The advisors finished their perusal of their rooms, and the knights sent off to inspect the inn eventually came back with nothing suspicious to report. 

Now that everyone was once again gathered in the hallway, Laurence chose to announce, "I think a visit to the bathhouse would be most refreshing. Does anyone want to join me?"

From what he’d read in the past, communal bathing was a great way to foster friendship. He hoped all of his knights and advisors would grow to become close companions, as they would be in each other’s constant company for months to come.

A ripple of assent flowed through a handful of knights. 

Barton, grinning indulgently, stepped forward. “I could use a good soak,” he declared, his tone light but eyes sharp. It was obvious to Laurence that Barton’s intentions were more to keep an eye on him than to participate in bonding and relaxation, but the prince would take what he could get.

"We have to keep a guard rotation," other knights muttered, respectfully declining the prince's offer. Despite sweeping the building, some of them would still need to take protective positions outside the inn just in case any trouble were to arise.

Advisor Tellos, frank and precise, nodded once. "It seems a sensible indulgence after our journey." 

Reya's nod came slower, her eyes betraying a hint of shyness. She looked down, adjusting the sleeves of her robe.

 A male advisor named Cecil, whom Laurence hadn’t yet been acquainted with, also seemed slightly reluctant, but he agreed nonetheless.

Advisors Ruford and Melia, an older married couple, turned down the offer as they understandably preferred not to bathe in the company of others. 

So it seemed three advisors and five knights would be partaking in the bathhouse experience with Laurence. The prince did not bother waiting for Avril’s agreement, automatically adding him to the count since he knew by now that wherever he went, Avril’s attendance was a foregone conclusion.

Unbeknownst to Laurence, there was tension seeping into Avril’s posture as he wordlessly followed the group down the stairs.

Laurence led the way, steps light with renewed energy at the prospect of trying something new, a scholar's intrigue gleaming behind his glasses. 

As they reached the ground floor, a shout pierced the late evening air, jarring amidst the tranquility of Moridgale. 

The knights stationed by the entrance stiffened and exchanged glances, but relaxed once the sound faded into muffled laughter from down the road.

"Merely the tavern crowds warming up for the night," one knight assured.

"Indeed," Council Leader Armella chimed in from where she stood, conferring with the inn’s staff by the front desk. "The revelry here really starts to pick up at this time. Please don’t mind the disturbance."

That seemed to be enough reassurance for the group to continue on their way, but the distant clamor from outside snagged in Avril’s thoughts as he shadowed Laurence's steps. However, with no concrete reason to think anything was amiss besides his own instincts, he remained silent.

Once they entered the bathing area, steam immediately clung to skin and stone alike, wreathing the large room in a delicate shroud. 

Along the wall by the entrance were empty cabinets meant to house their clothes, and shelves full of towels and loungewear provided by the inn for them to use. 

Evette, the female knight who’d steered the prince’s carriage, grabbed a couple of towels and took Reya by the wrist as the two picked a corner to disrobe in. 

The males began to strip where they stood without a care, including Laurence. Having been regularly dressed by attendants all his life, the prince felt no shame in shedding his clothes amongst everyone else. 

Avril was the only one left standing still amidst all the casual nudity. His hands came up to fumble with the collar of his bodysuit, the sense of unease that had simmered in his gut now churning with the rising heat.

"Are you not joining us, Avril?" Barton's voice was a low rumble, breaking through the thick air. 

All eyes cut towards them, and Avril twitched at the sudden attention.

He recovered quickly, however, exaggeratingly covering his body and acting playfully scandalized. He fired back, “Are you that eager to see me naked, old man?” 

"Hardly," Barton retorted with a snort, not rising to the bait. He strode confidently past Avril in all his strappingly broad glory as he added, "You haven't the assets I prefer."

A few snickers fluttered around the room at the exchange.

Avril turned away and brought his hands back up to his collar, a barely perceptible tremble in his fingers as he began to slowly peel off his clothes.

Soft splashes and murmured conversations echoed around the enclosed space as the rest of the group settled into the sunken baths. 

Plumes of steam curled around Reya's bashful smile, her tension easing as she dipped lower into the water beside Evette, who lounged unbothered in the presence of men. Reya endeavored to absorb some of her confidence.

The light slap of bare steps preceded Avril finally nearing the bath, a towel held loosely in front him. It did hardly anything to cover the newly unveiled sea of exposed skin; he seemed to grip it solely for comfort. 

"Care for a dip?" Barton teased lightly, noting his hesitation by the edge of the heated pool.

"I’m simply savoring the anticipation," Avril quipped, despite his cheeks ablaze not just from the bath's heat.

With a breath that was more a surrender than resolve, Avril let the towel fall. It slumped to the floor in a puddle of fabric as he carefully stepped into the bath. His long hair, freed from its usual binding, veiled his back in a platinum cascade that brushed against the curve of his legs. It began to fan out behind him along the surface of the  water as he sank down into its depths. 

Avril took his place beside Prince Laurence on a stone seat. He crossed his legs primly and attempted to maintain a veneer of tranquility, but the way his arms wrapped around himself in a self-embrace betrayed his inner battle against vulnerability. 

Laurence was deep in discourse with Advisor Tellos over the intricacies of past trade negotiations between Dondor and Minfrilla. "Those trade routes? Yes, I agree they’re essential..." Laurence's words trailed off momentarily as he spared a sidelong glance at his personal knight.

His studious eyes were drawn to Avril's profile—delicate looking for one trained in combat. For the first time, Laurence couldn’t help noticing that his knight was unexpectedly arresting. 

The prince caught himself, a slight furrow marring his brow, before continuing, "But perhaps passage through the east would be more direct."

"Indeed, Your Highness," Tellos acknowledged, unaware of the prince's distraction. "But it lacks..."

