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“I don’t want to be here.” Cale says.
His voice is low as he observes the crowd of extravagantly dressed people that flutter to and fro around them, but the words are clear enough for the person standing at his right elbow to hear them.
“We could leave.” Eruhaben says, making an offer that, on any other day, Cale couldn’t — no, wouldn’t refuse.
“Mm.” Cale lowers his gaze toward the floor.
The golden dragon, hidden in his disguise as a guardian knight, smiles sharply. Cale sees it from the corner of his eye. The look is so sharp, almost as sharp as perhaps Choi Han’s sword. It makes Cale want to shiver with such a look being pointed toward him.
“But, you won’t. Will you?” ‘Haben’ continues, sounding amused. About what? “It’s because this was requested from you by the crown prince.”
“That’s not the reason at all.” Cale complains, frowning.
“Isn’t it? Even though you always say the opposite, you’ll do a lot for that guy if he actually asks you to. Even if you have to go out of your way.”
“No. That’s something I don’t like doing at all.”
“Exactly.” Eruhaben’s eyebrow raises upward in a slightly smug way. “Which is why the fact that you will if the crown prince asks nicely is all the more apparent.”
“ Which is why I don’t do that.” Cale closes his eyes and turns away from the infuriating person beside him so that he doesn’t have to see the amused smirk on Eruhaben’s face any longer.
Closing his eyes also gives the boon of not having to look at all the nobles and servants in the ballroom either. They keep glancing at Cale, and the beautiful, golden knight standing beside him, and they have been doing so for hours already. It’s annoying.
“You fool yourself too often, unlucky b— Mm. Young master.”
“I don’t like hearing you call me that.” Cale replies disappointedly. He’s even talking about the second title, and not the first, which actually makes it worse.
“A knight should always address his liege with great respect.” ‘Haben’ says with a dutiful tone.
Cale frowns.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” He says.
“Hm? Which part?”
“Any of it.” Cale crosses his arms. “I’m hungry. Go get me one of the desserts.”
“I’m a knight, not a waiter.”
“‘Haben’ is my servant, isn’t he?”
Cale might be having too much fun with this, but if the dragon is going to insist on adhering to his role to such a ridiculous degree that he’s calling Cale uncomfortable titles, then Cale will do it back to him.
Eruhaben frowns, and Cale feels the corners of his mouth curl upward. He tilts his head back and gazed up at the ‘guardian knight,’ which makes Eruhaben frown deeper and glance away from him.
Cale studiously ignores the way the nearby nobles who have been watching them begin to chat and gossip a little louder and more excitedly than before. Obviously, Eruhaben is the most attractive person in the palace right now, but did they need to stare so loudly?
Eruhaben looks away from him.
“I will get you the lemon custard.” Eruhaben evilly says.
Cale blinks, struggling to keep a blanch from his face, though he feels himself turn a shade paler.
“I thought you didn’t hate me.”
“What? It’s your favorite, isn’t it?”
“No. You are a wise and intelligent — mm, person. Why are you being cruel?”
“I’m feeling uncharitable.”
“You’re a horrible guardian knight.”
“Young master, please stay put while I fetch you your dessert.” ‘Haben’ sketches a bow that is both graceful and almost as effortlessly gorgeous as he is, and begins to walk toward the pastry table across the ballroom.
Cale slowly releases a breath that is not quite a sigh but could be described as such. The arms he’s crossed over his chest tighten a bit before he purposefully drops his hands down to curl into loose fists at his sides.
He doesn’t like it, but Eruhaben isn’t wrong. Cale definitely wouldn’t be here if Alberu hadn’t specifically requested — or, rather, begged — that he attend this particular event. In fact, Cale thinks a short vacation, maybe a week long, to the Eastern Continent is a much better way to spend his time.
Unfortunately, Alberu had smiled at Cale in a way that isn’t his usual glib or scamming smile at all, and had said please .
Just thinking back to that moment, something that Cale had accidentally recorded because he’d thought Alberu actually had something important to say — just thinking about it makes Cale want to grab his head and tug on his hair in frustration.
“Commander-nim!”
Cale slowly closes his eyes tightly before opening them again and turning around. A tall man with dark brown hair and strong brows is smiling widely at him, dressed rather nicely if not as luxurious as the nobles that flood the ballroom. This man’s outfit is prim and proper where not even a young master’s can be, something that’s only a result of the military.
“Oh, it’s the Captain of the Guard.” Cale greets. He nods his head. “But, I’m not the Commander anymore. Please address me properly.”
“You must know, sir, that you will forever be the Commander-nim in the hearts of the men.” Captain Feintel says, horribly serious. “And that’s where it really and truly matters!”
“It’s not right to use a title that no longer belongs to me.” Cale replies long-sufferingly. “It’s a position of power that is currently unnecessary. Some could say that I am making an unjust grab for power, hearing you all still calling me that way.”
“Sir,” Captain Feintel says. His voice has turned rather grave in a way that speaks at how much he means what he’s saying. “I promise you that there is not anyone alive who would think such a thing of you.”
Cale wants to grimace. Instead, he smiles pleasantly and ducks his head down.
“Captain, I insist. My name is Cale. Please, do not make me say it again.”
“Haaa,” the Captain shakes his head, and with his eyes on the floor Cale cannot see the awed expression on the man’s face. “Ha! Sir Cale.”
Face turned toward down, Cale allows his mouth to twist in discomfort at the strong respect in the captain’s tone. That’s not a tone that should be directed toward trash.
“Mm.” He nods once. Then, he truthfully says, “It is good to see the captain doing well.”
“Yes, we haven’t met since the battle in the gorge.” Captain Feintel briefly touched a hand to the side of his left knee, where the lower half of his leg had been blown off by an attack from the enemy.
There is a new limb there, courtesy of Mary, but the wound had been grisly and Cale had been present when it happened. There had been enough blood to make him queasy.
It truthfully is really nice to see the Captain up and walking again, rosy cheeks instead of pale and almost corpse-like.
“You’re looking much healthier now.” Cale compliments honestly.
“Thank you. Please extend my gratitude toward the necromancer-nim as well. I truly owe her my life.”
Cale smiles. It‘s much smaller this time, but far more genuine simply because he’s happy. Moments like these are the rewards for the hard work that Mary and their other friends have put toward making the world accept them and their abilities as they are, instead of trying to change or hide themselves. It’s a really hopeful feeling that proves that what they’re doing is working.
“It’s good that you know that.” Cale praises.
Captain Feintel stares at him in a dazed way, and Cale spends just a moment wondering why before a strong arm wraps around his shoulders and tugs him away.
“It’s good to see that my wonderful dongsaeng is enjoying himself.” The crown prince says warmly, squeezing Cale gently with the arm Alberu has around his shoulders. He then releases him and steps back.
“I’m not.” Cale refutes, immediately. “I want to go home.”
Alberu clears his throat, a little obvious in the attempt to cover his snicker.
“You’re doing a fantastic job pretending, then,” he says.
“Pretending?” Cale’s confused, so he frowns. “What, that I’m having fun? I’m not pretending anything, your highness. I very much don’t want to be here, and I’ll make sure everyone knows by the end of the night.”
