Chapter 19: Perspective

It's a beautiful day. Spring is finally warming properly, giving breaths of heat that foretell Aesind's favorite time of year. Birds flutter about, and insects of all sorts buzz in the air. Flowers sway in the breeze from their long containers attached to the stone barrier surrounding the balcony. The view from here is wonderful: the recently-swept tile terrace below, the herb garden, the flowers just beyond it, and yet more flourishing green spreading off into the distance. The world holds a delicate perfume of new growth, growing bolder every day. Every puff of wind carries a new note -- here a breath of lilac, there a wisp of rosemary, and beneath it all the rich scent of earth.

Aesind wishes he could enjoy any of it.

Instead of being down in that beautiful, blossoming garden, he's up here on the terrace. And instead of burying his nose in one of the many books waiting to be read on his bedside table, Aesind is enduring yet another lengthy lecture on the so-called merits of Mister Nolan's apparently expansive estate.

Or perhaps he's moved on to his family's wealth in a more general sense. It's hard to tell. It isn't that Nolan is poorly-spoken. No, his rhetorical skills are quite good, though a touch unimaginative. If Nolan could bring himself to talk about anything other than his own (largely unearned) merits, he might even be pleasant to talk to.

Aesind lifts his teacup to his lips to mask the displeased pull at the corner of his mouth. Pride, he could forgive. It would be terribly hypocritical of him not to, being a proudly prideful creature himself. Aesind has earned his pride, though. Everything Aesind has that's worth holding his head high about has been the product of hard work and years of dedication. It's no one's fault but these pompous, silver spoon-fed ingrates' and their parents' that they're incapable of viewing someone who was born even slightly lower than themselves as worthy of a bit of pride.

But even then, pride isn't a deal-breaker. Being boring as well as a braggart, on the other hand, is a grave transgression. If they're going to boast, they ought to figure out how to tell a tale with any amount of skill whatsoever.

Mister Nolan is far from entertaining. Frankly, he doesn't even really rank as diverting, either.

Aesind wishes Archimedes would come home already. They received another influx of letters from the villages this morning that all detail recent ghoul sightings, attacks, or related anxieties. One described a traveling caravan that was found torn to shreds on the side of the road just within the Valley's borders a week ago. The description made Aesind's stomach turn. It was a smallish pack compared to the numbers they've been seeing recently, handily dealt with by monster hunters, but the damage was done.

He'd hoped, in vain, that this afternoon tea would distract him from it all. Obviously, he's had no such luck.

Has Nolan even noticed that Aesind isn't listening? Aesind examines him carefully over the teacup's rim.

The man is tall, even sitting down, and he could be described as good-looking -- chiseled jaw covered by well-groomed facial hair, dark blue eyes beneath sculpted brows, curling black hair that's always artfully messy, and well-dressed to match. Nolan gestures widely as he speaks. At least he has a personality beneath all the dreadful, boring bragging, even if it isn't particularly to Aesind's liking. Nolan comes from a long line of noble magicians. The introductory letter he arrived with stated that his benefactors hoped Aesind would find many things in common with him. Perhaps they could even practice their magics together, the letter suggested.

They haven't even gotten to that point. Nolan can't stop talking long enough for Aesind to suggest that they compare abilities.

And no -- it appears he hasn't noticed Aesind's lack of attention whatsoever.

Then again, Aesind hasn't shown much interest otherwise; it's possible Nolan thinks this is how Aesind is all the time. It isn't really very fair.

Aesind sighs inwardly. He promised Archimedes he would give these gentlemen a fighting chance in the name of determining the source of the continued odd behavior many of the suitors sent to them have been displaying, if nothing else. He should make at least an effort to pay more attention and participate. Who knows, maybe Mister Nolan will have a surprising change of character when engaged in a topic he cares about.

Aesind tries to rejoin the one-sided conversation and finds Nolan rambling about schooling of some sort.

"...not particularly excited, but I was determined to go," Nolan declares, chest puffed out. "After all, it isn't every day a man as young as I was gets accepted to study with the Mages' Academy. At only twenty, I was youngest in my classes."

"That is impressive," Aesind cuts in while Nolan takes a breath. The suitor almost looks surprised to see Aesind speak, and Aesind bites back his pointed remark about it. "How many years did you study there?"

Nolan's grin returns in full force. And force is the right word; it's too wide, too polished, too practiced to be genuine. He'd been fine right up until Aesind engaged with him directly. Odd, indeed.

"Three years. I studied under several masters during that time. I must say, any magician worth his spark ought to study there. And even if not there, proper schooling is an absolute must. Otherwise, how can he earn the title of magician?"

Aesind raises an eyebrow. "Well, now, I am entirely self-taught. My only teachers have been a friend of mine and His Lordship, Archimedes. All other magics I have, I taught myself. And yet, I am a magician, certified and all."

A familiar look crosses Nolan's face. One part judgmental, one part pitying, entirely condescending. Nothing odd about that. He's leveled the same look on his fellow suitors when they mention their lack of magic ability or their lower stations.

