“Uh…”
OK, not the most brilliant statement of all time, but he was being detained? For what? Tor really wanted to know that before he just went peaceably. After all, it could be a trick. The King hadn't mentioned it to him after all. Worse, Captain Curtis, the city guardsmen in charge, wouldn't tell him. No, he just stood, backed by a hundred red and white uniformed men in funny round hats with a flat top and bill on the front to shade the eye.
A hundred armed men.
Well, it was Smythe who asked, so this probably wasn't aimed at him personally. It rankled, but what could they do? They all lined up and went along. Captain Curtis demanded everyone give up their weapons and shields as well as any other magical devices they were holding. That made Tor wary again.
Why would they want them unarmed? They were just witnesses to an attack, not the assassins. They’d caught those and delivered them already. It didn’t make sense.
Tor tried to treat it as a joke, but he felt really worried, like the whole thing was horribly wrong. Then, he’d always been nervous around guards. They didn’t have those in his home village at all.
“Are you going to steal them? If you do I'll be upset, and possibly badmouth you by name in the streets, Captain Curtis.” Tor was joking, mainly, but he didn't want to be robbed like he had been before, and have to start all over yet again. It had only been a month since the last time. It was really about too much. The man didn't say anything to him, just fingered his weapon and glared, menacingly. He was good at it, like it was part of his job or something. The man looked about thirty and over six-four, now that Tor saw him on the ground. His moustache was brown, and kind of thin, trimmed that way.
Seriously though? They were being taken prisoner? After everything this was how they were treated? Like criminals? In public too, just to humiliate them? Tor couldn't grasp it at all. Was it possibly…
Nope, nothing came. It just didn't make sense. Even if the world had gone insane it didn’t.
Smythe wondered out loud if it was to check for spies in their midst’s. Austran ones, Tor guessed. Well, they did have several assassins with them, but they weren't a real threat now, were they? The red and white clad men started to get more and more uneasy while he stood thinking. No one else had moved either. Finally he started taking his amulets off, but readied a new shield just in case. It wouldn't help the others, but if this was really bad, an attack or something, he could do more prepared than not. A man with a box came around to collect things, poking and patting at clothing, to make sure nothing was being hidden. They took all of his things too, his trunks of amulets and gold. It felt sad to watch them leave like that, trailing behind a guard private, little puffs of dust behind his black booted feet.
They didn't go anywhere; they just had to stand under the hot sun. Tor wore only a pair of shorts, since they'd taken his magical clothing. It was humiliating, but he didn't let it gnaw at him, at least he'd had this clothing left in his trunk and grabbed it before they took everything away. They weren't to talk, or sit. Just stand, sweating and baking under an unforgiving orb in the sky. Tor used the time to build field after field into the loose undergarments. They wouldn't last long, he felt, more than knew. The material was too soft to hold a field more than six months or so, at a guess, especially making them while standing and trying to keep his eyes open. Finally he let them close. No one noticed for a long time. That lasted for a while, which he used to build a nice solid new weapon, until one of the guards came and pushed him, knocking him forward.
The others laughed, because he didn't catch himself properly, being too deep. He just didn't have a reaction time at all in states like that. Not at all really. On the good side Tor didn't really feel the impact, about the only saving grace in the situation at all. He heard the pop though. His nose bleeding freely for a while after that, clearly broken, as he tried to keep his eyes open. The guards all pointed and laughed at him openly, as if watching Torrance Baker bleed was a great game.
Then the men made a point of mocking him every few minutes for a while, calling him names. Mainly focusing on the fact that he was short, common looking, and probably had a small manhood based on his physical size. Though they used more colorful language for that part of him. It got bad enough after a while that even Smythe was starting to look a little angry about it. Given their history together, Tor decided to take that as a sign that what was happening might just be out of line.
A little bit at least.
They stood till near dark. The Larval were put under a tent, but the rest of them weren't allowed even water. As night fell they were finally escorted around the city by a full company of one hundred guards in their silly uniforms.
They all had shields. All ones he'd made. Old ones from over a year before he noted, checking them all closely, feeling the fields call to him. Everything they had of a magical nature was at least based on designs he'd created. Even the weapons.
Gods and puppies, had his work really sucked that much back then? That made him wince, if it was that bad then, how bad was it still? Gah, so much to learn. The fields weren't fading at all, but they had… holes, weaknesses, and things that he'd fixed over time, in later versions. For instance, if a person were focused enough, practiced enough, they could turn them all off at a distance. Say, a hundred feet? It wasn't a sure thing, but he thought that might be the case.
Especially true if the person doing it had designed them in the first place.
The twin streams of dried blood had flowed down his sparely haired chest, pooling at the top of the cotton shorts, matting the hair to him so that when he shifted, even a little, it ripped up from the roots. Sure, it wasn't the worst pain he'd felt in the last day, not even close, but it was a further indignity. Not exactly a hero’s welcome, was it?
If he didn't have a good explanation soon, he was going to have to do something. Lack of water was taking its toll, as the men and women with him hadn't had any for a day already by then and the sun had baked the rest away. His mouth was parched and bitter, so much that it tasted like sand inside his mouth. Everyone else had shoes at least, his feet were sore, tender, but not bleeding when they got around the outer wall, the far side, away from the river. He couldn't even smell water in the air. His shoulders were burned red as well as his back, causing a less than friendly guard he'd never met to slap him there several times. Hard.
“Stupid little peasant should have worn a shirt!” The man quipped as he struck again several times. He didn't react to the pain, so it became a game to the bored men, coming up behind him and slapping while they walked past. Each coming in with an insult, as if the guards were trying to outdo each other in creativity with each curse. The blows got harder and harder too, each one finally rocking him forward as he walked, the blows making enough sound that the people around him jumped from it. Tor didn't let himself do that, sinking deeper within between each.
No one else got such treatment. The girls had even been given water. Smythe too, but not Count Ward. He looked about ready to kill someone, even though no one had even spoken harshly to him. Too big, and a sitting Count, if one out of favor. No, most of the abuse got heaped on Tor, being the smallest and youngest looking one there.
Low level maybe, compared to true torture, but enough to tick him off. The slaps had turned into closed fist blows before they got all the way around the wall. All to his upper back at first, but a few aimed at the back of his head, the game being who could knock him down apparently. It seemed, from what the guards called out there was a wager on.
