Completed Fortune Turned

[Lechies Delrio]

It was early summer when Lechies returned to her family's estate. A visit long overdue, her parents had said, equal parts overjoyed and exasperated, when she turned up on their doorstep covered in dust from the road. She'd meant to visit months ago, but each time she neared Alliria, she'd catch wind of some mysterious happening or other, and Lechies's curiosity would justify traveling about for just a while longer. Adventure was a most beguiling call.

Then, a letter turned up on the desk of her personal quarters within the guild hall. When Lechies saw that the sender was her mother, she knew she'd finally delayed her homecoming for too long.

Her mother had said little in the letter itself. Lechies quickly found out why. There was a gala being held in the days to come, hosted by one Janik Damelin, scion of his once-destitute House, a celebration to honor his family's return to society. Wouldn't it be fun if Lechies attended alongside her brothers?

"It's good to mingle with your peers every now and again. Form connections and alliances, if nothing else. And perhaps if fate feels gracious," Lady Delrio said, a distantly hopeful smile on her lips, "you might meet someone special."

Glossing over the fact that her mother clearly didn't consider her fellow adventurers her peers, Lechies replied, "I know you mean well, but given my condition... I just don't think it's worth it."

"Ah. You still don't expect to outlive us."

An old argument, and one Lechies regretted every time they re-trod that tired ground. From the look in her mother's eyes, she knew the topic of her impending mortality was one that pained her parents more than herself.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be. You never need to be." Her mother's hand was warm against Lechies's cheek, as comforting now as it had been all those years ago. "Still, all the more reason to go, if only this once? Gods know when you'll have another chance."

---​

Thus, goaded by guilt, Lechies found herself in the company of her siblings one balmy evening, their shared carriage rattling merrily along the cobblestone road. While it was true that she'd almost rather be out in the wilds risking her neck than faced with the prospect of a fancy party all evening, it was equally true that she'd missed her brothers. Allos and Detlef exchanged gossip with her all the way to the Damelin estate, and Lechies was especially pleased whenever Allos's wife, Juliote, gasped at all the right places during the retelling of her adventuring stories.

To gaze upon young Master Janik's restored estate, one couldn't guess that the place had been overrun by weeds and squatters as recently as last winter. The stonework indoors and out gleamed clean and white; the hallways were heavy with exquisite paintings and intricate tapestries; servants scurried about in crisp uniforms with practiced efficiency.

The crown jewel was the ball room to the rear of the house. It was an enormous space, staircases sweeping across either wall to a balcony that wrapped all around. The roof was domed glass; above them, the moon shone silver and resplendent, witness to House Damelin's restored glory. Every table was laden with food and drink, never seeming to deplete no matter how much the guests enjoyed themselves. Music drifted in from the open windows, provided by a string quartet stationed in the garden.

Clearly, Master Janik had spared neither effort nor expense on his family's re-introduction to society.

(Such expectations were one reason among many why Lechies rejected this life.)

So she lingered at the side of the room, letting the lively atmosphere wash over her. People watching made for decent entertainment, and Lechies was content to observe the gathering of mages, merchants, and minor nobles in peace. If someone wandered by, she exchanged pleasantries, but the conversation never lasted long. Aside from her brothers and sister-in-law, Lechies knew no one else and her body language signaled that she intended to keep it that way.

"You look terribly worried that someone's going to invite you to dance," Allos teased at one point. "I promise that our family will survive the scandal of their youngest stepping on her dance partner's toes at the Damelins' gala."

He carried drinking glasses in either hand. One he kept for himself; another he passed to Detlef. Both of her brothers took after their mother, tall with sharp cheekbones and bright red hair, while Lechies more resembled their father, her hair a shade darker and softer of face, with a slighter build.

It had posed a minor problem when her mother had agonized over Lechies's outfit for the party. As a constant traveler, formalwear simply wasn't something she kept among her belongings. Lechies had long outgrown anything she might've worn in her youth, and the height difference made her mother's clothes unsuitable. Lechies's suggestion that she simply attend in her finest shirt and trousers nearly sent her poor mother into a fit. In the end, her father pulled favors with a friend and had a new dress speedily tailored for the occasion.

Though she didn't intend to don it again after tonight, Lechies admitted the dress was indeed beautiful. Sewn of shimmering, deep blue fabric, its airy quality was perfect for warm weather. The collar was high, to conceal the markings on Lechies's torso and neck, but her shoulders were bare, as were her arms and hands. Her mother had frowned at how the outfit left Lechies's adventuring scars visible. She lent Lechies a lovely set of earrings and necklace wrought of silver and sapphire, an attempt to draw attention away from the scars.

Lechies smiled as Allos handed the final glasses to Juliote and herself. "Honestly, Mother might be proud if I became the talk of the town, no matter what that talk was about. But don't you fret, I still remember my old dance lessons."

She demonstrated, tapping out a jig clearly better suited for an ale-stained tavern than a fancy ball room. A couple walking past paused to stare before continuing on their way, whispering urgently to each other. Juliote laughed and pushed lightly at Lechies's shoulder.

"Stop that! You might be fine with getting gossiped about, but I'm not!"

Detlef's eyebrows wiggled, his gaze following a group of young women as they glided across the ball room.

"Let's be honest, if anyone's getting gossiped about, it'll be me. Speaking of, I spy some ladies in need of my riveting company." He tossed back his drink and set the empty glass on a nearby table. "Brother, Sister, Other Sister -- if you'll excuse me..."

Allos groaned as his younger brother disappeared into the depths of the ball room. "Aaaand there goes a man who thinks he's too old to be scolded by his parents."

"A man simply enjoying his life," Lechies replied, grinning. "As long as he does no harm to others, can you really fault him?"

"I suppose it means something that Detlef's antics haven't blown back in our family's faces yet." Allos was quiet for a moment. Then he straightened, someone in the room having caught his attention. "Oh, it's Corin! Haven't seen that old bastard since my Elbion days! Going to go have a chat."

He offered Juliote his arm, but she shook her head. "You go. Someone needs to keep your sister company."

"As my lady wishes, then." Allos kissed her knuckles, then also melted into the crowd.

Lechies smiled behind her glass. "You're certain?" she said to Juliote. "I don't mind if you'd rather go out there and socialize."

Juliote waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense. It... can be hard for me, too. I just don't know what to say, sometimes. Unlike most of these people, I wasn't born into money, or even worked myself into my fortune. I was just lucky to marry the right person."

Lechies heard the affection in her voice, and thought back to her conversation with her mother. She swallowed, the wine somehow less sweet than before.

"Well, thank you for the company, anyway. If there's anything I can do to repay you, just tell me."

"Hm. If you're offering..." Juliote's expression turned impish. "Someone was eating the most delectable-looking chocolate pastry. It had a little creme dragon on top and everything. Let me know if you see which table had them and I'll consider us even."

Lechies laughed. "As my lady wishes!"

 

[Garrod Arlette]

The brass bell above the door to Rosemallow's Needlework and Tailoring gave a bright ting-a-ting-tang as the door came open, and behind the desk, at the other end of the room, sat a tall willowy man, whose complexion was like ashen snow, and whose eyes were a warm periwinkle. His ears were long and pointed, and his nose was just as sharp. His gaze pointed down.

Wisps of grey float about the air, diffused into a haze of sweet smelling smoke, like oak and peat mixed with vanilla honey.

"Still smoking the sweet stuff, huh?" Garrod asked as his boots knocked against the wood of the floor. He made his way toward the desk, where the man sat.

