In the throne room of Castle Fogeye...
The king was about to continue his conversation with Don, and was actually in the middle of a rather complicated first word when he was somewhat rudely interrupted, though that was probably not his intention, by Wilril.
"Well, brothers! The Plagues will not simply cease to exist simply by us standing here, now will they? Off at once!" the loopiest of the kingspawn proclaimed, then threw up his arms. The king always got a little nervous when he did that, and Wilril did not disappoint, an elixir shooting out of his left sleeve from the sudden movement, flying through the air and landing in his right hand. And for his next trick, Wilril had apparently decided to gulp down the unidentified liquid within. The king's heart skipped a beat whenever Wilril did that - he honestly feared that the man would accidentally explode himself into gore any day now, despite not having easy access to any elixir that could conceivably do that.
Rather unusually, the elixir he gulped seemed to only make his shape fade away, leaving no indication whether he had disappeared in a translocative or merely illusory way. Probably illusory, King Ingmar thought rather correctly, and the suspicion was confirmed when he noticed Percy get lightly bumped by seemingly nothing at all in a few seconds. This seemed to signal to him that it was an appropriate time to speak.
"As you say, Father. I, Grimm Grimmeth Fogeye shan't fail you."
"Yes, yes, of course. Now get out of here already, will you?"
Percy chose to obey without speaking to the king any longer - a fact that pleased the man greatly.
"One of you, go find me a horse. Have it saddled and waiting at the East gate, I shall go arm myself meanwhile," he ordered his siblings without missing a beat, which was also pleasing to witness, even though he had a long way to go in that respect, as the king could see from Arcus' reaction.
"My dear Percy, though it warms my heart that you are trying to fake some semblance of a spine, you seem forget that you are the second youngest of the group. Besides, I think that amongst all of us the most qualified to find us suitable horses would be you. Be a dear and go secure us all some of those loathsome creatures whose company you seem to enjoy so much." he said, stroking his beard in a way that reminded Ingmar of his own father. Ingmar didn't much like that guy, either.
"Unfortunately, it seems that for once Wilril is right on the money. The sooner we get these things over with, the sooner we can go back to our own business," he then observed, and quickly left, paying no mind to the scowling Percy. Good riddance, the king thought.
"I will go, Father," Wallace finally said as well, and left, leaving only Don behind, who seemed to be enthusiastic about continuing the conversation.
"Well, father, I certainly won't claim your knowledge of the finer points, but if your accomplishments are as great as those of our forebear then myself and my brothers may not have to worry about one of the plagues. Or at the very least save it for last. So it would certainly do well to know the outline of what you have achieved and what threat it will vanquish."
He certainly was the inquisitive type, was he not, the king thought. Trying to avoid as much of his heroic destiny as possible.
"Ah, my little project probably will not directly apply to your quest, my son. At least not in the nearest future. It is simply a stepping stone to greatness, so to speak. If it works, of course, and I have every reason to believe it will," he bluffed at the youth in front of him. Bluffing to your subjects while you were king was fun - if they called you on it, you could always have them executed for impertinence, which simplified systematic telling of half-truths and blatant lies quite a bit.
At Castle Fogeye's smithy...
Solkie was having a very good day - the orcs, for once, had not tried to reach the castle at all, and had been happy with shooting people and stealing horses in the rest of the town, which suited him just fine and allowed him to work on some very important projects, like horseshoes for all the king's horses, completely unimpeded by either the king's men or anyone else who tended to seek his expertise. It felt very good to work on something actually important and practical, unlike all those ceremonial weapons Roe kept ordering all the time. And just as he was finishing up his very last horseshoe, his day got brighter still - Per-uh, Grimm! Yes, Grimm, King Ingmar's son, just happened to stroll in! He had not expected this visit, but he had, of course, prepared for it! It was not without reason that he kept very detailed and frequently updated casts of the kingspawn's bodies (obtained with the help of Roe in exchange for a steady supply of ceremonial weapons), after all. So, when Grimm came in, Solkie was ready.
"Prince Grimm! It is marvelous to see you here today, Your Magnificence!" the smith said in his most excited tone. "May I interest you in a set of plate armor? Perhaps a superb quality blade tailored specifically for your hand? Anything you ask for, I can provide in whatever quantities you desire!"
Solkie loved being prepared for his job. Going the extra mile, in his opinion, was always worth it.
In Wallace's office...
Wallace's office was a rather clean and boring place, and Pinaria, while hardly happy about her job in general (it was most unbecoming for a servant to be anything more than content, in her opinion), certainly preferred to keep it that way, even if it was difficult to find a moment when the Prince wasn't here doing whatever it was he did with those books of his all day. The elderly servant was actually almost done with the regular routine when Prince Wallace suddenly walked back into the room, giving her quite a scare. She shrank back into the corner, waiting for the Prince to give her permission to leave - sadly, though, he seemed busy looking through the books. She hoped this wouldn't turn out to be one of those days when Prince Wallace would let her stand here for five hours before noticing she was even around.
[Wallace's embezzlement roll: 8+3]
Though looking somewhat dissatisfied initially, Prince Wallace did seem like he wasn't going to be here long, though - he did not even try to sit down, though this alone was probably not an indication of intent. The speed at which he leafed through the books, though, was somewhat of a better sign to go by. As predicted, the Prince did not take too much time to do his magic - a few marks here, a few marks there - Pinaria did get a little worried when he got the other books out, but the adjustments there proved small enough as well. And then, with a slight curl of his lip and a brief softening of his expression, he closed everything up and left, which was greatly appreciated by the maid, who quickly finished up and left before the frightfully occupied accountant could return once more. Little did she know, however, that she had just been witness to an appropriation of enough funds for a serf to buy back his own farm, then retire and live comfortably with his extended family for the next twenty or so years. And what's more, this appropriation, masterfully done as it was, would probably not be noticed by anyone at all except the maid, who could not say she had witnessed anything truly out of the ordinary.
Outside Arcus' room...
Tregol hated this wing of the palace with all his heart and soul. He kept asking for somebody to reassign him, but it seemed that somebody really did have it in for him at the palace guard - he had narrowed it down to two, maybe three people, and the sad part was that at least one of them was King Ingmar. So, being unable to change it, he accepted his fate and continued his vigil over the rooms of the great princes Wilril and Arcus. One of them was, obviously, more of a problem than the other, what with the tendency to drink dangerous substances and occasionally spend an afternoon foaming at the mouth, leaving Tregol with no other option than to bother the other kingspawn on the floor to come quick and help - obviously, he was not well liked by Arcus for this reason.
After Arcus moved past him without even acknowledging his presence, Tregol was feeling happy that he was doing his job right for once and had no reason to bother the rather impulsive kingspawn, and also that Wilril remained missing for now. This might be one of the good days, he thought optimistically, and his mood was only improved when he saw the prince quickly vacate his room with two whole armfuls of what he clearly recognized as alchemical and medical supplies, if only by the protective and loving way the kingspawn was carrying them. Maybe he could now take a nap, the guard thought as the kingspawn, having thoroughly looted his room, disappeared around a corner.
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Topic: Kingspawn of Allochthon: important question! (Read 19728 times)