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Fantasy A Marriage of Obsession
- Thread starter Viper
- Start date
Viper
One Thousand Club
The silence of Kirron Castle was deafening and echoed in the mind of Prince Adrian Linmarcer even as he slept hundreds of miles away. How did the cold walls of home sound so much louder than the King’s Academy? This place was filled to the brim with lords and princes spending their days clashing with swords and words, trying to figure out who were potential allies and who were minor threats to be treated barely better than the servants.
The size and power of your nation determined your standing here or, if you were lucky, you were so skilled in one or two things that they could not touch you.
Adrian, thankfully, was both. The sole heir to a powerful nation as well as intelligent, skilled in swordplay, and fluent in the decorum and manners of nobility. For some, joining the Academy at a later age resulted in loneliness or baseless rumors, but Adrian managed to win over the professors and his peers in a mere six months. Many call him a friend. Little did they know though, Adrian barely considered them acquaintances. Just names and traits listed in a catalog in his mind, sorted based on what value he saw in them presently and in the future.
There was a single exception. Vincent Mansfield, the eldest prince of Armondale.
To tell you the truth, Adrian had very little interest in Armondale. It wasn’t directly lining his borders and was far too monster-friendly for many of his people to ever welcome them, but Vincent made all of those issues seem so small. He was beautiful. That was what Adrian noticed first. Dark eyes and wild hair, both so unlike Adrian’s perfectly combed blonde hair and green eyes hidden behind glasses. Even here, among the cream of the crop, Vincent’s looks made him stand out. But what Adrian came to love most was Vincent’s kindness.
They met Adrian’s first day at the academy.
After a brief orientation, the professor who greeted Adrian at the gate pushed the new kid off onto Vincent. As Adrian would later learn, Vincent was a pushover, so the handsome stranger agreed to the professor's request… and it felt like the sun showed on Adrian for the first time that day. In comparison to the cold stoicism of his father and the false, polite smiles of the castle staff or visiting neighbors, Vincent’s smile was warm. Every word and motion bled with kindness and sincerity. Spending the day with Vincent was the best day Adrian had ever had, and in the months that came after, Adrian did whatever he could to make their paths collide despite being in different age brackets.
Now that he had tasted the light, he could not go back to living without it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Within the walls of the dueling club, a group made up of anyone with sword skills or at least the desire to be skilled, the clash of dull or tipped metal was constant. Adiran hated it here. The sound, the smell, the sweat on his skin, it was all miserable….but worth it if he could catch even a glance of Vincent. If he was lucky, sometimes he could even convince his upperclassmen to duel him.
Thankfully, unless one of those pigs Vincent called friends intervened, Vincent always came to the club on this day and at this time.
The dueling hall was a large rectangular room with dulled swords and training dummies lining the wall. Large windows let in cool air and sunlight, each blade reflecting the sunlight without a blemish thanks to the staff’s dedicated work. A rainbow of tapestries hung, representing the many countries that have passed through these halls. At the end of the room is a stage for special duelings, and a cabinet with a pair of real, sharp blades on display. Scattered throughout the rest of the open space are markings on the floors meant for a dozen students to duel safely within. To ensure that that actually happens, there are always at least two instructors patrolling the space. Offering tips, breaking off duels that get too rough, and generally just making sure that no one gets hurt enough to go crying to their royal mommy.
“Adrian. Focus here!” shouted Adrian’s dueling partner. Biting back a sigh of annoyance, Adrian turned away from the entranceway towards the vastly inferior specimen in front of him. “What are you looking at?”
Forcing a smile on his face, Adrian shrugged and returned to a dueling stance. “Oh, nothing much. Just hoping that a worthy opponent is going to show up.” His tone was playful, clearly just banter and not an insult, a tone that Adrian practiced many times. It was a lie though. Besides basic appeal, Adrian dueled men older than him because he was more talented than those of his age group. Vincent, and those like him, posed a better challenge. Above all these real facts, there was the simple reality that young men needed to know how to bicker without taking insult.
With renewed vigor, Adrian restarts the duel with as much focus as he can muster while still keeping the corner of his eye on the entrance. Thankfully, the fight is easy enough that if anyone of interest comes in, like Vincent or the pigs that surround him, Adrian will notice.
The size and power of your nation determined your standing here or, if you were lucky, you were so skilled in one or two things that they could not touch you.
Adrian, thankfully, was both. The sole heir to a powerful nation as well as intelligent, skilled in swordplay, and fluent in the decorum and manners of nobility. For some, joining the Academy at a later age resulted in loneliness or baseless rumors, but Adrian managed to win over the professors and his peers in a mere six months. Many call him a friend. Little did they know though, Adrian barely considered them acquaintances. Just names and traits listed in a catalog in his mind, sorted based on what value he saw in them presently and in the future.
There was a single exception. Vincent Mansfield, the eldest prince of Armondale.
To tell you the truth, Adrian had very little interest in Armondale. It wasn’t directly lining his borders and was far too monster-friendly for many of his people to ever welcome them, but Vincent made all of those issues seem so small. He was beautiful. That was what Adrian noticed first. Dark eyes and wild hair, both so unlike Adrian’s perfectly combed blonde hair and green eyes hidden behind glasses. Even here, among the cream of the crop, Vincent’s looks made him stand out. But what Adrian came to love most was Vincent’s kindness.
They met Adrian’s first day at the academy.
After a brief orientation, the professor who greeted Adrian at the gate pushed the new kid off onto Vincent. As Adrian would later learn, Vincent was a pushover, so the handsome stranger agreed to the professor's request… and it felt like the sun showed on Adrian for the first time that day. In comparison to the cold stoicism of his father and the false, polite smiles of the castle staff or visiting neighbors, Vincent’s smile was warm. Every word and motion bled with kindness and sincerity. Spending the day with Vincent was the best day Adrian had ever had, and in the months that came after, Adrian did whatever he could to make their paths collide despite being in different age brackets.
Now that he had tasted the light, he could not go back to living without it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Within the walls of the dueling club, a group made up of anyone with sword skills or at least the desire to be skilled, the clash of dull or tipped metal was constant. Adiran hated it here. The sound, the smell, the sweat on his skin, it was all miserable….but worth it if he could catch even a glance of Vincent. If he was lucky, sometimes he could even convince his upperclassmen to duel him.
Thankfully, unless one of those pigs Vincent called friends intervened, Vincent always came to the club on this day and at this time.
The dueling hall was a large rectangular room with dulled swords and training dummies lining the wall. Large windows let in cool air and sunlight, each blade reflecting the sunlight without a blemish thanks to the staff’s dedicated work. A rainbow of tapestries hung, representing the many countries that have passed through these halls. At the end of the room is a stage for special duelings, and a cabinet with a pair of real, sharp blades on display. Scattered throughout the rest of the open space are markings on the floors meant for a dozen students to duel safely within. To ensure that that actually happens, there are always at least two instructors patrolling the space. Offering tips, breaking off duels that get too rough, and generally just making sure that no one gets hurt enough to go crying to their royal mommy.
“Adrian. Focus here!” shouted Adrian’s dueling partner. Biting back a sigh of annoyance, Adrian turned away from the entranceway towards the vastly inferior specimen in front of him. “What are you looking at?”
Forcing a smile on his face, Adrian shrugged and returned to a dueling stance. “Oh, nothing much. Just hoping that a worthy opponent is going to show up.” His tone was playful, clearly just banter and not an insult, a tone that Adrian practiced many times. It was a lie though. Besides basic appeal, Adrian dueled men older than him because he was more talented than those of his age group. Vincent, and those like him, posed a better challenge. Above all these real facts, there was the simple reality that young men needed to know how to bicker without taking insult.
With renewed vigor, Adrian restarts the duel with as much focus as he can muster while still keeping the corner of his eye on the entrance. Thankfully, the fight is easy enough that if anyone of interest comes in, like Vincent or the pigs that surround him, Adrian will notice.
Kekse
Drifter
It was a day just like any of the other thousand or so days since Vincent had been sent away to the King's Academy. Despite having been informed practically since birth of his attendance, it had taken quite some time for the quiet young prince to blossom into the confident man who now strolled the familiar halls. Those around him deferred, despite all technically being equal in these halls; to many it might have gone to their heads, but Vincent was not many. He seemed almost not to notice their attention at all, supposing they simply treated everyone in that way.
Very few of the other students had been here as long as the Silent Prince of Armondale. Most arrived at twenty or twenty-one; however, King Marcus was always one to gain any upper hand possible. The moment Vincent had mastered everything the tutors could teach him at the age of 16, the king shipped him away to the academy. And here the prince had been for coming up on ten years. He'd been through every offered course twice (or at least, he would have by the end of this term) and only then had he convinced his father that he'd sufficiently gathered what he could from the school.
Truth be told, at this point Vincent didn't know how he felt about returning home. Here the teachers paid him little mind, knowing that Vincent Mansfield would not cause problems the moment there weren't any eyes on him. The same could not be said of Armondale Castle. Once arriving back home, every one of his father's men would again be watching his every movement.
Little did he know how his life would change when introduced to yet another new student.
Many, many students had been handed off to the heir of Armondale for their tour and first day of classes. Adrian hadn't really been anything out of the ordinary; a little older than the others, perhaps, but that wasn't altogether uncommon. The King's Academy wasn't cheap, and not every kingdom was willing to shell out for more than the most basic course load. That's not to say the king of Kirron didn't have other motives; honestly, Vincent simply decided it wasn't his problem and brushed it off.
And as easily as he had entered Vincent's life, Adrian mostly exited. Yes, they met occasionally in the hallways and had a handful of courses in common, but there was no instant friendship or attachment from Vincent's point of view. He was just another student who attended the same school amongst the throng of other students.
~~~
Sword fighting was the highlight of each day. The weight of the steel in his hand, the way the blade moved effortlessly through the air...the clang of steel on steel and the sparks of a particularly spectacular strike. It was all intoxicating. Today, however, Vincent was running a little bit late. One of his professors had asked him to carry a stack of parchment to one of the other professors, who had requested a book from the library, where the librarian asked him to fetch a book from the stable master.
Of course, he cheerfully assisted. It was a trait the faculty had long since grown used and accustomed to, and frankly a bit reliant on.
This meant that the other students had already been paired up for the day's sparring, however. Vincent would have to wait for the next rotation, which was fine. He made his way to the sword rack and searched for his favorite, an admittedly battered old bastard sword with a straight hilt and rather plain pommel. It was nothing compared to his personal sword, but it had served him well for many years. And, bonus points, none of the other students cared to use it so it was always available.
He pulled it from the rack and swung it a few times, checked the blade for any hints of rust or weakness, and slid it into the empty sheath on his hip. The prince honestly felt a little naked without a sword on his hip. His muscles relaxed slightly at the comforting weight and he leaned against the wall, waiting for a match to end. Usually he would have located one of his friends to watch, but today Vincent didn't feel like too much socialization.
Within seconds of his relaxing, though, he felt eyes on him. Vincent turned his head slightly and saw Adrian staring at him. It wasn't that unusual and he didn't really mind sparring the underclassman. He was a decent challenge, after all. But he was already tied up in another match and would likely get clobbered by his opponent if he didn't get his head in the fight. "Hey Adrian," he called with a smile and a soft wave. "Don't get distracted!"
Very few of the other students had been here as long as the Silent Prince of Armondale. Most arrived at twenty or twenty-one; however, King Marcus was always one to gain any upper hand possible. The moment Vincent had mastered everything the tutors could teach him at the age of 16, the king shipped him away to the academy. And here the prince had been for coming up on ten years. He'd been through every offered course twice (or at least, he would have by the end of this term) and only then had he convinced his father that he'd sufficiently gathered what he could from the school.
Truth be told, at this point Vincent didn't know how he felt about returning home. Here the teachers paid him little mind, knowing that Vincent Mansfield would not cause problems the moment there weren't any eyes on him. The same could not be said of Armondale Castle. Once arriving back home, every one of his father's men would again be watching his every movement.
Little did he know how his life would change when introduced to yet another new student.
Many, many students had been handed off to the heir of Armondale for their tour and first day of classes. Adrian hadn't really been anything out of the ordinary; a little older than the others, perhaps, but that wasn't altogether uncommon. The King's Academy wasn't cheap, and not every kingdom was willing to shell out for more than the most basic course load. That's not to say the king of Kirron didn't have other motives; honestly, Vincent simply decided it wasn't his problem and brushed it off.
And as easily as he had entered Vincent's life, Adrian mostly exited. Yes, they met occasionally in the hallways and had a handful of courses in common, but there was no instant friendship or attachment from Vincent's point of view. He was just another student who attended the same school amongst the throng of other students.
~~~
Sword fighting was the highlight of each day. The weight of the steel in his hand, the way the blade moved effortlessly through the air...the clang of steel on steel and the sparks of a particularly spectacular strike. It was all intoxicating. Today, however, Vincent was running a little bit late. One of his professors had asked him to carry a stack of parchment to one of the other professors, who had requested a book from the library, where the librarian asked him to fetch a book from the stable master.
Of course, he cheerfully assisted. It was a trait the faculty had long since grown used and accustomed to, and frankly a bit reliant on.
This meant that the other students had already been paired up for the day's sparring, however. Vincent would have to wait for the next rotation, which was fine. He made his way to the sword rack and searched for his favorite, an admittedly battered old bastard sword with a straight hilt and rather plain pommel. It was nothing compared to his personal sword, but it had served him well for many years. And, bonus points, none of the other students cared to use it so it was always available.
He pulled it from the rack and swung it a few times, checked the blade for any hints of rust or weakness, and slid it into the empty sheath on his hip. The prince honestly felt a little naked without a sword on his hip. His muscles relaxed slightly at the comforting weight and he leaned against the wall, waiting for a match to end. Usually he would have located one of his friends to watch, but today Vincent didn't feel like too much socialization.
Within seconds of his relaxing, though, he felt eyes on him. Vincent turned his head slightly and saw Adrian staring at him. It wasn't that unusual and he didn't really mind sparring the underclassman. He was a decent challenge, after all. But he was already tied up in another match and would likely get clobbered by his opponent if he didn't get his head in the fight. "Hey Adrian," he called with a smile and a soft wave. "Don't get distracted!"
Viper
One Thousand Club
Vincent was late. A frustratingly common issue Adrian had with the mostly otherwise perfect boy. What could it be today? Helping out a teacher? Getting taken advantage of by his friends? An assassination attempt? All meaningless excuses, of course, but nothing that couldn’t be worked on and overcome.
Love was about compromise, after all.
As if a reward for this mature thought, the dueling hall’s doors gently swung open and in walked the man himself. Unintentionally, Adrian’s mouth twitched a smile before being quickly contained once again. Good, not an assassination attempt after all. But Vincent being here meant that it was time to end this duel so that Adrian could not only guarantee Vincent as his sparring partner next, but so he could steal a few moments of conversation as well.
To Adrian’s absolute pleasure, Vincent spoke to him first.
Raising his non-dominant hand, Adrian acknowledged Vincent’s cheer with a wave. Now losing was not even an option. Even if winning meant doing something a touch dishonorable.
Shifting his feet, Adrian changed his stance so that he could fight for real.
Show off a little even.
Every kingdom had its fighting style, some used magic while others relied on perks from their species to shape their swordplay. After all, a species that heals rapidly will not spend as much time learning to block or dodge, and those who know magic obviously will use it in combat as well. Naturally, the King’s Academy could not teach every type of combat, so instead, the Academy developed and taught a single type of swordplay to all of its students. The style was not for war or true combat, not at its foundations at least, but instead focused on a formal style designed best for honor duels, competitions, and for holding out until your guards come to your rescue. This not only put many incoming students on more common ground, but it meant that you had a skill that nearly every kingdom in the globe would acknowledge to a certain extent.
Adrian, however, had no need for such skills in Kirron. In Kirron, warriors learned to fight monsters before they ever learned to fight man. This meant getting low, guarding the throat, keeping your mouth shut to avoid consuming spilled blood, and most of all, not letting yourself get cornered. It was also a style of fighting that could be used against groups.
Lowing his body a bit, Adrian did a faint as if he were about to lunge at his dueling partner, Patrick. The minor lord fell for it, and almost immediately the tip of Adrian's dull blade poked Patrick's heart. A clear, and sudden, victory.
“What was that?!” Patrick exclaimed, clearly displeased. “You switched stances all of a sudden!”