Fine clothes were hung about, and finer fabrics were rolled into thick bolts, stored upon shelves, some behind glass cabinets. How finely they shimmered and shone, and how their details came alive when Garrod did stop to look.

"Those are new," he said with a bit of a smile.

The man behind the desk never looked up. His attention was on the work set before him, a fine black garb, lustrous beneath the sun, with delicate gold vines and flowers stitched into the sleeve work and collar, a long and elegant needle pinched between his fingers, which he plied with care.

"Good to see you return, Garrod," the fastidious man commented. "And that your joy for the simple things in life hasn't diminished none since last we met," a smooth smirk stitched itself to the corner of his lips.

"Simple?" Garrod said with mock in his voice, and pulled his eye away from the cabinet of fine cloth, and proceeded to stop before the desk. "Here I thought you called me a man of distinction, last I came to visit,"

Another push of the needle through the fabric, a lace of goldenrod pulled through the black, and a clean pull of the needle saw the thread come taught. Deft hands took up a small set of scissors, and with measured motion, snipped at the cord.

"And fine taste, I might add, Gideon,"

Gideon smiled, and tied up the thread. "How many drinks did you have me drink, then, to say all that?"

Garrod craned his head one way, as if weighed down by thought, his eye scrunched some with the weight of memory. "Just the one, if I recall," he said easily.

"Just the one," Gideon smiled. He finished his work, and set his tools aside.

"Bottle, maybe?" Garrod laughed.

"Ah, yes, there it is," the Tailor looked at his work once over. "And what do you think of this here, blouse?"

Garrod blinked. "Well," he looked it over a moment longer. "I rather like it, if I am being honest," the hunter, in his plain clothes, rubbed at his chin. "Would make for a fine look at a party,"

Gideon nod, and put the garment down. "It's yours then,"

"What?"

Gideon smiled. "In return for a favor, of course," his slender fingers reached out for the long stem of a cigarillo holder, it was balanced daintily, so the ash from the still burning roll of blade-leaf fell within a catcher.

A half-laugh came from the hunter's throat. "A favor?"

The Tailor nod as he took a pull from his smoke-stem.

"Ok, let's hear it,"

The Tailor smirk, and let out a rush of smoke, up into the air above them.

---

"And uh... who are you two?" the square jawed guard at the door asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion, and his mouth already downturned. A wooden tablet with some sheets of parchment tacked onto them clutched before him as he looked over the two well dressed men.

"Markus De Raino, and my man servant," Gideon, now Markus, said without hesitation. "Jared,"

Garrod blinked.

The guard looked over him with more scrutiny. "Man servant, huh?" Looked at the low cut of his shirt, and the way the loose garbs fit svelte about his figure.

Garrod cleared his throat, stood a bit taller, and gave a simple bow to the guard closing his eye.

The guard shrugged. "Very well, just make sure he stays out of trouble," he took a piece of charcoal out and scratched a name off the list. "God knows we don't need any more kids poppin' out of any of the help these days,"

Gideon bowed his head and they made their way in.

Some distance between them, and Garrod grew closer to Gideon's ear, whispered harshly. "Jared? You picked Jared as my name?"

Gideon shrugged. "No one actually cares about the help's names, Jared," Gideon said with venomous smile.

"Yes but," Garrod scowled. "You could've picked a better name~"

A gesture from the Tailor. "Hush now, go and entertain yourself some, and then remember why I actually brought you along, will you?"

Garrod grumbled, and moved a step away. Gave a nod.

"Do make sure you remember, my name, Jared," Gideon revealed a fan from one his sleeves, opened it, and fanned himself. Behind its cover. "The mirror. You'll have to find a way to snoop about without raising suspicion, understood?"

Garrod gave another nod.

"Good, remember, find it, and just make your way back to me, we will worry about the rest later," something caught the Tailor's eye. "Francian, is that you?!" he laughed, and motioned big to greet the familiar face. Quick steps hurried him off and Garrod narrowed his eye, unamused.

"Well," he said looking down at his... new clothes. "Suppose it isn't the worst deal I've ever made," he smirked. "Still," he looked up and saw a servant carrying some drinks about. Snatched one. "He didn't say I couldn't enjoy myself a little," he eyed some of folks around, and smiled winningly at a few eyes on him, raised his glass to them and caught a few titters.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

The party wasn't that bad, really. Lechies would freely admit this, settled into her peaceful corner of the room, a wine glass in her hand and her sister-in-law at her side. Ill-known as they were compared to the other rich and powerful flitting about the room, few people approached to strike up conversation, and even those lacked much substance.

In fact, Lechies was somewhat surprised that any apparent bachelors in attendance weren't trying to court her. Not a complaint, mind. Let one of the other women or men have that honor, radiant in all their finery, dazzling in their element. At evening's end, Lechies would gladly shed her beautiful costume. Return to that world of dust-hemmed trousers and road-worn cloaks, where she belonged.

Yes, she was content to enjoy her drink for now, and nibble at the dragon creme-topped pastries that Juliote had snatched from one of the serving trays.

Just then, a faintly familiar silhouette drifted across her line of vision, as if the stern of a ship passing behind a cliff. Lechies paused mid-chew. More movement; the crowd parted briefly yet again, and this time, she was certain. She knew the set of those broad shoulders, that pale hair. Like snow atop a distant mountain, solid and ever-present.

She put her glass and pastry down. Juliote cast Lechies an appraising look.

"Something catch your attention?"

"Er, someone, yes. A colleague; I must say hello to him." Lechies checked her dress for crumbs; patted her hair to ensure that it was still held in its bun. "I'll be right back."

"Hm." Juliote's eyes darkened with amusement. "Must be a close colleague if you're willing to abandon me."

"What- no, I-"

When Lechies whipped her head around to deny it, Juliote laughed. "Oh, I'm only joking! Go. Go on! I might as well see if I can find your brother in all this."

She made a shooing motion. Lechies's smile was apologetic as she slid into the sea of people.

It was not difficult to navigate through, not when Garrod stood taller than most. Lechies reached him from behind, seemingly unnoticed, and took a moment to admire his garb. It was very unlike what warriors normally wore. Absent the usual shell of stiffened leather and metal armor, Garrod's shirt was a glossy black thing, sewn with a fetching pattern of aurum ivy and flowers. She wouldn't have thought him the kind of man to own clothes so exquisite, but perhaps the same could be said of her.

Lechies tapped his shoulder with the back of her hand.

"Hello, Garrod!"

Her grin was bright, and warmed by degrees even then, pleased beyond words to find one of her people at this most unexpected of venues.

"The world can be small at times, can't it? It's so good to see you."

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Garrod eyed the folk before him. A young woman and a young man of near enough age, and near enough finery. A smirk ever present across his lips.

"You could join us you know," the young man proposed. "Speak a verse or two at our get together, friendly enough crowd if you are worried about it," he added.

Garrod smirked, and took a drink from his glass of bubbly, a wide brimmed receptacle, with shallow pool of drink that teased to spill about the edges of the vessel but never quite did. He moved the glass away. "I appreciate the invitation, really," he said with friendly enough face, when a light tap came at his shoulder. A touch that pulled his attention in full.

'Hello, Garrod!' came a voice most familiar.

"Lechies," He answered with smile creeping across his face, his eye upon her in full.

