Steel and Mana

Chapter 377 – Brawl

The corridors of my palace, usually calm and silent, only used by guards, my maids, and, of course, by my children, now echoed with our sharp, clipped footsteps as we hurriedly followed Pion. It would be best if Yuri and I got to the kids first because when Sasha learns about it... Oh boy. Not even I can spare them from her wrath. Speed walking our way out of the palace, Pion matched my long strides, his face unreadable for the most part but his voice tight with... amusement.

"They were detained an hour ago," He explained, keeping his tone trying to keep it neutral; after all, they were my sons, and Arthur was designed to be my successor in the future. "The Enforcers broke up the brawl before blades could be drawn, but the damage was already done. Three tables were smashed, along with a few broken noses—nothing fatal, but enough to warrant arrests on both sides."

"Good." I nodded, not faulting anybody yet, but I was curious who had their nose realigned. "And my sons? Any resistance on their part?"

"None at all. The Enforcers were unsure at first what to do, but their captain was raised right. So, they were treated like any other brawlers," Pion continued. "No special privileges, as the law says. They were disarmed, restrained, and taken to the city cells."

"Ahahaha~! I bet people will talk about this for a few weeks!" Yuri let out a low whistle, her lips stuck in a permanent smile. "Well, at least the Enforcers have spines. It is the first time they have faced something like this... I was half-expecting them to fall over themselves, apologizing for inconveniencing royalty. That captain should be commended for keeping his calm and acting as he should!"

"That is true," I muttered, scratching my chin, glancing at Pion, who made an acknowledged nod and noted it down. "But I do wonder how this news will sound when it spreads further away."

"Oh? That is a good question..." She arched a brow. "Our boys pick a fight in some tavern, and now we get to drag them out of jail like common delinquents... Maybe they will even start whispering we are skirting our own laws and only putting up a front. Yet we get our children out of trouble while the other band remains behind bars. The options are endless!"

"Experience?" I chuckled, but Yuri just winked back at me.

"My Sovereign," Pion cleared his throat, continuing his report, "The inn was The Sparkling Tankard. Since our more open policy, it became known as the main gathering spot for foreign traders and their mercenaries. It's not exactly a den of filth, but it is one of the most... alien-feeling spaces inside the city compared to other inns inside Avalon. We have the Enforcers who usually patrol the area twice as frequently."

"It was bound to happen. We have a lot of visitors, and it won't change." I nodded, not surprised. "The best we can do is to keep the order up. On both sides."

"From what I can tell..." He stopped speaking for a moment, looking at us, "This wasn't an accident."

"Meaning?" Yuri asked, tilting her head to the left.

"Meaning," Pion said carefully, "The two princes... they were either there for a very good reason… or for a foolish one."

"Probably both," we said in unison.

I already had an idea why. For a week or two, Galahad has been snooping around his grandparents. He even roped in his siblings, and they were now playing master detectives. I wasn't bothered by it, and Yuri kept a closer eye on the group.

"How many of the others were picked up by the Enforcers?" She asked, probably thinking of the same thing I did.

"Four. They were, of course, detained as well. A mix of foreigners—from the southern kingdoms, if the accents were anything to go by." Pion hesitated. "We checked their entry passes, their names and origins. All of them are part of the same trading company, Honey & Spice, from the Sar Empire. But their origin can be faked, and we can't check on that so quickly, My Sovereign."

"That will do for now." I smiled, nodding that I was already satisfied with his report.

"One more thing." He said in a hurry, "One of the Enforcers thought he recognized a man from last winter’s trade negotiations. A minor attaché, perhaps... But he said if he recalls correctly, back then, he was from the Tentian Theocracy, part of the group we were dealing with, to bring in materials for our rubber research."

"Interesting..." I exhaled through my nose. "Look up the details in the archives. If it is true, I want the related information found."

"I already sent people to look through the documents and find anything related to them.

...
...A bit earlier that evening…
......

Catching up to Lancelot, who had already followed the group of foreigners into a tavern, Arthur, getting a cloak from nowhere, melted into the shadows of the same tavern’s doorway. He pulled his hood low to cover his face as best as possible without looking suspicious, looking around, and finding his brother's figure. Across the crowded standard room, Lancelot was leaning against the bar, a tankard already in hand, his posture deliberately slack. He was the perfect picture of a man with nothing to hide... and to most foreigners here, his face was less recognizable than Arthur's, who was the future Sovereign.

The Sparkling Tankard was precisely the kind of place Luna usually depicted in her books. Arthur grimaced as he disliked how smoke filled the air, giving it a thick, nasty taste and making him feel like he would have to burn his clothes after leaving. For some, like Lancelot, it may be exciting compared to the other inns in the city... A bit of the outside world, brought in from beyond Avalon's borders. But... Arthur disliked it... very much so. Still focusing his mind, he was scanning the room, noticing how merchants from all of the neighboring kingdoms huddled in different corners, all having a little bit of space for their own brethren.

Arthur’s senses already locked onto a group near the hearth—their posture, the feeling, the clothes, the voices... yes. They matched the same group that walked past Galahad's grandparents.

There was no mistake about it. And he already had an idea of discovering who they were... what they were doing. What were they really doing, that is.

Lancelot, perfectly timing a lazy turning around, caught his gaze and gave the barest nod. He was ready for whatever Arthur was about to do.

In answer, first, Arthur slid into an empty seat nearby, pretending to look for his coin purse to order some ale while straining to catch snippets of conversation.

