Amir Taheri's Story

#b03f02
“Onwards!” When Mordred sighed in sync with himself Amir couldn’t help but be surprised. It seemed that someone in Amstra was just as unimpressed by Try’s overbearing personality as Amir was. And for it to be is family of some sort was even more surprising, he hoped to have answers to that soon. Whether it be from the man that introduced himself or Trytheus himself didn’t matter, so long as he got caught up to date. Hassan had shimmied its way so that it sat perched on his shoulder, and the bird fluffed up at the compliment from the black armored knight.

He was surprised though, when Mordred went as far as to dismount and walk up next to him for the rest of their trip. He eyed the man carefully for a moment, but relaxed when all he did was walk next to him. Mordred may have shared the same last name as the Griffon Rider, but he seemed completely different from Trytheus, more like himself and less like these ‘Knights of the Order of the Forge.’ Not that he was complaining, Amir wasn’t sure he’d be able to deal with any interaction if everyone that surrounded themselves around Try was as humorless and dull as the man himself was. He gave a small head nod and a grateful smile. “That’s pretty damn considerate of you.”

“You hail from Gnaji right?..” Amir looked to Mordred as the boy began talking to him about Amir’s home. He couldn’t keep the laugh from bubbling between his lips as he heard the rumors of his home from someone that had never been there. Amir had spent nearly his whole life in the desert, barely ever travelling outside of the region he had little idea of how outsiders viewed his home. But it was especially funny when Mordred took a jab at his own home, Amir knew first hand the luxury of being freed from just one knight, and couldn’t imagine having to constantly put up with thousands of them.

“Naa-gee, that’s how you say it. We are in the middle of the dry-heat season, but you are right when you say it is warm, though I’ve heard of someone dying due to boiled piss. The rumors are a bit extreme, it’s not quite that empty, though she’s cruel to people that don’t dress appropriately.” His eyes darted to Trytheus, who was still making a point not to look in their direction, and he felt a smirk snake its way over his lips. “I suppose Amstra must be the opposite for you.”

Amir turned his head towards the sky so he was looking at the empty blue expanse. It had been little over a month now, but he missed his desert. As Mordred had said the temperature was too cool for him, the brown coat he had bought helped ebb the discomfort, but he missed the warmth of his desert. He was sick and tired of being covered in never-receding goosebumps, and missed the heat he had grown up in. The boy tilted his head down as he thought of his home, a softer smile than the smirk he had been wearing settled his expression.

“The desert can be monotonous, but it’s a goddamn beautiful place. Many people travel in the middle of the night to avoid the heat of midday, but as dawn comes and the sun begins to breach the horizon the sand is painted with this soft pink color and its as if you are standing in the middle of a rose colored sea. It’s fucking amazing.” He could see it in his mind as he described the scene, a sunrise he had experienced so many times, something he missed dearly after being away for so long. He allowed the silence to fall between the two of them as the band of knights continued their journey back to the city of Amstra.

When the city first came into view Amir felt his stomach drop. It was huge, probably five times bigger than Gnaji Town. He could feel his eyebrows raise in awe, his mouth dropping open slightly. Even from a distance he could tell that the city was a population hub, probably filled to the very brim with people, all packed into those large walls like sardines. The blond wasn’t sure if he was claustrophobic, but the idea of willingly walking into a cage like that had his heart hammering in his chest and his gut clenching. The last thing he wanted was to be trapped within the walls of Try’s home city, but he shouldn’t have been surprised that Amstra was a city of building walls. Why spend the time to know thy neighbor when you could just put up a literal wall between those you didn’t agree with? As Mordred made an offhand comment about the lack of creativity it had the boy smiling again, “After spending so much time with Trytheus I would except nothing less.”

Entering the city was far worse, the outer wall looked so much bigger when they were right in front of it. There was a plethora of activity outside the walls, something Amir found he didn’t mind, the merchant tents actually reminded him of his home, it was the giant gaping hole in the wall he wasn’t a fan of. If tragedy struck within the city the fleeing population would bottleneck at the different exits of the wall, effectively trapping everyone else inside. Hassan wasn’t strong enough to carry him in the air, meaning Amir would effectively be trapped if something were to happen.

As they entered some pompous asshole began screaming, ‘Make way for the king!’ over, and over, and over again. On either side lines of soldiers cleared a path for the band to move their way through the city, and much to Amir’s dismay the citizens of the city cheered at their entrance. He had to wonder if they were being paid to show up and inflate their King’s ego, or if they genuinely felt enthralled at the return of Trytheus. He was taken back when the crowded even hollered his own name at him, or at least tried to, he waved and smiled in the directions he thought he heard his name, hoping to show he had heard the few that knew who he was. These sorts of things were all about keeping up a certain image. Even if some guy went into the city had paid some citizens to scream his name, giving those people recognition, or showing that he appreciated it, could only aid in bettering his reputation to these people.

It wasn’t until they went into the third ring, the next section of this cage, did something significant happen. The strangest event he had ever experienced, cake being hurled at the group, yet no one seem concerned. The citizens didn’t look as if they were planning anarchists, and Amir soon realized that this must have been a custom of the city. A weird custom, but it wasn’t harmful, he found he actually liked it. He may have hated everything about Trytheus and this city, but that was not the fault of children, all children deserved that happiness. His steps faltered as cake soared in front of him and it the ground, his eyes darted up to a window where a few kids were looking on in disappoint that their cake had missed a mark as the band made their way through. The blond found himself smirking as he picked the cake up off the ground and hurled it at the window they were looking through. The could hear shrieks of laughter as the kids ducked as the cake smashed next to the window instead of going through it. When they peaked back out the boy gave them a wave, turning just in time to see Trytheus get nailed right in the face with cake. It was that followed by the slow motion turn of the man’s head as he glared up at a window of children that had Amir buckled over in laughter.

The scene struck him so hard that he had to grip onto Mordred’s shoulder to keep from falling over, his laughter rang out loudly, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. His breathing turned to wheezing gasps as he tried to reign himself in with little success. “Did you… Did you see his face!?! Oh my god… Oh my fucking god… Fucking priceless.”

He barely managed to wheeze the sentence out, the entire thing had struck something deep inside him and he couldn’t remember the last time he laughed that hard at anything. The approach of the final gate sobered him up quite a bit. The gate for this particular wall seemed even more opposing than the rest, as if they were really going to lock him away again. As he was led through the gate the boy was relieved that it was an open courtyard with little people, it didn’t really give off the impression of a cage. He was directed towards an obnoxiously large tower. This thing was massive, the biggest manmade architecture Amir had ever seen in his life. It was actually intimidating, and begrudgingly, impressive.

Amir walked in after Mordred, watching some people poorly move furniture around the opening room. He glanced questioning at Mordred, who then provided him with an explanation. The boy watched the exchange between Trytheus and Mordred. It seemed Trytheus was incapable of being polite to anyone that wasn’t one of his clone knights, and he couldn’t help the sigh of exasperation when he began commanding the servants without a thought. At least the man didn’t miss an opportunity to be petty, it relieved him, Trytheus hadn’t said anything rude about him in over an hour. The boy thought the Griffon Rider was beginning to lose his touch.

“’However long we must endure that’ my ass.” He grumbled, the boy turned to say goodbye to Mordred, the only decent person in this whole godforsaken city, but the man was already catching up with an elderly looking man. He waved as Mordred addressed him and allowed the servants to guide him with little resistance.

It felt like he had been climbing for hours, it had probably been only ten minutes really, but the stairs never seemed to end. The blond boy was unsure how far he had ascended, but no doubt the room Trytheus had given him was high enough that he had no chance of being able to escape the hold via anything but the stairs. No window jumping for him. As he was led to a door the two men that had accompanied him stood on either side of it and he nodded at both of them before entering.

The room was surprisingly large and well decorated. A large bed pressed up against the far wall and an open doorway that led out to a balcony. He ignored the balcony for the bed, hurling himself onto the expensive looking sheets and taking in the luxurious feel of expensive bedding. Gnaji did not invest the little revenue it had into luxurious like this. The Gnaji economy was extremely fragile, the small government they had didn’t impose heavy taxing and so most revenue into vital irrigation maintenance and food purchase. The bed felt like a cloud though, and stayed face down on it for several minutes before Hassan broke the silence between them.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.” Amir rolled over, Hassan was perched on what looked like a desk on the other side of the room, a line of assorted books were pressed against each other tightly on a built in shelf. The boy felt himself sigh as he sat up, slipping off the annoying brown coat and tossing it on the ground next to the bed. His white robes still weren’t sufficient with the weather in Amstra, unless maybe the sun was out. The boy examined his forearms, barely a hint of the deep bruising that had been left by the twins had left behind.

It served to remind why he was here in the first place, to make peace with a man he had no interest in understanding or making peace with. He looked at Hassan, the bird jumped from its spot on the desk and maneuvered itself to settled in the boy’s lap. “If you were more open minded Amir, maybe you could find yourself to understand the Griffon Rider.”

“Alright Hassan, that’s easier said then done.”

There was a brief sound of three voices from beyond the door which quickly petered off into silence. And then after a moment the door was opened and through it stepped Mordred. In the brief time that he had been gone he had managed to ditch the armour somewhere and was now wearing a black linen shirt, black boots, black leather gloves and a short black cloak with golden finery. The only thing that wasn't black were his trousers which were a dark brown instead. Even the belt and scabbard for the sword that remained at his hip were made of black leather inlaid with gold.

"Ah, Amir. I was hoping you were here. I'm sorry for just barging in unannounced, I hope I'm not interrupting something." He closed the door behind him then stepped deeper into the room. He looked around the room slightly disappointedly. "I apologise if the room is a bit sparse, most of these rooms have been empty for years, there's that many of the bloody things. If you want I can try to find some things to help liven it up a little?" He was about to continue talking when he sharply remembered reading that the Riders beasts are as smart if not smarter than men. "And Hassan too, I will ensure that some form of proper accommodation is made for you too. I suspect the serfs thought you as nothing more than a simple bird and thought a table would be enough for you. Actually whilst it is on my mind, I would like to say that your plumage is rather remarkable. It is certainly unlikely to be found naturally on any beasts around here. With your permission I would like to have an artist come to draw you, I feel as though everyone should be able to see so wonderful a sight, even if it just in a painting."

