image [https://i.imgur.com/CBBjk0j.png]

CHAPTER XVI:

The Withering Rose

Afternoon,

27 Flamestar 1011,

The Age of Night

22 Days until the Night of the Moon

Grazzli Boathouse, Fioran Province,

Fioran Empire

Síbela sighed as she walked the docks of her family's boathouse. The Flamestar was shining bright and the water was cool, inviting her to dip her feet in. She took off her sandals and lifted the fringes of her dress's skirt to let her toes touch the surface of the water, feeling the coolness envelope them. She then slowly submerged her feet, feeling the refreshing sensation travel up her legs.

She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. The air felt thin and her lungs burned with each inhalation. She tried to calm herself, focusing on the rise and fall of her chest, but the sensation of suffocation persisted. She wondered if it was anxiety or something more serious, but for now, all she could do was take slow, deliberate breaths and hope that the feeling would pass.

Síbela sat idle, her legs dangling over the edge of the wooden pier, as she gazed out at the horizon. The Flamestar had begun its slow descent behind the towering trees, casting a warm orange glow across the sky. As she soaked in the soothing ambiance of the evening, she felt the edge of the strange buzz that seemed to cloud her vision regularly. She tried to focus on the pleasing sensation of her feet in the water, but found it nearly impossible. To make matters worse, her moment of rest was abruptly interrupted by the sound of chirping and startled, flapping wings. Looking around, she saw a group of birds frantically flying out of their nests in the nearby woods, disturbed by an unsettling presence. Her heart raced, wondering what was causing the commotion.

Shortly after, another noise further broke the tranquility. It was the sound of footsteps crunching along the desire paths that led to the boathouse. Her senses heightened, she quickly withdrew her feet from the water, causing a small splash. With a sense of urgency, she ran towards the side of the house where her trusted Drü Bow lay, set aside from her earlier stroll in the woods.

Once she reached the bow, she inspected the bundle of arrows laid next to it with military precision. She grabbed two of them, ensuring they were in proper condition for use. Loading an arrow into the bow and pointing it towards the source of the approaching footsteps, she curled the other under her pinky. Crouched and fixated on the rocks and treeline surrounding the house, she was ready to defend herself and her dwelling.

She took cover on the side of the house as a figure slowly came into view. It was a len. He was uniformed in a black velvet officer's regalia, with silver accents. He wore it somewhat unkempt, haggard, ostensibly from laboring in it. He bore a rapier on his hip, and was whimsically waltzing towards the boathouse while smoking from a pipe. Her eyes widened in recognition. The len, now just feet from the house, leaned over to scan the windows and surroundings. Finding no one, he began to knock gently on the door. In a flash, Síbela revealed herself, lunging from around the corner and pointing the arrow directly at the len's heart.

"Halt!" She yelled. The len wasn't startled, kept his pipe in his mouth, and raised his hands in surrender.

"Got me." The familiar voice said.

Síbela smiled, and lowered her bow, laying it to the side, and ran over to him, embracing him.

"Roszenstan...!" She groaned. "You came...!"

"Oh no, just decided to take a day's long jaunt through the Fioran Wood. Well, of course I did, Grazzli!" He said, pulling a folded parchment from his breast pocket. "You sent me a letter, dummy,"

Roszenstan's eyes twinkled with a mix of amusement and warmth as he unfolded the parchment. "I must say, your words did have me concerned. I couldn't just ignore them." He handed the letter back to Síbela.

Síbela, still holding onto Roszenstan, took the letter and glanced over it once again. The words she had written in a moment of desperation now seemed so distant. "I didn't think you'd actually come," she admitted, her voice tinged with relief and disbelief. "I know you're busy now, being a street cop and all that."

Roszenstan chuckled, the sound echoing softly in the cool evening air. "When have I ever failed to deliver?" He looked around the boathouse and the surrounding area. "This place hasn't changed much, has it?"

