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They hadn't realized all eight of them would be gone until it was too late to do anything about it. On one assignment or another, every one of Sinbad's Generals would be out of the capital at the same time.
The perfect storm of non-supervision.
"It'll... It'll be alright," Yamraiha said bracingly. "We can trust Sinbad to be alone for two days. Right?" In response, Sharrkan tried to swallow a snort, unsuccessfully.
Last time they had left Sinbad alone, he had ended up getting every Metal Vessel -- and all his clothes -- stolen. In the middle of what was about to become a civil war.
The time before that...
Jafar's mind completely blanked, violently rejecting those memories. After a few moments of shell-shock, he blinked awake, the faint taste of bile at the back of his throat.
Last time they had left Sinbad alone, he had gotten himself robbed by a trio of no-name smallfry. Enough said.
The thought of returning to the capital to find it a degenerate hive of debauchery and booze kept Jafar up the entire time he was away. It was in a blurry haze of caffeine and roiling preemptive indignation that Jafar returned to Sindria’s main island.
At least nothing was smoking, and nothing looked completely wrecked or hastily rebuilt. So it couldn’t have been that bad, right? Right?
He found Sinbad pacing his office. Jafar stared -- at the desk. The paperwork. The paperwork looked... complete. Finished. Done.
"What did you do," Jafar said flatly.
Sinbad jumped and whirled around, wide eyed. Part of it was probably that Jafar was crouched in the windowsill, four stories up -- he had scaled up the side of the palace, too keyed up to walk through the halls and resorting to old habits of stalking his prey.
"Jafar! Welcome back!" Sinbad exclaimed, smiling brilliantly and spreading his arms wide as if for an embrace. Irresponsible drunkard he might have been, but he had charisma and confidence in spades.
After so many years, Jafar was immune to it. "What did you do," he repeated. "How bad is it."
The answer to that was... Sinbad had no idea.
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One day earlier Sinbad woke up hungover. Very, very hungover. Also, completely naked.
That wasn't unusual. Neither was the fact that he wasn't alone in his bed.
Jafar wouldn't be happy, but oh well. Turning his face away from the light, Sinbad rolled over and threw his arm over the nearest warm body. He always felt better after a good snuggle. Except that...
...Something wasn't right. That body... was awfully small.
Sinbad opened his eyes, stared blankly as his mind completely refused to comprehend what he was seeing, then closed them again.
Taking a deep breath, he sat up and tried looking around once more. The situation had sadly, despairingly, not changed.
There were three others in his bed. Not one of them fell under what could be considered politically acceptable bed partners. At least one was not morally acceptable.
And worst of all, Sinbad had absolutely no idea why the fourth magi, the third prince of Balbadd, and the fourth prince of Kou were (mostly, please let it be mostly) naked and in his bed.
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"Whatever do you mean, my dear friend," present day Sinbad said, endeavoring to smile in a way that was not guilty-looking.
"This paperwork," Jafar said, picking up a scroll at random and letting the end unwind, "is perfectly completed. ...And not in your handwriting."
Sinbad smiled wider, a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. Looking innocent was very difficult when you were actually guilty as hell.
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Two days earlier Sinbad sighed dolefully. He had anticipated a time of freedom, of partying and enjoying himself. Instead, Jafar had left him a "nice" going away present -- stacks upon stacks of paperwork, which had just happened to build up while Sinbad was... occupied with other matters.
Fortunately, Sinbad had long since come up with a way of motivating himself. Pulling out a bottle of expensive liquor that he had smuggled in just for this kind of occasion, he opened it and set it on the desk within easy reach.
The rules were simple -- finish a scroll, take a drink.
Soon to be drunk Sinbad got to work.
About three quarters of a stack later, he realized the flaw in his plan. Before, Jafar had always caught him before too long. Now, left with only his own (generally lacking) self-restraint, Sinbad was quickly reaching his impressive intoxication threshold. And the paperwork was... still there. In fact, it looked to have multiplied, but that might have been him starting to see double.
A knock on the door made Sinbad look up blearily. "Who is it?" he called out, his diction surviving impressively through sheer dint of experience.
