Chapter 57. Restaurant Redo (Patreon)

 Euryphel sighed in relief, closing his eyes. Finally.

The meeting had adjourned.

The other Prime of Fives stood up and stretched, gathering their belongings before leaving the room to find dinner. The Minor Seven in attendance fled the room as though their lives depended on it.

Meanwhile, the assemblymen and other miscellaneous observers in the balcony filed out in groups, self-assembling by faction. Beyond the walls, Euryphel’s eyes tracked the path of a golden arrow as it wound down the stairs and entered the main floor.

The prince stood and placed his hands on the table, leaning against it. Julian walked up to the front of the dais, giving Euryphel a small wave.

“Shall we grab dinner?” he asked.

Euryphel closed his eyes and stretched his neck. “I need a drink.”

“They have alcohol in the palace, surely,” Julian smiled.

Euryphel gave him a smirk. “Let’s go out. The Prince’s Council going two hours long forced me to cancel on the Minister of Trade.”

“Who’s that?” the decemancer asked.

“You met him,” Euryphel explained. “Barra Kestrelius.”

“He should understand why you had to cancel the meeting.”

Euryphel’s mouth quirked. “Yes, he should know it’s because of you,” the prince admonished. “You didn’t see the debate over your appointment as my personal retainer, but it dragged on for a long time. The second prince, Ezenti, has it in for you; be cautious around him.”

“How do you know?”

The prince snorted. “Ezenti is generally prickly, and today he was especially unapologetic. He doesn’t think you’re suited to be my personal retainer.”

The decemancer nodded slowly, considering Euryphel’s words.

Julian frowned. “Was he that old man at the dais?”

“Precisely.”

“And why do you think I am suited?” the decemancer replied. “I can imagine the kind of argument Ezenti might have provided.”

“Just because you aren’t under oath doesn’t mean you can’t be my retainer,” Euryphel replied. “You’re powerful and willing to work with me. Moreover, I have no reason to suspect your motives, which is already an improvement over most of the people I have contact with.”

Julian chuckled, though the gesture didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I really can’t tell how much of the loop video you’ve seen.”

The prince frowned. Why did Julian suddenly bring up the recording?

The decemancer continued uninterrupted. “If you saw certain things I did in there, I don’t think you’d be so readily accepting of me.”

Euryphel shot him an inscrutable look. “While I took you on as a retainer before viewing the loop video, I already had a general sense of what you’d been through at that point.”

“I had a feeling you were thoroughly interrogating me back in the sun room, even if I couldn’t remember it.”

The prince smiled. “After viewing the video of you, Julian, I have no regrets.”

“I prefer to be called Ian, you know,” the decemancer murmured. “Only Aunt Julia calls me Julian.”

“And your mother calls you Ignatius,” Euryphel observed. “You seem to go by many different names.”

“Mother calls me Ignatius because of my father,” he explained. “And Aunt Julia calls me Julian because I’m named after her.”

“But you introduce yourself as Julian,” the prince observed. As though suddenly remembering something, he began to cackle. “Or Iggy, Iggy Black.”

The tips of the decemancer’s ears grew red.

“There’s no way you saw four years of video in one night,” he exclaimed, grimacing. “And never, ever, call me Iggy Black.”

Euryphel continued to chuckle. “I didn’t see it all...at least not at 1x speed,” he admitted, his eyes narrowing into jovial, mirthful crescents. In truth, he had skipped around after identifying the point at which the decemancer escaped the first loop layer, spending most of his time thoroughly watching the layer with the Hashat terrorists.

Even so, Euryphel had gone through enough of the video to witness Ian wielding his power to gruesome ends, sometimes even destroying himself in the process. But seeing Ian going all out in reckless and imposing displays of decemancy hadn’t alarmed Euryphel; rather, it had reminded the prince of himself.

“Ian,” Eurypel said, as though testing the word. “Hmm. But what if I think Julian sounds better?”

Ian shrugged helplessly. “Call me whatever you want, then.”

The prince grinned and started walking toward the exit of the assembly hall. “No, no, Ian is fine.”

—

After leaving the assembly hall, Euryphel brought Ian to his bedroom as before, making Ian wait while he put on a disguise. After exiting the palace via servant passageway, Euryphel strode off to a restaurant, Ian following closely behind him. The streets were packed; nobody seemed to give them any notice. The floating lanterns above cast the streets in alternating colors that seemed to dye Euryphel’s light hair a new hue every few steps.

