“Smile and wave, buddy, smile and wave,” Maximillian whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
John suppressed a sigh and did as requested. The carriage rolled down the circular street around the palace of Prague for its third round. The street existed for two reasons: deliveries and royals showing off.
Oftentis, John found the running of the state to be a tiringly symbolic affair. However, his position as president had not even half of the esoteric value of Maximillian’s status as king.
Irielz next to them was attached to her husband-to-be’s arm. She was the still and proper image of a woman, as if cut straight out of a Renaissance painting. On one hand, she carried herself naturally in that role. On the other, as soone who knew her well enough, John could definitely tell that she had checked out of the situation and let her mind wander elsewhere.
After the third lap, they finally got to sit down.
“Your annoyance is written all over your face,” Maximillian pointed out.
He was addressing his bride. Unsurprisingly, his attention wasn’t with John first in this situation. “I hope it’s not, I’m pretty good at hiding it,” Irielz answered.
“I’m pretty good at reading you.”
“Hm… what am I thinking about right now?”
“You want to buy a coffee.”
“You pass.” Irielz leaned up to her taller groom and kissed him. Then she turned back to John. “Terribly sorry we burden you with the procedures of royal life.”
John waved off, a smile on his face. He always found it interesting that, for a great amount of relationships, there was a lot of overlap in how those within it conducted themselves. “I don’t mind.”
“He’s getting prepared for his own role,” Maximillian joked.
The Gar let his smile drop to give the king a deadpan stare. “You know what I think about that.”
“And you know that almost everyone thinks you’ll have to surrender to reality at so point.”
“At worst it’s 70% of the people around .”
Maximillian shrugged. “Let your estimations be what you wish, the matter of fact is that leaders of Abyssals are not ant to serve the public. The heads of the guilds are ant to make hard decisions and to hone their sense of philosophy and reason for the tis when those decisions are necessary, not to be swamped by paperwork and etings. That is the work of the ministers and officials.”
The gravity king turned to the adoring masses. Flowers were thrown his way, flowers that he caught with an effortless gesture of his arm in a gravitational net. Scattered in crossing streams of directional energy, the flowers rained back down as petals. The green bits landed orderly along the side of the road. One of them, he caught in his hand.
“Leaders are not the brains of a nation, leaders are the soul.”
“The people are the soul of the nation,” John disagreed.
“The people are cells,” Maximillian stated. “Each has a truly important role to fulfil and if too many get sick, the body as a whole wastes away, no matter how well the organs perform. A nation without people cannot survive, obviously. A nation without a leader can survive, but it will be a hollow, wasteful existence.”
“Ought it not to be that the myriad of functions of the cells combine to create the soul?”
“Ah, but they do! A king is a product of the culture and the culture is made by the people.”
“Then why make the king unelectable?” John asked. “If your position is so secure, why make it dependent on the right of birth? Can you not stand up to the scrutiny of requiring the trust of elections?”
“Elections are and will forever be a dium that puts the power not in the hands of the most able, but of those that are the most presentable.”
“Lineage is and will forever be a dium that puts the power not in the hands of the most able, but of those that are positioned there by sheer luck.”
“Heritage is not a matter of luck, it is a matter of the decisions of our forebears.” Maximillian pointed at John with the green stalk in his hands. “I am Habsburg. I am a link in the chain, a reincarnation of the will of my house as much as I am my own person.”
“An elected leader is the-“
“You are not an elected leader.”
“I might as well be,” John retorted, then continued with his argunt. “An elected leader is the embodint of the will of the people. Fluctuation in public consciousness is good. Situations may be ssy, but they can be solved as hundreds of thousands of minds co together to elect a solution to the problem.”
“Elect soone to solve the problem – an elite that will sort things out.”
John groaned. “You are so utterly focused on being right, you cannot even acknowledge that there’s advantages to the republican way, can you?”
“That’s an advantage of- ouch.” Maximillian stopped in his smug declarations when his bride pinched him in the side.
“Boys, you can have your political discourse over whisky,” she chastised both of them.
They grumbled sothing, but dropped the topic. John distracted himself by looking at the crowd, to calm down for a mont. As far as he was concerned, Maximillian had overstepped in his tone. At the sa ti, what did he have a best friend for if not to get criticisms sotis? What good was a friend that only ever said things he wanted to hear?
“How did the girls recover?” the succubus asked to get the conversation moving in another direction.
“Well, although Eliana did almost die of embarrassnt when she saw her new song.”
“But it was so good!” Irielz retorted. “I think! I don’t rember half of it.”
“She was so much more drunk than when she got back,” Maximillian cackled. “Couldn’t even lie down.”
“Max!” Irielz complained, barely managing to keep her graceful mask up for the public all around. She dropped it shortly after they got out of the carriage, jumping at her man like a cougar. Unlike a cougar, the young succubus got caught and put in the princess carry.
“To the nearest coffee stand, my queen?” he asked.
“Indeed,” she answered.
John tagged along, mostly because he was expected. He also had to admit that it felt pretty novel to be the third wheel. Not good (awkward, if anything), but novel.
Irielz and Maximillian went through their little ritual of her buying him coffee. One of the little things that couples established early on if they wanted to have a relationship that was just the right amount of quirky. Granted, Irielz had to insist three tis that she was paying. As the organizers, she and Maximillian had provided funding for most of the entertainnt around.
