A DRINK BEFORE BATTLE (MxM)

Kyrzhan’s strongest horses were the drafts for his carriage, but Sevei didn’t want to leave him without those just now. He instead chose a beautiful, silky-maned bay palfrey that seemed sturdy enough to handle Sevei’s weight for a short trip.

Sturdy though it looked, after a mad dash across town to the municipal house, where the surrounding gardens overflowed with soldiers and city guard, the poor horse was sweating and trembling and beginning to resist Sevei’s direction. He pulled up to the municipal house’s stable in the back, and a Brinnish troop Captain came over to take the reins as he dismounted.

“You’re alright,” he crooned, patting the palfrey’s foam-flecked neck, “you did good.”

The horse rolled its eyes at him and snorted.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Sevei groused. “It’s not as if I’m a knight… you want to hear about some heavy armor...”

A junior soldier came over to take the reins from the Captain.

“Get her watered and brushed down,” Sevei told him. “And keep her safe. I have to return her to her owner in one piece or I’ll owe him a new one.”

Sevei looked around at the throng of soldiers parked on the formerly green, flower-edged lawns, now trampled into mud and littered with felled trees.

“How are things here?” he asked the Captain.

“Quiet for now,” the Captain answered. “We had a skirmish half an hour ago, but they were just taking a few pot shots at us. They’re demanding the Crown Prince meet with them.”

“What meeting?” Sevei sneered. “With these actions, they’ve as good as declared war on Brinland. Think they’re looking to take him hostage… or worse?”

The Captain nodded gravely. “That’s the assumption.”

Sevei followed his line of sight across the yard, where Prince Rendrick stood near the house talking animatedly with a group of Captains. Behind him, Gendaran Urskatha lurked in a side door, putting on an air of bravado to thinly veil his plain terror.

“Why is he still here?” Sevei mused.

“His Highness will stand with his people,” the Captain said proudly.

“I mean Lord Urskatha. He should have gone back to Valesk already.”

“I… that’s not for me to say.” The Brinnish man’s tone implied that he had plenty to say about that, none of it generous. Sevei chuckled.

“Where is General Urskatha? Around front?”

The Captain nodded at the house. “Inside, I believe. He was lent an office.”

“Thanks, Captain.”

The Captain gave a salute as Sevei turned toward the building and crossed the yard to another back door. He really should greet the Prince, but he couldn’t stomach speaking to Gendaran just now. After some asking around, he found the office in question.

It was a large room off the side of the great hall they’d dined in the night before. In a sitting area near the windows, Meira lay on a long, velvet cushioned bench with the cloak of her uniform pulled over her shoulders. Thelan sat in a chair beside the bench, eyes closed and hands lightly resting on her knees.

The far end of the room had a raised floor with a large desk positioned up on the platform. Four marble steps the full width of the space ascended to it, and Yeresym was sitting on the top step with his back against the desk. Like Thelan, he sat with closed eyes, breathing slowly and deeply. As he neared, Sevei could see the subtle blue light he emitted reflecting on his pale hair. He could also see an abrasion on Yeresym’s cheek, and a singed tear in the corner of his cloak.

Sevei sat on the step below Yeresym and leaned back on his elbows, stretching his legs down the steps in front of him.

“How did you find Mister Damah?” Yeresym asked.

“The situation could be better,” Sevei answered, “but he’s fine, for now.” He turned his head and looked Yeresym up and down. “Did you fight?”

“Mm. It wasn’t a major battle. Thelan and I are just preparing.”

Sevei nodded. “I got a brief when I came in. Why is your brother still here?”

Yeresym tsk’d irately. “Doesn’t want to be seen running away when the Prince is staying to fight. He’s going to get himself killed.”

Sevei shrugged nonchalantly. “Would that be so bad?”

Yeresym’s eyes darted to the door. “Shh!” he hissed.

Sevei chuckled. “Yes, yes, that would be bad,” he conceded. “Any sign of our target?”

“He hasn’t come yet,” Yeresym said lowly. “They were led by a woman…”

“Redhead?”

“Mm.”

“Yeah… that’s the one who dropped me in the river.”

Yeresym sighed and leaned his head back against the desk. “I don’t like killing women.”

“Mm, me either,” Sevei agreed.

“I don’t think I’ll mind killing that one.”

“I don’t think I’ll mind watching you do it.”

They fell into a glum silence while Sevei struggled to push away memories of those terrifying few minutes under the water by playing out battle scenarios in his head.

“What exactly is stopping them from just portaling into Valesk and doing this kind of destruction there?” he asked.

