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Day 3 - Bday Gift / Fireworks / Bonfire Gathering
Some people may find this to be a surprise, what, with his sparkling and winning personality and all that, but Claude is not particularly popular with some of the people in his country.
Mostly, it would be those involved in the life of royalty and nobility, those who have the most power. The average citizen of Almyra may dislike him for their own prejudiced reasons, but they're just as likely to not particularly care, or at least not act on it in any way that really matters. Frankly, Claude is fairly certain that they're far easier to deal with than anyone higher up in the food chain. As long as he can convince them better than his opponents that Almyra will still be Almyra at the end of the day, even with all his changes, then all's well and good.
And, if Claude may toot his own horn, he likes to think he is far better a wordsmith than any of his many brothers.
But when it comes to other people? The powerful merchants, the nobility who've grabbed their power with vicious claws, his own family who disdain that he shares any blood with them at all? Throughout his life, he's worked hard at convincing whoever he was able to convince to be on his side or, at the very least, to not actively go after him... And that's not always enough.
Some people can't be convinced away from their own selfish goals and objectives. Can't be convinced away from doing whatever they feel is necessary, no matter how hypocritical or lacking in morals that it is.
With those kinds of people, Claude has no other choice but to play as hard as he can right back, whether with shield or dagger.
All of this is to say that his birthdays have always been, historically speaking, shitshows in some form or another. Family members who wouldn't attend, family members who did attend which were often worse, gifts that were just thinly veiled insults, assassination attempts from the flashy to the worryingly subtle... The only time he can ever claims he feels he's had a safe birthday has been small private affairs with his parents.
It's hard for him to say if things have gotten better or worse, now that he's ascended to the throne.
On one hand, well, the target on his back has only grown all the bigger. Now he's not just a potential threat to the throne, a dumb kid who can be taken out of the picture if someone can just figure out a way to keep him from squirming free from death's trap, but their worst nightmare come true.
On the other hand, he's their worst nightmare because he has all the power his father never truly used to keep him safe. Not just that, but he's no longer the lonely little child who only had his wits, a dagger hidden under his pillow, and a nosy personality that dug up whatever knowledge he possibly could. No, he's an adult now. An adult with a good bow arm. An adult who knows poisons and antidotes better than anyone else in Almyra.
An adult who's been lucky enough and learned well enough to make allies of his own.
"Irbon's already taken care of the spy that he found in the kitchens," Phoi informs him during their morning meetings, the day of his birthday. It's a nice little time between the two of them, him and the person that he chose as his treasurer who often acts like so much more. "He's already made sure to clear the kitchen, and ensured that the areas where things were slow cooking remained locked with no signs of interference."
Claude clicks his tongue, unimpressed. "Poisoning the food in the kitchen is the oldest trick in the book. At least if they'd tried to figure out a way to get it while on the way to me, I could say they were thinking a little more smartly. I suppose Irbon acted a little bit too quickly and we don't know which of the many people in the palace were lining that one's pockets?"
Really, he is terribly fond of the man who he hired on as his royal chef. Irbon is a natural at cooking, and is the kind of chef well respected by very traditional and incredibly old school Almyran trains of thought, on account of the fact that he prefers to go hunting or gathering for the really important meals that he has a hand in. It's something that's been less possible, since his place taken as the head chef in the palace's kitchen, but he still does it now and then.
Unfortunately, while he can follow established directions well enough - like how to look for poisons in his kitchen, for example - he's still more of an emotional kind of guy than anything. Assassins don't last long when he goes after them, unfortunately.
Well, there's still few who keep his kitchen as safe as Irbon does, so Claude really does forgive him for it.
"We'll find the lead soon enough," Phoi promises him matter of factly, her fingers along the pulse point of the latest assassin that had tried to make a nice morning go of him. Unfortunate for them, really, that he'd gone to use the washroom. Unfortunate for them that Phoi had long ago come to peace with being a 'weak' mage and is probably full of enough electricity to stop multiple people's hearts all in one go. Or, even worse, to not do that. Phoi is good at details. "At any rate, I actually wanted to discuss something else with you."
Now, that could mean a great deal of things, coming from Phoi, and Claude stretches his arms up over his head. What is it? He tries to guess on his own, for a moment, even if he knows that he'll ask in the end anyway. If it comes down to what information that they've gotten from their would-be assassin here, then Claude would figure Phoi would do all the necessary research first before presenting it to him.
They've just covered what's going on in the kitchens and Irbon, so that's taken care of. What about the guards for the party...? Well, that should be fine, if he knows Vorah, then the champion lancer should already have riled up everyone and gotten them far too distracted to think of causing trouble. Maybe something to do with the family members that had bothered to make an appearance to his birthday party, of which there are only a few and most who would cause a fuss...? At least, not an obvious or badly thought out fuss...
Well, if he tries to make a guess on which family member has tried to raise hell, then he'd be there all day, because he could imagine something for all of them save his parents. "So, what's the news of the next five minutes?" he asks at last, lowering his arms to stretch them across the table.
It's a good thing that Phoi answers before he even has the time to pick up his breakfast. "Actually, it has to do with some of the foreign guests that you invited over." She raises an eyebrow. "For the diplomatic purposes, of course."
Claude just raises an eyebrow right back, grinning as he rolls his shoulders in a loose lil' shrug. What can he say? He's not lying, necessarily. It really will do well for all of them to be a little friendlier with Fodlan, at least if they want to be a better country that's not so isolated. Besides, there are plenty of useful things that they could benefit from laying all the way there in Fodlan, so it's really just good common sense. He knows he's already managed to win quite a few people living over nearest to the border on it... And hey, if this ends up being good for Fodlan, trying to recover from a war so many years later, doesn't that just mean everyone's happy?
Well. Not everyone everyone. Like his brothers. And some of the more murder-violent-warriors besides your average violent-warrior or just plain warrior in general. And the racists. And... So not everyone's happy. But Claude can't say he cares too much about that.
What he's had a lot more interest in would have to be how his most recent guests have been settling into the Almyran palace. They arrived around a week ago, give or take a couple of days, in order to make sure that they arrived on time with consideration for any possible delays. You know, the normal things that all travel parties have to think about: animals getting into supplies, inclement weather that slows the speed of the party, bandit attacks, someone accidentally injuring themselves, unexpected blocks in the path, assassination attempts down by his brothers made to look like bandit attacks...
It's just good sense to prepare for everything on a long journey!
And, as with every visit from many of his old schoolmates as well, they've been impressing plenty of people. Doing a little bit here and there - with some careful scheduling and arrangement from Claude for maximum effect - has impressed more than a few people, and words has certainly spread.
Oh, right, because of course a lot of them are his old schoolmates. Are close and treasured friends that he'd made in Fodlan, that he can still trust to have his back even after the many interesting reactions they'd all had to the news that he was actually a secret prince from a completely different country and one they'd actually been at war with a few times. Are a group of people that hold someone he's loved for quite a few years now and who, if he's been honest, he's kind of been worried about the entire time he's been orchestrating these events.
A lot of people would love to hear news of Fodlan falling into chaos again. Would love to start another war with the country if their king fell, have an excuse to turn on Claude himself for not stepping up to the task properly.
And, while he knows that no reasonable person would put it on the same level as the fate of two countries full of people - four if they're considering how it's still so relatively recent Fodlan pulled itself together in the grand scheme of things - but to think of Dimitri dying? Of Dimitri being under attack? That's enough to put fear in him as well. Fear that he hasn't felt for himself in probably a decade or so.
As he sits there, watching Phoi hogtie their latest guest, he tells himself that it's fine. That if anything serious had happened, Phoi would be acting a great deal differently. She might not be someone with grand ideals like his own, but she has some ability to see the bigger picture than others. And if he's bought anything through the use of her salary, then it's at least some degree of duty. "So, what has everyone been up to that would have you want to talk with me?" Claude asks. "Has Bernadetta sold another novel that's made waves again?" Which had been a result he hadn't exactly been expecting, when she and Lorenz had gotten one of her tales translated out of mild curiosity, but hey, who looks gift horses in the mouth?
