The torchlight flickered against the stone walls of the alchemists' secluded quarters, a long-forgotten wing of the palace buried deep beneath the eastern halls. Scrolls, vials, and parchment littered the tables. The air smelled of incense, sweat, and something unspoken.
The heavy iron doors swung open without warning.
Boots thundered in. Royal guards poured in formation, swords drawn, expressions grim.
All eyes turned as Master Yoric, the lean, gray-bearded alchemist near the corner, tried to hide the tremble in his hands. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. He had spoken once, to the wrong man.
One guard seized him by the collar. Another held his arms. There were no formal charges read.
Behind them stepped Agnes, the king's infamous eunuch and most loyal mouthpiece. He walked with arm folded and did not raise his voice.
"You were warned," Agnes said, looking around the room slowly. "All knowledge belongs to the Crown. And yet, here we are—one of you traded whispers for coin."
Yoric tried to speak, but Agnes lifted a hand.
"His Majesty does not need your defense. He needs loyalty."
Yoric was dragged screaming from the chamber. No one moved.
Agnes turned to the rest, his voice calm, unnerving.
"You are instructed to refrain from addressing anyone outside these walls. Not nobles. Not commoners. Certainly not foreign ears."
Someone whispered shakily, "What of the King? Surely he—"
"He is occupied with matters of state," Agnes cut in. "He does not entertain the anxious cries of half-brewed scholars."
A younger alchemist, pale and trembling, stepped forward, head bowed.
"We've been here for months... we don't even know if our families—"
"Your families are not His Majesty's concern. Hivites is."
He stepped closer, the torches casting flickering shadows on his face.
"You will not leave. You will not speak to outsiders. You will not die until commanded."
A pause.
"Deliver the cure. Or His Majesty will find worthier minds to replace yours."
Then he turned, and as he left, the door slammed shut behind him, locking in the silence, and the fear.
***
Sapphire and Raphael moved from shop to shop, collecting dues with growing urgency. As Sapphire stepped into a particularly grand boutique, the atmosphere shifted. This wasn't just any shop, it belonged to the aristocracy. Servants moved with flawless grace, their every gesture a studied art.
Inside, a tall, lean noblewoman stood examining fabrics with an expert eye. Her pale, milky skin contrasted sharply against her dazzling, bright gown, and her long blonde hair cascaded in perfect waves to her waist. She held two luxurious bolts in her hands, debating aloud.
"What do you think — the red or the cream?" she asked a poised servant, who smiled professionally, clearly trained to cater to every whim.
"My lady," the servant said smoothly, "your eyes have a genuine appreciation for beauty. Truly, both fabrics complement you exquisitely."
Sapphire bit back a smirk. Of course they did, she'd say anything to keep a noble like her buying. But the servant's next words were pure sales fluff.
"If I may be so bold, I'd suggest adding a splash of lemon or orange hues to complete the look."
Sapphire had reached her limit. Stepping forward with a confident smile, she addressed the noblewoman directly.
"Honestly," she said, her tone warm but sharp, "the cream highlights your porcelain skin beautifully. The red might overpower your delicate complexion. You should definitely go with the cream."
The noblewoman turned, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, clearly not used to unsolicited honesty wrapped in style.
The noblewoman nodded gracefully.
"I'll go with what the lady says. Bring the bodice and ribbons."
The servant shot Sapphire a sharp, stinging glance but nodded obediently.
"Yes, milady."
The noblewoman then turned to Sapphire, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
"How about these?" she asked, holding up two sparkling accessories.
"The ruby or the emerald, which do you think goes better?"
Sapphire shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Too flashy. You should go for something simpler, an understated piece that lets your natural beauty shine."
The noblewoman's brown eyes swept over Sapphire, her expression sharp and judging.
"You seem to know a lot about fashion for a woman who wears breeches."
Sapphire met her gaze steadily.
"Pardon me if I offend."
"Not at all," the noblewoman replied, a hint of a smile softening her features.
"I prefer honesty."
She paused a moment before adding,
"Please, let me buy you something—a token of my appreciation."
Sapphire shook her head gently.
"I didn't do it for the money. Just a fellow lady helping another."
They shared a laugh, the tension easing between them.
"I'm Sapphire," she introduced herself.
"Lady Ixora Hugh," the noblewoman returned with a regal nod.
Sapphire glanced toward the door.
"I should get going, my partner is quite the handful."
Lady Ixora smiled warmly, revealing a perfect set of sharp white teeth.
"See you around, Sapphire."
Outside, Raphael's face tightened into a frown as Sapphire stepped out of the shop,due to his heightened senses, he had caught the exchange between the two women
"Humans and their endless meddling," he muttered, shaking his head.
Sapphire shot him a sly grin. "Jealous?"
Raphael let out a short laugh, eyes narrowing. "If I were you, I'd keep my distance from that lady. She's a storm waiting to break, pretty, but dangerous."
Sapphire raised an eyebrow, confused. "Who is she?"
Raphael's voice dropped low, serious now.
"Lady Ixora Hugh. Daughter of Lord Hugh. You don't want to cross her."