Work Text:
It was festival season and the tavern at the crossroads in a lower-class area of the Romun capital was full of travelers. Marcus visited it regularly for that reason, fiddle in hand, to collect information. His cousin Griselda had for some reason decided to pass that tidbit on to an acquaintance, and had scheduled an informal appointment to boot. Marcus had rather resented both the idea ("Why on Earth would I want to meet this individual?") and the high-handed way that Griselda had arranged it, and had ordered his bodyguards to form a semicircle around the area, just in case.
Marcus drummed his fingers on the counter, waiting, and keeping an eye on the entrance, while making small talk with the bartender and regulars.
Just as the church bells tolled three, a slim young man in inconspicuous clothing slipped into the tavern. The young man was on the short side for an Eresian and had covered most of his distinctive red hair in a turban, but a few wisps poked through. While Marcus had never seen the man in person, he'd seen enough reports and sketches to recognize him on sight. This must be Adol Christin, the highest-profile target of the Inquisition Brigade, and the cause, lately, of many of Marcus' headaches.
The man looked around, gaze sweeping around the tavern, before settling on Marcus, who lifted a hand to greet the other man. His eyes opened wide, and he looked lost. Or like he was seeing a ghost. "Marius?"
A surge of bitterness rose through Marcus, and without thinking he snapped, "Get my name right. It's Marc-" He forced himself to stop, remembering his cover story. "I don't know why you keep thinking my name is 'Marius' instead of 'Marc', anyway."
"I'm sorry," said Adol Christin. He really did look apologetic. "I was just surprised. It's good to see you. How have you been?"
The bartender looked between the two of them, frowning. "Marc, is this somebody you know?"
"We're good friends," said the newcomer, beaming. "I'm Adol. Nice to meet you."
"We're acquaintances," corrected Marcus Claudia Garmanicus.
*****
"So, how did you get along with Ingrid back there?" asked Marcus, for a starter. Adol winced slightly.
"Oh, you know how she is. I told her I paid that debt off and even showed her the receipt and she still kept following me around. How's Leo? I haven't seen him in a while."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "Still in robust good health, still tearing through all and sundry. He's very eager to see you again, actually. Wanted a rematch."
"That's good to hear," said Adol. He actually sounded pleased, too. "Do you remember Euron? I've been wanting to speak to him recently, actually, but I couldn't find his address."
Marcus lifted his brows. "I'm sure he'll be honored to hear that. I think he retired sometime after that mess with Ernst."
Adol pursed his lips. "That's interesting. I didn't think of him as the type to retire."
"After you taught him fishing, he took to it with a passion. I think he's setting new records." He also hadn't actually retired, just moved to a new position, but that was confidential information.
"You two have a lot of friends in common," said the bartender, putting down two tankards.
"Shared bad luck," said Marcus, putting an emphasis on the "bad." "This man here? He is a troublemaker like you wouldn't believe. Don't trust that baby face."
"I don't have a baby face, and I don't cause trouble," protested the other man.
"Maybe there's something to the name," said the bartender, wisely. "Isn't that adventurer also named Adol? The one they say is fomenting trouble everywhere? Not that I really believe it."
"Adol Christin?" asked Adol. "It seems to me, from what I've heard, that he mostly just uncovers what was already there. I think he's just unlucky."
"Someone who pokes a stick into a wasp's nest could also be fairly said to be uncovering what was already there, but that doesn't mean he's not a jackass for doing it," groused Marcus, and both Adol and the bartender laughed.
"I'll tell you what," said the bartender conspiratorially, "I think he doesn't actually exist. I think people just stick the name 'Adol Christin' on every mysterious story that comes along. There's no way one man could do that much or even walk that far."
"Wow," said Adol Christin. "That's actually a really interesting interpretation I hadn't thought of before. You're very insightful."
The bartender beamed. Marcus managed not to sigh.
"So what were you planning to do while you're here?" asked Marcus. "Griselda didn't mention."
