Summer 1077 of the Mero's Calendar

They’ve been at it for weeks now. Nibotus would stay three days with his kind, building longhouses while juggling the role of king and father, then there would be one day of travel, two entire days of studies with the general, and then another day of travel back to continue the cycle. Suzir tried to convince him to go by horse and save some time, but the idea had been met with an unmovable no. There’s no way a Kar would ever treat an animal as an inferior, even one that they do not connect with the spirits. Of course, that made Suzir adamant to accompany him on the road, eyeing the surrounding fields by the advantageous height of his mount, as if convinced they would be ambushed at every turn. He’s not that wrong, those farmers’ forks and scythes sure could do a lot of damage against a lonely Kar, and it would be so easy to hide a corpse in one of those deep irrigation ditches. Nibotus could probably deal with two or three angry civilians on his own, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think he could survive against more. 

Still, the prospect of dying under the attacks of hostile neighbors always seemed more pleasant than the absolute torture that is studying for hours in the general’s office. Nibotus never had patience for staying inside, always finding a reason to be out even in the rain and snow, to make his body useful. So being trapped so long in a sitting position, with a shaking leg the only escape for his rising energy? Absolutely atrocious, the worst experience of his entire life. Even almost dying on that daybed flush to the wall behind them is a better memory than the excruciating work of learning the Mero alphabet, and how they clamp together to make words, and how those words have to follow the most complex laws of grammar that exist. 

- I was supposed to learn war tactics, not that!

The quill splashes dark ink on the paper, and even a bit on the desk, as he throws it away in frustration. The tip of his fingers is stained dark for always slipping closer to the point as he puts too much force in his hand when he scribbles his letters. Tiny muscles are burning under his skin from being so long in a position so unusual, and it’s a wonder how the general can do that all day with such a serene face. Nibotus can watch him in his peripheral vision, working on important documents while the Kar is bent on a chair next to him, repeating the same writing exercises again and again. Such a waste of time. His letters are still disproportionately huge, his lines shaky, and when he needs to read, it takes him a full whole minute to decipher a simple sentence of three words. 

And still, Suzir doesn’t give up. Doesn’t snap at his repeated failures, at his constant whining, at his inevitable breakdowns late in the evenings. Always so calm, always in such control of his emotions, and it makes Nibotus mad, makes him want to snarl even more, push even harder until the facade finally breaks. But it never comes, and then the king is left with shame in the middle of the night, wondering why he’s putting at risk the future of his people, the future of his son, for something as ridiculous as wanting to rile up the only decent man in the Mero empire. All because he saw his cold rage once, and can’t wrap his head around the fact it has never been directed at him, the one that’s supposed to be his sworn enemy. 

There’s a sigh on his left as Suzir quietly puts down his own quill. Nibotus doesn’t want to see the tired strain in his green eyes, doesn’t want to feel the guilt gnawing at him already, and so he roots his elbows in the wood of the desk and pulls at his blond hair with angry hands, cutting the general out of his view. Immediately, adrenaline peaks in his veins because he can’t see the man’s next move, and years of battle have conditioned him to be wary of any Meros so close to him. Even while knowing that Suzir is unarmed, that he has never shown any aggression toward him, he can’t shut that part of his mind that’s always vigilant, always doubting, always ready for the worst. Maybe somewhat hoping for the worst, so he could finally stop being paranoid and have a good reason to go back to the simple times of blind hate, of battling to get what they deserve, instead of constantly thinking and adjusting and defining what compromises can be made or not. 

The silence stretches, and Nibotus can feel the burn of Suzir’s eyes on him as the man ponders what to reply. They already know why the king can’t learn those tactics yet. To understand them, he needs to learn about historic battles, the ones described in military books that he can’t comprehend as long as he can’t read properly. Sure, the general could always read them to him, but in an army that relies so much on written orders and precise information circulating between generals on the battlefield, Nibotus being illiterate could become a fatal handicap. If he wants his men to stay alive against the forces of the south, it’s a pain he has to push through. Or… he could listen to that nagging little voice, the one that sounds way too close to Bukeres, saying that he doesn’t need to sacrifice so much of himself to those Mero bastards when he could simply betray them when the right time comes. 

- I must apologize.

Nibotus raises his head, perplexed as he glances over to the general. The man isn't staring at him anymore, looking down at his papers instead with what the Kar could swear is a sheepish expression. It's not like his shoulders were less than straight, or that he had lost his constant neutral mask, but for some inexplicable reason, the king can feel it emanating from the man.

- You are right to be frustrated. Until now, I have used the way I have been taught, because it is all I have ever known. It is clear now that those approaches might not be right for everyone, contrary to what my father had claimed back in the day. I should have realized my mistake sooner, instead of blindly hoping it would get easier for you with time. 

