Hashih

The Betrothed

Luke padded barefoot into the bedroom. The chill of the night crept from the walls and into his still damp skin. It was late. The problem with him was that when he started dipping his toes into the world that he so desired to run away from, it sucked him in and refused to let go. He refused to let himself be freed. Neither Rhiane’s quiet words before descending the vehicle, nor Anelle’s open flirting tempted him to shy away from the reports and papers he had to review. The queen said herself that he was behind the preparations and the summit was drawing closer and closer every day. Time was not a luxury her mother’s money could buy. The time he lost fooling around, playing games with Rhiane, with Sophia, or with Anelle, was time he had lost forever.

He rubbed the moisture from his hair using the towel one last time, before tossing it on woven hamper just beneath the bathroom sink. The prince didn’t bother putting on a shirt even though it was cold, because his reeked of alcohol and smoke, plus it was not truly comfortable to wear. Although he’d thank Sebastian for loaning him one of his own clothes, he would remember to tell his staff to keep a bag of a change of clothes in all his itineraries so he would not have to borrow from a commoner again. He picked up the tablet computer from the table, its screen glowing brightly in the dimly lit room.

Anelle had tried to pick it off his grasp not too long ago while she sat beside him inside the quiet SUV. Nolan was given permission to leave and rest for the night, which left him and his ex alone together. She chose the semi-privacy to distract him from the spreadsheet showing the schedule of expenses from the different scenarios he asked the Ministry of Finance to explore. The image manager did so by first placing a hand on his thigh, then talking quietly to him about the history they shared together. Then as the prince brushed her off, switching to the schedule that they had drawn together, Anelle switched her gears as well. The tablet had fallen off his grasp as she practically threw herself at the prince. Disgusted, annoyed, and a little surprised that he managed to step away from her beautiful face and sweet scent, Luke’s voice was quietly cold when he asked her to leave. But in the end, it was he who stepped out of the car.

He sat at his side of the bed with a heavy sigh. The springs creaked. So much had happened since her mother’s idea of a PR campaign started, but he had not imagined that being persuaded to grab a drink from a rural bar or sleep in an old farm house. He propped his legs on the mattress, burying the dark material of his pants under the comforter. It was just work, he reminded himself as he watched the shadows danced on the planes of his fiancee’s face. He was going to marry her, sire a child or two, then leave her alone to live her own life. That is, if he succeeded in faking her death and shipping her overseas with enough money to start a new life. Then he would marry into nobility. He could ask Sophia to marry him. It was the deal. It was what he reluctantly signed up for.

Yet, remembering Anelle and her devious advances. His first thought, the first image that came to his mind was not the face of Sophia, but of Rhiane. Her kind smile, her eyes and the way it stared at him, the stubborn set of her jaw when he said something that irritated her, it was what he saw. It was what made him rethink his priorities. He shunned the elegance of a noblewoman for the honest loyalty of an unschooled farmer. That was stupid. His mother would call it idiotic. Luke was convincing himself it was in his best interest to behave while they were at Rhiane’s property, distracting himself from his thoughts by dissecting the bids submitted by the pharmaceutical companies, when the woman lying beside him started to move.

At first, he thought she was having a dream, but the pained look on her face, the language her body screamed told him otherwise. Luke had not realized, because he was a selfish brat, that the princess elect had yet to recover from trauma. He left her alone to fend for the nightmares on her own. “I’m right here.” He caught her hand; entwining is fingers around hers. Work could wait. It was only a few hours till dawn anyway. He placed the tablet down on the night stand and sunk on the bed beside her. One arm over her bare stomach, he gathered her in his arms whispering that all was well. “I got you,” he whispered over and over again until the nightmares went away.

Estermere Academy - Military School RP

Augustus Kampf

Augustus Kampf

Name

Augustus Kampf

Nickames

Gus

Age

17

Gender

Male

How did they get onto the Officer Programme?

His father was a noble lord, a general, and an alumnus of the Academy. He used both his status and money to get his son into the program. Mostly his status.

Prefered Weapon

Short swords (they always come in pairs) and knives

Appearance Details

The hair. Whatever you do, do not touch the hair. He doesn’t really take time to style it, but it’s off-limits – his black slightly wavy locks. Fringes almost touching his brow, he’d formed this habit of raking it away from his amber eyes either to one side or over his head. A cold golden glare was all the warning he is willing to spare, before the six-foot son-of-a-lord shows any offender that those broad shoulders and lean muscles on his chest and arms are not just for show.He is straightforward and it shows even in how he chooses to dress himself in usually plain shirt, jeans, plus the optional leather jacket if it’s cold. He earned scars from his training and short term missions, but nothing notable.

