Fate's oddity volume 2, page 42
Sylva nodded firmly. "The king agrees—someone wants you publicly blamed."
Tazrak cracked his knuckles. "What’s our move?"
Before Sylva could respond, a tense aide entered the chamber. “The council convenes immediately. The Levisdian envoys are demanding answers.”
They exchanged determined glances and moved swiftly toward the great hall.
***
The council chamber surged with tension. King Alaric, iron-backed, controlled the room’s energy. The Levisdian envoys clustered around Prince Lucien, who glared coldly at Ruby Road.
"A knight murdered in your streets," Lucien said icily. "This demands immediate justice."
Krimson countered calmly, voice steady. "We’re innocent. Someone is baiting us into war."
Lucien’s tone remained implacable. "War seems unavoidable if justice isn't swiftly delivered."
A Gaian noble snapped impatiently. "Your men sparked trouble first at Solstice."
Alaric raised his hand firmly. "Enough accusations. Lieutenant Sylva investigates officially, but Ruby Road will run an independent investigation."
Stoll suggested smoothly, "Perhaps house arrest to calm fears?"
Vivienne cut sharply across his words. "Locking up the innocent solves nothing."
Alaric's authority silenced the argument. "My decision is made. Ruby Road remains free to investigate."
Lucien met Krimson’s eyes directly. "You have until tomorrow’s sunset. Fail, and we handle it our way."
As the envoys departed, tension thickened. Ruby Road regrouped privately.
Tazrak’s voice was grim. "They're practically begging for war."
Paprika’s voice was thoughtful. "It is highly likely that our presence fuels tensions."
Krimson shook his head resolutely. "We must deny them what they want: panic."
Celestia found her determination. "Gaia trusts us. Let’s prove we deserve it."
Murasaki’s grin hardened. "Then let’s turn their trap back on them."
Ruby Road exchanged resolute glances and moved into action. The city’s future depended on them unraveling the truth.
***
As the council dragged on, Stoll pressed his case. “For the safety of all, isolate Ruby Road and their close associates until the culprit is found. Show the envoys we take their pain seriously.”
Alaric hesitated, knowing the cost of either choice. The queen whispered, “If you give them this, they’ll want more.”
Krimson, voice steady, spoke for the group. “You want to lock us up? Fine. But while you’re watching us, the real murderer is getting away. Give us one day—let us prove who’s behind this.”
A beat of silence.
Lucien finally nodded, coldly. “You have until tomorrow’s sunset. Then we demand results—or we will act on our own.”
***
Night fell over Silvanus like a warning. Lanterns flickered in the windows, city guards moved in tight patrols, and the festive energy of Solstice was gone, replaced by suspicion and fear. Every alley echoed with rumors of murder, war, and betrayal. The “Accident” had set the city ablaze—not with fire, but with panic.
Ruby Road was everywhere and nowhere.
Vivienne and Azazel started with the city’s rumor mills, slipping into rowdy taverns and crowded alleys. Vivienne, all sharp glances and easy smiles, coaxed stories from shopkeepers and drunks alike. Azazel played the quiet shadow, listening for words that didn’t fit.
“Someone saw a hooded figure near the guest quarter rooftop,” Vivienne reported, voice low as they left the Crooked Spoon. “Tall, limping. Left before the alarm. Paid off a street kid to deliver a package—bet it’s the murder weapon, or a payoff.”
Azazel nodded. “Saw a city watchman talking with one of Stoll’s men. Didn’t like how quick they separated when I walked past.”
Meanwhile, Murasaki and Tazrak picked over the crime scene, ignoring hostile stares from Gaian and Levisdian guards alike. Murasaki sniffed the air, frowning. “The bolt’s not city-forged. The fletching’s foreign, and there’s residue on the tip—smells like blackleaf oil.” She showed Tazrak, who grunted, “That’s mercenary work, not palace.”
They trailed scuffs along the rooftop edge—too light for a full-grown soldier. A child, maybe, or someone light on their feet. Down below, city watch found another scrap of red cloth, too conveniently placed to be an accident.
Tazrak spat. “It’s a frame job. They want us blamed and out of the way.”
