Chapter Text
As a general rule, it was the role of the Mighty Nein to contact Essek Thelyss first. Not that he made a point to avoid them, of course; it just so happened that there were many situations in which the Nein required his help, and not so many in which he required theirs. Even in regard to his and Caleb’s continued Dunamancy lessons, generally they occurred sporadically, when they had asked for his presence and he had a few hours to spare teaching sacred magic to a human from the Empire of all people. But that didn’t matter; it was fine, it was great, everybody was happy with this arrangement.
It was this rule of thumb that made it particularly odd for him to turn up unannounced at the Xhorhaus looking thoroughly irritated.
Not that it would’ve been easy to tell to most people – Caleb chalked it up to the considerable time he had spent poring over tomes with the man that he could tell he was out of sorts at all. But the small signs were there: the perpetually amused look was gone, replaced by a slightly furrowed brow, and his jaw was rigidly set such that he looked less effortlessly composed than usual.
“Essek?”
A short sigh escaped the man’s lips. “Good evening, Mr Widogast. I apologise for my unannounced arrival; I must speak with you all. May I?”
Caleb complied, stepping aside to let him breeze through the door towards the smell of food and general sounds of commotion emanating from the kitchen. Wincing as the chimes clanged loudly against the door when it closed, he followed.
As had become the habit, the others assembled in the kitchen for dinner, a wonderfully haphazard event of many hands working on the same task. It actually made it more difficult to make the meal – the time Beau accidentally stabbed Caduceus with a kitchen knife would attest to that – but the unspoken agreement was that it was more about the people than the food. Somehow, the hubbub quietened when Essek entered, which Caleb considered a miracle within itself.
“Essek!” Jester cried, rushing over and wrapping her arms around his middle. He made a sound like his ribs were being crushed, because they probably were, and gently pried her arms away.
“Have you come for dinner? We’ll probably have extra,” Caduceus called from the other side of the room, through about five other people.
“I’m quite alright,” Essek responded stiffly. Both Caduceus and Jester turned to peer at him immediately, keen eyes and ears sensing something was off. Simultaneously, they scanned Essek and flicked their gazes towards Caleb behind him, as if he had any idea what was going on. It wasn’t often that any suggestion of real emotion seeped through the Shadowhand’s air of effortless perfection – to be able to tell at all that something was wrong was a feat, but to glean why? Nigh on impossible. Caleb just shrugged minutely in answer.
“Well, how can we help you?” Fjord offered politely, being the only person in the room with good social skills.
“If you’re looking for Caleb, he’s standing right there,” Nott said, extremely helpfully.
Ahead of him, Essek opened his pocket dimension with a neat snap of his wrist, retrieving an envelope between two long fingers. A flick of those fingers and the neatly-folded parchment went sliding across the kitchen table, probably with more force than necessary.
“An official invitation, on behalf of the Bright Queen,” Essek began, “to the yearly Coronation Ball.”
A beat of silence hung in the air, and many things began at once – Jester squealing, Fjord groaning and pressing his forehead to the table, and Caduceus’s typical, ‘Ah, that’s nice.’
“We’re invited to a ball? Do we get to buy fancy-”
“Why are you having a ball-”
“We are the worst people you could’ve invited.”
Essek simply weathered the sudden onslaught of voices, holding up a hand as he waited for quiet instead of asserting himself as he usually would. Interesting.
When the commotion gradually deescalated, he continued. “In light of your contributions to the Dynasty’s cause, you have been granted special invitation to the Inaugural Commemoration Ball. There will be a standard of dress and of behaviour, so yes, Jester, you’ll be required to wear formal attire.”
Jester squealed, while Fjord deflated further in his seat. For a moment, the hard set to Essek’s jaw seemed to relax at the odd sight.
From the kitchen doorframe, Caleb frowned in consideration. “What about the war? Will this not be an expensive distraction?”
Grey eyes slid from the group towards him, locking him in place and freezing the air in his lungs without the use of any spell. A peculiar feeling washed over him, like suddenly they were entirely alone in the room, if not the entire city. But when Essek spoke, he again responded to the group.
“My associates believe that it would be good for morale to continue to observe the important occasions in our calendar, in spite of the war. The consensus is that soldiers who have had the chance to celebrate and relax with their families will be reinspired to fight.”
The others nodded in consideration, though their attention seemed to be firmly taken by the invitation and the stew Caduceus was handing out to the huddle around Jester as she read from it.
It was a reasonable belief; Caleb could understand the logic of wanting to boost morale even in times of war. But there was something about Essek’s wording that struck him as odd, as odd as the strange mood he seemed to be in.
“Your associates have sound beliefs. But what do you think?” He questioned, lowering his voice even if he was sure the others had completely forgotten they were even there.
Essek cocked an eyebrow, a gesture that was somehow intimate and private in a room full of people. Good, it said. You clued on. I thought you would.
“I follow the lead of the Queen and the senior members of her council, of course,” he responded vaguely. “However, I personally would prefer to dedicate more time to the war effort. But you didn’t hear that from me, the same way I’ve never even discussed dunamancy with you.”
“Of course not,” Caleb responded, unable to hide his shy grin before it had spread across his face. Mentally, he congratulated himself for being able to read the Shadowhand even before he had said anything. “I take it the ball is a necessary burden of your position, rather than a feature?”