Houses were set up for them, or perhaps just to tease them. All magical “Tor-houses”. The older kind. Well, they were sturdy enough and if you barricaded the doors well, they'd be hard to get out of. If, you know, you hadn't built them yourself. Or if you didn't know how a basic sigil worked. So in other words, if you were a moron.
Really, you’d think that they would have caught on that trying to keep Tor a prisoner in a “Tor-house” might be a poor idea, but no one seemed to notice that. The guardsmen didn’t seem to be noticing much of anything though.
Finally a young guard came around with a dipper full of water and a bucket. Everyone wanted more, but was given only one dipper per person. Almost as if to tease them with it. Everyone was so far beyond parched the situation was nearly unbearable.
When it came to Tor he tested it with his mind first. That was automatic now, if it went into his body, it got tested somehow. He'd learned that one the hard way.
“Poison!” The sound rasped from his throat, dark and gravely, a bit dry for real volume. It was too late for everyone else, unless he could get to the healing amulets, which were nowhere to be seen, or…
A fist cracked against his jaw. Then he was hit again as he reeled. Tor blocked the third, the thirty-something bully in front of him barely noticing, his mustache curled back in a sneer. It was the same man that had started the whole “beating up Tor” game earlier.
Heh.
Time to fight then, if they were going to kill him anyway… Kill them. That seemed fair, didn't it?
As planned Tor turned off all their shields as he reeled and fell to the ground from a blow that came in from a younger guard that jumped in from behind. Then tapping his waistband, a comic gesture he was certain, Tor brought up his own gear. It wasn't perfect and the effects weren't even or pretty, but it would serve. Pointing his right hand at the arrayed guards they fell like stick-men in a yard war. With his left, a slight nimbus of energy around it, glowing red, he sent out a blast of vertigo. Where it touched, men fell, weapons dangling loose in their hands. After a minute they started to vomit, and couldn't stop. After two they went to the ground and stayed there, heaving hard.
Hey, Tor thought, it worked. It was just something he'd though up on the fly, a mental weapon, and these hadn't been the best working conditions, so in all he was pretty proud of it.
No one on his side had moved to help, which was wise, since they'd get sick too. But when he glanced over they were all laying down already, the poison taking them. Crap. Hurrying he found which red and white clad person on the ground was Curtis and moved the field carefully to let him catch his breath, then crossing his right hand under his left he pinned the man to the ground with the force lance. Or at least a kind of field that was like it. He'd tried for strong, but the man really looked uncomfortable, almost as if the life were being crushed from him.
Too freaking bad, stupid guard Captain should have resisted picking a fight with a Builder, shouldn’t he? Tor started asking questions without preamble. If the guy couldn't get it fast enough he'd try someone else.
“What did you give them? What's the poison?”
“What?” The guard Captain gasped, and waved his hands weakly, as if it would help him breathe. “Not poison, sleep draft, just to keep prisoners from getting restless at night. They'll just sleep for about six hours, that's all.” He gasped and wasn't too loud, but Tor could make out what he said.
He even felt like he was being honest, so all these people weren't going to die. Good. Tor went on without waiting.
“Who told you to abuse us? Why? What's the purpose behind this?” Tor heard words that came from the man, but they were all lies, talk of standard procedure and a shortage of men. It got the other man pined to the ground. Harder. That was one of the neat features of his new weapon. He could increase or decrease the force applied.
With a thought. He increased the organization until Captain Curtis groaned pitifully.
“Give me truth. Who and why. Now.”
Now was a bit optimistic, it took a bit, but the order had come down the chain of command, it was said from the King. It said nothing about abuse or harsh treatment, not specifically for him at least, Tor guessed trying to read the man closely, but it had mentioned that they were suspects and witnesses regarding an attack of Austran Larval assassins they had with them and should be treated with caution. And not gently. Especially the enemy Count. Ward. The Captain didn't know why everything was taking so long, but suspected some kind of meeting. Nobles loved meetings he said.
That was true. They could take a good ten minute chat about what to do next and milk it for days if you gave them a chance.
“OK, and the harassment?”
“They'd heard about the Austrans and the men are no lovers of that kind or those that would help them. It wasn't personal; they were just letting off some steam.”
The man believed it well enough, but Tor wasn't about to let him up. Standing back he did remove the force lance field thing for a minute… and stomped the man in the face. It didn't bleed until he'd done it four more times, heel firmly to the center of it, a satisfying crackle finally coming from under Tor's foot. Then he stomped his groin for good measure, causing the Captain to curl into a ball, trying to protect himself.
“Don't worry, I heard you led a troop of abusive assholes, so, you know, I'm just letting off a little steam about that. You understand and endorse this kind of thing though, right? No misunderstanding here? You think it's OK to abuse the people in your care who are the witnesses to a crime? The people that stopped the attack? So you won't mind this, no hard feelings, right?” No answer came for some reason. Tor kicked him in the groin again.
He couldn't just leave them, being too dangerous. For a second he wondered if cutting of their arms and legs would be in order, but decided that was a bit of an over-reaction. Instead he ordered them to strip and take off their clothing and amulets. They didn't do it, feeling too ill to move, that or too important for such treatment. Probably that second one. They looked snooty at least.
Tor hit them with the other field too, adding to their distress. A few tried to hold out and not do as he said, so he moved over to them carefully, repeated the orders and stomped their noses until they bleed too. His nose hurt in shared pain, but it served them right. His own shoulders hurt so much they burned, deep into the flesh from the blows, like the skin, already sun burnt and crisp, had torn in places, he could barely move his arms already.
It took a while to manage it all, but he finally locked them in the houses intended for prisoners, the little magic ones, and turned the heat up on high, with no water connected inside. Then he made the doors turn into solid walls. It took an hour, but it worked. These were his houses after all. What kind of moron tries to put a builder in a prison of their own making?
All the people he'd come with slept on the ground, except the larval assassins, who'd been given much gentler care, and taken away by wagon after the rest were marched around the Capital wall. Poking around he found his things and dressed again, putting his amulets on and healing himself, Which merely stung and ached more intensely for a moment, compared to the searing and severe pain of the last healing.
Then he went around and did the other people to see if it would clear the drugs from their systems. It worked, people got up after about twenty seconds, as if they'd just been napping. Thank god. He'd really felt all alone there for a while, even with people right there next to him. The first thing everyone did was get amulets back on, and agree to fight rather than surrender them again. Even the military counselor was with them on that, which told Tor a whole lot about the situation.
