Medieval: From the Ashes - AU!Joffery fics

[PFA]

Have a Medieval fic! Medieval fics are a thing now. EDIT: Moved to a shiny new thread! Thanks, Celestial!

So sometime during Medieval, I started getting some headcanons about what would happen if Everett (Dan) was killed and Joffery took over House Jade. It never ended up happening in canon, but uh, I wrote it anyway!

(Davorin (Draco) is in the story so have a tag)

Prologue - Part 1

SPOILER: Click to show

It was another late night of working for Lord Everett Jade. Some lords may have hired separate scribes to handle all their letters and paperwork, but not Lord Everett. He believed in the quality of one’s own work, and as such, insisted on doing all of his own scribing, no matter how much work it took.

Even though it often left him alone in his room late at night, with naught but a dim candlelight to light his vision.

Marson Manor was well-protected, with locks and magical wards alike. However, none of this was any deterrent for a determined assassin. It only took some careful handiwork, some quiet movements, before Davorin Silverkin found himself in the heart of the manor, where Lord Everett was hard at work with some document. Davorin grinned, his knife glinting in the candlelight. His work was about to be cut tragically short.

“Who’s there?” Everett called out, at the faint sound of a door closing behind him. However, it was too dark to see who the intruder was.

He didn’t see it coming, until it was too late.

Everett didn’t have the time to react as the assassin lunged for him, pulling him back into a death grip and holding the knife to his throat. An ink bottle spilled over onto the desk as Everett struggled against his grasp, but to no avail.

“Wh-who are you? How did you get in here?” he demanded, gasping for breath. “Unhand me at once! Guards— mmph!”

“Shh, shh,” Davorin whispered, closing his hand over the Jade lord’s mouth to muffle his screams. “Don’t speak. It will all be over soon enough.”

By the time the guards arrived, Davorin was already gone, leaving behind only his handiwork—the great Lord of Embers was slumped onto his desk, a mess of blood and ink pooling beneath him, and a single white flower to mark that the deed had been done.

“F-father?” whimpered Joffery, who had also been awoken by the racket. He rushed to his father’s side, shaking him as if hoping to wake him up. Tears streamed down the young lord’s face as he saw the blood, felt the lack of warmth from his father’s touch. “N-no, this can’t be happening! P-please, ‘Woo, no…”

But Joffery’s pleas were far too late. Lord Everett of House Jade was dead.

Prologue - Part 2

SPOILER: Click to show

The servant frowned as he walked down the halls. Lord Everett's death had been so unexpected, so... sudden. But most concerning of all, it had been planned. The knife wound, that white flower... this was the work of an assassin. But who had hired the assassin? And why?

Nonetheless, the death of the Lord of House Jade meant that he would be replaced. That his next of kin would take charge the House.

He knocked softly on the chamber door. "...Lord Joffery?"

"Come in."

The servant pushed open the door, peering inside. Lord Joffery was staring into a large mirror, carefully and deliberately straightening his elaborate new robes. This was nothing unusual for the boy far too young to be in charge of House Jade, but something about his meticulous attention to detail seemed... distant.

"The mages await your command, my lord," the servant spoke carefully.

"Oh, yes, of course." Joffery thought on this for a moment. "Tell them... tell them to find the assassin who killed my father. See if you can get him to tell us who hired the hit."

"And if he doesn't speak?" the servant asked. "An assassin might not appreciate being interrogated."

"Well, one way or another, we need to find out who did this," Joffery replied firmly. "Find out who did this, and then..." He gave a weak laugh. "...Kill them. Yes! Show them not to mess with House Jade."

The servant was silent at first. And then, he gave a bow. "It shall be done, my lord."

Joffery waved the servant off, never once having turned away from the mirror. He ran a finger over the Jade brooch pinned to his cloak, lost in thought. The head of House Jade... he was in charge of the entire House now. The servants, the mages, the priests... the entirety of Corvus was under his control now.

Suddenly, he had so much power. Because his father was dead.

A phoenix. The symbol of House Jade was a phoenix, which was depicted on his brooch. As Joffery caught hold of this thought, clutching onto the brooch, he started singing softly.

"From the ashes, the phoenix does rise
Its wings unfurled, it takes to the skies
Its flight heralds in a brand new age...
An era ruled by holy rage"

A dark scowl crossed Joffery's face as he turned away from the mirror, moving toward the door. His father had been killed, which could only be a personal attack on House Jade. Well, Lord Joffery was not going to be pushed around. He would fight back.

"The stakes have been set; this is not a game
I'll show them the might of the great Jade name
Our foes shall be burned in the holy fire
And they'll fall with the rise of my grand empire!"

His voice was loud and booming by the time he reached the doors, slamming them open as if to present the new Lord Joffery Jade to the world. No longer would he the simple skirt-chasing prince; he was the son of the Lord of Embers, and all of Kyth would know it.

"No one can stop me; the phoenix has flown!
And if no one stands by me, I'll face them alone!
For I am Lord Joffery, the Lord of House Jade!
And my vengeance is nigh—be afraid!"

[PFA]

Collab with Celestial! Lord Joffery meets with Grand Duke Alain...

SPOILER: Click to show

Lord Joffery scowled as the carriage pulled up to Stallion Manor. He was surprised it had taken him this long to realize it; those Stallions with their advancing technology and refusal to cling to the old ways meant they had always been at odds with House Jade. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense—after all, who else would have the gall to hire a hit on the Lord of House Jade?

He climbed out of the carriage, his guards in close tow as he marched up to the door. He need answers, and he was going to get them, no matter what it took. So without a hint of hesitation, he knocked firmly on the door.

It opened shortly and a servant peered out at Joffery and his entourage. As she took in the guards and the expression on his face, she slowly realised that this was not a casual visit. Lord Jade meant business. While it was not her place to guess, it did not take a genius to work out who with.

“Uhh...come in, my Lord,” she bowed and stepped aside, letting Joffery and his guards come into the main entrance hall. “If you will wait here, I’ll...I’ll inform the Grand Duke of your presence.”

With that she scurried away, first checking Alain’s office and then his chamber but she had not found him in either place. Just before she left his room, however, a shadow fell across her.

“Were you looking for me?” Alain asked once he saw the girl. She gave a small cry of surprise before turning and bowing deeply.

“Yes, your Grace. Lord Joffery Jade is downstairs, I believe he wants to see you,” she said. Alain smiled, though it was a humourless smile, and nodded.

“Alright. I shall be there shortly. Go, I’m sure you have other tasks to be getting on with. Leave Lord Joffery to me,” he replied. The girl did not need to be told twice and ran past him, getting out of the door before she disappeared down the corridor.

So, Joffery was here. Of course, after his father’s death, it was no surprise that this was where the new Lord of House Jade would come to search for answers. Jade and Stallion were, after all, rivals and Alain’s rivalry with Everett was especially well-known. No doubt Joffery wanted to get to the bottom of who exactly had killed Everett and Stallion must have seemed like an obvious culprit in his mind. A perfectly fair assumption, Alain had to admit.

Well, no matter. Lord Joffery, for all his youth and passion, was still young and inexperienced. It would be a long time before he could ever match Everett, if ever. For now, Alain supposed he best humour him. So with that thought, he headed downstairs, smiling as warmly as he could muster when he saw Joffery. The guards were a small concern but there were not many and no matter how foolish they were, the Jades would not dare to attack him in his own home. As far as Alain was concerned, those guards were more to help Joffery feel secure more than pose any kind of threat. So when he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, he took a moment to survey the entire Jade party, giving them a cool, relaxed look. He leaned a little on his cane and looked directly at Joffery, giving him a small, sly smile.

“Welcome, Lord Joffery Jade, to Stallion Manor,” Alain said. “Would you like to come through to sit down and discuss whatever is bothering you? Or shall I get the servants to bring you some food or drink?”

Joffery narrowed his eyes at Alain’s tone. Was he mocking him? How dare he mock the Lord of House Jade at a time like this. However, before Joffery could call him out on it, his guards stopped him, silently urging him not to be too hostile. Joffery let out a strained sigh.

“I don’t want your food or drink,” he replied through gritted teeth. “But yes, I would very much like to discuss some important matters with you.”

Though Alain’s expression remained unchanged, he had taken careful note of Joffery’s reaction. The young Lord was barely holding it together and his aggression at points almost seemed to get the better of him. While it was certainly expected that he would be this way after such a traumatic event such as the death of his father, it made Lord Joffery a danger both to others and himself. Clearly he was going to have to be more careful.

“I was merely being polite, Lord Joffery, do not take offence at what was not intended to be so,” the Grand Duke replied, perfectly calm and steady. “But if you do not require anything, follow me. Whatever you wish to discuss, it is best done in private and sitting down.”

With that, Alain turned on his heel and led the way to a small, closed off sitting room. It had been modestly furnished with several carved wooden chairs arranged in a rough circle. On one of the walls was hung a pennant with the crest of House Stallion emblazoned on it. Without any hesitation, Alain sat down in the chair closest to the door and rested his clasped hands on his cane as he waited for Joffery and his guards to sit.

“I can guess why you are here,” he spoke up once everyone had settled. “I respected Everett greatly and I am very sorry to hear about his death.”

“He was killed,” Joffery explained immediately, as if Alain didn’t know. “We traced it back to the work of an assassin. I don’t suppose you happen to know about this?”

Alain looked up at him slowly and deliberately, meeting Joffery’s gaze. “Why would I?” he smiled. “Do you suspect that me or my House had something to do with it, Lord Joffery? That is a bold accusation.”

“I know someone has done it. So far everyone we’ve suspected has come up innocent... which brings me to you.” Joffery stared back at Alain with a stone-cold glare. “If you are not responsible, you would tell me. If not…”

“If not, I would still tell you I was not responsible,” despite the Jade lord’s gaze, Alain remained easy in his chair, “Think about it, Joffery. Even if I was responsible for your father’s death, would I admit it so readily at the slightest questioning?”

The Grand Duke allowed himself a small smile. “What is your evidence for this accusation? Or are you coming to my home with nothing but mere assumptions? Because if you are, you do realise how grave of an insult that is to me and my House?”

“All the other leads have turned up empty. Which leads me to here.” Joffery narrowed his eyes. “One way or another, I intend to find out the truth.”

“Even if it was my House who killed Everett, I would not be so clumsy as to leave evidence behind. I’m afraid this is one more empty lead, I have no information to give you,” Alain said in a careful, measured tone. He leaned forward, still smiling. “Your determination and loyalty to your father is very much admired but you need more than that to find out the truth about who killed him.”

He sat back, assuming a much more formal pose. “Of course, I can look into your father’s murder myself, if you wish. Consider it a token of my respect for him,” the Grand Duke’s smile grew wider. “If you’re willing to trust me.”

“Trust you? Trust you?” Joffery spat. “Do you take me for a fool? Perhaps you are responsible, and only intend to provide me with misleading information! In these dark times, I can only trust what I find for myself.” He growled. “You’re avoiding my questions. That leads me to believe that perhaps you are responsible.”

“Now, now, Lord Joffery, I know you don’t trust me but is that any way to talk to a peer?” on the surface, Alain’s voice was calm but there was a distinct edge to it. “I offer you my help and you declined, that is fair, but even so, show some decorum. You will need it for your future as the Lord of House Jade.”

He sighed, his fingers running along the lines of the hilt of his cane, “You are jumping to conclusions. Just because I have not answered your question does not mean I am responsible. You certainly have no proof of it, except what I tell you,” Alain gave him a humourless smirk. “I could insist on my innocence. But you’ve made it pretty clear that you do not trust anything I say anyway. So let me give you a word of warning…”

Alain looked Joffery right in the eye, his gaze steely. “Do not do anything until you have the evidence to back up your actions, Lord Jade. I am not a man you want to mess with.”

“Is that a threat, Grand Duke?” Joffery questioned. “I don’t take kindly to threats.”

“No. It is merely good advice. I have no reason to threaten you,” Alain said, relaxing a little, “I am merely giving you advice, as an old lord to a younger one. I suggest you listen to me.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on his cane. “Now, if there is nothing further you wish to discuss with me, I am sure you are a busy man. I won’t keep you, Lord Joffery.”