“Hyung-nim.”
“Hm?”
“Well? Aren’t we sworn brothers? Surely, you should call me…”
Cale narrows his eyes and doesn’t say anything else, so Alberu smothers a grin and turns away from him.
What a rude hyung, laughing at Cale’s misery. Maybe he should pick a new one.
Hm, but for all that Choi Han is strong and talented, he is definitely not as rich as the crown prince… Maybe, someone else?
Captain Feintel salutes the crown prince. His eyes dart from Alberu to Cale and back, a small smile playing on his face beneath his angular nose.
“Your highness.”
“Captain, please be at ease.” Alberu says kindly. “I just thought I would come and steal the comman—”
Cale coughs.
“—Ahem, the young master Henituse, from you for a moment if you don’t mind.” Alberu corrects, looking far too amused in the face of Cale’s annoyed glare.
Captain Feintel grins, sketching a deep and perfect bow.
“We were simply catching up, your highness. Please, allow me to leave first.” He bows again, in nearly the exact same manner as he bowed to Alberu, but this time to Cale, which makes Cale clench his jaw.
“Sir Cale.”
“Oh.” Alberu is nodding, looking appreciative.
Cale feels his brows furrow. “Please just leave.” He says crossly.
A wide smile that looks more like a smirk stretches across Captain Feintel’s face, and the man shares a look of amusement with the crown prince before bowing a third time to both of them — really, this is ridiculous, maybe Cale should see if he could get Alberu to ban the act of bowing? — before he finally takes his leave.
Cale releases a sharp breath of exasperation, and shakes his head slowly, totally ignoring the way Alberu’s shoulders are just barely shaking from his restrained laughter.
“Haben was mean, and now not only you but also the captain.” Cale crosses his arms and looks toward the two large, incredibly ornate doors that seal off the exit of the ballroom, guarded on each side by three knights each. Blocking his path to freedom.
He shakes his head. “I want to go home even more now.”
“I thought I was coming to save you,” Alberu says, leaning around him so that he can smile that beatific smile of his directly into Cale’s face. “So, actually, you should really be thanking me.”
“I wasn’t saved at all, so there’s nothing to say.”
“Wow, my dongsaeng is a cold one.”
“It’s not like you didn’t know already, your highness.”
“ Ahem .”
“It’s not like you didn’t know already, hyung-nim.”
Alberu’s already shining smile turns up a few more watts, becoming dazzling. “I would say that I know my precarious dongsaeng very well.”
“I would suppose you don’t. I’m not precarious, after all.”
An expression somewhat like pity steals across Alberu’s face, and the prince shakes his head lightly.
Cale is about to ask, but then he changes his mind and decides that he’d rather not know, so he closes his mouth and turns his back to the prince entirely instead.
All he hears behind him is Alberu laughing under his breath. He closes his eyes and wishes with even more fervor that he’d just stayed home.
The record of Alberu saying please plays, unbidden, once again in his mind, and Cale gnashes his teeth in effort to make it go away. Except he can’t, and it will stay there forever, and he’ll always be faced forever with the day that he soundly lost to the crown prince.
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Why?” Cale asks, sighing. He really does feel defeated. “Why does everyone say that? I’m actually not.”
Eruhaben tilts his head. The dragon observes him with a sharp, golden-eyes stare. He has a plate with a slice of cake balanced in one hand, the other placed on his hip.
“I was being sarcastic,” he says.
“Thank you.”
Cale thanks him, relieved. If he had been serious about how Cale apparently looked like he actually wanted to be here, Cale wasn’t sure what he’d have done.
He glances at the plate in Eruhaben’s hands. “That’s not lemon.”
“Why would he get you lemon?” Alberu asks from over Cale’s shoulder. “You hate lemon.”
He speaks quietly, as if he’s sharing some big secret.
Cale can’t understand at all, but he also refuses to ask, so he supposes he’ll never know, but Alberu and Eruhaben and Ron as well as Beacrox all know about his aversion to bitter things, and yet pretend the opposite is true, going as far as to convince everyone else that Cale actually loves it.
Maybe it’s a prank? Anyway, it’s horrible, and Cale wishes they’d stop.
Despite wishing they’d stop, though, he actually doesn’t care enough to ask them to. Cale dislikes complaining about food as much as he dislikes not having it.
Maybe they find it fun? If that’s true, then he doesn’t really mind it.
“It’s raspberry.” Eruhaben says.
Cale accepts the plate from him with great relief filling his chest. He smiles at the dragon and thanks him, before taking the fork and tasting the cake.
“It’s good.” He says, happiness bursting in his chest.
Not as good as Beacrox’s, but for a palace chef this is quite good. He takes another bite and closes his eyes to savor it. It’s really good.
Cale’s so absorbed with admiring the fluffy texture of the cake that he doesn’t notice the way that Eruhaben and Alberu both quietly observe him. They watch without saying anything as Cale slowly but steadily eats the entire slice, savoring each bite, and a calm and serene expression is on both of their faces.
Cale places the fork down on the empty plate once he’s done, and looks up. He finally notices that his companions are staring, and he frowns.
“What is it?”
“For someone who can be so precarious, you’re frankly very easy to please.” Eruhaben says.
A breathtaking smile is immediately on Alberu’s mouth, and Cale scowls.
“I’m not precarious.” He says. “Why do you say that, too? I’m not.”
“It’s two against one, and probably many more than just two.” Alberu looks like he’s won something. “Just accept that I’m right.”
“I won’t.” Cale’s had enough of Alberu winning. “Since both of you seem to share such ridiculous thoughts, then I guess you can accompany each other tonight. I’ll be over by the dessert table. Don’t bother me.”
“Ron said to make sure you don’t eat too many sweets before dinner.” Eruhaben says quietly.
“I won’t. I’ll only eat a little.”
“Don’t drink too much.”
Cale’s mouth twists downward.
“You know I can’t.” He says dully. “Fine, I’m leaving.”
He ignores the entertained looks on the dragon’s and prince’s faces and walks away.
He gets a few minutes of blessed silence at the dessert table, enjoying two of his favorite things; sweets, and doing nothing.
It isn’t long, however, before Cale is approached by yet another person looking for conversation. It’s simply inevitable, at a function such as a palace ball full of nobles.
Look, there’s one now.
Cale almost closes his eyes to despair alone, but manages to keep them open by sheer force of will.
“It’s an honor to be able to meet the notable Commander-nim.”
The young man now in front of him demures. He sketches a neat bow and raises out of it steadily, looking graceful the entire while. A confident expression just shy of smug is settled on his aristocratic face.
“My name is Jasim Veltouré, of the Veltouré Territory.”
Cale blinks slowly. “The Marquis.”
“Yes, that’s me.” Jasim Veltouré, who is clearly around the same age as Cale Henituse, replies.
Maybe it’s not his place to think so, considering he himself was the Commander of Roan’s army just as he became an adult, but it still strikes Cale as somewhat surprising that Jasim is already the lord of his territory.
