About betrothing Tomas to his daughter. In truth, Heinz found the arrogant noble's manner grating but knew he must tread carefully in these unfamiliar courtly waters.

"Of course, you would require some surety of mine... sincerity," Kind remarked slyly. "Perhaps a manservant - my boy Cyriac has grown rather too unruly and might benefit from a firmer hand."

It took Heinz a moment to grasp the implication. When it hit him, he had to restrain his disgust.

"You wish to exchange your child?" Heinz asked evenly. "I was not aware we were bartering livestock."

Kind blinked, then gave an awkward laugh. "Oh come, think of it as less a sale, more a symbiotic exchange! The match benefits us both."

"Does it?" Heinz replied coldly. "Because to me, it sounds like selling your own child for status. I do not traffic in human lives so callously."

Kind's jovial expression soured. "Take care, farmer. You are newly raised and may yet tumble."

Heinz met the implied threat steadily. "I speak only as a concerned father regarding my son. Surely we can arrange this match more equitably."

"No matter," Kind sneered. "Your backwater whelps are likely too coarse for my daughter's refined sensibilities anyway."

He stood abruptly. "I shall not waste further time on peasants who forget their place." With that, he stormed out indignantly.

Heinz sagged back, drained but satisfied. Dealing with pompous nobles like Kind tested his patience sorely. Yet he would not stoop to their level and treat lives like commodities, family or otherwise.

Kind was sadly not the only courtier to see the world in transactions, hoping to profit from Heinz's rise in station. He missed the simple days when a man's worth was judged by his character, not usefulness to those in power.

But Heinz reminded himself that not all nobles were so jaded. Goodness and wisdom might yet flourish, even here. He would carefully tend to those hopeful buds, trusting time to reveal hearts, not facades. Until then, much was to be endured by the likes of Kind with compassion and principle.

***

Gideon lingered in the shadows of the empty corridor, waiting anxiously. He knew he was breaking countless protocols meeting the Emperor like this, but neither could resist these secret encounters.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Away from the rigid formality of court, Aeron seemed almost a different person - keenly thoughtful, eager for conversation beyond edicts and flattery. And Gideon found himself opening up in ways years of reserved training had discouraged.

Hearing approaching footsteps, Gideon slid further into the darkness on instinct. But it was only Aeron, glancing around excitedly before waving Gideon out.

"I worried you wouldn't come," Aeron said. "Imperial functions ran late again."

Gideon smiled lightly. "Yet here I am, despite myself. The risk is...not negligible."

Aeron's face fell slightly. "Of course, I understand as soul-bound your duty-"

"But I choose this," Gideon finished sincerely. Strangely, he had come to value Aeron's friendship beyond obligation.

Brightening, Aeron gestured excitedly as he launched into a story from the day's petitions. Though trained to serve in shadow, Gideon was helpless before Aeron's radiant spirit. And so their unlikely bond deepened, Emperor and Assassin turned confidants against all reason or propriety.

Later, alone again in his spartan quarters, Gideon pondered the paradoxical relationship blossoming between them. He had always held himself apart, aloof from entanglements. Yet something in Aeron called to him to recognize some shared buried pain beneath their differing stations.

In truth, Gideon still struggled to reconcile the vibrant, earnest boy he knew with the distant legend of the Thorneborn emperor. He sometimes worried their rapport skirted the edge of inappropriate familiarity that could foreseeably compromise his sworn service to Aeron.

Yet he could not fully silence deeper whispers that perhaps here at last was one who might truly understand him if only they dared share their full truths. This fragile hope made caution seem trivial when Aeron asked to meet.

Right or reckless, Gideon needed these moments of sincere companionship more each day. He would pay whatever price or perform whatever penance required to keep this cherished rarity close a little longer. Some rewards outweighed any risk. He only prayed this comfort found amidst duty's austerity might endure.

***

Aeron picked halfheartedly at the elaborate feast laid out before him. At Lord Cyron's lavish birthday celebration, he felt even more out of place than usual amidst the preening nobles.

He almost envied Gideon, who could remain silently in the shadows guarding him, interacting only when needed. Meanwhile, Aeron must force cordiality with the endless parade of sycophants and rumor-mongers.

A lull in the conversation drew Aeron's gaze across the table to Lord Blanche's eldest grandson, Blaise, looking similarly uncomfortable. Aeron recalled the introspective youth from past court functions but never spoke to him directly. On impulse, he took the opportunity.

"You seem less inclined toward revelry than your peers, Blaise," Aeron ventured.

Blaise started, then quickly composed himself. "Apologies, Your Eminence. I simply do not share their zeal for frivolity." He hesitated. "But I speak out of turn. The celebration is beautiful."

Aeron smiled kindly, putting the formal youth at ease. "Plain speech does not offend me. In truth, I find little appeal in these events either." Aeron leaned in conspiratorially. "I think the vaunted noble houses could benefit from more of your temperance and reason."

Blaise looked thoughtful. "An excess of pleasure often leads to a poverty of spirit," he said seriously. "Though stability has its value too." He met Aeron's eyes. "Navigating that tension must be challenging for one such as yourself."

Surprised at the intuitive observation, Aeron felt suddenly self-conscious, unsure how to respond. Sensing this, Blaise flushed slightly.

"Forgive me, Your Eminence, I overstepped my station," he quickly stammered.

But Aeron waved the apology aside. "No, your insight impresses me. You perceive my...unease in this role." He spoke frankly in a low voice. "I was but a common boy quite recently. Adapting to emperor has proven difficult."

Blaise listened solemnly, offering no empty platitudes or facile advice to Aeron's admission and simply nodding in understanding. Grateful, Aeron realized this thoughtful youth saw the person still beneath the overwhelming office.

Their conversation moved to less weighty matters, but Aeron felt heartened by Blaise's empathy and discretion. This reserved noble stood out as a sincere presence in the endless sea of imperial flatterers. Given time, Aeron sensed a valuable confidant and counselor could be cultivated in the contemplative Blaise.