“Fine then. I won’t put up with this any longer than I have to.” Joffery stood from his seat, gesturing for his guards to do likewise. As he turned to leave, he paused momentarily to glance back at Alain, adding, “And just so you know, I’m not a man you want to mess with, either.”

And with that, the Lord of House Jade exited Stallion Manor.

The Grand Duke stood up and silently followed them to the door. When Joffery left, the tiniest frown appeared on his face. The young man who he had seen was definitely nothing like the singing boy who had arrived in Medieville. Everett’s death had greatly affected him, for better or for worse he could not say. But either way, he was dangerous. Joffery was motivated by anger and desire for revenge, a poor combination, and he was suspicious of House Stallion.

This was a delicate situation. Everett’s death had certainly set off an interesting turn of events. Alain’s senses were warning him that no good was going to come out of this.

He turned on his heel, his cloak flaring out behind him and headed for his office. If a storm was coming, he had to be prepared.

[PFA]

Lord Joffery decides it's time to fight back... (collab with Tiger!)

SPOILER: Click to show

It was House Stallion. Someone in House Stallion had hired the hit on his father, Lord Joffery was certain of it. And of course the Grand Duke had to dance around the topic like it was some sort of game to him. Well, this was no game. This meant war, which meant it was time to fight back.

Perhaps the Stallions would like a taste of their own medicine.

“No,” Leif said bluntly. “I’m not doing it. I’m not using that spell, and even if I were willing - you have no proof the Stallions killed Lord Everett. If you want to actually find his killer and take them through the courts, fine, I’ll help you - but I won’t do this.”

“I looked into the matter personally. It was Stallion who did the deed, without doubt,” Lord Joffery insisted with a scowl. “We need to fight back, Master Leif. Show them what it means to mess with House Jade.”

“Again, what proof do you have?” Leif crossed his arms. “Do you have Lord Ambrose’s name on a contract? A confession from the assassin? Are white roses a symbol of House Stallion now?” Leif forced himself to stop his increasingly sarcastic list. “I don’t disagree that whoever’s responsible needs to be punished - but not like this, and not based on the fact that the Grand Duke said his House didn’t do it, and you just don’t believe him.”

Lord Joffery narrowed his eyes. “Are you questioning me? I am the Lord of this House.”

Leif’s eyes narrowed, too. “Yes, I am questioning you. You want me to kill an old man, based on the flimsiest proof you could find.” Despite his words, Leif’s heart pounded at the sight of the anger in Joffery’s expression. He had never seen the young lord like this before. “Think about it, Jof...Lord Joffery; if you kill one of the Stallions, innocent or not, what do you think their response is likely to be? Unlike you, they have all the proof they need to know our House was the one responsible. Part of your duty as Lord of this House is to protect us and lead us in the right direction - right now, you’re heading straight for a cliff, and I’m not letting you drag me - us - there along with you!”

“Protecting my House means not letting my father’s killers go free!” Joffery snapped. “If you’re not going to help me, then so be it—I’ll find another way. But one way or another, I will not rest until they have paid for their actions. I am in charge, and I make the decisions here, and I say that that man has to die.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Leif demanded. “If you kill him and he had nothing to do with it, you’ll have killed an innocent man!” He hesitated, but added, “Is that what your father would have wanted? For you to become a murderer?”

Lord Joffery was silent at first, somewhat taken aback by the remark. How dare he bring his father into this? Soon, his face hardened again, a dark look in his eyes. “You don’t know what my father would have wanted.”

Before Leif could respond, Lord Joffery turned his back, facing the door. “If you won’t do it, then I’ll find someone who will,” he continued. “If you dare try to stop me, I’ll have to consider you a traitor.”

Leif’s blood ran cold for a moment, but he recovered and snapped, “I’d rather be a traitor than an accomplice. You can’t catch and hold me for execution - you can’t threaten me, Joffery.” His hand went to the wand in his holster.

“Are you sure about that?” Joffery questioned.

“I’m an archmage, whether I have the official title or not.”

Lord Joffery glanced over his shoulder at Leif, raising an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

“The only one making threats here is you,” Leif replied. “All I’m telling you is that you can’t force me to sit by and let you kill people because you’re seeing enemies everywhere you look.”

“I know what I’m doing, Leif,” Joffery insisted, clenching his fists. “You can’t stop me from doing what needs to be done.”

“You don’t need to do this - and if you try, I can and will warn them. I’ll protect them from this madness myself if I have to!”

A pause. Lord Joffery gave a deep sigh. “Then you leave me with no other choice.”

Slowly and deliberately, he pulled out a rune-covered jade stone. Since Joffery himself had no magical ability, he knew he would need some way to defend himself, especially with enemies of House Jade on the loose. So he’d had the mages prepare a special protection charm with him, keyed with a spell that would immobilize any attackers long enough for him to get away. It wasn’t designed to cause any significant harm; just to stun.

He prayed that that was the case, as he turned and cast the spell at Leif.

Leif finally drew his wand, already casting a shield - he’d expected a punch or even a knife, wild as that seemed. The stone was a complete surprise, but Leif realized what it must be in an instant. Realization didn’t help - Leif hadn’t been expecting magic, and the difference was just enough that his shield was just a spurt of gray-green magic at Leif’s wandtip when the spell hit him.

Leif’s muscles locked instantly and he hit the ground; he suddenly felt dizzy and his vision blurred, even though he was pretty sure he hadn’t struck his head on anything. Dazed but nowhere near forgetting what situation he was in, Leif felt panic claw at him - what had happened, what had Joffery done?

He tried to ask, but his jaw wouldn’t move. He couldn’t even force his blurry sight to focus on something else. Leif could still blink, though not by his own effort; his heart was still beating, at a mad, frantic pace, and he could hear his own rapid breathing - but that felt like all that would move. His wand - it was just at his fingertips - Leif forced every ounce of concentration into moving his fingers - it was right there, he could see it, blurry but obviously his wand. If he could get to it, he could stun Joffery, or at least remove the paralysis spell from himself…

His fingers couldn’t even twitch. Leif’s panic grew stronger. He’d been wrong - Joffery could stop Leif from warning Ambrose. Again he tried in vain to shift his gaze to Joffery, to force so much as a single sound through his throat. Nothing.

“The spell should wear on its own in time,” came Joffery’s voice, as he stepped forward toward Leif. He knelt down beside the fallen archmage, carefully prying the wand from his hand while he couldn’t move to stop him. “But in the meantime, I can’t have you getting in my way.”

Leif’s stomach lurched. He had never been afraid of a member of his own House before. But there was no telling what Joffery, mad with a need for vengeance, would do to someone who stood in his way...

“...I’m sorry, Leif,” Joffery said, sounding vaguely remorseful for the first time since the conversation began. Thankfully, he simply pocketed the wand before leaving the room, leaving Leif alone with his thoughts.

Leif’s relief didn’t last long. Ambrose was in trouble - Leif had to get up, had to find a way to get a warning to House Stallion. Leif tried to move anything - to flex his fingers or curl his toes or twitch his mouth, but nothing worked - nothing moved. Desperately he reached for his magic, the burning, white-hot anger - it flared and thrashed at his command, but undirected, it couldn’t do anything more than flail uselessly against the stunning spell. Very quickly, though, that started to hurt; Leif tried anyway, but withdrew from that tactic when a burst of pain made his vision darker and even fuzzier - passing out wasn’t going to help…

I can’t do anything to help - Woo this can’t be happening - someone will stop Joffery, they can’t let him go through with this! Or - or someone will come looking for me and undo the spell - please, Woo, please stop him!

Leif had a terrible feeling his prayer would not be answered.

[PFA]

The tension escalates...

SPOILER: Click to show

“Jeniver?”

Jeniver looked up from her conversation with her dad, toward the door. Lord Joffery was standing there, dressed in his fine new robes suited for his new role as Lord of the House. They made him look very official, she decided. Very stern and commanding, which was a very strange look for her cousin.

Lord Charles looked back at him with a calculating gaze. “What brings you here, Joffery?”

“I need Jeniver’s help with something,” Joffery replied.

Jeniver beamed at this. Joffery wanted her help! He knew how it was, always being told to do stuff he didn’t want to do. And when they first got here to Medieville, he had asked for her help with his big song for impressing the princess. Maybe that’s what he wanted? Maybe this was a good sign!

“Yeah?” she chirped, looking up at him eagerly. To her disappointment, he returned her gaze with a cold, calculating frown.

“I need you to keep an eye on someone for me,” he told her. “With your seer abilities.”

“Oh.” Jeniver slumped, letting out a sigh. Right, he was the Lord of the House now… he needed to deal with important House politics now. Well, it was still Joffery, and she still wanted to help him. “Yeah, okay. Who is it?”

“Master Leif seeks to oppose me. I cannot let him get in my way, so I need your help to keep a close eye on him.”

Jeniver frowned. “...What?”

“You heard me. And alert me whenever you see anything suspicious,” Lord Joffery said.

“You want me to spy on my own House?” Jeniver questioned. “I… I dunno, Joffery, that doesn’t feel right.”

“That you would distrust a member of your own House to such a degree is deeply concerning,” remarked Lord Charles with a scowl. “Sowing seeds of contention will only cause it to grow.”

“Are you questioning me? I know what I’m doing.” Lord Joffery narrowed his eyes. “Now then, Jeniver, I am the Lord of this House, and you will do as I say. Understand?”

“I…” Jeniver found herself clinging to her father, frightened. She’d never seen her cousin this angry before. What had gotten into him?

“Now hold on just a minute!” Charles protested, wrapping a protective arm around Jeniver. “You can’t order my daughter around like that; she’s just a child!”

“And why not?” was Joffery’s reply. “You do it all the time.”

A pause. And then, Lord Charles' eyes flashed with anger. “What did you just say.”

“You know full well what I mean, Uncle,” Joffery continued. “You’re always telling her to do things she doesn’t want to do, ‘for the good of the House,’ as you put it?”

“Jofferyyy, please,” Jeniver whined. Both daddy and Joffery looked really angry… she didn’t like where this was going.

“I only ask Jeniver to do what is truly good for the House. And I never force her to do anything she does not want to do,” Charles protested. “This? This is just to satisfy your own blasted paranoia!”

“It’s not paranoia when it’s justified!” Joffery insisted.

“Justified?!” Charles snarled. “You’re asking your cousin to spy on her own House! That’s not justified; that’s wrong!”

“I know what I’m doing, Charles!”

“On the contrary, I don’t think you have any idea what you’re—”

“I’ll do it!” Jeniver shouted, interrupting the argument. Thankfully, it caught their attention, and they both turned to her. “I’ll do it, okay? J-just please stop fighting!”

Lord Charles frowned, kneeling down to meet the poor girl’s eyes. They were wet with tears, and full of desperation. “Jeniver,” he urged her, “you don’t have to—”

“I-it’s okay, daddy,” she insisted. Then turning to Joffery, she asked, “So what do you want me to do, exactly? I can’t watch him constantly, but…”

“I trust your judgement, Jeniver,” Lord Joffery replied, the slightest hint of remorse in his otherwise level tone. “Don’t overtax yourself, but check as frequently as you think you can.”

“Yeah.” Jeniver nodded. “Okay.”

“Thank you. I’m glad I can count on you,” Joffery said, before turning to leave the room. “If you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

All fell to silence as Lord Joffery left the room, leaving Jeniver and her father by themselves. Once he was sure he was gone, Charles turned his attention to Jeniver, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking into her eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Jeniver. He’s gone mad with paranoia—he can’t be expected to make wise decisions.”

“But I promised,” Jeniver told him. “A-and… it’s still Joffery.”

“Exactly. The naïve fool isn’t suited to lead this House.” Lord Charles scowled thoughtfully. “I don’t care if he’s technically of age, they never should have let him take charge. Helena and I would be far better suited for—”

Jeniver frowned. “Daddy, please don’t say that.”

“...You’re right. I’m sorry.” Charles gave an exasperated sigh. Somehow, Jeniver wasn’t sure he really meant it. “At any rate, I beg of you to reconsider. Lord of the House or not, he’s not of sound mind right now, and his rash decisions will only lead us to destruction.”

