Lucretia Mariposa Ambrose Arnis

All four University researchers, nominal or otherwise, took a self-propelled carriage Ruben had privately rented back to the capital. Despite his position, the prince had opted for a much more understated vehicle. Its old, peeling blue lacquer exterior didn’t warrant a second glance, though the inside was roomy and well-cushioned enough for the four of them that it still felt strangely luxurious. Moreover, with less need for rest stops like the public wagons undertook, the trip would be cut in half, though that still meant two days of constant travel, with the quartet taking shifts driving the wagon.

Andrew was outside on the driver’s bench, trying to manage the reins of the vehicle, while Damon was taking in the outside. Ruben sat next to him, and quietly watched Cerise. While he hadn’t known her for too long, he had come to characterize her with restless energy; even if she wasn’t fighting underground, arguing with a student, or wrangling one of her bubbling concoctions, then she was at least fighting boredom itself, trying to keep busy.

It was unreal to see her so composed, sitting by an open window to look out, while a stray breeze lifted her pink locks almost artistically. It was like looking at a completely different woman, glowing in the afternoon light.

The prince really had only one thing to say.

“I can’t believe you’re sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” Cerise denied, even as she ground her cheek into her raised palm.

“It’s not like we could handle the capture and transport of those three men ourselves,” Ruben affirmed once more. “I had to get Mountain Maw’s guards to come over to the temple.”

“And now they know people actually visit it,” Cerise moaned, lolling back in her seat in despair. “I’ll have to go some place else for years before they forget, if they do.”

“It can’t be that bad, right?” Damon suggested, before prodding Cerise’s backpack on the floor with his shoe. “You got everything you wanted from there, right?”

“Barely, no thanks to you guys,” the witch groused. “The moment Ruben went down to town, I had to run around like a maniac getting everything. And I would have taken Syuan and Kanis’s materials, but you and Andrew kept whining it was ‘evidence’...”

“I’ll smooth things over,” Ruben promised. “As far as the guards know, we were on an approved research trip, and we just ran into criminals. The headmistress will probably agree to put in some backdated forms, and we’ll just put out a few extra essays…”

“That means telling the University about the temple!” Cerise whined after clicking her tongue. “That’s like telling everyone about your favorite spot in the library. I have a life separate from the school, you know? The last thing I need is for more of you guys to come in to pick that place clean.”

From his corner of the wagon, Damon piped up, “Well, it’s either writing about where you’ve been or claiming you went out to Mountain Maw to party. I mean, I’m happy enough to back up that claim, but with the way I hear how you’ve been ticking off the professors…”

Cerise kicked the side of his foot in retaliation, and the redhead turned his head to hide a laugh. The conversation ended there, and the three sat in silence for some time, until Ruben spoke up again.

“Cerise, I hate to ask you this so soon, but is it true that the two men were from Turmen?”

The witch turned towards the prince, regarding him with some curiosity. In her mind, he was always that flighty noble who always seemed to move just a little faster than his mind could keep up with. Right now, in its place was a sterner, more focused prince, with ice metaphors better suiting the blue of his eyes that were normally seated in a puppyish face. But now Ruben stared at her, fully taking in the news of something that happened in Arnis, the nation he shared his name with.

Cerise wondered if he shared that same sort of zeal for his research. Ultimately she put that thought away and shrugged as she answered.

“They didn’t straight up admit their nationality, but the way they acted when I insinuated it made it seem like they were trying to keep Turmen a secret. They immediately went all in on silencing me because I was putting two and two together. And of course, their names aren’t exactly typical of locals here,” She answered, before snorting. “Then again, my name’s Cerise…”

“Circumstantial and coincidental, then,” Ruben hummed, eyes downcast in thought. “They could just be fugitives that wanted to stay under the radar. And they didn’t reveal what they were trying to accomplish by harvesting reagents?”

“I could have found out if I saw what they took,” Cerise huffed as she leaned against the window in mock despair. “I have no idea what they were planning, or even if they know what they could do with it, but I could at least guess. But it’s all in the hands of the guard, now.”

“I can’t intervene that much,” Ruben answered. “But I am interested in this situation. I can have the details of the following investigation forwarded to me when it’s done. The guards will know better than to hide anything from me.”

