NationStates

Claire Lundrigan did not respond to Heo Seung-Geon's text.

As a matter of fact, she did not even find out about the text until the morning after. While the sophomore had managed to make it on time, with her ceremonial rifle having cooled down after all this time she had worried about it all, Claire and her fellow volunteers would only be let known by a supervising member of staff that due to the unexpected shooting of one of their colleagues, who they would quickly find out from the murmurs by the already-aware alumni, that the ceremonies for the night would be postponed until tomorrow while the school authorities were still figuring out what had happened.

Maybe it's all going to be alright, was what was inside her mind, as she would find herself heading back into the Robinson Hall in a glimmer of hope. Moving effortlessly between the buildings' brick-laden walking paths, past the doors and then matching the steps, Claire would make her way back to her room, one place where she really felt safe in current times, and passed out, not to wake up until the noon the following day. The Heos have by then were well under the way to the train station for 14h train back to Joongyeong, and she was only able to say goodbye to Seung-Geon, a very brief encounter, at the station.

During the days immediately after the shooting, the Avon-Gillespie campus felt both grim and out of order. While Alexandre would eventually be hospitalised to the local ward, where he would stay a week before discharging with relatively little pain and even shorter recovery time, the news of the shooting had left enough problems for the school to handle. The presence of the Duke of Halifax, the father of Alexandre, had both meant that there would be both the swift response and a little bit more of cover-up. Local farmers and nearby registered hunters, as well as the school staff responsible for the team's armoury for the sport-shooting teams, were contacted, but to no success after brief crosschecking of evidences where the cartilages found nearby matched neither the ceremonial (there are loopholes, but we'll cover that later) nor the locals' weapons in possession.

This mismatch had ended up becoming saving grace for not only the school, but Claire as well, as neither Alexandre nor the Duke wanted to pursue the case any further. There were multiple factors in hand- one being that Alexandre, whose ego had dictated the mindset where there saw no need to make enemies with his own subjects, saw himself lucky and not seeking for vengeance. For Alexandre, there was no reason for someone to shoot him, even his faults were too apparent and well-documented as he had known as all this time, and it felt more for him as if the skies have come to punish him for lack of restraints. So a good wake-up call was what he had received. They were also mor than aware that this would not exactly be an ideal situation to relay some news back home, even more so when considering his mother's state trip abroad and his grandmother, that being Cassie II of Cassadaigua, undergoing slow but substantially-progressing dementia (Alexandre is second of many grandchildren by Cassie II, for those wondering). With those in mind, Alexandre and the Daemyeongoong Palace investigation would be swiftly closed, with the provision of additional security measures taken by the school to avoid possible incidents regarding firearms in the property.

The weeks that would follow the homecoming shooting incident were a quiet, but also buzzing one. The East Coast weather did not help, for one, with the leaves were rapidly changing from the cardinal red to that of marroon, before falling into the air, while it rained incessantly for much of next two weeks that would after the homecoming shooting incident. This meant that for much of the student population at Avon-Gillespie, this had meant staying comfortably inside or well out into the woods. As in that they would either be embracing this opportunity to stay inside their house and enjoy their time by the fireside offered by the floor common rooms or in some older lodges, individual rooms; or spend much of their time trying to fulfill their physical education requirement of the team's age-old curriculum by spending more time into the rainy, foggy forests and the hills of the Avon County. Warm socks and additional flairs to the usually-strict uniform requirements, though the same would not apply to alcohol past certain levels of cider, were observed.

Those occasions, while extreme to the very end, would no doubt describe the atmosphere of the school where experiential approach was prioritised over methodical education, and project management of higher priority over pure book knowledge. For Claire Lundrigan, however, the weather had done the opposite of what was intended. For most part, she would stay quiet, the memory of what had happened earlier still ringing inside her head, and aimed her best to stay quiet and focus on catching up to work. Only a few, which had included much-concerned Adelaide and a couple of colleagues their year, would end up really speak to her for the subsequent weeks though in her case, her struggle to adjust to the new school, even when her literature and music subject scores would suggest anything but that, had made it easier to disguise the weight on her shoulder.

Finding herself isolating, even if by half a step, Claire was feeling the blues. The initial adrenaline trying to escape the situation had worn off, and with it remained a quieter, more timid self who found herself in an island, high above, in the foggy hills of Avon County. The school felt stranger for her too, the ghost-like traditions spooking her at tiniest moments, the unpredictable weather reflecting her state of mind, and her classmates, who she had not told of the situation and also tried not to ask her back, found right moments to tease her out of goodwill. For much of the time she felt exhausted and sick, though her body hadn't broken down or eroded in explicit injuries - the tip of her fingers and toes had perennially felt cold and her breaths exhibiting more irregular patterns when alone.

In search of emotional solace, without exposing much of herself openly to her peers whom she was not exactly comfortable with just yet, Claire would spend much of the semester in the art room or the music practice rooms, usually using the art rooms in the lunch hours with an elderly teacher nearing retirement in her sixties, Ms. Hanlon, while finding the practice rooms her domain for the hours after. Supported by her band and orchestra teacher, a certain Delaclav film composer of 'The Last of Unfree Republics' named Jason Davies, who had recognised that Claire held strong potential, Claire was offered more difficult material to work with than in the initial weeks, and would reciprocate by practicing well into the night, until it was close to running into the curfew hours and the prefects, who would run their on-call duties under a rotation, would quietly overlook the sophomore.

When the clock would strike close to the midnight, and her breath too light to even trill the usual glissandos she would execute with little trouble, Claire would read All Hallows at the End of Toji, a Gothic-modernist re-interpretation of Brigantine, Byeon and McDermott families from the Second Alexandrian Period more conventionally called as the 'Regency Era'. The book, the tones of which held lighter, more positive paintbrushes of Sir. Asher's earlier writings, would depict fictional Penfold Townships that were, as she would only find out by this point, based on some of the naval tales told by the seafaring Lundrigans, as well as the estately fables her mother's family, the Ramaut-Lauzons, would tell their younger kids. Whether this had helped Claire to improve her mood was another story, of course, since this had only made her miss home more, but the reminders too helped Claire anticipate seeing her family when the home would come calling.

OOC: My old high school, which would come to inspire the IC creation of Erskine Collegiate, had a concerto competition that would run daily. Consider this a variation, though altered by fair bit for narrative purposes, and homage to the vibrant musical culture it had in the early-mid 2010s when me and my brother attended it.

Funnily enough, I was never the instrumentalist on those orchestras or bands. I was a vocalist who also doubled up with two years of instruction in Double Bass, but my brother did play Clarinet with the school's renowned Symphony Orchestra. The year they did Mozart's Requiem.....I was a freshman at my undergraduate institution. I did feel a great deal of envy.



'Ah, Miss Lundrigan.' Jason Davies opened his mouth, as the band and orchestral director had asked Claire Lundrigan to stay in the Auditorium after the final Orchestra practice of the year. Most of the chairs and musical stands were already organised and sorted into rows by the students in last fifteen minutes, with the next week's music exams set to be held on individual music classrooms instead. 'Thank you for coming. I'm sure you are here for the news about the Solo competition which, as you know, will be a start to the Concerto Competition the Orchestra will be holding for the Maytime concert.'

'Yes, sir,' answered Claire, as she swallowed the spit from the anticipation of hearing the results back. While Claire had not exactly checked the specific number of those who had auditioned, which also included those outside of the ensembles themselves, the long row of students waiting to participate in a ten-minute audition of each their own had left a firm image into her mind as to how intensive things were, even if this section of the curricula did not always suggest so, here. Even then, however, there was a sense of hope that Claire ended up successful in the chase. 'I'm sure that's why I've been asked to stay.'

'Well,' said Mr. Davies, as the balding man in his mid-forties tried his best to word it. Sometimes the students here would interpret his responses or gestures, which had come from spending most of his previous lives in his native Delaclava, home to significant film music industry, the wrong way. 'Yes. Congratulations on being named the soloist for the Avon-Gillespie School's Solo Competition,' He said, initially with a bit of emotionless delivery, before continuing on with crescendo of anticipation. 'Your originally requested piece, the horn solos at the Tiger and the Lark Suite, and the Kiwanis Overture, will be our symphony orchestra's piece for the Legion Festival in Oakwood, and also the independent-school orchstras' concert at the Dongnae Opera House.'

'Oh my,' Claire remarked, as she clinched both her fingers in joy, before opening them to place them over her cheeks. This was a news she had needed, even though Claire did have light hopes that she would win the solo competition, which would at least provide a good foray into further opportunities. The practices weren't going to be the issue - the material seemed straightforward anyway - but to make it, was a sheer joy. 'Thank you, thank you, thank you,' she said, trying her best not to repeat the words. 'Sorry I'm just really glad...'

'Relax, Miss. Lundrigan. Now, it's not over yet,' said Davies, before gesturing Claire to relax. 'We have a special guest for you, who have asked to come visit you when she phoned in this morning.'

