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Chapter 45 - Kingdom Hearts III

Roy's shouts shook the entire Campgrounds as the armory emptied, soldiers were fitted and designated into their groups. Many of whom were stationed here for years but have rarely ever been forced to duty like this. They lined up and packed their carts. The greater portion is preparing to ship out soon, and the rest are preparing to leave for Akhutenan's aid.

"The missive was urgent but offered little of the situation."

"Do you trust Jata Niara?" 

Roy was taken aback by the question, he replied, "You don't."

"I heard the Empress nearly shelved Jata Niara's guards and command because of her infatuation with foreigners," Enzo added, alluding to the elephant in the room, also known as his nephew. "We were lucky that Nathaniel fainted when he did, or Micah would've been found out eventually. It could've been catastrophic and she would've accused us of political maneuvering."

"Is that not what it is?"

His brother's voice was sharp.

He turned to his brother and noted his stiff posture, unfurling lips, and clenching hand over his crossed arms.

"I never told him to court Jata Niara."

"It works in your favor, nonetheless."

"Micah is no longer a child," Enzo retorted. "He's been lonely for years. The lack of engagement letters offers him no reprieve, and the rise of Pastor Cordero's iconoclasm is spreading. For a male omega, it's better for him here than back at the empire."

"And you?"

As the other huge elephant in the room is said, Enzo preferred to feign ignorance. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Jata Niara said in the missive, quite clearly, that you were to stay behind with the Crown Prince," Roy said as the soldiers began leaving the armory, tucking and clinging their weapons to their armor. Their infantry would be large but lacked the speed preferred. It was nearly time for Akhutenan's support troops to leave. "She said you were in a fragile state. At first, I thought of your relationship with the Crown Prince, which is something I wanted to discuss with you anyhow."

"There's nothing--"

"--but as you continue to lie to me," Roy cut in. "Or lack explanation and clarity, as you call it, my mind overthinks and wanders, I have to admit that my first thought when the words fragile are spoken, I don't think of illicit relationships."

Jon must've told the Princess.

Not that he was surprised, but he thought he would have quite a bit more time to prepare for his brother's offense.

"I was going to request a stay of leave."

"A stay of leave," Roy laughs. "Is that all?"

His loose robes that he tended to wear instead of his former legionnaire uniform, which had begun to tighten at the waist, cascaded over his body not unlike that of a proper politician.

There was nothing odd about his appearance.

"The politics with the Crown Prince--"

"--you should look at yourself more often," Roy sighed before one of his captains signaled to him that they were ready to move. "You're lucky we're family, and I know the truth of the matter is more complicated than I can comprehend. Please do not confuse me with a fool who can't see what's right before him just for the sake of a pleasant day. Some things don't require an extended explanation but an admittance."

His brother's scolding disarmed him. He had no reply. He couldn't tell why or for what reason his brother was frustrated.

"Neal is staying behind to support you," Roy added before he threw a returning signal to Luciano for them to move out. It was time.

"Be careful."

His brother shouted for his troop to splinter off, and the Campgrounds emptied like an anthill, with voices and stomping footsteps loud as thunder, quieting down until it was uncomfortably silent.

He caught the energy of his brother's curt and sharp words towards them. It seemed he was more worried than Enzo could read.

"They're not ready."

It was Neal at his shoulder who spoke.

Enzo replied, "Nothing much should happen at the granary. Even if the Crown Prince has an army of soldiers in his envoy, we would notice if a parade entered through the port."

"The port?" Neal questioned and then rolled on the ball of his heel as he clicked his tongue. "They didn't tell you then."

His head swiveled around to face the Captain. "There's no other waterway for the soldiers to enter."

Neal quirked a brow and then said, "In the missive, Jata Niara brought up a closed-off waterway through an old, underground aqueduct connected to one of the neighboring cities. The aqueduct is mainly used for marketing to foreigners and travelers like a nighttime market, but if you walk through far enough and break a few walls, you can reach the capital city. If the Crown Prince hadn't done his rebuilding in the dungeons, it could've led them straight here instead."

"Where--?" Enzo breathed out as he steadied his thoughts. Such a waterway could spell the difference between a hard-fought battle and an instantaneous loss. "Why hadn't we heard of it before? I thought we received updates on the infrastructure of the city, outside of the palace and royal properties."