"If only it was that interesting." Phoi kicks the unconscious assassin along the floor, back into Claude's bedroom where they have a trunk for such cases. It's fine, there's breathing holes there for humans. "But King Dimitri apparently tracked down a different assassin last night... Which explains some of the sloppiness of this one."
Claude almost doesn't hear that last sentence. Instead, he's straightened up, a furrow between his brows. "Dimitri did? Wait... Was it not after him, then?"
Because tracked down is a bit more active than having a relaxing time in his room and suddenly being ambushed. Just what was Dimitri doing that would have him start going after assassins in Claude's palace...? He'd ask Phoi, but she's already shrugging. "From the impression of his words, no, it was not after him. I didn't ask him for further details, besides that he is keeping the assassin in his quarters so that you can question them further." With the assassin taken care of for the time being, mouth gagged and box locked, Phoi turns back to him. "I thought that you would prefer questioning His Majesty Dimitri personally." And she gives a little bow, hand over her heart.
Cute. As though he ever needed a reason to go see Dimitri... But he supposes this really is a more important reason than most times. Leaving some of his breakfast where it is, Claude pushes himself up onto his feet. "I guess I'll be having an audience with His Kingliness, then," he says dryly, plucking up a hard boiled egg from his breakfast. May as well fill himself up a little bit, on the way over to the guest quarters.
And it's the royal palace of Almyra. They're not going to skimp on guest quarters... especially since it's for their own safety as much as anything else that has them in an entirely separate building on the grounds. There are even a small set of their own stables and everything, although that was also just the sensible thing to do. After all, while they share some superficial similarities with horses, pegasi still need to have their own unique needs tended to. And this way, his guests from other countries at least have some measure of space that they can control and feel safe in.
More than anyone else... Claude understands how important that is.
At least he's well known amongst the guards that Dimitri has brought, even those who weren't as familiar with him during their school days. It helps, of course, that Dimitri apparently took the time to stress to his retinue that the King of Almyra be treated with the utmost respect while they were all there. Claude hasn't even heard the smallest peep behind his back! It's quite impressive, really... but with how Dedue was treated once upon a time, Claude supposes that if anyone were to be aware of what people would say when they thought themselves alone, it would be the two of them.
And it takes even less time once he's past the front doors. Dimitri practically rushes to him, before Annette has had a chance to so much as show him to the small tea room and get him seated. "King Khalid!" Dimitri explains, careful as always how he refers to him when they're not hidden away in the most private of rooms. "There you are. I am relieved beyond measure."
"Oh, you know me, Your Kingliness, I'm always guaranteed to be fine," Claude says with a wink. "I just thought I'd drop by to see how you were adjusting along with everyone else. It's been a week since you arrived here, and all that."
This is quite obviously bullshit, but hey, there's no harm in being a little subtle... Especially when Claude isn't entirely sure just who exactly Dimitri has told about his little assassin hunting hobbies. Always best to be cautious, for lack of any other information. And sure enough, Dimitri pauses, calming himself down a bit as he nods. "Of course... I know that you have been stressed lately, so I rather feared the worst when I heard you arrived so suddenly. Please, take a seat, and I will see what we have in our stocks of tea. Annette, if it would be not too much trouble...? I trust your taste, after all."
And even if it's Annette, it's tea. Claude knows from personal experience that, despite her best attempts, Annette can't ruin tea. The whistling from the pot helps, he's pretty sure.
Being entrusted with something like that seems to perk her up well enough, and so it doesn't take long for the two of them to settle into place with no one to eavesdrop or interfere. "Alright, so, I've already heard about the fact that you nabbed an assassin after my life," Claude says, because there's no point dancing around the subject, "and I trust Phoi not to skimp over making sure that it really was a legitimate one. What I want to wonder is, if they weren't going after you in the first place, then how exactly did you just stumble onto them?"
Dimitri clasps his hands together, elbows braced against his knees. "Well," he starts, slow, each syllable pronounced just a little too clearly in that one word alone. "If I may be honest, Claude... I do not want you to think your hospitality is lacking in any way. I know that you have been putting in a great deal of work to make sure that our visits to Almyra have gone as smoothly as could be expected."
Ha. A wry smile crosses Claude's face. "That's quite a thing to say from someone who had to fight on of my brothers, an event which included dragging his wyvern out of the air with your bare hands," Claude says, in reference to one of Dimitri's earliest trips. Then again, that had kind of been Felix's fault, bless his little heart for picking fights with Claude's family for him. And, well, Dimitri, in this case. "But I really hardly did anything, you know!"
The dry look on Dimitri's face could kill crops in spring. "Humility does not suit you, Claude," he says disapprovingly, which has him choke in air more than inhale. "At any rate, while you have done a great deal, and I could not complain about the accommodations or the food... I still thought that the air about the palace seemed... unpleasant." A pause. "And I do not mean from any smell, or the winds, or the sand constantly being blown about everywhere no matter what windows and doors are shut."
"I wouldn't blame you if you did think that last one, honestly," Claude comments.
"However, something about the atmosphere in particular felt wretched. Tense. I understand, of course, that places such as this often do." Dimitri's lips twist, unpleasant memories just swimming behind the surface of his one good eye. Both of them have grown up as royalty, after all. Royalty, surrounded by people who viewed them with some measure of contempt.
Dimitri, of course, was viewed as a precious last "true" Blaiddyd in comparison to his uncle, but, even in the short amount of time that Claude knew him as a fellow student, he was never quiet about Duscur. Knew that people resented him for that, if they didn't believe him to be an idiot tricked.
Or maybe they just couldn't face the idea of someone else who knew the sins Faerghus carried on its soil.
Neither of them really dwell on it for long. Instead, Dimitri continues. "At any rate, that more than anything else put me far more on edge. So it has made it somewhat... difficult to sleep well throughout the night, although if I may reassure you, that was prone to happening regardless." Dimitri smiles, a bit bittersweet. "So I have been taking some time to look about the palace grounds at night."
"I'm going to take a guess that you bothered to tell absolutely zero people about your late night walks, huh, Dimitri...?"
This is, theoretically, something Claude supposes he should shoot down before something worse happens. If maybe one of his guards, or any of his brothers' men, sees Dimitri wandering around late at night and tries to use that as an excuse to attack him. Maybe even kill him, or at least make the go for it.
At the same time, well, Dimitri's wanderings apparently let him catch an assassin before they could do anything to Claude, so, you know? Claude thinks he can let Dimitri off the hook just this one time. Even so, Dimitri looks somewhat sheepish as he nods. "I did not wish to be a bother to anyone... And I thought that surely I could handle something as simple as a walk at night."
"Aaaaand no one has talked about it, meaning no one has seen you on your little late night jaunts?"
"Well, I would not want to be a bother," Dimitri says, so well practiced that Claude's heart does something sorta weird and sorta funny there in his chest. Yeah, he knows that, doesn't he? Him and Dimitri may seem leagues apart, but they have their similarities. They have the weight of so many eyes on them, for good and ill, that they both lean into when their parts demand it... but they know the shadows behind all the spotlight, too. Know the times when they can sink into them, and just walk past all the daggers reflecting in the dazzling light.
Claude knew when to go quiet and dark when he wanted alone time, too, after a little while. With those simple words, with that simple excuse, Claude knows that Dimitri knows how to do it too.
Funny, how much you can still learn about someone you love even years later. Funny exactly what those things you learn are.
"At any rate," Dimitri continues. "I had been doing it for some time now, so I thought little of it when I went on my walk last night. There was a spot in your gardens that I thought were rather lovely, so I had hoped to find some peace out there, you see. I took something of a scenic route to get there, admittedly..." Claude can read the translation even without Dimitri having to spell it out: he took the longest way possible that kept him the most out of other people's gazes. He's done that. "It was while cutting rather rudely through a smaller open space that I overheard something... peculiar. The kind of steps which I thought did not properly belong out doors, mimicking the kind of quiet that I was doing myself. So I... investigated."
That pause tells a great deal all on its own. Claude wonders how it much have felt, being one of those assassins. For five long years, Dimitri had stayed hidden away in Faerghus mountains and forests, ambushing Imperial patrols. And he'd wore his armor then, hadn't he? At least back then, surely, they would have at least had a brief moment to realize that something was coming with the clang of metal on metal.
