The bolted doors that Jonathon had noted earlier came in handy. Even Enzo's mischievous nod was enough affirmation that sliding the locks open and sliding in with the door only sliver left to fall through would make even the most ignorant guard curious.
The room itself looked like a closet full of extra laundering materials: buckets, rags, and hay to soak up water.
Enzo's hands bunched into his robes, and the Prince said, "Hmm, didn't I do most of the work last time?"
"Oh? Well, it wouldn't look so great with a royal on his knees."
"I have no issues with being found on my knees with you."
The words must have disarmed the man because his unbuckling and untwisting briefly paused as he shook his head. He said to him, "Royals are certainly smooth with their words." He continued on, twisting his hands into the loose robes until his hands found weight.
Nimble fingers weaved into the robes and clutched his cock like one might grasp the hilt of his dagger, until his thumb brushed his sack underneath it. Enzo leaned on his chest, and the Prince could feel his eyelashes tickle against his brow as his other hand tightened his hold.
His cock lengthened with ease under Enzo's careful twisting and petting and rolling. He squirmed as his cock caught in the slide of the fabric. His hips jerked but Enzo tsked as his fingers rubbed the side of his cock, loosening his grip.
"It's not a toy."
"Isn't it?"
The soldier merely drew up his cock as if to start again and his cock twitched as if on call. He muffled his groan again as Enzo's widening grin touched against his cheeks as if to mirror his raising member. The soldier slid his fingers up as his cock burned against his stomach only to let the weight of it swing up and smack his stomach, like a plaything.
Jonathon felt Enzo was being rather cruel.
"Hm?" Enzo said as if to read his mind as his warm palms grasped him again. "You wanted to say something."
His rolling fingers grazed over his tip before starting again and again swinging his cock up against his stomach again with a wetter sound each and every time. Prince Jonathon could feel his own grappling hands on Enzo shiver when the soldier clutched his cock and plunged his fist up and down with his ball drawing tight, slapping at his thighs. The wet slick sounding as Enzo sped up.
He couldn't help but groan as heat spread across his cock when Enzo drew up the tip of his with a finger lining the slick like a trail. Enzo's left arm slid as did its owner with only a few painful seconds of waiting for soft plush lips to suck him in.
He moaned only to bite the robe covering over his wrist to end it short as Enzo clutched his hips and swallowed his cock bobbing it in and out with his pink tip flush against his lips until it disappeared again into his mouth. His throat encircling his tip and length with warmth like two full hands wrapping his cock tight as he thrusted in and out.
But it wasn't enough.
Baser instincts inched out of his mind as he pulled out with a pop and a string spit. He yanked Enzo up and twisted him around, grappling the other's robes with little resistance before pulling it over his hips and thrusting between his thighs. His lips kissing against Enzo's nape until he heard echoing groans. His fingers tightened against his hips thrusting in between the upper crevices of his thighs until he could feel Enzo's cock just as strung up as his own. He grappled his arms around Enzo's waist reminding him of their wrestling from before and trailed his hands up to Enzo's chest to pluck at his nipples.
Enzo's head flew back as he groaned louder, and the thrusts sped up until he felt his balls draw tight--too tight. His hands fell back down to the bunching edges of the robes, using it like a hammock to hold Enzo tightly. He pressed his face into Enzo's neck as his hips sped up into a stutter. His cock spitting out cum with Enzo's head thrashing side to side until he sounded a loud "Ah" and then slumped against the Prince's chest. He could feel thick cum dripping over his cock from between Enzo's thighs. His fingers and head left in the same position as the two tried to draw breath.
This part was important.
He carefully pulled back making sure his cum covered cock grazed right by Enzo's hole and leaving a trail of his cum between his cheeks rubbing as he moved. Finally, the Prince said, with his hands trailing up to Enzo's chest, "There's a fountain in the wall nearby. For the laundry."
"Hm." Enzo hazily replied as his dark hair tickled Jonathon's forehead.
