No pensive words were spoken after than confrontation, both Apostles immersed in their respective thoughts and expectations.

They'd quickly gotten out of the alley, with Grey leading the way as he took her to a more silent area within the neighbourhood of Merchant's Road, both scolding their features and emptions to a halt. The chaos of Market Day slowly diminishing as private roads with lesser, yet bigger houses started to come into view. They'd entered the residential area of the neighbourhood.

Grey nudge her to turn right, slipping into a small road with few houses and even few entrances at the sides.

They stepped in front of the last house, a welcoming wooden door adorned with refined edges manually carved and decorated with white and silver, a pleasing sight for her eyes.

"What's this?" Rosalynde asked, scolding her features into a pulled smile.

"Welcome to my humble adobe." He took out of his coat a set of copper keys, and selecting what seemed to be the biggest one, he entered the copper inside the keyhole before twisting it three times.

The refined wooden door cracked open.

"You actually own a house?" Rosalynde couldn't refrain her curiosity. She never imagined someone like Grey were to actually buy a house- meaning spending money for something that he personally didn't need.

"Where did you think I lived? Under a bridge?" He replied, a curious gaze replacing his previous glee.

She shook her head. "I didn't mean that. I would have never thought that you of all people would buy something like a house."

He took as if she'd grown a second or a third head. "Why wouldn't I buy a home for myself?"

"You simply didn't strike me as someone who would willingly spend money to buy something as a house, sir," she mentioned the time when she'd first stepped into the Bank of Lun- after Madame Hellenia had first escaped from under her. The day she'd first learned about the existence of Verity, of their posing threat to the Des Reslows- to Pharah herself.

She'd made it her goal to eliminate all posing threats to the future bearer of the crown. And she wouldn't have stopped until every member would have been buried in the feeble soil, or chained at the bottom of the rover, waiting for their corpse to get devoured by the fauna thriving in the deep waters.

Not even the gates of Hell were going to hinder her- not when she dreamed of the head of Verity resting on her lap. She thought if to give it to Pharah as souvenir, telling her to display it in the audience chambers.

But after further reasoning, maybe it would have better just have the head picked, and placed somewhere where Rosalynde could admire undisputed.

The mere thought of that was enough to have her smile grow wide.

"Care enter? Or will you scream at me for leaving a lady outside in the cold?" He asked from inside the house.

Rosalynde merely scoffed in reply, and with long strides entered his house, cleaning her shoes on the rug to make sure to bring no snow in the house.

"Two things: shoes off and weapons beside the door. I can't risk you going for my head over my mahogany planks, they costed quite a little you know?"

She gave him a long, exasperated look, but the other didn't seemed to care. A small hint betraying her obvious displeasure.

"All the weapons, Silver."

He seemed to read her mind when she took out two pocket guns, leaving them on the rug beside her shoes.

"That's what I did. Stop sounding like a mother hen patrolling her nest." She crossed her hands, hitting lightly Lord Regulus's gun to remind him of what she was leaving behind.

"Rosalynde." His tone shifted again, dropping as he gave her a well-knowing stare.

She kept the chill from running down her spine as he called her name. "Yes?" She decided to play his same game, a lazy smile appeared on her face as she took out from under her dress another set of guns and a couple of small obsidian daggers.

A lame chuckle was all Grey dared give her in reply before wetting his lips. "We both know how this argument is bound to end."

"Perhaps I want to you to teach me how you do it." Slick words came out sweet, honey coated with a daring smile. After staring at each other for a while, Rosalynde decided to play his game, and leaving the last set of weapons in the atrium.

She felt her feet slid against the smooth, darkening, surface. Her eyes roamed around, taking in the details of Grey's home.

It was completely different from the regular style the Rowlian aristocracy had in their luxurious adobes: where expensive marble coated with silver could be seen in every corner of the houses, with doors and windows adorned with the purest gold the bluebloods loved fighting each other to obtain the purest and biggest block on the market.

His home was modest, too modest for someone like him. Nothing that would have made Rosalynde suspect his profession, unless he were to tell people what exactly his job consisted of.

"I'll take the fact that you haven't rushed out screaming or trying to burn the house down as a win," he said, highly amused.

But Rosalynde overlooked that detail as she walked inside the heart of the house. There was no marble here, no eye-catching jewels begging to be stolen, nothing exposed that seemed to have significant valour.

Then it all clicked together, the place hadn't been designed bearing in mind the culture of Rowlian- the place had been designed following the Atrean one.

