Even the most carefully laid plans could be undone by a single second of carelessness. It could be the wrong glance. The wrong expression. A lack of conviction behind words that suddenly sounded wrong when spoken out loud for real.
Sylvain knew this because every single one of his friends were terrible liars. With varying degrees of disaster, this kind of thing would go down in flames in seconds.
Coincidentally, Salem turned out to be a fantastic liar. Refreshing! More than that, his hand stilled its soothing strokes in favor of listening to the explanation. Even if they had come up with it together - somehow? It sounded even more genuine without the usual storyteller’s flair that Sylvain liked to spin. The dull drone of the man’s even tone reeked of sincerity, the slightest shine of pride in that gaze when it turned toward him.
This was Salem’s idea, he reminded himself, letting his free hand come up to rub at the back of his neck. Why wouldn’t he be good at it?
He could feel the shift. The quietest ‘aw. that’s so sweet, isn’t it dear?’ from someone in the back of the line. Inevitably, the guard’s eyes fell to Sylvain again, assessing without the initial criticism. Salem had undoubtedly charmed the crowd…but now it was Sylvain’s turn.
The joke he’d prepared didn’t fit quite as well, looking away from the guard to Salem while he stalled. “Talk about a whirlwind…” Every good lie had to be something small and believable. Something with a little truth. It was why this worked, in his opinion. He could almost picture it - writing real thoughts to a faceless person worlds away. Would he tell them everything? He winced, “It was almost too easy to talk to someone I thought I’d never meet.” Shifting his weight, nudging Salem’s side with as much affection as he could muster (which was a lot, he’d been told). “I got lucky. I probably wouldn’t have said half as much if we’d met in person first. You’re the most stunning man I’ve ever laid eyes on, I’d have tried to win you in all the wrong ways. Maybe it’d have been fun to get my hands on-”
The click of her weapon cut him off. “Go on ahead.” The immediate elation running through his system was so short lived he barely registered it. “But you still haven’t earned your card. This isn’t an entry.”
Confused but unwilling to question her, Sylvain pulled Salem along. Ducking into the shop, his surprise was an audible intake. “Oh…wow.” For a moment, he squeezed that hand too hard. What was an ordinary pop-up tent on the outside stretched for miles on the inside. Rows and rows of floating shelves affixed to walls that belonged in a king’s showroom…not something that would be possible on a side street outside of Garreg Mach Monastery. “Huh…”
Speechless, he tripped forward, eyes scanning the handfuls of couples milling about on lower levels. Beyond, there were guards stationed at every level, assessing the crowds. Leaning into Salem’s side, Sylvain turned his head close, considering, “Guess we don’t have special clearance yet. But, hm…what kind of magic is this? I’ve never seen anything that can do this.” As a matter of fact, he didn’t even have words for it. Spatial alteration? Only the Goddess possessed something as precious as time and space…so what kind of being could manage this? “Have you?”
All things considered, that could have been worse, but Salem was happy that Sylvain had toned down the lovey-dovey cooing if only for that moment of exposition. Maybe the guard wouldn't have suspected them any more than she already did - he's certain that dozens of over-the-top lovers, real and fake, crossed her path hourly since the rumors of this shop first began - but Salem couldn't promise that his grimace wouldn't have given them away instead. It wasn't entirely Sylvain's fault either; Salem was was trying to turn over a new leaf and abandon all the duplicity that the church had taught him.
Of course, lying still had its more forgivable uses, which could very well be another lie Salem told himself as he let Sylvain lead him through the doors and into the first part of what soon became apparent was a massive, underground market. Even for one who had seen all sorts of magic both amazing and hideous, Salem couldn't help but marvel at the stretch of storefronts right alongside his companion. He'd even forgotten to release his hand now that they were safely out of the guard's sight, remembering it only when Sylvain's own amazement threatened to pinch his bones together.
"Never," Salem answered, pulling his hand back for the time being. He stuffed the stack of letters back under his cloak and turned to assess the floor they'd been admitted onto. Other than the fact that it was arranged like a giant tower going deeper underground, the stalls were set up just like any ordinary market. There were dozens - maybe even hundreds - of storekeepers, each with their own wares out on display. With a curt toss of his chin, Salem gestured for Sylvain to follow him, then thought better of it and pulled his hand out from his robes to offer it back to him.
"It looks like we'll need to play for a little longer," Salem said, paused, and then added with the unrelenting stiffness of a square peg forced into a round hole: "Dear."
Maybe he ought to leave the pet names to Sylvain. In any case, the hair on the back of his neck had raised when he realized that a new set of eyes had fallen upon them. Not a stranger to being watched, Salem pulled Sylvain along with him as if he hadn't noticed and intended simply to peruse the first few stalls that greeted them at the entrance.
The goods for sale here weren't any more remarkable than what one might find in the market square of Garreg Mach. Iron and steel swords, axes, and spears, the occasional tattered Fire tome imported from somewhere else, but uninteresting to anyone but the most eccentric collectors, and some shields and armor Salem had no interest in. Clearly, they were still being tested.
Mimicking the way Sylvain had leaned into him earlier, Salem craned his head sideways, nearly resting it against his date's shoulder to whisper into his ear: "This is simply the second test."
And then he straightened and spoke normally, albeit still in his quiet way: "Do you see anything that catches your eye? All this time and I still know nothing of your military education."