'The world can be small at times....it's so good to see you,"

Garrod cleared his throat, unable to hide the joy curled at the corners of his lips. "Yes, yes I... The world really can seem a small place at times, can't it," he said with a light laugh. The sight of her. Like a cool pool of water upon a sweltering day. Reprieve, amidst performance that caused the heart to run and the blood to flush. Yet now, the warmth of quickened pulse, the rush of blood, was not out of fear or anxiety, but excitement. "I didn't think I'd see the likes of you, fair Lady Lechies, at a gathering such as this" Garrod said with blood come rush across the curves of his cheeks. Unable to contain the full bloom of his smile. His teeth, oddly straight for an urchin, showed bright and true. "But I'm none the less pleased for it,"

Short of attention as they were, the nobles who had been speaking with him but a moment ago clicked their teeth and carried on with the business of their get togethers and their entertainments.

The monster hunter, posing as a man-servant, posing as a poet, smiled softly, and gave a quick swirl to the drink he held in hand. "It's nice to see you too, Lechies," he admitted, looking her in the eyes with his own solitary green gaze. "More than words can express," he seemed to blurt out without realization.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

Lechies near beamed, Garrod's affection seeming to ignite her mood like tinder catching a spark. Gods, it was so good to see him. There was the strange feeling that the rest of the night would pass with ease now, with him to count on for company. No offense meant to Juliote, of course, but her dear sister-in-law was not an adventurer. Was not someone who understood the sort of things that drove people like Lechies and Garrod onto the road again and again.

Their eyes locked; warmth blossomed in her chest. If not for the roaming elite around them, Lechies would've been tempted to give his arm a squeeze, just to relay how glad she was to see him. Alas, no peculiar rumors needed to find their way back to her brothers' ears. Or her mother's.

Instead, she folded her hands before her, manner demure as she soaked in Garrod's words.

"Is that so? Well, with a statement as honeyed as that," the shyness vanished, replaced by a look almost playful, "should I assume you're not enjoying yourself as much as you appear?"

Lechies chuckled and stepped closer, into conspiratorial whispering range. "Between the two of us? I'm only here because my mother asked me to -- well, 'mingle with my peers'. Truth be told though, while I may have been raised by mage-gentry, I'm a bit out of my element at such gatherings. Master Janik's estate is lovely, and the food is delightful, but I'm honestly counting the minutes until I can return to the carriage.

"But that's enough whining from me!" She laughed, and offered Garrod her hand. "If you're not otherwise occupied, would you care for a dance?"

Summer evenings in Alliria were too warm for gloves, so Lechies had gone without. In her palm sat a thick scar, roughly the diameter of a copper coin, its twin on the other side of her hand. A reminder of that first adventure they'd survived together. If they had managed to withstand that, then a simple dance was surely no challenge at all.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

It felt funny. Well. No, funny probably was not the right word for it. Alarming? No, that was not right either. Frightening didn't fit the mood at all.

As he stood there, watched her fidget with her hands, and gain a spark in her eye, he heard her laugh, and his own smile brightened. It grew wider and warmer. He laughed too. For what else was he supposed to do as little wings stirred about his stomach. It was a quiet thing, the laugh. It rumbled in his throat and shook his chest in that hearty way of laughs, even small ones, felt true. Her warmth was infectious.

"No," he said with easy smile, his eye still on her. "It's just, well, the occasion is all the more enjoyable for having your company, my lady," he said, and gave a dignified bow of his head. She stepped closer to him, and he felt the little wings beat all the quicker as he straightened up.

Her mother was here. Her family. The realization had him blink in shock.

His eye looked about, a tad wider. The wings in his stomach stirred all the faster, but there was a twinge to their dancing. A hint of anxiety. As if he were an animal put on alert. He laughed, nervously at the mention of the carriage, and potential retreat. "Makes sense," he said, and she dismissed the pains of her position. A daughter from a family of means. Reputation.

"Dance?" he asked, and saw her hand held out in offer. Her eyes on him. No worry to be found in the warm hazel of her stare. "I would love a dance," he said, put down his drink and took up her hand. Felt the run of her fingertips and breadth of her palm envelope his own, as the bones and the warm flesh of their digits did cup and press. Gently. Easily. Her scars against his.

​

They walked out to the dance floor, as the accompaniment of musicians played a dreamy summer waltz. Strings and flute in concert to the playful pace of the pianist as the deep bass urged them all to keep step.

Garrod cleared his throat, as they arrived to the polished dance floor. Dresses around them shimmered, and doublets sparkled proud as the bodies moved to the music. He was nervous. And probably looked it as he held her hands in his and his ear tried to pick up the beat. His toes tapped to the measure.

Gods, she was so close to him. It made him laugh, made him smile when they finally dove into the music.

It all felt rather natural really. To be so excited to dance with her.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

His hand slid into hers, warm, callused. Something small and wild fluttered in her stomach, echoing the thudding pulse of her heart. It was foreign but not unpleasant. In this moment now, Lechies understood why poets and writers called this sensation 'butterflies'. Her smile strengthened as they moved to the center of the ball room.

In those seconds as they attuned themselves to the music, Lechies let herself drink Garrod in. He looked eager -- and nervous. When she pulled out of his grip, his hand wavered as if he wasn't sure where to touch her next. Lechies's look was kind as she took his hand again. She guided it to rest on her hip, and well, if those butterflies kicked up an even fiercer storm in her belly at the contact, she was certain it didn't show on her face.

"I imagine Master Artorias didn't include much ball room dancing in his lessons," she said in a low tone. "That's alright. We don't need to pull off any fancy moves; just follow my lead."

Lechies laced her other hand with Garrod's, fingers interlocking near their faces, and eased them into a gentle sway. A simple side-to-side movement, simply riding the waltzing 1-2-3 beat. Once she thought he was comfortable with that, she added a little back-and-forth to their steps, and then, combined the two, coaxing him into a circular movement as the melody swelled. A few times they brushed close to another pair of dancers, and a few times Garrod nearly trod on her feet. Lechies grinned away each near miss, breathing a quiet laugh into his shoulder as they fumbled to regain their step.

It was strange; despite being in full view of the room, it seemed her awareness of the world had narrowed down to just Garrod. Lechies couldn't take her eyes off him. He had never looked more unguarded or unburdened as she saw him now -- nor more handsome for it. Make no mistake, Garrod cut a most gallant figure on the battlefield, but it was the sight of him here, free from worry, settled in the warm embrace of peace, that had Lechies's heart singing the loudest song.

When the music stopped, the hushed voices of those around them re-entered her ears as if she was hearing them for the first time. Lechies blinked as though emerging from a dream, disoriented.

Then she remembered herself. There would be a quick pause before the musicians began their next piece, an opportunity for the dancers to change partners, or new dancers to join in. She squeezed Garrod's hand.

"What do you think? Care for another, or would you like to rest first?"

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Garrod's heart beat strong in his chest. Quickened, he felt his pulse course through his limbs as they danced, out to his fingertips and down to the tips of his toes. He stumbled a bit, clumsy and over eager. He had danced before, it was just, everything was so measured in this. So timed and formal. But so long as she lead, he could follow the timing. Glide to the song in the wake of her movement and the gentle guidance of the rhythm she set.

His lips spread wide and warm as he looked on at Lechies with an ease in his eye that spread across his shoulders and into his arms. A joyful ache rooted down inside his core. Emberic, as it crackled and hissed and popped, gentle in its plea. It wanted more. As warm waves pulsed with each of their steps, and each of their turns. And it was but a part of he. Her breath against him, their bodies in tangle and twist.