Adol shrugged. "Oh, you know, wander around. I saw the Coliseum earlier, it's very impressive. If a bit, if you don't mind me saying so, unnecessarily cruel to man and beast alike."
"Unnecessary cruelty to man and beast is among the oldest of Romun traditions," answered Marcus promptly, then dodged before the bartender could smack him on the shoulder. "Marc, you layabout! Speak with some respect!"
Adol laughed softly, then went on, "I don't think I've ever seen such old buildings in a modern city before."
Marcus said, "Romn is actually pretty ancient, and it's mostly built on itself. People digging down for public works end up finding more Romn. I have no idea how far down it all goes." He cleared his throat. "But you know, a lot of the new developments are worth looking at too. There are new waterworks in the eastern square that cost quite a bit of taxpayer money."
"Oh, those fountains!" said the bartender, enthusiastically. "His Majesty commissioned the most famous architect in the Empire to design them and they're open to everyone to come and take water. The water leaps some ten merai into the air, it's a sight to see. Tourists have been coming just for them." He wiped off another glass and set it down. "We're truly blessed with the current Emperor. I've never had my tavern doing such good business before."
"It's your hard work that keeps this place going," said Marcus. "Not the Emperor's." He sighed and looked at Adol. "So what have you been up to recently, anyway? What brings you to Romn?"
"I was guarding a caravan from Xandria, and I thought I'd drop by and see if I could find you while I was in the area. Lo and behold, I did, thanks to Griselda."
The bartender blinked. "Are you from Xandria? You don't look it."
"Actually, I'm from around Promalock way," said Adol. The bartender whistled. "A regular Adol Christin, aren't you? That's a lot of traveling. I bet you know a lot of stories."
"Oh, I haven't really done that much," said Adol modestly. His stomach growled and he turned a bit pink. "Ahem. I'd be happy to tell stories, but..."
"Oh don't worry, I know my business. Travelers are always hungry," said the bartender, turning to shout at the kitchen staff. "Ey! Two orders chicken and fries, on the counter!"
"Two chicken and fries, coming up!" hollered a voice from the kitchen, in response. Adol's eyes lit up, and he leaned on the counter and started to spin a tale that sounded outlandish (to the bartender) and yet remarkably tame (to Marcus, who regularly read reports of Adol's exploits.)
"I'm impressed," said the bartender, putting down two plates. "Are there really fish that big? And it leaped right on the deck, you say."
"I've seen bigger," said Adol, with complete honesty. "But yes. It kept us fed for the whole voyage. Everyone on board ship got a bit tired of the taste, frankly."
"Don't take everything he says too seriously," advised Marcus, poking at the food on his plate with his fork and then shredding his chicken to pieces. "This one is a menace. If you start believing everything he says you wouldn't be able to get up in the morning."
"Lies and slander," said Adol, then reached over with his fork and speared a bit of chicken on Marcus' plate. "Oh, this is very good," he said, this time going for a fried potato.
Marcus stared at Adol. "Are you stealing my fries? And my chicken?"
"You're not eating them," Adol said piously. "It's a sin to waste food." He stole another piece of potato.
"He's right," said the bartender, offended. "I make good food and you barely touch it. Every time it somehow ends up on the floor or you give it to somebody else. Why do I let you in here again?"
"Because I'm handsome and charming and play like a dream," answered Marcus. He let out a frustrated growl as Adol swiped another potato. "Fine! In that case..." He reached over and stole a piece of chicken from Adol's plate and then stuffed it in his mouth before Adol could steal it back. "This is good."
Suddenly overcome with a realization of what he had done - actually eaten food outside without having it tested for poison - Marcus started choking. Adol thumped on his back.
"You're okay," said Adol, handing him a glass of water. He added, in Xandrian, "It's perfectly safe. Just eat it."
"What did you tell him?" asked the bartender, curiously.