It was obvious who it was. 'Mum,' Claire Lundrigan turned around, only to stop and take a couple of steps backwards, as she looked back at her mother Eileen de Ramaut, who stood on the other end of the auditorium. She, whose curly, brown hair had remained at relative mid-length since moving back to Battersea Woods, appeared eerily similar to Claire. Maybe a blessing, maybe a curse, one could say, as she wore dark jeans and long, green jacket made out of light hemp. On her right hand Eileen brought a bag of gifts and foodstuff, in particular those from their old delicatessen in Downtown Twin Cities, she had brought from home.

An immediate smile sprung out of Claire, as she leapt to embrace her mother. 'Why are you here? I swear to god, you weren't heading out until the trip to Topanga County out west in January,' Claire asked, her voice slightly held back by the unexpected surprise right in middle of the exam period.

'Why, I thought it would be nice to see my baby girl doing, especially after all that had happened back in November,' Eileen gave her another hug, this time a bit shorter, before letting go. 'Mr. Davies asked me to come see you after the practice when I phoned into the school earlier this morning. He wanted you to be every bit joyful over the news.' There was a sense of relief in the mother of three, which both Claire and Davies had noticed, right at that moment. 'I hear that you have been doing very well at horns, do you think you could nail the solo at the Legion Festival and then in Dongnae Opera House?'

'Oh, that I'm sure will all go alright mum,' Claire smiled back at Eileen, as she quickly gave her horn case a light brush. 'It's just a couple of solos for 'The Tiger and The Lark' suite, and Kiwanis Overture.' She tried to downplay the importance it played, mostly as a measure of humility. 'Nothing particularly out of ordinary, especially at this level.'

'Ma'am, Claire's one of my finest pupils I have had, arguably among the best horn players I have had the pleasure to orchestrate,' Davies stepped in, his glasses shining. 'Already with right amount of time, and the mindset to succeed in her craft evident, I think that she is more than capable of a strong career. The first step of which would include the Conservatoire de Joongyeong, or the Soochang College of Music, or she could be studying abroad, such as the Yanovsky Conservatory in Petrograd.'

For the band and orchestra teacher of Avon-Gillespie, who had regularly travelled for his cinematic works, the Delaclav had certain confidence that Claire could succeed. Every year he would accept four to six students on musical scholarship, and usually they would start early, but to accept a transfer, espcially on a cohort like hers where nobody had been accepted up to that point, was a rare choice. Needless to say that it had required weekslong discussions with the admissions office, which only proceeded after a timely interruption by a certain Dr. Allard. So for Davies to feel this proud of a student, especially after a cycle, was enough to suggest his valuation of her potential, though the breadth of repertoire remained one in progress, something that he would have to persuade her and her parents in due time. Easier said than done considering relatively lax approach Eileen had taken when she was growing up with piano before finding her way into a musical career.

'I'm really glad to hear about this, Mr. Davies,' said Eileen, as she looked at Claire's teacher briefly before turning around. 'I know it...wasn't the easiest of decisions for us, and her father, to send our daughter here, and I know that the school hasn't had the easiest of times, but thank you for your best efforts teaching my daughter, and her classmates.'

'Mum, please don't say that,' said Claire. 'I've made my own decision to come here, and have asked you over and over not to worry.' This was a lie, for whatever the fear and the isolation she had handled mostly alone were left untold back home. And it wasn't like Claire wanted to do so, if anything's to go by her father's reaction on the days leading up to it - it was almost as if she was asked to come here, though for what reason she's yet to know.

'All I will say is that if you have any questions or urgent query about Ms. Lundrigan, ma'am, please do not hesitate to contact her own house, or Dr. Allard, her academic advisor. I'm sure they will say the same with the level of promise she holds as a pupil, as long as she continues to open herself up to the AGS school community,' Mr. Davies did his best to assure both of them that there was nothing to worry over, but the final sentence felt slightly forceful. Then he brushed his hair a couple of times as a gesture of departure. 'Ma'am, and Claire, I will be back in my office to mark music history tests, but please do not hesitate from staying here a while if need.'

'Thank you, Mr. Davies,' Eileen calmly responded. They then watched as Mr. Davies took his orchestra folder, before heading back to the office the same way Eileen had entered. Having witnessed the band and orchestra teacher depart, Eileen looked back at Claire and asked in her usual, calm voice in the lower registry, which concealed the higher-range she had often used in concerts and records. 'Are you actually okay, darling? The school sent me and your father a newsletter about the homecoming incident. We were so worried about you, even more because you didn't respond to our texts nor calls...'

'It's fine mum,' Claire nervously smiled back. 'I'm okay, I'm doing my own thing and me and my girls were nowhere near the ravine. The Heos could tell you that nothing went wrong - I got tired by the end of the night and just crashed early when the festivities got postponed to the next day.'

'The Heos seemed happy enough, at least,' Eileen answered, remembering that Myeong-Shin had just visited the Silverhills estate just the previous week. 'Myeong-Shin would tell me how bummed young Seung-Geon was in not being able to see you the whole weekend, saying that while he seemed not bothered by most girls there, including Princess Adelaide, and yet it would be our hornist of his childhood, who he wanted to see..'

'Awe, did he really?' Claire knew there was a bit of that complicated dynamic between the families which began from Seung-Geon, who was three years older than him. The young Lundrigans, in continuation from the fathers' generation, would often vacation with the Heos and the Lautners during summers and winters, with the Pinsons and others occasionally joining as well. This had meant natural for Claire, who still remembered how tall the boys had looked in those cottage days just north of Kingston. 'I'm sure he just wanted to see an old friend who had spent childhood together in Concord Heights.'

But there was also the separate arc with Alexandre and the Heos. They, after all, went to the Royal School at Concord Heights, just two grades above in the same time period as Alexandre (Queen Mother Elizaveta had refused to let go of Adelaide or two younger princes). As asked by the Palace, and more importantly the Heo patriarch, both Myeong-Shin and Naomi were more than welcome to have the young Prince of Abitibi, who was one of few boarders on his grade, join them for some weekends. Their friendship, especially with Alexandre the Tubist looking up to Seung-Geon early on, would continue when both the expats would return a year apart about seven to eight years ago, and would now include more-impressionable Adelaide and his cousins as well. 'Are you sure that he wasn't looking to see Prince Alexandre, who everybody's talking about in the campus?' Claire asked, hoping that this would at least put some distractions.

'That's silly, he said that the young lad could see him anytime he wishes to,' Eileen gave an even bigger smile. 'Enough with that talk, in any case. I'm sure you must be hungry, and a bit annoyed to see your mother out of blue. Shall we head to the town for a dinner before you drive back in town?'

'Sure, mum. I think there's a nice restaurant just next to the theatre there. The Van Damme's - they change up the menu every week, usually good for burgers on weekends but they prefer to run with steak and milkshakes,' Claire then took a deep breath and asked Eileen. 'How's father? And the young H. Richard and Maude Sophie?'

Eileen took a brief second, trying to figure out the very wording of it. 'Everybody's doing fine, Claire.' Eileen answered, remembering that the two months back in the house, with young Richard still in year seven of his local middle school, which was a public unlike the one Claire had gone to, and young Maude Sophie only nine years old. 'Your father, the younger ones, they are all okay. Your father's just being careful containing his breath at times, but you know, he hasn't been breathing well for years now.' Sir. Asher Lundrigan's illness, mostly the respiratory complications and numbing of his tips both finger and toe that had been degenerative for decades now, was a well-documented one, and while the family has yet to deal with worst case scenario, there always existed some form of fear that Claire was uncomfortable telling to her friends.

Claire closed his eyes for a second, trying her best to think. 'You know, the fear of it all...' she said, trying her best not to be reminded of the way they had driven without a war in the country road from their home to Avon-Gillespie. 'He felt so powerless over it. Having to send me away here, and back home, where he's just with you, Maude Sophie, and H.R, who's mostly in his wheelchair. Don't you know how worried I get here, over what might happen back home?'

Eileen hugged Claire quickly, before letting go. She knew her daughter's very pain, but did not want to say. 'There was never a day in my life, since I have known you were arriving that night sixteen years ago, that I was not proud of you, Claire Lundrigan.' Eileen said, trying to hold back her emotions at same time. She had been there before, watching Asher trying to leave her many times without telling her a single word, her coming back from coma, and the recent years where the situation, even when stabilised, just felt like a drag. 'But don't let that stop you from dreaming.'

Second week of December

'Are you leaving tonight or tomorrow?' was the question Adelaide had asked Claire on the Hallway, as soon as the Robinson House girls of Year Ten had managed to make their way back into their dormitory Hall, alongside a few seniors whose senior examinations were completed. By this point, most of the House only had those of the Upper House, especially with the Year nines having finished their examinations the day before and the Years seven and eight having headed home now. Adelaide had only meant to say it as a matter of enquiry, but of course with her, it would somehow come with continuous conditions and motives attached towards them that Claire Lundrigan had quietly been accustomed towards.

'Tomorrow afternoon,' Claire briefly answered. Unanimated in her reply, but still anticipating to return home. 'I'll be taking the train back, like most simpler people do, and then spend the holidays there at home.' Did she know that there was still a year and a half to be spent here, with relatively little foray to head home in her own convenience? Likely yes, but the availability of outings here had at least covered for it anyway. 'Father's still not well, and the siblings need me. All that usual stuff.'