“What is the deal with Turmen and Arnis, anyways?” Cerise asked. “Are we at each other’s throats or what?”

“Just empire making,” The prince answered, eyes shut in distaste. “I don’t know if there’s any real origin. Arnis is growing in prosperity, and Turmen is trying to match them. Of course, all the political theorists say there’s not enough resources on this land to sustain progress on both sides, so…”

“I haven’t seen a military build up.”

“It’s not that bad yet, but it’s not for nothing that the University is trying to increase enrollment. The more Masters of Breath we have, the better, as it were. And of course, if your assailants are from Turmen, then there’s more going behind the scenes.”

Cerise frowned. “Is that why Sanarsmark headhunted me after you told her about me?”

“I hope not. I hope she’s willing to support you just because of your methods in and of itself. The moment things start fully focusing on war, it’s over. It’s honestly why I’m worried about my sister taking the throne after my father…”

This was the second time the royal sister was brought up, and the second time it was that she was not spoken with warmth.

“Does she want war?” Cerise asked, warily.

Ruben shook his head, yet the worry was still clear on his face. “I don’t think so. But I don’t know… she’s far less accommodating with Turmen. If she finds out what happened to you…”

Cerise shrugged, hand raised in emphasis. “Well, I don’t know her, and I’m not about to tell a complete stranger about my daily schedule. Didn’t you say she’s not even here, anyways?”

“Thankfully. She’s studying law elsewhere. The last thing we need is her whipping the palace into a frenzy.”

Cerise didn’t follow up on that conversation. By then, Andrew had stopped the wagon and demanded a change in drivers, and Cerise decided to volunteer. With the spires of Arnis Heart on the horizon, the rest of the trip involved the witch wondering if there was a better way to direct a carriage beyond a pair of reins, regardless of if horses were still in use elsewhere. Not that she had any sense of engineering.

The sun hung low in the sky by the time Cerise wheeled their transport into a storehouse at the edge of the campus where rental and communal vehicles were stored, and Cerise’s strange collection of associates emerged into a courtyard painted deep orange, sliced through with dark shadows.

They groaned and stretched, finally free of the tight quarters and rough roads, and Cerise sighed in relief alongside them.

“Well, I gotta store my finds as soon as possible,” the witch said, hefting the backpack on her shoulders for emphasis. “So, uh, thanks for everything. I know you guys will keep hunting me down later, so I will see you all later.”

“Do you have to do it now?” Damon asked, frowning. “Come on, get dinner with us or something. Sick of the sandwiches we brought along, I need a proper steak!”

“Come if you want, I’m getting something to eat no matter what,” Andrew snorted, but still smirked at Cerise.

The pink-haired woman opened her mouth to answer, but her first syllable was drowned out by brassy fanfare.

Her priorities immediately changed as she turned to glare at the two rows of trumpeters that she had somehow ignored until now. “What self-important moron needs a self-introduction?”

But as the notes of the short tune resounded, a sense of growing recognition seemed to capture everyone in the area, as they turned to the trumpeters. Of them all, the prince seemed to startle the most.

“That’s the royal leitmotif?” Ruben muttered in disbelief. But before long his eyes began to widen in growing realization. “Then… oh no…”

As the song ended, one of the trumpeters turned from the two lines, and hollered to the crowd with all the energy he could muster.

“One and all of Arnis! Those here with ears to hear and eyes to see! Make yourself presentable before our kingdom’s queen apparent! Princess Lucretia Mariposa Ambrose Arnis!”

Amid a wave of hushed awe, a woman glided past the two columns of trumpeters, and each step made more of the crowd bow their heads in reverence.

Cerise watched instead, eyes narrowed.

The woman, dressed in understated but rich dark reds, had an uncanny resemblance to Ruben in all the ways that mattered, but her shading was all off. Ruben, with his gold hair and bright blue eyes, looked for all the world like he absorbed the sun’s rays and beamed them around himself.

This new face though, this Lucretia… such vitality seemed drained from her. Her skin was chalkier, her hair more platinum, and her eyes icier.

But the poise and bearing was far more imperious, more proper than Ruben. So this was a princess of the kingdom?

Lucretia looked about, and seemed to near instantly fix her gaze on the four of them.

Ruben gulped. His sister’s lips curled upwards.