Olivier and Gahariet made their way back up to their chambers. He could hear the water running, so he knew that the servants had listened to them.
“Why do we have old pipes when we could just install Drakan technology?”
“This castle is made out of pure stone from the time when the Yore were in charge. It can’t be modernized. You know that.”
“Still annoying to have manually pumped water up here,” Olivier grumbled.
“You’re in a bad mood. Do you want to go to Arekir’s party?”
“No. I smell terrible.”
“I mean later.”
“Getting dressed up in fancy clothes just to mingle with the usual boring people? The same ones, since we’re only supposed to associate with a certain class of Draka. I’ll pass.”
“Maybe there’ll be something interesting this time.” But there wasn’t much hope in Gahariet’s voice.
“What else is there to do?”
“Good point,” Olivier conceded. “We’ll go. I’ll be out in an hour.”
Olivier went into his room and got naked before getting into his tub and washing away the grime of the day.
The clothes make the man, his mother used to say. Wearing his princely clothing made him a prince. Wearing a stable hand’s clothing made him just a humble stable hand.
He wondered what it would be like, to really be free like that. Gahariet was the older twin, but he couldn’t just strike out on his own and do whatever he wanted.
But he was a prince, even if he wasn’t first in line.
He went to put on his shiny party clothes. He knocked on Gahariet’s door exactly an hour after they came back.
“You’re on time,” Gahariet noted.
“Yeah.”
“You really aren’t yourself today. Are you sure you want to go?”
Olivier shrugged. “There’s not much else for me to do.”
8
Evening in the Garden
Olivier
Oliver and Gahariet took their levi-car to the party.
Even before going inside, Olivier was bored. Same faces. Same people.
“I hope they have alcohol.”
Gahariet didn’t say anything. They both knew that they had to put on public appearances, but it didn’t mean that they’d enjoy them.
“Just the men I wanted to see!”
Olivier winced as he turned to the left to see an extremely large ball-shaped man coming at full speed towards him. He felt like a standing pin in front of an oncoming sports ball.
“Olivier! Gahariet!” The man hugged both of them in turn. Olivier couldn’t even remember his name. Didier, maybe?