The mirror was blood-red and liquid enough to drown an elephant. It possessed a sinister quality, certainly not akin to a drunkard but perhaps a poor child. It was whole but for a figure stitched into its center, fraught and tight, unlike the gentle waves rolling across its surface. The figure resembled a chicken. Crimson liquid raged within it, forming a whirlpool that sang its own quiet melody of an endless void to be promised. Waves of red assailed the wooden stitches with mighty strength, causing the wood to chip away, wearing thin at a visible rate. The whirlpool gobbled up the odd chip and on went the disarray without disruption. The stitches became whole again. The coming wave gathered its army, ready for another push at the walls.

It’s unfortunate, Sir. It really is.

A gruff knock resounded throughout the stately chambers. Klaus quickly gave up the notion of sneaking out through the balcony.

He hadn’t even managed to get off the bed- a most gracious host- when the thumping began. Not enough time for even a simple shower. His nose was clogged with all kinds of gunk, so he sniffed it all in to clear the way for some fresh air to enter his system. The first thing he smelled was a slight hint of sandalwood streaming in through the forested balcony, and then his own sweat. It stunk to the high heavens now that he thought about it. Perhaps for a legitimate reason, if not a good one.

He corked his head around like a machine, unwilling to come to terms with the many blunders he had made last night. The one in front of him probably trumped them all tenfold.

It was a fair-skinned woman and another that was maybe not as fair, but equally as fascinating, if not more. This woman clutched the poor pillow like a young enlistee grabbing hold of a flimsy ax for the first time in his life. Her hair was everywhere, piling on top of each other as she unconsciously reached for the most comfortable corner of the bed. There was an anxious look plastered onto her face which would’ve appeared menacing if not for the twisting and the turning of her head. Her legs were long enough to nudge Klaus’ back, even though the young man was perched away as far from her as he possibly could. He couldn’t lay a hand on her. For the sake of his life, he wouldn’t.

Even taking a deep look at this Skervian Lord would be subject to death, let alone touching her. Even more so now, the lot of them more naked than newborn babies straight out of the womb.

His legs felt weak all over again. Klaus laid his head against his hands, unwilling to face reality as it looked at him right in the eye.

Where did it all go wrong? He recalled being forced into downing a few glasses of wine by Sergei, but beyond that, the night had passed him by without much fanfare. Except for when he was summoned into the Speaker’s office, of course. And his jarring talk with the man. And the depressive lull that tormented him thereafter.

All in all, Klaus recalled his brief conversation with Draga being a pleasant one, all small talk and no strings attached. Evidently, that sentiment wasn’t shared by the other party. Maybe he came off as a little too forward in his sickly drunkenness, or maybe that sly fox Sergei had pushed them together without any regard for the consequences that would creep up on them later on.

Or perhaps the woman had overpowered Klaus in a battle of wills and gotten her way with him.

No matter the cause of the dilemma, one fact stood the test of time- that from now on, every Makedonian man who laid eyes on Klaus would seeth from the urge to kill him for even daring to touch a woman of Draga’s caliber. And they were justified to a degree, considering that Klaus was supposed to mean nothing to someone who dealt with monarchs and heroes on a weekly if not a daily basis.

The anxiety proved to be too much. Klaus jumped off the bed, looking here and there for his garments in a frantic craze. He found breeches resting on the floor with a white belt on top and grabbed both of them without a moment’s thought. He struggled to stuff his legs into the breeches- the belt he put on backward. Something shiny caught his eye from the oakwood brown corner near the front door, a pair of shiny white tuxedo shoes laying on the ground in an orderly fashion.

Jackpot, thought Klaus. He began to rejoice, a cheeky smile streaking across his face as the prospect of a discreet exit neared.

Knocks abounded the door, and his hopes went poof like some dry powder.

“That was the third time in fifteen minutes, you dumb eejit. If you don’t open this damn door now, I’m gonna let myself in.”

The voice was muffled, but Klaus was still able to recognize that sweet lilt of her tongue. It was Natalya that called for him to open the door, and knowing that made it all the harder to do so. Inevitably, the door began to open little by little, the work of a steady and sure hand.

It was the head that poked out from the side of the door first. Then the slim torso, and finally a pair of long yet slender legs. She had some blue robes on, a pair of wooly gloves shielding her hands from the frost, and chainmail underneath keeping her warm and toasty against the brutal winter wind.