Smythe was normally a “follow the rules” kind of guy. For him to be that angry was… telling. The second was to use the communications device and get in touch with the King. Smythe wanted to speak first. Being the oldest and his boss, Tor agreed. Tor screaming at Richard from the start wouldn't help anything at all, would it? It probably wouldn't even make him feel better, Tor knew. Acting the bully always made him feel worse about himself in the end. No matter how good the reason seemed at the time. Honestly, though he didn't let it show, he already felt bad about having hurt the guards like he had. They'd been out of line and kind of evil to him, but most of them were probably all right people most of the time. It made it really hard though, being still angry like he was. What could he do about it? Yell and complain? Like that would help?
He let the military commander do it instead. Smythe even did a good job. Oh, he was polite, in a cold and wintry way. He never called names or suggested that the King himself order this for some reason, but he did tell him all about what happened, including how Tor had been treated and how he'd subdued the guards, unarmed and wearing only a pair of cotton undergarments. Then he suggested that the city guard had started a bit of a rebellion and if the King wasn't trying to do it on purpose, he'd better get out and explain that to them in person. Then he turned and bowed slightly to Tor.
“Anything to add?”
He had a bit, about his personal humiliation at the hands of the guards, the harassment and finally how they were currently locked in magical houses meant to imprison them, with the amulets put on the doors and the doors made into part of the wall. That and the fact that Tor had left the heat in each turned up on high.
“But how are we supposed to get them open?” The King’s voice asked as if it was just a novel way of storing the amulets or something. He went quiet for a long while when Tor didn’t say anything, a deafening silence. Finally it broke, sounding… frustrated.
“Oh.” The single word sounded pissy really, like Tor was in the wrong again somehow.
It got a soft snort of derision from the short builder into the communications device.
“Don't worry, it's no worse than what they did to us, they can even sit or lay down if they want for comfort. I'm sure they'll be fine if we let them out in ten hours or so. A day or two tops… What is it with you people? What have you been doing while we've been kept prisoner and trust me if you say, “eating a multi-course meal and then chatting about patriotism” I'm coming over there and… Well, I don't know what I'll do, but I'll ask around for ideas and trust me these people are ticked enough to come up with some good ones!” There. That would show him.
Vague threats that would probably involve bending all the silver up or something if anything happened at all. Well, it was the best he could think up, as poor as it was. Maybe call the Council of Counts names?
“No… we did get side tracked, but not on anything that trivial. You were supposed to be given good accommodations and left in comfort to await debriefing. I…” The voice trailed as voices laughed in the background.
One of them said, quite clearly enough for everyone to hear, even on far side of the device, “Sounds like Tor was already de-briefed!” A few chuckles followed.
Ah. A short blast of irritation ran through him then. Then a stronger one. He really didn't feel like being mocked at the moment. He'd had enough of that. Hour’s worth. While being beaten.
It was enough.
“Seriously? After all this, you want to mock me and laugh at what I’ve had to put up with? What we all had to endure?” The voice that came out of his own mouth sounded different. Low. Dangerous. The tittering on the other end of the device stopped dead.
“Ah, I didn't know you could hear me this far from the device….” The voice said, an older male it sounded like. Old enough to know better then.
Tor let his voice go light and pleasant as Trice and Sara moved in on him. He shook with rage, but didn't let it be heard in his voice.
“That's alright… say, what's your name?”
“Um, Count Holstead.”
“Holstead, Holstead… someone help me out here, that's up in the cold section of Noram, on the west side? I'm so shaky about things like that geography….” Tor waited until Smythe helpfully said it was. Actually he gave very precise sounding direction, just in case Tor wanted to visit.
“Oh? Good. Well, fine then, I'll remember that. If someone could get the names of the others that were laughing too?” It wasn't a threat, not really, after all, as far as he knew Holstead had never even done business with him at all. What was he going to do anyway? Refuse to sell them anything? Over a bad joke? He felt like it, sure, but that would just be punishing a bunch of innocent people for the words of one. Hardly fair.
No one spoke for a long while after that. Finally the King said that he'd be there in ten minutes. It took more like a half hour, because royals were slow sometimes. They had to arrange guards and who sat where, that kind of thing. In the transport with the King was a slightly unusual group. Maria Ward, Rolph and Ursala. There were some other people too, probably Counts, including Holly Printer and somehow, wedged into the back, Count Ford.
If the others were big, Ford was ridiculous about it. To make matters worse he wasn't even thin like a lot of royals, but held vast muscle that rippled as he moved. He was serious faced and had probably come to call Tor on his insolence, which he deserved no doubt, but couldn't seem to care about at the moment. They had Royal Guards with them, which made everyone stiffen, but they didn't attack, not yet at any rate.
He spoke clearly, but in a low tone.
“Hold fast. The Royal Guard are a tough group, but they can't match our armor or weapons right now. If it comes to a fight right now, they lose.” It was just the truth. If this were a fist fight, any two of them could probably take out most of the people with them, sure.
But it wasn't and none of the Royal Guard had high quality shields or weapons at all. Sensible, since those would probably be ones he'd made himself. He did see a couple of the ones that had come down to Ward for the investigation though. They'd obviously got the others out during the attack, with Sorlee. Good idea. They probably couldn’t have taken the Larval anyway and running made sense if you couldn’t win any other way. So they let Tor fight and buy them time, and did the part they could that would make a difference.
Brilliant really.
Tor felt like he could barely stand, then it got worse, so he sat on the ground which was better, because when he fell over into the powdery dust it didn't hurt. Not that it would have with the shield on. After a while he noticed it, a buzzing kind of thing. Different pitches started to come through and finally with a lot of effort, he pried his eyes open to see what was going on.
People he didn't know were over him, speaking in some foreign tongue. He was so thirsty that he couldn't stand it, so he tried to get up and run away, in case they were bad people. The big people could be, his ma had told him that. If he saw any he was supposed to run home.
He stumbled as someone cheated and tilted the earth under him so he couldn't move right. That didn't make sense did it? No one tackled him, but they followed him as he ran. No matter how fast he went, they just walked along with him, saying something. They looked funny, too huge. Was he a child again? But these weren't his parents or friends from the village. He had a cutter, right, or no, it was a… pushing thing in his underpants. That made him laugh. He said underpants in his head. That was dirty.
