The butler stared at Kurt down his thin, handsome nose. Perhaps he wasn't a butler – perhaps he was a steward, and that's where Kurt was going wrong. The hierarchy of servants was confusing at the best of times in the royal house – he had no idea what was going on here, amongst the other Congregation families.
"You're here to escort the Lady De Sardet? I… " the man sighed, "I think you mean that you're here as her chaperone. I sincerely hope you're here as her chaperone," The steward-butler's voice remained mostly level, but his curled-lip sneer was visible.
On the stairs above him, there was a crash of stumbling feet and a hiss of silk skirts.
"Kurt!" De Sardet was pink and slightly too loud – clearly drunk. Kurt didn't know whether to laugh at her or lose his temper, "It's time to go home."
The steward-butler arched an eyebrow and stepped back to allow her to pass. She picked her way down the stairs with an over-elaborate attempt at elegance.
"You have fun, then?" Kurt asked, when they were out of earshot of the pompous butler-steward.
"I did."
"First time drinking wine?"
"It is."
"I can tell," he tried to keep the amusement from his voice.
"No you can't, I'm perfectly…" her face crumpled in on itself and she sighed, "drunk. I'm perfectly drunk, Kurt. I don't like it."
He did laugh now, remembering the first time he'd had too much wine. He'd been around her age too – fourteen, he reckoned.
"Stop it," she pouted.
Kurt offered his arm and helped her down the steps and to the door. The footmen opened the great, oak portal for them and they descended further to the waiting carriage in the courtyard below. There were numerous points where Kurt could feel De Sardet slip on the steps, but he held her steady and posted her through the coach door, before climbing up himself.
"You going to be sick, Greenblood?"
"No," a pause, then, "Probably."
"You've seen your cousin drunk enough times – what made you do it?"
She sniffed, "They offered me wine and I said no, then they teased me until I had some, then it was delicious so I had more and then I was pretending to be my mother. And they thought that was funny, so they gave me more wine."
Kurt shook his head, "If it makes you feel any better, the first time I was drunk I threw up in the Captain's shoes."
She scoffed and slumped against the side of the carriage – eyes closed and mouth open. She looked very much like the snot-nosed child in that instance – cheek chubby where it lay pressed against the velvet lining.
"No you didn't." The protest came as a strange part-yawn, part-sigh.
"I did. You ask any of the other soldiers. I got dared to pinch the duty roster for the next day and put one of the bigger lads - who'd had twice as much as me to drink – on the parade list. But when I got into the office, I couldn't find the roster, threw up in the Captain's shoes and then ran away and hid. I reckon I was about your age…"
"Did you like being my age?" Kurt grinned at the question – it was such an adolescent, drunken thing to ask.
"No, Greenblood, I did not," he looked across at her, to where she remained squashed against the side of the cart. He tried to think back across the 12 years which lay between them and shook his head. She lived a very different life to him, "For a start, I didn't get to wear fancy frocks and go places with an armed guard. I had to look after myself."
She sprung into life at that and started lifting her skirts. Kurt jumped back, too shocked at the sudden movement to take in the nature of it. Her hands returned – almost deftly - from within the layers of silk with a short sword.
"I can look after myself, you see!" The triumph in her voice was all-encompassing and she sat back on the bench, smug and with her clandestine weapon across her knees.
"You are far too drunk to swing that, let along do any damage with it," Kurt scoffed, "But points for enthusiasm. I'll remember that when you're throwing up, tomorrow."
De Sardet fixed him with a stare that belonged firmly to the royal family and banged twice on the roof of the coach to get the driver to stop. He did so, hopping down and rushing to open the door.
"Your Excellency?" He asked, confused (and slightly horrified at the impromptu pause in the journey, Kurt noted).
"Excuse me," she said as she elbowed her way past him, "I need to get out of the carriage so I can fight my bodyguard."
The driver flapped his mouth a few times as the lady tried to find her defensive footing. Kurt, rolling his eyes, also alighted the vehicle.
"Come on, Greenblood – now is not the time nor the place for sparring."
"It is time when I say it is time, Kurt," the strange, uncharacteristic imperiousness she wore from time to time had seeped back into her voice and she made to circle him, sword drawn.
"I'm not fighting you when you're drunk," Kurt repeated.
"I order you to," she stamped her foot in a manner which would not have looked out of place on her cousin, "And if I win, you have to call me 'Your Excellency'."
Kurt sighed and drew his weapon. It would be over in two swings, he was sure. He thought he could probably even find some sort of valuable lesson about fighting whilst intoxicated to drill into her the following day, but a crowd was gathering now and he was reluctant to humiliate the Princess's daughter in front of an audience.
Aside from anything else, if he knocked her over, she'd ruin the dress that her mother had spent a lifetime of his salary on and he did not want to be responsible for that.
"When I win, Greenblood, you're going to tell your mother exactly how this whole dual came about… I'm not having my pay docked for wrecking your pretty frock."
A murmur of laughter hummed through the crowd and Kurt grinned in spite of himself. De Sardet looked down and her cheeks flushed slightly, "You think it's pretty?"
Kurt lunged for her while she was distracted. Muscle memory had her dodge left, but she stumbled as she did. The crowd made the impressed 'ooh' sound that Kurt was thinking.
"Not bad, Greenblood – a few more years of wine-drinking under your belt and you'll be able to parry that."
It was her turn to drive at him – a wild, furious, clumsy chain of attacks which he deflected easily. Her blade was short, aside from anything else – even on a good day she wouldn't have been able to hit him with it.
Still, he was impressed that she'd stashed it – was impressed that she hadn't fallen on her face already. But then, he shouldn't have been – she was easily the best of his students.
The crowd had grown as he dodged her advances and he sighed. Definitely best to end this quickly. It would be easier to deny that the brawling young woman in a party dress was the Princess's daughter if fewer people saw her.
Kurt took two steps forward, inside her reach and used his shoulder to knock her onto her arse. She gave a sharp little grunt – a bit like a hog – and then lay down on her back and laughed a great belly laugh. He rolled his eyes and offered her a hand up. She took it, and – filthy – clambered back into the coach.
The driver stared, dumbfounded.
"Get us home, now." Kurt growled at him. The man nodded, and they continued in silence, back to the palace.
