#vasri

If this is just another way for him to publicly humiliate me, I swear-

Loui had brought Glorien to the dressing room, where servants decorated him with delicate silver chains with small bells, and painted a pattern of red and yellow spirals on his face. They tied a satin scarf around his waist, the sort of scarf he knew from dance training. When they were done, Loui brought him to the throne room. 

The Houssaian festival was currently being celebrated. It was a newer tradition, which began when the second Koian Emperor realized it was best to keep the Houssaians on friendly terms. For centuries, they had been a powerful enemy to the Empire. 

Just a few days ago, Vasri had greeted the Lord of Houssaia at the haven. Now, he held a party to welcome the man and honour the province of Houssaia. Tomorrow, a bigger event would be held, publicly, in the city. Glorien used to celebrate with his family – his father was born in Houssaia. But the current event took place between palace walls, and was only celebrated among nobles. An event he had no memories of, since only his parents went to it. 

The last time the party was held, the imperial dance group weren’t performing. The only dancer who was ever allowed to perform there, was Jespen. 

The throne room was decorated with candles and hides of bears and wolves. They had placed couches scattered all over the room, to make the guests as comfortable as possible. On the central placed couches, Vasri sat, with his closest friends. With them was a man Glorien had only ever seen from afar: the Lord of Houssaia. He was tall, with a protruding beard and clothes made out of some soft material, dyed a soft grey and white. 

‘For now just play along’, Loui said quietly, while guiding Glorien towards the centre. 

The company was focused on Jespen, who showed a slow and gaceful dance only for them. He had the same bells and face-paint they had given Glorien, though his was blue and green. 

When Vasri noticed them approaching, he narrowed his eyes. 

‘Why did you bring him?’, he asked, when his brother was close enough to talk. 

The Lord turned his head towards the newcomers. His face looked stern. 

Loui gestured to the guards to make everyone quiet. When he had everyone’s attention, he raised his voice.

‘Sir, I hope you are enjoying the night.’ He added an elegant bow. ‘Last time you weren’t able to express Houssaia’s stance on the civil war. May I remind you it’s been six years since that awful war ended. So we’re... waiting in anticipation to hear your thoughts on the matter’, he said. Next, he gestured to Glorien. ‘For the occasion, I wanted to introduce you to Darren’s youngest son. He’s descended from your land, after all.’

While Vasri pressed his lips together out of annoyance, the Lord examined Glorien. The latter had fallen to his knees, just as he was used to.

‘He doesn’t look Houssaian’, he said. 

‘His mother was of Derreian nobility. He inherited most of his mother’s traits.’

The Lord nodded, then turned to Vasri. ‘You never told me you kept one of Darren’s sons alive.’

‘Ah, it’s… not something I easily show off – not to everyone. My closest advisors know of it, but I don’t want to constantly remind my people of the war’, Vasri responded. There was a hesitation in his voice. He took a sip from his wine. 

Glorien tried not to scoff. Vasri liked to show himself as the saviour when Koia was being destroyed by civil war. He gave donations to the cities that were ruined, and paid poets to write about how he made Koia a safe haven. He never visited the wrecked cities of course, nor did he care about how his subjects were affected. 

Loui quickly added: ‘It’s a way of punishing Darren, even in death. The last of his sons lives on as a mere dancer – which may not mean a lot in your culture, but to us, that’s contemptible.’

The Lord combed his beard with his fingers. After a while, he said: ‘I see. Then, if the Grandest General requires my word on the war, I will give it.’

Now it was his time to stand up. ‘Houssaians are known for their bravery’, he said. ‘“Darra”, we call it. And so, it is shameful to see that word being associated with a man whose actions were cruel and destructive – things which are despised by Houssaians. That is why I want to express that, even if he was born on our land, Houssaia doesn’t consider that monster to be one of us.’

Glorien got a bitter taste in his mouth, while the guests applauded the speech. All those years had passed, and still they found more ways to take things away from Glorien’s family. He threw an angry glance at Loui. Did you bring me to take away my heritage in front of my face?

