Nox nodded slightly as Xiomara fixated on the handkerchief, the corners of his mouth tugging into a faint, knowing line.

“I thought the same,” he admitted, glancing down at the notes again. “Servants fetch things. Nobles don’t fetch things themselves unless what they’re doing isn’t about the object at all. I had the impression that he was placing himself at the scene intentionally. A weak lie invites attention, but sometimes that’s the point. A misdirect.”

He reached across the table and pulled a second sheet free from a small stack, unfolding it. “The farrier was simpler. He passes through town every month, stays for a week or two depending on demand. His name is Darin Mesk. He's camped by the East Gate, working under a temporary permit from the city watch. Nothing about him struck me as off. He talks a lot and doesn’t seem inclined toward subtlety.” Nox allowed a rare smile, dry and lopsided. “He doesn’t seem to grasp that someone may have used his role for something more, though he's eager to add to castle drama.”

He looked up, gaze flicking between Xiomara and Sir Tucker. “He’ll be in town for three more days. I didn’t mention the castle directly, but I doubt he’ll go anywhere in the meantime.”

Nox's smile deepened at Xiomara’s executioner remark. There was something morbidly poetic in her phrasing, as though she had unknowingly touched on the deeper irony of who stood before her. Then her comments turned thoughtful, and his amusement softened into focus again.

“I’ve considered that possibility,” he admitted. “Langley or Fabrizius may not be acting alone. Either of them could be working under someone more powerful, or together. It would explain the inconsistencies -- the reckless attempt paired with access that shouldn't be possible. Do either of you know of someone with close ties to both Langley and Fabrizius? Ideally someone who would have reason to be in or near the castle on a frequent basis, but who hasn’t drawn suspicion?”

Sir Tucker pressed his knuckles to his mouth in thought, and Xiomara said something that made Nox freeze. “Would you mind if I tagged along?”

His expression didn’t change, but there was a long, perceptible pause and a shift in the way his weight settled, a hesitation that felt uncharacteristic. He didn’t answer right away, so Sir Tucker did it for him.

“Princess, you really shouldn’t be traipsing after one of your guards,” the man said firmly. “You are supposed to have four at one time. While I know you trust Sir Regess particularly for some reason, he will do better work if he is not worried about protecting you.”

Nox lowered his head slightly in deference, but there was a flicker of stiffness behind the gesture.

“She’s not wrong,” he said, more quietly, once the older man had finished. “They wouldn’t expect her there, and it may give her insight into which parts of her schedule need to become more unpredictable.”

Sir Tucker frowned. “And if she’s seen?”

“I’ll ensure she isn’t.”

Sir Tucker sighed. “Sir Regess, I want to see how you handle the nobles. You already have more pieces than I do. I’ll speak to the servants and start working backward from the last time the chimney sweep’s injury was recorded. We may need to swap later.”

Nox accepted the verdict with a slow nod, though he still hadn’t looked directly at Xiomara since she’d made the offer. His eyes finally met hers.

“I wasn’t expecting the princess to volunteer herself,” he said, as if testing the words. “I don’t object to the idea in principle. But I need to know exactly how far you’re willing to go with this.”

Before she could answer, there was a knock at the door and a servant entered carrying a tray stacked with plates. Nox moved aside without thinking, keeping himself between the door and Xiomara as it swung open, even though the moment posed no danger. Old habit. Instinct.

“Breakfast,” the servant said timidly.

“Thank you,” Nox replied automatically, accepting the tray and setting it on the side table for Xiomara. Nox eyed the food but didn’t move toward it. “You should eat something before we go,” he said, voice quiet again, almost as if he were expecting some eavesdropper to make off with the tale that the princess would be leaving inconspicuously. Sir Tucker sighed, still uneasy but relenting. “Try not to burn down the investigation before I get the chance to catch up.”

Nox smiled faintly, his expression unreadable. No promises.

Xiomara had to fight to keep the self-satisfied grin off of her face that she had picked up something the way that Asher had. “Misdirecting us from what,” she mused. How could he be connected and why was this better than just staying off of their radar?

“I think I remember hearing about farrier. The stables are of course happy to have him come through, but a lot of the younger staff avoid him because he talks their ears off. I heard five years ago he caught some funny business in a stall, and he told everyone about it so the two servants quit their jobs in shame and moved away, but that tale might have been greatly exaggerated,” she admitted. “It does sound like he enjoys getting involved.”

She believed the farrier traveled through here infrequently enough that unless he was involved he would stay around and profit off of his absence. There would be plenty of work for him to do. “There may have been other farriers in the last few years. Perhaps, he found higher paying areas to visit.”

She started trying to think of someone who had a connection with House Fabrizius and Langley, but found herself shrugging. Perhaps it would come to her after a while. Who could she ask who would be able to answer that question quicker? She felt that she needed to remind Asher that there were other nobles who were close enough to the castle to be problematic that they couldn't ignore them.

"I did mention some other noblemen that are higher ranked than Lord Thomas and Lord Alaric. Perhaps they have more influence and it is not Fabrizius or Langley. I personally really find Lord Lavrentios to be grasping and brutal. Francis De la Cour would hate to be caught in something so messy, and I would hate to believe that Simon Valois would do something so underhanded. But I also think that Simon would have the political skills to pull it off. Although Francis can be underhanded and sneaky, he isn't as skilled as Simon."

