Terese had a sign on her door saying she was busy, so the first on the list of people to meet was,

“Patyi!” Vika greeted with a beaming smile.

As far as Vika informed him, the old woman wasn’t exactly the head chef, but her and her family had handled feeding a large portion of the palace staff for 30 years--She had elected to stay in captivity to look after the younger people in her family who couldn’t leave yet. Now, Patyi and her children were taking a break after making lunch before the flurry of dinner.

Patyi instantly narrowed her eyes at Vika and clapped the flour off her weathered hands so she could pinch the girl’s cheek punitively. “Vikati, where did all my strawberry tarts go, hm? You can’t blame the twins every time!” She scolded. The old woman was even shorter than Vika, who had to bend down to the pinch, but she just laughed and held up her hands in surrender.

“I only ate a couple! But I do actually think the twins stole the rest. Please forgive me, Patyi?”

“And you likely enabled them, eh?”  Patyi let go to pat her cheek, then turned her attention to Oly.

“And who are you? Another accomplice?” She accused, though her eyes were kind. She reminded him of what grandmothers were like, or so Oly was told. Her grey hair was pulled into a frizzy bun, her facial tattoos (common among Gilarian women) were distorted by the plentiful lines on her face, and her build was stout and powerful.

“Olymarté, ma’am. I’m His Majesty’s new kingslave, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Oly clasped his hands and bowed his head to the elder. He looked up to see her smiling fondly.

“Ah, Vikati, why can’t you have manners like that?” Patyi chided.

“He goes by Oly!” Vika instantly changed the subject, clapping him on the shoulder.

Patyi rolled her eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Olti.” She reached out to take his hands into her own and squeeze them, dissolving his tension with warmth. “Well, I know what Vika is here for, so I might as well give it to you instead.” She joked, letting him go and picking a length of linen from a hook. She pulled ten bite-sized pastries off of a large tray of a hundred at least, folded the linen over them, then tied two corners together to make a little handle.

“Welcome to the palace, Olti. Don’t let her force you to share.” Patyi handed the package to him with a wink. 

He held in a laugh. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Patyi is fine, dear. Was there anything else you two wanted?”

“Actually,” Vika piped up, “I need your help with something.”

--

“Vika.”

“Yes, dear.”

“What did you do to that poor man’s food.”

“Oh, you don’t even know what I did yet. Just watch.” She said now, spying on a garden fountain from a second-story balcony. “He always eats his lunch here.”

“How do you know that?”

“His girlfriend told me.” Not a second after, Vika shushed him and ducked back into the shadows to watch the unsuspecting man. Oly leaned forward on the balcony railing; as far as he was concerned, he was just admiring the garden. The diverse selection of plants (tropical, succulents, evergreen) couldn’t be assisted with anything other than magic.

True to her word, a tall, heavy man strode down the path, deposited himself on the fountain edge, and opened a bundle Oly knew to be a loaded trap. He squinted and leaned forward with morbid curiosity.

Even from a distance, he saw the stranger’s broad shoulders relax under the midday sun. He took a deep breath of the lush aromas, and then he took a bite of his sandwich.

At first, nothing happened. He chewed. Took another bite. Then his face flushed pink, darkened to red, his hand flew up to his mouth and he set the sandwich to the side. He cleared his throat, which turned into a coughing fit. Oly steadily grew horrified.

“Vika, what did you do?!” He whispered. She giggled.

“Relax, it won’t hurt him.” She waved him off.

“Yet he appears to be in pain.” He snapped, watching Lark reach for his canteen—which had several spoonfulls of some white powder poured in—and take a long swallow, but not a second later he sprayed it all out and made a noise of horrific disgust. He looked around the garden, desperation heavy in his teary eyes, until he finally turned to the fountain and plunged his entire head in.
Whatever was holding Vika back broke, and she howled in laughter like some kind of night terror.

“You look so concerned!” She tried to coo. “He’ll be fine-!”

“Vika!” The victim snarled from below, absolutely drenched from the shoulders up. “You hisara mokan ma bandi,”

“Get fucked, Lark!” Vika shouted back. She tugged on Oly’s arm once Lark approached the staff doors, presumably to come up and find them. “Time to go!“ She giggled. Oly nodded and sped away with her.

He didn’t have time to try and memorize the hallways, he was just swept up in the exhilaration of avoiding trouble. Gods, I haven’t had to flee like this since I was a teenager. Never been the one to discourage a prank before, though. Is this how my brother felt?

His train of thought was interrupted when Vika turned a sharp corner and collided with someone.

“Hey!” They barked, though Oly was too busy helping Vika regain her balance to look at them. Much more tenderly, the stranger spoke again, “Oh, Vika. Sorry.”

“Calla!” Vika chirped, jumping up so she could throw her arms around the strange woman’s shoulders. Vika was so short compared to her that her sandals were hovering off the ground. The guard patted her on the head, hooked her hands under Vika’s arms, and gently lifted her back onto the ground like she weighed absolutely nothing. Between that and her sturdy, practical uniform, Oly guessed she was a somewhat high-ranking member of the royal guard.

“Why the rush?” Calla asked, picking something out of Vika’s hair and flicking it away.

“Oh. I put sun pepper seeds and baking soda in Lark’s lunch.” Vika beamed, but received utter exasperation from Calla. “Don’t look at me like that, he needs to build up spice tolerance anyway.”

“I can reprimand him myself.”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t!” Vika tapped Calla on the nose. “I still wanted to teach him a lesson. Want to come with us? I was just showing him around.” Vika stepped to the side and gestured back to Oly, leading Calla to turn her piercing gaze on him. Oly felt like she was seeing directly into his head, and wasn’t particularly impressed or disappointed by what she found.

“You are Olymarté.”

“Yes ma’am.” He answered on reflex. The corner of her mouth twitched up.

“I am Calla Hawksong. It’s my job to make sure you two don’t get in trouble.”  Oly stared at her, glanced meaningfully at Vika, and raised a brow. She treated him to a little half-smile. “Serious trouble.” She corrected, and turned her head back to Vika, jingling the silver badges hanging off her braided black bun. “Can’t join, busy.”

Vika pouted as Calla patted her on the head and continued on her way. “One day I’ll get her to take a break with me.” She muttered. “Right. You still got those cookies?”

“You ask as if I haven’t been guarding them with my life.”

“Great! Hungry?”

Oly gave a weary smile. “Enough not to share.”

She laughed. “I can live with that! Follow me, I know a place.”