"It's Alibaba," one of Sindria's young guests called out, letting himself in. "You missed dinner, so I brought you some food..."
"That's very kind of you," Sinbad praised, smiling benevolently. Masrur liked to call it his life ruiner smile, because afterwards nothing else quite compared and many love lives were ruined.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Alibaba offered, shuffling awkwardly. "I mean, you've done so much for me, and for Balbadd, and for Aladdin and Morgiana too. I want to repay you in any way I can!"
What a sweet kid, Sinbad thought, beaming. "Not unless you can do these forms for me," he said jokingly, gesturing vaguely to the many towering stacks of scrolls.
Alibaba picked up one roll and studied it for barely a moment. “Sure, if you don’t mind," he said, completely seriously. "Here, this is an import registration form. This part here is incomplete and there is a discrepancy here, so you should send it back and make a note to follow up on it..."
The quill in his hand flew over the parchment, marking the places he had pointed out and scribbling a few quick lines. Then, he passed it over to Sinbad, who scrawled out his signature at the bottom and stamped it absently -- instead, he watched with fascination as Alibaba picked up the next scroll and blazed through it just as efficiently.
It was vaguely familiar, and Sinbad spent several moments hazily trying to recall why -- while thoughtlessly signing every completed scroll Alibaba passed him; already the desk itself was almost clear. ‘Oh! Like Rashid,’ Sinbad realized, miming hitting one fist into the opposite palm. The former king of Balbadd had been incredibly skilled in all manner of business negotiations, contract writing, and paperwork wrangling.
As congratulations to himself, Sinbad took another drink.
Frankly, Sinbad would have been hard pressed to drink as fast as Alibaba was working his way through the stacks of paperwork. It was magical to see -- his old enemy, defeated so soundly.
“I think that’s the last of it,” Alibaba said, an amazingly short period of time later. He wiped the sweat of his brow, straightening and smiling proudly.
There was only one appropriate response to this feat. Sinbad nodded to himself, setting the empty bottle next to its six companions and taking both of Alibaba’s hands in his.
“Become mine."
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Hungover Sinbad shuddered as the memory swam to the forefront of his mind.
For the first time in… potentially ever, he was really, really starting to consider everyone’s advice to drink less. He really, really hoped he was misremembering something -- he almost glanced toward where Alibaba was quietly snoring away in the morning light in Sinbad’s bed, but stopped himself because he really, really didn’t want to acknowledge that reality.
Because otherwise Jafar and the ghost of Rashida Saluja would kill him.
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'And let me have those amazing paperwork skills,' drunk Sinbad didn't add, tactfully.
Alibaba choked on his spit. “W-what?! ...Sinbad-san, are you drunk?” He definitely hoped so.
“Drunk is such an ugly word,” Sinbad said. “More importantly, is that a no?”
“That’s a no,” Alibaba assured him flatly. When Sinbad released his hands, sighing, Alibaba quickly scurried away to put the desk between them.
“Shame,” Sinbad said, rubbing his chin. He tried to think about how to gain that wonderful efficiency for himself. If he could dump all future paperwork on Alibaba, he would have so much free time…!
However, soaked in alcohol, his mind was rather slow to come up with any good ideas, and Sinbad decided to shelve that for now, after a few long moments of ponderous thought. Instead, he lit upon another thought -- he really did need to thank this nice boy for all his help.
After all, now Sinbad had an entire night of partying and freedom!
Which he would be happy to share.
"Very well! Come! Let us celebrate your triumph over my most hated foe!" Sinbad declared grandly.
"My triumph... over paperwork?" Alibaba muttered. "That's your most hated foe?" He had managed to maintain a somewhat glowing image of the legendary Sinbad thus far -- since his first meeting with the man didn't involve a fig leaf and nothing else -- but that was taking a big hit. Ah, the desecration of childhood idols...
His moment of disbelief and reflection cost him. Sinbad easily reached around the desk and clamped his hand around Alibaba's wrist, dragging him toward the door -- his boisterous laughter drowning out Alibaba's sputtered protests.
