The Ebbing Ibis.

A twisted song about regret and failed second chances. The ibis is not swiftly killed by the arrow, nor does she die from the fall. She simply bleeds out wondering why she bothered to put up a fight against fate.

That wasn’t Sybil though. She was taking a risk, sure, but the death of Laurent Aconite was going to open a whole can of worms, and a lot of people out there were desperate to get some good fishing in. And the fish were set to be glorious.

…. But until that moment happened, Sybil was going to cower in the rafters. Yep. These were nice rafters up here. Absolutely fantastic for… Hiding, she supposed?

The soft tinkling could be heard as Protea shook the bell in the director’s face. “And I am telling you for certain that there is odd magic afoot! Do any of your set pieces use runes to operate?” He had been arguing with the director for a few minutes now, and Amalfrieda was calmly watching him.

“Only a chandelier and our lamp pieces,” calmly explained the director for the third time. “Nothing elaborate, I assure you. We have a low-ranking elementalist on staff for practical effects but no one else within our trope can cast magic.”

Runes? Sybil couldn’t see what was going on from up here. That cleric appeared to be using a bell as some sort of detection device. She frowned to herself. There had been times where she may have modified runes on the lighting fixtures, but it was all standard equations. Patterfall had pointed out that they use a slightly different dialect for runes in Fogbloom, but that shouldn’t have affected anything.

That bell must be attuned to mist based magic. Only a few minutes had passed between that set-piece almost crushing her and Protea and Amalfrieda’s arrival. They seemed to have decided that this was the place to look after she had misted herself up here. Her evasion tactics were making her stand out.

“Show me the chandelier,” replied Protea.

Sybil dropped her invisibility. The bell stopped faintly chiming. Protea smacked it a few times before shaking it at the pile of boxes that contained the prop candles. Her theory was right. That damn thing was absolutely detecting her. Hopefully, they would leave soon and Sybil’s biggest problem would be figuring out how to get down from here.

“Think we should check the main entrance again?” Amalfrieda placed her hands on her hips. “Didn’t someone say they were checking the servant’s entrance?”

This was a problem. Sybil hoped to use her invisibility to stalk Laurent later, but that wasn’t going to work anymore. She had hoped that the detection was only at the entrances of the palace, but they appeared to have been hidden everywhere.

“We’re going to sweep upward and through the private suites,” replied a dismayed Protea. “Inform a guard if anyone who is not a palace worker approaches,” commanded Protea to the director. “Anyone. Blue bloods included.”

There were plenty of other services here that didn’t involve Sybil’s group. Caterers, tailors, florists, and probably some others… They had all shown up around the same time. It’ll be fine. Everything would be fine. Amalfrieda was going to end up elsewhere and Sybil wouldn’t use her magic recklessly.

Amalfrieda waited for Protea to turn around. She then looked up and flashed Sybil a strange but frightening grin.

… Shit.

She didn’t know what to do. Sybil looked away and began to tug at some ropes, as if she absolutely was supposed to be up here, skirt and all. By the time she looked down again, Amalfrieda had left with that bossy cleric.

Yeah, good. Go ahead and run away, you coward. Amalfrieda would’ve lost if Sybil chose to fight seriously. She was right to tuck her tail between her legs and flee while Sybil was still feeling merciful.

Sybil let out an exasperated sigh. How exactly was she supposed to get down? Magic would only yank the cleric back this way, meaning she had to make do with climbing. She spotted a tall set-piece being set up on the far end of the stage. After waiting for a few minutes for the area to be clear, she quietly scurried across the rafters and made her way down.

It didn’t take all that long after that for Kogin to find her. “We’re going to have lunch in ten and do a dress rehearsal afterward.” Kogin checked his pocket watch. There wasn’t much time before the end of the dress rehearsal and the start of the banquet. They were cutting it close. “Have the nerves hit you yet?”

Sybil smiled her biggest and fakest grin. “There isn’t a reason for me to be nervous. I’m perfectly confident that it’s going to be an unforgettable show!”

“That’s great.” Kogin placed his hands on her shoulders as his tone turned serious. “Sorry for not warning you sooner, but it’s theater tradition for first time performers to do something foolish before the last dress rehearsal. So, I’m going to need you to eat as many hard-boiled eggs as possible while singing the national anthem.”

“... I’m, sorry, do what now?” Sybil could already feel awkward beads of sweat building upon her brow.