"No, it hasn't," Síbela replied, leading Roszenstan towards a bench near the water. They sat down, the old wood creaking under their weight. "I've been trying to keep everything as it was. It's been tough, but..."

He continued to marvel at it's beauty.

"How many Flamestars did you, Dary, and I spend here as children?"

"Many." She said.

"Yeah. Until..." Rosz said, suddenly furling his brow, becoming bothered by something.

"But you're managing, as always," He said, snapping out of it, his gaze softening. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Grazzli."

"Please, come inside. She said, I'll make us some tea."

Rosz removed his leather gloves and his hat and ducked under the lintel of the door, and entered.

Síbela poured warm amber liquid into fine porcelain teacups, delicately placing sliced oranges and freshly picked hibiscus flowers inside.

"You gathered these yourself?" Rosz asked, folding up his flowing sleeves.

"Mhm," She said, as she elegantly and carefully served them. "This morning, actually, I got them from the woods,". As she mixed the ingredients together, steam began to rise from the concoction, releasing a sweet and floral aroma that filled the air. With a satisfied smile, she finally sat down, delighted at the sight of her friend.

"So... Sir Roszenstan," She said, playfully.

Rosz let out the smallest chortle.

"That's an archaic term now, Grazzli." He said. "The Gormese dynasty is over, we're in the future now. It's just Officer Critz these days."

He folded his leg over the other and examined the house.

"So... how long have you been staying here?" He asked, smiling at her.

She looked down at her cup as she opened a ceramic container, and scooped sugar from it. She dumped the sugar in and began to stir, blowing on the tea occasionally.

"I don't know, a few weeks or so?"

Roszenstan smiled again at her, and then took the tea himself, sipping it and wincing a bit.

"Not quite ready yet, I'd say."

"Hot tea on a hot day, I'm sorry it's not iced." Síbela said.

Roszenstan chortled again.

"It's certainly not Castle Fiora or your father's house."

Síbela sipped and raised her eyebrows, also amused by his comment. "No it is not,"

"How has that been, by the way?" Rosz asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, staying in the Castle." He asked, "I mean, you're basically moved in at this point, at least... that's what Dary told me last."

"No, not quite." She replied. "My things are still at home with my father, and until my mother's vanity is brought, I will not consider myself 'moved in'"

"I see, I see." Said Rosz, sipping on the tea.

Síbela tilted her head, and looked deeply at him, seeing if she could notice any changes in him.

"Aren't you so glad we made it out of those horrifying years?" Síbela mused.

Rosz glanced at her, his eyelids half opened, as if he had shifted into a sternness that contradicted his normal jovial attitude.

"Well." He said. "I don't know if I can say that.... I don't think they're over. Far from it, actually. There is still a war raging in the Drümmarg, in case you forgot."

"Oh." She said. "Yes."

"Cuddling with Daryusz in the castle has changed you, Grazzli."

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She reached over and playfully slapped him.

"Perhaps," She said, sipping on the cup which was now at a comfortable temperature. For a moment, she stretched out her jaw and rubbed her hand into her temples, as the strange haze that seemed to cloud her vision reappeared, momentarily.

"Are you... feeling alright?"

"...Yes... yes." She said, stretching her jaw some more. "Just a headache."

"Has the city changed you?" She asked, quickly, shifting the subject away from her true feelings.

"No," He said. "I handle street urchins, petty thieves, prostitutes, the usual refuse of society,"

"Well, you have changed too, Rosz," She continued. "You've changed a lot. For years, none of us ever thought you would be caught dead wearing an imperial uniform."

"Well, neither did I," He said. "But you know, just like your letter, you were very compelling when you gave me that speech to see things your way, all those years ago,"

"Aren't you glad you switched sides?" She asked. "We got you to believe in a new Fiora, didn't we."

Roszenstan was awkwardly quiet. He seemed to stare off into space. Síbela, in lady-like fashion, tried not to acknowledge the tension by drinking from her cup.

