"Well, don't you just look lovely, dearie?" Mrs. Prisca said as she placed the wreath on Rynnelle's head, the veil falling over the right side of her face as Mrs. Prisca pulled Rynnelle's hair into a bun." Spitting image of your mother, you are."

Rynnelle gave her a polite nod and a half-hearted smile as she looked herself over. She stood in front of a tri-fold mirror flocked by the maids who stared at her in adoration. She was wearing a flowing, elegant ruby red dress, a pelegrín of twinkling olivine cloud stuff draped over her shoulders that hid the open back. A pair of high-heeled shoes added nearly a head to her height. On the one hand, she had her family's signet ring, a bright green gemstone with pink intrusions. On the other was her engagement ring, with a gem that shone like the sun. It matched with earrings in her left ear, three shining gemstones connecting via chains to attach to a ring in her nose.

It was beautiful, and there was a time in her life when Rynnelle would've looked at the outfit with as much wonder as the maids, but that person was little more than a stranger to her now.

The night was coming to a head, and all Rynnelle could do was smile and pretend that she wasn't overwhelmingly dreading the events to come. Her dreams the night before were cryptic at best, yet Rynnelle let them influence her all the same, all in the meager hope it may untangle the mess she got herself in all those years ago.

Rynnelle thought of Dashard. Remembering his devastated state after hearing the news of the Siren's destruction, to the rage on his face when he saw Silverhand. She'd never pried into why it bothered him so badly, but Rynnelle was sure she'd have to find a way to make up for standing by Silverhand instead of him.

There was a polite knock on the door. Mrs. Prisca hustled to open it and moved to the side, allowing her father to enter. He wore traditional formal wear consisting of relaxed robes that flared around the thighs and arms with a shoulder cape brimmed with olivine crystal.

Reinard gestured to Mrs. Prisca, and she filed everyone else out of the room. Rynnelle turned to face her father, who looked at her with misty eyes, putting on her best smile to match his. "You look just like-"

"My mother." Rynnelle finished for him, laughing lightly when her father blushed, "I've been getting a lot of that."

"Yes, I'd imagine that she is on many people's minds," His voice was small, echoing a decade-old sorrow. Reinard slowly looked about the room, cycling through memories of her childhood before and after they reached Teon.

Rynnelle hesitated but mustered up the courage to ask, "Do…do you miss her?"

It was a dumb question, and she already knew the answer, but it was enough to jar her father back into the moment, the smile returning to his face. "Every day," He said wistfully, smiling at her, the sadness still there. "But, I see her. In your eyes, your smile. The way you can't help yourself but get caught up in all sorts of trouble," Reinard let out a weary chuckle, wiping a tear away from his eye. "She would be so proud to see the woman you've become."

A pang of guilt fell over Rynnelle as she considered telling her father of her dream but ultimately decided against it. It's not like she could answer the countless questions it would spawn, and she was stirring enough old memories as it was.

Her father cleared her throat, "Well, in any case, there are some matters that I need to discuss with you before we go downstairs." Rynnelle blew out her cheeks, her annoyance spilling through. "Now, enough of that. It's regarding your…acquaintance."

"Oh, I mean, I would hardly call him an acquaintance," Rynnelle grumbled.

"Well, he needs to be," Reinard said quickly. He then looked around. As if afraid the empty room would overhear, he leaned in close and spoke barely above a whisper. "I've ordered Dashard to watch him from a respectable distance. And I expect you to assist me in helping keep our other guests from asking some pointed questions."

Rynnelles' brow furrowed as she'd already planned on doing that. Her alliance with Silverhand would only last so long as no one else learned of his real identity to tell the rest of the Iega. What piqued her interest now was why her father would be adamant about keeping that secret himself. "Why would I do that?"

A sudden pleading, almost frantic look in Reinard's eye made Rynnelle flinch. Reinard held her hands, "Rynnelle, listen to me very carefully. You're as fierce as your mother, and I know better than anyone to try and get in your way when you make up your mind about something. If my word means anything to you, trust me when I say Mr. Nahm and the powers he represents are ones you want owing you a favor."

Rynnelle blinked, wanting to ask him what it meant when she owed a man like Silverhand a favor, too, but she simply said, "Okay."

Her father sighed, shoulders slumping as if he shrugged off the world's weight. Seconds later, he perked up, putting on his best showman's smile. "Let's greet our guests, shall we?"

