A/N: Hi. Um. Half a year. :'D It's been a hell of a time since I last updated. I've started treatment for depression, lost my favorite uncle, had fights with close friends, lost my job out of nowhere, and overall had obscene difficulty getting this chapter written. I have also never, ever rewritten the same two pages so many times in my life. D: So if you spot continuity errors (i.e. a guard who just kinda disappeared), weird phrasing, or any other bits of crappiness, well, at least you know where they came from.
I hereby present to you a really, really long chapter, no breaks or anything. You have been warned, huzzah.
XIV.
The fight happened for many reasons, but it mostly came down to wretched timing.
Flynn had been up the whole night before, entertaining people who wouldn't be able to attend the banquet, and fielding complaints about seating arrangements from those who would, and trying to draw up security rosters, often at the same time. Security at state dinners was usually the First Captain's job, freeing the Commandant to play politics; in this case, though, Flynn had insisted Captain Schwann take his place at dinner, and leave the rest to him.
It had seemed a noble and brilliant idea at the time: not only did Schwann need to stay off his feet, he was a much more experienced conversationalist than Flynn, who would also be excused from refereeing Yuri and the uppermost Imperial nobility for six hours straight. Anything was worth getting out of that.
Besides, Flynn was used to coordinating this kind of thing. How hard could it be?
Pretty hard, he soon found out. It was like the old riddle about the dog, the goat, and the cabbages being ferried across the river, he thought, glaring at the scratched-out lists—given the sheer length of the banquet, there was no way to keep the Knights and guild members apart long enough to prevent them from eating each other.
Most of them could work well enough in small groups, given something useful to do. But at an hours-long event like this, with liquor readily available and tensions running high before the tournament finals? Just the thought was enough to start a migraine.
At about three in the morning, as Flynn was finishing up on a workable compromise, a maid suddenly knocked on his door and announced another visitor. To his relief, it was only Repede, who trotted into the room with a sealed envelope in his mouth. The dog placed it on Flynn's knee and sat down expectantly.
Flynn thanked him, broke the seal, and frowned as he read the note's few lines. His Imperial Majesty requested the Commandant's presence at ten o'clock the next morning...and that was all.
Ioder knew Flynn would report to him before the banquet. Why would the prince send such a pointless message in the middle of the night? If it wasn't an emergency, why couldn't it wait for morning? And what was Repede doing here, anyway?
His first hint came when one of the maids – where had the other one come from? – stopped whispering to her friend long enough to ask, very politely, whether he might know any reason as to why Yuri Lowell had visited the Lady Estellise's room a few hours ago, or why the Princess had insisted on sending a letter to Lord Ioder a few minutes afterward.
As they had hoped, Flynn was too exhausted to hide his shock, or his irritation. Satisfied, the women excused themselves and hurried off to find someone to tell about his reaction. Repede looked at him meaningfully, then gave a couple of short barks and strolled out of the room.
Flynn was tired, not stupid; he knew very well that Yuri wouldn't have done something so conspicuous without a good reason. If that reason was important enough to keep Ioder awake at this hour, and for Repede to be willing to play courier...well, Flynn could only think of one explanation, and it was precisely what he didn't want to deal with right now.
No wonder the Commandant slept poorly, and woke up in a foul mood. There was nothing to be done for it but go speak with Ioder and clear things up as soon as possible; his Majesty would forgive him for being a few minutes early.
His stomach was growling so loudly, though, that he let his attendant talk him into eating breakfast first. In his muzzy-headed state, Flynn also thought it a good idea to get into his uniform while he waited for the food to arrive.
So it was that, as he was washing down the last bite of toast, Flynn scooted his chair back, caught a leg on the rug, and splashed a generous cupful of coffee down his front, where it would be the most visible.
Then, after peeling off the stained garment and wasting several minutes on a hunt through his closets, the Commandant realized he didn't have another one on hand: both his other uniforms were still down at the laundry.
Thankfully, the servants were out of the room, which meant no one had seen anything. He'd just slip out, exchange his clothes, and get dressed again before further disaster struck.
And so it was that Flynn came down the back stairs near Schwann's room – sword on hip, bundle tucked under his arm, scowl on his face – right as Yuri and Repede turned the corner. "Yuri," Flynn said, aghast. "What are you doing here?"
Yuri was just as unpleasantly surprised to see him. "Morning, sunshine." He waved a half-folded page as Flynn walked over to them. Repede woofed a greeting. "Where're you sneaking off to?" Yuri asked.
"I have an errand to run." Flynn stuffed the dirty tunic more firmly into his armpit. "What about you? Isn't it a little early to be visiting Estellise again?"
Little did Flynn know that this was exactly the wrong thing to say. He had no idea that Yuri had gone to bed in a haze of joyous terror, dreamed long, and woken up to find himself snuggling his pillow. Nor did Flynn know about the soul-crushing moment when Yuri had remembered the previous night and thought it was another stupid dream; he'd flung the pillow at the door and buried his head in his arms—where her smell still lingered on his sleeves.
Repede had been strolling down to the lower quarter when Yuri sprinted past him at a dead run. The dog had had quite a time persuading Yuri to stop and read the note clutched in his jaws, but a flying headbutt did the trick at last.
Considering the contents of that note, the usual speed of palace gossip, and the look on his friend's face, Yuri figured Flynn already knew what he was up to. It didn't look like he approved, either.
Luckily, he hadn't asked for Flynn's approval.
Repede saw the way they were eyeing each other and took care to sit down between them. "Actually," Yuri said, ignoring him, "Ioder invited me back. See for yourself." He held the page out.
Flynn snatched it up and read a perfect copy of the note he'd gotten earlier, same time and all, addressed to Yuri. What was Ioder thinking? "That's too bad," he remarked, handing the page back. "I hate to see his Majesty waste time like that."
"Really." Yuri's eyes narrowed. He moved a few steps back and hitched his sword up by the straps. "How so?"
