To Fight Against Fate

Lucilla gamely ignored the brewing tension between Marquess Maneri and Countess Siroth. Instead of watching the approaching disaster, Lucilla instead led the way across the room towards the people she actually planned to introduce Priscilla and Kavil to. On the way, Kavil snagged a treat off the tray of a passing waiter. It was a bite-sized tart topped with a slice of what looked like kiwi that had been cut into the shape of a swan.

He held it out to Priscilla, murmuring, "Say ahhh."

Priscilla shot Kavil a look under her lashes and he smiled back, completely unrepentant. But Priscilla couldn't resist the temptation of eating something made by a noble's pastry chef. The fruit did taste like kiwi but with a sharper citrus undercurrent, and the pastry cream was a wonderful counter balance with how smooth it was. There was a hidden cache of jelly underneath the pastry cream, a final surprising burst of sweetness that left a pleasing flavor lingering on her tongue. Priscilla sighed in content as she finished chewing the tart because it was so fucking good.

"I could eat ten of those," Priscilla whispered back. Kavil shot her a pleased look, but they had no more time to chat as Lucilla came to a stop near a trio of nobles lingering near an artful and colorful topiary in the shape of a bird in flight.

Lucilla began introductions smoothly, greeting the man and two women warmly. They were minor nobles from neither faction. There was a baron couple from the east of Kavendash dressed in muted yellows that complimented their olive complexion. The baroness held a long fan with burnt orange feathers that hid most of her face and the baron's face had the tell-tale flush of drunkenness on his cheeks despite the party barely being started. The last woman was in her late twenties and she was a viscountess from south of Meadowyar in a bright pink dress that reminded Priscilla of cotton candy based on the multitude of poofy layers. The dress didn't quite suit the woman, giving her the air of a woman desperately clinging to youth despite still being in the prime of her life.

Once Lucilla was done speaking, they all eyed Kavil with unabashed curiosity.

"It's rare to see a healer of your caliber outside of Vario," Baroness Junpi said, fanning herself casually. "Churches often like to monopolize talent like yours."

"I wouldn't know," Kavil said, not quite able to hide the confusion between his brows even as he smiled. "I've always been a follower of Gaelea and haven't had the chance to talk much with other priests."

The baroness hummed, hiding the bottom half of her face with the feathered fan.

"Would you consider healing to be your calling?" Baron Junpi asked as he took a sip of champagne.

"I don't know if I'd say that exactly," Kavil said hesitantly. "I mostly want to help people, and my magic makes it a lot easier to do so."

"What's the deadliest injury you've healed?" Viscountess Curtis asked, her eyes alight with morbid interest.

Priscilla decided to save Kavil, whose smile almost cracked from the barrage of questions with barely a chance to catch his breath.

"Kavil held a man's intestines after he was gored by a Dire Deer," Priscilla said lightly, "and ensured there was no secondary infection after putting them back where they belonged. The man was back on his feet within the week."

The gathered nobles looked a little queasy at her frank words, but Priscilla felt Kavil's relieved squeeze of her hand before he let her go as she took a half step forward.

"Now, what I want to know," Priscilla said, tilting her head as she leaned forward to make sure that all eyes were on her, "is more about you fine folks. Lady Lucilla has told me of you all and I found myself fascinated by what she said. Viscountess, if I recall correctly, your family sponsors architects."

The nobles were only jarred by the topic change for a moment, but then the Viscountess drew herself up with obvious delight. She launched into a spiel about it being a noble pursuit that let their marks last for generations to come. The architects were sent to universities across the continent depending on the type of architecture that they wished to create.

The Viscountess' smug pride rolled off her as she added, "Our latest student named a street in the Queria Empire after me."

That was on the other half of the world, and the fact that there was a student there meant that the Viscountess's family had quite the collection of gold.

Priscilla oohed and aww'd at the right parts, then cut in when it felt natural to ask, "Baron, Baronness, is it true that you have wine in your cellars that date to the dawn of Kavendash?"

The baron's face lit up and he began to excitedly talk about his collection of alcohol, speaking at length about the enchantments he commissioned to ensure they were stored optimally.

Priscilla had years of practice for handling rich snobs and she was a glib hand at getting them to like her, if only so they would leave her alone.

Drop a few more flattering remarks, casually but sincerely spoken, when they looked particularly proud about whatever statement proved their superiority and reinforced that they belonged to a caste above the rest. Keep up sustained eye contact and occasional enthusiastic nod of her head to indicate Priscilla was riveted by their tales. Sprinkle in a couple poignant comments about the noble's interest to show that Priscilla wasn't an idiot there, but humbly smile and fend off any compliments with quiet grace.

