[r. Simply] I move the stars for no one [18+]

Inhabiting the outskirts of the kingdom had promised peace and solitude, two qualities that nourished Isidor Kristeva’s introverted soul. The location permitted him the space that he needed to study and work his craft, where he answered to no one, and no one got in his way. Whether he woke up to the sun or rain, he knew he could count on the stillness of his study, and the calm over his ritual morning tea.

What he hadn’t counted on was that living off the grid did not necessarily guarantee anonymity, nor did it put him out of sight of bigger and more powerful people. So when the men arrived that morning, in their uniforms and with their weapons, he was not only caught wholly unawares, but wholly unprepared.

“Isidor Kristeva,” one of the soldiers read from the coiling parchment in his hands, mispronouncing the alchemist’s last name. “You are hereby summoned into the employ of His Royal Majesty King Ferant of the Jendryng Dynasty, ruler of the Hilofen Empire, in preparation for the impending war against the enemy Kingdom of Brigovia. You are to report immediately, on this day, to become acquainted with your assigned duties. You are permitted to bring anything of value or importance as you see fit to facilitate your relocation to—”

“Wait—please, I don’t understand.” Isidor held up a hand, his sharp mind processing this news one fact at a time. It didn’t make sense, and it didn’t sit well with him. “I don’t… Technically, I don’t serve the king. My home is not located within the Hilofen Empire; this is the Outbound. And isn’t the Outband fair game for anyone?”

The two soldiers exchanged a glance that suggested they thought the alchemist to be truly daft. This time, the one who had not spoken previously opened his mouth. “I see no garden here. Nor any cattle or animals of any sort. This suggests you purchase your provisions. Would we be wrong to think that?”

“I… well, no. I mean—”

“And how does a man who works for himself, with no garden to livestock, afford to provision himself?” The soldier went on, bushy eyebrows knitting together. “Unless you do turn lead into gold—which, I am sure I don’t have to tell you, is illegal. Explain, alchemist.”

Whatever colour tinted Isidor’s pale face drained at the accusation. “No, absolutely not! Lead into gold is a myth, the properties just—”

“Then how do you feed and clothe yourself?”

“I trade. Once a month. Typically trinkets that I make, small things easy enough to carry—l-like music boxes with tunes that change from daylight to nighttime. If you’d like to see one—”

But the soldiers would hardly let him get a word in. “And where do you trade?”

“I trade… I mean, I’ve no horse, and the closest markets are…” He paused, realizing too late that he’d been cornered. “The Hilofen Empire.”

“Trade within the Hilofen Empire results in automatic pledge to its king.” The first soldier to speak leveled Isidor with a fierce and no-nonsense gaze. “You have benefitted from its lands and its people. Now it is time for the Hilofen Empire to benefit from you. The consequences of refusing summons will result in your arrest.”

“Arrest?” Isidor bulked, staggering backward a step. “But for what? I’ve broken no law within the perimeters of the land, I am guilty of no crime!”

Once again, the soldiers exchanged a glance. This one had nothing to do with the alchemist; it suggested uneasiness in what they were about to say. “We are under orders to arrest you for use of magic, disguised as it is in your craft of alchemy, should you refuse this summons.”

“Magic?” The heat of thinly suppressed fury that crept into his cheeks rapidly drained in silent panic. “But that’s—it’s wrong, ludicrous, alchemy is primarily a science! Everything about it, all of its principles, it isn’t… it’s not magic!”

“I’m afraid that is not for you to decide. Either way, you will be coming with us today,” the other man added. “Whether or not it will be with your hands bound is up to you. I implore you to make the right decision, Mr. Kristeva.”

The choice he was being given wasn’t a choice at all. Either way, he would be forced to abandon the safety and comfort of his stone tower in the Outbounds. His craft would no longer be for him, but for someone else he had no reason nor desire to trust. He would find himself behind bars in a cold cell, or continuing his studies and practice… albeit without the solitude and peace that his private life in the Outbounds offered.
The practice of magic had been outlawed in the Hilofen Empire for far longer than he had been alive, and had, in part, influenced his decision to inhabit the land beyond the kingdom’s boundaries. Not because he practiced magic, but for the fact that so many misconceptions surrounded his craft that he hadn’t wished to answer to the authorities for it. The king, at least, appeared to understand it as a science, or else Isidor could not understand why he was being summoned into royal employ. And yet, the man was vindictive enough to punish him for it, should he refuse… To think, just yestreen, he’d been relishing in the thought of the coming of summer, and the blue ivy that would climb the outer walls of his tower. No foliage in the Hilofen Empire could ever compared to the untainted beauty of the Outbounds, where nature offered itself to humanity, instead of being picked and plucked and controlled by humankind.

There was no choice to make. The decision had already been made for him.

Swallowing a dry lump in his throat, the alchemist’s shoulders slumped, chin-length black hair falling around his face as he bent his head. “How long should I expect to be away from my home, should I find myself in the king’s employ?”

Both soldiers shrugged. “Your guess is as good as ours. Regardless, I’d pack for an extended stay.”

Precisely what he’d feared. “Then I will need some time. Without materials and references, I will be of no use to the king.”

“Pack what you need, then. But by sundown, if you’re not done, then you’ll have to make due leaving some things behind.”

Badly shaken and more afraid than he cared to admit, Isidor Kristeva gathered the majority of his stock of materials from his study, clothes, books, and instruments alike, and the few clothes he’d collected in his wardrobe. Meanwhile, his mind occupied itself with undulating thoughts of his uncertain future, and, astoundingly, of his bothers. Vitali would never find himself ensnared in such a trap, he thought in the bitter voice of his mind, and not without jealousy. Lias is disarming enough that he could talk his way out of it. Why must misfortune seek me when I do nothing to incur its wrath!

By midday, all necessary provisions were packed atop the carriage in which the soldiers had arrived, and Isidor ran out of moments to delay. And it was with a heart both heavy and racing that he cast a glance over his shoulder of his home for the very last time.
“You finally ready, alchemist?” One of the soldiers called, taking their seat at the front of the carriage. “Get in; if we hurry, we can make it back to the city before dusk.”

Isidor never would have thought he’d hope for an ambush on the dark trails back to the kingdom. But the concept of being attacked frightened him far less than the prospect of appearing before the king of the Hilofen Empire.

Nightfall was not far off by the time the carriage came to a stop. Isidor’s trepidation wasn’t far off, either, winding his muscles tight as a spring the moment he stepped out and beheld the palace. The expanse of the architecture was as frightening and overwhelming as it was breathtaking, nothing like the close confines of his own, small tower beyond the woods. It brimmed with energy of staff that worked around the clock, and made no show of modesty, built as it was with materials which, even at first glance, the alchemist could confirm cost a pretty coin on the market. 
Before he knew what was happening, his gaze of the edifice before him was obstructed by men, far taller and muscular than he was, carrying his belongings from the carriage and in through a side door—the servants’ entrance and exit, he guessed. “Where are they taking my property?”

“To your room. I suggest you follow them.” Replied one of the soldiers, turning in back in a nonchalant motion that indicated he was wiping his hands of the alchemist as his responsibility.

Isidor was far from placated from this not-so-warm welcome. To add insult to injury, something in his peripheral vision stopped him in his tracks. “Wait—those are my clothes. Why are they being taken elsewhere?”

But to that question, he received no answer, and was simply nudged towards a winding staircase that brought him several flights up into the palace. The walls were lined with lit sconces, the only source of light, and meagre, at that. And the room to which he was at last directed wasn’t much better. “It’s so small…” The alchemist commented, which was significant, coming from someone whose previous living conditions had not extended far beyond the necessities of life. But even in his small tower, there had been room enough in his chambers for a bookshelf and a desk, as well as a chair in the event that he felt inclined to conduct his work outside of this study. This room had a window that was too small, no desk, no chair, no bookcase. Just a bed, a nightstand, and a wash basin and cloth across from the foot of the bed. He was hardly two feet into the room, and already felt the cloying tug of claustrophobia.

“Get used to it,” an older man—by the looks of him, a servant—said, handing him a dingle candle stick as a source of light. “You’ll see your study tomorrow morning. I suggest you get some sleep; don’t expect you’re to be awake after dawn, here.”

At that, Isidor was left alone, with little more than the clothes on his back, in an unfamiliar room. Try though he might to heed the weary servant’s advice, it was only a few hours from sun-up by the time he actually managed to fall asleep.

The alchemist had suspected that he’d be in for a rude awakening; what he hadn’t realized was just how rude. Dawn had not touched the tops of the trees when a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties practically burst through his door, wide awake and no-nonsense. “Up with you—hurry, now! We haven’t all morning, your audience with the king is in but a few hours.”

She was lucky that Isidor hadn’t let out a scream, startled as he was by this overbearing woman, who grabbed him by the arm and forcibly dragged him from his bed. “Wh-what is going on? Unhand me!”

“You need to bathe, we need to take care of your hair, and then put you in some suitable clothes. It won’t do to have the king’s own alchemist looking and smelling like a peasant.”

The king’s own alchemist. Not even twenty-four hours, and already he was no longer his own person. “I bathe almost every day,” he argued, tugging his arm from the stocky woman’s firm grip. “What’s wrong with my clothes? Or the way I smell?”

“Everything. Now come on!” The woman all but grunted, far less happy that Isidor was her task than the soldiers had been. Yet he’d done nothing but cooperate thus far, and thus feared their wrath, should he choose otherwise.

The servant woman led him down two flights of stairs and into a common bathing room, the tubs only separated by tattered curtains. “You’ve got five minutes to scrub yourself down,” the servant told him, shoving a cotton robe into his arms. “Any longer, and all the worse for you: I raised three sons and have no qualms against whatever state you might be in.”

He could have said the same thing about his own, estranged mother, but the woman’s threat didn’t go unheeded. The water was freezing, but Isidor scrubbed his face and body head to toe, not even bothering to dry off before donning the robe just in time for the middle-aged woman to return. At the sight of scissors in her hand, he balked, stumbling backwards, and nearly falling back into the water. “What do you mean to do with those?”

“Your hair is an uneven mess; looks like you cut it in the sleep, and isn’t fir for the court,” came her terse response. “Now get over here and sit your arse down. I suggest you stay still, I’ve been known to nick an ear every so often.”

So the last of Isidor’s carefully cultivated dignity fell with the clumps of dark hair, gathering around his bare feet in broken pieces of pride. When at last the woman (whose name he still didn’t know) put the scissors down, he frantically brought a hand to his head, relieved that the locks still remained, but no longer fell to his shoulders. “Can’t put a wreck back together,” the servant sighed, placing her hands on her hips, “but it will do. There’s an outfit waiting for you in your chambers; better hurry. Someone should be by to collect you in an quarter hour.”

