Oleksandr rises from his seat, weaving through the crowd to stand in the far corner of the room to smoke his pipe while he ponders the king's offer. On one hand, he knows the offer could lead him down a path of success. It's not that he desires power or wealth, but it would provide him intrigue and a proper name for himself, rather than being a random foreign mercenary with a fearsome reputation. He could build up to leading rebellions and amassing armies, which would be devastating to the Ottomans if he had that kind of power and resources. On the other hand, he thinks about staying in one place for a long time, working again... The only time he did that before, he was with Thekkur. He remembers the comfort and contentment of traveling by his side, and how his world has been so empty and lonely since his death. He imagines he will start to grow weary and restless if he doesn't fill the void with the constant danger and thrill of survival. He takes a deep breath, the smoke filling his lungs.

Oleksandr tries to shake the thoughts from his head, taking another puff from his pipe and sip of his wine. He glances around at the feast, the people socializing and reveling, laughing and singing and dancing.

He knows that accepting the king's offer would mean a life of stability and comfort, but he doesn’t find comfort in luxuries and stability. He knows that it would mean giving up his nomadic lifestyle, his freedom to wander wherever the wind takes him. As Oleksandr puffs on his pipe and looks around the room, he can feel the weight of the stares and whispers from the nobility and guests. He knows that he is an outsider here, a barbarian from the northern wastes amongst the refined and sophisticated, and no matter what he does, he will never feel like he belongs. He doesn’t belong anywhere. How could he find belonging when he’s an outsider to the rest of the world? The only time he felt like he belonged was with his brother, and the Varangian Guard, now both long gone. He takes a long drag on his pipe, the smoke filling his lungs and calming his mind.

As Oleksandr stares at his pipe, his mind drifts back to his brother, Thekkur, and how they had always been a team, supporting each other through thick and thin. He feels an overwhelming wave of loneliness and a sense of loss, as he realizes that his brother’s absence has stunted him. He takes another long drag on his pipe, the smoke filling his lungs as he gazes absently at the crowd. He knows that he has never been good at fitting in with society, with all the hierarchies and social pressures and conventions. He was always primitive, a wild man, and he knows that having his brother around helped cushion the blow of those things. But now that he is gone, Oleksandr feels as if he is missing a part of himself, like he is missing his favorite limb.

His mind begins to turn inward, and as he puffs on his pipe, he starts to wonder if he is unconsciously sabotaging himself, afraid of the comforts and peace that comes with settling down. Is he subconsciously afraid of having nothing to fill the void left by his brother's death? Or is it that he fears progressing without his brother? Is he forcing himself to stay at a standstill in his life, never doing anything new because he doesn’t want to move on from the past? Perhaps deep down his subconscious tells him that if he were to progress, achieve something in his life, it will make him feel like he’s leaving Thekkur behind.

Yes, that's it, he thinks. I’m bound to the ghost of my past, shackling myself to it, out of fear of the future, a future without Thekkur. They did everything together. Everything. They were supposed to die together. How is he expected to progress without him, leave him behind? He takes a long pull from his cup of wine, like an attempt to drown out his internal sorrows, a turmoil unseen on his hardened exterior. No matter how much I run from the future and grasp for the past, the future will come, just as the sun will rise. Though it felt like it did, time didn’t stop when he left.

That’s the tragedy of it all. Time didn’t stop when Thekkur died. The world kept going, the seasons passed, the war continued. But Oleksandr didn’t want that. He wanted, no, he needed time to stop, for the world to freeze over just like he did.

He was thrown into a new world, one he had never existed in, one without his twin flame. So he stagnated, hiding from advancing without his brother like a vampire from the sun. “Your life didn’t end with mine, Oleksandr.” He stares down into the redness of his wine as he remembers those words, spoken to him in a dream…

That's when something catches his gaze in the crowd. He sees a group of young maidens enter, and they seem to be the companions of a girl, wearing a long, beautiful dress made of a deep blue velvet. Her face is obscured by a veil, held in place by a fine golden circlet, adorned in dangling, ancient coins. Despite her opulent dress and the clear indication of her importance, the girl in the veil seems withdrawn and reserved, as if she is shy and nervous. Oleksandr continues to stare, something about her drawing him in. Oleksandr watches the veiled young woman approach the king's table, her handmaidens dispersing as she takes a seat next to the king. He feels intrigued by her presence, wondering what her connection to the king is.

The king smiles warmly at the veiled girl and gently pulls her over to kiss her forehead, speaking to her in a familiar and endearing tone. He wonders who she might be, to have such a warm and affectionate relationship with the king. Oleksandr continues to wander around the room, trying to appear casual as he steals glances over at the veiled girl. Despite her quiet, demure demeanor, he cannot help but be intrigued by her, a strange magnetism drawing him in, and he watches as she fidget with her rings while the king speaks with the men at his table.