"—shipment delayed—"
"—the old man won’t like it—"
"—not here, you fool—"

Too guarded. Too careful. There was nothing really to hear or get from them... Not in the open. They are probably even using code words... And if he began using his senses to connect to their minds, they may recognize it and... That wouldn't be good. So, he made a simple gesture, and his younger brother already knew the plan.

"Oi!" Lancelot’s voice cut through the noise, loud and deliberately slurred, walking over to that table, a sneer on his face, "You lot from the south? Heard your wine’s piss compared to ours!" He said it clearly in an Atuvian accent.

"Huh?" A hush fell over the nearby tables at once, some curious about the sudden development, some frowning in surprise. One of the men—broad-shouldered, with a scar across his chin—glared back at him. Probably a hired hand to protect the merchants. "Mind your tongue, boy."

"Pft!" Lancelot grinned, the picture of drunken bravado. "Or what? You’ll stab me with that little knife you keep fondling? Probably stiffer than the one between your legs!"

The man’s face darkened at once while Arthur stifled a chuckle... It was about to blow, and it was going to give him the perfect chance. Good job, Lancy...

Then, a chair screeched back, and a massive fist flew forth.

With perfect reflexes, Lancelot ducked—just enough to make it look like he was lucky and clumsy enough to dodge. Then, he retaliated with a punch that sent the man crashing into a table. The moment his broad frame landed, dozens of tankards were toppled, splashing ale around the rest...

A second later, complete chaos erupted.

Using it as a cover, Arthur moved like a shadow, slipping behind the group’s leader as the man lunged into the fray, not to fight, but to pull off the others from Lancelot. Maybe... Maybe he realized something. That was what he felt in that moment, emanating from the man. He was good... he was already suspecting a trap. But it was too late. In multiple ways, because Arthur's fingers found the satchel at the man’s belt, which got looped loose in the commotion, and in one smooth motion, he tucked it into his own sleeve.

Then, to not look suspicious, he simply joined in on the fun, brawling with his brother, back to back, exchanging punches, feeling a bit wild and alive.

Then, an Enforcer’s whistle pierced the air, stopping the fight at once.

"Damn it," Lancelot muttered, wiping blood from his knuckles as the guards stormed in.

"It's good, just play along," Arthur whispered to him as he allowed himself to be shoved against the wall, his face the picture of innocent outrage. "We were just defending ourselves!"

"Round everyone up!" the lead Enforcer shouted, but then he recognized Arthur and Lancelot's visage, going pale in the face. Yet, without having Arthur nudge him, he steeled himself in just a second, waving a hand to his squad to cuff them, too, along with the foreigners, some of whom lay on the ground, holding their bleeding noses.

...
....
......

"Hehe... that was fun." Arthur leaned against the cold stone wall of his solitary cell, fingers idly tracing the stitching of the stolen satchel hidden beneath his sleeve.

"Well," Lancelot’s voice drifted from the next partition, thick with amusement, "That went perfectly. Surprisingly, foreign mercenaries are not as good as I expected. They could barely dodge and throw a punch. What the hell are they being taught over there? Pft."

"Maybe you are just too good," Arthur smirked. "You do enjoy getting punched more than is natural."

"Training with Grandpa doesn't count," Lancelot protested. "He is good... And it worked, didn’t it? You did manage to get something, I watched."

"True," Arthur exhaled, looking at the little bag. The satchel’s weight was reassuring. Maps? Letters? Whatever it was, it had been worth the trouble. And probably the shouting his mother will perform before them soon enough. He was about to open it when footsteps approached from down the hall. Heavy. Official. Concentrating a little, he could tell who was coming to pick them up.

"Ayayaya... That sounds like dad's boot." Lancelot grinned. "Guess we’re about to find out if Father’s in a forgiving mood."

"Mom Yuri is with him," Arthur answered with a chuckle. "She feels... surprisingly proud."

"Oh, this will be fun." Lancelot grinned, hearing a grumble from the door.

"You already had enough fun!"

...
....
.....

Saying my piece, I entered the prison's left wing where my kids were kept in small cells. Luckily, the training of my people paid off because the other party, all the foreigners, were held in a different wing, in solidarity, far away, which made it hard for them to even speak with each other.

Unlike these two idiots.

"Proud?" I asked, letting Pion step forward and unlock the cells so they could stand in front of Yuri and me. "No, don't answer it." I raised a hand when Lancelot was about to speak. "What did you find?"

"This," Arthur said, presenting the satchel that I had taken from him. "We should take a look at its contents."

"We should," I agreed, handing it to Yuri, "At least your distraction made it possible for our agents to raid their base."

"You already knew where it is?" Lancelot asked, pursing his lips.

"Of course!" Yuri scoffed. "My girls have been on them for a month. Anyway, we are sweeping it right now and bugging the place. This," she hefted the satchel, "Will be given back to them too, as it was. In the future, don't interfere with them. They are just small fish; we are following the line back to the big one, back at home."

"So..." Arthur looked at us, "Was Galahad right?"

"Kinda." I shrugged, "Anyway... For now, try to come up with a reason why you were there. Why did you decide to be drunk and start fighting."

"Being teenagers?" Lancelot offered, making Yuri chuckle, but she remained silent, letting me handle it.

"As I said," I pointed towards their cells. "Think about it. You will spend two days here, like the others. Right until Yuri's girls finish their tasks."

"What?" Arthur gawked, making me raise an eyebrow.

"Thank me later, kiddos!" I grinned, watching them twitch. "It would also be enough for Sasha to calm down."

"Dad," they looked at each other before taking a step back, straight into their cells, "You are always right."