When Euryphel finally stopped, Ian realized that the prince had led them back to the restaurant they’d visited in the loop.

“Why come back here?” Ian asked, sipping a glass of wine. 

“I was curious,” the prince said. “It seemed like I enjoyed it the first time.”

“The food was pretty good.”

Euryphel swished the wine in his glass and raised an eyebrow. “I was referring to the conversation.”

“Oh,” Ian replied sheepishly. “Well, I don’t anticipate us having the same kind of conversation again.” This time they’d ordered wine by the glass rather than the bottle.

The prince laughed. “We don’t need to be drunk to have good conversation. To clarify, I was looking forward to unwinding after a long day with someone who doesn’t tire me out.”

Ian reached for a circular flatbread. “You treat me more as a friend than a retainer. Is it really proper to do so?” While Euryphel was the Crowned Prime, Ian considered himself to be an unknown factor: He was personally powerful, but Euryphel influenced the politics of the entire world.

If Ian did anything to alienate the prime, there was little preventing a nasty fallout and costly retreat. Under those circumstances, could the two actually have a genuine relationship?

Despite misgivings about their uneven power dynamic, Ian had to agree that there was a spark between them: When they spoke, they did so on the same wavelength, easily following the thoughts of the other.

The prince regarded him carefully. “The position of Crowned Prime is solitary: surrounded by plots from within and without, nobody is to be fully trusted.”

“And those around you–even those who are loyal–will treat you differently,” Ian sighed. He’d never seen the prince laugh wholeheartedly with anyone else: Dry chuckles and smiles occasionally made an appearance, but the prince typically graced his court with an expression of icy indifference.

“It’s the price of the position.”

“I didn’t have many friends at all even before awakening. I’d say that situation was entirely of my own doing.” He paused to slather his flatbread with butter. “Now that I’m a peak practitioner, forming relationships with others will probably be more difficult. I’m more of a weapon than a man. Mother’s even begun to treat me differently: She doesn’t call me a failure anymore, a fact that terrifies more than comforts.”

Euryphel’s lip curled. “Your mother...”

“...is impossible,” Ian finished.

“No, not impossible. She’s petty and small-minded, obsessed with her own skewed perception of power. It’s a wonder you’ve managed to endure her.”

Ian shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “Her advice isn’t all bad, and she does care for me, in her own way.”

Euryphel sipped at his wine. “Have people here seemed afraid of you?”

The decemancer considered for a moment as he ate. “No, actually. I’ve mostly just been around your Guardians and a few congressmen. Aside from Guardian Druni, none of them have seen me practice.”

The prince sighed. “It’s probably not going to stay that way after tomorrow.”

Ian nodded. “Right...after the demonstration.” Ian still didn’t fully understand what said demonstration would entail.

“I’ll give you more details on what you should expect tomorrow morning. I’ll also send you a brief tonight with profiles on the Guardians, since you’ll be going up against all of them at once.”

“Isn’t this exercise a bit excessive?” Ian dreaded confronting the entire guard: He’d be expected to keep all of them alive. With fifteen of them to deal with, the exercise sounded like a headache. Moreover, Ian figured that a fight between all of them wouldn’t fit inside a standard stadium. The organizers would probably stage the demonstration at a larger venue, and given his limited long-range attack capabilities, such a location would probably be to his disadvantage.

“It is, but Ezenti was quite persuasive,” Euryphel admitted. “These were the conditions we agreed upon to justify taking you on as a liability. The princes wanted a way to judge your worth.”

“Definitely send me as much information as you can.”

Just then, a waitress arrived.

The prince glanced down at the menu before clearing his throat. “What are you planning to order?”

—

Since he’d been officially confirmed as a personal retainer during the Prince’s Council, a room had been prepared for him in the inner palace. Euryphel personally showed him the way, taking him for a walk through the inner palace’s grassy pathways and open-face wooden halls.

“This is it,” he said. “Go in.”

Ian turned toward the door and opened it, finding it unlocked. The room was spacious and fully furnished with an ornate rug and sumptuous-looking bed.

“At six thirty, knock on the front door three times. I’ll then bring you into my parlor.”