Loui smiled maliciously at that. ‘Well said’, he praised the Houssaian Lord. 

After shaking hands, the Lord sat back down. He looked at Vasri, back at Loui, and finally glanced at Glorien. His eyes stood unsure. 

Loui seemed to notice. ‘Well, it’s only fair now that Darren’s son shows his submission to you and Houssaia. What would be appropriate according to your principles?’

The Lord combed his beard again, and now Glorien realized he did so to hide discomfort. He’s afraid to mess up. 

‘Erm, we… enemies of Houssaia show their submission by kissing the Lord’s feet…’

‘Naturally’, Loui responded. 

Glorien flinched as the man pinched hard in his upper arm. He gave the man a furious look once more, then crawled towards the Lord. He knew he had no chance of escaping this. That only made him more furious. 

He kneeled before the Lord’s feet. Carefully, he looked up. The ruler was still working on his beard. Coward. He took a deep breath, then lowered his head towards the right foot. Quickly he pressed his lips on the sandal. It only lasted a moment, yet his cheeks were burning when it was over.

But then a hand forced him back.

‘Come on, dancer, show some more respect’, Loui snarled.

So Glorien was forced to kiss the sandal longer. When he was finally let go, he lifted his head immediately. He stared at the ground beside him while wiping his mouth with his arm. The bitter taste from earlier got worse. 

‘So… that settles that’, he heard the Lord of Houssaia say. 

‘How about we drink to this?’, Vasri replied. He lifted a cup and was joined in by his friends.

Without drawing too much attention to himself, Loui took Glorien by his upper arm and dragged him to the side of the throne room. Glorien looked at the Emperor’s company one more time. 

So that was it. That was his first meeting with the Lord of Houssaia. He remembered how proudly his father had talked about this man. But this man was only a disappointment. 

Actually, now that he had a better overview of the company, he noticed something off about them. The Emperor’s wife wasn’t present. On its own, that wasn’t strange at all. The lady Saffira hated appearing with her husband in public. But her son was here, and her daughter was present at the event as well. So if both of them were here, where was she? 

And where was lady Triban? She was always present at grand events - except if she was plotting something. Feyros- no, the Keeper of the City, he wasn’t here either. And someone who was present was lady Idylla, who never showed herself in public without her wife. And lady Lazulan wasn’t by her side today. 

Loui went to sit down on a couch next to sir Milsen, his friend, who was lying down comfortably with an apple in his hand. 

Glorien couldn’t hold himself anymore. ‘Was that why you brought me here? Just so you could do the same things you’ve done to me for the last six years?’

‘No’, Loui said, shifting so he wasn’t sitting on his cloak. ‘I will tell you now.’

‘So impatient. It’s to be expected from a dancer’, Milsen remarked. He took a bite from his apple. 

‘How about you do some sort of dance, and I’ll tell you about my offer’, Loui said. 

Without thinking, Glorien sighed. Milsen rolled his eyes. 

‘I don’t like to see you dance either, but just make yourself useful for once.’

‘If you don’t want to hear my offer, we can stop here. I’ll look forward to your execution’, Loui said.

‘Fine, I’m on it’, Glorien growled. He took the satin scarf the make-up artists had tied around his waist and started dancing. 

‘You know how to follow orders’, Loui scoffed. ‘But I know you are raging inside. I’ve known your father well, and I know exactly what he would do. He’d attack.’

‘Oh, he’d kill’, Milsen added.

‘Exactly. And tonight, dancer- Glorien… tonight I will give you a chance.’

Glorien spun around and waved his arms, pretending to be too caught up in the dance to care. ‘Why do you want me to kill someone?’

‘I have enemies. That shouldn’t surprise you. Everything I do, they see. So I have to improvise. That’s where you come into play.’

‘And if I refuse to work with you, you will have me killed, correct?’

‘As if the thought of vengeance doesn’t excite you’, Milsen sneered.