In better circumstances, Flynn might have been able to calm down and properly explain some of his misgivings—that Yuri's intentions might be honorable, but his timing couldn't have been worse; that trying to marry into the royal family would be a humiliating mistake, one that could destabilize the whole Empire and cause Estellise no end of grief; that Flynn couldn't undermine his own credibility by supporting him, which would in turn upset Yuri's guild friends, none of whom Flynn wanted as enemies...and so on.
These were, however, the worst possible circumstances for a civil discussion, and what Flynn actually said was, "He doesn't know that there's no talking you out of doing something stupid once you've made up your—"
Impossibly quick, Yuri tossed his sword up, caught its hilt, and flung the scabbard off, striking the Commandant square in the face. "Whoops! Sorry. My hand slipped," Yuri said over Repede's angry yelp. "Guess I'm just too stupid to watch what I'm doing, huh?"
Flynn didn't move, not even to feel his bruised cheekbone. No matter how furious he was, he couldn't let himself be provoked; people were still laughing about their towel fight. "What do you think you're doing, Yuri?" he rasped. "Why do you of all people suddenly want the throne?"
"I don't." Yuri's voice was much too calm, his grip on the sword too tight. "If it was up to me, I'd never set foot in this place again."
That was exactly what Flynn would've thought. "They won't even let you ask. You know that, right?" He kicked the scabbard over to Yuri. "She's not exactly free to do what she wants, assuming that is what she wants."
Flynn had never seen that look on his friend's face before. "Another crack like that, and you're dead. Got it?" Yuri took a step forward, then another, forcing Repede to scramble aside. "I don't have time for this. Move."
"Why? His Majesty's just going to tell you the same thing I did." Yuri opened his mouth, but Flynn raised a hand, aware that he'd gone too far. "All right, all right. Tell you what—let me talk to him first. I need a chance to—"
"To get over how embarrassing it is for someone from the lower quarter to think he can marry a princess?"
The chill in Yuri's voice stopped Flynn dead. "That...that's not true," he said, but without much conviction.
"Oh, yes it is." Yuri rested his sword on his shoulder, eyes never leaving Flynn's. "Congratulations, o mighty Commandant. You've turned into every other smug bastard up here."
The last of Flynn's patience evaporated in a white-hot rush of anger. "It's not smug to tell someone he's stupid for running head-first into a brick wall!"
"Did it ever occur to you, at any point, that I might know what I was doing? You of all people should've trusted me to have a plan before I—" Yuri broke off with a hard shake of the head. "No. Forget it. That's not the important part." He lowered his sword. "Just answer me one question, Flynn. Does it matter at all to you that I love her?"
It did matter – of course it did, all the more so to hear him come out and say it – but not enough. Flynn grimaced. "You can't win this one, Yuri. So, no, it doesn't." He couldn't quite look him in the eye. "I'm sorry."
"Gotcha," Yuri muttered, and Flynn glanced up to see him leap forward, blade flashing.
"Whoa!" Flynn dropped his clothes, ripped his sword free, and caught the blow an inch from his neck. "Yuri! What the hell are you doing?"
"Settling things. Just like old times, huh?" Yuri leaned in harder, forcing Flynn back.
"You...!" Rage gave Flynn the strength to heave him away. He was ready when Yuri pressed the attack, and for a minute, he was too busy defending himself to remember that his job was to prevent stupid fights, not get into them; there was no telling how long they might have gone but for Flynn's discarded uniform, which caught his heel on a backstep and made him stumble, falling to one knee.
Yuri nearly skewered the Commandant with a downward thrust. Flynn twisted away at the last moment, knocked the lighter blade aside, and scrambled to his feet. "Are you trying to kill me?" he demanded. "Do you really think that'll help?"
His friend gave him a savage grin as they paused for breath. "No. But it'll make me feel a lot better!"
Neither of them had any attention to spare for the servants who had been attracted by the noise. As soon as the fight began, Repede had gone up to a couple of maids he knew and made it clear that someone was going to have to stop those two before they hurt themselves; knowing Sir Schwann was awake, the women hurried off to his room, and returned a minute later with the First Captain and an incensed mage in tow.
The short burst of activity had completely exhausted Schwann. "Get their attention for me, please," he murmured to Rita, leaning against the wall.
For once, Rita didn't argue. She marched down the stairs, waited about two seconds for Yuri or Flynn to notice her – nope, too bad – and made a sharp gesture.
A blast of wind slammed the young men apart and blew out the nearest lamps. In the sudden, dim silence, Schwann's voice echoed down: "Commandant."
Flynn gulped. "Sir Schwann?" He wiped his brow and came to the foot of the stairs. "Pardon us if we woke you," he called, noticing their audience for the first time. The Commandant cleared his throat as he sheathed his sword. "Er. Please let his Majesty know Yuri Lowell is here to see him," he said to the nearest servant, trying to sound casual.
"The rest of you, shoo," ordered Rita, before anyone could make any smart remarks. "All of you, go away. Yuri, Flynn, come here. Now." She turned and started back upward.
Yuri scowled, tapping his sword against his neck. "Look, Rita, you've done plenty—"
"I said now!" she snarled, and they bumped into each other in their haste to follow.
It was too late. When they reached the top step, they saw Schwann standing with his eyes closed, unaware of the thin circle shining through his uniform. "You see that?" Rita said loudly, and he opened his eyes with a start. To his alarm, several people had stopped to stare at his chest, whispering amongst themselves.
"That," Rita continued, pitching her voice to carry, "is the device I told you guys about, the one I'm using to monitor his heart rate. When it glows like that, it means he's in trouble." She glared at them, fists on hips. "It was doing just fine till he had to run down here!"
They mumbled and shuffled their feet like sullen kids. At least they weren't arguing over who'd started it...yet.
Repede gave them his opinion in a series of growling barks. "Yeah, yeah," Yuri muttered, and the dog made a show of turning and stalking away in disgust.
"Is the Captain all right, miss?" a manservant asked, presenting Yuri with his scabbard. Downstairs, they could hear someone exclaiming over the Commandant's dirty uniform.
Rita shrugged. "He'll be fine, as soon as someone helps him to his room." They took the hint and stationed themselves on either side of the older man, lifting him away from the wall.