What a feeling his would-be assassins must have had, to suddenly be rushed at by a towering foreigner missing one eye, the strength clearly restrained by a damn thin leash behind one large palm.
It's petty to revel in the mental image. Claude tries not to linger on it for too long. Just too long.
"You know, that's kind of impressive all on its own," he laughs, shifting in his seat so that he can prop his cheek along his knuckles. "Sneaking up on a pair of trained assassins. The looks on their faces would have had to be hilarious, honestly."
Dimitri sighs. "The looks on their faces were besides the point," he says, which confirms to Claude that they were 100% hilarious. "However, I was worried from then until only a few moments ago when I heard that you were coming by for a visit. I was only quick enough to land upon the one, you see... I had no idea where the other one had disappeared to. If they were to report to someone, or if they were still attempting to go after you or another... Yet I knew that I could not act rashly, especially with the sun so close to rising. So I went to inquire to the person you spoke to me about, Phoi. I confessed what had happened, but I was not sure if..." He trails off a moment, looking to Claude expectantly.
"She," he provides casually.
"I was not sure if she had been able to see you in time, or this morning," Dimitri finishes. "But you appear to be in fine health, so... I suppose all of my fussing was for nothing."
"Oh, no," Claude informs him with a kind of cheer, "There was definitely an attempt early this morning, but you don't have to worry about that. I wasn't in the room at the time, and our new friend wasn't aware of who was. All's well that ends well, right?"
"Claude!"
Ah, he does so love the sound of his own name. Claude laughs. "Hey, hey, relax. We don't even know if that was the same half of the assassin pair you ran into." Actually, that makes the situation sound kind of worse, doesn't it? He moves on before Dimitri has a chance to dwell on that, or at least call him out on the problem. "Anyway, you don't have to worry. Phoi and I can interrogate the two of them, see if they're working together, if they'll rat each other out, what information they give doesn't match... It'll be tricky, but I'm positive that we can win them over one way or another."
Because that's what it'll have to be, in the end. Information gathering is rarely won over through shows of force. That just leads to him being given any kind of information, so long as it will make the paint stop. He learned that one a long time ago, a lesson he was sure his brothers didn't mean to impart to him but which he's thankful that they did.
There's another pause on Dimitri's end before he pauses, and rises up to his feet. "I suppose... In the end, it is business of your own to deal with. As a guest, I should not meddle too excessively. I managed to wrap them in my room. Should I fetch them, or...?"
There's no need to draw attention with the image of the King of Fodlan hauling around a whole person, or a giant sack, or crate, or... Whatever it is that he put the poor bastard in to make sure that they couldn't escape. Claude just has Dimitri show him where the assassin is, and promises that he'll have someone come over to pick the idiot up so that they can be properly dealt with. He's already thinking Vorah; she's more than strong enough for a little heavy lifting. It'll give his brothers' guards a break from being embarrassed, whether verbally or in combat.
"You know, I do feel a little bad," Claude says, although that's not entirely accurate to what he's feeling. "I invite you to have fun for a great big Almyran feast, and yet you get caught up in one of my dumb political dramas just because someone wanted me dead." Again. On his birthday. If he thinks too long on that, lets the thought linger in his head for more than a second... "I'll make it up to you. The chefs are all in full swing this morning, but if you have a favorite food you want on the menu, just let me know, and I'm sure we can squeeze something in." Irbon will understand, he's good natured like that.
Silence is the response, and, when Claude turns his head, he finds that it's accompanied by the sight of Dimitri staring at him with a frown. "Claude, it is your birthday," he points out. Like Claude is not unfortunately very aware. "My tastes are hardly important compared to your own - and someone tried to assassinate you! If anything, I should be trying to make things up to you."
"And what exactly can you do for the king of a foreign nation?" Claude asks, chuckling and shaking his head. "Really, you caught an assassin for me, so you've already given me a pretty great birthday gift."
But, really, Dimitri is the kind of guy who would never accept something meager and accidental like that, and he knows that even before his fellow king opens his mouth. "That is the bare expected minimum of decency!" he exclaims, before shaking his head. "No - I have a far more fitting gift in mind for you. After the feast - or perhaps simply near to the end of it, may I have a moment of your time?"
"Oh, a romantic rendezvous in the midst of a highly important social event, is that it?" he says cheekily, just to see Dimitri flush, which means, in at least one way, he's right on the money. But he's also fairly certain it's more than that. "Well, if anyone can have a moment of my time, it's you, Mitya."
And probably that point, he has to admit it will likely be a welcome relief, to get away from all the nonsense, the eyes on him, his family waiting for even the slightest chance of him messing up in some shape or form.
There are a lot of things, situations, that he could potentially spin into his favor... but there are just as many things that he couldn't, and he has no idea how it all could go, not really, until it actually happens. And sometimes... Even the act of spinning takes a great deal of work just so that it doesn't tangle around his feet and around his throat.
At least that answer is enough for Dimitri, or at least enough to calm him for the time being. There are a lot of things that could be said, things he knows his lover wants to voice - the dangers that come with their respective stations even without their romance involved would worry even casual friends. But what can either of them do about it? All Dimitri can do on his end is pull Fodlan together, make peace with the other countries that various parts of it have waged war against so much. All Claude can do is work on opening up his country to the possibility of interacting with others without war or condescension.
All they can do for tonight is enjoy a birthday party.
Fortunately, there are no other surprises for the rest of the day, and he takes note of which of his brothers seem particularly disappointed that he has lived to yet another morning when he goes to take his more public lunch with them - half the reason to be at the same table as any of them at all. Phoi manages to get both assassins handled and hidden away neatly, where they can be properly questioned and convinced into betrayal, and Vorah goes right back to needling various warriors of any faction just to keep them out of the way. Everything goes smoothly, straight into the birthday banquet that'll last the whole night.
And if Claude is honest, even that goes far better than he could have expected. Of course he knows that his Fodlish guests have all made various names for themselves in one way or another, through things both traditional and decidedly not for Almyra.
Sylvain's charm is all the more potent with a fresh audience, made better by stunning his countrymen with his skill on both horseback and lance along with the surprise trick of some skill with magic. Oil painting does not quite have the same kind of name for itself as Fodlan, and yet a few have still found themselves fascinated by Ignatz's skills with a brush almost as much as his dead eye when it comes to archery.
And Dimitri, well... Dimitri fought his oldest and most orneriest brother and dragged his wyvern out of the sky when it made a dive at him in the arena.
There's no denying that kind of name made.
With such a cast of colorful characters from just about every corner of Fodlan, that is more than enough of a distraction at the birthday feast... and feasts in Almyra are by nature meant to be loud and bombastic events all in their own right, full of laughter and passionate arguing and dancing and games. That his old friends can make it even brighter is just proof to him that bringing people together is not an impossible dream. Just... a painfully difficult one. One that he realistically knows will not end even long after his death.
And then Vorah and Felix end up goading one of his more temperamental brothers into a really stupid and very public bet involving cutting fruit thrown at them, and the night gets pretty bright again. That might have to do with the tomato that ends up decorating his brother's hair.
The festivities go on for a long time; everything started in the early evening before the sun had even set and they have a long night yet. And yet if Claude had to make a guess, he would say that Dimitri sends Mercedes over to him for a quick chat and subtle invitation sometime before midnight, a sparkle to her eye the entire time.
For events such as this, it's not unheard of for people to have to take a quick break - a bit of alone time, a bit of distinctly not alone time, a nap to work off all the food eaten, taking a shower to wash out the tomato in your hair...
So even if the King of Almyra ducks away from everything at long last, even if it is his own birthday celebration, who will really notice? Who will think it unusual, when he has waited a good few minutes after Mercedes leaves him to go chat with Dorothea? No one, he should think, and he has more than enough experience in him to tell if he's followed.
He isn't, and there is no one to see where he and Dimitri meet down on one of the highest balconies of the palace.
"You know, I was expecting a romantic rendezvous down in the gardens," Claude muses, as he and Dimitri start to scale up the side of the building, using windows as handholds until they can get to the roof. "This is a lot more daring than I would have expected of you, I gotta say."
