Divided World Chapter 2
By: Ketsurui

"Lovely party."
"Yes, thank you." Trowa said automatically, having heard it for the thousandth time that evening. He stifled a yawn as the music changed from a waltz to a fox-trot, then tried to find a way to duck his fiancee. Before he could think of a polite way to excuse himself, a strong female voice called "Oh Trowa! There you are!", and a cold chill ran down his spine.
Jocasta Vulpes was a tall woman, at least five feet, eight inches, with dark brown hair that was unfashionably medium length, though at the moment it was curled and pinned. Her eyes were a mellow green that belied her cheerful demeanor and easy smile. As she walked, her strides were strong and mannish, unlike the tiny steps most refined women took. Jocasta attached
herself to her husband-to-be's arm; she was nearly as tall as he. "I'm so happy to see you again."
"Likewise." In all honesty, Jocasta frightened him. Her brightness seemed almost manic, and she had a habit of making disturbing noises when she was overly excited. "Please, My Lady, it's unseemly to display affection in public," he grunted as he tried to pry his limb out of her grasp. *Please, whatever Divine Being is listening, please give me an excuse to get away from
her.*
"Excuse me, but are you the young Lord Barton?"
Trowa blinked. *Thank you.* "Why yes, I am. How may I be of service to you?" The man he was speaking to had black hair and dark skin, and was wearing odd spectacles that has black lenses instead of clear ones.
"I'm from the city of Palladini as one of the escorts to the representative from there. He was supposed to meet with you today, but maybe another time would be better?" The man in the dark glasses looked around. "You seem to be celebrating something."
*Oh, hellfire. I completely forgot.* "No, it's quite all right." Smiling, he forced himself to say to Jocasta "Excuse me, my dear, but duty calls." Jocasta pouted until she became distracted by a plate of chocolate crepes.
Sighing silently in relief, he followed the man down the hall, to the room where his servants had told the representative to wait.
* * *
"Ah, Lord Trowa Barton. Please forgive our interruption of your festivities." A gentle voice spoke with a surprisingly faint accent, the figure standing before a celing-to-floor window.
"It was my carelessness for scheduling both on the same day." Trowa was squinting and pretending he wasn't at the same time. The ballroom the party had been in was very airy and bright, but the halls were dark, so his eyes were still trying to adjust. The only light in the lounge he was currently in came from the window, and much of it was currently blocked. "Beg
your pardon, but could you move just a little so I could see you better?"
"Yes, please excuse me." Once away from the window, Trowa could see that the speaker was several inches shorter than him. He, or at least the nobleman assumed that it was a he, was dressed in a long white tunic over pale gold pants that clung to the hips but fell in loose folds around the legs. A strange white hat covered the hair, and a cloth was drawn over the
mouth. Only his eyes were visible, and it was too far away to tell what color they were. "My name is Prince Quatre Raberba Winner. I bring peace and friendship from Palladini."
"Allow me to extend my welcome, Your Highness." Trowa replied, bowing formally. *A prince? Why send a prince when any low-class nobleman would do just as well? *
Quatre laughed, a sweet, soothing sound. "Please do not call me that. The title of 'prince' is as common in my homeland as 'lord' seems to be here." He walked forward, an air of confidence about him, and took both of the taller man's hands in his own. "It is my sincere pleasure to meet you." His blue eyes glimmered, full of kindness and a slight hint of mischief as
well.
A strange feeling gripped Lord Barton's stomach; holding hands was a quite personal gesture that even most couples didn't use, unless they were very happy together. *It's just a greeting, of course. It's a good way to show trust, I suppose.* Unsure of what to do, he simply replied "the pleasure is all mine," and allowed the prince to drop his hands first. "If I may ask, what is the face mask for?"
"When you travel through the desert, the sand can blow in your mouth and nose, so it protects me. I don't suppose I'll be needing it now, though." Laughing lightly, Quatre reached up and pulling the fabric down around his neck. "Is that better?"
Trowa's eyes widened in surprise as he saw that Quatre's skin was nearly as pale as his own. *How odd. I wonder if he's not a native of his land.* The smaller man's face was handsome to the point of beauty, angelic in appearance with a few wisps of blond hair touching smooth cheeks. "That is much better, thank you."
"I was told that we have intruded on your celebration. If you'd be good enough to show us to our rooms, we can discuss the details of my visit tomorrow." Quatre's soft lips curved into a smile.
The brunette found himself smiling back, though mentally he groaned. *So much for my distraction.*
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