Elsewhere, Krimson, Celestia, and Paprika ducked into a back-alley apothecary, old contacts trailing them in the dark. Krimson slid a silver coin across the counter. “Heard anything about hired blades? Anyone looking to disappear after the festival?”
The apothecary leaned in. “A pair of outlanders came through—one with a limp, the other spoke with a noble’s accent. Asked about poisons, escape routes, and ‘the best way to vanish in a crowd.’ Haven’t seen them since dawn.”
Celestia pressed for details, charm and desperation mixing in her voice. “Did they say who sent them?”
The apothecary hesitated, then whispered, “Said their paymaster wanted to ‘see the city burn, if only for a night.’ That’s all I heard.”
Paprika gathered a handful of vials. “Let’s go. There’s a crowd forming at Northgate—another fight brewing.”
***
As midnight approached, a brawl erupted outside the Levisdian guesthouse—a dozen locals against a half-dozen envoys’ guards. Murasaki and Tazrak jumped in, breaking up the melee before knives could flash. Tazrak bodily lifted two brawlers off the ground, barking, “Enough! Save it for the real enemy!”
Vivienne pulled a panicked merchant away from a torch-wielding mob. “This isn’t justice—it’s a lynching.”
Azazel slipped through the shadows, quietly disabling a pair of saboteurs preparing to set fire to a warehouse. “You want to blame us? Go home. Or I’ll make you wish you had.”
Krimson and Celestia, moving through the thickening crowd, found themselves face-to-face with a group of angry nobles. One sneered, “Your foreign princess has brought nothing but death.” Krimson replied, calm and cold, “Keep your anger for the ones who profit from chaos. We’re not your scapegoats.”
For a moment, the crowd threatened to turn. But Paprika, standing small but unafraid, offered free healing and simple words: “If you want to fight, do it tomorrow. Tonight, let’s help those who are hurting.”
Her courage shamed the crowd into dispersing.
***
By late night, Ruby Road regrouped in a shuttered guildhall, their evidence spread out—foreign crossbow bolts, a bloodstained coin, and testimony pointing to mercenaries hired by a hidden hand. All the trails led, eventually, toward Stoll’s circle—if not him directly, then his most ruthless agents.
Celestia, weary but resolute, said, “If we don’t act now, the city will tear itself apart.”
Vivienne agreed, eyes bright with exhaustion. “We’ve got enough to move on them, but only if the king acts fast.”
Murasaki flexed her knuckles. “Let’s light our own fuse.”
Outside, the city was a tinderbox. On a distant rooftop, a saboteur set a fuse to a barrel of oil—just enough to start a new fire, a new panic, if not stopped in time.
Krimson led the charge out the door. “We end this tonight.”
Chapter 24: The Thin Red Morning
Dawn cracked open over Silvanus, red as spilled blood, and threw long, uneasy shadows between the narrow rows of houses. The air tasted metallic—like biting into a coin. By the time the bells rang seven, you’d have thought the city had been holding its breath all night, waiting for something to go wrong.
You could feel it in the way people moved: they were careful, cautious, and not wanting to draw attention. Word slipped down the streets even faster than the morning fog. The Levisdian knights had turned out in force, lined up at the embassy doors in those gleaming green tabards that made them look like they’d stepped out of a storybook—if storybook knights ever kept their visors down and their hands tight on their swords.
Across the square, Gaian soldiers and city watchmen put on their bravest faces—shoulders squared, lines held sharp—but even the greenest recruit couldn’t hide how tense things had become. The way they were already drawing lines in the sand was a bad sign. It wasn’t war—not yet—but the city felt thin-skinned, stretched too tight for anyone’s comfort.
Of course, none of it was sanctioned by the crown or the council. In truth, this was nothing but an unruly mob, born out of fear and left to spiral on its own.
The citizens kept to the doorways. Some peered out from behind their curtains, others were clutching their children by the collars of their shirts and pulling them inside, muttering about classes being canceled and something about “keeping heads down.” Many nobles were huddled over crackling mystic radios, desperate for updates on the situation. Shopkeepers yanked their signs in before having time to open and slid thick bolts over their homes, casting one last nervous look over their shoulders like they half expected the world to end right there in the street.
