(Warning: This chapter contains references to underaged marriage)

Five men and women sat hunched around a table with tired expressions on their faces, surrounded by countless empty bottles. Their once stiff and fancy uniforms lay strewn about, the frock coats discarded at the earliest opportunity; Devurst had even taken off the woolen pants and lay under the table wearing only his shirt and underwear. It was a good thing Lady Montegrie hadn’t followed them to the tavern; she would have thrown an absolute fit over the sight. 

Avairy swayed, trying to find out where her sense of balance wandered off to.

"Y'see. Y'seeeee. I dunt get why we're doing this… they had all them fancy guards in outfits an' everything. They- they- they could do this stupid escort thingy." She blinked. "Holy shit… we're doin' their job."

"S'ceremonial," muttered Fena from where she lay in her seat. The wet cloth on her face was working wonders for her sore eyes. 

"Wut?"

"S'ceremonial. Not real. They stand there an' look pretty. But no fighting."

"That's dumb. They're gonna get annihilated when they get attacked."

"No enemies," chimed in Antony. "Everyone trades here… so they don't have enemies. Waste of money to hire proper guards. So they hire us when they want something done."

"Stupid. Stuuuuuupppiiiiid. I wish I didn' have any enemies," answered Avairy with a slur.

"Y-y- you, you, y- you have…. enemies?" muttered a partially unconscious Darkness ne. Annihilator ne. Shadow ne. Oswald. He had gone through a number of identity crises on his first night of drinking.

"Yeah…? Don't we all?"

"...cool…I wish I had some…" responded the boy before closing his eyes again. 

"Y-you don’t want enemies-sss…" blathered Fena. The alcohol had done a good job of knocking out the Crow and it currently lay on the table, looking a little bit like roadkill. "You simpleeey want attention…"

"Yeah… that."

“The Princessess want attention,” continued Avairy. “They aaaaaalways want atten-attention. ‘Kiss my feet! Follow me around! I’ll starve if you don’t look at me!’” she imitated. “You mus-must get attenttion like that a, a, a, a lot,” she added towards Antony, then snickered. “You must fuck alot.” 

Out of all of them Antony was the most sober due to his size, but he still had Fena’s coat hanging from one of his antlers. He blinked at Avairy and slowly shook his head. 

“No. Not reeeaaaally. It’s like… shallow. Y’know what I mean? They’re like, oh you’re hot. I’m hot. We must be destined for each other. Then six months later they get bored of the sex, and start throwing fits, then it’s messy an’ it turns out they just wanted a one night stand and bail.”

“Ha. Women, am I right?” blathered Darkness ne. Oswald. Aviary dropped her fist onto his head. 

“As if you know anything about tha’ dumbass.”

Antony continued. “Its… over complicated. That’s why I only try an’ sleep with people I like. No. Wait. Not sleep with. Get into a relationship with. Yeah that. I only get into a relationship with people I like. And who like me.”

“Y-your. You’re. You are. V’ry nice about. That.” said Devurst from where he lay on the floor. Challenging the anweiran to a drinking contest had not gone well. 

“And?,” moaned Fena. “Relationship this, relationship that. Foolishhh. No such thing. It's. Y’know. It’s alla bout intercurse. Course. Intercourse. That’s all people care about. True love? Lies. ‘S soon as someone better-looking comes along, you’re dead. Dumped. That.” She raised a corner of the towel and peered at Antony. “I dun’ mind one night though.”

“No. I said no. I just said I don’t do one night stands. You want this body, you gotta actually like me first.”

“That will never happen.” Fena’s eyes suddenly felt oddly prickly and she put the towel back in place to hide them. “I tried it once. Y’know. Love. What a bastard. S’cuse m’ language. But it was my fault. It’s always my fault…”

“This soundsss com- compli- confusing. Your fault? Who caaaarreeeessss. Just leave ‘em behind,'' babbled Avairy. “Listen, jus’ love who you wanna love, fuck who you wanna fuck, and run when you wanna run. Easy.”