Jeniver was silent. Daddy was smart, and he knew more about all this political stuff than she did, but… he’d only asked her to keep an eye on Master Leif. That wasn’t such a bad thing, was it? It’s not like she was hurting anyone…

“...I’ll be careful,” she eventually decided on. “But I want to help Joffery.”

Lord Charles grimaced as his daughter pulled away from him, moving away so she could focus on her spell. This was not a good idea—it would only cause more trouble—but clearly Jeniver had made up her mind.

What was this House coming to?

[PFA]

Thanks to Draco for letting me use his character!

SPOILER: Click to show

There was a sound as the door opened. Davorin looked up from watering a potted plant to see that he had a visitor—no, three visitors—all wearing long cloaks, with hoods shielding their faces. Davorin smiled to himself. Ah good, he thought to himself, more work.

“May I help you, sirs?” the assassin asked, turning to face them.

“You’re an assassin, aren’t you? I need you to take out a hit for me,” one man spoke, the foremost of them. “On Ambrose Stallion.”

“The Grand Duke’s brother?” Davorin asked, raising an eyebrow. “Pretty bold of you, killing a senile old man.”

“I know he’s more dangerous than he looks. He creates inventions far beyond his time. Dangerous inventions.” The man sneered. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Davorin just smiled mysteriously. “It’ll cost you.”

“I’m well aware. I came prepared.” Without hesitation, the man stepped forward, dropping some precious jewels on the table. “I want the man dead.”

“Ka! Ka!”

Suddenly, without warning, a small, flightless bird leapt onto the table, doing a dance. The cloaked man gave a small yelp, pulling back in surprise, as the other two men instinctively reached for their weapons. Davorin held up a hand in a gesture of peace.

“Relax, it’s just Kari,” he told them. He smiled, cupping his hand for the little bird to jump into. “She likes paying customers. Means I get to buy her some extra special worms. Who’s getting drunken worms tonight?”

“Ka! Kari ka!” Kari chirped happily, dancing in Davorin’s hand.

“I… see.” The cloaked customer cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “So, shall I assume that—”

“Ambrose Stallion will be dead come tomorrow.” Davorin smiled up at the man. “You have my word.”

“Good. I’m glad I can count on you,” came the response. The man turned to leave, beckoning his two companions to follow him. “Our business here is done, then. Let’s go.”

“Always a pleasure.” Davorin smiled mysteriously, collecting the money on the table. Gems and runestones… Corvid money. The ignorant man had tried to be secretive, but it was in vain. Even with the hood, Davorin still saw his face—an assassin always remembered the faces of their bounties, and Lord Joffery did look an awful lot like his father.

I’d take seven scrolls for his head, too, he thought to himself. With the Jades and Stallions at each other’s throats, things were about to get ugly… but hopefully, it would mean a lot of business for him.

[Celestial]

Guest-posting on here. :3 A tag for Draco for the use of Davo (and tell me if I'm not IC) and a brief mention of Xavier so Elcie, there you are.

SPOILER: Click to show

Ambrose was awake, as he usually was at this time of night. The pace of his inventing had grown frantic over the past week or so because of this accursed struggle for the throne, and especially now with House Jade growing more dangerous. He didn’t like it. After the Weapon, he was nervous of creating something just as deadly, if not more so. With the death of Lord Everett, especially, Ambrose was frightened. As much as he wanted to believe that it was not Alain’s doing, that Alain would never kill a man he claimed to respect, Ambrose knew his brother well. He knew how ambitious he was and what measures he would happily take in order to secure those ambitions.

With a wince, the old man pushed the thought as far to the back of his mind as possible. Just...focus on what you were doing now, he thought. The vision did not make the invention look dangerous so perhaps it was not. And if it happened to be, he could always destroy it, blueprints and all. But first he had to finish said blueprint.

Ambrose buried himself in his work. The candle beside him wavered like a flag as a breeze flew in to cool the room heated by the sun of high summer. For one used to the Bernian climate, it was hard to get by in the Medieville summer without at least opening the window.

It was a fact that Davorin Silverkin was happy to use to his advantage that night. He snuck in through the window with barely a whisper, stepping softly from the ledge onto the flagstones. The scabbard made the tiniest scraping sound as he took out a dagger and advanced towards his target.

By chance, at that moment, Ambrose paused to think and looked up. As he did, he spotted the shadow being cast on the wall in front of him. His eyes widened as he turned in place just as the assassin reached out to grab him. The old man gave a cry and leapt out of his chair, sending it crashing to the floor. His arm caught the blueprint he was working on and it flew off the desk, dragging some of his tools and the candle along with it. They clattered down onto the floor, the sound of metal ringing against stone spreading throughout Stallion Manor. The candle sputtered out.

Ambrose stood frozen in place as Davo whirled around to face him. His hands stretched out and fumbled, desperate to grab anything he could use to defend himself in a fitful attempt as self-preservation. All of his tools, however, were hardly fit to deflect an assassin’s blade. He was helpless.

Davo made a grab for him. Ambrose reached out and wrapped his thin fingers around Davo’s wrist, pushing with all his might in order to try and deflect his would-be murderer. However, he was elderly and unfit, hardly a match for a trained killer. Davo yanked his arm out of Ambrose’s grip and kicked at the old man’s legs, sending Ambrose crumpling to the floor. Before he could completely fall, however, the assassin caught him and in one smooth motion, wrapped one arm around him while bringing his dagger to his neck.

“Why? Why me?” Ambrose gasped. “What did I do?”

“Sorry, old man. You seem nice but business is business. No hard feelings,” Davo said calmly before the dagger bit into Ambrose’s throat.

He gasped for air as the warmth spread from his throat to his entire body. The edges of his vision grew even darker and he could barely feel himself being lowered down before suddenly he was dropped unceremoniously. There was a crack but barely any pain. On the contrary, everything felt...so light. It wasn’t like the rough tugging that he felt from his visions. No, instead he was just floating away...

Ambrose barely saw the figure of his assailant leap out of the window then the face of somebody familiar, his expression twisted by distress, loomed over him.

Xavier, Ambrose tried to say but he could not find the breath or the energy to do it. He was only briefly aware of weakening completely and the sensation of being pulled into another vision as he did so. However, there was no time to see what it was going to show him this time. The darkness overtook him first.

[Elcie]

Guest-posting in collaboration with Celestial!

SPOILER: Click to show

Up until the moment that Xavier flung open the door of Ambrose’s workshop, he’d honestly believed that everything would be all right.

After Leif’s disturbing warning, that Lord Joffery Jade wanted Ambrose dead, Xavier had abandoned his vigilante duties and rushed to Stallion Manor in the night. He’d warn Ambrose of the assassination, protect him and make sure the rest of his House was aware of the threat… perhaps this was a betrayal of House Jade, but Xavier didn’t care. He didn’t want anyone to die and Lord Joffery was starting to scare him. This wasn’t right. But Ambrose would know what to do, he was certain of it, and everything would be okay as soon as Xavier made sure he was safe…

But when Xavier burst into the workshop, he found he was seconds too late. The assassin was already there, a dagger to Ambrose’s neck--

At Xavier’s wordless, agonized cry of horror, the assassin was alerted to his presence and fled. He was too quick to follow. Xavier’s attention turned to the body of his friend, still lying sprawled on the floor where the assassin had dropped him. For a moment, it seemed like Ambrose was looking straight at him, but then his eyes became vacant and he was horribly still…

“No, no, no,” Xavier moaned, dropping to his knees beside Ambrose’s body. “Please. Ambrose… you c-can’t…”

He clutched at the old man’s lifeless hand uselessly, as if clinging to him could pull him back into life. But Xavier’s eyes were fixed with horror on the deep wound on his friend’s neck, the blood that stained his clothing and was starting to collect on the floor beneath him. The reality was staring him in the face; Ambrose was gone. His friend… and the one person Xavier had been certain could help him.

Xavier’s face twisted and he curled forward over Ambrose’s body, still clinging to his hand.

Alain suddenly appeared in the door behind him, drawn by the commotion that the struggle had caused. It only took him a moment to absorb the scene. The overturned chair, tools and paper scattered on the floor, Xavier kneeling beside a motionless Ambrose who was lying in a pool of blood, blood that was pouring out from his slit throat...

Had anybody been watching him, they would have been shocked to see the Grand Duke's normally calm, perfectly composed expression shatter. His eyes widened with shock and even his mouth opened slightly as for a moment all he could do was stare at the sight in front of him. But Alain's emotions did not linger on his face for long. In an instant, his face regained its previous cold mask but with one difference; whereas before his eyes had been bright and calm, now they had hardened into pinpricks, betraying the fury that was burning in his mind.

Somebody had killed his little brother.

Alain's focus turned towards Xavier, who was kneeling beside Ambrose's body. Rage rose up inside him. How dare he touch him?! Perhaps he was the murderer, perhaps he was not but he was here first, even ahead of Alain. So either he knew something...or he had been the one who had committed the crime.

Alain's hand tightened on the hilt of his cane and he pressed down the switch which released the blade. In a split second, he had pulled the sword out and threw away the scabbard, sending it clattering against the floor. He could pick it up later. With his other hand, he grabbed Xavier by the shirt collar and lifted him up, throwing him against the wall. Before the young man could recover, Alain gripped his collar, this time by the front, and touched the razor-sharp edge of his blade to Xavier's throat.

"You better have a very, very good explanation for what you are doing here," Alain hissed, his eyes staring right through Xavier's as if he was trying to see into his soul.

Xavier did not even try to resist when Alain grabbed him. For a moment he stared back into the Grand Duke's eyes, paralyzed with grief and terror, but then he lowered his gaze in submission. His body was trembling but he didn't struggle, his arms limp at his sides. Alain had every right to be angry, Xavier wouldn't fight him. And it was hard to care about what would happen to himself when Ambrose was lying dead on the floor only feet away.

"I'm sorry, my lord," Xavier said, his voice choked and quiet. "I t-tried, I... I came to warn him, b-but I was too late." Tears sprang to his eyes, and he struggled to blink them back. Instinctively he tried to keep his voice flat and his posture submissive, but it was impossible to completely hide his distress. "I'm so sorry," he whispered again. "I... I couldn't save him..."

If he'd only gotten here sooner. He'd failed. Xavier lowered his head both in deference and grief, ignoring the fact that the movement pressed his neck harder against Alain's blade. This was his fault. There was no doubt in his mind that Alain was going to punish him, and that he would deserve it. He would not resist.

For all of his anger, however, Alain decided to let Xavier speak before he did anything to him. As per usual for him, he paid just as much attention to Xavier's body language and tone as he did to his words. An apology on its own would have meant nothing but combined with how miserable the young man sounded and how willing he was to accept whatever Alain was doing to him, not fighting back at all, it spoke volumes.

He was too consumed by fury to let Xavier go or lower his blade. But Alain wanted the blood of those responsible. There was no use spilling an innocent's. There had been enough of that already. If only he had gotten here sooner...

No, there was no use speculating about what could have happened. The only thing that mattered was what he could do now. And what Xavier said intrigued him. He released his grip on his shirt collar, only to lift up Xavier's head so Alain could look him in the eye.

"What do you mean, you came to warn him?" he asked, his tone still icy but not as pointed as it was before. "Did you know about what was going to happen here tonight?"

Helplessly Xavier met Alain's eyes, feeling transfixed. "H-House Jade hired the assassin," he whispered. "But I - it wasn't right, Ambrose w-would never... he never hurt anyone, so why- why would they..." Xavier's breathing had become quick and shaky, clear anguish in his eyes. He'd begun to think that he could trust House Jade, that he'd be safe with them... but... they'd just killed an innocent man. Someone Xavier cared about.

He swallowed hard, averting his eyes. He couldn't bear the Grand Duke's piercing gaze for long. "He was my friend, your grace," he said in a small voice. "And they murdered him."

"House Jade did this?" Alain's voice was a low growl. His eyes remained fixed on Xavier as he considered this new information. Of course, it made sense. This was a premeditated murder and Lord Joffery had been adamant that Stallion had killed Everett, despite his lack of evidence to the contrary. He would have wanted revenge...but why Ambrose and not Alain himself? Unless they knew of Ambrose's capabilities. Or, Alain thought with a scowl, they were too cowardly to go after the Grand Duke himself. So they went after his weaker brother.