"It was a wish for his good health," said Adol, smoothly. "By the way, what did Marc mean by playing like a dream, before?"
"Ah," said Marcus when he had his breath back, at a bit of a loss. He poked experimentally at his shredded chicken. Adol dumped a fresh piece on his plate, then gave him a meaningful look. "As you know, I fancy myself a bit of a musician. I often play on the fiddle to help pay for dinner, when I'm out."
"If he wasn't good enough we wouldn't accept it," said the bartender, "But believe it or not, people actually come to hear him."
"Oh yes," said Adol, poker-faced. "I knew that. I'll be happy to listen to you play again. After you finish eating."
"Yes, mother," said Marcus, poking at a potato gingerly. "Speaking of which. You play the flute, right? Play with me." He pulled out a case from his belt and handed Adol a silver flute. "I heard you were on your way, so I had this with me just in case."
Adol stared at the flute. "You really are well-informed, aren't you?" He picked it up, then started playing scales to warm up. "This looks like Olha's. I should warn you, I'm out of practice."
"Then it's a good thing this is a modest inn, and not an imperial audience," said Marcus. "Ow!" He glared up at the bartender, who had delivered a smack.
"I'll modest you, you scoundrel," said the bartender. "Eat your chicken."
Marcus surrendered, and turned his attention to his plate.
For being out of practice, Adol turned out to be good enough to accompany Marcus (who had been trained by some of the best music teachers in the Empire.) It was a minor point of pride for Marcus to play well enough to actually earn his supper; he could have bought the entire inn without thinking about it, but he wanted his cover story's music to be real, even if 'Marc' himself wasn't. From the way Adol's eyes widened slightly and then softened as Marcus played, the adventurer seemed to understand that.
Adol played a tune from Esteria ("it's really for harmonica," he said) that had a good quarter of the tavern in tears, then launched into a well-known comical duet with Marcus. Marcus rarely had anyone to play along with him, let alone common tunes like this, so the experience was surprisingly enjoyable.
As the afternoon turned into evening, Marcus finished with a reel that was currently popular in Romn, and the tavern exploded into cheers.
"You should come again," the bartender said to Adol, and handed him a small box of food ("for the road"). "Marc usually doesn't stay this long. My take today was twice the usual. I keep asking him to stay permanently, but he's too lazy."
"You know me," said Marcus, "I do like to sleep in." Adol laughed, a bit sadly, and then thanked the bartender.
"So," said Marcus, when they had left the inn and were safely out of earshot. "Now what?"
Adol considered. "Do you want to head up to the roofs to talk? That should be safe, and your bodyguards will still be able to see you."
After some consideration, Marcus assented, and quickly made hand signals to his guards to let them know of the change in plans.
And so, bemused, Marcus found himself sitting on a roof in the Eastern Quarter of Romun, with the most wanted man in the Empire next to him. Despite the squad of snipers concealed around them, Adol looked perfectly at ease. He had pulled off his turban and was letting his red hair fly loose in the evening air, every so often kicking his feet like a bored child. To Marcus, who had spent most of his life under the iron discipline of either his tutors or the legions, it was an odd sight.
"You go by your own name?" he asked Adol, eventually.
Adol shrugged. "There isn't really an easy nickname for 'Adol' and it's a fairly common name anyway. Most people don't assume the person buying apples or fetching their cat is the same person from the fairy tales. I didn't know you played music, by the way."
"I suppose there wouldn't have been any opportunity to play, two years ago," said Marcus wryly. "Not really a cultural center, Balduq prison."
Adol tilted his head. "Actually you'd be surprised. The special section was actually quite nice. But I didn't have all that much time to spend with Marius." He blew out his breath. "I hope Marius got to play the violin at least once. You know, I was telling him the story of my adventure in Esteria, but we escaped before we got to the end, and then the next time I saw him was the last. I ended up telling the rest of it to his grave, with Mr. Parks. We opened a bottle of wine, he said you like it."