If asked about herself, Priscilla would give them a demure smile, share a half-truth, and then gently turn the conversation back to them so they could do their favorite thing — talk about themselves.

The noble's gazes held approval as Lucilla gently reinserted herself into the conversation.

"I must say, Miss Sunscarre," Viscountess Curtis said, "I had not known that adventurers could be as pleasant as you!"

"Thank you for thinking so, Viscountess," Priscilla said, once again adopting a smile. "I had such a lovely time speaking with all of you as well. I feel like I've learned so much in one conversation."

That earned Priscilla another round of the nobles holding themselves a little straighter, pleased as punch to have their words so highly valued.

"Are you going to be coming to any more events?" Baroness Junpi asked. She gestured at the room with her fan before adding, "I mean a proper evening party or ball, not this. Lord Bersk puts on quite the amusing party, but he is nowhere near an example of how things are usually done."

"Baroness Junpi, you wound me," a warm, masculine voice said, his voice full of mock offense.

Baroness Junpi shrugged with a smile, her cheeks as rosy as her husband's. "I am not wrong, am I, Lord Bersk?"

Lord Bersk chuckled, and he came into view on the other side of Kavil.

To capture twenty-year-old Vocrel Bersk in one word would be sharp.

He was just shy of six feet, meaning that he had a good four inches on Priscilla, and he leaned towards more skinny than lean with the amount of muscle he had on his arms, making him quite angular. Vocrel's hair was black with odd white stripes, much like a badger's fur. His hair shoulder length but slicked back in a way that had his bangs arched up almost like a bird's tail feathers (not that Priscilla was going to say that comparison outloud). His nose was long and his chin was pointed, and he had thin but expressive lips. Brown eyes were framed by short lashes, and three clear gems were attached to the skin below each eye.

Vocrel had the most casual and most revealing outfit Priscilla had seen at this party. He wore a ruffled white shirt unbuttoned low enough to be considered scandalous as it almost exposed his navel and black pants that were so tight it emphasized his waifish figure. It was topped off with a pair of shoes that Priscilla bet was worth at least a 100 gold based on how supple the leather looked and a thick, gold necklace that rested on his collar bone. Priscilla would describe his style as "sexy yet vaguely sickly Victorian man."

After polite 'how do you dos,' Vocrel talked with first the baron and baroness, letting them know that the butlers had just now pulled out a few bottles from his collection that he knew they would enjoy. Then to the viscountess, Vocrel informed her had heard that Mister Koel would definitely be attending the party with a waggle of his eyebrows, which caused her to blush and thank him effusively.

"Lady Beaukin, I am so glad that you were able to make it," Vocrel said, easily crossing the gap to grasp Lucilla's hands. "When I heard about Peligran, I was in shock and felt nearly faint. I knew I needed to see your face and ensure that you were okay, to see how you were holding up since his passing."

Lucilla smiled, lips momentarily trembling before she regained her composure.

"I am as well as I can be," Lucilla said quietly.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Lucilla's eyes went past Vocrel's arm and her smile morphed into something warmer as looked at Priscilla.

"But the only reason that I am here today," Lucilla said, "is because of these two adventurers' bravery, along with that of their friends, who stood unflinchingly against the beast that threatened to kill us all. They have helped me find my footing in a world that is irreparably changed."

Vocrel turned slowly, brown eyes half-lidded with interest as he said, "Then, please introduce me."

"They are simply delightful, Lord Bersk," Viscountess Curtis said after Lucilla's quiet explanation. The baroness murmured her agreement as the baron gave a drunk nod of approval. Priscilla made sure she looked appropriately humbled when she sent them fond looks as Kavil smiled bashfully, shying just a little more behind Priscilla.

"That's certainly a resounding endorsement," Vocrel said, head tilted as he took them in. He was smiling, but his eyes were unreadable. "Well, I am pleased to meet you two, and I am glad to have the chance to thank you for keeping Lady Beaukin safe."

"There's no need to thank us for doing something that we would have done regardless," Priscilla said smoothly.

"We're glad to have the chance to get to know Lady Beaukin," Kavil added earnestly. "She's taught us so much."

The edge of Vocrel's smile twitched.

"Still," Vocrel said, glancing between Kavil and Priscilla slowly, "is it something that should be said and an achievement to be lauded, as not many would so… boldly insert themselves into a losing battle."

