In the throne room of Castle Fogeye...King Ingmar deflated with satisfaction, slouching back in his throne as
Don finally left. This was certainly an easy fix, he thought, and soon the situation would resolve itself one way or another. In the meantime, he could get back to work without all these advisors getting on his back all the time, so everyone was happy.
"I do believe that Your Brilliance has handled the situation quite marvelously," said Roe, beaming at the king.
"That I have, Roe. Now, bring me refreshments. There is much work to be done today!" King Ingmar said, getting up from his throne and stepping ponderously toward the exit. In almost the blink of an eye, Roe sped off as well. Hopefully the day would continue as well as it had began, Ingmar thought.
In the barracks of Castle Fogeye...Pilk was almost glad he had been completely immobilized by a bout of vicious diarrhea this morning, inasmuch as one can be glad about such a thing, considering how it did keep him out of participating in repelling the orc raid, an activity that tended to fill him with fear, and also with loathing both for the orcs, who were filthy barbarians that really had no business being that good with bows, and also the largely helpless populace, who couldn't be bothered to do anything but hide while the riders (or, rather, the single rider, as it turned out to be this time) would rampage through town and made the duties of a guard, while unhindered, also completely unaided. Pilk felt a little disappointed when he found out that this was one of the easy raids from his returning friends, and silently cursed the spirits of disease for visiting him on the day he needed them least.
On the bright side, though, the others didn't really hate or resent him too much for not being there. Or at least Kerrh and Poike, the wonderful fellows with him who were equally wonderfully terrible at both dice and cards, did not seem to. The day was looking to be going rather well until, as he was relieving his friends from yet another tiny bit of money that would be going in his perpetually dwindling alcohol fund, he noticed a shape. A relatively small, yet disturbing shape.
"Men, I have a proposal for you," the shape spoke, and alarm bells went off in Pilk's head. He recognized this little goblin, and his words filled him with apprehension about what would happen next.
"Follow and guard my esteemed person on the journey I am about to undertake, and you will find glory, fame, wealth and women as well any other things your imaginations may crave at the moment."Much to Pilk's displeasure, Poike seemed instantly in love with the idea.
"That is certainly a very fine offer, Your Highness," he said.
"What choice have we but to accept?""Indeed, Your Highness! I cannot speak for all of us, naturally, but I personally have dreamed of the chance to join the royal guards," Kerrh agreed in a sing-song voice that very much betrayed his overly servile nature. And then came the moment when all eyes were on Pilk. He so dearly wanted to say no.
"I, uh, I don't think I should-" he began, but was immediately kicked in the shin by Kerrh, which elicited a low yelp from him.
"Maybe it would be best if we-" he resumed, but was interrupted by Poike stomping on his foot, which made his mouth curl up in a very pained frown.
"Perhaps-" he then tried to say, but simultaneous kicks that made the table shake pronouncedly, a fact the Prince pretended not to notice, stopped the very thought dead in its tracks.
For the next moment or two, silence reigned. Pilk was on the verge of tears. And in this state of silence, he was almost conscious of the tiny snap within his mind that signified the last vestige of resistance to a job that was sure to get him killed.
"I agree to your proposal," he choked out, and after another violent nudge from Kerrh's foot, added
"Your Highness.""Yes, we are most honored to have been chosen for this task, sire," Kerrh said, obviously taking quite a bit of satisfaction from seeing Pilk broken before him.
Maybe they did hate him after all, Pilk thought.
Outside Arcus' room...Tregol was almost beginning to look forward to his nap when his nascent hopes were dashed as
Arcus, despite looking like he knew where he was going previously, returned unexpectedly, startling the guard a little.
"Say, Tregol, you've always seemed like a capable and trustworthy sort to me. How about you come and help me with this ridiculous business, and then after it's over I'll make sure you never need to watch my brother again. Ever. Sounds good, yes?"This remark gave Tregol pause. Not watching
Wilril did sound good, he thought even as he saw what was obviously, judging from the audible scratching, an invisible Wilril opening the door to his own room. But he did wonder what this 'ridiculous business' would entail - given that the Prince found it ridiculous, and the fact that he had all but evicted himself from his room over it, it could not be anything good, of this Tregol was sure, given how the kingspawn had an almost umbilical attachment to the place. Probably some royal business, and to meddle in royal business, even in a supportive capacity, was a very good way to get oneself killed. And, Tregol hoped optimistically, if Arcus was trying to displace himself somehow, that could possibly mean that Wilril would leave as well, which would leave him with an even emptier wing to guard.
This just left Tregol with the obvious issue of saying 'no' to a prince in a tactful, respectful way, and even that proved simple as an armful of small bottles exited Wilril's room. Having quickly formulated a plan, Tregol immediately pointed Wilril's way, shouting
"Aagh! Ghosts!" That got Arcus' attention nicely enough, causing him to turn away from the guard and behold the self-propelled products of basic alchemy. When he turned his head back to look at Tregol again, the guard was long gone.