Without breakfast, or his ritual morning cup of tea, Isidor’s mind was a fog a he fumbled with the buttons of a deep lavender overcoat that felt too stuff to be worn as an article of clothing. He’d barely managed to properly fold back the cuffs of his sleeves when there was a knock of his door. “Isidor Kristeva,” a tall, older man in a gold-lined tunic addressed him. “You are hereby summoned before the presence of His Royal Majesty King Ferant of the Jendryng Dynasty. If you are quite ready, please follow me.”

The next hour of Isidor’s hectic life was a blur of gaudy decorations, bright colours, pompous introductions and an even more pompous figurehead. For all the trouble the king of Hilofen had gone to all the trouble of ‘hiring’ him as the court’s alchemist, the man had been very terse, vague, and laissez-faire about the task he meant to place on the shoulders of his new employee. Weapons, Isidor thought, walking away from the summons with a tired mind and a dark mood. He wants weapons. Unbeatable, indestructible weapons. But no mysticism: that was the only point upon which the king had been clear. Magic was to have no place in what he would have Isidor do, and were he to find out otherwise, then the alchemist would be subject to punishment. The man had not elaborated on that fact, but had instead chosen to end the summons on that intimidating note, before having the alchemist escorted from the throne room.

Frankly, he hardly felt that the nature of that meeting had warranted a change in his appearance. Happening to glance at himself in the expanse of a gilded mirror on his way down one of the corridors, he’d noted with a good deal of relief that he merely looked the part of a less unkempt version of himself. Alone at his home in the Outbounds, he’d seldom spared a care for physical aesthetic, save for that trip he made once a month to trade at the markets. Now, he was in the eye of the monarchy, and was thus not only obligated to watch his actions, but his physical appearance, as well.
Yestreen, he’d thought his tiny bedroom to be suffocating. But it was a sanctuary, compared to the discomfort he felt, passing servants and noblemen alike down winding hallways and up spiraling staircases. The last thread of his patience was pulled so taut at this point that he’d all but snapped at the man who’d told him he would be escorted to his private study. “Thank you, but I am sure I will find it on my own.”

Whether or not the alchemist had overestimated his skills of general navigation and orienteering, or underestimated the labyrinthine layout of the palace was irrelevant. Either way, the young man soon found himself somewhat lost, dressed the part of someone who belonged, when he very clearly did not.

“Where in hell am I…” The words were sighed, unbidden, and held more meaning than they let on. One day ago, he’d been taking tea at his kitchen table. One day ago, he had woken up to the sun and looked forward to the day’s accomplishments. One day ago, he had been Isidor Anatoliy Kristeva. Now, he was merely another servant to a man for which he cared nothing, working for a cause he felt wholly against, and his identity was only as good as the ghost of the person he’d been the day before.

The Queen was exhausted. Her hair clung to her neck with the sticky salty sweat she had been releasing for the past hours. Then the baby cried and she relaxed, smiling, breathing heavily. The midwife wrapped the babe in a starch, white cloth, wiping the remnants of the womb off of the screaming girl’s face. “A girl, your Majesty. She is beautiful and healthy.” The Queen’s smile widened, though the exhaustion remained at the corners wearily. Yet, it did not linger for long. Another contraction hit her and she looked at the midwife by her feet, startled. “Vera?” She inquired, shakily. The woman handed the babe off to another attendant and began to inspect the Queen. The maid cradled the child and began to clean her, taking care of the crying child. Her eyes widened and she drew her gaze upward to Jehannette’s, the laboring Queen. It was evident that she did not know how to proceed as a contraction rippled through the womb. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Another maid asked, eyes frantically searching the room as though it would reveal the answer to her. 
“There’s another child.”

“A what?” The woman responded incredulously, followed by a grunt of anguish from Jehannette.
“A twin.” The midwife whispered as the queen pushed the second child out. The attendant handed her a clean, white cloth and the second babe was wrapped tightly in the material. The queen slumped back as two heirs wailed in the large chamber.
“What do we do with twins?” The maid asked. “They’re cursed.” Silence clung to the air like a foul stench, stretching into all of the open spaces in the heated room. 

“They are not cursed.” The voice of the queen shook as she spoke, not opening her eyes. The weight of her command still carried through the distance separating the three individuals. “They are my children. They are the royal children. Give them to me.” The last sentence was firm and final.

Immediately, the midwife and the attendant brought both babes to their mother and they began to settle down. As Jehanette looked down at both of her beautiful daughters, the King entered the chamber, followed by a number of attendants and stopped dead when his dark eyes met the pale ones of his beloved wife. 

The conversation that had ensued between the Queen and King had not been their most pleasant but in the end, the Queen’s persuasiveness was powerful. Twins were taboo. They were rumored to possess abnormal magical powers, as they were one soul sharing two bodies. They were powerful enough to survive what all other people could not – prior to the abolishment of magic. All other individuals were incapable of surviving such a catastrophic event. Peasants of the kingdom openly abandoned the second child on hillsides and mountain slopes or pushed them out into lakes and rivers. Nobles had slightly more subtlety about their superstitions, bribing the midwives to secrecy and spiriting the twin away to a quiet death. 

The compromise had been difficult and it did not leave the Queen feeling particularly amicable towards her husband for weeks following. Their children would be permitted to live in the castle and be educated, raised as heirs to the throne. Upon their twenty-second birthday, they would be judged on their accomplishments. One would be chosen as heir and the other…would be banished, sent to live in the Outbound or far beyond, never permitted to return. The bargain was hard. Upon Jehanette’s death when the girls’ were four years old made it all the more difficult. Their father was a stern man and drove them to exhaustion with his lessons and tasks designed to discern the weak from the strong.

“Again.” The word was razor sharp, perfectly coordinated with the harsh snap of a walking stick against the cedar wood of the table two young women resided at. One of them jumped and the other merely glowered. The expression was quite unbecoming on her youthful face. The imperfection of their calligraphy reflected hatefully back in the whites of their eyes. Every letter had already been written painstakingly over one hundred times and still they did not meet the expectations their father had placed on their education.

A slender candle replaced the one that had melted away inside the polished silver candlestick holder. “Begin.” Their tutor uttered, lighting the candle. Her Royal Highness Princess Alaiscina Carenza drew the brush upwards swiftly and dipped it into the inkwell. Each letter formed with every flicked of the hairs bound by the purplish ink. Hastily, she created the alphabet for the one-hundred-and-first time. The light of the candle flickered once and then twice and extinguished. “Cease.” Delicate fingers released the bone handle she had been holding, listening to the soft “tink” it made on the cedar. Though it was a gentle noise, in her mind it echoed like the firm thud of an executioner’s blade against the block. 

“Well done, Luciane. The arches here and here, “ the words were emphasized with the pressure of his finger above the curve of the letter A and C, “are positively beautiful.” Princesses did not roll their eyes in the presence of other individuals, so Alaiscina kept hers firmly focused on her own handwriting before her. “We shall have you showing the Ostician monks how to inscribe their tomes in a matter of a fortnight.” The older twin beamed with enthusiasm and a slight condescending smirk in the direction of her sister. The instructor hovered over Alaiscina’s work and she could practically hear the frown forming on his lips, though she could not imagine at what. Her letters looks remarkably better than her twin’s – yet she was not the favorite of her father and so neither was she the chosen student of her tutors. His critiques fell on deaf ears, though she nodded her head repentantly. “You are done for the day. We will proceed with calligraphy tomorrow at daybreak and Master Jerrard will see you immediately following for linguistics. Following luncheon, archery will be with held in the east courtyard with Master Verone.”

With the oppressive lessons concluded, Alaiscina and her older sister departed the small library with the calligrapher left behind. Luciane’s smirk dangled on her lips like a delicate flower hanging from a vine. “Bested again, dear twin.” The strongest difference between the identical pair was the sound of their voices. Lucaine’s carried the emphasis and command that their father’s did, with a prick of cruelty to it. Alaiscina’s was soft and gentle, honed from years of soothingly humming at her windowsill. A pair of crystalline blue eyes darted to their duplicate pair and her brow furrowed.

“Your words of encouragement never fail to embolden me, Luci.” Alaiscina responded, brushing back her hair from its place against her chest. The delicate curl bounced once in protest and settled against her back. 

“Stop being a simpering fool. You should devote more of your time to your studies rather than dawdling about the castle doing gods knows what. Possibly researching to figure a way to avoid the inevitable.” The inevitable was Lucaine’s favorite way to reference their final test, lingering on the edge of their minds at all times. It waited for them a mere eleven months in the future. Each time the younger heiress considered her fate, it made her stomach turn. The thoughts left her unable to eat for days on end. At her sister’s mention of the event, she was unable to keep her slender hand from venturing to her stomach in anticipation of her dinnerless evening to come.

“Your obsession with the forbidden arts will bring you trouble sooner than you might anticipate.” Alaiscina responded, before stopping at the T-intersection of two of the hallways of the castle. “And here I leave you to go ponder my ultimate demise.” Alaiscina said, narrowing her eyes at her sister as the twin smirked delightedly. Lucaine departed in a swish of skirts and the persistent aura of superiority. Leaving her twin behind and attempting to ignore the dark notions of her future, Alaiscina realized that her father’s newest trinket was arriving today. The briefing the heiress had received from her manservant had been that King Ferant successfully recruited a well-known alchemist from the Outbound. This man was reportedly capable of concocting and fabricating miraculous instruments for the kingdom’s war with their neighbor. Utilizing this new asset’s knowledge would turn the tide of the war that had been raging openly and behind closed doors for nearly five centuries. Already whispers were circulating that the man was a magician - and he had not yet arrived! Courtly gossip never ceased to amuse Alaiscina. She smiled to herself as she strolled absentmindedly along the corridors. 

Imagine though, if he was a magician. The thought sparked her imagination and caused her heart to thrill like a spring bird in her chest. Between white teeth, her lip was rocked back and forth as the romance of magic caught her interest. Oh, it was all fantasy, of course. Magic was forbidden by royal decree and had been completely eradicated from every single crevice and mountaintop of the kingdom. The Jendryng Dynasty was marked by complete devotion to scientific advancement and the pursuit of knowledge. Yet, occasionally, the youngest child of the King would find herself imaging the fantastic spells and enchanted world that excised a millennia ago. Lost in her thoughts, only the unfamiliar voice jarred her from her reverie.

“Not in hell, I hope.” The princess responded to the question that was not meant to have an answer. A delighted smile at meeting a fresh face drew itself on her face. “Though many courtiers may agree with your assessment.” She came to a complete stop, clasping her hands together in front of her. The movement made a crease in the shimmering azure fabric of her gown. “I might be able to assist you finding your way around this maze. Where are you hoping to be?” Intelligent eyes scanned his face, taking in the soft tan of his skin, framed by dark hair that was evidently freshly trimmed. 

