Yeijiro knelt, waiting, in Tōru’s office, trying very hard not to look at the folder at the top of the pile on the corner of Tōru's desk.

Tōru trusted Yeijiro in here alone, and part of that trust was the assumption that Yeijiro wouldn’t go pawing through his things. Which Yeijiro wouldn’t.

Except that the folder had gapped open a little, and it was right at eye height and all Yeijiro had to do was turn his head just a bit to read the top sheet…

Yeijiro turned his face away, looking elsewhere—anywhere—for something else to occupy his attention.

This office had become very familiar. Yeijiro had studied every piece of art, every book on the shelves, every twist and turn of the intricate design on the thick, soft carpet. It was all beautiful, lushly designed—and utterly fake.

Tōru’s office was a stage, an image, a carefully calculated front to project exactly what he wanted people to see of him. It was the quintessential Serpent space, colorful and sensual almost to the point of stereotype.

More valuable were the hints Yeijiro had scavenged during his time in this space. Moments and observations of Tōru himself. The press of lips. The slightest pause. The bare edge of a smile. Still staged, perhaps, reactions crafted to make Yeijiro think exactly what Tōru wanted him to think. But not everything about Tōru could be artifice, and Yeijiro was slowly developing a sense for the Tōru he believed to be authentic.

Sadly, since Tōru wasn’t here yet, Yeijiro didn’t have that game to distract him. Which meant his eyes slid back to the folder he shouldn’t be reading.

Shipping manifests. Movement between Koschei and Pax. Nothing of particular interest at first glance. But Yeijiro read down the entries, memorizing what he saw. Elena had been chasing down a smuggling operation, and, so far, she hadn’t seemed interested in Yeijiro’s help, but if he found information that was useful to her…

The door at the back of the office opened and Yeijiro pulled his eyes back to where they should be as Tōru came into the room. With eyes downcast, Yeijiro could see Tōru pause, but couldn’t tell what had drawn his attention, couldn’t tell if he was caught.

Yeijiro emptied his mind, sliding into a neutral state he’d spent the last year practicing. As Tōru had pointed out—Yeijiro’s expression couldn’t betray his thoughts if he had no thoughts.

Perhaps today he was successful, because there was no reprimand about his face giving away too much. Or it was possible Tōru was merely distracted with thoughts of his own. Either way, Yeijiro seemed to be safe.

The folders moved, replaced by a Go board. “Join me,” Tōru said. He set out the stones, giving Yeijiro the advantage of playing black, as he always did. Yeijiro had improved to the point that Tōru no longer spotted him stones at the start, but not yet to the point where he had ever come close to winning a game against Lord Miyōshi.

For over a year, now, they’d been meeting like this. Sometimes in the afternoon, like today. Sometimes over dinner. Sometimes there was talking; sometimes they played Go. Always, there was a lesson for Yeijiro to assemble out of seemingly random comments or obscure references.

Lessons in politics, in spycraft, in subtlety, but never anything more…intimate. Tōru had made no more advances, offered no more invitations. Their night at the Orchid had been the last time, and Yeijiro had yet to muster the boldness to ask why. Especially since he in no way wanted Tōru to think that Yeijiro didn’t utterly enjoy this time they spent together, or that he was in any way ungrateful for the education Tōru offered him.

“You’ve improved since we last played.”

Any praise from Tōru was enough to make Yeijiro flush. Even after more than a year of this.

“Playing against the AIs? No.” Tōru answered his own question, studying the board. “Prince Naveen.”

He was correct, but Yeijiro focused in on the name. It meant something that Tōru called him that. No one was more sensitive to names people wished to call themselves than the Serpent. For Tōru to name him thus, it meant something.

Yeijiro just wasn’t sure what.

Even after what could only be called intense study, there were still lessons that eluded him. But this was master-level work Tōru was offering. Everything Yeijiro should have learned from neglectful instructors; everything he might have learned had anyone wanted to adopt and apprentice him.

Tōru placed another stone, and Yeijiro could see the trap forming. “You spend a great deal of time with him,” Tōru said.

“Yes.” Confirmation with no elaboration. Offer no more than an answer to what was asked. All while Yeijiro studied the board, tried to figure out if there was a way out from the pattern Tōru was building.

“Surely he has other things he could be doing with his time. Why does Naveen teach you? What is it he wants?”

“A friend.” Too easy. Yeijiro didn’t even have to look up to know Tōru wouldn’t find that answer sufficient. He considered, reached deeper. Found the true answer. “Someone to spend time with who doesn’t call him Prince Naveen.”

Tōru gave a bare nod. Point for Yeijiro.

But no help for him on the board. Yeijiro made his move, capturing one of Tōru's stones, but knowing he was only delaying the inevitable.

“And what does Roderich have you working on?”

At the beginning, Tōru had said he wouldn’t teach Yeijiro to lie. “You will never be good at it. But I can teach you how to tell the truth so that it benefits you.”

A year ago, Yeijiro would simply have refused to answer, but to do that would be breaking the rules of these engagements. If Yeijiro wanted to learn, he had to take the opportunities he was offered to practice, even at the risk of giving too much away.

“The Lord Marshal’s focus has shifted to preparations for the upcoming Shadow Court.” True. “He is concerned by the continuing antagonism between the Wolf and the Griffon.” Also true. “The first priority of the marshals at this upcoming court will be keeping the peace.”

Yeijiro placed his next piece, made certain his breathing remained steady. Tried not to seem as though he were waiting to see if he had gotten away with it.

“All very accurate,” Tōru said, “but not an answer to the question I asked.”

So today he wouldn’t be allowed to duck the question. Yeijiro tried a different approach—taking the offensive. “What does Lord Miyōshi know of stolen goods being trafficked through New Shanghai on Koschei?”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

Now Yeijiro was cornered, both on the board and in the conversation. Tōru was lying, but for Yeijiro to accuse Tōru of lying would mean admitting that he’d read the papers that had been on Tōru's desk. Which he absolutely shouldn’t have done.

To not accuse Tōru of lying would require an evasion of his own. “The longer the politics drag out regarding which clan will take ownership of Koschei, the more opportunity for criminal enterprise to take root. There is no clan oversight, and the Imperial Marshals have only a minimal presence.”

Tōru offered no response, merely placed another stone.

Yeijiro kept talking as he made his move, more thinking out loud than anything now. “It isn’t possible to monitor all the lines of supply. Even within the established settlements. Much less in the wilderness of an entire planet. If only we could…” He trailed off as the shipping manifests he’d seen rearranged themselves in his head, lining up with the charts Elena had in her office. Nothing corresponded at first glance, but there was a pattern in the way they didn’t correspond…

He’d been silent too long. He found what he hoped was a neutral tone. “A pity Lord Miyōshi is unable to help.”

Tōru closed off the surround he’d been building, claiming a large section of the board with one move. Leaving Yeijiro with no live areas remaining to play, forcing him to say, “I pass.”

“As do I.” There was no point counting. It was quite clear who had won. “Your game has improved,” Tōru said as he picked up stones, “but you still have a great deal to learn.”

Yeijiro nodded, understanding the criticism was leveled at more than just his performance on the Go board.

“Unfortunately, I have no time for anything more today. You are dismissed.”

Yeijiro stood and bowed deep. “I thank Lord Miyōshi for his time.” He left with the conviction that he always had, that he would work hard to do better. That he would someday pull an unqualified compliment from Tōru's lips.

In the meanwhile, he had information to work through.