Yellow Buds

The coalition army continues its march southward after taking back Posseth in a day. Their successive victories—due to the queen's marvelous employment of tactics—kept morale sky high. The army knew the terrain well, which kept their fatigue to a minimum. The enemy's incompetence in the environment was the centerpiece of the queen's strategies. From flood sections of the city by blocking entire rivers to setting up multiple ambush parties in unexpected groves, the Essenians stationed in Posseth threw their weapons within a day.

"We should be at Grandiflora by morning tomorrow even if we stop here," Prince Julien traces the road from Posseth to Grandiflora on a map he held. His horse whinnies as he subtly tugs on the reins. "Another day and we'll reach Magnolia."

"Two days and all this farce will be over," the queen grabs a fan—one of her servants was using to cool her—and violently blows it on her face. "Let's make sure we grab the enemy commander alive, so that we can sue for peace, and they can pay for reparations. Otherwise, we can turn back northwest and prolong this campaign."

"General Ferdinand Cartagena, a war veteran and an experienced fighter," the prince turns to his mother before looking at the road ahead. "He would be a worthy opponent."

"We have a larger army, but he has fought larger armies before," the queen reviews the map of the Grandiflora domain, carefully reviewing the roads, rivers, and forests—anything that the enemy can use to thin down their numbers. "These narrow roads in the countryside are difficult. I wish we can take the Carnation Road, but that would be too risky. We would lose the element of surprise."

"Do we need the element of surprise? We have you, after all. You're brilliant than anyone I've ever known."

"One more word and I'll kick you out of the army," Queen Sophia was admired for her immense intelligence, yet she is also known for her disgust of compliments directed at her intellect. She studies the map carefully, tracing every route, creating every simulation in her head. "You may take your leave."

"As you wish, your Majesty," Julien exits the tent and directly gallops to his tent at the left army.

The well-arranged arrays harmonized with the green grass and the orange skies above, painting a picturesque scene. The color of the tents represents the rank of those who stayed within them. The queen's and the prince's tents are crimson Norman tents, generals, and other officers, both high and low ranking, are pink Saxon tents, while common soldiers have white tents.

The left army's array is just beyond a silent flowing creek, which encircles a flatland. The left army camped at the flatland, which had the right size for every soldier to fit. Towering the white encirclement are two pink Saxons, and a crimson Norman.

Julien rushes through the ranks of his army, making his way to his abode, where Gianni had just finished concocting an herbal tonic. Because of recent events, Julien took Gianni under his protection, which granted him the protection of the left army. Julien deemed it dangerous for Gianni to stay in a separate tent.

"How did your meeting go?" Gianni stands up as soon as the prince tosses the hanging entrance aside. He shows Julien a vial of pale green liquid whose viscosity resembled that of honey. "I made a tonic for your wounds. These should fix you up in no time."

"Heal me then, doctor." Julien immediately strips and shows his naked body filled with scars, scabs, bruises. Gianni signals him to sit on a chair he positioned before him. "When we freed Calcister, the remaining Essenian guards broke free from their shackles and tried to assassinate me." Julien guides Gianni's hand to his chest, where a scar was. "They pointed a dagger to my heart, but I kicked them before they could kill me."

"You are very strong, my prince." He takes a pea-sized portion of the viscous liquid and applies it to the scar on Julien's chest. "The wound should feel pain and cool thereafter."

"You don't have to be formal around me, Gianni." Julien looks up and stares at Gianni. "Talk to me like I'm not the prince of any kingdom, like I'm not some high-ranking officer in the army, nor the son and descendant of royalty. Talk to me like I'm a normal person, not a prince, not a warrior, but as an equal."

Julien's piercing eyes met with Gianni's kind stare. Julien caught his breath as Gianni proceeded to kiss him on the forehead.

"I will, Julien," he whispers.

As Gianni's hand dances across Julien's body spreading the tonic, Julien closes his eyes placing his palms over Gianni's hands. He matches Gianni's movements on his body, sometimes guiding him to his wounds or scars that still sore. When he was finished, Gianni moved back, but Julien locked his hands. He places them around his abdomen, embracing himself.

"Can we stay like this even for a minute?" Julien pleads letting a soft whisper leave his lips. "You're so warm."