Isidor jumped. There was no way to recover gracefully from such a knee-jerk reaction; he couldn't make as if to pick something up, for he held nothing, the only objects on his person being the gawdy articles of clothing that he had been given that morning, and frankly, he was far too tired to try and save face. 
"I..." In the short time since he'd arrived, the young alchemist had encountered far more intimidating personnel than Alaiscina. The cherubic shape of her face and disarming smile, in fact, made her the least intimidating person he'd encountered in the past twenty-four hours. Unfortunately, that did not inspire adeptness to social exchange.

The flush that crept into his cheeks make up to a degree what he lacked in colour, due to stress and lack of sleep. "I... apologize. I was just thinking out loud, but..." Perhaps it was that he was dumbfounded to find someone in this accursed place that wished to be helpful of their own free will. Or, perhaps it was that the overly independent young man simply wasn't used to asking for help, that it took him a single, solid minute to articulate his conundrum. "I was sent here to serve His Royal Majesty King Ferant as... well, I'm an alchemist. I already know where my chambers are, but I'm rather at a loss in finding my study... I don't suppose you could point me in the right direction?"

Isidor couldn't help but shake the feeling that he was asking the wrong person--not for the possibility that she might not know where he had been assigned to work, but that, despite her offer, it likely wasn't her job to be of help. The servants in this palace dressed similar to him... or, at least, the way he used to dress. Commoners. But this girl, with her intricately plaited flaxen hair, and the gold-embroidered trim of her gown... The young alchemist at least had the sense to recognize she was no servant. 
As to her title otherwise... well, he still couldn't really hazard a guess. Just how many well-dressed people had answered to, been pushed aside by, or passed in the hallway since his arrival? She could have been a noblewoman of any give descent.

That said, it probably wasn't even his place to be talking to her.

"I... i-if you'd prefer, you could just... I mean, I certainly don't expect you, miss, to..."
Hopeless. Some asserted that Isidor Anatoliy Kristeva was an eccentric genius; he knew his craft better than he knew himself, and had yet to encounter limits to his skills. But with those years and years of isolated study, he'd sacrificed another crucial part of human existence; that being, acknowledging that other people existed. Up until now, he'd never realized the impact it would have on his conduct.
Pressing a slow sigh from his lungs, Isidor gave a slow shake of his head. "Perhaps... nevermind. I'm sorry if I've bothered you, miss..." Before he could make a further fool of himself, the young alchemist turned away, contemplating whether to take east or west at the divided corridors.

The moment the disoriented man opened his mouth and began to stumble through his response, Alaiscina had to resist the urge to allow her smile to grow. The exorbitant amount of courtly grace that she had acquired throughout her twenty-one years of life was now employed in preventing her from displaying her amusement. This new addition to her father’s ever expanding team of researchers had evidently not interacted with other humans very often. It led to such an charming level of discomfiture on his part, but the princess managed to keep a simple, appropriately sized grin on her face as he continued to attempt to explain his predicament to her.

“Ah,” She murmured when he turned it back on her, trying to discern where he would find his study. “So you’re the infamous alchemist who has the court whispering behind their hands.” Rose lips curled further upward, pushing her round cheeks closer towards her eyes, resulting in an adorable squint to her crystalline eyes. As he stuttered along, the heiress knew that he had absolutely no idea that she was the King’s daughter. Well, it wasn’t precisely something that the man needed to know right now. It would make it all the more awkward for him if he was to discover who she was, at least at this particular moment.

Miss. She hadn’t been called miss since…ever. It was so beneath her station that it was delightful to hear him say it, as though she was a lowly courtier in service of the kingdom. The thought had crossed her mind many times, especially if she was supposed to be exiled following The Trial. Pushing it from her mind, she focused on the retreating man. “I do wonder.” She began, following him, as it was the direction of the study. She has walked past its construction the previous week, when her father was avidly preparing for the arrival of his next great genius. “I do wonder if you can truly turn lead into gold.” Part of her smile fell, leaving her smirking and gazing at him carefully.

“We will need to take the next left, towards the western wing, if you are hoping to arrive at the newly constructed alchemist’s lair.” Never did her smile waver from her mouth, her thin upper lip nearly disappeared above her white teeth. “Fortunately for you, I happen to be heading to Master Bellavue’s chambers in order to retrieve some herbal concoctions he is testing to lighten my hair. His workroom is quite close to yours, I believe.” It sounded so shallow of a mission, though it was not entirely the truth. Master Bellavue was the herbalist and he was working with Alaiscina to help change her appearance. After all, word of the princesses beauty had spread beyond the Outbound and into neighboring countries. She wanted to disguise herself as best as possible after the lost their final test. Confidence was something she possessed, but the youngest child of the king was also a realist. Lucaine was faster and far more conniving than her twin – as well as belove by their father. The most probably outcome was Alaiscina’s defeat. 

“If you wouldn’t mind my company, that is. I would ever so hate to impose my companionship on you.”

"Infamous? Not twenty-four hours, and already infamy has found me..." Pushing the troubling though from his mind, he refocused on the noblewoman. "I... well, if you happen to be heading in the same direction..." Companionship? Impose? Was it really companionship if it had to be composed? Looking at the well-dressed young woman, and comparing it to the peasant that he still was, for all intents and purposes. Neither imposition nor companionship were the first things to come to mind when he considered their differing positions; in fact, he feared reprimand for so much as speaking with her. But if no one else would help, and she knew where he was to be...
Hazarding a half smile, Isidor shook his head."No, not at all--if anything, I'm posing on a place where I clearly do not belong. If you could show me where I am to go... I would gratefully put myself in your debt, for a little help." 

Hoping that last humbling piece of gratitude would not come back to haunt him, Isidor accepted her offer, cutting a left as he followed Alaiscina down the corridor. Sunlight streamed through the abundance of tall windows, forcing him to squint. Not that the alchemist didn't appreciate sunlight; but his small tower had, relatively, far fewer windows, for the fact that too much light distracted from his work. But this was but a small annoyance compared to the overall acclimatization of life in a palace, let alone life in a place that condemned magic.
All the better to find this 'lair' and confine himself to it, unless otherwise ordered. This truly was hell, for a man with magic--or at least, adeptness to it--in his veins. 

"...and, incidentally, I cannot turn lead into gold," he added as an afterthought as he brought a hand up to his brow, shielding his onyx eyes from the sunlight. Such juvenile misconceptions... Is this truly what the king thought he could do? For if that were the case, he would be in for an unpleasant slice of reality. "Alchemy is all a matter of balance and of transmissible and compatible properties. Simply because gold and lead might share certain qualities, in their texture and shape, for example, does not make them compatible for transmutation. I can, however, give lead the appearance of gold, albeit only temporarily. Very seldom do alchemical transformations prove to be enduring. It was never lead's destiny to be gold; eventually, it will diminish to its former properties, depending on the skill of the..." One glance at Alaiscina's wide blue eyes pulled his words to a halt. What was he doing? What right had he to expect her to indulge him in gaining a more realistic comprehension of his craft?

Colour crept into Isidor's cheeks as he hastily returned his gaze to the hallway before him. "I guess this is neither the time nor the place, nor the subject matter that you'd prefer," he offered as an embarrassed apology, anxiously fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves. "Though... why would you wish to change the colour of your hair? It's already aesthetically pleasing, the way it catches the sun." Both a compliment, as well as an objective observation, on the alchemist's part. Alaiscina would never find someone more willing to be upfront and honest. "Regardless, I would take care with herbal concoctions. Some can cause irritation; simply squeezing lemon juice into your hair and exposing it to a considerable amount of sunlight might just achieve the same ends."

Everything he was delving into was much over her standard comprehension of alchemy, though she could follow the words easily enough. As part of their training for The Trial (as Alaiscina had taken to calling it in her head to make it feel more romanced than it was in actuality), the twins had studied basic alchemical properties. The basics of what he was describing made sense to her, though his decision to discuss a simple teasing question in complete depth left her with widened blue eyes. He clearly recognized her startled expression and ceased in his elaborate explanation of the inability to turn basic lead into shiny, shimmering gold. It was astonishing, the amount of knowledge that he could drop so easily into a conversation with the princess, someone he didn’t know. It prodded her to recognize his inabilities at social engagement, but she was too intrigued to notice it any further. The blush that rose against his tanned cheeks resulted in her replacing the surprised parting of her lip with a gentle smile.

Shortly thereafter, however, it was her turn to blush. The compliment forced her eyes downward, but only for mere seconds before she composed herself. They walked along, the sunlight truly catching the bright streaks in her hair and the faint glistening powder on her cheeks. “Simply because I am a woman, it does not mean I prefer conversing about hair color over the complexity of the principles of transformation.” She said so with a large smile and held her hands up slightly, smooth palms facing outward. “I merely jest, alchemist. You suggestions may prove helpful.” The smile continued to play on her face as she began to slow her pace, scrutinizing the exteriors of the chambers that they were passing. While she knew the general vicinity of his study, she couldn’t recall precisely which one it was. The brunette was certain that once she saw it, she would be able to recognize it without difficulty.

Alaiscina was careful not to answer his question as to why she wanted to change her appearance. It may not be wise to discuss her plans with a man that may very well be in her father’s employ physically and mentally. While she found their conversation intriguing, she trusted very few individuals that she met in this damned place. Most reported directly to the king in all matters – which books she was reading, how many strolls she took in the gardens, when she was on her mooncycle and so on. 

“Ah!” She said with pleasure, abruptly pausing before a large oak door with metal strips across it. She remembered the metal strips distinctly, as the inside of the door was completely lined with lead, sealing the room. Her father had it specially crafted the quarters when his spies had learned the location of the alchemist he had sought. It had taken only a few weeks to completely outfit the area he was to use to fabricate extensive weaponry for the dynasty’s usage. “Seems I knew where I was going afterall.” She took a few steps past the door and turned to face the dark eyes of her companion. “Your study awaits,” she motioned with one hand, “and I believe that this is where we will part ways.” Alaiscina almost left it at that and a slight quirk of her brow was the only indication that she had decided otherwise. “Perhaps we shall run into each other again. I may even come seek your advice on matters of beauty enhancement options.”

"Oh! No, Miss, I-I never meant to imply..." Well, wasn't this just his luck. In an attempt to turn the conversation towards a topic that was more accessible and, frankly, relevant to the young woman's life, Isidor feared that it had instead turned the tables and indirectly insulted her. Never had to worry about this back in the Outbounds... not when there was never anyone around about whom to worry. "What I mean to say is... Or, rather, what I'd meant in changing the subject was simply to discuss something that I thought to be more relevant to your situation, given that you brought it up, Miss. Not to you gender or position, I implore you to believe..." Not that it really mattered whether or not she believed him; the chances of seeing the same person twice in an edifice this size seemed statistically unlikely.

