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“—and, of course, her most esteemed Madam Cobre is belaboring under the idea that her little tax loophole entitled her and her family to the ownership rights, but I determined, after glancing through her previous filings, that not only had it not entitled her to the rights, but that she owed an additional tax on the property that bordered the contested—”
Laios bit back a sigh, his hands slowing where they’d been washing the vegetables. Behind him, Kabru carried on speaking, seemingly unaware of Laios' drifting attention. He was usually quick to notice when he was losing Laios, so whatever he was saying about estate tax (or maybe it was inheritance tax?) must have been really important. Everything Kabru said was important.
He just said … so much of it. It felt impossible to give everything he told Laios the same amount of focus, especially when it had to do with stuff like ... maybe it was zoning issues? Ugh.
When Laios first accepted the role as king of the Golden Country, it was because he felt it was the best way to express his gratitude for how humanity banded together to devour the red dragon that bound his sister’s soul. He’d wanted to make sure the inhabitants of the Golden Country went to bed with full bellies and happy smiles. If even one hungry person had been fed thanks to his efforts, then everything was worth it.
He didn’t know why that seemed to mean he also had to get involved in a bunch of petty fights between rich people over things that didn’t seem to matter very much.
(He’d learned not to ask questions like that out loud, though. Whenever he did, it always led to one of Kabru's lengthy explanations about why it was actually really important, crucial even, for him to stick his nose between two families who were fighting over a valuable piece of land due to both having a claim— wait, Laios realized with a jolt, is that what Kabru was talking about right now?)
Moving the vegetables to the cutting board, Laios tried his best to bring his attention back to Kabru’s words, rolling his sleeves up to his forearms as he took hold of the ripe tomato and gingerly began slicing it. He peeked over his shoulder to see if Kabru had noticed his lapse, but the royal advisor still appeared thoroughly engrossed in the stacks of documents neatly spread across the table where he sat.
Laios had to stop himself from shaking his head. How could anyone read so much, all the time? It made Laios’ eyes hurt just looking at it. A part of him couldn’t help but suspect that Kabru didn't actually need that many documents and scrolls and books, that he just liked how cute and studious it made him look clutching them to his chest as he bustled around the castle. Laios found that much easier to understand than someone actually reading all that boring text without having their head explode, much less having enjoyed it.
“—and, of course, Cobre argued that Article B, Section 8 of the statute would grant her family the property on account of her family having gnome ancestors and the bordering region being historically gnomish, but what she hadn’t considered was that, obviously—”
Is it obvious?
“—the land had been dwarven country for over a generation now, even having been officially absorbed into Sadena’s territory lines over 150 years ago, so her having gnomish ancestry is moot—”
Oh. When he put it like that, Laios supposed that it was kind of obvious.
After chopping the tomatoes and arugula, Laios grabbed the oven mitts and headed to the oven, carefully sidestepping one of the kitchen attendants as he kept half his attention on Kabru. Now that they were facing each other, Laios was once again confronted with the full intensity of those bright, gleaming eyes. From this angle, the sunlight filtering through the above-ground window made them almost appear to be glowing.
Laios raised a perplexed brow. Was this how he looked when he talked about monsters? Probably not; he didn’t think he looked nearly as charming, else he wouldn’t have drawn so many unsettled glares over the years. Although, hadn’t Kabru once offhandedly mentioned he’d been side-eyed in the past when talking about his observations? It stumped Laios badly; how could people find someone who loved people off-putting?
Even if it didn't make sense, though, Laios found it reassuring. He'd spent months overcoming his embarrassment asking Kabru to repeat what he just said, or if he could maybe rephrase it, or make the explanation sound more interesting, and what exactly was a bylaw anyway? The last thing Laios wanted to do was irritate him, and he found himself constantly on alert for any sign that Kabru was getting annoyed by how often Laios failed to understand him.
But Kabru never did; or, if he did, he was very, very good at hiding it (which, Laios admitted, wasn’t exactly a difficult task). Yet, the more time they spent together, the more Laios realized that Kabru actually seemed to enjoy having the chance to go into greater detail than the court gatherings allowed; why else would he be so patient, take so much time out of his day helping Laios understand these things?
Because Kabru liked talking about these things; the same way Laios liked talking about monsters.
Once Laios had understood that, it didn’t feel so terrifying asking Kabru to explain it to him again, if only maybe a little bit slower this time? If it brought Kabru even a tenth of the joy it would bring Laios to talk about monsters with someone who’d asked, he almost looked forward to the next time he had a question.