Not that it’s any of his business to know the details behind it. Just because Cale doesn’t want to be at this event doesn’t mean he’s going to throw a tantrum about it and be rude for no reason.
Jasim Veltouré looks Cale up and down very slowly, and says, “Commander-nim is much more beautiful in person. The rumors do not do him justice.”
“My name,” Cale sighs, choosing to ignore the comment about his looks because he is feeling a little bit done with everything right now, “is not ‘Commander-nim.’ I keep having to say so.”
Marquis Veltouré tilts his head. He looks Cale in the eyes, and shrugs in a singular, smooth motion.
“I apologize, Commander Cale.”
Cale frowns, but doesn’t say anything else. Maybe he should just give up? It’s annoying though.
Marquis Veltouré nods lightly and looks away from him. He casts a gaze across the hall that bustles with nobles who are all pushing and shoving at each other verbally and pretending to be friends with their own enemies, and laughs. It’s a cool sound, like icy water over smooth rocks in a stream.
“Tonight is very lively, don’t you think? An appropriate turnout for such an important event.”
Cale’s mood sours. This ball had been announced in his honor, after all. He’s still frustrated with Alberu over it. Even if the ball itself wasn’t being thrown to celebrate Cale — that would be even worse — the fact that his name had been used at all just to stir up interest was practically an insult for someone who would rather hide at home and do nothing.
“Don’t you think?”
“No,” Cale says honestly. He closes his eyes. “I would have rather stayed at home.”
“I see, yes.” Marquis Veltouré hums.
Cale opens his eyes to see that the Marquis is staring at him with an expression of slight amusement and pity.
“That’s right,” he says. “You came straight from the battlefield to the capital. You must care greatly for your royal sworn brother. When is the last time you returned to the Henituse Territory?”
“Hyung-nim is the shining light of the kingdom. As his dongsaeng and, more importantly, a proud citizen of Roan, isn’t it my duty to stand by him?” Cale says immediately. It’s mostly on instinct at this point.
He quickly turns off the simpering act and narrows his eyes at the noble before him. “Also, is it your business to know?”
Marquis Veltouré chuckles a little. He shrugs again, making the action seem somewhat easygoing.
In fact, every motion Jasim Veltouré makes is a little bit too suave and calculatedly smooth to be genuine. Cale finds it a little suspicious, but is it actually possible for a person’s body language to be like that naturally?
However, he had never met Jasim Veltouré until now, so it’s likely that this is just how the young Marquis is.
“Since Commander Cale is a shy person that prefers to keep to himself, I will leave him be, for now.” Marquis Veltouré dips forward into a bow, the motion as easy-going as every other action he’s taken.
As he is about to rise, though, Marquis Veltouré reaches out and smoothly captures one of Cale’s hands with his, and brings it toward his face. He tilts his head down and kisses the air above Cale’s knuckles, before releasing his hand and taking a step back.
It all happens so smoothly, and so quickly, that Cale stands there for a moment unsure of what just happened. Finally, he snatches his hand away and holds it behind his back, feeling a little shocked.
“I will leave first, then.” Jasim Veltouré says, a small smirk playing at his lips as he dismisses himself.
Cale is silent. He frowns after the man, who is only a little taller than Cale himself is. Finally, he raises his hands and touches the corners of his mouth, feeling his frown.
“I’m not shy, though?”
He turns his attention back toward the dessert table. Because he’s distracted with the various cakes and delicate pastries arranged so perfectly on the table, Cale doesn’t catch the frowns on the faces of both Alberu and Eruhaben as their gazes follow Jasim Veltouré’s path across the ballroom.
“Commander-nim.”
A servant with a youthful face peeks at him from the corner of his eyes as he passes by where Cale is standing. He’s holding a silver platter with a number of identical wine glasses arranged on it’s flat surface, and he tilts the platter just so to offer one to Cale.
“It’s the finest the palace has to offer.” The servant smiles cheerfully even underneath the calm facade he and every other servant are meant to wear while working. “It’s only, the Commander-nim was looking somewhat fatigued.”
“Ah, yes.” Cale snatched up one of the flutes off the tray. “Thank you.”
The way that the eyes of some of the people watching him widen slightly in wariness the moment his hand comes into contact with the wine makes Cale want to smile. So, there are still those who think of him as his previous trashy self within the kingdom, even after all those ridiculous stories about heroism and silver shields? It’s refreshing to see.
“Will the Commander-nim be wanting more?” The servant asks.
“Later.” Cale says, already too tired to try correcting the term of address. He’d already tried three times tonight, he might as well give up for today. It’s not worth the effort.
The servant bows, skillfully balancing the tray so that none of the wine flutes wobble even slightly with the notion. Cale is somewhat impressed.
“This servant will ensure that the Commander-nim is served to the best of the ability of the palace staff.”
“Thank you.”
The servant beams, the calm and serene facade of a waiter slipping to show the excitement behind his eyes. “The Commander-nim need not to thank a lowly servant for simply doing his job.”
“Anyways,” Cale nods. He takes a sip from the flutes and enjoys the way the wine, rich and full, slides across his tongue.
The servant’s smile widens, and he bows once more before he turns and disappears back to his rounds of the ballroom.
Cale sips from the wine flute, finishing it in record time, enjoying the notes of fruit. A dessert wine is his favorite, it’s good of that servant to serve him something that he likes so much. Alberu must have trained his staff very well.
He spends the rest of the hours before dinner rolls out picking apart the desserts.
Cale is forced to eat a plate of actual food by ‘Haben,’ who brings it over to him and makes a show of dutifully serving him the plate at a far off table in the back, closer to the entrance that Alberu had arrived in through at the beginning. Cale was pressured by the approving stares of the other ball attendees to accept the plate and sit obediently. Not that he would have really complained, good food is something he likes best after all. It’s just the theatrical way that Eru— no, Haben, had executed the entire thing.
“I would have come over if you’d just told me, he mutters, feeling upset at all the stares his ‘loyal knight’ has garnered.
“Mm,” ‘Haben’ smiles serenely. “But it’s more fun this way?”
Fucking dragons. The legends all call them cold and aloof, but actually they are in fact cold, and attention seekers.
He finishes off his plate and returns to the dessert table. Not only are the desserts tasty, but Cale isn’t actually filling up on them. He’s not a glutton like the priestess is, even if they’d both starved in somewhat similar ways once upon a time.
It’s simply because this end of the dessert table is situated against a wall, and it’s a corner that hasn’t been incredibly crowded like the rest of the hall. It’s better to stand here, where less people are prone to try and approach him, than anywhere else in the hall.
What Cale doesn’t realize, is that this end of the table is as empty as it is simply because he’d been standing there all night, and most people found it difficult to approach the call and indifferent Commander-nim. Not only because the rumors surrounding him were larger than life, and he was the crown prince’s sworn brother, but also because when he glances at you it feels like he’s judging your very soul. It makes it hard for them to want to burden him with their presence, so they stay away.
If Cale knew this, he would leave and go practice even colder expressions in the mirror, in the hopes that it would further deter anyone else from talking to him in the future. Such a useful tool is something he would treasure. It’s just too bad that he doesn’t realize.