“Eury,” Ian said, still facing toward the room’s threshold. Euryphel froze, then turned his head around. “Don’t be afraid to use me.”

Euryphel held a hand on his mouth, stifling laughter. “I’m not.”

Ian rolled his eyes and turned around, leaning against the door. “Sending me out to make soul gems doesn’t seem like a good use of your investment,” he pointed out.

Euryphel raised an eyebrow. “What should I have you do instead while I’m stuck in meetings?”

Ian smiled. “Intimidate people?”

“That’s what you’ll be doing tomorrow,” the prince said. “Keeping an intimidating decemancer around me at all times would be in poor taste. Don’t worry, though, I’ll find something for you to do, something that will challenge you. For now, keep making soul gems when I dismiss you.”

“I almost forgot to ask: What should I do with the soul gems?” On his way back from the bay, he’d decided to secure the large soul gem onto his belt with a small tendril of Death energy; the rest remained in his pockets. He told Euryphel that he’d make money, but wasn’t sure how to best turn his gems into liquid capital.

“Go get them appraised when you have time,” Euryphel replied offhandedly. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to sell them. Now, for tomorrow...the first meeting is at seven, so I’ll be expecting you to join me for breakfast at half-past six. I’ll collect you.”

“Good night, prince,” Ian said.

“Good night, intimidating decemancer.”

Ian snorted, then closed the door.

—

Ian struggled to stir from bed. In conjunction with Euryphel’s early meeting time, he’d also stayed up late poring over the Prince’s brief and thinking of strategies for how to deal with the Guardians. He lay in bed listlessly for fifteen minutes, eventually shuffling out the door only after giving himself a vitality infusion.

Of course, Ian had then gotten lost trying to find the bathing facilities in the inner palace. He wandered the outdoor wooden hallways for nearly twenty minutes–all while dressed in a bathrobe–until he almost barreled into someone rounding a corner.

Ian blinked in surprise. “Yatze...?”

The young man grinned companionably. “Oh, hey! You’re up early...”

Yatze gave Ian a once-over, taking in his fluffy white bathrobe and slippers.

“Why are you now in the inner palace?” Ian asked. Last time they met had been in the outer palace guest wing’s baths.

“You do realize you stepped into the outer palace...?”

Ian’s eyes turned upward in contemplation. Had he really?

“Kidding!” Yatze said, cracking up.

Ian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Do you happen to know where the inner palace baths are located?”

“Sure do; they’re on my way.”

“Thank you, Yatze” Ian said, expression full of relief. Even though he could see through walls using his vitality sight, the warren-like nature of the palace made it difficult to see far, with multiple overlapping walls forming opaque barriers.

“What brings you here, anyway?” Ian asked. Yatze had already pointed out the early hour.

“I’m meeting someone for breakfast.”

“Oh. Who?”

“He’s also here for the officer training program; his name’s Je’ri Druni.”

Ian shot him a quizzical expression. “Is he related to Guardian Druni then?”

Suddenly, Yatze’s expression changed, as though he’d come to a shocking realization.

“You said you were the Crowned Prime’s new retainer, right?”

“Yes.”

The young man swallowed. “Oh wow. You, uh, you look really young. For a peak decemancer. Wow. Almost can’t believe it.”

Ian smiled wryly. “Neither can I, honestly.”

Silence persisted for a minute or so as they walked. Tension positively radiated off of Yatze, as though he was worried of saying or doing something wrong.

“Okay, we’re here,” Yatze said, pointing to a wooden door with a small sign saying, “MEN.”

After bathing, Ian returned to his room. He absent-mindedly opened the door to a standing armoire and was surprised to find it filled with clothes. Thankfully, the unfamiliar vestments were organized by layer, with the outer jackets all in one corner, shirts in another, long formal robes off to the side, and trousers folded in drawers on the bottom. Ian picked a jacket, shirt, and set of trousers; they seemed practical enough for the demonstration.

After hastily dressing and grooming himself in the mirror, Ian checked the time, finding that it was just about half-past six. He knocked expectantly on the front door.

After a moment passed, the door unlocked from the other side and swung open. Euryphel poked his head in, smiling jubilantly.

“Well, you sure clean up well.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Ian said dismissively, walking towards the door. Mother often said as much when he dressed up for her social events. “Breakfast?”