Chapter Seven: Pleasures Do Not Replace Duty

Pleasures Do Not Replace Duty

In a spot near the Playa Arena Dorada of the Western continent, far from the clamor of battle, the night wrapped the military camp in a darkness broken only by scattered campfires and the faint light of the moon. Inside a tent larger and more luxurious than the rest, Cassian, the prince heir's uncle, known as "the Bohemian," was the center of the celebration. He laughed uproariously, a mug of ale in one hand and a woman on his lap, while music and laughter filled the air.

Cassian, with his carefree demeanor and neatly trimmed dark hair, was the life of the party. The aristocrats around him shared in his enthusiasm. In one corner, a musician played a cheerful tune, and the clinking of glasses and boisterous laughter echoed throughout the tent. The courtesans danced and flirted, adding an air of revelry to the scene.

Cedric Belmont, the prince heir of the West, observed from the tent’s entrance with a mixture of unease and disapproval. Barely sixteen, Cedric was clad in light armor. His face bore signs of tension, and his shoulders carried the weight of immense responsibility. His noble and determined eyes were fixed on his uncle, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

The young prince stepped into the tent, moving through the crowd of men who watched him with curiosity. The music quieted slightly, and all eyes turned to him. Cedric approached his uncle and, without preamble, spoke in a firm voice:

“Uncle Cassian, we should not be celebrating here while our men are on the battlefield, fighting and protecting us from the enemy. We should be with them, defending our people and our kingdom…”

Cassian, interrupted mid-laugh, looked up at his nephew. His eyes, clouded by drink but still sharp and tinged with indulgence, rested on the boy. He adjusted his seat and let out an exaggerated sigh, as if Cedric’s words bored him.

“Ah, Cedric, my dear nephew…” Cassian said with a lopsided grin.

“In life, only the clever and prudent survive. War is nothing but a death trap. Going into battle when we have other options? No, Cedric, under no circumstances should you seek confrontation. All you’ll find there is death and misery…”

Cedric, his hands clenched into fists, could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“But, Uncle, we are leaders. We are the ones who give our people strength. They trust in us. We cannot stay here, in this tent, drinking and celebrating while our soldiers risk their lives…”

Cassian waved dismissively with the hand holding the mug of ale.

“That’s what soldiers are for, Cedric. To risk their lives for us. We are nobles, powerful men. Our lives are worth far more than those of mere vassals. Our place is here, in the rear, far from battle, enjoying the privileges of our position…”

The woman on Cassian’s lap smiled and ran her fingers through his hair as he kissed her and laughed again.

“Come now, boy. Don’t be so stubborn…” Cassian continued. “Sit down, grab a mug of ale, and enjoy the night. War doesn’t need more dead heroes…”

Cedric stood motionless, his jaw tight, his eyes filled with restrained fury. He could not accept his uncle’s indifference, his open disdain for duty and honor.

The festive atmosphere in the military tent starkly contrasted with the seriousness and burden of responsibility weighing on Prince Cedric Belmont. Cassian, the Bohemian, drank and laughed with his aristocratic companions, all of them oblivious to the suffering and struggle taking place beyond the camp’s lines.

Seeing his nephew’s indignant stance, Cassian let out a theatrical sigh. His alcohol-brightened eyes turned to his companions, also drunk and roaring with laughter.

“Well, gentlemen…” he said with a crooked smile, “it seems our young prince needs to learn how to relax. What could we do to teach him that life isn’t all about obligations?”

The question bounced around the tent, and the nobles raised their mugs, responding gleefully:

“What he needs is a good whore to keep him distracted all night! With a few women in his arms, all this nonsense would fade away…”

The men in the military tent erupted in laughter and nodded enthusiastically. Cassian, with a dismissive wave, gestured to one of the prostitutes nearby. The young woman, slender and alluring, with a smile that promised untold pleasures, approached the sixteen-year-old prince. Cedric, blushing and feeling a wave of discomfort, stepped back, but the woman advanced confidently.

Softly, she placed a hand on Cedric’s chest, brushing against the fabric of his light armor.

“You’re very handsome, and despite being so young, you look like a true man…” she murmured, her dark eyes fixed on his.

"With great pleasure, I would help you take off that heavy armor and make you forget all your troubles, my prince..."

Cedric felt his skin prickle under the woman’s touch, but his mind was elsewhere, far from the festive tent and the fleeting pleasures being offered to him.

