The Princeps’s Inner Sanctum
“Will our esteemed guest enlighten us on the reasons of his enlisting in our school?”
To Lawrence’s slight shock, Anton, seated now with his legs crossed, was lighting a pipe. Actually, it was Abelard fixing it for him. With practiced elegance, Anton gestured with the pipe, not bothering to thank his acolyte for doing that for him, as if he expected Lawrence to start blabbing already.
“We weren’t introduced,” Lawrence said. Felix had allowed him to return to his place – Bastien’s place – but not before exchanging a playful hiss with the Sun King himself. It appeared quite obvious that Bastien let his subordinates get away with many things. Despite his aloof and distant demeanor, he was quite loved. Or at least these first impressions led Lawrence to think so.
Anton, for a change, stopped and looked at him with what seemed to be appraisal that resembled reluctant respect.
“Anton von Strassberg,” he said, eventually stretching his hand out in greeting. “Lawrence Garth, your name… is quite common.”
His Dark Eminence had the sharpest eyes Lawrence had ever had the opportunity to stare into. But he didn’t feel intimidated in the least. His training had prepared him to use all the people involved in an incident as leads and sources of information. If what Ali said about Anton was true, the young von Strassberg – a name Lawrence was familiar with – had to know at least a thing or two about Lukas’s death.
“It is my name,” Lawrence replied calmly. If these people thought he would cower before them only because they were rich and had power, they needed to reconsider. Not many things impressed Lawrence in this world, let alone scared him into acting submissive.
The others witnessed their exchange with curiosity, better concealed in the scholarly Eldric’s case, less so where Viv and Felix were concerned. Norris the big guy seemed the least impressed, however. For him, Lawrence could very well have been absent from the room. However, he wasn’t entirely impassive. Now and then, his eyes flicked cautiously to Bastien; Lawrence thought he could read pain in those brief glances.
Abelard mirrored his master’s attitude to a tee, with a dash of disdain for spice, without a doubt.
Lawrence took all their faces in, meeting their eyes steadily. He wouldn’t volunteer the smallest bit of information. If they were so curious, they’d be better off continuing their interrogation.
“So, what brings you to Veridien?” Anton hung his pipe at the corner of his lips. The scent of expensive tobacco filled the air.
“I need to deepen my knowledge of Latin and Classical Greek,” Lawrence replied. “But you must know all that. The moment I came in, you mentioned the Foreign Service. So how about you ask me what you truly want to know? Something you couldn’t read in my file.”
Anton removed his pipe slowly from his mouth. That was the extent of his manifestation of surprise.
But Felix chose to be more vocal. “I’ll be damned. Princeps,” he elbowed Bastien, his voice dropping to a whisper filled with innuendo, “je crois que je tombe amoureux.(1)”
“Very well,” Anton said with a glacial smile. “Why here? Why now?”
“I am training to become the best our country has to offer,” Lawrence said. “Veridien is the best for my purpose.”
Anton bit down hard on the pipe. His eyes met Lawrence’s stare without blinking. “Why a last-year transfer instead of pursuing a four-year education cycle?”
“Cheaper,” Lawrence replied. “And you must know that someone called in a favor to get me in here.”
He counted on Marius Vassier to hide his traces, because the man was good at his job.
“So you can’t afford your studies,” Abelard intervened with a sneer.
Anton put one hand up to stop his acolyte from continuing that thought. “Your presence here elicits… interest,” he said.
“As would happen if one of you started attending any other school in the land,” Lawrence replied. “I understand.”
Abelard scoffed to show what he thought about the impossible scenario Lawrence had just presented.
“Are you an interesting man, Garth?” Anton asked, cocking his head to one side and staring at him obliquely.
“I doubt it. I was born to serve. That is what I will do.”
Anton smirked. However, Lawrence could tell that His Dark Eminence hadn’t obtained everything he’d hoped for so far.
“Bastien thinks the opposite. He believes you are far from being dull.”
Lawrence turned his attention back to the Sun King. All he received was an open, curious stare, one that appeared void of ulterior motives. Was this how he would fail? How he would fall? “He flatters me.”
“How do you find Veridien so far?” Felix jumped in. A short look in Anton’s direction told Lawrence that the relationships between the members of the Golden Circle could very well be more complex than seemed obvious at first glance.