Wiping the sweat off of his brow, Adrian tried to mimic an apologetic expression. Crease the brows, purse your lips lightly, and touch your face to express discomfort. “Sorry, I default to my homeland's style of fighting when I get tired. I didn’t even notice. Next time, I’ll keep focus better, I swear.” Patrick was mad. Mad that he lost or just mad that his kingdom was so small that they never needed to design their own combat style? If it were jealousy, Adrian supposed it made sense. It was hard not to be an individual. If it was anger at losing, then Patrick was simply more pathetic than Adrian had previously determined.
Adrian on the other hand hated losing because he had the skills to win, so to not do so meant he failed at something.
“I’m going to go take a break before the rotation. Thanks for the duel, Patrick.” With a small smile, Adrian walked away before anyone could stop him.
After stopping long enough to grab a cup of water, Adrian made his way to Vincent with the confidence of a man who planned every moment of his day.
“Using that sword again, are you, Vincent?” Adrian teased gently. It was an old, nearly broken thing. Why the instructor hadn’t thrown it out yet was a mystery. “Is it lucky, or do you just have a taste for the underdog?” Adrian was tempted to call it an antique, but that would be factually incorrect since it was modern trash, not an old treasure, so underdog would have to do.
After the casual dialogue about blades and dueling in general, Adrian found himself restless as questions rotted through his tongue, demanding to be said. “I hope I’m not prying too much, but may I ask a semi-personal question since we have a moment alone, Vincent?” Sure, they were not in private, but all those even semi-close were dueling quite loudly, whether slacking off through taunts or fully-invested clashing of blades. It was as good as a time Vincent could orchestrate on such short notice.
“Those…gentlemen you spend time with. Are their kingdoms facing trouble?” Adiran creased his brows again. Concern disguised the deep revolution Adrian truly felt about those scam artists who weekly, if not daily, took advantage of the kind Vincent. “I could not help but notice you paying for their meals the other day. Do their kingdoms suffer so much that they do not have enough allowance from their parents…. Or do they spend so much so quickly that they have no choice but to rely on your coin?”
Adrian’s next actions would depend strongly on Vincent’s answer…. And more importantly, how Adrian analyzed Vincent’s answer. The gears were already in play to ruin the reputation of the scamming boys; none of their parents would appreciate being depicted as cheap or financially desperate. A simple kind message from the prince of a neighboring, powerful country offering funds to take the “burden” off would clearly show what kind of reputation their sons were creating in the Academy. However, if Vincent was sincere and seemed accurate despite his innocence, then Adrian was prepared to boost the social standing of the men. Compliments unnecessarily made were always appreciated.
“If you’d like someone to treat you to a meal, rather than have you always be the one treating others, I’d be happy to do so. I’ve always appreciated our duels and have been looking for a chance to repay you.”
Love was about compromise, after all.
As if a reward for this mature thought, the dueling hall’s doors gently swung open and in walked the man himself. Unintentionally, Adrian’s mouth twitched a smile before being quickly contained once again. Good, not an assassination attempt after all. But Vincent being here meant that it was time to end this duel so that Adrian could not only guarantee Vincent as his sparring partner next, but so he could steal a few moments of conversation as well.
To Adrian’s absolute pleasure, Vincent spoke to him first.
Raising his non-dominant hand, Adrian acknowledged Vincent’s cheer with a wave. Now losing was not even an option. Even if winning meant doing something a touch dishonorable.
Shifting his feet, Adrian changed his stance so that he could fight for real.
Show off a little even.
Every kingdom had its fighting style, some used magic while others relied on perks from their species to shape their swordplay. After all, a species that heals rapidly will not spend as much time learning to block or dodge, and those who know magic obviously will use it in combat as well. Naturally, the King’s Academy could not teach every type of combat, so instead, the Academy developed and taught a single type of swordplay to all of its students. The style was not for war or true combat, not at its foundations at least, but instead focused on a formal style designed best for honor duels, competitions, and for holding out until your guards come to your rescue. This not only put many incoming students on more common ground, but it meant that you had a skill that nearly every kingdom in the globe would acknowledge to a certain extent.
Adrian, however, had no need for such skills in Kirron. In Kirron, warriors learned to fight monsters before they ever learned to fight man. This meant getting low, guarding the throat, keeping your mouth shut to avoid consuming spilled blood, and most of all, not letting yourself get cornered. It was also a style of fighting that could be used against groups.
Lowing his body a bit, Adrian did a faint as if he were about to lunge at his dueling partner, Patrick. The minor lord fell for it, and almost immediately the tip of Adrian's dull blade poked Patrick's heart. A clear, and sudden, victory.
“What was that?!” Patrick exclaimed, clearly displeased. “You switched stances all of a sudden!”
Wiping the sweat off of his brow, Adrian tried to mimic an apologetic expression. Crease the brows, purse your lips lightly, and touch your face to express discomfort. “Sorry, I default to my homeland's style of fighting when I get tired. I didn’t even notice. Next time, I’ll keep focus better, I swear.” Patrick was mad. Mad that he lost or just mad that his kingdom was so small that they never needed to design their own combat style? If it were jealousy, Adrian supposed it made sense. It was hard not to be an individual. If it was anger at losing, then Patrick was simply more pathetic than Adrian had previously determined.
Adrian on the other hand hated losing because he had the skills to win, so to not do so meant he failed at something.
“I’m going to go take a break before the rotation. Thanks for the duel, Patrick.” With a small smile, Adrian walked away before anyone could stop him.
After stopping long enough to grab a cup of water, Adrian made his way to Vincent with the confidence of a man who planned every moment of his day.
“Using that sword again, are you, Vincent?” Adrian teased gently. It was an old, nearly broken thing. Why the instructor hadn’t thrown it out yet was a mystery. “Is it lucky, or do you just have a taste for the underdog?” Adrian was tempted to call it an antique, but that would be factually incorrect since it was modern trash, not an old treasure, so underdog would have to do.
After the casual dialogue about blades and dueling in general, Adrian found himself restless as questions rotted through his tongue, demanding to be said. “I hope I’m not prying too much, but may I ask a semi-personal question since we have a moment alone, Vincent?” Sure, they were not in private, but all those even semi-close were dueling quite loudly, whether slacking off through taunts or fully-invested clashing of blades. It was as good as a time Vincent could orchestrate on such short notice.
“Those…gentlemen you spend time with. Are their kingdoms facing trouble?” Adiran creased his brows again. Concern disguised the deep revolution Adrian truly felt about those scam artists who weekly, if not daily, took advantage of the kind Vincent. “I could not help but notice you paying for their meals the other day. Do their kingdoms suffer so much that they do not have enough allowance from their parents…. Or do they spend so much so quickly that they have no choice but to rely on your coin?”
Adrian’s next actions would depend strongly on Vincent’s answer…. And more importantly, how Adrian analyzed Vincent’s answer. The gears were already in play to ruin the reputation of the scamming boys; none of their parents would appreciate being depicted as cheap or financially desperate. A simple kind message from the prince of a neighboring, powerful country offering funds to take the “burden” off would clearly show what kind of reputation their sons were creating in the Academy. However, if Vincent was sincere and seemed accurate despite his innocence, then Adrian was prepared to boost the social standing of the men. Compliments unnecessarily made were always appreciated.
“If you’d like someone to treat you to a meal, rather than have you always be the one treating others, I’d be happy to do so. I’ve always appreciated our duels and have been looking for a chance to repay you.”
Kekse
Drifter
A well-hidden wince creased the corners of Vincent's eyes as he watched Adrian's stance drop and immediately knew what was about to happen. He'd seen Kirron form before, enough to recognize and deflect it. Then again, that came from their kingdoms being so intertwined for so long. No doubt the underclassman was familiar with Armondale's fighting style as well. As was to be expected, Patrick was quickly dispatched and glared angrily after the other prince. Had that been dirty? Undoubtedly. Was it any of Vincent's business?
Not in the slightest.
And so he merely gave the other prince a smile and a wave as he approached. "I see you once again managed to dispatch a foe in a way that brings them frustration? As a prince of a small kingdom, he should probably get used to it." From anyone else the comment might have sounded like an insult, but coming from Vincent? It was merely a statement of fact. The prospects of greatness were vastly diminished for small kingdoms, after all. It wouldn't do for their rulers to have visions of grandeur.
"Indeed. It's my favorite, after all." Vincent hefted the weapon and flashed Adrian a smile. "I'm quite used to its handling, and nobody ever takes it from me. All bonuses in my book." He slipped it back into the sheath and gestured out toward his classmates. "Meanwhile, they all have the disadvantage of a blade they haven't taken the time to befriend. There's something to be said about gaining trust with your blade."
He shrugged and turned his bright eyes on Adrian. "Sure, seems neither of us are busy at the moment." For just a moment he was iffy on the 'personal' bit, but decided if it was too personal, he simply wouldn't answer. Vincent listened intently to the other prince's question, his head tilting slightly to the side as he contemplated it. Honestly it didn't feel personal at all, which removed the nerves immediately.
But that didn't mean he knew exactly how to answer. Were his friends actually struggling? Vincent honestly hadn't considered the fact that they may just be spending all of their allowance on frivolous things and knowing that they could always rely on him to get them through. He also hadn't realized that someone might be watching him that closely. "Oh, you noticed that? I mean, yeah, I did, but I didn't really worry about why they were asking. I just kind of figure that there's no harm in racking up favors, you know? And plenty of benefits to having people in your debt. Plus they say you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, right? So I just go about attempting to make more allies than enemies. Seems to be working alright so far."
As far as he could tell, at least. That didn't mean there weren't plenty of other nobles who spent plenty of their time trying to figure out the best way to take advantage of the rather naive Vincent, because there were. He either didn't or chose not to see such things, however.
Before he could continue on that track, Adrian's offer caught him off guard. Treat him to a meal? Vincent had been here a very, very long time and nobody had ever offered that before. The smallest bit of a smile spread across his cheeks and the prince nodded and clapped the underclassman on the shoulder. "Sure, why not? I don't feel like you owe me anything for our duels, but I'm not one to turn down food."
"Next rotations," called the voice of the nearest instructor, his eyes focused on the two princes just hanging out by the sword racks. "Make it quick, make it quick. Nobody is going to gain any skill standing around and flapping their jaws." He snapped and turned away to harass someone else, and Vincent rolled his eyes.
"I guess we best get at it. Last thing we need is a lecture from the instructor." Vincent pulled his sword from the sheath and headed toward the nearest empty circle, twirling the blade skillfully as he walked. Where Kirron fighting was low to the ground and intended to be effective quickly, Armondalian sword fighting had evolved for more show. Glittering blades dancing between two light-footed fighters was more the norm, quick and agile to fend off any trickery such as that pulled on Patrick.
Vincent stood casually in the center of the circle, waiting for the bell to ring and signal that the next rotation had begun. At the sound he adopted the neutral stance taught at the academy and held his sword at the ready, allowing Adrian to make the first move. He'd always found that he'd rather begin a match on the defense. As his opponent's sword came at him, he skillfully parried and dodged in a dance that could almost be called beautiful.
Not in the slightest.
And so he merely gave the other prince a smile and a wave as he approached. "I see you once again managed to dispatch a foe in a way that brings them frustration? As a prince of a small kingdom, he should probably get used to it." From anyone else the comment might have sounded like an insult, but coming from Vincent? It was merely a statement of fact. The prospects of greatness were vastly diminished for small kingdoms, after all. It wouldn't do for their rulers to have visions of grandeur.
"Indeed. It's my favorite, after all." Vincent hefted the weapon and flashed Adrian a smile. "I'm quite used to its handling, and nobody ever takes it from me. All bonuses in my book." He slipped it back into the sheath and gestured out toward his classmates. "Meanwhile, they all have the disadvantage of a blade they haven't taken the time to befriend. There's something to be said about gaining trust with your blade."
He shrugged and turned his bright eyes on Adrian. "Sure, seems neither of us are busy at the moment." For just a moment he was iffy on the 'personal' bit, but decided if it was too personal, he simply wouldn't answer. Vincent listened intently to the other prince's question, his head tilting slightly to the side as he contemplated it. Honestly it didn't feel personal at all, which removed the nerves immediately.
But that didn't mean he knew exactly how to answer. Were his friends actually struggling? Vincent honestly hadn't considered the fact that they may just be spending all of their allowance on frivolous things and knowing that they could always rely on him to get them through. He also hadn't realized that someone might be watching him that closely. "Oh, you noticed that? I mean, yeah, I did, but I didn't really worry about why they were asking. I just kind of figure that there's no harm in racking up favors, you know? And plenty of benefits to having people in your debt. Plus they say you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, right? So I just go about attempting to make more allies than enemies. Seems to be working alright so far."
As far as he could tell, at least. That didn't mean there weren't plenty of other nobles who spent plenty of their time trying to figure out the best way to take advantage of the rather naive Vincent, because there were. He either didn't or chose not to see such things, however.
Before he could continue on that track, Adrian's offer caught him off guard. Treat him to a meal? Vincent had been here a very, very long time and nobody had ever offered that before. The smallest bit of a smile spread across his cheeks and the prince nodded and clapped the underclassman on the shoulder. "Sure, why not? I don't feel like you owe me anything for our duels, but I'm not one to turn down food."
"Next rotations," called the voice of the nearest instructor, his eyes focused on the two princes just hanging out by the sword racks. "Make it quick, make it quick. Nobody is going to gain any skill standing around and flapping their jaws." He snapped and turned away to harass someone else, and Vincent rolled his eyes.
"I guess we best get at it. Last thing we need is a lecture from the instructor." Vincent pulled his sword from the sheath and headed toward the nearest empty circle, twirling the blade skillfully as he walked. Where Kirron fighting was low to the ground and intended to be effective quickly, Armondalian sword fighting had evolved for more show. Glittering blades dancing between two light-footed fighters was more the norm, quick and agile to fend off any trickery such as that pulled on Patrick.
Vincent stood casually in the center of the circle, waiting for the bell to ring and signal that the next rotation had begun. At the sound he adopted the neutral stance taught at the academy and held his sword at the ready, allowing Adrian to make the first move. He'd always found that he'd rather begin a match on the defense. As his opponent's sword came at him, he skillfully parried and dodged in a dance that could almost be called beautiful.
Viper
One Thousand Club
“Sadly so! I didn’t even intend to win the fight that way, but sadly, instincts sometimes take over when in a rush to finish a fight.” Adrian raised his cup of water as if to signify that his thirst was why he rushed. It wasn’t in the slightest. Raising his cup was almost more of an attempt to toast the true cause of his distraction.
“In that case, I can see the appeal.” A major lie. Even with the explanation about how being familiar with the blade helped Vincent and it being available still only made Adrian see flaw after flaw with it. If it were made right, it would be identical to the rest, so knowing the blade would not be necessary. And fighting after which sword also didn’t matter had it still measured up to the quality of the other blades. Trash. But loved trash. “I suppose I can’t argue with you, can I? Considering your skill.”
The question was far from a whim, though until this moment he had debated whether to ask it. Still, the temptation to fix what was wrong was too strong to ignore… and how Vincent was treated was wrong.
“I often study at the place you go for lunches. I was focused on my work, mostly, but over the months I did notice the pattern. Think nothing of it.” Such as how the only reason he studied there was to monitor the injustice.
“Let’s hope your friends are the types to remember favors then!” Adrian lifted his voice at the end of his sentence, trying to imply optimism and perhaps relaxation about the topic. “Since coming here, even though its been so comparatively short to your experience, I’ve met quite the number of people who only know how to take and not give or even remember that they have taken before. Forgive my paranoia. You likely have nothing to be concerned about since you have known these gentleman for far longer than I.”
There was no reason for concern because Adrian decided that dealing with those fools were his problem now. The answer wasn’t good enough. He had letters to write tonight apparently.
Seeing Vincent smile at the offer to take him out filled Adrian with enough joy that it was impossible for him to consider that he was inching down the wrong path. How could something that made him this happy be wrong? “Wonderful! I’d be honored. We can go wherever you choose. I’m not picky.”
This date discussion was quickly interrupted by the instructor calling for the next rotation. Adrian momentarily scowled at the instructor, but his back to to Vincent so the young man could not notice, and the emotions passed so briefly that there was no way the instructor saw it long enough to care either. The mask came off then back on as quickly as one breathed, after all.
