After lunch, Lara and Peredur said goodbye to Alaric. The prince accompanied them down the winding staircase, his regal presence cutting through the lively chatter of patrons. Lara urged him to go back as she did not like the unwarranted attention. She could hear the murmurs of who could be the person who could cause a prince to send them off.
Aren’t those General Odin’s sons?
Don’t you think Prince Alaric is cozying up to them? I heard that he was assigned to guard the southern border.
I see. So, he must need General Odin’s support, right?
So that’s it. The prince needed the general’s support that’s why he is getting close to the General’s children.
Lara was irked by the murmurs from the crowd. She asked Alaric to go back, but the prince was stubborn. It was only after the siblings vanished from his view that he retraced his steps, ascending the stairs, two steps at a time.
At the same time that he was about to enter another private room, the door to Mira’s private room opened, releasing a cascade of vibrant chatter. Mira and her companions emerged, still animatedly gushing about the delicious food they had just enjoyed.
From the corner of her eye, Mira caught sight of Prince Alaric making his way toward them. She pretended that she tripped, and the trajectory of her fall was toward Alaric.
Alaric, ever quick on his feet, adeptly sidestepped, leaving Mira unbalanced. Before she could regain her composure, she was falling face-first onto the polished floor, her heart racing in surprise. In that panicked state, she instinctively reached out to break her fall, her hand flailing in a desperate attempt to grasp something—anything—for support.
Her unintentional grasp caught the hem of a passing patron’s tunic. Startled by the sudden tug, the unsuspecting man stumbled, unable to maintain his balance, and fell heavily atop Mira, his weight pressing down on her back.
"Ah! Get off me! Get off me!" Mira cried out, her cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment as she struggled to wriggle free from the unintended burden. Even without looking, Mira could feel that the man had a bulging stomach and must be old. Tears flowed from her eyes.
"You should watch where you’re going, Miss," the man retorted sharply, calling for a server with an imperious wave of his hand, his tone filled with disdain. "Help her."
With a composed, almost dismissive air, Prince Alaric turned on his heel and strode into another private chamber, his long cloak whispering behind him. He cast only the faintest glance over his shoulder at the flustered Mira, whose cheeks blazed crimson with humiliation. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound emerged.
The voices followed him, warm with familiarity, yet edged with formality. Agilus stood first, followed by two men whose attire stood out sharply against the muted tones of Northem fashion. They wore fitted, padded jackets over vibrant yellow shirts, each emblazoned with intricate crests that shimmered faintly in the light. Their snug leg coverings, expertly tailored, paired with doublets that struck a balance between refinement and authority.
"Prince Alaric, it has been far too long," one of the merchants said, his black curls bouncing slightly as he stepped forward. He adjusted the black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, a broad, easy smile spreading across his face.
"James Mercari," Alaric said, returning the smile with a nod. His voice warm, recognizing the familiar man. "Indeed, it has."
Alaric’s gaze swept the room and landed on the cluttered table. With a flick of his fingers, he summoned a server. "Bring the wine. Something decent and clear the table."
As the wine was poured, Alaric raised his glass and gave it a gentle swirl, the dark red liquid catching the light. "So," he said, eyes fixed on James, "what treasure have you dragged across the world this time? Will it be worth my time?"
James grinned and motioned to his attendants. They stepped forward, carrying a large, iron-bound chest, which they placed at Alaric’s feet. One of them knelt and carefully lifted the lid. Beneath folds of luminous cloth in colors as bold as fire and seafoam, something darker gleamed—metal, matte and mysterious.
Agilus leaned in, breath caught. "What in the world...?"
James brushed the cloth aside and lifted a heavy, old-fashioned firearm. He placed it directly into Alaric’s hands. "It took considerable effort to bring this to you," he said, his voice low, laced with pride. "But I think you’ll find it intriguing."
Alaric studied the object, turning it over. The craftsmanship was precise and elegant, but unfamiliar. It felt powerful, but inert in his hands.
"And how, exactly, does it work?" he asked, arching a brow.
James smirked. "You’ll need to invite me to your training grounds. I’ll demonstrate. It’s not something you want to mishandle."
Alaric set the weapon down with a mild shrug. "Perhaps. What else have you brought?"
With a theatrical flick of his fingers, James summoned another man, who approached bearing a smaller, velvet-lined chest. James opened it with a flourish to reveal a stunning double-strand pearl necklace, gleaming in the soft light like moonlight frozen in time.
"These are the Pearls of the Orient," James said, his tone reverent. "Crafted by a master artisan from the Eastern Hemisphere—my homeland. 128 pearls, perfectly matched in luster, shape, and hue. Years in the making. This would make a fine gift... for someone special."
Alaric lifted the necklace, letting it dangle from his fingers. The pearls gleamed like dew-kissed snow. His dark eyes, hard as obsidian moments before, softened.
"Do you have matching earrings?"
"Of course, Prince Alaric," James replied, snapping his fingers again. The attendant bowed and left to fetch the requested item.
Agilus blinked in astonishment. "Ari... are you actually buying jewelry for a woman?" His expression bordered on comical disbelief.
James chuckled, clearly entertained. "You mean to tell me you’ve never gifted a woman anything before?" he teased.
Alaric allowed a rare, subtle smile to touch his lips. "Until recently, I never had a reason to. But now—" he paused, his gaze distant for a beat, before returning to James, "—now I do. I’ll take everything."