Chapter 25 - Across the Table (Patreon)

Gabby and I went to a store she liked near the center of town, close to the port. She mentioned that it was a place she often visited, though it was a bit pricey. She was friends with the owner, Petra, so the clothes were cheaper for her than they would be elsewhere. Apparently, that favor would let me buy whatever I wanted.

There were a lot of things I lacked in the world, but coins wasn’t one of them. Between quests, investments made by Christopher on my behalf, my creations, and my genuinely frugal nature, there probably weren’t many people wealthier than me. I bet some lower-level nobles would balk at how many coins I had to my name. That was something I kept to myself, though. My family likely had an inkling since I helped them buy their store and sent them stipends from time to time. Christopher, too, if I had the guess. Other than them, though, that knowledge was mine alone.

When we arrived at the store, Gabby made me go through outfit after outfit with Petra, who was initially hesitant. At first, it seemed like they were genuinely helping me, but after a certain point, the looks in their eyes changed, and I felt my free will get snatched by their desires to dress me up like a doll.

Gabby and Petra were in a dressing room with me. I sat nervously on a bench in the room while they loomed over me like monsters.

“How about trying this next?” Petra said as she handed me a stunning red dress. “This isn’t finished, but I think you can help me do that simply by wearing it. Come out to the center of the store when it’s on so we can evaluate it.”

“Red will really make her hair stand out. It’s so dark. The contrast will work wonders with her skin,” acknowledged Gabby as she stared longingly at the clothes Petra gave me. She glanced in my direction. “Look more excited.”

“Y-Yes!” I replied quickly. “Sorry.”

“You do have beautiful skin.” Petra gently touched my cheek with her finger, surprising me. "Don’t be nervous. There’s nothing I can do to make you look bad.”

Is she teasing me? Why am I still doing this? I want to go home.

“Do you have more colors?” asked Gabby. Her eyes seemed to sparkle. “She could try them on after if you need variety.”

“Gabby…” I tried to interject.

“Oh, excellent idea!” Petra’s eyes sparkled too. She looked at me. “Why aren’t you changing?”

Remember when you flinched as soon as I walked in the store? Remember that time, all those sweet, long minutes ago? I thought as I stared at Petra. Be that person again, please.

“Hurry up,” ordered Gabby in an equally commanding tone.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The next thing I knew, I was dressed in a very long, elegant, red dress. It hid most of my legs, but my arms, throat, and top of my chest were just out there for the world to see.

I stepped out of the dressing room before Gabby and Petra could come in and drag me out. Much to my annoyance, a crowd had gathered and remained throughout this process. It slowly started when I began trying on outfits at the beginning of our store visit. After an hour, it’d blossomed into dozens of people inside and outside the store staring at me, waiting to see what I would wear. Most were women, but there were some men as well.

Instinctively, my arms went up to hide myself as I hugged the upper part of my body. “Can I be done now?”

My words were overwhelmed and muted by the “oohs” and “aahs” of the crowd. The bystanders muttered to each other, and my long ears picked up every single sentence.

“I didn’t know clothes could look like that.”

“She’s so fit!”

“So jealous…”

“Her, hm, deformities actually bring the dress to life. It’s odd.”

“It looks like a human dressed like that.”

“Stunning!”

“Beautiful.”

“Still a monster. Let’s go, dear.”

‘Monster.’ I’d heard it a thousand times. I clenched my hands to keep them from shaking. Other words were said, but my brain couldn’t recall or register them. They faded too quickly, slipping through my fingers like sand, while the bad ones stuck like tar.

Gabby rushed forward and grabbed my hands, breaking me through my pessimistic thoughts. “Wear this tonight.”

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. “I’d rather die. It stands out too much and makes me defenseless. I can’t move the way I want to. It’s hard to hide weapons, and it’s bright. If I had to run, people would spot me easily.”

“Outfits don’t have to be practical.”

“They do if I’m to wear them,” I said resolutely. “It’s nice, I guess, but doesn’t service my needs.”

“I already have an outfit picked out for you tonight,” said Petra as she glided beside Gabby. “Skirt, shirt, and flats. It’ll accentuate your body while remaining minimal with black and white tones only. You’ll look presentable, but it’ll maintain a level of mystery while drawing upon your alluring features,” she said as she gestured at my chest and thighs.

“Then why am I doing this?” I hissed uncomfortably.

Petra stared at me. “Because it’s fun.”