At this thought, his grip on his sword tightened, the sharp blade digging a little into Xavier's skin. Realising this, Alain pulled it away from him, holding the sword by his side instead. The young man had provided him with valuable information on his brother's killer, information which would have otherwise taken a while to obtain. Unless he was lying...

Alain lifted Xavier's head up to look him in the eye once again. No, that was unlikely. His demeanor did have some semblance to that of a liar, that was true, given how he was shaking and averting his eyes, but the distress that was written all over his face countered that. The misery and regret he expressed was far too real. The Grand Duke let go of the young man and took a step backward, noticing the colours of his clothes for the first time. Jade colours. So he was one of their own, a servant or a new recruit most likely. One with Jade allegiance would not implicate his own House unless there was a reason. And the young man had provided a reason; he was Ambrose's friend.

Everything fit into place neatly. Despite himself, a grin appeared on Alain's face. However, there was no joy to be found in that expression.

"Thank you for telling me this," Alain removed his hand from Xavier at last. "Aren't you going to be in trouble from your own House for letting me know they killed my brother?"

As soon as Alain let him go, Xavier shrank back even further against the wall, hunching in on himself, although he didn't make any move to get away. At the mention of House Jade, he tensed. "...Yes," he said, so quiet he was nearly whispering. "I d-don't care. I..."

He trailed off. It was true that he didn't care how he was punished for this; whatever House Jade did to him could not be worse than standing aside and letting them murder Ambrose. But if he went back... they would only force him to help them on this bloody quest for revenge and power, and his trust in them had been broken the moment he learned that Lord Joffery was going to hire an assassin. He couldn't.

"He... he was your brother, your grace," Xavier said quietly. "You deserve to know. And... House Jade..." His voice shook. "They're murderers. I don't want to be part of this!" Involuntarily his voice raised, but then he caught himself, remembered who he was speaking to. Automatically he flinched, half expecting to be hit for the outburst, and fell silent.

"That's certainly a noble sentiment and rest assured that it is not unappreciated," Alain went over to where he had dropped the wooden scabbarb of his cane and sheathed it, the mechanism locking in place with a small click.He turned back to Xavier.

"Let me give you a piece of advice in exchange for the information you told me; run," his voice was eerily calm, perhaps a little too calm. "It is best for you that you get as far away from House Jade as possible, as soon as possible. Because there is going to be the 'Pit to pay."

He looked up at where his Ambrose's body lay, fresh anger flaring up inside him. If Lord Joffery was going to play this game, despite his warnings, Alain was more than willing to show him how outmatched he was. Jade was going to pay for this, that was as certain as the sky being blue and the winters in Bern being cold. Killing his little brother was the worst mistake they could have made.

The Grand Duke's fist clenched and he did his best to force back the stinging sensation in his eyes. He lifted his head up, away from Xavier so that the young man would not see.

"Leave me now," he murmured.

Xavier looked at Alain, startled. He hadn't expected to be just... let go. Not so easily, not without Alain so much as laying a hand on him. Unconsciously his hand went to his neck, where the Grand Duke's blade had left a shallow, superficial cut. He barely registered the sting.

He wondered for a moment where he'd go, before realizing that he already knew. He didn't dare go back to Ilsa, but there were the Shadows... he'd find Elin, go into hiding with her. Hopefully that would be enough to keep both of them safe.

Slowly Xavier edged toward the door, his eyes fixed on Alain, still half-expecting to be stopped. When the Grand Duke made no move to do so, Xavier paused at the door and bowed low, showing deference not as a peasant but as a slave. As he did, his gaze fell again on Ambrose's motionless body, and tears pricked at his eyes again. It's not right.

Then he stepped back, took Alain's advice, and ran.

The Grand Duke stood completely still as he waited for Xavier to leave. Only when the young man's fotsteps had faded down the corridor did he finally break out of his motionless state. He went over to the bed and pulled the blanket off it roughly. As soon as it had come away, Alain kneeled down beside his brother and covered his body with the blanket, only taking the time to close his eyes. Somehow this stare was even worse than the stare of the visions.

For a few moments, the Alain remained beside the body. He covered his face with the palm of one hand. finally giving in to the sting in his eyes. But whatever grief he felt soon gave way to a fiery, festering anger, which rose up through him and consumed his thoughts, directing them towards only one thing: revenge.

He stood up and picked up his cane. For now, he had to instruct the servants to take his brother's body somewhere to prepare him for burial. And as soon as morning broke, it would be Lord Jade who was going to get the housecall. But Alain was hardly inclined to be as civil to him as he was when Joffery had visited. Not anymore.

[PFA]

Another collab with Celestial! Joffery and Alain meet again, and this time, it's less friendly...

SPOILER: Click to show

It was late morning when a man on a pale silver horse rode in through the gates of Marson Manor, his icy blue eyes staring right ahead at the building in front of him. He pulled the beautiful Bernian Noblesse mare to a stop and she halted with a snort, allowing him to leap off onto the cobblestones that lined the front of the Jade residence. His expression remained perfectly neutral as he gave it a brief look before he turned back to the horse, patting her neck and then taking out the cane that had been tucked into her saddle. Once that was done, he took the horse to the stables, smiling when he found a stablehand and pushing the reigns into his hands.

“Make sure she is watered but don’t stable her or remove her tack. I won’t be here long,” Alain’s voice was perfectly even and calm, betraying nothing of his intentions. Before the stablehand could even reply, he turned and headed towards the Manor, going up the steps until he reached the door. Without even hesitating, the Grand Duke knocked on it with the head of his cane and waited for a reply.

He didn’t have to wait long, as moments later, one of the servants opened the door. His eyes widened when he saw Alain standing on the other side, immediately recognizing what he was probably here for. Masking his initial frightened response, he gave a respectful bow. “Good morning, my lord! I, ah… I assume you’re here to see Lord Joffery?”

“Yes, I am,” the Grand Duke nodded and, without even waiting for a reply, strode past the servant and into Marson Manor itself, almost daring the man to stop him. When he was finally inside, he turned his head back as if he was waiting to be followed. A smile spread across his face but it was devoid of any warmth or humour. It was the smile of a wolf that was about to bite into the throat of its prey.

“Could you tell Lord Jade I am here? And suggest very strongly to him that he should not keep me waiting,” Alain’s voice acquired an edge. “There are a lot of things I wish to…discuss, shall we say?”

“Y-yes, of course,” the servant replied with a bow. “I’ll get him right away.”

With that, the servant hurried off down the hall. Alain watched him go briefly and then sat down on a nearby chair, completely at ease. His hands, folded on his cane, did not shake and there was nothing in his eyes to betray his emotions, save for the steely way they stared straight ahead.

Soon enough, Lord Joffery himself appeared in the doorway, flanked by guards as usual. “Hello, Grand Duke,” he spoke coldly. “What brings you here?”

“Hello, Lord Joffery,” Alain smiled politely and stood up, casting only a brief glance at the guards which had come into the room before his icy blue eyes focused squarely on the Jade Lord. “Could I speak to you in private? As you can see, I have come here alone, and this is your house. Surely you could dismiss your guards for just a short while we talk?”

He lowered his head, though he did not break eye contact. “When you were my guest, I spoke to you without guards so perhaps you could extend me the same courtesy. Unless you mean to insult me? Or worse, imply you are afraid of me?”

Joffery was silent for some time. It was clear from the look in his eyes that he didn’t trust Alain, but at the same time, he did not want to show fear to his enemies—that would make him look weak, and that was exactly what he didn’t need at a time like this. So finally, after much deliberation, he waved the guards off, dismissing them.

“My lord?” one guard questioned, concerned.

“It’s alright,” Lord Joffery assured him, his expression remaining cold and steely. “I can handle it.”

The guard paused, before nodding affirmatively. The two of them cautiously left the room, leaving the two House patriarchs alone. Joffery took a deep breath. He could do this.

“...There,” he said. “Now let me ask again: what is your business here?”

Alain had been watching impassively as Joffery dismissed his guards. As soon as they were gone, however, Grand Duke looked away from him, calmly and almost dismissively averting his eyes from the Jade Lord.

“I warned you, Lord Joffery,” Alain lifted up his cane, stroking the silver horse head before he glared at the young man in front of him. “And yet, it seems you have ignored my warnings.”

Joffery was somewhat taken aback, but he stood his ground. “This is about your brother, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is,” the Grand Duke’s voice lowered, cutting through the air like a knife. “Unlike you, Lord Joffery, I have very good evidence that leads me to believe that House Jade killed him.”

The tip of his cane hit the floor and the resulting crack echoed through the room. Alain turned back to the other Lord, his icy gaze finally filling with unrestrained fury. Even though his hands remained folded on the top of his cane, his fingers were slowly curling around the hilt. “Why, Lord Jade? Why did you think it was a good idea to murder my little brother?”

Lord Joffery scowled. Leif was right; it seemed the Stallions had no trouble tracing the deed back to him. Whether he confirmed or denied it, it wouldn’t matter—the Grand Duke would still be furious. Though his instincts were screaming at him to bolt, he continued to stand his ground. I must not show fear, I must not show fear…

“Perhaps the same reason House Stallion thought it was a good idea to kill my father?” he replied icily.

Alain chuckled, though the gesture was as bitter and humourless as a winter storm. “That was a conclusion you arrived to yourself, Lord Joffery, and not one based on solid evidence either. You should have thought about your decision a little harder. And now because of your rashness, my little brother is dead,” he hissed, allowing himself to openly scowl.

However, soon his expression returned to the same, far-too-calm serene mask he had worn before. “Silly little songbird,” the Grand Duke sighed, though that sigh was more akin to a parent finding out about the antics of a naughty child than anything else. He took a step forward towards the Jade Lord. “Trying to act like you’re a hawk. Now what’s going to happen to you, when the other hawks no longer wish to tolerate you?”

He smirked. “Tell me, what was your plan after killing my brother? What did you hope to accomplish?”

“I…” Joffery started, before trailing off into silence.

“As I thought. My only brother died for nothing then,” Alain scowled, letting the emotion cross his face for a brief moment but it disappeared just as quickly as it came. He stared Joffery right in the eye. “So you have no plan. A good lord always plans ahead and always realises the consequences of his moves. Your father would have.”

Lord Joffery’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond.

“Still no answer?” the Grand Duke’s voice remained flat. “Too bad, little songbird. Because I know exactly what I am doing next.”

Alain’s gaze was firmly fixed on the green eyes of the young man in front of him but his finger was resting on the switch of his cane. In a split second, however, he pressed down on it and withdrew the blade from its scabbard. Joffery, no longer able to hide his terror, instinctively tried to run, but it was to no avail. With a few easy steps, Alain was in front of Joffery and brought the sword up to rest an inch above his throat.

“I told you, I am not a man you wish to cross, Lord Jade,” he grinned wolfishly at him.

“G-guards!” Joffery squeaked. “Guards!”

“Oh be quiet,” Alain’s tone dripped with irritation. Despite the fact that he could hear the footsteps of the guards outside, his hand was perfectly steady and his eyes showed no sign of fear. “I know how to kill men, Lord Joffery, I’ve done it before. If I was going to murder you, I would not have even given you the chance to cry out.”

He stepped away briskly and slipped the blade back into its scabbard, transforming it into an ordinary cane again. The Grand Duke lowered its tip to the floor, silently, and leaned on it, projecting an image of disability. His icy gaze fixed itself on Joffery again, who gasped for breath in relief.

“Interesting, isn’t it? Here I am, in your home, alone, seemingly at a disadvantage, and yet you’re the one afraid of me,” he allowed himself a smirk. “I will give you credit, little songbird, at least you realise how outmatched you are.”

Joffery made an effort to regain his composure, glaring back at Alain. “Y-you… you’re wrong. I’m not afraid of you!”

“Then why are you shaking?”

“I-I’m not! You’re wrong!”

At that point, the guards reentered the room, with panicked looks in their eyes. “My lord! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Joffery admitted with a scowl, “but he attacked me. I want you to get him out of my house this instant!”