The prince, his face hardened with determination, once again reiterated his desire to fight on the front lines rather than indulge in the carnal pleasures that his uncle and the other aristocrats enjoyed without remorse.

"I don’t want a woman of company. I cannot be with someone before marriage," he declared firmly.

"We shouldn’t be arguing about this. We should be fighting and fulfilling our duty. I am the crown prince. I order you to march immediately to battle!"

Cassian, clearly exasperated but still maintaining his jovial tone, turned to one of the women of company and, with a gesture, ordered her to escort his nephew to another, more secluded tent where he could be alone with the woman and, in Cassian’s view, distract himself and forget his obstinacy regarding combat.

"Don’t say such nonsense, Cedric. You’re staying here, just like the rest of us. Your mother wants you far from the confrontation, and no one is going to contradict her orders..." Cassian began, a smile dancing on his lips. "You there, wench, take the prince to another tent. Teach him that his reluctance is foolish and that there’s nothing better than ale and carnal pleasures," Cassian said to the prostitute standing beside his nephew. The woman nodded and placed her hand on the prince’s chest again, making him shiver as he respectfully tried to push her away.

"Come on, lads," Cassian said with a booming laugh. "Our young prince needs to experience the pleasures of the flesh. Enough of this nonsensical romanticism about marriage, purity, duty, and honor!"

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The men in the tent laughed and nodded, their voices mingling with the sound of clinking mugs and the laughter of the women of company. Cedric, with a mix of resignation and defiance, allowed himself to be escorted, knowing that any open resistance could make the situation even more complicated. The Western guards led him and the woman to a more distant tent, prepared specifically to provide the privacy Cassian deemed necessary to distract the young prince.

As he entered the tent, the atmosphere changed immediately. Cedric noticed the lit candles casting a warm, soft glow, the bed adorned with smooth sheets, and the sweet scent of incense wafting through the air. The woman of company, captivating in her beauty, approached him with a seductive smile, ready to fulfill her purpose. But Cedric, with a gallant gentleness and an unwavering firmness, softly pushed her away.

"No," he said, his blue eyes looking at her with seriousness and respect. "Nothing will happen between us tonight."

The woman, surprised by his reaction, stepped back and looked at him curiously.

"Don’t you like me, my prince?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of confusion and flirtation.

Cedric shook his head, his expression softening slightly.

"It’s not that. You are very beautiful, but it isn’t right for me to have an affair with you. My body and soul are meant for the woman I will marry, and though my father has yet to decide who my consort will be, I am bound to her, as Omnilum decrees," the young man began, causing the woman of company to raise an incredulous eyebrow.

"Moreover, I cannot take advantage of you when my heart and mind are elsewhere. My duty is to my people, and I cannot dishonor myself like this."

The woman, impressed by his nobility, lowered her gaze and nodded slowly.

"Well, I must say, I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting a man like you," she began, approaching him tentatively. "But my job is to please you. We can do whatever you prefer. I’m here to fulfill your wildest desires."

The woman started to untie the cords fastening the young man’s armor, her seductive smile promising to surrender her body and will to the prince.

However, Cedric pushed her away again.

"I’m sorry, but my decision is final."

Knowing that women of company answered to money, Crown Prince Cedric Belmont began searching through the military tent, determined to find something of value to offer the prostitute in exchange for her silence. He knew that in his uncle Cassian’s camp, notorious for its opulence and disdain for austerity, finding valuables wouldn’t be difficult.

While the sounds of laughter and raucous voices from the men and women of company continued in the main tent, Cedric focused on his search. He found a small desk in the corner of the tent, covered with scrolls and maps. He pulled open the drawers, rummaging through them quickly but carefully, aware that every moment counted. In one of the deeper drawers, his hand stumbled upon a small leather pouch. Opening it, he discovered a few estalite coins glinting faintly under the candlelight.

Cedric turned to the woman of company, who watched him with a mix of curiosity and patience. Extending the coins toward her, he spoke in a low but firm voice.

"If you stay silent and tell no one that I’ve escaped, you will receive double or triple this when we return victorious to the capital."

The woman, tempted by the promise of such a generous reward, stared at the estalite coins. She had never had the chance to possess anything so valuable. Then she looked at the young prince. After a brief moment of deliberation, she nodded with a smile.

"Well, well, I didn’t know His Highness had a rogue’s streak," she said, taking the pouch. "You have my word, my prince. I won’t say a thing."

