Chapter Text
The stone courtyard stank of iron and smoke, torchlight flickering across polished spears leveled at the party. The city guard had them cornered, suspicion sharp in their eyes.
Snowy stood front and center, his tabard immaculate despite the chaos, bright blue eyes fierce beneath windswept white hair that looked sculpted by divine hands rather than mortal winds. His gloved fingers twitched against the hilt of his sword, righteous indignation brimming like a storm barely contained.
“These are not commonfolk!” he declared, voice carrying the authority of judgment itself. “They are evil fey in disguise—creatures who would see your city burn!” His tone struck with conviction so pure it could have carved marble.
The guards hesitated, shifting uneasily—until another figure stepped forward.
Kallum.
Tall, broad, blond hair cut short against the sweat of battle, red tattoos like warpaint carved along his arms. His presence radiated menace even before one noticed he was still soaked in blood. It dripped down his leathers in uneven streaks, pooling darkly at his boots. He said nothing. Just stood there. Breathing. Watching.
The guards stiffened. The suspicion on their faces sharpened into fear, then distrust.
From somewhere outside the narrative, Castorice’s voice cut through like a blade:
“Roll with disadvantage.”
Snowy froze mid-speech. He looked up from the storybook seriousness, incredulous. “Seriously?”
The guards’ spears lowered another inch, and Kallum’s silence only deepened the unease.
“—wait, wait, wait. Cas, seriously? Isn’t that against the rules? Can he really just make me roll again??” Phainon leaned forward, incredulous, as if sheer outrage might bend the game back into fairness.
“I am the rules, Lord Phainon,” Castorice replied smoothly, voice dripping with mock authority. She had this… odd grin on her face, as if watching Mydei sabotage Phainon charisma roll was the best thing she's ever seen.
Phainon groaned and collapsed back into his seat. Mydei and Hyacine both chuckled, Hyacine covering her mouth politely while Mydei didn’t even bother to hide it.
“Serves you right. Why would anyone listen to an excuse like that?”
Phainon glared, “Alright, fine. Mydei—”
He paused before a wicked smile appeared on his face.
“Actually, can I divine smite Mydeimos?” Phainon asked, flipping through his sheet with suspicious intent.
“You can.”
“What—hey!” Mydei sat bolt upright, scandalized.
Phainon only smiled sweetly. “Really!?”
“It’s okay, De, I have Revivify prepared,” Hyacine offered gently, already shuffling through her character sheet.
“That’s a waste of a spell slot—” Mydei snapped, scandal mounting.
Hyacine just smiled serenely. “Time for some plot, De!”
“I’m upcasting to 4th level,” Phainon declared, his voice all too gleeful.
“Roll to hit,” Castorice intoned like a judge delivering a sentence.
“HEY—wait, Phai—” Mydei started, leaning across the table.
Phainon narrowed his eyes, dice clutched in hand as Mydei slowly retracted his hand from Phainon's thigh at the other man's glare. “Er… my love, c’mon—I’m on like twenty HP—”
“Good.”
The die clattered against the table, spun in a maddening circle, then landed squarely upright.
“Nat twenty!” Phainon yelled out, Hyacine already giggling holding her sheet up to hide her smile.
Castorice didn’t even blink. “Critical hit. Roll double damage.”
“Wait, wait—” Mydei glared at Phainon who was already shaking dice in his hand.
Laughter burst across the room—Hyacine doubled over with tears in her eyes, Cipher letting out a bark of laughter from where she lounged half-participating, and even Castorice’s stern façade cracked into a grin.
And then—
“Why,” came a sharp, tired voice from the doorway, “are you all awake?”
Everyone froze.
Phainon’s hand hovered over his dice like a guilty child. Mydei slowly closed his character sheet as if that would erase the evidence. Hyacine cleared her throat, smoothing her hair back in some desperate attempt at composure. Cipher immediately pretended to be asleep.