“I, er… y-yes, my lord,” the guard replied less than confidently, turning his attention to Alain. “I’m sorry, your grace, but we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Of course. As soon as my business here is concluded, I will leave,” the Grand Duke did not even glance at them. His gaze was fixed on Joffery as if he wanted to penetrate into the depths of the Jade Lord’s soul.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you,” he said and lowered his voice, letting the venom into it. “There are some things far worse than dying, Lord Joffery.”

Finally, he tore his eyes away from the young man. With an easy, relaxed pace, Alain calmly strode past the guards and towards the door. As he put his hand on the doorknob and turned it, he stopped suddenly. “The symbol of House Jade is a phoenix, correct?”

“Of course it is,” was Lord Joffery’s reply.

“They’re known for rising out of their own ashes,” the Grand Duke smiled viciously. “So I wonder what happens when you scatter those ashes to the wind.”

Joffery opened his mouth to protest, but Alain did not wait around to hear his reply. With those words, Alain opened the door and walked outside, not bothering to close it behind him. His red cloak fluttered in the wind as he headed for the stables, where the same stablehand Alain had left behind was holding his horse. With only a small nod, he took her from him and got on, urging her into a light trot.

The Grand Duke left Marson Manor perfectly calm and content. He knew exactly what was going to happen now and how he was going to carry it out. House Jade was going to pay dearly for his brother’s death. It was almost a shame to destroy something Everett had so lovingly created. But he was gone now. And, Alain thought with a stab of rage, so was Ambrose. Joffery and House Jade had declared open war and he was more than ready- no, he was happy to respond.

[PFA]

Added something to the first post. NOT SORRY

[Celestial]

Guest-posting again. ^^ Alain needs to take care of some things. I promise this will only lead to good things.

SPOILER: Click to show

The great aviary of the Raven's Keep had many sections to it, all playing host to a variety of birds. Most were owned by the ruling House Ascension but there was one small section that was different. If they headed down a certain path a knowledgeable person would have come across a small stone dovecote tucked into the corner. Painted on to its door was the crimson and silver horse head that was the symbol of House Stallion. It was here that the northern House kept the Medieville branch of the messenger pigeons that it used for communication across the entire kingdom, paying rent to the Keep for use of its pigeon lofts.

This was the place that Alain made his way to now, his cane tapping against the stone path. His eyes remained focused right ahead on the door as he approached it and put one gloved hand against it, pushing it open.

The soft crooning of pigeons provided a background hum as he entered into the stone room. Sunbeams streamed in from a window and landed on a wooden desk, providing light for the man who was scribbling something on a sheet of parchment. He instantly looked up when he heard the click of the door latch. As soon as his eyes landed on the Grand Duke, however, he put his quill back into the black inkwell and stood up, bowing deeply.

“Yer Grace,” he gasped. “What can I do for ya?”

Alain closed the door behind him and approached the man's desk. His hands folded over his cane and he stared down at the scribe. A shiver ran down the man's spine and he instinctively shrank under the Grand Duke's icy stare. The rumours of the death of his brother had already reached the Raven’s Keep but even with that in mind, the anger that currently radiated off the Stallion Patriarch seemed almost unnatural, like snow in the middle of July, and just as cold too. There was no hiding that Alain was furious. Even if it barely showed in his face, his eyes projected everything anybody needed to know.

“I wish to send a message to my daughter in Bern,” he stated. “Green band, it’s not an emergency.”

The dissonance between the rage in his eyes and the calm serenity in his voice was greater than the span of the continent itself. The scribe drew in a shaky breath and opened a drawer, taking out a long, thin ribbon of parchment and placing it on the desk in front of him. Under the glare of Alain’s eyes, he took the quill out of the inkwell and knocked the excess liquid off the tip before holding it above the paper.

“Whenever ya’re ready, yer Grace,” he murmured, watching the ink dribble slowly down the quill.

“Certainly,” Alain lifted up his head, turning in the direction of the dove lofts. “Though the pigeons are rather loud today, it’s distracting,” he looked directly back at the scribe, “Perhaps you could get somebody to take care of that.”

Those words...the scribe’s eyes widened and he pushed his chair away, getting to his feet. He gave the Grand Duke a shallow bow of acknowledgement before rushing towards a door that led deeper into the dovecote.

Despite the fact that they rented this place from the Ascensions, the staff of the dovecote was composed almost entirely of people employed directly by Stallion. The pigeon keepers in particular were mostly Bernian. Officially, it had been because the northern House wished to take care of as many of its expenses internally as it could and because their staff was better trained in looking after the specific needs of messenger pigeons than the Ascension bird keepers. But there were other things going on beneath the surface.

Despite how far away they were, House Stallion always seemed to be kept abreast of the latest news from the capital. And if anybody decided to review their account books, they would find that some of the men and a few women who worked with the birds were paid more than you would expect for a regular pigeon keeper.

Presently, another man emerged from the door into which the scribe had disappeared to. He was older, in his early forties, with slightly greying dark hair and bright light brown eyes which acquired a knowing look when he saw the Grand Duke. Alain turned to face him as soon as he entered, a small smirk forming on his face.

“Good day, your Grace,” the newcomer said with a slight trill of an accent, bowing his head. However, unlike with the scribe, there was not a trace of nervousness with him. He glanced around the room, listening carefully through the soft background hum of the pigeons before turning directly to meet the Grand Duke’s gaze “I do apologise for the noise.”

“It’s quite alright, Lennox,” Alain replied, folding his hands over his cane. “They have quietened down enough. We can talk freely now.”

“Of course,” Lennox approached the desk and leaned down on it, wrapping the thin parchment up and putting it aside, under the inkwell the scribe had left behind. “What can I do for you today?”

Alain’s eyes darkened. “You have no doubt heard the news.”

“I have. My condolences, your Grace,” the pigeon keeper murmured and bowed his head before he looked back up at Alain. “I have also heard about your visit to the new Jade Lord.”

“News travels fast, it seems. But as far as you are concerned, that does not surprise me,” one corner of the Grand Duke’s mouth curled into a smirk. “With that said, I need your services.”

“Anything I can do to help, your Grace,” Lennox answered, tapping his fingers against the desk.

“I have three tasks for you and your people,” Alain told him. One hand went into his pocket and he withdrew a sealed letter, though the seal on it was not the seal of Stallion but instead a generic, unadorned one. Its only function was to keep the wax together.

“I’m guessing you don’t want that delivered by pigeon, your Grace,” Lennox stated, glancing from the letter and then back to Alain.

“Correct. I want this delivered personally, but without the recipient knowing who it is from,” Alain nodded. “All the details he needs to know are in the letter.”

“Very well, your Grace, it shall be done” Lennox replied, placing one hand over the letter and dragging it closer to him. “Who is the recipient, if I may ask?”

“Leif Jade. He stays in Marson Manor, along with the other Jades,” the Grand Duke told him, watching the other man like a hawk as he took the letter.

“We shall get it for him,” Lennox looked back up at his employer. “The other two?”

Alain took another thing out of his pocket, a small silk pouch his time, and placed it carefully on the desk in front of his employee. Lennox frowned slightly and picked it up, weighting it in his hand as he judged the object inside it. He finally rested the pouch in his palm and pinched the drawstrings with his fingers, his eyes turning to look at the Grand Duke before he continued. Alain gave him a nod and the man loosed the string around the neck of the pouch, peering inside.

A smile appeared on his face. “A cake?”

“It’s specially prepared,” Alain told him his voice perfectly steady. “I don’t want anybody’s prying eyes seeing anything.”

“Ah,” Lennox raised an eyebrow. “With all due respect, your Grace, that girl is a child-”

“No need to worry. It won’t kill her,” the Grand Duke said in a smooth voice but his eyes locked on to those of the pigeon keeper and acquired a dangerous glare. A warning. “Can you deliver it to her too? Again, without being seen.”

Lennox averted his gaze, feeling his employer’s sharp stare boring into him. He knew that the threat to the Jades had not been an idle one. The head of Stallion rarely made idle threats. Nor was he unaware of the Grand Duke’s calculated plans. After all, he had helped carry a few out of them himself. But even so, right now, Alain’s cold precision unnerved him. Combined with that look in his eye, the whole thing made Lennox feel as though the sun had suddenly retreated behind a cloud.

He had seen Alain angry plenty of times. But he had never seen him furious.

“Can you do it?” the Grand Duke’s edged voice cut through his musings.

“Yes, your Grace,” Lennox nodded and put the pouch with the cake beside the envelope for Leif. “And the last thing?”

Alain took the last object out of his pocket and put it down on the desk. Its contents clinked loudly as they shifted inside the fat purse. Lennox pulled it towards him and undid the drawstring, revealing the precious jewels glittering inside it.

“I assume this is not for the Jades, your Grace,” the pigeon keeper remarked, raising an eyebrow.

“You assume wrong,” Alain stated, folding his hands over his cane. “Those are for Lord Charles.”

“It’s a lot of money, your Grace,” Lennox said, picking up the purse and weighting in his hand.

“Somebody has to take the fall for what is going to happen,” the Grand Duke remarked. Despite the calm tone of his voice, it nevertheless dripped with menace.

“...Understood, your Grace,” Lennox closed the purse and swept it over the desk next to the two other items. “When do you want these delivered?”

“As soon as possible, by tonight at the latest. I want to get this done quickly,” Alain told him, casting another glare at the pigeon keeper.

Lennox opened his mouth to ask what he was going to do but then closed it immediately, biting his tongue. There was no way he could possibly get an answer out of his employer, even if Alain took the question well. He did not want to push his luck with the Grand Duke, especially not with the fury that had gripped the Stallion patriarch’s heart.

“It’s a tall order, your Grace,” he said quietly, picking up the three items he had been handed off his desk.

“I am confident you and your people can manage this. It’s why I chose you for this,” Alain replied, his fingers stroking the patterns etched into his cane. “Tonight. I am counting on you And you will be compensated accordingly.”

“Of course, your Grace. We shall see to it,” Lennox bowed again and walked through the door he had come from, taking the objects he had been handed to go find people to deliver them to the Jades.

Alain, meanwhile, took the parchment that had been stuffed under the inkwell and unrolled it. He took off his left glove and picked up the quill, scribbling a short message on to the parchment. After all, he had to do something to show for his visit without arousing suspicion.

Without even waiting for the ink to dry, he put his glove back on, picked up his cane and turned on his heel, leaving the dovecote. There was no time to waste. Assuming Lennox’s men would get everything done as he instructed, he needed to be ready too. The payment for Ambrose’s death had to be collected.

Tonight was going to be a very harsh night for Lord Joffery and House Jade.

[Tiger]

Guest-posting a collab with Celestial, in which things are followed up on.

SPOILER: Click to show

Leif was in an enormous amount of pain.

Joffery’s paralysis charm had taken over an entire night to wear off completely. Even when someone - Xavier - had finally come to his door and found it locked, Leif had only barely been able to call out to him that he needed to warn House Stallion. He couldn’t have come along to help even if the door had been wide open - Leif’s fingers and legs had still been frozen.

Now, all the paralysis was gone and he could move again. It just hurt, moving muscles that had been locked in place for hours on end. Eventually Leif had managed to drag himself up onto the bed, though he had hovered on the edge of unconsciousness for a few minutes from the sheer exertion required.

But the worst of that was gone now; Leif had managed to get to the end of the bed and let his arms hang over into his trunk. It had taken a while, but all the clothes and books and falconry gear had been pushed aside, and he’d pried open the small box near the bottom of the chest. Now, carefully, every slight bend of his fingers making him want to make some noise of pain, Leif pulled out the long wooden shards and singed feather vanes from the box. Some of the wooden pieces were scattered with chunks of quartz; when Leif’s first wand had splintered apart, shards of the crystal he had accidently overloaded with power had embedded themselves into the wood.

He hadn’t thought he would ever use the ancient scraps again, let alone for something this desperate. They were just part of his toolkit, in case the quartz shards ever became useful or he needed the wood for some other project - or so he claimed. In reality, Leif knew the odds of these pieces ever coming in handy had been hovering around zero, but it felt wrong to just discard the broken pieces of the first tool he’d used to cast magic.