Mordred lent up against the wall and stifled a sigh. "But at least our great and powerful benefactor is in such a wondrous mood today. You know when he said 'for the duration of your stay' he meant for you to stay in this room permanently? I even had to pay off the serfs outside the bloody door to get them to leave. Honestly what is the issue between you and him? I know he has all the social graces of a damp rock but when he dislikes something so much he tends to resolve that issue by hitting it very hard. I don't escape much more lightly." Mordred pushed himself off the wall and stood up very straight, then adopted a facial expression as if he were very stupid and being confronted with a very difficult riddle. "You're not a knight, but if you want to be anywhere near us you have to pretend to be one. And no I will not be nice to you just this once, you utter utter failure. Now where is my hammer?" He spoke in a very dumb sounding, emotionless deep voice then broke into a laugh at the end. It wasn't often he got to openly mock Trytheus without someone telling him he shouldn't speak so openly so loudly. He sighed once more and rubbed his face with one gloved hand. "Ancestors, I hate wearing that stupid metal shell. How do they manage it all day? And Trytheus? The man almost never takes the fucking thing off, surely it can't be healthy for the body."

#b03f02
Amir was surprised to see Mordred had come to pay him a visit. He been prepared to sit in the room until he got bored and then taken it upon himself to escape, but he hadn’t got past the relaxing on what was no doubt the best bed he had ever sat on to really do anything else. The boy seemed to really enjoy the color black, his entire ensemble was a mixture of dark brooding color with a slight gold accent. Before the man could get a word out Amir was already speaking, “You dress like a villain from children stories.”

The boy felt his eyebrow quirk up curiously as the first Mordred did was begin apologizing to him about the sat of the room. The only thing the boy could see wrong with the room was how high up it was, no doubt he’d be in even better shape than he already was by the end of all this if Amir was constantly ascending and descending that amount of stairs. He was even more off put when the boy started throwing compliments at Hassan. People generally weren’t nice to him unless they were trying to get something out of it. The sudden onslaught of overbearing friendliness set alarms up in the back of his mind. “It’s really not that bad, Gnaji town has nothing like these luxuaries.”

Hassan perked up at the mention of its appearance. The bird cooed, the flames around his body flared up slightly and the phoenix abandoned its place in his lap in favor of circling Mordred a few times before perching the man’s shoulder. Amir briefly noted that the fiery red of Hassan’s feathers stood out nicely against the all-black clothing. “Amir, you should travel more often. I do enjoy being fawned over.”

The boy felt himself sigh, “You are the most vain creature I’ve ever met Hassan.” Hassan clucked, flaring again before leaving Mordred’s shoulder and returning to Amir’s side. He subconsciously reached up to run his fingers over the warm plumage of his beast and looked up as Mordred continued to speak, now changing the topic to Trytheus. Well, more like mocking Trytheus. Amir had never been more happy to hear someone that shared his distaste for the armored rider. He even found himself laughing as Mordred gave a spot on impression of the Griffon Rider. The boy pushed himself off the bed and motioned for Mordred to follow to the simple balcony. Before the awesome impression was the question to why they didn’t get along. He leaned against the wooden guardrail and looked at the expanse of city before them.

“Trytheus doesn’t like me because I’m not willing to sacrifice myself for a lost cause, because I left captured people to the hands of some criminals.” Even as he spoke the words he could see the image of the slaughtered nomads that had been at the bank of the mid river. “I don’t like him because I don’t believe in fighting for that shitty justice that he is so adamant about pushing on me. His views are too black and white, and the minute he had to question himself, he left me to fucking die.” He spat the words, the frustration building up, the heartbeat of Huitzilopochtli suddenly pounding at the forefront of his mind, and in frustration he kicked the guardrail. The wood splintered under the force, but didn’t completely break away, leaving a dent in the protective fencing as he stalked back into the room. Talking about that moment in Tempress Cape always boiled his blood, and he wanted to punch something, or beat the shit out of Trytheus.

“Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupid fucking justice hard on. You’re a disgrace Amir, you’re fucking shitty Amir. You left those people to die? Fuck you we are going to avenge them no matter what you say. You want to save that innocent person? We fuck you anyways let me have a mental breakdown in the middle of Tempress Cape instead. Really how is that man even a rider? He’s the worst, the absolute fucking worst.” He could have continued if not for Hassan yanking his ear. The bird clucked at him disapprovingly and Amir turned to see Mordred standing there, he had forgotten he wasn’t alone, that someone was there to witness his tantrum.

“Please Amir, must I constantly remind you to control your emotions.”

“Right, fuck, sorry Hassan… It’s kinda a sore subject still.”

Mordred had to admit he had felt a certain amount of pride when the Phoenix chose to alight upon his shoulder. He hadn't been lying when he said he admired the birds fiery plumage and he had to admit getting to see it up close was far more impressive. Though if he did have a complaint it was the heat the bird have off. It was as though a torch was being held up against his shoulder and he could feel the heat prickling his skin uncomfortably. Mordred had to wonder if Amirs native home have him some form of immunity to heat? It was certainly something to find out some time.

Mordred followed Amir out to the balcony, his hands clasped behind his back for lack of anywhere else to put them. He has to admire the view from up here, though he quickly panned his eyes out across the city. Everything around them was the result of thousands of years of hard work by uncountable numbers of men and women working towards a single goal. He had to wonder just how they had even managed to gather enough rescources to even begin to undertake such an endeavour. It must certainly have been an entertaining exchange to witness.

He listened calmly to Amir explaining where the animosity between the two Riders originated from. Though it was indeed a terrible thing to happen and he couldn't fault Trytheus for being angry for that. But to blame Amir for it? Once again the man demonstrated his philosophy that a man who does nothing is as bad as the man who raises the sword in violence. It was a dangerous self destructive ideal that only served to further alienate Trytheus from those under him.

Yet he was taken aback when Amir lashed out in anger. His hand drifted down to the hilt of his sword without him noticing. But once he realised where it was he quickly retracted it once again. He remained silent as Amir continues his angry tirade. It was clear that there was absolutely no love between the two, it was less of a case of a wedge being driven between them than a whole damned tree. It wasn't until Amir seemed to remember him again that his expression of surprises concern shifted to a sad smile.

"You shouldn't have to apologize." He mused. "Trytheus is insufferable to the extreme. Still, try bearing the same name as him. The bastard acts like all the faults in Amstra somehow come about as if they were my doing. You saw how he was out there, he refused to even look in my direction until I insulted him. Some family love right there." He sighed and shook his head "To be honest I'm not sure if he counts as family really. I'm not his son of that's what you thought, rather his great-grandson. It gets confusing when the incarnations all have to have the same name." He turned his head to look out into the city below. "I honestly have to pity him sometimes. He's so utterly caught up in what is right and what is wrong that if you do not fall entirely into the first you must be the second." He paused and chuckled at the memory of years ago. "Believe me, I've been on the receiving and of his oh so righteous fury before. You should have seen him when I said I didn't wish to become a Forge Knight. He certainly found new and interesting ways to call me a failure and a stain on his name. His! Or when he found out I had sworn to The Black, or story take villainy as you so nicely put it. He put it in pretty much the same vein actually, just with different words and with far more shouting. I suppose he was more concerned about another Morrela line dying out rather than the fact it was my choice to make."

Mordred returned his attention inside and stepped back into the room proper. "I guess we both have more than our fair shares of grumbles to complain about when it comes to that particularly shiny excrement. But still, it's gone noon and I don't know about you but I'm bloody hungry." He stepped around Amir to stand by the door. "Now I know Trytheus didn't want you leaving the Keep if at all possible, but if you eat here it's going to be cold leftovers from last evenings meal. So instead I suggest heading out into the city for some real food, and we can try to find someone that isn't wearing armor." Mordred smiled pleasantly at Amir once more has he stood with one hand on the door handle.

#b03f02
Amir couldn’t help but smile as Mordred began talking to him after the outburst. Who would have thought a mutual hatred for Trytheus would bring two suffering souls together. Though Amir had to conclude that Trytheus was pretty fucked up, all that talk about doing the right thing and being a good person and he blatantly ignored his own family because the boy didn’t meet Try’s ridiculously high standards. The man must have been aware that his standards were so high they touched the clouds, he couldn’t be that dense. “I'm not his son”

Amir wasn’t too surprised, though he had been curious if Mordred was some sort of bastard son, but he doubted Trytheus would ever allow something like that to happen. He gave a short laugh, with a sarcastic retort to follow. “I didn’t really think you were his son. I can’t imagine Trytheus getting aroused by anything other than his own heroic actions.”

As interesting as it was listening to someone talk shit about Trytheus, parts of Mordred’s story Amir found he wasn’t able to follow too well. “What exactly does it mean to be ‘sworn to The Black’? Like, is that some sort of secret society, a legion of assassins, a fetish club?” All viable options for this The Black to be. He sighed and tipped his head back, “Believe me I am no stranger to the shouting… Do you know when he sent us on a suicide mission the dumb ass thought he was about to die and willingly made his last words screaming his region"s name excessively loud? He’s so embarrassing to be around.”

“I guess we both have more than our fair shares of grumbles to complain about when it comes to that particularly shiny excrement. But still, it's gone noon and I don't know about you but I'm bloody hungry.” Amir perked up at the mention of food, and getting away from these knights who all seemed to have sticks jammed up their assholes. He hadn’t eaten since the day before, and besides that he hadn’t eaten a real meal since the stop in Wolfbane. Amir was sick of dried meat stews and travelling foods. He wanted a real meal, something heavy with a lot of fat and meat in it. The thought had him salivating just picturing it. He felt a genuine grin spread across his features, not something he used around the public when they had travelled, or the smirks he often wore when belittling Trytheus. A real smile.

“Now you’re talking. Let’s hit this goddamn town up Sweet Cheeks.” The blonde started towards the door, glancing at the ugly brown coat and debating on whether to bring it or not. Without being on the open plains of Amstra and in a condensed city the wind would be much less burdensome, plus he’d have Hassan as a personal heater. The coat could be discarded for now. “After you Mo.”