"Is this typical how Atreans design the interior of their homes? Suggestive, if I dare say," she said, passing over with her gloved finger a neatly crafted table at the centre of the living room.

"My homeland has always been famous for its never-ending viridian forests, you surely must know this given your high position." He gestured for her to sit down on a low chair, pulling it back to accommodate into it easily.

There was another detail Rosalynde quickly catch on, the perpetual silence of the house confirming her latest doubts.

"You possess no servants attending you?" It was unaccounted for a now nobleman like him to possess not a single soul attending to his rooms.

"I find no reason in keeping them around my person when not required, especially, if in a position such as my own."

There was no doubt that a banker like him possessed more secrets than the pebbles filling thew banks round the Searis. But keep not a single one to attend his home when he was not there? That surprised even her.

"Now, care to give me a sliver of your precious attention?" He asked without sparing her a second thought.

She turned her head, nodding as she settled neat into the fine seat, her cold eyes narrow and attentive as Grey took his place on the other side of the table.

"So, how are we going to enter probably the most third-most secure building in Lowen after The Imperial Citadel and the Bank of Lun?" The fact that she was a woman too, still hadn't left her mind.

She would have been denied entry the second the guards would have set their attentive eyes on her, and nothing- not even her rank and connections would have given her entry. The House of Hastles had dared to deny entry to her Majesty herself entrance to their private circle.

Grey on the other hand seemed unbothered by her surging annoyance and kept on checking his pocket watch before opening his mouth. "Are you done?" Was all he asked, newfound boredom dripping from his lips.

She gave him a blank stare, the ends of her mouth tugging up ever so slightly in pure disbelief as he stared right back.

"I am if you really want to know. But my point still stands."

"And you should have realised after months of being acquaintances that I do not speak folly, especially in situations such as this one," he replied with a newfound tone of delight, ushering her towards the staircase, guiding her up on the higher floors.

There was so much wood of different province decorating the interior of this home, wood carved from the finest, sturdy elder trees he'd gotten his hands on, and specks of green adorning corners and the shelves free from papers and books.

They passed a door left ajar, a shadow of a pianoforte stared back at her before he ushered inside the adjoining room.

It was the plainest one in the whole house, a small wooden coffee table sitting solitary under a window whose curtains seemed to have only recently been pulled, a small wooden pedestal, and a standing mirror sitting all alone in the corner of the room.

"Now." He closed the door behind them. "Are you ready to become a fine gentleman?"

꧁꧂

"Are you out of your foreign mind, Grey?" Rosalynde seethed as she kept staring at herself in the mirror.

Gone were her usual clothes, her working attired had been neatly folded on the coffee table, and under there sat her usual shoes. She did not even remotely look like her usual self, it wasn't like the times she's hidden herself under the protection of her cloaks and hoods.

She looked different.

She looked like a young, handsome, man ready to sweep a young lady away.

She looked like a gentleman bred from the noblest of all households and sent to find a suitable wife to take back into their territory.

"Mark my words, had you really been of my same sex I would have troubles in finding a suitable partner if I ever were to decide to take on a wife. You would have swept them all away from me," he said, slowly circling her clapping his hands in sign of applause.

"Who knows- maybe I would have wrapped you round my finger like all others before you," she stated, only to then straighten the edges of her lucid waistcoat and tug her .

She could barely breath with the bandages securely wrapped around her chest. It taken a while for her to try and morph her appearance to the likes of a young man.

She already knew the common curtesy and social replies she was bound to adapt to play the role, and yet the pitch of her voice always seemed to betray her when she was least to expect it. At times it came out too low, at times too high and not handsome as people would have her believe.

Another small hindrance came with her hair. It taken more time tucking every small strand under the plain wig Grey had given her than to button up every small obsidian button her tight shirt had come with from the very start.

"Is it worse this? Or the gown you wore to the ball?" Grey asked as he materialized in front of her. He took out from his pockets a brown tie, eyeing her with innocent amusement before wrapping it around her pale neck.

"Two different kinds of torture," she managed to say between his swift and efficient movements.

"How tragic," was all managed to say before asking her to step down the pedestal.

She stepped down and tried walking a little. Small steps for starters, then passed to sprinting up and down the staircase, a small, laboured breath coming out at the end of whatever exactly that could consist of.

"This could be considered worse than the corsets with they weren't made out of leather and bone." She stared at him for a long time before catching her breath.