Her arms were crossed and ladled against her chest, an appraising look in her eyes until she took full stock of Klaus’ situation. Then a chagrined frown marred her facial structure at the sight of her fellow college graduate, replacing cold curiosity with a healthy dose of exasperation.

There wasn’t much Klaus could say to justify his case. Natalya has discovered all there was to be found. It wasn’t much of an exaggeration to say that she even knew what interactions from last night had led to this dilemma.

“So you let yourself in. As expected.” Klaus let out a nervous laugh, not willing to engage in the other conversation just yet. “Well, good morning then. How was last night? I know you had a lot to drink, and then you went on that dance with-”

“Hold it, Weirmann. Now this question might come off as a little bit of a surprise to you, but can you tell me how in the world you managed to spend a night with not only a reputable delegate from Côrva but the damn Lord of the Marches herself? Do you know what type of shit you might’ve gotten yourself into?” She appeared all calm and collected from the outside, but Klaus knew that his friend was anything but calm- in fact, she was practically fuming.

Klaus gulped down swaths of saliva. His mouth ran dry as he looked at Natalya’s downturned glare, fear and embarrassment rampaging through his guts. He couldn’t break the gaze though- he was pinned to the floor like a trail sign, unable to either step to the side or utter a single word.

Instead, with eyes wide as saucers, Klaus gave Natalya his best smile yet. It came out sheepish regardless, but it was the best he could make out of this grisly situation.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Sensing his discomfort and most importantly, his predicament, Natalya deflated a little, letting out a sigh as she closed the door behind her and leaned against it. “Maybe I shouldn’t have left you alone yesterday, huh?” she mused, no doubt inwardly amused by the absurdity of it all.

“That’s one way to look at it.” Klaus couldn’t stop looking at her. Almost like she was some sort of threat or something, a stranger rather than a friend, someone who would expose him and his multiple petty crimes in a heartbeat if it meant she would receive some measure of recompensation.

Perhaps she had noticed that unwelcome glint in his eyes, for her face scrunched in concern, eyebrows attempting to communicate with Klaus as if to ask him what was wrong.

You’re crazy, Weirmann. This is Natalya you’re talking about. The Natalya you’ve grown up with since you were both some wee little infants.

Klaus cleared his throat in an attempt to break eye contact. Averting his gaze proved fruitful, for he found his crumpled tie dangling off the coathanger only a few steps away, swinging to and fro like a pendulum. He grabbed it by the tail end, intent on putting it on but realizing at the last second that he had no shirt on. A small groan escaped his lips. Morning fatigue had incapacitated him, Klaus realized.

“You ought to clean up, you know. The bathroom’s that-a-way,” said Natalya, pointing to the door that led to the ornate bathroom while assessing her rather unsightly fingernails. They were chipped at the edges and looked to feel raw to the touch, as did the nails of most other college enlistees. It hadn’t been all that long since the lot of them had graduated, after all.

Old habits die a slow, miserable death, as the hags and the cretins say.

“I won’t say no to that,” said Klaus, sweat coating his face in multiple layers. He needed to wash off the morning grime.

Klaus entered the bathroom and went straight for the sink. He started dousing his face in the water, relief overtaking him as his brain jerked awake in response to the frigid liquid. Looking at himself through the mirror, Klaus noticed the bags under his eyes, more prominent than ever. His eyebrow had a worrying tilt to it, and the mustache was ruffled beyond belief. He took a look around the room, noticing that the bathtub was covered in foam from the bottom to the edge of its smooth corners.

He vaguely remembered this particular bathtub, the faint memory of a hot, steamy bath lurking at the edges of his mind. Knowing better than to conjure thoughts of last night, Klaus distracted himself with the matter of draining the bath- until he found the one thing he had been looking for all this time. The young man reached into the bathtub with renewed vigor. He clasped and clawed, but that faint pull of fabric never graced his hands. The foam was hard to see through. It hampered Klaus’ ability to decipher where his dress shirt was, and that irritated him to a great extent.

After a few awkward moments of sieving his right arm through the bathtub, Klaus finally felt the cheap satin his poor little shirt was made out of, and subsequently fished it out for the entire world to see. Well, it looked horrendous. Soaked to the sinews, and stained a deep yellow all throughout. It even had a funny smell to it, as if bed bugs had made this piece of garment their home- more specifically, their breeding ground.