And now he was glad for that sentimentality. Leif’s current wand, his oak with core of eagle-feather, slightly swishy, was probably still with Joffery. No wand meant no unlocking spells, and Leif was not going to be able to climb out a window in this state. Leif had hoped that Xavier would be able to help him with the locked door when he returned, but it had been a disturbingly long time and there was no sign of the vigilante yet. Leif was afraid of what that meant.

Maybe Lord Charles knew where Xavier was - maybe he’d gotten the vigilante out of the manor before sending a message to Leif. How exactly Charles expected Leif to get out of his locked room without a wand was beyond the archmage, though for all Leif knew, he might not know about Leif’s imprisonment at all. The message Leif had received certainly didn’t imply it. But he couldn’t afford to miss a chance to speak to someone about this - they had to do something, or Joffery was going to get them all - and a lot of other people - killed.

All the wand fragments big enough to retrieve were gathered on the bedcovers. Pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth so he wouldn’t bite down on it, Leif pushed himself to a sitting position. It felt like his back was made of tree bark and he was trying to twist it in two different directions, while also setting it on fire.

No time to dwell on the pain - he set a jess strap across one of his legs leg, and began painstakingly fitting the wand pieces together. Core of goshawk feather, wrapped in oak, strength enhanced by quartz crystal… The jess was not a very good binder, especially with Leif’s fingers too clumsy to make proper knots. He was able to force the points of a few quart shards into the softer wood of the wand splinters, and that seemed to work better. Even so, the makeshift instrument fell apart several times before Leif finally completed it.

But at last, barely breathing, fighting through the pain that clawed at him with every slight shift, Leif rose from the bed, wand held carefully across both palms. He staggered to the door, leaning against the wall, and positioned his hands so the wandtip pointed to the keyhole. Unable to suppress a hiss of pain, Leif forced his fingers around the base of the wand. “Alwoohamora,” he whispered, forcing a burst of power through the splintered wand..

The pieces shook and he heard a low, uncomfortably-pitched hum - then the wand flew apart again with a flicker of white light, and Leif quickly turned his head away; the sharp movement of his neck made him gasp with pain, but it was probably better than getting quartz shards in his eyes.

When he reached to the door and twisted the doorknob, it actually moved. Thank ‘Woo - he’d done it.

It was late, very late, and as Lord Charles had probably intended, the Manor was mostly empty of activity. Leif saw a few lights from what looked like the room where the Jades held council - where Lord Everett had once taken reports of and assigned nightly activity. Leif prayed nobody in that room would come out and see him. Cautiously, he closed the door behind him and set for the stairs.

Leif managed to get to the storeroom of potions, where he found and took a hefty dose of a pain-relieving potion. He stayed in the dark room for a few very long minutes while it worked on him, and eventually, Leif felt some of the pain recede and was able to breathe normally again. A few minutes more, and it was mostly an all-over ache - not pleasant, and he still didn’t want to move too quickly, but Leif was able to stand up and walk close to normally.

The doors were all being guarded - no wonder, after what had happened to Lord Everett. Leif hesitated to walk past them, but if Charles’ message was anything to go by, nobody else in the House knew that Leif was supposed to be imprisoned. And sure enough, when Leif finally dared to just...walk out, trying to look like he knew exactly what he was doing, nobody made a move to stop him. If anyone noticed his empty wand holster, they said nothing.

Only a whole street away from the manor did it occur to Leif that he probably should have asked for protective enchantments. Usually he handled those on his own, but obviously that couldn’t be the case tonight. Stretching his senses, he felt only a thin layer remaining. He hoped Charles had pulled off a miracle and maybe gotten Leif’s wand back, or at least found a spare…

There were still a few people out and about, but the further Leif went into the city, the quieter and sparser it became. Leif walked as quickly as he was able, wishing they could have met somewhere less abandoned, maybe somewhere a bit better-lit...with all the chaos in the city lately, this was incredibly dangerous.

His stomach churned. Lord Everett dead, an assassin on the loose, Joffery on the warpath, Ambrose in danger if not worse… And Xavier was now caught up in this, too. ‘Pit, everyone was caught up in this, everyone was in danger, from all of Leif’s remaining Housemates to all of the Stallions - Kirin and Alain and Ambrose...’Woo, it was hard to believe it had been such a short time ago that Leif’s biggest problem had been repairing a room full of broken furniture…

Leif shook his head, clearing his distracted thoughts. He was almost to where Charles wanted them to meet, and he needed to be thinking clearly. ’Woo, how am I going to explain that Joffery used a paralyzer on me…

The meeting place on the edge of Medieville was quiet and aside from the rustling of trees, the night was warm and still. Hidden in the shadows, away from the moonlight, and wrapped in a long cloak that concealed his shape, he waited. He stood frozen, not daring to give away his position with an errant movement. Everything, from his heartbeat to his breathing, was perfectly calm and steady.

A humourless smile spread across his face as soon as he spotted Leif coming closer. The message had reached him, good. But that was only the first part of the plan. Now, he had to be quick. The archmage had the advantage of raw power but he had the element of surprise. His hand clenched around its handle and one finger curled around the metal trigger. Oh yes, he definitely had surprise on his side.

He shrank back into the shadows, his gaze locking on to Leif. The archmage seemed slightly sluggish, for whatever reason, but that did not matter. If anything, it potentially made things easier, however it was foolish to rely on it. Sluggish or not, the plan would go ahead unchanged.

Not giving himself away just yet, he waited for Leif for stop. Let him think he arrived at the meeting place first, give him a few moments to gain his breath back. While he was hidden, there was no need to rush.

Leif looked around edgily as he approached the location Charles had said he would be waiting. He didn’t see the mage anywhere, but of course, a Jade noble couldn’t just stand out in the open...rather like what Leif was doing. He edged a bit into the shadows, still looking around for Charles.

He was taking a while to show himself, shouldn’t he have seen Leif coming by now? Leif was tempted to call out for him, but the silence was so heavy, and if something had gone wrong or if Joffery had spies, or something - it sounded crazy, but then, so had the idea of Joffery using magic on a member of his own House - Leif was not eager to draw attention to himself. The archmage was in no condition for a fight.

He finally stopped for a moment, in a place where he had a decent view of the open areas around him, but didn’t think he’d be too easy to spot. Leif could feel his legs shaking a bit, and he rubbed at his sore arms with a wince. The muscle pain was still better than the punches of his nerve-wracked stomach.

This was it. The figure in the shadows drew something out of his belt and slipped his left arm into the folds of his cloak, concealing the object from view. Drawing in a single, deep breath that was as calm as the summer breeze, he slowly began to stalk closer to Leif, his soft boots barely rustling the undergrowth beneath.

Eventually, he was close but not close enough. Leif’s shoulder was facing towards him but he needed the archmage head on, to give him a clear shot at his heart. But there was a reason he had gone under cover of darkness, in the heavy cloak despite the warm Medieville night. He adjusted his hood over his eyes to hide his face in shadow and shifted the flowing fabric around to hide his build as much as he could before stepping out of the trees.

There was no need for hide himself from Leif as he crossed the small stretch of empty space, his stride calm and easy as though he was in no rush. In a gesture of friendship, he held his hand out of his cloak to show it empty. After all, most people kept their weapons in the right. Nobody ever paid attention to the left.

“Shh,” he whispered, lifting up a single finger of his uncovered hand to his mouth, in part hiding it, and glanced around, as though watching out for anybody who could have followed the archmage. Which, in a way, he was. Though he knew that out here, this late, there would be no witnesses.

Leif saw movement and turned toward it, shoulders tense - his right hand clenched instinctively, but there was no wand to grasp. Maybe he should have tried to steal one back at the Manor, despite the risk of being caught...too late to consider that now.

He hoped the cloaked figure was Charles, though the whisper sounded...not quite right. There was a bit of a voice in even small sounds like coughs and huffs and sighs, and this didn’t seem to match. But, it had been a long day and night, and voices weren’t Leif’s forte. Who else would know to expect him here, anyway? If it wasn’t Charles, it had to be someone sent in the Jade’s stead. Slowly, Leif pushed himself away from the wall and started cautiously forward to meet them.

The distance between them kept shrinking and shrinking until only an arm’s length separated them. The cloaked man stopped and in one smooth motion swept his right foot back, at the same time bringing his left arm up. Metal gleamed in the moonlight like the eyes of a predatory cat as the parts of the Weapon caught the light.

It had been Ambrose’s final invention and his most hated one. If he had known that it was going to be used, his anger and his distress would have known no bounds. But he was not around to feel those emotions. The Jades had stolen him away.

They had proven themselves a threat. So he would deliver to them the consequences.

Alain pressed the muzzle of the Weapon against Leif’s chest and, without a waver of hesitation, pulled the trigger.

The quiet, cloudless evening was broken by a crack of thunder.

Before Leif could do more than process that something bad was about to happen, there was a loud noise and a sudden, incredible pain in his chest - the force alone knocked him back but the sudden excruciating, ripping, hammer-blow of pain would have made him drop all on its own.

Suddenly Leif was one his back and unable to catch more than snatches of air, and the world was going fuzzy and dark. There were noises, but all muffled and lagging, as if he were underwater. His hand had gone automatically to his chest and when Leif lifted it now, the simple motion took almost all of his strength. It had been barely a few seconds, but his fingers were drenched and dripping with blood. Something had punched into him - his insides felt shredded, part of his ribcage felt like it was crumbling, his chest hurt and burned and seared and oh ’Woo, he couldn’t breathe... What had happened? That thing at his chest - but it hadn’t felt like a wand or a knife. And who had been wielding it?

It was a trap, he realized. Whether someone had intercepted Charles’ letter, or sent the letter as a decoy, he didn’t know - but Leif had no doubt that someone had been a Stallion, or paid by them. Vengeance for Ambrose? Continuing something they’d started with Everett’s assassination? He’d been an idiot to come here alone and unarmed - he should have at least waited a little longer to see if Xavier would make it back - but maybe this was why he hadn’t come back, what if House Stallion had gotten him, too?

Leif could feel blood running down his sides, pouring like rainwater down steep hillsides. It had been hard to breathe before, but now it was getting near-impossible - and his heartbeat felt wrong, lurching and painful and weak... If he had his wand, he could fix this...although the runes seemed muddled in his head, and he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to lift his wand even if he had it...

Fight it - you have to stay awake…

The thought drifted away almost the instant it appeared, and Leif couldn’t stop his eyelids from falling shut. Instead of the faint, colorful shapes that usually accompanied closing his eyes, Leif saw something vividly white in the distance. Lunari’s feathers? Kirin’s hair?

He had to go after them - whichever one it was. Lunari had stopped the pain last time. Or, if it was Kirin - he had to talk to him, he had to tell him before it was too late…

Leif’s fingers twitched on the cobblestones as if he were trying to grab something, but if he managed to seize anything in the mirages of his dying mind, there was no sign to the outside world - just one last, shaking exhalation.

Alain had remained perfectly still as Leif fell, his face not showing even a flicker of emotion as he watched the life flow out of the archmage. He stepped forward slowly when Leif’s body impacted on the ground, looming over him like a predatory animal as he watched for any sign that the shot had not done its job. But that seemed very unlikely. Blood soaked through Leif’s clothes, pooling into the gaps between the cobblestones, and the archmage’s blue eyes were slowly growing more and more dull, turning into glassy marbles. The signs that death had caught up to him, the signs that Alain knew well by now, were all over Leif. He could not help but think back to his own little brother displaying the same symptoms just the night before.

Alain felt a scowl cross his face before immediately it disappeared as he continued to watch the archmage die in front of him. Only when the last breath rattled out of Leif’s chest did the Grand Duke break his gaze. He put the Weapon back into his belt and took off his glove, putting two fingers to a particular spot on the archmage’s neck. Nothing. Not even the faintest flutter of life. Alain’s job was done.

He swooped up and turned, pulling his cloak in around himself before taking off from the scene of the murder, leaving Leif’s broken body lying in the street. He had his revenge now. House Jade had lost its greatest strength. They would no longer be a threat.

And if the little songbird decided he still did not get the message, Alain would be glad to counter whatever it was he wanted to do.

[PFA]

Hey look, it's this AU! You missed this AU, didn't you? Of course you did. 8D

The next morning...