Sweet cheeks? Mordred felt a flush of colour rush across his cheeks and he quickly turned his head to hide it from view. Had Amir figured it out? It wasn't as though it was forbidden in Amstra, just that for a high born the duty of marrying and and furthering the line came before a persons actual desires. At least that was his experience of it. He had to resolve though that Amir was just being forward in some fashion, there was no way he could have just figured it out. After all, he hadn't even known he had existed until earlier that day. He quickly made his way out the door to cover up his flustered expression, which he brought quickly under control.

"I'm glad you agree to go look for some actual food. I know of a few good bakeries in the commerce tier which make some wonderful meals. Or there are some taverns if you would like to hear some Amstrian music, we aren't all as cultureless as the Forge Knights I assure you." He turned down the hall and began to walk in the opposite direction of the stairwell Amir had taken on his way up. Mordred turned back to look at Amir. "They didn't make you climb the whole way did they? Come, some genius of the past long figured out a way to get up and down the Keep that didn't take it out on your legs so much. Before then people would have had to climb the entire things stairs. I can only imagine how strong their legs must have been after just a week." He paused before a door and opened it to reveal an empty room with a rope running through the floor and the ceiling next to the door frame. On the inside of the door LXXXII was carved into the wood, though there was no explanation of what that meant. Mordred stepped inside and pulled on the rope twice, after a moments wait there was a lurch and it felt as though ones gut was trying to escape upwards out of the body. Mordred let go of the rope as it slid upwards. "Essentially what we are standing in is one giant dumbwaiter, designed to carry people up to any of the floors of the Keep. In the underground sections of the Keep there are teams working to make sure we don't just drop straight down to our deaths. The rope I pulled is attached to a bell down there, pull on it to go, then pull on it again to stop, twice for down and five times for up. It's a pretty interesting system, lots and lots of ropes and pulleys. Though whoever repairs these things must surely get paid a lot."

He paused for a moment, watching doors slowly rise past them then vanish into the ceiling. "In regards to your questions about The Black. The Black is the name of the vow we swear to. It's... Pretty much a secret society, as because of some stupid law there can only be one knightly order in Amstra, if we started calling ourselves the Order of the Black we would have our heads cut off. I rather like my head where it is. In short we swear to dedicate our lives to the completion of a single goal, so that means we will not marry or sire children. Which was a nice bonus because you would be surprised at just how many old men wanted to marry off their pretty young daughters." He shuddered at the thought. "If you actually manage to achieve whatever this goal is, you no longer are known as 'the Black', as I am, but instead are known as 'the Golden'. Which means spending a lot of money on trying to replace all the black you have to wear with yellow and gold. That's one thing I'm not looking forward to if I actually succeed. But right now, there are six of us sworn to The Black, and only one Golden. In fact, we are due to meet tomorrow evening. You are welcome to come along if you wish, I think you would enjoy them. They share many similar views to ourselves it would seem." He had to wonder at the chances that all these events were occurring at the same small point in time. It was all rather convenient actually.

#b03f02
“They didn't make you climb the whole way did they?” Amir felt his eye twitch. He was finally calming down from one of his not-so-uncommon Trytheus rages when irritation began to boil in the pit of his stomach once again. This had to be Try’s doing, no doubt subtly hinting at his serfs to make Amir as uncomfortable as possible. He could hear the man in his deep, dumbass, voice making some lame comment at him about needing to build up muscle like, “You’re all skin and bone Amir. Put some meat on your bones Amir. Maybe then you’ll start acting with some small shred of dignity.” Even though it was just an imaginary Trytheus in his head the words spoken by the tiny Trytheus in his head still got under his skin.

“Are you fucking serious? I climbed all those fucking stairs and there was a… a thing that wasn’t stairs to get me up this godforsaken tower!” Despite his annoyed outburst Amir still hesitated stepping into the strange empty room. He had seen the room shift ever so slightly when Mordred had stepped him, and the boy didn’t do moving that wasn’t walking on his own two feet. He gave Mordred a hesitant look before stepping in, Hassan sat perched on his shoulder, examining the room with interest. He didn’t like it, but he would endure it for the sake of not looking like a complete fool in front of the only person in all of Amstra that wasn’t completely insufferable. The blonde looked on curiously as the boy tugged the rope twice. The curiosity turned to out right panic as his entire body lurched as his his insides were trying to escape his body and Amir immediately retreated so he was pressed up against the wall.

“What the goddamn motherfucking shit fucking hell is motherfucking happening.” Even as Mordred explained what was going on it did little to ease Amir’s anxiety of an entire room being moved through the building. His own heart was beating four times for every pound of Huitzilopochtli’s own heart in his skull. Hassan remained perched on his shoulder, combing out the knots of his hair with its beak in attempt to calm the boy. “Mordred assures us this is safe, please calm yourself Amir.”

“Shut up you stupid fucking bird. I’m so goddamn calm. Motherfucking serene up in this shit.” He was looked up as Mordred explained to him what ‘The Black’ was exactly. He was grateful for such a long explanation, it gave him something to focus on other then the many different ways to die in this moving death trap. His attention to the story would have injected half assed comments every once in awhile for no reason other than being unable to control his obnoxious impulses, but Amir found himself sitting quietly waiting for this trip to be over.

It definitely took less time than taking the stairs, but the moment the moving room lurched to a stop Amir sprung to his feet and vaulted himself out the doors. Even though they were still in the keep, being in a part of the building that didn’t move was so much more comforting. He would rather climb those stairs for the rest of his life then get in that box again. He turned to face Mordred, his heartrate finally back at a normal speed.

“Your magic box thing is cool or whatever, but it’s not for me.”

Mordred couldn't help but notice Amirs growing anxiety about being in the lift. Of course it helped to confirm this when Amir had several outbursts about the nature of the lift, in fact one of these outbursts was directed to Hassan directly, and it dawned on him that Amir and Hassan must have some form of link that allows Hassan to communicate directly to Amir without speaking. It was strange to him that the beasts could communicate to their Riders such but a Rider couldn't respond in kind. And it also felt strange to him that Trytheus and Mavegen didn't seem to have this link, how did they communicate then? Were they both capable of speaking silently as the Phoenix was before him?

He had to laugh however when Amir bolted from the lift after he pulled the rope to signal a halt, like a hare from a cage.
"Your magic box thing is cool or whatever, but it’s not for me." He nodded cheerfully, still chuckling before he calmed himself down.
"Yes that is a common enough response, but most get used to the sense of controlled falling. I remember the first time I rode down on one of those things, I practically plastered myself to the floor in fear. I don't think I could have been happier when the entire thing stopped." He motioned for Amir to follow him once more.

After a brief walk down the stone corridors the pair exited out into the massive entrance hall, where the workers were still hard at work going nowhere. It hardly looked like they had made any progress and in fact in some areas had perhaps gone backwards, as one table lay on its side and one chair was broken in half and another was missing a leg. A small group of men stood around the site with mixed look of confusion and despair, probably at how this could have possibly happened."This feast happens usually twice a year, you'd have thought they would have gotten better at it by now." He tried to make their passing through the hall as quick as possible, mostly to get away from the awful amounts of noise that was filling the room and echoing off of every surface.

The vast courtyard was practically the opposite of the entrance hall. Aside from the few stable hands going back and forth from stables to stores, and a small contingent of knights and soldiers doing combat drills off to one side it was relevantly empty. Presumably most people had had the same idea and had decided to head off in search of their midday meal. The great iron gates leading out of the Keep were closed until they got closer, five knights standing on either side of the interior wall keeping a close vigil on the entrance. The gates opened just wide enough to allow them through then slammed shut behind them once more.

Out in the streets the sound returned once more. Though the street was loud, busy and cluttered with people it was nowhere near the crowds that had gathered to see them arrive. People were heading back and fro to whatever their days destination was. Men and women of all ages filled the streets, middle aged women walking along with baskets of washing, young couples walking with their arms intertwined, fathers and sons walking outwards on inwards either heading to or from work, small groups of children running by screaming with laughter at whatever games they were playing, pairs of soldiers patrolling the streets talking happily to each other as they passed their shifts away. It was a city obviously bustling with life like no other.

"So then. Food. As I said earlier I know of a food good places in city which do some pretty good food, or we could just strike out in a random direction and see what we come across." He paused for a moment considering if he should say it. "It also occurs to me that though your robes will suit you fine in Gnaji they won't help you much if it rains or when the sun goes down. And though they may not be as thick as the clothes you would find in the mountains, our clothing does a good job of keeping one warm in the low lands. And besides, I hardly think an oversized brown coat does much to accentuate your features." Mordred felt his heart do a single heavy thump as he finished talking, part of him instantly regretting it Stop it Mordred, remember your place. He was just teasing you earlier, do not get your hopes up here. He is a Rider and wouldn't be interested in you anyway. He quickly tried to cover up what he had just said. "But the day is only halfway through and there is plenty of time to explore the city. It is up to you where to begin."

Mordred felt that strange involuntary spread of goosebumps that shot through he shoulder when he felt Amirs hand touch him. It was rare that anyone even tried to lay a hand on him, in friendship, in anger or in lust, and the result of the unusual feeling caused his body to react in a strange cold shock and surprise as it didn't know exactly how to react. Mordred tried very hard to not make it seem like his body was currently breaking out in tiny bumps and he could feel an involuntary shudder try to run up his spine as his body tried to figure out if it should fight or flee.

"Though, getting clothes better suited to this environment doesn’t sound half bad. You seem like the type of person to be good at clothes shopping. Make me looking absolutely fucking ravishing, eh?" He had to raise a quizzical eyebrow at that. Surely Amir jested with him?
"Need I remind you I wear primarily all black? Unless you are planning on swearing The Black I hardly think that I am such an expert on what fashion would suit you well." He made sure to avoid commenting on 'making Amir' ravishing as he had put it. He felt he had already overstepped his mark with his comment earlier as it was and to say any more would risk a great deal. "Come then, lets see what we can find you that doesn't look like it is attempting to somether you. And then after we shall have to seek out a meal." He lead Amir down into the streets once more.

