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26 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 3, 2017
"How to fuck up an entire fandom with less than 300 words," a guide by C.S. Pacat
...those men he faintly remembered from the Prince's Guard, Jazar or Dord.
But there was one happily familiar face,
...a man stepped out from the last of the the wagons, unfolding himself as he emerged from a space that was meant for much smaller men.
The first time Charls had met Lamen, he had been pretending to be a merchant from Patras, not very successfully. Charls had noticed the holes in Lamen's knowledge of silk right away. Now, Charls thought fondly, it was obvious why: Lamen was not a merchant. He was merely a merchant's assistant.
"I see you are once again assisting—" Charls leaned in conspiratorially, "cousin Charls on his travels."
"Cousin Charls wants to keep his identity hidden. I hope you understand. The Veretian Council think he's hunting at Acquitart."
Across the inn courtyard, Cousin Charls's bobbing hat feather was visible as he haggled with the innsman over the cost of a wagon-train's lodging.
"Is not the Ascension in five weeks?" said Charls.
"Four weeks," said Lamen.
He said it with a steady expression, standing in front of a very orange wagon.
"It's lucky King Damianos is at Delpha," said Charls,
"There's no need to worry that the Prince is away so close to the Ascension."
"Yes, this would be a terrible idea otherwise," said Lamen.
"He met the six soldiers, though he did not recognise any of those men he faintly remembered from the Pince's Guard, Jazar or Dord"
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charls: "he is the prince of vere. he will marry the king of akielos i'm sure he will love you forever though."
damen: ok.....thanks....
"From that vantage, the Prince started throwing olives. They plinged off the heads of the struggling Akielons and caused no real harm, but contributed to the general confusion."
Laurent: Nice eyes. Not as nice as mine.
Damen: You do have nice eyes
"I'd work my whole life to be worthy of him."
"I'll stay by Laurent for as long as he wants me."

"We'll make another kind of empire."
Not everyone could have the blissful equanimity of Lamen, who seemed to pay the Prince no deference of rank, a piece of very good acting.
‘There are two Veretian cloth merchants named Charls,’ said the guard. ‘It’s a common name in Vere,’ said Young Charls. ‘More common with every day,’ said Lamen.
‘Nice eyes. Not as nice as mine.’
‘You do have nice eyes,’ said Lamen.
‘Did you miss me? I brought you something.’ The Prince tossed a sweetmeat to Lamen, who caught it with a hint of amusement.
‘Dear Charls. Whatever will you do with your own Kemptian silk? It will spoil on the road.’
‘We aren’t carrying any Kemptian silk,’ said the Prince.
It took a moment for those words to be understood, and then Makon’s expression changed.
‘Oh, did you think we were? I’m afraid you undercut yourself for no reason.’ A look of fury had appeared on Makon’s face. The Prince said, ‘A little healthy competition.’
‘You’re not going to sit in my lap this time?’ Lamen settled comfortably on the bench.
The Prince said, ‘Charls will faint.’
From that vantage, the Prince started throwing olives. They plinged off the heads of the struggling Akielons and caused no real harm, but contributed to the general confusion.
Lamen and the Prince were together at the tree edge. The rabbits were on the ground, except for the one that Lamen was holding by the leg, gingerly. The Prince was wiping his eyes, laughing.
‘If we just knew which end to start with,’ Lamen said.
‘My cousin told me,’ said Alexon, proudly, ‘he met a man who had once been a famous gladiator from Isthima. He lasted only minutes in the arena with Damianos. But afterwards Damianos had him in his chambers for six hours.’
‘You see? How could a man like that resist a beauty like the Prince?’ Guilliame sat back triumphantly.
‘Seven hours,’ said Lamen, frowning slightly.
There was just enough light to make out the two figures there. Lamen stood before the Prince, their heads very close as they spoke softly. Charls saw Lamen tilt the Prince’s chin up. Then, with the simple confidence of long familiarity, Lamen leaned in, and kissed the Prince on the mouth.
(...)
The Prince’s arms slid around Lamen’s neck, drawing him closer, and the kiss deepened, Lamen pulling their bodies together.
When the Prince drew back, smiling and murmuring something to Lamen, Lamen’s head dropped to the Prince’s neck. They were both speaking with obvious affection.
‘Long live the King! Long live King Laurent of Vere!’
"Lamen!" said Charls.
The first time Charls had met Lamen, he had been pretending to be a merchant from Patras, not very successfully. Charls had noticed the holes in Lamen's knowledge of silk right away. Now, Charls thought fondly, it was obvious why: Lamen was not a merchant. He was merely a merchant's assistant.
"It's lucky King Damianos is at Delpha," said Charls, uncertainly. "There's no need to worry that the Prince is away so close to the Ascension."
"Yes, this would be a terrible idea otherwise," said Lamen.



The joined court of the Akielon King and the Veretian Prince was creating a burgeoning market for new styles. In Vere, the addition of short capes pinned to the shoulder à la Achelos had meant a rise in demand for silks and heavy velvets. And while in Akielos there was still very little desire for sleeves, there was a new interest in patterned borders, colored cloaks, and techniques of Veretian dyeing.