"Please do not tease me as I am trying to avoid falling to my death," Dimitri laments, hauling himself up onto one of the landing pads for wyverns - a place notably meant to just let them catch a breath and specifically designed to hold their massive weight, unlike some of the more delicate balconies that could have a small party on them but not a small and very heavy giant flying lizard. Turning around on his knees, Dimitri reaches down so that Claude can grasp his hand, if he likes. And he does so like.
At least there is something to be said, for sitting on a place where he knows few other people will look for him. Pulled up onto the landing pad, Claude takes a moment to look over the scenery that stretches out before him. The city doesn't always shine like this, often falling into quiet darkness with the night's arrival... but tonight is different.
Tonight is a night for everyone to celebrate, to just have that silly little excuse they need to celebrate. And so there are lights of all sorts shining throughout the streets, along the rooftops where more private parties are held, making everything shine like gold . Like a full harvest moon, amidst the cold and darkness of the world. For as much as he may have mixed feelings on this city, this place where he was born and could so rarely find some measure of safety... Sometimes he remembers there are parts of it he so dearly loves.
He remembers that even amidst every other confusing and even painful memory in Almyra, he still loves it. Sometimes, it helps that he can love it, that he remembers how, when he has Dimitri right there besides him.
"Did you like what was given to you, tonight?" Dimitri asks. "The present, I mean."
There'd actually been a few different presents, which is perhaps understating the whole thing, but that's just expected when two rulers from two different countries are meeting in a situation like this. Various things from the various regions of Faerghus, showing off all of its individual strong points so that it would look good on that political level... Claude had been expecting that.
He'd both been expecting and not a small little private gift tucked away in it all, a pretty little bracelet whose dangling charm hid a dagger in it. Pretty. Functional. And, from Dimitri of all people, most certainly and terribly sentimental.
He's wearing it now.
"I think we both know the answer to that question," Claude says with a little laugh, leaning back on his palms. "So, just what on earth is it that would have you take me to a place like this during a party like that? I mean, not that I'm complaining about getting some peace and quiet, but this really is pretty unlike you."
Dimitri is far less used to wearing the kind of clothing that is best suited for the desert, and he treats it so delicately, even when it is made a little bit thicker to better suit the sudden onset of cold that sweeps through even the desert when there's no sun to heat everything up. It nearly takes him a good minute before he has settled down besides Claude, the more flowy fabrics carefully kept out from underneath him. "Well, I wanted to give you something that was far better than just the gifts I was obligated to give you," Dimitri admits. "Although I am afraid that we may be out here a few minutes more, so that the others can prepare."
Huh. "The others?"
"Well, it was hardly something that I could create on my own," Dimitri admits, and he has to be aware that he's dangling bait in front of Claude's curiosity, right? That this is like catnip for him, and his eyes might actually dilate from pure interest? "And even now, I am far from skilled enough to be able to set it off on my own. Not that this is a surprise to me or anyone else, necessarily... Although I suppose I should count myself quite fortunate, because it means that I have no excuse to be anywhere but besides you."
"Dimitri," Claude says patiently, before his lover can keep going on, "You've done quite an admirable job of talking completely around what exactly this gift of yours is. What kind of gift needs help to be set off?"
His lover blinks at him a few times, as though not realizing exactly what he's done... and then smiling coyly, now fully with the knowledge of what he's done. Claude should have kept his mouth shut, really. "I think perhaps it is something that is best seen more than explained," he says, and Claude resists the urge to shove him off of the landing platform. "You only need know that Annette, Constance, Ignatz, and Sylvain all collaborated to help create it, and it is with their help that it will be set off. That is why we will need a few minutes, so that they can all slip away from the party as well. Or, rather, everyone who knows of it will be slipping away as well, along with those they have grown friendly with and thus will tell..." Dimitri looks rather proud. "I made sure that no word would get to your brothers."
"So that they can't have a chance at ruining anything?"
Dimitri smiles, so utterly serene. "Oh, no, so that they couldn't have a chance to enjoy it all properly."
To the best of his ability as a sensible and realistic person, even as much as he is an idealist, Claude tries to have some measure of love in his heart. Tries to see from other points of view, so that he can better change the world instead of being overtaken by spite and hurt. But damn if that bit of petty bullshit doesn't make his heart swell.
There's not long to really dwell on that, or do more than snicker a little bit in a manner that is probably pretty unbecoming of a king. Dimitri perks up, leaning forward. "Oh, I believe that must surely be them now..."
It is utterly unsurprising that Dimitri can somehow see figures moving through the various shadows which envelope the palace grounds; Faerghus winters mean stretches of dark that somehow seem worse than anywhere else in Fodlan. Gotta force the body to learn some good nighttime eye sight if you want to survive. Claude leans forward as too, searching out what Dimitri sees until his eyes find a small gaggle of figures hurrying over to the large patch of area where young wyvern are meant to land for practice flights.
It's a small patch of dry and cleared out dirt, perfectly sized for the little creatures while also being away from the wyvern stables and the landing patches for adults. Something where they can't get distracted, or that larger wyverns can barrel them over.
That makes it easier to see the figures when they break away from all the potted plants and statues, carting around all sorts of things that they immediately start to set up right there in the middle of the landing area. Even with decent nighttime vision, Claude can't make out exactly what it is that they're doing. Hell, if Dimitri hadn't mentioned everyone by name, then Claude wouldn't even know who they all were.
Not that his endless curiosity keeps him from trying anyway, of course, but he's interrupted from all his very intense squinting by Dimitri's arm wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him close. "I know that we have had to be careful in public, considering the situations," Dimitri murmurs, "but I hope that you will allow me this one minor indulgence, just for this one moment. For something like this... I wish to be holding you, and together with you, as we see the fruits of so much labor."
Still so many questions, things he wants to bug Dimitri with... but as Dimitri said earlier, perhaps it is best for him to see it instead of having it explained to him.
So Claude concedes, leaning against Dimitri's broad frame. The wait is hardly a long one. Down there at the landing patch, there's a spark of flame - no mage symbols, must be simple flint, if he had to make a guess. Its flame burns only for a moment, a bright little ember in the darkness, before the various figures huddled around it scatter. It's actually kind of funny to watch, like cats running away from a bug that's surprised them all. Yet as funny as it is, that only makes Claude all the more curious, and it is only Dimitri's arm around him that keeps him anchored in place as the ember sparks along the ground towards whatever it was everyone left behind -
An explosion. Brief, bright, sending something bursting up through the sky with a trail of flames and sparks behind it. Like a mage's last ditch distress flare. More than the moon, more than the city, it glows, shooting up so high into the sky that it almost seems as though it might disappear into the stars. It seems like it might become a whole new constellation.
And it does.
An explosion - but almost not of flames, it seems like, but of color, bright lines streaking through the air like flowers blooming, reds and yellows and greens and blues, so brilliant that it could put Almyran wardrobes to shame. Claude doesn't know he's holding his breath until there's another burst of flame following after it, another set of explosions. From far down below them, he can hear gasps, cheers, laughter - Fodlish voices and Almyran as well. A couple more colorful explosions, the brilliant embers fading away into the dark... and then it's done.
Claude finally remembers to breathe, the air rushing out of him all at once, and there's Dimitri's smile against the curve of his ear. "Sylvain came up with the initial theory," Dimitri murmurs to him. "But it was Annette who polished it into something better, through a combination of magic and more practical effects. If we did not have Constance's own ingenuity on it all, no doubt born from her time experimenting with things at school, and Ignatz's vision..."
"So I guess it wasn't something that you thought of just for me, huh?" Claude says, laughing a bit. Well, it would have been a bit much to ask, for Dimitri to come up with something like this all on his own. Dimitri himself even said it: he's far from a mage.
So close to him, it's a trivial thing to feel the heat of Dimitri's blush more than see it. "Well, no, but... You are amongst the first to see it outside of the testing. Rather selfishly, I made the request that you be one of the first to see it when all was said and done. More than catching an assassin like any decent person, more than gifting you things befitting of two kings meeting in public... This is what I wanted to give you, my beloved."
The things this man can say, so openly and sincerely... Claude closes his eyes, before the light of the spell can completely fade from the night sky. This way, the color of it all still lingers there behind his eyelids. "And just what did you want to give me?" he asks, a little coy. Just wanting to hear Dimitri say it.