Personality Traits

Gus is an extrovert. A very competitive extrovert who hated losing as much as he hated eating potatoes. He is generally approachable, friendly, and polite. People are drawn to him possibly because of his seemingly laid-back attitude and easy smile. But really, hiding beneath the mussed hair and plain clothing is a natural born leader, who can be ruthless in his pursuit of his goals. He does not give up easily and will always be that one person who says, “There has to be another way” when most others have given up. The enthusiasm he carries with him can be contagious. However, try not to catch the guy in a bad mood or push him in that direction, because he can be mean.

Biography

General Marcellus Kampf was an alumnus of Estermere Academy just like his father and his forefathers. Since that day his wife delivered their first born into the world, the general swore that the child was destined a spot in the academy’s prestigious program. His son would grow to be an intelligent, strong, and independent man. He would follow his father’s footsteps as the general did his father’s and every other first-born male of their bloodline. Augustus was going to be a soldier. He would rise from the ranks and serve as his king’s sword and shield. It was the only path for Gus.

Born into a long line of conquerors, tacticians, military men, in a nation which was known for its military prowess, Augustus Kampf was sent to the training camp at the tender age of ten. By law, every male son of the Kingdom of Noxes was required to be immersed in the art of warfare. They were taught, trained, and groomed to be the next generation of soldiers and leaders who would march under the banner of the king to restore the kingdom into its former glory. As a trainee, Gus was expected to learn and be adept at using all kinds of weapons – melee or ranged – of which his favorite quickly became twin swords and daggers, as well as military tactics and strategies. He was at the top of his class in terms of combat, but tactics and strategies required patience that he sometimes did not have. For those like him who was born with the aptitude to harness the essence of the gods, a special class was designed to hone the talent and use it to supplement physical strength. During his time in the capital’s training camp, he was tasked to lead short expeditions outside the city walls to dispatch monsters or help keep the peace and order in an insurgent state.

The Kingdom of Noxes had always lusted for power and expansion of its territories. The reigning king, Galius XIV, was no less ambitious than his father. He was preparing for war after decades of silence.

Misc.

Matthew Daddario | ADD8E6
He was not an expert practitioner of magic, though if he was not his father's son, he could have been persuaded to pursue such career path. Three spells were what his arsenal of magic tricks were composed of -- lightning bolt (where he shoots lightning into a single target), lightning fist (which he uses on a closed quarter combat to paralyze his opponents), and thunderstorm (where he calls a storm of lightning from the sky; takes significant time and energy to cast)

@Hedgehawk here's mine. Let me know if I need to change anything.

Estermere Academy - Military School RP

Interested as well.

The Betrothed

The mention of the queen made him thankful that he did not get himself blindingly drunk that night. The liquor was brewed especially strong, but he had not yet had enough so as to knock him out. Their highly competitive rounds helped sober him up a little. And though his cheeks were flushed, his mind was working well enough to hold an intelligent discussion with the reigning monarch. That was what he believed.

“I will try to make our conversation brief.” Because he cannot promise that the meeting with his mother would be quick. While working on the farm, he admittedly dismissed a few calls which he thought were not of importance, skipped meetings and even neglected some of his duties for the day. It was during the night that he planned on catching up so that the kingdom, especially his noble subjects, would be placated and not think about raising the question about his intentions and Rhiane’s effect on him. Such rumors made him appear weak and he did not like it.

Cold blue gaze watched Tobias helping Rhiane step down from the vehicle. He eyed his cousin meaningfully and the royal guard nodded ever so subtly. An unspoken understanding passed between the boys. Though he would have wanted to accompany the princess elect to her room instead, he believed that the sooner they started the meeting the sooner it was over. Tobias and Rhiane were blocked by the impatient noble lady, who still managed to get in the vehicle with poise. Her nose crinkled as soon as she settled beside Luke.

“Have you been drinking?” was the first order of business for Anelle as soon as Tobias pushed the rear door shut. She deliberately occupied the seat that was Rhiane’s a few minutes ago, angling her body so she partially faced him. The prince ignored her. It was obvious that he had. Instead, he gave instructions to Nolan to park the vehicle in front of Anelle’s sedan and retrieve his tablet computer. Nolan obliged without question. He was in a hurry to leave the former lovers in the backseat.