"I really have no idea what reaction I'm supposed to be having to this," said Marcus, blankly. "Thank you?"
Adol winced. "I'm sorry, I guess that wasn't fair, to put that on you. But he was your close relative, sort of, so I thought you ought to know."
"But didn't you mind?" asked Marcus, after a pause. "I still can't believe it and I find it an immense violation. If you hadn't taken care of Chatelard and Zola hadn't put himself out of play there might well have been more blood spilt. I'm told they duplicated you as well. Doesn't that... didn't that make you angry?"
"Well," said Adol. "I did get a little upset about getting stuffed in prison. Or being put in storage, though I wasn't awake for that. I couldn't go out when I wanted to and they expected me to sit down all day long."
"Of course that would be the part that annoyed you the most," put in Marcus, with exasperation. Adol laughed, then went on.
"But I try to make a point of not holding things against people, and of helping people if they ask for help. And it wasn't - none of it was the Crimson King's fault. He didn't ask to end up in that situation, and he wanted - I wanted so badly to help everyone, and keep seeing the world. So I don't see why I should say no to someone who asks me for help, just because he happens to share my face." Adol cleared his throat. "Or be me, for that matter. He's still with me, now. But what he did is what I would have done. What I did is what he would have done. So that's how I know that what Marius did is what you would have done, which is how I knew we could be friends. Should be friends. I still wish I could have saved him, but I can't, so that's why I want to help you," he said, winding up, and then glanced at Marcus.
Marcus had turned away to stare at a wall and was hiding his face.
"Er," said Adol. "I'm sorry? Are you okay?"
"What about that was okay? Of course it's not okay," rasped Marcus. Adol flinched. "What's the matter with you?"
Adol waved the moment away. "Ah, nothing."
Marcus eyed him narrowly, then mastered himself with a sigh. "Did it not occur to you that two men imprisoned unlawfully may find it easier to strike up a friendship than the most powerful man in the world and a fugitive?"
"Excuse you," said Adol mildly, "I am not a fugitive except when certain people put bounties on my head, which they should stop doing."
"In my defense, it's usually a functionary," said Marcus. "Well?"
Adol blinked. "Well of course it's easier. I wouldn't have made friends with Laxia if we hadn't met after a shipwreck and then fought Primordials together. But so what? We're still friends. It's not a fake friendship just because it happened under odd circumstances. Odd circumstances happen all the time, anyway."
"I think they happen with unusual frequency around you, but fair enough," Marcus said. "I still don't understand why you would take this risk. Ingrid isn't the only one with a grudge against you."
"Well," said Adol meditatively. "Since Balduq, I've been paying more attention to the news about the Romun Emperor and trying to understand what's going on. I assume you've also been doing the same thing, because the number of agents following me went up massively all of a sudden. I had an idea what you were like because of Marius, and I'm sure Mr. Parks and Griselda and Ingrid all told you about me, but basically we've both been chasing each other's shadows. Now you know I'm the guy who stole your fried chicken. Isn't that better?"
Marcus buried his head in his hands. "I don't know what it says about me that it does, but yes."
"Well, I understand things better when I encounter them in person. I read about Altago for years before I finally got to visit, and it was nothing like I imagined." Adol waved at the fiddle on Marcus' back. "I assume it must be the same for you, or you would just read reports instead of sneaking outside. Do you do this a lot?"
Marcus sighed. "It makes my staff nervous, but it's the best way for me to hear what people are saying directly and not what my spies think I want to hear. Unorthodox as it may be."
"Actually," said Adol cheerfully, "Pretty much most of the rulers I've met have gone incognito pretty regularly. The good ones, anyway. Aisha does it too, it's how I met Mr. Parks, uh-"
"Yes, I know about your encounter with 'Parks'," said Marcus, wryly. "Is Aisha...?"
"Queen of Altago. Though she wasn't when we met. I hope she's alright, it sounds like a hard job," said Adol, reminiscently.
