Over the next few days Leonardo noticed a distinct shift in the mood of the castle.
“Fencing?” He repeated when Aspen told them at breakfast.
She nodded. “Yeah. Sword fighting for practice. It’s great for your reflexes and flexibility.” She took a bite of her breakfast, pieces of sugared wheat and dried fruit in milk. “Probably strength too, if you use heavy swords.”
“Will you be teaching us?” Napoleon asked, casting a dubious look over Aspen.
She shook her head. “I never learned. It’ll be Kami.”
Leonardo frowned. “I do not approve of violence in that way.” He shook his head. “I do not want to fence.”
“No one will make you, don’t worry Leo.” Aspen smiled at him then glanced at his breakfast: coffee. “But uh, you should definitely have something other than that. Otherwise Russo might make you eat that cup, too.”
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Kamala Mason got the call when she was at work.
She was wrapping up her lab notes for the day, thinking about if she wanted to grab anything from the old-fashioned bazar before she went home when her communicator beeped.
Unknown Origin: Wyoming?
Kam wondered about it for a moment. I don’t know anyone in Wyoming. Unless…
She got up from her desk and walked out, around the hall, looking over her shoulder before picking it up.
“Rain?” She hissed.
“Hello? Is this a Kamala Mason?” The speaker was a young man, his hair died a shocking pink. Kam could hear the dim sounds of barking behind him.
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Robespierre had just rejoined them, and Richard was sharply reminded of how much he disliked the diminutive Frenchman when he limped his way up from the kitchens, into the grand entrance. He clutched the heavy shawl around his shoulders. He also wore a pair of heavily tinted glasses. He looks the part of a beggar, Richard thought. Robespierre hair had also been shaved down to the scalp and it appeared to grow like a wild hedge.
“Cold,” he rasped. Richard had heard that something happened to his throat, reducing his voice to whisper.
“Yes, it is rather. Here,” Russo pushed a cup of tea over to him. “You’ll warm up.”
Richard rolled his eyes. Across from him Bonaparte had stood up to sit down next to Robespierre, who looked up at him. Bonaparte bent toward him, whispering something that Richard couldn’t hear but made Robespierre suddenly smile widely, stretching the scars over his face.
“Aw, that’s sweet,” Aspen Strong said. She was seated next to Richard, also watching as Bonaparte and Robespierre bonded over something.
Richard snorted and Strong nudged him playfully. “Come on. He was such a soggy plum after we got him back. Frankly this is way better.”
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