A maid came up behind Rita as the girl started to follow them. "Excuse me, Miss Mordio. Isn't it time for you to start getting ready?"
Now? Really? "Come get me in twenty minutes." Rita waved her off. "Call me crazy, but I think keeping Schwann alive is a little more important than picking shoes out."
"Well..." The woman obviously wasn't sure about that.
They ignored her all the way down the hall, till they were close enough for the guards at Schwann's door to open it for them. "Twenty minutes," Rita repeated. She stepped inside and slammed the door shut, praying the maid wouldn't call for reinforcements.
"I really do apologize, Sir Schwann," Flynn said as they set the Captain down in his armchair. "I should never have let this happen."
"Agreed," Rita snapped.
"Who asked you?" Yuri settled into the other chair, sword across his lap.
"You did when you made us break it up!" The mage kicked his ankle in passing. She leaned over Schwann, squinting at the bright shape on his chest. "How do you feel, old man?"
"Not too bad," he murmured. His eyes fluttered shut. "Nice one, by the way. I'd rather have a glowing heart-rate monitor than a glowing heart any day."
"I thought it up last night, in case something like this happened." Rita picked up his empty wineglass and made her way over to the sideboard, setting the glass on the marble countertop. "What set you two off, anyway?" She uncorked a bottle with a resounding phmp. "Let me guess—Estelle?"
Yuri made an unpleasant noise.
Flynn picked up a mirror and examined the fast-spreading bruise beneath his eye. "Has anyone not already heard about that?"
"What, that Yuri's courting Estelle? Or that he kicked it off with another fight?" Rita poured a careful half-glass and sniffed at it, wrinkling her nose. "At least you had clothes on this time."
Flynn turned three shades of pink. "I'd have a much easier time staying out of fights if he didn't keep starting them!"
Ah, there it was. She jammed the cork back in and glanced at Schwann; his hand was covering his chest, eyes still closed.
"I wouldn't have to start anything if our Commandant wasn't such a hypocrite," Yuri said to Rita as she crossed the room again. "You can argue politics and legal technicalities all you want—he just doesn't think I'm good enough."
Rita paused, hand on hip. "Neither do I," she pointed out. "And I came right out and said so."
"Yeah, you did," he grumbled, "but at least you had some good reasons. He's just being a snotwad."
"Hey!" Flynn strode over and grabbed the back of Yuri's chair. "You're the one who—"
"That's enough." They looked at Schwann as he heaved a long sigh. "I'm sorry you didn't approve of my plan, Flynn." His eyes opened as Rita poked his arm and made him take the glass. "I'd be happy to explain any part of it for you in greater detail, if that would help."
The Commandant frowned, releasing the chair. "I...I'm sorry, Sir Schwann. I don't know what you mean."
Yuri fidgeted as Rita and Schwann looked at each other, then turned to glare at him in unison. "You didn't even try to explain about the letter," she accused him. "You just wanted to get into a fight! It really was your fault, you fucking idiot!"
"Rita!" Flynn protested, with an embarrassed glance at Schwann.
"Oh, stuff it, Flynn!" Rita treated herself to a mental image of Yuri's hair on fire before she went on, "Schwann gave Yuri a letter last night with a whole plan laid out—you remember how Ioder wanted to make Yuri a True Knight?" Flynn nodded. "Well, if Yuri accepts it, they have to let him into the Council room as a ceremonial member of the Knights. Once he's actually inside, he can ask to marry Estelle—there's some way commoners can do it that'll keep him from getting any titles or duties or anything like that." She nodded at Flynn's dawning comprehension. "See? He'd be called 'royal consort,' but that'd just make him a glorified bodyguard, not a noble, so he wouldn't be a threat to anyone in the line of succession. He and Estelle would spend most of their time outside the castle, anyway, doing ambassador stuff for Ioder." The mage cupped her elbow in one hand and tapped her chin. "There aren't any other suitors with a lot of support right now, and the three or four guys most likely to get it are all total jerks. So this is a good idea, and it could actually work, if Yuri plays his cards right, and if he doesn't blow it before he even starts!" Stomp. "Got it?"
Flynn sank onto a footstool, stunned. Schwann took a sip of wine.
"What she said," Yuri agreed.
His complacency was shattered as Flynn jumped to his feet and dealt him a swift whack to the head. "Why didn't you tell me any of that?" the Commandant raged. "All you had to say was 'Talk to Captain Schwann,' and this never would have happened!"
"Ow!" Yuri retreated to a safe distance, clutching his head. "Look, why should I have to explain myself to you in the first place? I'd back you up on something this important!"
Another sigh from the armchair. "That's because you don't think things through," Schwann replied. "Without any loopholes to work with, you'd have no chance of marrying her. You knew that, too, or you would've tried it already." He raised his voice as they all started to speak at once: "Listen. We don't have much time, so we might as well get a few things clear while you're all here." The Captain gestured with his glass. "Even before I wrote that letter, Lord Ioder was planning to meet with you both sometime soon and make sure you were on the same page about Estellise, before anything untoward happened."
"It's too late for that," the mage said helpfully.
"Thank you, Rita. Speaking of which..." Schwann frowned at a speck on the glass's rim. "Everyone needs to watch their behavior tonight, Yuri, but I'm particularly worried about you and Rita."
"Don't lump me in with this moron!" she snapped. Part of her was relieved, though; she recalled Schwann saying he wanted to talk about something, and how she had panicked, thinking he was going to ask what the hell had induced her to fall asleep on his bed. Rita couldn't tell him it had just seemed like a good idea to be up there, or that she hadn't been thinking with her head so much as her—
"That, right there. Stop it." Schwann pointed at her, and she flushed. "There are plenty of people who would prefer Yuri not marry the princess, and any unpleasantness on your part will help them immensely." The Captain took another sip. "You both did well enough at the dance, but you'll have to do better from now on."
"How?" the mage demanded. "I only hurt one guy the whole time, and everyone agreed he deserved it!"
"Yeah. I sucked at dancing, but I didn't hit anyone," said Yuri.