It was a trap. If he killed someone, Loui could easily blame him. It’d give himself an alibi, and he’d get rid of two enemies. Glorien growled. He didn’t have a chance to refuse. Now that they had taken away everything, they wanted to use him as a political pawn too? 

Yet… they offered exactly what he had wanted to do. But… how? How could they have known?

‘Who do you want me to kill?’

Loui looked away, adjusting his cloak. Milsen took a big bite out of the apple. When Glorien spun around, he saw why: the princess and one of her friends came their way. He stopped.

‘Good evening, uncle’, princess Vasira said. She was wearing a red dress for the occasion, with a silver tiara with red gemstones to match. She looked elegant, exactly like you would expect the princess of Koia to look like. 

Next to her, her friend appeared entirely the opposite: a tall pale girl with blue eyes and blond hair, wearing a blue dress with a blue scarf, delicate silver chains around her waist, the silver coins attached to them rattling with every step she took. She was Delira, the eldest daughter of the Lord of Houssaia. 

‘Hello, didn’t you hear her? I’ll repeat it for you: “good evening uncle”’, Delira said. 

‘Hello, girls. How are you? Is there something the matter?’, Loui replied, sounding slightly agitated.

‘I wanted to ask you’, his niece said. 

‘Oh well, nothing special. I am enjoying the event with my friend, waiting on my wife.’

‘Oh! I didn’t know you were friends with Darren’s son!’

Loui frowned at Delira. ‘My friend Milsen and I wanted to watch him perform. He is half Houssaian after all.’

‘Our honoured guest just decried Darren’s actions. Did you not listen?’, Vasira asked.

‘Why are you concerned with the presence of this dancer? You never cared before.’

‘Neither did you.’

Glorien clutched the satin scarf, wondering how much the princess knew of Loui’s plans. 

Milsen, having finished his apple, decided to change the topic of the conversation. ‘Oh, that reminds me! Loui, have you made progress in the case concerning those gangs who roam in the city? You asked me to go over some information…’

‘Did you find the name of the leader?’

‘Yes, but there’s one problem: they go by the name “Chaïra”, the most popular name in Koia.’

‘Do you know their father’s name?’, Loui asked, still ignoring the two girls.

‘Ah… they call themself “child of Panliberi”.’

‘A bastard child?’

Milsen nodded. Suddenly, Vasira piped in. ‘You’re changing the subject.’

‘My apologies. Maybe you should spend more time with your friends? Isn’t it your duty to welcome them at this event?’, Loui asked.

‘You’re right’, Delira said. She turned around and shouted: ‘Hey Olivia, hey Alira, come here!’

‘That was… not what I meant’, Loui mumbled as the two other girls who had been standing with the princess earlier walked over. 

Olivia, the daughter of the Lord of Derreia - who was in charge of the Old Capital - had dark skin and dark hair. It was put up in buns with a rose paila - a piece of cloth that tied up the buns and fell down in a crescent shape. What stood out about her was that she had one dark brown eye and one light. 

Glorien’s heart raced at seeing Alira. They… had known each other. They had practically grown up together, their fathers had been friends. She was Jeremi’s daughter. Her hair was longer than he remembered. It flew past her shoulders, with two small braids in between. She wore an orange veil and had decorated her dress with daisies. Alira had grown so much, but realizing that made his blood run cold. Did she know? Did she know he had killed her father?

He pulled at the scarf and stared at Loui. Suddenly it all felt wrong. Where… what had he gotten himself into?

‘Hey Delira, is everything working out?’ Olivia sounded hesitant. 

‘Yup, we’re talking about the gangs, but without the bangs, unfortunately.’

Olivia frowned at her. ‘Did you really have to call us over?’

‘That’s not a proper way to talk’, Milsen gnarled at Delira. ‘Especially not for the next Houssaian Lord.’

Vasira stepped forward. ‘Why did you bring him here?’

‘I simply wanted to see him dance. I have nothing more to explain to you.’ Loui stood up. ‘If you could leave us now.’