“I like my coffee like I like the hair of my won.” Maximillian made an expression as if he had just tasted that joke. “Not my best one-liner.”
Irielz laughed anyway and scratched him under the chin. “I liked it.”
“Raise your standards. You’re marrying a king, jokes like that should not suffice.”
“You pay to laugh.”
“I don’t rember bribing you.”
“Really? You don’t rember this morning?” Irielz had dropped to a lower tone of vocal frill as she spoke those words. A lick of her black lips made clear what the pale grey skinned sen demon was talking about.
Maximillian cleared his throat and glanced around. Far from done, the demonette grabbed his arm again and covered most of his bicep in her cleavage. At that point, even Maximillian blushed. John would have as well, if he was being honest. Neither of them were shy people, but there was a particularity to a crowd like this one, with families and such around, that made showcases of sexual affection like this just a tad much.
Irielz’ filter was considerably muted compared to theirs. Her sense of fashion was skimpier (even if she had been convinced to wear a modest dress for the occasion), her character more erotic, and her every motion more suggestive than that of the vast majority of people. Just the different levels of inhibitions that ca with being a demon, even a more empathetic one.
“This is not the right place,” Maximillian whispered. It must have been so kind of regularly used phrase. Irielz backed off light and repositioned herself so her breasts weren’t hugging his arm. The little bat wings fluttered with irritation.
They started to walk through the crowd. Respectful and deep nods were thrown Maximillian’s way, intermingled with bows. So n even took the knee when they spotted him, rising when the king did as much as a singular gesture. It was understood that the king did not want to be approached after he had just given them a parade.
At least that’s what John thought it was.
“You have a reputation,” Irielz said to John.
“What an understatent,” Maximillian laughed. “He’s the bane of public interaction.”
“Do you usually get approached when you are out and about?”
“At least a few exchanged words in passing, especially the last few days.”
“It honestly has been a bit botherso,” Irielz whispered.
John raised an eyebrow and looked around. “You are telling they are all keeping their distance because of ?”
“As she said, you have a reputation.”
“Internationally? To this degree?”
“More accurately, you have an Aclysia,” Irielz said, which made things a lot easier to swallow.
“Maybe I should get myself an Aclysia,” Maximillian wondered.
Irielz pondered the idea. “I would approve. Laralia is not interested in helping with the chores and I’m tired of having to put clothes on around the servants.”
“I wonder where I could find a maid…”
“Leave that to , Max,” Irielz purred. “I’ll find you all the won we deserve.”
The gravity king visibly inhaled, excited by the idea and bowed down to kiss his bride. They had to stop near the edge of the path, for the passionate smooching not to interrupt traffic.
John scratched the back of his head and looked away. ‘I’m not even the third wheel here, I’m the fifth,’ he thought and looked for sothing to do. His eyes got stuck on Suel manning a cotton candy stand. The Lord of Pontis smirked and waved John closer. ‘No, I’m not feeling awkward enough to engage with that.’
“Sorry, we keep ignoring you,” Irielz said, when she and Maximillian managed to detach from each other.
The Gar shook his head. “Don’t apologize, this is your ti to be selfish.”
“I think it’s appropriate to pay so attention to you, John.” Irelz’s whip-like tail wound a few tis around Maximillian’s arm. “Without you, we could have never t. We owe you at least sothing.”
“I did what I wanted and this is a happy byproduct. I’m not owed credit for it.”
“Mister President, I-“
John raised his hand to make her stop. “To start with, you’re no subject of Fusion anymore. You’ll be a queen in a few days.”
“She’s my woman and thus already a queen.” Maximillian kissed his bride’s ring finger.
John managed to hold back the urge to scream: ‘IF SHE BREATHES, SHE’S A THOOOOOOOOOOT!’ Instead, he managed to be an adult and continue. “By the logic that incidents caused by soone ans one owes them thanks for a beneficial outco, I would have to thank Maximillian for most of my current life.”
“How co?” Irielz asked.
“When I was relatively new to my powers, Rave and I screwed up pretty cataclysmically, leading to her getting captured and held hostage. Skipping the details on that, I went to Lydia for help. Lydia was on the lookout for talent because she and Maximillian were having their dispute regarding the crown. That allowed to get in contact with Magoi, Lydia, Nia, Romulus, this asshole,” he gestured at the king himself. “To keep the story short, I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t insisted on that.”
“To give a little more context, it was really Lydia that insisted, considering I was Primus.” Maximillian rolled his shoulder. “Regardless, it is true that it has been a strange chain of events that brought us here.”
“I wouldn’t expect any alternatives to be any less strange. Did you know that there are alternative versions of us floating around in the aether?”
Maximillian looked at him like John had just started talking about the fact that there was oxygen in the air as if that was a revelation. “Of course there are. Everyone knows about dinsional skippers.”
“Every Abyssal,” John told him. “Cut so slack – also, Lydia told they are really rare back in the day.”
“They are, but so is uranium and everyone knows about that,” Maximillian retorted.
“I suppose that’s fair? I have no idea, again, mundane upbringing.”
“I forgive you… shall we walk around so more?”
They did – and John continued to be the fifth wheel for most of it.
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