'You aren't going to be there the whole month, aren't you?' Adelaide looked back at Claire doubtingly. She knew there was an air of untold words, maybe exasperated by the recent events, between them, but couldn't exactly point to explain. 'You know, nobody here stays home the entire break right? Just ask Sir. Asher, if anything-'

Right, the Queen, thought Claire as she was reminded of what seemed to her a my knowledge, that of Christine the Second having attended Universite St. Croix around the same time as her father. And yet for some reason, there was almost nothing that her father, who held no shortage of recollections and words, she had heard so little over those times. Was there any specific reason behind why? She briefly wondered, before deciding to give in. 'No, Christmas is for family, New Year's for-' she said, trying to relay it back to her friend who seemed particularly eager.

'Friends and Lovers, singing Auld Lang Syne,' Adelaide smiled back. 'So, as you know, certain Georgie Northwood won't be going home for Christmas because his father, the Duke himself, has asked his boy to not fly back. I'm sure You could guess the reasons why.' This part was true - the traditionally-preferred winter destinations for the Krytenians of all kinds, Yeaddin and the Ochre Islands, were involved in situations all too complicated for the Anaians to enjoy. And this is not the least with all the uncertainties in the heart of Lake Bekk. 'So he will be spending time at the Mont-Saint-Louis Lodge, just one hour west of Songak by ski train, with a few of us after Christmas before the term kicks off again. No cap.' She said.

'No cap,' Claire laughed lightly upon hearing Addy utter the term. While they were not always in the easiest of terms even as friends, there were a couple of things between them that had no doubt made communication easy enough. 'I'm not a big skier myself, and my family almost never goes to Songak for the New Year, but I guess if I could ask mum and dad on time...'

'Come on, Claire, I'm sure the goodwill of Plongeon, the Muse of the Forties, and your ever-esteemed dad would be enough to free you so that all of us could have a blast..' she said, her voice dragging on as if she were pleading. 'You know how big of deal would be for everybody if you were to come...and I really mean it. I hear that even Solveig may be coming.' Solveig Davidsdottir, the Crown Princess-designate of Cabo Azure, has been a hot name in Joongyeong high society for a couple of years now, with the current Maritime University student having made positive impression since her society debut at the Bal des Ballons under the Queen Mother Elizaveta's presence.

Claire nodded along, trying her best to keep up with Adelaide's insistence. Naturally, it was easier said done when on the hallways. 'Alright, alright, but promise me there is no pressure for me to come if something does go wrong, okay?' Claire said. 'I've told you before how my dad rarely travels these days right?'

'Yeah, it's not the easiest,' Adelaide said, giving a slightly sadder look upon it. 'But I'm sure that every parent wants their girl to go out there with their friends in the bigger cities. I mean, what else is there to do?'

'Fine, fine,' responded Claire, without realising the verbal affirmation she had given. 'I will go, but won't be leaving until after the twenty-fifth. But promise me that everything will go alright this time. You know how worried my family gets over all that Jazz that's been happening here since I've arrived.'

'I really really promise,' Adelaide said, slightly drawing herself back. Sometimes, it was easier to give a promise and then hope for the best that nothing's going to go wrong afterwards. 'Nothing will go wrong, we'll have a dandy time and take a lot of pictures. Maybe you could even bring a guitar or two even and play it for us.'

---

Two weeks later...

Her father was sitting on his wooden chair with a wool cover, right behind the desk. Sir. Asher, at only 41 years old, was a man of interesting fortunes. He was a man whose mistakes would fuel his own demise, and yet within them, had brought out the unexpected brilliance in all. Whether it be in the forms of a longstanding friendship with the Queen, who pitied his decision to part the first time with his eventual wife Eileen over his own misjudgment, penchant in ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time, or just committing himself to the life of sins and hedonism, with his own tints fuelled by streaks of mysticism, in the early-twenties that aimed for self-demise.

Funnily enough, it would be those attempts in self-demise that would not only fail, but also bring the circle back together. Not only did Sir. Asher find himself back to his beloved Eileen de Ramaut, their relationship had blossomed into a fifteen-year old marriage that had unexpectedly begun because of our dear protagonist's unexpected arrival. To make the trajectory more amusing, it would be the Lundrigans' three children, who he had would not leave longer than a weekend, who were seemingly bringing the gravity back into this estate that seemingly was built on the clouds.

All of this was interesting for sure. There once was a time when the couple had retreated as a young couple and family in the greater Coxwell Park, with Claire in waiting and then-just Asher had started shifting from a career as culture and sports journalist at both The Taegukgi and Concord Heights Times. Those days have long gone past, and the copies of first two books of seven-volume Korean-language series In Search of Lost Past, and four English-language novels, were firmly placed at one of the bookshelves in his room. Even all of this, as well as the fine wooden carvings that had draped the room, could not hide the thinner, sorrower appearance of his pallor face where suffering and passion coexisted.

'Ah, Claire,' said Sir. Asher, trying his best to only give her a light look of acknowledgment. 'You should be asleep, six is an ungodly hour and your mother's asleep.'

Claire looked deeper at her father, who seemed occupied enough with his own writing. For most of her life she had remember Sir. Asher, whose gift as an erudite, modernist writer had earned Knighthood - he, by mother's side, was a descendant of the now-extinct Vdaran royalty, but nobody in Joongyeong had recognised titles of small Esportivan islands to be anything but an endnote - was built daily here. All her life she had remembered her father spending time here, usually writing for hours, and moving downstairs to read with his family or the guests, who would be surprised from time to see how little he had talked about himself. 'You know mummy would often write her songs at four in the night, by the sea right?' Claire raised a counterpoint. 'You know how there is a common saying where the greater Lauzon Barony has two constants - insomniacs and many children.'

Sir. Asher smiled back at Claire with a grin on the left side of his cheek, before fixing his glasses. 'Yes, but I'm sure that you would not want to spend the Day after Christmas with your old, country bumpkins, won't you?' His left hand was placed over the top of his laptop's keyboard where he usually wrote, and his right wrist stopped to be raised to the direction of the ceiling. 'I'm sure that you wouldn't want to read a short story I'm working, aren't you?'

'I surely would,' said Claire. 'But where would you be sending off to?'

'The Queen, as have been the case for all the novels,' Asher replied, his left finger moving as if they had still been functioning from his long-gone days as a smoker. Twenty-years removed they were, but his habits somehow had remained strong enough for his index and middle fingers to move on their own. 'That's how friendships sometimes work they say. And they really do, no matter how much those friends want you to hold back and whatnot.'

'I'll ask again - is it a tragedy?' asked Claire. 'The short story and its ending, I mean.'

'Every story is a tragedy in the Shingoryeoite soil, Claire,' her father answered in a roundabout way. 'The Petrogradian romantics had many traditions, which ran parallels to that of what we have here - if you had read dilligently based on the readings list for Upper School - and those who I had studied under.' Claire, of course, knew that there stood additional level of literary understanding between Sir. Asher and a group of few friends. The Heo the younger's and the Lautners did not include themselves in the picture, though they have always been among the first to help the dying man, nor did his brother Frank, the former Grim Reapers' captain having retired back in Adab.

But Eileen, the elderly cadre of auteurs and others did, and so did his old teacher, Heo the senior.

And so did the senior's finest pupil, by the name of Christine the Second. Perhaps too well.

'Does the writing ever get lonely?' Claire asked at her father, giving a worried look on her eyes. On her first year of Russian language instruction at the Avon-Gillespie, she was starting to get hold of the language by learning the grammatical rules and basic conversations, but was still miles away from being able to read the likes of Akakhov, Luzhin and Plokhy-Nemtsov. 'I know it's not the best time to ask, in today of all days, but...'

Sir. Asher nodded. 'Very, but nothing that compared to some of the times I have lived.,' Asher replied, his eyes feeling mellower and more translucent in colour. 'The existence that I live allows me to go through those small moments of writing while lonely, and in this I am grateful.'

'You know, Addy would mention about how the Queen would call, from time to time, mummy as the Muse of the Fifties, and you as The Writer.' She looked back at her father. 'I was surprised that the Queen had such strong opinions towards both you and her.'

'Did she? How nice of her.' Sir. Asher looked back at Claire, trying his best to get around the fact that his friend, as did most others around him, preferred to see through the one side of the story. Not easily displayed in public, but known by those closest including the Monarch's very own friends and family, this was not something that he was comfortable telling her about, and hoped that she would know as little of it as possible, at the latest of time. 'How are the Royal Highnesses, Adelaide and Alexandre, doing? You and Addy seemed particularly close, from what I have heard at least, and the Prince of Abitibi's being his usual self...'

'Addy and I are fine, just two arts-minded kids whose parents happened to have crossed paths a lifetime ago,' Claire said, trying to underplay the complicated state of their friendship. 'We are total opposites, to be clear - Addy reads The Latest Whistledown, I don't pick up unless I hear the gossips. She plays bassoon and thinks like an art historian, I play horn and paint in the hall. She's an Olympian sailor, and I suck at Jay-vee field hockey.'