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Two days later totally sober Sinbad began to sweat more and more as Jafar continued to study the completed paperwork.
“So,” Jafar said finally, just before Sinbad could grow desperate enough to try leaping for the window, “which one was it? Hakuryuu or Alibaba?”
“Really, Jafar, what are you saying?” Sinbad said, laughing lightly.
"This kind of handwriting only comes from years with royal tutors," Jafar judged. He pinned Sinbad with another stare, underlined by the thick bags under his eyes. "I dearly hope it wasn't Hakuryuu and you didn't let the prince of an empire we're only technically not at war with see confidential internal documents. Not to mention just the kind of scandal that'll come if you said something stupid to him..."
"Hakuryuu's just fine," Sinbad denied reflexively, only to freeze as both he and Jafar realized his misstep. His guilty, guilty misstep.
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"Sinbad-san, I really don't think..." Alibaba tried to say, yet again, as the two of them made their way down Sindria's brightly lit, cheerful streets. Before leaving Jafar had pulled him aside and tried to impress on him the importance of not letting Sinbad get drunk, at least in public if nothing else.
"What will the people think if they realize their king is drunken degenerate? Sindria will collapse!" Jafar had declared overdramatically.
Alibaba had thought Jafar was exaggerating. Surely the great Sinbad couldn't be described as a... "drunken degenerate"... Even if he was currently nailing the drunken part. And Kougyoku’s arrival at Sindria and everyone’s reaction to it certainly implied a certain degree of degeneracy.
“Don’t worry about it! Here, have some of this!” Sinbad bulled through his protests and shoved a goblet he’d snatched from some vendor into Alibaba’s face. The cup was half-full with sweet-smelling alcohol that splashed in Alibaba’s face, nearly choking him.
He swallowed instinctively and, after a short coughing fit, turned to give the grinning Sinbad a reproachful look, only to pause and hiccup. “...It’s good,” Alibaba decided absently, “...hic.” It was also, incidentally, very high proof. Very, very high proof.
“Right?!” Sinbad grinned unrepentantly, completely failing to even consider that he would definitely pay for this later. “Here, try this one too!”
It took exactly one and three quarters drinks to have Alibaba giggling cheerily and pliably agreeing to anything Sinbad suggested, and another half a drink to have him clinging to Sinbad’s arm just to keep walking in something resembling a straight line. Or maybe he was clinging just because he was a sloppy affectionate drunk (when he wasn’t a weepy one).
To be frank, despite Jafar’s best efforts, the sight of their king wandering somewhat unsteadily with some pretty young thing clinging to his arm was completely commonplace and accepted in Sindria. So none of the citizens paid the pair much mind, just smiling and waving and handing Sinbad more alcohol.
Someone, however, did stop and stare -- Hakuryuu and Aladdin, who had been doing a bit of wandering around the city themselves.
“King Sinbad…? Alibaba-dono…?” Hakuryuu stammered, gaping. A moment later, he was left flailing as Alibaba greeted him with a sloppy hug.
“Hey, guys! What are you up to? Can we join?” Aladdin greeted far more casually.
“Sure!” Sinbad agreed easily, as if he wasn’t digging himself deeper and deeper. “Here, why don’t you try some of this…?”
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Hungover Sinbad shuddered.
Jafar was going to kill him. Alibaba was one thing, and even Hakuryuu maybe. They were closer enough to adulthood -- they could actually get alcohol just fine on their own, if they so decided. But Aladdin? That undeniably underaged child? Jafar was going to kill him so dead.
When he tried to pray for his own soul, Sinbad felt a horrible chill, as if even God -- or rather, Solomon -- had forsaken him.
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“Tch! If that’s how it is, just tell her! Are you a man or not?”
After the… tenth? twelveth? drink, Alibaba’s personality did a complete one-eighty. It was quite fascinating, really, to drunk Sinbad (who had about three times as much as the kids combined and was finally beginning to show it for real). Like some switch had been flipped, Alibaba went from clingy to standoffish and irritable.