It was pleasant to him, being able to walk the streets without having cheering and people fawning over him. Though of course it was loud and bustling, the noise was nothing compared to that of a cheering mass and for the most part people moved of their way, though usually it was with a look of surprise at the presence of the two with a flaming bird perched upon the blond boys shoulder. Of course some people murmured their greetings to Mordred he was slightly disappointed none addressed Amir. He felt that the Rider was far more note worthy and should be recognised far sooner than he, especially considering that his near all black wardrobe barely made him stand out against the dull colours of the men around them.

Once again they passed through the cities vast walls, though this time not guarded by knights but the soldiers in their uniform appearance, and far more of them besides. They kept a fairly loose vigilance over the gateway which stood open allowing all to pass freely. In truth this far into the interior there was little to worry about, there were frequent patrols all throughout the city yet most of the gangs resided further out from the Keep, though it was the more organised the cunning criminal elements that eluded the cities guards this far in. It was much harder to route out those hiding behind masks of nobility compared to those who wore their hostility open for all to see and fear.

The second tier of the city was as lively as the one before, though the age difference was far smaller. No longer did bands of children run through the streets or old men and women pass by on their way to old friends. Now young men and women walked with their young children from shop to shop as they sold their wares from behind long windows. He felt a familiar pang in his chest as he saw fathers buying their young children small wooden toys or their mothers looking at their child with such a fierce pride burning in their eyes that they would do anything for their young son. He always walked quickly past these sights lest the feelings of remorse over what he had never had, perhaps never would give, caused him to miss a step. He resolved to distract himself by trying to pick out individual songs that played from the music halls, whore houses and taverns that dotted the way. There was always too many playing from too many directions for him to figure out which was which. The second tier was always a bustle of light and colour and sound and wonder. "I enjoy walking the streets here sometimes. The bards play sweet songs from the far Reaches and there are always interesting tales to be heard here. This is the beating heart of the Amstrian people, not that great edifice in its centre." He breathed in deeply, enjoying the rich smell of food all around him, bread just finished baking and beef being slowly roasted, the heady scent of ale in the taverns and the strange mixture of earthy smells that came from many stews being cooked. Oh yes, he enjoyed it here.

"Through here, it should bring us closer to the nearest clothing district." Mordred gestured down an alleyway that cut between the long row of buildings. The alleyway had a long and gentle curve that arched with the natural curve of the city, it was frequently crossed throughout by other alleyways allowing one to go towards other sections if they wished. It was at one of these crossroads they were intercepted.

It was not a particularly dark place and the sounds of the city around them were not vanished, though they were faded. And yet out of the dark ahead of them, a fat man detached himself from the shadows. He had a mean scowl locked into his face and deep set eyes that looked down on the two boys with a look of natural malcontent. As if by some silent signal other figures detached themselves to surround the pair, coming from all sides of the crossroad, even behind them. Mordred subtly raised a hand to Amir, hoping he would let him do the talking here. One wrong action here could get them both killed.

"Well well well. What do we have here then lads?" The fat man stepped closer to the pair and leaned down to Mordred. He could smell the stench of far too much ale and onions on his putrid breath. "Well I'll be fucking blessed. If it isn't Mordred the fucking Black." He flashed an unpleasant grin of black and rotten teeth, before turning his attention to Amir. "And who's this little strumpet eh? Looks like the famous Prince Prol-eeeeees has finally found himself a friend." The men around them laughed cruel hearted barks. "What you doing down here little Mordred? Come here to suck my cock have you? Certainly heard you like to. Or are you planning on sucking his first so my men know they're in for a good time?" Most of the men laughed again, hardly seeming to care if they were going to rob the pair, rape them, or both. Though a few didn't laugh as hard as the others, if at all. No doubt the idea of raping two boys didn't really stir anything in them, though the robbing perhaps. Had it been two girls however, no doubt it would have already begun.

Mordred throughout had managed to keep and expression of steely calm, weathering the insults with silence. As the laughter was beginning to die down again he spoke. His voice carrying a gentle, almost genuine friendship in its tone.
"Be that as it may, and whilst I'm sure that you would all enjoy my... Company lets put it. I'm a firm believer of being on first names basis of those who would bed me. Though I suppose introductions are not needed are they, Killian?" The mans look of vile malcontent quickly melted into stumped confusion. He had been certain that Mordred did not know who he was. "Oh I know all about you." Mordred continued, as if he could read the larger mans mind. "And while I'm certain your company would enjoy my presence I'm not entirely sure they enjoy yours. Especially considering you kindly helped yourself to half of Amidaus's pay last week." He inclined his head towards one of the men standing behind them.
"What? You did what boss?"
"No. I fucking didn't, don't listen to this fucker. He's trying to play you for a fucking idiot." The expression of shocked confusion contorted into the anger of a wild beast. "You. I'll fucking bash your fucking head in and take your money now."
"Oh I'm sure you will. And then, in the middle of the night when you are sound asleep. They'll come for you." The pretence of friendship melted from his voice with every word until there was nothing but icy cold left. "When you are sound asleep and tucked up in bed, they'll come for you. And I don't think your daughter will be treated very well now will she? Little Mellisant I believe?" Killians eyes widened in shock as he reeled backwards, Mordred was pleased to see the colour drain from his face, though he didn't allow himself a smile. His face remained a black slate of indifference throughout.
"How the fuck did you-"
"You've got a daughter boss?" Interrupted one voice.
"I thought you never shagged anyone these days."
"Yeah, certainly not by their choice anyway."
"Have you been swindling us to pay for your fucking sprog?"
"What? You think he's holding out on us?" Killian quickly saw the tide was turning on him and knew it was time to cut his losses.
"Fucking shut it. The lot of you. We'll discuss this back at house. Is that fucking understood? Now come on." The group quickly followed Killian as he all but ran further into the alley. Amidaus hesitated for a moment, offering Mordred a grim nod before following. Mordred didn't offer anything in return.

When he was sure the outlaws had all vanished Mordred released a pent up breath in a sudden sigh and slumped against the nearest wall his balance faltering him in his relief. He hadn't been sure that would have even worked. He covered his face with his gloved hand in attempt to compose himself once more and then suddenly remembered Amir was there. And Amir had heard the bastard casually announce his preference for the company of men. His cheeks shot through with scarlet and he could feel his mouth go dry, he couldn't even bring himself to lower his hand and look at the blond boy.
"Please, forget what you heard them say about who I prefer to bed. Such things are not exactly forbidden in Amstra. But the higher born one is, and the higher in the line of succession the greater the disgrace if it is discovered. It is one of the reasons I am seen as a failing by many, not just Trytheus. There are none other in this country that could be more disgraced for it... And I am... A failing." His voice stammered off into silence. It seemed fate way playing him a cruel hand, as he waiting for Amir to denounce him, cast him aside and declare him a betrayer of his duty to continue his line, to help the kingdom grow in the most simple way. As his childhood friends had.

As some of his mentors had.

As the man who should have been his surrogate father had.

#b03f02
“Need I remind you I wear primarily all black?”

“Yeah, but you seem to dress well regardless of the damn color. Unless someone picked out all of your clothing you’d be better than I would.” Amir followed contently behind Mordred as the man decided the route that would best take them to some sort of fashion district. They walked in silence for the most part as they made their way through the large city of Amstra. The sheer amount of people was staggering as Amir’s home of Gnaji Town only housed a permanent residency of about two thousand with another two thousand, give or take, of nomadic tribes and merchants migrating through everyday to sell wares or replenish supplies. He watched as every once in awhile a citizen would give their regards to Mordred and Amir took note that he seemed to be well known in the city.

As they passed a second gate the atmosphere of the city once again gave way to something completely different to that of the other side of the wall. It was as if each section of the city housed a different ecosystem, carefully separated by large walls and heavy gates. This side was much less residential and much more artistic. The color, the mood, the people were lighter than that of the previous. The most significant change was the sudden wafting smell of cooking food. It made the emptiness of his stomach suddenly apparent and the boy found himself wishing he had picked food first over clothing, but he wasn’t about to change his mind now.

“Through here, it should bring us closer to the nearest clothing district.” Amir nodded, assured by Mordred of their route even as it turned off the main roads. It wasn’t until they got deeper into the alley, and farther from the main road, did the mood change. Amir could feel the eyes on them as they continued, bearing down on them like they were prey. He felt Hassan bristle against the back of his neck, the fire surrounding them brightening ever slightly. The boy felt his hand rest against the hilt of his sword that rested at his hip, but was stopped from taking action by Mordred’s hand.

The man with an unflattering smile and a portly stature reminded him distinctly of a farm pig, and he couldn’t keep his upper lip from curling in disgust. The pig man did himself no favors as he approached them, he must have felt brave surrounded by his lackeys, and if not for Mordred already waving him down the boy would have showed the pig the sharp end of his blade. He couldn’t help as his hand grasped the hilt of his blade so tightly his necks turned white as Pig addressed him as strumpet. It was a blast from the past he didn’t need and it took Hassan’s calming whispers to keep him grounded in place. The Pig reminded him of the low tier gangs in The Cape that thought themselves so high and mighty because Amir hadn’t found them yet when in actuality they weren’t important enough for Amir to turn his attention to them.

The actual comments were nasty enough, and though the boy had been putting together Mordred leaned towards the company of men, for some stranger to throw it in their faces was revolting. He was getting ready to discard Mordred’s original gesture to stand down in favor of crippling the lot of them when they boy began a verbal counter attack.

Amir felt his grip on the sword lessen as his glare morphed to a confident smirk as Mordred turned the tides of the confrontation with his words alone. As the thugs retreated at command of Pig Man, Amir flipped the bird at their backs as they left. He turned with a huge smile and was going to congratulate the boy on his total annihilation of the pig man when Mordred seemed to completely deflate once they were alone.

“Ah, fuck, Mor you good? That was fucking sick, but are you feeling right?”

“Please, forget what you heard them say about who I prefer to bed. Such things are not exactly forbidden in Amstra. But the higher born one is, and the higher in the line of succession the greater the disgrace if it is discovered. It is one of the reasons I am seen as a failing by many, not just Trytheus. There are none other in this country that could be more disgraced for it... And I am... A failing.” Amir felt his fists clench at his side. Trytheus was constantly voicing his opinions of good and ‘doing the right thing’, but he always seemed to conveniently forget these long and drawn out lectures when situations became more complex, as they always did. “Gentle Amir, be gentle.”

