A Handkerchief and a Misunderstanding

Prince Eadric strode into the room, unaccompanied by guards of any sort.

"I apologize profusely, Furst," he began, bowing as he walked. "My crew was late in taking off--something to do with fog, as if there ever isn't fog over the British Isles--and though I insisted they hurry we were late. I am very sorry for all the inconvenience this has no doubt caused you."

He pulled out the chair next to the furst and sat down, crossing his legs.

"You don't mind if I sit here, do you? I hear some monarchs are touchy about that--personally, I enjoy when things are simple and direct."

He adjusted the orange handkerchief in his pocket, the one that he always wore to the brothels. He had worn it today because he was overdue for making a stop at one; his stress had been piling up over the past week, to the point where he had woken up today with split ends.

Though his posture was polite and he gave the impression of good patience, he was positively itching to leave and find a frisky whore.

Things were happening so quickly, and it was a lot of English to take in. Wilhelm had been about to remove his entire getup, dress back down to his usual shirt and suspenders. He quickly adjusted his tie, and the handkerchief he was playing with. It belonged to his sister, he thought. Expensive and from the Netherlands, where she enjoyed shopping for imported Oriental goods.

Wilhelm sat up straight again, adjusting his thickly braided red hair, pushing it over his shoulder. It was in no way done up fancily, instead it was simply pulled back into a braid. His hair was much too thick for his taste, but he kept it long anyway, for appearances sake.

He cleared his throat, trying to take in as much of the English as possible. It was certainly a more difficult language than he remembered. Weird accents and whatnot.

"I...do not mind," he replied, mainly trying to remember how to speak. "Please, my English...poor."

"Ah," he said, smiling courteously and without warmth. "I understand.

"Is this better?" he asked in heavily accented German. "My German is not good, because my teacher was British. We may speak in the language you are preferring."

He smiled, sighing rather obviously.

"Bad German is better than English," he replied truthfully. "Forgive me for imposing my language onto you."

Eadric was about to force another fake smile when his eyes alighted upon something strange; a handkerchief, poking out of the furst's pocket. He touched his own handkerchief; he had heard the code was more or less the same throughout Europe. It could be a mistake, but then again...

He looked at the furst more closely than before, taking in the chiseled jawline, the manly build. The more he looked, the more attractive the man next to him seemed; even his freckles were charming, and Eadric wasn't normally a man for freckles.

He realized, after a moment, that the furst was waiting for his response.

"...Ah, yes," he said. "I do not mind a large amount--I like that handkerchief." He nodded toward it. "The kind a gentleman should wear." He said the word 'gentleman' in English, unsure of the German equivalent.

Wilhelm knew the word well, as it was what he strove for when meeting with nobles or other important people. A gentleman was what he had to be for people to take his rule seriously outside of Germany. It was disgusting. Nobody cared if you were a fit ruler, they only cared if you kept your hair clean and wore fancy suits.

"Indeed," he replied, looking at his own handkerchief. It was expensive, more so because it was a dark reddish orange. A hard color to come by, or so his sister had told him.

"Now, to business."

"Yes," he said, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. "Do you have tea? The ship was very cold."

He tried to maintain eye contact with the furst, but he found his gaze wandering over and over to the handkerchief. He tried to remain calm, but he could feel his heart already pattering away with joy. If this meant what he thought, he wouldn't have to stop by a brothel.

"Tea?" he asked, before he could stop himself. Surely this was not 'down to business'. This was more petty noble talk. Somewhat annoyed, though he tried not to show it, he called one of his men over and quickly ordered him in German to make the best tea they had.

"It will be ready...soon," he replied, hoping his annoyance did not show.

"Thank you," he said, flashing the furst his most diplomatic smile. "Now, Furst, we are here to discuss our nations' alliance, yes?" He leaned closer, meeting the furst's eyes.

"After we sign this dull treaty, we will become like friends, yes? I do not mind."

Wilhelm leaned over in the same manner, though that was because he took the movement as a sign of aggression.

"Yes," he replied bluntly. "Allies, friends, comrades. Like brothers. That is what the alliance is about. We will spend much time together, I'm told."