The ballroom of the Odulfo Family Manor was Reinard's second most pride and joy. It was a grand circular chamber with an emerald-marbled floor. Above them, a stunning glass dome held by titanic pillars magnified their view of a starry night sky.

Below the magnificent dome, clouds strobing fluorescent rainbow colors meandered above the air above the sea of guests. A grand orchestra floated atop the clouds, showering music across the room as dancers moved between shimmering sheets of rain, their waters evaporating just before hitting the guests below.

The Parliament of Isles was the second of the dual-party system that governed the Yanayin tribe. It had a member for every island officially registered with the tribe. As such, all were as unique as the islands they inhabited.

The Lady of Frigere wore robes incorporating white roses shrouded in ice. At the same time, the Lord of Saphar's shoulder cape was fashioned from the hides of almost a dozen beasts. Rynnelle was surprised when she saw a delegation of Elkyne, the peaceful race aborning the crowns of branches sprouting from their heads with glittering jewels as they wore more traditional Yanayin robes. Although they were altered to accommodate their elongated frames and tails.

Rynnelle made her rounds, exchanging pleasantries, promising future talks of business for whenever she takes over as Lady of the Isle, and fielding hundreds of questions about the upcoming wedding and possibilities for the future.

On several passing occasions, she saw Dashard speaking with the other Naval Captains attending tonight's ball. Still, she was too busy to pull him aside herself. It was like that with Silverhand, too, except he was even more elusive. It looked like he was making liberal use of the open bar, but each time Rynnelle could have her eyes on him, he disappeared seconds later. Rynnelle caught people approaching him on multiple occasions, and she had to apologize after he left them fundamentally confused each time. Explaining it away as drunken musing while she silently tallied up exactly how much she would make him pay for it later.

What, or more accurately, who Rynnelle was looking for was Kaleon. She'd done everything to ensure he could be there, from having Cybil get a replacement for the night to making her father swear not to make him leave by fetching some nonimportant errand. Kaleon promised that he'd show up too, so the fact it's been well over an hour without seeing head or tail of him was starting to raise her already high concerns.

"Scal for your thoughts?"

The sudden question pulled Rynnelle from her thoughts back into the moment. A hefty older man had walked up beside her. He had kind eyes, a bowl-shaped hat, and a burly handlebar mustache that took up most of his face. Rynnelle glanced at the cape on his shoulder, finding it uniquely split into three small banners and kept together by rope.

He looked at her like he was expecting something from her, and Rynnelle realized she'd been asked a question, "Oh, sorry, my mind was someplace else," she offered a hand, "Rynnelle Odulfo, and you are…?"

Instead of answering, he just let out a hearty laugh. "Well, I can't be too hurt. I haven't seen you since you were yay-high," He put his hand to just above his waist, "Perhaps this will refresh your memory," The man gave a slight bow, removing his hat to reveal a nearly bald scalp aside from the five strands of hair combed across.

Rynnelles eyes widened as a smile spread across her face. She hugged the big man. "Uncle Teodaur! It's been too long."

"That it has! Let me get a good look at you," Teodaur said, exaggeratedly looking her up and down and then into her eyes. Rynnelle had plenty of time to hone the skill of keeping her emotions and thoughts from her face, especially at events such as these. Still, she was sure Teodaur saw more than she'd liked when he looked at her. He nodded, his smile shifting from excentric to paternal. "Busy week ahead of you. I hope you've put some time to rest in that schedule of yours."

"I'm trying my best too," She said with an easy laugh, "Did you come alone?"

"Captain Mahonnet escorted me here, but aside from that, yes, Tobias insists on being an adventurer while Myra is shaping up to take my job," Teodaur sighed, "Crisinna stayed to make sure they both didn't get too wrapped up in their passion they forget about this week's festivities." Rynnelle hid the wince before it struck her face. Teodaur huffed as he looked over the crowd.

A peaceful stillness filled the room as the music turned ominous. The "Dragon Tamers" of Vikam cleared a space in the center of the room. Men and women dressed in coordinated multicolored robes, their faces covered in large masks. When they moved, Rynnelle couldn’t decide if they were dancing, doing yoga, or practicing martial arts.