He reached up and grabbed the boy’s hand that was covering his face. Amir dragged it down so they were making eye contact, his brown eyes meeting the other’s icy blue ones. Amstra’s culture had driven the boy into this spiral of self hatred, and Trytheus seemed personally responsible for a lot of the boy’s turmoil. Yet another reason to dislike the hulking hunk of armor.

“Fuck all that shit Mor. Firstly, it shouldn’t matter which genitals get you going. Does it affect your personality? No. Your job performance, or skill set? No. So how are you failing, because you won’t have a fucking small thing full of your blood? Because you are Morrela? The Rider reincarnation is fucking random, human bloodlines play no part in it so you shouldn’t have to feel a responsibility, that’s fucking stupid. Did you even witness how you fucking just used your words to fucking ruin Pig Man? I was getting ready to fucking cripple the lot of ‘em, no way I could have done what you did. Plus, I know I don’t give a damn if you like dick, and neither does Hassan, so don’t worry about what we fucking think.”

“Now come on, let’s go fucking shopping.”

“Amir, that was not gentle.”

It wasn't a pleasant feeling that gripped him when Mordred felt Amir grab his hand, his body tensed as it anticipated for Amir to strike him in some form. And yet, nothing came. He desperately wanted to look away from Amir, to avoid the depths of those brown eyes, yet found he couldn't bring himself to break eye contact. He was reminded once again of Trytheus, those eyes too were brown and filled with stern determination. But this was a different look entirely. It was... Caring perhaps?

He listened to Amir with an almost confused silence. Usually it was that men spoke with such conviction and anger in their voice was because someone had wronged them, or someone they were connected to. But then the realisation struck him, that Amir wasn't carrying the tone of annoyance in some form of false friendship, the anger wasn't directed at him, but at Amstra itself? Or perhaps it was directed at one far more specific individual.

It still felt strange though, for Amir to be so adamant about trying to support him, most either rejected it or accepted it as some small part of his personality that didn't need referring to. Even the few he had ever managed to convince to spend the night with had hardly made any allusions to it being a prominent part of either of their lives. He had to wonder that when two young lovers courted each other they spoke of each other with support and care to simply acknowledged their presence? But this seemed something all together different to him, all together alien.

And then he realised, that of course it would. Gnaji was not Amstra, it stood to reason that Amir would view it all differently. He had no idea how the social politics of the distant desert even worked. It could be that any there were free to act as they wished, or perhaps that none dared question the Riders personal tastes, as they did in Amstra. Either way it was one of the things he desperately wanted to change in Amstra.

"Now come on, let’s go fucking shopping." He didn't know how to properly react to this entire thing now. Amir spoke harshly but with a kindness at the same time, and seemed only to want to support Mordred in his entirety. Part of him wanted to break all sense of composure and wrap his arms around Amir, gushing his thanks for his words. Another part of him wanted to up and run, hardly willing to allow himself to trust that this was not some cruel joke on Amirs part. Yet another part wanted to ask Amir what his... Take on the whole thing was, what really was the norm in Gnaji. But with all these conflicting emotions all he could manage was a meek nod, and throughout it all he hadn't been able pull his eyes away from those brown pools.

He slowly pushed himself up from the wall stepped away from Amir. Only then could he pull his gaze away from the blond boy beside him. What was happening to him? Had a little bit of friendship turned him into a moonstruck fool? He tried to steel his resolve once more and step further into alleyway. Yet he was aware that he couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't give away just how jumbled his thoughts were right now. He led them both out of the alleyway as soon as possible, trying to get back to the light and sound of the street once more. Perhaps there he could focus on something for long enough for him to be able to recollect himself.

It didn't take them all that long to return to the business of the street once more. Everything was exactly as if they had never nearly brushed with their untimely deaths in the dark. Though this part of the city had far less music leaking from the buildings, nor were there the smells of fresh food permeating the air, instead there was now the faint and peculiar smell of fresh dyes underlining the air ever so subtly. Mordred picked his way through the bustling crowd of well dressed people, mostly nobles and their servants, and finally managed to make his way to a corner shop which had a single door, which had only recently been painted a fresh and shiny brown.

Inside the sounds of the outside faded away, only to be replaced with the sound of pleasant conversation and every now and then the snipping of scissors. Bolts of cloth were stacked up by the door and rows of well dressed mannequins stood besides rails where different assorted clothes could be found, coats and shirts of every colour and design were juxtaposed by the piles of simple trousers nearby. It didn't take long at all for someone to come up to them.

It was a short women who had only recently gone past middle age and the touch of time was only starting to show on her face. The first hints of wrinkles touched just under her eyes and the short hair about her temple was starting to show small streaks of grey, yet despite that her eyes themselves held the look of one used to finding faults and her mouth was drawn in a constant frown, though it didn't help much she was holding a pair of pins in one corner of her mouth. Upon seeing Mordred though, her expression quickly brightened up.
"Oh Mordred, it's good to see!"
"It's always good to see you Cas. You've hardly aged a day." The two embraced, though Mordred had to twist slightly to avoid being stabbed by the pins that somehow failed to fall from her mouth. Mordred turned to Amir, though he made sure that he didn't let himself look into Amirs eyes again.
"Amir, this is Cassandra, the genius behind my clothes." Cassandra laughed at the compliment.
"Oh please boy, you'll give me an ego. Mordred is always the one to decide what he thinks is going to look good on him and I just make sure he's right." Here the short woman leaned closer to Amir. "I think he secretly always wanted to work here but duty calls as they say. Keep it between us eh?" Mordred felt a hint of a smile trying to pull at the side of his mouth as he shook his head.
"You always know how to wound me Cas. Amir, why don't you look around, see if there's anything you like here, I think Cas and I are going to have to see if we can whip up something between us to surprise you." The short woman rubbed her hands as she gave Amir a devilish grin, somehow sizing him up in a single look before grabbing Mordred by the sleeve and dragging him to one side of the store. He managed to flash Amir an apologetic half smile to Amir before letting himself be carried away. He hoped Amir wouldn't find his being dragged away by a woman shorter than both of them to be too rude. Though as he thought about it, it was likely that Amir would just see the comedic value of it.

#b03f02
The silence that followed after Amir finished wasn’t that comforting. Maybe Hassan was right, he should have tried to tone it down a little bit, maybe not have been as vulgar, or gone about it a differently than he had. He wasn’t good with sensitive situations or being gentle as Hassan had put it. He watched as Mordred slowly seemed to pull himself together, though the entire time the boy was staring at him, making direct eye contact. It was when Mordred finally did look away did the silence feel that much more awkward. They walked in silence as the boy continued to lead them to their destination and Amir tried going over how he could have gone about the situation in a better way.

It was then he found that they were in front of a small looking clothing boutique. It was small, but homely looking, as if he was excepting someone close to him to be inside waiting for his arrival. The inside was just the same, the sounds of the street damped by the walls and clothing that surrounded them, but the layout was organized in such a way that he could tell the tailor was skilled. Talented people had a knack for making even simple things look extremely eye pleasing.

Amir turned when a small, older, woman greeted Mordred. He allowed them their reunion, clearly the two were close friends. It was nice to see that the boy did have friends in the city, after his mini breakdown it seemed that Mordred had very few people that he could call a friend. Mordred could prove to actually be a good friend, something Amir himself didn’t have a lot either, something he wouldn’t mind too much. He straightened a little bit as started to be addressed by Mordred.

“Amir, this is Cassandra, the genius behind my clothes.” Amir gave a polite nod to the older woman, but as she addressed him he leaned forward as she in faux secret passed him some more information on Mordred. Amir felt himself smile as he looked up at Mordred, he didn’t miss as the boy purposely avoided eye contact, but didn’t verbally note it for now. If it kept up he’d apologize for what he had said earlier as he hadn’t actually meant to offend the boy. “I knew you had an eye clothing Mor, trying to hold out on me you fucker.”

“You always know how to wound me Cas. Amir, why don't you look around, see if there's anything you like here, I think Cas and I are going to have to see if we can whip up something between us to surprise you.” Amir quirked an eyebrow as the old woman sized him up like a piece of meat, the second time today someone had looked at him as if he were a prey animal, but this time he found he didn’t mind it too much. [b][color=#b03f02]“You kids go have a blast, I’ll be here.”

He found himself laughing as the small woman eagerly dragged the boy off some where to hopefully make some magic. Amir himself turned to actually examine the interior of the store. There was clothing stacked everywhere. It was chaotic, yet organized clothing stacked everywhere, and when Amir ran his fingers over the fabric he could tell they were made out of quality materials. He examined a mannequin, taking in the elaborate design of the clothing and the complexity of it all. In Gnaji clothing was stylized in the town and you could find one or two higher end clothing retails, but almost all clothing was variation of the white robes he wore. It was simply because the clothing design was best suited for the desert, light weight, but thick enough to keep the sun off your skin. Most diversity came from the accessories people wore, in Amir’s case he kept it to the simple and cheap golden bangles. They didn’t get in his way and when throwing a kick or blocking a sword proved an asset in battle.

The clothing in Amstra, was all in sets of multiple parts. There were trousers, simple enough, but the mannequin in front of him was decorated with belts, one functional, the rest decorative he supposed. The mannequin wore a deep purple dress shirt, and a long white white that reached just below the knees of the black trousers. The mannequin was donned with a few metal necklaces and finally a black top hat and with a purple feather sticking out of it. Everything about it seemed restrictive and Amir suddenly felt apprehensive about changing from the comfort of his robes to anything that even looked vaguely like the mannequin.

“Amir, this would look good on you.” Amir turned to where Hassan was perched on a piece of wooden table with no fabric on it and a bright red garment pinched in its beak. He walked over and snatched it from the bird and held it before himself. It was the color of Hassan, but maybe an even more saturated red if possible with impossibly puffy sleeves and ruffles going all the way down the front. He shot a look at his beast, but pulled it on over his robes anyways. It was a size too big and even without looking in a mirror he could tell he looked ridiculous, so he might as well go all the way. He began skimming the store for random articles to fit his vision, Hassan chirping at him every once in awhile to add something.