'That's what we would call the state of a perfectly healthy friendship.' Sir. Asher seemed satisfied with the answer, even if he may have already heard them from a half-dozen people around him at times. But Adelaide wasn't who Asher had in mind. 'What about Alexandre? You know, it was quite a rare sight to see the Queen that distraught when her and I talked over the phone few weeks back. She was on a state visit abroad, somewhere far and depressing, when the news had broken. Everybody had been telling me how awful it was.'

'No,' Claire immediately replied, hoping that her father had not picked up the sudden change in direction. 'All I know is that he's Addy's brother, who every girl in the school has something to say about, and who every guy wanting to befriend.' Considering her efforts to stay away from answering this questions since coming back from Avon-Gillespie two weeks ago, this was the last thing Claire wanted to answer. Her ability to talk little of it, and how her parents had followed in fear of re-traumatising the girl, had worked out alright, as did vaguely telling H. Richard and Maude Sophie, who seemed both intrigued about the siblings.

But what if she had to tell the exact details? 'I do feel bad for him, yeah. To be shot and left like that on a homecoming night too...' she said, a light trail of conscience in her words. 'But no, I have only seen him from distance really - the Prince of Abitibi seems to live in a separate existence from that of mine, on the other side of the world.'

'Mmm,' a quick murmur followed, before he spoke again. 'I think that you should worry little about your mother or me, Claire Lundrigan.' Asher smiled back at Claire. There was a level of assurance in his voice that had suggested his approval of Claire's upcoming trip to the Ski chalet. 'You have to live your own life, and I don't think it would be a wise idea to disappoint your friends when it's them, and not the other way around, who want you to come to a sha-leh.'

'Yes, but what about family celebrations? Those Coxwell dinners and sing-alongs, they always want all of us to come. What would they think if I'm off to a chalet with a bunch of..'

'This is where we all gotta take some risk, and have a leap of faith.' Asher said, without hesitation. It was a weird moment where his younger self had overlapped all of sudden, in his study of all places.

The end of a calendar year - that being that of the Gregorian Calendar - was known to be a chaotic time of the year. Most Quebecois would find the week immediately after the Christmas, which was a holiday both in religious and secular terms, to be spent going out with friends and loved ones, instead of the week before Christmas, which would be spent with both immediate and extended families. And unlike the Lunar New Year, a week of traditional, Koreanophone-Indigenous customs and folklores that would be held in February, the end of the Year was a more versatile, individualistic occasion, making them suitable reflections of the urban Quebecois society.

Of course, it would easier said than done if you were a soldier who is technically on-duty, to guard an awkward client in the festive times.

This was very much what Lieutnant Sung Byeong-Joo was thinking to himself, as he lit his own pipe on the the balcony of an unused bedoom in 'Place-Enniskillen' ski chalet. It was a relatively relaxed time of the night, with the Royal Quebecois Marines officer, who was on a two-year assignment as the Songak Metropolitan Police's Chair of Protection Command, would be the one maintaining nighttime operations in the lodge, usually to help monitoring the behaviours of His Royal Highnesses Alexandre and Adelaide while based in the city of Songak.

Should be painless, as long as the boys and the girls maintain their reins, thought Lieutenant Sung, who was informed of his task for the final week of the year at the start of Decembr. For Sung this operation was supposed to be painless, with the Highnesses bound to be only around in Songak, where they would only stop for few hours, and Mont-Saint-Louis, for one week until the day after New Year. It would, for most part, only require three officers with Sung and two junior officers, who like Sung, were deployed from the RQM or the RQIS, would be covering the surrounding vicinities to Mont-Saint-Louis.

What he would instead find to be difficult was the level of challenges some of these kids would bring to the table. Every time Lieutenant Sung would do a walkaround of the twelve-room chalet, where Adelaide and Alexandre had rented from none other than Seung-Geon's uncle and mentor, a certain Judoka-turned-The Praetorian custodian Ji Gyeong-Wan, there was always something going on. In every step of the staircase, or on the individual rooms with doors open, and on largely-deserted lounge and living rooms, the mess was clear. Empty bottles, clothing items both large and small, and shoes were everywhere, everybody alternated between shouts and whispers with ridiculous frequencies, while the smell of alcohol and other substances made him feel sick.

I live by the life of secrecy, but some of the sights here do not comfort me, thought Lieutenant Sung, as he tried his best to ignore some of the details he had been seeing in the first three days of the assignment. In all fairness, he had found the company quite easy, with most letting a 6'1" physical commando in Sung, handle any awkwardness that individual partiers would have to him. And Sung, while staying straightforward with his words, would do his part by pretending not to look at some of the things that would unfold on these nighttime gatherings. No wonder the Songak Met have only been putting Royal Quebecois Marines officers on assignment for these...

'Lieutenant!' shouted a sanguine voice from the other side of the living room, as a softball would pass by him, some distance to the right. It was from young Seung-Geon, the young trombonist at the Conservatoire de Joongyeong. Standing 6'9 tall and barely weighing looked most reserved of the teenagers he had added as security entourage to protect. Not a bad pitch, like father like his son. thought Sung, remembering that he was already around the age of the teenagers' parents themselves. In this case, legendary Heo Myeong-Shin, the Mr. Baseball.

'What you need, young man?' answered Sung, briefly flashing before his eyes that Seung-Geon, if his intuition were correct, would one day end up chairing the Empire that would be the H&N Group, a multi-family group that soon would be the leading shareholders of The Praetorian. And yet, so far away from all that grime out there..

'Aren't you tired of us all?' The relaxed tone of Seung-Geon's response suggested the relaxed demeanour the college freshman, who ruled over those junior in age but greater in wealth or status, held. 'Like I'm sure you would not want to keep an eye on us at all times.'

'Not one bit,' answered Sung, his voice maintaining some form of authority, though a bit of open-ness was also felt. 'If I am not here to serve and protect, then I would have gone back to the Marines and stayed there. That's why they call this on-assignment, so to speak.'

'So I have an idea for you,' said Seung-Geon, briefly looking at the ski hill just outside the bar, before looking at the solitary pipe on the table where a tiny trail of fume was coming out. 'It involves you not having to do anything, and I promise that we will stay civil and cause no trouble.'

Lieutenant Sung looked back at Seung-Geon with interest, before giving a nod. 'Carry on...'

---

It was almost eleven, and yet the night was every bit early on this Friday night. Most have either already eaten their dinner an hour ago, when they were in the nearby town for steaks at Le Courcevel, or grabbed more at the nearby Drysdale Spa with a snow cave. But most had only started to come back to the chalet after another evening of rabid skiing, and were nowhere near ready to go asleep.

Claire Lundrigan, after putting her rented skis back in the storage room on the first floor, showered and got changed into sweatpants and orange sweaters back in her room. It was a large bedroom, with her, Adelaide and Madeleine Tulloch, an Erskine Collegiate senior and prefect who was a childhood friend of Seung-Geon, sharing the space.

Day three, and yet three years have passed here like a fairytale,thought she as she struggled to process the dim lights of the room. On the way to Songak via train, Claire had remembered the worried looks her mother gave back to her eldest child when they waved goodbye at Saint-John-Upon-Battersea Station, almost as if she had known about the ways in which her Lauzon-Ramaut relatives would tip about her father, who would engage in drinking bouts and fondly visits, the week before Christmas. While the whispers themselves had remained mostly harmless, with her relatives finding even greater joy in the reminiscence Claire had shared with her mother, the whispers did remind her the possible dangers, and alluded to her why the most prominent Korean-language writer of the Christinian Era was content to leave Silverhills.

And yet I feel like I'm walking straight into the fire, thought Claire, feeling strangely on her end but not wrong in intuition. She would remember the promises she had made to both of them, in which she would do no acts of wrong, and for most part had upheld them. As the new girl, the young sophomore who had really known only Adelaide and a couple of her girls, it was easier for her and her girlfriends to just hang out in the town, grab a couple of lighter slopes and just chat.

The company of about about fourteen similarly-positioned teenagers, aged fifteen to nineteen, had its benefits in that, where you would socialise who you would know. Alexandre, who she would encounter at various times but otherwise held no interaction, hang out with Seung-Geon and Madeline on the high-difficulty slopes. The two Krytenians - Georgie Northwood and Armando Sierra-Heo (dual-citizenship) - found out that their common loves lied on cheering for Stanton Town (lord knows how, considering that Rico Sierra of all persons hailed from Avidia), was doing their best to DM Layvin Son-Saka over their Back of the Net save having issues with IC Son-Saka wanting to transfer to Atletik Thessia. Sport nerds they truly were, even if Armando was busy exercising his fake ID in Joongyeongite nightclubs much to his parents' chagrin, and the current Marquess of Linford (his father being the Duke of Northwood) very much the poster head boy who would get sloshed by his peers at every possible opportunity.