Anelle waited until they were alone before bursting out, “Oh, Luke. She has no class! What was she thinking bringing you to a provincial bar?” Without even asking his permission, the palms of her hands were on both side of his cheek. Luke tried to back away, but the alcohol made his reflexes a bit slow. She caught his face in between her hands and forced him to look at her. “Don’t worry. When all of this is over, I shall persuade her majesty to not allow you to accompany her outside the cities again. I know and I understand how you --”

“Anelle. Stop.” Gently, he pried her paws off his face. “Call the queen. Nolan!” Luke opened his door and called out his bodyguard again, asking what was taking too long. When he returned inside the car, his computer was turned on and he was browsing the communications he missed during the day. Anelle was obliged to call the queen.

If Queen Camilla was irritated with the way her son ignored her calls and messages the whole day, it did not show. The monarch’s face was businesslike the whole time. No how-are-you’s just plain business. They mostly discussed the summit that heir was about to attend and how the tour was derailing the preparations. Due to the cramped schedule and the recent attempt at his life, the heir had not finished examining the proposals for trade agreements, defense treaties, among other concerns that would surely be raised during the summit. The queen worried that he would come prepared at the same time, she was not willing to cut the tour short. It was working, according to her. The masses were convinced that it was possible for the royal to love a lowly farmer. She said it with a laugh Luke knew was without humor. His mother had an inkling of what was happening and was perhaps afraid to confront the truth in front of somebody outside the family. The only consolation was that the sooner an heir was produced, the quicker the charade would end. It would save both her and her son years of humiliation.

The discussions, the adjustments to the planned itinerary, including side discussions about the summit, and finally an update on the investigation of the incident at Evolab and the mountains, which the queen said was sent in an email, took more than just a few minutes. The succeeding groundwork that Luke and Anelle had to prepare took longer. They had to consider not only time and logistics, but also the significance of each territory that the couple would visit. Was the rebellion popular in those area? How popular was the crown in those areas? Would it be too dangerous for the couple to venture that far? Would there be accommodations? Those were a few questions they tackled and by the end of it, or at least when Luke told Anelle to take care of the rest, because it was just logistics, hours had passed. The SUV with Rhiane’s father and brothers had long deposited the male members of the family into their home.

By the time Luke let himself in Rhiane’s room, with his computer brightly showing bid documents for a vaccination project his fiancee proposed early on, he wasn’t sure if Rhiane was still awake. He hadn’t told Rhiane about the progress yet. Maybe he would before he left so that she may have a project to keep her occupied. Inside her room, the main light was off, but soft yellowish light glowed at the bedside. He gently closed the door behind him, placed the computer on a desk and headed for a quick shower.

“We will have a discussion about you and Ms. Black later,” said the queen’s message. Luke took off his communication band and stepped into the shower.

The Betrothed

“Excuse us,” the prince said for formality’s sake. He was not asking to be excused, he was exiting the conversation and he was taking the princess elect with him. With his arm around her back, he steered her away from the crowd to an empty table for a semblance of privacy. He pulled a seat out for her, then moved his chair beside hers so he could lean against her and whisper low. Upbeat dance music played in the background while the sporting event played on the monitors by the bar and a live one going on near the back. He heard Gerald good-naturedly belittling his opponents. Everything and everyone inside that old-world-style bar was alive and lively. It was utterly different from the party places he frequented at the capital, where the future generation of leaders, the upper class, the rich, and the privileged were more reserved as they played games not with plastic cups and ping pong balls, but with connections and power. There was dancing, of course, sometimes even singing, yet nothing as loud and carefree as The Long Night.

As he made sure no curious ears were listening, he leaned against her ear. “Back to your farm house, where else?” She was right. They would be driving for hours if they wanted to get someplace nice and perhaps up to his standards only to drive back early in the morning to film. He leaned back so he could look at her face. What she told him when they were discussing about her choice not to take any alcoholic beverage that night floated in the forefront of his brain. It was easier not to think about it, not to consider the possibility. He had just accepted his fate to marry her, becoming a father was an entirely different matter. But it made keeping her away from danger all the more urgent.