So thirsty. Where was the water? He saw some and went to take a drink, but couldn't. Someone told him why, a giant girl, the shield had to go off? Right… He hit his chest and started drinking from the bucket, just sticking his head in. It made him sick, which hurt when he threw up, but he drank more water after that anyway. Some man came and told him something, and he said maybe, even though he didn't understand, not wanting to be rude, and drank more water, but then he fell asleep and couldn't get up.
A bit later Tor woke and felt groggy but not so much he couldn't stay awake. He needed more water. They'd nearly killed him with the lack, especially after the massive healing the day before taking up all that water to fix things. He looked around, but couldn't remember where the water was. Well, at home. But he didn't have a home now, did he? Several large men came over when he got up.
“Better Tor? People are wondering about the guards…” It was Rolph. His friend.
It was so hard to think though. Rolph was here in Two Bends and he was a little kid still? It was a dream wasn't it? He had a magic thing that let him fly in his dreams, so he hit the stone on the back of his left hand and went up, high in the air. Other people started flying after him. It was funny, because he was standing up and not even flapping his arms. He tried it and felt sick, because his stomach tossed and turned. There was a big river so he landed there, trying to get water. But a woman came, she had golden hair and looked pretty, but was mean and said he couldn't have any water, because it was too dirty to drink and that no one wanted him too. He didn't like her. Hitting his other hand he rose a tiny way into the air, which was easier to do and floated around. Other people did it too, some big men in purple and black clothes tried to hurt him again, grabbing at him, so he ran away.
“Run away!” He called out loudly, easily going faster than the slow big people. They didn't know it, but his magic was better than theirs. He'd made it that way before and didn't tell in case… In case this happened. In case big people tried to hurt him. Again.
He was smart. Except he fell down somehow, tripped by the ground on a low hill when he ran into a large rock, and hit hard. Things snapped and crackled again. It hurt. He slept in a darkness greater than he could remember then.
When he came to he felt better. Normal really, Ursala was kneeling beside him and giving him water, fresh water from somewhere, not a bucket. Tor was still on the ground, lying in the dirt kind of made that apparent, so no one had bothered to move him inside. He drank slowly and carefully, but he had to keep doing it, over and over again. Too much had been removed. When he couldn't take any more for the time being he sat up.
“Hey.” Tor said weakly, looking around from a lower place than normal. He wasn't a child, just lying down.
“I… think the healing takes a lot of water and other resources and I was hurt pretty badly before, and didn't have anything for over a day, then with the sun and heat, the beatings. Not a good thing, you know? I just ran out of everything all at once.” It seemed no one was listening, but Rolph nodded and walked over to him.
“Makes sense. Sorry about all this. Um, what about the hundred men you have locked up? People are still worried there.”
Tor shrugged.
“It's only a magic shield made opaque, since I'm not important enough to treat as a real person, how about they figure it out for themselves? That seems just, doesn't it? If my job, my very being, is so useless and unimportant I can be humiliated and nearly killed, mistreated and abused, I'm sure they won't have any problem fixing things for themselves from now on. All they have to do it remind the door where it was. Kind of surprised no one has gotten out yet. I didn't make it insanely hard or anything, it's really simple. Little kids would be out already. Maybe they're mentally handicapped? Only a person like that would be out already too, most likely. Is there more water?”
There was and it was cool. Bless Ursala, she'd brought one of his old mugs with cooling and heating devices built in. He had to drink four more before he felt able to stand. It was dark, but time wise that was all he had. Dark something O'clock.
They probably had until morning to figure it out before the guards would die. Maybe longer, they wouldn't get that hot. The houses weren't designed to work like ovens. They got warm, but it wasn't death temperature. Rolph didn't like that answer, so he went to tell his dad, who told Smythe. That would probably get Smythe to try and kill him. So Tor tried to hit his shield.
Nothing happened. counting what was around his neck he realized it had been taken. So had his weapon. Well, he'd been acting crazy. He didn't remember it all, but enough to guess it involved a lot of falling down and acting stupid. Great, more things to be embarrassed about.
Tor got up and walked back to his trunk, wondering for the first time in his life if magic was just more trouble than it was worth? Every time he made something to help people, or even try to protect himself, it seemed to backfire on him eventually. Plus, everyone seemed to pretend to be his friend or at least that he was OK, until something like this happens and then they suddenly acted like it was it's fine to treat him like garbage. No one even bothered to pay attention to what he was really doing most of the time, as long as it served them somehow.
Like right now.
“You've all, the nobles at least, grown up using magic. You can't figure out how to simply turn a device off?” Tor stared, a bit baffled. Wasn't it just obvious? “Really? Come on people! It's just a magic device… I didn't change it into something else for goodness sake. It’s a house not a prison.”
The King looked upset, probably with him, but if so, screw him. Holly was looking down at the ground, kicking at it. The other Counts all looked either angry or like they'd rather have been sleeping, which sounded like a good idea at the moment. A really good one in fact.
Opening up the first trunk he came to, a real one, not a field made to look real, Tor rearmed and shielded. It wasn't as good of a weapon, but he had the ones built into his shorts, as funny as that was. Just, from now on he wasn't letting anyone take him prisoner and if they tried he was fighting. To the death if it came to that. He looked at the King and didn't break eye contact.
“I mean it too. If you want me to do something, ask and I'll do it. Stand down and go live in the desert alone? Fine. Take a cutter to my neck and behead myself. Sure. But if anyone, King, Count or city guard tries to take me prisoner, I'll fight as hard as I can, until I can't any more. Because really, this stuff is getting old. I get treated like this and then you people come along and act like I'm the bad guy? Smythe tries to kill me over and again, I get snubbed and pushed around by Royal Guards almost as if it were a game to them and now the city guard personally turns me into their enemy? Fine…”
Tor stomped over to one of the Counts he didn't recognize and stopped in front of him, hands on hips. He was an older man, not as big as some, about six-six. He had on a black military style uniform, but no insignia at all. Most of the Counts had taken to wearing them, a kind of protective coloring, to make them less of a target than brightly colored flashy clothing would. The man held his ground but didn't look as confident as Counts normally did, as if he expected Tor to assault him or something. So did everyone else, but not even the Royal Guard tried to intervene.
“You, who are you?” Tor asked in a tone probably better left unused with royalty in general. It was stupid of him, but he just didn't care right now.
“Um, Count Holstead…”
Oh. “The one that thinks humiliating me is a joke? A good time fun fest for all? Well, even ticked off I can tell it probably is funny, if you weren't the one embarrassed in public all day long like that, beaten and abused. So tell you what, let's just leave it all up to Holstead here…” Tor spun to take in everyone else.