Which was good.
Because Laios always, always, always had more questions.
“There’s really no way for them to decide who should get it?” he mused as he crouched down in front of the oven, peering through the blotted window. “I have to get involved in this?”
“According to Cobre’s lawyers,” Kabru replied, scribbling a note onto his papers. “If we knew which family received their copy of the deed first, things would be much more straightforward, but, well, the documents are over a thousand years old. It’s a miracle they’re in as good condition as they are.”
Laios hummed, deciding that the bread’s crust looked nice and golden brown. Opening the oven, he winced as the blast of heat swept past him. “Why not just split it up? Or donate it to some farmers? It’s not like either of the families are planning to live there, right?”
“Donating the parcel to the crown for agricultural use would certainly be the ideal outcome for us,” said Kabru, nodding slowly. “And I’m sure if, given the time, I could convince them of the benefit of having His Majesty’s gratitude for such a generous gift. But I get the feeling both families will be fighting tooth and nail to exhaust all other possible options first.”
Laios couldn’t entirely stifle his sigh this time. These people sounded like they had all of their needs met; why waste so much energy on something like this? In nature, animals were designed to spend only what they could afford to give. If a predator were to overextend its territory or pick an unnecessary fight, it would waste that precious energy and most likely starve and die. If only humans could function under the same mindset, he imagined life would be much simpler.
Turning off the oven, Laios carefully removed the hot pan, pausing to take a deep, appreciative whiff; it smelled delicious. Even Kabru had taken notice, subtly glancing up from his documents with flaring nostrils. He looked hungry.
Laios' smile grew wider as he made his way back to the counter. Setting the bread down to cool, he moved over to the stove, flicking on the heat and adding oil to a cast-iron skillet. After giving it a moment to warm, he broke an egg over its sizzling surface before returning to the bread, his mouth watering as it crackled underneath his fingertips.
This was going to taste so good.
After the egg finished cooking, Laios carefully layered it on top of a slice of bread, adding the arugula, sliced tomatoes, and some sliced cheddar cheese before finishing it off with a dollop of mayonnaise. He poured steaming water from the boiling kettle into a cup with an oolong tea bag, bringing both the plate and drink to the table where Kabru looked up at him with a politely curious look.
“Food’s ready,” Laios said, sliding the plate as close as he could to Kabru’s mountain of documents without messing anything up.
Kabru stared at the plate, long enough that Laios was afraid he’d still managed to mess up his papers anyway, before lifting his eyes again. “You were making that for me?"
Laios breathed a sigh of relief; so he didn’t mess up the papers. “You didn’t have anything for breakfast this morning, so I figured I’d make you something real quick.” He scrubbed the back of his neck, glancing away. “Did I not say that?”
A slight furrow creased Kabru’s brow, but his smile remained gentle as he said, “Laios, you don’t have to worry about things like that. Besides, I’ve never been big eater in the morning.”
“Oh, come on,” Laios said with a dismissive hand wave as he sat down across from him. “We promised Marcille we’d live healthy lifestyles so we could all spend a long time together! That means eating three square meals a day that gives us plenty of nutrients and energy.”
“I don’t remember being a part of that decision …” Kabru scrunched his nose. “And I have perfectly healthy habits, thank you.”
Laios had wised up enough to bite his tongue; Kabru didn’t seem to appreciate it when Laios pointed out how hard he worked, or how little sleep he seemed to get, or how he never seemed to gain back the weight he’d lost after dying over and over again in the dungeon. It forced Laios to really push himself to sneakier tactics—which usually failed immediately, as he was still an awful liar and Kabru always seemed to see right through him. But sometimes it worked out; like, say, when Laios prepared a meal without saying he was making it for Kabru until he’d already placed it in front of him.
If Laios had learned anything during that final hour in the dungeon, it was that it’s much harder to resist a tasty meal when it was right under your nose and you were starving.
Letting out a deep sigh, Kabru reached for the plate, and Laios could have let out a victorious hoot. As Kabru lifted the egg sandwich to his mouth, however, he hesitated, closing his eyes with a pained look.
“I know you’d tell me if there were any monster parts in this before you gave it to me.”
Laios blinked, tilting his head. Why ask a question if he wasn't going to make it sound like a question? When Kabru hesitantly peeked through one eyelid, Laios finally processed Kabru’s words, and he jumped.
