"We'd better keep moving," she said, regaining her composure. "I agree. Let's go before someone notices the queen herself without guards in their midst. They might cause a rabble, or worse…" he said cautiously. They walked for about fifty more meters, before they finally found the king himself, surrounded by the other lords, and a few animals they had chosen for the feast. They quickened their pace, and one of the guardsmen noticed them.
"Make way for the queen!" Thorsen called out. In an instant, everyone formed a line to the side, making a clear path for her to walk down. "Aha, my queen! Thank you, Thorsen," Truls said. "I am here, my lords," Leona said with a brief curtsy. "We have concluded our tour, and went looking for you. Our small journey led us here, though we were hard pressed to find you" she said.
"You could have simply asked one of the servants," he replied, with a little distrust in his voice. "I could have, but where would the adventure be? I have never been in such a crowd as this one, nor do I think I shall ever be again," she said with a chuckle in her voice.
"Adventure?" he asked. "It was foolish and dangerous to do so. Doubly so in the company of one who does not know his way around," Truls said with a darkened tone. "However, I am glad you are both here with us." "Thank you, my lord. I apologize for our tardiness, as the queen's knowledge of the castle was enthralling," Bashaa returned with a low bow. Truls subtly sneered at the man.
"Well, my lords, the sun grows hotter by the minute, and the feast this afternoon approaches quickly," Truls stated. "Indeed, we should return. I don't want to show up to the feast smelling like I have just come off a battlefield," Elhael agreed.
Truls whistled, and a young servant boy came running out of the nearby group of guardsmen. "Boy, take these animals up to the butchers, and if you tarry for a moment, you will pay for it dearly," he whispered. The poor servant boy quickly nodded, and took the animals by their mouthpieces, tugging firmly until they began to follow him.
"That will probably take at least four hours to be prepared," Mads said while watching the young boy lead the animals down the street. "Chances are very good. Fancy a wager?" Elhael asked Mads. "Now, now," Leona interrupted. "Just be sure to know that we have some of the best butchers and chefs on the Continent here," she said boastingly.
"Indeed you might, and as such, I wager three hours before the beasts are prepared," Elhael said. He was a very intelligent elf, and was often thought to be the brightest on the Continent itself. "If you insist," Mads said with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "What shall we wager?" he asked. Elhael grinned. "Money, of course," he said slyly.
"It's settled, then," Mads said smiling. The two shook on it, and turned back to the small group. "Well, then," Truls began, eyeing the handsome prince once more. "I believe it best we all head off to rest and ready ourselves for tonight's festivities. Everyone agreed, and they began to walk through the marketplace, through crowds and gazes back to the main palace. Bashaa accompanied his father, while keeping an eye on Leona's figure swaying a few feet in front of him.
"Magnificent isn't she?" his father whispered, breaking the scene of them down in the cellar that was being replayed behind his eyes. "Hush, father. Truls might hear you. You know he can speak our language," Bashaa cautioned. "Like all the other ruling kings, we all must know each other's languages as though they were our own. However, his guards don't speak it, so we're free to comment on whatever we like as long as we keep it down," Bashir said.
His son shook his head. "It is unwise to risk it, anyway," Bashaa said. "Oh! Undo the calamity that is thine mammaries, Bashaa," his father said. "You know as well as I do that she is a goddess amongst men and women of this world. Are you so dense that even mana would bend around you to not acknowledge her beauty?" he asked. The sting of the insult clearly shook Bashaa to his core.
He doesn't know about what we did, which probably means no one else does. Good, he thought.
"I understand, father. I just do not wish to do so whilst in the presence of the king himself," Bashaa said in return. "Fearing things that may not come to be reality is folly, my son," his father said. "Take a gander at her while we're still here, and when we have departed, no one will know you have," he said. "I'll take it into consideration," Bashaa replied cautiously, but with a grin on his face. His father smiled back and nodded, returning his posture to its regular state. He looked over at Elhael - who seemed not to have been paying attention - and was content at the fact.
They made their way through the streets, guards clearing them of any forms of threats, and making way for the royal party. People who watched them go by went down on one knee, kneeling for them.
"Your people love you, it seems," Elhael said, now walking beside Truls, noting upon the kneeling citizens. "I couldn't give a turtle shit about them," Truls replied. "They kneel for you and the others, not for me," he said. Elhael was shocked to hear him speak in such a way about the people he ruled.
"I am saddened to hear that. Truly, I am. May I ask why it is so?" Elhael asked, hoping to catch a glimpse of the humanity a king was supposed to have. Truls shook his head. "I'm not certain you would understand, King Elhael," he said. "In my tongue, my name means 'wise one'," Elhael said, raising a thin eyebrow. "Very well," Truls said, yielding.
"It began long ago, a few short days after my coronation. My father's passing was taken as a heavy blow by the society you see today. He was a just, fair king who was loyal to his subjects. He did everything in his power to ensure that his people would want for nothing, ensuring that nobody would want to leave the perfect city he had turned Coltend into. Unfortunately, and after many years of doing so, he fell ill to some dark sickness. Some say it was a curse, others say he was being poisoned," he said, with a dead stare aimed at the ground beneath a wicker basket near the side of the road.
"I'm assuming that you have theories of your own," Elhael said, attempting to capture the king's divided attention. His mind was wandering, receiving flashes of his father on his deathbed. He snapped back to attention, and was visibly shook at the memory. "Forgive me," Truls said. Elhael nodded.
He knew what Truls had seen.
"Indeed, I do have a theory of my own, although I am not at leave to share it with one other than myself. I pray you understand," he said. "I do, curious as I am as to what it is, however, I must respect your privacy," Elhael said. Truls nodded.