Aesind allows his own gaze to turn frosty in return, issuing silent challenge across the snack-laden table.

Nolan wisely shuts his mouth. He reaches for his own cup of tea and takes a noisy sip.

"In any case," Nolan says briskly, "it isn't the only studying I've done. I've done extensive work in learning land and financial management, alongside more scholarly subjects. My father..."

And on, and on, and on it goes. Aesind keeps the roll of his eyes to his mind by sheer force of will. So much for engaging with the buffoon. He glances back out toward the gardens.

He wonders what Ash and Emrys are up to today. Their usual chess table down on the terrace below the balcony is empty. The pieces have been put away in velvet bags left atop the board surface to wait for their regular players' return.

It was a relief to discover that Ash really does like Emrys. Aesind has known Emrys is a good person since he arrived here, but Ash's confirmation means the world and more. Their surprisingly quick friendship with Emrys is an excellent sign. Ash usually takes longer to warm up to anyone, but Emrys won them over in mere days. That more than confirms Aesind's instincts.

Aesind's gaze drags back to Nolan. He's still going on about his various accolades. It's an impressive list, to be sure, but what values has he actually absorbed from all those lessons and tutors and schools? Has he really achieved so much only for bragging rights and nothing more? What does he actually do with his knowledge?

So unlike Emrys, whose academic schooling was as humble as it gets. He and all of his brothers attended classes at the schoolhouse in their village. After classes, on weekends, and after his graduation, he continued learning important skills at his parents' sides. Practical accounting, leadership, problem solving, diplomacy, strategy. Alongside combat training, his mother has raised him as a level-headed, honorable heir worthy of the Symmonet clan's extensive lineage.

He may not be a mathematical or literary prodigy, but Emrys has been taught to seek the opinions of those he holds in high regard. His brothers, his parents, his elders. Teachers, scholars, anyone who would offer insight Emrys himself can't produce himself. It makes him wise beyond his years. A well-earned point of pride if he were to lay claim to it.

Aesind did a bit of research and found that the family has been a pillar of the eastern Golden Valley for centuries. Everything Aesind scrounged up about the Symmonets has revealed a family of benevolent community leaders who act in the interest of the entire Valley. They may not be rulers on paper, but old contracts, town records, and personal diaries regard them as obvious authorities in the region. Their official role is that of protectors from monsters and beasts; those noble burdens have brought an undying respect in the hearts of their communities. The only thing they lack is "proper" titling, and even then, it doesn't seem to matter to the Valley's people.

Emrys is as noble as any of these so-called gentlemen, and yet he acts as though he's nothing more than a common villager. He just so happens to hunt monsters as his career, lineage aside. It doesn't matter how much land his family owns, how much money they must have in their coffers, or how widely and deeply regarded he is as an individual. The whispers Aesind has caught speak of medals and honors and awards and prizes -- tournaments, hunts, training milestones, heroic rescues, and more have given Emrys quite the reputation.

And yet, he's never mentioned a single one to boast. Emrys has talked about participating in competitions, but he often focuses on the worthiness of his opponents or how his brothers fared in the same categories rather than his victories. He's been raised to value honor and respect above all else. He's a creature of service, dedicated to his people in every way. It makes him humble in many ways, but he still holds his head high.

He is proud of who he is, but he would never flaunt it to make someone else feel small. His pride is a garment he wears, not a weapon he wields.

Aesind likes that about him.

He wishes it was Emrys sitting across from him rather than this failure of a suitor. The conversation would be better, for one thing. Aesind would have room to talk about whatever he'd like, and Emrys would listen like usual. He'd even ask questions about whatever topic Aesind landed on. Genuine interest, never feigned, even when he has absolutely no idea what Aesind is going on about.

For another thing...

Aesind's thumb traces along the edge of his teacup. He can easily picture Emrys sprawling in the seat across from him. A predator at ease in his environment, relaxed and happy.

The phantom sensation of a nudge against his boot draws his attention.

The imagined Emrys smiles as Aesind looks. In the bright spring sunshine, his irises would be lit to a beautiful amber color. If Aesind were to make the right joke at the right time, Emrys might laugh. And if he laughs, those maddening dimples might appear at the corners of his mouth.

Yes, Nolan might be good-looking. But Emrys is handsome. Strong nose, shapely jaw, broad shoulders, a laugh to die for and a sense of humor to match; he's just about irresistible. Add in his rich baritone voice, and Aesind's done for. He's gone weak in the knees more than once during their fake courtship and even before that.

Just yesterday, Aesind tripped over a vine that had snuck over the garden path. Emrys's good hand darted out to curl around Aesind's bicep. Without use of the other arm, he positioned himself in front of Aesind to catch the rest of his falling weight. Aesind ended up with a face full of Emrys's (very muscular, very generous, very tempting) chest. It was partly obscured by the brace's straps, but it was still enough to make Aesind's heart race. And then Emrys had asked if he was alright in a soft, worried tone, and Aesind's cognitive abilities went straight out the window. He managed to pass his breathlessness off as embarrassment.