The music came to a stop, and he felt his hand against her back back, the welcome groove there beneath his palm.

She squeezed his hand. Asked him a question. He laughed.

"I would ask for another," he started, remembered to breath. "But a bit of fresh air would do me some good," his teeth showed in small smirk. "Might help my feet learn not to step so close to yours," he looked down at their shoes, the way his gait stood near between hers. Too close. Some part of him chided. Improper. He stepped back, though his hands were loath to let her go, still holding on with tender attention as they were. The musicians readied for another tune, and his hands slipped away. "Care to join me?" he asked, and motioned to glass paned doorway. A balcony outside that overlooked the garden, painted in cool evening blues mixed with the warm glow of the chandeliers and fire lamps.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

He looked down. So did she. Measured the short distance between their feet. Lechies was somewhat disappointed when he stepped away, even as the rest of her admitted that maintaining decorum was probably for the best. The warmth of his hands lingered at her fingertips.

"I would love to."

Lechies scanned the crowd as she followed after Garrod. Allos and Juliote were nowhere to be found, but Detlef was off to one side, deep in conversation with a pretty brunette. He leaned in to speak in the woman's ear; she laughed a bright laugh that showed all her teeth, both hands curled around her brother's arm. Perhaps her parents would be contending with another rumor in the morning.

Detlef turned his head then and caught her eye. One eyebrow lifted at the sight of Garrod. He mouthed something Lechies couldn't make out. She shook her head, putting a finger to her lips -- and immediately wondered if that was the wrong message to send, because the grin that bloomed across Detlef's face made him look like a merchant who knew he was getting the better end of the deal.

Well, it was too late to try again. Detlef and his lady companion fell out of sight as Lechies and Garrod emerged onto the balcony. The glass doors closed behind them, and the din of the crowd dropped off into tranquil notes of cricketsong.

The summer air was cooler now than when the party had first started. Lechies breathed deeply of it; there was a pleasant, complex scent of flowers, presumably from the garden below. Water bubbled distantly from a fountain just out of sight. Lechies braced her hands on the railing, soaking in the joy of this moment, of Garrod's company in these gorgeous surrounds.

"You know, it surprised me to see you here. And I hope that doesn't come across as an insult." She smiled gently. "You spoke of such humble beginnings, it never occurred to me that monster hunting contracts could reach even places like this."

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"Monsters come in all shapes and sizes, I'm afraid," Garrod said with a wistful smile as he tucked in close beside Lechies, his eye looked out on the garden and all its manicured splendor. He turned and looked at Lechies, and some of the solace blead away. "Hells," he gently bumped his shoulder against hers. "I'm surprised you still remember that," so much had happened since then. "I..." he laughed. "It doesn't come across as an insult, no,"

How could it? She was standing there beside him. Beautiful under the moonlight, smiling after they had just shared a dance. He smiled wider, maybe not aware just how glad the offer had made him. He looked to his hand, which rested near hers against the railing. He dared to slip his hand over hers, and if she let him, his fingers would twine betwixt hers, squeezing firmly as they had upon the dance floor.

"Lechies I was -"


"Lechies Delrio, is that you?" Came the bright brassy voice from the glass door, the music played out, and the door shut. "Oh, it is! Haha, wonderful! I was just speaking with Allos, and I thought I saw you gliding across the dance floor," a tall golden haired man in decorated armor of the city guard sauntered confidently toward them. "Ah," a sharp smile cut across his lips. "I hope I am not interrupting anything?" he said as he eyed the wide eyed Garrod. "Alonse Dreixmond, Captain of the City Guard," he bowed curtly to Garrod and then his gaze pointed back to Lechies. "My, Lechies, been some time since we've seen each other, hasn't it? Near half a decade if I recall correctly,"

Garrod blinked.​

 

[Lechies Delrio]

Warmth slid over her hand on the railing. Lechies's heart seemed to skip a beat as she glanced down. Almost without thinking, she spread her fingers, making room for his to sink between the gaps. He squeezed, and a similar sensation took root in her belly. She smiled.

Then the door opened behind them--and her heart really did skip a beat as a boisterous voice shattered the calm. Lechies yanked her hand away as if burned. Her startlement was only apparent for the briefest of instants; in the next moment, she turned to regard the speaker, that same hand reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Alonse, hello."

Lechies's voice and expression both were as smooth and cool as the surface of a lake in winter. Perhaps in the evening's dim light, he wouldn't be able to tell that her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"No, you weren't interrupting anything," she said, because it was the polite thing to say. Because saying otherwise would invite questions that didn't need to make it back to Detlef. Or her mother, gods. "Captain now? You've come a long way, former Sergeant Dreixmond. Allow me to extend my heartfelt congratulations."

He laughed, brushing a hand through flaxen locks. "Thank you! A lot can change in five years. But I'm pleased to see you're not one of them. You look as beautiful as ever, Lechies." He stepped closer, one gauntleted hand extended in invitation, the other behind his back. "May I steal you away for a dance?"

She cupped the back of the gauntlet and gently pushed his hand away. "Sorry, but I actually just left the floor. Came out here for a rest and some fresh air. Ask me again later?" Provided he could find her, of course.

Alonse veiled his disappointment behind a gentlemanly nod of acceptance. "Very well. Later it is." Then, as if only just remembering that there was a third person in their midst, his attention returned to Garrod. His genteel demeanor faded just so, blue-eyed gaze frosting over by degrees. "And who is this?"

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Garrod clutched wantingly at the warm traces that still lingered upon his hand, his thumb rubbing against the inside of his fingers as he stared at the golden guard who stood before him, the Hunter's eye calm and wide and alert. Much like a beast who spotted another. No threat or fear there. Not yet. But an awareness that sank into any who bore the gaze.

"Jarred Sinns," he said easy enough with a slow blink, and gave a bow, as politeness dictated. "Merchant and poet," It was the story he had told a few others.

"Jarred Sinns," Alonse said, measuring the weight of the name, and he smiled sharply, only just dull enough to not be called cruel. "Not a name I've ever heard," but his tone gave hint to the pull of deeper thought. "Or read for that matter, Sinns... Sinns," he looked up for a moment, then nod with an earnest smack of fist against palm. "Any relation to Artorias Sinns?" The man's demeanor turned bright. Almost warm.

Garrod looked at him a moment. "No, no relation," he said flatly.

"Ah, shame that," he laughed some, and looked to Lechies. "Old drunk we used to have to handle about the shallows, back in my rookie days," he said, voice suddenly layered with tone. As if he told an interesting tale he thought all should know. "Siren Slayer Sinns we called him," he tut his tongue, though his smirk didn't fade none. "Had a dreadful singing voice, and a worse temper," Alonse rubbed his chin, as if feeling an old hurt. "Told a good story though, after he sobered up some in the drunk tank," He looked back to Garrod. "Might make for a good poem, no Jarred?"

"Might," Garrod said shortly.

"And where do you hail from, Jarred, of no relation to Sinns," Alonse' smile regained its cool steel.

"Pardon?"

"From where do you hail, master merchant," Alonse said without faltering.

"Yarolan Hold,"

"Ah, in the Petty Baronies," he smirked. "At the edge of the Realm,"

"Captain Dreixmond," Garrod cut, his teeth showed in harsh grin and his eye steeled some. "We stepped out to enjoy some air,"

"We?" he asked coyly. No hint of heat behind his eyes. He laughed small beneath his breath. "My apologies, but I believe the lady said I was not interrupting anything, Jarred, and last I checked, we were all guests at the same party," his eyes flit to Lechies, and he smoothed back his hair stray golden tresses. "Unless of course, I misunderstood the matter?"