SPOILER: Click to show

When he awoke that morning, Lord Joffery did not know that everything would go wrong. But that day, it did.

“Jeniver?” Joffery moved through the manor, searching for his cousin. He hadn’t seen her all day, and that had him concerned. Noticing a servant scurrying quietly by, Joffery thought to stop her. “Excuse me, have you seen Jeniver?”

“I-I…” The servant swallowed, her eyes wide. “I don’t think she’s left her room, my lord.”

Joffery frowned at this. “…I see. Thank you.”

“O-of course, my lord,” the servant replied quietly.

Without another word, Lord Joffery turned on his heel, making his way to the room where Jeniver and her parents were staying. It was getting awfully late in the day—Jeniver should have at least come out for breakfast. But why hadn’t she? Hopefully Charles isn’t trying to keep her away from me, he thought with a scowl.

However, his question would soon be answered. He arrived at his destination, knocking on the door. “Jeniver?”

The only response he got was a long, anguished moan. Joffery frowned, trying the doorknob. The door wasn’t locked, thankfully, so he opened it and he peered carefully into the room. Sure enough, there was Jeniver lying on the bed, shivering and very pale.

“Jeniver? What’s wrong?” Joffery asked, looking genuinely concerned for once as he strode into the room. “Are you alright?”

Jeniver frantically shook her head. “I-I feel really sick…”

“Oh ‘Woo, that’s…” Joffery grimaced. Of all the times for her to get sick, why did it have to be now, while they were at war? Unless… a scowl crossed Lord Joffery’s face. Perhaps it was more than mere coincidence. “Did you eat anything strange recently?”

“I-I… I might have,” Jeniver admitted carefully. “Someone sent me a c-cake. It looked so good, I didn’t think…”

“You really must be careful at a time like this, Jeniver. Nothing is to be trusted,” Joffery cautioned her.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Jeniver whimpered. “I-I haven’t… I haven’t been able to use magic, either… or watch Leif like you wanted.”

“This must have been sabotage. It’s too convenient.” Joffery frowned, looking around the room. Noticing something, he asked, “Where are your parents?”

“Th-they went to the market to get me some medicine.”

“Right… of course.” Joffery frowned, taking the opportunity to search the room for any remnants of Jeniver’s mysterious cake. If she hadn’t eaten all of it, perhaps he could get one of the mages to check it for…

…Wait.

A strange sight caught Lord Joffery’s eye, and he immediately moved closer to better examine it. Among Lord Charles’ things was a sack he had never seen before, clearly filled with something heavy. Curious, he moved closer, carefully pulling on the drawstring to see what was inside. To his astonishment, it was filled to the brim with precious jewels.

Bernian money.

“What… what are you doing?” Jeniver wondered, trying to peer over at her cousin.

“…I don’t know,” was Joffery’s response, his tone cold and emotionless. “Jeniver, do you know where your father really is?”

“Huh?” Jeniver frowned. “Wh-why? Joffery, what’s—”

“Jeniver?”

Lord Joffery snapped to attention, turning toward the door just as Jeniver’s parents walked into the room. They were both carrying armfuls of supplies from the market, but paused when they noticed Joffery staring back at them with accusing eyes. Lord Charles frowned.

“What are you doing here, Joffery?” Charles questioned.

“I was looking for Jeniver,” Joffery replied bluntly. “But while I was here, I found something else.”

With those words, Lord Joffery lobbed the bag in Charles’ direction. It fell to the floor, the jewels inside spilling out and clattering noisily against the wood. The sound pierced through the air, bringing everyone in the room to a very tense silence. Charles in particular froze on the spot, his eyes widening in shock.

“Care to explain, uncle?” Joffery hissed.

“I… I’ve never seen that before,” Charles insisted. “Where did you find that?”

“It was among your things, Charles. Do you honestly expect me to believe you didn’t know about it?” Lord Joffery strode up to his uncle, looking him in the eye. “You were awfully vocal yesterday. You didn’t happen to follow that up by betraying your House, did you?”

“I would never betray my House!” Charles spat. “I’m telling you, Joffery, I have never seen that before! I— someone must have planted that!”

“You’re lying!” Joffery spat right back. “So help me, uncle, if you’re working with House Stallion—”

“He’s not lying!” Helena interjected, clinging to her husband protectively. “Charles would never work for House Stallion!”

“How do you know, Helena?” Joffery asked. “Can you account for where he was at all times yesterday?”

“At all times, of course not, but—”

“Then how do you know he hasn’t been going behind our backs? Lying to us?” Lord Joffery turned to Charles again, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re mad, Joffery,” Charles growled. “Can’t you look past your blasted paranoia long enough to even consider that I might be telling the truth?!”

“I’m sorry, uncle,” Joffery replied, “but I can’t afford to take any chances.”

“What are you— let go of me!” Charles cried as Lord Joffery grabbed onto his arm, struggling against the young lord’s surprisingly strong grip. Before he could even think to reach for his wand, Joffery had restrained both of his arms, preventing any such attempts. “Stop this! You’ve gone mad!”

“Joffery, stop!” Helena shrieked, trying in vain to separate the two. “Don’t do this!”

“Get away, Helena!” Joffery snapped.

“Wh-what are you going to do?!” Jeniver squeaked, still watching the scene in horror.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” Joffery told her, in a somewhat more reassuring tone—but not enough to matter. “I just don’t want him running off to consort with Stallions.”

Charles scoffed at this. “So what, you’re going to throw me in the dungeon?”

“That’s the plan,” Joffery confirmed, as he marched Charles toward the door. He paused only to glare over his shoulder at Helena. “And don’t you dare try to stop me.”

Neither Helena nor Charles felt compelled to test Joffery’s temper at that point, Helena standing frozen to the spot as Charles reluctantly marched with Joffery toward the makeshift dungeon in Marson’s basement. Servants in the halls only stared in horror as they passed, moving as far out of Lord Joffery’s way as possible.

“I presume you intend to question me,” Charles spat over his shoulder. “How do you intend to do that? I’m this House’s top interrogator, you know.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll figure it out,” Joffery replied, turning to glare at the nearest servant. “Go find Xavier. I’m going to need him.”

“I-I…” the servant stammered, pale with eyes wide and unblinking. “H-he’s not h-here, my lord.”

Joffery frowned. “What do you mean he’s not here?”

“We checked his room this morning, he’s not here,” the servant told him, flinching away from the young lord’s glare. “I-I don’t know where he is, he didn’t leave a note or anything.”

So Xavier had run away? Joffery scowled. Perhaps they should have known better than to trust someone who would kidnap a noble. It was infuriating, but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

“What about—” He bit his tongue before he could finish that thought. No, he couldn’t ask for Master Leif. Not after what had happened. He groaned, shaking his head. “Well, find me our best mage. But not Master Leif, he’s… occupied.”

The servant nodded mutely, hurrying off without another word. Charles scowled at him as he left, before turning to Joffery with a dry, sardonic smile.

“It’s not so easy when you alienate your entire House,” Charles hissed, “is it?”

“Be quiet,” Joffery snarled, shoving Charles forward and continuing toward the basement. “Prisoners do not have permission to speak.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I needed permission now.”

“I said quiet. Don’t make this worse for yourself, Charles.”

“You told Jeniver that you weren’t going to hurt me,” Charles pointed out. “You wouldn’t lie to her, would you?”

Joffery gave no response, only silence. As it was, Charles wasn’t sure whether to take that as a good sign or a bad one.

Either way, it wasn’t much later when Charles found himself in the familiar musky basement of Marson Manor—only this time, he was on the opposite side of the bars. And of course, Joffery thought to confiscate his wand, as well, to ensure that he wouldn’t be able to fight back or try to escape.

“This cell has been reinforced after the rebel’s escape, as I’m sure you well know,” Joffery told him, staring coolly at the wand in his hand. “So there shall be no escape for you.”

“It’s not as though I had any other plans for today, after all,” Charles hissed back at him.

“And I’m here to ensure that you don’t. Because I certainly can’t have you conspiring with House Stallion.” Lord Joffery pocketed the wand, staring back at his uncle with a cold glare. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Charles narrowed his eyes. The man before him was his nephew, but not the nephew he knew. The boy’s usual carefree attitude had been entirely cast aside for something cold and unfeeling, mad with paranoia and keeping only his obvious lack of competence. If he kept making reckless decisions like this, it was going to spell the end for him and House Jade both.

“…If anything happens to Jeniver because of you,” Charles growled, “you will live to regret it.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be making such threats,” was Joffery’s only response. They were soon accompanied by a third man, the mage Joffery had sent for earlier, and Joffery immediately turned to address him. “I need you to stand guard over him,” he explained, gesturing to Charles. “Make sure he doesn’t try anything.”

The mage looked surprised, eyes darting between Lord Joffery and Charles in disbelief. However, knowing not to question the Lord of House Jade, the mage bowed. “Y-yes, my lord, of course.”

“Thank you,” Joffery said, before leaving without another word. With that problem out of the way, he had other things to worry about—namely, about Master Leif. With Jeniver sick, there was no telling what Leif might have done while she was unable to watch. He was told that the paralysis charm would last quite a while, but surely not this long. It must have worn off by now.

Sure enough, when he arrived at Leif’s room, he found it empty. He had escaped, of course he had. Lord Joffery scowled, turning on his heel and heading back into the hall. To the first servant he spotted, he demanded, “Where is Master Leif?”

Once again, the servant went pale, paralyzed with fear under the young lord’s accusatory glare. “A-actually, my lord, I meant to tell you…”

“What is it? Spit it out,” Joffery snapped.

“M-Master Leif is…” The servant swallowed. “He was found dead this morning.”

Joffery’s expression shifted to one of surprise. “What? He’s… dead?” When the servant nodded mutely, Joffery added, “Where? How?”

“He was found on the edge of town,” the servant explained. “We believe someone… someone killed him.”

There was a pause. And then, Joffery scowled. “House Stallion?”

“…It’s possible, my lord.”

Lord Joffery was silent, thinking on this. Master Leif, the man who had refused so strongly to fight back against the Stallions, had now been killed by their hands. It was almost poetic, really… but no less a crying shame. If only Leif had listened to him, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten himself killed. But it was too late now.

“…Thank you. For telling me,” Joffery muttered, pinching his brow as he continued on his way. Everything was quickly spiraling out of control, and he needed to find a way to stop it, and fast.

Meanwhile, in Solis...

SPOILER: Click to show

“I can’t believe this.”

Lord Reynold paced the halls of Jade Manor, mind racing with troubled thoughts. He was a boy of seventeen years, with dark hair and green eyes to match his father’s. His father who, as the news that recently came back to Solis told them, was now dead. And they put his older brother Joffery in charge. Joffery, that singing idiot. Didn’t they know that was a bad idea? Joffery didn’t care about his responsibilities, and he certainly didn’t know how to run a House.

This was confirmed by the news that soon followed—that Master Leif, their Archmage, had been killed by their rivals, House Stallion. Supposedly Joffery had gotten on Grand Duke Alain’s bad side, and now blood was being shed on both ends. The whole thing made Reynold feel sick.

This is what they get for putting Joffery in charge, he thought to himself bitterly. Joffery obviously has no idea what he’s doing. And now it’s all come to bloodshed. He scowled. They shouldn’t have let this happen. They should’ve just let him keep chasing the princess, and never put him in charge.

…The princess. Did they even care about the princess anymore, now that they were warring with House Stallion? Would the princess even want someone from a House so willing to shed innocent blood? Reynold was disgusted by the thought. His idiot brother hadn’t just cost them the Archmage’s life, but he cost them the throne. What else could Joffery possibly ruin? He was never meant to be Lord of the House, he was definitely never meant to be king… if only Father had listened to Reynold when he had the chance.

He’s just going to get himself killed, like Father was, Reynold thought glumly. A sardonic smile crossed his face for a second as he added, At least then I’d get to be Lord of the House. At least I care.

Suddenly, he paused in realization, a chill running down his spine. It was true; if Joffery were to die, Reynold would be the next in line. For so long, he had resented Joffery, the older brother who had remained the heir despite his obvious lack of responsibility… but Reynold would never kill his own brother. That was too far.

