Chapter 10 (Maroon) Part 1: Conspicuity is fated to fail just because it makes life so much more dramatic

"Is there anything you would like, dear?"

Frey jerked up in surprise, a light pink blooming across her cheeks. She had been so engrossed in browsing the stall's many fascinating wares that she had completely failed to notice the frail old woman sitting quietly behind the counter. Tugging her cloak tighter around her face, she gave a sheepish smile and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Just taking a look, that's all."

"Well, if you do find something to your fancy, do let me know and perhaps we can talk about the price" the stallholder cooed.

Frey muttered a soft "thank you" and returned to the goods that have been laid out before her. Conspicuity was the order of the day as the princess had snuck out of the castle when its guards had looked the other way. It had not been easy, but she surely would have become insane if she stared at the four walls of her room any longer. Her time in Selphia had spoilt her with lust for freedom, and Arthur's persistent questioning after she disappeared with Micah in the morning added to her misery. She had lied and smiled, waving him away. How could she tell him anything at this point when everything did not even make sense to her yet?

Frey's hands hovered over the curious metal shapes, moving across slowly as she took it all in. Against the black velvet display cloth, their colours popped out, dazzling under the sunlight. Platinum, adamantine, mythril… she knew some of their names, but the merchants that came to Selphia had never sold them crafted with such intricate details. The shadow of her hands fell over one particular piece, and it lingered there.

"You have excellent taste, miss." The older woman smiled warmly, picking the earcuff up and pressing it into Frey's palm. "Have a closer look. It's the finest piece I have come across in my many years of being a merchant."

It is a stereotype that women love shiny things that are generally expensive, but Frey felt her breath catch in her throat as she turned it over lovingly. Glistening with a whitish-silvery sheen, the earcuff curved into a gentle arc, evidently designed to run along the shape of its wearer's ear. Like a sturdy tree branch, leaves sprouted out down its entire length, reaching outwards in beautiful curls. At the very tip where the leaves started to branch out, a small stone was embedded in the metal. Frey turned it left and right slowly, admiring the workmanship. With each turn, the light refracted off the stone's surface and she spied a pearly smoke swirling lazily about inside its core. She had heard Bado rave about that rare stone before. It was said to be as rare as dragon stones – if not even more so. Goshenite.

Without realizing it, Frey had mouthed the stone's name and the stallholder beamed with enthusiasm. "My, my you do have a discerning eye! Indeed, that is Goshenite. The base metal of that piece is the highest quality platinum, carved by Dwarven hands. There aren't many in the market right now, because it seems like the dwarves have shut themselves somewhere away."

It was perfect, she thought. It would match his eyes so well, perhaps even inspire him to better his crafting.

She had not originally come out here to shop. It was simply to explore the city and to clear her mind. But now that she had seen this, it was too difficult to pass on. She might as well get something for everyone else too.

Eyes now lit up in excitement, Frey dared to ask, "How much is it?"

The stallholder's tone sharpened into one with many years of experience in haggling. "Why, I normally quote a few hundred thousand G for that. But since you seem like you can appreciate these rocks better than those noble women who only care about its sparkle, I'll just charge you one hundred thousand G."

"One hundred thousand G and you give me that too." Frey grinned, pointing to a platinum fishing lure. Dylas would definitely love that, even if he called her stupid or some other insult she had come to recognize as a term of endearment he used.

"I can't do that. I have grandchildren to feed, you know. One hundred thousand G just for the earcuff."

Frey bit her lip. Of course it would not be as easy as bargaining in Selphia, where she knew almost everyone.. "One hundred thousand for those two. And I'll throw in a couple of dragon stones too."

"D-dragon stones?! Where in heavens did you find that stuff, girl?" A strand of silver hair escaped from the old woman's tight bun as she shook her head in amazement. "You've got yourself a deal. Now, I'll just wrap these three for you."

"Ah, hold on! Three? I just want those two. There must be some kind of mistake."

"I can't sell the earcuff alone." She explained, "It comes in a pair. It was sold to me as such, and I don't want to be insulting whoever crafted to be so. So do you still want it?"

The princess deliberated over it. It did not make sense to buy two. However as she mulled over it, the surprise it would incur on Doug's face came to mind, and it greatly warmed her. Despite having gone through so much lately, he had still made a charm for her – even if it had been Blossom who urged him to do it. It would be nice if she could return the favour, to be responsible for a little bit of happiness[1] in him.