“Of course not!” he said, his hands flying up. “Wait, I mean— Yes, of course I’d tell you, I’d never—!” A thought struck him, and he lowered his hands with a sheepish air. “I mean, well …”
Laios could have kicked himself. Why had he said it like that?! It made him sound totally guilty of messing with Kabru’s food! If Kabru dropped his sandwich and stormed off throwing a disgusted look over his shoulder, Laios wouldn’t have blamed him one bit.
But then, to his shock, Kabru cautiously leaned forward. “Well …?”
Laios toyed with his fingers, unsure of what to do. It was hard to get a read on Kabru at the best of times, but at least he didn’t seem to be particularly disgusted? His mind scrambled for a way to explain himself without making things worse.
“So,” he started, clearing his throat, “So, uh … Well, recently I’ve been working with the court’s scientists on the potential effectiveness of treasure insect venom as an organic agent. One of the key components of the venom is a powerful local anesthetic, which is how they’re able to block their victim’s nerve signals and paralyze them. I’d wondered if that component could be synthesized into a type of organophosphate that could be used to repel and kill other insects when ingested.”
“A pesticide …?” Kabru murmured, lifting an eyebrow. “How do you make the food safe to eat for humans?”
“Solvents. We found that mineral oil seems to be the most effective, which is good since that means it'll spread easier and stick to the plants better without damaging them—”
“That’s incredible,” Kabru said, his eyes bright, and Laios’ mind stuttered to an abrupt halt. “Do you think we’ll be able to use this for food production in the whole kingdom?”
Laios blinked rapidly, trying to remember where his thought process had been. Venom, anesthetic, organophosphate, solvents, right yeah—
“So, uh, that’s the tricky part,” he said, his shoulders deflating with a sigh. “Treasure insects can go for a fortune in the right market; we’d be in direct competition with a lot of interested parties for something that’s already really hard to get. It’s just too expensive to make on a bigger scale until we can figure out how to make it synthetically.” He gestured towards Kabru’s sandwich. “For now, we’ve just been using it in the castle’s gardens.”
“I see,” Kabru mused, his eyes falling back to his sandwich. A frown tugged at his mouth, briefly shadowing his expression. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have— I know you’d never feed me monster parts without telling me.”
Laios had to admit it was hard to help the faint twinge of hurt in his chest. It didn't take much effort to brush it away, though. Now that Laios knew the reason for Kabru’s aversion to monsters, he mostly just felt guilty, especially for the harpy eggs, especially when he'd learned he'd given Kabru actual nightmares. The fact that, despite everything he went through, Kabru still wanted to understand Laios’ love of monsters and learn more about them was baffling. It made it really easy for Laios to forgive him for unimportant stuff like this.
Kabru brought his attention back to his sandwich, the hunger creeping into his eyes again. With a mumbled word of thanks, he took a delicate, almost polite bite, chewing carefully. As he went for a second, more generous bite, Laios couldn’t help but lean forward, watching the more Kabru’s expression change the more he ate.
With the third bite, he startled as he bit into the yolk, the golden liquid dripping down onto the plate. The yolk glistened on his bottom lip and Laios watched as he ran his tongue over it, though he missed the crumbs at the corner of his mouth.
Once Kabru had finished almost three-thirds of the sandwich and let out that sigh of soft, satisfied contentment, Laios could feel his muscles tense, his focus sharpen. It stirred something inside him—almost as if Laios was tasting it himself.
When Kabru glanced up at Laios, an unsettled look crossing over his features, Laios snapped out of his trance. Crap. How creepy did he look just now, gazing at Kabru with inhuman eyes like he was a meal?
“S-sorry,” he said, dropping those inhuman eyes to the ground.
Laios had … mixed feelings about the lingering changes to his appearance.
On the one hand; his eyes now looked seriously, ridiculously cool. He’d find himself staring at the mirror for hours, getting the light to bounce off them in new and interesting ways. It was everything he'd ever wanted since he was a kid. Something that showed he was more than some boring human whose interests made people hate him. Something that showed he was more than a boarding school flunky and an army deserter. Something that proved he was special.
But they also served as a permanent reminder of the moment he'd betrayed humanity to satisfy his deepest, most selfish desire.
He really thought his friends were going to kill him that day on the beach. He might have let them, too; after they’d help him save Falin’s soul, of course. Even now, the moment when he’d been drawn into an embrace felt like something from a dream.
When Laios managed to gather his courage and lift his head again, though, he saw that Kabru's expression wasn't one of fear or unease. Instead, his eyes held a hint of sympathy.