"I wanted... to give you something beautiful. Something as brilliant as you."
Mostly, it would be those involved in the life of royalty and nobility, those who have the most power. The average citizen of Almyra may dislike him for their own prejudiced reasons, but they're just as likely to not particularly care, or at least not act on it in any way that really matters. Frankly, Claude is fairly certain that they're far easier to deal with than anyone higher up in the food chain. As long as he can convince them better than his opponents that Almyra will still be Almyra at the end of the day, even with all his changes, then all's well and good.
And, if Claude may toot his own horn, he likes to think he is far better a wordsmith than any of his many brothers.
But when it comes to other people? The powerful merchants, the nobility who've grabbed their power with vicious claws, his own family who disdain that he shares any blood with them at all? Throughout his life, he's worked hard at convincing whoever he was able to convince to be on his side or, at the very least, to not actively go after him... And that's not always enough.
Some people can't be convinced away from their own selfish goals and objectives. Can't be convinced away from doing whatever they feel is necessary, no matter how hypocritical or lacking in morals that it is.
With those kinds of people, Claude has no other choice but to play as hard as he can right back, whether with shield or dagger.
All of this is to say that his birthdays have always been, historically speaking, shitshows in some form or another. Family members who wouldn't attend, family members who did attend which were often worse, gifts that were just thinly veiled insults, assassination attempts from the flashy to the worryingly subtle... The only time he can ever claims he feels he's had a safe birthday has been small private affairs with his parents.
It's hard for him to say if things have gotten better or worse, now that he's ascended to the throne.
On one hand, well, the target on his back has only grown all the bigger. Now he's not just a potential threat to the throne, a dumb kid who can be taken out of the picture if someone can just figure out a way to keep him from squirming free from death's trap, but their worst nightmare come true.
On the other hand, he's their worst nightmare because he has all the power his father never truly used to keep him safe. Not just that, but he's no longer the lonely little child who only had his wits, a dagger hidden under his pillow, and a nosy personality that dug up whatever knowledge he possibly could. No, he's an adult now. An adult with a good bow arm. An adult who knows poisons and antidotes better than anyone else in Almyra.
An adult who's been lucky enough and learned well enough to make allies of his own.
"Irbon's already taken care of the spy that he found in the kitchens," Phoi informs him during their morning meetings, the day of his birthday. It's a nice little time between the two of them, him and the person that he chose as his treasurer who often acts like so much more. "He's already made sure to clear the kitchen, and ensured that the areas where things were slow cooking remained locked with no signs of interference."
Claude clicks his tongue, unimpressed. "Poisoning the food in the kitchen is the oldest trick in the book. At least if they'd tried to figure out a way to get it while on the way to me, I could say they were thinking a little more smartly. I suppose Irbon acted a little bit too quickly and we don't know which of the many people in the palace were lining that one's pockets?"
Really, he is terribly fond of the man who he hired on as his royal chef. Irbon is a natural at cooking, and is the kind of chef well respected by very traditional and incredibly old school Almyran trains of thought, on account of the fact that he prefers to go hunting or gathering for the really important meals that he has a hand in. It's something that's been less possible, since his place taken as the head chef in the palace's kitchen, but he still does it now and then.
Unfortunately, while he can follow established directions well enough - like how to look for poisons in his kitchen, for example - he's still more of an emotional kind of guy than anything. Assassins don't last long when he goes after them, unfortunately.
Well, there's still few who keep his kitchen as safe as Irbon does, so Claude really does forgive him for it.
"We'll find the lead soon enough," Phoi promises him matter of factly, her fingers along the pulse point of the latest assassin that had tried to make a nice morning go of him. Unfortunate for them, really, that he'd gone to use the washroom. Unfortunate for them that Phoi had long ago come to peace with being a 'weak' mage and is probably full of enough electricity to stop multiple people's hearts all in one go. Or, even worse, to not do that. Phoi is good at details. "At any rate, I actually wanted to discuss something else with you."
Now, that could mean a great deal of things, coming from Phoi, and Claude stretches his arms up over his head. What is it? He tries to guess on his own, for a moment, even if he knows that he'll ask in the end anyway. If it comes down to what information that they've gotten from their would-be assassin here, then Claude would figure Phoi would do all the necessary research first before presenting it to him.
They've just covered what's going on in the kitchens and Irbon, so that's taken care of. What about the guards for the party...? Well, that should be fine, if he knows Vorah, then the champion lancer should already have riled up everyone and gotten them far too distracted to think of causing trouble. Maybe something to do with the family members that had bothered to make an appearance to his birthday party, of which there are only a few and most who would cause a fuss...? At least, not an obvious or badly thought out fuss...
Well, if he tries to make a guess on which family member has tried to raise hell, then he'd be there all day, because he could imagine something for all of them save his parents. "So, what's the news of the next five minutes?" he asks at last, lowering his arms to stretch them across the table.
It's a good thing that Phoi answers before he even has the time to pick up his breakfast. "Actually, it has to do with some of the foreign guests that you invited over." She raises an eyebrow. "For the diplomatic purposes, of course."
Claude just raises an eyebrow right back, grinning as he rolls his shoulders in a loose lil' shrug. What can he say? He's not lying, necessarily. It really will do well for all of them to be a little friendlier with Fodlan, at least if they want to be a better country that's not so isolated. Besides, there are plenty of useful things that they could benefit from laying all the way there in Fodlan, so it's really just good common sense. He knows he's already managed to win quite a few people living over nearest to the border on it... And hey, if this ends up being good for Fodlan, trying to recover from a war so many years later, doesn't that just mean everyone's happy?
Well. Not everyone everyone. Like his brothers. And some of the more murder-violent-warriors besides your average violent-warrior or just plain warrior in general. And the racists. And... So not everyone's happy. But Claude can't say he cares too much about that.
What he's had a lot more interest in would have to be how his most recent guests have been settling into the Almyran palace. They arrived around a week ago, give or take a couple of days, in order to make sure that they arrived on time with consideration for any possible delays. You know, the normal things that all travel parties have to think about: animals getting into supplies, inclement weather that slows the speed of the party, bandit attacks, someone accidentally injuring themselves, unexpected blocks in the path, assassination attempts down by his brothers made to look like bandit attacks...
It's just good sense to prepare for everything on a long journey!
And, as with every visit from many of his old schoolmates as well, they've been impressing plenty of people. Doing a little bit here and there - with some careful scheduling and arrangement from Claude for maximum effect - has impressed more than a few people, and words has certainly spread.
Oh, right, because of course a lot of them are his old schoolmates. Are close and treasured friends that he'd made in Fodlan, that he can still trust to have his back even after the many interesting reactions they'd all had to the news that he was actually a secret prince from a completely different country and one they'd actually been at war with a few times. Are a group of people that hold someone he's loved for quite a few years now and who, if he's been honest, he's kind of been worried about the entire time he's been orchestrating these events.
A lot of people would love to hear news of Fodlan falling into chaos again. Would love to start another war with the country if their king fell, have an excuse to turn on Claude himself for not stepping up to the task properly.
And, while he knows that no reasonable person would put it on the same level as the fate of two countries full of people - four if they're considering how it's still so relatively recent Fodlan pulled itself together in the grand scheme of things - but to think of Dimitri dying? Of Dimitri being under attack? That's enough to put fear in him as well. Fear that he hasn't felt for himself in probably a decade or so.
As he sits there, watching Phoi hogtie their latest guest, he tells himself that it's fine. That if anything serious had happened, Phoi would be acting a great deal differently. She might not be someone with grand ideals like his own, but she has some ability to see the bigger picture than others. And if he's bought anything through the use of her salary, then it's at least some degree of duty. "So, what has everyone been up to that would have you want to talk with me?" Claude asks. "Has Bernadetta sold another novel that's made waves again?" Which had been a result he hadn't exactly been expecting, when she and Lorenz had gotten one of her tales translated out of mild curiosity, but hey, who looks gift horses in the mouth?
"If only it was that interesting." Phoi kicks the unconscious assassin along the floor, back into Claude's bedroom where they have a trunk for such cases. It's fine, there's breathing holes there for humans. "But King Dimitri apparently tracked down a different assassin last night... Which explains some of the sloppiness of this one."