“I understand that these people love you, but I don’t want to take another risk,” he admitted, his face suddenly sober. Sebastian was his main source of information at the moment. According to what he had heard, the rebellion was more inclined to kidnap her than to put her life in danger once more. To Luke, it was all the same. He lost to them either way. “Your farm house has been secured. I have people around the perimeter and on the borders of town. We are safer in your home than in a hotel or in a villa elsewhere. I won’t mind your brother’s and your father’s resentment. And your bed –” It was not the most comfortable of beds. It was narrow, the mattress was worn-out, and he thought he felt metal spring poking him when he sat on it. “It will do. So, if you’re feeling tired, princess…” His hand crept under the table to find hers and entwine his fingers with hers. “Bid your friends good night so we may be on our way to discuss those responsibilities you speak about.” He frowned though a playful smirk was on his lips.

---

A little later after, they found themselves back inside the black vehicle driven by an obviously relieved Nolan. No incident meant less work for him and the others. Tobias opened the rear door for the couple before jogging back to the passenger seat.

“Lady Anelle called several times, your highness.” Nolan checked the couple from the rearview mirror. He noted the prince raking his hair out of his face only for the stubborn fringes fall back in place. The heir to the throne looked a little more human, though not at all a mundane human being. His features still screamed royalty, his presence commanding, but there was no longer the air of stiffness or snobbishness. Especially when he smiled and talked so casually to his fiancee about the people he met at the bar. Whatever liquor she made him drink had done it. Still, Nolan had to break the news to the prince.

Luke frowned at the rearview mirror, meeting his bodyguard’s eye. “What does she want? I made the list she wanted and sent it to her, gave her instructions to move the preparations in the farm house.” Well, he hadn’t asked for Rhiane’s permission yet. “Unless Rhiane can nominate another venue?” He arched a questioning brow at her.

“It’s about an important matter she has to discuss with you.” He checked the rearview once again, before adding, “In person. Ah, perhaps here she is.” A black sedan parked near the entrance of the Black’s farm became visible as the rounded the last curve. Nolan slowed the car down then lowered the driver’s window as they neared the sedan. The rear passenger window was lowered as well, revealing the noble lady. Luke reached across Rhiane to press a button from the side console and so he met the image manager face-to-face, though with Rhiane to their midst. The lady’s eyes moved to the farmer’s face to Luke, then gasped.

“What are you wearing, Prince Alessandro? And your hair. Oh dear, your hair!”

“It’s late, Anelle. Can’t this wait until the morning?”

“I’m afraid not. It’s the queen who requests for a meeting, since she cannot get a hold of you. If you don’t mind --” Her gaze momentarily lingered on Rhiane in her commoner fashion. “We can take the call from my car so as to not disturb the princess elect? It’s rather late and she might be tired from travelling all around the kingdom.”

The Betrothed

When the games started, the crown prince was admittedly a little stiff. He was forced in a position where he had to choose between his personal bias and the information he worked hard to obtain. Silently, he cursed the cunning foreigner for twisting his arm and holding his information hostage. Luke hated losing. It was what happened. He had lost to Sebastian and he was losing to a couple of farmers who must have been playing the bar game for quite some time now. Certainly, they would brag about their victory, such victory was infinitely sweeter when the loser was the crown prince himself. But as the game progressed, with Terzo getting more and more drunk, Luke finally found his rhythm and the game became fun. In the end, he was grinning ear to ear as he took it upon himself to finish up glasses that was meant for his team mate.

One game was not enough. He would not go home a loser, especially not while Rhiane was watching. It was an odd thought, but it was not something his fuzzy brain was prepared to process. Rhiane’s brother was suddenly at Luke’s side either to prove himself a better player or to come to the prince’s rescue. Whatever it was, the game and alcohol made the future in-laws better acquainted than when they were glaring daggers over a silent disagreement. The prince became chattier too while playing. Well, he trash-talked the opponents as much as Gerald did as if the team mates were competing as to who was the better trash-talker. It made the game more interesting and the crowd more entertained.

After winning the second game, Luke was high-fiving other people in the bar. Most of them had warmed up to the side of the prince which was not so stiff and formal, striking casual small talks and short congratulations. Then Rhiane said that he only had one more game left. Not that Luke was opposed to the idea, but she knew the rules that if they won, which they would, it meant another round. It would not stop until the whole bar was crawling back to their hovels. He and Gerald would make sure of it. Just as he was about to object, the princess elect leaned in and whispered something to his ear and without giving him a chance to respond, kissed him. It didn’t matter that her brother was watching or that her father was among the crowd, Luke pulled her body against his and reciprocated her action with equal if not more passion.