Once the bell rang, Adrian quickly got into the proper stance. He would not be playing short cut with Vincent. He’d do this right. Every motion was calculated to use the least amount of movement and energy possible. By scaling back on the showmanship, Adrian made himself an even more stable fighter. Staying so stable also meant that Adrian was able to watch Vincent's combative dance with even more clarity. He could see the moves coming, which meant that he could block or dodge them with ease as well as simply appreciate the artistry shown in the spins and parries.
Before he knew it, the instructor blew his whistle to signal that the bout was over. Adrian and Vincent had tied.
Feeling sweaty now, Adrian ran the back of his hands across his face. “That was a good match, Vincent!” Adrian said sincerely. If Adrian didn’t spend so much time watching Vincent and therefore analyzing his every twitch, he likely would have lost the fight today. “You are always improving so quickly! I have to work hard just to keep up!”
“I think I’m done for the day.” Since he wouldn’t get a chance to duel Vincent again today. “Please, reach out to me for that lunch or dinner anytime. I want to make sure we do that before you graduate. Promise?” There were some important conversations Adrian had to have before being forced away from Vincent. Questions about the potential future.
That night, Adrian spent hours scribbling, and re writing letters that would be sent to the parents of Vincent’s greedy, pathetic excuses for friends. In the end, the messages read as such.
“To your royal highness,
I am Prince Adrian Linmarcer of Kirron. During my studies at the King’s Academy, I have had the fortunate opportunity to meet your son on various occasions. Our interacts were brief but memorable. Their wit and charisma have impressed me greatly since my arrival. It is due to their strength of character that I am saddened and moved by the financial struggles they have been suffering as of late.
I would not be so rude as to ask what has caused this recent financial situation. Since I am unaware of any official financial strain on your kingdom, I’m sure it is a problem you intend to keep under wraps. Additionally, I’m sure his pride is already wounded after being forced to ask his friends time and time again to pay for his meals and various trinkets.
Attached to this letter I have sent you a 100 gold. It is a measly sum, but if you would be so kind as to send this to your son in your own name, I would be honored and gladded to make his life at the academy easier. He would not accept this coin when I offered it personally, but I hope that he will accept it from you under different pretenses. I humbly ask that you keep my name out of this matter, for I don’t wish our future interactions to change.
We at Kirron hope to help all the human nations thrive with pride, and I’d hate to see your son’s reputation be marred by borrowing too much from allies and friends.
Signed,
Adrian Linmarcer of Kirron.”
Nearly identical letters were sent out to each of Vincent’s greedy friends. There was a chance that this would mean nothing, but there was a larger chance that the parents would read this and wonder what kind of reputation their son was creating. Despite the praises stated earlier in the message, it was clear that their sons made their nation look not only poor, but on a downward spiral. Even worse, the letter dripped of pity. And in noble society, to be pitied was to be seen as weak. Adrian, through his careful wordsmithing, should appear as a prince who felt bad for a friend.… not someone even considering these boys as potential allies.
And why else be at the academy besides to gain allies and strengthen you reputation? The boys had failed at both.
Adrian did not like putting his name on such a letter, but without his and his kingdom’s status, the pity would mean nothing. He’d have to hope that the parents would understand why Adrian wanted to keep this quiet… or that the sons would not want to cause any more trouble by throwing his name around. Additionally, putting his name on the letters guaranteed that Vincent would not be put as the culprit. Adrian intended to drive a wedge between Vincent and these so-called-friends, but he didn’t want Vincent to take the blame.
If they knew what was good for them, Vincent would never know what Adrian did today.
“In that case, I can see the appeal.” A major lie. Even with the explanation about how being familiar with the blade helped Vincent and it being available still only made Adrian see flaw after flaw with it. If it were made right, it would be identical to the rest, so knowing the blade would not be necessary. And fighting after which sword also didn’t matter had it still measured up to the quality of the other blades. Trash. But loved trash. “I suppose I can’t argue with you, can I? Considering your skill.”
The question was far from a whim, though until this moment he had debated whether to ask it. Still, the temptation to fix what was wrong was too strong to ignore… and how Vincent was treated was wrong.
“I often study at the place you go for lunches. I was focused on my work, mostly, but over the months I did notice the pattern. Think nothing of it.” Such as how the only reason he studied there was to monitor the injustice.
“Let’s hope your friends are the types to remember favors then!” Adrian lifted his voice at the end of his sentence, trying to imply optimism and perhaps relaxation about the topic. “Since coming here, even though its been so comparatively short to your experience, I’ve met quite the number of people who only know how to take and not give or even remember that they have taken before. Forgive my paranoia. You likely have nothing to be concerned about since you have known these gentleman for far longer than I.”
There was no reason for concern because Adrian decided that dealing with those fools were his problem now. The answer wasn’t good enough. He had letters to write tonight apparently.
Seeing Vincent smile at the offer to take him out filled Adrian with enough joy that it was impossible for him to consider that he was inching down the wrong path. How could something that made him this happy be wrong? “Wonderful! I’d be honored. We can go wherever you choose. I’m not picky.”
This date discussion was quickly interrupted by the instructor calling for the next rotation. Adrian momentarily scowled at the instructor, but his back to to Vincent so the young man could not notice, and the emotions passed so briefly that there was no way the instructor saw it long enough to care either. The mask came off then back on as quickly as one breathed, after all.
Once the bell rang, Adrian quickly got into the proper stance. He would not be playing short cut with Vincent. He’d do this right. Every motion was calculated to use the least amount of movement and energy possible. By scaling back on the showmanship, Adrian made himself an even more stable fighter. Staying so stable also meant that Adrian was able to watch Vincent's combative dance with even more clarity. He could see the moves coming, which meant that he could block or dodge them with ease as well as simply appreciate the artistry shown in the spins and parries.
Before he knew it, the instructor blew his whistle to signal that the bout was over. Adrian and Vincent had tied.
Feeling sweaty now, Adrian ran the back of his hands across his face. “That was a good match, Vincent!” Adrian said sincerely. If Adrian didn’t spend so much time watching Vincent and therefore analyzing his every twitch, he likely would have lost the fight today. “You are always improving so quickly! I have to work hard just to keep up!”
“I think I’m done for the day.” Since he wouldn’t get a chance to duel Vincent again today. “Please, reach out to me for that lunch or dinner anytime. I want to make sure we do that before you graduate. Promise?” There were some important conversations Adrian had to have before being forced away from Vincent. Questions about the potential future.
That night, Adrian spent hours scribbling, and re writing letters that would be sent to the parents of Vincent’s greedy, pathetic excuses for friends. In the end, the messages read as such.
“To your royal highness,
I am Prince Adrian Linmarcer of Kirron. During my studies at the King’s Academy, I have had the fortunate opportunity to meet your son on various occasions. Our interacts were brief but memorable. Their wit and charisma have impressed me greatly since my arrival. It is due to their strength of character that I am saddened and moved by the financial struggles they have been suffering as of late.
I would not be so rude as to ask what has caused this recent financial situation. Since I am unaware of any official financial strain on your kingdom, I’m sure it is a problem you intend to keep under wraps. Additionally, I’m sure his pride is already wounded after being forced to ask his friends time and time again to pay for his meals and various trinkets.
Attached to this letter I have sent you a 100 gold. It is a measly sum, but if you would be so kind as to send this to your son in your own name, I would be honored and gladded to make his life at the academy easier. He would not accept this coin when I offered it personally, but I hope that he will accept it from you under different pretenses. I humbly ask that you keep my name out of this matter, for I don’t wish our future interactions to change.
We at Kirron hope to help all the human nations thrive with pride, and I’d hate to see your son’s reputation be marred by borrowing too much from allies and friends.
Signed,
Adrian Linmarcer of Kirron.”
Nearly identical letters were sent out to each of Vincent’s greedy friends. There was a chance that this would mean nothing, but there was a larger chance that the parents would read this and wonder what kind of reputation their son was creating. Despite the praises stated earlier in the message, it was clear that their sons made their nation look not only poor, but on a downward spiral. Even worse, the letter dripped of pity. And in noble society, to be pitied was to be seen as weak. Adrian, through his careful wordsmithing, should appear as a prince who felt bad for a friend.… not someone even considering these boys as potential allies.
And why else be at the academy besides to gain allies and strengthen you reputation? The boys had failed at both.
Adrian did not like putting his name on such a letter, but without his and his kingdom’s status, the pity would mean nothing. He’d have to hope that the parents would understand why Adrian wanted to keep this quiet… or that the sons would not want to cause any more trouble by throwing his name around. Additionally, putting his name on the letters guaranteed that Vincent would not be put as the culprit. Adrian intended to drive a wedge between Vincent and these so-called-friends, but he didn’t want Vincent to take the blame.
If they knew what was good for them, Vincent would never know what Adrian did today.
Kekse
Drifter
Just the barest glimpse of a frown crested Vincent's lips as the bell rang to end the round. Great drops of salty sweat crept down his temple, which he wiped away casually with the hem of his sleeve. "T'was a good match, Adrian. Though you give me far too much credit. I, who have been here the better part of a decade, can barely hold my own against yourself who has spent but a fraction of that time in these rings. Give it a few more months and I could be put to shame by your hand." He flashed that smile full of golden light Adrian's way and slipped the sword back into his belt. "Aye, we can certainly indulge. What about this weekend? The Fall Festival will be in full swing, and all of my favorite confectioneries will be making their yearly appearance. I plan to obtain no less than a dozen fresh apple turnovers with cold cream over the duration of the week."
Once again their conversation was interrupted by the bell's chime. "Ah, seems I best locate another partner. Think about the proposition and get back to me any time, yeah? You apparently know where to find me." He patted Adrian's shoulder fondly and strolled back out onto the sparring floor in search of his next round. The words had been light, but held a hidden weight. Truth be told, the fact that the younger prince happened to know his favorite locations was a little strange, but none of his experiences with Adrian had been anything short of pleasant. So he shrugged off the nagging in the back of his brain and pulled out his sword, ready for another dance.
Three sessions later, Vincent rolled his shoulders and drank deeply from his cup. None of them had been as exciting or strenuous as his bout with Adrian, but that was nothing new. Most of these princes either didn't care, or just didn't have much skill. It had been centuries since any of their kingdoms had any reason to actually bear arms, after all. The upcoming princes were soft. At least the ones who had the spare gold to attend the academy.
That evening was spent mostly in the library, studying for the upcoming exam season. Not that he was too worried about his exams; he'd probably taken every one at least twice by this point. But the prince loved to learn, so he poured over the familiar books looking for facts he had overlooked in previous readings. He was an hour into his reading session when Alor and Teancum appeared out of seemingly nowhere.
The princes sat on either side of Vincent and leaned back in their chairs, staring at him for a long moment before Alor finally spoke. "Hey, Vincent. You got five gold we could borrow? We'll bring you back one of those cream tarts from the festival."
Vincent's hand was already going to his coin purse when the discussion he'd had with Adrian earlier in the day popped back into his mind. "I’ve met quite the number of people who only know how to take and not give or even remember that they have taken before. Forgive my paranoia. You likely have nothing to be concerned about since you have known these gentleman for far longer than I." He had to admit, neither of these princes had ever repaid him a single gold piece.
So he made a decision he'd never made before. His hand tapped his pocket briefly before a look of confusion graced his cheeks. "Oh. I must have left my coin purse back in my room. Sorry, my friends. I can't help out this time. Perhaps you should ask your parents for a larger allowance if you're always out of coin? You do tend to ask for a lot of gold from me. Or maybe ask some of our other friends for a loan?"
The looks of shock and anger flitting across Alor and Teancum's faces were brief, but Vincent caught them loud and clear before they disappeared into his friends' clear sky eyes. "Yeah, alright. See you around then, Vincent."
"See you later!" Vincent waved brightly, only lowering his eyebrows in confusion and annoyance after the pair had left the library entirely. It seemed they really had only sought him out for gold, not for companionship. Was this...going to be a trend amongst his friends? If he stopped opening his purse every time they asked, were all of them going to give him that same look of anger? His smile faded away into a look of concern, eyes staring off into the middle distance with very little going on behind them. Half formed thoughts bumped and ground against each other, unwanted as they unsettled his world view.
And so it became an experiment for the remainder of the week. Each time another prince approached Vincent and asked for gold, he carefully observed their reactions to being told 'no.' These reactions he jotted down in a small notebook he kept in his pocket, along with a tally of how many times each individual made a request. Within three days the results of the experiment had already become clear and they weighed on him like a mantle he'd never noticed before. None of them had made a request after being told 'no' twice, but neither had any of them spoken to him after a second denial.
Little did he know that his experiment was being skewed by the arrival of some very scathing letters from some very angry kings and queens. Each of Vincent's 'friends' had received their own variation, most of which boiled down to, "You are a disgrace to the kingdom. We have received pity money from a kingdom smaller than ours, and you are setting us up as weak and incapable of taking care of our nobles, much less our people."
All Vincent knew was suddenly, he'd gone from a bustling social group to an outcast nearly overnight. His friends wouldn't even look at him; most of them turned the other way when they saw him walking down the hall. He cursed himself for his experiment turning his world upside down, not knowing that he was giving himself far too much credit for his predicament. By the time the weekend rolled around, the prince was quite visibly downtrodden. His glittering smile had lost its gold and his shoulders pulled toward the earth as if carrying buckets full of stones. Not one of his crowd had invited him to spend time with them at the festival as they had every year previously, so he found himself seeking solace in the library.
Surrounded by books, Vincent began to wonder if these were his real friends. Never did books request anything of him; they only willingly imparted their knowledge with no expectation of return. He ran his finger over a particularly worn leather cover and gazed out over the stacks, sighing inwardly. Never had he expected to spend his last Fall Festival cooped up in the school without enjoying a single snack. It was, in a word, depressing.
Once again their conversation was interrupted by the bell's chime. "Ah, seems I best locate another partner. Think about the proposition and get back to me any time, yeah? You apparently know where to find me." He patted Adrian's shoulder fondly and strolled back out onto the sparring floor in search of his next round. The words had been light, but held a hidden weight. Truth be told, the fact that the younger prince happened to know his favorite locations was a little strange, but none of his experiences with Adrian had been anything short of pleasant. So he shrugged off the nagging in the back of his brain and pulled out his sword, ready for another dance.
Three sessions later, Vincent rolled his shoulders and drank deeply from his cup. None of them had been as exciting or strenuous as his bout with Adrian, but that was nothing new. Most of these princes either didn't care, or just didn't have much skill. It had been centuries since any of their kingdoms had any reason to actually bear arms, after all. The upcoming princes were soft. At least the ones who had the spare gold to attend the academy.
That evening was spent mostly in the library, studying for the upcoming exam season. Not that he was too worried about his exams; he'd probably taken every one at least twice by this point. But the prince loved to learn, so he poured over the familiar books looking for facts he had overlooked in previous readings. He was an hour into his reading session when Alor and Teancum appeared out of seemingly nowhere.
The princes sat on either side of Vincent and leaned back in their chairs, staring at him for a long moment before Alor finally spoke. "Hey, Vincent. You got five gold we could borrow? We'll bring you back one of those cream tarts from the festival."
Vincent's hand was already going to his coin purse when the discussion he'd had with Adrian earlier in the day popped back into his mind. "I’ve met quite the number of people who only know how to take and not give or even remember that they have taken before. Forgive my paranoia. You likely have nothing to be concerned about since you have known these gentleman for far longer than I." He had to admit, neither of these princes had ever repaid him a single gold piece.
So he made a decision he'd never made before. His hand tapped his pocket briefly before a look of confusion graced his cheeks. "Oh. I must have left my coin purse back in my room. Sorry, my friends. I can't help out this time. Perhaps you should ask your parents for a larger allowance if you're always out of coin? You do tend to ask for a lot of gold from me. Or maybe ask some of our other friends for a loan?"
The looks of shock and anger flitting across Alor and Teancum's faces were brief, but Vincent caught them loud and clear before they disappeared into his friends' clear sky eyes. "Yeah, alright. See you around then, Vincent."
"See you later!" Vincent waved brightly, only lowering his eyebrows in confusion and annoyance after the pair had left the library entirely. It seemed they really had only sought him out for gold, not for companionship. Was this...going to be a trend amongst his friends? If he stopped opening his purse every time they asked, were all of them going to give him that same look of anger? His smile faded away into a look of concern, eyes staring off into the middle distance with very little going on behind them. Half formed thoughts bumped and ground against each other, unwanted as they unsettled his world view.
