XLV
It had been decided that it was best to proceed as a group.
Not only had they already been seen together, but they would be entering the palace within the same time period anyway.
It wasn't unusual for knights to escort scholars and politicians if headed in the same direction, so they would use that as their cover story.
They navigated the city by foot, leaving the horses to rest at the inn. Fletcher seemed enamoured by the architecture, gazing at the tall terraced streets with a distracted appreciation.
Most of these buildings were at least five levels high, flanking either side of the road like deep man-made canyons. The ground level floors were mostly commercial, shops and traders, enticing crowds of people like loud bees to flowers.
Haphazard market stalls crowded the centre of the streets, vendors sheltered from the sun under dusty looking material, attempting to compete by undercutting the prices of the brick-and-mortar stores, shouting and bartering.
This road continued to snake forward, slightly curved, pointing to its destination of the great Theos palace; the largest man-made structure in the world, according to Fletcher. James felt slightly sick looking at it.
"Did you know Korcaster was the first city to ever have an underground sewage system?" Fletcher prattled on, having to raise his voice to be heard. "Too many people got ill because of sewage dumped in the river."
No one replied and it prompted James to regard their group.
They were all way too tense, their frowns grim, like they were walking to their deaths.
Even the trainee soldiers doing their mandatory service, running past them with red sweaty bodies, seemed happier.
James drily thought his travel companions wouldn't succeed much in theatre, except Riley, who looked just as smug as usual.
It wasn't that James didn't understand. He also felt awful, walking through busy streets without a hood, his face on full display, Eris left behind. But, he knew better than to show it.
He casually drifted towards Alex's blind spot and swiftly pocketed his purse.
Riley cleared his throat and James peered behind his shoulder, finding himself on the receiving end of a hard stare from the man. James smiled and winked before walking away again, unashamed.
He couldn't tell if Alex was unaware his money had been stolen, or if he couldn't be bothered to fight over it. James leaned towards the latter.
He bought himself some gloves with Alex's money from a stall they passed. That way, he could remove the bandages Fletcher had balled his hands up with and cover them more comfortably.
Unlike James and Fletcher's casual wear, Alex, Thomas, and Riley were all dressed in official Drykas knight uniforms, ornamented in greys and blues, navy capes hanging on their backs. Interestingly, people seemed wary of them.
He began to mutter to himself, something that was normal for him in a dangerous situation. It felt hollow without Eris to reassure him, but it did well in organising his thoughts.
"James," Alex said.
James gave him attention, looking blankly. If Alex noticed the new gloves, he didn't mention so.
"You're muttering again," Alex warned him nervously.
James clicked his tongue. "It's been half an hour without Eris. I'm just thinking out loud. It's not that fucking deep."
Alex held his palms up in a mock surrender and James promptly forgave him. Alex had seen him at his worst, after all.
Something at one of the stalls caught his attention, like a jewel sparkling to the eyes of a crow. He grabbed Alex's wrist and dragged him a few steps away.
"Here, look at this. Isn't it cool?"
He picked up a dreamcatcher from a stand and thrust it into Alex's face.
Unlike the traditional use of cotton, this one was made from small slithers of woven leather, intricately threaded into a pattern that resembled a spider's web. It was adorned with black feathers that possibly had a blue shine, if he was seeing it right. It was pretty.
Alex patiently regarded it, but didn't seem so impressed, and James frowned slightly.
"I'll buy it for you," James offered. He wedged it under his arm and counted out the silver bits in his hands.
Alex watched him do so. "With what? My money?"
James smirked but then turned his nose up in challenge. He paid for it and then held it out between them, urging Alex to take it.
"You realise I'm loaded, right?" James informed him.
Alex rolled his eyes. "Right, in wit?"
James didn't smile at the joke. "I'm rich enough to buy a title, if I wanted."
Alex was about to retort but then hesitated, regarding him suspiciously. Instead of receiving James' gift, he crossed his arms.