‘Sir, we don’t want to cause any trouble...’, Alira said, gently waving with her hands. 

Olivia spoke up. ‘Sir, that wasn’t a Houssaian dance. Shouldn’t a Houssaian dance a Houssaian dance at a Houssaian party?’ 

‘Isn’t a Houssaian dance supposed to include fire?’, Alira asked.

‘Well, not all of them’, Delira remarked. ‘But that Jespen is certainly doing it wrong!’

Olivia gestured at the decorations in the throne room. ‘And look how boring it all looks. You know, you should tell your brother this whole party looks like a mere imitation of Houssaian culture.’

‘Yes, actually, I’m offended’, Delira chimed in.

‘Alright, now leave.’

‘Uncle-’

Suddenly, a loud scream pierced through the room. Everyone turned towards the centre. Jespen was lying on the floor, a dog on top of him biting his arm. He was bleeding…

‘Pyrrhos, stop! Vixar!’, Vasri shouted. His face was red, his jaw clenched in anger. He was looking at his son.

‘Make him stop! GET HIM OFF!’

The nine year old prince was smirking. His small brown eyes shone mischievously. 

‘Vixar!’

Finally, Vixar gave in, after enough blood had pooled onto the floor. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Immediately, Pyrrhos, the dog, looked up. He ran to his master, happily wagging his tail. He jumped right into Vixar’s open arms, who petted him as a reward. 

The room was a mess. The musicians had stopped playing, people were chattering about the scene that had just played out in front of them, while a servant helped Jespen get up. The Emperor rapidly switched between showing care for his lover and scolding his son. 

Princess Vasira whispered something to Olivia, then joined her family. She took her father’s arm and repeatedly asked him to calm down, while he kept yelling at her brother.

‘How is my dear niece doing?’, he asked, a sweetness in his voice.

‘I’m fine, thank you very much. How are you?’

Loui and Triban were… a couple on their own. From the moment her father returned to the city as Emperor of Koia, seven years ago, she sensed they were playing some sort of game.

So she was wary about this conversation.

‘I’m doing well. The Imperial Guard is taking their duty very seriously, I make sure of that.’

‘I’m sure you do’, Vasira reacted.

As they were walking, she looked at the flowers more than at her uncle. There were a lot more wild bushes in this area.

‘How is your brother?’

‘He is doing well too.’ She didn’t know. She and Vixar lived in completely different worlds. Loui knew this as well.

‘That’s good to hear’, he said. ‘I wish nothing less for the heir to the throne.’

Succession was a topic Vasira had discussed plenty of times. And she was so sick of it. But of course this was the reason her uncle wanted to see her.

‘I heard sir Feyros will propose to me today.’

‘Yes. When you go to the leisure room, he’ll be waiting for you with your father.’

She kept her face straight. He continued: ‘It is only up to you to say either “yes” or “no”. And I know you’re a clever girl, so you’ve already decided what it will be.’

She watched a butterfly settle on a white lily. If her uncle wanted to ask, he had to pose the question.

‘So’, Loui gave in, ‘what will you say?’

‘I intent to keep that to myself. You’ll know when sir Feyros has asked me.’

‘Alright. You’re entitled to your secrets. But sir Feyros isn’t the greatest pick for you.’

‘Really?’ Vasira raised an eyebrow.

‘Ah, nothing against the man, but I knew his uncle very well. Sir Tymos knew how to handle any problem given, and didn’t get distracted by emotions. I think, as competent as Feyros is, he lacks that quality. And if he were to become Emperor…’ He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to. Loui had someone else in mind, everyone seemed to have. Feyros was a good friend of her father’s, not so much of Loui’s, it appeared.

Yet, after the disaster that was her marriage to Marsi, her father had granted her the privilege to choose her husband. She had never told him about what happened behind the scenes.

Suddenly, Vasira realised her uncle had become quiet. The moment she looked up at him, he drew his sword and pushed past her.

