#don't worry; Kazuma has no qualms about bringing it up directly 😤

[howthesleeplesswander]

As Lord van Zieks rose from his chair, Kazuma expected that he would indeed take his leave for the night. But instead he turned to the cabinet full of those absurdly ornate chalices, and although Kazuma's attentive gaze caught the withdrawal of not one, but two cups, he was somehow still caught off-guard by the request that followed.

Not an easy feat to accomplish. He was always at the ready: poised to tackle any task with vigor and aplomb. This, however, was perhaps the first time Kazuma was unprepared for a task laid before him.

But no—he quashed that waver of uncertainty the moment it bloomed. The initial shock may have rendered him stunned for a moment, but in truth, Kazuma had long since been searching for an opportunity like this.

Despite their weeks of collaboration since that fateful trial, neither party had ever addressed those events...at least, not as directly as they deserved. Kazuma wasn't one to dance around a subject, but there simply hadn't been time—not when there was such deep history, so many wrongs, so much regret. The air around such a topic couldn't be cleared in a few stolen minutes throughout a busy day. Trying very well may just make things worse. He would be a fool not to seize this chance.

After a few beats of silence, Kazuma set down his quill. "I'm hardly a wine expert." A gross understatement, considering he'd never had it before, but he wouldn't back down from the new experience any more than he would back down from a conversation so long overdue. "If you don't mind the selection of a novice, however, I can choose for us, if you wish," he continued, the statement serving as clear acceptance of the offer.

Rising from the floor, Kazuma ventured into the back alcove where the bottles were kept. He only spared a moment glancing over them. Each was the same as the next as far as he was concerned; and the wine they would be drinking hardly mattered. He selected one at random that at least had a label he could read and headed back out into the main office.

Determination coursed through him with every footfall. He didn't yet know his mentor's reasons for asking to speak with him like this, but regardless, Kazuma's own reasons would not be swayed. They had much to discuss.

"A fitting choice, I hope?" he posed as he held the bottle out to his mentor. "Though, it's hard to say without knowing the occasion." His posture remained strictly at attention. He couldn't rule out the possibility that Lord van Zieks had some sort of business to discuss, in which case it was his duty as apprentice to address such matters first before steering the conversation himself. "Is there something you wish to discuss?"

It was — difficult, this dynamic of theirs. A novel and personal trial. For a decade, what his colleagues thought of Lord Barok van Zieks had meant little to him; it was time and concern he could not have spared. The burden of London's collective judgement had sat heavy ( still sat heavy ) upon his shoulders, and it had taken every ounce of strength and of hard-practised aristocratic dignity to carry himself tall... as though his pride, throughout it all, had remained unscathed despite the blotting of his name.

( He had thought there was little else they could have done. That anyone could have done. And, oh, how he had thought wrong. )

It was a wonder that Kazuma wanted anything to do with the van Zieks name after that trial. But the Asogis were ever full of surprises... like father, like son. And so young Asogi's apprenticeship continued, this time without the oppressive hand of the previous Lord Chief Justice to smother his flame.

It was a frightening thing, at times, that boldness and that unrelenting will. Reminiscent of a vengeful ire that had, ten years before, sent Barok's own dear friend to a wrongful death.

But where Barok had only had Lord Stronghart to feed his mournful rage, Asogi — with support, and with Naruhodo's endless pursuit of truth to guide his spirit home — had surmounted the odds and the deception. He had entered London as a fragment of a man without a name nor face, burning so desperately for answers that he leapt at the chance to snap hungry jaws at any throat Stronghart offered him. And, despite Stronghart's wretched misguidance, Asogi had fought and clawed his way out from the wreckage of the trial, incorrupt and quick to once again find purpose.

... Barok envied Asogi, on the worst of days.

Today, he didn't bother to suppress his snort of amusement.

❛ Hrm. ❜ Stubborn as a mule. Some things never changed; Barok knew better than to try and argue. ❛ So be it. ❜

He glanced at the sheathes of papers at Asogi's side and then at the darkened skies outside their window, contemplating.

No, there was no avoiding it. Not for long, in any case, unless Barok was willing to gamble his sanity whenever he next dared to glance at his apprentice, hoping that it would be Kazuma's brow furrowed in concentration across the office, rather than the visage of a ghost long past. The face of a man whose blood would stain Barok's hands forever.

He and Asogi ought to speak soon. Candidly, and without their business to distract them. It was only right.

He stepped out of his seat, turning to the cabinet beside his desk and plucking out a pair of chalices. With his back still turned to Asogi: ❛ You know where the bottles are kept — by the far wall, at the end of the kegs, all labelled and shelved by region and their age. Some imported and some bottled here... take your pick out of them, if you have a preference or perhaps any burning curiosities. If not, I will select a wine for tonight. ❜

Barok paused for a moment, halfway through wiping the insides of the glasses, and huffed out a restrained, barely audible sigh.

❛ ... if you won't mind joining me, that is. ❜

It was somewhat daunting: the idea of at last keeping Asogi company where their work was not concerned. But he was set upon forcing himself at last to nudge the quasi-comfortable line that master and apprentice had clumsily drawn thus far.

In his deep rumination, he had almost forgotten Asogi's say.