When Xiomara made her request she tried to carefully watch both of the guards. She noted the silence from Asher before Sir Tucker’s loud concern distracted her. Her gaze darted back to Asher when he didn’t disagree with her. She wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. She piped up after he gave some of his reasoning, “It will also give me a better idea of how to communicate with my guards if I see the behind the scenes. I will understand better.” Perhaps she would have to use this knowledge to run from some of her guards who had been hired to kill her. There was a lot of uncertainty.

She made direct eye contact with Asher, knowing his personality was not one to see through her the way most guards especially new ones were too scared to maintain eye contact for too long. “What exactly do you mean you need to know exactly how far I’ll go?” and she was interrupted by the breakfast she had forgotten she had ordered. She kept herself from asking questions and smiled her thanks at the servant for the breakfast. She started to eat the food that was placed before her.

“Does anyone else want a bite?” she offered.

She was normally a dainty eater as she had been trained, but she tried to eat quicker than usual. She hoped that Sir Tucker wasn't the judgmental type because she could feel that her mouth was rudely overly full.

She set her utensils aside in a way that signalled she was done eating. "Are we just going or do I need to pack something?" she didn't quite understand what was expected from her or needed from her if she was accompanying him on the investigation. "I will have to be careful to avoid nobility that visits the castle frequently. I will be recognized. Will I need a disguise?" She wanted to ask if her questions were silly; she noticed that Sir Tucker was beginning to look more resigned the more questions she asked.

She looked at Sir Tucker, "I'll leave the tray here for you to send for a servant to take care of it. I am getting anxious to start making progress on this investigation."

Nox listened to the princess speak, her reasoning spilling out in threads that tangled and twisted but nonetheless circled closer to truth than she probably realized. His eyes followed her every word, keeping his thoughts unspoken until Sir Tucker’s resigned sigh finally prompted him to move.

“Your Highness, when I said I needed to know how far you’ll go, I meant this: there is a difference between watching quietly from a corner and stepping directly into the line of fire," he said slowly. “If you’ve no stomach for risk, tell me now. If you do, I need to know whether you’ll keep your composure if you witness or -- heavens forbid -- are involved in something, um, gruesome.”

Sir Tucker stirred at his side, voice thick with displeasure. “Sir Regess, you speak as if she were an initiate to be tested.”

Nox’s lips curled faintly. “Would you prefer I speak as if she were a child, Captain? That won’t keep her safe.”

The older knight exhaled slowly, choosing not to contest the point further. Nox turned back to Xiomara. “I will keep you safe from bodily harm, but I cannot protect you from the consequences of what you choose to hear. It's best not to jump to conclusions without a strong basis."

Don't you come at me with assassin allegations unless you're ready to take down the hunter holding the leash, his mind finished, inner voice snarky.

“You won’t need to pack,” he continued, moving on from his own petty selfishness. “We aren’t traveling far enough to warrant it. If anything, a satchel would make you stand out more than you already will. What you need is inconspicuous clothing, like aomething a servant might wear on errands. If you don’t own such clothing, then I’ll get some from the maids. Either way, you’ll remain close enough that I can keep an eye on you, but not so close that anyone connects us at a glance.”

He tapped the edge of the map with two fingers. “The nobles you mentioned -- Valois, De la Cour, Authoros -- they all have to have their strengths and weaknesses, but even the grasping and brutal are rarely careless with their own necks. If any of them are involved, they’ll have others moving the pieces for them, which is why disguise matters more than you think. Nobles look at faces, voices, posture. Servants see everything else.”

Sir Tucker grunted his agreement. “And servants talk to me,” he reminded. “That will be my focus while you,” he fixed Nox with a pointed look, “go gallivanting among lords and barons with our princess in tow. You’d better make certain she comes back without so much as a smudge on her sleeve, or I'll have your head, and it won't be donated to science.”

Nox inclined his head slightly, unbothered by the barb. “Of course.”

He reached for the tray Xiomara had set aside, lifting one of the smaller pieces of bread. Once he had finished the bite, he drew the folded paper of notes closer, adjusting the quill across the top. His hand hovered for a moment before he wrote: Valois -- skilled, subtle. De la Cour -- cautious, unwilling to soil hands. Authoros -- brutal, greedy.

He glanced up again. “It’s not Fabrizius or Langley I worry over,” he said quietly. “It’s the hand guiding them. If we’re right about a third party, then all this clumsy desperation is meant to distract us from someone far more deliberate who knows how to play long games without leaving trails.”

Sir Tucker frowned. “Regess, it sounds as though you are accusing Simon Valois. And after your own words regarding evidence, no less.”

Nox didn’t confirm, but the faint tightening of his jaw suggested he wasn’t dismissing the thought.

“Princess,” he said at last, turning back to Xiomara, “your task in this is to stay close enough to listen, far enough to be forgettable. If I tell you to walk away, you walk. If I tell you to stay silent, you stay silent. If I tell you to run…” His gray eyes caught hers again, his face as serious as he could muster. “You run, and you don’t look back.”

Sir Tucker cleared his throat, trying to cut the silence that followed. “You’ve made your point, Regess.”

“Good,” Nox said smoothly, gathering up the map and folding it tight. He slid it into the inner fold of his jerkin, where no eye could catch it and no hand could snatch it. “The fewer mistakes we make, the fewer explanations I have to give.”

He turned toward the door, pausing only long enough to glance at Xiomara again. His smile returned, faint and dry, the same as before when she’d spoken of executioners. “And if you’re still eager to prove how well you can understand your guards, princess, today will give you your lesson.”

Sir Tucker muttered, “Let’s pray it’s not your last.”

Nox’s eyes flicked back toward him, unreadable, then returned to the princess. “Disguise first. Then we begin.”