And that's not to mention the Solveig Davisdottir, the Graintfjaller Princess of Cabo Azure who was planning to join them after meeting with rest of them at 'Department of Sound' of all Songakian nightclubs. The diamond of the Shingoryeoite social season just two years ago, she has spent her time alternating between the Maritime University, the sole renowned higher-education institution in this island nation of 500,000, archaeological digs of Rushmore, and in the metropolitan functions. Words were that she would be joined by Leonor McInnis Valdes once there, and then would be heading to the chalet's way by end of the night.

Back in the room, Claire could hear from the room that most of the people were in the living room. After quickly checking her phone, Claire quickly got out and walked to the hallway. Most were there, even if the lights were close to being dimmed. A certain Swangard, who had recently discovered his love for a native Farf drug off his ski trip to Squornshelous, was half asleep and fully intoxicated at his couch. On the other sofas and desks followed the boys and the girls chuckling and buzzing, while a couple of lads were shouting audibles through an open window.

'At last!' shouted the host, who quietly moved into the centre of the makeshift stage in front of th television, as he immediately noticed Claire's presence. Claire immediately recognised this to be Seung-Geon, who had quickly changed into a white polo shirt and dress pants. He was holding his trombone to the left, dominant arm. 'Ladies and gentlemen...I would like to welcome Claire Lundrigan!' addressed Seung-Geon, much to Claire's face turning red upon the moment.

'Is that a rusty trombone you are holding there?' asked Armando, who would then immediately draw a round of laughter and whistles the rest of the way.

'Dandy shiny, yes, but it's not for those with faint of heart,' Seung-Geon answered, his light frame and limbs working out awkwardly with his height. It was clear that he was the adult among all adults here. 'But we have a song to sing, one that the new girl should know if she's to head to the finest conservatoires. Is it true that you know how to sing At Last?'

'I suppose so,' Claire said, her voice slightly nervous at having to sing it.

'In that case, we must begin with the intro,' he answered. 'Addy, may you please play the intro?'

An hour and half later...

The car ride from Mont-Saint-Louis to Songak, to right in the heart of it nonetheless, involved navigating through the rolling hills with picturesque towns and skill hills, mostly petite in size and exclusivist in character (I'd rather say exclusionist even, dear reader), but the the bumpy roads were not felt for those inside the car, which consisted of one of the junior security guards besides Lieutenant Sung Byeong-Joo, and two passengers, both of whom were seated on the backseats.

Alexandre let the adrenaline rush take himself as he closed his eyes while sitting on the back of the Rykers-Rhyce Spectre. Why am I having a flashback to it all? thought he. He was somewhat tired after being out and about for most of the day on the skill hills, and always having to make time for friends, even when on the trip where the purpose was to spend time with them away from official engagements, had worn lightly upon him.

Of course, this was more than what had worn inside his mind. His mind was filled with questions, thoughts and attempted unravelling of threads, with no less tension around them, as Alexandre tried to recall the presence of the tall, brown-haired hornist girl who had sang that old-timer piece to Seung-Geon's accompaniment. It was a well-performed piece, with the girl [Claire Lundrigan -e.d.-] delivering right timbre of the voice, and the harmonies between the vocalist and Seung-Geon's trombones felt nowhere near the rust of being away from the instrument for more than several days, as some might feel so.

And it felt like Alexandre had been brought a minor reminder, to a distant time back when he wasn't in Quebec. It does feel like once upon a dream, and I don't know what tells me so. Alexandre looked to the right, as he tried his best not to look at the junior officer, whose attention seemed to be mostly focused on getting out of these Ski County roads, and the fellow passenger in a modest, sky blue dress, who seemed too occupied looking out the window.

Claire Lundrigan, did they say? Alexandre looked right, as he couldn't help but to wonder why. It was clear to Alexandre that Claire Lundrigan, who was about a year or two younger than her from vague recollections, was not entirely within the mould of those he had surrounded himself with. If anything from what he had recalled, it wasn't his or Georgie Northwood's ideas to invite her, and he could tell, at least from how quickly she had settled into that of his sister's crowd, that she wasn't a big skiier either. But she had still been invited after clear insistence by his sister Adelaide, who he found to be both a nuisance and a confidante as any siblings two year apart would. For all the shortcomings and nuisances Addy had brought, she was still her mother's favourite and Alexandre wasn't.

He turned his head around and looked to the window on his left. The other party were still on the other car, a much more spacious Rhys-Rykers Kollur with Addy and a few others on the ride, while it was just Alexandre and Claire, positioned in awkward position just half an hour after the warmth of the fireside in the living room. With it being clear that they were not talking to each other, and perhaps Alexandre finding himself in good time to think.

In all honesty, Alexandre was bearing heavy weight on his shoulder. Being the Prince of Abitibi, after all, had meant both the honours, and in some ways perks, but more importantly the weight that would accompany it. Alexandre had always thought of the position he was in, that of being the future King-Emperor of Quebec and Shingoryeo, to be a double-edged sword, one where he was expected to behave and also restrain at the same time. Him being exposed to the rigours early on, with strong expectations provided by Christine the Second and Caspian, Duke of Halifax, nonetheless was a sign of high hopes his parents held for Alexandre. Of course, whether he had followed to the level of expectation was another story, with Alexandre often choosing to follow his instincts and enjoy the offerings on line.

Quietly and slowly, as they inched closer to the heart of Songak, Alexandre found the thoughts of the weight on his shoulder turn complicated. His direct future was a more straightforward one, with Alexandre looking to follow the shoes of his grandfather the late Jacques IX, and uncle His Royal Highness Philippe, to the Royal Quebecois Navy. But there was also the matter of finding a 'certainty'. This wasn't something that he had completely set course for, but with every social circle at Joongyeong and abroad (propelled by none other than The Latest Whistledown) talking about 'it', as he had gotten older and more seasoned from his Avon-gillespie days, he couldn't exactly ignore that. Understandable, considering the age his parents and grandparents had met, but would not be enough to suggest.

As the wilderness would subside, to be replaced by the sights of Songak proper, this would continue to persist for Alexandre. The Arlenian and Alexandrian buildings, dating back to the days of Shingoryeoite Empire in the 1800s and early 1900s, looked large and impressive, while also filled with grime and depression, at same time. People were everywhere on the streets, their walking pace seemingly slower than how they were, as they were near their arrival at the Department of Sound. Claire looked first at Alexandre, who looked at him back, before turning around to disengage her safety belt. Alexandre nodded and followed along, giving his security agent a look of clearance, as the car started to slow down.

Once the car slowed down to a halt in front of the gigantic nightclub complex, Alexandre quietly let the security open his door, following Claire who herself would open the door right around the same moment as they would be followed by the other car and no less than a half-dozen members of the security, who would get in the way to ensure they would make their way inside the nightclub. Alexandre and Claire would be the first to go, not looking much at one another as they would walk into the VIP entrance.

Multitude of camera flashes would follow, as they would try to photograph the individuals, but the on-site security would manage to intervene just on time. For those aware of the arc, one could notice how on some moments, there comes attached a sense of pre-determinism with the way these events would align, and sometimes, it is just as easy to make a guess and find yourself 'on point', so to speak.

This would prove to be one of those moments, with signs being how quickly they had come and prevented the media from making appearances, or how they had managed to set up the occasion so quickly after a call from the certain figures of security entourage. They then would be followed by minor whispers that they would first send one another, as they walked in a row, not too fast, but not too slow either.

'I could tell that you are not exactly anticipating the visit,' whispered Alexandre from behind. 'Are you feel out of it all?'

'No,' Claire answered, as they entered into the nightclub. A glare between the young security officer and the nightclub personnel were all that's needed. 'But I don't think you are, either.'

'No, let Addy and everybody else enchant "the Princess", or so to speak, but I am not here for that,' he would respond with sense of certainty. 'But I do want to ask you something when we are inside.'

Claire felt a light shiver at that moment, but gave a light nod. 'Alright,' was what she would say.'

Claire Lundrigan let the night acclimate herself into the foreign environment, as she looked around on the VIP table that was largely unaccompanied. This place is as mental as imagined, thought she, as slowly drank a glass of Limoncello. Both deafening and yet silent.

Currently Claire was sitting on the sofa over what was a neatly-cleaned nightclub, with a couple of empty bottles on top of the table after they were consumed in rather freakish speed. The awkward feeling of ending up in the State Department of Sound of all places, especially in a week-away where all that people back home held were what seemed to be inexplicable worries over her falling into similar traps, left a strange silence that had emerged between her and Alexandre, who himself was strangely silent.

At the other tables, everybody else were tending to their own matters, though it was clear the partygoers were not the conventional group of those who would frequent the State Department of Sound. Grim Reapers' cricket captain, Navy Flight Officer Jang Joon-Gweon and his wife, political staffer and daughter of country music royalty named Hannah Moran, were busy hanging out. The sight of a neatly-dressed officer situated alongside a group of civilians dressed in more colourful dresses was amusing one to observe, for those interested. Meanwhile, the other table would have other groups who have made reservations - their foreign appearances suggested either those who had decided to come for a night out mid-travel, or international students studying at one of half-dozen universities surrounding the area - but the table with Addy and their friends were missing, presumably waiting for Leonor Valdes and Princess Solveig to arrive.