I resisted the urge to tear off the clothes and flee out the back of the store as embarrassment and annoyance slicked down my spine.

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•••

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It was later in the day. Christopher Zalevet, resting and waiting for Yennifer, sat at a table near the back of Beginner’s Rest. He drank carefully from a mug of beer, allowing the alcohol to numb whatever nervousness he felt. Tonight was a big night, and he couldn’t afford any jitters.

I need this, Yen needs this, and the village needs this. Christopher reminded himself as he took a long swig of beer before putting the mug back down on the table before him. Yen’s been able to easily take care of the few assassins that’ve come throughout the years, but it has to keep her on edge constantly. I know it does for me and everyone else in the town. Aligning ourselves together has kept tragedy at bay for the most part, but we lack any true political sway. Baron Thorpe is the key to that, then the Count. We need to seal a deal with them. To do that, we must know what they want from us.

Christopher pondered that question, as he had constantly since the Baron requested the meeting. While he’d interacted with politicians and nobles in Port Prosper through back channels and messengers throughout the years since settling down in Sandy Branch, he’d never directly met anyone with actual power during this time. Christopher was a prince and was marked as such on his hand. He also had “command” of a white-eyed archdevil, which equated, in many’s minds, to having a small army at his beck and call whenever he needed it. It wasn’t odd that he’d received the message. It was the timing and lack of expressed intent that bothered him. The meeting was posed like an introductory affair, at best, but Christopher knew better.

Either the leaders of Port Prosper wanted to use his title, Sandy Branch, or Yen.

Sandy Branch was slowly becoming a powerful little dot in the southwestern part of Zalevet. Count Lemuel Prospero, the ruler of Port Prosper and the major territories around it, could simply want to make use of Christopher’s advancements to strengthen his power and control within his region of the country, putting him more in favor with the Duke controlling this portion of Zalevet.

It could be that Count Prospero merely wished to use Christopher’s mark and last name to garner himself more political power in general, leaving Sandy Branch aside entirely. Even if Christopher were to lose the battle for succession, he’d be connected to the Zalevet’s capital and monarchy forever. While he didn’t know the extent of Christopher’s relationship with his brothers, nevertheless, it was a worthwhile investment. The Count could either benefit from helping Christopher or keeping an eye on him until he betrayed him. Either could bear fruit if executed properly.

Most likely, they wanted to use Yen. As an archdevil, she was feared throughout the continent, not just in Zalevet. Taming her, as the masses believed he had, had given Christopher a level of power he had never accessed before. People traveled from across the country to confirm the rumors with their own eyes, and doors opened for him that wouldn’t have otherwise due to the right people seeing the prince arm-in-arm with Yennifer during meetings and throughout the day. It was likely Count Prosper sought to use Yennifer in a similar way, but Christopher could only guess at the reasons and methods behind it.

The thought of Yen being used as a political pawn made his chest burn, sharp and unpleasant. He was doing so himself, and it sickened him. Every time he saw the Mark of Enslavement on her stomach, even though it had no more power, it made him grind his teeth and his stomach surge.

Christopher took a deep breath, pushed aside his emotions, and numbed his mind as he had countless times before. If living in Camden among hostile nobility had taught him anything, it was to suppress his feelings when needed.

It’ll all get revealed this week. thought Christopher as he settled further into his seat. No sense dwelling on something. I’ve done it enough. My answers will come soon.

The door to the inn opened. Hushed voices slithered past Christopher’s ear. His back was to the door, but he knew from the sounds that Yen had come inside.

Please, have put on at least shoes. Christopher pleaded in his head as he turned to Yen. He froze. Gods help me.

Yen stood in the doorway, curling a strand of hair around her finger, scanning the room. Her white blouse was tucked neatly into a black skirt, cinched at the waist. Long, toned legs led down to simple black flats. The tight stockings did nothing to dull their shape. If anything, they highlighted how grabbable and alluring they were.

But it was her face that made Christopher’s throat dry up.

Makeup. Yen never wore makeup. And yet, there it was—a subtle dusting of color on her lips, something faintly shimmering at the corners of her striking white eyes. Her hair was a deliberate mess, a storm cloud softened by the light.

Christopher felt heat crawl up his neck. His hands curled into fists beneath the table, hidden from sight. He needed to look away. He couldn’t.

Yen’s gaze found him, and she brightened instantly, smiling and waving. She hurried toward him, holding her arms tightly around herself like a shield. “Thank the Gods. Great seat. Far away from everyone. Absolutely perfect.”