And so it became an experiment for the remainder of the week. Each time another prince approached Vincent and asked for gold, he carefully observed their reactions to being told 'no.' These reactions he jotted down in a small notebook he kept in his pocket, along with a tally of how many times each individual made a request. Within three days the results of the experiment had already become clear and they weighed on him like a mantle he'd never noticed before. None of them had made a request after being told 'no' twice, but neither had any of them spoken to him after a second denial.
Little did he know that his experiment was being skewed by the arrival of some very scathing letters from some very angry kings and queens. Each of Vincent's 'friends' had received their own variation, most of which boiled down to, "You are a disgrace to the kingdom. We have received pity money from a kingdom smaller than ours, and you are setting us up as weak and incapable of taking care of our nobles, much less our people."
All Vincent knew was suddenly, he'd gone from a bustling social group to an outcast nearly overnight. His friends wouldn't even look at him; most of them turned the other way when they saw him walking down the hall. He cursed himself for his experiment turning his world upside down, not knowing that he was giving himself far too much credit for his predicament. By the time the weekend rolled around, the prince was quite visibly downtrodden. His glittering smile had lost its gold and his shoulders pulled toward the earth as if carrying buckets full of stones. Not one of his crowd had invited him to spend time with them at the festival as they had every year previously, so he found himself seeking solace in the library.
Surrounded by books, Vincent began to wonder if these were his real friends. Never did books request anything of him; they only willingly imparted their knowledge with no expectation of return. He ran his finger over a particularly worn leather cover and gazed out over the stacks, sighing inwardly. Never had he expected to spend his last Fall Festival cooped up in the school without enjoying a single snack. It was, in a word, depressing.
Viper
One Thousand Club
“My father has always been strict about swordplay, though I thank you all the same. After your graduation, if--” when “--we meet again, we should test your theory! So I hope you won’t slack off after graduation!”
The fall festival! What a perfect time! Although it was an event mainly for the students to get one last celebration with their friends before all went back to their own lands where they may or may not ever see each other again, this was also an occasion where the students had one last chance to show off and make a good impression with their peers and professors… and whatever fiance’s or parents that managed to charm or bully their way inside.
Cause, after all, those who did well at the Fall Festival could potentially get the chance to perform during the graduation ball.
There were games, performances, a chance to duel whoever you want in front of an audience, magical and scholastic competitions, and loads of vendors selling clothing, food, weapons, artifacts, and just about anything royalty could demand. It was loads of fun and a profit for the school and vendors all around.
A perfect chance for a date.
“The Fall Festival would be perfect,” Adrian said with a soft smile, meaning every word. “I’ll be happy to buy you whatever your heart desires.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The weekend came at a crawl. Most days were an eternity, but this was a millennium. Perhaps it was because Adrian had something to look forward to that made the daily monotony so much more, well, monotonous. Placing a hand on the shoulder Vincent touched, Adrian smiled even in the privacy of his own room.
The stack of letters on his desk only made the lingering touch seem warmer.
Apologies, promises to admonish their boy, and tense yet formal thanks for the offer that only barely hid the anger they felt at being called out… oh it was amazing to see plans put into action so perfectly. And as expected, nearly every kingdom returned the gold, so Aiden’s pockets were still lined for the weekend.
The results of Adrian's work were instantaneous.
Vincent who had seemed so popular before now seemed to be sitting alone whenever Adrian passed by. These passings were truly by accident considering that Adrian didn’t really like Vincent’s passing comment about “you apparently know where to find me.” It was too close to the truth, so Adrian had been making a point not to go out of his way to meet the lad.
It is because of this distance that Adrian didn’t know that Vincent had been putting his ‘friends’ through a trial of his own volition. Adrian would have been flattered had he known his words prompted Vincent into action, but he didn’t, so Adrian truly believed that his words were the sole cause of this sudden isolation.
Better Vincent alone than surrounded by those who would hurt him.
Though no longer seeing his smile was a major downside…Hopefully the presence of a true friend would brighten him up again. Perhaps all Vincent needed was a true friend, and Adrian was happy to be that person.
The day before the festival, Adrian sent a letter to Vincent with his family crest sealing the letter. Adrian paid a runner to find and deliver the letter as soon as possible. The runner found Vincent in the library. He was breathing heavily, and because of the quiet, Vincent most certainly would have noticed the man even before he was upon him. “Lord Vincent Mansfield? I…I have a letter for you… Here.” As was custom, the runner stood there, waiting to be dismissed or to be given a letter to return to the sender.
The message read:
“Lord Vincent,
I was hoping to hold you to your promise to grant me the honor of your company during the Fall Festival. I have a pocket of gold itching to be spent on another, and a sweet tooth that demands to be fulfilled.
I hear the apple turnovers are divine.
Should you still desire my company as much as I do yours, please meet me at the base of the bell tower after the opening ceremony.
Your friend,
Lord Adrian of Kirron.”
The sugary letter was perhaps too obvious for someone normally as formal as Adrian, but how could he resist? Adrian's heart demanded that he at least try to improve Vincent’s mood, and the only way Adrian could imagine doing so was ensuring that Vincent knew how much Adrian valued his companionship and the friendship they had built over the last few months.
Hopefully, Vincent would assume Adrian was just more openly affectionate within the privacy of letters than he was in public when many noble eyes were watching.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Fall Festival could be heard and smelled even before it began. Hundreds of chefs from all over, not to mention the chefs normally employed here, were cooking up a storm. The orchestras littered about the grounds tuned their instruments and began to play a jaunty tune, and even Adrian had a spring in his step as he moved towards the main stage where the headmaster would start the festival.
Today would be spent with Vincent! If he played his cards right, the whole day!
Stifling a smile with his hand as well as the full effort of his facial muscles, Adrian tried to appear as composed as he always did… but it was hard for once! Sure, once this was all over, Adrian had some social damage to repair, but it was worth it. The Kirron Prince had been invited out by the compansions he had accrued since arriving, and of course, he refused their invites no matter how many times they asked.“I have plans already, but if those plans change, I’ll seek you out” he told each one of them privately. A few were offended by his insistence and vagueness, but Adrian wasn't about to cut short his time with Vincent if he didn't have to.
The others would have to deal with it.
Today would be a perfect day.
The fall festival! What a perfect time! Although it was an event mainly for the students to get one last celebration with their friends before all went back to their own lands where they may or may not ever see each other again, this was also an occasion where the students had one last chance to show off and make a good impression with their peers and professors… and whatever fiance’s or parents that managed to charm or bully their way inside.
Cause, after all, those who did well at the Fall Festival could potentially get the chance to perform during the graduation ball.
There were games, performances, a chance to duel whoever you want in front of an audience, magical and scholastic competitions, and loads of vendors selling clothing, food, weapons, artifacts, and just about anything royalty could demand. It was loads of fun and a profit for the school and vendors all around.
A perfect chance for a date.
“The Fall Festival would be perfect,” Adrian said with a soft smile, meaning every word. “I’ll be happy to buy you whatever your heart desires.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The weekend came at a crawl. Most days were an eternity, but this was a millennium. Perhaps it was because Adrian had something to look forward to that made the daily monotony so much more, well, monotonous. Placing a hand on the shoulder Vincent touched, Adrian smiled even in the privacy of his own room.
The stack of letters on his desk only made the lingering touch seem warmer.
Apologies, promises to admonish their boy, and tense yet formal thanks for the offer that only barely hid the anger they felt at being called out… oh it was amazing to see plans put into action so perfectly. And as expected, nearly every kingdom returned the gold, so Aiden’s pockets were still lined for the weekend.
The results of Adrian's work were instantaneous.
Vincent who had seemed so popular before now seemed to be sitting alone whenever Adrian passed by. These passings were truly by accident considering that Adrian didn’t really like Vincent’s passing comment about “you apparently know where to find me.” It was too close to the truth, so Adrian had been making a point not to go out of his way to meet the lad.
It is because of this distance that Adrian didn’t know that Vincent had been putting his ‘friends’ through a trial of his own volition. Adrian would have been flattered had he known his words prompted Vincent into action, but he didn’t, so Adrian truly believed that his words were the sole cause of this sudden isolation.
Better Vincent alone than surrounded by those who would hurt him.
Though no longer seeing his smile was a major downside…Hopefully the presence of a true friend would brighten him up again. Perhaps all Vincent needed was a true friend, and Adrian was happy to be that person.
The day before the festival, Adrian sent a letter to Vincent with his family crest sealing the letter. Adrian paid a runner to find and deliver the letter as soon as possible. The runner found Vincent in the library. He was breathing heavily, and because of the quiet, Vincent most certainly would have noticed the man even before he was upon him. “Lord Vincent Mansfield? I…I have a letter for you… Here.” As was custom, the runner stood there, waiting to be dismissed or to be given a letter to return to the sender.
The message read:
“Lord Vincent,
I was hoping to hold you to your promise to grant me the honor of your company during the Fall Festival. I have a pocket of gold itching to be spent on another, and a sweet tooth that demands to be fulfilled.
I hear the apple turnovers are divine.
Should you still desire my company as much as I do yours, please meet me at the base of the bell tower after the opening ceremony.
Your friend,
Lord Adrian of Kirron.”
The sugary letter was perhaps too obvious for someone normally as formal as Adrian, but how could he resist? Adrian's heart demanded that he at least try to improve Vincent’s mood, and the only way Adrian could imagine doing so was ensuring that Vincent knew how much Adrian valued his companionship and the friendship they had built over the last few months.
Hopefully, Vincent would assume Adrian was just more openly affectionate within the privacy of letters than he was in public when many noble eyes were watching.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Fall Festival could be heard and smelled even before it began. Hundreds of chefs from all over, not to mention the chefs normally employed here, were cooking up a storm. The orchestras littered about the grounds tuned their instruments and began to play a jaunty tune, and even Adrian had a spring in his step as he moved towards the main stage where the headmaster would start the festival.
Today would be spent with Vincent! If he played his cards right, the whole day!
Stifling a smile with his hand as well as the full effort of his facial muscles, Adrian tried to appear as composed as he always did… but it was hard for once! Sure, once this was all over, Adrian had some social damage to repair, but it was worth it. The Kirron Prince had been invited out by the compansions he had accrued since arriving, and of course, he refused their invites no matter how many times they asked.“I have plans already, but if those plans change, I’ll seek you out” he told each one of them privately. A few were offended by his insistence and vagueness, but Adrian wasn't about to cut short his time with Vincent if he didn't have to.
The others would have to deal with it.
Today would be a perfect day.
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Kekse
Drifter
The sound of loud breathing caused Vincent to whirl around, his hand reaching instinctively for his belt before he realized the sound merely came from a winded messenger. "Oh, yes, thanks," Vincent replied, reaching out and accepting the letter. He immediately recognized the Linmarcer family crest on the seal. Any nerves he may have had at receiving a letter after his terrible week melted away. Ah, it's just Adrian. I guess he wasn't avoiding me?
You see, Vincent had definitely noticed the drop in 'random meetings' over the last week and lumped Adrian in with the rest of his friends who were avoiding him. Which was a little surprising, truth be told. Adrian was the one person who had never asked anything of him, so it didn't make sense for him to bail when Vincent stopped the handouts. Especially since it didn't seem like the other prince was particularly close to Vincent's other friends. Then again, nothing made sense this week...
He returned to his seat and opened the letter, scanning the contents quickly at first, then more slowly the second time. In the mess of the last week, Vincent had practically forgotten that he'd promised to attend the festival with Adrian.
The tips of his ears flushed gently at the familiar tone of the letter. Perhaps a little too familiar? But the prospect of attending the festival and eating his beloved apple turnovers helped him overlook any awkwardness that the words may have brought about.
Vincent took a fresh sheet of parchment from his stack, dipped his quill, and penned a quick reply.
"Lord Adrian,
Your note comes at an opportune time. None of my fellows have yet invited me to attend the festival with them, so my time is all yours. I will certainly be at the base of the bell tower at the appointed time, barring any disaster which would tear me away.
I look forward to our outing.
Lord Vicent of Armondale"
Using one of the library wax seal sets, Vincent sealed the letter with the imprint of his ring and handed it to the messenger. "Return this to Lord Adrian, please. And thank you." The messenger nodded and hurried away while Vincent watched his retreating back.
Suddenly, today felt much less depressing.
~~~
The atmosphere of the festival wrapped around Vincent's senses like the frosting on a cake. Sweet, colorful, and exciting, it pulled him toward the stage with a smile on his face. People all around hustled and bustled from cart to cart, examining the wares and planning their route to get their most coveted items before they were sold out. Vincent, on the other hand, simply passed them by to find a place in the waiting crowd. The apple turnover cart always made so many that they practically gave away the extras at the end of the week.
As expected, the opening ceremony was the same as every other year. The headmaster stood up on his little platform and waved his arms as he welcomed everyone to the celebration. He gave a short itinerary of the major events, his familiar speech about the accomplishments of the students, and waved for the fireworks to be loosed. It was bright, it was noisy, and it was exciting.
But Vincent was barely paying attention. He could practically taste the turnovers that he'd nearly given up on enjoying one last time. The sound of the fireworks was like the starting gun of a race; the moment they went off, the crowd scattered to begin their celebrating.
Vincent scooted his way through the crowd on his way to the bell tower. It was a little ways away from the festival grounds, so his going became easier the closer he got. When he arrived, he didn't yet see Adrian, so the prince leaned against the base of the tower to watch the crowd for a familiar face heading his way.
You see, Vincent had definitely noticed the drop in 'random meetings' over the last week and lumped Adrian in with the rest of his friends who were avoiding him. Which was a little surprising, truth be told. Adrian was the one person who had never asked anything of him, so it didn't make sense for him to bail when Vincent stopped the handouts. Especially since it didn't seem like the other prince was particularly close to Vincent's other friends. Then again, nothing made sense this week...
He returned to his seat and opened the letter, scanning the contents quickly at first, then more slowly the second time. In the mess of the last week, Vincent had practically forgotten that he'd promised to attend the festival with Adrian.
The tips of his ears flushed gently at the familiar tone of the letter. Perhaps a little too familiar? But the prospect of attending the festival and eating his beloved apple turnovers helped him overlook any awkwardness that the words may have brought about.
Vincent took a fresh sheet of parchment from his stack, dipped his quill, and penned a quick reply.
"Lord Adrian,
Your note comes at an opportune time. None of my fellows have yet invited me to attend the festival with them, so my time is all yours. I will certainly be at the base of the bell tower at the appointed time, barring any disaster which would tear me away.
I look forward to our outing.
Lord Vicent of Armondale"
Using one of the library wax seal sets, Vincent sealed the letter with the imprint of his ring and handed it to the messenger. "Return this to Lord Adrian, please. And thank you." The messenger nodded and hurried away while Vincent watched his retreating back.
Suddenly, today felt much less depressing.
~~~
The atmosphere of the festival wrapped around Vincent's senses like the frosting on a cake. Sweet, colorful, and exciting, it pulled him toward the stage with a smile on his face. People all around hustled and bustled from cart to cart, examining the wares and planning their route to get their most coveted items before they were sold out. Vincent, on the other hand, simply passed them by to find a place in the waiting crowd. The apple turnover cart always made so many that they practically gave away the extras at the end of the week.
As expected, the opening ceremony was the same as every other year. The headmaster stood up on his little platform and waved his arms as he welcomed everyone to the celebration. He gave a short itinerary of the major events, his familiar speech about the accomplishments of the students, and waved for the fireworks to be loosed. It was bright, it was noisy, and it was exciting.
But Vincent was barely paying attention. He could practically taste the turnovers that he'd nearly given up on enjoying one last time. The sound of the fireworks was like the starting gun of a race; the moment they went off, the crowd scattered to begin their celebrating.
Vincent scooted his way through the crowd on his way to the bell tower. It was a little ways away from the festival grounds, so his going became easier the closer he got. When he arrived, he didn't yet see Adrian, so the prince leaned against the base of the tower to watch the crowd for a familiar face heading his way.
Viper
One Thousand Club
To say that Adrian’s heart sang when he received the message from Vincent confirming their date was an understatement. To his later embarrassment, the messenger watched Adrian open and read the letter, which meant that the speedy commoner also saw the young lord’s face alight with glee as he crumpled the note to his chest.
This was all just as planned. What a miracle.