Her retreat had him longing to forfeit the game and fulfill that obligation she told him about. Gerald did not miss the look on the prince’s face. He punched the royal’s upper arm, not too lightly but not enough to really hurt. Then as Luke turned to his team mate, Gerald shot a ping pong ball at the prince’s forehead, catching it as it bounced back to him. “Head on the game,” he half-reprimanded and half-reminded.

Luke shrugged, smirking. “This one is for my lady love,” the prince boldly declared. He needed not point at Rhiane that time. He just tossed the ball and waited for it to find its own cup. The goal caused happy cheers as he winked at Rhiane and mouthed the word “later.”

The third round was quick not because the challengers were no good at playing the game, but because both Luke and Gerald seemed to have renewed their competitive spirit with a new will to win. At the end of it, the crowd cheered for Gerald and Luke. As was Rhiane’s ultimatum, Luke tried to withdraw from the team. Gerald, understanding the way his partner stared at his sister, coaxed the prince to play one more round. The farmer did not succeed though. There was no bargaining chip to stop the prince from withdrawing. Besides, Luke had already won two rounds. It was time to retire before his luck ran out. However, to mitigate any damages in their new-found bond, Luke ordered a round of drinks for everybody.

While they celebrated because of the free booze, Luke disentangled himself from the center of attention and found his fiancee among her friends. Not just one lady stepped in his way, trying to catch his attention, especially as the man’s better judgment was a bit compromised due to the alcohol. He was polite in declining the company, saying that his fiancee was just right there watching.

When he reached the spot where she leaned against a table conversing with a group of people. Luke possessively snaked an arm around her waist. “Whenever you’re ready, we can call it a night,” he whispered.

The Betrothed

So much for wishing for a quiet night. The crown prince hid his disappointment behind a rather long swig of the strong liquor. It had taken a few sips, but he had pretty much gotten used to the drink. Or at least his throat no longer fought to expel the liquid. He was after that comforting buzz, that sweet spot between being sober and intoxicated. It was what he needed after having willingly entered a non-exclusive bar and which brought him to the present circumstances – being surrounded by people he would rather not meet in his lifetime. There were Terzo and Sebastian who at least was able to hold a decent conversation with him, but statistics dictated that there must be more who were a lot less pleasant company than the two.

He smiled a little at the insult her fiancee effectively shot at the man who called himself Mon. The guy deserved it. But the smile faltered as Luke understood the unsaid words, that the ass of a man must have been one of the exes she talked about earlier. Tall, tanned, ill-mannered. The prince could have asked if her taste in men had always been bad if she had not continued to approve to entertain the questions of her friends and neighbors. Yet what he thought was important was how she conducted their reunion. The cold shoulder and the slur should be enough to discourage others of his kind. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Terzo prodded, smiling at Luke as if the commoner read the expression on the royal’s face perfectly.

“Meeting one of my fiancee’s exes, no. Definitely not.” Luke’s face almost automatically shuttered as he turned to the plate before him which begged for attention. He wondered whether the food was indeed good or that he underestimated the hunger of his stomach. One thing he learned when he willingly submitted himself to slavery at the training camp was that hunger made every food better.

Terzo chuckled. For some reason unknown to the royal, the commoner did not join the crowd who were trying to have a catch-up session with Rhiane. He remained in his sit peacefully sipping on his pint. Luke had finished his without even knowing. “Want more?” When Luke nodded, Terzo was more than pleased to call a waitress and order another round for the two of them. He leaned on his forearm on the table, peering at the royal as he continued attacking his food in silence. “It did not occur to me that his royal highness is such a possessive man.”

The statement was not glorified with a reply, but Luke did pause and stare long enough for the commoner to backpedal though figuratively. “I watch the news, Luke. Between you and Rhiane, it’s she who has the right to be anxious about the past relationships of her future spouse.” The waitress arrived with their liquors. Terzo grabbed his unfinished mug and clinked the glass against Luke’s. “With all due respect,” he added as if as an afterthought.

To be fair, Terzo was correct. Luke let the issue be. Half listening to the discussion being led by his fiancee, he finished the plate of spicy pasta and drank half of his liquor. Terzo would chime in occasionally, but most of the time he was an active listener too. Rhiane’s friends honored their part of the bargain. Though a number of them kept on stealing glances at the future king, none confronted him directly. Therefore, he was able to finish his meal. He had just placed the fork down, reading a message from his staff reminding him of the authorization his air force staff needed, when somebody from farther in the back of the bar called Terzo.