When he was done Amir was sure he looked a right mess. He had slipped a floor length plaidweave skirt on that’s main color was a sickly yellow, he had the red puffy skirt still on with a bright green scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. Amir had just happened to spot a collection of accessories and was sporting the most handsome of monocles and had finished the look with the black top hat that he had seen on the first mannequin with the white coat.

“What do you think Hassan, am I to die for?”

It didn't take Cassandra very long to drag Mordred to where small stacks of paper sat next to a shelf. Finally letting go of the poor boy Cassandra knelt down and quickly began leafing through the sheets, handing a few choice ones to Mordred. Drawn on them were pictures of different kinds of clothing, drawn as though being worn by a person in a number of different poses. As Mordred sifted through these, trying to find some he felt would suit Amirs frame, when he realised that a few of these were actually his own drawings. He felt a pull of pride at his chest that he had perhaps helped to make Amstra perhaps a bit more bright and lively. Cassandra hadn't been wrong that part of him had wanted to work here as a child.

Cassandra stopped handing up the sheets once Mordred started placing the rejected ideas on the floor. The short woman stood up and tried to peer round Mordred as he placed the designs he felt would work on the table. She looked up at Mordred as his eyes drifted from the sheets of paper over to Amir as he was practically throwing anything he encountered onto himself.
"That boy means something to you, doesn't he?" Cassandra commented. Mordred couldn't help jumping slightly at that.
"What? I... Cas, I only met him a few hours ago. It's hardly like some fairy tale here."
"Hmmm, perhaps not. But I know how your mind works, boy. Your head always goes at a million miles an hour and your heart isn't far behind." Mordred snorted out a laugh.
"Don't be ridiculous. Even if I had thought anything like that it wouldn't come of anything. You know all about why such things just wouldn't be allowed. Besides, he's a Rider, they're far more important than you or I, he wouldn't be the least bit interested. No, all I'm doing is showing him that not everyone in Amstra is like the king." Cassandra gave Mordred a dubious look as she picked up the sheets he had chosen so that should go find the clothes themselves.
"If that's the case why can't you look him in the eye?"

Mordred had to admit to himself he didn't have an answer to that one. As Cassandra hurried off to elsewhere in the shop in her hunt for the different items of clothing, he was left alone to mull that one over. Was he afraid that some part of him would try to become attached to the blond boy? Or that Amir thought he was developing feelings? Both of these would be nonsense, Amir would certainly want no part of it, that much was without a doubt. So why couldn't he look at him? It was possible his body just didn't know how to react to someone being actually supportive of him, considering he had only just met Amir earlier that day.

It didn't take Cassandra long to return with the clothes and all but pushed them into Mordreds hands, insisting that he be the one to carry them over to Amir. He was reluctant at first, but if he didn't do it now then it would never get done and he would just fall into the well of self doubt that lurked just at the fringes of his mind. Steeling himself and hopefully looking like he had never lost his composure he returned to where he had last seen Amir.

"What do you think Hassan, am I to die for?" Mordred had to bite the inside of his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Amir looked like he had grabbed anything within reach and then stuck it to just about any part of his body he could manage. The mix match of colours and different styles was such an abomination to art that he could only hope that Cassandra didn't happen to walk by. He could only begin to imagine how quickly she would try to scold Amir on the spot, and he didn't exactly doubt it wouldn't work either.

"And you said I was the fashionable one?" He spoke, trying very hard to try to sound as if the disaster before him was the most normal thing in the world. He managed to look into Amirs eyes for just a second before looking down at the bundle of clothing he held in his hands, it was something at least. He held out the bundle to Amir, trying to look as though he was making sure none of it fell on the floor. "Here, I think these will look good on you. Please do let me know if I'm mistaken."

The bundle itself wasn't exactly in line with Amstrian fashion but Mordred had instead decided to model it more along the lines of the clothing Amir seemed to prefer to wear. Trying to cut any larger bulkier items down to a minimum but not skimping out on warmth. The bundle contained a black leather waistcoat, which would hopefully work well at insulating along with providing some resistance to both wet and cold. A long crimson set of robes, with trimmings of gold running cross the frames and edging the hood in flames. Though these robes were different from the ones that Mordred had worn over his armour, where those had been one full piece that could just be thrown on and then tied together. These robes instead required the wearer to step into them to put them on, as they had a belt built in, which the top half slopped down towards leaving the centre of the chest bare, whilst underneath it had a long strip of cloth to cover the groin downwards whilst it left the front of the legs exposed. Mordred had also had the sense to include some brown linen breaches, so that Amir wasn't just walking around with his undercarriage exposed for the entire world to see in the event of a light breeze. Though they wouldn't do much to keep his legs warm from the knees down, he just had to hope that the robes would do that job instead. He had considered getting some boots for Amir too, but considering he didn't know what size to look for and the fact that would have taken time for them to be broken in, he opted against that option.

#b03f02
“And you said I was the fashionable one?” Amir spun to face Mordred with a grin on his lips. He was squinting his features to keep the monocle on, and as he turned his foot caught the end of the skirt that nearly caused him to topple over. Amir caught himself, barely, and when he looked to Mordred their eyes met for just a moment before the other boy went to looking at the outfit Amir had crafted for himself. Maybe he hadn’t offended the boy as much as previously suspected. “Here, I think these will look good on you. Please do let me know if I'm mistaken.”

He took the bundle of clothing from the boy, what stood out was the red of one of the pieces, it was a deep crimson that was beautifully accented by golden trimming. The boy nodded at Mo’s comment and briefly looked around for some sort of changing area. There were none in his immediate sight, and not being one to investigate further Amir began to disrobe in the middle of the store. As he saw it there weren’t that many people in the store, he’d be fine. He was in the middle of slipping his white robes off his shoulders, the other pieces discard next to him, when Hassan yanked at his hair. “Amir please, I shouldn’t have to tell you not to undress in public. There is a room further back.”

He sighed as Hassan switched its hold from his hair to his sleeve and began leading the boy in the direction of the changing room. He turned his head to give a lazy salute to Mordred, rolling his eyes and jabbing his thumb in the direction of his beast. “Hassan likes to take charge in our relationship, I’ll be back when we’re done.”

He laughed as Hassan gave a sharp tug on his sleeve that had him stumbling after the bird. Hassan directed them to an area of the boutique that looked like it was made for people to try attire on. A few stalls with swinging doors and Hassan pulled them into the the closest one. His bird landed in the corner and peered up at him disapprovingly, but didn’t make any comment. Amir rolled his eyes again and began to shimmy out of the white robes. “I wasn’t really going to change out there Hassan.”

“Yes you were.”

“Shut up.” Amir examine the pants first. They seemed the easiest to maneuver. They were a deep brown trouser made of what felt like starched cotton. They were stiff, but nothing that couldn’t be worn down and hit right below his knees. The second piece he picked up was a leather vest looking article the same color as the trousers, but after careful consideration he decided that would have to go on last. The boy turned his attention to the red colored robe. He ran his fingers over the fabric and it felt like the expensive silk that the bed in the keep was made of. Holding it up he tried to decide the best way to go about wearing it. The hood and sleeves made it easy to see which way went forward. In the end he decided stepping into the garment would be easiest. Once his arms were through and the robe rested correctly on his body Amir found he could better understand its design. The hood was currently draped over his head and the seamed cutout traveled down to a deep v that exposed almost all his chest. He could see the large scar over his heart that marked him the Phoenix Rider and curled his lip at it. It was the only scar the rider bore since Phoenix tears healed the rest of his injuries in their entirety. He looked at the rest of the robe, the belt cinched his waist and gave him a more refined silhouette instead of a straight cut that clothing lacking a belt offered. The robe stretched all the way down to his ankles, the front cut so that both his legs were free and given their full range and the back was one block covering his back with a slit going done the middle to offer the most freedom. He finally grabbed the dark brown waistcoat. It was made of leather and looked very form fitting. It was all leather with two buckling latches off-center on the left side. As he clipped the buckles into place the boy gave a final tug to the piece making sure it was secure. He finished by retying the sheath for his sword to his hip and Hassan clucked at him as he gathering up his white robes.

“Don’t objectify me Hassan, I’m not some plaything.” He liked it though, he had been afraid the clothing he’d be given would be stuffy and stiff like the mannequins had been, but was pleasantly surprised by the outcome. He especially liked that with the robes, even though his wrists were covered the golden accessories he always sported seemed to stand out greatly now against his darker color scheme. Pushing the door open he set out to find Mordred in the store.

Mordred couldn't help blinking three times in quick succession at the spectacle unfolding before him. Was Amir teasing him? Trying to pass along some subtle signs? Did he just have no sense of decency? The blond boy just brought up as many questions as he answered.

He nodded belatedly at Amir as he was taken away to the changing stalls. He had to wonder just how the relationship between beast and Rider worked. Neither one not the other appeared to be in charge of the pair, yet they didn't seem to argue over it either. It could be possible that as their souls were bound that seemed to have some form of tandem mind which made cooperation much simpler for the two. Or perhaps it was the simple fact that has known each other for years that have each other their familiarity. It was a shame he could never find out for himself the truth of the matter and he wasn't particularly sure Amir would indulge him the truth of the matter either. Besides, that was hardly the most pressing question he wanted to ask.

He was starting to wonder if Amir had managed to get lost in the small store when he remurged. It was with no small relief to see that the clothing not only fitted Amirs frame perfectly, but also seemed to suit him well too. Of course it likely helped matters that the designs weren't the typical Amstrian fashion. He gave a slow, pleased applause as Amir approached.
"Amir, you look incredible. I hope you find it to your liking too because I think you just added a flare of fashion to the city." He held a pleased look as he cast an approving gaze up and down Amirs form, but then quickly diverted his eyes to the coinpouch on his hip as he took out some gold coins. He didn't want Amir to think he was looking at him for the wrong reasons. After all, he didn't want to offend with any unwelcome advances.

He counted out some of the coins and placed them in the table next to him when he both heard and felt his gut grumbling, clearly annoyed at being ignored. "Now that that is out of the way, what do you say to finally finding ourselves some food? And perhaps we should avoid the alleyways this time " He managed a weak smile and just hoped his voice didnt sound as wavering out loud as it did in his head.