Wilhelm didn't want to spend more time with the spineless British prince, but he supposed he would have to. He'd much rather be smoking a cigar in his room, drinking with his sister and his soldiers.

"What is it you are to doing in Germany?" he asked, glancing around. "It is not an island like Britain. Perhaps it is very different?"

"It is very different," he replied, attempting to conceal the mild malice in his voice. "We enjoy...many different things than those from Britain, I'm sure. Sports, like wrestling and sparring and things of that nature. Among...other things.

"We drink mostly beer as it is hard to get ahold of tea unless it is from the Orient, as the Netherlands is very close and we trade with them great deal. We make our own beer, and it is one of our larger exports.

"What else would you like to know?" he asked, hoping that Eadric did not ask. It would be easier to pretend they were civilized if Eadric suddenly changed the conversation to something else.

"Sparring...you fight with swords?" he asked, gesturing to aid his German. "I am willing to fight you, if you want. Though it is not my favorite sport."

He pulled off his gloves, slipping them into his jacket pocket. Though his hands were somewhat calloused, they were clean and neatly manicured.

"I don't think I have tried wrestling, either, but if you like it I will try."

"...excuse me?" Wilhelm asked, completely shocked. "...you are willing to duel me. The Prince of Germany. The one who obtained his title by beating every single other eligible man in the country. Surely you are aware that that is the process."

For some reason, Wilhelm felt incredibly joy at the idea of sparring with this man. Nobody had ever dared challenge him. Not after he had won his title.

"I accept," he replied very obviously interested in Eadric now. "I will not go easy on you."

"Is the game your choice or mine?" he asked thoughtfully. "It seems fair if I choose, I am the guest."

He stood up, stretching his shoulders.

"How about a bet?"

"It is your choice, of course," he said, standing with him. "Because no matter what you choose, I will beat you in it.

"Thus, I fully accept whatever bet you choose to come up with. I will not lose."

"Tell your servants to make a boxing ring," he said coolly. "Winner gets to do what he likes about our handkerchiefs."

"Handkerchiefs?" he asked, then shook his head. "Yes, fine. I'll have my servants set up the ring."

He smiled again, genuinely this time.

"I look forward to beating you--first to three hits, shall we say? I wouldn't want to get too bloodied up."

Wilhelm just smiled. Yes, he wasn't sure what he would be winning but the prospect of beating the nobleman made him happy nonetheless.

He waited patiently as he watched the servants rearrange his usual sports room into a boxing ring. He was glad to be able to undress some, too. A wifebeater, suspenders and slacks were so much more comfortable than other stuffy clothes. He rebraided his hair, anticipating how much fun the fight would be.

"Are you ready, Prince?" he asked, smiling.

"If you are," said Eadric, wrapping cloth around his knuckles. He had stripped off his shirt, revealing an unlikely chiseled physique for a man so slender.

He pulled his hair over his shoulders, but did nothing else to restrain it.

"You may swing first," he said politely.

"No, I insist, you may have the first punch," he replied, smiling widely. "After all, this will over so soon, I want you to feel like you at least had some chance."

Eadric nodded, and took a few steps toward the furst. Then he cracked his knuckles and took a full-force swing at Wilhelm's face.

Though he was expecting the punch, he wasn't expecting a punch so forceful. He found himself rather impressed, even as he dodged and sidestepped. Still, it would take more than that to really impress him. The Prince had some training, but Wilhelm had a lifetimes worth.

He watched him, closely, taking in the prince's movements. Graceful, but weighted. Suited for boxing, unlike Wilhelm's own steps. He was used to sparring and fencing. His hands were rough and beyond repair, the hands he hid behind gloves for a reason. They were scarred and worn and, overall, rather disgusting. Wilhelm clenched his arms at the very thought of breaking a bone of his opponents. He knew he should restrain himself, for injuring the crown prince of Britain was not the best way to begin a friendship. Yet, the idea excited him.

Impulsively, and without too much thought, he moved to throw his first punch.

Eadric ducked underneath his blow, ramming him in the side with his fist.

"One. You are too slow," he said, turning to punch him again.