Chapter 6 - Mission of Diplomacy

“What kind of relationship does Lucian have with his uncle?”

His question threw Icarus off. In the midst of their training, the boy’s eyes shot up as the blunt of Aven’s blade slammed against his hand.. He swore and cursed, sword clattering to the ground. “What?” Icarus said. “Why do you ask?”

Aven grimaced. “Just after….last night. I was curious.”

It was the middle of the next day. After waking that morning with Lucian gone from bed and a fresh change of clothes, (and being unable to find his royal charge) Aven made his way down to the training arena where he found Icarus.

The younger boy hesitated, plucking his sword up off the ground. “I’m not really sure,” he said, moving to take a drink of water. “Back when we were little… he was close to his family. His mom, his dad, his uncle..but after his parents died, everything changed. In terms of their relationship… I guess they used to be close. But not so much anymore. It’s really sad..”

Aven couldn’t picture a time where Lucian and his uncle might have been close. “And his parents?” He questioned, pushing forward before Icarus had time to recover and his opponent quickly lifted his blade to deflect his blow. “What about them?”

“They were the perfect family.”

The perfect family.

Aven swallowed the grunt of distaste. The perfect family that profited from the sufferings of others, maybe. He hit harder, making Icarus stagger backwards with a gasp. “Damn, Aven,” he said with a laugh. “You’re going to break my arm.”

“I’ve been hitting things a lot harder than pampered rich boys in the arena,” Aven grinned. “And we were taught early on to never go easy on someone.”

“We might have to take a break, then. If my father learned you broke both my arms, he’d have you hanged.”

“Yes, your father doesn’t seem to like me much.”

Icarus grimaced. He sheathed his sword and pushed his fingers through his hair. “My father doesn’t like much of anyone,” he admitted. “Except me. I hope. And Darrien.”

“And your mother?”

“Don’t have one. And you?”

“Don’t have one.”

Icarus grinned. He grabbed another waterskin to shove into Aven’s chest. “Then here’s to the motherless bastards.” He tipped it down his throat and brushed away a couple droplets. “I wish I could come with you. I know I have to study, but… how can I learn to protect the Prince if I can’t be near him? Isn’t this exactly the kind of thing that I should accompany him for?!”

Aven shook his head helplessly. Water tickled down his throat. “I don’t know. Maybe your father just needs you here for now. Or doesn’t think you’re ready.”

Icarus sighed, shoulders slumping. “Maybe,” he murmured. He glanced up towards the sky, where the sun was tucked away in its crest behind the clouds. “Nearly noon. You should be finding Prince Lucian to leave.”

Aven had been trying to forget about it. At the very mention of leaving, he felt his stomach clench. “Right.”

“What’s wrong?”

Aven placed his sword up on the rack. “I just… I’ve never left Aeliorn. Hell, I’ve never even left Exthellion. And now we’re going on a ship? To another continent? I’ve never been on a ship. I’ll probably get sea sick.” Icarus laughed. Aven’s eyes shot over to him, cheeks darkening. “What are you laughing at?!”

“I’ve seen you make the Captain of the Duskblades nearly piss himself and wrestle manticores with your bare hands,” Icarus grinned. “And you’re scared of a little field trip?”

It did sound ridiculous. Aven rubbed his arm. “…change is something that scares me more than any monster.”

“Don’t be afraid of change. You should feel lucky. It’s better than being left here, right? And after dinner last night, if I were you, I’d want as much distance between myself and the Regent as possible.”

“He can’t touch me. I’m Lucian’s ‘property.’”

“That’s true. But that doesn’t mean he can’t make your life hell.” His hand touched Aven’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, okay? The Prince is… difficult, but he has this figured out.” He snorted. “If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s talking. And that’s all this mission is. Talk.”

Aven sent the boy a look of gratitude. “Thank you,” he said. “Will I see you before we leave?”

“Probably not,” Icarus said. “Father says I need to catch up on my ‘court customs and etiquette’ studies.”

Aven wrinkled his nose. “I think I’d rather the field trip.”

“You and I both,” Icarus laughed. “You be safe, okay?”

“You too, Icarus.”

He couldn’t help the clench of grief in his gut as Icarus disappeared out the door. Of everyone in the palace, Icarus had been the only one to show him true kindness. He would genuinely miss him when they left. With a sigh, he made his way out the door and towards the courtyard.