"At any rate, his lavish and revered lifestyle came to an end when his bookkeeper came to him with an account of all he had spent over the last 70 years of rule. He had spent so much that there simply wasn't enough gold in the kingdom to pay it off. It seemed odd to him, being that Coltend had been the main trading hub over the last few centuries, but he accepted his fate after asking for an investigation of exactly what had happened. Before his end, he told me that he loathed himself for being foolish enough not to have been more attentive to such matters. After all, he had now tainted his reputation as being careless, leaving the fate of his kingdom in the hands of my seventeen-year-old self. I did what I had to do to keep this country afloat," Truls explained.
"They hate me for what I've done. Gods, even my own wife hates me. Fuck them. I would do it all over again to save this country, if that's what it took."
"I had no idea it had gone to such an extent," Elhael said, astonished at the gravity of the kingdom's past. "I had heard tales of both joyous and woeful moments during his rule. Nevertheless, I could never have imagined it being that harrowing of an experience," he continued. "Well, now you know why I don't give a shit about them anymore," Truls replied. "I do, indeed," Elhael replied, solemnly nodding his head.
They continued walking onward in silence, until they had reached the palace - which, after the king's monologue, was a stone's throw away. They went their separate ways to prepare for the banquet. Leona glanced once more at Bashaa, who nodded, and turned to follow his father - who, unfortunately for him, was going in the opposite direction.
A few hours later, everyone reconvened at the vast banquet hall for the feast. The tables were set out in the form of a large 'T' - a custom handed down from generation to generation. At every feast, the tables were laid out in the form of the first letter of whatever the king's name was. The tablecloths had the insignia of the castle sewn into each and every one - a daunting task, it seemed, but the seamstresses around the castle were glad to have done the work.
They had been well remunerated, after all. The large plates with their silverware were set out atop the tables, and the food was laid out down the center. Pheasant, venison, pork and lamb were served at the tables, coupled with potatoes and other vegetables. Large soup bowls were on small carts loaded with bowls and spoons to meet the needs of the guests. The guests had their cups filled with wine and mead from the cellars.
The tone of the feast was a joyous one, with a small band of troubadours using lively notes to rile the guests into a glad mood. The servants of the palace sat separate from the royalty, though mixed and coupled with the guardsmen. Jokes were made, food was thrown and stuck in beard hairs, grease, wine, ale and mead ran down chins, laughs were loud and occasionally maniacal, resounding throughout the hall. All in all, the feast was in full swing, and all seemed to be going smoothly.
"This is a grand feast, if ever I've seen one, King Truls," Mads had to bellow his sentence over the uproar that was the feast. "And this venison is incredible! You must tell me what the secret is!" he exclaimed. "Thank you for your kind words, King Mads, however, I regret to inform you that my chef is a magician when it comes to food. As everyone knows, a true magician never reveals his secrets. Sadly, not even to his own king," Truls said with a smile.
Mads simply shrugged and raised his glass in the general direction of what he thought was the kitchen, when in truth, it was the men's lavatory. One of the male servants walking out of there saw the horn raised in his direction, and he winked at the king in response. Mads' eyes opened wide and his face paled. He quickly proceeded to drown himself in the remaining alcohol in his drinking horn. Elhael had seen it happen, and burst into an almost uncontrollable fit of laughter.
"Axes, arrows, spears, bears, and monsters," Elhael said each word between laughing spurts. "You have encountered all of these, and yet one wink from a man who does not share your sexual preference and you go white as a sheet of clean linen." Mads became mildly infuriated that someone other than he and the noble had noticed, especially the fact that it was the overly observant elf. "Now, now," Elhael said, raising a hand to try and calm Mads down. "We are never going to speak of this again," Mads said coldly. Elhael nodded quickly and both began laughing at the situation.
The male servant returned to the table designated for close servants of the palace. "Oh, hey! What's that on the f-floor?" Clare said, looking down at the stone floor. "Behold! It's a f-fuck to give. I think you've lost it, Leland," she said cheerfully. Leland looked at her in confusion. "He won't kill you over something so s-simple as that. It's a feast and people have been - hic - drinking for a while," she continued, slurring her words.
"Fine," Leland said, "but if my body is found with a slit throat tomorrow morning, at least we'll know why." "Calm yourself before you burst a vessel," Meliss threw in her two cents in a vain attempt to calm Leland down. He was visibly distraught.
She passed him a full mug of ale.
"Chug, you nervous wreck, chug!" she said with a smile. He looked at her, then at the mug which seemed to magically have appeared in his hand. He threw the contents of the mug down the back of his throat as fast as he could and shook his head. "There. Now do that a few more times and' you're good to go," she said, still smiling.
"I don't blame you f-for doing what you did, Leeeland-uh," Clare said with a heavy hand on his not-so-muscular shoulder. "Hell, I'd have done the same if it were Prince Bashaa doing that to me," she said. "You fancy him?" Meliss asked. "Of course! Have you s-seen his eyes, and the way he looks at you with them?" she asked playfully.
"They are marvelous, indeed. It's no wonder the lady he was with earlier couldn't resist him in the cellar," Leland said in agreement. "And that's supposed to mean something to me?" Meliss asked. "Wait a minute," Clare said, reaching for a moment of clarity. "He was with the queen for the better half of the afternoon. You don't think…?" she said, stopping herself halfway through.
Fulco was walking right behind her as she said it, and his eyes opened wide. He glared at them viciously. After a moment's pause, he realized that he already knew the answers to the ones he would have asked. He sighed heavily and continued walking towards the royal end of the table.