A shiny, long, silver object with buttons and small holes caught Fennel's gaze. He had seen the previous court bard invite a friend to play such an instrument and remembered it was able to produce a beautiful sound.
He picked it up to examine it.
"What is this called?" The prince asked.
"This is a flute," the shopkeeper replied.
"How much?"
"5,000 yan."
"I'll take it," Fennel smiled, then handed the man a pouch of money.
The shopkeeper was surprised to receive the money in one lump sum. It was the finest flute he had for sale, and he was unsure if it would ever sell. He wondered how the feline had access to funds, but wouldn't question the purchase.
"Thank you so much," the shopkeeper excitedly replied.
Fennel turned and brightly smiled up at Oliver. The bard looked down to see the instrument the smaller feline clung to.
"Why did you buy a flute?" Oliver asked.
"It's beautiful!" Fennel replied.
"Do you want to try to play it?
"Y-Yes!" Fennel looked excited as he responded.
"I'll show you how to hold it."
Oliver led the prince to a more secluded area away from the shops. He stepped behind the copper-eared feline and reached around him. He took the flute from his hands, then positioned the mouthpiece against the feline's lips.
Fennel felt shy having Oliver behind him. He could feel the bard's chest pressing against his back. He was both in heaven and a nervous wreck. He wasn't exactly being held, but he could still feel the body warmth radiating from the other man.
He wished he would be grabbed and pulled into a tender embrace.
"Blow," Oliver instructed.
Fennel did as instructed, but the instrument didn't produce a single sound. He repeated the action to no effect.
"Not quite so hard," Oliver said. "Try softly blowing the air."
Fennel nodded. He slowly released the air from his lips. He grinned after he heard a high-pitched noise emit from the flute.
"It didn't sound very nice," Fennel laughed.
"It just takes practice," Oliver said. "If you had time to practice, you could hone the skill."
"I don't have that sort of time, not anymore."
"Why did you buy the flute, then?" Oliver asked.
"I wanted to give you a nice gift."
Oliver felt his heart flutter. He thought the gift was way too expensive to take, but he knew it would be bad manners to reject a gift from the future king.
It was a touching gesture.
"You would really do that for me?"
"Of course," Fennel smiled as he clutched the instrument tightly. "You're the best bard. I want to see what kind of music you can play if you have access to an array of instruments. This will just be my first real gift to you."
"P-Prince!" Oliver gasped. "That is such an honor."
"I hope you use it well," Fennel nodded.
"I promise you I will."
Oliver felt his emotions run wild. He couldn't express how much the gift meant to him. He had always wanted to experiment with various instruments, but he never had the means to access them.
The bard couldn't hold back. He moved his arms to the prince's waist, wrapped them tightly around him, and pulled him back into a tight hug.
Oliver's head rested on the prince's shoulder, and his eyes closed. He held him tight for an extended moment. It was the best moment. He never thought he would have the courage to hug Fennel, but the gesture made it impossible for him to resist the urge.
Fennel's face flushed pink, but he didn't resist. He didn't want to resist. The hug was sweet and gentle, and he could grow used to feeling the bard's touch. He wanted to stay in that position forever, not caring what others who walked by may be thinking of seeing them standing there in such a way.
Fennel also closed his eyes and sighed constantly. He removed one hand from the flute and shyly placed his hand over the bard's, which was wrapped around his waist.
His fingers brushed against Oliver's knuckles, then down across the back of the man's hand. He felt a cold chill in his spine as he was held by the other man.
For a moment, the stress of becoming king in just a day melted away. All that mattered in the moment was the embrace.
"Thank you, Fennel," Oliver whispered into the feline's ear.
With his heart pounding, Fellen slightly turned his head toward Oliver's. He wanted to kiss him. He didn't know why he had been wanting to kiss him so badly. He knew his lips would be intoxicating, if he could just sneak in one kiss.
He leaned closer, until their foreheads almost touched. He just needed to move a bit more to join their lips.
Unfortunately, Fennel felt Oliver remove his arms and back away. Those tempting lips were so far away again. If he had moved faster, he could have kissed them.
Fennel snapped back to reality. He internally cursed his thoughts. It was forbidden. He couldn't kiss the man. He couldn't believe he had come so close to doing so.
What kind of king longs for intimate touch with the court bard? He wasn't even Kung yet but was already proving to be unfit, at least in the eyes of the royal court.
If Queen Anise could read his thoughts, he would be scolded. He would definitely get a lecture about proper conduct within the royal court.
Thankfully, she couldn't read his thoughts, and he wasn't currently inside the palace. There couldn't be any danger, though even the townspeople seemed to disapprove of two men locked in an embrace.
Oliver scratched the side of his head nervously. He didn't notice the prince attempting to kiss him, but instead felt somewhat embarrassed that he had suddenly hugged him and allowed the embrace to linger for a little too long.
"My P-P-Prince," Oliver stammered. "I'm sorry for hugging you."
Fennel turned around to face the bars. He furrowed his brows and shook his head.
"Are you upset?" Oliver asked, his tone full of worry.
"N-No!" Fennel exclaimed as he held the flute forward. "You have no reason to apologize."
Oliver felt a wave of relief wash over him as he took the flute from the prince. He was glad he did not anger the young man with his sudden action.
The bard realized he needed to do a better job at controlling his emotions. He just never had a reason to be so conservative while growing up in the slums, so it was new to him.
Royalty was quite different from the people he grew up around. There were many rules that must be followed, and while he wasn't aware of most of them yet, he figured touching a prince so intimately would definitely go against them.
Oliver placed the flute securely in his bag, then smiled and offered his hand to Fennel.
The prince took his hand.
"Oliver?"
"Yes, Fennel?"
The prince paused and looked at the hand he held. He wasn't sure he had a right to say what he was going to, but he wanted to clear the air about everything.
"I enjoyed the hug," Fennel muttered.
He wanted to ask Oliver to do so freely in the future and that he'd never push him away, but the feline felt he couldn't. He kept the explanation simple.
Oliver felt shocked, but his shock was quickly replaced with a warm smile. He was overjoyed that the prince enjoyed the embrace, but he was sure Fennel didn't enjoy it half as much as he did.
The bard was so clueless.
"Are you ready to head for the southern slums?" Oliver asked him.
"Yes," Fennel said, giving him a nervous nod.
"There's no reason to be afraid," Oliver assured him. "I grew up there. If you're with me, nobody would harm you."
"I know," Fennel sighed. "I've just never been to any of the slums, so I can't help but feel a little anxious."
"I suppose it's probably similar to how I felt entering the palace."
"Possibly," Fennel whispered.
"Let's go, then."
Oliver kept hold of Fennel's hand as he led them down the familiar streets. The paths eventually turned from cobblestone to simple dirt roads. The buildings also transitioned. Closer to the castle and market districts, the architecture displayed the wealth and well-doing of the areas, but as they approached the slums, the businesses slowly became shanty structures where the poor lived.
Fennel looked around with curiosity as they entered the southern slums. He couldn't believe the stark contrast between the way people lived there in the upper and castle districts and the poor areas. It seemed these people were caught in extreme poverty. He couldn't understand why anyone would need to live in such a state.
It made him feel a little sad for the poorer inhabitants of Charoux.
Eventually, Oliver stopped their movement in front of a large, wooden building with a run-down green roof. It was a three-story-tall building, and several people were seated outside playing a game of chess.
"This is my mother's place," Oliver said, pointing to the building. "She has run this brothel for 15 years."
Fennel took a deep breath. He was both excited and scared. He wondered what the people in the slums were like, especially Fennel's mother, but he wondered if his heart could handle witnessing the lives of those unfortunate citizens.