Christopher didn’t respond. His brain hadn’t restarted yet.

Yen filed into a chair opposite of Christopher, her face red as blood, and tapped her fingers against the wood. They didn’t say a single word to each other. Yen couldn’t maintain eye contact even if she wanted to, and Christopher couldn’t pull his gaze away for a second.

Christopher caught the faintest trace of something—a scent. Not just sweat and steel and whatever wild mixture of herbs clung to her clothes on a normal day. Something warmer, softer. A hint of citrus. When did she start smelling like that? Christopher’s fingers twitched against the mug of beer in his hand. He wasn’t sure why, but he took another sip, hoping it would drown out whatever was happening to his thoughts.

“H-How does it…how do I look?” Yen asked after a while. She fidgeted with her fingers before calming herself, smiling, and looking Christopher right in the eyes.

Christopher’s first instinct was to grab her and run away so no one else could look at her but him.

“A mere description of you could thaw a frozen room,” Christopher heard himself say. “Everyone here should thank the Gods for the blessing of sight.”

Yen broke her gaze away instantly, started laughing, and scratched the back of her head. “Oh, stop it! Hahaha…”

“You’re beautiful.”

Yen seemed to flinch. Christopher could tell from Yen’s face that she didn’t believe him, but she smiled anyway. “Thank you,” she said humbly.

Christopher sat back, watching as Yen absentmindedly twirled a bracelet on her wrist. She has no idea what she does to people. To me. He took another slow sip of beer, feeling a dull, familiar ache settle in his chest.

Christopher knew that if anything happened to Yen, he’d burn down the entire country.

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*•*•*

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Compliments always made me feel giddy. I did my best to hold in my embarrassment at Christopher’s words, but I’m sure he realized how happy he made me feel.

I wasn’t one for dressing up and had not really cared for it my entire life. I didn’t see why it mattered. As soon as I saw Christopher, though, I suddenly became conscious of myself. Was I really dressed okay? Did I look right? Would he judge me? Did I overdo it? Did Petra and Gabby do my makeup right? Did I even need it?

All those questions whirled inside my head as I sat down before him. My mind couldn’t take it, so when I finally asked him, silly, exaggerated compliments slipped past his lips. They made me feel good. When he called me “beautiful,” I felt my heart thaw like the first warm day after the snowy season.

Suddenly, I felt overly embarrassed and self-conscious.

We didn’t speak to each other for a few moments afterward. It was too awkward. I didn’t even know what to say.

“We should talk about the meeting,” said Christopher after a while. “It’s important.”

“R-Right,” I stammered. “Absolutely. Baron…Burgeon Thorpe, right?”

Christopher nodded. He leaned forward, his face more serious and business-like now. It made my nervousness slip away, thankfully.

“I suspect he’s only an envoy for Count Prospero, who oversees the city and surrounding territory. I hear the Baron’s sort of like his assistant and helps run Port Prosper at the Count’s direction,” explained Christopher. “The Count listens to him. Baron Thorpe might as well be the Count himself, for all intents and purposes.”

“Wouldn’t that usually be a Viscount’s job?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Viscounts usually manage cities for the Count. A baron would typically oversee smaller territories like ours, but—”

“Who do you think is Baron of Sandy Branch?” wondered Christopher. “There’s no governmental structure here and no real nobility. It’s seen as a kind of lawless area compared to the rest of the country, a zone for adventurers to fight. But every land has a ruler. Who do you think directly controls this one?”

“Baron Thorpe,” I realized immediately.

“Most of the nobility concentrates in cities if their territories are rural. As long as they receive their taxes, actual governance occurs locally through the residents, not the nobility. The nobles prefer not to get involved unless there’s a decline in their personal funds, a genuine crisis, or an opportunity,” he explained. “Each town technically has a Baron who is supposed to oversee it, a Viscount to connect it to a city and oversee it. Above them, a Count governs multiple cities in a region. A Marquess technically has a large area of territory in one of the six major regions in Zalevet. There are then six Dukes, each overseeing one of the regions. Above them is the Archduke, who is in charge of the military, followed by princes and princesses, the Queen, those with the Crest of Kings, and finally, the King himself.”

I didn’t really care about the nobility in this country since I was more focused on personal growth, so the information was fascinating, even though I kind of already knew it from the books I read when I was younger. Still, I absorbed Christopher’s words. The information was significantly more important now than when I’d first heard it. A genuine Baron was coming to Sandy Branch, something that had never happened in all my years in the village. On top of that, I was associated with one of those marked to succeed the King. I was thrust into the noble world regardless of my desires.

