Chapter 6
Chapter Six
I t turned out that Lucien was more than some prissy pampered prince. He also knew how to drink. That was something Leander could get behind. Within days of his presentation at court, Lucien had sent a slave to the Talius manor bearing an invitation to show him around the city.
Leander had gladly accepted, citing to Verin that it was a sort of noble lesson as an excuse for attending, and the pair found themselves traipsing through the Bazaar in the direction of Lucien’s favourite watering hole.
They were soon joined by another noble, a man by the name of Lord Thiete Praemis, who Leander quickly recognised as Princess Vivienne’s betrothed. The two men, it transpired, were thick as thieves and familiar drinking buddies, when the rare occasion struck.
Glad to be invited, Leander listened to the light ribbing of the other two men as the prince pushed open the door of the Wandering Dragon, Saeren’s finest tavern .
The Wandering Dragon was a large, yet intimate tavern. It was lit by candlelight and floating lanterns. Groups, pairs and singletons nursed their drinks as a troupe of players strummed their instruments, casting their magical melody over the quiet murmurs of the generally well-dressed clientele.
Thiete went to the bar to order the first round of drinks while Lucien and Leander found a table close to where the minstrels were playing.
“I wasn’t expecting this,” Leander said.
“What were you expecting?” Lucien asked with a smile as he took his drink from the quickly returned Thiete.
“I’m not sure,” Leander said between sips of mead. “I suppose something darker, more dingy.”
Lucien laughed. “You don’t think much of mortals, do you, Leander? You’ve seen the palace, we don’t live in hovels. Even the poorest among us live within sturdy houses and flats.”
Leander was warring inside his mind with the opportunity to be honest. Saeren was a flagship city, there was no doubt about that.
But it was like the people charged with its care were so proud of their city that they were blind to the strife throughout the rest of the kingdom, left to be cared for by lesser nobles.
“It’s not that, not that at all. I’ve been to enough taverns in Vyrica, outside the city to have experienced... hovels.”
“Ah, well, now you’re in Saeren, you must experience the best we have to offer, Myracle.” Thiete said.
“Leander, please,” he invited, hating that horrible nomenclature with a passion .
Theite nodded with a smile. “How are you finding Saeren, Leander?”
“That’s a loaded question to ask when I must reply in the company of Vyrica’s future king. The heir to the throne might not like what I have to say,” Leander quipped with a grin.
“Oh, I pass no judgement on you or your words, Leander. Vyrica is beautiful but by no means perfect. Same applies to this city, despite being the crowning jewel of Vyrica. No place ever is,” Lucien said.
“Very true.” Leander took a sip of the sweet mead, enjoying it but also wishing for something stronger. “For the record, I think Saeren is magnificent. It is vibrant, colourful, full of life and wonder. If I have to live out my mortal years anywhere, I am glad it is here.”
A half truth, but Leander was good at lying.
“And the people?” Thiete pressed.
“I have not yet met many,” Leander said slowly, measuring his words carefully. “But those I have met are respectful and polite... much like anyone you meet for a short period of time.”
“I imagine meeting a demigod, especially Leía’s son, is quite exciting for most.”
“Most, but not all,” Leander agreed. He glanced at Lucien. “Your other displaced guest didn’t seem too impressed with me when I met him.”
“Prince Jarryn?” Lucien’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You both seemed to get on well enough when you were introduced at court.”
“That wasn’t the first time we met.” Leander quietly recounted the tale of his visit to Jasmine’s brothel, where he had first encountered the exiled prince. “The only thing I don’t understand is why he was there in the first place.”
“Probably for the same reason as you,” Lucien smirked as he leaned back in his chair once Leander was finished with his story.
“Prince Jarryn favours boys, though, or so I have heard. But it is worth mentioning that Jasmine’s establishment is the only brothel in Saeren that exclusively pays its whores.
They are not slaves, which aligns with the prince’s…
ideologies. If he were to seek the, ah, embrace of another anywhere, it would be there. ”
Leander nodded, considering.
“Speak of the devil…” The demigod followed Thiete’s gaze as the other noble spoke, turning in time to see the tavern door closing behind Prince Jarryn, who stood there in the entry way, hair ruffled from the harsh winds outside.
“No, don’t—” Leander tried to stop Lucien from hailing the prince over to their table, but Jarryn saw and approached.