“Different,” Lawrence said. “Especially the food.” Although he hadn’t given Anton and his dog the satisfaction of feeling insulted and showing it, he did need to give these people something they expected, so they remained on familiar ground as far as he was concerned.
“In what sense?” Viv intervened eagerly. “What kind of food do you people eat?”
You people. As if Lawrence had happened to come here from a land far away. “Definitely nothing as sophisticated as what you eat. Also, the portions here,” he added, willing to show the Golden Circle what an inferior brute he was, “are incredibly tiny. Not exactly enough.” Since Ali could very well be feeding them information, let them believe that he had pedestrian interests such as what went into his belly.
“So why did you skip dinner?” That was Norris asking.
Had he skipped dinner? Lawrence had gratefully accepted the tea and biscuits sent to his room at five o’clock, but he hadn’t realized that dinner had already taken place. Of course. Who should have told him? He hadn’t seen Ali since lunch, and Herr Becker wasn’t at all forthcoming when it came to his orientation. Despite what the Rector told him, Lawrence would have to learn the rules of the place on his own.
“It wasn’t on purpose. I was focused on preparing for my first lessons tomorrow and didn’t realize it.”
“That’s perfect,” Bastien said, clapping his hands together. “Will you come to my room later?” He leaned forward and shielded the side of his face with the back of his hand as if the others couldn’t hear him whispering. “I have a few friends down in the kitchens.”
Kitchens. As in more than one.
Bastien continued, oblivious to Lawrence’s deductions. “I’ll have them send up some real food for you.”
“Real food?” Lawrence couldn’t help smiling. “What could you mean by that?” Bastien was so close, smelling of roses and mint. His breath caressed Lawrence’s face gently and briefly.
“You must be famished!” Bastien exclaimed and took Lawrence’s hand. “Apologies, my dears, but I cannot allow Veridien to leave such a poor first impression on our transfer student,” he said to no one in particular, while taking Lawrence with him.
If he’d been a pettier person, he would’ve sent a triumphant glance Anton’s way. The young von Strassberg had a dark, venomous look on his face, and that sneer made his face appear uglier, older.
Felix was letting Viv know his opinion of their leader’s penchant for stealing the most interesting people and keeping them to himself instead of sharing them with the group, while Eldric appeared completely uninterested. Norris, however, looked like a kid whose favorite toy had been snatched away. They all appeared to be in love with Bastien to some degree, although their love wasn’t necessarily the romantic type. Therefore, Bastien, by picking him, was igniting jealousies and who knew what else.
On the bright side, Lawrence would get the chance to see Bastien’s room. Lukas must have been there many times. Would it be possible to find traces of him still present in his former boyfriend’s room, kept as mementos?
It was worth investigating.
***
He had expected to be impressed by Bastien’s quarters, yet nothing had prepared him for the room opening before them beyond the double-leafed doors.
Bastien’s room took up the entire upper corner of the left wing, its space created at the crossing between two long corridors. To either side, the Sun King had no direct neighbors. Was isolation a perk of being the richest student attending Veridien? After watching Bastien surrounded by his friends, the placement of his room appeared quite odd.
Inside, the ceiling, crossed by beams in neatly arranged zig-zags, seemed far too high for a proper bedroom. Lawrence was starting to appreciate his monk cell. While someone suffering from claustrophobia would find it unbearable, he realized that it would do just fine for him.
Bastien’s room was as wide as it was tall, creating a sensation of emptiness that hit Lawrence in the pit of his stomach. It reminded him of its owner, as Lawrence had seen him for the first time that morning. Boundless. That was the word that came to his mind as he observed the surroundings fit for a king.
The furniture in the room belonged to a different century, having weathered many owners, but it was kept in pristine condition. Two large armoires housed all of Bastien’s belongings, because not one item could be seen out of place, no casually thrown clothes, no bags, not even shoes.
The large fireplace was there only for decoration. Lawrence quickly counted five heaters strategically placed around the room. The air was still frigid, reminding him of a crypt instead of a lived-in place.
Concessions to modern-day amenities had been made. The bed, raised on a low dais, came with a luxurious mattress and new pillows, as well as a coverlet with geometrical patterns that had definitely not been in fashion at the time of the castle’s construction. Through a side door, built into a partition dividing the room, Lawrence observed a tiled floor and a sink. By the size of it, Bastien’s private lavatory most likely came with a bathtub, too.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Bastien said, spreading his arms wide and walking backwards. “What do you think of my inner sanctum?”
