Tate remained in bed for about three days. He was probably fine after the first day but he pretended to be sicker than he was and acted pitiful whenever the healer came in because he just wasn't ready to face it. He didn't know what to say to anyone.
Not that he believed that everyone everywhere was interested in him at all times but he did see the newspaper that had been released yesterday where his engagement to Jillian had been announced.
As he walked through the gates and into the Academy grounds he saw and felt many staring at him, of course just as many students he passed couldn't be bothered, but it was the ones who followed high society gossip and their friends who were doing the staring and the whispering.
He couldn't help but be overly conscious of it. He'd received plenty of attention throughout his life for various things but this was the first time he was being stared at and talked about for something that he was truly embarrassed about. He was a grown man and the "love triangle" he'd been roped into against his will was not only causing rifts in his family but was now entertaining gossip as well.
Even the headmaster gave him a withering look when they passed in the hallway, a look of such disdain it almost burned or would have if he had cared about the man's opinion.
He opened his office door and saw that dust had begun to collect. At least he knew that no one had entered since he'd last been there. He started by opening the window to let some fresh air in then he sat down and began the tedious task of sorting the papers he'd left. He had not intended to be gone for three days which made it a more arduous task than it usually was because he could only remember some of the details about them.
He finally got them shuffled into some semblance of order and then waited. He didn't have to wait long until a young girl came in telling him she wanted career path advice.
It quickly became clear that she came to gawk. After she left he sighed and rubbed his temples where a headache was forming. Unfortunately, the day continued this way. Three more gossip chasers who just wanted to look at him and one who was so bold as to ask him outright if he'd stolen his brother's fiance.
He did respond to that one because he did not want Jillian's name to be dragged through the mud as a suspected cheater when nothing could be further from the truth. He bluntly stated that, no marrying her was not his idea and that he did not have that kind of relationship with her. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything.
After all, doing nothing but what he was told and quietly going along with things was his specialty. He did see Aliya for a bit and she fussed over his health. He could tell she was dying to ask him questions about the engagement and what it meant but she was tactful enough not to.
When the work day was over he sat back and looked at the office in disdain. He was stuck in a cage where all he got to do all day was sit and listen to hopeful dragon riders. He had the painful privilege of helping them reach the highest heights of being a Dragon Rider while he was locked up here. A bird who'd broken both its wings could not fly but could still sing, so the best thing for it was to keep it caged up and give it something to sing about. Now, to add insult to injury the bird was going to be forced to mate.
In the darkness of his current mood he made a decision he would normally not have made. He knew logically that going to a tavern and drinking in his current state of mind was a terrible idea. He knew that, and yet it was all he could think about doing. He'd only been drunk a few times before on accident during the war when his superiors had given him stiff drinks after a battle as a "remedy." He'd always felt awful the next day and had never taken much interest in drinking casually.
Today was different, what else could he do to rebel but that? His life was structured so heavily for him at this point that the only decisions he could make for himself were what to eat and drink, so tonight he was going to drink.
He went to a random tavern that he'd heard others in high society talk about in passing. Its name was "The Golden Ring" and the interior was opulent to cater to the elite.
He approached the man at the bar and asked for a drink.
"What kind?" The man asked.
What kind? He wracked his brain for what his superiors had called it.
"Whisky please," he said when he finally remembered it. As he recalled two glasses of this and he would be asleep, or at least that had been the case when he was young.
"No, no Lord Delmont, you don't want that." A young man who looked vaguely familiar took a seat next to him. Tate took a moment to recognize him, he was Lord Gillies, Lord Kiln's son. They had never interacted much since their fathers were in political opposition and it had been a long time since he had seen him. The, Lord Gillies, Tate remembered was a thin and handsome young man, over the last five years he'd become a little hefty and his hairline was receding. "He'll have the special," Gillies told the barman, not waiting for Tate's input.
Was it wise to just accept a drink chosen by your father's sworn enemy's son? Probably not, but at this point who cared? He felt incapable of caution or concern, he didn't feel anything.
A clear liquid with a strong but almost fruity smell was soon placed in front of him.
Lord Gillies smiled at him encouragingly and lifting an eyebrow downed his own glass of the same liquid. Tate never took his eyes off the other young man, still a bit amazed at his change in appearance, as he drank his glass as well.
"Good isn't it?" Lord Gillies beamed at him. Tate had to admit that after the first shock, it left a pleasant aftertaste. It was one of those things that the moment you put it into your mouth your brain rejected the idea of drinking another outright, but once it was off your tongue the brain could be persuaded that it hadn't been that bad and a little more must be better.
Tate nodded at Gillie's question. "Thank you for your suggestion."
"He speaks!" Lord Gillies teased. He looked Tate in the eyes, his expression turning a bit serious. "Look, our father's quarrels are not ours, drink with me tonight. I've never seen you out on the town, let me be your guide. I can show you all the best things the capital's nightlife has to offer. What do you say?"
Feeling just a little warm he thought it over and agreed. If he was going to go wild for a night, why not go all in?
"Excellent! Barman, two more!"
Tate and Lord Gillies drank another glass, then another. It was after the third one that things started to get strange. He couldn't follow what they were talking about and his tongue wasn't working quite right. He laughed a lot and talked a great deal more than he usually would. He didn't really know what he was talking about but he didn't care.
Lord Gillies too was jovial and carefree. After the third drink, he dragged Tate into the street and they visited another tavern. There they met up with more of Lord Gillie's friends and Tate was introduced to the ones he didn't know. Something in his mind was bothering him about the group he was currently with. Wasn't there something important he should know about them? He pondered it for only a second before a glass of clear liquid was put in front of him and he drank it down. He was in no state to notice the predatory looks of his "companions" or the glee in Lord Gillie's eyes, eyes that were not very intoxicated at all.
Tate slumped back into his chair as the group chattered around him. Sadness was sinking into his very bones and he felt like crying. This wasn't fun at all, he didn't think he'd been so sad the last time he'd been drunk. He didn't like this feeling, it was just everything he'd been feeling before deciding to drink but worse. He slapped himself for his stupidity.
When his head turned from the force of his own strike he was facing Lord Gillies who was looking at him strangely. His lips were moving like he was saying something, but Tate didn't hear a word.
Soon after he knew nothing.
After that who knew how long had passed before a horrible pain in his middle woke him up. He thrashed only to find that he couldn't move his hands and feet, something was over his eyes and mouth. The very earth behind him was moving and punching him methodically.
What was happening?