"You'll have to ask Castillo Reviere that question," Neal sighed and then shook his head. "But he won't be punished for it. He sold the property and was "unaware" that there was any waterway there. Revisions were currently underway among the royal scribes, but they had been burdened with new decrees suggested by Jata Niara and her architect. Which speaks to a larger problem, in my opinion."

"I'm listening."

If things were only slightly different, the Zhuong army could've slaughtered the entire Carolingian military here and Legionnaires nearby without breaking a sweat, in their sleep.

It was a horrifying thought.

"Kinya Sarakh is too meticulous to have missed something this important and," Neal continued with a speculative gaze over the now eerily quiet and emptied Campgrounds, "this isn't the first time Castillo Reviere has been linked to the scribe. I can't imagine if the El Mahdy Matriarch is involved as well. To make matters worse, the waterway is under the jurisdiction of Zamora. She introduced Akhutenan to the Empress."

"It looks the shape of a rebellion."

"The very exact shape of one. Yet, we know the players in the game. This doesn't fit their motivations."

Enzo shook his head and said, "I doubt the Empress cares. If she wants to call this a rebellion, she can and no one would argue against it. if they planned well enough, they might be able to take out the Sarakhs entirely."

"If Akhutenan is found at the site by the Empress' soldiers before our own or Jata Niara's," Neal swallowed and then frowned. "Whatever alliance between our two empires will break in two. Zhuong has the most to gain."

They were all so distracted by the Crown Princess succession and the Athari heirs that they missed the quiet footsteps following behind. 

"Roy knows all of this," Enzo said and then remembered his brother's state. He thought it was irritation at Enzo but now he read it as worry, trepidation. "We should block off the unfinished and unmarked aqueduct entrances by--"

"Nwaijaku is already on it," Neal finished. His eyes briefly ran over him and then said, "You should review our manifests and ongoing messages. There might be more we missed."

Enzo reared back. There wouldn't be any use in going through the documents now. It would take several days to review just the ones from the past few years. "Are you warding me off? Taking me out the fight."

"There's no reason for you to be in the midst of a fight, however this goes," Neal said before he shook his head and walked away.

Minutes passed before Enzo forced himself to move. It felt a bit like a malady to be put to the side without much regard, like he wasn't worth listening to. This regard may have only been a protective measure by his brother, though, as he thought about it. If both of them died, the Casas family was done. Not that it wouldn't happen either way. 

He doubted the Prince would allow their children to carry the Casas name.

He found himself in his brother's quarters, surrounded by a stack of missives. Jata Niara's most recent one is nowhere to be seen. He paced the outskirts of the Campgrounds with his eyes through monoculars, extending it as he searched the horizon of the city. It wasn't a good enough view. He left the quarters and climbed the ladder to the uppermost floor of the Commander's housing. It was the tallest floor on the grounds, but it was empty of furniture, except a thick table, possibly used as a desk, barely used, a jagged obsidian mirror and drafty.

His eyes finally drew over the tall granary towers with a few horses already at its place. By the time his brother and the soldiers left to support Akhutenan, it might be too late. He heard a familiar but annoying slow movement behind him.

"Do you see them?" Crown Prince Jon's chin perched on his shoulder as he spoke. "Strange that they haven't left yet."

"Were you waiting here?"

Jon shrugged.

"I'm surprised you didn't go," Enzo snorted. "After all the nonsense you must've told my brother."

Jon furrowed his brow. "I haven't told your brother a thing, actually. Why? He said something then."

"No," Enzo said. His eyes dropped from the horizon and he turned to the prince. "Jata Niara did. And she found out through you."

"Ah," Jon laughed. "Jata Niara probably said something along the lines of he's better off as backup, or he's been sickly as of late. She is quite good at making excuses for others. I almost believed she was idealistic for it."

"She said I was fragile."

Jon nodded and then paused. He nodded again without any more words.

"Roy already thinks it's suspicious."

The Prince pursed his lips but was still quietly nodding.

"Now, he's thinking up wild imaginings." 

"For example?"

Enzo said, "I don't know. He was odd."

"He might have a reason to be."

"He doesn't know or he would've sent me far away from here," Enzo brushed him off. There was no reason for his brother to think he was in the situation he was in.

"Maybe you should take a look and see if you see what he saw," Jon dragged him to the mirror and said, "You see it?" and twisted him around like a spinning wheel.

His eyes rolled over the mirror and blinked. There was nothing odd about his reflection except his cheeks were a little more flushed than he was used to. He leaned in but could hear Jon's heavy sighing behind him. "I don't."