He noted that they were around the same height, but Jonathon's more lithe form appeared taller, instead of squarer, muscular like Enzo's. His hands were able to get a few more gropes in, at Enzo's delightfully thicker chest, before the other swatted his hands away towards the fountain at the corner of the room.
They could hear giggles outside and knew their work had been done. With some clean-ish rags folded on some buckets, they used the slow pouring fountain to wipe themselves down. Jonathon pulled out some fragrance oil, but Enzo clicked his tongue before pulling out some sweet-smelling rock from his pocket. An expensive soap from the southern lands. They rubbed it on the rags and freshened up for an audience that would make or break the rest of their lives.
As the Prince loosened his tunic under his robes, a bit of skin peeked out and Enzo grabbed at the fringe of the clothing.
"Where did you get this?"
It was a large scar trailing from his upper side to his lower hip.
Jonathon replied, nonchalantly, "Years ago. In a fight."
"I don't believe you."
"Unfortunately, it's true."
His face must've shown something because Enzo didn't press further. And he was a bit more than a little relieved that Enzo wouldn't find out about his shame.
A shame that shrouded the entire Carolingian Imperial Family.
Chuli sensed it the moment the doors opened. She kept her husband within arm's length and his brother within eyesight as the Great Hall opened up to the Empress at her throne, full of furs, encrusted with gold and diamonds. Her main ministers stood at her side, with the scribe to the corner by the nearest column. She recognized him from somewhere but couldn't put her mind to the memory.
Clanspeople stood against the walls, watching them enter the halls with quieted whispers and unwelcoming stares. Xiaotzi's sister, the Crown Princess, but only in name by Chuli's quick reading, led them in proudly, unable to read the room. She caught her husband and his brother sharing worried looks before donning similarly shared and faked expressions of wonder.
The rest of the Empress' heirs followed suit, finding their spaces on cushions close to the Empress, where the Consorts sat near her feet. This was the first appearance of Evie Shemesh that she had ever seen in her many years in this land. From his curved brows and painted eyes to his regal nose and rounded cheeks to his softened jaw, there was certainly a majesty to him. The respective heirs of each consort were seated by their side, with the Crown Princess seated leftmost of the Imperial Noble Consort since she had her own family.
Something else drew his eyes with a glimmer out the corner of his eye. There was an omega dress in gold sheer next by one of the columns, like a treasure kept away from prying eyes, but she could see their eyes staring her down through the sheer. They were certain to be more clever than a trophy to be worn like skin.
The eyes drew on them but not only.
It appeared as if Imperial Noble Consort and anyone in relation was the target.
This wasn't an audience but an execution. Perhaps not by the Empress but by the politics of such an empire.
Her eyes jumped from figure to figure, steering until she found the one person's eyes who was unconcerned in the hall—the scribe.
Kinya of the Sarakh held a mixed bloodline like her husband. He was, for all intents and purposes, a foreigner in most places but held the esteemed position of the listener and recording voice of the empire.
His name would go down in history just as much if not more than the Empress. And in that, she could literally smell the ambition oozing off the man.
And yet, what stood out most of all were the two nonchalant Carolingian folk standing ahead of them; one was carrying a stack of books with a nonsensical smile, and the other was holding spot with his hands cradled at his front.
She motioned to speak but was cut off by the Carolingian carrying the stack of books. Of which, in this very moment, said books clattered to the floor. The man's hands stayed stuck in the air over his shoulder as if unaware the books had fallen. And still wearing that mystifyingly ridiculous expression on his face.
One of the ministers clicked his tongue and said, "You dropped your books."
"Do you know why I dropped these books?"
The minister rolled his eyes. "Your Highness has weak arms."
Chuli clutched her husband's robes as she felt a rattle in her chest. It surely wasn't possible--that a royal could be here.
Her family had done much to make them angry and when her eyes fell over the Empress, whose lips twitched before falling neutral, she knew she was not the only one who knew.