He could see the merchant sitting on the spring seat of the nearest wagon, wearing the latest Veretian brocade with weft patterning, and a wide-brimmed hat with a feather that bobbed over his neat hair.

He met the six soldiers, though he did not recognize any of those men he faintly remembered from the Prince’s Guard, Jazar or Dord.
But there was one happily familiar face, as a man stepped out from the last of the wagons, unfolding himself as he emerged from a space that was meant for much smaller men.
‘Lamen!’ said Charls.
The guard turned towards the Akielon voice, and Lamen smiled at him, an easy smile full of his good nature, his tousled curls, and the relaxed temperament of his southern Akielon birth. He had a dimple in his left cheek.
'You’re not going to sit in my lap this time?’ Lamen settled comfortably on the bench.
The Prince said, ‘Charls will faint.’
‘I don’t think it’s quite the mode for a young cloth merchant,’ said Charls.

‘Lamen,’ he said, when they were a few steps away. ‘Is the Prince of Vere holding a dead rabbit?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘He is a prince. That is a rabbit. Do you think he has ever skinned a rabbit in his life?’
Lamen and the Prince were together at the tree edge. The rabbits were on the ground, except for the one that Lamen was holding by the leg, gingerly. The Prince was wiping his eyes, laughing.
‘If we just knew which end to start with,’ Lamen said.

It was suddenly obvious that Lamen had no idea what to do. With a clear moment of insight, Charls saw that Lamen was not a cloth merchant’s assistant. He was the prince’s private companion, and had no real skills whatsoever.

'Do you think they’re doing it?’ said Alexon.
Charls coughed on his wine. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The King and Prince Laurent. Do you think they’re doing it?’
‘I think they are,’ volunteered Guilliame. ‘Charls met the Prince of Vere once. He said he was so beautiful that if he were a pet he’d spark a bidding war the likes of which no one had ever seen.’
‘I meant, in an honorable way,’ Charls said, quickly.

‘My cousin told me,’ said Alexon, proudly, ‘he met a man who had once been a famous gladiator from Isthima. He lasted only minutes in the arena with Damianos. But afterward, Damianos had him in his chambers for six hours.’
‘You see? How could a man like that resist a beauty like the Prince?’ Guilliame sat back triumphantly.
‘Seven hours,’ said Lamen, frowning slightly.
‘Here in Aegina, they say Damianos takes the Prince every night, but that it’s not seemly for a king to renounce his slaves and limit his appetites, denying himself all but one person.’
‘I think it’s romantic,’ said Guilliame.
‘We’ll make another kind of empire,’ said the Prince.

Lamen stood before the Prince, their heads very close as they spoke softly. Charls saw Lamen tilt the Prince’s chin up.
Then, with the simple confidence of long familiarity, Lamen leaned in and kissed the Prince on the mouth.

The Prince’s arms slid around Lamen’s neck, drawing him closer, and the kiss deepened, Lamen pulling their bodies together.
When the Prince drew back, smiling and murmuring something to Lamen, Lamen’s head dropped to the Prince’s neck. They were both speaking with obvious affection.

‘I’ve seen the way you are with him.’
A small, rueful smile as Lamen turned his warm eyes on Charls. ‘Is it so obvious?’
‘You’ve chosen a difficult path. He is the Prince of Vere, tied in alliance to the Akielon King.’
‘Charls,’ said Lamen, ‘I’d work my whole life to be worthy of him.’

‘I’ll stay by Laurent for as long as he wants me,’ said Lamen.

‘Your Majesty,’ Charls said, bowing low.
‘Charls,’ said his King. ‘There is someone I want you to meet.’
As Charls rose from his bow, another very great figure was coming towards him, and Charls had the impression initial impression only of kingship: flowing Akielon robes, power, laurel-crowned.
‘Damianos of Akielos,’ said Laurent.
Charls looked up—and up, and up—at the familiar face, warmly handsome, at the smile and the eyes that he knew so well.
‘Lamen,’ said Charls, in a shocked voice. ‘Why are you dressed up like the King?’

“Not everyone could have the blissful equanimity of Lamen, who seemed to pay the Prince no deference of rank, a piece of very good acting.”
“I thought highborn Veretian men weren't allowed to be alone with women,” [...]
“Kaenas's household is present,” said Charls, reassuringly and with some approval. Lamen's concern for the Prince was very proper.”
“You're not going to sit in my lap this time?” Lamen settled comfortably on the bench.
The Prince said, “Charls will faint.”
“I don't think it's quite the mode for a young cloth merchant,” said Charls.”
“The Prince pulled the man in the blue cloak to safety behind the biggest overturned table. From that vantage, the Prince started throwing olives. They plinged off the heads of the struggling Akielons and caused no real harm, but contributed to the general confusion.”
“I heard Damianos disguised himself as a slave to uncover the secret of his brother's treachery, and the Prince of Vere fell in love with him not knowing who he was.”
“I heard that they allied themselves in secret months before,” said Alexon. “And that the Prince hid Damianos from Kastor, pretending he was a slave, while they courted privately.”
“You don't drink wine,” said Lamen, a shoulder leaned against the wall.
“It was a special occasion,” said the Prince.
“Should I be glad you aren't cornering a trade empire?” said Lamen.
“We'll make another kind of empire,” said the Prince.”