But just as his worries began to peak, the young woman grinned and held up her hand. Jest? So she had been... joking? For a brief moment, it was the alchemist's turn to feel offended. This was like a jungle to him, unexplored territory where he hardly felt he knew the palace's vernacular, let alone knew how to communicate to its denizens, and yet she sought to toy with him by putting forth jokes in the guise of disapproval?
Well, now he knew how the rich spent their time. Perhaps there was some truth in that too much money attracted boredom.

That temporary bitterness was quick to dissipate, however. Isidor came to an abrupt stop as his impromptu guide indicated the door that, as it turned out, belonged to his study. Lairs are for dragons... he thought, but did not hesitate to grip the handle--pewter--and reveal the place where he would be spending the majority of his time from then on. The alchemist was met with a good deal of surprise, paired with a hint of discomfiture. The room behind the door frame bore a striking resemblance to his personal study back in the Outbounds, in part due to the books and equipment that he had been permitted to take with him, but also in the lay out. One desk, one tall window, two chairs, and four bookshelves.
It was as if whoever had designed the room had known him as well as he knew himself.

"This is..." Isidor bit his lip, unable to find quite the right descriptor. Finally, he settled on, "This will do. You have my gratitude for helping me find it." For perhaps the first time, the smile that the young alchemist offered his guide was genuine, reaching his eyes. "My studies haven't delved deep into, ah... the realm of aesthetics, but if I can be of any help to you whatsoever, then by all means, I will do my best. Thank you, again, for your help." And if he'd been at all socially inclined, he might have thought to leave her with his name.

As the lesser princess retreated towards Master Bellavue’s door, just four down from where she left the alchemist to explore his new domain, she pondered how peculiar the man was. He certainly did no understand the social niceties of court and was also visibly perturbed by her jest. Alaiscina decided that she would have to be more literal in his presence, should they ever interact with each other in the future. Her fist rapped on the door and grumbling was heard on the other side, intermixed with shuffling and the clink of glasses. The wood parted from the stone frame in which it resided and a brown eye shadowed by hairy brows peeked through.

“Alais!” The grumbler exclaimed, moving aside so that she could ease her way in. The door clicked shut and they discussed her true purpose in hushed tones behind the thick walls of the herbalist’s chamber.

A few short hours later, the princess emerged. The bright chestnut of her hair remained unaltered and clear blue eyes flicked up and down the hall. Her steps resumed their usual air of superiority and slipped through the corridors. The rest of the day was passed in calm respite in the gardens. Two ladies-in-waiting hovered a few paces away, whispering and giggling behind their fans. Occasionally, another noble would stroll along the paths that curled and weaved through the hedges. They would nod to her, if she happened to glance upwards at their passing. Most of the court could not tell the twins apart and paid them both the respect they deserved as though they were the prized daughter of the king. If they bothered to spend enough time with either of them, they would have discovered that Alaiscina had two small moles on her left cheek that Lucaine did not. Alas, it was something easily missed by people that feared the power of twins.

A servant appeared shortly, bowing low enough to have the perfect view of the hem of Alaiscina’s gown. “Permission to speak, my lady.” It was a turn of phrase that her father had insisted the servants begin to utilize at every turn. It was an annoyance to the princess but there was nothing she could do to refute her father’s will. Seven months prior a servant had spoken in what the king deemed to be out of turn and now they had to request speaking privileges.

“Granted, as always.” The man proceeded to discuss her schedule with her for the following day. She made small amendments where she wanted, resulting in a rather packed schedule for the following day. After the servant’s departure to relay all the information to the king, Alaiscina retired to her chambers for the evening.

The next morning was spent in its usual fashion with Lucaine constantly besting her at every possible turn in all of their courses. Following archery, her muscles ached and her stomach rumbled, but she needed to discuss a few topics with Master Bellavue before luncheon was served in the hall. It was difficult to see him everyday and even further complicated by the guard of twittering ladies that were supposed to follow her around. The only time they did not was during her lessons and immediately following – creating the perfect opportunity for her to manage to speak with the Master.

The material of her tan breeches swished back and forth as her legs pumped, moving her down the long corridor to speak with the herbalist. As she moved swiftly, the linen of her shirt pressed against her curves by the wind she created with her forward motion. Alaiscina had just long enough to speak with Master Bellavue before –

“Dear Alaiscina,” the words hummed with an irritatingly silky voice and Alaiscina ceased walking, turning around to face her sister’s favorite maid. 

“Lady Renee, if I recall correctly and please do correct me if I am mistaken, but your position requires you to address me appropriately,” Alaiscina waved her hand with a dismissive motion, “unless you have married a prince that I am not aware of.” They hovered five doors down from the herbalist’s, with the alchemist’s pewter handle catching the sun from the windows around them. Renee’s face reddened and her mouth formed a firm line of displeasure. The comment had caught her off guard and she retreated, leaving the princess to hold her breath, anxiously waiting to see if her sister had also been stalking her.

In so little time, Isidor's world had been reduced to metals.

Not that such a transition was unreasonable. The very foundations of alchemy had, after all, begun with the properties of metals and how they could be changed, but the craft could extend to so much more, so long as the theories were applied correctly. Nonetheless, the 'lead into gold' assumption still flew from the tongues of both commonfolk and nobility alike when the subject was breached, hence, his tasks were assigned thusly.

But that was not the crux of Isidor's frustration. Working with metals was tedious and often boring, but they were elements that he had mastered practically a decade ago, earlier in his rudimentary studies when he was still fairly new as an accomplished alchemist. With the right tools, materials and the appropriate guidelines, it was simple to give pewter the guise of silver so convincingly that, when its mass was tested with its weight in water, it could pass as though it was and always had been that semi-precious metal. Hell, even gold wasn't so difficult to achieve (at least, at face value), although its guise didn't tend to last quite as long. As a rule of thumb, the rarer the metal or mineral, the more difficult it was to convincingly transmute, and even if it was achieved, the duration of the change was significantly shorter.

His Majesty was not interested in silver, though. Nor did he care for gold, for the metal was far too soft to be of use when crafting weapons. No, what he wanted was the strength of diamonds--diamonds![/!] And, worse, he did not feel the necessity of providing Isidor with any such material as diamonds, even after the poor alchemist struggled to explain that his craft was not one that could create something from nothing. "Your Majesty," he begged, already exhausted by the man's ignorance paired with hot-headed insistence, "I would not ask you for materials if they were not imperative to the success of the task you have assigned me. To craft weapons with the strength of diamond, I[i]need the latter material for the very foundation of the transmutation... Without it, the effects could disintegrate at the worst moment, possibly in battle when your men are using the weapons. "

But the lingo went right over the King's head, and his patience was too thin to permit the alchemist's explanation. Only five moments into Isidor's plea, the king ordered him to be escorted away, back to his study empty-handed to ponder a problem that he did not have the materials to fix. As soon as he was clear of the throne room, his own patience evaporated, and he shook off the hold of the guard who was escorting him. "That will do just fine, thank you. I know my way to my study by now." Glaring at the guard's haughty face, he couldn't help but add, "And you should know better than to put your hands on one's person without their permission. You should meditate more on your conduct, sir."

Turning almost dramatically on his heel, Isidor stalked away and around the corner, where he shrugged off uncomfortable violet overcoat that he was obligated to wear in the public eye. The starchy white tunic beneath didn't offer much more comfort, but it at least allowed his skin to breathe in the aftermath of that frustrating audience. Raking a hand through his hair, he didn't look up from his brown leather boots until he reached that familiar pewter door knob--at which point he noticed a familiar face.
Not what the king would deem 'properly dressed', with his overcoat hanging over this forearm... of all the times to run into someone.

"O-Oh! Miss, uh... Hello." Isidor nodded an awkward greeting, noting that the familiar young woman's attire wasn't much more formal than his brown britches and off-white shirt. But wasn't she nobility? Perhaps he wasn't the only one who took such issue with the palace's formal attire.
Nonetheless, his anxiety was not assuaged. "I was just... it is, that, well, His Majesty has a tendency to leave some people hot with frustration, and, uh, my overcoat..." No, stop it. Stop while you are ahead, you fool, lest she laugh in your face!

Inhaling deeply, he rolled his shoulders back, offering her an apologetic and helpless look. "With all due respect to His Majesty... is he always so... so..." And in dropping his voice to a whisper, he finished, "Infuriatingly and absurdly unyielding? I am tempted to request someone speak with him on my behalf, from now on, lest by some miracle I end up speaking my mind to him."

Alaiscina was lost in her own myriad of thoughts and concerns at the sudden arrival and departure of Lucaine’s favorite pet. If Lucy was having her maids tail Alaiscina it could prove difficult after The Trial. The youngest princess had the strongest feeling that her sister would have her permanently eliminated after she lost. After all, why would any ruler that expected to stay in power allow a threat to their position survive? It was not something that she wanted to leave to chance, so we worked with Master Bellavue on ways to disguise herself and a plan to escape the castle the moment she was rendered inconsequential. 

The voice drew her from her reverie once more and she looked upward with surprise in her eyes as the alchemist stood before her, nodding awkwardly. She inclined her head in acknowledgement, her weighty thoughts still pressing heavily on her mind and they were not easily shaken. Licking her lips, she clasped her hands behind her back, listening halfheartedly until he began to mention her father. Brown brows rose further above her blue eyes in interest. The overcoat went unnoticed until he brought her attention to it. Azure gaze glanced down briefly, lashes fluttering against her cheeks. Certainly not appropriate courtly attire to be strolling about in the halls but this was his home now. The lack of an overcoat would not end his life in the corridors, only perhaps if he stood before the King in such an unkempt manner.

The drop in volume provoked her to lean further inward, tilting her head to one side in order to better hear him. Then she laughed, a bright melodious sound that filled the empty space around them and traveled down the hall, losing strength as it sped along. It lingered for a few moments and she covered her soft lips with her hand. “I apologize, truly, I do.” She pressed her other hand to her stomach as the spasms of amusement calmed. “It is not very often that I hear someone speak so negatively of our sovereign in such a loquacious manner.”

Pausing as though considering something, she continued, “Though I think he is mostly referred to as unbearably obstinate and frightening tedious. “ Alaiscina smiled encouragingly at him, beginning to like this gentleman even though he seemed so inept as social interaction. It was quite delightful to have someone that saw her father for what he was and spoke about it. “Though I would not recommend sending someone in your place, that would not bode well for you. The King likes to intimidate his subjects directly, particularly the ones fabricating his weapons of extraordinary power.”