“Aren’t you gonna join in?” A male voice asked.

“Why not join in, Luke?” It was Sebastian. He had migrated, apparently, from the bar seat to the empty seat beside Luke. “It’s a popular game from the old world,” the farmer explained. “The goal of the game is to shoot these little balls into the cups arranged on the table. There will be two teams.” He made one of the plastic balls bounce on the table.

“And every time the opposing team makes a goal, you take a shot. Simple.”

“Yet, a lot of the drunken stories begin with it.”

It sounded familiar. Maybe he saw the game being played in one of the old world movies he watched. Regardless that it sounded simple enough to be fun, he was prepared to decline the invitation. If it had been his people, he could have humored them, but who knew what these farmers had in mind. What if they set it up to humiliate or get something out of him.

Terzo persisted with a grin. “It will be fun. We will agree to put all our devices down here on the table. No cameras. What happens in The Long Night remains in The Long Night.”

Well, it did not take much convincing to make Luke get to his feet. Gerald commented about Luke not cut out for sports. But it was Sebastian leaning over to whisper that there was a password on the drive that got the royal. The prince shot the foreigner a dirty look, emptied the remaining content of his mug, and followed Terzo to the far end of the bar. The people cheered when he did.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him,” Sebastian told Rhiane before following the two men. Gerald was on his heels.

It was Terzo and Luke on the team, a male and female farmer on the opposite team. The game had not been long before Luke learned that Terzo sucked at it. They were drinking glass after glass of the poison before the first goal was secured by Luke. The bar erupted in a roar, even the prince cheered with them. Grinning, he locked gaze with Rhiane and pointed at her as if dedicating the first point of his team to his fiancee. Once he got his rhythm, the game was his, although they were too far into it for him to save it. In the end, Luke’s team lost. Such failure cost them several glasses of alcohol in their bellies and the bill for the liquors consumed for the game. Traditionally, the loser was replaced by a challenger, but that night, the crown prince whose cheeks was already pinkish due to the alcohol, insisted on another round. Terzo begged off the game and his place taken over by Gerald. The second round was theirs therefore they had to remain for the third round.

The Betrothed

Luke smiled despite the humiliation at having two commoners laugh at him. In all fairness, Rhiane did caution against the liquor. It was he who, as usual, disregarded the warning, believing himself to be above the common people in all aspects of life, alcohol tolerance included. Though it was not that the prince was about to back down on his personal mission to prove Rhiane wrong, the first swig just took him by surprise. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have gulped as much on the first try.” The furrowed brows disappeared as he took the mug by its handle to give it another chance. The dark liquid slid down his throat with a little less fight than before, because maybe he did not force a lot.

As he gently placed the mug back on the table, savoring the bitter taste and warmth, his attention turned to Rhiane. He told her before they left her room that he did not want the attention of the whole town. It had been a physically tiring day, the night had no right to be equally tiring. But the way her friend framed the question sounded as if her neighbors had lost somebody to look up to when she left to join the contest and consequently won the crown. He remained silent, not wanting to appear as if he was dictating the woman. Instead, he looked down at the pasta bathed in olive oil, overwhelmed with spices, and started his counter-attack. Food and drink were what he came to the bar for, and it was what he would fight to get.

Needless of a yes or no from the princess elect though, the bartender tilted his head towards the direction of the couple and their uninvited guest. Heads turned, including that of Rhiane’s father and brothers. The men may not have disclosed that the only living female of their household was going to grace them with her presence, but she was right when she said that it was impossible to hide from the crowd once they entered the establishment. Without knowing about the impending crowd about to approach them to at least catch a few words with Rhiane, the crown prince quietly chewed on his food in perfect poise and table etiquette.

Without his bodyguards, nobody stopped the commoners from approaching the table. A tall man in blue jeans and a plain white shirt braved the prince’s wrath first. Luke was busy pushing away some of the red flakes from the strands of pasta when the second uninvited guest leaned against the edge of the table and stared openly at his fiancee. The commoner faked a surprised look. “Rhiane?” His smile was broad and friendly, but not friendly enough to greet the other people joining the princess elect on the table. “I did not think we will see each other again. I mean, not here or anywhere near here.”