Cedric exhaled in relief and returned her smile with gratitude.

"Thank you. The crown will never forget your service," he said sincerely.

He then moved to one side of the tent and, using a dagger from his belt, began cutting through the fabric with precision. The blade sliced through the material in the darkness, creating an opening large enough for him to escape. The woman watched in silence, her eyes following every movement of the young heir.

When the hole was complete, Cedric slid through it, feeling the cool night air on his face. He moved cautiously, using the darkness and the noise of drunken revelry to remain hidden. He made his way toward the military camp's tethering post, where the horses stood ready for battle. Choosing a sturdy and quiet horse, he untied it and mounted with practiced ease.

The crown prince took hold of the reins firmly. With one last glance toward the tent, he spurred the horse forward, heading toward the beach where the true confrontation was taking place. The sound of the sea and the distant echoes of battle reached his ears as he rode with determination. The night enveloped everything in its dark shroud, providing the perfect cover for his escape.

Back in the main tent of the military camp, the air was thick with tobacco smoke and the acrid scent of spilled ale. Cassian, the bohemian, stood at the center of the raucous crowd, raising his tankard high as he toasted the pleasures of the night, indifferent to the conflict raging just kilometers away.

Drunk on alcohol, Cassian staggered to his feet, brusquely pushing aside his courtesan, his face flushed with drink and easy laughter.

“Listen, listen!” he shouted, drawing the attention of those present. The men and courtesans, drunk and entertained, turned their curious gazes toward him.

“Do you know why that boy is so stubborn?” he began, his words slurred with intoxication. “I’ll tell you an open secret, one my sister tries so hard to keep hidden…”

Cassian announced with a sly grin, taking a long swig from his tankard before continuing.

“The boy, the crown prince, isn’t really the king’s son. No, gentlemen! My dear sister, the queen, was unfaithful to the king. Well, she was already pregnant with Cedric before marrying Alistair, but still…”

All eyes were on him, most already familiar with what he was revealing. Both the prince and the princess had inherited traits distinct from Alistair Belmont, making their illegitimacy apparent.

“Her two children, including the crown prince, are bastards. Their real father is a commander currently fighting on the beach against the East. By Omnilum! Now you understand where the boy gets his fighting spirit from? He’s just like his father! A true commander willing to protect his people!”

The aristocrats burst into laughter, reveling in the scandal and gossip Cassian so carelessly spread. The courtesans, while less vocal, smiled conspiratorially, knowing any stray comments from their clients could be used to their advantage later.

“It’s true!” Cassian went on, raising his tankard once more. “And the king knows it and doesn’t care! That’s why my sister married him… because in their wedding agreement, it said, ‘see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.”

The tent erupted into another wave of laughter and toasts. The men raised their tankards, echoing Cassian’s words and adding their own speculations and biting remarks.

In the midst of the revelry, no one noticed the absence of Crown Prince Cedric Belmont. Drunk on ale and distracted by the company of the courtesans, they remained oblivious to Cedric’s departure toward the battlefield, determined to fight for his people and prove his worth, unaware of the rumors swirling behind his back.

Cassian, pleased that his revelation had captivated everyone’s attention, collapsed into his seat with a satisfied laugh. He took another long swig of his ale and gestured for his courtesan to return to his lap. The bohemian caressed the woman’s back, savoring the chaos in his mind wrought by the alcohol.

“The boy is probably enjoying life’s pleasures now. It’s about time he became a man. Wanting to go years without tasting a woman to stay loyal to a future wife he doesn’t even know, by Omnilum, that boy is a fool…” he said with disdain. “And we, we’ll continue enjoying the night. Cheers to convincing a kid with delusions of grandeur to live in the moment, and cheers to the pleasures life offers us!”

The men toasted once more, raising their tankards and resuming their lively conversations and crude jokes. The tent echoed with the sounds of celebration, oblivious to the drama unfolding beyond its confines.

Meanwhile, Cedric rode toward the beach, determined to join his men and fight for his kingdom. In his mind, his uncle’s warnings echoed faintly, but his purpose was clear: to prove his worth and protect his people, as a true heir to the throne should.

The night wore on, and the celebration in the tent continued. Cassian, the bohemian, kept spinning tales and secrets, reveling in the power his knowledge and rank afforded him. To him, war was a distant game, an excuse for indulgence and pleasure.