The big thing had been that he’d brought a guest and was embarrassed in front of her. She’d been kind enough about it, to his face at least, but he didn’t doubt that others had heard about the whole thing in a way that showed him in a less than favorable light, not that people’s opinion of him was that good to start with. His voice was quiet as he mentioned all that.
The Queen nodded and looked directly into his eyes.
“Yes. I’ve heard some of it myself through channels. I promise you that where it’s been found, we have all personally refuted it. What I can confirm to you however is that none of it seems to have come directly from Baronetta Coltress. You have rather a staunch defender there in fact. I had an audience with her to express our apologies and found her… charming, after her initial… coldness. She told me, to my face by the way, that if Richard and I were too blind to see how wonderful you were, we didn’t deserve to have you as a guest at all, much less a friend. That had to take a good bit of… conviction coming from a young lady of her rank and social options. Stuck in that awkward place between being too high too comfortably associate with the merchant class, and too low for almost anyone else. I believe I smoothed that over well enough for now. She showed me the collection of devices you bestowed on her. If I didn’t know you better, I’d have thought you were trying to win her over…”
Rolph, not looking at anyone in particular, softly said a single word in a perfectly flat tone.
“Don’t.”
“Ah…” Connie replied. Then Richard jumped in to change the subject.
“Well, if you’re satisfied that this whole situation is due solely to my own incompetence and not due to malice, which I swear on my name as King and by my breath and blood it was not, perhaps we can move to the next item of business? I’d truly love to not have to get down on my knees and grovel, or have my Kingdom torn apart.” The man didn’t smile about it, and looked directly at Tor.
What was he supposed to say to that?
“Um, I think you people are going a little over the top here. It was either a mistake, or someone just doesn’t like me here. Neither of those things needs groveling and no one would insist anyone be harmed over something like that, would they? Let’s call that done and be friends? If… anyone has a problem with me, please come and simply tell me though? Even if in private. I can… go away or change if it’s something I have control over…”
For some reason everyone stood then, almost as one and bowed towards him, smiling. Connie had tears in her eyes. Before he could scramble to his feet everyone sat though.
“Wonderful! Thank you Tor. There’s a lot to get through and not that much time. Which is real enough, even if I am changing the subject on a high note on purpose. People will only wait so long to be called after all. Then they start getting restless. We don’t want a reprise of the great wine glass rebellion after all. We lost over two hundred pieces of fine crystal that night. “Accidents”.”
Tor thought he knew what the next bit would be about. Her. Trice.
Instead the King asked for an update on the fires in Ross, and then what exactly he’d been doing up there. It wasn’t exactly heroic on his part, but they all seemed happy enough with what he’d managed to bring to the party. Except the part about the massive super explosive weapon.
“I’ve seen a demonstration of one of your, erm, smaller devices Tor. Why on earth would you make something that can do even more damage than that?”
“Um, well, I… don’t have an army? If I have to fight one, I’m going to need to be able to do a little more than just stand and be beaten like some kind of spineless moron with the personality of a doorstop. You know?”
“I… see.” Richard didn’t pursue it any further at least, not directly he took a deep breath and nodded to himself for a few seconds, as if thinking about something. Finally he just nodded.
“So,” The King continued after a few moments, the words drawing out at a measured pace. “Do you plan on making war on Duchy Morgan?” The tone was soft and serious.
The laughter bubbled up out of him. Really, he couldn’t help it; it got worse as he watched their faces fall, concerned looks all around until Rolph suddenly stuck his tongue out at him and laughed along. Sure, the laughter had a strained, maniacal edge to it, but that didn’t matter. It was just the very idea of a great open battle field with him standing on one side and ten thousand men standing on the other. When he caught his breath he tried to explain.
“What am I going to do? Kill thousands of people because my little feelings are hurt? That’s… not sane. I mean, even if Eric and Mercy were behind trying to poison me or… or if it was Trice herself,” The idea struck him harder than he’d thought it would, once he said the words out loud. It seemed too likely when he thought about it. But the idea hurt too much to bear.
“Well, going “to war” like you all keep saying, would be punishing innocent people for what a guilty few had done. I was really mad at first, sure, but now that I’ve had some time to think about things… no. I won’t do that.”
The Queen looked relieved, which Tor understood, it was her sister’s family after all. He swallowed before he said the next bit, but it had to be said, it had to be out in the open so that the King didn’t get caught off guard later. That, Tor knew, catching the man unawares, had to be a bad plan.
“But… Connie, if they come after me, or if they try to hurt my family… or reputation or… or anything… I won’t hurt innocent people over it, but I won’t let that stand either. I don’t think that means “going to war” as you all keep saying, but… I won’t just take it either.”
Her face fell, and went pale, but next to her on his own throne, Richard started to nod slowly.
“That’s fair and wise Tor. No one expects you to simply roll over and die on command, or to take abuse heaped and thrown. I’ll take your word not to go to war over the issue as a pledge? We’ll endeavor to make this clear to them before anything negative results.”
After that was said, Tor kind of expected the meeting to be over and for him to be sent on his way, or perhaps back to the party. What happened instead was that the King, without preamble called for some servants to come and rearrange the chairs, placing Rolph’s on the King’s right side, the heirs position, and Tor’s on the left of the Queen, which she whispered to him was the Queen’s Councilor’s position. She said it with a sad grin.
Since he’d basically just threatened to do something vaguely menacing to her sister he wondered how the woman managed to even bear having him in the same room with her, but shrugged it off mentally.
It was probably just that they were used to nobles getting in a snit and making threats like that all the time. Tor doubted that he could kill anyone even if they were trying to kill him. Even when he thought that Wensa was actively going to murder him, the closest he got was threatening her and that really only worked because as a Royal Guard she would have done it, which meant she had to figure Tor would do the same. Totally different mindsets
New chairs were brought in, nearly matching the ones he and Rolph had, wood almost stained black, with deep forest green cushions on the seats instead of gray. The backs had ornate carvings that he envied the workmanship of, now that he had a chance to really see it in front of him. Whoever had made these was an artist, not just a furniture maker. The whole room was like that, when he glanced around. Filled with art, built into the very walls.
He’d grown up in a room he shared with all his brothers that didn’t even have paint, much less art. Very different.
It struck him then that he really didn’t belong in a place like this. It was like trying to make water and oil mix, and stay that way. You could work hard, shaking and stirring frantically, and get it to kind of looked mixed for a while, but eventually the truth of how different they were came out, the oil separated and floated to the top. Of course he wasn’t the rich oil, but the plain water underneath. That was probably what had to happen he realized. It was why he couldn’t be at the fine school any more, or marry Trice, or even be loved at all. He was too plain. Too bland.