Vincent had no one else to spend the day with, which meant that Adrian could keep the man all to himself without competition or guilt. For this one day, Adrian had a monopoly.
And with a monopoly, one could get away with things you could not when competing.
~~~
Still, on the day of the festival, Adrian did not immediately jump into the heart of what he wanted to talk about. He took it slow, as any and all gentlemen should especially when of such high status.
So Adrian met Vincent at the bell tower as planned, and soon enough, they were approaching the apple turnover shop. The sweet aroma made Adrian’s stomach turn, but he was so happy to be receiving undivided attention for once that he’d drink straight honey if it would keep this moment going forever.
“I’m glad you were free to join me. And here I thought I’d be dueling for an hour of your time…” Adrian couldn’t help but brag about his unknown victory. Sure, Vincent would not know that he was bragging, but Adrian did, and that was enough. “I’m lucky to be spending the day with a friend like you. Come, let me buy your fill of turnovers or whatever else suits your fancy. I was sent far more coin than normal just to indulge, and I’ll need some help spending it all!”
After some warm apple turnover and a show, the pair spent much of their time at the festival just wandering. Seeing the sights, admiring the art some of the more artistic princes have created, and generally being observers more so than participants. Adrian had no interest in the gimmicks and games, he was here to be with one person alone, but he tried not to show it.
Any of Vincent’s suggestions when it came to activities were accepted immediately. In comparison, Adrian made no suggestions but kept offering to buy Vincent things. Food, clothes, accessories, drinks, weapons, Adrian probably offered to buy Vincent one of anything they saw. He didn’t mean to flaunt his coin, he simply knew that most people liked to be bought things…. That’s why Vincent used to be so popular, after all. Open wallets were vastly similar to open hearts.
No matter how all that turned out, the pair ended up having a second helping of apple turnovers in the later afternoon and snacking on them near the river. It was a romantic location. Picture perfect flowers surrounded the gentle river which flowed beneath a small, charming pearled bridge.
Finally, Adrian asked the question he had wanted to know since first falling for Vincent. And he even managed to work it into the conversation fairly naturally. “My friend Yusef is getting married a month after his graduation. He’s terrified since he has not met her yet…. How about you? Is there a lucky woman waiting for you after graduation?”
A woman who, depending on who she was, would suddenly become very unlucky if Adrian had a say. He'd never been good at sharing.
“My father wants me to get married as soon as possible, although fortunately, he is willing to wait until I find the right person.” Adrian’s sisters were not so lucky. Each one of them was sold off like a piece of land the moment they became of age or King Linmarcer found someone willing to take them for the right price. There were still three girls born after Adrian who needed to be wed. Elizabeth, who was 19 and therefore eligible for marriage were it not for her temperament. Selene who was sixteen and would be a fantastic sell once she was of age. And Juliet who was only ten and therefore far from marriage age, making her useless for the time being but a future investment the King was putting a lot of coin into.
Adrian was here in part to find a good suitor for Elizabeth. He’s had little luck sadly. But no need for Vincent to know that Adrian was able and willing to sell his siblings like cattle, just as his father had planned on and trained him to do. Learning quickly was apparently only a good trait when learning what was "moral."
“I hope your parents are more… patient.” What kinder word could he choose when they were in a profession designed for arranged marriages more so than love or even the most basic of connections?
This was all just as planned. What a miracle.
Vincent had no one else to spend the day with, which meant that Adrian could keep the man all to himself without competition or guilt. For this one day, Adrian had a monopoly.
And with a monopoly, one could get away with things you could not when competing.
~~~
Still, on the day of the festival, Adrian did not immediately jump into the heart of what he wanted to talk about. He took it slow, as any and all gentlemen should especially when of such high status.
So Adrian met Vincent at the bell tower as planned, and soon enough, they were approaching the apple turnover shop. The sweet aroma made Adrian’s stomach turn, but he was so happy to be receiving undivided attention for once that he’d drink straight honey if it would keep this moment going forever.
“I’m glad you were free to join me. And here I thought I’d be dueling for an hour of your time…” Adrian couldn’t help but brag about his unknown victory. Sure, Vincent would not know that he was bragging, but Adrian did, and that was enough. “I’m lucky to be spending the day with a friend like you. Come, let me buy your fill of turnovers or whatever else suits your fancy. I was sent far more coin than normal just to indulge, and I’ll need some help spending it all!”
After some warm apple turnover and a show, the pair spent much of their time at the festival just wandering. Seeing the sights, admiring the art some of the more artistic princes have created, and generally being observers more so than participants. Adrian had no interest in the gimmicks and games, he was here to be with one person alone, but he tried not to show it.
Any of Vincent’s suggestions when it came to activities were accepted immediately. In comparison, Adrian made no suggestions but kept offering to buy Vincent things. Food, clothes, accessories, drinks, weapons, Adrian probably offered to buy Vincent one of anything they saw. He didn’t mean to flaunt his coin, he simply knew that most people liked to be bought things…. That’s why Vincent used to be so popular, after all. Open wallets were vastly similar to open hearts.
No matter how all that turned out, the pair ended up having a second helping of apple turnovers in the later afternoon and snacking on them near the river. It was a romantic location. Picture perfect flowers surrounded the gentle river which flowed beneath a small, charming pearled bridge.
Finally, Adrian asked the question he had wanted to know since first falling for Vincent. And he even managed to work it into the conversation fairly naturally. “My friend Yusef is getting married a month after his graduation. He’s terrified since he has not met her yet…. How about you? Is there a lucky woman waiting for you after graduation?”
A woman who, depending on who she was, would suddenly become very unlucky if Adrian had a say. He'd never been good at sharing.
“My father wants me to get married as soon as possible, although fortunately, he is willing to wait until I find the right person.” Adrian’s sisters were not so lucky. Each one of them was sold off like a piece of land the moment they became of age or King Linmarcer found someone willing to take them for the right price. There were still three girls born after Adrian who needed to be wed. Elizabeth, who was 19 and therefore eligible for marriage were it not for her temperament. Selene who was sixteen and would be a fantastic sell once she was of age. And Juliet who was only ten and therefore far from marriage age, making her useless for the time being but a future investment the King was putting a lot of coin into.
Adrian was here in part to find a good suitor for Elizabeth. He’s had little luck sadly. But no need for Vincent to know that Adrian was able and willing to sell his siblings like cattle, just as his father had planned on and trained him to do. Learning quickly was apparently only a good trait when learning what was "moral."
“I hope your parents are more… patient.” What kinder word could he choose when they were in a profession designed for arranged marriages more so than love or even the most basic of connections?
Kekse
Drifter
Vincent happily strolled through the joyous crowd with Adrian at his heel, following the scent of apples and cinnamon. Soon he had a turnover in hand. The prince nibbled at the treat slowly, enjoying how the sweetness of the honey contrasted the tartness of the apples. "I'm glad you wanted to spend the day with me. None of my friends seemed inclined this year, so I wasn't planning to attend at all." He took another bite and chewed slowly, a mix of emotions rumbling around within him. "You really don't have to buy me a whole bunch of things, though. I already appreciate this turnover."
Despite agreeing days ago that Adrian was funding their adventure, that didn't stop Vincent from feeling guilty accepting someone else spending their coin on him. He had sufficient to purchase just about anything he wanted within reason. But Adrian was insistent and soon Vincent had a lovely new dagger, a cloak, and a sackful of various sweets. They watched the more athletic princes joust and throw stones, the more performative princes put on a show of magic and music, and wandered the stalls of the artistic group. The more they saw, the more Vincent began to feel like he was as untalented as a rock. That is, until they found the sparring.
"Vincent! You should come show these little boys how it's done!" called the sparring instructor when he spotted the pair of princes. "It's your last year, after all, and you've not taken the chance to compete yet. You can't leave without at least once showing off your skills."
The flattery was effective. Vincent passed his new belongings off to Adrian to hold for a moment, then stepped up to the rack to select a sword. To the untrained hand and eye, they were identical. However, Vincent was anything but untrained. He tested the heft and balance of each weapon before choosing one and donning his protective gear. Once content, the prince stepped into the ring and shook out his shoulders. The first opponent stepped into the ring and Vincent flashed Adrian a wink before the glittering blades began to whirl. Early afternoon sunlight glinted off the steel as the princes circled each other, swords darting in and out in a perfect dance.
He could have easily finished off the opponent in the first few seconds of the match, but Vincent was enjoying the game. He led the other prince on a merry chase, poking and prodding. Cheery laughter bubbled from his lips while his opponent grew more and more frustrated. "Come on, now. Quit being so angry! Enjoy the game, eh?" When it became apparent by his partner's increasingly wild swings that the other prince was actually quite angry, Vincent decided to end the match. In a series of moves so quick and smooth that a single blink would disrupt the flow, he cut up and knocked away the other blade, down on his opponent's hand to force him to release his sword, and toward the heart for a 'kill.'
The crowd went wild and Vincent gave them a slight bow. He won four more matches in a row and accepted the prize of twenty gold pieces, slipping them into his pocket before rejoining his companion for the day. The prince was beaming ear to ear, invigorated by the sport. "Let's celebrate with more turnovers!" he exclaimed, and they did just that. They settled into the romantic spot by the river and Vincent stared out over the water as Adrian spoke.
"I can only imagine how scary that would be! That's definitely the downfall of being a prince...I haven't heard about any matches thus far, but that doesn't mean Father hasn't made some sort of arrangement that he isn't telling me about. I'm sure you know already that many surrounding kingdoms clamor to get in our good graces. Personally I think they just hope to gain access to our natural resources." Vincent's lip curled upwards slightly in disgust. He'd overheard many a representative speaking with his father, their true designs only thinly veiled. Armondale was large, wild, and much of the land remained unexplored. No one knew exactly how much the kingdom was worth because no one knew exactly what lurked in the caves and forests.
Vincent leaned back against a tree and sighed. "I'm not sure if I'd describe them as 'patient' or just 'waiting for the most advantageous position.' They've certainly never forced me to look at potential partners or arranged anything thus far, but that could change in a heartbeat." It was just a fact that the prince had had drilled into his brain from his youth. The only love he would be allowed to marry for would be the luck of falling for the most valuable noble.
Despite agreeing days ago that Adrian was funding their adventure, that didn't stop Vincent from feeling guilty accepting someone else spending their coin on him. He had sufficient to purchase just about anything he wanted within reason. But Adrian was insistent and soon Vincent had a lovely new dagger, a cloak, and a sackful of various sweets. They watched the more athletic princes joust and throw stones, the more performative princes put on a show of magic and music, and wandered the stalls of the artistic group. The more they saw, the more Vincent began to feel like he was as untalented as a rock. That is, until they found the sparring.
"Vincent! You should come show these little boys how it's done!" called the sparring instructor when he spotted the pair of princes. "It's your last year, after all, and you've not taken the chance to compete yet. You can't leave without at least once showing off your skills."
The flattery was effective. Vincent passed his new belongings off to Adrian to hold for a moment, then stepped up to the rack to select a sword. To the untrained hand and eye, they were identical. However, Vincent was anything but untrained. He tested the heft and balance of each weapon before choosing one and donning his protective gear. Once content, the prince stepped into the ring and shook out his shoulders. The first opponent stepped into the ring and Vincent flashed Adrian a wink before the glittering blades began to whirl. Early afternoon sunlight glinted off the steel as the princes circled each other, swords darting in and out in a perfect dance.
He could have easily finished off the opponent in the first few seconds of the match, but Vincent was enjoying the game. He led the other prince on a merry chase, poking and prodding. Cheery laughter bubbled from his lips while his opponent grew more and more frustrated. "Come on, now. Quit being so angry! Enjoy the game, eh?" When it became apparent by his partner's increasingly wild swings that the other prince was actually quite angry, Vincent decided to end the match. In a series of moves so quick and smooth that a single blink would disrupt the flow, he cut up and knocked away the other blade, down on his opponent's hand to force him to release his sword, and toward the heart for a 'kill.'
The crowd went wild and Vincent gave them a slight bow. He won four more matches in a row and accepted the prize of twenty gold pieces, slipping them into his pocket before rejoining his companion for the day. The prince was beaming ear to ear, invigorated by the sport. "Let's celebrate with more turnovers!" he exclaimed, and they did just that. They settled into the romantic spot by the river and Vincent stared out over the water as Adrian spoke.
"I can only imagine how scary that would be! That's definitely the downfall of being a prince...I haven't heard about any matches thus far, but that doesn't mean Father hasn't made some sort of arrangement that he isn't telling me about. I'm sure you know already that many surrounding kingdoms clamor to get in our good graces. Personally I think they just hope to gain access to our natural resources." Vincent's lip curled upwards slightly in disgust. He'd overheard many a representative speaking with his father, their true designs only thinly veiled. Armondale was large, wild, and much of the land remained unexplored. No one knew exactly how much the kingdom was worth because no one knew exactly what lurked in the caves and forests.
Vincent leaned back against a tree and sighed. "I'm not sure if I'd describe them as 'patient' or just 'waiting for the most advantageous position.' They've certainly never forced me to look at potential partners or arranged anything thus far, but that could change in a heartbeat." It was just a fact that the prince had had drilled into his brain from his youth. The only love he would be allowed to marry for would be the luck of falling for the most valuable noble.
Viper
One Thousand Club
Hearing that none of Vincent’s friends wanted to spend time with him filled Adrian’s heart with glee, which was in stark contrast to the expected, classic empathy one should have felt in such circumstances. No. As Vincent’s friendship was monopolized, Adiran could not even comprehend feeling anything but joy. Thankfully for the manipulative lord, hiding his true emotions was easier than breathing. His face only expressed sympathy as Vincent mourned his lost friendships.
“Truly? I’m sorry to hear that.” Adiran lied perfectly. “It’s truly their loss. You are some of, if not the epidemy, of fine company here. But their loss is my gain, so I suppose I shan’t complain. Hopefully, I meet your standards as well and can fill even at least some of the void they have left.”
“I have the coin! Let me spend it on a friend before it rots in my pocket or I lose it!” Adiran insisted on spending his money on Vincent. It was only right. He was better off. Better in general. In more control. In better standing. A man of such stature should of course fund any and all outings, even if the intent was to just befriend rather than woo at this point. Vincent, poor sweet Vincent, was nearing the end of his financial endless abyss while Adrian’s homeland was nearly just finding it. They were not equals here… though maybe Vincent wasn’t aware of the downfall lurking just around the shadows of the winter season.
Not that it mattered. Adiran would be there to chase away the cold just as he was chasing away Vincent’s loneliness today.
Vincent was soon garbed in the best clothes money could buy within the festival. Clad in dagger and silk, Vincent was a sight to behold. Adrian almost regretted spending so much cause such perfection elevated to divinity of course drew attention. Still, Adrian supposed seeing his own property being admired was in part a reflection upon his own worth, so for this day alone he’d have to accept others gazing upon his Vincent.
There was a shift once Vincent was pressured and forced into the barbaric dueling ring. Oh, it was nothing new, but on a fine day like today, seeing Vincent stolen away to play elegant warfare was nothing more than a curse upon Adrian’s soul. The eyes disguised behind thick glasses hid the anger immediately triggered by Vincent’s summoning. Vincent was not here to be shared, but share Adrian must allow it or else he could lose Vincet altogether.
Thankfully, Adrian found some joy in watching Vincent dance the pseudo-deadly waltz.
Catching the wink alone made Adrian shutter. But he held back. Adiran took great pains to lean against the wall and appear just enough interested, but in truth, his own assassination would have been ignored in favor of seeing Vincent duel in this glorious, ego-driven battle. Adrian’s nails nearly drew blood from his palm as he watched Vincent taunt his foe, but of course, Vincent was fine. Adrian should have known that. He’d been on the other side of VIncent’s blade many times and knew that the beautiful man was capable. Still… to see one's love face any foe could stress and thrill one’s heart like nothing else.
Adrian was one of the loudest in the audience upon each and every one of Vincet’s many victories. Oh, Adrian could have joined the duels himself and made a name, but there was no point in seeking glory that was guaranteed in other venues. His own fame would come in no time. Tonight, today, Adrian simply took pride in his love's wins. Although saying that, Adrian’s applause and cheer were simplified to just applause. He did not hoot. He did not holler. It was not his nature. But his palms stung from the passionate applause just eyes would not be able to appreciate.
Soon enough, the pair were in a romantic venue by the river snacking on the nauseously sweet turnovers.