“And based on your assessment, I take it that you have just returned from a rendezvous with said leader and that it did not proceed as you had desired. “ A smile continued to dance on her lips as she spoke to him. Behind her back she intertwined and released her fingers multiple times, a habit she had without significance. “Fortunate for me, though. I’m glad to see you again, alchemist. How goes your move into the castle’s study? Finding everything to be adequate?”

And, there, again--laughter. The heat in Isidor's cheeks intensified such that he was tempted to fan himself. Could he not speak without garnering laughter at his expense or, in the case of his conversation with the king, not being heard at all? The more time he spent in this palace and among its strange denizens, the more aware he became that although he could exchange and understand the common tongue, the social language of this place was entirely lost on him. "Well..." Isidor cleared his throat and tugged at the collar of his stuff tunic. "Either your King has reserved his infallible obstinacy for me, alone, or perhaps more people should speak of him with more honesty."

A comment that, if uttered to the wrong person, could easily lead to the young man's early demise. But death no longer seemed so frightening, given this gilded imprisonment... And this young woman... well. Something about her spoke of trust, and a gut feeling reassured him that she wouldn't be repeating his blasphemous words to His Majesty, or anyone else, for that matter. Nonetheless, it was really no excuse not to learn to hold his tongue. A task that he foresaw as even more difficult than crafting a weapon bearing diamond qualities, without any of the appropriate materials to do so.

But he was left with no choice, save for simply adapting. Unfortunately for Isidor Anatoliy Kristeva, adaptability and integration were not within his otherwise vast repertoire of skills.

"So he thinks intimidation is the means to the end he desires, huh?" It made all the sense, and yet no sense at all--much like everything else about the palace. "Well, I am not so cold hearted as to send someone in my stead to absorb such tyranny. Even if he expects me to make something from nothing... For a man who is so loathe to condone magic, he is quite eager to get what he wants with the snap of his fingers and no resources towards it--o-of course, this is all just between you and I, yes? It's out of my system, I shan't bring it up again."

Clasping the pewter knob, Isidor pushed open the door to his study, tossing his violet overcoat onto a nearby chair. To Alaiscina, who stood in the open doorway like a curious shadow, he asked, "Could you pass me that book? The one with the indigo cover, on the--yes, that one, there." Leaning over his desk, he took the proffered book and opened it to a dog-eared page in front of him. "Thank you. And I... I am not really sure how to answer your question."
Isidor picked up a pair of rectangular spectacles and adjusted them to his face, dark eyes concentrating on the words in front of him. It was easier to talk to the young noblewoman when he wasn't looking at her face; it brought less distracting colour to his cheeks.

"It was not my choice to be here. I'm not accustomed to... any of this, really," he confided, always adopting honesty as the best policy. "I am from the Outbounds and have lived in solitude for most of my life. To say this is an adjustment for me is a gross understatement. To find my arrangement 'adequate' would entail never having to speak one on one with the king again, so..." Pressing a soft sigh from his lungs, he looked up. "No offense, of course. I am not insulting your home. I am simply used to very different circumstances... such as working for myself."

He spoke with a lack of formality and honesty that would not end well for him. The humor she found at his ineptitude was difficult to hide. Fortunately for him, Alaiscina was schooled in the fine arts of concealing emotions from others. It came with the territory of inheriting a kingdom…potentially inheriting, she corrected herself as she stepped inside of his study. It was larger than she thought, but much smaller than he was expecting. The more the alchemist spoke about the king, the tenser the muscles in her back became. If they could veer from this topic, she would feel much more at ease. She knew that he would not take kindly to the fact that she was the king’s daughter. Momentarily, her lips turned downward but she quickly focused her attention on the contents of the study. 

“This one?” She inquired, holding it up before offering it to the man. She noticed there were a number of pages pressed down, making the volume appear well-used. 
Once it left her grasp, she allowed her eyes to roam about the room. The bottles and glasses filled with smoky liquids and clear concoctions rested next to squat containers with words scribbled legibly across their lids. The princess had seen alchemist chambers before but his was unique. It was relatively well organized and he had equations written on papers tacked to the walls. Quickly, she circled the room, barely hearing him as he attempted to answer the question that she had posed before passing the threshold of the room.

When she focused on him again, bright eyes took in his spectacles and cocked her head a minuscule amount to one side. It was quite a good look for him – as though it made his awkward nature more acceptable, as though giving reason to it. Studying the contours of his cheeks as he spoke, Alaiscina allowed herself to sit back onto a chair without looking. A squeal of alarm left her lips before she could prevent it. When she gathered herself, she brought forth a round object attached to a wooden post. Raising it upwards, but not bringing it closer to her face, Alaiscina noticed the swirling of the stone that resided inside of the glass. The twisting and turning of the haze reminded her of a snake, slithering and coiling in the grass.

The decision was made not to rest her behind on anything else without looking first and she placed it back down where she had found it. “I have never visited the Outbounds, though a number of merchants travel back and forth. They regal us city dwellers with such tales of magic and mischief that I fear my expectations of such places exceed reality.” As she continued to examine his study, the young woman kept speaking. “I think many people would consider it more than adequate to never have to endure an audience with the king again.” A grin danced along her lips, her face illuminated by the light when she turned back to her companion.

“No offense taken.” She said, resting her hands on the table behind her (after taking a wary glance to make sure there was nothing that would harm her.) “Many people are not fond of the city.” Her ladies would be curious as to her prolonged absence, but she could tarry just a moment longer in the refreshing company of the alchemist – just a moment and no more. “How long is your contract with his majesty? I am sure you are eager to return to your home.” She knew that his contract was indefinite. It was a harsh question to ask and it was quickly buried beneath a slew of other probing questions. “And what is that, may I ask? It was quite presumptuous with my backside only a moment ago and I am eager to be able to curse it appropriately.” A faint smile continued to rest on her mouth. “To myself, of course, I would not be so quickly to reveal your magical devices to others.” She expected the next explanation from him to include the appropriate uses for the item she had squashed with her rump and how it was in no way magically linked.

The young woman's startled cry tore Isidor's gaze away from his book and urged a startled glance upward, spectacles sliding down the bridge of his straight nose. "Oh--uh, I, um... Allow me to apologize for that." He leaned across his desk and reached for the small globe with its swirling, almost ethereal contents, and set it on a nearby bookshelf. "That was entirely my fault. I'm still debating about the arrangement of things in here, and I'm... I mean, like I said, I'm not accustomed to company, or the fact that anyone might take a seat in my office, at all. I promise to be more mindful of my clutter in the future..."

At the very least, the young woman seemed relatively unperturbed, and not of the mind to chide him. You've struck luck, Isidor--no one else would be so lenient of that oversight. Imagine if the king himself had taken a seat in that chair! The very thought of that insufferable monarch looming over his shoulder as he worked send a shudder through his body. His social inclinations might yet have a way to go, but he could take solace in the fact that he was, at least, doing all the wrong things in the presence of the right person. Perhaps the only person in that wretched palace that would forgive him his shortcomings and the naivete that resulted from a life of isolation.

"I can't speak to the magics and mischief of the Outbounds, myself," he replied with regards to her comment. "Personally, I find it more peaceful than intriguing or stimulating... There isn't the same bustle and noise in the air as in the city. Although, when I was younger, I found it exciting to explore... It was almost as if the forest and beyond would change, every time I went outside..."
Realizing once again that he was rambling, Isidor clamped his mouth shut and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "But... that's neither here nor there. I'm sorry, I won't pester you with that rabble."

Despite Alaiscina's discomfort (which did not register with the young alchemist), he was more than happy the change of subject. "I wish I could answer that question, myself... I was not given a timeline or an expected date for this... contract, as you put it, to expire. I would assume it would take place as soon as your king is satisfied with the weapons that I create, although given his unwillingness to provide me with the materials needed..." He trailed off, suddenly, as the prospect of the king's expectations sunk in. Would it really end at the creation of alchemical weaponry? Or would he find another reason to keep him as a prisoner in this gilded cage?

He didn't know, and he didn't want to think think about it.

That said, he was silently grateful for the young woman's preoccupation with the small trinket upon which she'd sat. That, he could talk about without any tangents or level of anxiety. "My devices are hardly magical, Miss; alchemy is a tangible science. Although you would think this to be otherwise, wouldn't you?" The corner of his mouth quirked into a small grin as he picked up the bauble again. "What you see is a simple dance being performed by copper particles and mist; very simple, yet very eye-catching. I make them to sell at the markets when I travel from the Outbounds, though I assure you, it is little more than sleight of hand. Here."

Leaning forward, he placed the shimmering trinket back in Alaiscina's hands. "I don't have much of an inclination towards decorations... It's yours, if you'd like it. Sit it near your window, and it will reflect sunrays and moonbeams, so long as a source of light shines through it."

Laughter bubbled in her chest but she kept it contained, knowing that it might cause him from discomfort. No one wanted to be teased and it seemed that the subtleties of jokes were often lost on the man from the Outbounds. Perhaps if he held the King’s favor long enough, she would be able to help him grow accustomed to the nuances of polite society. For a little while at least…. The thought slipped in and out of her mind swiftly, distracting her. Dear, I am growing quite melancholy as the date draws near. Hurriedly, she shoved the considerations to the dark recesses of her consciousness and focused on the object that was now weighing heavily in her hands.

Surprise flickered in her gaze when it rested on the dancing pieces of light, swirling against the mist inside the sphere. “I cannot possibly...!” She began, but already she was entranced by it. It was only copper, he said. Yet, it captivated her utterly. Soft, royal hands twisted the sphere delicately back and forth. Her smile grew with each moment that passed, the trinket evidently something she would cherish. “You must allow me to repay you in some way. How much would it cost, were you selling it in the markets? I can’t expect something so lavish without compensating you for it.”

A merry thought burst into her mind and she exclaimed as much with a soft “oh!” Still cradling the ball in her hands, Alaiscina continued, “I know. What do you require that the king will not give you for your work? I might be able to help this predicament, in repayment for such a lovely decoration.” On cue, she raised her hand upwards and the sphere burst with bright light, capturing all of the sunlight streaming through the window. It only caused her smile to grow further and firmly press a lid on the dour considerations she had weighing on her earlier. Lowering it so it wouldn’t permanently blind the new alchemist, a blush rose into her cheeks. “My apologies. I am not yet familiar with all the nuances of my new gift. “

“If you want to write me a list, I can procure a few of the items for you, though it might take me a few days. My studies keep me fairly engaged during the day.” At the mention of her studies, the speed of her heart increased tenfold and she tossed her attention to the window. “Speaking of which, I fear I am late for my next lesson. That will not end well if I arrive in my archery attire for Medvalian dance.” She began to back out of the room, knowing that someone would have started to look for her by now. Her attending ladies were quite punctual, when they were not waylaid by their gossiping.