#b03f02
Amir beamed and took a deep bow as Mordred applauded his return. There was nothing Amir liked more than compliments, and he ate up the words Mor gave to him. When he looked at Mor he did notice that the boy seemed to purposely be avoiding eye contact, and found he wanted to say something, but held his tongue for the time being. If he brought it up and the conversation turned sour they probably wouldn’t be going to get food. Amir was starving.

"Now that that is out of the way, what do you say to finally finding ourselves some food? And perhaps we should avoid the alleyways this time " Amir felt his eyes light up when Mor finally mentioned getting food. He wanted a meal, something heavy and warm, like a stew or a pot roast. He voiced his opinion to Mordred as well.

“Oh hell fuckin yeah. I’m so hungry I could eat a sand worm, the whole motherfucking thing. Let’s go somewhere we can sit down and eat some good ass food.” Mordred seemed to ponder the statement for a moment before they left the store, clearly the boy had a place in mind. Mordred led them back through the streets of Amstra, sticking strictly to well populated roads this time, as he said he would, and Amir was able to get a better idea of the city life of civilians. It was very fast paced, everyone moving constantly, but even so it didn’t appear like many of them were actually in a rush. Most of the groups walking were either couples or families window shopping at the vast amount of colorfully decorated shops. It was quaint, a good place to raise a family.

“You know, this place isn’t too bad when Trytheus isn’t around to annoy the shit out of you.” He could almost hear the exasperated comment from Hassan as the bird tightened its grip on his shoulder. He smirked, but didn’t say anything to match his beast’s silence. Instead he chose to watch Mordred as they walked, examining the finer points of the boy’s features. He had a sharp jawline, it cut his features cleanly and articulated his face shape well. But that was overshadowed by the bright blue of his eyes. In Gnaji blue eyes were rare, and in many tribes celebrated, so to see such a brilliant shade stirred something in him. Even if he couldn’t hold a flame to Dae, there was no doubt that anyone would label Mordred as handsome. He also remembered that while in Wolfbane slave traders would buy and sell blue-eyed people for a higher price and they were seemingly more valuable.

“Has anyone tried to kidnap you before?” He blurted it out without thinking, and wondered if it was a bit too inappropriate thing to say to someone you barely knew. Hassan gave his shoulder another tight squeeze which probably indicated that it was. Amir looked away from the boy after, suddenly self-conscious and up at the building they had stopped in front of. A stone building as in front of them, it wasn’t too large, but like the looks of it, and the smells coming out of it, the building was a restaurant. It had the boy’s stomach gurgling and at the forefront of his mind. Food, he wanted food.

"Oh hell fuckin yeah. I’m so hungry I could eat a sand worm, the whole motherfucking thing. Let’s go somewhere we can sit down and eat some good ass food." Mordred raised a quizzical eyebrow as he led Amir out of the door and into the street once more.
"Those truly exist? I always thought they were nothing more than a myth. Surely there can't be enough sand for them to burrow well." After all, he reasoned, even the dirt gives way to stone if one digs deep enough.

The streets had calmed down a slight amount in their absence. It was just about the first hour past noon, judging on the sun as it peeked behind the clouds, which was the usual time most ate their midday meal. It made sense though that most would chose to either wait a little bit or eat a bit earlier, so as to avoid the crowding that sometimes happened around the more popular food business's. Still, he walked quickly through the crowd, focusing on picking his path in between the small clumps of people when the gaps formed. Most were too preoccupied with the shops around them to really notice the pair walking by.

"You know, this place isn’t too bad when Trytheus isn’t around to annoy the shit out of you." Mordred had to chuckle at that. Trytheus did have a certain way to rub people the wrong way with an almost unnatural skill. He had to wonder if it was the mans personality that caused it or he just held the kind of aura that made people feel generally uneasy and angry. It was like the man was angry bear, unpredictable and dangerous and not just a little irritating to try to placate.
"Us mortal folk do tend to be a little more amenable compared to the Riders, present company excluded of course. Its just that... Well, we've grown used to our own Rider being as he is that any others are viewed with a bit of suspicion when it turns out they don't act the same."

It didn't take much longer for the smells of gently cooking food to return pleasantly. Though it had taken them longer than if they had decided to go through the alleyways again, Mordred was reluctant to going through there again right now. He wasn't exactly sure if more fiends were lurking the shadows, nor would he be sure that he could simply deflect them this time. And though he didn't doubt Amirs fighting skill he wasn't exactly willing to risk a sword fight in such enclosed quarters if at all possible. He was however now at a crossroads at where to go to find food. It would be possible to find a good tavern, but he wasn't exactly in the mood for the stuffy air and overpowering smell of ale that followed every meal there. Instead that left him to decide which shop would work well enough, some places knew him and some didn't. Either group would work, but perhaps it would be good to demonstrate some proper wholesome Amstrian food to Amir that came from the simple folk rather than the cooks in the Keep. With his destination set he set his quick pace off once more, trusting Amir to be able to follow in good step.

They came up to the stone buildings where Mordred was sure he could find something good to eat. Customers usually tended to buy their food and then leave to eat elsewhere so he was fairly confident that they could get something to eat without waiting in a long line when he heard Amir behind.
"Has anyone tried to kidnap you before?"
He stopped dead in his tracks. Had anyone tried to kidnap him? No, of course not, that would be ridiculous wouldn't it?

He couldn't help but remembering his childhood. The last day of his childhood. His father had left earlier to go on a boar hunt, his father loved to hunt, the hall was lined with the heads of his kills that he loudly liked to boast about. Though Mordred couldn't remember the tales of the hunt his father had told him as a child, he remembered he always felt happy at his fathers happiness.

Ancestors he remembered it all.

---

"Mordred? Are you in here?" The young boy stilled a giggle as his nursemaid walked past his hiding spot behind a wicker basket. He had managed to slip away from her whilst she was looking out of a window and had spent the last ten minutes hiding from her. "Well if you're not in here I suppose I'll just have to have afternoon tea without you." His ears pricked up at the thought of not being able to have his beloved lemon cakes. That just wouldn't do!

"I'm here!" He cried, jumping out from behind the basket. The four year old boy had done a surprisingly good job of curling up into a ball so that he couldn't be seen. His nursemaid jumped back in mock surprise, a hand flying to her heart.
"My Mordred, you frightened me. I would never have found you there!" She moved quickly to pick the young boy up before he could scurry off again, eliciting a fit of giggles as he was lifted into the air. "Come on then. Lets find you some cakes then shall we?" The young boy bounced happily against the nursemaids chest at the sound of finally getting his cakes.

She carried him through the stone halls, spring light bleeding through the open castle windows that light up the stone in a wondrous yellow light. The young boy made a game of trying to grab the antlers of the heads that lined across the hall, actually managing to just about grasp the tip of one before his nursemaid caught what he was up to and stopped to see what exactly he was trying to grab over his shoulder. "Oh? What have you found there?" Turning to see the animals head mounted on the wall she smiled down at the boy in her arms. "What animal is that Mordred?"
"Is elk!" Mordred declared happily. The nursemaid looked down sternly at him.
"It is an elk, Mordred. Proper pronunciation is always important." The young boy nodded solemnly as he mouthed 'it is an' over and over.

The nursemaid carried the boy over to one of the wide window frames an sat against the stone sill. The castle that was the boys home sat atop a hill, in the middle of a huge woods, where trees sometimes reached as high as the castle walls themselves. If one looked very hard they could see the plains just beyond the edge of the treeline. Or they could look down where the trees were cut back from the walls and the huge track that was the main road up the gates of the castle and lose themselves in trying to watch the swaying of the branches. "Where do elk come from Mordred?"
"Out there! With the deer in the woods." The boy beamed up at his teacher.
"Very good, but you also find them out in the plains too. Deer are like us, they are happy wherever they are, as long as they are with their families." Mordred didn't really seem to take in the lesson as he looked out into the treeline, as though he was looking very hard to see if a herd of deer were looking back at him.
"Will I hunt deer one day?"
"I suppose you will, yes."
"I'm going to be the best hunter in the world!" Mordred declared happily. The nursemaid chuckled happily at the boys enthusiasm.
"I think your father may have to have words with you about that." The young boy didn't really know what to make of that so he returned to looking out of the window into the trees.

His eyes were suddenly drawn by a group of men riding fast towards the castle, with a wagon being pulled behind them. He recognised the pennon being flown by one of them as the banner of Mulasice, the banner of his home. The burning tree on a field of green was hoisted all around the castle that was home. He could see that the men didn't wear the shiny armour of the knights and instead wore simple browns and greens that could only mean it was his father, returning from the hunt he had departed on some day earlier
"Papa!" He called out, wriggling out of the nursemaids grip and speeding off down the halls, with the woman trying to give chase to young boy. Down the stone hall and down flights of twisting stairs until he came to a small door that opened out into the courtyard beyond.

The first thing he noticed as he exploded excitedly out was that he couldn't see his father. The men had arrived in the courtyard but everyone was clustered around the cart that had been following behind the party. He could see the group hurrying around then began to move towards the main doors of the castle, whilst he stood next to the door to one of the towers. He could see that in their midst that they were carrying someone. And as they got closer he could see that they were carrying his father. He didn't understand, he just looked like he was sleeping. But his face was pale and he was breathing fast and hard. Before he could hurry over to find out what was going on he felt his nursemaid snatch him up from behind, having finally caught up with him.
"Come away now Mordred, its time for your afternoon tea."
"Whats happened to papa? Is he alright?"
"He'll be fine. Come on now." She carried him inside once more.

The rest of the day passed with a sense like the air was holding its breath. Everyone moved with a nervous energy and people were often passing back and forth about the place with an uncertain look in their eye and quickness in their step. Mordred ate his evening meal alone that night, that never happened. The large seat at the table that was his fathers sat empty, whilst the smaller seat next to it was always empty. He had heard that that was his mothers seat, but he had never met his mother and didn't know exactly where she was. He had overheard some people whispering that she had passed away trying to give him to the world, but he didn't know what that meant either. Even some of the men who often wore shiny armour didn't eat with him.