It would have been nice to make use of such a tool now, when Cale is beginning to feel the energy of the night slowly begin to drain from him. He’s already been tired before he came, but the hours of this event seem to stretch longer and longer the further the night goes on. At this point, Cale can already feel the hands of exhaustion tugging at the edges of his limos and making his eyelids heavy.
He blinks slowly, and takes another sip of wine. It should be enough to bolster him. There’s only a few more hours left before the period of attendance he’d promised Alberu expires, and then he can leave as abruptly as he likes.
Cale feels himself grow slightly excited at the thought of finally getting out of here and climbing into a comfortable and warm bed. Be it his own via teleportation or the bed in Alberu’s room, he isn’t feeling particularly picky right now. Either will do.
It’s somewhat late into the evening that it happens.
The servant from before has passed him a couple more times to offer a follow up on the wine, and a few other silver tray-bearing servants have caught on to this and have approached him with their own selections as well. Some of them bear finger foods like artisan cheese and small pastries, but most of them hold wine.
The reputation of the trash of the Henituse country — duchy, now — seems to have held up well despite the best efforts of the universe that works against it, Cale is pleased to see that his actions haven’t ruined it entirely.
One of the servants who have become more familiar over the night by now simply from the amount of times that they have come past to refit Cale with a new drink approaches him once again when he sees that Cale has finished off his most recent. The flutes are abysmally small, but he supposes it makes sense from an event organizer’s standpoint. It wouldn't do, to make it easy for the guests to get drunk and potentially cause an incident.
As the servant is stepping toward him, another pair of guests pass by on the tail end of their slow dance. The woman of the pair is wearing a dress that Cale personally thinks should not have been allowed, simply due to the sheer width of the hoop skirt. It billows out so far that it looks uncomfortable and probably weighs several pounds. Maybe the woman just has incredible fire and leg strength?
In any case, the man of the pair spins this woman around in a step of the dance they’re in the throes of, swaying to the music near-expertly. It’s not expertly enough, however, and they have spun a bit too close to the side lines of the ballroom floor. In the throes of the twirl, the woman’s bulky dress swings around and crashes into the servant bearing the tray of wine flutes.
There’s a loud crash, and the musicians at the front of the hall hesitate too long in their surprise at the loud sound. The ballroom is thrown into a note of discord followed by a pause that extends into a note of silence, almost as if everyone inside of it is holding their breath.
Cale blinks, and his eyebrows raise in surprise.
He glances at the ruby red liquid that’s dripping down the front of his waistcoat. For some reason, despite knowing that it’s wine, it really reminds him of when he uses the ancient powers too far past the point that they advise him to.
His fingers twitch. He reached up to touch lightly at his lips and chin in confusion, except that’s all dry. Of course it is. This is wine, and he hasn’t even drunk it.
It takes a moment for him to realize that the entire hall has gone so silent that anyone could hear a pin drop. He raises his eyes and finds that everyone is staring at him in horror.
The servant bearing the wine tray most of all — or, who had been bearing it, because now it’s all on the floor. What a waste of good alcohol, really. — is standing in front of him, bowed at the waist, and is desperately holding a cloth napkin up to Cale’s torso as if that will do anything for the mess.
The napkin is white, and it’s slowly being stained a vivid red.
“Ah...”
Cale shakes himself free of the still lingering thoughts of coughing up blood, and smiles a little uncertainly down at the servant. He lifts a hand and tugs the front of his coat away from himself, pinching the fabric between two gloved fingers.
All at once, it’s as if the small sound he had made was enough to break the silence. Furious whispers and exclamations erupt across the ball room, nobles shifted to stand closer together so that they can better consolidate their shock at —
“—my god, just look at that—!”
“—completely ruined—!”
“—coming in here just to shame the Commander-nim like this? He should be strung up and —!”
The servant has fallen to his knees. Cale blinks down at him, feeling startled. What’s the need with being so dramatic?
It’s only wine.
“C-Commander-nim…” the servant practically whimpers. He stares up at Cale with wide, terrified eyes and a quivering lip. “I am — this! This servant is sorry! So sorry, Commander-nim, I —”
Cale sighs, and feels a little irritated at how it’s apparently enough to drag the hall back into silence once more. Everyone’s eyes are on him.
The servant cuts himself off, and flinches as if Cale’s sigh was a hand that has slapped him. He bites his lip and gazes up at Cale with that still-frightened gaze.
How incredibly….
“Ridiculous.” Cale tugs at his shirt and sighs again. He glances down at the servant and shakes his head slowly. “Completely ridiculous.”
Silence again, not even the gossiping whispers from the nobles. The servant looks like he’s shaking. The floor must be cold.
“C-Commander-nim?”
Cale shakes his head again. He releases the fabric of his coat — the sticky feeling of the wine has completely drenched it and he’s starting to feel it on his skin, but there’s no use trying to save his shirt. Instead, he leans forward and grabs the servant by the wrist to stop the man’s fruitless attempts at wiping a handkerchief on the front of Cale’s coat.
It’s really too late to save it, don’t even bother.
“Why are you on the floor?” Cale sighs again, feeling tired. “Listen, it was clearly an accident, so apologizing like this is unnecessary. Stand up.”
Oddly enough, the servant’s eyes glisten like he’s about to cry. “C-Commander-nim…”
Cale frowns, feeling even more annoyed.
“Did you not hear me?” He asks. “Get off the floor.”
The servant doesn’t move for a long moment, as if he is frozen. He stares up at Cale like he didn’t even hear him. The only change is that the man is even more tearful than before. What the hell?
“—see that? What a kind and upright—”
“— is so just! That man has endless patience for anything, I swear —!”
“—stly, I’d have hauled off and beat the miscreant for pulling something like this!”
“That young master Cale is just far too kind for his own good—!”
Cale’s expression goes blank as he listens to what the nobles around them are whispering. Are they all stupid? Isn’t he being exceptionally rude here?
Jaw tightening, Cale bodily pulls the servant up to his feet. The man is slightly taller than him, but with the way he is acting anyone would think that he’s smaller.
“Enough.” He says firmly. “There’s no need to cause a scene over something that doesn’t matter.” Really, please stop causing a scene!
It’s the end of the night and Cale is too tired for this. Every time he blinks he wishes he were lying in bed already. This incident happening only exhausts him even further, and Cale now wishes that Alberu had never learned how to say please.
What good are manners if they’re going to end up bothering him in the end?
“Stand up.” Stand up, right now.
“U-Um.” The servant scrambles to his feet. He clutches the handkerchief, soaked red where it was once white, in his trembling hands. All that is white now are the servant’s knuckles, bloodless with how tightly he is grilling the cloth.
Cale frowns even deeper. He opens his mouth, but can’t say anything at all. Suddenly, the servant is bowed at a ninety degree angle.
“P-please!” He begs, too loudly. Ugh. “Allow, allow this despicable servant to fix his grievous error!”
“There was no error.” Cale sighs back. He is very irate. “Just a mess.”