Oleksandr pours himself another cup of wine and moves towards a table of soldiers, leaning against the wall near them. The soldiers at the table regard him with a mix of curiosity and wariness, and Oleksandr can tell that they are a bit drunk from the ale they have been drinking. He meets their gazes with a cool, neutral expression, taking a sip from his own cup. The soldiers at the table continue to look at him, studying his rough appearance and the way he carries himself. They nudge each other and mutter amongst themselves, clearly sizing him up and trying to decipher who he is. One of the men at the table, a bit more inebriated than the rest, blurts out a question.

"Who you may be, stranger?"

"A friend of your king. Just passing through the country." The soldiers at the table raise their eyebrows at his response, surprised and intrigued to hear that he is a friend of the king. Another soldier slurs, eyeing him up and down.

"You don't look like no fancy noble." Oleksandr moves a little closer.

"That I am not. I'm a warrior like yourselves." The soldiers at the table seem even more curious at his words, eyeing him more intently. The soldier who spoke before belches loudly, then replies.

"Oh, you're a warrior, eh? Reckon you're even half as skilled as we are?" Oleksandr smirks, sipping his wine.

"I’d hope." The soldiers at the table scoff at his response, with amused expressions. "Listen," Oleksandr slides down onto one of the chairs and leans in, motioning with his head. "Who's the girl with the shroud? Next to the king?" The soldiers at the table are taken aback by his sudden shift in topic, but curiosity gets the better of them. One of them answers, respect in his voice.

"The girl? That's the king's daughter, Princess Vidosavka. A fine maiden, she is." Oleksandr processes the answer, watching her behind the soldiers, seated in the distance.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"The princess, hm..?" He sips his wine, his gaze flickering back over to the soldiers. "What's with the veil?"

"Not sure why she wears it. She's been wearing it ever since she was a young girl. Some say it's because she's too beautiful, that in order to have a semblance of a normal life she must conceal her beauty." Another soldier, slightly drunk, adds, "But honestly, I think it's because the king is a weird paranoid bastard.”

"What do you mean?" The drunken soldier, with a slur in his speech, continues to speak.

"The king guards his daughter like a hawk. He practically locks her inside the castle and only lets her out to attend feasts and functions. And if you ask me, I think it's because he's terrified that someone's going to try and steal her away." The soldier next to him chimes in, taking a gulp of ale. "Yeah, the king is paranoid as hell and treats the princess like a porcelain doll. He doesn't want anyone near her, especially men. I think he's convinced that anyone who so much as looks at her will fall under her spell and try to take her away. That's why he keeps her all covered up like that, so no one can see her beauty and get any ideas."

"Is that your presumption, or is it true?" The soldiers at the table pause for a moment, considering his question. One of them responds, uncertainty in his voice.

"To be honest, most of us don't really know for sure. The king is a pretty secretive guy when it comes to his personal life, and he doesn't really share much about why he does the things he does. But based on what we've seen, I think it's fair to say that the king is pretty protective of his daughter and probably doesn't want anyone getting too close to her, especially since the death of the queen. I think he sees her as the last piece of his wife that he has left.” Another soldier pipes in.

"I did hear rumors from one of the guards that the reason he does it is because he's received threats from the enemy to take his daughter as a hostage. Apparently, the Sultan caught wind of how much the king treasures her, and how beautiful she is. He sees her as a tool to use against the king, to get him to submit to his rule, and to keep her as a trophy." The soldiers around the table murmur amongst themselves, clearly intrigued and alarmed by the soldier's words. One of them, still slurring his words, adds, "Yeah, I've heard those rumors too. I guess it makes sense that the Turks would see her as something to use against the king. But it still seems a bit extreme if you ask me. I mean, keeping her locked up like that, veiled and hidden away."

"Interesting..." Oleksandr's eyes follow the princess as she stands up and walks away from her father's table. He can't help but be captivated by the small glimpses of her black hair peeking out from her veil as she moves, the way it cascades down her back and sways gently behind her, almost reaching her knees. He watches her as she reaches her handmaidens and begins mingling with them. Oleksandr rises from the table and makes his way through the dining hall, back to the seat next to the king. He notices that the seat is still warm, a subtle reminder of the princess's presence there a moment ago. He takes a seat, and tries to appear nonchalant as he glances around the room, keeping an eye on the princess as she continues to converse with her handmaidens.

"Having a good time, Oleksi? Have you tried the roasted pork?" The king asks, casually. Oleksandr is a bit caught off guard by the king's question, but he quickly regains his composure and nods.

"Yes, the food is excellent, your highness. And the company, too." He glances past the king subtly over at the princess, still talking to her handmaidens, feeling a strange pull towards her that he can't quite explain. "Who's that woman you were speaking with? Your daughter?" Oleksandr asks, feigning nonchalance as he looks around the room, sipping his wine. The king's eyebrows quirk up at the question, intrigued by Oleksandr's interest in his daughter.