"That's a lie," Alex stated, "murder doesn't pay that well."
"It does when you're not a drug-addicted thug. I'm a pro, Alex. There's no one in this kingdom who doesn't know my name, who hasn't seen my poster. I get free advertising from you guys. Thanks, by the way."
After one last hard stare, Alex finally took the dreamcatcher and inspected it.
He then passed it off for Thomas to carry.
It wasn't quite the reaction James had wanted, but he didn't allow himself to feel too disheartened.
Alex never appreciated beauty straight away, he always needed to warm up to these things first.
"It'll help with your nightmares," James promised.
"I think you're the one who needs helping in that aspect," Alex retorted. "Now, can I have my purse back?"
James frowned. He tossed it over, aiming it so Alex would have to take an awkward step back to catch it.
"Are you two done?" Riley asked impatiently, coming over to them. "This is the perfect time for us to go in."
"What do you mean?"
"The guards have their lunch later," Riley explained. "Lots of civil servants go into the archives on their lunch breaks so that's when the guards are most vigilant. We want to be there right after that moment, when they all go for their own meal. It'll be more lax."
Alex didn't need more convincing than that. He walked away with the others, not looking back. James scoffed but did his best to forgive the man. Alex was more stressed than usual, which was an impressive feat. He needed to be considerate of things like this if he wanted Alex to like him.
He was glad he didn't lash out because later, as they walked, Alex asked him a question.
"Why did you never buy a title, then? You could've re-entered society."
He was happy Alex was curious, even if it was delayed. Although James didn't have any money on his person, he hadn't been lying. His wealth was all in various banks and hiding places. He'd rarely spent any of it.
But, answering that question was a little bit harder. Of course, there were a lot of logistical problems with doing so, but the heart of the reason was...
"Why would I want to do that?"
James was free.
"I suppose I just can't imagine not wanting a title of your own," Alex remarked.
A caged bird would never know the pleasure of flight. From what James had seen, Alex had always focused his efforts on making his cage bigger. So, it was inevitable that leaving that place was something he'd never consider. He didn't know it was an option.
"You will," James said.
Part of his motivation in showing Alex the commoner life was proving that option was available.
The nobility were prejudiced beyond logical sense, not only because it benefited them, but simply because they had no reason to change and nothing to lose.
Despite all of Alex's efforts, James knew they would never accept him.
Alex would only die trying in a tragic and futile effort, much to the sadistic entertainment of contemptuous gazes.
Why would James ever want to go back to a world like that?
They came up towards the palace, their bodies small. The gates were open for the daylight hours, but that didn't make the prospect of entering any less intimidating. James went and stood next to Fletcher in silent support.
"Do you know where the criminal records office is?" Riley asked.
"I've been here before," Alex confirmed. "We'll see you in two hours."
"Yes, we will," Riley insisted.
They split off in different directions and James' heart galloped anxiously.
He looked behind him one last time, catching sight of Alex's broad shoulders and silently wishing him luck.
Alex and Thomas were at risk of catching antagonism from territorial knights, so he hoped nothing serious would happen.
"You should be worrying about yourself," Riley commented.
James knew he'd been subtle. Riley was just that perceptive, for no reason.
"And you should be paying attention to yourself," James countered.
Riley gave him a sideways glance, but didn't say anything beyond that.
James was more nervous than he should've been. His quivering heart was incredibly distracting and was actively impeding calm thought. It was both amazing and disturbing to be reminded how much Eris really did for him.
Strangely, there weren't nearly as many knights as James would've expected. At the financial records door, only one Theos knight was posted. There should've been at least four. Lunch must've been a serious endeavour in Korcaster.
"Names, please," the knight commanded them, not unkindly.
Riley smiled, unemotionally. "Don't you recognise me?"
The knight regarded him properly, paling. He bowed his head. "I- I'm so sorry, Sir Riley. Forgive me, I should've been more aware."