“It’s big,” Lawrence replied, noticing the mullioned windows, one adorning each exterior wall. The diamond-shaped room made that arrangement possible.
“You’re not the kind to flatter people, are you, Sir Galahad?” Bastien teased him with a beautiful smile. “Let me talk to my kitchen liaison,” he quipped and set one knee on the edge of the bed to reach for the small bell set in the headboard. An electric version of a tool for calling servants in another century must have replaced the original at one point.
“You don’t have to go out of your way for me. Now I feel I shouldn’t have complained about the food.”
Bastien half-turned, giving him a smile as bright as the sun. “I will sound trite for a moment, but you are like a breath of fresh air. We all need it.”
Lawrence understood what was left unsaid. As an outsider, he didn’t carry the trauma left by Lukas’s death like an inescapable coat. Bastien could very well be fed up with people who fussed over him, pitied him, or tried to take Lukas’s place. Lawrence didn’t suspect Anton of that kind of inclination, but he was definitely jealous. Norris was a more likely candidate, but Bastien didn’t appear to treat him differently from the rest. He couldn’t yet judge where the others’ interests lay, since Eldric was a closed book, Felix was hiding under a mask of cheerfulness, and Viv didn’t seem to have a personality of his own.
As for Abelard, Lawrence felt the need to wipe his hand even now as he recalled the sensation of squeezing that inert one.
He continued to take note of the room’s appointments. Bastien had a sizeable library in there. It would’ve been unfair to call the place holding all the books in the room a bookshelf, because it was much more than that. Bastien’s desk had to be as large as the one Lawrence had seen in the Rector’s office. Textbooks, pens, and other educational materials were arranged neatly on the polished surface. Not one speck of dust was in sight, making Lawrence worry about how thorough the domestic staff was when cleaning the rooms. He would have to hide his sketches better.
Someone knocked softly on the door a couple of minutes later. Bastien spoke to the person at the door in a low voice, so Lawrence took the opportunity to continue his explorations.
A compact hi-fi system, flush against the wall and guarded by two tall speakers, was another signal of Bastien’s standing at the academy. As far as Lawrence was concerned, such systems usually cost a small fortune. Especially when they came with a CD player attached.
Underneath the hi-fi system, a long shelf held Bastien’s cassettes and discs. Lawrence had to crouch to start reading the spines. Hopefully, his curiosity wouldn’t be dissected by his host and blamed on his commoner status, so to speak. The classical recordings were no surprise, just as the neoclassical choices. But the name of an artist who was currently making a name for herself in the art pop scene did make Lawrence quirk an eyebrow. It was good to know that the past wasn’t claiming Bastien entirely.
“Would you like to listen to it? It just came out.” Bastien’s voice, so close to him, caught him unawares. Lawrence stood up, unnerved by his host’s ability to move so quietly. “Or maybe you’d like to dance?”
The room was as large as a small ballroom, but the idea seemed ludicrous. He was about to protest, when Bastien brushed past him, easily picked a disc, removed it from its case and inserted it into the CD player.
“Well?” Bastien asked, offering Lawrence one hand.
It would be improper to refuse, no matter how quirky such an invitation was, Lawrence thought.
“You lead,” Bastien decided while stepping into his guest’s breathing space.
He could only call it that because Bastien’s proximity truly took his breath away. The soft sounds of a slow, soulful piece set the stage for seduction; Lawrence wasn’t so inexperienced as to miss such a detail.
He should be on guard. He knew nothing about Bastien, who, oblivious to Lawrence’s inner struggle, was busy taking his hand and placing it on his hip while linking the other with his.
“Forgive me,” he said in a tone that suggested how little he intended to apologize, “around here, we all tend to be a bit peculiar.”
“I’m afraid I have two left feet,” Lawrence said, ignoring the double-meaning of Bastien’s words on purpose.
“I will teach you,” Bastien said, smiling. He was so close now that Lawrence couldn’t look anywhere else. “Something tells me you’re not difficult to train.”