That night he couldn't sleep. The way people were acting had left him restless and counting sheep was doing nothing to help him, so he decided to take a walk though the castle to try to tire himself out a bit. The castle was practically deserted and when he eventually did hear voices it was only two of them. He recognised one as Sir Mallisent, the man his father had called a 'master-at-arms' and Devon, the man who would sit on his fathers throne when his father was off hunting. He could just about make out what they were saying as he approached.

"-ou saw him in there. Don't tell me you think it's all going to go fine and dandy." The voice of Sir Mallisent. It sounded angry for some reason.
"I don't know! He has the kings blood in him, that must count for something." Devon sounded scared and confused.
"What good is that going to do him? How many men have you seen walk off being gored through the gut, Devon?"
"No many. But you don't know. It might be alright. We can't start to panic right now. After all, apothecary Casius said..."
"Never mind what the apothecary said, we still have to take precautions just in case. I have already sent a raven to the king. A contingent of knights will be here shortly."
"You've done what?! Sullest is still alive and you're already scheming up some plot?" It was here that Mordred, who had been leaning around the door frame of the room that the two men had been arguing in when Mallisent spotted his little face peering in.
"Mordred! What are you doing up? You should be abed!" He made a gesture and a guard who had been standing just out of sight emerged. The man smiled kindly to the little boy and made to pick up him.
"Come on now little one, Sir Mallisent is right. Lets get you back to bed."

The nervous air hung around for the next few days when it was broken suddenly by the arrival of strangers in the castle. The strange men rode in wearing shiney armour and held shields with a circle and a hammer painted on. Behind the men a covered carriage followed shortly behind. Mordred was brought not long after they had arrived. One of the men was talking to Sir Mallisent, who quickly concluded their conversation and strode over to the boy. He armoured man knelt down and smiled at the boy, but the boy couldn't help but notice the smile didn't really each the mans eyes.
"Hello there, Mordred. I am Lord Kalice, and I am here to take you to the capital. You're going to be the ward of the king, it's a very high honour thats only afforded to you because he is your spiritual ancestor. Did you know that?" The young boy gave a confused nod. He didn't like the man, he just felt... Wrong. All together alien to him, in the way he talked to the way his voice just held the underline sound of someone who gets whatever he wants no matter what he must do for it. Kalice stood up and placed a hand on the back of Mordreds head, guiding him over to the carriage. He looked back to the castle to see if he was doing the right thing. He would have bolted back there if he didn't see his nursemaid stood by the steps to the doors nodding him onwards. It looked like she was fighting back tears and he could feel them welling up inside himself. He didn't understand what was going on.

He was urged, fairly roughly inside the carriage. Thankfully Kalice didn't try to follow him inside and instead shut the door behind him, locking the latch so he could escape. He almost fell over as the carriage lurched forwards and he tried desperately to look out of the window as the castle fell away. As he was forced to leave his home behind.

He didn't understand why this was happening. And it wouldn't be for another ten years until he had the chance to return to his home.

---

Mordred felt a shuddering breath leave his lips. He quickly blinked away the sting in his eyes as tears threatened to form. His gaze slowly dropped to the sword at his hip, the last and only piece of his father that he had to remember him by. His father had died whilst he had been on the road to city. He hadn't even been able to return to say goodbye as his father was entombed. It took him ten years until he could finally say his farewells. Ten long years too late. But surely the men had taken him away for his own good. They had taken him to learn with the best, to be moulded into a steadfast knight and a protector of the people. They had taken him so that he could fulfil his duty to his name, his people, his eternal ancestor. Could anyone really call that kidnapping if it were done with such good intentions in mind?

"Yes." He answered weakly, he couldn't fail to hear just how pathetic and soft his voice was. He stepped inside the stone building quickly, trying to get away from the spot so the feelings of sorrow welling up in chest couldn't follow him. Luckily inside there were few people and it was light and airy, the smell of food thick and appealing. There were a few tables that sat next to the open windows and most of them sat empty. Nor was there a cue so Mordred could quickly place the order. He ordered a pair of pastries for himself and Amir, they were semi-circles of thick pastries with even thicker crusts around the curved edge. He knew from experience that they held thick cuts of choice beef ass well as cubes of turnips, potatoes and diced onion, somehow they even managed to contain a thick and rich gravy. Thankfully two such pastries were sitting waiting to be ordered so they were handed over to him on a pewter platter. Mordred made his way over to one of the table and placed the platter down on the side. On the walk from counter to table he had kept his eyes downcast, to the casual observer it would look like he was just making sure they didn't slide off the platter but if one paid close attention they could see his eyes were unfocused as he wrestled on the inner conflict in himself, trying to cast away the long held sadness that festered in his heart. He sat down at the table and looked down at the pastries, watching the steam rising off of them. "Careful." He muttered, his voice still not returned to its normal joyful tones. "They're hot. Best to let them cool a bit."

#b03f02
Mordred’s abrupt stop at the question had Amir’s guilt spiking. He had been hoping that the questioned would have been brushed off as Amir being an idiot, but he seemed to strike a chord within in Mordred. The boy stood frozen for a moment, his eyes distant as the replaying of an undoubtedly unpleasant memory was suddenly at the forefront of his mind. He watched as the boy came back from the memory an how he glanced down at the thin sword attached to his side. Mordred looked as though he was ready to cry.

“Yes.” Mor didn’t look at him as he entered the building and Amir shuffled in quietly behind him. He wasn’t good with sensitive situations, he didn’t know how to deal with deal, or how to say the right things to make someone feel better, or say anything at all. His voice had been soft, and shaky, and anything but ok. Clearly Amir had overstepped a red lined boundary that should not have been crossed. Even as they sat Mordred made no attempt to mask his inner turmoil. His words were void of the soft, comforting tone that he had used since meeting Amir. Despite how hungry he had been on their walk over, the boy suddenly found he had no appetite. The wasn’t sure what exactly to do, or how to go about trying to comfort Mordred.

“Amir, you can’t just stare at him like a half-witted moron. Please, do something other than look uncomfortable and try to fix this.” Hassan didn’t normally take up a tone of annoyance with him. Amir was used to being bossed around and being mother-henned by his beast, but rarely did the bird ever take a tone of agitation with him. The bird was probably angry that one of his stupid, half thought, comments finally had repercussions. He glanced up at Mordred, watching the boy as he stared blankly at the steam, he really had no idea how to break the tension. Hesitantly, the boy reached over a grabbed Mordred’s hand, squeezing it and meeting the boy’s eyes.

“Mor, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. I’m just a fucking idiot. It's your eyes, blue eyes are the most valuable in the slave trade, and yours are the brightest I've ever seen. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” He didn’t know if Mordred would even want Amir to do anything. The boy knew from personal experience that he himself preferred locking away the unpleasant memories and pretending they never happened, but that wasn’t the case for everyone. Others needed to confide in others when something troubled them, and hell, Amir probably should have done that with his own issues, but it was too late for that now. Instead, he held Mordred’s gaze with steely determination, if Mor did have a request for him he’d definitely do it.

Idiot. Compose yourself. Mordred berated himself as he sat across from Amir Acting sorry for yourself will not achieve anything. Worse you may drive him away. Get a grip. He blinked, holding his eyes shut for a moment, trying to bring himself back to his normal self. Nobody ever got anything done by being resentful of their childhood, and on top of that continuing as such would only sour the air between himself and Amir. So why was he acting like this? It could be possible that just the presence of a foreign entity was affecting him in unusual ways, or it could be a part of Amirs nature. He was more direct, more blunt and to the point than Mordred was used to. He held none of ulterior motives of the nobility. He was... Simpler than Amstra, he admired that.

His eyes shot open when he felt a gentle pressure on his hand. His heart gave an unusual flutter as he looked down to see Amir was holding his hand. Part of him wanted to just tear off his glove and actually feel the warmth of an others skin for the first time in far too many moons. It was like a craving in him to just reach out with his other hand and cusp Amirs in a similar gesture. And yet, at the same time part of him wanted to recoil, to hide himself away again and avoid the blond boys touch as best he could, he wasn't deserving of that tanned flesh anywhere near his. But he didn't do either, he wrestled away the desires of his heart and just let his hand stay there, held for just this brief moment underneath the black leather of his glove. His eyes were drawn back up to Amirs, where that same look of openness sat behind the veil of savagery. The same look he had seen in those brown pools back in the alleyway.

"Mor, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. I’m just a fucking idiot. It's your eyes, blue eyes are the most valuable in the slave trade, and yours are the brightest I've ever seen. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"
"Don't." Mordred smiled sadly, shaking his head. His voice had regained some of its familiar light again, he had to wonder how much was from his own attempt at recollecting himself and how much had been the sudden contact. "You couldn't have known, doubtless some would not consider it kidnap when the Order of the Forge comes to take you to learn at the heels of the king. No matter how unwilling you are to leave." He knew Amir wouldn't know exactly what he was talking about and he didn't much care, perhaps he would figure some parts out of his own initiative. But it was that part of the slave trade that caught his attention, such things had long been outlawed in Amstra, with great force at that. But Amir spoke of it as if he knew it personally. But he didn't have the air of the common bandit or merchant so it couldn't have been on the buyers side of the ordeal and he spoke with such familiarity of it that it seemed almost as if... It was a horrific idea to contemplate and he was afraid to ask about it. Some things were better left in the minds of long dead childhoods.
"There is one thing though. Tell me something, you speak with a... Fondness, a familiarity almost and a kindness that is rare found in Amstra. It is not often a person tells me that... Who I bed does not affect who I am, even the few who I have managed to convince to spend a night were not as kind with their words to say as such. But you, speak with conviction, pride almost, about the importance of its unimportant. Surely things cannot be so different in Gnaji that it is commonplace there for people to be allowed to pursue whoever they wish" He paused a moment, already regretting what he was about to say next. "Please, forgive me for assuming such things. But it sounds to me like you speak of such matters from the heart, out of experience of such things." It was the most tactile way he could think of asking after Amirs preference. And though he had to admit he admired Amirs looks, and they certainly were something unlike that in Amstra- blond hair and rich bronze skin was rare against the browns and blacks and light tans of summer especially compared to his own paler than normal skin, Amirs personality too was admirable in its plain and simple nature. But the fact he knew and understood so little about the blond boy intrigued him to no end that it seemed almost a drive to learn everything he could.