"Your dancing did indeed suck, and by the way, Rita, so does your curtsy." Schwann set the glass down, apparently unaware of the offense he'd caused. "The point is, you can't let your guard down around the nobility just because you got through one party unscathed. Everyone knows you two are the most likely to lose your tempers, so if anyone wants to make Estellise look bad, you're going to be their primary targets."
Irritated as she was, Rita had to admit she'd been worrying about that. She could put up with a few hours of dancing, but being trapped in one spot for so long, with all those people...
Yuri grunted. "This is why I hate this place. I don't care how important it is to play nice, old man, I'm not kissing anyone's—"
"No one's asking you to," Schwann said, in a more conciliatory tone. "Think of it as beating them at their own game, Yuri. The better you present yourself, the harder it'll be for anyone to say you're just a lowborn thug."
"Makes sense, but I still don't like it." Yuri stretched his arms over his head. "If I'm technically a Knight, can I at least challenge people to duels or something? That's pretty civilized, as far as threats go."
"With proper provocation, yes, you can." Schwann smiled faintly. "And, Flynn?" The Commandant looked up. "Yuri's not entirely wrong about your attitude. Estellise's great-great-grandfather was born a commoner, too, but that didn't stop his grandnephew from becoming Emperor. Keep that in mind before you dismiss the idea out of hand."
Flynn wanted to say something very convincing about Yuri's background having nothing to do with it, but there was no point. "Yes, sir," he muttered.
"Give him a chance. That's all I ask." Schwann glanced at the door. "Now, out, all of you. We've got a long day ahead of us."
"Already? Forget it." Rita kicked his chair. "I'm not leaving till I'm sure you'll be okay."
Schwann shook his head. "You've been here much too long already, Rita. I—" He stopped and covered his chest again, right as someone tapped on the door. "Come in!"
It was a page in Ioder's livery. "Please excuse us," Flynn told Schwann, gesturing at Rita to come with them. She scowled and sat down in the smaller chair, arms crossed.
"See you guys tonight," Yuri said cheerfully, enjoying his friend's discomfiture. "C'mon, Flynn."
"...Right." Knowing full well that Rita couldn't be dislodged without further violence, the Commandant had no choice but to nod at them and follow Yuri out of the room.
A moment later, though, Yuri rushed back in, nearly knocking Flynn over. "I almost forgot—thanks, old man," he said, and ducked his head. "I mean it. This whole thing is...I really don't know how to thank you enough."
"You're very welcome. It's the least I could do for her," Schwann replied, and waved at him. "Go on. If you can't take Rita with you, at least tell someone she's still here."
Yuri smirked. "Aye aye, Captain." He gave a mock salute as the door shut behind them.
"Screw you, too!" Rita sat up. "And how do you know when someone's standing out there, anyway?"
"Simple." The Captain indicated the long, stiff-woven rug by the room's entrance. "See how big the gap is under the door? The rug goes all the way out to the hall, so you can see this end move when someone outside steps on it."
"Huh." Rita thought about it for a second and nodded. "Okay. Now take your shirt off."
Schwann ran a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, I don't think you actually said that. Try again."
"I did, too! I don't have to suck up to you, so there." The mage frowned at his chest, where a sliver of light still showed through the orange fabric. She walked over, perched on the chair arm, and leaned down over him, uncomfortably close. "You don't have to get naked. I just want to take a look." Poke. Poke. "Do you think the rest of your uniform will be thick enough to hide it at the banquet?"
She smelled wrong, like too much soap. "I don't know, Rita. I'd rather not think about it." He squirmed away. "Look, I'll pull my shirt up if you give me some space."
The mage stood back, displeased. As he started to lift his tunic, Schwann noticed the spots on her front again and paused. "That's right, I was going to ask—isn't that what you were wearing yesterday, during the operation?"
Rita glanced down. "Yeah. Why?"
Schwann stared at her in unfeigned horror. "You got cleaned up and put your bloody clothes right back on? Who does that?"
"I didn't have anything else to change into! That's all there was in the bathroom except some robes, and even I know better than to walk around the castle in a bathrobe," she retorted.
That made for an entertaining mental image. She must have noticed him trying not to smirk, because she punched him in the shoulder. "No hitting," he reminded her.
Rita's eyes widened, and she looked so contrite that he almost laughed again. "Damn it!" She threw herself into the other chair. "I can't even remember not to hit you! How am I supposed to never say the wrong thing to anyone ever again?"
"I wouldn't worry about that. You've got a lot more leeway than Yuri does. I just figured he'd be more willing to listen if he wasn't the only one being lectured." Schwann eased his tunic up in one hand, exposing the blastia. "Here. Have at it."
She got back up, scowling, and inspected him from a few feet away. "Hm. Word's already out that you've got a glowing thing on you, but it's still not a good idea for a lot of people to see it. Seems to correspond to your pulse...or is it blood pressure?" Rita thumbed open her ever-present notebook, unclipped a pen, and began writing furiously. Her eyes flicked back and forth from the page to his chest, page, chest, page, chest. "Gimme your wrist." He obliged. "When you were in the bath, did you notice any water getting in there?" she asked after a few seconds.
"I figured it wasn't a perfect seal anymore, so I didn't let it get wet," he said, and the girl nodded approval, releasing his arm. He turned his head so he wouldn't have to watch her write down the results. "You know, I spent most of the last ten years reminding myself that no one knew this thing was there, because they couldn't see it." Schwann smiled wryly. "Should've enjoyed it while it was still invisible, huh?"
Rita frowned. The pencil stopped for a few seconds; to his relief, she scribbled a few more words and clapped the book shut. "All right, I'm done."
The Captain pulled his tunic down and smoothed it out with a sigh. Letting her see him half-dressed might be okay in Capua Torim – sort of, if he didn't think about it at all – but he didn't relish the notion of anyone walking in on them here.
Rita was still frowning when he looked up. "What's the matter?" he inquired.
She tapped her foot a couple of times. "Why do I have more leeway than Yuri?"
"Leeway...? Ah." Schwann shrugged, retrieving his cup. "Well, for one thing, you're not the one campaigning to marry a princess. Everyone knows mages are eccentric, and you're young enough that people will cut you some slack. To be honest, though, it's mostly because you're a girl." He chuckled at her suspicious glance. "I'm serious. When you were dancing with all those strange noblemen, did any of them seem particularly offended by anything you said?"
