Village of Newport
Zechs, Howard, Noin, and Alex sat huddled around each other in the middle of Zechs's room at the inn. At the center of the circle lay the pile of gold, glittering in the flickering light of the candles. For several moments, the crew stared at the pile, their mouths agape. Though they'd been in the room with the full horde, and had been the ones to steal a vast majority of it, sitting around the pile with more gold than most people ever saw in multiple lifetimes was, simply put, beautiful.
Zechs ran his hand over the pile, allowing gold coins to fall from between his fingers. This was nothing to him, but to those he would help, it would mean the world. And it would allow him to get by a little longer without having to turn tail back to his father and beg for forgiveness. That was the last thing he wanted to do.
Alex pulled a portion of the pile towards himself and ran his fingers through the gold. Zechs watched him carefully. Zechs knew better than to let the unknown members of the group be alone with the money. Thankfully, Howard was also paying attention.
"Let's divide up our shares, then, and we can be on our way," Howard said, pulling the pile back towards the center and away from Alex, who scowled, but nodded his head. Howard took out a piece of parchment and began his calculations. Zechs rose from the floor and stretched out his legs. He was surprised at how easy it had been to rob the Bartons, and it was a double blow, if the rumors he'd heard were true. That a powerful noble such as a Barton would propose to his sister and be rejected. It was strange, even for his eccentric father.
"Shall we leave Howard to his counting?" Noin asked, rising up beside Zechs. "I could use a drink." Zechs looked down into her eyes, those violet pools that twinkled back up at him.
"Al-alright," he stammered. Noin smiled and led the way towards the door of the room. Zechs followed, and just before he left the room, he glanced over his shoulder.
"Coming, Alex?" he asked. He didn't feel particularly good about leaving Alex and Howard alone, either. Who knew if Alex would decide to cut Howard's throat and run off with all the money? Alex glanced between the pile of money and Howard, sighed, and rose up from the floor. He followed Zechs out the door, and together the three of them made their way down the wood steps to the bar. Noin and Alex found a table while Zechs went to the counter. A young woman stood behind the counter, serving the customers who sat in high chairs. Zechs waved her over and ordered three meads. She poured the drinks from a flask and handed over the glasses. As Zechs walked back towards their table, he heard a few of the villagers talking. He slowed his pace when he heard his sister's name.
"You're not serious," one woman said, leaning over the table towards the other woman. The other woman nodded.
"She's to marry an Arabian prince!"
"Not just any prince," a man said, joining the conversation. "The Arabian prince. The sultan has twenty daughters or thereabouts."
"And she'll go live in his Arabian palace?" a woman crooned. The others laughed.
"That's the word out of the palace," the other woman said, nodding.
The conversation turned to other things, and Zechs moved on. He set the glasses down in front of Alex and Noin.
"What took you?" Alex asked, greedily sliding his glass towards him and taking a long gulp.
"Distracted by palace gossip," Zechs said, taking a seat beside Noin. Briefly, their arms brushed against each other, and Zechs felt fire ignite on his skin.
"Palace gossip? Surely you are not one to be distracted by such a thing?" Noin asked, looking at him with one eyebrow raised. Zechs chuckled.
"I used to live near the palace, and that's all anyone would talk about," he lied. "Even without trying, one develops interest in what is going on with the lives of rich people."
"Ha," Noin laughed, and took a sip of her mead.
Zechs fell silent, contemplating. If the rumor was true, and Relena would be marrying an Arabian prince, then that just left his father on the throne, and who knew if Zechs' dear old friend would try to usurp the spot once his father died. Perhaps Zechs did have to return and beg forgiveness.
Perhaps, anyway. If the rumors proved true, he would consider it more seriously. In the meantime, he had other matters to attend to.
Anatolia
The port city bustled with activity. The Black Sea swelled and lapped against the boats in the harbor that were waiting to be filled with cargo. Boxes and barrels were loaded onto the ships by dark-skinned men who shouted at each other in a gruff speech. Women hustled from ship to ship, carrying baskets of food for the sailors, while a large group of men worked repairing nets in a large circle, just off the docks.
Heero breathed in the salty air, a smile tugging at his lips, although his eyes were focused on the activity teeming all around him and his small company. He was comfortably armed, as were the other men, and didn't think anyone would dare attack them, but these were dangerous times and they were foreigners in these parts.
It was not a place for the likes of the Crown Prince. And yet, he had insisted on coming to see them off, anyway. Heero knew the prince could hold his own in a battle, if he had to, but that would render his guard obsolete.
King Zayeed had sent several members of his own guard along with the small company that was traveling to Anatolia, and most of those men, including Wufei, would accompany Prince Quatre back to Arabia. Only Heero and three others would journey across the Black Sea to the European continent, and on to the Sanc Kingdom.
Prince Quatre was staring out to sea, past the ships tethered to the docks, just waiting to set sail. Heero caught his eye, and the prince flashed him a grin.
"I wish I could go with you," Quatre said, his voice half a sigh. "I'm so envious; I'd love to sail to Europe…"
Heero and Wufei exchanged looks, while Rashid, one of the King's longtime guards, clapped the Crown Prince on the back.
"Now why would you ever want to leave Arabia, Master Quatre?" The tall, thickset man boomed. "All you could ever want is within our reach." He grinned, his teeth gleaming white against his tanned face.
"Except for a wife, evidently," Wufei said with a smirk. The other men all snickered, while Quatre looked baffled.
"The wife is my father's choice, not mine," the prince stammered. The rest of the guards, who had all known Quatre since infancy, continued to rib him as they made their way toward the docks. Heero refused to partake in the teasing; he hadn't known the prince or been a part of his guard for nearly as long, but he knew how sensitive the lad could be and did not care to risk offense.
"Heero." He looked up at the sound of the prince calling his name from a few steps ahead. The look on Quatre's face was serious, despite the jovial atmosphere. Heero frowned and jogged up to meet him.
"Yes, Your Highness?" The prince had never been one to insist on titles, but Heero had a feeling that the conversation they were about to have warranted the formality.
Quatre reached over and gripped Heero's forearm, landing him with a hard stare. "This is important," the prince said. Heero gave a nod of understanding, and Quatre loosened his hold on him. "The other men joke, but I want to ensure that nothing is said or done that would offend Princess Relena," Quatre said, his voice and expression urgent. "Like it or not, she is to be my wife, and your queen. She must be shown the utmost respect. You understand, don't you?"
Heero's eyes widened, surprised that the prince was even worried. Then again, he didn't know the other men in his company all that well. "Of course, Your Grace," he said.
The prince tipped his head to side, lowering his voice. "Thank you, Heero. I knew you would understand. I'm relieved that it is you acting as my proxy, and not, well…" Quatre's face reddened, and Heero followed his gaze to Wufei. "You know how he is with women," the prince finished.
Heero had to chuckle at that. "And he seems to think I will be the one to scare the princess away." The prince broke into a smile.
"Oh, somehow I doubt that," Quatre said. "There is a reason you were chosen for this errand. You have a kind heart. I trust that you will treat the Princess well in my stead."
Once again, Heero hid his surprise. While he hardly thought himself a monster, "kind" was not a word he would attribute to himself. But if the Crown Prince thought so highly of him, he was determined not to let him down.
Heero swept himself into a low bow. "I will treat the Princess as if she were my own bride," he said, without stopping to think of the implication. He flushed and raised his eyes to meet the prince's. But Quatre was still smiling, his eyes gleaming back at Heero.
"That is exactly my wish," the prince said.
And as Heero boarded the ship bound for the European coast, along with the rest of this company, he looked back to see Prince Quatre waving, the smile never leaving his face.
-RGS