She caught her reflection in a nearby mirror and her spare hand flew up to her cheek. Why did she look so happy?

"I-In any case, it's so pretty, Margaret would appreciate the extra piece just as much!" she tried to affirm herself. Nope, definitely not forced at all.

"I'll take it!" she declared to the older woman, before she turned to fumble about her covered backpack for the money and the stones.

Above them, cumulonimbus clouds of soot grey had already began to roll in, snuffing out the relentless rays of the sun. A different smell poured in to the crowded bazaar now – a curious grassy smell, that injected itself into the ever-present scent of sweat.

One difference between animals and homo sapiens is the magnitude to which they react to changes in the weather. Very often, fear only breaks the homo sapien's mental circuit breaker of self-control when a tornado is within several yards of the unfortunate soul – to which he then goes "oh shit". Animals on the other hand however, have such honed instincts that sometimes a seemingly normal stimulus may result in behaviour befitting of an apocalypse. If animals could vocalise their thoughts, an incoming thunderstorm would translate into something like "Hide your children! Bar your barns! . . !" Alas, spooked by the sudden change in the weather, a horse that had been tethered nearby suddenly reared, snapping the hard leather straps of its bridle. Hot laboured breaths pumped out of its flaring nostrils and it charged forward wildly, thrashing through everything in its path.

Frey barely had a few seconds to register what was happening before it almost ran her over. Acting on her quick reflexes, she leaped backwards and the horse missed trampling her by inches. But it was not before the momentum sent her crashing back onto the ground.

It took the princess a second or so to register her shock. When the moment had passed, she dusted herself off and shook her head, "Well, that was dangerous. Someone could have been badly shur-"

She froze at the look the old woman was now giving her. It was devoid of any of the warmth that she had received earlier. No, these eyes that peaked out at her now were almost feral, of a terrified quality. She was so afraid of her that she tittered on the brink of irrationality.

What in the dragons?

"Ummm, here's the money and the stones-" Frey frowned, reaching out towards the stallholder.

The old woman suddenly reeled backwards in a panic, even crashing through some boxes behind her in a bid to put further distance between them. "Alsfurei!" she screamed in fright. "Don't-Please, please don't hurt me!"

"What? No! I think… you've got the wrong person." Frey tried her hardest to smile, but she felt it crack. She cradled the stones and placed them on the counter, acting as normally as she could even though her hands trembled slightly. "I'm not going to hurt you, I swear. I'm not who you think I am! Please, I really just want to pay for this."

She looked down at the counter, to gesture at the metal pieces that were now neatly packed. As she did that, a splash of jade filled her vision and her hand jerked upwards automatically. She finally understood now. Her hood had fallen off from the fall just now.

"Just-just take it and go!" the stallholder sobbed, trembling against the pile of broken wood.

The sight in front of her tore at Frey's heart. She was not Alsfurei. She was not Alsfurei. She repeated it to herself but yet, the transformation she just witnessed had hit her hard.

Stop it, she chided herself, you know you are not her. Why are you acting like this?

Frey pulled her hood back on, tugging it harder than necessary this time. Slowly, she placed the payment for her purchases next to the stones and picked up the wrapped products. A soft whimper escaped from the stallholder's lips as the distance between them shortened.

"Thank you for…wrapping these up for me…" Frey murmured, tears brimming up in her eyes.

Then she turned around to face a mob that had now gathered behind her.

It was a coincidence. It had to be. Coincidences happened all the time. They happened everyday. Even right now, there might be a coincidence happening somewhere else…right?

Wrong.

"Argh! It can't be a bloody coincidence!" Doug shouted in exasperation to the barren walls of his room. His voice echoed off the old wooden paneling, amplifying it substantially, and a crash below signaled that he had even startled Blossom. A pair of birds who were happily lounging on his window ledge experienced a shock to their tiny brains and they abandoned the ledge in a flurry of feathers.

Whoever that was in the street below might possibly hear him and think him to be mad. But he cared naught for that as he pressed his back against the wall, his head in his hands. When he had asked Porcoline for help, he did not expect to him to reply so swiftly, and with the kind of results. If the way the De Saint-Coquilles ate were any indication, he now knew they were equally as efficient in other things. A bit too efficient.