The mage had to think about it for a moment. "Now that you mention it, no, not really. I just tried not to swear at anyone, except when Lord Whatshisface wouldn't stop touching my hip."
"I heard about that." Schwann nodded gravely. "If anyone else tries that, you can go right ahead and fry him. I'll provide an alibi if need be."
"Thanks. I'll hold you to that." Rita almost smiled, but it disappeared as she sat down. "So what're you trying to say? It's okay if I'm a little rude, because I'm too young and weird for them to take me seriously?"
"No, no, no." The Captain wagged a finger at her. "Think about it. Everyone's heard of the genius mage Mordio, but it wasn't till recently that anyone even knew you were female. Then Estelle's book described this violent, brilliant teenage girl who helped develop the four spirits and take down the Adephagos, and is cranking fantastically important stuff out to this very day." Sip. "Imagine everyone's surprise when they went to the dance and saw that the mythical Rita Mordio was not only a real person, but actually pretty cute."
"Oh, shut up!" Rita slouched in her chair, scowling fiercely, as if determined to be as uncute as possible. It wasn't working. "I'd better learn to be nice before the novelty wears off, then."
Schwann rubbed his forehead. "At the very least, you need to learn to live with compliments. No one likes talking to someone who gets mad every time you say something nice to her." He wondered where the maids were; someone should have come to collect her already.
"I know, I know." The mage scratched her leg through the red-striped stocking. "I'm not you, okay? I can't flip a switch in my head and suddenly be good at all this crap."
"Believe it or not, Rita, no one's born with a full set of social skills, myself included." The Captain gave a one-shoulder shrug. "You already know how to be a mage, so now you can start figuring out how to be a girl."
Rita wrinkled her nose. "Forget it. I've got better things to do."
He finished the rest of the wine in one gulp. "I hate to break it to you, but unless you plan on skipping town in the next few hours, you may not have a choice."
Blink. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"For one thing, it wouldn't kill you to make friends with more girls your age. But that's not your biggest problem." Schwann set the glass on the little table, next to their breakfast dishes. "Remember how men are all scumbags, and you don't look like a kid anymore? I didn't want to come right out and say this, but some of your leeway tonight will come from guys who like rudeness, if you catch my drift."
She didn't, so after a moment, he clarified, "You will get hit on, and you will have to handle it gracefully."
"Ew!" The girl recoiled as far as the chair would allow. "You said I was too young for that!"
He shook his head. "I said you were too young for anything serious. At an Imperial banquet, that just means no one will come right out and proposition you. Anything else is fair game."
"You've got to be kidding!" Rita slammed her fist into the chair arm, making him wince. "Did they miss the part where I'm only sixteen?"
"No, but from a stranger's point of view, that just makes you more impressive." Seeing her murderous expression, Schwann hastened to add, "I don't think it's okay, either, but as far as most people are concerned, you don't really count as a sixteen-year-old."
Rita stared at the thin blue edge on his chest, arms folded in thought. "Explain," she said presently. "And calm down before you pass out again. I'm not gonna hurt you."
Despite his apprehension, Schwann smiled. "All right, then." He leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankles, trying to look nonchalant. "Again, think about it from someone else's perspective. You've already got your own house, a distinguished career, friends in high places—there's a lot going for you, but it's the way you carry yourself that really gets people's attention. Even when you're being rude, you've got more self-confidence than most girls – women – twice your age. This may sound creepy, but I have to tell you—" because I know you'll never get it, he thought darkly, "—that's like catnip to most people, even the ones who know better. Ever wonder why so many girls fall for arrogant pricks, and guys go for women who walk all over 'em? That's why."
"Really?" The mage's face went through a series of interesting contortions as she struggled to process the idea. "Then, indiscriminate attraction applies to looks and personality?"
"I wouldn't call it 'indiscriminate' at all," he disagreed. "Different traits appeal to different people, but there are some things that almost everyone likes." More light was starting to seep through his uniform. Ignoring it, he took a deep breath, and said, "For example, it's hard not to notice a girl who can hold her own at her first dance, then jump out and call Captain Schwann an idiot the very next day."
"Hm. I guess." Rita fiddled with her hair, stuffing the longer strands haphazardly under her goggles. "Anything else I need to know?"
Schwann cleared his throat. "Yeah, actually." He should've known she wouldn't pick up on any hints, however blatant. It was time to spell things out for her in a convincing, yet nonthreatening way; all he had to do was come up with the perfect way to tell her, "I want to sleep with you, but don't worry too much about it," and...
As he met her gaze, the words slipped steadily away, leaving a dense layer of silence where his thoughts should've been. What were they talking about again?
Rita cocked her head at him, impatience giving way to concern. "What? What is it?"
"Just having a brain fart," he mumbled. "Give me a second." Schwann rubbed the back of his neck, closing his eyes again. Why the hell couldn't he think straight?
After a few seconds, his plan slunk back into the forefront of his brain, dragging a trail of logic behind it: he needed to make a quick, sincere confession, because it was the easiest way to clear his conscience and put Rita on her guard in case his feelings got any further out of hand.
The plan's only flaw was that it was bloody stupid, and he'd never be able to do it. His few seconds of desperate plotting in the closet had failed to take into account the fact that his success would hinge on convincing her not to trust him. With anyone else, he could have gotten his point across without destroying the balance of their relationship, but not with Rita.
The longer he thought about it, the dumber his idea sounded. Rita was wise beyond her years in many, many ways, and this was not one of them; it would be a long time before she'd be able to respond to romantic interest as anything but a joke, or a threat, and his would be no different—worse, actually, considering it was coming from one of her closest friends.
What would be better for her mental well-being, he wondered: to be advised, watched over and occasionally ogled by someone who genuinely cared about her, however unwholesome his thoughts might be? Or to learn that ol' Raven wasn't as harmless as she'd thought, and she should really be more careful where she fell asleep from now on?
