Five hours since the commencement of the Prince's Debutante
Yelrine: Institute of Mana and Magics, Knight's Outdoor Training Center
"Seriously, you dumbass. Of all the days to get in trouble you picked today?"
Callum sat on the sidelines below the shade, fanning himself as the midday sun shone happily down on him and the empty training grounds...
Well almost empty.
Quentin stood dead center of the packed dirt, swinging a long wooden practice sword. He constantly switched the hand he held the sword in as he made rhythmic practice slashes at the air.
The once airy light gray tunic he wore was now drenched in sweat and a few shades darker.
He spoke between slashes, blinking his eyes to clear them of the perspiration.
"I have twenty-five more sets to do, then I can go."
Callum groaned and tugged at his pink hair in frustration.
"At this point we'll only be able to make it to the ball tonight."
Tired of his constant complaining, Quentin decided to pepper him with questions.
"Why did you even come here to get me? Shouldn't you be with Azra right now? Or did he send you to fetch me?"
Callum snorted.
"No, I was his best friend first. Why would he need you?"
Quentin grit his teeth and pulled his hands down in a particularly rough swing. If he dared to show even a drop of disappointment on his face Callum would prey on it without remorse.
He wasn't sure why he was disappointed.
Do I want Azra to want me there? But that doesn't make any sense, I haven't seen him in years since I began attending Yelrine.
Nonetheless, he was frustrated. If he wasn't stuck doing extra drills he would be at Asteri right now. Having lunch which he so desperately needed and talking to a certain lavender eyed boy.
"It was not my fault the instructor's wig flew off during training. If I had known I wouldn't strike towards his head."
"All the other knights knew to stay away from it."
Quentin blinked in confusion.
"They all knew he was wearing a wig?"
Callum raised his hands in exasperation.
"All Father above help this oblivious oaf!"
Quentin paused in his extra training and pressed his hands together in reverence.
"Samsara."
"Did you seriously just-!"
"If you're going to say a prayer, do it right."
"Hah! This damn-!"
"Language."
"I curse if I want to, you motherfu-!"
- - -
Lunch was in full swing at the Asteri castle, and unlike breakfast many were engaging in boisterous conversation. Chatter melding with the live music coming from the band.
Generally speaking, at every social event there were four groups designated by age. The older gentlemen, sporting glasses of alcohol and talking on politics and economic affairs. The older gentlewomen, sitting pretty in plush chairs with teacups and lace gloved hands covering their discussions on the inner working of each household while trading pieces of gossip as if they were rare gold coins. There were the young nobles, creating new ties while familiarizing themselves with the scenery. Last was the presence of children, guarded by maids and nannies as they giggled and played in their own corner, virtually unapproachable.
Here there were only three present with the youngest group being absent, a debutante was no place for a toddler.
Azra stood with a clear glass flute in his hands, hoping that if he took periodic sips from the thing then somehow he would come off as less awkward.
None approached him, and while on the surface it may look like he was being ignored it was the exact opposite. Everyone was aware of his presence, this was his debutante for All Father's sake. Still they mingled in their groups waiting for him to decide where to start.
Deciding to go for the safest choice he advanced toward the group around his age as they talked and danced around, still free from the burden their parents carried for them.
He made friends before, he could do it again.
Still, it would be much easier if Callum or Quentin were here.
Noticing his approach Isabelle stood from her seat, intending to meet him halfway. She had only been able to look from afar during breakfast but now was her chance to create a lasting first impression.
Her golden opportunity was crushed under the sharp heel of Queen Irine as she intercepted the Prince's path to her.
Isabelle slumped in defeat as she watched the two begin to talk. She couldn't interrupt a conversation between the Crowned Prince and the bordering nation's Queen.
Her disappointment quickly became tinged with fear as her mother's eye caressed her skin as rough as sandpaper. Though the lady was seated a ways away among the other wives Isabelle could feel her insistence, but she did not budge.
What can I do? The opportunity has passed.
Azra placed a hand over his heart as a sign of respect. Royalty never bowed, not even to those of the same nature. He silently thanked Carmen for teaching him else he might have embarrassed himself and caused a scandal.
"Queen Irine."
"Ho? You know who I am? How surprising, did you witness my introduction into the ball?"
"I didn't have the pleasure of seeing it. I learned of Amaryllis through books and drawings."
Irine blinked, for a Prince who had only just been introduced to the limelight he was doing extraordinarily well.
"You remember my face from those books?"
"How could I forget one so beautiful?"
"Flattery will get you somewhere with me, I suppose."
Flattery?
Azra was only telling the truth. With her dark skin and even darker curls she was so different from the lighter tone and straight colorful hair common in Asteri.
Upon seeing his confused look Irine smiled and linked her arm with his.
"I seemed to have lost my escort in the fray, will you be as kind as to walk me to the women's powder room?"
"Of course."
Cute, nice, and far too gullible. That will have to change.
The two walked away from the crowds, leaving the Queen's escort and personal maids in a confused mess at how quickly she disappeared among the crowds.
The silence remained as their destination grew closer and closer. Unlike what Azra initially expected the Queen did not talk his ear off the entire time. In fact, her face switched from open and friendly to serious.
There were no knights around this area to award the guests a certain level of privacy.
Deciding this was far enough away Irine stopped abruptly, forcing Azra to almost trip over his feet.
"What I'm going to say won't make much sense, but I want you to listen to it anyway."
"Yes?"
"My people are good people at heart, that is not just my sentiment as their ruler but as a native who has grown up among them my entire life. You've proven to me that you're a smart boy, I can at least see that much from our short meeting."
Azra frowned, he knew that this woman was his elder but she spoke to him as if he was beneath her. Like there were 'adult' problems he wasn't old enough to hear or understand yet.
"Regardless there are always bad mixed in with the good, so I'd like to ask that you use any means necessary to contact me should anything happen between you and the people of Amaryllis. I ask this of you not as a guest, but as Queen."
"I believe I have escorted you to your desired destination. I'll now take my leave Queen Irine."
Not even bothering to listen to anything else she said, Azra turned on his heel and retraced his steps back to the ballroom.
He was young, not stupid and although the two were often synonymous he was a different case, Azra would make sure he was a different case. With the ability he had he couldn't afford to lack proper cognitive functions as well.
Why would I promise to do something I know nothing about? If the situation was serious she would have gone to dad. The fact that she sought me out means that she doesn't want him to know. Why would I be coming into contact with rogues who separated from Amaryllis?
The books he had only taught him the surface level of Amaryllis, and he never bothered questioning the lack of information he was privy to because of the amiable connections between the two nations.
Why would people from a friendly nation be targeting me?