Before she could react, Loui stabbed his sword into a bush. A man rolled out. He tried to get to his feet to run, but Loui cut him in the side. From surprise, he clutched his side, accidentally letting a dagger slip form his belt. Loui kicked him to force the man on his back, and held the tip of his sword right above the man’s neck.

‘Who are you?’, he barked. ‘No, who do you work for?’

The man panted, looking fearfully at Loui. ‘I-I don’t know!’

A droplet of blood dripped down his neck. His face grew pale.

‘I can’t tell you! I won’t, I promised!’

Loui growled. ‘So, it’s useless to keep you alive?’

‘Your life means nothing, all of your lives! You, hers, and especially that lazy tyrant!’

Vasira felt her heart race in her chest. An assassin…

‘You need to die!’, the man continued. ‘All of you! The monarchy should have ended after Ravi died! Ravi was a mistake for an emperor, a walking disaster!’

‘I see. You’re mad.’

Quickly he drove his sword into the man’s stomach, and twisted it. Vasira flinched as the man’s face contorted in pain. He screamed at the top of his lungs while Loui twisted the sword the other way.

She closed her eyes.

‘I’m sorry, Vasira, but this man wanted to kill you.’

***

‘There she is.’

Just like Loui had said, her father sat in the room, waiting for her, with sir Feyros. He nodded at the guest, but Feyros didn’t seem to notice. He stood up as soon as he saw her enter.

Vasira straightened her back ever so slightly. She had been ready for this in the morning, but after that guy in the gardens tried to kill her, she really didn’t want to deal with this.

But Feyros only smiled nervously at her, before looking at her uncle.

‘There’s something I have to address’, he said. ‘Three days ago, I found one of the imperial dancers in the cellar where the snow is stored. He was locked up, and dazed from the cold. Today I heard he has caught a fever, and yet he will dance for us tonight.’

He held his hands close together. He was tense. Vasira was surprised Feyros cared so much.

He swallowed hard, and continued: ‘Admittedly I find this unacceptable. I don’t want to watch someone who is clearly sick dance. I don’t want to end my stay here like that. His Majesty tells me he didn’t know about all of this. Did you know about it, sir Loui?’

Loui frowned. ‘A dancer? I think you might be referring to Darren’s son?’

Whenever anyone of her family dropped that name, the conversation no longer was about private matters. This was about the Empire, and loyalty.

Feyros nodded softly, not sure how to react. Vasira felt bad for him.

‘Whatever happens to that boy is reconciliation for the terrible misdeeds of his father.’

It’s what happens to those who oppose us.

‘I understand you are hurt by the crimes of his father. So am I', Feyros said slowly. ‘But as the Keeper of the City it is my task to make sure the citizens of Koia are safe. He was born in the capital, and as far as I'm aware, has never been elsewhere. Thus he didn’t participate in the war.’

‘I see your point. However, we must make sure Darren pays for his deeds. He escaped punishment, so slander of his name is the only way he can get what he deserved. His offspring carries his name. But I know you are worried. This well-intentioned concern suits you. If you care about this dancer so much, can I offer you to stay one more night to take further care of him, and depart tomorrow morning?’

‘Sir-'

‘We could use your advise with something else.’ Loui turned towards his brother. ‘On our walk just now, Vasira was almost attacked by an assassin.’

Her father rose. ‘What?!’ He made his way to her and took her hands. ‘Sweety, are you alright? Are you hurt?’

Before she could answer, her uncle continued: ‘I killed the man before he could do anything. He wouldn’t give any information. No one was supposed to know we were there. When we agreed on the meeting, I specifically told Vasira to tell no one about it. So I wonder how he even knew we would be there?’

Her father looked her gravely in the eyes. ‘Do you know anyone who  knows you would be there? Did you talk about it to a servant perhaps, an offhand remark or anything?’

She shook her head. ‘I only told them that I would go for a walk, but not where.’ She hesitated. ‘I… I did ask Lilian about advise on where in the gardens exactly to meet up. But she is my friend, she is trustworthy-'