Kogin’s stare intensified. “Everyone is going to be there to cheer you and the other newbies on. You will somehow throw up more eggs than you have consumed. It is a mystifying experience.”

“... Pardon?” What was he going on about? Only half of what he was saying was getting absorbed by Sybil’s fragile mind.

“The current record is twenty-seven.”

Sybil would soon discover that her limit was eleven.

… One stomach purge later, the stage was prepared for the dress rehearsal. The entire extravaganza was a mind-numbing blur of events. Sybil was helping the actors in and out of costumes as well as rushing on and off stage with props. She also had her own two songs to perform. The first needed no set, while the second required a tightrope to be set up.

They finished a half-hour before the first guests were scheduled to arrive. Sybil had already retrieved her dagger and strapped it to her thigh. Amalfrieda may choose to grow a backbone at any minute and Sybil could be forced to fight her way out of the palace… But she was so close. Only a little longer and the weeks of waiting and worry would have been worth it.

“Kogin!” Zaniyah’s voice echoed behind the stage.

Or maybe now was the perfect time to run away. Sybil turned toward a table of props and began to heavily examine a large paper umbrella. She fanned it open and placed it on her shoulder, twirling it around and around as she muttered dance steps to herself. Just normal busywork that no one should bother to take a second glance at.

“Evening, Zaniyah.” Kogin was wearing his costume for the first piece. He stretched his arms out and twisted about on a single foot. “Like it?”

Zaniyah put her hands to her cheeks. “It’s so cute!” She then pointed at Alton with both of her index fingers. “This is Alton!”

Alton was simply standing there looking wide-eyed and confused. His hair was also a weird sort of reddish-pink color, due to Nicolas’ insistence that he dye it. It was a last-minute decision and the only coloring they could get their hands on was a large tin of boiled beets.

“... Uh, I’m Alton.” He then let out a grunt as Zaniyah elbowed him in the ribs.

Sybil hadn’t realized that Alton had been standing there. She hesitated for a moment before she began to twirl the umbrella again. Sure, let’s have the guy who's supposed to be banished from the capital show up as a last-minute surprise! Just walking around like a normal person! With fuschia hair! As if it was a legitimate disguise!

Who was she kidding? Alton had a long history of dreadful disguises and excuses... Of course, she should have planned for his sudden yet inevitable arrival. Sybil started to walk away as quickly as possible.

Kogin glanced at Sybil and realized that it would be better to introduce her at a later point. She seemed preoccupied with show preparations. He looked Alton up and down and frowned to himself. “Is this your date?” He asked Zaniyah.

“I guess? But he’s not, like, a date-date, you know?” Zaniyah gestured to all of Alton again. “He’s cute, right? Really cute?” Her tone turned serious. “But we’re not together or anything. He’s just a close friend, so don’t think that anything has happened between us because it never has and never will.”

“Never will,” quietly echoed Alton.

“... Okay,” muttered an uncomfortable Kogin as his eyes flitted between Alton and Zaniyah. Strange how she felt the need to specify. “We still have a little bit before the performance starts. Here to wish me luck?”

Zaniyah clapped her hands together, mostly to get Alton’s attention. He had been gawking again. “Truthfully, I need a huge favor.” She grinned from ear to ear. “Duxton, you know, crown prince guy, requested that we pick up something really big from his room and we need to stash it with you guys because it’s so huge that we can’t carry it with us during the party.

And, of course, the line outside is massive. We can’t just pick it up and drop it off and come back all swiftly, because then we’ll be really, really late for the party.” Zaniyah was now waving around her arms as she spoke. “But Duxton isn’t here yet so we don’t know what exactly we’re fetching. We just gotta wait till the party starts then find a place to drop it off. Get what I’m saying, right?”

“... Right?” Kogin had gotten used to Zaniyah’s strange speech mannerisms by now, but she was being extra erratic today. “You can leave it here, but let me find a spot for it. It might end up on stage if you carelessly throw it back here.”

Zaniyah immediately waved that off. “Oh, it’s gonna be too heavy for that.”

“Like… An armoire or something?” Kogin’s nose wrinkled as he furrowed his brow. “I thought you didn’t know what it was?”

“Uh, yeah. I don’t.” Zaniyah bobbled her head. “But Duxton said that the thing was huge, which is why I’m here to lift it. Shaw was supposed to do it, but he went and did another thing, so now I gotta do the lifting thing, which means-”

“Zan,” interrupted Alton.