"We walk a fine line," Teodaur said as they watched the show. A giant puppeteer dragon emerged from the uppermost cloud, taking its place as the imperial lord of the room. Breathing mists the color of flames over the crowd below. "Between serving the people that have so graciously trusted us to lead them," The tamers' dance started to pick up their pace as the dragon's mouth stretched wide and swallowed one of the sparkling dancers. "And following our own dreams and ambitions," With each dancer that disappeared, the tempo and the tamers sped up. "Sadly, many of my colleagues could use a reminder that we hold these positions to uplift the island's people, not just ourselves. I pray to the stars every night that Myra continues to have the opposite problem."

Rynnelle looked at Teodaur, confused, missing the climactic battle between the opposing forces. "I'm not sure I follow,"

Teodaurs eyes stayed on the tamers as they finally subdued the dragon. Climbing atop it and disappearing back into the clouds as the ballroom exploded in tumultuous cheers. "She gets so caught up in worrying about everyone who lives on the island and making them happy." He glanced at her, "I find myself having to remind her that she's a part of the island too."

The orchestra had rode the wave of revelry left in the tamer's wake, the timbre going back to a fast-pitched swinging hum that uplifted the already gregarious mood of the evening.

Rynnelle was at a genuine loss for words, unsure how to respond to the statement. She opened her mouth but stopped when she felt a hand rest on the small of her back.

"Excuse me," Dashard said politely, "I hate to interrupt, but I need to have a word with my fiancé." Instead of the more formal robes and cape, all the Naval officers on and off duty wore some kind of regalia or uniforms. For Dashard it was a blistering white coat with swishing tassels on the shoulder and glinting medals pinned on his chest.

Teodaur gave him the same exaggerated scrutinizing look he gave Rynnelle, trying his best to look stern and imposing but falling under the category of a teddy bear that thought it was a grizzly. "So, you're the Captain Dashard I've heard so much about trying to take my niece away," He shook Dashards hand. “Teodaur Kalla, Lord of Induma. A pleasure to meet you."

Dashard took it, and they shared a firm, single-pump handshake. "Dashard Afram, the pleasure is mine." He gave Teodaur his most polite smile, but Rynnelle could see the tension in his shoulders even if he tried to hide it. Something was wrong, and while the guilt screamed at her that it was because of her, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it.

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you to watch out for this one," Teodaur said, smiling as he gestured to Rynnelle, "You've got a wiley one on your hands."

"I am not," Rynnelle said defensively, prompting a laugh from Teodaur and Dashard.

"Oh, I'm aware." Dashard told Teodaur, "I hate to cut this introduction short, but I really must speak with her. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening, and I look forward to meeting again soon." Dashard exchanged polite bows with Teodaur before leading Rynnelle away.

Taking Dashards arm, they strode in a slow but deliberate spiral to walk along the wall and out of the bulk of the crowd. Armed guards stood along the outer perimeter of the ballroom in small alcoves lit up by radantum rods. They were a mix of Naval officers and her father's personal guards for the Manor. The Navy wore the more typical white, grey, and blue light armor armed with swords and cloud bracers, while the personal guards wore heavy sets of emerald armor and held spears.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Privately, Rynnelle thought this security was overkill, but that was before Silverhand was involved. Plus, she knew this party was supposed to be about her father showing off their family power almost as much as it was about celebrating the Harvetal.

They had to field a few questions as they walked, but most of the guests got the hint they were trying to get some time alone. When nobody had approached them for a few minutes, Dashard pressed a pin on his chest. The air immediately surrounding them shimmered as a transcendent screen wrapped around them. "There, no one should be able to hear us."

"Dashard, I'm sorry," Rynnelle said before he could say anything else, "I shouldn't have gotten in between you and Mr. Nahm, especially in front of your men like that,"

"Can't say my decision to go along with it was popular," Dashard said with a wince, "Most understood, our relationship aside, they respect the chain of command enough to accept what they can’t control. Others I had to make some promises to a few that they'll get the first crack at him when he inevitably tries something."

"You sound pretty sure of that," Rynnelle said.

Dashard scoffed, "I am," Rynnelle watched as Dashard searched for him in the crowd.

"You know..." Rynnelle said slowly, "You still haven't talked about your time on the Siren."

Dashard's attention focused on her, eyeing her wearily "That's because all the Siren's operations were classified,"

Rynnelle plucked a glass of red wine off a passing serving tray, "Not like I'm going to tell anyone." Dashard smirked and shook his head, "I'm not asking for details on your missions...just if there was anyone special you met while you were there?"