The rumor mill worked overtime. Depending who you listened to, the Levisdians had been insulted by an egregious offense, the Gaian officers threatened, or maybe there were Noxian spies sleeping under the palace. The agitators drifted through the crowd—Stoll’s people, if you looked close enough—stirring the pot with sly looks and muttered warnings about betrayal, royal secrets, and how it only took one spark to burn the whole city down.
Protesters clung to the edges, pretending not to watch for the moment when someone—anyone—would lose their nerve and break the silence. It felt like the whole city was perched on a single, fraying thread.
By midday, the square outside the embassy was packed so tight you could barely breathe. Sure, this was home turf for the Gaians, but even here, nobody really wanted a full-on fight. If it came to blows, the Gaians would probably win—but everyone knew the cost would be too high.
The barricades groaned under the weight—city guards, Levisdian knights, anxious citizens, all at a razor’s edge, every one of them with the same wild-eyed look. And it didn’t matter which side you were on; pretty much everyone was thinking the same thing:
Where the hell was Prince Krimson?
***
(Krimson pov)
I’d never cut through Silvanus’s back alleys this fast in my life—cloak flapping behind me, boots kicking up so much dust it looked like I was trying to outrun a sandstorm. Ruby Road hustled to keep up, weaving around crates and sidestepping vendors who looked like they’d seen it all and didn’t want to see any more.
Every lead? Dead on arrival. Every alleyway snitch and big-mouth gossip in this city had suddenly become a monk—eyes darting, lips sealed like their lives depended on it. I was starting to feel like the punchline in a joke nobody wanted to tell.
I stopped at a boarded-up shop, hands on my hips, frustration leaking out in every breath. “This is getting ridiculous,” I muttered, pacing in a tight circle. “No trail, no whispers, not even a half-decent rumor. Normally, I can get someone to spill for the price of a drink. Today? Whoever pulled this off is erasing their footprints faster than we can chase ‘em. I almost want to offer them a job.”
I shot a look back at the crew, daring anyone to tell me I was wrong.
Celestia hugged her arms, shifting from foot to foot—trying for calm, but her eyes gave her away. “Yeah, well, what else can we do but keep moving?” she said. “We’re running out of time. If we don’t find something soon, this is going to get ugly. And frankly, I’m not curious what those knights are waiting for.”
Murasaki kicked a loose cobblestone, posture all bravado, but her jaw was tight. “They’re waitin’ for a reason, is what. From where I’m standin’, standoffs like this don’t care about facts. It’s never ‘if’—just ‘when.’ Once the first blade’s out, it’s all blood n’ regrets. Ya know how people are. Half the time, they forget why they started swingin’.”
I shook my head, eyes on the square as it started to come apart at the seams. Gaian soldiers and Levisdian knights had crashed into each other, shields up, fists flying, boots scraping stone. Strategy was out the window; it was just nerves, sweat, and whoever could yell the loudest. The air was nothing but shouted orders, armor grinding, and the kind of tension that made your teeth hurt.
No bodies yet—but I could feel the line thinning, every heartbeat a coin flip. If somebody didn’t do something, this would turn into the kind of mess even I couldn’t joke my way out of.
The Phoenix Crown pulsed hot against my brow—a reminder I hadn’t asked for. My heart hammered, but I had to keep the grin on, at least for my crew.
“Well, if this is how I go out,” I said, rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck, “at least let ‘em put something dramatic on my headstone. ‘Here lies Krimson—he held the line, then set the world on fire. Also, he looked damn good doing it.’”
I drew a steady breath, squared my jaw, and stepped forward—ready to bring the fire, one more time.
***
Sometimes you run out of time to play the hero. By the time I hit the edge of the market square, it was already a mess—armor clanging, fists flying, Levisdian knights and Gaian soldiers tangled in a street brawl that could turn ugly fast. No bodies yet, but if you squinted, you could almost see the blood that wanted to be spilled.
“Fantastic,” I muttered, dodging a chunk of broken crockery as it sailed past my head. “This is really turning into a nightmare.”