"Oh I believe you, your gowns and high heels are probably even worse, that's why I gave you my shoes that time- your feet were a bloody mess- did the cut leave a scar?" His voice came out soft, and everything she could have thought of but oppressive.

It nearly sounded as if he genuinely seemed to care about her wellbeing more than she did herself. 

"I haven't checked," the replied came out easy, more spontaneous than ever, especially for someone like her.

They descended staircase for the last time as Rosalynde slowly started to get used the enormous shoes Grey had acquired for her use- he'd even assured her nobody had ever used them before- so she could have even kept them if her heart would have desired so.

Twi and then stepped into the silent street, quick with their footing as they crossed the roads, fetching two carriage to bring them back to the High Strands- the less the would be seen together the less answer they would have had to give others.

"About what we discussed earlier," he paused half-way on the step of the carriage, a hand gripping the door while the other secured against the kept him from falling shamelessly to the ground. "How do you not know if you've already succeeded in wrapping my soul around your heart?" He gave her a teasing smile enriched with those rare in appearance dimples of his and quickly entered his carriage.

Rosalynde could do nothing more than to look at him interdicted before boarding her own personal carriage, asking the driver with her mostly manly voice to bring her to the highly respect House of Hastles.

꧁꧂

Rosalynde started to believe that at a certain point the navy tailcoats with golden edges would have stopped multiplying as the carriage quickly approached the club. It stopped right in front of the club, with the driver rushing down to open for her the door.

Not once in her life as a lady had the driver rushed to her useless aid.

She stepped down, killing off the urge to ask for the helping hand as Pharah always reminded her to use in terms of proper etiquette- or in terms of  the excessive imperial mannerism that her mother had decided to introduce after her coronation- or at least that's how she loved calling it when Lord Regulus wasn't around telling her otherwise.

"We have arrived, Sir Rodolphus," the driver said, taking off his hat before Rosalynde gave this three golden coins to appease his hunger.

After all, it was all for the sake of their recognition.

She knew she was being watch- she'd felt her the hair on her skin struggle under the manly coat she'd been given. That's how things worked around here.

She'd regretfully met some of the higher exponents of the House of Hastles a few years aback. Some were great merchants that'd opened what people now knew as the commercial routes with other countries, other great lords with a bloodline thicker that the roots of an elderly oak.

A new face- a man to test to see where to exactly place into their ranks, she didn't lose time in asking herself where Grey had been placed.

The owner of Lun could only have the best, and the House of Hastles knew how to treat man like him. It was either with the highest respect, or with the infidelity of a poacher.

"Sir?" She turned around as a hand appeared on her shoulder. Keeping the tube over her head she turned around, forcing her smile to nothing but a smile as she observed the man that'd grabbed her attention.

He was clad in black and red, with a long tailcoat and a white shirt with brown bottoms and frivolous sleeves peeking from under the main coat. His greyish hair had been combed back and had on his lips a stern yet welcoming smile for her only.

Rosalynde dared, and took of her hat, bowing slightly as she'd seen Grey do while she'd observed him in the past.

"I'm here under invitation." Rosalynde said, placing the hat pack over her wig.

"And who might be your benefactor?" The portier asked.

"That would be me, Charlie," Grey's shadow slid beside her as the rest of the patrons seemed to quiet down. If Charlie had been shocked by the revelation then he hadn't let it on, the polite smile he'd been wearing never faltered as he simply bowed down a bit more than before.

From the looks the young men gave them as Charlie led them towards the main entrance the Grey was usually not accompanied by a second party the few times he went there.

"Lord Grey, it is a pleasure to see you again here. Last time we met it was before your meeting with the former Marquisate of Gilderoy. Congratulations for the title. It was due time you joined our ranks." She knew the man who so brazenly had approached them right after entering the House of Hastles- a high functionary of H.M bearing the title of count.

The last time she'd seen him was when from the shadows she'd observed his meeting with the queen- with his sixteen brand-new wife thumbling with the ends of her white gown beside him.

Lady Elizabeth- that's all she remember about her. Her name only.

"Lord Grey, pray tell who you've brought to us today. We're eager to see who has been able to win so ardently your company," Rosalynde said not a single word as Grey lazily wrapped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing it as he gave them a plain smile.

"This, gentlemen, is a very close friend and business partner of mine- Sir Rodolphus from the Detrian Republic." Rosalynde bowed with nothing expect her head in acknowledgement of her new name.

She waited until the voices quieted down before slipping away from his forced embrace.

The game was on, and she was ready to play their game.