The report had been thorough, and Doug was sure that it was probably classified as well. Listed on the thick stack of papers now sitting at the edge of his bed in front of him was every reported Sech attack for the past 20 years. Along with the date and location of the attack were other detailed descriptions that bordered on the macabre – the number of casualties, injured and survivors, the estimated monetary value of the physical damage, and the items that had been taken. Under the items section, the list had expanded to even include people.

The young dwarf's eyes scanned the page of the report that faced him.

#1598

The 4th of Winter, Year 92 of the Rune Era: Claden Village.

Details: The timing of the attack is currently unknown although preliminary investigations have indicated that the attack most likely took place at night or in the wee hours of the morning. Traces of fresh ash were found in fireplaces amongst the remains of houses, and majority of the bodies were found clustered in their house and in the village's village council room.

A neighbouring village had notified the authorities the next morning upon the discovery of the murder of 3 of their fellow villagers who had been sent there for political purposes. Upon further research however, that village has since disappeared and can provide no further comment.

Number of casualties: 63 (+3)

Injured: 0

Survivors/Witnesses: 1(?)

Damage assessment: 13 000 000 G, calculated from the village's annual Gross Domestic Product value from their trade in Platinum and Silver.

Items taken: To be confirmed. The numbers on the official birth registries do not tally up to the number of bodies found. Furthermore, some bodies are charred beyond recognition…

Year 92 of the Rune Era. That had been 8 years ago.

Dragons, it has already been 8 years.

A light breeze came through the window now, but the male derived no comfort from it.

There had been a disturbing pattern to these reports. The oldest reports had comprised of random attacks, involving all sorts of races, and often along the border separating Sech territory and the rest of Norad. Furthermore, those attacks had mainly been either complete slaughters for the sake of spreading fear or plunders for slaves or wealth. Over the years however, the reported incidents seemed to only stem from dwarven villages – and isolated to those of crafting vocations. As the years went on, the massacres decreased significantly, as did the items taken. Instead, more and more people were kidnapped.

What did this all mean?

Doug rubbed his temples. He was never good with these things. He was a more practical, hands-on kind of person.

And there's also the issue of the location and the whistleblowers of the attacks.

The incident sites of reports from the last decade had been outrageously deep in friendly territory. At the same time, the agents reporting these attacks were no longer a combination of survivors, their neighbours and the local militia who were lucky to interrupt such occurrences. Instead, the local militia was no longer featured in any of the reports for the past 8 years.

Something was seriously wrong here. Even he could see that. He thought Ethelberd had been the end of it all, but these mysteries that kept coming up made it even more difficult to close that chapter.

"Doug, is everything alright? I thought I heard some yelling."

Doug kicked the report under his covers and stared at the hunched figure in his doorway. "Yes, everything's fine." He replied, "Sorry about that. I accidentally stubbed my toe against the leg of the bed when I was getting on just now."

Blossom's frown always made him feel bad. Just lines they were, but it was the measure of concern driving it that made it especially uncomfortable to deal with. Sometimes he knew that she suspected there was more to whatever he was saying, but there was always something that held her back from asking. It was …a chasm, of sorts. He was not sure if it was because he was a son to her, or precisely because he was not that that boundary of privacy could not be crossed.

"Well," Blossom conceded, even though the unmistakable frown was still there, "If it is bad, please go over to Jones'. You nearly gave this old woman a heart attack."

"Sorry, it was not intentional. If I gave you a heart attack, I wouldn't have anywhere else to stay. Why would I do that?"

"Hmph." And that frown finally seemed to ease a little. "Even if I'm gone, you will always have a place in Selphia."

"Stop saying that." Doug said, and it came out a little harsher than intended. "I hate it when you talk about dying."

Blossom gave him a grim smile and turned back towards the corridor. "Now don't get snappy at me. It will happen eventually, and I just want you to know that you'll always have a place to stay." It seemed like her eyes almost twinkled for a second before she added, "I'm willing this place to you, after all."

There was nothing he could say to that. It came out of nowhere, after all. So he was left to stare at her dumbly as Blossom chuckled at his expression.

"Well come out in an hour. I'm making risotto after I close the shop."

His throat had gone completely dry, and he almost had to squeeze the words out, "I…I mean, you didn't have to – I – just – ugh, thank you…"

There was another chuckle, and she was gone.