“You make it seem like the Baron is more of a Viscount, though,” I realized after conversing with Christopher on the topic. “What gives?”

“The Baron has done an excellent job of ingratiating himself with Count Prospero, and the very town he governs, on paper, is experiencing remarkable growth. It has granted him substantial power and control over the years, far exceeding his rank,” replied Christopher. “His town is where one of the King’s successors has chosen to reside and has flourished, as well as where the archdevil known as the Blackhorned Guardian resides. I’m sure his influence is encroaching on the Viscount in Port Prosper to a degree that makes him uneasy."

“And the Viscount is?”

Christopher thought for a moment. “Viscount Gregorio Shamsell, if I remember correctly.” He shrugged. “Not important. We play our cards right, and Baron Thorpe will eventually take his place. The Viscount will either be moved, stripped of power, or lose his head. We need connections to the Count to secure our foothold in this town. We do that, and it provides us with much-needed security until the succession battle ends. I’ll use my status to cement my place here. The Count will appoint me to a political position here when I inevitably lose my status, and I’ll live out my happy days in utter peaceful bliss away from politics.” He chuckled. “That’s the goal, at least.”

I’d heard versions of Christopher’s plan many times before. This seemed like the most concrete version I’d encountered thus far.

“No desire to be King?” I wondered, my voice low as I said those words. “I could probably make it happen if you wanted.”

Christopher’s face softened. “You’d have to kill a lot of people, Yen.”

I thought for a good long minute. “People already think I’m a monster. And if my actions can put you in charge of these lands, maybe someday things will be better for the next generation or the one after. You’re kind enough that I believe you could bring about the change this world needs. You did it here. Why not in Camden for all of Zalevet?”

“You’d have to bloody your hands, Yen.”

I smiled painfully. “They were born stained in blood. I had no choice in the matter. Not with these horns.”

We were both silent after that.

“Do…do you want me in the meeting?” I said, my words reminding me of my role in the upcoming meeting. “I mean, clearly you do, but how? We can do it like that time with the merchants that built the port.” I jokingly cracked my knuckles. “You start with the nice guy routine, then when they start to negotiate against you, I come in at the last minute, they see my horns, and capitulate to your every demand.”

“Then I sweeten the pot a bit so they don’t feel coerced,” Christopher reminded me, his tone lightening slightly. “No, we’re doing it differently this time.”

“How so?”

Christopher stared at me for a while. He slouched a bit in his seat. “Come in with me from the start. Smile. Act humble and nice. Be by my side. Show a united, calm front from the start.”

I thought about his words for a moment. “Like a partner?”

“Or a lover.”

Silence.

I saw it happen—Christopher’s hand twitched on the table, his throat worked in a swallow, the tips of his ears reddened just slightly. I opened my mouth, but he beat me to it, his voice too fast, too forcefully casual.

“It’s a good comparison! A lover! Good friends! Same thing!”

Is that the same thing?

He was still talking, but I couldn’t hear him anymore. My face felt hot, and suddenly, my clothes felt tight.

Christopher scratched his head with a nervous smile. “W-We’ll greet them together. Besides, you look stunning. It’d be a shame to hide you from our guests even for a second.” He cleared his throat. “And you’re very likely part of the reason he’s coming in person. We don’t want to scare them. From the start, we’ll be transparent and in listening mode. We won’t promise them anything. I don’t know exactly what he or his superiors want. As long as I can accurately guess that by the end of our time with the Baron, even if we don’t get anything, I’ll consider this whole thing a success.”

“A-Ah. Yes. Of course. That makes sense,” I said. My voice sounded weak and shy.

Christopher tapped the table awkwardly, unsure of what to say next.

“Lovers, huh?” I teased.

Christopher sighed and rubbed his temple, looking utterly exhausted with me. He looked like he was carrying something too heavy for words, but I caught the faintest twitch of his lip—like he was fighting the urge to smile.

What are you thinking? The thought struck me out of nowhere. For a moment, I actually wanted to know.

Christopher shook his head and took another sip of his drink. “You always do this to me,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.

I tilted my head. “Do what?”

He didn’t answer. Just looked at me, then quickly looked away, like he was afraid I’d catch something in his expression.

And for some reason, that made my heart beat a little faster.