Terzo glanced at Rhiane then at Luke. “Mon, they must be tired from traveling all over the kingdom. Why don’t I buy you a drink at the bar and --”

Mon waved him off with a gesture of his hand. “It’s fine, Terzo. Rhiane and I have a lot of catching up to do, don’t we? Have you heard about Clara? She was duped by this creditor and she lost her family’s farm.”

Luke quietly gulped a mouthful of the liquor. It was not so bad after a few sips and gulps. He was getting used to the warmth and bitterness and the occasional fight. What he could never bring himself to get used to was the constant rudeness of the people around Rhiane. On one hand, he disliked how privacy seemed to be scarce in the countryside, but on the other hand, he should be happy that he was treated as if he was nothing but another farmer looking to smoothen the edges. If he was to assert himself, it was surely another subject of their argument, but who cared. He was annoyed.
“We prefer our privacy, thank you.” The prince told the man, whose back was on him. Mon’s grin slowly vanished, but his cockiness remained. He shifted his weight, turning to face the royal. Again, a look of feigned surprise was on his face.

“Oh, your royal highness, I did not see you sitting there.” He mocked a bow.

“Mon, stop terrorizing them,” an unfamiliar voice called out. Luke’s jaw was set. Others had discovered their spot and was drawn by his supposedly date for the night.

The Betrothed

Skipping any alcoholic drink in a bar where she and her brothers had been known to, at least once, drank more than they could was suspicious. Terzo was not at all bothered by her omission, but Luke was. Rhiane confided the truth, not the easy diversion she employed with her words, but the hard truth that their carefree trysts may have already resulted in a more permanent consequence. Was he ready to face it? No.

“I must insist.” He badly needed that drink. Besides, he must not allow a less fortunate individual pay for his indulgence for two reasons -- it was not good for his image, and he disliked taking favors from other people especially from somebody he just met. Terzo seemed to be a nice guy. No longing gazes. His body language showed casual ease that had nothing to do with any romantic fantasies directed towards Rhiane. So far so good. She said he was married. Luke was apprehensive at first even with the ring on the other man’s finger, because marriage was a contract and contracts could be breached. But as he listened to the two recount each other’s experiences in negotiations and bargaining, he was somehow convinced that Rhiane and this older guy were no more than just good friends.

Luke’s attention fell on his fiancee’s hand touching his arm and her subsequent question about whether he wanted to have a drink. Of course, he did. “Yes, please. I’ll have whatever liquor the bar offers.” He may have high class taste, but he was not as delicate as she must be imagining him to be. Although it was true that he would rather have a beautifully aged whisky, there was no harm in trying out something new. Moreover, when he was in the military training camp, being picky was not an option. He ate and drank what was served or he slept with an empty stomach. It was that non-exemption to the rules that made a difference in his personality. Because while other noblemen would have opted to spend the night wishing that sleep will come sooner than hunger, he wanted that drink. Honestly, the prince would prefer a more upscale place. Maybe the idea that visiting her favorite places was a chance to get to know Rhiane through her friends and through the establishments she enjoyed was a good motivation.

“She doesn’t use that technique to me,” Luke joined the conversation. “Rhiane just puts her foot down and tells me what she wants. She will not move an inch until she had it her way. It’s like negotiating with a block of stone.” He teased, watching her reaction in a sideways glance. “I wonder which is more unfortunate, that I am going to inherit a difficult brother-in-law or that I am marrying such a pig-headed woman.”

When the waitress returned with Terzo’s pint, Luke ordered one for himself as well. The same local liquor which his fiancee thought was beyond his tolerance. The more she repeated that it was stronger than what he was used to, the more determined he was to prove her wrong. “She can survive on sweets alone. I find her diet disturbingly unhealthy, but as they say – happy wife, happy life.” Luke shrugged. The words slipped out before he realized the mistake. “We’re technically not yet married, but we know it’s where we’re getting at,” he corrected hastily.

Thankfully, the noodles came marching out the kitchen soon enough. Two plates were served on their table. It was, as Terzo described, a huge plate of noodles. The spices wafted in the air, teasing his nostrils. Small red flakes clung to the noodles like glitters but not at all glittery. He shot Rhiane a look of disbelief. This was what the normal amount of food she ate when she still lived at the farm. It was nothing like the volume of food she would eat at the palace. He’d seen her order sandwiches and some pasta, but nothing like a big plate of spicy noodles. He twirled a few strands with his fork and pitched it into his mouth. The heat was tolerable, it settled nicely on the tongue making the flavor of the otherwise bland dish a little more exciting. His head nodded in slight approval as he chewed his food slowly. They may be in an informal establishment, but a prince never forgot his manners. He never did while in public. Rhiane had seen how informal he could be when shielded from the eyes of the public.