Aven had been stressing over this journey far more than he’d be willing to admit. He’d never left Exthellion. At least… he didn’t think he had. And now… now he was embarking on a journey across the sea, alone. Half alone. He’d be bringing his lion, of course. He simply had to promise Lucian that Kion would remain in the hull and that he could be present while negotiating with the Amnian leaders. ‘Diplomatic sway,’ Lucian had called it.

Either way, it was new. And new terrified him.

“Good afternoon, Aven!” A couple elven servants called out to him. Aven smiled in their direction, nodding his head and pushed through the door into the courtyard.

It was a shortcut to Lucian’s quarters that he always enjoyed. While they were at times occupied by stuffy nobles, no one ever paid him any mind. They were too busy drinking wine or reading or gossiping to pay attention to the slave that picked his way through the gardens. And what beautiful gardens they were. In the midst of the month of Eleasias, several weeks after Midsummer, the gardens teemed with green. A vibrancy of flora from parts of which Aven could scarcely even dream. Common bloodroses said to be taken from the Rose Garden of the Battle of Bones. Snowflowers picked from the Great Glacier of Faerun. Helmthorn and Felsul trees.

It was a place where Aven could simply walk and breathe in the fresh air.

He was making his way towards the door - when he heard a voice. A voice that had him stopping in his tracks.

“-sure that we must resort to such drastic measures? The kingdom would-”

“The security of the kingdom is why such measures must be taken.”

Ceril and the Regent.

He should have kept walking. He didn’t want to think about what punishments would be inflicted on a slave listening in on the Regent of Aeliorn and his Ambassador. And yet…

Aven chewed on his lip. Damn his curiosity. He kept low against the shrubbery as he approached, his steps silent against the stone pathway.

Darrien and Ceril stood aside the courtyard aisle, alone save for Darrien’s crimson clad Kingsguard. Ceril looked a shade paler than his usual sundried shade. “Your majesty,” he hissed out. “I must advise caution.”

“Things have changed. We no longer have the luxury of caution. He must be removed now.” The Regent took a seat on a nearby bench. “Have you given Captain Kylar the missive?”

“I have, but I-”

“Good. Instruct him that it must happen when they are nearing the Pazcoatl Straits. Now.”

Ceril exhaled. “Yes, your majesty,” he murmured, and turned.

Towards Aven’s direction.

His heart slammed against his chest. He sprang forward and pressed his back to one of the pillars running alongside the courtyard aisle, remaining still as Ceril passed by, muttering under his breath. He only dared to breathe when Ceril had passed. When he glanced back, the Regent was gone.

Aven didn’t hesitate in starting towards the Prince’s chambers. He considered himself to have fairly good instincts.

And every bone in his body was screaming with danger.

———————————-

Aven eased himself into Lucian’s room. The Prince scarcely even acknowledged his presence as he waved his hand, unseen servants of magic packing his belongings into seven different organized trunks. An army of invisible servants tended to him, handing him maps and mirrors and other belongings which he plucked out of the air. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, your highness.”

Lucian’s mood seemed soured since last night. He hadn’t spoken of their encounter. In fact, not a word had been said in regards to it. As though the Prince was simply trying to sweep it under the rug. Now, he looked tired and drained and pissed as he snapped his fingers, one of the trunks slamming closed.

“Your trunk is over there,” Lucian said, pointing towards a significantly smaller pack. “It has several changes of clothes. And I had your weapons brought up.”

Aven saw the glint of steel on Lucian’s bed. His brow arched and he picked his way over, taking up one of his twin axes. “You’re letting me bring my weapons?”

“As I said before, your presence doubles as my personal protection. Of course you’re taking your weapons.”

Aven hesitated. His fingers curled around the weapon. “Then… as your additional guard detail,” he said. “I assume it is my job to tell you when there is trouble?”

“Yes,” Lucian said, voice short as he slammed another trunk closed.

Aven double checked to ensure the door and windows were shut tight. When privacy was assured, he turned to Lucian. “Your highness, I believe something is gravely wrong.”

Lucian barked a cold laugh. “Really? What gave you that idea.” He fell backwards onto his bed to stare up at the canopies. “Was it the fact that my uncle wants me stuck in Amn while he rules my kingdom?”

“Not just so.” Aven approached, hands locked behind his back. “Your uncle’s intentions seem threatening. Call it a hunch, but the conversation I overheard-”

“My uncle can often be heard plotting throughout the palace,” Lucian sighed. He drew up a finger to massage at his temple. “We will speak no more of this. Get ready to leave.”