Yeresym gave an embittered shake of his head. “Nothing,” he said flatly. “Normally, I’d say ‘the rules’...”

“You Alchemists love your rules, don’t you?” Sevei chuckled.

“Well, we have to coexist with everyone else, and it’s up to us to control our own. That’s why governments are collecting Martial Alchemists into their guards and militaries now. If Loranar were to send Alchemists, say, directly into the palace, they’d have to contend with the King’s Martial Guard, and those are some formidable fighters. Thus far, the ‘rules’ have been a good deterrent… but Loranar doesn’t seem to care for rules anymore.”

“It seems to me it’s just this Master Ghed. He’s convinced Loranar that the rules don’t apply to them anymore. If we can take him out…”

Yeresym nodded slowly, his gaze focused on nothing in the distance until it drifted to Meira napping on the bench, then to Sevei to fix him with a complicated expression.

“It’s going to be dangerous,” he warned.

“Thanks for letting me come along,” Sevei said. “I thought you’d take the opportunity to keep me out of it. Not have to worry about me.”

“Why would I?” Yeresym clipped. “You’re a competent soldier. I’m not worried about you.”

Sevei smiled warmly. “There’s no shame in wanting to protect the ones you care about. It’s only human to have feelings… It almost killed me to have to leave Kyri alone today…”

“I do.”

Sevei’s brows rose. “You do… what?”

“Care,” Yeresym snapped. He looked away. “About you. I have feelings…” He glanced at Sevei, then away again. “...strong ones…” He covered his eyes with a frustrated sigh. “Gods, you make me stupid!”

Sevei laughed merrily, his eyes positively glowing.

“I’m glad you’re amused, but I can’t afford to be stupid right now,” Yeresym groused.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Sevei assured him. “I just know how you feel. I came down here to fight a war, protect my country, and collect my pay and here I am hatching a plot to spring a slave… excuse me, a contracted servant, and going against the heir of Urskatha and some massively overpowered weirdo to do it.”

He looked at Yeresym with suspiciously narrowed eyes. “Hey, you didn’t just say all that because you think we’re going to die, did you?”

“You might,” Yeresym said. “I don’t plan to.”

Sevei smiled again, but studied Yeresym intently. That last seemed to be an attempt at a joke, but that joke seemed to belie some real fear. All the mirth faded from his face.

“Did you say it because you feel guilty about something?” he asked softly. “About someone? Ennekh?”

Yeresym’s expression instantly turned to indignant affront. “How did you…?”

“You say his name in your sleep…” Sevei kept his voice low. “...in your nightmares. Was he a lover?”

“No.” Yeresym’s hackles lowered, but he shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve never had… he wasn’t.”

“But you liked him? I know your infantry brothers were all special, but he was more special, wasn’t he?”

“Are you jealous of a dead man?”

“No. I just feel… so sorry that you had to endure that.”

Yeresym folded his arms around his chest and looked away into the distance again. “I never told him,” he whispered. “I didn’t… I wasn’t even sure if he’d welcome hearing that from a man.”

“Oh… I’ve been there…” Sevei commiserated.

“And now he’s dead, and it’s my fault. If I hadn’t lied to them all…”

“No. You can’t take that responsibility. The only fault lies with the bastard who killed him. With Loranar for letting him run wild. It is absolutely not your-”

“I love you.”

Sevei shut up immediately. He shot up into a sitting position, his mouth falling open in surprise. He absolutely had not expected Yeresym to say that so bluntly, and certainly not right now.

“I don’t think we’re going to die,” Yeresym said, not looking at him, “but just in case…”

Sevei struggled for words, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly.

“I love you,” he said finally.

He shifted up to the top step beside Yeresym and leaned toward him, his smile returning, staring at him in utter amazement. Yeresym turned and met his eyes, and the world around them seemed to freeze.

“I want to kiss you,” Sevei murmured.

Yeresym pushed a hand into his chest and shoved him away.

“You can’t. Not here.”

“But I can somewhere else?” Sevei cajoled. “Let’s go somewhere else, then.”

Yeresym glared at him hotly.

“I’m kidding…” Sevei laughed, “...mostly.”

Yeresym’s brows furrowed. “Don’t get... I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Just then, an explosion sounded outside, shaking the house around them, causing all four people in the room to jump to their feet. A Valeskan Martial Alchemist burst through the door.

“It’s him!” he cried out. “The Butcher! He’s here!”

Sevei set his jaw and looked at Yeresym.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll talk about it after we kill this bastard.”