33: If You Could Catch A Prince

In a small room at an inn just down the street from the Pearl, Sevei and Yanek helped each other into their elaborate dress uniforms. They weren't the sort of thing one could get into on one's own. There were a lot of accessories – tall, polished boots, fringed velvet baldrics pinned with all the medals they'd been awarded, various chains, cords, and tassels indicating their units' specialties as well as their ranks and sub-ranks within ranks.

Yanek had been quiet since leaving the shop, his mood seeming to vary between cheerful and pensive. Sevei gave him a sideways glance as he attached Sevei's cloak to his shoulder and draped it down behind him to fasten to the opposite hip.

“I hope Kyri didn't make you uncomfortable earlier,” he said. “That's just... how he is. He doesn't mean anything by it.”

“Oh, no! I don't mind,” Yanek answered with a nervous laugh. “He's really... well, I don't think I ever could, but if I had to, then he'd be... he's very pretty, isn't he? As pretty as any girl... is it alright to say that? I don't mean to...”

Sevei almost doubled over in laughter. “Yan, stop. Stop talking.” He turned around and clapped his Second on one shoulder. “I didn't mean to put you on the spot, and you really don't have to try so hard. Speaking of pretty girls, how about Gerna? How did that go?”

“Ah...” Yanek smiled. His eyes went a bit dreamy as his already blushing face brightened. “She's such a sweet little... flower... one of those really delicate ones, like a lily, or a daffodil...”

Sevei mirrored his smile, trying not to laugh at him again, but Yanek's face fell suddenly.

“At least she was at first,” he said. “Then she got very stern, and very straightforwardly told me that she was born in a brothel. Her mum's a prostitute. Said Mister Damah took her in so she wouldn't have to live like that.” He gave a long sigh. “I'm not sure if it was true, though. Seemed like she was testing me, to see if it'd put me off.”

“No, it was probably true,” Sevei assured him solemnly. “That's what Kyri does. Most of his associates came from similar circumstances.”

“Wait, he owns a brothel, right? But he gets people out of them?” Yanek cocked a skeptical brow, then began tugging on various things around Sevei's uniform.

“Well, he knows it's not for everyone,” Sevei explained. “He'll only have anyone in the Aviary who wants to be there.”

“Why would anyone...?”

“They all have their own reasons. Kyri does it because he likes it. No... he loves it. Others may do as well, and there's a lot of money to be made, if you can stomach the work. Those in the shop wouldn't be able to. Their histories tend to be...more difficult. But Kyri takes care of them, gives them a home, teaches them business, gets them a proper education if they're academically inclined. Some have gone on to scholarly professions, or gone into business for themselves.”

“That all sounds very different from what I've heard about the wh... courtesan business,” Yanek noted.

Sevei gave him a sideways glare accompanied by a light smile. “It is. It's probably easier here in Brinland – probably much easier further south – than it would be in Valesk, especially for the Aviary's particular offering. Never go to a male brothel in Valesk... um... not that you would.”

“It's bad there, hmm?”

“The more secretive a place must keep things, the more likely you'll find... unwilling participants.”

“I think your friend must be a very good man, then,” Yanek said, brushing some lint off of Sevei's shoulder just as a knock sounded at their door. “I'm sorry I said he's as pretty as a girl.”

“He really is, though, isn't he?” Sevei laughed as he went to answer the knock. “But what about Gerna? Does it put you off?”

“Nah, why should it? It's not as if I'm descended from royalty.”

Sevei opened the door. His heart leaped into his throat when he saw Yeresym standing there in his dress uniform, hair returned to its normal state, looking every inch of him descended from royalty. His tunic and trousers were black, of course, rather than Sevei's deep blue, but he wore the same purple cloak and gold-fringed baldric. Sevei couldn't help noticing that there were quite a few more chains and cords, and tassels. His stomach clenched, remembering what Thelan had said earlier in the day.

Standing at his side, Meira gave Sevei a sympathetic smile and nudged Yeresym into the room.

“I think General Sevei would like a moment,” she told him. “Constable Yanek, let's go keep Lieutenant Thelan company downstairs.

“The carriage will be here soon,” Yeresym said irritably.

“We have a few minutes,” Meira asserted, pulling Yanek along and closing the door behind them.

Yeresym turned with a brow raised in question.

“What is it?”

“Oh!” Sevei snapped out of his reverie. “I... have something for you.”

He went to his open luggage on the bed and returned with a small, fabric-wrapped bundle. He handed it over with a nervous smile. Yeresym unfolded the wrapping and held up the little cat-faced charm, narrowing his eyes on it in confusion.

“What's this?”

“Just a little... it's meant to ward off misfortune, maybe even let you cheat death.” Sevei suddenly felt a bit foolish, trying to decipher the baffled scowl on Yeresym's face. “I know it's not much. You gave me a very fancy shield... probably way more effective than a little lucky charm... probably worth a year of my pay. But... I've heard that noble Ladies like to give things like this to their favorite knights, for luck on the battlefield.”

“I'm not a knight.”

“And even if I were a woman, I'd never be a Lady,” Sevei laughed. “We'll be dining with royalty tonight. You'll probably know all the courtesies... the right forks to use and all that. I'll be lucky to not be an embarrassment.”

“We'll be discussing the war,” Yeresym snapped. “Why are you worried about forks?”

“Nothing, I just... got a reminder today that I'm not exactly on your level, am I? I'm just the son of merchants. We were never even all that rich.” Sevei flashed a bright smile, feigning cheer. “But, hey! If what Anzen said was true, after tonight you might have some options. I mean, if you could catch a prince, maybe your family wouldn't even mind him being a man.”

While Sevei said all this, Yeresym's eyes narrowed further, taking on a dangerous glint, and he began to grind his jaw, his lips pursing into a hardened line. He pushed the charm back into Sevei's hands.

Sevei looked at it for a moment, then sighed and nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“You can put it there,” Yeresym growled.

Sevei looked up to see Yeresym indicating a loop on his own sword belt.

Sevei opened his mouth, but then closed it again wordlessly as a smile spread across his lips, a genuine one this time. He reached forward and hooked a finger into the top of Yeresym's belt, then tugged him closer. The familiar scent of the herbs Yeresym stored his clothes in filled Sevei's nose as he fastened the charm's clasp around the belt loop. His heart felt as if it would beat out of his chest as he glanced at Yeresym's profile.

“You look... really nice in this uniform,” he whispered huskily.

Yeresym coughed lightly and stepped back. “Well, if you're finished spouting all this nonsense, the carriage is waiting.”

It was all Sevei could do to wipe the foolish grin off his face as he followed Yeresym out of the room and down to the inn's first floor where the others waited.