Essek sighed heavily through his nose. “Indeed. I spend half of my time gathering intel to benefit my people and my queen, and the other half organising security for distant nobles to get safely drunk on a weeknight. If I am honest, I attempt to diplomatically get out of it every year. I have not succeeded thus far.”
Again, Caleb couldn’t control his soft huff of laughter, and silently thanked whoever was listening that he wasn’t involved with the bureaucracy of any government. At the table, Jester had finished reading from the invitation, and a new clamour of voices surged.
“Next month?” Jester said, open mouth creating a perfect ‘o.’ “How am I supposed to put together an entire outfit in a month?”
Through a mouthful of stew, Nott countered, “To be fair, we were off fighting demons about three days ago. I don’t think even express postage can get to a dank cave in the Empire too quickly.”
“Where are we even supposed to get fancy dresses and whatever, though?”
“I can give you a list of locations, if you would like,” Essek interjected, suddenly reminding the others that he was actually still there. “The tailor I went to was exceptionally quick; you should be ready in plenty of time, Ms Lavorre.”
“You’re coming too! I’m sure you will look very handsome,” she gasped, framing her face with her hands and batting her eyelashes at him. She got a raised eyebrow in return.
“I do try my best.”
She giggled, and with another snap of the wrist a quill and parchment appeared in his hands. A single strand of impeccable hair fell in front of his face as he scratched down names and addresses, the rest of the group returning their attention to the invitation and each other. Caleb lingered, though. Something still seemed odd. Alright, so he disliked organising a yearly event – that was more than understandable. But he didn’t seem like the type to hate socialising, and he looked too nice all the time to hate dressing up for a night out.
You might just be biased in that last regard, a part of him said. That part was quickly silenced and pushed aside. And why do you suddenly care so much about how Essek feels? Another part of him said, which was also told to shut up and fuck off.
With a small flourish, Essek handed over the parchment to Jester, startling Caleb out of his reverie. A quick scan of the room indicated nobody had noticed him essentially staring at Essek. Or at least he hoped so.
“Is there any other business you are here on, or have you been delegated the position of, ah, errand boy?” He asked.
“What, trying to be rid of me so quickly?” He countered, dragging Caleb into the dance they seemed to do through every conversation. But he was quickly learning the steps.
“No, not at all. Simply wondering if you’ve any other motives or have simply decided to, to grace us with your presence for a few extra minutes.”
A soft chuckle. “Perhaps I just wished to watch the spectacle,” Essek said, gesturing towards the boisterous conversation that had erupted as the others passed around the invitation. “But no, I’ve no other business. I’ll have a meeting to attend shortly regardless, so I’ll have to take my leave.”
“Let me walk you out,” Caleb offered, hoping they could slip out fairly unnoticed – sometimes Jester was both too perceptive and too nosy for anybody’s good. Especially not for Caleb, now that she started giggling every time he spoke to Essek.
Wincing again at the loud clang of the wind chimes, Caleb half closed the door behind him in some poor imitation of privacy. Never mind the entire street of people that could potentially spy on what he hoped could be a more confidential conversation.
“Essek, may I ask you a more, ah, personal question?”
The other man started slightly, already having half turned around to leave. He fixed him with a curious gaze, stepping closer than what was probably strictly necessary.
“I might be amenable. What is it?”
“Why do you dislike the ball so much? You put in all this effort; would you not want to reap the benefits?”
There was a long beat of silence, in which Essek’s gaze flicked to the side and Caleb was left with the uncomfortable realisation that he has just inadvertently stuck his foot in his mouth.
“I fail to recognise what relevance this has to anything, Mr Widogast,” Essek responded flatly; but a moment later he seemed to backtrack, and his voice softened. “Do not concern yourself with it. You and your friends will have a perfectly enjoyable night, I’m sure.”
Taken aback slightly by the sudden verbal whiplash, Caleb could only nod. The moment dragged on, tinged slightly with the fog of awkwardness, before Essek sighed and offered the smallest of smirks. “I am sure you have other things to worry about, other than my own dislike of important annual events. Like your friends eventually wondering where you are, and if I’ve finally decided to kidnap you for ransom.”
As if on cue, Jester called out, “Cay-leb! What are you do-ing out there?”
Back to business as usual, all odd behaviour and awkward conversations aside.
“Uh, ja. I had better get back in there, before they start coming up with theories as to what exactly we’re talking about,” Caleb eventually said.
“Naturally. I know your blue friend starts giggling every time I enter the room; we wouldn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire, would we?” Essek asked, though the sharp glint in his eyes and the curve of his lips suggested he wanted nothing more than to play with fire. Caleb held his gaze for exactly three and a half seconds longer than propriety dictated was necessary or appropriate.
“No. Of course not.”
Essek let the moment linger, even though the noise from inside was becoming more and more insistent. The artificial stars of Rosohna faded into the background, creating an out-of-focus halo around Essek’s silver-spun hair.
Sudden footsteps in the hall shattered the moment, Caleb springing away a millisecond before Jester slammed the door open. Miraculously, it didn’t break under her sheer exuberance.
“Caleb. I don’t care if you are kissing out here, we need your input on when we go shopping for clothes. Essek, thank you for your time, you are very handsome, but we need you to leave now.”
With strength that had come to be unsurprising, she grabbed Caleb by the too-thin shoulders, marching him around and through the door.
“I’ll see you later?” Caleb called over his shoulder, catching a brief glimpse of Essek’s amused expression.
“Of course. Good afternoon, Caleb.”
With that, the door closed behind them, and he was obscured from sight.