Tazrak was already shoving through the thickest knot of fighters, dragging a city guard out by the collar. “Move your ass if you want to keep it!” he hollered, which, honestly, was the most positive thing I've heard today.
Murasaki tackled a Levisdian knight so hard the man’s helmet nearly spun around backwards. “Pick on someone with better manners,” she snapped, pinning him until the city guards could haul him off.
Celestia and Azazel stood just behind the main line, hands raised as their magic swept over the square—bands of light and shadow working in tandem, binding Gaian and Levisdian fighters alike, forcing them back with a force of will that hit like stone. Celestia’s power surged at the center, overwhelming and unyielding, while Azazel’s spells snapped out at the edges—knocking weapons loose, tripping feet, and keeping the worst of the chaos contained. “Drop the swords! If you want to die for your pride, do it somewhere that doesn’t block foot traffic!” Celestia’s command rang out, and even the most desperate brawlers hesitated under the weight of their combined magic.
Paprika’s tortoise glowed like a lantern as she threw up a shield between a squad of Gaian recruits and a Levisdian vanguard. Rin and Milo moved in tandem, yanking the dazed and the wounded out from underfoot. No matter how hard we worked, there were always more fists, more boots, more bad ideas.
I threw myself into the middle, shoulder-checking a Gaian who looked about three seconds from stabbing a Levisdian who somehow looked barely old enough to shave. “Hey you guys, if anybody’s going to get stabbed today, it’s me. So do us all a favor and stop trying so hard to disobey royalty.”
Nobody listened, of course. Of course they wouldn't, but this was just an old habit of mine that never broke.
We tried to hold them off. Every time I turned, I expected to see someone go down for good. Instead, luckily or unluckily, it was just more chaos. Shields slammed, swords rattled, curses flew. Sweat ran into my eyes and I could feel Phoenix—Suzaku in my heart letting off heat, like it was calling me to set it loose, to burn it all. Well, maybe not literally. I hoped.
Celestia’s voice cut through the noise, worried and fierce at the same time. “We can't do this forever! At this rate we'll just be casualties too!”
I flashed her a grin that was about 30% bravado and 70% pure bluff. “Yeah, but maybe we can fake it for five more minutes. I think I'm gonna try something.”
I could see we were losing ground. The crowd wasn’t just angry—they were desperate. This was a conflict, yes, but it was my responsibility to ensure it didn't become war. If I didn’t do something drastic, this would end with bodies on the ground, and I wasn’t ready to let that happen.
So I did what any self-respecting prince and assassin with a crown full of fire and a complicated relationship with… well, pretty much everything would do: I stepped up.
My heart hammered as I hauled myself onto the nearest cart, boots slipping on shattered glass. I glanced back at Ruby Road—sweaty, bruised, but still holding together, somehow—and flashed them a thumbs-up. “Alright, guys. It's time to shine. Flame up.”
The Phoenix Crown flared into reality, fire licking down my arms. The world slowed to a crawl, senses sharpening—the city alive beneath my feet.
“Y’know, I think I could do better. Let me try something else. How about—fire! Fire! Fire prince!”
“Krimson, get serious!” Celestia called, exasperated.
I grinned. “Sorry, got a little distracted by all this power.”
Daggers slid into my palms like old friends, their weight grounding me in the chaos.
I slipped between two Gaian recruits as their shields locked against a Levisdian push. My shoulder brushed theirs, my blade tapping the rim of each shield—clang, clang—just enough to jar their grips loose. A quick flick of fire rolled down the steel, too hot to hold, and both men yelped as their weapons clattered to the cobbles. I was already gone by the time they looked for me.
A Levisdian knight barreled in with his longsword raised high. I let him commit, let him think he had me. Then I dropped low, sliding across shattered pottery and slashing the flat of my dagger against the backs of his knees. Not deep—just enough to sting. His legs buckled. I kicked the hilt of his sword, spinning it away, then planted a hand on his chest and shoved him flat on his back.
Another came at me from the side. I caught his wrist, spun, and let the flames wreathing my arm lick across his gauntlet. He screamed and dropped the blade before I tossed him into his own men.