As if suddenly remembering that the third member of the table did not order anything to eat, Luke offered, “Have you had dinner? You may order anything you like. Or perhaps order something to bring home to your wife.” He chewed into the second twirl of pasta. The spice was building up in his mouth. Thankfully, the waitress dropped by their table with a tall mug of liquor. Luke instantly grabbed it, swallowed the noodles, and gulped cold alcohol. The bitter taste filled his mouth instantly, followed by the heat and that hard kick as if the liquid was fighting its way out his esophagus. He slammed the mug down the table as he coughed. It was strong alright. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes from the spiciness of his dinner and the spirit of his drink. He frowned at the mug, straightening himself up to regain a bit of dignity. “What kind of poison is this?”

The Betrothed

While celebrities who desired to keep their identities unknown bow their heads and hide their faces, Luke stood confidently tall. Even in just a plain v-neck shirt, tailored pants, and sneakers, his blonde head and elegant features were out of place. If he thought that an old-fashioned building with all its loud patrons was not where cameras would catch him in, it did to show on his face. The place glowed in a soft yellow hue from well-kept post-war lamps hanging from the wooden beams overhead. Names of food and concocted drinks were written using bright colored chalks on a chalkboard behind screens showing sports coverage. A line of wooden bar stools filed parallel the counter. The barkeep lifted his head and grinned upon finding the familiar face of a patron. Then his eyes drifted to the man beside Rhiane.

Luke nodded absently as he entwined his fingers around hers. So far so good. No mobile phones pointed at his direction, nobody staring openly at him except for the few moments with the barkeep. Maybe Rhiane was right, it was fine.

They passed the men of the Black household without their notice. It was as if they were people who belonged to the crowd, unremarkable and not at all interesting. Most of the crowd was drawn to the stories of the newly rich men and the renovations that their home was undergoing. A small settlement such as Rhiane’s hometown tend to be knit tighter together. It was therefore not surprising to overhear talks and jokes about the renovation of the estate that Rhiane had pioneered. He would not be surprised if these men and women already heard about how he did manual labor the whole day. But so long as nobody asked, he didn’t care what they knew.

Luke followed his fiancee’s lead to an unoccupied table. But the couple had barely sat down when a man who Luke branded automatically as one of Rhiane’s exes offered to buy them a drink. The prince’s initial reaction was a cold blue sideways glance. As if the man was not worth moving his face for. His eyes went over the feature of the stranger’s face then it returned to watching the match being aired on the monitors. He was perfectly content to ignore the friendly hospitality offered by the stranger until Rhiane introduced her fiance to the married man. The royal locked eyes with the princess elect, not frowning, but questioning her life choices. Of all the people inside the bar, she was the only one who was aware of how uneager the crown prince was in making acquaintances out of commoners. Yet, there she was introducing a stranger who unabashedly called his future king by his nickname. Not even by his first name, but his nickname.

“Manners are taught in kindergarten. Unl--” Upon turning his head to face the stranger, his eyes grazed the face of his betrothed. Luke cleared his throat and straightened his back. He ignored the outstretched hand and instead raised his to call the attention of a waitress.

She was a petite lady in black button-up uniform and dark brown ponytail. Her face paled and just as quickly colored a shade of pink as realization dawned her. She took tentative steps to the table. The impatience on her customer’s level gaze encouraged her to move faster. “Hello, Rhiane. You’ll have the usual?”

“Your menu, please.” Luke demanded. In bars he visited, there was no need to demand for the menu or even call for a server. His presence was enough to trigger the management to mobilize his crew to ensure that the royal was comfortable and happy. The rural, it seemed, was left behind not only in terms of technological advances, but also in customer service.

The waitress, flustered by the quiet command, fished a tablet tucked on her back and presented it to Luke. He pushed the device to the man Rhiane called Terzo. “Tonight is on me. Order whatever you want.” Then to the waitress he said, “I’ll have whatever she will have. I’m curious what the usual is.” He turned to her and finally smiled as if mischievous thoughts ran in his head.