For most part Claire had expected herself to be overwhelmed, with not-impossible chance that she might lose a piece of Jewelry including the Sapphire ring on her left-third finger, but she has held up well for the past half-hour. The ever-bustling atmosphere at the State Department of Sound had been very much what she had expected from the words she had heard of a nightclub complex as labyrinthic as it was. The silence between her and Alexandre, however, seemed to have outpowered the surrounding movement of sound and people, perhaps because she had noticed in how quickly and effortlessly they had found themselves alongside.

Or perhaps it may have been because of the cobalt hues that would permeate from the Sapphire gemstone itself, light to the eyes but calming to the feeling, almost as if it had the effect of slowing down or even stopping the time on the immediate radius between the two. Claire had not realised it at that moment, perhaps oblivious due to her keeping it mostly away from view when in school, and was quietly kept inside one of the drawers when she had come home to Silverhills estate.

But the effect was evident, with Alexandre, whose heart had felt heavy in weight up to this point, on the other side of the table. Silent and yet full of thoughts, the brown-haired prince six-foot-nine in height and frame matching the size, felt as if pieces to the puzzle were being matched, and that at any moment, he would be able to break the silence's stronghold on him and say some stupid words at him. Of course, the other tables' presences, especially that of Jang, who he had looked up to and would gradually befriend over the years, had played a good constraint factor for him, but Alexandre, while athletic and outgoing, would easily give in, and at any moment if the silence would break, it would serve as an appropriate trigger.

We live in silence, but your eyes tell me otherwise, thought Claire, as she looked back at Alexandre whose facial expressions suggested conflicted emotions. At that moment she thought and wondered if her father had alluded something on the short story he was working on written, almost as if Sir. Asher had let her worries over his daughter, who he loved dearly, written into the words. By now she had heard enough of the friendship Sir. Asher held with the Queen back in their St. Croix days, almost to the point where she could see now on how deliberate it had looked at times to underplay it.

But to see his worries reflect in such a manner reflecting of him had implied something else Sir. Asher would keep away from his wife and children. Was it the possible fear of entering into the unknown, or perhaps what the course charted and predicted by a force far greater than her? And if so, how much do others know - her mother, friends, those around her father - and does he know? The sudden thoughts, that had seeped from her doubts, would come to an end however as Alexandre finally broke out of the silence.

'I don't like lying,' Alexandre said, trying his best to relax. 'and let me be clear, first and foremost, that I'm not here to stare forever at the most beautiful woman in the world.' He then quickly brushed his forehead to suggest that he had brushed off what had bothered him.

'Sir, or you,' Claire answered, trying to find the right middle ground of conversation for them, before giving a light laugh. 'And I'm not here to just be in this awkward state, with some boy I barely know, drinking in middle of a nightclub.'

'And neither am I, though the stars may have aligned differently,' Alexandre answered. This was a light sign of departure Alexandre, who did not always speak eloquently or in manners his parents had mastered at very early age, had exhibited, almost to the point of feeling unnatural. Alexandre had learned plenty, both at school and in travels, but mostly acting outwards rather than inwards, still had much to settle and figure out.

'Alright, could you tell me why you have looked me like that over the past half-hour, almost as if the entire world had stopped around you?' Claire asked, before almost immediately regretting her words. 'Do tell me why.' She had a feeling Alexandre, whose reputation as an arrogant, womaniser among the ranks of seniors at the AGS, would be less genuine on his answers than what she would hope to hear. From the glimpses and words she had heard, even without gauging much on her own, it was clear he had the signs more resembling that of Jacques IX or His Royal Highness Philippe, both of whom had their own streaks and had intended to carry themselves into the marine life. It was almost as if the risk were perpetual rather than exceptional, if one's to so put it forth.

'Because I am an insomniac,' Alexandre replied, slowly moving closer to her. 'And unlike what some would speculate, including that of The Latest Whistledown or both your mates and mine, I am not here because of Princess Solveig or just any Quebecois Rose.' Alexandre didn't always have the strongest of convictions, a trait that had come from his father, Caspian of Cassadaigua, and even less so on convictions. But this, once again, would serve to be an exception rather than a normal.

'Is it me that haunts you?' Claire asked, her aware that Alexandre's trying a different way around. She too would move sideways, closer to him. 'Or something that goes way further back-'

'This I do not know, but what had happened the night of homecoming, while passing like a long night's sleep, has left me wondering at times..' Alexandre answered, perhaps letting too much of his own inhibitions getting to him.

'White sails and offshore lights..'

'...with the ships passing in the night, marking the sweetest spring at my door.'

'Almost as if there's enchantment passing through, as I dreamed one night years back in Concord Heights and I cannot ignore...'

Claire felt a light shiver past her, close to both the sense of intimacy that had emerged out of blue, and also worried that the source of his enchantment may have the same person who had shot Alexandre above the hill. 'What had exactly happened, mind if I ask,' Claire asked, her voice shaking while noticing that a security guard, whom she had not seen before, raise his pistol.

Turns out, she wasn't the only one seeing a pistol right above his company. 'Duck,' Alexandre shouted as both security guards fired a round of shots at one another, him pulling Claire into embrace to cover. Subsequent shots would follow, being fired in multiples as both shooters, with a purpose entirely separate from the rest, would watch the shots purposefully miss their target, bouncing off the building blocks and walls, before dropping to the floor.

Two weeks would pass between the night at the State Department of Sound, and now.

Relatively little would pass between then and now, with the security incident having dealt with. After a multiple round of gunshots were fired at each other, the two junior agents, one belonging to the Songak Metropolitan Police (SMP) and the other the Royal Quebecois Intelligence Service (RQIS), would recognise that they had made an error, and would apologise to the parties involved. The company would be evacuated, with a minor disruption to the SDS's operations for the night with the VIP Lounge blocked off from public access, and the rest would make their way back, along with the expected guests of Leonor Valdes and Princess Solveig, to the original departure point in the Ji-Milliken Chalet at Mont-Saint-Louis.

Time would end up passing like water there, with the company would end up staying there for three more days before heading to Joongyeong for the rest of the year. But there the company would separate once again, with the Royal Highnesses, the Jis and the foreigners (why the hell is Georgie Northwood joining them???) booking the penthouse floor of the Plaza Pomene (see: IRL Plaza Athene in Paris -e.d.-), while Seung-Geon would bring Claire, Ophelie Lautner and several others there to Montevicio. Montevicio was not exactly the city he had in mind when at least separating the company, but the warmer climate there, combined with the opportunity to visit the Lautners, whose grandparents were still involved at the Yoseo Museum of Contemporary Art (YMCA); and Pinsons, one of the four friends who would come to define the Early Taewha era, the Conservatoire de Joongyeong student found to be right.

A week there would too pass, and then the company would part their ways, as a new semester would come calling. This would usually mean train and plane rides back, which many did not look forward, and signs of promises, a way to start fresh after the off-season shenanigans for many, for others. In case of Heo Seung-Geon neither would prove to be the case, as he, shortly after returning home, would find himself in the presence of two people he would rather not see - that of his grandfather Dr. Heo 'The Junior Doctor' or 'The Younger' Dong-Soo; and Principal Private Secretary to Sovereign, Sir. Claude de Hatal (also read as d'ah-tal).

And one person he would always be happy to see in his uncle and designated-mentor, the recently-named Ji Gyeong-Wan. Exactly standing six feet and around 185 pounds, he was adored by many when a player as 'the Ji-Dash' for his appearance and work ethics. At forty-seven, twelve years after retirement, he has made up for coming short on two Olympic qualification finals with a solid career since, first as QBC commentator, then National Riding Association (NRA) team coach, before his marriage to his wife, Montreal City co-owner Maisie Dreyfus-Milliken, would see him transition into a management career that coincided with him unexpectedly selected to lead The Strathcona Trust.

His grandfather would open the remarks. 'I am sure you know why you are here, and we don't need a detailed recap,' he said, directly staring at his eldest grandson into his eyes. 'But me, your uncle and Sir. Claude will need individual answers, and you will provide them, as we expect you to do so.'

Here it comes, thought Seung-Geon, as he drew a sigh before steadying himself. 'Yes, grandpa, I mean sir,' answered Seung-Geon.

The first person to ask would be Sir. Claude, who would want to know specifics. 'Thank you for coming to this appointment, Mr. Heo,' he would say, first giving a look at Seung-Geon, before shifting to give a light look at Dr. Heo the Younger, who did not look back. 'I am sure that the Daemyeongoong Palace has received the news of the incident involving two agents, the RQIS agent assigned to Miss. Lundrigan and the Songak Metropolitan Police agent assigned to the Royal Highnesses, at the 29th of December, 2062, is this correct?'

'Yes, sir,' Seung-Geon nodded.

'During the independent investigation, which will be kept out of public hands, it has been discovered that you, Mr. Heo Seung-Geon, have arranged with Lieutenant Sung Byeong-Joo, Songak Metropolitan Police's Chair of Protection Command, to reserve the tables at the State Department of Sound. Is this correct?'