“Yes!” The servant pops back up again. Where does he get the energy. “Please, allow this servant to escort the Commander-nim to a private room where you can change out of the—”
The servant coughs, head dropping so his gaze is aimed at the floor.
Cale raises an eyebrow. “The wine?”
“Erm… yes. This servant deeply apologizes.”
“I already said not to, are you even listening?” Cale says. He turns on his heel and begins to walk away. “I already have my own room. Take me there.”
“Commander-nim!” Cale wishes he never heard that damn word to start with. “Y-Yes sir!”
The servant scrambles after him, and Cale approaches not the large ornate doors at the front of the hall, but the door that Alberu had entered in at the beginning of the hall, the one that leads into the residential suites.
It’s difficult — no, actually it’s very easy for Cale to ignore the murmuring of the other ball attendees as they pass them by. Stares are annoying, but easily disregarded when he has something else to focus on.
Like the fact that, with this accident, Cale has a free pass to leave the ballroom early. He hadn’t realized it in the moment, but now that he thinks about it fully, Cale feels that his steps have become lighter with relief. Actually, he might have to thank the clumsy servant later for providing him this opportunity.
The two knights at the door scramble themselves around to open it for him and wave him on through. They eye the nervous servant behind Cale with narrow stares, but don’t try to stop the man from following after him.
Cale easily locates the suite Alberu set aside for him with a quick look into the record of the route through the palace. It’s unfortunately a longer walk than he wanted it to be, and by the time Cale is inside it’s rooms and stripping off his waistcoat, the wine has already begun to dry and grow tacky and sticky against his skin.
He pulls a face, turning around and tossing the ruined waiste coat on the floor. He begins to unbutton the silk shirt he wore underneath it, and remembers he’s not alone when the servant squawks.
“Hm?” He tilts his head. “Weren’t you going to help me?”
The servant’s face is red for some reason. Did that long walk through the halls cause him too much exertion? It’s weird, because Cale is weak and exceptionally tired right now, but even he doesn’t feel like the walk was that bad. In fact, the servant seems a bit more fit than Cale himself is, so shouldn’t the walk have been easier for him?
The servant shakes his head wildly.
“Ahem.” He says. “Ahem. This servant will go and find the Commander-nim some fresh clothes. Sir.”
Cale pauses, blinking. Mm, maybe it’s a bit too much to ask a stranger who doesn’t know him to help him with the clothes like Ron does back home. He sighs. He’d rather not, because it makes him feel iffy to acknowledge, but this makes him miss the butler assassin a bit. Just a little bit.
Cale pauses even longer, and really thinks about it. No, not at all, actually. He surely doesn’t miss Ron at all. Cale can handle his own clothes, he used to do it all the time.
“Mm, please do.” He finally says. “It’s fine if they’re simple. Actually, even casual clothes will do. I don’t care.”
“Yes, of course!” The servant crows, nodding his head vigorously. “The Commander-nim is as humble and just as he is noble!”
Cale casts him a long stare, absolutely perplexed and annoyed in equal measure.
The servant clears his throat one last time — was he catching a cold, perhaps? With one last bow, the man ducks back out of the room and disappears to go hunt down fresh clothes from wherever clothes might be in the palace.
Ah, it’s good to be alone.
Cale undresses himself and tosses the ruined clothes somewhere behind the changing screen. He wraps himself up in the white robe that is hung on a hook on the screen and settles himself down on the overly-ornate, gold-gilded couch of the sitting area.
Leaning back into the cushion, Cale breathes out a weary sigh. His body feels heavy. The tiredness that he was feeling earlier was likely compounded upon by being forced to socialize at an event he never even wished to attend.
Cale rubs the back of his hand into his eyes, wanting to groan.
Then, he does groan, because there is no one there to hear him, and even if there was Cale wouldn’t care. He really just wants to sleep.
There are a few books set on the coffee table that he’d been perusing the last time he’d been in here, so Cale picks up the closest one and begins to read it to pass the time until the servant returns with a change of clothes.
Maybe Cale should have the servants back home send some of his wardrobe to store in here? After all, he visits Alberu fairly regularly now… it might be smart to do so.
He’s about halfway through the book when there’s a knock on the door. Given that he’s not using record to help speed up the reading process at all, Cale guesses that about fifteen minutes of precious alone time. Good enough.
He rubs again at his face. His eyelids are starting to feel like they’re slowly trying to cement themselves shut, and Cale doesn’t appreciate it. It’s a wonderful feeling when he’s going to bed, but when he is actually trying to stay awake? No, struggling to stay awake?
“Come in,” he calls.
“The door was unlocked,” a voice calls back. It’s both familiar and also not familiar at the same time. Cale figures that it’s one he’s only just heard for the first time tonight, and he knows exactly who it is. “There are no guards outside, either. Where is that guardian knight you brought with you?”
“Something else that is likely not any of your business.” Cale boredly replies.
From the doorway that connects the receiving room with the sitting Cale currently occupies, Marquis Veltouré tilts his head to the side. He is leaning against the side of the doorway and has his outer hand folded neatly into the pocket of his perfectly pressed trousers. He has sharp, glittering green eyes that observes the couch where Cale sits with a stare that seems almost sloth-like. No, that’s not the right word. Gluttonous.
Cale isn’t sure the reason why, but the Marquis somewhat reminds him of the gluttonous priestess that resides within his head.
‘I’m way prettier than he is, Cale!’
He blinks, ignoring her. He ignores the other ancient powers as well. In the time that he’s had them all, learning to ignore their constant cacophony of peanut gallery-like comments and tirades has become second nature to Cale.
He easily ignores the priestess and tells the Marquis, “I didn’t invite you here.”
“I came on my own.” Marquis Veltouré easily admits.
“Some would call that rude.”
“Some would call me impolite, then.” Marquis Veltouré shrugs. He slips his hand out from his pocket and curls it behind his back instead, his stance loose and overly unassuming in a way that just makes him seem like an outlier.
Cale tilts his head over to rest against the back of the couch. He puts the book in his hands down on the seat next to him, and watches silently as Marquis Veltouré steps over to stand at the couche’s arm, merely three feet away from Cale’s knee.
“Why are you being impolite?” He asks, curiously.
“Pardon me for the intrusion, Commander Cale,” Marquis Veltouré says simply. “It’s only, I had a bad feeling. I trust my feelings very well, so I thought that I would follow up on it.”
“And it led you here?”
Marquis Veltouré watches Cale closely for a moment, and then smiles.
“It’s only a strange feeling, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir,” Cale says a bit waspishly. “I think you’re older than me, technically? Anyway.”
Cale turns to sit sideways on the couch and curls his legs up with him. He tilts to the side and rests his head against the back of the couch, blinking slowly. He lifts a hand up and stifles a yawn. The yawn stretches his jaw so far that it pops, but afterward Cale feels a little better. Even sleepier, but slightly better.
When he glances back at the Marquis, Jasim Veltouré is studying him with a close stare. He has taken a single step forward and is leaning down so that their gazes are almost level even though Cale is sitting and the Marquis is not.
“You seem very tired.” The man notes aloud.
“Because I am.” Cale admits.
