its limit for several long seconds, then he fell back like a puppet with its strings cut.

"That was a powerful compulsion he was under," the Archbishop commented as Cale groaned, stirring. "Masterfully hidden as well. If I weren't as sensitive to magic as I am, I could easily have missed it."

"...Princess? Ah, my head!" The servant groaned, clutching at his temples.

"Listen. Do you remember guiding Lady Murtell to this room?"

"Agh, ow ow ow..." Cale took a visible grip on himself. "No, your highness- ...No, wait, I think I do remember it. I was bringing her to my mistress-" he sat bolt upright. "Your highness, there's a demon in the capital!"

"We'll get to that. For now, I need you to start by telling me where Lady Murtell is," America said firmly.

"I don't know- ow, my head! I don't know, your highness. The last thing I remember is tying her up with that sheet to stop her struggling. I was going to take her to my mistress, but then something pricked me in the back, and that's the last I remember." He bent over double with another groan, clutching at his head again.

"Your Excellency, can't you do something about-"

The Saintess shook her head. "It's the backlash from the breaking the Charm spell. It'll pass in a few minutes, but until then there's nothing I can do about it."

"I see." America looked back down at the servant, thinking. "Something doesn't add up," she said.

"I was just thinking the same thing," the Saintess agreed. "Why would this servant be poisoned and left here to be found? It makes no sense."

"Unless there was a third party involved. Nothing we've found on the trafficking ring indicates they work with Dark-races very closely. It's not out of the realm of possibility, but..."

Fenrir had had his two succubi. Had one of them been the one to Charm this man? ...No, that didn't make any sense. If he wanted to speak with her or Grace, all he would have to do would be send a message. And it wasn't as if he wasn't capable of sneaking into the very heart of the citadel if he chose. She still remembered every detail of the very first time she had seen him.

No, this had to be some other demon. But why target Grace? If they were working with the trafficking ring, then it made no sense that they should try to kill Cale and leave his body here in the citadel. That was careless to the point of absurdity. If they wanted to send a message, leaving Grace's body would make far more sense than a simple servant's.

If they were here on their own, then ...was it to get to her? Aside from her position as a princess she wasn't actually all that important politically speaking, but she couldn't expect an outsider to understand that. And her capture or **** would throw the kingdom into an uproar, there was no doubt of that.

That aside, though, the fact that Cale had been left here implied that something had happened outside the demon's plans. A third party had interrupted the proceedings, but who? And why? From what Cale had said, this third party had poisoned him then stolen Grace and made off with her. To what end? And how were they supposed to track them down if they knew nothing about their motives?

The Archbishop interrupted her thoughts. "Well, while you and the palace guards search for Lady Murtell and her abductor, I'll chase our other lead. Now that I know what to look for, I should be able to pinpoint the location of this demon so long as they haven't left the city. I will need to draw an array to strengthen my magic, which will take some time. In the meantime, find Tomoko and have her brought to me. We may need her help." She stopped suddenly, as if realizing the imperiousness of her tone, and coughed into her hand. "...Please."

America was far too concerned about Grace to take offense. "Of course. Do you need anything to draw with? Or an empty space?"

"This room has enough space, and I always keep some runic chalk with me, just in case." The Saintess was already stooping, painstakingly tracing out the lines and runes of the magic circle. "But..." She paused for a brief moment, glancing up at America. "...I thank you."

Uh oh. Grace is in a real pickle now. And Fenrir's well over two hundred miles away cavorting about with the oni at the moment, so he's not likely to be of any help here. America and the two Saintesses are going to have to rescue Grace on their own. What's your interpretation of events thus far? It's pretty obvious who the assassin is -or was- working for, but who's this mysterious demon? And why do you think they chose to stick their oar in now? What did they even want with Grace?
I leave you with a cliffhanger, but I'll try to give you some solid ground to stand on again as soon as I can. No promises, though. :P
Enjoy!