Castorice, of course, didn’t even flinch. He just smiled, leaned back, and said smoothly—
“We’re… running a very important campaign.”
“Why,” came a sharp, tired voice from the doorway, “are you all awake?”
Everyone froze.
Phainon’s hand hovered guiltily above his dice, shoulders stiff. Mydei, caught mid-page, snapped his character sheet shut as though paper could erase the evidence. Hyacine cleared her throat delicately, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a futile attempt to look presentable. Cipher slumped sideways in his chair and began a very unconvincing snore.
Castorice didn't move an inch.
“We’re… running a very important campaign.”
The figure in the doorway remained unmoved. Aglaea stood there with arms folded, her expression sharp enough to slice the laughter lingering in the air.
“You’ve been here for seven hours,” she said, voice stern. “Did you all forget about the missions from today?”
Phainon, still seated like a student caught cheating, raised his hand as if seeking permission to speak. “Actually, I cleared the rest of the neighboring villages early.”
Aglaea’s eyes narrowed. “You needn’t push yourself, Phainon.”
“I–I know, Lady Aglaea.” His voice softened, guilty, and he lowered his hand like a chastised child.
Her gaze shifted to Hyacine next. “And you? Do you not have work?”
Hyacine shrank under the weight of her stare, shrugging sheepishly. “Um… I’ve been saving my break for this?”
Aglaea’s silence lingered. Then her head turned toward Mydei.
“…?”
Mydei looked left, then right, as if answers might appear from the walls. “…Uh.” He scratched the back of his neck. “…Team bonding?”
Aglaea’s lips pressed into a thinner line. Finally, her attention slid to the lump pretending to nap in the corner. “I know you’re not asleep, little kitty.”
Cipher cracked one eye open. “M–meow?”
The silence that followed was deafening.
“Castorice,” Aglaea said at last, “just make sure they all sleep after. It’s been seven hours.”
“I will, Lady Aglaea,” Castorice answered smoothly, inclining her head like a dutiful servant.
Aglaea sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before turning back toward the hall. “Seven hours,” she muttered, shaking her head as she disappeared down the corridor.
The door clicked shut.
There was a long pause. Then Phainon leaned forward and whispered, “...So does that mean I still get to roll damage?”
Hyacine slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, Mydei groaned, and Cipher—now fully awake—grinned like a devil.
Castorice only smirked, fingers drumming against the table. “Yes. Roll.”
Phainon grinned like a madman, rolling the dice right in Mydei’s face so the numbers rattled against the table.
“Do you still love me even after I deal…” he squinted, counting on his fingers, “fifty-nine damage to you, love?”
Mydei scoffed, leaning back with folded arms. “Questioning my love over a silly game is childish.” His voice was flat. “Although, because I love you… this act won't go unpunished,” he leaned in close, lips brushing near Phainon’s ear. Whatever he whispered was too quiet for anyone else to catch.
Phainon’s face went red in an instant, a dangerous flush creeping across his cheeks. He chuckled, low and breathless. “Ohohohhh, Mydeimos… try me then.”
The tension between them thickened, charged, enough to make Castorice cough awkwardly as she closed her book holding all her notes. “…After this I think we should end the session here…”
“Awhhh—really?” Hyacine’s voice cracked with disappointment, her pink pigtails swaying as she leaned forward in protest.
“Yes.”
“Yes,” came the flat response in unison—Cipher and Castorice both, their voices overlapping.
Neither Phainon nor Mydei seemed to notice. They were locked in their own little duel of smiles and half-daring whispers, the game long since abandoned in favor of their endless, dangerous flirting.
Castorice sighed, folding his hands like a weary parent watching children run wild. Cipher just stretched and smirked “Glad they’ve got an exciting night ahead of them,”
They both knew the truth—Hyacine might hope for another hour of playtime, but there would be no more adventuring tonight. Castorice had already resigned herself: she wouldn’t be seeing either of them until next week’s session.
Good for them. Probably.