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The barracks are dim and hushed, most of the knights long retired for the night. Alois pushes open the heavy door and steps inside, movements crisp and deliberate. To anyone else, he is composed as ever — cloak immaculate, stride measured, face unreadable.
But Prince Zenon knows him too well. There is something in the tightness of his shoulders, the faint stiffness in how he sets his jaw.
“Alois, is everything alright?”
“Mm, so so.”
“Were you out with Nanalie.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you two get into a fight, again?” Zenon raises an eyebrow — half exasperated, half amused. Because, what else is new with those two?
“Tch, I don’t know if I’d quite call it a fight.” Alois looks annoyed. Then he pauses, before adding, almost as if it was an afterthought, “I asked her to marry me.”
“Wha—?! Alois —!” Zenon splutters, caught completely off guard. “Where? When?”
“Earlier this evening, in the library,” Alois answers matter-of-factly.
“Did she say yes?”
“No.”
“She said no?!”
Alois tilts his head in thought. “Not quite …. Though I suppose it doesn’t matter — as long as it’s not a yes …”
“Well, what’re her reasons then?” Zenon frowns. He honestly can’t tell if Alois is distraught by this rejection. He looks tense, yes, but not exactly brokenhearted.
“Something stupid about my apparent self-sacrificing attitude.” Alois rolls his eyes.
“Huh? That doesn’t exactly sound like your typical rejection.”
But then something catches Zenon’s eyes.
Zenon tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. Something glimmers in the lamplight on Alois’s back. Coins. About eighty pegalo worth of them, somehow fixed by magic to the back of his coat in the most absurd manner imaginable.
Zenon nearly chokes on his laughter. “…Alois,” he calls, voice far too innocent. “You’ve picked up some… extra weight.”
Alois stops dead, head turning ever so slightly. “What?”
Grinning like a fiend, Zenon strolls over and plucks a coin free, holding it up between two fingers. “Ah, I see. Walking treasure chest. Is this your new strategy for attracting attention? Skip the titles, just stick gold on yourself and see who comes running?”
The soft clink of the remaining coins shifting against Alois’s back betrays just how many there are. Zenon’s grin widens. “Tell me, did someone pay you for the privilege of your company tonight, or are you now accepting tips as a side business?”
Alois’s eyes narrow to dangerous slits. He reaches back, rips the coins off with one gloved hand, and they jingle harshly as he closes his fist around them. “…She is infuriating.”
“Nanalie, you mean?” Zenon leans casually against the nearest post, utterly delighted. “Oh, don’t stop there. Do explain. I’d love to hear how exactly a lady manages to pin coinage to your back without you noticing. That’s a tale worth gold in itself.”
“We had dinner together. She was trying to pay for our meal,” Alois huffs.
“Fancy restaurant if one meal is four times a family’s typical daily food expenditure. Hang on — did you say dinner?”
“Yeah.”
“As in, after the library?”
“Yeah.” Alois is busy plucking the coins off his back.
“A-Alois! After proposing, you had dinner together at a fancy restaurant? Are you sure she actually rejected your hand in marriage?”
But before he can tease further, Alois turns sharply on his heel and strides for the door.
“You’re going back now?” Zenon calls, laughter spilling into the quiet hall. “It’s past midnight!”
The only reply is the firm, echoing rhythm of boots against stone.
“Ah, well,” Zenon says to himself with a small smile, “there is hope for you yet, Alois.”
***
Outside, moments later, Alois stands in the cool night air, gaze flicking upward to a certain familiar window on the top floor. His hand tightens around the coins. He can almost hear her muttering to herself, proud of her little stunt.
His jaw sets. With a flick of his fingers, he magically eases open the window.
He draws back his arm — and with the deadly precision of a battle-hardened mage, launches the handful of coins upward.
They whistle through the night, striking her window frame with a sharp clatter-clang. The latch rattles, the glass shivers, and the coins rain down inside with all the subtlety of a thunderclap.
Satisfied, Alois turns on his heel and strides away, cloak snapping behind him.
Somewhere inside, no doubt, she sputters in indignation.
And somehow… the corner of his mouth twitches upward.
“Looks like I win this round, Hel.”