Between them, they each shared a secret.
Was it worth letting it escape?
The black market that Chuli's omega father had "inherited" was only a small fraction of this large underbelly that stretched across the three kingdoms. She imagined that if anyone had any misgivings against her and her omega father's maiden family--it would be the Prince of the Caroligian Empire.
It involved a deep, unfortunate story of the Carolingian Imperial Family and what they were willing to sell at the cost of their survival. It was nothing less than the steepest price they were willing to offer.
"My arms aren't weak but they're tired of holding such weighty things," the Prince said and then flashed his eyes on the Empress, "The Carolingian troops must feel awfully similar."
The Empress placates, "It's not the weight that burdens but their lack of purpose. A waste of space can only continue to waste."
Everyone in the hall could hear the question, "What is your purpose? Do not waste my time."
"I wish to be a great Emperor like my father, but," the Prince pauses when his eyes falls over her, and he breaks for a second.
Chuli notices that Kinya's eagle eyes notice this and, almost immediately, whispers something to the Empress.
Fuck, she thinks.
She was supposed to be the savior of her family and now she may be the ghost that curses it to death.
Whoever his second is, the young man standing next to him, speaks up for him instead, "But His Majesty is blinded by earthly desires and unable to free himself from its clutches."
"Indeed," the Empress replies as her eyes only briefly fall over Chuli. "And you will be able to free the Emperor of his vices. But what of your own?"
The Prince shakes out of his stupor and steps forward as if nothing had happened. He speaks, "An Imperial leader is allowed their vices, except any in the way that weaken their leadership.
"And what makes you convinced of that?"
"My own life."
The Empress cocks her head and then laughs loudly but the ministers, the consorts, and even the Empress' heirs are unable to find what's so funny about what he said.
But Chuli understood.
Perhaps it was because even in nobility, Chuli knew the weight of the prior generations' failures fell upon her shoulders. Her very existence is the consequence of her ancestors' vices, but there is nothing to be done but to avoid weakening the lineage as a whole at all costs.
You have no choice in the matter--it just is.
Yet, to realize such a thing is to be extremely humbled by circumstances and Chuli couldn't figure out what event could've brought such an understanding to the Empress.
"You will concede the floor, Prince Jonathon," the Empress returned with a hand wave. "I have other audiences to hear and I will take your request seriously."
"Many thanks and blessings of the night upon you," Prince Jonathon tilted his head, and the alpha at his side bowed lowly before leaving the room just as they had appeared.
The Empress sighed before her eyes drew on Chuli, her husband, and Hu'en.
She greeted them, respectively, with a proper bow and announced, "I am Chuli Chen, daughter of the Ambassador of Sonhrai, wife of Xiaotzi Malahi, the Shu child of Imperial Noble Consort Ainomugisha and the Emperor of Zhuong."
Her husband bowed politely but less so than Chuli, as was designated from his station. By all intents and purposes, her husband is a Prince.
"Greetings, I am Hu'en, Shu child of Imperial Noble Consort Ainomugisha and the Emperor of Zhuon, husband of Nasir Song, son of Huanghe and Lakshmi Song."
Muffled chatter wisped in the air but the tense energy of peoples' reaction to the Prince of Carolingian was nowhere as pervasive the thick energy that swept over them at Hu'en's introduction.
The Empress pursed her lips but said nothing.
No complimentary reference or dismissive insult.
Chuli felt some comfort settle in her bones.
They hadn't lost yet.
She kept her head lowered as she spoke, "I have heard that the Empress is interested in trading among the other empires. But, we have found that the trade among your capital is rich with the resources of the other empires already, but--"
"You find it lacking?"
"Absolutely not," Chuli nearly swallowed her tongue as a shiver shook through her body. She could count on one hand the number of times fear had struck her. This was one of them. Her husband inched closer, and his warmth helped push her through. "I wonder if these riches are benefiting your Empire solely or only the pockets of the traders."