But with House Jade at war with House Stallion… if he had doomed himself to die anyway…

Dear ‘Woo, Joffery, what have you done to me? came the thought, as the boy frantically tried to push away fantasies of his brother’s death. He didn’t want Joffery to die; idiot or not, he was still his brother. Even if Joffery was the one who killed an innocent man, and by his negligence allowed Master Leif to die as well— No!

Struggling to calm himself down, Reynold’s thoughts raced. He… yes, he didn’t need Joffery to die for this to be a good thing. Joffery was obviously having trouble running the House, just like Reynold had always said he would. This was his chance to show them, to offer his own expertise, and to make things right. This was his chance to prove himself, and he had to take it.

With that, he hurried off to find the nearest servant, which thankfully didn’t take long. “Excuse me,” he said, “can you do me a favor?”

“Of course, my lord,” the servant replied dutifully. “What do you need?”

“I need to go to Medieville. Now,” Reynold told him. “Can you prepare a carriage for me?” A carriage would be slow, a phoenix would be faster, but it would have to do. He didn’t really want to get Anders or any of the fireknights involved in this.

The servant frowned at the request. “My lord?”

“Apparently things aren’t going too well up there,” Reynold explained. “I think Joffery needs my help.”

“I, uh… b-but who will take care of matters here?” the servant wondered.

“I don’t know, maybe Luella can do it. All I know is things are going bad, and I’m not about to sit idly by and let it happen.” Reynold narrowed his eyes. “Now will you please get me a carriage to Medieville?”

The servant was silent at first. And then, he bowed respectfully. “As you wish, my lord.”

Reynold smiled as the servant wandered off. Finally, he would have the chance to prove himself to the world. Now, when his House needed him most, was when he would finally get the respect he deserved.

One way or another.

[PFA]

*blows off the dust*

Hey! So I was going through some old Google Drive stuff, and I found some really, REALLY old scenes for this AU. I think I was waiting for more stuff to happen in the AU, but that's unlikely to happen at this point, so uhhh may as well just post them!

The realization...

SPOILER: Click to show

“For Woo’s sake, Joffery, you need to think about what you’re doing!” Helena shouted. “This isn’t what your father would have wanted!”

Lord Joffery was so tired of hearing that phrase. So many people had said it to him ever since he became the Lord of the House, as if they knew what his father expected of him. He knew what his father had expected of him—no one knew it better than him.

“Joffery, you will not sing tonight. I need you to take this seriously.”

“You need to learn to take responsibility, Joffery. Especially if you’re going to be in charge of this House someday…”

“Enough, Joffery. This is not the time for your nonsense. Do I make myself clear?”

“My father,” Joffery finally said, “would have wanted someone who was willing to put up a fight! He would have wanted someone who would be willing to make the hard decisions when the situation called for it—and by Woo, this situation calls for it! So if I have to be that man, if I have to make unpopular decisions for the greater good… then I’ll gladly do it! I’ll do it!” By now, he was practically screaming. “Even if I have to give up everything I have to protect my House, then I’LL DO IT! I am the Lord of this House, and if I have to, I will give up EVERYTHING!”

The room was silent, with all the eyes in the room pinned on Joffery. The young lord was breathing heavily, as he slowly realized the impact of what he had just said. As he glanced around at the horrified faces staring back at him, then at the empty seats that were previously filled… the thought came to him, as sudden and cold as death itself:

This was his House.

This was his family.

And ever since his father died, he had done nothing but drive them away.

Suddenly, he could feel all the angry eyes in the room boring into his soul. The empty seats wailed silently at him, with agonized voices that would never again be heard. His throat felt tight, from all the poisoned words that had left his lips. His hands felt wet, from all the blood that was shed…

He really had lost everything. And it was his own fault.

Was this really what his father would have wanted?

All at once, the pain he’d been keeping locked away in his heart burst forth. All he could do to keep his dignity was to whirl around, heading for the door as he muttered a choked, “This meeting is over.”

“Joffery!” his aunt called after him, in a harsh tone, but laced with frantic concern. “Joffery!”

But her cries went unheard, as Lord Joffery hurried down the halls of the manor, throwing himself into an empty room. It was appropriate—he was alone in his sorrows, for no one was left to care about him. His father was dead, Leif was dead, Charles and Xavier were gone, everyone else despised him… he was truly alone.

So with no one to see him, he fell to the ground, huddling into the corner. There was nothing he could do to stop the tears this time.

What have I done? the thought echoed in his mind. What have I done…

His anguished sobbing was the only sound for some time, penetrating the already piercing silence. He wanted nothing more than to shut out the world, to turn back the clock, to bring his father and everyone else back… but he knew it was impossible. It was too late; he had gone too far, and there was no hope for him anymore.

And then, suddenly, there was the soft creak of an opening door… and a quiet voice. “Joffery…?”

Joffery sniffed, wiping his tears on his sleeve. “Leave me alone, Jeniver.”

“Joffery, are you okay?” Jeniver asked, ignoring her cousin’s words and stepping into the room. “I’m really worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” he lied. But what did she care? He’d already broken her heart, too; surely she despised him, as well. “Please, just leave me be.”

Jeniver, however, gave a concerned frown. Though he’d been acting so mean and distant lately, Jeniver knew her cousin. This was the same cousin who would sing cheerful songs whenever he was happy, which was almost constantly. But now he was never happy, and he never sang anymore. This new him didn’t suit him at all… and deep down, she figured, he was realizing that, too.

She took a cautious step toward Joffery, then knelt down so she could wrap her arms around him in a comforting hug. Joffery resisted it at first, but after a few moments, he relaxed, leaning into the hug and crying softly. Jeniver smiled a little, patting him on the shoulder.

“You don’t have to be mean,” she assured him. “You can still be yourself.”

“…No,” Joffery choked through tears. “I can’t. We’re at war a-and I… I have to be strong. It…” He swallowed. “…It’s what my father wanted…”

“But you’re not at war with us,” Jeniver said. “You don’t have to do it alone. We can be here for you, if you’ll let us.”

“But they won’t. Th-they all hate me now. Father and Leif are dead, Xavier ran away, and your father…” Joffery shivered in Jeniver’s grasp as he felt another wave of tears coming on. “And everyone else hates me. They don’t care what I go through.”

Jeniver was silent at first, not sure what to say. But then, wrapping her arms more tightly around her cousin, she muttered, “Well, I’ll be here for you, anyway.”

And with that, they were silent, with naught but the sound of Joffery’s tears.

Apparently unfinished, but feelsy:

SPOILER: Click to show

“You know what would cheer you up?” Jeniver offered cheerfully. “You should sing something!”

Joffery frowned at this. “I don’t feel like singing.”

“You always feel like singing! Come on, you should try it. Please?” She looked up at him with pleading eyes. “For me?”

He considered this request, looking into his cousin’s eyes. She was so young, and so innocent… so full of hope. It did, in fact, remind him of a song. With a sigh, he finally relented, and started to sing.

“A silent voice cries out in pain,
A broken heart retells its sorrow,
If only we could start again,
Look forward to a bright tomorrow

“Father, please forgive me;
I’ve made some big mistakes
I’ve tried to be who I had to be,
No matter what it takes

“But it’s only led to tragedy,
I’ve brought this House to shame—
So father, please forgive me
For soiling your name…”

His voice cracked slightly at the last line, as the tears streamed down his cheeks again. Joffery frowned, turning away from Jeniver in a futile attempt to hide his sorrow. “That didn’t make me feel any better.”

Jeniver frowned, looking up at her cousin thoughtfully. Then, smiling faintly, she took his hand. She wasn’t as good a singer as he was, but she decided to help him by continuing the song.

“Please don’t cry, dear Joffery;
Just know you’re not alone
You’ll always be our family,
And there’s still time to atone...”

What was left behind...

SPOILER: Click to show

Everett was happy. Though his death had been sudden, the afterlife was a welcomed peace after a life of hardship. No more stress, no more politics... most of all, he was reunited with his lost loved ones. Really, what more could he have asked for?

“Everett…” Satine told him, after a stretch of silence. “I’m worried about Joffery.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Everett replied.

“I’m not so sure. You were assassinated,” Satine pointed out. “What does that mean for House Jade? What if Joffery is next?”

Everett was silent, not sure how to respond.

“It would ease my heart to know he’s alright,” Satine said. “Perhaps you could check on him for me?”

There was a pause. And then, Everett let out a sigh. “…Alright. I suppose a quick check couldn’t hurt.”

Satine smiled, kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you, dear.”

“Anything for you, my love.”

And with that, Everett’s spirit left his wife’s side, if just for a short time, to return to the mortal realm.

He was not at all prepared for what he found when he did.

There was a thick air of tension in Marson Manor. The servants went about their business at a frantic pace, with glum looks on their faces. Some of them were conversing in hushed whispers, saying something about a war with House Stallion. Everett frowned. War? Had his death really caused that much of a stir?

“Excuse me,” he spoke up, trying to get the attention of the servants. When they didn’t respond, he moved closer, speaking louder. “Excuse me.”

But they still didn’t respond. It didn’t take Everett long to realize why—apparently they couldn’t see or hear him. Perhaps for good reason, as the return of their dead Lord of Embers would surely cause a commotion… but it was nonetheless aggravating. Everett sighed, deciding to look through the rest of the manor. Surely someone here would be able to hear him, and hopefully give him some answers.

As he moved through the halls of Marson Manor, however, he couldn’t help but notice the absence of some usually prominent individuals. Master Leif was nowhere to be seen, he couldn’t find Lord Charles, and that timid vigilante he had hired seemed to be missing, too. A sinking feeling came over Everett, remembering what those servants had said—war with House Stallion. Dear Woo, had they really…?

No, it can’t be that bad, Everett tried to convince himself. This is Grand Duke Alain we’re talking about. He would never… would he?

If he’d still had a heart, it would have been pounding in his chest as he drew near to what had previously been his room. He’d passed by Joffery’s old room earlier, noticing that it had been emptied. As the new Lord of the House, it made sense that they would move Joffery to the room that had been set aside for Everett. It was the most prominent room in the manor, after all, and the best protected—probably now more than ever. A scowl crossed his face. How that assassin had managed to get inside, he would never know.

Either way, he needed to find Joffery. From the snippets of conversations he had heard from the servants… he needed to know the truth.

Everett paused in front of the door, relieved somewhat when he heard the faint sound of Joffery’s voice from inside. At the same time, he was nervous. He wanted so badly to believe that Joffery could handle himself well, but what if he was wrong? What if he really— wait, he thought he could hear another voice from the room. Was that… Jeniver?

Finally, he reached to open the door… just to have his hand go right through it. Right, he was dead. He groaned inwardly, before taking the chance and instead moving right through the door. It was an… unusual sensation, definitely, but it worked, allowing him into the room.

“You just have to believe in yourself!” Jeniver was saying, apparently trying to reassure her older cousin. Everett was perplexed. Was his young niece now Joffery’s advisor? The sinking feeling returned. What did it say about the state of House Jade if a fifteen-year-old girl was doing all the advising?

“I… I don’t know if I can,” came Joffery’s voice. If Everett was concerned before, now he was downright devastated. There was his son, his head hung in sorrow, with a pain on his face far more real than he had ever seen on the boy before. It was the pain of war, the pain of a grown man who’d made grave mistakes.

Deadly mistakes.

No, Everett thought in horror. No, it can’t be… dear Woo, please no…

“Come on, Joffery, you have to try,” Jeniver insisted. “I know it’s hard, but you can’t give up.”

“Jeniver, I…” Joffery finally looked up, his voice suddenly trailing off. He abruptly paled, his eyes wide in horror as he stared straight toward… it didn’t take long to realize it. Joffery could see his father’s ghost.

Everett frowned deeply. “Joffery, you—”

But Joffery wouldn’t have any of it. At that point, he completely broke down, fleeing from the room without another word.

“Joffery?!” Jeniver yelped, caught completely off-guard by this sudden outburst.

“Joffery!” Everett called after him, but it was no use—he was already gone. As Everett watched him leave, the whole situation slowly started to sink in. The hushed whispers of the servants, the missing people, the look on Joffery’s face… everything had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

And it all started when he died. When Joffery took over.