Claude almost doesn't hear that last sentence. Instead, he's straightened up, a furrow between his brows. "Dimitri did? Wait... Was it not after him, then?"
Because tracked down is a bit more active than having a relaxing time in his room and suddenly being ambushed. Just what was Dimitri doing that would have him start going after assassins in Claude's palace...? He'd ask Phoi, but she's already shrugging. "From the impression of his words, no, it was not after him. I didn't ask him for further details, besides that he is keeping the assassin in his quarters so that you can question them further." With the assassin taken care of for the time being, mouth gagged and box locked, Phoi turns back to him. "I thought that you would prefer questioning His Majesty Dimitri personally." And she gives a little bow, hand over her heart.
Cute. As though he ever needed a reason to go see Dimitri... But he supposes this really is a more important reason than most times. Leaving some of his breakfast where it is, Claude pushes himself up onto his feet. "I guess I'll be having an audience with His Kingliness, then," he says dryly, plucking up a hard boiled egg from his breakfast. May as well fill himself up a little bit, on the way over to the guest quarters.
And it's the royal palace of Almyra. They're not going to skimp on guest quarters... especially since it's for their own safety as much as anything else that has them in an entirely separate building on the grounds. There are even a small set of their own stables and everything, although that was also just the sensible thing to do. After all, while they share some superficial similarities with horses, pegasi still need to have their own unique needs tended to. And this way, his guests from other countries at least have some measure of space that they can control and feel safe in.
More than anyone else... Claude understands how important that is.
At least he's well known amongst the guards that Dimitri has brought, even those who weren't as familiar with him during their school days. It helps, of course, that Dimitri apparently took the time to stress to his retinue that the King of Almyra be treated with the utmost respect while they were all there. Claude hasn't even heard the smallest peep behind his back! It's quite impressive, really... but with how Dedue was treated once upon a time, Claude supposes that if anyone were to be aware of what people would say when they thought themselves alone, it would be the two of them.
And it takes even less time once he's past the front doors. Dimitri practically rushes to him, before Annette has had a chance to so much as show him to the small tea room and get him seated. "King Khalid!" Dimitri explains, careful as always how he refers to him when they're not hidden away in the most private of rooms. "There you are. I am relieved beyond measure."
"Oh, you know me, Your Kingliness, I'm always guaranteed to be fine," Claude says with a wink. "I just thought I'd drop by to see how you were adjusting along with everyone else. It's been a week since you arrived here, and all that."
This is quite obviously bullshit, but hey, there's no harm in being a little subtle... Especially when Claude isn't entirely sure just who exactly Dimitri has told about his little assassin hunting hobbies. Always best to be cautious, for lack of any other information. And sure enough, Dimitri pauses, calming himself down a bit as he nods. "Of course... I know that you have been stressed lately, so I rather feared the worst when I heard you arrived so suddenly. Please, take a seat, and I will see what we have in our stocks of tea. Annette, if it would be not too much trouble...? I trust your taste, after all."
And even if it's Annette, it's tea. Claude knows from personal experience that, despite her best attempts, Annette can't ruin tea. The whistling from the pot helps, he's pretty sure.
Being entrusted with something like that seems to perk her up well enough, and so it doesn't take long for the two of them to settle into place with no one to eavesdrop or interfere. "Alright, so, I've already heard about the fact that you nabbed an assassin after my life," Claude says, because there's no point dancing around the subject, "and I trust Phoi not to skimp over making sure that it really was a legitimate one. What I want to wonder is, if they weren't going after you in the first place, then how exactly did you just stumble onto them?"
Dimitri clasps his hands together, elbows braced against his knees. "Well," he starts, slow, each syllable pronounced just a little too clearly in that one word alone. "If I may be honest, Claude... I do not want you to think your hospitality is lacking in any way. I know that you have been putting in a great deal of work to make sure that our visits to Almyra have gone as smoothly as could be expected."
Ha. A wry smile crosses Claude's face. "That's quite a thing to say from someone who had to fight on of my brothers, an event which included dragging his wyvern out of the air with your bare hands," Claude says, in reference to one of Dimitri's earliest trips. Then again, that had kind of been Felix's fault, bless his little heart for picking fights with Claude's family for him. And, well, Dimitri, in this case. "But I really hardly did anything, you know!"
The dry look on Dimitri's face could kill crops in spring. "Humility does not suit you, Claude," he says disapprovingly, which has him choke in air more than inhale. "At any rate, while you have done a great deal, and I could not complain about the accommodations or the food... I still thought that the air about the palace seemed... unpleasant." A pause. "And I do not mean from any smell, or the winds, or the sand constantly being blown about everywhere no matter what windows and doors are shut."
"I wouldn't blame you if you did think that last one, honestly," Claude comments.
"However, something about the atmosphere in particular felt wretched. Tense. I understand, of course, that places such as this often do." Dimitri's lips twist, unpleasant memories just swimming behind the surface of his one good eye. Both of them have grown up as royalty, after all. Royalty, surrounded by people who viewed them with some measure of contempt.
Dimitri, of course, was viewed as a precious last "true" Blaiddyd in comparison to his uncle, but, even in the short amount of time that Claude knew him as a fellow student, he was never quiet about Duscur. Knew that people resented him for that, if they didn't believe him to be an idiot tricked.
Or maybe they just couldn't face the idea of someone else who knew the sins Faerghus carried on its soil.
Neither of them really dwell on it for long. Instead, Dimitri continues. "At any rate, that more than anything else put me far more on edge. So it has made it somewhat... difficult to sleep well throughout the night, although if I may reassure you, that was prone to happening regardless." Dimitri smiles, a bit bittersweet. "So I have been taking some time to look about the palace grounds at night."
"I'm going to take a guess that you bothered to tell absolutely zero people about your late night walks, huh, Dimitri...?"
This is, theoretically, something Claude supposes he should shoot down before something worse happens. If maybe one of his guards, or any of his brothers' men, sees Dimitri wandering around late at night and tries to use that as an excuse to attack him. Maybe even kill him, or at least make the go for it.
At the same time, well, Dimitri's wanderings apparently let him catch an assassin before they could do anything to Claude, so, you know? Claude thinks he can let Dimitri off the hook just this one time. Even so, Dimitri looks somewhat sheepish as he nods. "I did not wish to be a bother to anyone... And I thought that surely I could handle something as simple as a walk at night."
"Aaaaand no one has talked about it, meaning no one has seen you on your little late night jaunts?"
"Well, I would not want to be a bother," Dimitri says, so well practiced that Claude's heart does something sorta weird and sorta funny there in his chest. Yeah, he knows that, doesn't he? Him and Dimitri may seem leagues apart, but they have their similarities. They have the weight of so many eyes on them, for good and ill, that they both lean into when their parts demand it... but they know the shadows behind all the spotlight, too. Know the times when they can sink into them, and just walk past all the daggers reflecting in the dazzling light.
Claude knew when to go quiet and dark when he wanted alone time, too, after a little while. With those simple words, with that simple excuse, Claude knows that Dimitri knows how to do it too.
Funny, how much you can still learn about someone you love even years later. Funny exactly what those things you learn are.
"At any rate," Dimitri continues. "I had been doing it for some time now, so I thought little of it when I went on my walk last night. There was a spot in your gardens that I thought were rather lovely, so I had hoped to find some peace out there, you see. I took something of a scenic route to get there, admittedly..." Claude can read the translation even without Dimitri having to spell it out: he took the longest way possible that kept him the most out of other people's gazes. He's done that. "It was while cutting rather rudely through a smaller open space that I overheard something... peculiar. The kind of steps which I thought did not properly belong out doors, mimicking the kind of quiet that I was doing myself. So I... investigated."
That pause tells a great deal all on its own. Claude wonders how it much have felt, being one of those assassins. For five long years, Dimitri had stayed hidden away in Faerghus mountains and forests, ambushing Imperial patrols. And he'd wore his armor then, hadn't he? At least back then, surely, they would have at least had a brief moment to realize that something was coming with the clang of metal on metal.
What a feeling his would-be assassins must have had, to suddenly be rushed at by a towering foreigner missing one eye, the strength clearly restrained by a damn thin leash behind one large palm.