The King looked stony, but he often did, it was his go to facial expression in any given emergency. Rolph buried his head in his hands and groaned.
“No… Tor. Let's go and get you cooled down, get some food and water, then sleep and do this in the morning? If you want then we can take turns beating the guards, or even Holstead here. I mean, I know that you felt humiliated and shamed by being left mainly naked all day, but no one else cared. Not the guards, not the people with you and not the passersby. Really, they probably thought you were being given special privileges and not being made to bake in clothes like the others were… We don't care if people are nude here. Hey, want me to strip and run around the city? No one would think it anything more than youthful exuberance and I might get a date out of it.” He tried to look calm, which didn’t work too well. Right, because he saw what Tor was about to do.
Rolph was smart like that.
“Tell me, Count Holstead, what would you do if this… No, wait, not what happened to me, no one cares about that… What would you do if what happened to Count Ward, or Counselor Smythe happened to you instead? How would you respond?”
The King saw the trap and sucked in a breath of air. Ursala got it too. After all, what most of the Counts would do involved making war on someone, possibly leading the other Counts to attack the King’s forces. And Smythe was still the military leader of the kingdom. If he wanted, he could bring down the whole thing by himself, most likely. The city guard had almost certainly started a war that day already.
Rolph walked to Tor slowly, but didn't try to touch him or anything stupid like that.
Holstead, for all that he had a poor sense of timing and a loud voice, didn't hesitate though. He walked to the other men and sank to his knees in front of them, laying his head on the ground.
“It was a mistake. I can only ask forgiveness for my part in it. Please, if you must blame someone for this, blame me and not those I serve…” He didn't rise and the two men didn't move to release him.
Soon the others moved over, with Ursala and Holly being the last. They moved grudgingly, but that was kind of natural. After all, Holly still probably blamed Ward for killing her husband even though he hadn't. She'd taken a vow to destroy him and now had to break it, that or destroy an innocent man that had been used by their enemies, and kill a lot of his people, all of whom were probably at least as innocent of the crime. It was a quandary no doubt. They did it though. Bent the knee, if not as deeply as the rest. The one thing didn't have to do with the other directly and war was always a losing game, for all they liked to threaten it so freely here.
Rolph didn't go to a knee, but did bow and finally the King did too. It was all very polite and touching. Smythe demanded an investigation into the matter, which was allowed, the King making it an actual order without pause. Ward just nodded stiffly and waved a hand at everyone else that had been out there as well. That…
That made the Counts and countesses wary and recalcitrant suddenly. Tor blinked for a moment, taking in the sea of angry faces.
Right. Never bow to a stable boy.
Rolph did it for them, regally, majestically even, as if he suddenly wore a crown on his head and full raiment’s, walking to each and bowing in turn, shaking hands when one was offered him and smoothing things over. Promising it hadn't been on purpose and apologizing as if that would make any real difference to the world. After a minute Ursala started doing the same thing. Well, if she was going to be Queen some day, she might as well start following her future King’s lead now. Even if she wasn't, it made her look good.
The other royals didn't move, which Tor kind of thought was cowardly of them. The heir to the freaking throne of all Noram was bowing and humbling himself for them, but they were too good to step forward themselves and even mumble a few words to people that had been so wronged?
Sure, most of these guys brought people drinks or food, one or two may even be real stable boys, and though he wasn't sure, some of the few women might even have been dancing girls from the party, still wearing their white dresses, dirt stained and grubby from their ordeals. They might even be whores.
They'd also been taken from an attack, injured, still frightened and away from their home without notice, uncertain as to the future, and these royals wouldn't even go and give them a slap on the back? Say, “sorry about the mix up there, have some coins to tide you over…” or anything? They didn't even have to act like they meant it for most of these people. God. Gods. He would have added in the universe, but the universe didn't care.
Tor did though.
Tor got another drink of water from a cask of it, and then went to the trunk containing all his gold. Well he had enough to share anyway. No hardship for him. He went to the man who was farthest away in line, young and dirty looking, standing uneasily and scared suddenly, which made no sense, since the guy was his buddy now, right? They'd been through it together, and if his new friend needed anything he'd get it.
Tor popped the top of the case. The man, no older than he was, goggled a bit. Tor took out ten gold coins under the magic lights that had been set around and handed them to the man.
“To cover your expenses while you're here.” He said loudly enough for everyone to hear. The King was… stony again. A bit of a mental chill came from his position, not quite hidden well enough to miss being noticed.
Well, if he wanted to have a problem with Tor giving money away he could go right ahead and fuck himself up the ass with it. As King he was responsible for everything that had happened that day anyway. That’s what King meant. If it made him angry to see poor people getting money, then screw him. Royally. They'd earned it. He went down the whole line and handed an equal sum to Ward, who didn't have any gold on him since they'd left in kind of a hurry and then turned to the line of men and women.
“Right. We all have to give statements and probably shouldn't be running off before we prove we weren't in on the attack. But after that, everyone is invited to stay at my house until things are settled properly. No one will be left at loose ends. Don't worry, if there's no room, I'll make it. I trust that's sufficient?” Tor looked at the King who nodded as if it was his plan all along. Maybe it was? But if this had been an elaborate trick to get him to pay for everything, well, they could have just asked.
Without waiting for anyone else to plan anything Tor turned on his truth device, the same one he'd used the day before, he thought, and explained how it worked to everyone, Smythe and Ward backing him up on how effective they were. Then he began.
“I did not plan the Austran attack, I'm not working with the Larval assassins and, to the best of my knowledge, nothing I've ever done should have invited such an attack, even though it was, for some reason, clearly aimed at me this time, or at least meant to look that way. I'm not an Austran agent, spy, asset or supporter. And… even though disgruntled right now, I'm loyal to the King and kingdom, which does not preclude a shouting match later, Rich.” He glared up at the King, who just nodded as if it were expected.
Then he went over the whole story of the last week, covering everything he could remember, including his dates with Nita, until he got to being taken into custody. There were things in that story he was proud of, and still others he didn't want everyone here to know. How scared he was that everyone was going to die and how he got sick when he saw what had happened with the Larval for instance. He said that out loud, but then turned, took off the activated amulet and handed it to Smythe.
The man may be an over reactive murdering jerk at times, but he got the point and made his own statement clearly and concisely. The glow matching his robes perfectly. Rolph noticed and indicated it with his head and a tiny half smile at Tor who just nodded somberly. At least someone appreciated his work.