"Then you will be relieved to hear that she's doing well, and making my life extremely difficult with tariff negotiations," said Marcus drily. Adol laughed. Marcus went on. "So yes, I do slip out discreetly when I can. Though I suppose I'll have to stop visiting that particular spot."
Adol blinked at him. "Why? You seemed to like it there."
Marcus shook his head. "I do, but that's not the point. Now people know they can find me at that inn, there are too many threats to make the risk worthwhile."
Adol looked wounded. "I wouldn't tell anyone. I'll keep the details out of my diaries, too."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "Adol Christin, did it not occur to you that you yourself are one of the threats I have to take into account?"
Adol blinked at him. "No? Am I? What did I do?"
Marcus couldn't restrain his outrage. "What did I do, he says. What didn't you do? You sank my fleet!"
"That wasn't me, that was the Ark of Napishtim," said Adol promptly. "And I destroyed it for you. You should be thanking me."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "Fine. Would you like an imperial medal with that thank you?"
"I don't really have anywhere nice to put something like that, so it's better not," said Adol, whimsically, and then looked at him sidelong. "You've had to give up a lot of things you liked since becoming Emperor, haven't you?"
"Please don't talk about me like you know me, we met just a few hours ago," said Marcus with a sigh. "Although, yes."
"Well, for me it was two years ago, even if that wasn't exactly you. I've been worried... Thinking of my friend in a place as dangerous as the palace in Romn," said Adol somberly, looking out at the skyline. "Marius used to sneak into the prison chapel to nap when it got too much, but I didn't think you could get away with that. And the news has been pretty wild lately."
"I should reiterate," Marcus said. His voice sounded harsh even to himself. "'Marius' was not me. You don't have to worry in that regard. And we aren't friends."
In response, Adol observed, "You get pretty spiky when you're upset, don't you?"
Marcus had no idea what to say to that. He blew out an explosive breath instead.
"And you know," Adol went on. "I know you aren't Marius, exactly. I know you have a lot on your plate. But I'd like to be friends. Because of Marius, yes, but not just because of Marius."
"What on Earth for?" demanded Marcus, before he could stop himself. "There's no upside to this for you. Adol Christin has too many links with bandits and rebels and enemy states for me to give you any support. You're exposing yourself to danger for no good reason."
"Because you seem like a nice person and I like talking to you, and because I don't like seeing someone fighting a hopeless battle all alone," said Adol, frowning at the sunset. "I've seen that enough and it never stops bothering me. You're trying to push through reforms to make Romn better for poor people and non-citizens and people like the Rehda, aren't you? I've heard a lot of powerful people are fighting you. That must be really hard."
"Don't you have enough friends?" asked Marcus, half despairingly and half to avoid answering the rest of what Adol had said.
"Friends are like adventures," responded Adol promptly. "They're all different, and each one teaches you something you didn't know before. How could I have enough? I don't talk to Dogi the way I talk to Geis and I don't talk to Geis the way I talk to Isha. It's not like I hit some sort of arbitrary limit and that's enough."
"You know, most people actually do have a limit," said Marcus, in exasperation, then added, "And for the record, I'm not fighting a hopeless battle. I can't make Romn stop being Romn, but I've been making small changes, and those changes are making ripples. Maybe they'll assassinate me for it. But eventually, maybe even after I'm gone, those ripples will build into a wave. That's all I can do."
"I know," said Adol, sincerely, "I think you're doing a really good job."
Marcus groaned. "You can't be so naive you don't realize how presumptuous that statement is, can you?"
Adol wrinkled his nose. "Sort of, but I thought it needed saying. And you did say you wanted to hear what people actually think, and not what people think you want to hear."
"I don't know if the opinions of a notorious lunatic are actually the voice of the common people," said Marcus. He covered his face with his hands. "I can't believe I told you all that. Why did I tell you all that."
Adol looked whimsical. "Maybe you needed to tell someone, and a notorious lunatic happened to be conveniently available."