Sadly, the marriage conversation was just as retching as the sweets. So much competition would have to be eliminated. “I’ll admit, I’m glad to hear that you are not engaged as of yet. My father is similarly practically minded… so I feel a kinship knowing that both you and I are going into our futures un-ringed and into the unknown. I’m sure we will both find partners equal to our worth… and equal to what our fathers expect from us. Perhaps even true happiness is on that path as well."
Vincent was the only one worth Adrian’s time, so clearly Adrian was worth Vincent’s time. Of course, they could not be wed, but Adrian’s younger sister was a sap who would marry anyone Adrian asked her to, so her female hand would take Adrian’s place under the wedding altar. After that, besides one night of impregnation, all would be perfect for the princes. Equals would have found ways to indirectly wed their equal despite foolish society expecting them to stay apart. Vincent’s land having so many resources was just the key to it all happening as Adrian dreamed and planned.
Considering the situation and flow of conversation, Adrian decided to open up about his father's motives in sending him here. “My father had no intention of sending me here initially… but he thought that being here would make it easier to wed my younger sisters. I’m more here to act as a matchmaker than to learn, to be honest. It’s been hard to overcome my own desires in favor of his alliance-seeking expectations.”
Smiling, Adrian admitted a truth the single Vincent would only realize the true depth of after over a year of no-contact with this young lord. “I adapt well though. In the end, I always find a way to please myself as well as my family. All it takes is a bit of creative thinking. “
“One day you will see me obtain the perfect future I’m crafting for myself”
“Truly? I’m sorry to hear that.” Adiran lied perfectly. “It’s truly their loss. You are some of, if not the epidemy, of fine company here. But their loss is my gain, so I suppose I shan’t complain. Hopefully, I meet your standards as well and can fill even at least some of the void they have left.”
“I have the coin! Let me spend it on a friend before it rots in my pocket or I lose it!” Adiran insisted on spending his money on Vincent. It was only right. He was better off. Better in general. In more control. In better standing. A man of such stature should of course fund any and all outings, even if the intent was to just befriend rather than woo at this point. Vincent, poor sweet Vincent, was nearing the end of his financial endless abyss while Adrian’s homeland was nearly just finding it. They were not equals here… though maybe Vincent wasn’t aware of the downfall lurking just around the shadows of the winter season.
Not that it mattered. Adiran would be there to chase away the cold just as he was chasing away Vincent’s loneliness today.
Vincent was soon garbed in the best clothes money could buy within the festival. Clad in dagger and silk, Vincent was a sight to behold. Adrian almost regretted spending so much cause such perfection elevated to divinity of course drew attention. Still, Adrian supposed seeing his own property being admired was in part a reflection upon his own worth, so for this day alone he’d have to accept others gazing upon his Vincent.
There was a shift once Vincent was pressured and forced into the barbaric dueling ring. Oh, it was nothing new, but on a fine day like today, seeing Vincent stolen away to play elegant warfare was nothing more than a curse upon Adrian’s soul. The eyes disguised behind thick glasses hid the anger immediately triggered by Vincent’s summoning. Vincent was not here to be shared, but share Adrian must allow it or else he could lose Vincet altogether.
Thankfully, Adrian found some joy in watching Vincent dance the pseudo-deadly waltz.
Catching the wink alone made Adrian shutter. But he held back. Adiran took great pains to lean against the wall and appear just enough interested, but in truth, his own assassination would have been ignored in favor of seeing Vincent duel in this glorious, ego-driven battle. Adrian’s nails nearly drew blood from his palm as he watched Vincent taunt his foe, but of course, Vincent was fine. Adrian should have known that. He’d been on the other side of VIncent’s blade many times and knew that the beautiful man was capable. Still… to see one's love face any foe could stress and thrill one’s heart like nothing else.
Adrian was one of the loudest in the audience upon each and every one of Vincet’s many victories. Oh, Adrian could have joined the duels himself and made a name, but there was no point in seeking glory that was guaranteed in other venues. His own fame would come in no time. Tonight, today, Adrian simply took pride in his love's wins. Although saying that, Adrian’s applause and cheer were simplified to just applause. He did not hoot. He did not holler. It was not his nature. But his palms stung from the passionate applause just eyes would not be able to appreciate.
Soon enough, the pair were in a romantic venue by the river snacking on the nauseously sweet turnovers.
Sadly, the marriage conversation was just as retching as the sweets. So much competition would have to be eliminated. “I’ll admit, I’m glad to hear that you are not engaged as of yet. My father is similarly practically minded… so I feel a kinship knowing that both you and I are going into our futures un-ringed and into the unknown. I’m sure we will both find partners equal to our worth… and equal to what our fathers expect from us. Perhaps even true happiness is on that path as well."
Vincent was the only one worth Adrian’s time, so clearly Adrian was worth Vincent’s time. Of course, they could not be wed, but Adrian’s younger sister was a sap who would marry anyone Adrian asked her to, so her female hand would take Adrian’s place under the wedding altar. After that, besides one night of impregnation, all would be perfect for the princes. Equals would have found ways to indirectly wed their equal despite foolish society expecting them to stay apart. Vincent’s land having so many resources was just the key to it all happening as Adrian dreamed and planned.
Considering the situation and flow of conversation, Adrian decided to open up about his father's motives in sending him here. “My father had no intention of sending me here initially… but he thought that being here would make it easier to wed my younger sisters. I’m more here to act as a matchmaker than to learn, to be honest. It’s been hard to overcome my own desires in favor of his alliance-seeking expectations.”
Smiling, Adrian admitted a truth the single Vincent would only realize the true depth of after over a year of no-contact with this young lord. “I adapt well though. In the end, I always find a way to please myself as well as my family. All it takes is a bit of creative thinking. “
“One day you will see me obtain the perfect future I’m crafting for myself”
Last edited:
Kekse
Drifter
"Happiness would definitely be nice," Vincent nodded, finishing his turnover and rinsing his fingers in the water. He settled back against a tree and sighed. "I don't forsee it being part of my future, however. There's very unlikely to be a female companion who will catch my attention in the way expected." The prince shot Adrian a meaningful look, knowing his conversation companion would catch the real meaning behind his words. But a female companion was what he would be required to take, so a female companion would be what he took. Such things were required for an unbroken ancestral chain, after all.
His eyebrow raised slightly at Adrian's admission, though some part of him found it unsurprising. Such things weren't uncommon at the Academy. Every kingdom did its best to claw and scratch its way to the top, even if that meant using their sons and daughters as pawns. "I see. Meanwhile, I have been here for more years than any other noble...I'm expected to be a perfect ruler, you know? Perfectly trained, perfectly intelligent, perfectly prepared. My father would probably keep me here until the day he died if the Academy would allow it. Thank the Gods that I'm finally of an age where I must graduate." He cocked his head slightly and gave Adrian a cheeky grin.
"You always have managed to get your own way." Vincent raised his arms in a gesture of showing off all his new belongings he'd insisted he didn't need and chuckled. "Case and point. There's no real reason you couldn't both find fitting husbands for your sisters and learn all of the things the academy has to offer. It's not like the king could demand you take no classes and simply socialize with the other princes." Besides, it wasn't like their fathers were at the academy with them. In some ways, being here was a relief. Even if it did get a bit bothersome after enough years.
"I have no doubt that you're correct. You've always seemed like the kind of man who accepts no fate but that which he makes for himself." The prince turned toward his friend and sighed. "It's getting late. I thank you for all of the gifts and your company, but I should retire soon for the evening. There is still much to do before the graduation ceremony, after all." Stretching, Vincent let out a yawn and hauled himself up from the mossy bank before reaching out a hand to help Adrian to his own feet. He ambled slowly toward the residence halls with a smile on his face. All in all, it had turned out to be a rather pleasant day.
By the time Vincent had carefully stored his new belongings, the true level of his exhaustion was beginning to hit. Or, perhaps, the effect of a sugar crash. Either way, he collapsed into bed and was soon snoring with the first smile which had graced his face in many nights.
~~~
Of all the 'lasts' which Vincent knew he'd be facing, it was the last fencing class which the prince found weighing heavily on his heart. He sidled up to the weapon stand and selected his old friend, running his fingers up and down the well-worn grip with a wistful expression on his face. "I guess this will be our final dance together, my trusty companion," he mused, giving the blade a swish before stepping out onto the sparring floor.
To his surprise, he was almost immediately set upon by the majority of his 'friends.' They circled him with their swords in their hands, clamoring to be the first to take him on. While Vincent immediately assumed they must have gotten over whatever slight they'd felt by his refusal to fund their exploits, he couldn't have been further from the truth.
Really, the group of nobles felt this was their chance to put Vincent in his place.
He and a particularly rat-faced young man named Tobias stepped into the circle, swords drawn and protective gear in place. When the bell rang, they began their dance. Tobias immediately forwent the usual steps which the Academy taught and leapt forward with an aggressive thrust. Thankfully Vincent had excellent reflexes and deflected the sword with ease. Again Tobias went on the offensive, trying to push Vincent backwards out of the ring. But Vincent merely dodged and weaved, his feet barely seeming to touch the ground as he spun around his opponent. He bode his time until Tobias made a particularly rash swing and left his entire right side exposed. Vincent took the opening and stopped with the tip of his blade pressed firmly into the padding covering the other noble's armpit.
Tobias stumbled out of the circle with fire in his eyes, only to be pushed aside by a strapping young lad named Marcus. Marcus easily outweighed Vincent by fifty pounds and towered a good six inches over him. He held his sword in a threatening pose and barely waited for the bell to begin his onslaught. Again and again the larger man attacked Vincent, his blows causing Vincent's muscles to shiver with exertion. It was harder to maneuver around the large man without stepping outside the circle, but Vincent took advantage of his speed and managed to slip beneath Marcus's arm as he raised it for another attack. This allowed Vincent to go for a back finishing move; however, Marcus was swifter on his feet than Vincent expected and whirled around like a spinning storm, the glittering blade in his hand held at neck-level. Vincent narrowly managed to dodge the strip of metal coming straight at his throat, though it sliced through his face protection despite the dulled blade.
The bell rang to end the round and Vincent stepped out, removing his head protection to wipe the sweat from his brow. "You guys really aren't giving me an easy time today," he laughed. "Careful though, Marcus. You could have done some real damage with that wild spin swing! Good thing I'm as fast as I am!"
"Yeah, good thing," Marcus growled, rolling the handle of his sword in his hand. "Good thing, indeed."
His eyebrow raised slightly at Adrian's admission, though some part of him found it unsurprising. Such things weren't uncommon at the Academy. Every kingdom did its best to claw and scratch its way to the top, even if that meant using their sons and daughters as pawns. "I see. Meanwhile, I have been here for more years than any other noble...I'm expected to be a perfect ruler, you know? Perfectly trained, perfectly intelligent, perfectly prepared. My father would probably keep me here until the day he died if the Academy would allow it. Thank the Gods that I'm finally of an age where I must graduate." He cocked his head slightly and gave Adrian a cheeky grin.
"You always have managed to get your own way." Vincent raised his arms in a gesture of showing off all his new belongings he'd insisted he didn't need and chuckled. "Case and point. There's no real reason you couldn't both find fitting husbands for your sisters and learn all of the things the academy has to offer. It's not like the king could demand you take no classes and simply socialize with the other princes." Besides, it wasn't like their fathers were at the academy with them. In some ways, being here was a relief. Even if it did get a bit bothersome after enough years.
"I have no doubt that you're correct. You've always seemed like the kind of man who accepts no fate but that which he makes for himself." The prince turned toward his friend and sighed. "It's getting late. I thank you for all of the gifts and your company, but I should retire soon for the evening. There is still much to do before the graduation ceremony, after all." Stretching, Vincent let out a yawn and hauled himself up from the mossy bank before reaching out a hand to help Adrian to his own feet. He ambled slowly toward the residence halls with a smile on his face. All in all, it had turned out to be a rather pleasant day.
By the time Vincent had carefully stored his new belongings, the true level of his exhaustion was beginning to hit. Or, perhaps, the effect of a sugar crash. Either way, he collapsed into bed and was soon snoring with the first smile which had graced his face in many nights.
~~~
Of all the 'lasts' which Vincent knew he'd be facing, it was the last fencing class which the prince found weighing heavily on his heart. He sidled up to the weapon stand and selected his old friend, running his fingers up and down the well-worn grip with a wistful expression on his face. "I guess this will be our final dance together, my trusty companion," he mused, giving the blade a swish before stepping out onto the sparring floor.
To his surprise, he was almost immediately set upon by the majority of his 'friends.' They circled him with their swords in their hands, clamoring to be the first to take him on. While Vincent immediately assumed they must have gotten over whatever slight they'd felt by his refusal to fund their exploits, he couldn't have been further from the truth.
Really, the group of nobles felt this was their chance to put Vincent in his place.
He and a particularly rat-faced young man named Tobias stepped into the circle, swords drawn and protective gear in place. When the bell rang, they began their dance. Tobias immediately forwent the usual steps which the Academy taught and leapt forward with an aggressive thrust. Thankfully Vincent had excellent reflexes and deflected the sword with ease. Again Tobias went on the offensive, trying to push Vincent backwards out of the ring. But Vincent merely dodged and weaved, his feet barely seeming to touch the ground as he spun around his opponent. He bode his time until Tobias made a particularly rash swing and left his entire right side exposed. Vincent took the opening and stopped with the tip of his blade pressed firmly into the padding covering the other noble's armpit.
Tobias stumbled out of the circle with fire in his eyes, only to be pushed aside by a strapping young lad named Marcus. Marcus easily outweighed Vincent by fifty pounds and towered a good six inches over him. He held his sword in a threatening pose and barely waited for the bell to begin his onslaught. Again and again the larger man attacked Vincent, his blows causing Vincent's muscles to shiver with exertion. It was harder to maneuver around the large man without stepping outside the circle, but Vincent took advantage of his speed and managed to slip beneath Marcus's arm as he raised it for another attack. This allowed Vincent to go for a back finishing move; however, Marcus was swifter on his feet than Vincent expected and whirled around like a spinning storm, the glittering blade in his hand held at neck-level. Vincent narrowly managed to dodge the strip of metal coming straight at his throat, though it sliced through his face protection despite the dulled blade.
The bell rang to end the round and Vincent stepped out, removing his head protection to wipe the sweat from his brow. "You guys really aren't giving me an easy time today," he laughed. "Careful though, Marcus. You could have done some real damage with that wild spin swing! Good thing I'm as fast as I am!"
"Yeah, good thing," Marcus growled, rolling the handle of his sword in his hand. "Good thing, indeed."
Viper
One Thousand Club
“Oh…” Adrian first started, staring unblinkingly at Vincent at the confession. No woman would attract him? Ever? “How--” perfect, ”--difficult for you that must be. I had no idea your… preferences leaned in that direction. People’s expectations are hard to measure up to… especially when they ask you to indulge in something you find no appeal in… but know that you have a friend and confidant in me. Love takes many beautiful forms.”
“Perhaps you will marry someone who does not mind you finding company outside of the wedding band. Lovers on the side are perfectly acceptable in some cultures, assuming no offspring are produced. There is no reason to give up on joy… or love… just because of a political marriage.”
This truly was perfect. Vincent didn’t even like women. They were destined for each other. Of course, they’d have to produce children in their official marriages, but one night of breeding was a simple task to accomplish. No different than performing a formal dance with unpleasant company. After the breeding, they could be together and content without conflict. Vicent falling in love with Adrian was looking more and more to be a solidified fact rather than just a daydream to chase.
“Happiness could be closer than you expect. Don’t give up on it," was Adrian's final thoughts on the sexuality matter.
At the talk of why they were here, it was strange to hear such similar fatherly demands yet different attitudes towards the school. “Your father would have you here forever while mine barely let me arrive… I think fate collided in order to let us meet.” Adrian pushed up his glasses, his eyes briefly blinded as the sun hit the glass. “I think we both can, or already have, learned a lot from each other. Were you not graduating, perhaps we would have learned more…”
At the talk of Adrian getting his way, Adrian smiled as Vincent showed off his gifts. He wasn’t wrong. Pushing polite, decent people into accepting and therefore feeling indebted to you was a rather simple task. Vincent being a bit more good-natured and naive only made it easier to create a sense of social and financial debt between them. A fine connection to build a solid, loving foundation off of.