He follows the word with another yawn, and this time his blinking is even slower.
The Marquis takes another step forward. He leans down further, until his head is almost next to Cales.
Then, he says very quietly, “I just had a very strange feeling, so I apologize if I’m bothering our Commander Cale with me being here. I just felt that I should say something.”
“Okay.”
Even though Marquis Jasim Veltouré gives off a vibe that causes Cale to feel a bit iffy, he is still listening intently to what the man is saying.
“I feel that our Commander’s instincts are also pretty good, so I was wondering if he felt anything tonight as well.”
“Mm.” Cale thinks back on the night, and has to agree. He absently rubs the crown of his head into the cushion of the couch’s back as he thinks. “It’s a little off. I suffered the feeling of being watched all night, and now that I’m finally alone it’s made me very tired.”
It’s to say, Cale wants the Marquis to leave so that he can be alone again, truly, and so that he can finally get some sleep.
He wonders where the servant who was suppose to get him clothes went? Maybe he felt too embarrassed for his clumsiness and decided not to come back.
Cale decides he can just sleep in the robe. It’s very soft anyway. He rubs his fingers along the sleeve, and then raises the same hand to rub against his eyes tiredly.
The stares of all the event attendees downstairs really and truly had exhausted him.
Marquis Veltouré hums, nodding, and then reaches out to place a gentle hand over the top of Cale’s head.
His fingers slide through the red strands with ease, and Cale peers up at him through his half-lidded eyes.
He’s just really, very tired.
“Our Commander-nim sure has been working very hard, lately.” Marquis Veltouré says lowly. “For such absolute devotion toward our great kingdom and its people, you deserve equally great rewards.”
“I do like rewards.” Cale finds himself mumbling back, caught up in his own sleepiness. “I like rewards where I don’t have to work and can just rest instead.”
There’s a slight pause.
The hand in Cale’s hair tangles among the strands for a moment, and then Cale hears the Marquis release a quiet breath above him.
“I’m sure something can be arranged in that manner.” The Marquis murmurs.
Cale doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but the man’s voice is right next to his ear suddenly, and Cale doesn’t see anything but darkness.
Hm. Maybe… he’s too tired?
“My.” The nobleman says, as if he’s reading Cale’s mind. “You really are very tired. Our poor darling commander.”
Strong hands help lower him to lie down on the couch, and Cale’s head comes to rest on a pillow.
A hand smooths back his bangs, and maybe if Cale was more aware, more awake, he’d have shrugged off the touch, but the Marquis is right — he is very tired.
Instead, then, he just relaxes into the pillow and thinks clearly that there’s not really anything that can actually happen to him here.
After all, this is Alberu’s house, and Eruhaben is also here. And the palace guards practically stalk Cale when he’s at the palace. He’ll be fine.
He distantly hears the front door of the suite click shut.
He wakes up to a feather light touch.
It travels from his collar bone down to his chest and comes to rest on the flat of Cale’s abdomen. It’s warm, but —
It doesn’t feel right.
Those are someone’s hands on him, and he doesn’t recognize the feeling of them at all, not in any memory or record.
It registers as being off, severely off, but Cale’s limbs are very heavy right now. His eyelids are even heavier.
He realizes quickly that he is not very awake — actually, he can’t seem to wake himself up no matter how hard he tries.
Someone is moving him and jostling him into a sitting position, and there’s a rough, calluses palm with long fingers sliding along the length of his neck to cup the back of Cale’s head. It’s a warm feeling. It’s something that should feel very nice and comfortable.
But, it doesn’t feel that way at all. Actually, it feels the opposite.
Cale realizes that he’s been drugged when he can only barely open his eyes.
The person touching him is the servant from before, who had gone to fetch the clean clothes.
He’s returned, now, but Cale’s mind feels too muffled and dimmed to really register what’s happening until after the servant has maneuvered Cale so that his back is against the couch. The servant straddles his legs and has brings both hands up to touch along Cale’s face and head.
Cale blinks sluggishly, and tries to make sense of this. It’s strange, just like the Marquis had said. Maybe he should have actually listened better to that guy? Because now, isn’t this…?
Cale lands on the idea that this servant might be trying to assassinate him. Is this guy trying to break his neck? Strangle him with the hand that’s pressed against his throat?
The servant rubs a thumb across Cale’s lower lip, and Cale wonders if he’s thinking about silencing Cale with his hand so nobody will hear him struggle.
“Commander-nim was so nice to me tonight.” The servant ducks his head down right next to Cale’s ear and murmurs quietly, almost warmly. “The Commander-nim is so kind to lowly people like me….”
Then, why are you trying to kill me? Cale wants to ask.
The servant presses a hand flat against Cale’s sternum. Cale’s heart is pumping very quickly in his chest, and the servant seems to feel it, because Cale can see his smile widen.
“Commander-nim is a naturally giving person,” the servant continues, sounding a bit like he’s lost his mind. “Surely he wouldn’t mind giving this lowly one a bit more. He won’t mind, right? No.”
It’s not really adding up.
Cale isn’t very strong, especially now when he is exceptionally fatigued due to the drugs in his system — maybe it’s even a poison? He doesn’t know, he’s having trouble thinking straight. His thoughts are almost as blurry as his eyesight.
He’s not strong, but he can still put up a struggle.
He twists underneath the weight of the servant and brings up both hands to push at the man’s chest.
The servant is larger than Cale, though. He is heavier. He grabs both Cale’s wrists and wrenches them up above Cale’s head. He pins Cale’s arms down against the couch, staring down at him with an intense look. His somewhat crazed smile from before is gone.
The short scuffle has caused their position to slide down. Cale’s back is pressed down into the couch cushion and he’s now lying beneath this assailant, gazing dazedly up into that intense and somewhat blank expression.
“Commander-nim,” the servant sighs out. “… Young master Cale. Please don’t fight me. You won’t, right?”
“Mn n .” Cale tugs at his wrists, but they’re held securely in the servant’s grip, pinned into the cushion above his head. His arms are beginning to smart from the uncomfortable angle that they’ve been forced into. “Stop.”
The corners of the servant’s mouth curl upwards.
“You don’t mean that.”
Cale gapes incredulously up at him.
What? He doesn’t mean to tell you to stop attacking him? Huh? Does this guy think Cale has a death wish or something?
No, it’s the opposite! He really wants to live very well!
The servant leans down and presses their faces close together. He trails the tip of his nose slowly along the side of Cale’s jaw and then pauses where he can whisper directly into Cale’s ear.
“Commander-nim…. I have you, now.”
Cale flinches away from the words and tugs at his wrists again.
It’s no good.
This servant is really too strong.
Well, actually, Cale is just really weak.
“Let.” He tries to struggle again. “Go.” But it’s the same result. “Of. Me.”
“Shhh, young master.” The servant doesn’t budge at all. “Someone will hear.”
That’s the idea, though?!
The servant tugs Cale’s wrists together to hold them down with just one hand. He takes his freed hand and cups the palm to Cale’s face. He forcefully turns Cale’s gaze back toward him.
That smile seems even more crazed now that Cale is looking at it point blank.