It took a great deal for Aven to bite his tongue. “Your highness,” he grated out. “I realize I have no grounds to try and sway your mind, but as it’s my duty to protect you-”

“It’s also your duty,” Lucian hissed, pushing up to glower at Aven. “To still your tongue and be silent when I command it. I did not ask you to speak, nor question my uncle’s motives. Do as I say.”

The sharp words burrowed into him. Frustration peaked with a surge of heat as Lucian’s shoulder crashed against Aven’s, the Prince stalking past to the balcony. Lucian leaned out over the railing, fragile hands gripping the wooden beams until his knuckles were white as he looked out over his city.

Managing anger was never Aven’s strong suit. Withholding every urge that battled against his willpower, Aven trudged across the room in a tense fashion. It took him all but a second to finish packing, placing his very little belongings into the sack Lucian had provided. All the while, his muscles tensed and released as his shortening fuse spat and sparked in his mind.

This was going to be a very long trip.

——————————-

The sun had set and stars twinkled overhead by the time the royal carriage reached the docks. It seemed as though the entire city had emerged to bid the Prince goodbye. Aven’s eyes searched their faces. Some, it was clear, wished the Prince would never return. Others were beside themselves with grief. Likely the ones who pandered to the whim of royals for their next meal.

Aven followed Lucian as he slipped out of the carriage behind his uncle, boards beneath his sandals creaking, - and Aven’s breath escaped him. He’d been to the docks before. In the days of his youth, while scrounging for something to eat or a sturdy looking box to sleep in, he’d seen many ships come and go. But none so magnificent as the Golem’s Eye.

The silver lined ship was as sleek and long as it was beautiful. The starburst symbol of Aeliorn ripped about in the wind, and sailors trudged up the plank onto the deck hauling crates and gear. He looked about for something specific, and he felt Lucian’s hand touch his shoulder.

“Your lion has already been taken aboard. It was decided that the dangerous monster would be transported when there wasn’t a crowd.”

“Believe me, my lord. My lion is not the dangerous monster in this crowd.”

“You’re right. How could I forget my barbaric slave.”

“Lucian.” Darrien called his nephew to attention. “This is Captain Kylar.”

The man who walked down the planks was one that stood with authority. The authority of a well trained warrior. Back straight and eyes sharp, brown hair was tied behind the man’s head and wore a suit of dark blue. The man gave a low bow.

“Your majesties.”

“You have experience sailing to Amn?” Lucian questioned and the man gave a nod.

“Aye. In my youth I transported a number of slaves from Amn here to Aeliorn. I’ve made the trip more than several dozen times. You will be in safe hands.” His eyes met Aven’s. There was a flicker of surprise. A flicker that was replaced by a hand. “And who might this be? You never mentioned the Prince would be accompanied, Your Majesty.”

“That is Lucian’s whore,” Darrien said, voice rigid.

Kylar withdrew the hand. “A slave, then,” he hummed. “And where did the Prince pluck you up from.”

Aven squirmed under the attention. “…the Arena. I was their Champion Fighter.”

“The Champion Fighter?” Kylar asked. “I’m afraid I’m not in Aeliorn often enough to keep up with the Arena’s champions. You must be quite the warrior.” His hand rested on his openly displayed longsword. “It’s no wonder our little lord selected you to be by his side.”

Kylar’s hand had Aven’s entire body tense. “All in the experience, sir,” he said, voice level. “Raise a man to fight for his life, and he will master it.”

“Oh, I like this one,” Kylar purred to Lucian. “I’ll keep that in mind. Perhaps once your use with the Prince has expired, you’d like to join our military.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Lucian quipped.

“Of course.” Kylar stepped to the side, lowering into another bow. “Now, I won’t keep you. You must be exhausted. Your highness, your quarters have been stocked with all the luxuries of home.”

“The only thing my room must be stocked with is wine,” Lucian grunted. He took a step up onto the plank when Darrien cleared his throat from behind Lucian.

“Lucian. You will leave without saying goodbye?”

Lucian’s fist curled. The boy’s face blanked and he turned to regard his uncle, watching him innocently as he stood before the Aelorian crowds and the entirety of the Royal Court. Lucian walked back down the plank as though towards a noose and embraced his uncle.