Then Smythe questioned the Count and everyone else in turn by rank, with the idea being that someone of high rank was more likely to be responsible for a Major plot and assassination attempt than the lowest person in the line. Since he'd already gone, that part had been taken care of at least. Oddly enough everyone was cleared fairly easily. Some of the men did lie, but it was about stupid stuff, like the fellow that hadn't wanted to admit he was in the restroom doing his business there when the attack started and hid in fear instead of fighting or even running. He looked ashamed but Tor wondered how well he'd have done if the whole thing had started when he was that vulnerable? Probably no better. Freezing seemed reasonable given those conditions, didn't it?
A few others tried to make themselves seem braver than they were, not mentioning how frightened they'd been while it had happened, of course, and that didn't work with the field they wore. Trice and Sara both tried to hedge, but oddly that was only about what Tor looked like after the fight, which was… bad. So gruesome they didn't want to say the words. Smythe got it out of them, nodding when they explained. He'd seen it too, but hadn't gone into the details when it had been his turn. To him that wasn't overly important. Oddly it was more that he simply expected Tor to just do something like he had, and get back up without pause, nearly dead or not. To the girls it was much worse for some reason, so they had to say the words, because otherwise it would look like they lied.
Ursala, and for some reason Maria, kept gasping when they heard everything, like Tor figuring that the assassins would just kill him, and that his fighting had only been meant to buy people time to escape. That he'd lived at all had been dumb luck and trickery on his part, as well as the fact that Trice, Sara, Ward and Smythe had stayed, prepared to die trying to slow the Larvals after they killed Tor so the others would have a chance. That's what saved him, because Trice had run up and started healing him almost instantly after the last Larval went down.
“I wanted to help before…” She said, her right arm hugging her middle. “We all did… but it was a duel. Tor had called them out, and they agreed to terms, so we couldn't intercede without shaming him.” Her voice shook a bit when she said it.
Almost maniacally he had to laugh at that, there was just too much not to.
“Oh!” He gasped, seeing her face fall a bit, looking baffled. “In the future, if it happens again, shame away! I personally don’t feel any real need to play fairly with assassins.” Everyone looked at him, worried at first, then Richard started to chuckle.
“Noted.” Was all he said though.
When everyone was cleared Tor handed the amulet to the King, already turned on and asked if he'd ordered the events of the day, and if so, in what detail. Everyone else looked horribly uneasy, except Richard who simply nodded and started to speak loudly enough for everyone to hear easily. What he said didn't sound anything like what happened. Not at all.
“I ordered you all detained for questioning and holding for those that needed it. The assassins. The houses were to be set up for your collective comfort, since they have restroom facilities and would be a place to lie down if anyone needed to, in a decent level of comfort, out of the heat and dust. We'd intended to have all this done earlier, but people kept arriving and demanding to be updated.”
The glow didn't so much as flicker.
No one else's did either, and everyone got a turn, since the King had already gone, they couldn't properly refuse, could they? No one balked even. Well, so… as bitter as Tor had felt about the whole thing, at least there was that. Even Ward looked satisfied, or at least didn't have blood in his eyes any more. Trice still looked upset, but she didn't cry, which made Tor love her just a little more at that moment. Her crying was a torment. On top of everything he couldn't have taken that right now.
“Great, someone want to let the guards out, since they obviously haven't figured it out yet for themselves?” Looking at the Prince, Tor shrugged. “It's just a missing sigil…”
The Prince tilted his head, hair still dark, or at least looking dark in the dim light, after a bit he licked his lips.
“And… a sigil… is just a place for people to focus their attention, and mark which device is which? Something not really needed at all, it's the intent that does the work?”
Tor nodded, then turned it into a half bow.
So he really had been listening for all those years at school? It made him feel a little better. The guy was an accounting student after all, and Tor had always wondered if he just nodded his head and murmured polite things when Tor had talked about building. Apparently not. Rolph went to the nearest magic house and slapped the wall lightly, turning the whole thing off. The hot and tired men inside sank to the ground slowly, most of them ending up lying naked in the dirt. He'd left them in their skivvies, but they apparently decided that even that bit of material was too warm. Unlike how they'd treated their prisoners, Tor asked for water to be brought them first thing. Water that wasn’t even tainted. After they were all released, it would be their turn to be questioned.
Most of them didn't know any more than Tor suspected they would about their orders. Go and do, mainly, which was reasonable enough. They followed the lead of the Captain and copied what everyone else was doing. Some of the men knew it was a bit harsh, but figured that the prisoners must have been in on the attack, since Ward was with them and all, and really, no one liked him that well right now, after having declared war on them. None of them had recognized Tor for who he was at all it seemed, and had been picking on him because he was the smallest male in the group and clearly wasn't a noble. They were mainly bored they said. Watching people like that all day had been hot and not all that interesting, so they'd made a game of it.
Oh. Well that made it all right then.
So if he'd been the thirteen year old boy he looked like to them instead of an adult, that would have made it all right for them to break his nose and hit him? Be deprived of water in the hot sun when he was already badly dehydrated and had nearly died the day before? The women and Smythe had been given something to drink, but even the Count had been denied.
That, it turned out, had been ordered. Very clearly, and by name. Ward wasn’t to receive any kindness at all and harsh treatment was recommended.
With that bit of information the whole command structure of the city guard was turned out, even before true dawn broke. The Commander was cleared, having basically just repeated the King’s words verbatim, adding only suggestions for food, cool drinks and even light entertainment for the high ranking guests. Cards and dice, even music. He called them guests and apparently meant it, enough so that it didn't show up as a lie. The man was old. Smythe old, not just a little gray at the edges. He had steel in his spine and looked truly outraged at what had transpired. Without hesitation he offered to resign on the spot. The King looked at the others and then finally at Tor.
“Well Master Tor, you seem to have gotten the worst of it. I'll leave it to you.” He looked blank again.
Tor glared at the King and snorted more than a little derisively.
“Right. Put his fate in the hands of the enraged man while he's still in a snit?” Tor sighed and shook his head. “Let's find out what happened first. If it turns out he's responsible for it, then we can give him the boot later. No need ruining his job over what he's said so far.” Looking at the man he shrugged.
“We didn't get the musicians though. If you paid for them you might want to look into that.”
The man had to fight a smile from his face but he nodded.