"Got anything harder?" He asked, not at all what she expected he was about to say.

"Tsk." She said. "Not that again... I thought you were done with all of that?"

Rosz raised his hands up in surrender and adjusted himself to become more comfortable. "City life has changed me, what can I say,"

"Ha! But when you talk like that, it sounds like it kept you the same, if you ask me Rosz." Síbela chortled.

"I'd say I believe in the new Fiora," Rosz said, continuing the previous conversation, no longer making eye-contact. "Until a new-new-Fiora rises in its shadow. That's the Fiora I'm most interested to see..."

"To be honest." He said. "I don't know if I believe in anything, anymore, Síbela. Nothing besides coin... and... cold steel. And... whatever devilish delights may amuse me at any given time."

The awkward silence was now palpable after this comment. Síbela didn't know what to say to such a cynical comment.

"How is it working for Captain Minsz again?"

"Funny." He said.

"Funny?"

"Yeah, funny." Rosz continued. "When I crossed over into the revolutionary forces, we were equals. I thought those days of ol' firebrand Minsz barking at me were over. Now, just like when we were children, I'm taking orders from her again. It's funny to me."

"...Tell her I said hello when you see her,"

Rosz took a sip from the tea with his right hand, and dangled his left above the floor,

"She's retiring," He said, hazily.

"Oh?" Síbela replied. "I never thought I'd live to see the day..."

"Caught us all off guard in the city." He said. "She announced it just a few days ago. It was... odd."

"Why do you say that?" She asked.

"Because, she had never shown any signs of tiring or any lack of energy. She's still got a tight lid on things." He said. "I mean, she kept the city safe during the plague years, with the exception of the 93' riots... She's a legend, she is."

"Isn't she?" She responded.

"You've always been partial." Rosz quipped, sipping his tea. "Chimera's gotta stick together or something like that?"

"Yeah." She replied, smiling. "Something like that."

The awkward silence returned.

"So." He asked. "You didn't call for me to just have a tea party, did you?"

Síbela suddenly turned flush, unable to conceal it under her Venganzi nature.

"I... beg your pardon?" She said.

Rosz started shaking his head and put his hands on his face.

"No, no," He expressed. "I didn't mean that,"

He began unfolding the parchment once more.

"I just mean, you wrote this with such urgency..."

She tried to sip from the tea, which was almost gone, leaving just the petals and the orange slices.

"...Why are you here, Síbela?" He asked her frankly. "Are you in trouble or something?"

"I didn't call you here because you're in the guard now, if that's what you're wondering." She bit, sharply.

She was clearly becoming uncomfortable.

"Well... it's... my father." She said, reluctantly.

"Your father?" He asked, confused. "What's wrong with your father?"

"Well... nothing." She said. "I shouldn't have said anything,"

"Síbela, please." Said Rosz. "Our families have been friends since before we were born, and we have been friends since we were children. I'm going to be Daryusz' best man. So in a sense... I'm his gentlelen-in-waiting. You can trust me."

Síbela froze, lost in thought, as the Flamestar began to set, causing shafts of light to refract from the windows, painting orange and red hues on their faces.

"I don't know if he's okay, Rosz."

"Why not?"

"He... has not been himself lately." said Síbela.

"How so." Rosz said, commandingly, like a true guardsman.

"Well... you know, he has never been very religious...he has always been a man of science...

"His ingenuity contributed to the falconet, after all." Said Rosz. "Go on..."

"Well, he started going off about 'things he saw in the catacombs' beneath the city, and started talking about Lumenaris and Umbraneth, the damned, the end of the world."

Rosz laughed.

"The legends of monsters in the catacombs of Fioranz finally planted a worry seed in him, eh?"

He then looked around the room and furled his brow again in thought.

"No..." He said pensively, "I agree, for a ven of his caliber, that is strange."

"It... isn't so strange that he would turn to religion, he's over two hundred years old." Said Síbela.