It's petty to revel in the mental image. Claude tries not to linger on it for too long. Just too long.
"You know, that's kind of impressive all on its own," he laughs, shifting in his seat so that he can prop his cheek along his knuckles. "Sneaking up on a pair of trained assassins. The looks on their faces would have had to be hilarious, honestly."
Dimitri sighs. "The looks on their faces were besides the point," he says, which confirms to Claude that they were 100% hilarious. "However, I was worried from then until only a few moments ago when I heard that you were coming by for a visit. I was only quick enough to land upon the one, you see... I had no idea where the other one had disappeared to. If they were to report to someone, or if they were still attempting to go after you or another... Yet I knew that I could not act rashly, especially with the sun so close to rising. So I went to inquire to the person you spoke to me about, Phoi. I confessed what had happened, but I was not sure if..." He trails off a moment, looking to Claude expectantly.
"She," he provides casually.
"I was not sure if she had been able to see you in time, or this morning," Dimitri finishes. "But you appear to be in fine health, so... I suppose all of my fussing was for nothing."
"Oh, no," Claude informs him with a kind of cheer, "There was definitely an attempt early this morning, but you don't have to worry about that. I wasn't in the room at the time, and our new friend wasn't aware of who was. All's well that ends well, right?"
"Claude!"
Ah, he does so love the sound of his own name. Claude laughs. "Hey, hey, relax. We don't even know if that was the same half of the assassin pair you ran into." Actually, that makes the situation sound kind of worse, doesn't it? He moves on before Dimitri has a chance to dwell on that, or at least call him out on the problem. "Anyway, you don't have to worry. Phoi and I can interrogate the two of them, see if they're working together, if they'll rat each other out, what information they give doesn't match... It'll be tricky, but I'm positive that we can win them over one way or another."
Because that's what it'll have to be, in the end. Information gathering is rarely won over through shows of force. That just leads to him being given any kind of information, so long as it will make the paint stop. He learned that one a long time ago, a lesson he was sure his brothers didn't mean to impart to him but which he's thankful that they did.
There's another pause on Dimitri's end before he pauses, and rises up to his feet. "I suppose... In the end, it is business of your own to deal with. As a guest, I should not meddle too excessively. I managed to wrap them in my room. Should I fetch them, or...?"
There's no need to draw attention with the image of the King of Fodlan hauling around a whole person, or a giant sack, or crate, or... Whatever it is that he put the poor bastard in to make sure that they couldn't escape. Claude just has Dimitri show him where the assassin is, and promises that he'll have someone come over to pick the idiot up so that they can be properly dealt with. He's already thinking Vorah; she's more than strong enough for a little heavy lifting. It'll give his brothers' guards a break from being embarrassed, whether verbally or in combat.
"You know, I do feel a little bad," Claude says, although that's not entirely accurate to what he's feeling. "I invite you to have fun for a great big Almyran feast, and yet you get caught up in one of my dumb political dramas just because someone wanted me dead." Again. On his birthday. If he thinks too long on that, lets the thought linger in his head for more than a second... "I'll make it up to you. The chefs are all in full swing this morning, but if you have a favorite food you want on the menu, just let me know, and I'm sure we can squeeze something in." Irbon will understand, he's good natured like that.
Silence is the response, and, when Claude turns his head, he finds that it's accompanied by the sight of Dimitri staring at him with a frown. "Claude, it is your birthday," he points out. Like Claude is not unfortunately very aware. "My tastes are hardly important compared to your own - and someone tried to assassinate you! If anything, I should be trying to make things up to you."
"And what exactly can you do for the king of a foreign nation?" Claude asks, chuckling and shaking his head. "Really, you caught an assassin for me, so you've already given me a pretty great birthday gift."
But, really, Dimitri is the kind of guy who would never accept something meager and accidental like that, and he knows that even before his fellow king opens his mouth. "That is the bare expected minimum of decency!" he exclaims, before shaking his head. "No - I have a far more fitting gift in mind for you. After the feast - or perhaps simply near to the end of it, may I have a moment of your time?"
"Oh, a romantic rendezvous in the midst of a highly important social event, is that it?" he says cheekily, just to see Dimitri flush, which means, in at least one way, he's right on the money. But he's also fairly certain it's more than that. "Well, if anyone can have a moment of my time, it's you, Mitya."
And probably that point, he has to admit it will likely be a welcome relief, to get away from all the nonsense, the eyes on him, his family waiting for even the slightest chance of him messing up in some shape or form.
There are a lot of things, situations, that he could potentially spin into his favor... but there are just as many things that he couldn't, and he has no idea how it all could go, not really, until it actually happens. And sometimes... Even the act of spinning takes a great deal of work just so that it doesn't tangle around his feet and around his throat.
At least that answer is enough for Dimitri, or at least enough to calm him for the time being. There are a lot of things that could be said, things he knows his lover wants to voice - the dangers that come with their respective stations even without their romance involved would worry even casual friends. But what can either of them do about it? All Dimitri can do on his end is pull Fodlan together, make peace with the other countries that various parts of it have waged war against so much. All Claude can do is work on opening up his country to the possibility of interacting with others without war or condescension.
All they can do for tonight is enjoy a birthday party.
Fortunately, there are no other surprises for the rest of the day, and he takes note of which of his brothers seem particularly disappointed that he has lived to yet another morning when he goes to take his more public lunch with them - half the reason to be at the same table as any of them at all. Phoi manages to get both assassins handled and hidden away neatly, where they can be properly questioned and convinced into betrayal, and Vorah goes right back to needling various warriors of any faction just to keep them out of the way. Everything goes smoothly, straight into the birthday banquet that'll last the whole night.
And if Claude is honest, even that goes far better than he could have expected. Of course he knows that his Fodlish guests have all made various names for themselves in one way or another, through things both traditional and decidedly not for Almyra.
Sylvain's charm is all the more potent with a fresh audience, made better by stunning his countrymen with his skill on both horseback and lance along with the surprise trick of some skill with magic. Oil painting does not quite have the same kind of name for itself as Fodlan, and yet a few have still found themselves fascinated by Ignatz's skills with a brush almost as much as his dead eye when it comes to archery.
And Dimitri, well... Dimitri fought his oldest and most orneriest brother and dragged his wyvern out of the sky when it made a dive at him in the arena.
There's no denying that kind of name made.
With such a cast of colorful characters from just about every corner of Fodlan, that is more than enough of a distraction at the birthday feast... and feasts in Almyra are by nature meant to be loud and bombastic events all in their own right, full of laughter and passionate arguing and dancing and games. That his old friends can make it even brighter is just proof to him that bringing people together is not an impossible dream. Just... a painfully difficult one. One that he realistically knows will not end even long after his death.
And then Vorah and Felix end up goading one of his more temperamental brothers into a really stupid and very public bet involving cutting fruit thrown at them, and the night gets pretty bright again. That might have to do with the tomato that ends up decorating his brother's hair.
The festivities go on for a long time; everything started in the early evening before the sun had even set and they have a long night yet. And yet if Claude had to make a guess, he would say that Dimitri sends Mercedes over to him for a quick chat and subtle invitation sometime before midnight, a sparkle to her eye the entire time.
For events such as this, it's not unheard of for people to have to take a quick break - a bit of alone time, a bit of distinctly not alone time, a nap to work off all the food eaten, taking a shower to wash out the tomato in your hair...
So even if the King of Almyra ducks away from everything at long last, even if it is his own birthday celebration, who will really notice? Who will think it unusual, when he has waited a good few minutes after Mercedes leaves him to go chat with Dorothea? No one, he should think, and he has more than enough experience in him to tell if he's followed.
He isn't, and there is no one to see where he and Dimitri meet down on one of the highest balconies of the palace.
"You know, I was expecting a romantic rendezvous down in the gardens," Claude muses, as he and Dimitri start to scale up the side of the building, using windows as handholds until they can get to the roof. "This is a lot more daring than I would have expected of you, I gotta say."
