At an indeterminate time, after Trubaldsome's flogging and before Elbreth's forces set off for Miring...
Trubaldsome was feeling rather poorly.
His back, despite its layers of soft, lightly-scented bandages, was very tender; his privates were itching horribly, and he was generally feeling terribly humiliated by the whole 'public flogging' affair. All in all, he would have much rather have been relaxing in the luxurious, if small, public quarters he'd become accustomed to since his move to Elbreth. But of course, he had to march, and besides, said quarters were left nothing more than a fire-blackened shell anyway. He cursed Taric's name for the seventh time in as many minutes, watching one of his men saddle his horse with increasing annoyance.
After some time and effort, the fine thoroughbred horse- Which was just about as pampered, irritable and lazy as its rider- was prepared, and Trubaldsome climbed up his specially-tailored step ladder and swung a leg over, doing his best to disguise a wince as he settled in the well-oiled, fine leather saddle.
Glancing about- He and his men were in a small tavern's stable yard in the city, temporary replacement for the palace's stables- He saw Waery had just about finished whipping the men into order, and kicked his horse into a trot, heading out to the street and glancing up and down the street.
He felt curiously detatched in this place he'd called home, for what felt like such a long time, as though he neither belonged here, or back in Miring where he was going. It was a very strange feeling, strange enough to warrant a quick pinch of snuff as he turned to shout for Waery to hurry up.
As he waited, he began muttering to himself, a habit he'd acquired only recently.
"Well, at last. Is what I've been waiting for so long, is it not?" He tapped his hand absently against his saddle-horn as he went on, his eyes gleaming. "That bastard Leuki will get what's coming to him,
at last... He won't be so damn smug when I have my sword at his throat, I bet! Oh no!" A slightly crazed-looking grin split his features, and he once more fished out his travelling snuffbox (from a specially-tailored pocket on the side of his saddle) for a celebratory sniff. "I'll have what's rightfully mine, at last. Yes... Just because those incompetent fools were born before me, that's supposed to make
them the heirs?!" He leaned over in the saddle to spit on the ground in distaste, and it was then that he abruptly realised his soldiers had been assembled around him for some time, watching his babbling in stunned bewilderment.
"
What?! What are you
waiting for?!" He shouted angrily, feeling defensive. "Ride!
Ride, you morons!"
A few flecks of spittle shot from his lips, spraying across poor Waery who happened to be nearest.
As the apoplectic young reached for his riding-crop, Waery hurriedly sounded the advance and the troop advanced down the street towards the city gates.
Go with the rest of Elbreth's armies towards Miring, leaving most of the details to Waery.((With the way the timeline's going, I don't know if this is even possible, so just tell me if so!
))
((EDIT: Oh, and also, with recent events I'll have to think up a first name for Trubaldsome... I think 'Percy' will do. With such an embarassing name, Trubalsome ensured it remains unspoked by his guards on pain of death, and thus, in Elbreth, none but perhaps the most dedicated scholars of Miring's royalty would know of it. And then they'd probably be wise enough not to mention it in his presence...
))