“Goodbye, Uncle.”

Darrien’s fingers pushed through Lucian’s hair. “Goodbye, Lucian. Do not fret. This expedition is for the best.”

Lucian said not another word as he parted from his uncle and stalked up onto the deck. Aven hesitated. His foot was stilled as he gazed up at the sails that caught the wind above him. He couldn’t help but feel if he stepped foot onto this ship, he would never see land again.

But what else could he possibly do?

He swallowed the knot in his throat and stepped onto the deck.

He nearly lost Lucian in the chaos. Sailors were moving about, carrying rope and rolling barrels. Captain Kylar took up position by the wheel, his voice echoing out across the deck. “Raise anchor!”

Steel grinded as the anchor was dragged up from the sea, scraping against the side of the ship. Along the edges of the docks, hundreds of citizens were gathered, waving handkerchiefs and crying out to the Prince. Lucian waved back. Waved back and stared at nothing. He turned, when a voice cut out through the crowd.

“Bye, Lucian! Bye, Aven!”

Aven and Lucian snapped around. Having crawled up on top of a horse carriage, Icarus smiled widely and waved his hands. “I’ll see you when you’re home!” Icarus called, his voice nearly drowned by the sound of the crowd and waves splashing against the ship’s side.

Lucian heard. And for a single moment, a ghost of a smile curved his lip upwards as he waved farewell to his friend before turning to Aven.

“Let’s go below deck before you discover if you’re seasick or not.”

———————————

Aven, as it turned out, did not have seasickness. As the days passed, in the times that Lucian did not wish for his company, Aven found himself on deck. The ocean still made his stomach churn with anxiety - it was endless and alien - but utterly magical. When he wasn’t on the deck, he was below it tending to his furry friend, who unlike him, did not have a stomach for travel overseas.

As the lion retched, Aven grimaced and pushed his fingers through Kion’s mane. “Sorry, boy,” he murmured. “If I had another chicken friend to give you, I would. Why don’t you take an overgrown catnap,” Aven murmured. He lowered his forehead to the lion’s before pushing up and making his way above deck.

He often liked to come above deck during the night. It was peaceful. It was calm. With only a few sailors about, he was able to enjoy his privacy. With no moon or stars out, the sky was a sea of black, the ocean still as glass.

The only silver in the night was the length of Lucian’s hair as he stood against the railing, peering out over the sea.

They’d barely spoken. Lucian worked at his desk and drank with Captain Kylar during the day and into the night before retiring, sleeping restlessly beside Aven until morning. Aven watched the back of Lucian’s head before he approached. “Odd hours for a Prince to be awake.” His voice was soft, accompanied by the whispers of waves against the ship’s hull.

Lucian sighed. “To think I came up here for some peace and quiet,” he muttered, arms folded on the ship’s edge.

“Apologies. I can make myself scarce if needed.” Aven didn’t stop his approach until he stood by Lucian’s side, gaze traveling across the expanse of water. “But before I do…I wanted to thank you.”

“What for.” Lucian didn’t sound particularly interested.

“Allowing Kion to join us.”

“If I hadn’t, you would have moped all the way to Amn. That doesn’t make you a very enticing whore.” Lucian’s sharp words held none of their usual edge.

Aven paused. His eyes searched Lucian. “Regardless of your intent, I appreciate it. He’s the only family I have.”

Lucian didn’t respond. His attention had been drawn by a pod of dolphins who broke the stillness of the sea’s surface by leaping from the water. “Tell me of your family,” Lucian said suddenly, turning to Aven. “What do you remember of them. You told me briefly of your father.”

Aven considered the request for a moment. “…I was born in Exthellion. My mother died when I was born. She was already ill when carrying me from plague. No sanctuary would help her. My brother died to the same plague shortly after, and my sister left us to find a better life.” He paused. “I only ever knew my father, really… he raised me.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Well…while mana missed my family by a mile, the king saw something in him. Took him on as a knight. He served King Aimeric for a long time, before… he was killed by his fellow ‘knights.’” He bit the word out. “They came for me, after. They sold me into slavery and I’ve been on my own since. In terms of family…. What I saw of my father was all right. As was yours, if he took on a man like my father.”