'Yes, sir, with the approval of my dear uncle,' Seung-Geon answered with glee. Sir. Claude, a balding man formerly of military background, left no facial expression while his grandfather gave a light smirk of approval. Gyeong-Wan, however, felt surprised, almost as if he were tasered at how easily Seung-Geon had given in. 'We had also been offered to stay overnight, possibly into the New Year's Eve, at his flat, for he had business to attend in Al-Tamazgha.'

'This was indeed true, dear sir,' Gyeong-Wan answered, his voice not shaking. He knew that it was probably the best idea not to stay annoyed for too long at the nineteen-year old protege, who one day was bound to succeed the Strathcona Trust and the H&N Group. 'The flat my wife and I own on Southwark I have lent it to my nephew for the two-day period.'

'Un gros merci, messieurs. That is relatively little of my concerns, or that of the Daemyeonggoong Palace, considering that nobody were injured and that the news had been kept out of the media. I do advise the youngest Mr. Heo, that being son of Mr. Heo and Ms. Goldbloom, to be more careful in the future time, but otherwise there's little to worry for the future time.' Sir. Claude said in a matter of approval, him feeling satisfied with the response, and feeling no need to pursue further unless demanded by the Queen.

Sir. Claude, then gave a light nod to both Ji and Dr. Heo the Younger, before heading out. 'Now, excuse me,' he said, before heading out.

With Sir. Claude out of the way, the meeting had come back to just three of them. Feeling tired of how stuffy the atmosphere had gotten with just five minutes from the fourth person's presence, Gyeong-Wan instructed his nephew to sit.

'My child, we aren't strangers and will never be,' Gyeong-Wan said, as he grabbed a Lokum. 'You must never leave these desserts cold.' Seung-Geon would follow as he and Gyeong-Wan would eat a box of Lokum and traditional Dasik, those that the elder liked but was not eating. 'I will eat later with papa,' Dr. Heo the younger replied, nevermind the fact the 98-year old senior himself, while loving confectionaries, was not really an eater of traditional Han-gua.

After about five minutes the questioning would resume, though in an easier manner.

'You were lucky you had stayed away from the Department of Sound that night,' Gyeong-Wan said to his nephew, in an attempt to give a genuine advice. 'It is never ideal to draw the attention of the media, let alone public, and the idea of you being so openly friendly with the Crown and causing shenanigans...what were you thinking?' This part was largely true, especially with Seung-Geon's situation down the line. For Gyeong-Wan, he was fortunate his parents, whose mother was a cousin to the Younger's mother, were middle-class individuals in Hwado Valley, one of many hilly suburbs east of Joongyeong proper. If anything, the Jis' semi-rural background with the maternal family business running small agricultural businesses had made Gyeong-Wan a media darling, a suitable one to head the Praetorian.

This advantage, that of appealability to the image of 'The Praetorian reader' that sometimes carried 'republican interests', was something that Seung-Geon did not hold.

'What can I say, uncle? I prefer to spend more time with Armando and the football nerds, and Georgie Northwood. The words on the town are that he's planning to head into University of Ousevale. Something that good, ole Addy might not be amused to hear, but don't tell that to the Queen yet,' Seung-Geon answered in a cheery manner.

'Addy, in some ways, is like that of the Queen, yes,' Dr. Heo answered in amusement. 'There's always that mix of calculating, stubborn self that she is, which is so like Christine the Princess of Abitibi I knew of her as my student, but also that of an understanding person, which she had inherited from her father.' He then swallowed a spit, before giving back a wink to the Queen. 'But this I will shut up and not say, and I expect my Gyeong-Wan to stay mum over.'

'I am concerned little over it,' Gyeong-Wan answered, slightly feeling annoyed over the position he had found himself in. 'Who were there at the time of the shooting?'

'Exactly the same people I had told you about,' Seung-Geon answered, him not amused at being asked this again. 'I assumed the outer party were meant to join but they had their own issues with traffic, so they did get fortunate over it.'

His uncle was not amused. 'Let me be clear, whose idea was to pair the cars like that? It is not an ordinary arrangement to put two on one car and half-dozen the other one based on what I have heard.' Seung-Geon asked.

'Not mine,' the youngest disagreed with the insinuation that he had every detail of the original plan nailed down. 'Maybe the girls had a different idea, but please don't pretend I have to do with everything over it.'

'And I think that's all that we need to know,' Dr. Heo smiled back at both of them, who would slowly calm down. 'What had happened then doesn't matter, and I would advise you not to think so much of it. What matters is that the Daemyeonggoong Palace remains unworried, us not affected or blamed over a minor disagreement involving jurisdictions, and that the Lundrigans not be told for the time being.'

'You are right, grandpa,' Seung-Geon nodded.

Dr. Heo's gaze would sharpen, however, as he looked at both of them for briefly a second before closing his eyes. His hands were clasped on top of his mouth. 'You must be relieved to know that you have not interfered with the charted course for either the Prince of Abitibi, or the other Princess from abroad. Had that been the case, I would have been worried even further.' He said, his voice turning into a more conciliatory manner.

'What do you mean, uncle?' asked Gyeong-Wan, surprised to see the remarks.

Dr. Heo did not move much. 'That you must never get too close to the Sun, or the inevitable,' he said. 'I have seen way too many men or women try to fly too close to the sun, in search of wealth and glory or even an adventure, and find themselves falling into the water, their wings melting once they have gotten too close to the sun. You must not allow yourself to make similar mistakes, as those in past have done.'

The room remained calm, perhaps in surprise, as he continued. 'I cannot say everything, but one day, you will understand exactly what I am telling you. And thank me later.'

There were not very few schools, especially with schools this large or private in nature, out there considered to be in more pristine location than Avon-Gillespie School.

Okay, it is worth adding 'this size' or 'private' here considering that most public high schools, at least the ones notable such as Erskine Collegiate in Kingston or the lycees available in Joongyeong or Songak, were urban in nature, with the red brick facade, varied architectural style, and constant state of construction in contained environs best representing the Arrosian nation's urban life. Then there would be private schools in the cities who would either be a more exclusive and legacy-driven but only slightly roomier version of their public cousins, or their rural siblings who held onto their 'legacy ideals' and kept their student numbers low, but perhaps at the cost of future afforded by social mobility that would enrich their respective social/donor footprint.

Now, Avon-Gillespie School was a solid, middle-ground options for all those concerned. The hilly, spacious campus of Avon-Gillespie School was located near but reasonably away from the sea where the Marina's located, the rural highway and the town where the passengers would be able to catch train to Oakwood or Dongnae-Halifax County, that it was convenient to access in practical sense, while capable of being mentally distanced at same time. This may have been why the progressive ideals of its founders, who valued experiential, outdoors-driven learning, held particularly strong here, with many generations bringing their children back not for the financial prestige (tuition, if anything, were mostly subsidised or paid for by a wide range of scholarships), but rather genuine character development it afforded.

This is perhaps why Alexandre and Adelaide were there, mentally distant from all that's to do with pomp and circumstance in the estates. This was a pre-determined decision made by their parents, Christine II and Caspian of Cassadaigua (or more commonly known as the Duke of Halifax, whose title was a cyclical one that has been used in various cycles of existence), early into their childhood, after eliminating the schools that the Queen and her parents, three generations before, had attended. Avon-Gillespie's equidistant location, progressive curriculum, strong athletics programs (something that Caspian, who had played hockey and baseball up to that level, had saw it a massive plus) and pristine surroundings, had made it an easy choice for both, even if she would never admit additional reasons existed.

Alexandre was a good son to both her parents, and a respectable brother to his three younger siblings. But he was also never shy of company, and was capable of leading his friends, who did not always fit the mould of those his family would prefer him to associate with,. This, combined with the isolated, outdoorsy nature of Avon-Gillespie School had meant that while Alexandre was a perfect fit for it all, breadcrumbs of trouble were everywhere on radius, the trail heading towards the most raucous paths a teenager could undergo while being under the frameworks of a collegiate school.

Both the Queen and the Prince Consort had been well aware by this point, partly thanks to occasional comments from Adelaide Marie or the Queen Mother herself, that Alexandre carried those streaks. While the former spoke more to the Queen without being aware of the prophecies her mother carried, the latter was very similar to those told by late Jacques IX the warrior king, and Elizaveta 'Liz' Dolgorukaia, the daughter of a quietly-restored Petrogradian Grand Duke, in Lakeland College.

And while there was little to no doubt Alexandre's succession wasn't doubted, there was for long time when Jacques, who preferred a life on the seas, wanted to abdicate in favour of well-tempered brothers in, William and Alexandre. The proposal was seriously considered by the late Sylvain IV, who found Jacques too unbecoming of a nonpartisan position that's the Crown, and Queen Nathalie, who never liked Jacques' longtime steady, but the premature passing of his father the Henri VIII had left him no option.