Doug heard the telling thumps of Blossom descending the stairs and let out a sigh. One thing at a time, he told himself, but one thing seemed to love to hang out with other things until you had a whole bunch of one things called everything that came at you. Would he even remain here for the rest of his life? How could he accept that from Blossom after all she had already done for him? He hadn't even paid her back in full for taking him in so many years ago.

The redhead pulled himself upright. One thing, he repeated to himself. Let's focus on one first.

I need answers. I'm going to lose my bloody mind if I keep wondering if my hunch is right.

One of the few furnishings in Doug's room was a squat drawer that sat next to his bed. He rarely ever used it since he mainly used his desk for writing, but today he would. Quietly, he pulled the drawer open and took out a worn leather-bound book. It looked completely ordinary – a ratty book one would expect to find abandoned on the streets. However, its contents were much more mysterious than most other books. A flip to the 58th page revealed a hole cut into the body of the book itself, and nestled inside was a small dirty pouch that reeked of an odd smell. Doug extracted it carefully and returned the book to its original resting spot.

I never thought I'd have to use this, but if I want answers, he'll definitely have it.

A letter was hastily scribbled down, tucked into the pouch, and it was launched out of the window as far as he could throw it.

But that's assuming he doesn't kill me first.

They hardly had anything that you could call a proper weapon. In their arms they held buckets, wooden sticks and for one or two, even a horseshoe or a crowbar. It was evident that the mob surrounding Frey comprised of nearby stallholders who, upon hearing the old woman's terrified shrieks, had grabbed whatever they could within reach and rushed to the scene.

"Wait! This is a misunderstanding!" Frey protested, "I am the princess of Selphia, not the cold-blooded murderer you are all thinking of!"

A sinewy man swung a wooden pole down at the ground in front of Frey and roared, "So she not only murders but she lies!"

Shouts of assent echoed in agreement.

"My daughter was killed by Alsfurei!" a woman wailed.

"So was my son!" another chimed in.

"What are you waiting for lads! Beat her dead and let the ravens pick at her corpse!"

Frey found herself backing up as the mob closed in, but she was closed off on all sides. "You have to believe me!" she screamed. It was so hot and so cold at the same time. Hot, as her heart hammered in her chest and adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream. Yet, as her eyes flitted from one face twisted grotesquely in hate to another, she felt like her blood had run cold.

"Please…" it was almost a plea now. Her hands were on the hilt on her sword, gripping it so hard that her knuckles ran white, but they refused to draw it. She had never killed before, never sunk her sword into another human. Even when she defeated Ethelberd, death came for him as a consequence of his own body breaking down. In a crowd like this, accidents could easily happen and these were innocents. All it took was for someone to run into the wrong path…

Frey felt her knees buckle, and tears spilled out onto her cheeks. It was useless.

What's wrong with all of you…please, stop...!

"Get her!" they yelled, and charged in.

[1]Who said money couldn't buy happiness? Ha-ha.

A/N:

Um, I am back! (again... .). This is going to be a part 1, because I decided that this chapter is way too long to be on 1 single screen. It makes editing a pain as well a I get so tired from reading haha! Part 2 will be updated in the next few days, seeing as how I'm nearly done with it.

Thank you for all the kind reviews! They have pushed me out of my busy schedule to find the time (and inspiration) to write. Much loves, you guys. ^^

Review replies: (As per usual, if you have an account, I'd have replied you directly)

zeroabove: Hiya! I am extremely pleased that I am living up to your expectations hahaha! And even more so that I've managed to convince you of the bond that Frey and Doug are beginning to forge =) That has actually been one of my biggest worries. I've hardly written romance, so this has definitely been a challenging learning experience. I do have some Frey/Dylas in store though, so I hope that makes you happy to hear that hehe. Cheers!

guestwho: Hi! Thanks for stumbling onto this little story of mine and welcome to fanfiction! I love the pun on your name by the way, you should make an account with that name haha! Thank you for the compliments too, you really know how to make my day! And yes, Leon is an extremely sexy beast ;) If I could make any RF character manifest in real, Leon will definitely be my second after Doug! (or maybe 3rd...cause Porcoline amuses the hell out of me) How could you say no to his wicked sense of humour? In any case, it is difficult to put in a LeonxFrey fling into the story because of the nature of the events to come. I am however, honoured and happy to write a one-shot when things have slowed down on my side and I have more time. Cheers!