"That's young for a Venganzi, Grazzli." Rosz responded.

"Well... fine, but it was unlike him. He kept going on and on about it, it was scary... he told me to gather my things and escape the city at once... so here I am, waiting for word from him. He said I would be safest here."

Rosz looked deep in her eyes for a moment, then leaned forward, folding his hands around the teacup.

"So, come back." He said. "I promise you'll be safe under my watch. I'll post guards around you from starrise to starfall."

"We had guards, Rosz," She remarked. "My father seemed... especially suspicious of them,"

"That's odd." Rosz said, now raisng an eybrow.

Síbela gently lifted her handkerchief and wiped her mouth, placing it back into her lap, clinking the finished teacup to the side of the small table.

"I'm sorry but... I've got to ask," He continued, leaning in. "Did your father say anything... disparaging against the Venrex or the governor?"

Síbela blinked.

"Is Rosz asking me, or Officer Critz?"

Rosz took her hand, gently holding it.

"Your friend, always." He said.

She looked at him and wanted to feel the warmth of their old friendship... but she felt nothing. Still, the words seemed to fly from her lips.

"He said that I needed to 'get as far away from the imperial hounds as possible'" She replied.

Rosz let go of her hand, turned his legs out from under the table, folded his hands, and stared at the wall, thinking to himself again. After a few more awkward, tense moments... Síbela began to regret summoning Roszenstan there.

"Your father," He said, clearing his throat. "Is one of the most loyal servants of Venrex Venzio. Was he drinking?"

"It did not appear to me so... but it did appear as if he had been up all night. His robes smelled musty and were damp, too... I believe him, I think he was in the catacombs all night."

"Síbela, there are no threats lurking beneath the catacombs of Fioranz." He said dismissively. "Let's just establish that, please,"

"Then what else could it be?"

"There are endless possibilities," Said Rosz, as he lifted himself from the table, and reached for his coat and hat.

"I'll look into it," Roszenstan finally said. "Quietly, of course. If your father is being blackmailed or something, we don't want to stir up unnecessary panic or draw attention."

Síbela nodded, strangely feeling a void where she expected to feel a weight lift off her shoulders. "Thank you, Rosz. I just want to make sure he's safe."

"Of course, Grazzli." He said, putting his leather gloves back on. "You and your family are important to me. You know that." As he stood up, his expression was serious yet compassionate. "I should head back soon, though. I'll start covering ground first thing tomorrow."

Síbela rose too, but feeling empty. "Will you write to me, to keep me informed?"

"Of course. I'll send word, and I'll be back. To check on you."

As Roszenstan prepared to leave, Síbela walked him to the door. She coughed a bit and pressed her hands into her temples again. They stood there for a moment and embraced once more.

"I must ask you." He said. "I must try."

Síbela looked at him with a look of concern. "Try what?"

"Please." He said. "Come back to the city."

"Come home?" She said. "You know I can't."

"Please Grazzli. You're in less danger there, than... here." Rosz insisted.

"Take care, Rosz. And be careful," Síbela said, her voice tinged with concern as she rubbed his back through his black coat.

"...You too, Grazzli." He replied, reluctantly. "Your secrets are safe with me. I want you to remember, you're not alone in this."

He pulled her in and kissed her cheek. When he did, it was as if she were an effigy. He looked at her in her eyes and his own seemed to tinge with a somberness he couldn't explain.

They locked eyes for a moment, but Rosz couldn't feel anything.

"Just. Find some rest." He said, his eyes seeming to redden ever so slightly. "Maybe... find some of those flowers you like. Wear them in your hair... and..."

He put his black leather hand on her chin.

"Find something for that... headache."

She closed her eyes and smiled as she let him go.

Roszenstan stepped out into the night with those parting words, crunching the sandy shoal, leaving Síbela alone with her thoughts and the gentle sound of the water lapping against the docks. She stood there for several minutes, watching him walk away under the Flamestar with folded arms.