Tale of Four

"Are you sure you want to learn, Tristan? Last time you began studying things, it almost killed you," Annabell said with worry as Tristan stroked the titleless book.

"Annabell. I have never believed you to be stunting my growth or a detriment to me." Sighing, Tristan opened the book and slowly read, "In fact, I am thankful for all you have done. But even if Serevus was rather rude about how he spoke, he was right about one thing. I am weak, and refusing a source of power available to me is not an option, especially when I don’t know if I will be sent to help in the war. I know we both don’t like the merging process, and if I am to go without it, learning the arcane may not be too bad."

"But Tristan, I’m worried. The Magi are dangerous. That man is only helping because you give him blood. What happens when they want more from you? Will you give them an arm or bleed yourself dry?" Tristan could hear in her voice that she was nearly on the verge of tears.

"I’m not that desperate; do not worry so much." Tristan gave her a thin smile. "I’m going to study for a while. Whilst I am, I want silence, Annabell. Stay or explore, I don’t mind." Annabell huffed and dove down. Nuzzling into his neck for a moment, Tristan leaned over and gave a small kiss atop her head before rubbing her. Enjoying it for a moment, she flew off and out the window. Staring at the book, Tristan rubbed his forehead and began to study.

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Looking out the window, Vincent leaned against his hand and scowled, watching the men in the courtyard, surrounding two others as they beat each other to a pulp, betting their rations and small wealth on the victor.

"They are all such barbarians." He said with a disgusted tone, his finger bouncing on his cheek in cycles of three. The man next to him sighed and rolled his eyes, stepping foward.

"Men need a reason to keep moods high. These mock fights keep them calm and let them believe a real battle will be different." William Walden, son of Lord Walden, replied. He was a thin man with dark black hair, parted down the middle, dressed in a thin tunic, the top of it undone and a pair of sleek trousers.

"Can they not find more civilised ways of doing so?" Vincent shook his head. "What is it you want?"

"A man I sent to a nearby town has returned. Whilst men will make their own enjoyment, there is only so many times they can chuck each other into the mud before they need a new distraction." William stepped foward and clasped his hands behind his back. "Whilst looking, although many were poor quality, I have found a few good ones."

"What are you on about?" William chuckled and turned to face William as he held a mirror up and played with his hair. Looking away out the window, unable to watch Vincent groom himself, William stared at the men below as one of the wrestlers managed to pin the other into the ground, getting a loud cheer.

"Prostitutes. Men at war need to sate their vices, even those who do not take part in the fighting. If forced to fight for poor pay with little food, when do they decide to take their sword and begin taking what they want? I must provide even if I do not wish to." William grabbed his chin and sighed. Turning around, he looked back at Vincent and analysed himself in the mirror. "But it is a shame to let them have the best before us. Come, I have already prepared them in a side room. A few of my couriers and friends are waiting. Of course you may pick first."

"Go without me," Vincent said, not looking away from his reflection.

"Do you not want to?" William’s eyes widened, and he just barely suppressed his annoyance. "Don’t tell me, my Prince, but I can’t have gotten it wrong, and you value the company of men. I can keep my mouth shut, and if you wish for men, I can provide it; I just need some extra coin."

"Don’t you dare label me as such a thing again." Vincent’s hand tightened around the mirror. William stared, utterly confused now. If Vincent was gay, it wouldn’t have surprised him. Sure, he made sure to care for his own appearance and wore makeup during formal feats, but Vinect was different, more like his own wife than himself. Always making sure he looked perfect, adorning his face with makeup even in private and caring for his appearance rather than his skill with a sword. Spending an unbearable amount of time picking an outfit.

"So you don’t like women?" William couldn’t help but be slightly interested and asked, having never seen such a thing before. If Vincent was married, it would make sense; after all, there were men who were committed to being faithful. But Vincent was not that; rather, from what he heard, he was a playboy who had taken numerous lovers.

"Of course I do. I just hate such disgusting acts. A filthy act, and you offer me a prostitute. Who knows what pit of filth she has come from." Vincent resisted the urge to spit. "If you wish to sleep with them, be my guest, but make sure you clean before visiting me afterwards."

’He doesn’t like sex, or is it because they’re a whore?’

William shook his head and turned, pushing the question out of his mind. He waved his hand and walked off, slowly making his way down the halls of Starlight Fort. Opening the door to the guest room, he stepped in and nodded toward his friends and courtiers before looking at the woman at the end of the room, dressed in thin clothing. Those from better brothels wore lingerie of fine silk, whilst the others could only dress in a thin nightgown, hoping it would entice their customers.

Rosalia looked at William and instantly recognised him. Staring at the door, she waited for Vincent to come. The men around waited for William. He was the highest-ranked of all of them there, even if they were friends. If any took someone he had interest in, it would be a headache, and all silently prayed that he wouldn’t.

Rosalia’s gaze didn’t move from the door as those next to her moved their bodies in a way to entice William to choose them. Seeing the door not open, she stopped herself from clicking her tongue, hearing William approach. "Come." Standing before her, William gave the single order and turned. For a moment Rosalia was tempted to lash out, unable to believe that she was really being chosen by someone other than the prince, but with a small breath she banished the urge and carefully followed, making sure to sway her body in a way that matched the actual prostitutes.

The walk was silent, and Rosalia made sure to keep it that way. Opening the door into another room, William quickly took a seat on the edge of his bed and pointed to the place before him. Moving, she closed her eyes and understood what must be done. Attempting to kneel, she was stunned when William raised his hand.

"Why did you stare at the door?" William asked with a thin smile, "Everyone else was making themself look like the greatest prize, but you." He shook his head. "It was as if you were waiting for someone."

Rosalia’s hair stood on edge as her mind scrambled. To come so far and fail at the first hurdle was shameful. She couldn’t fail. "My Lord. I will not lie to you and say that I was not waiting for another."

"Interesting. I am the heir to the Walden land, and you still wait for another."

"I mean no offence, but I know a Prince is here." William’s eyes sharpened.

"You were targeting the prince. And why is that?" Rosalia stopped herself from making her fear be clear and sweetly smiled, placing her fingertips together in an attempt to be cute. Flashing her best smile, her gaze intensified. William saw it, a gaze full of greed that saw the greatest prize possible.

"My Lord. May I speak freely?" William thought for a moment and nodded. "Can you claim to be able to pay more than the Prince?" William didn’t reply. Rosalia resisted the urge to vomit with her next words, "And if lying with him caused a child to be born, even a bastard, I would be blessed. Birthing royal blood. Who couldn’t dream of soemthing so great."

"To dare think you deserve to carry a Cosmaton child." William scoffed, not noticing Rosalia’s eyes sharpening with disgust, only to be quickly fixed. "Whatever, a whores dream is only so grand. Come." William unbuckled his belt.

Rosalia smiled and knelt down, lowering her head, her eyes hardened, unable to believe she had to sully herself in such a way.

’For the mission. For the mission. It is all for the mission. The Debt is Ours. OURS!’ Screaming in her mind, she slowly pulled down William’s trousers.

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