 

[Lechies Delrio]

Jarred. Jarred?

Lechies made no outward reaction to the alias, though her eyes did shift the slightest fraction of an inch in Garrod's direction. Fortunately, Alonse failed to notice, too occupied with what he apparently regarded as a rival for Lechies's attention--what strange drama had her evening turned into?--leaving her free to wonder.

Not just an alias, but his given occupations were... not related to monster hunting. Presumably his home wasn't at Yarolan, either.

She did briefly think it strange to find Garrod at the Damelin estate in the first place, mingling with the affluent, but had chalked it up to her own prejudices. Now though, with the puzzle of his deception in play--her mind buzzed with questions.

Answers would have to wait. Alonse turned back to her, and Lechies offered him a serene smile.

"Please don't be troubled. You didn't misunderstand, and you didn't interrupt. Our conversation was nothing so serious. I was merely relaying one of my adventuring stories to Mr. Sinns. A bandit skirmish outside of Vallond; thought the tale would be worthy of putting to ink. I nearly died back there." She showed Alonse her hand, how Wilhemina's dagger had left a punch scar through her palm.

Alonse frowned deeply, perhaps moreso at Lechies's cheerfulness than the wound itself. "Lechies, I know I've said this before, but I worry. The wilds are no place for a lady such as yourself."

"Your worry is noted and appreciated. But I'm happy with my work, truly. Even if it leads me into danger. I didn't attend Elbion just to let those years go to waste."

"Your brothers also attended, and their years weren't wasted, either. Both of them are great scholars in their own right, and from the safety and civilization of the city." Alonse raised his eyebrows, confident in the strength of his argument. "I understand how you might feel a need to see the world, having spent your childhood sickly and shut indoors-"

"Do you understand? Because it seems to me that you're questioning my abilities. That you believe I'm weak and in need of protection."

Alonse faltered, caught off guard by the sudden flinty edge to Lechies's tone. "Of course not, I only-"

She lanced onward. "Should I take your words as an insult, Captain? Or a challenge, perhaps? Because we can certainly settle this the way gentry are meant to. There's a dueling arena at the other end of the gardens."

Her implication seemed to restore to him some part of his wits. Alonse drew himself up straight, his dark armor shining like onyx in the moonlight. "I hardly think it fair for me to face your magicks, Lechies."

"So you admit I'm more than a match for you."

A spark of real anger flashed in Alonse's eyes. Lechies chuckled, and patted his chestplate in a disarming manner.

"I jest! Well, only in part. How about this, then." Lechies tilted her head at Garrod. "Mr. Sinns was my most recent dance partner. If you can best him in a duel, then I'll dance with you. A lady's favor to a warrior most gallant."

"Duel him? Are you a fighter, Jarred?" The look Alonse gave Garrod was full of skepticism, but also suspicion, sniffing about for a trap. The man may have been a fop, but one didn't rise to the rank of guard captain by being a total fool.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Garrod blinked. "Um..." he had not been expecting to duel anyone today.

The uncertainty that showed on Garrod's face made Alonse' worry turn to easy smirk. "Well," he said, not hiding his new found confidence. "If the lady Lechies sees it fit, Mr. Sinns, I see no reason why we should doubt her wisdom," he threw back his cape and it flared out to reveal the hilt of a finely crafted side sword. The metal clean, catching the light of the ballroom and the stars across its twisting basket guard. "Do you accept, Mr. Sinns?"

Garrod cleared his throat, and stood up straighter. "Under what terms?"

Alonse' smile took on an oily quality. "Ah, so you are familiar with duels then,"

Garrod said nothing.

Alonse laughed. "To first blood, Mr. Sinns, we are not barbarians, merely gentlemen, dueling to be graced by the delicate hand of Lady Delrio, if but for one wonderful dance,"

Garrod narrowed his eye at the man. "Very well, I accept,"

Alonse gave a sharp clap, and a pump of his fist. "Well, not exactly how I expected the evening to go, but, well," he carded his fingers through his hair, and smiled with confidence. "Sometimes it is the unexpected that makes life all the more interesting," he laughed, and looked to Lechies, and bowed. "I shall meet you at the dueling field," he said and gave leave.

Garrod huffed. "Well," he smirked, and looked to Lechies. "I am off to defend your good name, Lady Lechies," he said with his own bow, pushing down the nerves that twisted about in his stomach. "Or, at least win me a second dance," he said with a small laugh. He scratched his nose. "Need a sword though..."

---

Upon grass of the garden, the duelists met. Both just outside sword's reach, and Garrod with a sword that was lent to him by a generous old man, who understood the importance of such pomp and circumstance.

"Mr. Sinns," Alonse called out across his paces, and a cool breeze stirred his long golden main, his cape snapping dramaticall behind him as he held his long blade down at his side. "Know that I bare you no ill will," he smiled proudly. "Only, that I do not take to loosing with any modicum of ease,"

Garrod raised his sword to salute his opponent, not bothering to say much more as he waited for the response.

He had never seen Lechies so worked up. She was ready to duel him herself. He huffed a laugh beneath his breath.

"A poet, and a man of action," Alonse said grimly. "Very well, Mr. Sinns, so be it," he raised his sword to respond with his own salute, "On guard!" he shout out!

 

[Lechies Delrio]

"Yes, we'll see you there."

Lechies gave Alonse's retreating back a little wave. Once the balcony doors had closed yet again, she glanced sidelong at Garrod. Admittedly, she had thought he would show more enthusiasm at the chance to show off his martial prowess--a prowess that Lechies herself had witnessed on a handful of occasions, and left her no reason to wonder how he'd survived a career as hunter of monsters. As experienced a guardsman as Alonse was, surely he couldn't match Garrod's skill with a blade. So why then, did he seem upset?

Perhaps he simply didn't wish to have to fight anyone tonight. Had only wanted a carefree evening of food, drink, and socializing, well away from any need to touch a sword.

Lechies might have taken her teasing a little too far.

But it was too late to retract her words now. Alonse smelled blood in the water and was hungry for his share.

She pressed a hand to Garrod's back, a show of comfort and encouragement.

"I apologize for putting you on the spot. Just know that, despite what I said, there are no expectations on my end. Don't worry yourself about, ah, 'defending my good name'." Her face twisted briefly in a look of mingled amusement and exasperation. "Parties are meant to be fun, and we are here to enjoy ourselves. Just think of this as an opportunity to challenge and learn from a fellow warrior, hm?"

She smiled.

"And know that no matter the outcome of this duel, I will always deign to give you another dance."

---​

"Sister, do you have any idea how proud I am of you?"

"Brother, do I want to know how proud you are of me?"

Detlef stood beside Lechies outside the lines of the dueling arena. After watching her come back inside and split ways with her 'mysterious' dance partner, only for them both to go about the ballroom asking to borrow a sword, Detlef had wheedled the whole story out of her. And in his opinion, the fact that his constantly adventuring, forever drifting, half-pariah sister had managed to get two gentlemen to duel for her honor was the height of entertainment.

"I'm being sincere! I didn't think you had it in you. But this only proves that you and I are related, after all."

Lechies glared. Detlef went on, beaming.

"Just think how proud Mother will be once she hears of this!"

Lechies groaned.