At Castle Fogeye's smithy...Solkie was delighted when Prince
Percy - no, Prince Grimm! Yes, when Prince Grimm had to keep the good cheer from his face in his presence. Pleasing the king and, by extension, his spawn was, after all, what he lived to do.
"Why yes, smith, I have in fact been tasked with a perilous quest by my father the King," Prince Grimm said in his most kindly and authoritative voice while inspecting a horseshoe, which made Solkie consider whether his horseshoe supply was as adequate as it could be, and whether he would need to remove some off the men's horses to provide the kingspawn with all they desire.
"And of course any questing hero worth his salt needs a worthy blade to accompany him, would you not agree? I should like a good, dependable sword and a suit of armour to keep my insides inside whilst still allowing me to sit a horse. I'll most likely be fighting orcs at first, if it makes any difference. Some cavalry spikes should come in handy, too."Solkie couldn't help but smile with all of his face, his eyes shining with the bright inner light of a soul truly fulfilled.
"I shall be needing all this just as soon as you are able. See Steward Roe for payment once it is made and delivered," the prince then added,
"and he shall provide a neat bonus for its timely manufacture. How quickly can you have it made?" The blacksmith inhaled to regain his calm, as he feared he would trip all over himself otherwise, then spoke.
"Sire, all of what you ask for, I already have. Sharpened, oiled and polished, where required, and all but the cavalry spikes made specifically for you. I need but retrieve them from the appropriate racks and stands and give them a quick checkup, and I can have you battle-ready within ten minutes, no more. And there will be no need for payment, of course. I could never ask for such a thing from my liege lords, who so generously and continually provide me with such a grand smithy to practice my craft in," he said, bowing with the utmost respect.
"And if your siblings are in need of anything I can provide, I have prepared for their potential arrival as well," he then continued, his manic, overflowing happiness seeping into the end of the sentence. He inhaled and exhaled deeply again, his eyes narrowing back to normal.
"I live to serve."Doubtlessly, he could have done better. Hopefully the shininess of the armor would make his eagerness seem more justified, Solkie thought.
"If you excuse me, sire, I shall be back with your required items in a moment," he finally said, aware and mildly embarrassed that he was looking slightly flushed.
In the streets of Foghaunt...It was a very lucky first day in Foghaunt for her, Myrica thought as she walked down the street, her large axe slung over her shoulder, still dripping a little orc blood on the cobbled street. Though the orcish rider outside of town had not proven to have much in the way of valuable objects, he did have a very nice horse, which she certainly appreciated after having had to walk here the entire way. Not to mention that the event was obviously a very good way to announce her presence to the guards and, through them, most everyone else.
"Hey, Myri, I just realized something!"Of course, Betu would probably help as well, conspicuous as she was.
"What?" said Myrica, looking back at her sister.
"Orc blood tastes awful," she said, holding up her index finger, which Myrica suspected had been a little bloodier a while ago.
"That's disgusting, Betu. You could catch something, you know.""You think I will? Maybe if I suffer through it, I'll get stronger? That's how disease works, right?"Sometimes Myrica thought Betu took this whole mercenary thing less seriously than she should. Maybe taking your barely trained sixteen-year-old sister along on the road wasn't the very best idea. Then again, she did show a lot of enthusiasm, and Myrica was hardly that much older herself. The girl would improve, and she was already pretty good.
"That's only if you survive.""You don't think I would?" Betu feigned sadness.
"I'd rather not find out.""Aw, how sweet."The walk through town was mostly uneventful, with Betu occasionally attempting to get another taste of blood off Myrica's axe after her palate had successfully cleared and Myrica warding her off. Suddenly, though, Betu stopped, looking at something in the direction of the inn. After making sure the blood was out of her reach, Myrica looked as well. It seemed to be a man dressed in fairly noble attire. Not a very attractive or impressive man, but probably rich in some way.
"Greetings. I have heard from my guards that you two did very well at the city gates earlier today."Word certainly traveled fast, Myrica thought. This smelled like a job offer.
"That we did, sir," Betu said before Myrica could answer, adopting a very neutral tone.
"I require capable mercenaries for an important mission, and am ready to pay for your services.""We are certainly available for work, sir. What would be the nature of the mission?""It will be somewhat long, yet very lucrative. Paid for by the Royal House of Fogeye," the man said without much expression, even though that was quite the name to drop. Myrica noticed Betu's eyes widen.
"It is probably good work if the king is paying for it, right?""Naturally. Do you accept?"This was definitely as prestigious an opportunity as they were likely to get in this town. Betu looked at Myrica and grinned, and she suspected she may have been involuntarily doing something similar. They simultaneously turned to the man.
"Of course we accept, sir. Where do we go, and when do we start?""Do we need to polish our armor for the occasion?" Betu asked, looking down at her suit of metallic scales, then at Myrica's similar set of armor.
Quite the lucky day for the both of them, Myrica thought once more.
These turns do take a lot of time, but I sure do love writing them.
Also, I'll soon put up another Thing You Know on the society of Allochthon.
Author
Topic: Kingspawn of Allochthon: important question! (Read 19737 times)