Put that way, honesty didn't seem so noble after all. He was a grown man, wasn't he? Where did he get off, telling a sixteen-year-old child that it was her responsibility to make him stop thinking about her?
"Say something," Rita commanded, breaking into his reverie.
Schwann raised his eyes, taking in her small, tense figure, reminding himself how very young she was. He knew damn well what it was like to be tied to someone you didn't trust, and he wouldn't wish that on anyone, in any degree, much less Rita. If he was being too cautious, and had a selfish interest in not giving up his safety, either, so be it.
With one last twinge in his chest, Schwann concentrated on taking deep, even breaths. "Sorry, felt weird for a second. I'm fine now," he said lightly. "I just wanted to say, don't worry too much about tonight. With most guys, all you'll have to do is stand your ground and not kill anyone. But there'll always be one or two creeps who think a girl old enough to be attractive is old enough for...you know." He rested his head on one hand, so she couldn't see him bite the inside of his cheek. "Watch out for those."
"Well, yeah, even I know that. It's just never applied to me before." Rita's brows knitted in thought. "So," she muttered, "if I learn better manners...guys will think I'm boring, and leave me alone?"
That startled a laugh out of him. "No! Were you listening at all?"
"Damn it!" Rita scrunched down again, pulling her legs up and crossing her arms over them. "Isn't there some way I can be rude enough to make them leave me alone, but not rude enough to embarrass Estelle?" she asked plaintively.
"No. Please don't try it." Schwann wanted to reach over and pat her knee, but knew better. "You don't want to alienate someone who might turn into a political ally, or a good source of business." He forced himself to smile. "Besides, you never know if you'll change your mind in a few years."
Rita's arms tightened. "Don't be stupid, old man." She tipped her head back, and he looked away. "I mean..." He heard her swallow. "You know what? Never mind."
"No, go on," said Schwann, before he could stop himself. "You might as well, if you're going to hang out in here much longer."
"Fine, then." To his surprise, Rita removed her goggles and turned them over in her hands, tapping the pink lenses with both thumbnails. "Last night, at my house, remember how Estelle and Judith were trying to make me feel better? I was happy to see them, but when they started hugging me, I got freaked out. All I could think about was making them stop." She twisted the strap around her right hand and pulled it taut. "How's that for self-confidence?"
Ouch. Now he was really glad he'd kept his mouth shut. "There's nothing wrong with wanting affection on your own terms," Schwann told her in his best kindly-older-friend tone. "You were upset to begin with, and you're not used to touchy-feely stuff like that. You didn't get much of it when you were a kid, right?"
"I don't know. I've never liked it." She freed her hand, examining the faint lines left on her skin. "That's why Auntie and I didn't get along. She was always trying to pick me up and cuddle me or something, and I wouldn't let her."
Another twinge in his chest. "Some people are just like that, Rita. It doesn't make you some kind of freak." He felt the edges of his blastia through the thin fabric. "I mean, if you absolutely couldn't stand to be touched at all, you wouldn't have lasted through our first dance, much less the whole thing."
"That was different." She cracked her knuckles. "I knew exactly what you were going to do, and for how long. Besides..." Rita sat up, and he risked another peek at her. She looked thoughtful. "You were really good about being firm, but not grabby. Karol acted like I had the plague, and the other guys were all stiff, or sweaty, or something. If I'd started with anyone else, I don't think I'd have put up with it."
He was about to compliment her right back when Rita thumped her goggles onto the table. "Hey! That reminds me of something else I wanted to ask you."
Schwann could think of several things he didn't want her to ask. "What is it?"
Rita, being Rita, didn't notice his wariness. "The presents and stuff I've gotten from people, besides your stupid rose—if I keep it, does that mean I'm encouraging the guys who sent it? And if I sell any of it, is that some kind of insult?"
The Captain sat there for the count of five, blank-faced. "Well," he said at last. "If you kept some things and sold the rest, then, yes, whoever sent the keepers would see that as encouragement, and the others would be insulted. Selling it all would be pretty crass."
"I figured. Some of it's really nice, but I don't need so much fancy crap." The girl ran a hand through her damp hair. "I asked Judith when we were going through it last night, but she wasn't sure, either." Pause. "I assume it's a big thing to wear someone's present to a dance, or a banquet, where everyone will see it?"
"Sometimes. It depends what it is, and who gave it to you." Where the hell were the maids?
Rita pursed her lips. "What if it's something you're borrowing?"
"Borrowing?" He shrugged. "That doesn't mean much of anything. Lots of young ladies trade jewelry for different events."
"Hmm." The girl propped her chin on one hand. "I might just borrow the stuff I wear tonight, then. I really liked the black pearls and the ruby pendant, but I don't know any of the guys who sent them." She fingered her earlobe. "Besides, they all came with matching earrings. If any of the maids saw that, they'd be coming after me with needles."
Schwann weighed his options, and made a Ravenish face. "Why not? You'd look great with earrings."
"I don't care how they'd look," she said flatly. "It'd hurt, and they'd get caught in things, and I'd never get a chance to wear them anyway."
"So?" He raised an eyebrow. "You can always take them out when you're working. Earrings are great for special occasions, 'cause they emphasize your neck and all this—" The Captain indicated the lower half of his face. "And yours is nice to begin with."
"Shut up! This is stupid. You're stupid." Rita hopped to her feet and advanced a few steps, rapping on his blastia. "I can't see it anymore. Let me check your pulse again, and then I'll get out of here."
Ha! It worked! "Probably a good idea," Schwann agreed, holding out his wrist. She took it and turned to watch the clock.
He only had a few seconds to reflect on his success before Rita let go. "Almost normal. Do you feel any better?"
The Captain shrugged. "I should be all right now, as long as I stay put."
"Good. If anything else happens, let me take care of it." Without warning, Rita gave him a bright, sweet smile. "Thanks for not kicking me out. I'll see you later."
"Wait—" Schwann leapt to his feet, only to fall back into the chair as dizziness swamped him.
"You idiot!" Rita turned and grabbed his shoulder as he gasped for breath. "What the hell was that?" she snarled, all business again.