“I can return tomorrow perhaps, to retrieve that list.” Alaiscina spoke as she took steps backwards towards the door, before promptly bumping into a table. The result was the boiling flask to rattle violently in its holder. “Oh gods.” A furious blush found itself on her cheeks and her free hand rose up to press against her warm skin. “I seem to have left my grace at the door when I entered.” She confessed with a sheepish smile. “I best go before I break something irreplaceable. Tomorrow, then.” She bobbed her head, gave the customary swift curtsy, and departed.

Just like the children who begged their parents to buy the eye-catching baubles that he crafted, so, too, did the noblewoman's eyes light up as he handed her the copper-filled glass ball. If anyone knew how simple a task it was to produce the little novelties, if only they were aware of just how rudimentary someone's alchemical knowledge and know-how need be to be up to the task, perhaps the pretty, shimmering decorations wouldn't be so coveted.
Of course, it too often slipped Isidor's mind just how niche the art and craft of alchemy actually was. Its rarity, after all, had it so often confused with magic, and those that knew the difference didn't necessarily understand what made it different.

Remember, you're the only alchemist this side of as many kingdoms. Sometimes, the thought brought him solace, even a sense of importance. More often, however--though he was loathe to admit it--it brought with it a hopeless atmosphere of loneliness.

"Really, I have no need of it... It must have gotten mixed in with the remainder of my belongings when your king's men escorted me to the palace," he attempted to assuage her sudden concern for accepting what was little more than a simple gift--and an attempt on Isidor's part, perhaps, to make up for his clumsy speech, among all other social errors he had committed in her company. "I needn't anything in return, honestly! It's a gift, just a simple gift. If I really felt it had any value, monetary or otherwise, then I wouldn't be so quick to give it away. And, well, you seemed to have taken an inclination to it, so..."

But he wouldn't be heard, not past the young woman's insistence to come even--as if this casual exchange was more of an interaction of trade. Of course, not only did he doubt she could provide him with the materials that the king denied him (he wasn't even sure the king himself didn't have the amount of diamonds that he'd require to provide an entire army with new, indestructible weapons), but nothing so simple as copper and missed trapped behind a small dome of glass was worth a fortune such as that! "Really, t-that isn't necessary!" Isidor squinted at the redirected beam of light as she held the globe up to catch the rays of the late afternoon sun. "It isn't your responsibility to... That is, it's just a gift, I don't need to be compensated..."

But before he could finish, she promised him to return on the morrow, and hastily bowed out, leaving the young alchemist to wonder what had just transpired. Did she truly expect him to leave her with a list of items that he required? Because if she'd known the extent of what he needed before his contract with the king would be complete... There was no way she'd have made the offer, and there was no way he could ask her for anything in return for that silly trinket.
Well...

"Your name would have sufficed," he found himself murmuring without realizing why. The way in which she'd stumbled and left replayed in his mind's eye, bringing a ghost of a smile to the corner of his lips. She was quite the endearing one; perhaps insomuch that, around her, he not only felt welcome, but less like a black sheep among the white herd. And to think, he'd exchanged words with her on more than one occasion, already, and had neither asked her for her name, or offered his own...
Well, if she did, in fact, return with the next sunrise, then the opportunity would be there. Unless he managed to sabotage his own efforts with his conversational ineptitude...

Only tomorrow would tell. And if nothing else, he could count on another day.

The remainder of the afternoon passed fairly uneventfully, though the sideways glances from her maids did not proceed unnoticed. They whispered behind their hands, likely attributing her prolonged absence to the the possibility of Alaiscina taking a new lover. The idea made her roll her eyes around as one of her ladies pinned up her curls before the dinner she was to attend with her father and her sister. It wasn’t entirely unheard of – a princess taking a man for her pleasure. It was not condoned but it was not uncommon. Of course, in no way did it extend beyond the use of hands and mouths. The physical representation of her chastity had to remain intact for the examination she would receive upon her wedding night…well, that her sister would likely receive. Alaiscina doubted that a man in the Outbounds during her years of exile would want her inspected before marriage. It wasn’t frequently employed outside of nobility, she understood. With the last pin shoved firmly (and painfully) into her scalp, the princess gritted her teeth. The thought rested in her mind of how fortunate men were that they didn’t have a physical designation of their chastity. There had been a time three years ago when she would have killed to….ah, well, no point in wallowing in the self-pity pool. 

Aromas of fig-stuffed pheasant wafted towards her the moment the guards opened the doors to permit her entrance. Lucaine was already seated and her father deemed that appropriate enough to have begun the meal. They were in a heated discussion about how best to proceed with the militant minority of a religious sect. Alaiscina seated herself at her father’s left, across from her exact likeness.

“Well, I was not implying that we give them any official commendations, father. We cannot play one god above another but certainly their zeal could be used to the advantage of the kingdom.” Her sister gestured politely with one hand after lowering her spoon down beside the steaming bowl of – Alaiscina inhaled slowly – onion stew. “Certainly we can guide them on the path that the Great Soldier wants them to follow and it just coincidentally aligns with our own course.” A devilish smile played her beautiful lips. The speaking princess’ twin drew her own spoon up to her lips and consumed the warm liquid, delighted in the heat that spread across her abdomen after she swallowed.

“Do you think that the Ecclesiastic Court would not hear of this, dear sister?” Alaiscina inquired, drawing another spoonful to her mouth.

“Naturally,” the look Lucaine gave her was nothing short of wicked and annoyed, “but we have always led in the dance with the vicars and celebrants. They know they cannot live without the gods’ son on the throne.” Her head inclined towards their father, who merely smirked at her words and tore into the breast of one of the birds decorating their table. The flesh glistened with oil and the sticky juices dribbled down his chin, catching in his full beard.

“Naturally.” Alaiscina conceded, finishing her thick broth before proceeding with the discussion that she had interrupted. “Yet, many of the Prophecies speak of the death of the One, which many interpret to mean the end of our line and the beginning of a new age.” If those words had been spoken by anyone other than the king’s flesh and blood, they would likely be the last coherent sentence that ever left their lips. The Prophecies were spoken about only in the clergy halls and temples to support the rule of his Majesty King Ferant and the longevity of the Hilofen Empire under the guidance of the Jendryng Dynasty. Her father, however, saw the bait that she laid before the sharks she sat with and did not attempt to strike out. Lucaine, however, could not resist. Whether it was her pride or arrogance, Alaiscina was not sure. The rest of the meal was spent discussing the Prophecies and concluded with a dramatic exit by her sister.

“You insist of provoking her.” Her father expressed in his most displeased tone, leaning back in his chair after finishing his fourth berry tartlet.
“She makes it so simple. It makes me a sinner, I know, but I cannot resist the temptation Pharisee lays before me.”
“Do not blame the trickster for your vanity. You know I do no believe in such nonsense. The Prophecies, like magic, are a festering appendage brought about by plague, needing to be severed and burned to prevent their spread.”
“The gods, too then? For did they not speak to the Great Soldier and his Oracle, and brought us the divine right to rule and the Prophecies? Can you have one without the other?” At her words, her father grunted, crossing his fingers together over his belly. 
“Your mother appreciated a lively debate on holy matters.” For a moment, Alaiscina saw hope, but it was quickly snuffed out like a midnight candle. “I, however, do not.” And so the conversation ended. With a deep curtsey, she excused herself to her chamber and spend hours staring at the soft fabric that hung on the canopy of her bed. 

Her ears were filled with the soft mews of her lady at the foot, likely dreaming about the new stable lad based on the writhing she heard. The princess wondered if she should bother with another lover so close to the date of their contest. A skilled man, perhaps? What would a little pleasure hurt? As the moon peeked through with its beams, caressing the space between the curtains, the orb she had received that day began to glimmer. It cast shadows on the opposite wall, swirling and writhing, not unlike other shapes she had experienced in the past. It drew her attention and she grew lost in it. Her mind drifted back and forth over many thoughts, before the last one crossed her mind. I get to see the alchemist tomorrow.

The thought had vanished into darkness and remained there by the time the princess awoke to attend her lessons. She hurried through them as best as she was able and it was fairly pleasant. Her sister was still visibly irritated from the prior evening and opted to completely ignore her twin. Well enough, Alaiscina thought as she stitched small, delicate petals onto the flower insignia that designated the Deshia High Court. The ambassador was coming to discuss relations with her father in three nights and she was to present him with a gift. Her lessons concluded shortly after she finished her third linen and she had nearly three hours prior to her riding instruction that afternoon.

Without seeming overly eager, but rushing to avoid her ladies and any prying eyes, Alaiscina stopped at Master Bellavue’s to check on the progress of their work together. All seemed in order and she slipped out of his door before proceeding down to the alchemist’s study. The door was partially open and something that smelled faintly of crushed boronias filled her nostrils. Alaiscina straightened, cast a cursory glance to the left and then the right before pushing it open further.

“I hope I am not intruding,” she said as she stood in the doorway, “your door, it was ajar.”

Isidor Kristeva had never been much of a vivid dreamer. The solitude and isolation of his small tower in the Outbounds had permitted him such a quieted mind that often his slumber was still, and dark, and restful, void of any of life struggles and ails that penetrated and plagued the unconscious mind. That was, until, he had been forced to leave his quiet tower, to end up in the palace of the king of the Hilofen Empire. A place that never slept, where minds were never quiet, and where, despite his own, private study, he found it difficult to concentrate for what was likely the first time in his life.
Even beyond wakefulness, his mind did not rest. For that very night, after long, futile hours put into the recipe for the king's weapons, he dreamed. Specifically, he dreamed of her.

For someone who had previously led a lifetime of very limited exposure to anyone, let alone women, the brief conversations he'd held with the young noblewoman had impacted more than he'd expected. At least enough that her face had shown up in his dream, and had persisted, up until the moment he'd opened his eyes the next morning--late morning, that is. Or, by the position of the sun in the sky, it could very well have been afternoon.
Regardless, he was late. For whatever reason, perhaps the tossing and turning of a fitful sleep, he was expected to be up with the dawn to continue his work. And it was far past dawn.

Cursing expletives that he would never utter in the presence of a person, the alchemist sprung out of bed, splashed water on his face and pulled on the black slacks that he had been provided. Without a care or concern for the glances he elicited as he exited his chamber with his white tunic in his hands, Isidor hurried down the winding steps, simultaneously pulling the shirt over his head as he ran through excuses in his mind, were he to be question. I simply required time to meditate on the tasks outside of my office! or I got stalled by your rude serving staff in the corridor... for... several hours...
The truth was, he had no excuse. And he could only hope that nobody had noticed his absence.