It went just like that until they got to the Major in charge, the broken nosed Curtis's direct boss. When he'd given the orders they'd changed dramatically. Cruelly. Special orders had been given to be hard on Count Ward, which meant the rest of them were treated in a similar fashion.
Smythe laid into the man so harshly Tor almost expected him to strike the fellow. It seemed like a good idea, to Tor at least. He decided to help if Smythe moved on the man. Not that the councilor needed it, not armed and shielded as he was, but the Major had a decent shield too.
Tor could turn it off.
Instead it was just more pointed questions and asking if he was a spy for anyone, which he was, a Duke Fram that Tor had never heard of, and if he or Fram was working with the Austrans which they didn't seem to be. No, this, he assured them quite openly, was personal.
“That git got my sister pregnant, and then set her aside without a by your leave! Half my wages go to keeping her and her child fed and housed. I can't even afford a wife because of it, not even as a Major! I saw a chance for a little pay back and took it. None can say I don't have the right!” It was all true, and he pointed at Count Ward which made so much sense no one even asked if the Major, a man named Jarad, was really certain. Ward just shrugged. He'd gotten a lot of girls pregnant over the years, hadn't he? It went unsaid, which was good, or the brightly clad guard probably would have attacked the Count then and there.
Tor brought the little magic chest and the remaining gold over to the man.
“OK… For your sister, here's some gold to tide her over, so you can have a normal life and not be stuck taking care of her with all your resources. It's… a couple hundred gold? Have her get with me and I'll come up with some kind of business for her, I have a couple things that might work, so she won't have to struggle too much until we can find her a proper husband if that's what she wants.”
The man's mouth hung open.
“That's to help fix things with her though, since she's innocent in all this, as for the rest…” Tor disabled the old shield around the man’s neck with a thought and kicked him in the groin. Hard. Twice. When the man went down clutching himself he applied a boot to the side of his head a couple of times and then kicked him in the nose until it popped. After that he grabbed the man by the hair along with one arm and manhandled the limp body to the side, then set up a house around him with no door and hid the amulet again. Leaving the heat on full blast.
“Let him out in about eight hours. That should do the trick I think. Unless anyone else wants to take a turn beating him? I think we can all see how this happened now and let go of any hard feelings. I'll even lend an amulet to heal all the broken noses. But let me repeat what I told everyone earlier. Anyone ever tries to take me prisoner again and I fight. I won’t be gentle about it like I was this time either.”
He glared at the guardsmen and then asked if that would be enough for the day, so everyone else could go get some rest. The King agreed with a regal nod. He offered the transport for their comfort, but Tor didn't want to wait, since the royals would need it first, so everyone got Not-flyers instead, those being so easy to use it didn't even take real practice, and they zipped around the outside of the city in a few minutes. Tor stared at the wall as they passed. It was pretty. White stone material, but smooth and un-seamed. When they got around to the other side he saw a palace where his house had been.
Last time it had been a castle, an old fashioned stone looking thing. Now it looked like the King actually lived here, and the poor looking place inside the wall was housing for peasants or something. Maybe a school or hospital. It was cream and white with delicate barding all around and looked almost like a wedding cake, not a place to live. Like the Wards estate, only nicer, fresher. Tor almost blanched at the wasted resources, then remembered it was all just a shield anyway, no matter what it looked like. He took everyone to the front door, almost hesitating to enter, because it looked so very different, only to have Collette and Petra come out at the same time, wearing different, but equally stunning outfits, both in bright pink. They both froze for a second, seeing all the people, but then they ran to start passing out hugs.
Or at least tried to. Everyone except Maria was still wearing a shield. Even the man Tor recognized as selling drinks at the estates parties. That baffled Collette, and put Petra on alert instantly, her training was in military matters, so she got what everyone being shielded like that meant instantly.
“Everyone inside, go, go! The whole place is shielded. Come in, we weren't expecting guests but please be welcome.” Her voice was stressed suddenly, just on the verge of going all military and harsh. She hid it with a smile, polite and warm. Once inside the huge marble room everyone started taking their shields down, The Ward people first, then all of them. Tor felt uneasy but forced himself to do it too. Varley had been right when she told him they couldn't connect to the world properly living behind a shield all the time. It just felt so exposed without one anymore.
Before Tor could go collect his own hugs, or even say hello, Countess Ward ran to Petra and Collette, both being her family, and started speaking in a fast high pitched voice. Practically a panicked squeak. Tor wouldn't have been able to make out what she said, but apparently Collette was a master of it. For all that his friend had always said she didn't get along very well with Maria, she certainly seemed to manage her all right.
It started with a hug that Petra joined in on after a few more lines, which developed into cooing and petting her back and hair as the Countess spoke about the horrible experience she'd had. It would have made sense if she was stressed about the attack, how scared she was, even how betrayed she felt by Laval, though that particular Larval was probably long dead already. Hard to tell.
No, she was going on about the poor accommodations at the palace instead, as if a broom closet wasn't good enough for her? They'd actually given her one of the nice rooms in the guest house. Yes, she had to share with four others, but it wasn't like they put her in the tool shed. Even then, it would have been a roof and walls, wouldn't it? For the first time he could ever remember Tor suddenly felt a wave of relief and gratitude that he'd been brought up as the son of a village baker, not the heir to a county. He knew first hand that what they had was better than most people even dreamed about. Even the room they were in made him uneasy in its grandeur, and it wasn't even real. Still, no need to goad the girl Tor decided.
She really had been through a lot too.
He gently pulled Collette aside, since she was the main house person really.
“Do we have rooms for everyone? I invited them all to stay, but I forgot about King’s week and how crowded everything gets…” Sure, they could expand, but a small village of vendors had started to grow around them, so if they wanted more space, they needed to grab it now and possibly bribe a few merchants to shift positions, cover their land rent or something maybe? Or run water to their new set ups, carrying water in a bucket was a pain and the river really wasn't clean enough to drink, which meant getting that water from in the city, nearly a mile long round trip. It was a good point, so he decided to set up water anyway.
They could bribe any vendors they needed to the old fashioned way. With gold.
Collette grinned and let her short blond hair bob a little as she nodded. If she looked a little pleased with herself, well, it made sense given what she told him next.
“We have one hundred rooms ready for guests, not including our own. If that isn't enough I left room on the upper floor for a staircase, and we can just add another level or two. Or more. It's King’s week after all, so we may need to. I'm pretty proud of how things look. Don't you like it?”
