Far too much happened at once in the coming days. Hesiat was organizing the party, and a great deal of the staff was hard at work: preparing a feast’s worth of food, getting out decorations, etcetera, and it wasn’t until Oly was asked the 50^th question by passing staff about the meaning of this color or his opinion on that foreign food  that he realized the greater significance here.

Sundenta wasn’t on bad terms with Aoskrali, but it was hard to be on good terms with a place so far away. King LonDwuat suddenly having an Aosan slave—when they weren’t at war or in any way engaged in the slave market—was going to look bad. Oly was obviously kidnapped. To certain eyes, like a crew of unremarkable sailors, he was also obviously high-born. To mitigate rumors about something that looked so terrible out of context, Hesiat had to take every opportunity to go overboard with gestures of goodwill and friendship with Oly’s people.

This carried on for two more days, it was the eve of the party, and Oly speculated that Hesiat was starting to overwhelm himself with these preparations.

“He’s avoiding me again.” Oly complained to Mokanda, who he’d found walking through the gardens. The sun was high and pleasantly warm, probably near noon.

Mokanda chuckled, oddly bundled up for such a nice day. “He avoids everyone when he takes these things upon himself, especially me. I’m possibly the only person who can still tell him to take breaks.” The High Advisor paused, then tapped his cane sharply on the ground. “If I might make a suggestion,” he began, smiling softly at Oly, “Hesiat hardly likes to be interrupted from his work, but I know him far too well. When he’s stressed or worried about something, he’ll run himself into the ground.”

“I can see that now.” Oly sighed.

“Normally that wouldn’t be a problem—well, it would, but it wouldn’t mean immediate disaster. However, it wouldn’t do to be dead on his feet while he’s hosting a celebration, would it?” He asked, coming to a stone bench and easing himself down. Oly remained standing, but gave Mokanda his full attention.

“No, it wouldn’t. But like you said, I can’t interrupt him, can I?”

Mokanda smirked and crossed his hands over the head of his cane, swiveling it from side to side. “Maybe, maybe not... I propose a simple solution.” He declared, eyes fixing on Oly again. “You should demand his attention: drag him from his work kicking and screaming. Figuratively, of course. If he tries to escape, then you can say it’s an order from me.”

Oly would rather avoid such a desperate measure, it would probably make things strained, but now he was curious. “Are you ordering him?” Oly asked, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.

“Kindly, yes. Please keep my dear idiot from working to death, would you? Maybe take him on a picnic, or a river trip. You’re a creative boy, I’m sure you can think of something.”

Oly cocked his head with curiosity. Dear idiot? “You talk as if he’s your son.”

“I don’t know about that, but I did help raise him. More of an uncle, really.” Mokanda tapped his temple with his cane in a sly sort of salute and gestured back at the path. “I think he’s in the ballroom, if you want to get a head start on it.”

--

The dancing hall was impressively decked out with a typical Sundentan array, but Oly was glad to see they’d taken his suggestions for the palette: shades of yellow and gold for friendship and good fortune, with accents of red for heroics. Hesiat was talking with an artisan that he vaguely recognized as Terese’s apprentice, fidgeting with an empty goblet.  He slowly edged closer while waiting for them to finish, spotted the opportune moment, and swooped in. He threw an arm around his shoulders to capture him and kissed him on the cheek. “I hope you’re at a good stopping place.” Oly joked.

“I—” Hesiat ducked out from under his arm and tried to move onto someone else. “Hello, Oly. Give me just a minute.”

“And then a minute turns into two, twenty, an hour,” Oly stepped in front of the king to stop him.

Hesiat glanced behind Oly, his brow creasing, “Well, not now then.”

Oly couldn’t give a damn what needed taking care of. He’d been put on a mission, and not just Mokanda’s. “They can do without you for a little while, can’t they?”

Hesiat twisted two of his braids together and took a deep breath, allowing Oly to size up his state. He was surprised that Hesiat had bags under his eyes for a party, it made him wonder if there was something else going on. In a strained voice, Hesiat replied, “I’d rather occupy my time with this than, well, it’s none of your business.” Hesiat stepped around him, but Oly reached out to stop him.

“Have you tried not working on anything? How close could the Aosans even be?”

“Close!” Hesiat snapped, just barely turning his head back to Oly. “I don’t have time for this!” Oly took a step back and raised a hand in surrender, narrowing his eyes. He was about to back off or give Mokanda’s order for fear of darning again, but before Oly could do anything, Hesiat sighed and bumped the back of his hand gently against Oly’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m not angry with you, I simply… there’s a steep hill ahead of me right now.”

Oly took his hand and reached out to cup his chin, turning Hesiat’s face fully towards his own. “Didn’t I tell you on the day we met that I was good for more than warming your bed?” He teased. “Please have more faith in your staff, and please have more faith in me. Let me take care of you.”

Hesiat frowned, though the tension melted from the line of his shoulders. “What are you suggesting?”

Oly smiled and rubbed the king’s cheek with his thumb. “Go on a date with me, I demand it. We can walk around the city.”

“That strikes me as a terrible idea.”

“Just trust me, alright?” Oly hooked his arm in Hesiat’s and pulled him away, surprised that he went along with minimal reluctance. “If there’s anything I’ve learned in my life, it’s that civilians rarely recognize someone important if they don’t appear where and how they expect. I’ll even bet on it: if I’m wrong, I’ll…” He fumbled for words, then patted Hesiat’s chest. “Just go to your room and hide all the gold: put on your plainest cloak and gloves.”

“It is a little chilly.” Hesiat muttered.

“You’re insane. I’ll be waiting by the front gate, ok? Be there by the chime of the clock, or else I will find you.”

Oly put on a playfully threatening expression and gave a good-natured push in the right direction, earning a fond, exasperated look over the shoulder. He waved, waited until the king was out of sight, and bolted for the kitchens. The picnic idea wasn’t bad, but he had to see if he could beg anything good off Patyi in just twenty minutes.

When he arrived a little out of breath, Patyi held up a finger to stop him before he could fully gasp out his plans, pulled a wicker basket out of a cabinet, and pushed it into his arms: there was even a blanket. He sputtered with confusion, wondering who else she was preparing dates for, but before he could ask she nestled two small, thin glasses in and shoved a flask of mead in his hand. “Don’t ask, you’re not original.”

He was so caught off guard that he could only say, “Yes ma’am!”

“Now walk back, getting all wheezy and sweaty isn’t a good start. I promise he got sidetracked too.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

He obeyed, and true to her word, the fool hadn’t even made it to the gate. To his credit, he was standing by the double doors of the front entrance. Hesiat was talking to someone with an instrument case, but Oly didn’t care; he dismissed the musician and hooked an arm around Hesiat’s waist. Oly sang a little ditty in Hesiat's ear as he dragged his date away, “You should have left when I asked with your dignity intact~”

“Just one more thing—” He protested.

“Oh sure, just one, and then two, and then twenty, and away we go!” Oly cackled as he finally got the king over the threshold. Finally, he had the man all to himself.