Around her, onlookers murmured amongst themselves, a tangible note of excitement in the air. It was not a large crowd that had gathered, but some dozen spectators was still probably more than either she or Garrod had wanted. The arena was outlined by paving stones, each corner occupied by a stone lantern, the flames within providing all with plenty of light. Even out here, the musicians were faintly audible, their current melody some sort of gentle, meandering waltz. Lechies found it a bizarre contrast with the violence that was about to occur.

"Best of luck!" she called out.

Alonse, clearly thinking her words had been meant for him, drew an invigorating breath. There was a gleam of something predatory in his eyes as he stalked forward, sword held in a defensive slant before his body. The torch light fell warm like blood against his dark armor.

True to his personality, Alonse's approach was straightforward, surefooted, no hint of hesitation. Once the distance between them had closed enough, he lunged suddenly, leading with his right leg, sword thrust forward in a powerful stab.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

The thrust was met by a quick step off the line, the long straight blade of his borrowed sword caught the edge of the oncoming weapon and knocked it off target with strong parry. Garrod put distance between himself and the guard captain, his knees bent low as he moved on the balls of his feet, legs ever active.

Some of the crowd let out the breaths they had sucked in, and clapped as the duelists circled each other.

"Ha! Not bad, Mister Sinns, not bad!" Alonse said as he stalked around the Hunter-turned-Merchant-Poet.

"What's going on?"

"They are dueling, Maynard, clearly,"

"No Lanri, I mean, why,"

"For the young Delrio's hand I heard it say,"

"The scoundrel Detlef?"

"No, Maynard, the mage turned adventurer, keep up,"

Garrod grumbled. The noise. The lights. The smile on the bastard's face as he kept circling to Garrod's blind side. Still, Garrod also wore a smile.

Alonse false stepped, shift to Garrod's blind side, stutter feinting his sword in and out in false thrusts. Garrod's sword checked against Alonse and the crowd drew in breath again as they tested each other with quick touches, sword against sword, half thrusts stopped when the other shifted for counter.

They stayed close, bounced back and forth with the weight of their feet. Alonse struck once more, sword flashed high as it came free from the bind and aimed to cut Garrod across the right shoulder.

The people gasped.

Garrod had caught the blade in his off hand, blood run down his palm. and his wrist as he held it still.

Alonse grinned. "It would seem," he said with a bit of pain. "We've come to a draw," Garrod's sword had stuck in to the Captain's shoulder. Only an inch deep, but crimson pulled about the white fabric of his fine chamise.

Garrod smirked, and pulled free his blade, and let go of Alonse' weapon once he felt the strength run out of it. "It would seem so," he said as he let his sword down, and looked at his opened flesh. Not too deep. But it still hurt.

The crowd clapped, ever so politely.

"What now?"

"Maynard, I grow tired of your incesant questioning, go and... Fetch me some of those lovely little sandwiches!"

"... yes darling,"

 

[Lechies Delrio]

Lechies held her breath as the two fighters maneuvered around the arena. She couldn't help it. Each clever feint, each deft strike sent their shadows dancing wildly across the grass. Every meeting of their blades rang clear and strong into the night.

That Garrod might be injured by this- bloodsport seemed unthinkable, but there was always the smallest possibility that his concentration might lapse, or Alonse might land a lucky blow. And if that did happen, it would be her fault-

For all that the duel seemed to last an eternity, it was actually over very quickly. As the two men agreed to their mutual victory, all tension seemed to fade from the scene. Lechies finally dared to breathe out. Only then was she aware of how stiffly she had been holding herself--and she jumped slightly as Detlef clapped her on the shoulder.

He murmured low, voice still amused, yet warm with affection. "That was well fought. For what it's worth, I approve." Then, before she could retort, he called out again, "Well fought, gentlemen! A splendid show!"

The spectators echoed Detlef's sentiments, their applause and compliments drifting gentle on the air. Then, with nothing else to occupy their attention, the onlookers dispersed, off to other parts of the gardens, or back indoors for more refreshments or dancing.

Lechies greeted Garrod and Alonse as they left the arena. "A wonderful display, indeed. You were evenly matched."

"Hm, yes. Unfortunately." The crease in Alonse's brow spoke of his disappointment with this outcome. He dabbed at his shoulder wound with a handkerchief he'd procured from somewhere on his person, and frowned at Garrod. "I know not where you learned your swordplay from, but it is surely a level of skill beyond most merchants or poets."

"Or," Detlef chuckled, "if even merchants and poets are keeping pace with you now, Alonse, then you could stand to spend more time training, and less time chasing after lovely ladies like my sister."

"You are the last person who should be telling me that, sir."

Lechies shook her head. "At any rate, you did spill blood in my name--somewhat--so Alonse, if your shoulder is alright, then I would be happy to dance with you."

But where she thought he would whisk her to the ballroom then and there, Alonse only frowned more deeply. "I thank you for your gracious offer, Lechies, but I must decline. The wager set forth was that I would 'best' my opponent. I did not." He threw a glare in Garrod's direction, anger still smoldering in the lines of his face, but with grudging respect kindling there, too. His expression relaxed as he turned back to Lechies. "But I will prove myself worthy of your hand some day. Perhaps at the next gathering. You will attend, won't you, my lady?"

Lechies's smile was small. "If I'm in town, then certainly."

Alonse smiled back, ever persistent, ever stubborn, even knowing what she left unsaid. "Then I'll leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening. My lady, gentlemen."

Once he'd bowed a final time and departed, Lechies finally allowed herself to fuss over Garrod. She cradled his hand in hers, hissing in sympathy as she turned his wound to the light. The cut had been clean, but ran deep.

"Goodness, that was reckless. Honestly, did you have to catch his sword like that? Or are you so adverse to damaging your fine garment?"

"Both are easily mended in their own way," said Detlef. He raised a hand, a light like the green of young grass glowing in his palm. A healer's touch. "May I take a look? Only, I should like for you to introduce me to your partner-"

"Detlef," Lechies said, perhaps more sharply than was needed. "My older brother, though not the eldest. He attended Elbion like I did, and frequents Alliria's healing wards."

"As a doctor, not a patient, in case there was any confusion." Detlef grinned as he scanned Garrod up and down, though where Alonse had had the look of a territorial wolf about him, Detlef's was more a cat patiently observing, tail flicking to and fro. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Sinns. So, I'm most curious--how did you and my sister meet?"

 

[Garrod Arlette]

A warm and jovial voice called out, and both Garrod and Alonse looked up to find a man standing beside Lechies, who looked, well, like her brother.

The onlookers let their applause grow louder, and Alonse , wore a mask made hard by propriety. A smile that only reached half his face as he motioned to them in gracious acknowledgment, and sheathed his sword before he bowed to them.

Garrod supposed, that most parties without at least one good scandal or fight tended to be... dull affairs. He bowed to the crowd in turn, and walked toward the stonework that rose above the arena.

Her voice, a clear and soothing comfort that did away with the mild irritation that seemed to linger on his face, his face warm, and his whole body flush with the heat that came after a fight.

"Glad I could rise to the occasion," he said, the slightest bit of enthuse, his borrowed sword sheathed and tucked beneath the black sash at his waist. He was careful in how he held his bleeding hand, and smirked at Alonse' inquirry. "Might be I'll tell you, Captain, should we share a drink another time," Garrod snuck in after Detlef's quip.

Lechies offered him a dance, and Alonse declined. Fool. Garrod thought as his smile spread wider with a satisfied pride. But, he was kind enough to avert his gaze from the honorable captain.