"The tonic is cold and you're naked," Gianni explains. "I'll cover you with a blanket."

"I order…No…" Julien pauses, "Please stay, don't move a muscle."

Julien tightens his hold on Gianni. Gianni obliges, providing him warmth. A blissful kiss of comfort drapes Julien's battle-weary body. The fatigue melts against the luxury of the heavenly embrace—or at least how Julien feels it is—even though it was an awkward position.

"Julien…I," Gianni hesitates before moving his mouth closer to his ear, "I need to check your back too."

"But I still don't want to move…"

"Come now," Julien finally budges. He lays prone on his bed, his back completely exposed along with the bruises and tears of battle. "The war gave your back no justice. Your muscles are stiffer than ever."

"If you continue to do that, something else will become stiff," Julien jests. "You get that?"

"Stop that," Gianni shuts him down. "I hate being objectified or treated as an object of pleasure."

"My apologies," Julien backs down. "Did you hate me back then, when I did those things to you?"

"I was confused back then, why you did those. I swallowed them as if part of my duties as a butler. I've learned to hate them, when I worked as a soldier, as a servant. I became nothing but a tool, and I hated that. I don't want to be a tool. I want to be me."

"You are not a tool," Julien rises and envelops him with his arms. "What I did was wrong, and it hurt you greatly that you may never want to see me again. But I ask for your forgiveness. Please know that I think of you not as a tool, but as a remarkable human being. You are kind, you are strong. You've performed feats that I cannot do."

"Why do you do this, Your Highness? It has gotten me confused ever since you were married. My feelings for you were against my duty."

"Let me show you something," Julien pauses for a long moment before answering.

He grabs his coat and grabs Gianni outside. He leads him to a makeshift stable, where his horse grazes peacefully. A solid-sounded whistle calls the stallion's attention, making its way towards Gianni and Julien. The pitch-black steed is as dark as night from all four hooves to the end of its mane and tail.

"Easy, Magnus. He is a friend," Julien grabs the reins. "Gianni, this is Magnus, my friend and companion in the battlefield. Magnus, this is Gianni."

"Hello, Magnus! It is a pleasure to meet you," before Gianni could say another word, Julien was helping him mount Magnus. Though his days of nobility taught him much about riding, the high thoroughbred steed is proved to be intimidating for him. "I'm not sure if I can…"

"I'm here with you," Julien firmly grasps his hand. Seeing the glitter in Julien's eyes, Gianni finds the courage to ride on the horse's saddle. When he was on Magnus, Julien follows him. Julien slides his arms in between Gianni's body and arms, holding the reins keeping in control. Gianni could feel his breathing—the moisture from his mouth brushing against the fine hairs on his neck, his beating heart pounding against his garment-draped back, his strong and firm hands keeping him steady. "I'll show you to one of my favorite spots here in the south."

They exit the left army's camp making a beeline towards the King's Road. From there, they pursue the setting sun, until two magnolia trees could be seen from a distance. Gradually, a pond could be seen, nestled in between the two yellow-bearing trees. Torches standing at the edges of the pond are engraved with the emblem of the Julien's royal house.

"When I was two years old, my grandmother, who was dowager at that time, showed me this place," Julien snatches a flint and steel from the horse's satchel. He lights up the four torches one by one. "When my grandfather and my grandmother were both young, they ran away, not permanently but just for that night. There was a gala arranged for my grandmother by the Duke of Magnolia to find a bride. No one caught her attention, except for a lonesome stranger standing alone at the edge of the ballroom.

"His stature resembled that of a hero, his hair as brown as the lacquered ballroom floor, his complexion radiant, and his gaze pierced her soul, it was my grandfather, the Prince of Gallia, who heard of the gala and infiltrated it without the king's consent," Julien finishes lighting up all the torches. "My grandfather convinced my grandmother to get out of the party, and they did. They rode north by the King's Road as far as their horse could take them. That was when they stumbled upon this garden.

"When my grandfather died, my grandmother built a memorial here for my grandfather, although she stopped and instead made the torches around the pond. I remember her saying, 'When you fall in love, make sure to bring the person you love here so that you may receive my and your grandfather's blessing.' And that's why, I've brought you here, Gianni."