Before Priscilla could decide if that statement was a subtle barb, Viscountess Curtis let out a sharp sound of outrage. The viscountess quickly excused herself to go speak with a man who had leaned his head close to his conversation partner, his smile flirtatious and the lady's coy. The baron couple took that chance to go sample wine, leaving only after extracting a promise from Priscilla and Kavil to speak with them again.

Priscilla agreed with a smile, though she watched Vocrel from under her lashes. When the viscountess reached the man's side and immediately began an argument, Priscilla could have sworn that Vocrel's face momentarily twisted into wicked glee. It was clear that each of his comments were made with careful thought, as if each time he cast a pebble into the lake, he knew exactly where the ripples would go.

"I must say, Lord Bersk," Priscilla said into the sudden quiet before Vocrel could take control of the conversation once more, "I don't know if I've seen anyone who pulls off that style quite as well as you."

Most people who dressed as boldly as Vocrel did wanted to talk about their style, and wanted their outrageousness to be acknowledged.

Vocrel hummed and cocked an eyebrow.

"You must have only seen poor imitations, then," Vocrel said with a shrug. He paused and then took a long glance at Kavil's figure. "Though I think Mister McCue would make a much better imitation if he puts his mind to it."

Kavil's eyes went wide, blinking a few times with clear panic.

Priscilla didn't hesitate to curl her arms around Kavil's, leaning her head on his shoulder as she held him close. Her stomach twisted with a sudden and intense feeling she couldn't quite name as Vocrel was so clearly checking Kavil out, looking at him with an expression like he was imagining him naked.

"Kavil would look amazing in it, I'm sure," Priscilla said, her smile sharp yet tone perfectly pleasant, "but he's still finding his foothold in the world of fashion. I'd hate to push him to a style as bold as yours before he's ready."

Kavil rallied valiantly, hand tightening around Priscilla's. "Thank you for the suggestion, Lord Bersk, but I'll have to defer to Priscilla's judgement on this. She has an entire wardrobe's worth of clothes she plans for me to try on."

"Truly?" Vocrel said, his smile growing distinctly amused. "Is your interest in fashion casual, Miss Sunscarre? Or is it a passion you pursue?"

"I would not call myself a master seamstress nor designer," Priscilla said, "but I do enjoy designing and making my own clothes when I have the time. We're so often on the road that it's nearly impossible to get anything done, but I hope to finish a few pieces while we're in Glinburn."

"And what brought you to the city?" Vocrel asked. "I don't think Lady Beaukin said."

"To watch our friends fight in the Equinarial Tournament," Kavil said. "Or at least one of our friends for certain, the other one is still undecided."

Vocrel let out another short hum. "And neither of you are participating? I would think adventurers of all sorts would jump on the chance for glory."

"We're mostly moral support," Priscilla said, "not that they need that when they're so talented."

The conversation was flowing naturally, but Vocrel had taken the reins of it once more, adjusting things so that he did not have to speak much about himself.

"If I recall, you're a fighter, are you not Miss Sunscarre?" Vocrel asked, glancing at her lace gloves, then quickly returned to her face. "What weapon do you wield?"

"I've wielded a crossbow on occasion," Priscilla said with a deliberately casual air, slowing down her words to change the pace the best she could, "a throwing dagger when needed, a club when the space allows it, and our expert swordsmaster is teaching me how to use a sword. But mostly…" Priscilla smiled widely, meeting Vocrel's gaze head on. "I enjoy using my fists, as it's a much more satisfying way to defeat my enemies."

Vocrel's eyes widened a fraction as he said, "I see."

But before anyone could say anything, Priscilla's back prickled with magic and she couldn't help tensing from the unexpected pain. There was a pained grunt, then the sharp sound of glass breaking accompanied by a loud thud.

They all turned to see what the commotion was. Countess Siroth's face was a splotchy red that clashed with her dress, her lips pulled back into a snarl. Marquess Maneri had a disdainful scowl on his face, his entire body rigid. It appeared that somehow the Marquess had tripped a passing waiter, causing him to drop an entire tray of wine glasses. The waiter was sprawled across the floor, his expression one of poorly hidden pain.

"Oh, that looks like fun," Vocrel whispered barely loud enough for Priscilla to catch, his smile just like a Cheshire Cat's. He began moving towards the pair as he said, "Marquess, Countess, pray tell, what is all the fuss about?"

