Ciri has drinks with Ahmet

“The dignitaries from Toussaint wish to discuss-”

“Rising taxes on the city of Metinna will need to put-”

“The situation in the Magne needs our attention-”

“Lord Menis of Southgate has arrived and wishes-”

"Reports of attacks on the Northern route too-"

Ciri groaned, ignoring half the things she was being told. It had only been three weeks since her father had left the capital and it had never stopped. She stared down at the papers in front of her. Taxes, supply chains, planning events, battles. Complaints and requests from Lords and Knights and Barons. Seemingly every last person in the entire Kingdom wished something from her.

From dawn to dusk there always seemed to be someone in her ear, pushing and prodding. She glanced to the corner of her room, where her sword lay. Simpler times. She half thought her father was doing this as some kind of test, there was no way this was how he spent most of his days. There was no way.

“Supply chains to the Northern Kingdoms must-”

Ciri pinched her nose and buried her head in her hands, gods it would never end.

“The Oferi ambassador asks if you would like to share a glass of wine and discuss-”

“That,” Ciri interrupted, slightly shocking the assistants around her, “I’ll do that,” she repeated. She had only half heard what the assistant had said but she had heard the word wine and the gods only knew how badly she needed a drink.

—

Ciri downed the Ofieri wine with little hesitation and let Ahmet refill her glass when he offered.

"Good yes?" Ahmet asked as he sipped some himself.

"Sure," Ciri responded, the **** burned her throat but it tasted no better than the others she had sampled. But perhaps she was spoiled in that regard. Oferi wine might have been a rare find in Nilfgaard but she had traveled further and experienced more than most anyone. But she was happy to be away from her ‘work,’ so incredibly happy.

She looked towards Ahmet's guard. He stood near the door, his eyes forward, his stance stiff. He was a brute of a man, nearly four heads taller than herself. His arms were thicker than most men’s thighs.

"Does he speak?" Ciri asked.

Ahmet shook his head no with a grin, "Swore a vow of silence in order to better focus on his oath to protect me, he may only break that vow if my life is in the most mortal of danger."

“Dramatic,” Ciri muttered to herself and did her best not to roll her eyes. "Not much to fear in the royal castle," Ciri replied as she looked around the Ofieri man's quarters.

"You might be surprised," Ahmet replied, "Or maybe you wouldn't be, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't heard the rumors about you and your past."

"They are just that, rumors." Ciri answered, her father had told her to downplay that part of her life with other nobles. It wasn't dignified for a person of her stature or gender.

"Then if I might be so forward and ask," Ahmet said, sliding a finger across his eye where Ciri's scar was.

"Kitchen accident," Ciri said with a wiry smile.

"Ahh, of course, at least it takes nothing away from your beauty,"

Ciri smiled, the man was charming enough and attractive if not a little arrogant. Admittedly he was much more appealing than most of the men who flirted with her, but he was old enough to be her father, not that that had stopped her from before.

Ciri sipped her wine, unsure of what to do next