The prince dragged him over to the desk with a quick swipe of the dirt using the heel of his foot and said, "Lie down."

He looked down at the desk and admitted, "This isn't an appropriate place or time."

"I deserve that," Jon sighed as he furrowed his brows again. "But I merely wish to show you something. Lay down."

He tossed an imperious look at the prince but lay on his back as Jon said, "Now arch your back and--no, in a diagram this is what we call perspective, now, arch your back, like a curved bridge, let your legs hang down and I'll hold you."

"You're not convincing me but I'll give you--" he cut himself off as Jon lightly held his hips as he arched his back. There was nothing he could see until his eyes bore ahead. Instead of seeing Jon's full form, what he saw was the gentle but obvious curve of a rounded belly. He struggled to shove himself off, and Jon hummed soothing noises as he slid him off the desk, ignoring his lashing limbs.

The Prince's thumbs tucked against his inner hip as he straightened himself up, holding him still until Enzo finally breathed out. He could hear his own harsh breathing in the empty room. Either the room had become too empty, or he had become too much. In all that nonsense, Enzo's hands had found themselves in the crook of the other man's arms, unsteadily shaking in Jon's hold.

"I believe what you just saw," Jon carefully paused. "That is likely what your brother noticed."

"It--I shouldn't be so obvious yet," Enzo shook his head and tightened his grip on Jon's arms. "It's only been--it hasn't been long enough but I only started wearing these robes a few days ago. Or someone else saw--?"

Jon was silent but pursed his lips as if he wanted to say something and refused.

His mind was quiet, for once.

"I'm going to go lie down."

"May I go with?"

The Prince's request shouldn't have been comforting. This was entirely, utterlyhis fault, but his still shaky hands clutched the Prince's wrist as he was guided to his General's quarters, which would be taken away as easily as it was given.

He would enjoy the few months he could, at least.

Nathaniel yawned as he rubbed his eyes. He had slept most of the day away but awoke to his husband's hunched form on the bed as if he hadn't moved in hours.

He shifted around in the bed as Titus said, "We're going to send you on the boat early. Warships will be sent out to sea and to survey the area. Ignore the noises you hear and don't bring attention to yourself."

His tone was cold again, much like it was at the shopkeeper's spot. But Nathaniel had survived his mood swings before; this was no different. He reached over to wrap around Titus' form, but the man slid off the bed just as his arms went near.

"You seem as if you don't want me to go home."

If Nathaniel wanted to read his eyes, he was unable to do so with his head turned. All he caught was a barely visible frown. He could hear the bells of a ship reaching the harbor. Part of him hoped it wasn't his boat and that they had more time together.

"There's something I should be telling you--about my family," Titus admitted. His taut shoulders twisted around as he finally looked at Nathaniel. "If we had known about your relationship to the Empress, things would have gone differently. I swear that we wouldn't have married at all."

"What does my relationship with the Empress change?" Nathaniel laughed. "It's not like it changes anything for us, or me, to be completely honest."

"I've already," Titus cut himself off and then sighed. "The way I do things is different from what my parents wanted, but we both know, ultimately, no matter what is done, that we are loyal to our family. 

"You're not making any sense Titus," Nathaniel added. His eyes trailed out the window and he could see in the distance a Carolingian banner. The troops were preparing to leave, so why wouldn't he be leaving in the same ship? With them. As intended. The pit of his stomach churned, and a great, sweeping worry balled up. "Did they ever find my brother? Is he safe? Where's--?"

"Akhutenan is safe," Titus said.

The overwhelming silence weighed on his chest. This mood fogging up the air between them wasn't his imagination.

"What happened?"

Titus breathed out as if all the weight in the room wasn't pressing down on Nathaniel but on his own chest. He told Nathaniel, "The Crown Prince of Zhuong wishes to replace the Zhuong ambassador for Sonhrai. He cannot without the death of the ambassador. Originally, we planned to have the El Mahdy Matriarch kill the ambassador using the Empress' distrust of one of her closest allies. If only to destabilize her for a few years. Kinya Sarakh changed things at the last minute, forcing our hand and Akhutenan to--"

"Titus," Nathaniel burst out, "what's wrong with my brother? Is--he's still alive, isn't he? I just saw him yesterday, and I--I know my brother is frustrating, but there's certainly no reason to hurt him. If you speak to him, he'll understand the--"

"My family is not a messenger under the Carolingian banner," Titus hissed. "We work for the Zhuong and only the Zhuong empire."