"Yes, my dear daughter. Princess Vidosavka. We call her Savka. You've met her?"

"I haven't. I was just curious, you seemed familiar." Oleksandr straightens up, looking back at the king. "So, your proposition from earlier… I'm still considering it. Could you tell me about this captain of castle guard position?" The king's expression turns serious as he leans back in his seat, taking a sip of his wine before responding.

"Ah, yes. The position of captain of the castle guard. It's a high-ranking and important position within my household. You would be responsible for the protection and security of myself, my family, and the castle itself. You would lead a team of loyal and skilled soldiers, and be responsible for their training and discipline. The pay is generous, and the benefits are many."

"I must admit, I'm interested. I suspect there isn't much downtime, no?"

"You would be right, there won't be much downtime in this position. The role of captain of the castle guard is a demanding one, and you would be expected to be on call at all times, in case of an emergency or immediate security threat. It requires a high level of vigilance and quick thinking, especially in times of war like these. But it is a position of great honor and respect, and you would be well compensated for your services. I’m not worried about you however, I can tell you're a skilled warrior and a natural leader. Your experience as a Varangian Guard will serve you well in this position. But I must ask, how would you handle the security needs of my daughter? The protection of the princess is of the utmost importance to me, and I need someone who can guarantee her safety at all times."

"Does she have a guardian at the moment?"

"Well," The king responds, "The man you would be replacing, Nikola, was her personal bodyguard since she was a young girl. When he wasn't running training and managing the rest of the castle guards, he was her guardian. So, as of now, she has several low level guards with her all times, which is inefficient."

"I see." Oleksandr sits back a bit in his chair, sipping his wine before continuing. "Back in Constantinople, I did very similar work. At times I guarded the emperor directly, other times I escorted his family members, and at times I was tasked to go on missions and whatnot. Basically exactly the same as the position you're offering me." He thinks for a moment before speaking again. "It's feasible. I think... I may take you up on the offer, Your Majesty." The king's face lights up at Oleksandr's words, clearly pleased that he is considering the job offer.

"I am glad to hear that, Oleksandr. I must say, your experience and qualifications are exemplary, and I have no doubt that you would excel in this role. But, there is one more thing I must ask of you..." The king's expression turns a bit more serious as he continues. "Before I entrust you with the security and protection of my most treasured possession, my daughter, I need to know for certain that you can and will keep her safe at all times. This is not something I take lightly, and I need absolute certainty that you will do whatever it takes to ensure her safety, no matter the cost. Can I trust you to keep her safe, no matter what happens?" Oleksandr sets down his wine cup, turning to look at the king head-on.

"I do not take such matters lightly either. If it is my duty, I will see it fulfilled. My oaths are my honor. And if my oath is to protect her with my life, then I shall. Nothing slips past me." The king studies Oleksandr's face, observing the seriousness in his eyes and the determination in his voice. He seems satisfied with Oleksandr's answer, and a small smile appears on his face.

"Good. I can see that you take your duties seriously and that you have honor. Those are qualities that I value in my men. I'm glad to hear that you will do everything in your power to protect my daughter, no matter the cost. You have my trust, Oleksandr."

Oleksandr nods, looking at the king intently, thinking. He glances over at the princess, mingling with her handmaidens across the room. "Then I will be your knight, the captain of your castle guards." The king's smile widens as he hears Oleksandr's acceptance. He leans forward slightly, lowering his voice as he speaks.

"Excellent, Oleksandr. You have my gratitude. I will have the necessary paperwork drawn up immediately, and the position will be yours. I will hold a ceremony tomorrow." The king's eyes narrow slightly as he continues. "But, there is one more thing I request, for my own personal peace of mind. Would it be possible to have a... demonstration of your skills before the ceremony tomorrow? I have no doubt in your abilities, but I would feel more confident with a... visual confirmation, if you will. Especially for the men who will become your subordinates."

"What do you have in mind?" The king pauses for a moment, thinking.

"Let's see… perhaps a simple sparring match. To assess your combat skills and fighting style. Nothing too flashy, just a simple demonstration."

"Sure. I can do that." The king nods in satisfaction.

"Very good. I will have a sparring ring prepared tomorrow morning, and you can demonstrate your skills then. And after that, the position will be yours. I have no doubt that you will prove your capabilities and exceed my expectations." Oleksandr finishes his wine, and excuses himself.

"I'll retire for the night then. I look forward to working with you, Dragoje." The king nods and bids Oleksandr farewell.

"Have a good night, Oleksandr. I look forward to seeing your performance tomorrow. Rest well, and tomorrow you will be the captain of my castle guards." Oleksandr makes his way out of the dining hall, his eyes lingering on the princess one last time before he exits. He feels a sense of anticipation and intrigue as he heads off to find his quarters for the night.