Dashard visibly tensed for a few seconds before calming. "There was one, but we didn't get past the honeymoon phase before I left."

Rynnelle stared at him. He'd tried to make it sound casual, but she knew him long enough to see the chinks in his stoic armor. "Dee, about earlier, with me standing in front of you and your men-"

'Rynnelle it's fine," Dashard said quickly, giving her a reassuring squeeze of her hand, "Honestly, after talking with the other Captains, I should be thanking you."

Rynnelle blinked, "What? Why?"

Dashard blew out his cheeks, "If I didn't know any better, I'd it's everything involving Silverhand is a part of a conspiracy." Rynnelle's eyes went wide, and she couldn't help, but stop the cheshire grin spread across her face. Before she could comment, Dashard said, "But I do know better, so I'm sure there's something about this I'm not seeing yet."

"Well," Rynnelle said, feigning disinterest, as she swirled the liquid in its glass, "I guess I could help you figure out your mystery," Under her breath, she added, "Hope it's not as bad as mine."

Dashard got his own drink from a passing tray and downed half the glass before answering, "Your father insisted that I give Mr.Nahm, a wide birth," He said the name with the same reverence you'd say rectal wart, "And with great reluctance I have." Rynnelle looked at him expectantly. Dashard finished the rest of his drink, "So I decided to look at the latest files on Silverhand instead."

They shared a look. He arched an eyebrow, and Rynnelle knew this was a test to see if she’d continue to deny his identity or just admit what they both already knew. She contemplated keeping the thinly veiled charade, but only for a moment. Instead, Rynnelle finished her drink, gave Dashard a light squeeze on the arm, and said, "I knew you'd get a rebellious streak eventually."

Dashard gave a slight nod, more to himself than her statement, and took their drinks. He put them on a passing tray as he gave Rynnelle a reprising look, "I'm sure you'd like that, but no." With a tone of noticeable aggravation, he said, "I didn't find anything, actually,"

"How is that possible? With all the stuff about him out there, your guild should have tons of information,"

"I'm sure we still do; I just don't have any access to it." Dashard said, nodding in agreement at Rynnelle's exasperated expression, "Yes, I know, I reacted the same way. So I started digging through everything I'd saved on him since the Siren sank. Now that I'm looking at it with a...clearer head, I noticed things that didn't make sense."

Rynnelle could barely contain her excitement, welcoming the momentary distraction, "Like what? Please tell me he's all hype, and we can pretend we never met him."

"I wish we were so lucky," Dashard huffed, "One thing that always bothered me was how little information we had on Silverhand himself up until the Siren sank. Even when we knew it was him, we had no fingerprints, no aura signature, and every image taken of him was so distorted that the only physical description we could go on was his silver hair. Even when we managed to capture him, the evidence suggests he had escaped before they could collect any data on him. I'm no scholar, but that math does not add up.”

Rynnelles gave him a funny look, “I hate to be the one to tell you, but not everyone is as meticulous as you are with following the rules.”

“That’s what I thought too at first,” Dashard said. There was an edge in his voice as he spoke, not directing it at her but out as he scanned the sea of guests, “The Navy has captured Silverhand fifty-two times Rynnelle. The fact he escaped that many times withstanding, the Navy not being able to get any useable descriptors for him seems statistically unlikely.”

Rynnelles brow furrowed at that. She and most of the people in this room knew the rumors about Silverhand being a daring escape artist and how that played a large role in the Naval Guild's damaged credibility, but Dashard was right that things weren’t adding up.

Rynnelle put a hand on her chin in thought, “But they flooded every island with wanted posters after the Siren sank. I thought that’s how you’d recognized him on the docks?”

Dashard shook his head, “The only reason we know as much as we do now is because of a task force made by the Vozwatä in secret whose sole target was Silverhand. They reported directly to them and didn’t share anything with the rest of the Guild until after the Siren sank, and he was presumed dead.”

There was a noticeable note of bitterness in Dashards voice, and Rynnelle understood. She was about to ask why he thought they kept everything from the rest of the Naval Guild, and the other guilds for that matter, when her father's words echoed in her mind.