“Is not. Not. No. Simple. Noble people, with their kids n’ shit. Play games,” groaned Devurst's voice from the table. 

“Wass he sayin’?”

“Nobles. And their children. It’s all verrry strict, like romance doesn' matter. It’s poli-polo politically. Erryone wants to marry up, no matter which ‘orrid person their kid is forced to marry,” answered Fena. “No running allowed.”

“Stupid. Stuuuuuppiiiiiiid,” responded Avairy. 

“It’s like the princess. Y’think they’re sending her to that school for edu-educate learning things? No, they simply want her to seduce someone big as soon as she cab. Can. Then she marries an’ huzzah. Shez a key they can use. For influence n’ welts.”

“Wealth,” corrected Antony.

“Yesss. That’s what I said.”

“She’s like 14?!” said Avairy angrily. 

“Did you see the Queen? She was prolly that age when she gave birth,” answered the anweiran. 

“Disgusting,” finished the table.

A silence hung over the group as they pondered the implication of noble marriages. Though the Empire and the City of Aquitania were technically different countries, the enormous influence the Ripuarian Empire had over the continent meant most customs and cultures were similar, including marriage. Amongst the lowest class, most serfs married around 18-20 as children were needed to assist in labour for as long as possible before starting their own families. As for the middle-class, without the political pressure of being a noble and enough wealth to sustain themselves, they were less pressured in choosing their partners, and so married between the ages of 16-22. But the nobility were completely different. 

“I knew some’ne who married a girl twenty years younger than ‘im. Soon as she started bleedin’ they shipped her off,” continued Fena. “It’s rare… but the family got a dim-dia-diamond hole. Mine. Super rich. S’cuse m’ vul-vulgarity.”

“Wha does blood gotta do with it?” stuttered Darkness ne. Oswald.

Avairy patted him on the back. “Oh, you poor sweet ignorant thingy. You’ll learn. Probably.”

“The. At the. Academy. That place. I saw. 12 year olds flirting. With kids younger than 'em,” said the table. “They do shit. Shit like standin’ over them with an arm. Waddo they call that?”

“Wall pound. Kabedon. I think. You been to the Academy?” asked Antony. 

“Yeah. Studied there. Th’ place is huuuuuuge. But the noble kids. Half of em’ don’t even study.”

“Whaa- Why?” asked Darkness ne. Oswald, rubbing his head. “S’ a school, right?”

“Doesn’ matter. To them s’just a big mixer. An’ you win by snagging the biggest fish. Fishhhhh. Shhhhhhh. Fish Fish Fish,” was the rambling reply. 

“Hehe… fish,” said Avairy. “I don’t like fish. 

“The noble kind or the… fishy kind?” asked Antony.

“Both. Selfish asses. Jus’ like the adventurers.”

“Wut. What. Why? Does everyone hate adventurers? Aside from the obviousss…" stumbled Fena.

“‘Cause they’re adventurers!” interjected Darkness ne. Oswald. “Right? Innit? They walk aroun’ lookin’ cool an’ shit. We’re mercenaries! O’ course we hate em’!”

“Shaddup,” said Avairy, dropping another fist onto the boy’s head. “You jus’ like pickin’ fights.”

She turned back towards Fena.“Anyways, s’the same. The same shit. It’s like… they’re only there to find someone to fuck,” answered Avairy.

“Whadda you mean?” asked Antony before trying to tip a growler down his throat. He gave it a look of utter defeat when nothing poured out. 

“I was in their guild. I was like, yeah, I’mma swing a sword. I’m good at that. Erryone wanted me. On their team. Party. Whatever. But then I realized.” Avairy copied Antony’s motions exactly, only this time she glared at her growler and whispered, “You’re a failure.”

“Realized…?” Antony motioned for her to continue. 