The Empress' Prime Minister and Minister of Finance stepped forward. He said boisterously, with hands in the air, "The Empire is full of riches! We have done well under foreign pressure where our enemies would fail and succeeded in positions where they do not have the knowledge to prevail. You speak of illegal trade, then?"
"Yes."
The lowered chatters raised in voices, and one of the Clanspeople stepped forward. A rough-looking man with a twisting beard and conflicting fashion of wealth and the lower class. Perhaps these clothes were the man's nicest pair.
"Nabal al-Busiri wishes to speak again," the man said. He turned a glare at Chuli.
The Empress waved her hand in acknowledgment.
"These people are the grand reason my family has lost its land. Foreigners and lying promises. They can't be trusted!"
Her and her husband had planned this part in their introduction. In order for him to earn his legitimacy, they would have to unravel the conspiracy that led to this all.
And to do that was to end the strangle of the Shu children's inauspicious existence.
"May I ask what," Chuli replies, "--what exactly makes us untrustworthy?"
"You foreigners are not our people and do not care for our ways, our learning, and our respects."
Chuli turns to the farmer and states, adding a once-over to the clanspeople, nobility, and royals, "My husband was raised under the royal teachings of your dynasty. I was taught by the scholars of the eastern borders that many of your nobility and clanspeople's heirs were raised under. I have such fellow classmates as the Orakpo and the Mu, even the El Mahdy heirs of the past have been raised under. Is bloodline all that matters when it comes to a proper citizen of an empire?"
For many of the clanspeople, there was little discussion but there was a sense of derision in their reaction. But their reaction isn't why she said it.
The Orakpo's connection with Imperial Consort Malik is well-known. Baphomet, the present Princess' Consort, descends from the Mu clan. To make matters worse, the great El Mahdy also attended these scholarly teachings, but only because of their well-known decline at the hands of the Empress.
Many, many unacknowledged things will have to be admitted in court in order to dismiss her claims.
But most of all, she could see the barest, smallest reaction in Kinya of the Sarakh clan. His work as a scribe was so well-known, but how could his honorific allegiances, even with the bloodline of foreigners, not be just as admired?
Minister Cissé retorted, "You foreigners are the ill of this country and have nothing to add to our people but misery."
Silence filled the halls before Chuli lowered her head, noting the even more perceptible twitch of the scribe, even as he sat silent.
"You are too harsh in your speech," Lawali, the Crown Princess, interrupts. And she turns to her mother Empress in acknowledgment to speak. "Foreigners are not the ill of our great empire."
The Empress nods.
Lawali stands up and turns to the Minister. She said, "Our empire is a great world with people of varying tribesman, languages, clothing, and way of living. Within our dynasty has the rich peoples of every clan in this room, stretching far beyond the horizons that can be seen from here or any one point in these lands. To dismiss their rewarding and empowering support is akin to cutting off a finger on your hand because it's in the way. When used properly, how can your fingers be anything but a committed extension of it?"
And Chuli nearly wept at those words.
Her sister-in-law was not nearly as useless as she had perceived.
Yet, it was so rare for her to be so completely deceived. This was her job--to read people.
Was the Crown Princess under her own ruse?
Chuli shook her head.
Unlikely.
One can be wrong and mistaken even within their strongest skillset.
Just as Chuli was about to raise her head, she heard the horns of the guards and shouts, "Captain Akuhetenan French wishes for audience!"
Minister Cissé hisses, "How dare a foreign war leader dare enter our chambers without request?!"
The minister was incensed and so were the clanspeople. Angry reverberated in the halls like echoing thunder heard after the lightning strikes.
It was unheard of to host a foreign military official unless there was an ongoing war or the dissolution of one.
Chuli said under her breath to her husband, who hadn't even so much coughed since the audience began, "How bad does this look?"
Before her husband could speak, her husband's brother spoke, just as under his breath, "Alot like shit."
Her husband did not correct him.