Zaniyah pointed finger guns at Kogin. “So, yeah! Definitely not a dead body or anything! So don’t you worry!” She grinned again as she flashed him a thumbs up. “I’m gonna go now! Bye!”

Alton had his arm nearly yanked off by Zaniyah as she sought to flee the scene as quickly as possible. “You told me that he was already on board with the plan,” he whispered loudly.

“What I said was that I had it handled,” whispered Zaniyah as she walked even faster. “I didn’t want him to sit on that request for a few days and end up thinking we were up to something.”

“Sure, because he totally doesn’t think we’re up to something now,” spat back Alton. “You didn’t have to embarrass me in front of your friend just because you didn’t have a plan!”

Zaniyah paused. She slowly turned around with a sly smile on her face. “Eh? Embarrass you, huh? Did you think he was cute?”

Alton’s face flushed as pink as his hair. “There’s going to be at least a dozen people at this party who have sent an assassin after me at some point. Can you wait until later to play matchmaker? I don’t need you getting sloppy and have me dying because of it.”

Yes, yes, the whole kill a kid Alton plan. They were probably going to get in trouble if he got exposed while trying to break into the core. More than just a little trouble. Zaniyah pouted. “When do you want to go pick up that thing for Duxton?”

It had been a few years since Alton had been at the palace… Nine years, to be precise. Nearly half his life ago. He gritted his teeth. They had no choice but to trust Duxton and Shaw about the guard’s movements within the palace.

“Right after the start of the play.”

The guards were currently focused on the movements to and from the banquet hall. They will also be preoccupied with watching the contracted help for this evening. Supposedly, a change in guards was going to happen after the concert started, meaning they could slip through then.

Another stroke of luck for them just happened to be found in the strictness of Fogbloom etiquette. Strangers had to be introduced to each other through mutual acquaintances. It was considered ill-mannered to approach someone casually. Even if Zaniyah and Alton’s strange appearances made them stand out in a crowd, no one was going to speak directly to them.

In fact, Zaniyah had noticed that she was being completely avoided. That was something that she had grown used to in Carapace, but people usually loved to get into her business in Fogbloom. She glanced over at Alton, who had an absolutely sour look on his face. Ah, that was probably it. He looked bitter enough to chase away anyone who would try to get close.

“Attention!”

The voices of the guards posted about the corners of the banquet hall had cried out in unison. Silence swept through the crowd. It was quiet enough to hear the ticks of leather shoes as Laurent Aconite stepped onto the stage. He dressed in his usual religious attire, with the addition of a cornucopia brooch attached to the side of his high collar. A minor sign of respect for the goddess of the harvest.

A voice rang out from behind the theater curtain. “Father Laurent Aconite! The King’s left hand!”

Laurent pressed a hand against his abdomen and bowed slightly. “Welcome, esteemed guests and colleagues. I regret to inform you that King Howell is preoccupied with personal matters and will be unable to attend tonight’s festivities. However, will not allow his absence to distract from tonight’s affairs.

Celebrations at the palace have been few and far between. Tonight, on the eve of Eatha’s Feast Day, we will honor that which we are grateful for. Safety within our capital, ongoing peace with our fellow countrymen, and the soon to be extinction of the vile beasts which plague our lands!” Laurent raised his arm in the air, mimicking a toast with an empty hand.

The crowd mimicked the gesture with a loud cry of support. Even if Zaniyah joined in, Alton found his hand frozen by his side. His eyes scanned the crowd until he found Duxton. The prince hadn’t raised his arm either.

There wasn’t a proper plan for the war. Laurent should know this. The church was actively prolonging the war for as long as possible. Alton’s hand clenched into a fist. They needed to get Bellia’s sword out of here tonight... Before anything dreadful could be done to it.

“I understand that these are frightening times.” Laurent outstretched his arms. “This is a holiday that embraces homecomings, however, much of our blood lies on the other side of the country. We are unable to come together and celebrate as we have in the past.

Regardless of our situation, we will forge ahead with a new form of celebration. I am here to tell you that there is no distance great enough to break the bonds we carry in our hearts. Our blood is defending this country from demonic monstrosities and we will honor their call to arms by reminding them that they are not alone. They are not forgotten. Our heroes will be forever honored.

I encourage all of you to let this be our last night of overzealous celebration. Remain humble. Tomorrow, take the time to write to those who have left us. Family, friends, and acquaintances. Flood our soldiers with letters of appreciation and respect. I can assure you all that the end of this war is approaching. We must conserve our strengths now so that we may soon hold a celebration like none the world has ever seen! One that will show the world the courage and strength of Lustro!”