When alonse dismissed himself, Garrod bowed. And thought, that wasn't so bad. And Alonse was... rather pleasant actually. A better man then many he had worked with. But, his eye fell to Lechies, who hurried to his side. Her hand taking his with tender attention as she examined it.

She scolded him, and he couldn't help but smile. But laugh, touched by the concern. "It's, not all that bad, really," he added, and braced her shoulder with his free hand. Gave her a small squeeze. "Dealt with far worse than a sword catch," he assured as the heat of adrenaline replaced with a cooler comfort. Still warm. More steady. The feeling relaxed him.

Her brother spoke. Least, the man he thought was her brother. He said... partner. Garrod blinked at that, and stared at him wide eyed. Laughed, and did not bother to correct him.

"Of the White Wind?" Garrod asked, a bit of wonder and a hint of awe in his voice.

It was one of the few healing companies he knew of. Rare souls who tended those sick and needy of the shallows and the outer walls who could not afford anything more than charity. He'd been saved by them a few times as a boy. Still remembered the time Old Sinns had dragged his half dead ass out of a sewer when a drain horror had gotten its fangs into him.

His brow knit together. Shit. He probably sounded simple. Mentioning the Wind.

Detlef though, he just pressed on. Gracious. Curious eyed with wide smile. Garrod nod. "On a job, Master Detlef," he bowed his head to the man. "And no confusion," he looked to Lechies. This was her brother. But, he did not know how the two got along. But she seemed to trust her brother. So Garrod would too.

"I'm a monster hunter," he confessed. And turned his eye to the man. "Sinns was my master, I am his apprentice, Garrod, given the name Arlette by my master," it meant little hawk. Least that's what the old man used to tell him. "We met on the road," he laughed at the memory. "Hunting a pink garr-hound," he shook his head, and smiled wistfully. "Still think about that hound sometimes..."

 

[Lechies Delrio]

Jarred Sinns, Garrod Arlette. It was plain that a false name had been fed to Alonse, and others. Detlef tilted his head slightly at the revelation, lips curving with delight--as Lechies feared might happen. Her brother was never more pleased than when drama was afoot. Hence his fondness for starting it.

Regardless, she was glad that Garrod chose to trust him with the truth. Detlef wouldn't ask probing questions. To hear tell of his various exploits, he himself knew the worth of a good alias or two, especially when caught in a sticky situation.

"A pink garr-hound," Detlef repeated. He snapped his fingers, pointer ending in Lechies's direction. "Ah, Lechies spoke of that adventure. That's where you earned that terrible scar in your hand."

"The very one. I would have come away much worse, or not at all, if Garrod wasn't there, though." Lechies sent him a smile. Her shoulder tingled where Garrod had touched her. "It's no exaggeration to say that he saved my life."

Detlef grinned again, more genuinely this time, and offered Garrod a half-bow. "Then allow me to extend my heartfelt thanks, Mr. Arlette. And let me see that life-saving hand of yours."

Lechies passed ownership of Garrod's hand to her brother. Detlef held it just as gently as she had, turning it slightly to better see the wound, then held his own hand over the weeping gash. The green light intensified. A discharge of magical energy slightly ruffled their clothes, lifted the ends of their hair. There was the faint scent of spring, an inkling of flowers, a bubbling stream. When Detlef retracted his hand, there was only a pink line beneath the drying blood.

"There. Set to heal good as new, provided you let your hand rest. I don't recommend swinging any more swords for at least another full day, but a dance should be fine, if you wish it." Detlef's eyebrow waggled.

Lechies cleared her throat. "Speaking of swords, we should return yours to Lord Lambert. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear how well it served you. Thank you again for your help, brother. I'll see you later."

Detlef clutched at his chest with a laugh. "I believe I've been dismissed! Very well. Take care, you two." He clapped Lechies fondly on the shoulder before striding off through the gardens.

Lechies released a long sigh. 'I'm sorry for that. For... all of that." She made a vague waving motion. "Both of them. Alonse and Detlef. I'm only glad you weren't hurt--well, hurt worse than you were. It's only lucky that Detlef's so adept at chasing his own amusements... and was available to pay me in advance for all the ribbing I'm going to get later. Hm."

Smile fading down, Lechies peeked at Garrod from beneath her lashes. "Now, I daresay you have some explaining to do. Jarred?"

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Garrod looked away, some rouge coloring his cheeks at Detlef's recollection. Recalled the letter. How she had left it to those children to deliver, and how the small voice had called her... well... he grinned, happy as Lechies smiled at him.

"Don't oversell my part in it, Lechies, you saved my skin just the same," he nudged her some with the back of his arm. "Then there was the time at the Fool's End," he smiled wider, warmer, and then remembered himself. His eye went to Detlef and saw the brother grin. Garrod cleared his throat, and nod to reset himself some, standing straight backed. Though his lips still turned up at their corners, ever just.

Lechies guided his bloody hand over to Detlef, and Garrod blinked. It was his off hand. His left hand. The hand that was still his. Wounded now and running with blood spilled... for a dance. Part of him thought it strange. And sure enough, it was. As strange as anything else in Garrod's life. But it was a strangeness he was fond of.

The magic worked his flesh back together. The fresh smells of new life accompanying the green glow willed forth by Detlef, and he hinted at another dance. Garrod's face grew all the warmer. He... well. He never expected a noble to be so accepting of him.

He was a vagabond. A wanderer who earned coin through violent means. Suppose it could all just be a game to him. It wouldn't be the first time Garrod had been... well, used. He scratched the side of his nose as Lechies shooed away her brother. Garrod chuckled.

It didn't quite feel like that though. Detlef seemed. Too genuine for it to be something so cruel as, well, plain old amusement. Or maybe Garrod was just hoping there was something more there behind the brother's teasing. He had no siblings of his own. What would he know of such familial affections?

All he had growing up was Sinns. And the other hunters of the Yaegirs. More than half the kids he had grown up with, hunting... they were gone. The other lot well. Rare was they who made for good company.

Those he had formed bonds with. Thought of as his family. The Five Roses. He felt Belephus' smile spread wide behind the memory.

"I believe I've been dismissed!" Detlef's enthused voice snapped Garrod out of the strange hole he had fallen into.

The hunter's eye tracked the brother as he bid farewell, strangely wide and distant as his heart pulsed faster. He squeezed his eye shut. "Thank you, Master Detlef," he said with a bow. "Till we meet again," he said without thinking of the implication.

He was not fully aware of all he had missed. A hint of panic quickened the pace of his heart, for it was not the first time he had seen Belephus appear before him, even without the gauntlet. And he had learned that the demon oft took some part of him. Some memory. The demon He pushed the thought down.

"I'm sorry for that. For... all of that." Lechies voice brought him back, and he blinked again.

"Oh..." Garrod said and looked at her as she spoke of Detlef and Alonse. "Its... nothing really Lechies," he said softly, and found himself smiling again, looking over his hand and the pink scar. "Was... kind of fun really, pretending to be, well" he looked at her, wistful. "This part of your world,"

Her smile faded and she gave him a look that caught him off guard. He recoiled, and blushed with a tight laugh. "Right... Right, umm, where to begin..." he trailed off, eye looking around, but, eventually it just came back to her. "Would you believe me if I told you I'm uh... looking for a mirror?" he said with a small voice.

Course, he told her the full of it. Of the Demon's Mirror said to be hiding in the estate. And his quest to find it. Just to find it, and nothing more. Though he knew it would never be so easy.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

"A mirror," Lechies repeated, tone flat, eyebrows lifted.

