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The war here in Hoenn was heating up. Going out on his own like this, was dangerous. The League and Team Rocket continue to poke at each other like two nasty Drapion, constantly in a turf feud for control.[break][break]

A problem that Galar is interested in. But it is not the place for Duncan to risk his life.[break][break]

Instead, his intent is to get his feelers on who the victor may be, when all is said and done. To report back to the Queen on the whereabouts of his sweet cousin, Remiel Calcifet , first and foremost. That's his task for today.[break][break]

Kingsley the Galarian Farfetch'd of his own, would accompany him as a bodyguard, carrying his leaf-blade behind him, as Duncan hears the sounds of another bird. The smile comes to his face. Another woman?[break][break]

Interesting.[break][break]

"Hello there, I seem to have gotten lost," he starts, a smile quietly placed upon his lips, hair over an eye to keep everyone guessing. "This is Petalburg, right?" Kingsley huffs. The bird knew that Duncan knew more than he let on. He always did.[break][break]

To anyone who was invested any amount of time in Galarian affairs, this was a sight to see. The Duke of Hammerlocke just appeared, lost in the woods, no less. To anyone wizened enough to know that much, and smarter still, could assume that Duncan was fishing for information. What this woman knows, in particular. Friend or Foe to the crown.

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"Ah, Miss Cavendish. My apologies for not recognizing you sooner. I wasn't expecting to see you, though I suppose I should have considering our relation to my cousin." Right. Her betrothed. He never loses that winning royal smile. Never to tell what goes on behind the one visible golden eyes amidst his hair. The black jacket he wore commonplace with normal civilian clothes.[break][break]

A quiet chuckle comes over him, as he turns to the side, the woman's own Farfetch'd at first ready to strike, as is Kingsley. Duncan doesn't speak, but he does give a smile to them.[break][break]

He liked birds.[break][break]

"Perhaps, Miss Cavendish. But I prefer to see the sights. It helped me reacquaint myself with my cousin's lover, no?" he speaks, wishing to gain more knowledge. Was Remiel Calcifet engaged happily? Or was this something that Diana had problems speaking of? Every word is deliberate, trying to figure out Diana, like a Rubik's cube that is always in motion. Every person has a story.[break][break]

Duncan just also liked puzzles.

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Kingsley relaxed the moment that the other bird relaxed, but the Farfetch'd would stand at the ready. Something about this felt off.[break][break]

Duncan wasn't going to have it though. He just smiles, and takes it in stride. Diana's question leads to an answer he sighs to give, a hint of annoyance not aimed to her, but given all the same. "As it would happen, business from the Queen herself has sent me here. I am betrothed myself, living in Rustboro," the tone he takes, it almost seems he's unhappy with the state of affairs, but it's so hard to tell.[break][break]

Because he doesn't stop smiling.[break][break]

But to hear Diana and Remiel are no longer betrothed has his hidden brow rise. Did he forget? Or perhaps, he assumed that things would play out normally? Galar's royalty was a mess.[break][break]

"My apologies, Diana. I meant no offense by it. I was left unaware," his arm moves to his chest, and he forces himself to bow, as does Kingsley. The Duke of Hammerlocke making it awkward, that was not something he did. He would fix this first.[break][break]

"How have you been?" he asks, trying to lighten the mood.

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The strained smile is not lost on him, but it appears to be ignored for a moment, as Duncan reflects the strain. Little few knew what went on inside his head, and most who heard his betrothal came to accept that it was inevitability. The bloodline would continue, the royalty would stay royal, keeping the cycle of regal procreation going endlessly over and over and over again. How good for him.[break][break]

Celebrations given by many a faceless royal, playing a game of thrones, where the one who sits on the throne. To those in the courts, they extend a flower in one hand to show kindness, the dagger in the other, hidden with intent.[break][break]

"How true, that is," he turns to the side, a yellow eye looking elsewhere in the woods, perhaps beyond it thousands of miles away. The reflection shatters, and his smile, for the second time since his arrival, is taken away. "The game continues on, endlessly. When we were young, we played games to enjoy ourselves, yet the further we age, that very nature morphs into a endless power struggle. Everyone turns to a piece on the board, born into higher value based by who came before, who one marries, who one kills... and yet you escaped," the look in his one eye... was that...?[break][break]

His smile returns.[break][break]

Diana takes a seat, and as he orders Kingsley to hold fast, Duncan moves to join her, seating himself like a commoner, and seating himself in front of her.[break][break]

"There are two answers to that. The public answer is, I'm just glad I get to see an old friend," the single moment of vulnerability gone, but even so, it was clear he was just like when they were younger. Ten years older than Diana, and forced to act in a way. The perfect duke-to-be. A smile to keep them guessing.[break][break]

Too smart for his own good.[break][break]

He doesn't give her the other answer.

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Help? Hm. With Galar's royals in Hoenn, it does lead to a level of uncertainty. Duncan doesn't signify any worry about the ordeal. What was there to say of the matter? Diana is correct. Duncan could speak his mind, but it was a tired rhetoric he'd prefer to hold his tongue over. No heads need rolling.[break][break]

Instead, he decides to focus on the other words. To quell her frustrations, he parts his lips, but he holds. His smile is delicious in conflict, on the one hand curved with malevolence, like he knows something, some terrible secret. Yet on the other, it knows forbidden knowledge it'd rather stay blissful on. Much like his one golden eye that Diana can see, the other sits behind his hair bangs, the true expression hidden.[break][break]

"How indeed," he chimes playfully, considering words to carefully. Does he reveal himself, what color pieces he plays with? Or does he let those around him continue to play colorblind, only able to see gray pieces?[break][break]

He pauses and takes a breath in.[break][break]

"I am how I've always been," he peddles in truth and lies, weighed on a scale, a social balancing act. "Smiling. No?" Happy? Sad? Angry? Exuberant? Those aren't words he is willing to use so willy-nilly. What he is, is smiling, a metaphysical set of rusted chains attached to his arms and body to ensure he moves a certain way, controlled from above by something out of sight, and out of mind.[break][break]

But who pulls the chains?

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