Both of the nobles' faces darkened at his voice but their expressions smoothed out as they turned towards the approaching man. The room had quieted, everyone's attention riveted on the scene before them.

Neither of the nobles spoke, eyeing each other in distaste.

"Was there something displeasing about my party that you needed to make your own entertainment?" Vocrel asked with the edge of self-recrimination.

Countess Siroth laughed, the sound bright and cruel. "Oh, I was perfectly entertained, Lord Bersk. It was the Marquess who assaulted your waiter, so you must question him as to why his tastes lean so barbaric at such a splendid party."

Marquess Maneri's jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth, before saying, "It is regrettable that I interfered with your employee's work. I shall see to it that you are compensated for the damage."

Vocrel waved a hand like it didn't matter to him whether the marquess followed his word or not, like the damage was nothing of note.

"What had you two so worked up that you forgot yourself, Marquess?" Vocrel asked, his eyes eager like a dog that found a new bone to gnaw on.

"It's a private matter," Countess Siroth said airily. "Nothing you need to trouble yourself with."

"Indeed," Marquess Maneri concurred. "I apologize, Lord Bersk, but I must take my leave early."

Priscilla wondered just what they had been talking about for the marquess to follow the countess's lead without protest.

Vocrel looked momentarily displeased with the answer but graciously nodded his head. "It is such a shame to see you leave so soon, but do give my regards to your wife. I hope that Touye's Rebirth brings her some peace during her recovery."

Maerquess Maneri inclined his head in a sharp movement, hand flexing around his cane at the mention of his wife. "She'll appreciate your well wishes, Lord Bersk. Good afternoon."

The marquess did not hesitate as he finished his curt words, sweeping past the countess who looked as if a rat had just scurried past her. No one seemed to notice or care that the waiter had just barely picked himself up off the floor with the help of another servant and quickly shuffled out the door. Several other servants hurried about to clean the mess.

"There's blood in the champagne," Kavil whispered with a frown. "I think the waiter was cut by the shattered glass."

A plan came to Priscilla, then, and perhaps it was a reckless one that would make Sulaiman tear his hair out, but she thought it had the chance to actually work.

"Kavil," Priscilla murmured. She leaned in close so no one could hear them, her face turned towards his neck and hair falling forward so observers couldn't read her lips. "I know you want to go heal the waiter. I believe we can kill two birds with one stone if we can get you out of this room, as I think he'll be ever so grateful for your help and might be willing to speak freely with you."

Kavil stared at Priscilla for a moment before his eyes widened.

"You want me to ask him about what they were talking about," Kavil whispered.

Priscilla shot her friend a pleased expression, so glad that he was able to pick up on her plan with just a single nudge in the right direction.

"Things are still restless," Priscilla said, glancing over her shoulder as if she was just tossing her hair, "so now is the best time to leave."

Countess Siroth had joined the nearest group of partygoers with a forceful air, her smile just barely not a snarl and the tone of her voice was sharp enough to cut down anyone who would dare suggest she didn't belong there. People were clustered together about the room, eyes on the countess and Vocrel, who joined in the conversation with nary a flutter of eyelashes. Vocrel still looked amused, speaking to Countess Siroth with an easy smile, batting aside any harshness like it was the soft caress of ribbon.

"I'll cover for you," Priscilla said, leaning back to smooth out the fabric of Kavil's coat, "but I don't know how long my excuses will work."

Kavil nodded, and they both looked towards Lucilla. Lucilla was staring at the door that the marquess had just left through, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Lucilla," Kavil said, catching her attention. Lucilla blinked a few times and then straightened, a reflexive smile settling on her face.

"Yes, Mister McCue?"

"Where would the injured waiter go?" he asked.

Lucilla looked momentarily surprised before her expression softened.

"Likely to the kitchens," Lucilla said, glancing at Vocrel, "though I could not be sure. Lord Bersk has… odd tastes at times."

"I'll try there first," Kavil said.

"Good luck," Priscilla said, giving his arm one final squeeze before she let him go.

"I should be telling you that," Kavil said with a half-smile, glancing about the party. "You're the one being left alone with the wolves."

Lucilla laughed, waving away Kavil's concerns. "I will make sure that Miss Sunscarre does not perish without your escort. Go now, before anyone notices."

Kavil nodded, and then fell in step with the last of the servants leaving the room.

"Now then," Priscilla said, offering her arm for Lucilla, "let's go tame these wolves."

Lucilla laughed softly, placing her hand in the crook of Priscilla's elbow. "Let's."