Riley chuckled. "We're the ones who surprised you. I'm here with Fletcher Azeus, we only need a small amount of time inside."
"For what reason?"
Fletcher took his cue. "I want to standardise the method of recording information nationwide, you see. We could use some of this organisation in Lyechester."
The knight shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I'm really sorry," he said, "but we're only allowing in people with appointments for the time being."
Riley's calculated smile dropped, the air turning cold. "Excuse me?"
The knight nervously rushed to explain. "If you put in an application you can come back. It's not to say you're barred from entering. We have to honour the freedom of information act, of course."
"Nothing about this says 'freedom of information'. You won't let us in? Don't you know who I am?"
"O- of course, Sir Riley—"
"Right. That's me. What do you suppose my cousin, His Royal Highness Prince Maurice, would think?"
The knight was gasping for air at the mention of Prince Maurice's name, his face a deathly grey. "I'm sincerely sorry," he gushed, "but it was his orders—"
"What's your name?" Riley asked.
It was interesting. The knight seemed so terrified that he couldn't bring himself to say his own name. Riley hadn't been exaggerating, everyone around here was scared shitless. Riley knew how to get what he wanted by manipulating that.
"So, will you let us in or not?" Riley pressed.
Despite the sweat that was shining on his head, the guard's resolve didn't sway. "I'm really sorry. Even if it's you Sir Riley, I- I can't."
James inwardly cursed. He thought the guard would crack. He glanced at Riley, but he couldn't get a read on the man. What would they do now? James could render the guard unconscious if needed but it would be discovered almost immediately.
"Is that you, Sir Riley?" a voice asked.
Riley turned around and smiled at the approaching stranger. "Ahh, what a pleasure to see you again, Owen."
"The pleasure is mine," the new guard greeted him, shaking his hand. "It's been so long since we've last seen you in the Theos palace." He glanced at James and Fletcher. "I don't suppose this is a social visit, is it?"
"Unfortunately not. I'm escorting Fletcher Azeus here. But, it seems I'm not welcome to enter."
"Oh, how could that be the case?" Owen laughed nervously. "You're always welcome, appointments be damned. Isn't that right, Ben?"
The other guard smiled nervously, his shoulders narrowed, like he was trying to retreat into himself. "Of course."
Owen clapped a hand onto Ben's shoulder, with just enough force that it would force the other guard to question if it was aggressive or not. Ben tried smiling, but it looked like a grimace.
"It's always nice to see such diligence," Riley said. "I'm sure my cousin would be overjoyed to have such meticulous men."
"You flatter us," Owen replied, waving the compliment off. He stepped in front of Ben, keeping the man behind him. "You wouldn't mind signing in, would you?"
"Of course not."
Owen took the papers away from Ben's shaking hands and passed them to Riley.
"Just your names and purpose of visit is all we need," Ben explained, his voice wobbly and fast.
"We'll need to take any weapons too, unfortunately," Owen added. "Can never be too careful about these things."
Riley gave Ben one last hard stare, before writing down on their group's behalf. James caught a look at the writing, finding the words nearly illegible, like scribbles. No doubt it was deliberate.
Riley surrendered his sword, whilst James handed over a dagger he'd secured on his belt.
"And, who are you?" Ben asked James, just as Owen was storing their weapons in a chest.
James put on an airy look about him, putting on the most simple and common accent he could get away with. "Bodyguard for Sir Fletcher."
Ben frowned, clearly internally battling between his own fear and principles. "Sir Riley, I'm not sure we can let in—"
"I think you've said enough." Riley handed the paper back. "You better hope I'm in a good mood later."
Owen nudged Ben out of the way, trying to push him out of the scene. "We apologise, Sir Riley. Your companions are, of course, free to enter too. I hope you find it productive."
"I hope so too."
James and Fletcher followed Riley inside, the giant wooden door thumping shut behind them.
Absent of people, the library was eerily quiet.
Dust floated and caught light from the large windows on the other side, framing the trees in the courtyard outside.