“Your Highness,” Thiete greeted, standing while Leander and Lucien remained seated. “Please, join us, if you are not meeting anyone.”
“Not until later. I would be delighted to join you while I wait.” Jarryn smiled, his gaze passing over the trio before lingering on Leander. His lips curled upwards and something passed over those bright, cobalt eyes, something Leander couldn’t place but didn’t like.
Lucien shuffled over on his bench to give Jarryn the space to join them.
“I’ll get the next round,” Vyrica’s prince announced, standing. “Are you okay with mead, Jarryn? Yes? Good. ”
With Lucien gone, Leander kept his smile plastered in place.
After a few uncomfortable moments, Theite spoke. “We were just talking of the virtues of Saeren.”
“The city has many virtues,” Jarryn agreed.
“I sense there is a ‘but’ in there, Your Highness,” Theite said.
Jarryn inclined his head after a moment of hesitation.
“Saeren is beautiful, with her people well cared for, but the kingdom is backwards in so many ways. People suffer, the less fortunate souls who you think are beneath you, with little worth. Those you call slaves. And you don’t even notice the trauma inflicted on these people.
Because, in your eyes, they are barely people. ”
Leander blinked, having never spent much time considering the strife experienced by those deemed to be nothing more than property. He had been to countries with slaves, and those without. All the while, he had just accepted their presence and status without question or concern.
Thiete was more prepared, however, and opened his mouth to respond. “But our way of life ensures that all members of society have a role to play in it.”
“That is dangerous thinking,” Jarryn said, frowning. “It presupposes your slaves have no worth beyond that which you give them. You chain people like animals and call it order . It’s nothing but cruelty veiled thinly by the guise of control.”
“It’s survival, Your Highness. The mines won’t dig themselves, the fields won’t harvest their own crops.”
“Yet you shackle others— people —to your whims.”
“And you would have chaos rule instead? We cannot risk the collapse of our society due to the natural laziness of people who have no direction or aspiration in life. Sacrifices must be made to maintain peace. If the economy collapses, the kingdom starves. What then? Do your high morals defend the helpless or feed the hungry?”
“You stand on the backs of the oppressed and call that a kindness. Do you honestly believe that your way of life, here in Vyrica, is more beneficial than that of the thriving nation of Desanne?”
“And what of the broke and poverty-stricken nation of Eamore, who didn’t thrive in the transition?”
“I wasn’t finished. We may not be perfect, but we abolished slavery decades ago and have seen no ill effects on the productivity of our subjects. Yet you would keep kicking the downtrodden out of tradition.”
“I see the alternative—bloodshed, famine, anarchy. I have walked through villages where free men turn on each other over scraps of bread. It’s the bitter truth of survival.
” Thiete smiled at Jarryn, though there was nothing funny about what he was saying, and the seriousness of it was almost too much.
“If you tear this system apart, what will you replace it with? A world of dreams and lofty ideals?”
“As if the suffering of thousands is a price you’re willing to pay—because it’s not your blood being spilled.
It’s not your family being branded and sold like cattle.
You think their pain is necessary? No, Lord Thiete, it’s convenient for you.
” Jarryn laughed mirthlessly. “You’re more delusional than I initially gave you credit for.
You extinguish hope in every life you crush under your heel.
You’re afraid to try a different path because it means admitting you’ve been wrong all along. ”
“I am not afraid of being wrong. I am afraid of watching this kingdom fall because we listened to a fool who thinks that freedom can fill empty bellies. Dreamers like you walk an easy path well-trodden by people like me.” Thiete ground out his words, barely managing to keep a civil tongue as he spoke to the prince.
Jarryn turned his head, pinning Leander with a hard stare. “And what are your opinions on the matter, Myracle? What do the gods think of such an uncivilised culture?”
Leander didn’t even have to think. “Cysan holds dominion over those in service, be it forced or otherwise. He cares for them all and answers their prayers, just as I once did for people who called out to me. Unfortunately, sometimes the answer to those prayers is ‘no’.”
“So you’re saying you condone this abominable practice?”
“No, I’m saying it’s not for you or me, or even Cysan, to decide the fates of the poor souls who need his help. You’re looking for systemic change at a level even the gods cannot tackle and that doesn’t happen overnight, Your Highness.”
Jarryn opened his mouth, presumably to argue his point further, but was halted when Lucien returned with four flagons of mead.