It was difficult to tell whether or not Lucian was listening. He’d settled down to lean against the ship, eyes closed as he soaked up Aven’s words. His blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, but loose strands whipped about in the wind. “My father never agreed with social standings in regards to magical blood,” Lucian murmured. “That those with few, or in your case, no magical powers are inferior. He believed that those without the convenience of magic hold their own special strength, able to do everything with their own two hands.” Lucian snorted. “My father was also an idealistic fool, at times. He could never accept that the world isn’t perfect, and that some people were simply better than others.”

Aven couldn’t help the laugh that graced his lips. His gaze fell from the Prince as he looked out towards sea. “For the record, your highness, it’s my magicless body that has saved our day a multitude of times, not your magic that has in fact failed on multiple occasions.

“As I said before, the behavior of my magic is random. Not my fault.” He glanced over towards Aven. “Really though, not a lick of magic? Not even the smallest cantrip?”

"Not even the smallest. While sometimes… I wish for nothing more than to summon even a little bit just to prove everyone was wrong about my family, it never changes. Same result. So I dazzle the only way I know how.” Aven opened his fist to gaze at his calloused, scarred hand. “Wrestling beasts to the ground and beating them into a smear. Of course, it only works in arenas and life threatening situations. Luckily, it’s my body that tends to charm what my charisma cannot.” Aven smirked. “A charm it seems you couldn’t resist.”

“Trust me. It was just your body. You have the charm of an umberhulk.” Lucian tilted his head up towards the starless sky. “…and don’t worry yourself over magic,” he murmured. He opened his palm. Where Aven’s was rough and weathered, Luican’s was smooth and dainty. Lights flickered at his fingertips, silks of silver twisting around his hand. He looked up to Aven. “The way you’ve compensated for your lack in the arcane makes up for it.”

Aven couldn’t help it. The twist of warmth in his heart when Lucian looked up to him. What in the hell was he doing. The Prince was a tyrant. A tool. His owner. And yet, intriguing. This push and pull as the Prince decided that he would care one moment, then dismiss him the next. Intriguing and infuriating all at once.

“I have to confess…” Aven said. “There is one thing that I was gifted under my service in the arena. They nearly gave me a blade of fire. Said it’d be flashy. I told them I needed more mobility instead. So I received my axes. It would keep my momentum going when I…. black out."

“You mean that fit of rage you enter? It was no waste. You’re hot enough on your own.”

Aven stared. “Was that a pun?”

“Of course not. Royalty does not make puns.”

“Is that the truth?” Aven dared with a smile. “Something tells me you’re lion.”

“I will throw you overboard,” Lucian threatened. “It’s a long voyage, Aven. We best not stay awake through it all.”

Aven’s breath was caught as Lucian passed. For a moment - the briefest of moments - he thought back to the night in Lucian’s bed. The softness of his lips against his. “Lucian,” he dared, stepping forward. “I-”

Whatever he was to say was lost in the night as something caught his attention. He thought it only a star at first - a single star in a pitch black night. Until he realized - it was coming closer. A pea sized drop of fire, shooting out over the water towards the ship.

He swallowed his panic. “Your highness,” he said, voice dead calm. “We might have a problem.”

“A problem?” Lucian hissed, spinning. The colour drained from his face. “Fuck,” he snarled, grabbing Aven’s arm. “Hit the deck!”

The fireball slammed into the ship. Splinters of burning wood blasted outwards and all the breath in Aven’s lungs released as a beam smacked into his chest. It sent Aven flying. His head cracked against the mast, dazed and vision swimming as he pushed to his feet, blinking blearily. Flames were tearing across the deck.

Out to sea, cloaked in the darkness of a starless night, a ship was now rapidly approaching, its black flag ripping about in the wind.

Slavers.

“Lucian!” Lucian lay close by, gritting his teeth and arms trembling as he pushed himself up. Aven was on his feet, dropping to one knee as he helped the Prince to his feet. “Does your door have a lock?” He asked breathlessly. “We have to get you below deck.”

Lucian staggered, leaning against Aven. “Yes,” he said, voice in a daze. “Come with me.”

The Prince grabbed Aven’s hand and rushed towards the doors leading below deck - when they were kicked open. Several of the ship’s crew emerged, blocking the doorway.

“What are you doing?!” Lucian snapped, noticing their lack of weaponry. “The ship is under attack, grab your arms!”

The sailor’s lips pulled back into a sneer. “As his highness commands,” he purred. There was a hiss of steel as the sailors drew their weapons - and advanced on Prince Lucian and Aven.