Garrod went on to explain. His target was a mirror--a greatly powerful one at that, with a demon supposedly housed within it. The relic was part of Janik Damelin's collection, allegedly somewhere in this very building. Garrod had been tasked with discovering its exact whereabouts.

Only its whereabouts. He had no such instructions to steal the mirror, only its location. Master Janik would likely go through some amount of effort to prevent this information from leaving the estate, hence Garrod's use of an alias.

Now, Lechies was the last person to go around criticizing what sort of magical mirrors a man kept sitting around. Certainly it would be hypocritical to express concern about any connection this mirror had to demons, considering one was tethered to her own soul. Whatever purpose or application this mirror had was not something that bothered her at this time.

What bothered her was this: whoever was interested in this mirror was willing to send in an agent--but not to steal, or even sabotage, only gather intelligence. How come? If theft or destruction was the ultimate goal, why not have the same agent take care of that objective? What else was meant to happen after the information ended up in the hands of the final recipient? An offer to buy it? Or worse, an attempt at blackmail?

Needless to say, Lechies found this whole situation to be extremely suspect. The more she thought about it, the less she liked it.

And what she liked the least was that Garrod was tangled up in it.

"I see," Lechies finally said, after a long moment of silent rumination. "And what is your plan?" She regarded him with open worry. "I assume simply asking Master Janik about this mirror is out of the question. Are you just going to sneak around the whole estate and flaunt your alter ego if someone gets suspicious?"

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"I have an accomplice," he further explained. "They are gathering intel and we are meant to rendezvous later in the evening," he stepped closer to her. "I mean, it's a demon mirror," he whispered to her, and took her hand. "He's an old connection, knows what I carry... he's using the catering staff to sneak in my equipment... just incase, well, you know," he took the other one in turn and raised them up, kissed the a knuckle on her right hand. "You worried about me?" he grinned. Not sure where the boldness had come from.

His rational mind could see the flaws in the plan. Or lack there of a real one. But, this wasn't the first time he had been given a vague objective. And it would likely be the last.

"I'm no sneak thief," he said with a smirk. "But come on," he looked away, abashed. "I'm... well, I'm not that bad either," he was an adventurer. He looked back into her eyes, and nod a knowing nod. Getting the job done with only half a plan well, that was part of it sometimes.

"You don't have to worry about me, I'll be alright," he assured softly. Not from a place of pride, or upset, but sincerity. For all his own strangeness, he knew himself capable of meeting most challenges. Its why he could still stand there with her today.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

Whatever reply had been forming in Lechies's mind came to an abrupt halt as his lips touched her knuckles. In the seconds that followed, all she could do was blink, too stunned by his sheer audacity, the almost roguish grin on his face. Playful, with a hint of brazen confidence, not unlike their first meeting in Sulmer Woods all those months ago. She had no idea how she was supposed to interpret this.

Or didn't she? Lechies and Garrod had shared a dance, after all--a most wonderful dance--and out on the balcony, when their hands had again touched, long past the need to steady each other in the ballroom, she hadn't disliked it. Quite the opposite. And when Alonse suddenly appeared, forcing the two of them apart, pressed back into the guise of polite acquaintances, the emotion that had swept through her was definitely something like a sharp disappointment.

She had a feeling she knew what this meant. It was not something Lechies particularly wanted to address right this minute. Not with Garrod about to insert himself into a situation with unknown levels of danger.

"I can't personally speak to your skills as a housebreaker, so you'll have to forgive me if I remain worried," Lechies finally said. She pulled her hands away in favor of crossing her arms. "That said, I will concede that using Belephus to find the mirror is a sound plan... But you must also understand if I'm wary of your reliance on a demon artifact to track down another demon artifact? You're surely tired of hearing me say this, but these are not forces to take lightly. To lean on their power time and again is to play with fire."

Again, the hypocrisy burned her tongue. But this was logic that a normal, non-demon affiliated person would present, so she had to present it.

Lechies glanced across the dark gardens towards the manor. Light shone invitingly through the tall windows, music stirring gently on the breeze. There was the distant sound of chatter and laughter, faint notes of food and drink on the air. She couldn't imagine returning to that now. Making polite conversation with her 'peers' for the rest of the night, while trying not to wonder what trouble Garrod might land himself in, seemed like an impossible task.

"Let me help you," she finally said. "I'll freely admit that I have much to learn in matters of sneakery, but I do know how to navigate gentry. And it will be less suspicious if someone catches a man and woman skulking about in a dark corner, compared to just a lone man. The former scenario is not that uncommon at these types of gatherings."

She didn't elaborate the point further, pointedly still looking towards the manor.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

His easy smile did not fade in its entirety, nor did the small spark of pride in his eye. Even when he frowned some at her guarded stance, there was an errant playfulness there. The dancing, the dueling, the talk with her brother. He was not fully cognizant of it. Just how much he had enjoyed it all. So wrapped up in the layers of his bristly guard.

Yet, he did know Lechies had a way of, well, putting him at ease. Even as she reminded him of the dangers he dealt with. Her words added clarity, unveiled facets of the plan he never actually thought on all that much about.

"You are right," he assured her, his face remaining neutral. Just because his dumb luck had seen him through harrowing danger before, did not mean it would hold out every time.

She looked across dark garden before them, and the warm glow of the manor as the party went on with its hazy sounds and he followed her stare.

Let me help you... She added after a long moment shared in silence. His eye looked to her sidelong, as he'd kept her on his right side, and he smiled at hearing her say sneakery. When she mentioned the couples skulking about he felt his cheeks turn red as thoughts of her and him skulking in a dark corner, played in his head.

He suppressed a foolish grin, and chuckled, warmed to the core by the private thought. He scratched the tip of his nose and glanced away as the feeling about his cheeks and his belly cooled.

"'Spose you're right about that too," he added. Huffed, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, we do make a decent team, you and I," he said, and stepped over to her, and gave her a little shoulder bump. "But don't go actin like you ain't just the least bit curious about this...mirror business," he grinned, and started walking toward the manor. "Or maybe you even just miss me," he shrugged.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

Lechies pressed her lips together, but was ultimately unable to suppress a laugh. Oh, she was highly curious about this mirror--one part its connection to demons, the other part its importance to the client, so much so that they would send in an adventurer under the owner's nose. It was the scholar in her; Lechies couldn't help wanting to know more, to tease out this artifact's secrets, know their true value.

It was the scholar in her, right?

"You've caught me out," she returned the shoulder bump. "On both points." Mischievous tilt to her smile, she joined him on the trek across the gardens.

Lord Lambert was waiting for them to the side of the doors, his expression expectant as he leaned on his cane, gloved hand curled around its polished silver wolf-head handle. "There's the lad!" His face wrinkled further as he smiled, blue eyes kind. "How was it? Did my blade guide you to victory?"

"It was a draw, sir," Lechies said. She offered the older gentleman a slight bow, and then bowed again to his wife, Lady Isaure, beside him. "Captain Dreixmond was a most fierce opponent; if not for your sword, then Mr. Sinns might not have even prevailed to a standstill."

Lambert nodded sagely as he took the blade back. "Ah, that's a shame. But I'm glad to hear it wasn't a loss, at least." He secured the sheath onto his belt and patted it fondly. "To be 20 years younger, or even 10! I do miss the thrill of the arena."

"You'd miss your fingers too, if you'd kept that up at your age," Lady Isaure replied, eyes twinkling behind a green feather fan. "Leave such sports to the young ones, dearest."