Holding it up, Klaus wondered how much time of his life had just been wasted searching for this unwearable shirt. He sighed deeply, closed his eyes, and wished to the Maker for this nightmare to end soon.

“Are you done yet?” growled Natalya from the main door, loud enough to awaken an entire ogre. Her voice jerked Klaus out of his depression.

He clasped his cheek and felt a smattering of prickly hair lurking dangerously close to his carefully-maintained mustache. Might as well clean myself up a bit, thought Klaus.

“In a little while,” he replied.

The young man picked up a customary razor from the sink and began carving at his face haphazardly like he was cutting up some marble cake. He went around and below his jaw, making sure to snip away at the stubble speckling his face.

A few nicks here and there, but overall a quick, clean shave. Klaus rinsed his face a few times, making sure to wash away the small amounts of blood that arose from the cuts.

He checked himself out in the mirror. Classy and suave as always.

He took a sidelong glance at Natalya, who stood near the bathroom door. Her arms were crossed, a frown marring her face. This grave look of hers did little to ease Klaus’ anxiety.

“What’s the matter?” questioned Klaus.

She shot him an irritated glare, but it quickly melted away to reveal something akin to appraisal. Klaus felt utterly naked- his childhood friend was glaring at him with such an intensity that he felt as if he was being inspected for defects at a slave market.

“Well, I’ll be direct with you Klaus.” Natalya let out a huge sigh, leaning against the sides of the gateway with that probing leer of hers fixed upon Klaus. “We- as in, mostly me- are to report to the Hall of Brazen Bulls by noon. We will act as ‘guardians’ for the Diamond Council due to the ‘unordinary amounts of foreigners present at the congressional meeting’.”

An invitation to a council meeting between the most powerful executives of Strangia, where groundbreaking policies and top-secret government edicts are discussed on a daily basis? That was almost unheard of. The Diamond Council was notorious for only inviting some of the nation’s brightest delegates and policymakers to their semi-annual congressional meets. For them to open their doors to a triad of foreigners and even the sons and daughters of petty nobles was a rather concerning matter.

“How did you get this invitation?”

“Believe it or not, I got it from your cousin.”

“Koldan?”

“Yep, the very same.” Natalya threw a towel at him. “Now get ready. We don’t have much time left.”

“You said noon,” said Klaus. Koldan of all people had invited the two of them to perhaps one of the most important governmental meets in Strangia. The news left him reeling.

“It is almost noon, dummy.” mused Natalya. “What am I saying, you were probably preoccupied with your nighttime pleasantories last night, weren’t you? Didn’t get a lot of sleep now, did you?”

A soft groan escaped Klaus’ mouth as he waved away Natalya’s slight quip. He quickly dried himself off with a towel and subsequently put on some other dirty shirt laying on the floor next to the bed. As he turned away from the bed, however, he heard something behind him. Looking back, he found Draga shifting around on the bed, nearly awake by the looks of it. She turned towards Klaus, and her hand lightly grazed the back of his leg.

Klaus stood still, a solemn look on his face as he wondered what to do with the wild queen he had tamed for the night. “I can’t just leave her here like this, can I?”

Natalya exhaled in frustration, irritated by Klaus’ hesitance. “We have some pretty important priorities to attend to right now, Klaus. And after all, she will be fine; people don’t just become chiefs of an entire Makedonian tribe without developing some ability to judge both their lives and others.”

After a moment of contemplation, Klaus took a large, refreshing breath. Its crispy cold texture reinvigorated his lungs, which had gotten used to taking in stale air.

He took in Draga’s resting face, peaceful and indifferent to the goings of the world. Her lips, so red and supple to the touch. The memory of her seductive smile, the hurt of her bite, the feel of her legs; They gave him goosebumps behind the neck.

He didn’t love her, but they had certainly played the lovers’ part last night.

She had come real close to reeling him in, though.

“You coming or not, eejit?”

Klaus grabbed a blanket and laid it over Draga, wishing he could do more for her. But there were important matters to attend to, matters that might determine his future in the coming days. He took one lasting look at the Skervian, making a mental note to have a long talk with her once everything was said and done.

Klaus stood up from the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on Natalya.

“Lead the way.”