34: Don't Let Him Rattle You

General Zarayan Sevei was a common man from a common family of merchants, mostly dealing in common household goods. Aside from a trip to the palace when his Generalship was conferred, he hadn't had much opportunity in his life to rub elbows with royalty or nobility. Like many common people, though, he couldn't help a bit of ambivalent curiosity about them. Waiting in the foyer of Tharlburg's municipal house, outside the closed doors of the great hall, he and Yanek both craned their necks to peek through a small side door that repeatedly opened and closed with the bustle of servants.

The municipal house was nowhere near the size and splendor of the Valeskan royal palace, but it was still quite a fancy place, all high arches with stained glass windows and stone columns carved with grotesque faces and leafy flourishes. Inside, the floors and walls were paneled with a dizzying, multicolored parquet design in various types of wood, and the place was lit with so many lanterns and candelabras that one might think they'd walked up into the starry night sky. The town's Mayor, a somethingth cousin several times removed from the royal family, resided in one wing. Another wing held accommodations for distinguished guests, and the rest was used for government business.

Their party had been received with proper ceremony, handed out of the carriage by footmen in brightly colored liveries and then escorted up the stone steps to the imposing front doors by a cadre of the Prince's Royal Guard. Sevei was immediately uncomfortable, having hoped for less formality. He tried to remember the protocol he'd learned at his promotion, but resorted to watching Yeresym and doing his best to emulate him, an effort now wasted as he did his best emulation of a goose for a peek at the Prince. He awkwardly jumped back into line as a rumble sounded and the large main doors swung open.

Inside the great hall, three tables were arranged in a horseshoe, with rows of extra tables outside of it. Across the head of the horseshoe sat three men, all dressed in voluminous silk tunics and brocade robes. The crowned one in the center would be Prince Rendrick, with the Valeskan Envoy and the Mayor of Tharlburg. The outer tables were already filled with people – the retinues of the Prince and the Envoy along with some of the Mayor's staff. The side tables of the horseshoe were empty, waiting for the military delegations of both countries.

Sevei squinted a bit, training his very perplexed gaze on the Prince. From the afternoon's revelations, he'd somehow expected a slight thing like the boys at the Aviary, but this was clearly a man of considerable brawn. He sat almost a full head taller than the other two men, with very long, tunic-covered legs visible beneath the table. If he swapped all his fashionable finery for a General's uniform, it wouldn't look out of place. Sevei tried to imagine what Anzen had implied about Prince Rendrick's business with Kyrzhan... and then tried very hard not to imagine it. He failed miserably at both efforts.

He leaned toward Yeresym, ready to whisper an inappropriate comment, when Yeresym suddenly turned around with a panic-stricken face, startling everyone, and pushed Meira toward Thelan.

“Lieutenant, get her back to camp,” he hissed between his teeth. “Now!”

“What's wrong?” Sevei inquired as he and Yanek crowded close to the others.

Caught between Yeresym and Thelan, Meira frowned. “The Envoy is his brother, Gendaran,” she murmured.

“The one we're getting you away from?” Yanek asked, his voice taking on Yeresym's alarm.

Thelan peered around Yeresym into the hall, eyes narrowing in anger, and tried to turn Meira towards the outer doors, saying in a lowered voice, “Let's go...”

But the Brinnish generals had arrived, their entourage crowding in and blocking the way. They were all looking at the Valeskan party now with some curiosity. Meira gently pushed everyone away from her and looked at Yeresym with a sigh of frustration.

“He's already seen me,” she said. “It won't do to disappear in front of everyone. Let's go in.”

“You don't have to...” Yeresym answered.

“I'll be alright,” Meira assured him, then turned to Thelan to repeat her assurance. “It's only dinner. Let's not invite trouble.”

Just then, a herald inside the great hall announced their party. Everyone turned reluctantly to the doors. Sevei's eagerness to get a closer look at the Prince had completely vanished. Walking ahead of him, Yeresym suddenly stumbled, wavering on his feet. Sevei quickly stepped forward and, under the cover of his own cloak, discreetly grasped Yeresym's belt to steady him. Yeresym shot him a half-annoyed but begrudgingly grateful glance.

“Don't let him rattle you,” Sevei whispered. “We've all got your back.”

Yeresym set his jaw and nodded before following a servant into the hall.

As they were first led between the tables into the horseshoe to be introduced, Sevei kept his eyes on the Prince, not wanting to seem too interested in Yeresym's brother. At closer viewing, Sevei thought that Crown Prince Rendrick looked exactly as one would expect a prince to look, if one hadn't seen many actual princes. He was dashingly handsome, with dark hair that fell past his shoulders, bow-shaped lips that curled with wicked amusement, and magnetic, charismatically intelligent steel-colored eyes that narrowed on Yeresym as they approached. Those wicked lips slowly curled further. Sevei glanced at Yeresym to gauge his reaction, but Yeresym was looking at the floor.

Sevei wasn't sure if they were expected to kneel or bow, this not being their own Prince after all, and he waited until he saw Yeresym give the Prince a military salute, with only a slight inclination of his head.

“Your Highness,” Yeresym said firmly.

Sevei and the rest of their company followed his example.

“General Urskatha, General Sevei,” Rendrick said, looking them each over in turn. His voice was like a sword wrapped in velvet. “Welcome. I won't keep you for much ceremony. I believe you've both met Tharlburg's Mayor when you first arrived, and I shouldn't need to introduce General Urskatha to his own brother.”

Now Sevei turned to assess the man in question.

Gendaran Urskatha was clearly given to making a show of his status, his stout form draped in layers of gaudily clashing brocade patterns and all his fingers stacked with rings in every color of gemstone. An ornately filigreed band of gold and rubies encircled expertly curled hair the same dull straw yellow of Yeresym's temporary coloring. His cheeks carried the ruddy flush of the perpetually aggrieved, and he wore a disdainful smirk that wrinkled the bags beneath his pebbly blue eyes.

Still, Sevei could see a very slight resemblance to Yeresym, but that resemblance only underscored the difference between these two brothers - one content to take leisure in the privilege of the family name, the other challenging himself to earn his own reputation through difficulty.

Yeresym gave his brother the same military salute that he'd given the Prince, but without lowering his head this time.

“Lord Urskatha,” he greeted in a polite monotone. Sevei and the others once again followed suit.

Gendaran's smirk mutated into an affronted sneer, and he raised his chin to look down his nose. Perhaps he'd expected more deference from his younger brother. He hmmphed and shifted in his seat.

“Yeresym,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt, “you're not looking quite your usual stalwart self. I pray you didn't harm yourself tripping over the doorway just now.”

“We've heard that you were injured in the battle at the port,” Prince Rendrick interjected. “You seem to be making a quick recovery.”

“Thank you, Your Highness, yes,” Yeresym said, turning away from his brother and giving the Prince a polite smile, “although it seems I'm not fully recovered just yet.”

“We were so pleased that it wasn't worse,” Rendrick added. “I have the utmost respect for you military men. What would our countries do without you? And I hear that your actions at the port were quite heroic.”

“It was only what I should do,” Yeresym answered humbly.

Lips wrinkling as if he smelled something sour, Gendaran dragged a judgmental gaze over Yeresym's figure until it landed on the cheap little cat charm hanging at Yeresym's hip. His beady eyes narrowed dangerously, then slithered past him to fix Meira with a cold stare.

Oh. Shit.

Sevei cursed himself in his heart as he realized that Gendaran might think Meira had been the one to give that to him, and that Sevei himself may have been the one to invite trouble.