Isidor had just managed to successfully pull the simple, off-white tunic over his head when he scrambled to his office, struggling with the key to unlock the door in his haste. His hair was still tousled from sleep, and he'd forgotten that gaudy violet overcoat again, but he had more pressing matters. Such as being half a day behind in work, while being expected to report back to his Majesty with progress at the very end of the week.
How was it that he'd managed to not only pidgeon-hole himself into such a futile situation in the first place, but exacerbate all of this trouble with his own irresponsible negligence?

All over silly, vapid dreams concerning a noble girl, whose name he had yet to find out?

"So behind... how did this happen..."
The alchemist sighed to himself as he scrambled to look over the meticulous plans he'd sketched out the previous day. Officially, half of those plans were off the table, what with the time it took to treat and condition certain metals; amazing how a single day of sleeping in too late could ignite the need to completely restructure your week... I was never under so much pressure back in the Outbounds... Such was the result of going from the quiet and flexible life of working for yourself, to suddenly accommodating someone else's time frame and expectations.

So preoccupied with trying to figure out how to reroute the tasks that lay ahead of him, he almost didn't notice when Alaiscina pushed through his partially open doorway. "Oh! Miss, ah... no. You're not interrupting anything at all." Running a wild hand trough his hair (perhaps it was a blessing that it had been trimmed, after all), Isidor put down the pile of books cradled in his thin arms to better address the noblewoman. "You'll have to forgive... if you please... my disorganization this afternoon, I... seem to have slept in far long than I'd intended." A long sigh seeped past his lips, as he reached into a drawer for his spectacles. Although they were only necessary when reading fine print, their subtle weight on the bridge of his nose granted him a modicum of comfort.

This time, the princess hoped that her composure and dignity remained intact when she stepped across the threshold into his room. Nothing abnormal seemed to occur or possess her so she exhaled a soft sigh. Despite his words, Alaiscina Jendryng feared that she was, in fact, intruding on a very important matter. Blue eyes flickered about, examining the chaos where organization had once dominated. Clearing her throat, just slightly, she pressed her hands together in front of her lilac gown. It was the soft one with a lace trim at the rim of her bodice. The décolletage was considered one of the latest fashions. Her seamstress wanted to have her and her twin wear them on multiple occasions before the grand reveal of her dress for the next gala.

“Something kept you awake?” She inquired, straightening a stack of books that had slid across one another in his hurry. Whether it was actually beneficial to him, she was unsure, but perhaps the gesture would be enough. As she did so, she examined the covers. Kerotakis Usages as Described by Zosimos. Purification by Tribikos. Poisons and their Cures. They were clearly old but well taken care of. Dark curls bounced around her head as she looked over to her left as an amalgamation of diagrams resided in a large, disorderly pile. “Too much noise in the castle?” The conclusion of the second question coincided with her raising her head to look at him. 

Shortly thereafter, an amused grin played upon her coral lips. He was quite the disheveled man himself. The spectacles somewhat assisted him in looking like one of the mad wizards of the old age…though considerably more in shape than what she pictured of old magicians. The messy nature of his hair and the striking way it brushed just above his eyes forced the right corner of her mouth marginally upwards. “It can be rather difficult to grow accustomed to noises of the maids and servants moving around in the halls. Are you chambers near the seamstress quarters? They work at all odd hours. “ She began to sweep the papers into a coherent pile. “So many candles burning at all the time. I am surprised the castle hasn’t burn down. Yet, we must have a gown for every day.” The last bit was sarcastic. Alaiscina was not against beautiful dresses but when the chamber adjacent to hers was overflowing with fabric, she certainly didn’t need a dress once a week like the remainder of the noble ladies.

“Oh!” The exclamation came upon spying a list of ingredients for only the gods and Isidor knew what. “Did you happen to make the list of items you require for your work?” Bright, curious eyes attempted to catch his, but it was difficult with him constantly looking at something other than she face. Carefully checking a chair before she sat, Alaiscina gathered the combination of materials that had been in the seat before her. Placing them gingerly in her lap, the princess watched him rush about the study in an attempt to salvage the hours that he had lost.

"Only my own subconscious mind," Isidor replied with regard to her question about his wakefulness during the night. "I'm not prone to dreaming... At least, I never used to be. Not until I came here." Perhaps she was right, though; having his chambers among the quarters of the palace's staff, it wouldn't have surprised him to have been situated near the seamstresses. Despite the stature of the position that king claimed--he was, after all, the monarchy's very own alchemist--it struck him as interesting that he was kept among the lesser staff.
Perhaps this was simply evidence of the class system that existed beyond the Outbounds: the assumption that you were nothing, if not royal.

The idea had never bothered him before. Then again, only now was he expected to meet the standards of someone else... And, thus, his self-worth was diminished.

"And, rest assured, I am confident your castle is no noisier than... any other castle, I would assume." He offered a somewhat awkward smile, one that suited his already awkward features. "This is just... I think I am still acclimatizing to these new surroundings. I imagine it could take a while..."

He knew he'd been forgetting about something in the whirlwind that had been his morning. It hit him like lead to the skull, the moment Alaiscina brought up the list. Not that he had actually intended to read out each and every material he required for his work that the king had denied him... That was a task he wouldn't even place upon the shoulders of is worst enemy (if he had any enemies; but having enemies required antagonizing people, which required him to actually know people). But here she was, sitting patiently in front of him, and expecting an answer. Isidor didn't have a list.
He did, however, have a request.

"Miss... please do not take this as my slight on your noble standing," he began, taking a seat across from his desk. "But the amount of materials that I require from his Majesty in order to even appease his Majesty... I almost fear that there aren't enough diamonds in the world." His smile was flat, as he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "And believe me, that little trinket I gave you is hardly worth it's weight in gold. So, in return... why not just tell me your name? So that I might address you as more than simply 'Miss'."
Pausing, he added, after a startling afterthought, "And, in return--I am Isidor Kristeva... of the Outbounds. But you already knew the latter."

“You do not regularly dream, so much so that dreaming disturbs your slumber?” It was not said harshly, but merely with surprise. Azure gaze flickered over him as he worked. “Without dreaming, the excitement of possibilities and…and…well,” She gave a general exhale of laughter that mostly resembled a sigh. He did not seem like the type of individual to put his stock and effort into the interpretation and appreciation of dreams. Pressing her lips together in mild embarrassment, the princess felt her discomfiture wash away as he tried to express how her castle couldn’t be worse than any other castle out there. It was kind of him.

Noble standing. If only he knew just how noble the woman gracing him with her presence was. That would certainly be an interesting interaction. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide who she was from him, per say. Rather, she assumed (accurately in the majority of cases) that it would alter the current status quo of their budding relationship. 

Diamonds are what he required and she would certainly be able to provide him with a few, though likely not the quantity that he required. It was well known, however, that her father immensely enjoyed making his servants (this included the alchemist) figure out other ways to accomplish the slew of tasks he assigned to them. As he continued speaking, she momentarily began to count the number of diamond necklaces that she had accrued during her years as a princess. A number had initially come from potential suitors, before they realized that her sister was more likely to assume the throne upon their father’s demise. The plain smile Isidor offered her drew her attention once more.

“My name? That hardly seems equal to the value of the gift you bestowed upon me.” Bright eyes twinkled with amusement, as her curls bobbed upon shaking her head. “You are giving me your name as well, so I am still in your debt. “ White teeth flashed as she smiled and looked down at her hands, momentarily, before staring at his eyes through his spectacles. “Alaiscina of Mehdring, the capital of Hilofen Empire and seat of the Jendryng Dynasty.” She expressed simply but avoiding the use of her surname. He may not know the names of the heirs to the kingdom, but he was certainly intelligent enough to figure out that Alaiscina Jendryng was a member of the ruling family. “You may call me Alais,” the pronunciation of her name came across as ‘alice.’ Her father had forbid everyone from calling her that since she was young, so confiding it in him gave her a small thrill. The reasoning behind her father's decree was that only commoners had only 2 syllable names and no daughter of his would be a commoner. He pronounced her sister's name as 'Lu-cee-aine.'

“What dreams kept you awake?” She blurted after a moment, swallowing the second the words left her lips. A soft flush spread its way across her cheeks that pressed beneath her eyes as she gave a guilty grin. “I apologize. That was most inappropriate to ask. It’s just, I have never heard of anyone not dreaming frequently. It is bewildering.” The surprise showed on her face and her curiosity glimmered in her eyes.

"Alaiscina... but you prefer Alais." The first name felt foreign on his tongue, though the second--the nickname--rang with a mundane familiarity that put him at ease. "Well, ah... it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Alais. Though I do feel as though this introduction is long, long overdue... And, please, forgo all of this silly 'debt' business. I had no use of that trinket, and you took a liking to it; you've helped by making my study just that much less cluttered." He offered another smile, in hopes that it would be enough to assure her. "It is silly, you know, to weigh your life in terms of what you have and what you owe because you have it. I honestly didn't realize that transaction could extend beyond those days when I would travel to the market..."

It was so strange to him, this way of life that was measured in how much you had, and how much you had determined where you stood within the social hierarchy. It caused Isidor to pause and look around his study; hundreds of books upon the shelves, rare instruments he'd had created specifically for his craft... Where exactly did his possessions place him? Value was such a strange subjective topic... Personally, anything that fended off dreaded ennui ranked high in value in his life. Though surrounded as he was by these possessions, by this seeming endless store of knowledge... Here, in the palace, it meant nothing.
After all, he was still situated among the other servants, here.

"I... dreams? I... um, w-well..." Isidor could feel blood rise into his face, colouring his cheeks some shade of pink or another. No, no no no, he wasn't about to confess that images of her face had disturbed the peace of his sleep. Even looking at that very face, right now, he could feel his heart race and palms grow clammy. What is wrong with you, man? It is not as if this young woman is a bloody threat--calm down! "I can't remember," he lied at last, quickly looking away from her face. It was impossible to maintain eye contact when he lied, small though it was. "Just... lots of images, you know. The kind you can't really make sense of. I am... certainly no interpreter of dreams... Oh, no, don't feel the need to apologize!"

Biting his lower lip, his rapid fire thoughts struggled to diffuse this sudden, apologetic change in atmosphere. "Well, you see, back in the Outbounds, I really didn't have any distractions. Just peace and quiet with the woods to myself... It made for very peaceful sleep, I thought. Here, there is just so much business about, at all hours..." Pausing, a thought came to him, and he added, "However, there have been times when I have encountered difficulty in my work, so frustrating that I would walk away from it and nap. And... I suppose, in my sleep, the solution would come to me." He offered another smile, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "So I suppose it is not that I do not dream frequently... rather, I dream differently. If that makes any sense at all.