"Please do not tease me as I am trying to avoid falling to my death," Dimitri laments, hauling himself up onto one of the landing pads for wyverns - a place notably meant to just let them catch a breath and specifically designed to hold their massive weight, unlike some of the more delicate balconies that could have a small party on them but not a small and very heavy giant flying lizard. Turning around on his knees, Dimitri reaches down so that Claude can grasp his hand, if he likes. And he does so like.
At least there is something to be said, for sitting on a place where he knows few other people will look for him. Pulled up onto the landing pad, Claude takes a moment to look over the scenery that stretches out before him. The city doesn't always shine like this, often falling into quiet darkness with the night's arrival... but tonight is different.
Tonight is a night for everyone to celebrate, to just have that silly little excuse they need to celebrate. And so there are lights of all sorts shining throughout the streets, along the rooftops where more private parties are held, making everything shine like gold . Like a full harvest moon, amidst the cold and darkness of the world. For as much as he may have mixed feelings on this city, this place where he was born and could so rarely find some measure of safety... Sometimes he remembers there are parts of it he so dearly loves.
He remembers that even amidst every other confusing and even painful memory in Almyra, he still loves it. Sometimes, it helps that he can love it, that he remembers how, when he has Dimitri right there besides him.
"Did you like what was given to you, tonight?" Dimitri asks. "The present, I mean."
There'd actually been a few different presents, which is perhaps understating the whole thing, but that's just expected when two rulers from two different countries are meeting in a situation like this. Various things from the various regions of Faerghus, showing off all of its individual strong points so that it would look good on that political level... Claude had been expecting that.
He'd both been expecting and not a small little private gift tucked away in it all, a pretty little bracelet whose dangling charm hid a dagger in it. Pretty. Functional. And, from Dimitri of all people, most certainly and terribly sentimental.
He's wearing it now.
"I think we both know the answer to that question," Claude says with a little laugh, leaning back on his palms. "So, just what on earth is it that would have you take me to a place like this during a party like that? I mean, not that I'm complaining about getting some peace and quiet, but this really is pretty unlike you."
Dimitri is far less used to wearing the kind of clothing that is best suited for the desert, and he treats it so delicately, even when it is made a little bit thicker to better suit the sudden onset of cold that sweeps through even the desert when there's no sun to heat everything up. It nearly takes him a good minute before he has settled down besides Claude, the more flowy fabrics carefully kept out from underneath him. "Well, I wanted to give you something that was far better than just the gifts I was obligated to give you," Dimitri admits. "Although I am afraid that we may be out here a few minutes more, so that the others can prepare."
Huh. "The others?"
"Well, it was hardly something that I could create on my own," Dimitri admits, and he has to be aware that he's dangling bait in front of Claude's curiosity, right? That this is like catnip for him, and his eyes might actually dilate from pure interest? "And even now, I am far from skilled enough to be able to set it off on my own. Not that this is a surprise to me or anyone else, necessarily... Although I suppose I should count myself quite fortunate, because it means that I have no excuse to be anywhere but besides you."
"Dimitri," Claude says patiently, before his lover can keep going on, "You've done quite an admirable job of talking completely around what exactly this gift of yours is. What kind of gift needs help to be set off?"
His lover blinks at him a few times, as though not realizing exactly what he's done... and then smiling coyly, now fully with the knowledge of what he's done. Claude should have kept his mouth shut, really. "I think perhaps it is something that is best seen more than explained," he says, and Claude resists the urge to shove him off of the landing platform. "You only need know that Annette, Constance, Ignatz, and Sylvain all collaborated to help create it, and it is with their help that it will be set off. That is why we will need a few minutes, so that they can all slip away from the party as well. Or, rather, everyone who knows of it will be slipping away as well, along with those they have grown friendly with and thus will tell..." Dimitri looks rather proud. "I made sure that no word would get to your brothers."
"So that they can't have a chance at ruining anything?"
Dimitri smiles, so utterly serene. "Oh, no, so that they couldn't have a chance to enjoy it all properly."
To the best of his ability as a sensible and realistic person, even as much as he is an idealist, Claude tries to have some measure of love in his heart. Tries to see from other points of view, so that he can better change the world instead of being overtaken by spite and hurt. But damn if that bit of petty bullshit doesn't make his heart swell.
There's not long to really dwell on that, or do more than snicker a little bit in a manner that is probably pretty unbecoming of a king. Dimitri perks up, leaning forward. "Oh, I believe that must surely be them now..."
It is utterly unsurprising that Dimitri can somehow see figures moving through the various shadows which envelope the palace grounds; Faerghus winters mean stretches of dark that somehow seem worse than anywhere else in Fodlan. Gotta force the body to learn some good nighttime eye sight if you want to survive. Claude leans forward as too, searching out what Dimitri sees until his eyes find a small gaggle of figures hurrying over to the large patch of area where young wyvern are meant to land for practice flights.
It's a small patch of dry and cleared out dirt, perfectly sized for the little creatures while also being away from the wyvern stables and the landing patches for adults. Something where they can't get distracted, or that larger wyverns can barrel them over.
That makes it easier to see the figures when they break away from all the potted plants and statues, carting around all sorts of things that they immediately start to set up right there in the middle of the landing area. Even with decent nighttime vision, Claude can't make out exactly what it is that they're doing. Hell, if Dimitri hadn't mentioned everyone by name, then Claude wouldn't even know who they all were.
Not that his endless curiosity keeps him from trying anyway, of course, but he's interrupted from all his very intense squinting by Dimitri's arm wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him close. "I know that we have had to be careful in public, considering the situations," Dimitri murmurs, "but I hope that you will allow me this one minor indulgence, just for this one moment. For something like this... I wish to be holding you, and together with you, as we see the fruits of so much labor."
Still so many questions, things he wants to bug Dimitri with... but as Dimitri said earlier, perhaps it is best for him to see it instead of having it explained to him.
So Claude concedes, leaning against Dimitri's broad frame. The wait is hardly a long one. Down there at the landing patch, there's a spark of flame - no mage symbols, must be simple flint, if he had to make a guess. Its flame burns only for a moment, a bright little ember in the darkness, before the various figures huddled around it scatter. It's actually kind of funny to watch, like cats running away from a bug that's surprised them all. Yet as funny as it is, that only makes Claude all the more curious, and it is only Dimitri's arm around him that keeps him anchored in place as the ember sparks along the ground towards whatever it was everyone left behind -
An explosion. Brief, bright, sending something bursting up through the sky with a trail of flames and sparks behind it. Like a mage's last ditch distress flare. More than the moon, more than the city, it glows, shooting up so high into the sky that it almost seems as though it might disappear into the stars. It seems like it might become a whole new constellation.
And it does.
An explosion - but almost not of flames, it seems like, but of color, bright lines streaking through the air like flowers blooming, reds and yellows and greens and blues, so brilliant that it could put Almyran wardrobes to shame. Claude doesn't know he's holding his breath until there's another burst of flame following after it, another set of explosions. From far down below them, he can hear gasps, cheers, laughter - Fodlish voices and Almyran as well. A couple more colorful explosions, the brilliant embers fading away into the dark... and then it's done.
Claude finally remembers to breathe, the air rushing out of him all at once, and there's Dimitri's smile against the curve of his ear. "Sylvain came up with the initial theory," Dimitri murmurs to him. "But it was Annette who polished it into something better, through a combination of magic and more practical effects. If we did not have Constance's own ingenuity on it all, no doubt born from her time experimenting with things at school, and Ignatz's vision..."
"So I guess it wasn't something that you thought of just for me, huh?" Claude says, laughing a bit. Well, it would have been a bit much to ask, for Dimitri to come up with something like this all on his own. Dimitri himself even said it: he's far from a mage.
So close to him, it's a trivial thing to feel the heat of Dimitri's blush more than see it. "Well, no, but... You are amongst the first to see it outside of the testing. Rather selfishly, I made the request that you be one of the first to see it when all was said and done. More than catching an assassin like any decent person, more than gifting you things befitting of two kings meeting in public... This is what I wanted to give you, my beloved."
The things this man can say, so openly and sincerely... Claude closes his eyes, before the light of the spell can completely fade from the night sky. This way, the color of it all still lingers there behind his eyelids. "And just what did you want to give me?" he asks, a little coy. Just wanting to hear Dimitri say it.
"I wanted... to give you something beautiful. Something as brilliant as you."