"Maybe I'm stringing you along, and that speech just now was to convince you I mean well, when actually I'm going to use you as my agent to do my dirty work," suggested Marcus.
"I'm not going to be your agent to do your dirty work, so you don't have to worry about that," responded Adol, placidly.
Marcus rolled his eyes. "So what are you doing here? Don't you have some kind of report for me?"
"About that," said Adol contemplatively. "Marius asked me to tell you when I reach some conclusions about my travels. But each trip is different, so what if I tell you one thing today and then come to a different conclusion tomorrow? The world is so big."
"So you came to be a busybody instead?" asked Marcus, a little drily. "Fair enough."
"And see Romn, but yes." Adol sighed. "Although, I did have a question for you."
"No it wasn't your fault, no there was no other way, no I don't blame you," said Marcus promptly.
Adol scowled for the first time that day. "You don't know that's what I was going to ask."
"After hearing everything you've said, yes I do." Marcus eyed him sidelong. "For the record, I've improved my swordsmanship since two years ago, and I've upgraded my personal security. There won't be any repeats."
"For the record," said Adol, unsmiling, "so have I. I won't fall for that trick again either."
"Oh good," said Marcus, sarcastically, and the conversation drifted off into silence while they both looked out over the city.
"So what kinds of things have you been learning on your adventures, anyway?"
"Oh, you know. What kinds of artifacts the Eldeen could build. What they eat for breakfast in Xandria. What it's like to fall off a waterfall and hit your head. All kinds of things."
"I'm not sure whether to be amused or alarmed, listening to you talk," said Marcus with a sigh, and then raised an eyebrow when Adol suddenly looked stricken. "Stop doing that. I don't care if I'm saying things 'Marius' would have said. I was here first. If you want to be friends with me and not just with Marius' shadow, you have to accept that."
Adol suddenly looked gleeful.
"What," said Marius, alarmed.
"You just agreed to be friends with me," said Adol smugly. "Ha. I have to tell Dogi. He said there was a 50/50 chance you would just throw me in prison and have done with it, but I was right. I win our bet!"
Marcus could feel his eye twitching. "Laying bets on the Emperor of Romn? I can still toss you in prison right now, you know."
"Oh but you wouldn't," said Adol innocently, "You're so magnanimous, you even gave me your fries. My journals will record your generosity for posterity."
"I have my public works projects to do that for me," retorted Marcus. "Whatever. I forgive you, you rascal. I suppose you'll be off to poke at a new wasp's nest soon?"
Adol looked briefly offended. "I keep trying to tell you, I don't get in trouble on purpose. What about you? Are you going to be okay?"
"And I keep telling you that is not your concern," said Marcus, a bit sharply. "I understood the consequences when I took the throne. Ruling Romn is like riding a wild bull. You don't get on easily and getting off is even harder. But I know what I'm doing."
Adol let out a breath, in defeat. He asked quietly, "But don't you get tired? Being on your guard all the time."
Marcus half-shrugged. "You get used to it. Don't you get tired of digging up old dead things that want to eat you?"
"I don't go digging them up," Adol said, in mild protest. "Mostly they wake themselves up, or someone else woke them up, and then they come after me or someone I'm with and I have to stop them. But it's worth it, to see the world. There are so many interesting things out there."
"And so many of them end up as reports on my desk, adding to my paperwork," deadpanned Marcus. "You know, I wouldn't mind if you stuck to the tourist sites while you're in Romn instead of stumbling upon yet another ancient devil." He wrinkled his nose. "Actually, please be careful around my new fountains, I'm very proud of them."
"I'll make sure to sketch them for my journals," promised Adol. "I also want to go exploring along those foothills down there." He pointed to the west.
"Ah, that's a nice area," Marcus agreed. "You'll like it, I used to go tramping around there quite a bit. There's a nice view of the city from the tallest point. You should get some of the roast chestnuts they sell at the gate on your way. I get a runner to get me some when I have a hankering for them and can't sneak out." He sighed. "Now you're making me miss my soldier days when I could get away with taking off."
