51 Lord Opheron

The terrace that the duke led them to was one that overlooked the city from the palace's lofty elevation. Beyond the dazzling city was the long stretch of sapphire sea that sparkled beneath the afternoon sun. 

The sound of cawing gulls was drowned out by the languid tune of a harp. Lord Opheron eagerly shared the detailed history of Yasalri Red Wine, topping Julian and Marik's cups after every sip.

Leonel watched the whole debacle from the side, standing vigilant like the mercenary role that he was meant to play. But he was having a hard time masking the discontent in his visage. A subtle frown tugged the corners of his lips, and while he understood Julian's goals, was it really necessary for the Doctor to lean so close to the Duke? Or smile so sweetly as he flashed those long lashes of his?

Just what was he playing at? Leonel's fingers twitched as he held his hands behind his back, a furrow formed between his brows even as he fought to school his expressions. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, no one was paying him any mind.

The other three were seated around a quaint but beautiful marble table that had over waves, cooing mermaids, and dancing dolphins carved into its one central pillar and along the ledge as well. It was a perfect match for the other exquisite decor that the Duke had collected and littered his abode with.

"My Lord does have quite remarkable tastes," Julian raised a brow while tasting a salted biscuit between sips. "Might I recommend a brand to you? It comes from the far North West." 

Lord Opheron leaned in, clearly intrigued, "For a doctor you are very knowledgeable about the finer things in life! And well-traveled as well."

Julian grinned with a wink, "I'm sure you would know, in different times, us mage physicians were much welcomed in many corners of the world."

The Duke barked with laughter, "Don't say it in such a way! It does make one feel the weight of time and age. Ah, but you are not that old, no? Not nearly as much as myself. Not to mention, there are still places outside of Arcadia that aren't as hostile to your talents."

Julian shrugged, "Though I may be a wanderer, and no longer welcome here, Arcadia is still my home."

Lord Orpheron nodded wisely in agreement, "Ah, I understand." He then sighed and shook his head. "Although King Amari was definitely a bastard, there were things about the Old Regime that I can't help but miss…"

Julian leaned in, his eyes shining with intent, "Those are dangerous words to say, my Lord. Do you not fear repercussions?"

With a strained smile, the Duke replied, "Things said in this palace, will remain in this palace. And it's hardly a secret, between the two of us."

To that, Julian couldn't help but laugh, "I suppose you have a point." He leaned against his arm, bringing up the cup of wine to his lips. "Say, did you know the Blueiron Mage King personally?" he asked with a pointed whisper, not too different from a gossiping old lady.

The duke leaned in turn, lowering his voice to match, "Actually, yes. But not well. I had only met him briefly."

"What were your impressions?" Julian urged, endlessly curious.

"Ah, well, you see… One could say that he lives up to his reputation…A terrifying yet charming fellow, he was."

Marik sat there, small and silent, eyes flitting between the two older men. His fake smile was becoming more and more difficult to wear and he felt as though the Doctor had completely forgotten about their purpose in the first place! The young mage was truly distraught, desperately blanking his eyes in hopes of miraculously catching their attention.

Alas, it was futile. There was no way to insert himself in attempts to steer the topic back on track. The two were intent on rambling about anything and everything unimportant. And whenever he opened his mouth, he couldn't even utter a word. Not with Julian making wide movements with his arms, eyes twinkling with passion and mirth and the Duking leaning in with intent. 

He even realized belatedly that the Doctor hadn't spoken a single word about the so-called 'talents' they had mentioned earlier! No, the two were just exchanging random stories, opinions and ideas! What about Marik's trade!? And didn't Julian wish to be paid? 

Growing pale, the younger mage began to veer his gaze towards the Inquisitor in a fit of desperation, even it meant craning his neck to the side and making his awkwardness obvious.

Marik earned himself a scowl but it didn't stop him from shamelessly pleading with the Inquisitor with puppy dog eyes.

Leonel grumbled but he cleared his throat. "Pardon my interruption," he said with stoic confidence. "But my client still has later appointments today that he needs to take part in."

The two older men looked at him. Julian rolled his eyes subtly as though to chide. But he did play the part trying to act bashful, but with little success, "My, I'm sorry for leading the good Lord Duke off-topic. I simply could not contain myself. Lord Opheron is much too charming and pleasant to talk to."

Said Lord Opheron laughed and shook his head. His pleased expression morphed into upset when he turned to Marik, causing the younger man to shrink even further in his seat. "Little Marik, if you were in a rush, you should have just said something."

"…" Marik was forced to hide his frown. "Apologies, my Lord… it… simply slipped my mind."

"He's a sweet mild-tempered thing," Julian hummed, "Gentleness is advised when dealing with him."

Marik shot the Doctor a helpless glare but he couldn't bring himself to say anything in front of the Duke.

"Now, now," the duke hummed, "no need to bully him." 

Marik seriously wanted to rip his hair out… Why were these two old men chattering and chirping like a pair of best friends!? Was it really the first time the two of them met? He couldn't fathom it!

"Sorry…" He mumbled head dipped.

"Don't look so down, son," Julian grinned, head tilted. "I promise to keep my pretty lips shut so that you may have front and center stage all to yourself."

The way the Duke smiled seemed to tame a little, that genuine bright twinkle dimmed. "Go on, Marik," he said, as though urging a child.

Although Marik really disliked being talked to in such a way, what choice did he have? He was clearly out of his depths, struggling as he cleared his throat to look at the Duke. "E-erm so…about the deal you wished to negotiate last time…"

Julian crossed his arms and sat his back against the chair. With the parasol stretched above them, the Pyrparian afternoon sun was a bit easier to bear. The humidity clung to his skin, making the heat feel more unbearable than it truly was. 

The situation was becoming clearer to him as he watched Marik fumble over his words while trying to pitch his thoughts and arguments to the Duke. But the Duke was resolute on his stance, refusing to budge even an inch.

"But my Lord…" Marik practically whined, "The amount you are offering…doesn't even cover the cost of manufacturing those…erm…goods! How can you expect me to accept such an offer?"

The Duke of Costailles shrugged and stroked his chin, "As unfortunate as it is, the amount is truly all I have to offer."

"B-but…!" Marik huffed, exasperated, unable to argue any further. It was just that…it was completely unfathomable that Lord Opheron would have no money! After all, this man was known for just such a thing! The city was prosperous and the rest of the duchy was productive as well. He was being led around the nose with a flimsy excuse and Marik had no idea how to breach it without outright accusing the duke. It was truly an insurmountable task. He looked toward the Doctor with despair in his eyes.

Julian did not jump to Marik's rescue. He was having fun observing the dynamic. It was obvious that the Duke's excuse about not having money was a pathetic one, especially when he was known for hosting regular banquets at his place. 

However, the issue was not so simple because there were a few details that did not add up. The Doctor concluded that he needed to learn a bit more about Pyrpara and the Duke of Costailles. 

And thus he decided to cut into the pointless negotiations just as Marik had done to their earlier small talk. 

"Forgive me, My Lord. I also have a few prior arrangements in need of attendance. Before I depart, is there anything you would wish of me?" 

Marik's mouth clamped shut, shaking from his impatience and frustration. Lord Opheron didn't so much as give the poor boy a second glance as he turned to the Doctor and took those slender hands into his own. "Oh yes, there is something I wish for you to see to! I do hope that it is not too much trouble."

Bullseye, Julian thought as a smile stretched his lips, "Of course, it is of no issue. Just name your malaise, my Lord."