“You wish to leave so soon?” Adiran started before he also noticed the time. “Ah, I see. How time flies when amongst fine company.” Adrian had started to get up on his own, but when he saw the hand outstretched before him, Adrian’s step faltered a bit. Was it shock at the exciting prospect of holding Vincent's hand or an act to make grabbing on seem more realistic? Not even Adrian knew. However, when the two prince’s palms clenched together, one didn’t let go right away.
It was only two or three seconds too long, but Adirna held onto Vincent before calmly letting go and saying goodbye. “Unless we next meet, my friend. I had a fantastic time today.”
~~~~~
Since the festival, Adrian was positively elated and in a buzz unlike he had ever felt in his life.
Vincent was single, into men, and now had no friends besides Adrian. It was all the perfect formula for a perfect future. Adrian’s younger sister would spread her legs for whoever he deemed worthy of the honor, and that would lock Vincent into Adrian’s life forever. After the spawn was born, they could be a couple while Lizzie raised the babe birthed from the loveless union! Perhaps she would even raise whatever parasite Adrian created with his would-be wife, leaving him free of children and the worthless wench!
It was all so simple. So potentially perfect!
“You’re distracted,” said Prince Yeven one morning as Adrian played with his food. Just another morning of heavenly thoughts far more important than any meal or words from a forgettable lordling.
“I am not.”
“You’ve clearly lost a bit of weight ever since the festival, Adrian. Ignore whatever is going on in your head and eat your breakfast.”
Adrian smiled at the concern. He hadn’t noticed the change, so Adrian’s smile was not one of appreciation but because Adrian was being condescending. “I’m perfectly fine, Yeven. I know how to take care of myself… but thank you for caring.” Adrian was just in a good mood for once, and those around him wanted to ruin that. Surely why else would they be criticizing him when Adrian was in the best mood he may have ever been since making his first cry on this earth?
If anything, Yeven should have saved his concern for the following, upcoming months. They would be the worst. Once Vincent graduated, Adrian would once again be lonely without the pleasant company only one could provide. But it was temporary. Like a cold and pain, it would pass, and all would be well afterward. Still, Adrian intended to indulge in his love as much as possible before that temporary inconvenience.
So off to the training room where Adrian found Vincent a bit too often for comfort.
Proving his paranoia, what Adrian saw as he entered the hall lit his blood on fire.
Stay away from him.
The thought echoed loudly and repeatedly in Adrian’s mind as he watched the pack of princes descend on Vincent. And it was not a friendly visit either. Was that better or worse for Adrian’s plans? Isolation was key to ensuring that Vincent relied on Adrian, so making up was unacceptable, but Vincent getting hurt needlessly was also unacceptable. What if he got scarred? What if Marcus’s dulled blade wasn’t as dulled as it was supposed to be? That cut through Vincent’s headgear proved that the paranoia was justified.
I may have to kill them to keep them away.
Killing them now, here, Adrian couldn’t do that. Shouldn’t ruin his reputation like that.
Later then. Unless they strike first, of course.
With long strides, Adrian found himself suddenly standing amongst the group of almost strangers. Adrian didn’t even remember walking here. And at some point, he had picked up one of the dueling swords. From where? He had no idea, but his knuckles were already white from gripping the hilt so tightly. It was getting hard to keep his breath steady, and lights were dusting the edges of his vision.
Adrian could blackout at this rate.
“You can’t bleed his wallet anymore, so you attempt to bleed his neck, Marcus?” Adrian said, his volume responsibly level but leaking vague hints of pure vitriol. Adrian would later admonish himself for letting this ounce of honesty out, and he’d admonish himself now for accidentally using Marcus’s name. They had never met before. Not directly. “The rumors about you all being poor must be true since clearly none of you can afford class or manners. Ganging up on one swordsman… Shameful.”
Getting into a fight really wasn’t the plan here. In fact, it would be better to avoid any type of physical confrontation since Adrian was so emotionally charged… but if it happened? Well, the headgear couldn’t protect Marcus from the hilt of a sword shattering his nose. And since Adrian would not be swinging first, the injury could be played off like self-defense.
It paid to have a flawless reputation in times like these.
“Vincent,” Adrian started, his restrained tone shifting to the pleasant one Vincent was used to, “It seems this man brought a sharpened blade here with the intent of harming you. Perhaps it would be best for you to address this concern with one of the instructors. Show them your damaged headgear, perhaps? I’m sure they would love to hear about it.”
Adrian had no shame. Snitching was a weapon he had used many times. It was effective and easy. Plus, these people backed down when their parents were involved. Perhaps a closer authority figure would have the same impact… especially an authority figure fully capable of also reaching out to parents if need be.
“Or….” Adrian turned once again to the gaggle of inbred wastes, his words bubbling to his mouth before he could stop them, “We can find me a sharpened blade as well and see how you fair against me?”
Adrian was a few inches shorter than Vincent, younger, wore glasses, and hadn’t even changed into his dueling gear yet, however, the younger lord was not one to be underestimated. Whether Marcus knew that or not, they would soon see. Vincent and Adrian were similarly skilled, there was no question, but ruthlessness and a willingness to kill had a way of improving one's chances in a fight. Adrian's father would rather see the corpse of another than his only son, so that was basically a free pass for one or two murders regardless of social or economic consequences.
“Perhaps you will marry someone who does not mind you finding company outside of the wedding band. Lovers on the side are perfectly acceptable in some cultures, assuming no offspring are produced. There is no reason to give up on joy… or love… just because of a political marriage.”
This truly was perfect. Vincent didn’t even like women. They were destined for each other. Of course, they’d have to produce children in their official marriages, but one night of breeding was a simple task to accomplish. No different than performing a formal dance with unpleasant company. After the breeding, they could be together and content without conflict. Vicent falling in love with Adrian was looking more and more to be a solidified fact rather than just a daydream to chase.
“Happiness could be closer than you expect. Don’t give up on it," was Adrian's final thoughts on the sexuality matter.
At the talk of why they were here, it was strange to hear such similar fatherly demands yet different attitudes towards the school. “Your father would have you here forever while mine barely let me arrive… I think fate collided in order to let us meet.” Adrian pushed up his glasses, his eyes briefly blinded as the sun hit the glass. “I think we both can, or already have, learned a lot from each other. Were you not graduating, perhaps we would have learned more…”
At the talk of Adrian getting his way, Adrian smiled as Vincent showed off his gifts. He wasn’t wrong. Pushing polite, decent people into accepting and therefore feeling indebted to you was a rather simple task. Vincent being a bit more good-natured and naive only made it easier to create a sense of social and financial debt between them. A fine connection to build a solid, loving foundation off of.
“You wish to leave so soon?” Adiran started before he also noticed the time. “Ah, I see. How time flies when amongst fine company.” Adrian had started to get up on his own, but when he saw the hand outstretched before him, Adrian’s step faltered a bit. Was it shock at the exciting prospect of holding Vincent's hand or an act to make grabbing on seem more realistic? Not even Adrian knew. However, when the two prince’s palms clenched together, one didn’t let go right away.
It was only two or three seconds too long, but Adirna held onto Vincent before calmly letting go and saying goodbye. “Unless we next meet, my friend. I had a fantastic time today.”
~~~~~
Since the festival, Adrian was positively elated and in a buzz unlike he had ever felt in his life.
Vincent was single, into men, and now had no friends besides Adrian. It was all the perfect formula for a perfect future. Adrian’s younger sister would spread her legs for whoever he deemed worthy of the honor, and that would lock Vincent into Adrian’s life forever. After the spawn was born, they could be a couple while Lizzie raised the babe birthed from the loveless union! Perhaps she would even raise whatever parasite Adrian created with his would-be wife, leaving him free of children and the worthless wench!
It was all so simple. So potentially perfect!
“You’re distracted,” said Prince Yeven one morning as Adrian played with his food. Just another morning of heavenly thoughts far more important than any meal or words from a forgettable lordling.
“I am not.”
“You’ve clearly lost a bit of weight ever since the festival, Adrian. Ignore whatever is going on in your head and eat your breakfast.”
Adrian smiled at the concern. He hadn’t noticed the change, so Adrian’s smile was not one of appreciation but because Adrian was being condescending. “I’m perfectly fine, Yeven. I know how to take care of myself… but thank you for caring.” Adrian was just in a good mood for once, and those around him wanted to ruin that. Surely why else would they be criticizing him when Adrian was in the best mood he may have ever been since making his first cry on this earth?
If anything, Yeven should have saved his concern for the following, upcoming months. They would be the worst. Once Vincent graduated, Adrian would once again be lonely without the pleasant company only one could provide. But it was temporary. Like a cold and pain, it would pass, and all would be well afterward. Still, Adrian intended to indulge in his love as much as possible before that temporary inconvenience.
So off to the training room where Adrian found Vincent a bit too often for comfort.
Proving his paranoia, what Adrian saw as he entered the hall lit his blood on fire.
Stay away from him.
The thought echoed loudly and repeatedly in Adrian’s mind as he watched the pack of princes descend on Vincent. And it was not a friendly visit either. Was that better or worse for Adrian’s plans? Isolation was key to ensuring that Vincent relied on Adrian, so making up was unacceptable, but Vincent getting hurt needlessly was also unacceptable. What if he got scarred? What if Marcus’s dulled blade wasn’t as dulled as it was supposed to be? That cut through Vincent’s headgear proved that the paranoia was justified.
I may have to kill them to keep them away.
Killing them now, here, Adrian couldn’t do that. Shouldn’t ruin his reputation like that.
Later then. Unless they strike first, of course.
With long strides, Adrian found himself suddenly standing amongst the group of almost strangers. Adrian didn’t even remember walking here. And at some point, he had picked up one of the dueling swords. From where? He had no idea, but his knuckles were already white from gripping the hilt so tightly. It was getting hard to keep his breath steady, and lights were dusting the edges of his vision.
Adrian could blackout at this rate.
“You can’t bleed his wallet anymore, so you attempt to bleed his neck, Marcus?” Adrian said, his volume responsibly level but leaking vague hints of pure vitriol. Adrian would later admonish himself for letting this ounce of honesty out, and he’d admonish himself now for accidentally using Marcus’s name. They had never met before. Not directly. “The rumors about you all being poor must be true since clearly none of you can afford class or manners. Ganging up on one swordsman… Shameful.”
Getting into a fight really wasn’t the plan here. In fact, it would be better to avoid any type of physical confrontation since Adrian was so emotionally charged… but if it happened? Well, the headgear couldn’t protect Marcus from the hilt of a sword shattering his nose. And since Adrian would not be swinging first, the injury could be played off like self-defense.
It paid to have a flawless reputation in times like these.
“Vincent,” Adrian started, his restrained tone shifting to the pleasant one Vincent was used to, “It seems this man brought a sharpened blade here with the intent of harming you. Perhaps it would be best for you to address this concern with one of the instructors. Show them your damaged headgear, perhaps? I’m sure they would love to hear about it.”
Adrian had no shame. Snitching was a weapon he had used many times. It was effective and easy. Plus, these people backed down when their parents were involved. Perhaps a closer authority figure would have the same impact… especially an authority figure fully capable of also reaching out to parents if need be.
“Or….” Adrian turned once again to the gaggle of inbred wastes, his words bubbling to his mouth before he could stop them, “We can find me a sharpened blade as well and see how you fair against me?”
Adrian was a few inches shorter than Vincent, younger, wore glasses, and hadn’t even changed into his dueling gear yet, however, the younger lord was not one to be underestimated. Whether Marcus knew that or not, they would soon see. Vincent and Adrian were similarly skilled, there was no question, but ruthlessness and a willingness to kill had a way of improving one's chances in a fight. Adrian's father would rather see the corpse of another than his only son, so that was basically a free pass for one or two murders regardless of social or economic consequences.
Kekse
Drifter
Vincent raised a hand and an eyebrow at Adrian while shaking his head. "No harm done, Adrian. Though I suppose it might not be a terrible idea to inform the instructor that Marcus may need more form classes before returning to the circle. Bad form can cause unwanted injury when sparring, after all." He was slightly surprised by the accusation that the blade had been sharpened and, while Marcus was distracted by Adrian, the prince plucked it right from his classmate's hand. "Hm. I suppose this is sharper than the standard classroom blade. I'll just take this with me while I go talk to the instructor so he can get after the man in charge of maintaining the practice swords."
"You really are the stupidest prince at this school, Vincent," spat Marcus, his friends converging around him. "How have you been here for so many years, and yet never managed to figure out that nobody likes you? You're nothing more than an open purse and a willing servant, and you have been oblivious to it your entire career here!" He towered over Vincent with fury in his eyes. "But now that you've shamed us all to our fathers and cut off our extra funds, we have no use for you."
The words seemed to dig deep into Vincent, each a new shaft causing physical pain in his core. Yet his spine remained straight and his head high while the other young men circled around him, seemingly intent on violence. But they had managed to forget they were in a classroom, and before any of them could lay a finger on the mild prince, three instructors appeared out of nowhere. "And what, pray, is going on over here?" demanded Ambrose, the head instructor for the day.
"Ah, perfect timing. I was just headed over to find one of you to discuss the state of the practice swords. This one was sharpened too much, I believe, considering it went through my protective face gear. Granted, it also flashed at my face far too wildly due to Marcus's poor form, and he may require more one on one instruction." Vincent handed over the sword to Ambrose, who examined the blade with a scowl. He showed the edge to the other instructors, whose eyes also darkened.
In the midst of the discussion with the instructors, Marcus and his cronies had retreated to the other end of the room. They circled like a storm cloud on the horizon, debating if they should leave before the consequences of their actions caught up to them. "Elden, gather up all the swords, please. We need to make sure none of the others have been tampered with. I'm going to go have a bit of a discussion with Prince Marcus and his friends. Prince Adrian, can you please escort Prince Vincent to the dean's office? I will meet the pair of you there to discuss what occurred."
Sent to the dean's office? On his last week? Vincent scowled, but nodded and accepted the orders. What had he done to deserve being sent away like a naughty school boy while his aggressors remained behind?
But he quietly followed the familiar hallways all the way to the quiet office where the dean sat behind his desk, shuffling through a stack of parchment. Vincent sat moodily in a chair near the door and waited, fidgeting with the handle of his dagger. When Ambrose finally arrived, he motioned for the two students to follow him and closed the door behind. The dean looked up and frowned. "Ambrose, what are these two doing here?"
"They are here to report an attempt at assassination, Dean Waters." Ambrose placed the sword Marcus had been using on the desk and gestured toward the blade. "This is a school blade, but it has been sharpened too much. And poorly. See the gouges there near the handle? I have Elden and Barnes checking the rest of them for signs of tampering, but it is looking like this was intentional."
The dean's face grew more severe with each word. "Tell me what happened," he demanded, looking at Vincent. "You're the boy from Armondale, yes? I've heard nothing but praises for you. What might have gotten the ire of your classmates?"
"I wish I knew," Vincent replied with a sigh. "Well, I mean, I have a suspicion. I stopped handing out my coin like a charity bank and those I called friends have proven otherwise. Today they accused me of writing to their fathers, but I have no idea what they were talking about. And Marcus tried to take my head off in class with that sword, so it seems someone else's actions have become my danger. Adrian simply came to my aid."
"You really are the stupidest prince at this school, Vincent," spat Marcus, his friends converging around him. "How have you been here for so many years, and yet never managed to figure out that nobody likes you? You're nothing more than an open purse and a willing servant, and you have been oblivious to it your entire career here!" He towered over Vincent with fury in his eyes. "But now that you've shamed us all to our fathers and cut off our extra funds, we have no use for you."
The words seemed to dig deep into Vincent, each a new shaft causing physical pain in his core. Yet his spine remained straight and his head high while the other young men circled around him, seemingly intent on violence. But they had managed to forget they were in a classroom, and before any of them could lay a finger on the mild prince, three instructors appeared out of nowhere. "And what, pray, is going on over here?" demanded Ambrose, the head instructor for the day.
"Ah, perfect timing. I was just headed over to find one of you to discuss the state of the practice swords. This one was sharpened too much, I believe, considering it went through my protective face gear. Granted, it also flashed at my face far too wildly due to Marcus's poor form, and he may require more one on one instruction." Vincent handed over the sword to Ambrose, who examined the blade with a scowl. He showed the edge to the other instructors, whose eyes also darkened.