“You don’t want that.” The servant is still trying to convince him. “You like being useful, right, young master?”
No! That’s not true at all! Cale would rather be useless.
If he’s not useful to anyone, it will be easier to disappear when all is said and done, and the slacker life will be closer to his grasp!
So, actually, it’s the opposite!
“Get off me.” Cale says.
He is beginning to strain himself for breath. It’s hard on his lungs with this heavy guy sitting on top of him. Is he trying to crush him? Maybe that’s his plan?
“Comman—“
“Get off me.”
“Young mast—“
“Let me go !” Cale snaps.
He’s progressively gotten louder as, with each attempt, the servant doesn’t budge — in fact, he only gets heavier. Is it possible?
Cale is starting to feel a little desperate. He doesn’t like that feeling at all.
He frowns.
“Please.”
For some reason, asking nicely just makes the servant tighten his grip even more.
Cale’s frown deepens.
Whoever it was that said manners got you what you wanted easier is a horrible liar.
The servant bends over him and smiles so widely that Cale can see each of his teeth. He leans down and presses those teeth against Cale’s throat.
Is this—?
Cale’s eyes widen in panic.
Wait. Is this guy really…?!
“Commander-nim~“
Cale feels himself trembles a little. He writhes and tugs harshly at his own wrists, but he is still unable to get free. His heart is beating faster with each second that passes by and Cale is helpless to get out of the servant’s grip.
The man on top of him gives a low chuckle. Cale flinches when he feels something warm and wet slide across his throat. A tongue?!
This guy, really! Is!
A small sound escapes Cale, and he doubles his efforts in trying to get free, even if it seems almost impossible. Actually, probably impossible. But he has to keep trying anyway.
After all, he can’t allow himself to get eaten by a cannibal.
“No.” Cale squirms and twists. He fights himself lower into the cushion of the couch and kicks up his legs to slam a knee into the servant’s back. “Let — go —!”
‘Cale!’
For some reason, Super Rock sounds really crazy in this moment. It’s very odd, because he’s usually the calmest of the ancient powers.
Actually, the rest of them have been yelling loudly in the back of Cale’s head ever since he’d woken up. They’re too jumbled together to make sense of what they’re all saying. He can only catch bits and pieces, like ‘ tear apart’ and ‘ burn everything and then the ashes too’ and ‘ crush this bastard’s heart to paste’.
They’re all quite vicious. It makes Cale shake even worse.
Even so, Super Rock is usually the one voice of reason amongst his mental tenants. But now that guy is yelling just like the rest of them, and Cale can feel a tug in his gut that warns of the Super Rock’s power initiating.
Maybe that guy just really hates cannibals?
But with the Super Rock reinforcing Cale’s leg, the knee to the servant’s spine is ten times stronger than it would have been otherwise.
The man releases a pained grunt. His hand finally slips away from Cale’s wrists so that the servant can wrap his arms around his chest while he doubles over, trying to regain the breath that just got knocked out of him. The top of his head hits against Cale’s chin, and Cale accidentally bites down on his own tongue.
Just then, the door bangs open.
“In here, sir knight, hurry!” Marquis Veltouré’s voice is very loud. “Your liege is—!”
“Ah?”
A heavy pressure drops over the room. The Marquis is forced to go silent before he’s even finished speaking.
“What’s this…?”
The servant holding Cale down against the couch is suddenly gone, and Cale gasps now that the heaviness has been removed from off his chest.
He coughs a few times and turns himself to the side. Sputtering weakly into a palm, Cale covers his face with both his hands. He slides his legs off the couch and slowly curls himself around the edge, kneeling on the floor as he struggles to regain his breath.
“Doing something like that to my child while I am within the country borders… How very brave of you.” A very dark voice says, the one that had interrupted the Marquis so simply.
Cale easily recognizes that it belongs to Eruhaben.
It takes a moment to register, though, because… Cale has only ever heard the golden dragon sound like this once before.
There’s a loud snap, and a scream.
“How very… foolish .”
A hand presses lightly down on Cale’s shoulder. Cale glances up from between his fingers to find Marquis Veltouré kneeling beside him. Two palace guards are hovering over the other noble’s shoulder as well. The three of them keep casting wide-eyed glances over to whatever Eruhaben’s doing to the poor cannibal servant, but they don’t move away from Cale’s side.
It’s a little comforting.
“Young master Cale, how are you?” Marquis Veltouré asks in a hushed voice. Right now, some of the suave, level quality from before is gone. It makes the Marquis seem a bit more friendly and less sleazy.
Cale presses a palm flat against his mouth for a moment. He thinks about how someone had just nearly bitten into his throat and taken a chunk out of him quite literally.
He shudders when he feels the phantom sensation of teeth grazing his jugular.
When he speaks, the words come out in a quiet mumble because Cale’s mouth is not really moving how he wants it too.
“… Sleep.”
“Hm?” Marquis Veltouré studies him for a moment, and then his expression darkens. “Ah. He drugged you. That makes sense.”
“Of course it makes sense.” Eruhaben says, his voice still tightly wound and promising horrible things to anyone that hears it. “My unlucky child would never have left the ballroom without me if he had been in his right mind.”
Cale peeks to the side. His chaperone for the night, in all his Guardian Knight glory, stands tall and proper with a blank expression and vicious eyes.
In one hand, Eruhaben’s shining gauntlet holds the cannibal servant high in the air by the throat.
All of them ignore the choking and wheezing sounds that Cale’s assailant is making.
Eruhaben looks at one of the guards.
“Go and get the crown prince.” The dragon says. “Now.”
Cale wonders if the heaviness of the air is actually Dragon Fear, because the guard doesn’t even hesitate in lunging for the door to obey.
That’s a dragon’s natural demeanor, for you. Commanding, and used to being followed at every order.
It works out. That’s all.
Cale tiredly allows his eyes to fall closed. He lowers his head down to rest against the edge of the couch. He’s sitting on the floor, and it’s a little uncomfortable, but Cale frankly doesn’t have enough energy left to even move anymore.
Suddenly, Cale has the thought that he is very glad that the Marquis and Eruhaben and the guards had all come when they did. It had been about to get rather grisly.
He shivers at the thought.
There’s a feather-light touch at Cale’s neck, and he flinches.
He struggles to open his eyes, peering blearily up at Marquis Veltouré. The nobleman has snatched his hand back and is looking a little guilty, but there’s a flinty look in his dark eyes.
“There are teeth marks on your neck.” The Marquis calmly informs him.
Cale already knows that, so he just closes his eyes again and doesn’t bother saying anything.
He ignores the sudden crunch of bone that sounds from the area near the balcony window where Eruhaben is standing, along with the muffled shriek of pain.
“… Young master?” Marquis Veltouré sounds a little unsure. “Are you…?”
Cale turns to press his face into the couch.
He’s so tired. He feels like he’s never been this tired before in his life — which he knows is not true, but that’s how it feels.
“Ah. Mm.” The Marquis says. “Guard, when your comrade returns with the prince, go and personally get a trustworthy doctor.”
“Yes, of course!”