“Before the ball, my father mentioned told ‘Mr. Nahm and the powers he represents are ones you want owing you a favor,’” Rynnelle said slowly, working it out in her mind as she spoke, “I thought the ‘powers he represents’ part referred to some pirate group or just Silverhand himself, but if the Vozwatä worked that hard to keep it a secret…”

Rynnelles words trailed off as Dashard's earlier comment about conspiracy suddenly clicked some pieces into place in her mind. The picture it formed on the walking jigsaw puzzle that was Silverhand wasn’t complete, but Rynnelle could see enough that a cold shudder raced through her skin.

“I started to backtrack all of his previous arresting officers but stopped after I noticed…a pattern,” Dashard said, picking up the conversation after a moment. He talked with a smile, reminding Rynnelle to put on her own, but the edge in his voice gradually sharpened as he spoke. His eyes never left the crowd of guests.

Although she knew she’d regret it, Rynnelle asked, “What pattern?”

“They either died, in action or retired…and went missing.”

Rynnelle's face was the definition of serenity. To any onlookers, she and Dashard looked nothing more than a pair of soon-to-be newlyweds privately trying to enjoy one another’s company before the latter half of the evening festivities began. No one paid attention long enough to see the anxious flashes of lightning course through her hair.

Rynnelle looked over the crowd, catching a glimpse at Silverhand following around a food tray, greedily eating all the hors d'oeuvres. He paused with a bacon-wrapped scallop halfway to his mouth and looked around, finding Rynnelles gaze. The moment stretched, but Silverhand broke the connection with a wink, then disappeared into the crowd.

She had half a mind to say screw her end of the deal and whatever intentions her mother had in favor of getting Silverhand a ship and getting him the hell off her island. Whatever she was supposedly going to gain wasn’t worth anyone's disappearance, especially Dashard.

As if reading her mind, Dashard huffed and said, “I think it was the right call, letting him stay on the island with us."

Rynnelle blinked, her attention momentarily returning to Dashard, “Why do you say that?”

“For one thing, now we know where he is, but also because the leader of that task force, Captain Hosho, is right over there,” Dashard gestured with his chin toward another captain standing in the center of a crowd of Parliament members. He was an older Yana leaning on a cane. From here, all they could really see of him was his salt and pepper hair, and a chest full of medals and achievements.

“If I hadn’t already known he would be in attendance, I’d say it was too much of a coincidence they both showed up here of all places, but nevertheless his presence gives me confidence we’ll get this menace behind bars when he tries something because let’s face it, he’s definitely going to-Rynnelle?”

Rynnelle’s attention hadn’t gone to the captain, instead it was on the other side of the ballroom. Silverhand was chasing after a serving tray that seemed to be avoiding him. He must’ve felt her eyes on him because he paused, looking around until he found Rynnelle staring, winked at her, then went back after the tray.

Without looking at him Rynnelle asked, “Dashard, one of the maids told me that my father had Kaleon watch Silverhand while he was here. I’ve seen him, but I haven’t seen Kal all night.” Rynnelle turned to him, removing her hand from around his arm. “Where is he?”

Dashard held Rynnelle’s gaze for three seconds before breaking, “I'm not sure b-” Rynnelle turned to walk away, but Dashard gently caught her arm, “But,” he resumed, “That’s because I’ve been busy coordinating security for the additional guests. I had the Manor staff report to me if anything happened, and the last I heard was people seeing Silverhand carry a barely conscious Kaleon back to his room. You saw how tired he was earlier, it’s probably best to let him rest.”

“And you know for certain he’s in his room then,” Rynnelle said testily.

With a pained expression, Dashard said, “I had some officers check on him after the party started when I didn't see him, but he wasn’t there.” When he saw the look of angered disbelief on her face he quickly added, “I have my men searching for him now, I’m sure with him being that tired he just went to find a more comfortable bed to sleep in. In any case, we don’t want Silverhand to change his mind and decide he wants to up and leave, if he does there’s no telling when we’ll get another chance to capture him again,”

More lightning flashed in Rynnelles hair, this time with an audible crack of thunder that made the bubble of silence around them tremble. She couldn’t tell who she was madder at, Dashard and his thinly veiled excuse on how not to spook Silverhand like he was some skittish animal, or herself for her decision once again putting Kaleon between a rock and a hard place.