“I’m not nearly enough of a man for Morgiana-dono!” Hakuryuu agreed, clutching Alibaba tighter. “I am unworthy!”
“Would you cut that out?!” Alibaba complained, scowling darkly. He tried to pry Hakuryuu off, only for the Kou prince to cling tighter to his waist.
Sinbad laughed -- these kids were great -- and nearly dropped Aladdin. The boy, having the body weight of a small animal, had passed out after half a cup. Now, he just drooled over Sinbad’s shoulder and kept trying to paw at his chest while murmuring about boobies. Truly, a man after Sinbad’s own heart.
“Morgiana-donoooo!!” Hakuryuu wailed.
“Yes?” Morgiana asked, suddenly just there. Those Fanalis were sneaky -- or maybe they were just all really drunk.
Hakuryuu hiccuped and stared at her blankly. Then, his eyes rolled back and he passed out, from the shock, the mortification, the alcohol, or all three.
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Staring fixedly at his bedsheets and definitely not at the people (children) in his bed, hungover Sinbad tried to remember what happened after that. He had a vague impression of Morgiana carrying Hakuryuu, or maybe she was carrying Alibaba? Or both…? Then again, Sinbad also had a very washed out memory of being carried himself, which he could only hope was a hallucination and didn't actually happen.
“Okay, but why are we all in my room…?” he muttered, wincing at the sound of his own voice.
Alibaba snorted a little and turned over, Aladdin murmured something in his sleep, Hakuryuu groaned quietly, and Morgiana said, “I was tired after carrying all of you, and your bed is big enough for all of us.” Giving him a reproachful look, she added, “You're heavy, and you wouldn't stay still.”
Those Fanalis sure were sneaky.
“Ah,” Sinbad said, very intelligently.
Yeah, that had not been a drunken hallucination. A little girl had carried him and three others to his room after he ignominiously passed out (and also found him fat). He may or may not have tried to grope her. Jafar was going to kill him, without fail.
Morgiana passed him a glass of water, which Sinbad accepted. Just because he was going to die didn't mean he had to suffer in the meantime.
“Alibaba-san. Alibaba-san, I have some water for you,” Morgiana tried to gently shake her king awake. Alibaba just snored louder -- loud enough to make Hakuryuu begin to stir.
The Kou prince sat up slowly, looking about as well as Sinbad felt, which is to say like death warmed over. He stared at Morgiana blankly, while his mind crawled out of the whole it had retreated into. Sinbad could see the exact moment when the night before started coming back to Hakuryuu.
His face began to flush progressively more red with embarrassment as he recalled the previous night’s… escapades. Then, it paled as he remembered seeing Morgiana -- and more importantly, Morgiana seeing him. Finally, Hakuryuu took on a very ominous green hue as he realized that Morgiana was also right there, right now, and there was no escaping his humiliation.
“I… need a sword,” Hakuryuu said tonelessly. “I must wash away this disgrace…”
He stood, heedless of the fact that he was only wearing a single (thankfully long) undershirt, and strode out of the room with only the slightest wobble in his step.
He was gone before Sinbad finally realized what Hakuryuu was referring to with that.
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A day later, Hakuryuu was still missing. As far as Sinbad knew anyway -- in fact, Hakuryuu had tripped after going barely down the corridor, knocked himself out and woken up in a much more put together state of mind, after which he proceeded to just avoid Sinbad, the cause of all his troubles, with all his might.
But no one bothered telling now sober and very in trouble Sinbad about that, so as far as he knew, the fourth prince of Kou had been missing for a day already after swearing to commit honorable suicide.
“Why wouldn’t Hakuryuu be fine?” Jafar asked, his eyes narrowing. “Why did you bring that up all of a sudden, Sin? What did you do.”
Sinbad’s smile widened instinctively, even as a drop of sweat ran down his cheek. He looked incredibly guilty. Silently, Jafar pushed up his sleeves and drew his weapons. The screams that echoed through the palace that day were truly chilling, but well deserved. Irresponsible, degenerate drunkards who led others astray were the worst scum.
The Generals reaffirmed an important lesson that day -- Sinbad must never be left without supervision. Never.
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