The time for the guard to depart comes immediately, because in the next moment the door is banging open once again.
Cale can’t help but relax when the sound of his sworn brother’s voice fills the room, demanding to be told what’s going on.
He might have dozed for a moment after that. The next thing he knows, he is being shaken awake.
Cale realizes he’s still sitting on the ground and curled against the couch. He must have only been unconscious for a brief minute.
He blinks his eyes open. It really is taking all of his strength to open his eyes.
The Marquis and the guard who had returned with the crown prince are standing a few steps back, now. Even Alberu, who is kneeling next to him, only has his hand lightly on Cale’s shoulder. Cale has to wonder a bit at why everyone is being so careful not to touch him so much
“Dongsaeng, my dongsaeng.”
Alberu looks a little crazed with a look like that, intense eyes staring down into Cale’s face.
He glances to the marks on Cale’s neck, and his gaze becomes even more turbulent.
“Cale, how are you?”
“…Not good.” Cale truthfully murmurs into the couch, struggling to keep his eyes open. Cannibals are kind of scary, actually. It’s a messed up thing to be, isn’t it? To eat another person? He shivers again. “M’tire…”
Oh. He’s beginning to slur his words.
Cale squeezes his eyes shut and turns his face to hide it entirely in the couch cushion. The lights of the room are beginning to get too bright for him.
“Mn.” Alberu makes a noise low in his throat. The hand in his tightens briefly before letting go.
Cale frowns. He reaches out blindly toward his hyung-nim and succeeds in catching his sleeve before the prince can pull away altogether.
There’s a moment of silence, before he hears Alberu sigh quietly.
“Dongsaeng.”
The crown prince sounds sorrowful for some reason.
Cale feels as Alberu carefully grasps his hand back, and the crown prince proceeds to hold it between both of his.
It’s kind of warm. A much nicer warm than the touch of the servant had been. This one feels actually safe, and nice.
Cale’s frown eases up, and he feels himself beginning to truly fall back asleep even if the position he’s in is uncomfortable.
He releases a small sigh of relief. Now that Alberu is here, Cale doesn’t need to stay awake does he? Even Eruhaben is here to help. Things will be taken care of without Cale’s input for certain.
There’s no need for him to do anything here. He can sleep.
He allows himself to fully relax, the final line of tension in his shoulders slowly easing up and disappearing.
Cale’s eyes are closed now, so he doesn’t notice how everyone is staring so closely at him. The way that they all clench their jaws at how, even when drugged, the young Commander had kept as vigilant as he could and only felt safe enough to drop his guard once his sworn brother the prince was here to exercise his absolute authority.
Marquis Jasim Veltouré presses a palm over his mouth, feeling a little shaken. He’d seen the way that the Commander had reached out for his sworn brother, even as he was barely conscious. Now, he can only observe quietly as the crown prince tenderly cradles the Commander’s hand in both of his with as strong a grip as he dares.
After all, like this, where he’s collapsed against the floor and curled in on himself, the Commander has never looked so small or fragile. Even when he coughs up blood on the battlefield, he still manages to stand up straight as if he is unaffected by the horrid pain that is surely tearing away at his organs inside of him.
Behind them, the guards tighten their grips on the weapons that they had drawn upon the very moment they realized what was going on in this room. They glare with a dark and intense hatred toward the servant that the golden guardian knight currently holds aloft by the throat.
How dare this scum of the earth lay a hand on the noble Commander? How dare he look upon the kind and gracious young master Cale with such thoughts in his head?
They can’t think of a single sin more unforgivable.
Alberu cups his dongsaeng’s hand between his own. It feels small, weak and cold, and that same coldness has taken over Alberu’s chest and body. He can’t stop the small tremble that causes his hands to shake slightly.
“I’ll be dealing with this thing here on my own, crown prince.” Eruhaben is saying. “I thought to at least let you know beforehand.”
“That’s very kind of you, Eruhaben-nim.” Alberu says, and the confusion from the Marquis and the guard is palpable in the room even if Cale’s eyes are closed and he’s halfway into unconsciousness. “Deal with it as you please.”
There’s a thump, and an agonized groan. A creak of metal and then a light breeze fills the room. Cale guesses that they’ve opened up the balcony for some reason.
Suddenly, he hears several gasps of shock and wonder from the Marquis and the guards. A light flapping sound like curtains is heard, and the breeze in the room becomes a bit stronger.
Cale turns his head to the side and pries his eyelids apart one last time. He activates Record just in case, and feels himself grow warm around the collar immediately. It’s probably because he’s been drugged that Record is taking so much energy right now, but —
Eruhaben still has the servant by the neck, and he is holding the man out over the edge of the balcony. They’re several stories above the ground — this palace is a grand palace after all — and the dragon has one foot braced against the balustrade to leverage against the weight of his prey.
Not that he needs it, considering the large and golden dragon wings that are sprouting from his back. With the beautiful armor, his long golden hair and fair, elven features, all bathed in the light of the moon outside, Cale is reminded of what a breathtaking sight Eruhaben has always been.
This… it’s somewhat of a balm to the soul, after suffering such an ordeal as tonight.
After drinking in such a magnificent sight as much as he wants, Cale closes his eyes for the last time. Because this time, he really is going to let himself succumb to the drug. He’s so tired.
“Ah, Eruhaben-nim.”
“Hm? Crown prince?”
Alberu’s voice is soft and dangerous when he speaks next. “Please be extremely unforgiving for the both of us.”
“Ha.” The dragon’s voice is equally as soft when he responds. “You didn’t need to say something so obvious.”
There’s a flap of wings, a strong breeze sweeping through all of them, and Cale hears the servant start to scream. But it grows distant very quickly, and he realizes that Eruhaben has taken the cannibal and flown away, launching straight off the balcony.
Ah, his guardian knight disguise is useless, now. Everyone in the Roan kingdom (and probably beyond that, even, given how these things usually go for Cale) will know about this by tomorrow morning. Word travels way too fast in this world.
Actually, he realizes as he listens with the last shreds of focus he has left, it’s already starting now.
“Young master Cale’s guardian knight is actually a dragon.” Marquis Veltouré’s voice is extremely dry and only a little shocked. He doesn’t sound as stunned as he perhaps should be. He even says; “… Of course.”
“Ha.” Alberu’s hands tighten around Cale’s. He removes one, and Cale feels himself being moved off the couch and pulled forward into a strong chest instead. Ah, that’s really warm. “My dongsaeng collects the strangest of allies, it’s true.”
There’s a pause.
“And. Those allies of his…. They would do absolutely anything for him, I’d say.”
“Your royal highness, I would say so as well.” The Marquis sounds thoughtful. “Young Master Cale… he has allies like that even within the crown of our beloved kingdom. Am I wrong?”
Alberu brushes a gentle hand through Cale’s bangs.
“Hm. Why ask a stupid question like that?”
Cale feels the last pieces of his awareness slipping away just in time to hear the door open a third time to admit the second guard with a doctor.
Hm, he’s kind of lucky to escape that part.
Art by my wonderfully talented friend, please check out @stroberineri over on Twitter!! ✨