Laurence nodded mechanically, his attention now divided. Avril, a constant, unyielding irritant, now seemed a different enigma altogether. It was as if the steam had unveiled what his mind had never sought to observe—the gentle slope of Avril's jaw, the softness of his amethyst eyes, the vibrancy of his hair cascading like liquid sunset over pale shoulders.

A flush crept up Laurence's neck, not from the bath's warmth but from a sudden, inexplicable awareness of the objective attractiveness of his knight. As if It had been hidden behind Avril’s coarse personality until right this moment.

"Your thoughts, Prince Laurence?" Tellos prompted, bringing Laurence back from the precipice of his unintended reverie.

"Ah, yes, the security of goods is paramount," Laurence recovered, though his gaze lingered just a moment longer on Avril's form before he forced it away.

Avril did not notice the prince’s scrutiny, or he surely would’ve mocked him for it. 

No, the young knight was too busy staring into the water without once raising his head, eyes half-lidded as if the steam were putting him into a daze.

*****

With a towel still draped around his shoulders, Laurence watched as the long floor table set up in his quarters became a landscape of steaming dishes brought in by the inn’s staff. The aroma of roasted meats, cooked vegetables, stew, and fresh bread wafted through the air. It mingled well with the light laughter and soft chatter of his entourage, who were now all clad in the inn's comfortable robes and lounge pants. 

A knock at the door preceded Council Leader Armella's entrance. "My prince, is everything arranged to your liking?" She inquired, her eyes sweeping over the feast with pride.

"Yes, thank you for your thoughtfulness," Laurence affirmed, smiling appreciatively as he took his seat at the head of the table.

"Join us, Armella," Barton interjected before Laurence could speak further, looking up at her with an inviting grin.

"May I?" Armella glanced towards Laurence for confirmation, who gestured to the empty space beside Barton with a nod. 

As Armella settled onto the offered cushion, Barton leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "I’ve heard the stew from here is made using a secret recipe passed down from Moridgale's finest chef. Is there any truth to that rumor?"

"My lips are sealed when it comes to secrets, Sir Barton. The only way for you to confirm such a rumor is to become a resident of the town," she replied, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Ah, I wonder if there is an honorary citizenship extended to spouses of Moridgale natives," Barton playfully mused aloud with a wink, earning himself a laugh from the council leader.

A bemused expression crossed Laurence’s face. The sight of Barton engaging so freely in blatant flirtation seemed so out of place to him; it was a side of his friend he’d never had the opportunity to witness back at the palace.

As Laurence’s mind lingered on the novelty before him, he went to take his first bite of the food on his plate. However, a fork wielded by pale fingers speared the piece of meat he'd been aiming for, and the morsel disappeared between someone else’s lips. 

"Delicious," Avril stated quietly.

A small furrow formed between Laurence’s brows as he watched Avril continue to steal a bite from every edible option on his plate. 

His knight then quietly followed up after a few thoughtful chews, "And poison-free. You are safe to partake, my prince."

Regardless of his stated motive, Laurence would’ve suspected Avril was only sampling his food to annoy him, if not for how disoriented the blonde currently seemed.

Avril's face was flushed and he was swaying slightly where he sat, resting an elbow on the table to help hold himself upright. All of his movements were stiff and heavy, lacking most of his usual grace. 

Avril was suffering some lingering dizziness and lethargy from the heat of the bath.

Once he’d finished his self-imposed task of checking Laurence's food for poison, Avril sat back on his cushion and began idly twirling his fingers around the ends of his still damp hair. He didn't seem to have any interest in eating for himself.

This more absent-minded version of his knight was like a stranger compared to the mischievous instigator Laurence had unwillingly grown accustomed to. 

"How vigilant you are," Laurence remarked, finally taking a bite from his own plate.

"Vigilance is a habit hard to break," Avril drawled, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. "I was trained to always be prepared, especially in unfamiliar territories."

Laurence’s eyes widened at getting a genuine response for once from his enigmatic knight. He studied Avril's face, searching for any hint of the usual mockery or hidden agenda. 

Finding none, Laurence ventured further, "And where did you receive such training?"

It was something he’d been wondering for a while, but he’d been too intimidated to ask his father about it. None of the knights he questioned at the palace were at all familiar with Avril though. It was as if he’d materialized from the ether on Laurence’s birthday.

Avril's fingers stilled in his hair, a flicker of something—regret? trepidation?—passing through his distant eyes. But then he blinked, focus returning as he met Laurence's gaze to respond, "Oh, here and there. I wouldn’t want to bore you with such details.”

Laurence reached for his cup of water, taking a long sip before replying, "I see."

Though he didn't; not at all. He would have to try asking again another time.

As the meal progressed, Avril's demeanor continued to noticeably shift. He laughed more freely at the jokes around the table, his usual sharp edges softened by the lingering effects of the bath.

"I have to admit," Laurence began, "I prefer this side of you, Avril. It's... refreshing."

"Prefer it?" Avril teased, quirking an eyebrow. His gaze held Laurence's; a challenge, lighthearted for once, lurking within the depths of his eyes.

"Perhaps 'prefer' is too strong a word," Laurence conceded, his heart skipping a beat. "It just seems to suit you well."

"Then perhaps I shall consider maintaining this demeanor," Avril murmured, his lips curling further. "If it pleases my prince."

"It does," Laurence replied before he could stop himself, the words slipping out with an ease that surprised him. The moment stretched between them, charged with an energy Laurence didn't fully understand.

Avril's light laughter broke the tension. "Then consider me at your service, in all manners that please you," he concluded.

For the first time since their acquaintanceship began, Laurence felt a genuine connection start to form. The foundation of a bridge being built over the chasm that separated them.