Schwann couldn't answer. Worse than his physical discomfort was the fact that he'd moved on sheer impulse; that hadn't happened in years, he thought, not since he'd been made First Captain. Alexei had been so emphatic about the importance of maintaining self-control at all times, and his occasional corrections so very explicit, that Schwann couldn't suppress a stab of fear at having broken character. The Commandant was dead and gone, but...
"Hey." A small palm hit the top of his head, and Schwann caught his breath. "Speak to me, old man, or I'm calling Estelle to come heal you."
His training kicked in; he felt himself smile and say, "Sorry about that," as his mind raced for an explanation better than You've never done that before, warn me next time or Alexei is still giving me panic attacks. Even he was surprised to hear the next thing out of his mouth: "You know, this is dumb, but I was thinking...why don't I do your hair for you again?"
Rita crouched to meet his eyes, giving him such a penetrant glare that he was afraid she could see straight through him. "I thought you were trying to get me out of here, old man. What gives?"
Schwann couldn't very well admit that he'd thought so, too. "Yeah, but I still owe you, don't I? I could help you cut a step out of the whole process," he improvised. "If your hair's already the way you want it when you get down there, that's one less thing you'll have to argue about. I mean, a braid's not that formal, but you can always add a fancy hairclip or something, right?"
"They'll argue with me anyway if I show up in something that isn't nice enough," the mage objected.
"And you'll disagree with everything else they suggest, so you might as well have something to fall back on. Grab that—" Schwann nodded at the footstool. "—and come sit down over here. It'll just take a minute."
The girl tried to stare him down, but he had regained enough of his composure to stare right back. "You weirdo," she said irritably, and went to retrieve the stool.
It wasn't the most awkward situation Schwann had ever been in, but close enough. This was what came of spending too much time around Rita: if he hadn't known how very rare it was for her to smile at anyone like that – much less an annoying old man like him – he might not have been affected at all. Now he was stuck with her again, and it was his own stupid fault.
...Actually, the only other time he'd seen her look like that was at Estelle, or at his blastia. It was almost like—
He did a mental about-face and walked briskly away from that line of thought, only to be confronted with a long, bare stretch of neck as she sat down and flicked her shoulder-length hair aside. "Let me know when you're ready to tie it off. I've got one somewhere."
"Okay." The Captain dragged his eyes back to the crown of her head. "Did you comb this out at all before you snuck out of the bathroom?"
She shrugged.
"...Okay, then." He started gathering a neat, loose handful of hair.
Neither of them spoke for a couple of minutes. Schwann was busy thinking of absolutely nothing, and braiding as quickly as he could, while Rita was wondering about the scratched-out lines Yuri had told her about. Schwann had been unusually straightforward this morning, but she had a feeling that wouldn't last if she were to ask him what he'd written about her.
Besides, the subject felt far too personal to bring up while he was messing with her hair. Maybe she'd be better off finding out who had it at the moment and taking a look for herself?
Blech. At least he hadn't mentioned hair-braiding as an example of her allowing someone to touch her. She wasn't okay with the fact that he constituted the majority of the few times she could recall not minding physical contact—this wasn't the same thing as hugging, of course, and she was reasonably sure she'd murder him if he tried it, but...
No, she wasn't sure at all. Rita shook her head, trying to shake off her mounting frustration.
"Whoops." She felt the hair slip out of Schwann's grasp. "Did I pull too hard?" he asked.
"N-no. That was my fault." The girl straightened up, extending her legs. She wasn't sorry, either. If anything, she wished he'd slow down a bit.
Schwann tapped the back of her head in mild reproof. "Try to hold still. I was almost done."
She grunted, aware that her hands were trembling. She wanted to hurt something, but he was the only one here, and it wasn't his fault that she was embarrassed. He probably didn't even realize that she hadn't needed to move her hair off her neck like that; she'd just wanted to.
As he pulled the loose braid apart and started again, Rita's mind seethed with the effort of sorting through everything she was feeling. Being out of her element always put her on the defensive, of course, but this was something new. The hitherto unthinkable was beginning to emerge, buoyed by the realization that the one she was really mad at was herself.
Maybe, she thought, just maybe, there was nothing wrong with allowing for the possibility of ever wanting a relationship with someone when she was a little older. Why should she waste time and energy beating herself up for having normal, touchy-feely human emotions? Was she going to spend the rest of her life being as dumb as Yuri, letting fear keep her from even trying to do what she wanted? Screw you, brain, she thought. You're not the boss of me!
And her brain, which knew her too well, answered, All right, if you're so mature now, why don't you talk it over with Schwann? Tell him he's the reason you think you might be ready for an adult relationship. Tell him exactly how you want him to pay you back for saving his life, too. The way he's been talking about you, he might just do it!
Damn it to hell. Her face was so hot that it felt sunburned. "What are you going to do if one of the guild members recognizes you tonight?" Rita asked abruptly.
Schwann paused mid-braid. "That came out of nowhere," he remarked, and the steady, weaving pressure on her scalp resumed. "For your information, plenty of people have figured out that Raven and Schwann look a whole lot alike. It's not like I didn't see this coming when Raven was made Guild Liaison last year."
Rita snorted. "Too bad you couldn't have stayed dead, the way your guys kept telling everyone you were gonna be the next Commandant." Schwann had had to shut them up by making a very public return, declaring his support for Ioder and rejecting the Prince's offer to promote him from First Captaincy. It had been a formality, of course, but a crucial one.
The Captain sighed heavily. "They're good men, all of them."
"That's fine, as long as 'good' doesn't intersect with 'loud and stupid.'"
"No one's perfect." Without thinking – again – Schwann arched his fingers and ran them down her scalp. Not only did she fail to object, she actually leaned back a bit as he pulled his hand away, making his heart do a quick tck-tck. "There are a couple schools of thought on Captain Schwann and Raven of Brave Vesperia," Schwann said briskly, before either of them could read anything into it. "Some people think they're the same guy, and there's some kind of elaborate conspiracy going on—here, I need to tie this off."
Feeling a little dazed, Rita fumbled around in her coat; somewhere amongst her inner-pocket detritus was a snarl of hairbands that had been there for several years, possibly forever. "How many people?" she asked, extracting a suitable specimen.