Why on earth did he have to stumble on such a kind heart? It would be so much easier to listen to Bukeres advices if Suzir had been another raging conqueror to deal with violence and blood. Feeling foolish once more, Nibotus stares back at the desk, mixed emotions twisting in his guts as he prepares himself for disappointment. There's no reason for continuing that charade anymore, and he expects Suzir to announce this as another failed project to stop. But if that's the case, then what will happen? Will it undo their promise of leaving them peacefully on their ancestral lands because it compromises the Kars’ capacities to follow them on the battlefield? Will they be kicked back east already?

Wanting to hide his anxiety, Nibotus starts to open and close his writing hand in the hope it’ll shake its pain away. The movement grabs the general attention, and it seems that the late hour is chipping at his barrier, because his tan fingers grab gently at his wrist. Surprised by the sudden contact, the king jolts out of his touch, and Suzir immediately freezes in an horrified expression, as if his body had moved before his mind and he just realized what he had done. But Nibotus wants to trust him, he couldn’t do otherwise after so much proof that the general deserved it, and so he slowly lowers his hand back into the man’s palm. The tension in Suzir’s shoulder immediately releases, and the king can swear to hear him escape the smallest sigh of relief before starting to massage the meat of his hand. The rush of pleasure is instantaneous after the peak of pain that follows the pressure, and Nibotus can’t stop a low groan from leaving his throat. Which prompts the general to give a small smirk, the proud bastard.

- I will revise my way of teaching so our meetings become more efficient. It will be ready for your return next week. 

- Hmmm…

- Would I be wrong to assess that this information just fell into deaf ears?

- Less talkin, more massagin. I deserve it after the horror ya put me through.

And here it is, that chuckle so quiet it could be easily missed, and Nibotus let his head fall onto the desk with a heavy thunk. Because at this point, he knows too well those little warm crackles in his guts. Had the spirits cursed him to feel attraction so easily? Because it’s getting ridiculous at this point, even dangerous. 

- Something bothering you?

- Yeah, ya're too cute for my sanity.

Oh, so his exhausted mind decided to blurted that out, great. And without any surprise, Suzir stopped massaging his hand… but didn't let go either, just froze on the spot. Risking a peek, Nibotus couldn’t see any disgust, or fear, or even a perfectly curated blank expression to mask the man’s inner turmoil. Just the slow rise of pink under brown epidermis, starting at the neck and crawling to the forehead. 

- What? Nobody ever told ya that?

- Nobody that I… Nobody that I could believe.

- What d'ya mean?

- I am a senator. The first son of the Emperor. Getting my favors would be an easy way to access my power. 

- So ya never trusted anybody givin ya compliments? Damn, I've guessed that ya life sucked, but that's just sad at this point. So ya never had any fun except with ya wife?

- I… judge it more prudent to keep my distance and politely refuse any advances made on me. Has it not been the same for you once you became king?

And that's what made Nibotus laugh so hard he almost choked on his own spit, because the poor soul clearly hadn't heard about how he became king in the first place. And so Nibotus had to explain it to him, and if he got into some graphic details at certain points just to see the man squirm in retained interest, that's nobody's business except him. 

- I see that you have plenty of experience, then.

- Well, I've never done it with a Mero, so ya could say I still have one or two things to learn… But I mean, who would trust a Kar like me, am I right?

- I do.

That's when Nibotus realizes Suzir hadn’t left his grasp on his hand. For what must have been the past hour of palaver about Aturi, and Mivaren, and Kamav, and Bukeres… Oh, his chiefs will get so mad when he will have to confirm how weak he is to handsome men, whether they are ancient enemies or not. And worst, there's Wolf. And Nivis, because his kid is so insightful even without grasping everything about the adult world.

- I hate to break this, but even if I'm readin ya correctly, I still need to talk with my people before everythin. 

- Oh, right, and I… I should talk about this to my wife too, at least.

- Yeah, that'd be best.

Nibotus has met Anel a few times now. She’s the kind of gentle soul with a demure attitude that reminds the Kar of a doe, effortlessly elegant but still a little bit skittish. The first time she had extended her hand to him, palm facing the ground, he had fumbled awkwardly before understanding he needed to delicately hold her fingers as a salutation. But she had simply smiled at him, shy but warm, without any trace of mockery in her mossy green eyes, and since then, he has taken a liking to her. She invited him to dinner at least once a week, asking him about his family, the life of his people, and even trying to learn a little bit of their language. Always polite, with a voice that barely gets over a whisper. The perfect match for Suzir, really. Knowing that relationship dynamics are more strict for the Meros, it would break Nibotus’ heart to give her any pain by stealing for himself a little bit of the general’s affection.

Still, he couldn't let go of Suzir’s hand until they had to leave his office.