“Is it difficult?” Kabru asked. “To see me,” he hesitated, searching for the right words before settling with a resigned, “full?”
Oh. Then he hadn't been creeped out by Laios' hungry stare just now? Taken aback, Laios had to think about it, his attention drifting down to Kabru’s plate. The busy sounds of the kitchen carried on around them, oblivious to their quiet exchange in their own little corner of the world.
“You get used to it,” he said with a shrug. “It pretty much feels the same as before, you know, when you’ve been hungry for a really long time? After a while, you don’t notice it so much.” He raised his eyes to meet Kabru’s once more. “Until I see something I really want, anyway.”
Kabru stared. He really did have such a striking eye color … Unique and vibrant and beautiful. When Kabru first opened up about the way both he and his mom had been treated all because of those eyes, Laios’ initial reaction was mostly confusion. After all, if someone like that had grown up in Laios’ hometown, where everywhere he looked he saw his own eyes staring back at him, Laios would have been consumed with both burning envy, and a fierce, all-consuming desire to be that person’s friend.
(It’s not as if that confusion lasted long, though. It’s not as if he didn’t understand how people could be cruel.)
Kabru's gaze remained fixed on him, the silence stretching between them. Laios fidgeted in his seat, feeling as if the mood had shifted without knowing when it happened. He let out an abrupt laugh. “But, hey! You know those times when you’re surrounded by a bunch of delicious food, but you’re full before you can try even a little bit of it all? Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore!” With a sigh, he allowed his hand to drift to his midriff. “It’s a pain having to keep an eye on my weight now, though …”
Kabru blinked rapidly, as if coming out of a daze, and let out a soft laugh through his nose. “The king gets to be as soft as he wants. If it ever comes to that, though, I imagine we’ll just have to up the frequency of our sparring sessions.”
Was that an option? Laios wanted to suggest they start doing that anyway; between all the meetings and gatherings and events and blah blah blah, it was tough finding the time to do anything that got him on his feet. Sparring with Kabru was almost always the highlight of his day.
If they were going to do that, though, first things first—they needed to work on Kabru upping his caloric intake.
Laios glanced down at the remaining quarter of the sandwich in Kabru’s hands, putting his hand to his chin the way he saw Kabru often do. He could try sending a dinner invite to Senshi so the dwarf could explain the importance of these kinds of things. It would sound much more convincing coming from him. Chil, too; Laios figured that Kabru would respond well to his brand of no-nonsense pragmatism. Marcille and Falin would be back from their research excursion on the Eastern Archipelago at the end of the month, so that would be the best time to put something together, and, actually, hadn’t Izutsumi said she’d be in town soon in her last postcard—?
His mind raced as he suddenly found himself organizing a large dinner party, and a small smile curled his lips.
“Besides,” he said, half under his breath, “I get to keep sharing meals with all my friends. Does anyone really need more than that?”
Kabru’s eyes grew gentle, causing Laios to tilt his head, thinking: Man, he was seriously, seriously such a pretty guy. Why was it that Laios never seemed to see him around any girls? He must get flirted with all the time. Oh, Laios thought with a panicked jolt, it wasn’t because he was taking up all of Kabru’s time with royal advising things, was it? He’d feel awful if that were the case.
Before Laios could wig out, though, Kabru drew his attention back down to his hands as he tore off a piece of his sandwich. He held it out to Laios, his eyes still reflecting that soft, gentle look.
Laios couldn’t help his widening grin as he took the offering, devouring it in a single bite. No, he thought as he chewed carefully, he didn’t mind if he never felt truly full ever again. Just as long as he got to keep having moments like this with the people he cared about, he’d be okay. There were some needs that were more than just physical.
He licked the buttery residue off his thumb with a wet pop, humming softly. Kabru was still staring, his eyes fixed somewhere around his mouth, and Laios slowly started freaking out again. Seriously, did he have something on his face?
Kabru’s eyes abruptly widened. Reaching for his cup of tea, he took a brief gulp, only to yelp and jerk it away just as quickly, fanning his mouth with his hand.
“Ah, careful,” Laios said, looking on with befuddlement. Kabru drank tea all the time; surely he knew to blow on it a little and sip it until it had cooled down somewhat, right?
Kabru did end up blowing on it without Laios having to tell him, though, as he took a cautious sip. But the temperature still must have been scalding since his face was all hot and flushed. He coughed, clearing his throat before setting the cup back down.
“You have some, uh,” he gestured to his own lip, “here.”
Shit!