Much of the sunlight was blocked by the tightly stacked bookshelves, some towering upward and reaching the ceiling.
"We have to be quick," Riley said, strolling forward. "What year are we looking for?"
James and Fletcher followed him to a particular section, shelves of leatherbound records jammed tightly.
"If it was the election after Fabian took power, then..." James thought for a moment, "the spring local elections of fourteen years ago? Also, the royal council elections of winter that same year, I believe."
"It's rare for local and royal council elections to be held in the same year," Fletcher noted.
"That's why I remember it."
Riley ran a finger over the spines of the books, slowly stepping forward, searching for the right location. He stopped and then frowned.
"This is going to be an issue."
"What is?" Fletcher queried.
James came beside the man, careful not to knock into the cabinet behind him. The bookshelves were so closely stacked that the three of them felt wedged in the small gap.
He quickly identified the problem.
"All of these are just one year?" he asked in disbelief.
There were dozens of volumes of records that recorded the politicians' financial transfers of that election alone.
James took one of the heavy books out, opening to a random page and scanned what was listed.
For a single candidate alone, hundreds of donations from different people were documented, and those candidates weren't even necessarily winners.
He flipped through some more pages, finding more of the same. So many names were written down as contributors that James would never be able to memorise them all and work out the common denominators. Realistically, this was a job that should have taken days, not two hours.
"We can try to narrow this down," Fletcher persisted, "can you recall any politician in particular that stood out?"
"It was fourteen years ago, Fletch," James replied, "I was a child at the time."
"They might separate by territory," Riley said hopefully, scanning the titles on the spines, "King Fabian's acts started locally in just Ankaid territory, right? It took time for these policies to spread nationwide."
"Here!" Fletcher exclaimed, bending down.
The scholar was shorter than the both of them, whilst James' and Riley's sights instinctively searched upward, Fletcher saw below.
James took out the Fletcher pointed at, it was much skinnier than the others they'd been looking at. He opened the front page to read the title. "Summary of political funding declarations of Ankaid local elections. Spring of Khearian year 430."
"There's only one of them though, I think," Fletcher said.
Riley scanned it as James flipped to the next page. He was a little taller than James, which was uncomfortable. James took a small step away, holding the record out so Riley wouldn't stand so close.
"If it's a summary, it's not going to be very detailed," Riley murmured, "perhaps we could cross reference this with one of the more detailed ones?"
"We can focus on Ankaid candidates alone in that case," Fletcher agreed.
"Sir Riley?" a voice called.
"Shit," Riley cursed, pushing both records into James' hands. "Read them, memorise them. You have to do this quickly."
James watched, dumbfounded, as Riley gave him one last meaningful look and then walked away from their aisle to go greet the stranger.
James' stomach churned, his chest heavy. He knew what that look meant, they needed to escape, even if it meant leaving Riley behind.
"I knew we should have brought Ino with us," Fletcher muttered. "How are we supposed to do that?"
No matter how desperate the situation was, it was simply impossible to read two financial documents in just a few minutes and remember enough to not only cross reference the candidates they needed, but to work out which donor was planted by Fabian.
Riley must have known that. They simply didn't have any other choice.
"Owen, what's the matter?" they could hear Riley say.
"James," Fletcher whispered, "we need to read them now."
James tapped a finger against the books quickly, staring down at their covers, his heart racing.
"James."
"His Royal Highness Prince Maruice wishes to see you," Owen said.
"Oh, marvellous," Riley replied, sounding delighted. "It would be a pleasure. At what time?"
James bit the inside of his cheek, willing his whirring mind to come up with a solution.
"Now," Owen said.
Fletcher grasped at James' arm, pushing it. "James, we can't waste time like this."
James groaned quietly. "Fuck. I'm sorry, Alex."
Before Fletcher could stop him, he flicked out a knife from his wrist and began to pick at the string binding.
