Author Note:
Chapters 1-11 are what I originally posted as I was writing this fic, and 12 is the entire edited, completed version. Read in whichever order you'd like!
PRESSURE
1
This whole attendant business is...different.
For a man accustomed to moving through shadows, acting unseen and unheard—suddenly finding himself thrust out into the open? Out into the harsh light of day?
It's disquieting, to say the least.
Especially since he's expected to be, well.
Quiet.
For an entire week.
Marquis Haruka had been rather firm on that point. Insistent, even. Why, one might go so far as to say that the man begged.
Obi wasn't sure how he was going to manage.
Yet manage he must, for he didn't doubt that the Marquis would fail to make good on his numerous threats. Yes, he'd enjoy finally having an excuse to toss a certain attendant right off the bridge and into the river that divided Clairnes from Tanbarun. Especially if said attendant caused any offense in a foreign court.
He'd peered over the railing, when they crossed the border.
It was a long way down.
Now, keeping a silent vigil while lounging in the comfortable chill of shadows was one thing, but this was quite another. Obi resists the urge to tug at the stiff neck of his uniform, where the collar circled far too tight about his throat. Stop fussing, it's supposed to be that way, Sir scolded, each time he'd tried to loosen one during the endless fittings.
And he had a point.
A man certainly did stay more alert when he constantly felt himself on the verge of strangulation.
So he kept his hands clasped firmly behind his back and hated the stupid stifling uniform more with every passing moment.
However.
This job necessitated maintaining a stricter standard of appearance than he was used to. That was all. So he pushed the itchy, pinching coat to the back of his mind.
As for his orders, well.
Accompany a certain young lady to the neighboring country of Tanbarun, ensure no harm befell her, and escort her back to Clairnes when all was said and done.
It certainly sounded straightforward enough. But he'd been in the business long enough to know that the jobs that sounded easy were often anything but. Like, say, the job that resulted in his most recent change in employment.
Anything but.
This time he carries no weapon. But the corner of his mouth twists into a wry smirk, because had they truly meant to enforce that? They'd have to ban his presence altogether. Or lock him up with his knives.
The ones that he let them find, at any rate.
Besides, he found that a cool glance was more than enough to send the over-curious scrambling for cover.
Then again, a fair portion of his duty was turning out to be simply that. Intimidation. His mere presence, the fact that he looked competent—looked dangerous—deterred all but the most stubborn.
And the most stupid.
Even if he hadn't already suspected that His Highness the First Prince Raj Sherezad of Tanbarun was the latter, well.
The morning's events certainly confirmed it.