The prince disliked wine. He much preferred the honeyed beer of his country, but it did not stop him from continuing to consume the bitter liquid within the solitude of his rooms. Baptist dutifully sat beside him as he downed goblet after goblet, peering over books he had stolen from the Ilysian king’s library. Well, not stolen, Baptist thought, borrowed. It wasn’t as if the prince wasn’t going to give them back, though it was unlikely he would return them himself. It was more plausible to assume that he would put them in a neat pile on a side table and let the servants take responsibility. The prince respected books more than servants. More than people.

“Haroma.” The prince murmured, squinting at a page of a book. When he drank heavily like this, he often got double vision. The fact that he liked reading, even when drunk, was a bad combination in Baptist’s opinion. Still, it was often entertaining, and Baptist relished what the gods gave him.

Even so, the prince had mentioned Haroma in passing during their journey to Ilyos. Just once, but enough for Baptist to know that it was of importance. Reading a book on the island now, however, seemed odd since Prince Heiko’s preparatory research verged on inexorable. On the other hand, this book was of Ilysian perspective. It likely offered useful information. Not that Baptist would know, since he couldn’t read Ilysian. The southern language had foreign characters, much different from Simo or his homeland, Burke. 

Instead, he scrunched his lips and pulled his gaze away from the prince and the book, scanning the room they had been given. The mattress was very large and covered in cottons and silks, dyed modestly. There were various golden embellishments around the room, but it still did not equate to the lavish chambers of Simo. There was a large open balcony behind the couch they sat on, blowing in warm night air. Their Simonese clothes were not proper for this weather, prompting them to change into the Ilysian ones set out for them. They were almost austere in nature, a tunic-like cloth called a chiton and no trousers beneath it - a very foreign concept to the Simonese. Even so, Heiko pulled the fabric on with not even a hint of disapproval. His skin was already flushed pink from the assault of southern heat, so Baptist figured reprieve from it was far better than aspersing the design. Still, it made sitting with legs folded in front of oneself impossible, so Baptist was forced to sit on the couch with his legs tucked beneath him like a woman. 

But he soon found himself growing restless, which was curious, since being around the prince normally had a calming effect on him.

Maybe it was because they were in a strange land. Or because of that general. Prince Heiko metamorphosed into something dynamic when he was present, no longer a snake lying in wait, but a snake risen, swaying his head to gain more depth. It wasn’t a side of the prince Baptist had ever seen, though he was a smart child and it wasn’t hard to discern that Prince Heiko would possess such a side. He portrayed himself as arrogant, but that was just another of his numerous pieces of armor. And that armor was protecting a man who knew he knew nothing. Or, at least, a man who knew he didn’t know everything. And General Celestino was one of those things he did not know.

It didn’t hurt the Ilysian that he was handsome and solid, more arresting than even King Ingo, who was likely the most imposing figure in Prince Heiko’s life. It didn’t help him either.

That slight boost gave Baptist the confidence to reach over and take his master’s golden hair in his hands, combing down the strays in hopes that it didn’t seem like an overstep.

His master stiffened, but that wasn’t necessarily indicative of a crossed boundary. Prince Heiko always tensed when he was touched, no matter by whom, so the boy didn’t hesitate. He gently unknotted the leather strip from the prince’s hair and smoothed out the flattening waves. When freshly washed, Prince Heiko had graceful curls, and each day of neglect resulted in weaker and weaker volume. It never got to be completely flat, since the prince was once a priest, and cleanliness is godliness.

He didn’t remove his gaze from the page when he asked Baptist, “What has you so worked up?”

“Nothing.”

Silence rang out for a long stretch after that, having Baptist wonder if he had blundered.

“If it was that princess, do not heed her words.” His fingers continued to flutter through the pages, as if they didn’t know his lips were elsewhere. “I know you are not the delicate child she wants to see. And it’s only my opinion that matters.”

Baptist kept his eyes on his hands as they twined strands of his master’s hair together. Her words had only worked him up minorly, but to know Prince Heiko did not think of him as a mere child put a warmth in his belly.

“If,” Heiko continued. “It was the general, set your apprehension aside. He is certainly an obstacle, but I haven’t quite yet counted out his utility. He may prove to be an asset.”

If that was Baptist’s concern, it would’ve been remedied, but it was not.