Fletcher gasped, trying to snatch the records away. "James, we can't do that!" the scholar whispered harshly, like spit. "Alex said we couldn't."
James grit his teeth, keeping the records out of reach. "We don't have a choice."
"Now?" Riley asked, "you'll have to inform His Royal Highness that I'm concerned with some guests..."
James got all the pages out of the summary, and moved onto the next, thicker, book.
"He was informed of that already," Owen confirmed, "he wishes to see them too. He's interested in meeting the Fletcher Azeus. A big fan of his work, apparently."
James worked swiftly, his nimble fingers skillfully cutting each stitch.
Riley chuckled. "I'm sure Fletcher would feel flattered."
Fletcher's brown eyes widened like an owl, terrified. He was no longer fighting James' vandalism.
"And where are they now?"
"Oh, just round here," Riley said.
Their sharp footsteps approached against the wooden floors, echoing in the large space.
James cursed repeatedly in his head as he hid his knife.
He'd only managed to get a third of the pages from the more detailed record.
He forced the leather covers back into the book shelves, their quantity depleted.
"Fletcher, take out a book from the other side," he begged the scholar, near silently.
Fletcher immediately followed the order, taking out a random one, and posing as if he'd been reading it. The men were just around the corner.
James shoved the stolen papers under his clothing, behind his back, securing them in place by tightening his belt. He'd barely finished the movement before the men came into sight.
He'd forced himself to relax, but Fletcher's shoulders were still tensed, his body frozen, back turned to the men, stiff, like he'd been caught stealing.
Riley laughed. "Fletcher gets so caught up in reading that the world ceases to exist."
"Well, he is a supposed genius," the other man joked.
Fletcher needed to say something, fast. This was his cue to talk. But, James couldn't encourage the scholar, not when they were being watched. He knew he should've fucking made a solo mission out of this whole thing.
The silence became awkward, but James remained steady. He was a bodyguard, he couldn't interfere.
Come on, Fletcher.
Fletcher blinked and then forcefully relaxed his body, turning around with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry, you'll have to excuse me. I can be airheaded sometimes."
Owen guffawed. "It's nice to know you're just like the rest of us!"
"Prince Maurice wishes to see you, Fletcher," Riley stated, his expression masterfully pleased.
"Me? Oh, I'm nobody though."
"Not at all!" Owen said, "he's rather a big follower of your work. You can bring your bodyguard too, even if he's a commoner. His Royal Highness stated that he wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable. Travelling so far can be so stressful."
"How very kind and thoughtful," Fletcher said, smiling, his voice only slightly coarse. "I'd be honoured."
Owen's gaze suddenly lowered to the book in Fletcher's hand. James did his best not to react.
"Agriculture?" the guard questioned.
Fletcher worked off his nervous energy by closing the book and returning it where he found it. "Well, you know how agricultural export reports are. They're in dire need of improvement."
The guard clearly didn't understand the first thing about the matter. "Right, of course. Well, if you'd all like to follow me, then."
James' body felt cold with rare, genuine terror.
Even if they all acted impeccably from that point onwards, there was still a real risk that James could be recognised, or that their stories wouldn't match, or that Prince Maurice was in a shitty mood.
Their safety was that fragile. It was incredibly unfortunate James was being forced to go with them too, all for the sake of Prince Maurice attempting to appear kind.
The kind image push may have been a part of Prince Maurice's plan to poach Fletcher from Lyechester; the prospect of Fletcher saying no to the offer was more terrifying than him saying yes.
That aside, it was unlikely Fletcher would have the stamina to behave calmly for very long. Even before they reached one of those other problems, Fletcher's unrealiable fear was a crisis.
As they were dragged through the long marble corridors, the stolen pages weighed heavily on James' back. The route seemed increasingly narrow, like they were balancing on a string.
He kept his head down. Suddenly, the prospect of playing a character didn't seem so exciting anymore.
He knew it. They should have replanned. He should've fucking done it himself. Damn Alex.