“The girls. At the guild. If you’re a girl at the guild. You don’t get to do shit. S’just like the Academy thingy. Erryone thinks you're just there to find a guy to marry. So they say, hey why ain’t you a healer? Hey, you should put better makeup on. Step back so I can show you how cool I am.” Anger grew on Avairy’s face and she threw the offending growler across the empty bar. “So what?! So what if I’m not fucking cute when I’m covered in blood?! I just saved your miserable dog-shit LIFE!”

Antony leaned back at the sudden outburst. “Whoa there tiger. Easy.”

Avairy’s eyes blazed and she pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“THAT! That’s what they fucking said to me when I got mad! I don’t give a fuck!!”

“Sorry! Sorry… I just don’t want you to destroy the bar…” said Antony quickly. 

Seeing him immediately capitulate, Avairy frowned but sat back down again. 

“I jus… I dunno. I don’t mind findin’ someone to care about but… those assholes just wanted me around to make em’ feel better. Feel stronger.” Fat tears began leaking out of the corner of her eyes and she grabbed the hem of Darkness ne. Oswald’s sleeve to wipe them. He didn’t even seem to notice as he tried to process her words; it felt like his entire world was being turned upside down. 

“S-so… wait. They got mad ‘cause you didn’t look good enough?” he asked in utter shock.

“Yeah,” sniffled Avairy. “Nevermind I can bisect a man, noooo I gotta be cute while doin’ it.”

“B-but. But I thought. I thought girls liked dressing up…” said Darkness ne. Oswald, still struggling to wrap his drunken mind around the concept. 

“The others did. S’the norm. They jus’ think they gotta be like that cause everyone else is. I fucking hate it.”

“They’d prolly be different if they realized they could,” chimed in Fena. 

“Whoaaa....”

“S’the same as nibbles. Nobles,” came the voice from the table. “S’why the lil’ kids like it. Kab- kabedom. don. Wall pound. Think their doin’ right when they’re jus’ gettin’ used. Top to bottom.”

“Whaddabout the top man?” asked Avairy. “They the same too?”

“Huh?”

“The King. No. Emperor. His kid. The Crown Prince. He also go do the same shit?”

“Dunno,” said the table. “Was after me. But he still ain’t married.”

“He’s like 25 something too,” said Antony. “Isn’t that kinda late?”

“Prolly waiting. For the ‘one’.” sneered the table drunkenly. “Bet our lil’ princess thinks she’s it.”

“Who gives a shit.”

“Huh?”

“Shaddup,” growled Fena suddenly, swinging her foot into Devurst’s side. The Crow awoke with a squawk as Devurst let out a yelp of pain. 

“What the hell?!” he yelled, suddenly much more awake.

Fena suddenly stood up, her body swaying from side to side. The cloth fell from her face, revealing an irritated expression.

“S’ boring talk. M’done here…” she mumbled and staggered to the exit. She managed to reach the handle before her body folded in half, her forehead planted into the ground. Antony immediately stood up and made his way over to her.

“Okay, okay, clearly we’re not heading home tonight. Cummon, let’s see if this inn has a spare room.”

After consulting with the tired bartender, Antony dragged a practically comatose Fena upstairs and onto the bed of a dusty room. He removed her wrinkled coat from where it dangled on his antlers and gently laid it over her, only to pause as he saw her face. The girl was already fast asleep, but her brow remained permanently wrinkled into a scowl. 

He sighed and shook his head; despite her usual cold treatment of him he couldn’t help but worry. Part of him had always suspected there was a lot more going on in the girl than she let on, and that part wanted to peel back the stony exterior to expose the conflict within. It was what drew his attention to her in the first place. 

Antony ran a hand across Fena’s forehead, wiping off some of the sweat that had gathered, and cursed the part of him that sought to involve itself in other people’s lives. With another shake of his head, the anweiran stood and left, locking the door behind him and slipping the key under it before leaving.