Applause rang out across the crowd. It wasn’t a roaring cheer of soldiers, but a polite affair tinkling and snaps of noble hands. Alton felt sick to his stomach. This was Carapace. All of this… The extravagance, the sweet words without much action… All of it reminded him of Duke Rubire’s behavior. Rich bastards who had never tasted an ounce of danger.

Behind the curtain, a different sort of rage was burning. Cold and silent. To Sybil, this wasn’t Carapace. She saw not the wealthy oppression of her homeland, but a solemn opportunity. Her focus narrowed to a single, sharp point.

If she focused hard enough, she could see the vein in Laurent’s neck pulse. Her fingers twitched. There was absolutely nothing standing between her and the death of this man. As soon as he was dead, she could begin to yank out the strings of truth from the trail of blood that followed.

The Southern War. The death of the Fogblooms. Her mother. Sybil was absolutely convinced that this man’s murder will be the starting point in revealing the truth. This was going to be her kill.

“Margret?” Kogin called out from behind her.

Sybil’s head pivoted with a sharp turn. Her eyes were a brilliant blue and faintly glowing in the dim light of the side stage.

Kogin took a step back. A primal fear crawled up the back of his neck, like he had interrupted a wolf who had been patiently stalking its prey. “We…” His jaw tensed up and his tongue refused to let him speak.

Something clicked in Sybil’s head. Her eyes faded dark as she turned to face him properly. “Are you alright, Kogin?”

A trick of the light. It had only been a trick of the light. “We need to get into position. They want us to start as soon as the father is off stage.”

Sybil’s lips spread in a wide grin. She felt riddled with joy and relief. Like Laurent had claimed, all of it would be coming to an end soon enough. “Of course, Kogin.” She even already had her dagger prepared. It was all going to be so easy.

She could hear the footsteps approaching from behind her. Sybil turned her head, only to see Laurent pause and stare back at her. Violet static momentarily swirled around his left hand. His eyes narrowed for a moment before he relaxed.

His posture in that brief moment reminded Sybil of Dalkirk’s demeanor. This man was a trained soldier. One who fully knew the taste of battle. Sybil had smiled sweetly his way, yet he thought he could sense a murderous aura trailing off of her. Like a snake coiling for a strike. He had almost sought to defend himself.

The grin faded from her lips. She realized that this wasn’t a simple clergyman. A careless attack wasn’t going to work. Sybil would have to wait until the perfect moment. “Father Laurent.” She bowed politely. “Your words are truly motivating. Only the strongest and wisest among us could hold such a room in complete captivation.”

“An actress from the Crimson Region.” Laurent continued to approach until he was backstage. “You must have trained in Carapace. I had heard that Riposte curated talent from across Lustro for this tonight, but talent rarely leaves that city.”

The bowing. Patterfall had repeatedly warned her about bowing all willy nilly like that, but it was so ingrained in her habits that Sybil couldn’t be bothered to listen. “I apologize, my lord, but I am simply the daughter of a wheat village. My origins were blessed with gold.”

Laurent’s face was expressionless as he observed her. “The Gilded Region truly is a melting pot of all our cultures.” He paused for a moment, if only to get a better look at her. “Your costume suits you well. What role will you be playing today?”

“Selina, my lord. However, it is only for one song.”

“A shame,” replied Laurent. “Every lithe movement of yours carries traces of trained elegance. I would have enjoyed seeing a full performance.”

Timing. It was all about timing. He was standing one thrust of a blade away from her, but now was not the time. “Thank you, my lord. Your encouragement refreshes my resolve. I will do my best to not disappoint you.” Only a little longer. Laurent Aconite will not survive the night. No matter how many adjustments she needed to make to her plan, she was certain that it could only end with his death.

Kogin dipped his head respectfully and kept it low until Laurent passed. “It’s good to see you have some confidence.” Just standing in Laurent’s presence was enough to rattle his nerves.

The way she carried herself in those brief moments had almost tricked Kogin into thinking that she was a lady originating from a high noble family. Laurent was right. Her regal behavior seemed carved deep into her bones.

Sybil gripped onto his hand. She was shaking. Not from fear, but from anticipation. This was going to be an actual challenge. Somehow, for some reason, she found herself eagerly impatient for her upcoming battle. “I’m ready, Kogin. Let’s start the show.”