"Not too many. I mean, Raven's Raven. He and Schwann are polar opposites, and always have been." Schwann accepted the tie, secured the braid with it, and sat back. "If you ask Raven's guild buddies what he was doing the night of the big dance, they'll all tell you he was getting drunk with some friends in the public quarter, and the Knights arrested him around midnight for peeing in a fountain."
"What?" Rita felt the back of her head, wondering if she could get away with making him do it again. "Why would they say that?"
"Because I had Karol tell everyone about it, and how the city watch gave Harry a warning about Raven's behavior, and Harry bribed them to keep quiet. Apparently, ol' Raven was making a lot of stupid threats about going up to the castle." He chuckled. "Word will get around, and it'll make a lot of sense. Most people think Raven and Schwann are related somehow, but totally hate each other."
"That's ridiculous!" Rita snapped. "Did you start that one, too?" She got up to face him, hands on hips. "And why make Karol do your dirty work? Thanks to you, he's probably dead now!"
Schwann frowned up at her. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, when you told him to distract the crowd last night, he started yelling about how he couldn't find Nan. She found out about it, and I don't even know what she did to him, because she wound up dragging him off!" It had actually been pretty funny, but Rita wasn't going to pass up the excuse to take some anger out on him.
The Captain's frown deepened. "That wasn't my idea, Rita. When he told me how many people were waiting to meet us, he offered to come up with a distraction so I could get down without being seen."
Rita's mouth opened and shut. "You mean, he did that all on his own? On purpose?"
Schwann nodded.
She knew she should be upset at her complete failure to pick a fight, but the longer Rita thought about Karol deliberately embarrassing his girlfriend in front of hundreds of people, the more she enjoyed the thought of Nan beating the crap out of him. "I...see." Despite her best efforts, the corners of her mouth began to creep upward.
"Sounds about right. That boy's getting a big head," said Schwann, sounding a lot like Raven. "If she wants to knock some sense into him, she's got my permission."
"It'd be good for him." Rita smirked. "I hope they stay together. I can just see them ten years from now. She'll make him do all the chores around the house while she sits there—"
"And he'll have to wear an apron, and a cute little scarf," Schwann added, eager to keep the joke going.
It wasn't that funny, but Rita was so tired that the mental image made her laugh out loud. "And he'll be dragging around a ball and chain on one leg—"
Schwann laughed, too. "And she'll say, 'Stop crying, unless you want me to—'"
A knock on the door startled them both. Before Schwann could say anything, the door swung open to reveal Estelle, flanked by four servants. "Good morning, Sir Schwann," the princess said, all imperious dignity. "I heard you were indisposed, so I came to heal you." Estelle walked into the room by herself, giving Schwann a quizzical look. "It sounds like you're feeling better, though."
How long had they been standing out there? The servants all wore politely incredulous expressions, as if wondering whether they had actually heard Captain Schwann laugh. "He's doing much better," Rita said stiffly, "but he could use some work."
"As for you—" Estelle fixed Rita with a cold eye, hands on hips. "You promised me last night that you wouldn't tell Yuri anything. Didn't you?"
The mage felt like she'd been punched in the gut. "Yeah," she managed. "But—"
"But you went right out and did it anyway! He also said you yelled at him, told him a lot of personal things, and forced him to come see me in the middle of the night." Estelle drew a deep breath, as if to really let her have it—and threw her arms around Rita, swinging her in a wide half-circle. "Thank you so, so much!"
"Hey!" the mage cried, struggling to free herself in reflexive panic. "Stop that! Lemme go!"
Estelle giggled, whirling them both to a halt. "Give me a second to heal Sir Schwann," she told Rita, letting her friend scuttle away. "Then you have to start getting ready for tonight. We moved all your things to my mother's old room, so we can all get dressed and go down to dinner together. It's going to be so much fun!"
Rita doubted that, but she was still too punch-drunk to argue.
Looking on, Schwann smiled to himself, pondering the maids' strategy: they had taken so long not only because they had been assembling everything they would need in a remote, escape-proof location, but they'd also enlisted the princess – who was having a very busy day already – to make sure Rita came quietly.
"Hold still, please," Estelle said to him, and he complied, letting the familiar golden light wash over him. His breathing immediately became easier, his head clearer.
"I'm sorry," Rita mumbled, halfway across the room. She rubbed her arms, trying to work off the feel of Estelle's grip. "I didn't mean to say all that stuff. When Yuri made me read the letter, I just..."
"Please, don't worry about it." The princess took her friend's hands. "If you hadn't broken your promise, he might never have said anything to me. And if Sir Schwann hadn't come up with such an ingenious solution..." Estelle released Rita, giving Schwann a short bow. "Thank you both, from the bottom of my heart."
Schwann bent his head in return. "Think nothing of it, Lady Estellise. If you wish to do me any service, you need only take Rita with you when you go—she's helped me more than enough for today."
Rita made a face at him. "You're welcome."
Smiling, Estelle inclined her head. "It will be my pleasure, Sir Schwann. We look forward to seeing you tonight." The princess linked her arm through Rita's, towing her across the room. "Come on, Rita, you have to see what we've got for you to choose from! My mother was about your size, but they've made some newer gowns, too, if you like. We can make some alterations if you can't quite fit into them, or we can have more brought in. Your hair looks so cute, by the way..."
Her voice trailed off as she pulled Rita out into the hall. The mage glanced over her shoulder at Schwann, but before she could say anything, the maids surrounded her in a solid block – "Finally," one of them muttered – and the guards hurried to pull the door shut behind them.
Schwann sat there a few minutes, looking at her goggles on the table. When someone came to clear the dishes, they could take the goggles back to her room. Till then – and afterward – he would have to be an adult, and quit fixating on someone he only wanted because he couldn't have her. Never mind her loyalty, or her passion, or that tiny mole on the nape of her neck; he was just being perverse, he told himself, finding the most efficient way to torment himself on a regular basis. The trick was not to mix her up in his idiocy any more than he already had.
The real trick would be keeping anyone from noticing how hard he was falling for her.