Rynnelle took back her arm from Dashard, who slid to stand in her way, “Kaleon can handle himself, and we don’t want to risk Silverhand causing a scene with all these members of Parliament here. If they realize who he is, it’s likely to start a panic. How about we-”

“Dashard Maxilius Afram," Rynnelle put so much force in his name that he stood at attention out of reflex. He almost said something, but Rynnelle ended that with another look. "You’re trying to make the best out of a bad situation that I put you in. I understand that like I understand that capturing Silverhand is something you want to do for professional and personal reasons. I have no problem with that. What I do have a problem with is that you’re not that concerned that our friend is missing, and the last person he was with was someone who has not only killed people himself but potentially has contacts to make it appear they went missing. If you think for a second I’m not going over there to figure out what happened to Kaleon, Silverhand causing a scene should be the last thing you worry about.”

Dashard looked like he wanted to protest, but the look in Rynnelles eyes made him bite down on any comment. Wordlessly, Dashard stepped aside, and Rynnelle stormed off in the direction of Silverhand, exiting the bubble of muffled silence to rejoin the party.

Rynnelle schooled her emotions enough that Only a few members of Parliament had been watching her conversation with Dashard, but that number slowly grew as her warpath parted the sea of people. Behind her, Rynnelle could hear Dashard apologizing to the guests as he followed.

The thrum of music filled the air of the ballroom as the floating clock neared its mark. Only a fraction of the guests were paying Rynnelle any attention as midnight rapidly approached. She’d schooled her emotions enough to calm the storm brewing in her hair, but her warpath cut through the air of anxious anticipation filling the room. Behind her, Dashard issued out a string of apologies to those who hurriedly got out of Rynnelles way.

As Dashard had suggested, Rynnelle found Silverhand on the opposite side of the room than Captain Hosho, standing amongst a group of Lords, although they huddled in a way that excluded him.

“What’s he doing?” Dashard said wearily behind Rynnelles shoulder, causing her stride to slow.

Silverhand was doing his best to look inconspicuous, supported by the guests discarding the veil of mystery they’d put on him in favor of thinking he was just another in the long list of Yana who attended events like these to get absurdly drunk.

As Rynnelle and Dashard variously approached, they watched Silverhand stick out a foot.

The governor of the floating city of Zehae passed by him, and the foot tripped him. He stumbled forward, knocking the jeweled crescent parasol from the hands of the Lady of Uthala.

The jewels hanging from the accessory caught in the horns of an Elkyne, startling them, their tail flicking like a whip that made those closest to them quickly give them a wide birth.

One unfortunate Lord who wasn’t paying attention got hit on the butt by the tail. His floor-length cape, which looked like a peacock's tailfeathers, flared out. It knocked the drink out of the Lord of Caladors hand and onto the dress of the Lady of Frigere.

Officers rushed to break up the ensuing argument, causing a tray carrying a large pitcher of glittering green liquid to make a jerking arc to avoid colliding with the swarm of people. As it did, Silverhand came up from the side, sticking a hand out to snatch the pitcher off the tray.

Rynnelle blinked, needing to take a few seconds to process what she witnessed. It all happened in a minute, and Rynnelle had to look to an equally astonished Dashard to make sure she hadn’t imagined it.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Silverhand turned on his heel and started to walk away, pouring the pitcher's contents directly into his mouth.

“Mr. Nahm!” Rynnelle called after him as she picked up her pace again. When he didn't react, the tone she used next was much less kind, “Mr. Nahm, stop right there or as Hewa as my witness, our deal is over.”

Silverhand stopped but didn’t turn back to look at her, instead, he looked up at the clock. Not wanting to give him a chance to get out of her sight, Rynnelle moved as fast as her heels would allow to wheel in front of him.

"Where. Is. Kal?" Silverhand nearly stumbled when Rynnelle rushed him. She could barely contain the panicked fury that was threatening to overwhelm her. Alliance and social standing be damn, if Kaleon was hurt or worse because of the man she insisted stay here, Dashard and his officers wouldn’t get a chance to take him into custody.

Dashard hurried to stand beside them, pressing the pin on his lapel to wrap them in a bubble of silence. He looked Silverhand up and down with a sneer, “We just made you those clothes. They have no business smelling like an open bar.”

There was a loud ring, followed by an eruption of cheers from the crowd that momentarily pierced the bubble of muffled silence before it reasserted itself.

Rynnelle ignored the celebration around them, taking a step forward and getting into Silverhands personal space. Looking up at him with an almost burning intensity as she repeated her question, "Where. Is. Kal?"

Silverhand slowly blinked, giving her a look of genuine confusion, "Wh-hic, who?"