"You should come along once on one of my trips," suggested Adol. "It would be fun. I'm sure you could afford a week or two off."
Marcus stared at him, finally speechless. Adol just smiled at him encouragingly, head half-tilted in that questioning way that meant he had no idea what he was suggesting.
"... That's ridiculous," said Marcus, when he found his voice. "You're ridiculous. Offering to kidnap the Emperor of Romn. Are you aware of how many forms of execution are legal in the Romun Empire? Because it's a lot, just so you know."
"You're being spiky again," said Adol mildly. "And it's not kidnapping if you come along because you want to. You're allowed to have a vacation."
"With you, it wouldn't be a vacation, you'd end up uncovering some artifact capable of blowing Ispani to bits," retorted Marcus.
"See? Doesn't that sound fun?" asked Adol, boyishly.
"My advisors' heads exploding at the very idea might be fun," Marcus allowed, then offered, "How would you like to be my general? A lot of very important people would get very upset. I could send you on expeditions."
Adol tilted his head. "But that means I'd have soldiers following me wherever I go."
"That's usually how it works, yes," agreed Marcus.
"I can't make friends if I'm bringing an army with me," said Adol mildly. "Also, it would be hard to fit all of them in a ruin. It doesn't seem a very practical idea."
Marcus shrugged. "I wasn't actually expecting you to say yes. Were you expecting me to say yes to coming along with you?"
"I can run an ongoing campaign of attrition to wear you down," said Adol cheerfully. "The offer is still open. By the way, what should I do if I run into something while I'm here and need to let you know?"
"I can't believe you just declared a campaign against me and then asked me for contact information in the same breath," complained Marcus, then mulled it over. "Hmm. The legatus in charge of the southern garrison isn't too pig-headed to listen if it's a recognizable emergency. If it's more complicated, talk to Griselda. If you can't get through to her, there's a fixer in the lower district named Quintus at the Laughing Maiden inn that I deal with sometimes. He should be able to reach me in a few hours."
Adol nodded. "Thank you. I'll try not to need them, but you know..." He half-shrugged.
"Oh believe me," said Marcus, "I have masses of files on you. I do know."
"That's just a little bit off-putting," said Adol, wryly. Marcus shrugged.
"You're the one who decided to be friends. You can still back out, you know."
"I did," said Adol quietly, "and I won't."
Marcus sighed, and the conversation petered out.
*****
"Well," Marcus said, walking into his office some time after nine in the evening, handing off his cloak to an attendant, "That was a waste of time, if sufficiently diverting. Are you satisfied, Griselda?"
Griselda, who was waiting with a cup of tea, raised an eyebrow. "Why doesn't your Majesty describe the evening, so I can answer your question with actual data instead of conjecture?"
"Oh, fine," said Marcus, then started talking, pacing around the office as he did so. He finished with, "He is really quite the most exasperating person I have met in a while. Did you really spend time on a desert island with him?"
"I must say, I have not seen your Majesty this animated or gesture this much in some time," observed Griselda. Marcus quickly put his arms back down. Griselda smirked at him.
"It sounds to me like you had a wide-ranging conversation, indulged in one of your hobbies for once, had a square meal for the first time in a week, and came back with more color in your cheeks than I've seen in a while. I should probably write him a thank-you note. In return, you pointed him to a location he would like, directed him where to find the best street food, and gave him an introduction to a fixer in the city with a direct line to you. So, yes, I would say I am satisfied, all things considered. Aren't you?"
Marcus stared at his cousin, then put his head in his hands as he quickly reviewed the afternoon. Evening. All told some six hours had passed without Marcus noticing. "Oh, for-"
The Princess Griselda watched with amusement as the Emperor had a small, quiet, and concentrated temper tantrum at his desk.