Nathaniel snapped his mouth shut.

His husband's taut form exhaled sharply before he spoke again, "You're going to be sent to our housing in the Zhuong. You won't be able to return to the Carolingian Empire, and as you know our relationship with the Sonhrai is tenuous at best, but with the Crown Prince under the Empress' thumb as a willing hostage--you will be safe."

The room was still.

Anger flushed up his cheeks.

"At the cost of my brother's life?" Nathaniel snorted. "You think that I'm so in love with you that I would sacrifice my brother, my blood, for a war that has nothing to do with us."

Titus laughed coldly. "You're a French and a Molokhiyya. This war is borne from your family solely."

He slid off the bed and stepped back as Titus curled in on himself, either to protect himself or lash out if attacked. Nathaniel couldn't tell which anymore.

"Titus? Please, you can't let my brother die," Nathaniel could hear himself pleading, and thought his humiliation could never make him so low. He felt like the gritty clay buried under the shallow ground. "I won't be able to forgive myself."

"You won't be able to forgive me," Titus corrected, and then his burning eyes veered on Nathaniel. "I will see what can be done, but, Nathaniel, if he fights against us, he will die."

His form pushed through the door, and it slammed shut behind him. Nathaniel could hear whispering and people shifting outside the door as if guards had been placed there. He rushed over to the window, but there were too many people at the port, waiting to ship out. It would be too easy for someone to smuggle him out.

He sat down and wondered how long he would have to wait before news of his brother's fate arrived. As soon as he sighed, he heard voices outside the door. Shouts and the sound of fighting. He inched away from the door and huddled behind the bed as the stomping moved closer and closer.

The door ripped open, and a shorn-haired figure with scrutinizing eyes but a youthful countenance stood there at the door. He smiled and said, "Are you Nathaniel French?"

"Nathaniel Orellano now, still," he amended in his replying words, and then stood up to see the tall, muscular guards behind him. "Am I in trouble?"

The figure laughed. "Oh, no. I'm a servant of Jata Niara's; you may call me Mbizi. I appear to need your help in retrieving her consort. Please, come with me. I will make sure that you make your boatride return home, if you so please," and gestured for Nathaniel to follow him through and out of the inn. 

Just as they left, Nathaniel could see fighting still ongoing between the guards and those he imagined to be people related to the Zhuong. Mbizi was unperturbed by the fighting, which, as Nathaniel flinched, led to the death of individuals on either side. Blood spilled and splattered on the wooden flooring.

"Get these assholes out of my bar!" shouted Julian, the bartender, who always had that sword tucked beneath the bar shelves, for the first time to Nathaniel's knowledge, waving it around threateningly. "If my father has to check in, I'll make sure the end of my blade is the last thing any of you see!"

By and by, the fight was nearly over, and Mbizi stood there without a twitch or a wince. Nathaniel covered his eyes by the time Julian had to intercede and sliced at someone's neck. He wondered what kind of life Mbizi must have lived to be unbothered by the blood as he gestured for Nathaniel to go.

They reached a kajawa with a slightly older omega woman at its side. Mbizi pulled Nathaniel behind him and said, "This is under Jata Niara's properties. Who are you to be trespassing?"

"You may call me Apeksha, I'm from the Molokhiyya craftsmen clan," the woman was clearly of a mixed background but wore her braided hair like the typical inner city Sonhrai omega, and even greeted them as was standard. "I was sent by the Empress to be a sole servant of Nathaniel and to teach him the ways of our clan to carry the talent on in someone of the main bloodline and lineage."

"A sole servant?" Nathaniel questioned and then turned to Mbizi, who lowered his guard at those words. "A specialty servant, it sounds like."

Mbizi said, before opening the curtained kajawa and checking the reins of the camel with a few cooing sounds, "A servant whose sole duty is to protect and serve you, even though they were trained and taught by someone else. You are the priority over, in this case, the Empress' requests or needs."

"We may need your help then," Nathaniel said with an awkward pat on the woman's shoulders.

The woman bowed. "I will provide any service in need."

They slid into the kajawa and was off.

His eyes twisted behind as he wondered where his brother was and felt guilty that he hoped Titus was safe as well. Perhaps the many months at Ahanu's side reminded him what a family could feel like outside of the rigid Carolingian structure.

And he wondered if running away to Zhuong was truly that bad.

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