Now, C&C's ability to look away from Alexandre's problems, almost to the point of neglect in public (even if it were rather the opposite), had its effects. Since the winter break Alexandre had not exactly been the same. Her peers were the first to notice the added weight in his demeanour, but so would others with his teachers and Dr. Allard, the academic chair, noticing the controlled wander in his behaviour. Perhaps to the suspicion that his grades would, even if he wouldn't apply, be passable for possible St. Croix or Farrer admission, they had gradually assigned more work to Alexandre, with added recommendations from the Prince Consort who were amused to hear of such change. This would not end up being a problem for Alexandre, whose academic record evolved to that of a remarkable level, and the progresses back were mostly kept positive.

Of course that's not the accurate portrayal of what had been going on in Alexandre's behaviour. Everybody out east knew that. In the coming months Alexandre would fall into a Hamletesque spiral, his body and hair distinctively drier, his self away in the wilderness for hours at a time, and his own tongue speaking in a mix of carefully-combed Royal Pronunciation (RP) and glossolalia. His friends had considered this a sign of Alexandre channelling himself, almost unsurprising in the ritualistic manner, but those closer in family and heart had noticed something was different.

Adelaide knew that this was not a normal sign, even more so because she had not expected it from her brother. Unlike Alexandre, Adelaide and a younger brother of theirs had possessed the innate abilities, with the sophomore possessing that of the Holy Seer. Now, as someone who had stayed away from using it for years mostly to enjoy the normal-er life afforded to her there, Adelaide had no trouble recognising that this was not normal either. To her it was clear enough that Alexandre was being possessed, and that it had happened sometime between the Department of Sound incident and then, but couldn't exactly figure where and when.

This bothered Addy, of course, though to what extent was another story. Adelaide wasn't bothered about the news possibly heading back home, not because of the possession itself but because she knew that both the Christine II and the Duke of Halifax preferred to see a more nuanced, if lot more theatrical, version of the Prince of Abitibi.

She, however, was more bothered about the other possibility. The possibility where her brother who, while still with his own judgment and logic, was behaving so differently from the usual self, and for so long, that the recollections of the previous months had only worsened. And while it was clear to Addy that the Queen held enough interest towards her friends and peers, the certain glare in her eyes whenever 'the new girl' was mentioned suggested enough to her, that the risk of having Alexandre near Claire Lundrigan was a danger to all parties concerned. With this in mind, the efforts were made by her and a couple of others, mostly unaware to everybody else, on keeping her friends, in particular the certain Claire Lundrigan, away.

For much of his teenage life, Alexandre Charles Jacques, who was conveniently named after his grandfathers, one living, one passed before his birth, had viewed his great-uncle Laurent with particular adoration. The six-feet-two behemoth, whose remarkable strength was evident with his muscular frame and grey hair that, with careful combing and care, displayed grace at age sixty-eight, rather than that of sheer, brown-haired force when still inactive service, wore his naval uniform proudly, with several medals and bars covering the breastplate as a matter of pride than anything else.

It was something that neither his parents, predeceased Henri VIII and just-widowed Queen Nathalie, would have expected when younger, with former viewing Laurent, whose mischievous demeanour combined with penchant to go into lengths to cause trouble, to be a particular headcase, at least relative to his elder siblings Jacques, a type-A individual who was a natural leader of like-minded men, and William, a well-mannered, exceptional individual. But the former First Sea Lord, once considered the troubled one out of four children, was also a natural in fighting for a cause and saw the life in sea and fighter jets an ideal path for his life early on, joining the Royal Naval Academy at age eighteen. It was not something that his mother, who was with then-just-crowned Jacques IX out in the Felixian battlefields, wanted, but a decision that would ultimately prove to be right.

Fifty years later, the history would come to repeat in some way, as Laurent would be the one welcoming his great-nephew at the age he once was at eighteen years of age. Having spent most of past half-decade to decade away from his uncle, who himself was occupied with increased duties as the seniormost royal with Queen Nathalie's passing in 2056, while also doubling as the Quebecois Cricket Board president and other duties, Alexandre had just noticed how similar they had ended up looking with Alexandre finally fulfilling the anticipation by his relatives in his resemblence to Laurent and in particular, late Jacques IX, while age would also bring Laurent to bear similar appearance to Jacques. An irony considering a decadelong dispute between Jacques and Laurent over his re-marriage question, which were still not solved twenty years into Christinian era under the late King-Emperor's order.

Right next to Laurent was Lieutenant Jang Joon-Gweon, whose adoration Alexandre held for him was at high degree. Lieutenant Jang, who was turning twenty-seven this year, have mostly shredded the cocoon of greeneries from his younger self, with it replaced by experience as an emerging naval aviator and cricket superstar. Jang, an orphan who was raised by his grandfather in Bel-Havre Island off the western shores of Inteachan, had the ability to make himself a quick darling among all circles he had been invited into.

At St. Croix, where he captained their cricket side to back-to-back Bannockburn Shields, his Soongdeok Society membership under his suprvisor, Dr. Heo Dong-Soo, paved his way into every invite imaginable. Then came his naval service, where his proficiency in cricket, while also being decent in a few other sports such as gridiron, had drawn positive remarks from the higher-ups, especially at Laurent's TOMCAT program. His abilities as a naval fighter pilot, combined with his marriage into the Clevenger-Moran household, a country royalty in name and discography, have no doubt put him in the right spot to welcome Alexandre, with the chance that he too join Jang in a decade's time.

It would be around five in the evening when Alexandre was notified by the headmaster that he had a couple of important guests, whom he didn't specify their name, waiting for him on a quick ceremony at one of the private rooms in the Levana Hall. With the dinner time so close, and Alexandre preferring to eat early before heading into a last-minute outdoors club meeting, followed by a water polo team trial scheduled later in evening, Alexandre wandered what was the event that could lead into sudden interruption of his original plans.

Please don't tell me somebody died, thought Alexandre, as he headed his way to the dining room. That was at least the initial impression the Prince of Abitibi had initially gotten, and with no shortage of incidents and near-misses he had gotten in the recent months, that would be the first thing coming into his mind. I don't need this, not when the decisions are so close to being made...

A presence of two bodyguards, familiar figures who were usually assigned to the more senior members of the royalty, would quickly dissipate that vision at the door, however, as he would enter into the dining room. As he entered, Alexandre would find the room empty other than two individuals, his great-uncle Laurent and his idol, Jang Joon-Gweon who were wearing a their respective Royal Quebecois Navy uniform. Upon seeing both of them, Alexandre couldn't help but to lift a slight grin on his face as he lent his left hand forward for handshake.

'Congratulations, my boy,' said Laurent in a slightly softer voice, perhaps affected by a couple of hours drive, as he gave only a slight hint to suggest that Alexandre had passed the application stage required for his entrance into the Royal Quebecois Naval Academy in autumn. Laurent appeared to be particularly happy about the news, especially after not being able to do the same for his nephews, Princes Philippe and Henri, due to Laurent's overseas service with second and third fleets in middle of Blood Sea at the time of their acceptance. 'How does it feel?'

'Well, it's surreal, though I admit not being as surprised as I really should be feeling,' said Alexandre, as he slowly let go of handshake, before proceeding to shake Joon-Gweon's hand. 'One step closer towards flying with you, Lieutenant Jang. A true boy's dream, if you are to ask,' Jang said.

'One step closer, that's for sure. Might be sooner than me on that,' answered Jang, as he shook Alexandre's hands with a softer grip. 'I started a few steps later than my colleagues, remember.'

'Good sir, who am I to judge as a young lad,' Alexandre said in a boyish joy, just happy to be able to join the Naval Academy. 'I ain't no world-class wicketkeeper myself, and my swings have always been too uncontrolled to be a proper batter in cricket, so I would never be the one to judge my idol on it all.'

'Now, now, you are starting to sound like good ole Jang here,' Laurent chuckled as he noticed Alexandre changing his vocal tone. Did they notice the change in ways Alexandre have behaved since the shooting, and more recently the near-crossfire at the nightclub over Christmas break? That's hard to say, for it's likelier they had not known. 'But the four years there, followed by a life of service, will set you up for the day when you will be leading the nation after your mother.'

'Thank you, uncle,' said Alexandre. 'Leaving the AGS grounds early, of course, will leave a minor gap or two in my heart, but I'm sure that whatever comes after will be able to substitute that gap.'

Jang smiled back at Alexandre, as he gave Alexandre a tap on his right shoulder. 'Don't say that just yet, we all know what kind of twist life, fate and love can bring, don't we?' Joon-Gweon said, giving Alexandre a quick wink. 'Let the coincidences come back, fate weave the way, and you will be back here welcoming the next Avonian deserving of a welcoming.'

Alexandre lifted his eyebrows. 'Are you implying that my dear great-nephew has a reason to contemplate staying, dear Lieutenant Jang?' He softened his voice in amusement, almost in a musical manner. 'He's a tuba mirum. He can find any woman he wishes to and will not surprise us.'

'No, not one bit, dear uncle,' Alexandre said, as he quickly responded in an effort to suggest otherwise. For all the uncertainty he has held in regards to Claire Lundrigan, whether they be translated as feelings or something more fleeting, this was not the time.