“Yes, it’s so much easier than my full name. I like simplicity sometimes.” She added the last word a moment later, thinking of how she enjoyed her elaborate gowns and the elegance of the food that the castle’s kitchens brought up to her. In other aspects, though, she was a very simple girl. She enjoyed reading by her windowsill or walking in the gardens. The need to race horses or seduce countless men was not exactly her eyes. Had she done those things before? Yes. Would she do them again? Likely. “The pleasure is all mine Isidor and please, just Alais. No need for the miss here in your study.” She didn’t want him to call her Alais anywhere outside this room – hell, she didn’t want him to call her at all. That could make things very messy with her sister. When Lucy found a way to torture Alais, she was extremely efficient at it.

“I can see what you mean but if kindhearted people were always to give their belongings away so freely, the world would be run entirely by the wicked.” That made her smile, somewhat sadly. The world was currently run by the wicked, at least their world. This topic was dangerous and so she focused on asking him about his dreams, why he was not sleeping comfortably in the castle. And then the discomfort began. Alais didn’t mean to do it, though she couldn’t help but appreciate the result. The way he stuttered and fumbled for words in a conversation that may him comfortable only served to make her smile. It danced across her lips and it was evident that she was trying to fight the music of her pleasure, but it only served to cause her smile to twitch. And his cheeks were pink. Had he had a dream about a lady?! Was this not something he was able to discuss?

“Oh. That happens to me quite frequently as well.” She nodded and her smile relaxed into a polite grin as she spoke. “Sometime I’ll awaken with the strangest feeling inside of me, as though I know something delightful happened but I just cannot recall what it was for the life of me. And sometimes I can’t help but wake up terrified and I know something dreadful is going to happen.” She smoothed her hands on her skirts. Why had she just told him about her nightmares? Foolish. 

“Even when we sleep, I believe our minds are working. They allow our body to rest and continue to solve all the great problems of our day but unfortunately for mankind, I don’t think our sleeping mind and waking one communicate as clearly as they should and so we are left to trudge on day by day hoping that they are solved by someone.” A smile played her face as she looked out the window. Alaiscina was one that was so prone to happiness when given the opportunity. Now, however, it was evident that her thoughts had led her elsewhere as she spoke. For while her head was directed towards the small window that showed the mountains in the distance, her eyes were glazed and somewhere else entirely. Something drew her back and she tossed her head slightly, dark curls moving against her shoulders. His back was to her, working, as she observed him. A finger could not be placed on the reason, but she was immensely comfortable sitting here in his study with all of his alchemical items strategically placed.

“Do you have family? Back in the Outbounds?” It was a sudden question. She had been thinking how he must miss them if he had been taken from them.

"Of course, M--we, Alais. Whatever you prefer," he agreed with a nod. Far be it from him to go against what a noble of any stature desired, and this woman... Well, the mixture of finery and common clothes that he had witnessed her wear confused him as to just what level of nobility Alais represented. Part of him wanted to ask, that part that fueled his insatiable curiosity and thirst for knowledge. But a more intelligent, and far more aware inner voice strongly advised otherwise. In the Outbounds, a question of class was common, if it was not immediately recognizable. But here... Well, he suspected that despite the way the rich seemed to enjoy flaunting their wealth, asking about it might not sit well with etiquette. 

Dreams were not Isidor's forté. Observation of their nature was better left to his siblings who put the magic in their veins to good use. Vitali certainly knew a thing or two, and Lias had left to chase the very dreams he so cherished. For Isidor, they were naught but images and sounds... but that did not mean he was at a loss to understand their importance. "You know, I have heard that some dreams can be a prophecy, or an omen..." He began, but the disappearance of Alais's smile suggested that it wasn't the most reassuring thing that he could say. Scrambling for a save, he stammered, "Of course, dreams are not my domain, by any means! Perhaps what you have is sensitivity for foresight... that is what my mother always called it. Meaning that it would not be your dreams that provide that feeling of dread, but something else that cannot be seen or understood... of course, that, also, is far from my domain."

Perfect. You never fail to turn a wayward air onto a conversation... But before the young alchemist could stammer another weak apology, the noblewoman was asking about his family. The quill in his left hand paused on the paper upon which it scrawled illegible letters and words. His family; how did he even put his family into words, without revealing just how wayward and questionable his lineage was?

Perhaps there was just no avoiding the details. And although he could have answered her simple question with a simpler shrug and a 'no', lack of concise explanation would only lead to more questions, in the end. Might as well get it all out now.

"I don't. Not in the Outbounds... and not to my knowledge, at the very least," he began, biting on his lower lip as he returned his gaze to the parchment in front of him. He could feel Alais's curious eyes on him, and was suddenly afraid to meet them. "My mother is and always has been nomadic, and I have not seen her since I began to study alchemy under a mentor in Atvany when I was twelve. Last I heard, she is still traveling." His shoulders lifted in a shrug, a clear indication that his emotional ties to his mother were minimal, if any. "As far as I know, I am the only one of my siblings who established roots anywhere. My older brother has a gift for music that takes him all around this world. My younger brother... Well, his dealings are in necromancy. And I imagine what keeps him on his feet is that he has made one too many enemies no matter where he goes." His mouth twisted into a frown at the thought of Vitali. He always had been trouble; nothing had changed. "And my younger sister... well, honestly, I do not know. She was still very young when I left my mother. She may still be traveling with her... but I doubt I would even recognize her, if I were to see her now."

Realizing how strange, and somewhat sad it all must have sounded, Isidor looked up and offered a reassuring, albeit uncertain smile. "It may sound cold, but I am not close to any of them. My brothers and sister are only related to me through my mother. We all had different fathers, none who we ever so much as met, and my mother was always too preoccupied to be much of a parent. So... our ties are by blood, only, but not so much loyalty. I know that may come across as strange, here in the city, but the nature of a family such as mine is not so uncommon when you are born into a nomadic lifestyle." And the same could be said for the reason why, no matter where he walked or where he established roots, Isidor never truly felt like he quite belonged.

The telling of his family stories made her smile and she leaned back in the chair to listen to him talk as he worked. It was a completely different type of life than she one she had led. Yet, she could understand how he would not be close to his siblings. She was a twin, was supposed to have the closest of bonds, and yet they despised one another. The thought of having someone bound by blood and loyalty was a personal foreign concept for her. She had read about it in all of the old tales and in the deepest parts of the texts about a time before outlawed magic. It made her heard beat rapidly in her chest when he mentioned necromancy.

“Magic.” She whispered, before looking at him directly. “Your brother is a magician. A necromancer?” The question hung in the air between them and she rose from her seat. Carefully, she slipped her head around the opening in the crack of the door and looked from side to side. No one was present and she clicked the door closed behind her. She personally would never betray something like that, but a servant would. Isidor himself may not be a magician but to be associated with one – especially is brother – could be very dangerous for him. “Isidor,” she breathed, softly, coming to stand beside him. They were not friends but she enjoyed the way he fumbled about in polite society, the way that she unnerved him merely for being a kind woman. Now was not the time that she was thinking of those things, though. She needed to protect him or he would end up in one of the mountain ditches faster than he could pretend to turn lead to gold. 

“Do not tell anyone that.” She said quietly, the whisper passing between the small space between them. “Please. Do not tell anyone that your brother is a necromancer. I would be very disappointed if anything was to happen to you.” That much was true. She stepped back from him and looked around the alchemy. The idea that he knew someone that was capable of great feats of magic thrilled her but would frighten a great number of courtly individuals. Especially due to his alchemical ties, nobles would think that he was performing magic meant to bring down the monarchy – to completely upheave the social situation that was present in their country.

A smile played her face when she took her seat again. “I do not mean to frighten you, alchemist.” She said the tone someone affectionately. “I just, don’t want a stray word to cause something irreparable to happen. I was hoping…” she planned on changing the subject entirely. “I was hoping you might teach me some about alchemy. If it is not too much trouble from you though, I don’t want to be an inconvenience or delay the important work that you are doing for the king.” She swallowed and rang her hands in her lap, nervous. As a princess she was not in the habit of asking, but around him she felt normal…she felt natural. It was pleasant and she didn’t want to destroy that by asking him something that might irritate him. She still did not know him well but she found his presence soothing.

He wanted to take it back. He needed to, even for all he detested his brother for the life that he led and the deeds that followed him, but he couldn't. The words were out, and so was the secret. There is magic in the name Kristeva. It was what his mother had always told them, even when he hadn't cared to listen.
And now Alais knew. So comfortable had he become around the noblewoman that he had relaxed enough to talk about his family--a little too much, unfortunately. But with the secret out, the alchemist's hackles rose in fear, with the remainder of what little colour was in his face draining as soon as he'd realized what he had done.

"Alais, I beg of you," he began, fingers gripping the edge of his desk, dark eyes wide with his plea. "Do not mention this to everyone. I-I don't posses... abilities such as that, myself. Truly, Vitali was the black sheep of our family. He must have inherited his skills through his father, to whom, like I mentioned, I hold no relation... A-and even necromancy, in and of itself, is not exactlymagic..."
Who was he trying to fool? Alais was no idiot, even if she was largely unfamiliar with the nature of magics such as that of what the Kristeva bloodline presented. And he couldn't lie; not in that he did not want to--oh, wouldn't that have made for an easy cover!--but rather, he was a poor and transparent liar. It would only serve to dig himself deeper into this pit of danger...

But, to his great surprise, luck did not appear to be playing a strong hand against them. Alais would not only maintain her silence for his sake, of that he was now convinced, given the tone of her demeanor and the worry that reflected in both her face and her voice. But she was worried for what might happen if that information did slip out, reaching ears of those who would seek to condemn him.
"Thank you. I will not make the same mistake again." The alchemist pressed a heavy sigh from his lungs, his shoulders sagging with relief. "It is honestly for the best if we discuss my family no further. Believe me, my lineage will not do me any favours in this kingdom, and not just for rumours of magic..."

And just like that, the topic of his family was dropped, in place for the topic of his trade and profession. Just like the flickering bits of copper in the round globe that he had given to Alais, Isidor's eyes lit up with surprise, and maybe a hint of delight. "You want to learn... alchemy? And that wouldn't be taboo for a noble woman such as yourself?" He didn't mean to make assumptions, but it seemed like a curious interest for someone if a higher class. Then again, Alais didn't exactly come across as an orthodox noblewoman. She was... different. In a way that he could not quite describe, but that was no less refreshing.
The corners of his mouth turned upward in a smile. "Regardless, if you are really interested, I would be more than happy to impart some information. I cannot guarantee that I would be the most efficient instructor, but the very basics of the art are not difficult to grasp. Especially if you are already well versed in the physical and theoretical sciences."