Tor kissed her warmly which got a look from Maria, a bit of a scowl from Trice, and Petra coming over to join in. After a second Sara did too. Much to his amazement she kissed everyone, if on the cheek. Him on the mouth though. It got a chuckle, and Maria actually stamped her foot at them. When he turned she had both hands on her hips and a wry smile on her face.
“Hey! Isn't everything supposed to be about me?”
Marvin ran over and picked her up by the waist, his hands, huge as they were, wrapped most of the way around.
“Always love. Right now though I think, if it's not an imposition, I'd like to sleep, after drinking about four gallons of the coldest water I can find. I think I speak for everyone in that…”
His point was well made and Tor felt thirsty again too, now that it was mentioned. They let Maria explain everything, since she'd heard it all over and over again, she even got most of it right. Her telling made their walk, which had been mildly uncomfortable, sound like a death march and when she got to the part about Prince Alphonse and Countess Thorgood apologizing to the servants she grimaced and sounded a bit grudging.
“I have to grant that they had style about it. Everyone else was standing with their nose in the air as if our people weren't worth an apology, but they didn't. I thought the King was going to burst though, when Tor gave everyone that gold and invited us to stay here with him as personal guests. I didn't know what kind of place you'd have Tor, but I wasn't thinking this. It's the nicest place I've ever seen. I would have lived in one of the little magic houses, with everyone, before going back though.” She stopped for a second, looked around and continued with the Major Jarad story. She didn't spare her husband in it either.
“So it might have been just, if it had been Marvin alone. Sorry honey, but you have to keep better track of your children from now on. The man has every reason to be angry with you, and we need to repay Tor for the gold he delivered as soon as we can. Thank you for that Tor, it was most generous of you, and something we should have done ourselves already. Still, we should probably have the Major killed for what he did to everyone else.” She said it so casually that it almost slipped past him that it wasn't just an off-hand comment, or said in jest.
The Count gave her a small head bow and Trice looked more than a little bloodthirsty herself. The others all looked uneasy with the talk of killing, so at least there was that. Then they weren't high royals, just real people that had recent experience with abuse of power.
“No.” The word just slipped out of his mouth, but he smiled and shook his head to soften it.
“He made us uncomfortable and grumpy, but now it's his turn. That's justice. Doing more would be taking it too far. We'll give it a few days and set up a meeting with him, talk it all out and fix it so that it doesn't happen again. I mean, if someone got one of my sisters pregnant outside of wedlock and didn't marry her, I'd be doing a good bit more than making him stand out in the sun for a while. That these others were caught up in it is bad, but not worth the man’s death.” Of course he didn't say what that retribution would be exactly. Possibly a stern letter writing campaign? Tipping his cows until they didn’t produce milk anymore?
Most of the other men in the room nodded, which got a sour look from the Count, since it was a clear rebuke, and from most of the room, then he sighed.
“Fine. But he at least needs to apologize to each of the innocents harmed by his actions. In person if possible. If Prince Alphonse had to apologize for him the least he can do is make that part right for himself.” It didn't even sound overly bitter.
That got a nod from everyone else too. Tor figured he'd had his revenge already as far as that went. You couldn't reasonably expect a very good apology from a man you'd kicked in the head with intent, could you?
Collette moved into action like everything had already been planned almost startling in her efficiency and skill. It was seamless. All Tor had to do was drink more water from the tap in his bathroom until he couldn't hold anymore, take a quick shower, and sleep until he felt like getting up. That was his plan at least.
It wasn't to be, since at about one in the afternoon someone jumped on him. The shield caught the blow but he very nearly started swinging wildly before he heard the familiar warm chuckle.
“Ursa? Hey… how’s my favorite Countess doing?” It was a sleepy mutter and only her arm pulling at him kept him from going back to sleep. The bed was soft and the room was cool. He wore a shield but nothing else, since he'd almost fallen into bed. Giggling she asked him to drop the shield. Actually she said, “what kind of welcome is this? Drop the shield silly!”
So he did, and expected a kiss as a reward. That being the tradition. To his surprise she did something else entirely, her head going much lower. She did use her mouth for it though, a trail of kisses moving past his belly button. For a moment he felt awkward and ungainly and nearly pulled her head up. It was daylight out and he could see what she was about to do. This wasn't some fumbling or whispered lesson in the dark like before. Well, she'd never fumbled, but he had. A lot.
Tor thought about it and shrugged. Was it right to let her do something like this? Yes, her social rules said it was. More, he really liked her. If he got her pregnant would he marry her? Tor nearly nodded, but her mouth touched his lower parts, a warmth covering him slowly, pressure from her tongue swirling around him. She wasn't too hurried, but there was a sense of urgency about her actions that almost didn't fit his sleepy and drifty mood. Well, if it was to be quick, he'd have to do something for her at the same time, wouldn't he?
It took her a second to realize what he was moving in place for and another fifteen for her to get her clothes out of the way, not having magic ones yet.
He'd fix that.
It would make this all so much more convenient if nothing else. Tor found her sex with his mouth gently at first, hitting with rapid flicks of his tongue the little nib that he'd been told about, shown really, by her, come to think of it. Even with her on top of him he could see a lot more of her now than he had ever before. It was fascinating, the pink and light tan skin folds in the mound of golden blond hair. It was soft, and did get in his mouth as he worked on her, but he ignored it. If this gave her any pleasure at all, it was worth a little hair, right?
She moaned. At first it was soft, but eventually it was loud enough that he was glad her mouth was full to muffle it a bit. Well, the walls weren't walls and didn't pass sound, so it would likely be all right. The door would since it didn't fit with an air tight seal, but anyone listening at the door had their own problems, didn't they? It was all he could do to wait for her, trying to finish at the same time, using his sense of her field to help him do it. They both shuddered in each other’s mouths, throbbing in tune with their heart beats for a while, waves of pleasure washing over them both.
After that she used her tongue to make certain he was clean, so he did the same for her, she stiffened in brief surprise at it, but then purred at him, another sense of pleasure, not as physical, but at least as strong came off of her.
“Hmmm. Someone’s been getting some practice. Good. Just remember that I saw you first. Or at least got into your bed first, so I win.” She kissed him, using her tongue and lips in a way she hadn't before. It was ardent and serious, like she wanted to do more. After a second she broke from him.
“Since your awake now… I'm supposed to tell you that you're summoned to the palace for luncheon. Formal dress.”