Late last night, lying alone in his massive bed, Aesind couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to feel Emrys's hands on his bare skin. That one hand was broad and warm through his shirt's sleeve. He knows how it feels to have those hands wrapped around his own and curled around his waist as they spin and laugh together.

Dancing skills aside, it's always so easy to sink into Emrys. It would've been too easy to tip his chin up and brush his lips along Emrys's in the ballroom or out in the garden or over tea or any other time they've been alone together and entirely too close.

Would Aesind be able to feel his calluses from a lifetime of weapons training as his hands run over bare skin? Would he be rough, or would he be gentle and attentive?

A combination, Aesind's imagination has decided. Pinned wrists and sweet kisses. Vicious bite marks and reverent touches. Teasing remarks and genuine compliments. Emrys would wrap those broad, strong arms around Aesind from behind so he could whisper romantic filth in his ear while fucking him slow and deep and hard. It was a simple thing to tuck a couple slicked fingers into himself to complete the fantasy, even if it wasn't nearly enough. He was too worked up to wade through his toy collection for something that might approximate Emrys's dick. Perhaps tonight...

Aesind swallows hard and forces himself back to reality. Luckily, Nolan still hasn't noticed Aesind's distraction. He certainly doesn't notice the light flush riding high in Aesind's cheeks. It wouldn't do for him to get the wrong idea.

Nolan pauses midstream as they both hear a laugh break through the air. Aesind turns in his seat, already smiling. He knows that laugh.

Emrys and Ash emerge from the gardens. The brace is nowhere in sight today, indicating a day of less pain. Doctor Illala told him he's allowed to spend a couple hours out of it to stretch the joint and strengthen the muscle when it isn't hurting as badly but that he shouldn't do anything strenuous with it unsupervised. Emrys is obediently careful with his injured arm. It doesn't swing as far as the left one.

He and Ash are both somewhat smudged from what Aesind can see this far away. They must have been wandering around off the main path far within the gardens. Wild nature spirits, the pair of them. Ash jots something else down on their chalkboard for Emrys to see, eliciting another crackle of laughter from the hunter.

As they step up onto the terrace, Emrys glances up at the manor. He quickly spots Aesind and Mister Nolan at the balcony's edge. He gives Nolan a polite nod before looking back to Aesind. They hold eye contact for a few long seconds.

Emrys cracks first, giving Aesind a fond, toothy grin that -- yes, even from this far up, Aesind can see those fucking dimples. Aesind can't help but return the smile with one of his own. It just makes Emrys smile wider, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Aesind feels his heart give a flutter.

He can't be the only one getting flustered. Aesind shoots an unsubtle wink at Emrys, whose grin purses as red tips his ears and he dips his head shyly. It just makes him more handsome.

Aesind sorely is tempted to ditch Nolan and flit downstairs to join Ash and Emrys in whatever they plan on doing next this afternoon. Or, maybe Ash would wander back out to the gardens, leaving Emrys and Aesind alone. And maybe...

He bites at his lip and turns away as Ash tugs on Emrys's sleeve to interrupt the silent flirting. They head inside, and Aesind resolves to seek Emrys out this evening, one way or another.

Thankfully, Nolan didn't notice the nature of the exchange between Aesind and Emrys. It was a little too real to fit into their overarching narrative, and Aesind would rather not deal with Nolan's annoying jealousy. (Again. He's already made a stink about Emrys getting "extra time" with Aesind.)

There must be some lingering amusement or fondness in Aesind's expression, though, because hope fills Mister Nolan's face as Aesind turns his attention back fully.

"I have enjoyed our afternoon together," Nolan says meaningfully. He leans forward, one arm extending across the table. His palm is up, offering.

Aesind glances at it. His affectionate feelings dissolve. He gives Nolan a neutral look in his best approximation of Archimedes. He says, "I'm glad. It has been enlightening, listening to you speak about your family, your estate, your wealth, your education, and your interests. Your passion for your many pursuits is... obvious."

Even as dense as Nolan has been, the meaningful pause and repetition do not go over his head. Aesind's words go straight through him, cutting him to the quick in an instant. His offered hand withers like a dried up flower, curling in on itself before withdrawing entirely.

Aesind sets his empty teacup and its saucer down on the table. "I'm afraid the afternoon has gotten away from me somewhat. I have another engagement before dinner that I must prepare for." He stands, inclining his chin to Nolan as the man scrambles to his feet as well. "Good afternoon, Mister Nolan."

Aesind barely waits for the uncomfortable reply before heading inside. Perhaps, if he's quick enough, he can meet with Emrys and Ash as a palate cleanser before having to deal with Mister Reeves during his allotted time.

Perhaps it will even be diverting enough that he can say he lost track of time and will have to postpone their conversation for another day. That would give him free reign over his entire evening to spend it as he likes.

Perhaps Emrys would like a late cup of tea.