In the midst of the discussion with the instructors, Marcus and his cronies had retreated to the other end of the room. They circled like a storm cloud on the horizon, debating if they should leave before the consequences of their actions caught up to them. "Elden, gather up all the swords, please. We need to make sure none of the others have been tampered with. I'm going to go have a bit of a discussion with Prince Marcus and his friends. Prince Adrian, can you please escort Prince Vincent to the dean's office? I will meet the pair of you there to discuss what occurred."
Sent to the dean's office? On his last week? Vincent scowled, but nodded and accepted the orders. What had he done to deserve being sent away like a naughty school boy while his aggressors remained behind?
But he quietly followed the familiar hallways all the way to the quiet office where the dean sat behind his desk, shuffling through a stack of parchment. Vincent sat moodily in a chair near the door and waited, fidgeting with the handle of his dagger. When Ambrose finally arrived, he motioned for the two students to follow him and closed the door behind. The dean looked up and frowned. "Ambrose, what are these two doing here?"
"They are here to report an attempt at assassination, Dean Waters." Ambrose placed the sword Marcus had been using on the desk and gestured toward the blade. "This is a school blade, but it has been sharpened too much. And poorly. See the gouges there near the handle? I have Elden and Barnes checking the rest of them for signs of tampering, but it is looking like this was intentional."
The dean's face grew more severe with each word. "Tell me what happened," he demanded, looking at Vincent. "You're the boy from Armondale, yes? I've heard nothing but praises for you. What might have gotten the ire of your classmates?"
"I wish I knew," Vincent replied with a sigh. "Well, I mean, I have a suspicion. I stopped handing out my coin like a charity bank and those I called friends have proven otherwise. Today they accused me of writing to their fathers, but I have no idea what they were talking about. And Marcus tried to take my head off in class with that sword, so it seems someone else's actions have become my danger. Adrian simply came to my aid."
Viper
One Thousand Club
“No harm done? An inch more and he would have--” Adrian cut himself off. No arguing with Vincent. That was a rule. If Vincent wanted to pretend that this was all an accident… well, then Adrian would have to bite his tongue or wait till the angel was distracted.
Perhaps that’s why when Marcus called Vincent stupid, Adrian bristled in Vincent's defense. Not because he disagreed, naivety and stupidity were basically cousins conceptually, but because there was nothing to be gained from Vincent learning not to trust others. It would make chaining Vincent to Adrian’s future harder. Not to mention the fact that it was simply a rude thing to say to his love.
And perhaps worst of all, Marcus opened his big, blighted mouth about his parents.
Such a worthless parasitic mooch.
Thankfully, the teacher, Ambrose, as well as two others, intervened at this point. A distraction to keep Vincent away from thinking about who would have acted in his stead and tattled about the group's mooching behavior. Even more thankfully, they saw the dark intentions behind this little “prank” without Adrian having to spell it out to them.
To hear his name brought up in conversation momentarily sent a wave of nausea to Adrian’s stomach before he realized the words actually being said and calmed down. This was no accusation. It was a simple request. “Of course, sir,” Adrian said, back to his normal ever-so polite decorum as if the mask had never faltered even a centimeter. “I’d be happy to. Thank you so much for addressing this act of aggression personally.”
“Vincent,” Adrian said, loving the taste of the name on his lips, “Let’s get out of here. I’m sure they can handle it from here.”
Once they reached the dean’s office, Adrian could tell that Vincent was upset. What emotion specifically wasn’t as clear to Adrian. Sorrow? Fear? Hurt? Who could guess. But at least they were with each other. “Don’t worry yourself, my friend,” Adrian stated quietly, his tone gentle since he didn’t know what emotion he was trying to comfort. “You did nothing wrong here. I’m sure this is just a formality to make sure that no global recourse occurs.”
The conversation was cut short once Ambrose arrived again. And with good news! This was being treated as an assassination attempt! Those idiots could be executed, or worse, disowned for this! Even when being pessimistic, expulsion and all the social dishonor attached would have to occur to make this crime even slightly right.
A smile dared to dance on the corner of Adrian's lips at the thought, but he hid it behind his palm as he pretended to adjust his glasses.
A look of concern danced on Adrian’s face as he sought to force himself into the conversation. To help Vincent, naturally. “I am Prince Adrian of The Kirron Empire. I can personally confirm, based on my own observations, that everything Prince Vincent has said is true. I have noticed in the past that the others took advantage of kind Vincent’s open pockets and today I saw the outcome of what happens when said pockets close.”
“As an avid duelist myself, I have become quite close to Vincent over the last few months, so I came to his aid when I saw a gaggle of people surrounding him. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a miracle no one died today. And the fact that even the chance of death was possible concerns me greatly.” Adrian raised his voice here, making a point, “Anything less than a public expulsion for the group, especially the leading man, Marcus, would be a complete disregard for the standards this school claims to promote.”
“Thankfully, I can trust that the official authorities are taking this as seriously as they should,” aka, Adrian is trusting the leaders of this school to destroy these stupid boys or else he’d loudly make sure that people noticed the schools in-action.
~~~~~
Sure enough, in the coming months, Marcus and the idiots who supported him learned that openly and violently targeting a prince, especially one with a dangerous shadow supporter, was a bad idea. The kids who were not pulled from the school “voluntarily” were publicly expelled. An attempted assassination was no joke, and the administrators of the school had no tolerance for anything that would mess with their global cash flow.
Sadly though, the day came that Vincent was graduating despite these hardships.
Adrian technically should be in the school for another two or three years, but without the object of his love, his affection, his obsession, what was the point of being here? After all, his mission was complete. Finding a husband for Adrian’s younger sister had been completed the day Adrian placed his eyes on Vincent. She’d spread her legs for any boy he told her to, and biologically linking Vincent with Adrian’s sister simply meant that Vincent could not escape the Kirron Empire. Adrian would always be there biologically in some way as well as physically.
It was all a part of the plan.
Six months from now, after Vincent thought he was free, his land would be propositioned with an opportunity they should not, could not, refuse. Adrian’s father had been convinced long ago.
Adrian would have what he wanted… even if the magical land of Armondale contrasted everything Kirron fought against.
Perhaps that’s why when Marcus called Vincent stupid, Adrian bristled in Vincent's defense. Not because he disagreed, naivety and stupidity were basically cousins conceptually, but because there was nothing to be gained from Vincent learning not to trust others. It would make chaining Vincent to Adrian’s future harder. Not to mention the fact that it was simply a rude thing to say to his love.
And perhaps worst of all, Marcus opened his big, blighted mouth about his parents.
Such a worthless parasitic mooch.
Thankfully, the teacher, Ambrose, as well as two others, intervened at this point. A distraction to keep Vincent away from thinking about who would have acted in his stead and tattled about the group's mooching behavior. Even more thankfully, they saw the dark intentions behind this little “prank” without Adrian having to spell it out to them.
To hear his name brought up in conversation momentarily sent a wave of nausea to Adrian’s stomach before he realized the words actually being said and calmed down. This was no accusation. It was a simple request. “Of course, sir,” Adrian said, back to his normal ever-so polite decorum as if the mask had never faltered even a centimeter. “I’d be happy to. Thank you so much for addressing this act of aggression personally.”
“Vincent,” Adrian said, loving the taste of the name on his lips, “Let’s get out of here. I’m sure they can handle it from here.”
Once they reached the dean’s office, Adrian could tell that Vincent was upset. What emotion specifically wasn’t as clear to Adrian. Sorrow? Fear? Hurt? Who could guess. But at least they were with each other. “Don’t worry yourself, my friend,” Adrian stated quietly, his tone gentle since he didn’t know what emotion he was trying to comfort. “You did nothing wrong here. I’m sure this is just a formality to make sure that no global recourse occurs.”
The conversation was cut short once Ambrose arrived again. And with good news! This was being treated as an assassination attempt! Those idiots could be executed, or worse, disowned for this! Even when being pessimistic, expulsion and all the social dishonor attached would have to occur to make this crime even slightly right.
A smile dared to dance on the corner of Adrian's lips at the thought, but he hid it behind his palm as he pretended to adjust his glasses.
A look of concern danced on Adrian’s face as he sought to force himself into the conversation. To help Vincent, naturally. “I am Prince Adrian of The Kirron Empire. I can personally confirm, based on my own observations, that everything Prince Vincent has said is true. I have noticed in the past that the others took advantage of kind Vincent’s open pockets and today I saw the outcome of what happens when said pockets close.”
“As an avid duelist myself, I have become quite close to Vincent over the last few months, so I came to his aid when I saw a gaggle of people surrounding him. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a miracle no one died today. And the fact that even the chance of death was possible concerns me greatly.” Adrian raised his voice here, making a point, “Anything less than a public expulsion for the group, especially the leading man, Marcus, would be a complete disregard for the standards this school claims to promote.”
“Thankfully, I can trust that the official authorities are taking this as seriously as they should,” aka, Adrian is trusting the leaders of this school to destroy these stupid boys or else he’d loudly make sure that people noticed the schools in-action.
~~~~~
Sure enough, in the coming months, Marcus and the idiots who supported him learned that openly and violently targeting a prince, especially one with a dangerous shadow supporter, was a bad idea. The kids who were not pulled from the school “voluntarily” were publicly expelled. An attempted assassination was no joke, and the administrators of the school had no tolerance for anything that would mess with their global cash flow.
Sadly though, the day came that Vincent was graduating despite these hardships.
Adrian technically should be in the school for another two or three years, but without the object of his love, his affection, his obsession, what was the point of being here? After all, his mission was complete. Finding a husband for Adrian’s younger sister had been completed the day Adrian placed his eyes on Vincent. She’d spread her legs for any boy he told her to, and biologically linking Vincent with Adrian’s sister simply meant that Vincent could not escape the Kirron Empire. Adrian would always be there biologically in some way as well as physically.
It was all a part of the plan.
Six months from now, after Vincent thought he was free, his land would be propositioned with an opportunity they should not, could not, refuse. Adrian’s father had been convinced long ago.
Adrian would have what he wanted… even if the magical land of Armondale contrasted everything Kirron fought against.
Kekse
Drifter
The remaining months at the academy were far lonelier than the prior years Vincent had spent there, but he also had more spending money than ever before. He stowed it away in his locked trunk and watched the pile grow, idly wondering what pleasant things he could obtain for himself after graduation. Once back at the castle in Armondale, the stipend would stop. Yes, only because he would be able to purchase anything he wanted...but he would have to explain each purchase to his father. Who knew when such a stash of unaccounted for wealth would come in handy?
Finally, the day came. Vincent packed the last of his belongings into his trunk and turned the key in the lock. "Goodbye, room," he said cheerfully while slipping the key into his pocket. The academy staff would carry the trunk downstairs to his father's carriage, so he simply left it by the door and gave the room one more final check before stepping into the hallway. He was dressed in his finest clothing, which included the fine silks his friend Adrian had purchased for him. Every inch of him declared his noble status and Vincent couldn't help standing just a little bit taller. Today he left behind the title of student and returned to his kingdom a wise prince.
At least, that was what he thought. 'Wise' might have been a stretch, but who was going to tell him that?
Graduating princes were to gather in the main hall before the ceremony began, so Vincent turned down the familiar hallway and passed room after room. Many of them had once contained 'friends,' now gone and never to graduate. His stomach felt sick at the thought, and even sicker as he remembered the message his father had sent him when he received the news. "Making enemies before you even ascend the throne? I suppose I will have to assign you a guard detail to meet you at the doors of the school. Your mother and I will be at the ceremony and should we see any of those ilk, they will not escape unscathed."
Which was not an idle threat.
The main hall was awash with the sound of excited voices and clanging armor. Those princes who already had personal knights back home were greeting their metal-clad companions cheerfully. These right-hand men would resume their duties immediately upon their lieges gaining their sign of graduation: a sword crusted with jewels and emblazoned with their kingdom's crest. Aiden looked around for his own knight, Sir Kearon, soon spotting the familiar face near the back of the room. Kearon was a tall man, a thick crop of black hair on his head and a chest as broad as the oceans. The knight's crooked grin spread from ear to ear when he spotted Vincent.
"Well if it isn't Vince! It felt as if you would never manage to reach the end of your schooling," Kearon teased as he parted the crowd easily and made his way to Vincent's side. "And it sounds like you could have benefited from this place doing away with the ridiculous rules regarding bringing your stewards with you."
Vincent clasped Kearon's hand warmly, though his face fell. "You heard about that? Who didn't Father tell?! It honestly wasn't that big of a deal. Besides, the school took care of the culprits right away. I wasn't ever in any real danger."
"Danger could be whipping you in the butt with firebrands and you wouldn't notice, Vince. It's a good thing you'll have me around from now on to ensure at least someone can see what's actually going on!" The knight shook his head and glanced around the room. "Well, why don't you introduce me to your friends? I think we still have plenty of time before the ceremony starts. Your father insisted that we be here early so he could speak with the dean." He pulled a face, which was echoed on Vincent's features. Of course his father would insist on speaking to the dean personally, as if Vincent were incapable of handling it on his own...
But he shook off the thought and instead focused on Kearon. "Yeah, sure. I'm sure Adrian is around here somewhere. He isn't graduating, but I doubt the non-graduating students will be kicked out until the last minute. We may not see each other for many years, after all."
The prince again scanned the crowd for the familiar face of his remaining friend, knowing in his gut that Adrian wouldn't give up this chance to see Vincent before they were forced to part ways. He had, in some ways, become Vincent's shadow since the fencing event, after all.
Finally, the day came. Vincent packed the last of his belongings into his trunk and turned the key in the lock. "Goodbye, room," he said cheerfully while slipping the key into his pocket. The academy staff would carry the trunk downstairs to his father's carriage, so he simply left it by the door and gave the room one more final check before stepping into the hallway. He was dressed in his finest clothing, which included the fine silks his friend Adrian had purchased for him. Every inch of him declared his noble status and Vincent couldn't help standing just a little bit taller. Today he left behind the title of student and returned to his kingdom a wise prince.
At least, that was what he thought. 'Wise' might have been a stretch, but who was going to tell him that?
Graduating princes were to gather in the main hall before the ceremony began, so Vincent turned down the familiar hallway and passed room after room. Many of them had once contained 'friends,' now gone and never to graduate. His stomach felt sick at the thought, and even sicker as he remembered the message his father had sent him when he received the news. "Making enemies before you even ascend the throne? I suppose I will have to assign you a guard detail to meet you at the doors of the school. Your mother and I will be at the ceremony and should we see any of those ilk, they will not escape unscathed."
Which was not an idle threat.
The main hall was awash with the sound of excited voices and clanging armor. Those princes who already had personal knights back home were greeting their metal-clad companions cheerfully. These right-hand men would resume their duties immediately upon their lieges gaining their sign of graduation: a sword crusted with jewels and emblazoned with their kingdom's crest. Aiden looked around for his own knight, Sir Kearon, soon spotting the familiar face near the back of the room. Kearon was a tall man, a thick crop of black hair on his head and a chest as broad as the oceans. The knight's crooked grin spread from ear to ear when he spotted Vincent.
"Well if it isn't Vince! It felt as if you would never manage to reach the end of your schooling," Kearon teased as he parted the crowd easily and made his way to Vincent's side. "And it sounds like you could have benefited from this place doing away with the ridiculous rules regarding bringing your stewards with you."
Vincent clasped Kearon's hand warmly, though his face fell. "You heard about that? Who didn't Father tell?! It honestly wasn't that big of a deal. Besides, the school took care of the culprits right away. I wasn't ever in any real danger."
"Danger could be whipping you in the butt with firebrands and you wouldn't notice, Vince. It's a good thing you'll have me around from now on to ensure at least someone can see what's actually going on!" The knight shook his head and glanced around the room. "Well, why don't you introduce me to your friends? I think we still have plenty of time before the ceremony starts. Your father insisted that we be here early so he could speak with the dean." He pulled a face, which was echoed on Vincent's features. Of course his father would insist on speaking to the dean personally, as if Vincent were incapable of handling it on his own...
But he shook off the thought and instead focused on Kearon. "Yeah, sure. I'm sure Adrian is around here somewhere. He isn't graduating, but I doubt the non-graduating students will be kicked out until the last minute. We may not see each other for many years, after all."
The prince again scanned the crowd for the familiar face of his remaining friend, knowing in his gut that Adrian wouldn't give up this chance to see Vincent before they were forced to part ways. He had, in some ways, become Vincent's shadow since the fencing event, after all.
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