Guided by a gentle hand such as Bastien’s, indeed, he wouldn’t be. Under Bastien’s soft-spoken commands, they began to move. It was easier than Lawrence thought. His steps followed his dance partner’s moves without going even a bit too fast or too slow. They even twirled and turned, attempting more and more daring artifices.
The room no longer seemed so cold and unlived in. Bastien’s infectious laughter turned it around.
They stopped when the song reached its end. Bastien moved away and stopped the player. He turned to face Lawrence, and they looked into each other’s eyes.
“Why did you truly come to Veridien, Lawrence?” he asked. His eyes were sharp now, but nothing like Anton’s. Their sharpness came from a need to survive; Lawrence could tell as much.
Bastien didn’t wait for his answer. “This place isn’t kind,” he added, his smile fading just as the color fled from his cheeks.
“To strangers like me?” Lawrence asked.
“To anyone.” Bastien walked over and ran one hand through Lawrence’s hair, the same as that morning. He pushed himself up on his toes and placed a soft kiss on Lawrence’s forehead.
But Lawrence didn’t allow him to move away. He held Bastien with one arm, pressing it gently against his back and angled his head. Bastien watched him with curiosity, and Lawrence waited through long, excruciating moments until the other leaned his head in the opposite direction, letting their lips meet.
Kissing Bastien Hawthorne was more than he’d imagined. A taste, a sound, an image he’d keep locked behind closed eyes, they happened all at once. They didn’t insist and didn’t move much from their self-imposed prim and proper position, indulging only in each other’s mouths.
It was a full kiss. Lawrence had kissed people before, girls more often, and only one boy. The latter had been little more than a brush of lips, easy to discard as a dare. He could tell how different this kiss was. He felt Bastien close, expressing himself softly like the sad music he enjoyed listening to – so close, like a presence that could easily overpower him and make him obey.
An ordinary lie waited on the sidelines. Getting closer to Bastien Hawthorne was essential for his investigation, but which police procedure recommended kissing the main suspect?
It didn’t truly matter, because he wanted to stay like this forever, lost in kissing the most beautiful person he’d ever had the chance to meet in his life. His perspectives were slowly twisting now, becoming skewed, but he’d worry about that later, when he was no longer under the Sun King’s spell. Of all the nicknames he’d heard so far, he thought that fit him the best.
Because like the others, he couldn’t stop himself from gravitating toward and around him, eager to experience his warmth.
Not only his warmth, his touch, too. His lips were hot, and the skin on his neck, when Lawrence touched him with the tips of his fingers, was burning.
It took him a good solid moment to realize what was happening.
“Do you have a fever?” he asked Bastien, interrupting their kiss.
Bastien looked annoyed. He bit his bottom lip, and his eyelids fluttered for a moment. Could it be he hadn’t wanted to give in to the temptation of letting Lawrence kiss him?
Another knock on the door cut the awkwardness short. Bastien turned quickly away from him and went to get the door. He returned with a parcel in his hands. It was still warm when he placed it in Lawrence’s. And it smelled heavenly, even through the cloth in which it was wrapped; in Lawrence’s vocabulary, that meant normal food, like stew with potatoes and meat in it.
“This place isn’t kind,” Bastien repeated what he said before, “but I try to be different. Someone will remove the pot from your room tomorrow. You don’t have to do anything, no matter how tempted or indebted you might feel. Good night, knight-errant. I look forward to learning from you.”
Lawrence had no idea what Bastien meant by that. But they were back to being polite and cold, and Lawrence knew not to overstay his welcome.
TBC
(1) je crois que je tombe amoureux (French) – I think I’m falling in love
Author's note: Thank you for reading! I will occasionally have lines said by characters in other languages, and their translations will be posted at the end as above - I apply the same rule with historical details and other aspects that are not immediately explained in the story.
@Geoffrey Fox - thank you! This story, I believe, has the largest cast of characters so far of everything I've ever written. I want them to feel distinct to the readers!
@Derek - I am planning to write Lawrence as a practical but honest character - Bastien is quite astute and he has his own interests. Lawrence on the other hand leans toward keeping his alliances straight. Some of the characters will provide some pretty big surprises :)
@DavidB - actually, I did write another murder mystery! Only that I don't think I published it here... It's called Love, Again and it's about a bodyguard in charge of protecting a beautiful musician - with whom he immediately becomes involved - a Kung-Fu Panda like sidekick and a friendly ghost!
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